Traffic Cones
Title: Traffic Cones
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings:Ironhide, Annabelle Lennox
Rating: PG
Summary: Driving a normal car is tough, when you're used to the ones that talk back if you swear at them.
Warnings: n/a
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made)
Table of Contents
o o o
The inside of Annabelle's lip was raw and bloody from biting at it and she was trying very, very hard to not stomp like a toddler, anger and embarrassment suffusing her entire form. The other kids swerved to avoid her and her well-documented temper as she stalked down the sidewalk away from school.
"Bella!" She didn't turn to look as a small, dark form jogged to catch up with her. Though he was a good friend, and 'smarter than he had any right to be', as her dad put it, Jase Witwicky was also almost four years younger than she was, and thus had a long time yet until he had to deal with her particular problem. The middle-schooler fell into step beside her, worried eyes tracking her tight, reddened features. "Driver's Ed not go so good?" he asked softly.
"No, it didn't go so damn good," Annabelle snapped. Jase knew her too well to take offense at her harsh tone, merely grimacing in sympathy. "I just don't get it," Annabelle continued. "They tell me things and I know what I'm supposed to do and then I get in the car and I go and I try to hit the gas and the brake at the same time and panic and the teacher bitched me out after I took out a whole row of cones and-" She broke off, biting her lip again, because the pain caused by her teeth was better than crying in the middle of the sidewalk where Jase and God and everyone could see her.
Jase looked alarmed at her side, a twelve-year-old boy capable of handling her worst rages but utterly at a loss when it came to handling her tears. He lifted his hand hesitantly, thinking to pat her shoulder or something, but a familiar vehicle idling beside the curb just up from where they were stopped him. "Hey, at least you got a ride home," he said instead.
Annabelle looked up, catching sight of Ironhide's massive form parked by the curb. She rubbed at her eyes, firmly telling herself that she was just scratching an itch and not brushing away the moisture in her lashes. "You coming?" she asked Jase.
"Nah, Mom's at the office here in town, I'll get a ride back with her," he said. He bit his own lip, awkward and shy for a moment. "You gonna be okay, Bella?"
"I'm fine, Jase," she said, then caught the skeptical look on his face. "Promise. I'll borrow a base jeep or something tonight and practice."
"'Kay," he said doubtfully, as they came up on the big truck-but-not-a-truck. "See ya, Bella,"
"Bye, Jase," Annabelle called as she circled around to Ironhide's passenger side. The door popped open at a touch, and the teen hauled herself up into the cab, not even sparing a glance for the holographic driver that resembled her father. "Hey, 'Hide."
"Your father requested I bring you to the base, instead of the in-town residence," Ironhide said by way of greeting, pulling away from the curb. Annabelle nodded, sitting back in her seat. The Mission City base was a good hour away from the city, plenty of time to get a check on her wayward emotions.
Ironhide didn't speak again until they were on the highway proper, headed for the military base. "You're upset," the Autobot rumbled, protective concern a faint undertone in his voice. "Why?"
Annabelle sighed through her nose. "Driver's Ed sucked today," she replied moodily. "I freaked and hit a bunch of cones and got yelled at." She shrugged, trying for flippant and nonchalant. "It's no big deal."
"Hm." There was silence from the truck for a distance, wheels eating up the asphalt. Annabelle was just getting over feeling sorry for herself when he spoke again. "Get in the driver's seat."
Annabelle gaped at the hologram, for lack of a better focus point. "'Scuse me?"
"You heard me, sparkling," Ironhide replied. "Get in the driver's seat."
"'Hide, I can't drive!" Annabelle protested. "I can't even make a car go in a straight line!"
"Good thing I'm a truck, then."
"That's not the point," she snapped. "Ratch'll step on me if I run you into a telephone pole."
"If you honestly think I'd let you drive me into a pole, you're misclocked," Ironhide said patiently. "I'll keep driving, but you just need to get used to being 'behind the wheel'. Now get over here." To emphasize his point, the hologram disappeared. "And hurry up, before we get pulled over."
And he would let them, too, and would let her try to explain to her dad why Ironhide was impounded. Letting out a curse that would have done her dad's Army buddies proud, the teen scrambled across the seat, which obligingly moved up so that she could reach the pedals. "Blackmailing your students into performing," she muttered at the review mirror. "What an awesome teacher you are."
"As I should be," Ironhide returned easily. "I was one, long enough."
