Why Dead Flowers

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There were many a things that Ironhide didn’t understand about earth. Luckily, most things he didn’t, at first, comprehend where easily defined and explained by the human internet, but it seemed the internet would not be helping him today.  

There was a scurry within the house and the next thing the Topkick knew Will burst out of the door in nothing but his fish print boxers, running full force at the parked Cybertronain with cloths in one of his hand and his shoes in another. It didn’t even take a blink of an eye and Will was hiding on Ironhide’s floor boards like a shivering rodent. The human stayed on the floorboards a moment, his eyes just peeking over the dashboard as if looking for someone.  

“I take it we are going out for the day,” said Ironhide dryly.

“You could say that,” murmured the man as he continued to peer over the dashboard suspiciously, “now back out of the driveway, quietly. I don’t want to wake Sarah.”

Complying, Ironhide turned on his engine and slowly crept backwards out of the yard, his radio was buzzing with a sound that could be nothing more than a chuckle. Will sat up in the seat, managing to ‘accidentally’ kicked Ironhide in the dashboard for the noise. The Autobot merely slammed on the gas making his passenger practically roll into the passenger’s side as the mech sped off onto the paved road, his destination unknown.

Yet he couldn’t help but ask, “Will Lennox, I still don’t understand. Are you running away from your femme? Did she attack you? Did you refuse to mate with her or was she trying to eat you like one of those ‘spider’ creatures now that you have completed your purpose in reproduction.”

Will stared at the radio for a few moments until he shook his head. “No more Discovery Channel for you, my friend.”

A few minutes later, Ironhide was twitching on his tires. Generally, he didn’t mind sitting in the sun waiting for his human to return, but there was something extremely irritating about this place. No, it wasn’t the love struck zombies that seemed to continually enter the store; it was the pollen entering his intakes! Somehow, despite all need too, the metallic individual had managed not to throw a fit and blow up every flowered specimen in the area. With a huff, the mech in alt form, blew out some of the irritating plant reproductive cells from his system, scaring a few passing humans with the roar that came from his ‘off’ engine.

Why was he here again? Oh yah … Will was having problems with his femme, apparently he forgot about something called an anniversary and was trying to get her a gift before she’d notice he’d forgotten. Well, if that was the case, why on Cybertron were they ‘here’ letting him bake in the hot summer sun while Will wandered around the vegetation in the ‘greenhouse’? Why did they call it that anyway? The building wasn’t even a living residence, and it was certainly anything but green. Hound was green, apple Jolly Ranchers were green, Ratchet was kind-a green, but this building was certainly not green. In fact, it really couldn’t be given a color since technically the building was made of glass.

A few moments passed like rain into a bucket, and finally, like the final ripple into that very same bucket, Will opened the car door and sat down. A soft grin was buttered onto his face as he stared at the cargo in his hands before putting it on the passenger seat.

“This should make Sarah happy. She’ll have no idea that I forgot. Okay, let’s go. Hopefully, I’ll have time to make breakfast before she wakes up,” said the man with the same goofy grin on his face.

Ironhide didn’t move though, earning the Autobot a worried glance from his human companion. With a tightening of Will’s fingers on the steering wheel, the off duty soldier leaned forward so it would look like he was getting something off the floorboards and not talking to his vehicle’s radio.

“Umm, Ironhide, you okay? Are you injured or something, because I have Ratchet on speed-dial.”

The mech quickly snapped out of his silence, and he tried to stifle the tremor that ran through his voice, “No! … I’d rather ignore the scalpel wielding terror … it’s just that I’m confused.”

Will had tried to not smile, but he did anyway. He loved it when any of the Autobots had questions about human culture. It was like talking to a curious child with really good speaking edict, “About what, old timer?”

Ironhide’s engine huffed in disgust at the comment, but his curiosity reined easily over his short temper for the moment.

“Well … dead things are generally bad on this planet, correct? Except when you aren’t eating it that is,” murmured the mech, trying to ignore the thought of dead creature meat and snapping human jaws. Primus, it was like catabolism. Not that he’d ever tell any of the humans that.

“Yah … usually.”

“Then why have you put dead vegetation in me that you cannot eat … and if you were planning on eating it, I highly recommend not doing so,” growled the mech. Really, humans would put anything in their mouths. It was like watching sparklings.

Will was drawn back for a moment. It was like he was being scolded for dropping a piece of candy and then putting it in his mouth anyway, “W-what? What are you talking about, Ironhide? There is no dead vegetation in your cab.”

A huff escaped the heater making Will’s un-kept hair wave.

“Then what is ‘that’ in the passenger’s seat?” said the mech, his engine turning over.

Chuckling quickly escaped the man as he reached over and picked up the bouquet of flowers, his gaze softening as he looked at it. It was as if he was looking at something more than flowers, something far more precious. The mech personally didn’t get it.

