A/N:

Right-ho. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. :D

Disclaimer: Because OBVIOUSLY you thought I owned Transformers and all. I don't. ): Nor am I making any money. Darn; I'll have to work on that.

//This indicates comm. speak!// Hoorah!

Okeeeydooookey. Some other things:

This is the movie-verse with a couple of tweaks. Obviously everybody's interpretation is different, which is brilliant. :D I think some of mine I should mention are:

Arcee is just one femme, not three, because I can't handle three of her. (she'd drive me insane) For anyone interested, I imagine her more like the 07 version, which can be found here: tfwiki. net / w2 / images 2 / 4 / 4d / Arceemovie. jpg [just remove the spaces. :)]

Oh yes. Jetfire doesn't suit my purposes as a cranky and awesome old dude, (heheh) so he's an awesome young scientist. Think of Stormbringer Jetfire and you're nearing the mark. :D

And Jazz is alive. It doesn't suit him, being dead. (Something to do with Ratchet's genius talent, or Allspark fragment or maybe even the Matrix. Who knows. The fragment worked for Megatron.)

I can't think of anything else right nooow... but if you see anything at all that doesn't make sense, PM or review me. I won't bite hard.

Away! xD

It never ended. Optimus Prime scowled at the mountain of reports on his desk.

It wasn't that he resented their presence- on the contrary- but the new Autobot arrivals to Earth had induced a great deal of paperwork. A sudden thought struck him. Did Megatron do paperwork?

He tried to imagine the tyrant busily making notes, or studiously copying up hefty reports. Optimus wondered if Decepticons even did anything of the sort- ah, he could see Soundwave compiling stupidly large files about nothing. It wasn't as if he had a social life.

Optimus frowned, trying to imagine the Communications Officer having fun. ...Wait a second. This- however entertaining- wasn't getting him any work done. Shaking his helm, he turned back to his work.

Two kliks later, he was considering off-loading the mundane duty onto his subordinates when the thunderous growling of two engines sped past (and by the sound of it) ignoring the set corridor speed limit by a large degree.

Bracing himself, Optimus rubbed the bridge of his nasal plating.

Four astro-seconds later, a siren snarled into life. "TWINS!"

On this occasion, Optimus knew exactly which set of twins were offending: even if Skids and Mudflap weren't already on a mission, only one set of twins could inspire such sweet tones to emerge from Prowl's vocal processor.

The rule-upholding Autobot took his duties very seriously as second in command. Very seriously. This could be confirmed by any Autobot.

Optimus sighed and turned his attentions back to his work. A brave endeavour, but futile nonetheless.

He focused on the report. "The altercation with Decepticon forces on May 26th could hav-"

BOOM.

The explosion shook the base.

Optimus twitched, but continued. "-could have been substantially less damaging if-"

A sudden shrieking burst out from somewhere in the base.

"-if the civilians had been fully-"

Another crash, closer this time. Optimus closed his optics for a second, clutching the data-pad forcefully. Oddly, there was silence. His antennae strained to pick up any offensive sounds, but none came forth.

He recommenced reading. "-fully evacuated. NEST cannot operate at their optimum capacity if-"

BOOOOM.

Optimus shook his helm vigorously, and stared ferociously at the data-pad as if this would drown out the commotion.

"-if the civilians had been-" Hang on, he'd read that bit. He scanned the passage. Ah, there he was.

The red and blue mech thought for a second, then muted his audio processors and felt an internal spasm of glee when there was, once again, beautiful silence.

He squirmed happily in his chair and settled in a comfier position before tackling the pad again.

"NEST cannot operate... if there is a possibility of loss of innocent life. Therefore, th-"

The door exploded.

Scorched by seemingly random searing heat and blinding light, and forcefully propelled away by the blast, Optimus jerked backwards off of his chair with a strangled cry.

Lying for a moment in a happy daze where the universe was perfect, he suddenly saw a pink blur and a black behemoth tower over him.

He squinted, and Arcee and Ironhide came into focus. The femme paced, mouthing something, and thrusting her hands around impatiently.

Why is she mouthing? Just to make life harder than it already was?

Ironhide scowled, and he opened his mouth to disagree silently.

Optimus frowned and heaved himself up onto his aft whilst rubbing his helm, wondering if he'd damaged himself. A systems check revealed nothing disturbing.

Wincing, he touched his very sensitive and therefore now very tender antenna, and remembered he had muted the world.

Instantly, welcoming his return to Base Insanity, Arcee's rant deafened him.

"-and THEN he had the cheek to say that- ARE YOU LISTENING?!"

Ironhide helped his somewhat stunned-looking commander to his feet. "Optimus...? Are you alright? Did we startle you?"

Optimus shot him a withering look. "No, Ironhide. The door is in place just for you, so you can simply blow it up when it takes your fancy."

"I didn't," Ironhide pouted.

"What...?"

"I didn't blow it up. She did." Ironhide's pout deepened as he pointed at the accused femme.

Optimus knew Ironhide wouldn't lie about something as serious as explosions. His processor groaned as he turned to Arcee. "Well?"

"That rust encrus-"

"Please, Arcee, just the problem. I can't take much more."

The motorcycle pouted. Her rant was greatly reduced now, and, she felt, was therefore going to make far less of an impact. Nevertheless, out it came.

