yami_samuraiflo | Happy birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,

kirin_saga !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The promised fic should be posted in a few days, with any luck!

Wow, it's really been a while since I last updated this LJ...

EDIT: Well, I'm posting the fic for everyone to read (if somehow people come around here); no beta'ed, sorry for any mistakes you'll find. English not being my mothertongue, it's bound to have some...

Rightcourse's Horrible Nightmare

Resumy: The first time Rightcourse noticed Springer, the kid almost fried his processor...
Starring: OCs, baby Springer, and speical guests baby Arcee and baby Cliffjumper =)

The first time Caretaker Rightcourse noticed Springer, the kid almost fried his processor. Unintentionally, of course, but still…

It was, after all, the first time the little experienced mech (he had only started this job a few orns ago, and it was his first time in a lower class daycare) ever saw a little one under his responsibility suck on a honest to Primus, real gun, of all things (a toy gun, he could have understood and deal; there was a couple of military models who liked to give replicas to their little ones so the tykes could imitate them, and a toy gun wasn’t dangerous so long it wasn’t a model with ‘munitions’), while his little friends watched him do it with no small amount of curiosity and envy. Truth to be told, when Rightcourse entered the room, he found another sparkling next to Springer, trying to touch the gun too. Springer had batted his hand away with a huff, and the other sparkling had started to cry.

Rightcourse had screamed (in a very high, femme-like voice, though he would always deny it), and many of the babies under his charges blinked at him, not understanding why the big mech (big by their standards, anyway) was so loud.

Rightcourse had dashed across the room, tried to take the lethal weapon away from Springer’s grip and managed to. He had thought the crisis averted, as he desperately tried to make sense of what he saw (had Springer stole the gun from one of his parents while they had brought him in one of their subspace pocket? But if so, why hadn’t they noticed their kid had taken the gun? Unless Springer already had a subspace pocket of his own in which he had hidden the gun? But how…?), when a distressed sound made him lower his gaze.

Springer was on the verge of… crying. Well, he was shaking madly, and trying to grab the gun Rightcourse held away from him, a look of utter desperation on his face.

The caretaker had tried to calm him, with little effect. After a breem, Springer distressed expression had given way to impressively loud wails and the sparkling had started hitting him with his little hands and feet.

Sighing, and still trying to sooth the little one to no avail, forcing him to give him back the gun so he would finally stop blowing his audio off and before he could make the other sparklings cry, Rightcourse had given a call to both of Springer’s creators, wishing to speak to them about how dangerous and inappropriate it was for them to have let their child go to school with a fragging weapon!

Weapons were extremely dangerous.

Then, while they waited for the parents of Springer to join them, a little pink femme, Ar-something, tried to tackle the green, bigger sparkling to try and wrestle the gun away from him. Rightcourse had grabbed her; the little femme had cried and screamed and threw a tantrum, wanting the ‘‘ig ‘un’ to play with too. Springer had snorted, and responded in clicks. Rightcourse didn’t understand sparkling primary speech, but he guessed Springer had to have been rude.

Ar-thing’s optics had narrowed, and she had escaped the caretaker’s grip to jump on the other sparkling, and both of them rolled to the floor, fighting and screaming and clicking furiously at each other. And the other sparklilngs had cheered on them, clapping and smiling. Rightcourse almost cried in frustration; sparklings weren’t supposed to act like little savages lifeforms; they were supposed to be well-behaved and nice and not give him any trouble. Rightcourse took the weapon away again, putting him on desk far from anyone but him reach. He then fussed over the two upset sparklings, while praying for this day to return to normalcy.

_________________

If he thought normalcy would accompany Springer’s creators, he was sorely mistaken.

Rightcourse had given them a long, long speech on why having weapons and kids in the same house was a BAD idea. And why one shouldn’t let his creation go to school with a weapon on him because it was an even WORSE idea.

The creators, though, were war from worried. In fact, they casually waved away his concerns with a laugh and a pat at their little one’s head – the sparkling still hadn’t let go of the gun, and was now eagerly sucking on the end of the barrel, little fingers just an inch away from the trigger.

Rightcourse’s optics twitched. He was beginning to think he was allergic to guns…

"You’re really allowing your kid to suck on a gun whenever he wanted?” He asked them, at lost and feeling very, very tired.

The Sire shrugged. She was a lovely dark green and grey femme, with yellowish optics, and she wasn’t a beauty; she was not curvy, but rather bulky, with very big arms and huge hands which made Rightcourse gulp nervously. Those were the arms of a manual worker, a miner or someone involved in heavy lifting, and he could guess they could squash him if he ever displeased their owner.

"Sure we let him; there is no energy cell inside, it won’t go off, lil’ sparkling is perfectly safe. Besides, he likes the gun,” she added as if it could excuse letting a potentially lethal weapon in an innocence processor’s hands.

And, to her, there was nothing more to add.

The carrier wasn’t much better. In fact, he was even worth.

He was singing the praise of the weapon and chuckled as he heard the fight it had provoked.

"A damn good gun it was; saved my life couple of time when I was bringing down some punks who thought they could escape Enforcers’ wrath,” he chuckled. “Took a nasty hit once, though, and almost blew off. Had it repaired right away, ‘course, ‘cause it was one of my favorite, but ever since, the aim was just… wrong. Couldn’t keep shooting with it, but I didn’t want to throw it away, and it would have been a fragging shame to have it just sitting on display. Couldn’t have been more proud of my Springer the day he managed to climb high enough to grab it. Well, we were a tad worried at first, since it was still armed, but he didn’t hurt himself and we put a lid over the cannon and took off the energy cell. So, really, it isn’t like he could find one, so it’s no real danger, you know?

Rightcourse felt faint.

"Are you honestly telling me it’s still in working order?

The carrier shrugged.

"Well, it’s not like he knows how to work it, right? No danger.

The Caretaker took his head between his hands and tried very hard not to sob. He could have sworn Springer was smirking at him. At the very least, he was laughing at him, and not because his sire was tickling him, no.

He had won this round, and he was very proud of it.

Little slagger…

Rightcourse decided, right then, that he hated and would always hate this kid. That, and guns in general (but that, it wasn’t new).

______________________

Later, much later, when he got back to his apartment, shoulders hunching under stress and tiredness, he let himself drop on the main room couch. He didn’t hear anything from his mate, but he wasn’t surprised. She was probably trying to catch a few more recharge cycles before heading for her night job as a waitress. Taking the shift from mid-nigh cycle to the early hours of the morning, she stayed at hom the rest of the time and could afford to take care of their sparkling herself.

Speaking of said sparkling…

Rightcourse left his comfortable position on the couch to check on him.

Peering inside the little room they had deemed ‘the nursery’, he was delighted to see his son wide awake, as his he had waited for his Sire to be home before initiating a new recharge cycle.

Rightcourse took the little one – red, like him, and just as small as he was when he was so young, having inherited his Minibot looks, but with little horns inherited from his carrier – in his arm and cradle him with precaution. The little one laughed and put a hand on his sire’s cheek. Rightcourse smiled.

-Damn Springer and his gun… You will not give me as much trouble as him, will you, Cliffjumper?

The sparkling just giggled.