“These are flowers, Ironhide,” said Will softly.

“Yes, I know that,” add the mech as he started to tilt his tires and pull out of the parking lot. “They are a plant with no true use. They are a weed if you ask me, can’t even intake them.”

A huff escaped Will as he placed the flowers back on the seat, pretending to take the wheel so people would stop staring.

“True, you can’t eat them, but that’s not their purpose. They are meant for visual enjoyment and when you give them to another person, it means love. I love Sarah so I’m giving her flowers,” said the soldier with a slight tint of irritation in his voice; it was starting to get late.

“Alright, it is a courting ritual than,” Will rolled his eyes, but the mech continued, “But I must confess that I’m still confused. If you love someone, why not give them something living instead of dead flowers?”

Will pinched his nose bridge. Perhaps he wasn’t using big enough words.

“Look. I don’t know much about mechs and if you have anything like wives-”

“Spark mates,” interrupted the mech, a sudden pain welling up in his spark as a blue femme danced in the back of his mind. It had been a long time. Far too long since he had seen her, touched her, felt her spark answer back to his. He’d never admit it to Prime of the others, but it was as if a part of him had died when they were forced to part. “They are called spark mates.”

“Yah, well, that’s one way to say you love them in a physical display,” said Will, his voice growing soft; was it him or had Ironhide just sounded … sad? “Especially when you can’t find the words to say just how much.”

Ironhide was silent, the stab growing even deeper in his spark. It was as if he could feel Chromia gripping on the very edge of his spark, cursing him that he had been unable to find her. It had felt like centuries since the last time he had seen her … if she was even still alive.

The silence had lasted a rather long time on the trip back after, and Will started to get the crawling feeling that he had said something wrong. Slowly, the man leaned forward, and whispered to the radio, a hand placed gently on the dashboard in a comforting manner, “’Hide, did I say something wrong?”

Ironhide was silent. He was a little surprised at the human’s affectionate forwardness, but answered back calmly, “No, William Lennox … I just wish that I had someone to give flowers too.”

…

Ironhide had dwelled on that memory for the following weeks as if it were a good bye to a love one. It just replayed in his head over and over again. He loved his spark mate to no end and more than once almost died in protecting the somewhat aggressive femme from time to time. Yet, he never wanted anyone else, anyone other, to love as a mate, and he was sure that he never would. That’s what this pain in his chest must have been … perhaps he was realizing that he may never get to hold her again, her spark whispering up to his.

“Yoh, Ironhide,” called out Will, a grin on his face as he stepped out onto the porch like a man with a secret, waving at the mech sitting in the driveway. “You got a call from Ratch’.”

Or perhaps it was because she was nearby and demanding he come to her.

…
Chromia pulled her fist back ready to punch her mate in the face. Ironhide turned off his optics and took a chance, praying it wouldn’t end with his aft in the medical bay. The punch never came, and the Weapon’s Specialist dared to restart his optic. He wasn’t meant by an angry frown on the blue femme’s lovely metallic lips, but by a confused expression as she observed the item that was in Ironhide’s hand and held outwards toward her. She took one finger and poked at the entire rose bush, dirt falling to the floor from the roots that had been so harshly tugged from the earth.

“What is this supposed to be?” She asked in a confused tone as she poked at one of the white roses, watching the petals fall slowly to the metallic tiles below before she got back into the mech’s face with a new found vengeance. “It’s an awful sorry excuse for making up your abandonment of me. Do you know how many vorns it’s been since I’ve gotten a call from you, huh? Not even one ‘I miss you’ message! What? Did you find a better mate?”

With a soft whine of his engines, Ironhide looked to the floor. It almost hurt his spark to think over his lover’s question, but he had been so scared for her safety back then. Almost every femme he found dead would look like his goddess for a fleeting moment and with every empty body he found, he was a little surer that Chromia hadn’t escaped. He was sure she had left him without even a whispering goodbye.

Ironhide’s gaze then carried itself over to the flowers. Will’s femme had become overjoyed with the strange gift of dead vegetation and human candies. It was as if the human female had fallen back in love with her chosen mate. Ironhide grasped onto the small hope that his femme would do the same before he stated sadly,  “When those slaggers destroyed the sparkling’ centers and started to destroy the femmes I was too scared to call you in worry that they’d tract the signal. And-and then when I finally did call … the base was empty. I thought you were dead for the longest time.”

With a lost moment hanging on the error, the blue warrior’s anger seemed to seep out of her armor and into the wind. Chromia looked at the floor and the white petals slowly covering it as if ashamed of her hastiness. It was now very apparent that Ironhide had suffered as much as she had over their long period of suppuration. Swallowing her pride, the fair bosomed being stepped forward and looked at the white topped vegetation.

“What is this thing again?” she said simply, placing a hand on one of her hips.