"He. Is. Sexist," she hissed, each word punctuated by a stamp of a foot and both optics narrowing.

She looked rather deranged.

Sighing internally- this was so hard to resolve without offending both parties- Optimus turned to Ironhide.

"I only said-"

"ONLY!? You-"

"Arcee! 'hide, continue." Optimus glared meaningfully at the femme.

"I merely commented during a battle simulation on Arcee's position on the field. I thought she should be further back."

He paused.

"...and!" Arcee snarled.

"...because she wouldn't be able to take what a mech could," Ironhide concluded.

Seeing the femme bristle, Optimus held up a hand, determined not to let this one drag on. "Ironhide, you know Arcee is a capable warrior."

"Yes, but-"

"Arcee, please stop taking offence at every tiny remark vaguely relating to gender. Last week, the whole colour thing was blown completely out of proportion. And your argument held no weight at all, mostly because of the fact you actually are pink. We really need to-"

He looked up- an ominous thud had resounded from the room above. Ironhide frowned. The ceiling remained looking innocuous.

Optimus calculated which room was above him whilst Arcee brushed an imaginary speck of dust off of her armour. "The labs are up there, right?"

"I believe so." Optimus turned back to the two Autobots. "At times like these, we must pull together. We can't afford to-"

The ceiling cracked and shouts came from above, followed by a large bang.

Optimus dived under his desk as a figure smashed through into his room, crashing to the floor with a yelp.

Ironhide's cannons could be heard spinning excitedly though the chaos.

The figure coughed, then clambered to its feet hurriedly. "Whoops. I guess Wheeljack added a little too much...oh!" Prime had emerged from underneath his desk. "Optimus, sir, I'm so sorry!"

Jetfire did his best to look apologetic, but Optimus could tell that he was nearly bursting with discovery.

"Jetfire. I hope there is a reason-"

"Yes, sir!" The scientist beamed, needing no prompting. "I think Wheeljack and I have just discovered a chemical combination that could cripple almost any type of material when set alight, and-"

"Primus," Ironhide muttered with a scowl, bored and feeling hostile already. Any threat to his cannons was not taken lightly. And something that could cripple any material sounded like a threat.

And besides, who needed this chemical combination to do the job that his cannons could already do?

Ironhide looked over his cannons with a proud, fatherly smile.

Optimus watched all this with mild concern. He'd known Ironhide long enough to know that his friend was being broody.

//Ironhide. Jetfire is not threatening you and yours.//

Ironhide narrowed his optics. //Scientists are sneaky. All that research slag. If he tries to come near my cannons, for any reason... maybe even making upgrade excuses, I'm not responsible for my actions. My babies don't need no fragging upgrades.//

"You couldn't have experimented...uh, in a safer environment?" Arcee was remarking pointedly, eyeing the ruined ceiling.

"Well... Wheeljack thought-"

"Who in their right mind listens to that fool?"

Wheeljack's head poked through the hole. "Apologies."

Prime pointed at the head menacingly, but words failed him. "You... I'll deal with you later. Get to the Med-Bay."

The engineer laughed. "Why?"

Optimus leant down and picked up an arm, handing it up to the mech silently.

"Oh! Er, sorry."

"This is the..." Prime counted up Wheeljack's Med-Bay visits. "...The sixteenth time this week! Pit; your punishment is facing Ratchet, so wipe that grin off of your faceplates."

Jetfire frowned at Ironhide. "Why are you in here?"

"Blame her," Ironhide scowled.

"You started it," she retorted.

"So mature, femme." He looked at Jetfire and rolled his optics.

Arcee wasn't having this. "You starting that again?"

"What, femme?"

"Stop calling me femme!" She screeched.

"Meh mehmeh meh MEHHHHH!" Ironhide mocked.

Arcee twitched. "Jetfire-"

"Woah. Don't bring me into this."

Ironhide nodded approvingly. "No-one's going to listen to you harp on, femme. You just have to accept that you're not as tough as us."

Arcee's fingers spasmed, more than willing to shoot Ironhide into oblivion. "Jetfire, c'mon. Help me out here, would ya?"

The huge mech shifted uncomfortably, shuffling his feet. "Well... you do have less armour, which means you can't take as many hits as someone as heavily armoured as Ironhide... and-"

"If you move fast enough, you don't get hit. If you're not ancient, you can dodge fire. If-" Arcee's optics narrowed. "You just took his side. You're as bad as the res-"

Jetfire whimpered, stepping backwards. "No, nononono."

"Jet, stop being a wuss!" Ironhide shoved him roughly just as Optimus turned around.

"Ironhide! BRIG!"

"Whaa?"

Arcee grinned; life finally going her way. "Optimus, Jetfire jus-"

"Arcee! BRIG!"

"You can't be-!"

"Jetfire! You've blown a HOLE through my ceiling! BRIG!"

The giant Autobot sighed. "Yes, sir."

They turned to leave.

"Yes! That's right! I'd ask you to use the door, but I'm afraid I don't have one! So you'll have to leave through the hole! Or why don't you exit through the ceiling?! ARGGH! I can't take anymore!" Their commander shrieked, waving his long arms frantically.

The delinquent Autobots sped up, hurrying down the corridor, but Optimus could still be heard getting more and more hysterical. "I'll bet Megatron doesn't have these problems! Pit, I bet Megatron doesn't do paperwork! SO WHY SHOULD I?"