"Cybertron Drivers Ed?" Annabelle snorted, her fingers curling around the steering wheel, less nervous with the knowledge that Ironhide was still in control of himself.
"Battle training and weaponry," was the response. Annabelle rolled her eyes, grinning. "Eyes on the road, girl. Switch lanes."
"I thought you were driving!"
"I am, but it won't hurt you to practice it. And press on the pedals like you're actually doing something."
Annabelle huffed, pressing obligingly on the gas and switching on the turn signal. "So, battle training, huh?" she asked.
"Taught Prime and Ratchet both how to not get themselves killed," Ironhide said. "And a lot of others, as well. Speed up and pass this slagger, he drives like a glitch."
Annabelle went through the proper motions, giggling. "I am so buying you a 'Number-one teacher' stuffed apple or something for your dash."
"I'll feed it to your dog."
"I'll make sure that when he sicks it back up, it's in your truck bed."
"You're driving too fast, slow down. I'll have Ratchet modify your iPod to only play songs from the 70's."
"Who's driving too fast? When I get my license, I'll ask Optimus to make you play chaperone for me and my friends when we go to town. And we'll wear perfume."
"...You wouldn't dare."
o o o
Will was only a little confused when Annabelle climbed out of the wrong side of Ironhide's cab. The Colonel strolled over to his daughter and guardian, unsurprised to hear them bickering about something. Wondering if they even remembered what had set them off in the first place, he slipped an arm around Annabelle's shoulders. "Have a good day?"
Annabelle's arm went around his waist to return the half-hug, but Ironhide spoke before she could. "Your daughter is a surprisingly good driver, Lennox."
Annabelle made a face at the truck. "I wasn't even driving, you goob," she said, exasperated. "You were."
"That's what you think," Ironhide countered smugly. "The last twenty or so miles were all you, sparkling."
Annabelle's expression went from confused to shocked to furious and she let out an outraged shriek, kicking Ironhide in the wheel before spinning to stomp off into one of the human-sized buildings where the alien couldn't follow. "She's going to give some poor recruit a heart attack," Ironhide chuckled.
Will shook his head. "What would I ever need another kid for, when I have the two of you?" he asked, turning away from Ironhide's protests and setting off to find his daughter before she murdered the first hapless yeoman that got in her way.
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings:Ironhide, Annabelle Lennox
Rating: PG
Summary: Driving a normal car is tough, when you're used to the ones that talk back if you swear at them.
Warnings: n/a
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made)
Table of Contents
o o o
The inside of Annabelle's lip was raw and bloody from biting at it and she was trying very, very hard to not stomp like a toddler, anger and embarrassment suffusing her entire form. The other kids swerved to avoid her and her well-documented temper as she stalked down the sidewalk away from school.
"Bella!" She didn't turn to look as a small, dark form jogged to catch up with her. Though he was a good friend, and 'smarter than he had any right to be', as her dad put it, Jase Witwicky was also almost four years younger than she was, and thus had a long time yet until he had to deal with her particular problem. The middle-schooler fell into step beside her, worried eyes tracking her tight, reddened features. "Driver's Ed not go so good?" he asked softly.
"No, it didn't go so damn good," Annabelle snapped. Jase knew her too well to take offense at her harsh tone, merely grimacing in sympathy. "I just don't get it," Annabelle continued. "They tell me things and I know what I'm supposed to do and then I get in the car and I go and I try to hit the gas and the brake at the same time and panic and the teacher bitched me out after I took out a whole row of cones and-" She broke off, biting her lip again, because the pain caused by her teeth was better than crying in the middle of the sidewalk where Jase and God and everyone could see her.
Jase looked alarmed at her side, a twelve-year-old boy capable of handling her worst rages but utterly at a loss when it came to handling her tears. He lifted his hand hesitantly, thinking to pat her shoulder or something, but a familiar vehicle idling beside the curb just up from where they were stopped him. "Hey, at least you got a ride home," he said instead.
Annabelle looked up, catching sight of Ironhide's massive form parked by the curb. She rubbed at her eyes, firmly telling herself that she was just scratching an itch and not brushing away the moisture in her lashes. "You coming?" she asked Jase.
"Nah, Mom's at the office here in town, I'll get a ride back with her," he said. He bit his own lip, awkward and shy for a moment. "You gonna be okay, Bella?"
"I'm fine, Jase," she said, then caught the skeptical look on his face. "Promise. I'll borrow a base jeep or something tonight and practice."