Flabbergasted for a moment, Ironhide replied with a grin, “I-it’s flowers.”

The femme pulled away slightly once the scan revealed what flowers truly were. Placing her fists on her hips, Chromia focused her optics back onto Ironhide’s face. The frown had returned. “It’s dead vegetation.”

Ironhide’s optic twitched. “No, it’s flowers. Flowers like from the human culture.”

The metallic female jutted one leg out to the side and crossed her arms over her chest, clicking slightly in irritation. “It’s still dead vegetation.”

A huffed escaped the mech as his impatience started to rise as well, pushing the flowers a little closer towards the femme. She merely took a step back as if it was an infection. “It’s flowers, roses to be in exact.”

Chromia rolled her optics, “Dead vegetation.”

“Flowers.”

“Dead vegetations.”

“Flowers.”

“Dead vegetations.”

“They are flowers for the last time and what’s wrong with them?!” growled the mech as he waved the bush around, scattering the soft white petals throughout the air like falling snowflakes. “Here I was trying to say ‘I loved you’, but it seems that that isn’t good enough for yah’. Wha’ you want a Deception head instead?”

Her eyes dimming for a moment in realization as the blue maiden accessed the internet; the metallic woman couldn’t help but feel a little giddy once she found out that her mate had try something new and romantic for her. But … it was still dead vegetation. If she wanted something dead she’d go beat the slag out of a ‘Con. A wicked grin couldn’t help but form on her face as she took a quick step forward, slapping the white roses from her surprised mech’s hand - flinging white petals all about the room- and wrapping her arms  around his neck, hangin’ there for a moment with that wicked grin on her face.

“They’re still dead. How does that represent a live relationship like ours?” mocked the femme as she ran a hand tauntingly down the Weapon Specialist’s chassis.

Ironhide couldn’t help but feeling his engine whine. She was right. How did dead flowers represent anything? Suddenly, there was a splash of color walking pass the rec. room doors and Ironhide couldn’t help but grin. Problem solved.

XXX

Bumblebee’s engines sighed as the turned another corner in the base. He had been searching and still he hadn’t seen hair or hide of Sam’s companion. He had even dared to look under one of Ratchet’s berths in the medical bay. The mini-bot rubbed the dent in his cranial unit. He’d never dare that again, but he still had to find Miles before Sam started to freak out thinking Wheeljack had gotten him. Where had that human gone? ‘Bee knew Miles had a curfew and the last thing the youngling needed was a moping Sam because his bud had been grounded. Primus, how hard could it be to find a human with a shirt that bright?

“Miles?” called out the yellow mech as he turned another corner, leading him deeper into the barracks. He came to a halt when a soft sniff came from a closed door. The mech turned his audios up so he could hear where the sound was coming from. The mech was soon crawling on his hands and knees in order to hear the sound better. Whatever the thing was it was close to the ground. The small sound finally dragged him to a destination, Ironhide and Chromia’s room. Bumblebee’s wings couldn’t help but fall. Everyone had told him to stay away from the Weapon Specialist’s room for the next few orns if he valued his sight. He was bound to see some grisly sights if he dared to interrupted the reunited pair.

The yellow being couldn’t help but sigh as he went to the door. With some gentle prodding ‘Bee hastily managed to get the door open half way, a light dancing into the room but still dark enough to keep the higher part of the room dark … the higher part being Ironhide’s berth. Then with his wings flat against his back, the scout crawled under the door, nearly jumping out of his metallic hide when a mumble escaped the berth. The youngling couldn’t help but look away as a recharging Chromia cuddled a little closer to Ironhide on the berth. With a quickly misplaced gaze, the yellow bug was about to leave the room so he could be properly traumatized when he heard another mumble but a different one from the cuddling pair. With a sighing engine, Bumblebee snuck a little deeper into the room, praying that the mating couple wouldn’t wake up. It didn’t take him long to find the source of the noise, especially when said noise-maker was sparking like an electrocuted character out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Miles looked over at ‘Bee, hair sparking with electricity, eyes wide as if he had just seen his parents making a sibling. His lips trembled for a moment as if the words were being held back by his teeth, but he finally whispered, “Bumblebee.”

“Comin’,” whispered the smaller mech as he tiptoed over to the human, picking him up off a counter near the berth as if he had been placed there as some type of decoration. The human merely clung to the yellow caretaker as they ducked out of the room, the door going swoop along with ‘Bee’s vents as they exited the room without a hitch. The youngling could only pray Sam wouldn’t notice that Miles was now damaged goods when he got back to the main hanger of the base.

“You know what?” said the human as he directed his horrified gaze upward at his transportation. “I hate flowers. Especially live ones,” and with that he threw his flower patterned Hawaiian shirt to the floor, “forever they be damned and may all their petals shrivel.”

Bumblebee wanted to inquire further but he knew he didn’t want to be traumatized anymore in one day.