"'Kay," he said doubtfully, as they came up on the big truck-but-not-a-truck. "See ya, Bella,"
"Bye, Jase," Annabelle called as she circled around to Ironhide's passenger side. The door popped open at a touch, and the teen hauled herself up into the cab, not even sparing a glance for the holographic driver that resembled her father. "Hey, 'Hide."
"Your father requested I bring you to the base, instead of the in-town residence," Ironhide said by way of greeting, pulling away from the curb. Annabelle nodded, sitting back in her seat. The Mission City base was a good hour away from the city, plenty of time to get a check on her wayward emotions.
Ironhide didn't speak again until they were on the highway proper, headed for the military base. "You're upset," the Autobot rumbled, protective concern a faint undertone in his voice. "Why?"
Annabelle sighed through her nose. "Driver's Ed sucked today," she replied moodily. "I freaked and hit a bunch of cones and got yelled at." She shrugged, trying for flippant and nonchalant. "It's no big deal."
"Hm." There was silence from the truck for a distance, wheels eating up the asphalt. Annabelle was just getting over feeling sorry for herself when he spoke again. "Get in the driver's seat."
Annabelle gaped at the hologram, for lack of a better focus point. "'Scuse me?"
"You heard me, sparkling," Ironhide replied. "Get in the driver's seat."
"'Hide, I can't drive!" Annabelle protested. "I can't even make a car go in a straight line!"
"Good thing I'm a truck, then."
"That's not the point," she snapped. "Ratch'll step on me if I run you into a telephone pole."
"If you honestly think I'd let you drive me into a pole, you're misclocked," Ironhide said patiently. "I'll keep driving, but you just need to get used to being 'behind the wheel'. Now get over here." To emphasize his point, the hologram disappeared. "And hurry up, before we get pulled over."
And he would let them, too, and would let her try to explain to her dad why Ironhide was impounded. Letting out a curse that would have done her dad's Army buddies proud, the teen scrambled across the seat, which obligingly moved up so that she could reach the pedals. "Blackmailing your students into performing," she muttered at the review mirror. "What an awesome teacher you are."
"As I should be," Ironhide returned easily. "I was one, long enough."
"Cybertron Drivers Ed?" Annabelle snorted, her fingers curling around the steering wheel, less nervous with the knowledge that Ironhide was still in control of himself.
"Battle training and weaponry," was the response. Annabelle rolled her eyes, grinning. "Eyes on the road, girl. Switch lanes."
"I thought you were driving!"
"I am, but it won't hurt you to practice it. And press on the pedals like you're actually doing something."
Annabelle huffed, pressing obligingly on the gas and switching on the turn signal. "So, battle training, huh?" she asked.
"Taught Prime and Ratchet both how to not get themselves killed," Ironhide said. "And a lot of others, as well. Speed up and pass this slagger, he drives like a glitch."
Annabelle went through the proper motions, giggling. "I am so buying you a 'Number-one teacher' stuffed apple or something for your dash."
"I'll feed it to your dog."
"I'll make sure that when he sicks it back up, it's in your truck bed."
"You're driving too fast, slow down. I'll have Ratchet modify your iPod to only play songs from the 70's."
"Who's driving too fast? When I get my license, I'll ask Optimus to make you play chaperone for me and my friends when we go to town. And we'll wear perfume."
"...You wouldn't dare."
o o o
Will was only a little confused when Annabelle climbed out of the wrong side of Ironhide's cab. The Colonel strolled over to his daughter and guardian, unsurprised to hear them bickering about something. Wondering if they even remembered what had set them off in the first place, he slipped an arm around Annabelle's shoulders. "Have a good day?"
Annabelle's arm went around his waist to return the half-hug, but Ironhide spoke before she could. "Your daughter is a surprisingly good driver, Lennox."
Annabelle made a face at the truck. "I wasn't even driving, you goob," she said, exasperated. "You were."
"That's what you think," Ironhide countered smugly. "The last twenty or so miles were all you, sparkling."
Annabelle's expression went from confused to shocked to furious and she let out an outraged shriek, kicking Ironhide in the wheel before spinning to stomp off into one of the human-sized buildings where the alien couldn't follow. "She's going to give some poor recruit a heart attack," Ironhide chuckled.
Will shook his head. "What would I ever need another kid for, when I have the two of you?" he asked, turning away from Ironhide's protests and setting off to find his daughter before she murdered the first hapless yeoman that got in her way.