Post by elphie on Jan 8, 2012 19:48:01 GMT -5
Earth, August 26, 2011
Location: Lakeside, Tranquility Nature Gardens
Outside Temperature: 97 degrees
Sam straightened his tie with lightly shaking hands. “This is one of those times that I step back and say to myself, ‘self, this is insane.’”
“What is insane, the wedding or that…we…are here?” Optimus Prime asked. Since they were outside, he stayed in his alternate mode and muted his voice.
“Both.” Sam looked up at the enormous truck. “But I think it’s mostly the wedding.”
The Camaro beside them squeaked and wiggled its side mirror pointedly.
“Bumblebee says your collar is crooked,” Optimus translated. “But I think he is joking because it looks fine to me.”
“Knock it off, ‘Bee,” Sam grumbled, but straightened the neckwear again anyway. “You think I can’t freak out all on my own?”
Bumblebee whistled apologetically.
“It’s okay.” Sam took a deep breath. “Anybody seen my dad? I mean, you guys are great, but I need a human right now.”
“Your father is on his way,” Optimus reported. “He was throwing up behind a tree, according to Jazz.”
“Te-qui-la!” Bumblebee sang.
“I warned them,” Sam said ruefully. “Shots are not a good idea.”
“I have to agree with you, Sam,” Ratchet said as he pulled up. “I do not understand the concept of alcohol, nor the concept of a bachelor party. It all seems like a lot of trouble.”
Sam’s best man, Miles, climbed out of Ratchet’s front seat. His nose was purple and tightly bandaged. “Thanks for the ride, doc-bot.”
“You’re welcome,” Ratchet muttered.
“Miles, what happened to you?” Optimus demanded.
“Tequila,” Bumblebee and Sam said.
“Broken nose,” Ratchet clarified. “We were at the ER all night. Or what was left of the night after 1:00 am.”
“What happened?” Optimus asked with a sigh.
“I was climbin’ an epic tree,” Miles explained. “But it kicked me off and I faceplanted.”
“And no one tried to stop you?”
“I did,” Sam informed Optimus. Bumblebee wiggled his side mirror again, this time in a ‘me too!’ gesture.
“I didn’t actually see it,” Ratchet admitted. “I was following at a safe distance in case this”—he motioned to Miles with a front tire—“happened.”
“Oh, for Spark’s sake…” Optimus muttered. “So the father of the groom is throwing up, the best man is hungover with a broken nose, and the groom himself is unharmed and sober?”
“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Miles protested. “But the dude doesn’t like Jell-O shots, doesn’t like tequila, and doesn’t like vodka—what else was I supposed to do?”
“I heard the girls were almost as crazy,” Ratchet said, earning himself a door-slap from Bumblebee.
“Is my bride in one piece?” Sam demanded.
“She is fine,” Optimus hastened to assure him. “Elita and Chromia are with her now.”
“Good.”
Miles suddenly make a choking noise and dove behind a bush. He vomited noisily.
“Apparently blows to the head can cause regurgitation,” Ratchet remarked.
“Or half a bottle of tequila,” Sam pointed out. “But me and Mikaela are sober. That’s all that matters.”
“Keep thinkin’ that, buddy.” Miles came out from behind the bush. “If everything else sucks, you got your girl. Your hot girl.” He looked around. “I feel like I need to climb a tree.”
Ratchet leaned over, used his door like a shovel to scoop up Miles, and locked the young man inside. “You are not going anywhere. If you need to throw up, stick your head out the window.”
“Hey, I don’t throw up in my own car, let alone a talking ambulance,” Miles said indignantly. He grinned. “Trippy stuff always happens to me. That’s why I wasn’t surprised about you guys. Always knew there was more out there than just us, you know?”
No one chose to comment. Sam leaned against Bumblebee, looking green.
“Sam,” Optimus said quickly. “You’re holding your breath. Breathe. Everything will be fine. Even if it is not, you have Mikaela and she will always love you.”
“Hungover or sober,” Ratchet added.
“Mikaela, you need to breathe.” Elita One nudged the girl with her bumper. “Take a deep breath. You’re fine, sweetheart.”
“I’m gonna throw up.”
“No, you are not. You are going to get married and you are going to…uh…”
“Live happily ever after,” Chromia supplied.
“I can’t do this,” Mikaela moaned. “This was a stupid idea.”
“No it wasn’t,” Elita said soothingly. “You love Sam, and he loves you.” She opened her driver-side door. “In. I have air-conditioning. It will help. Make sure you don’t shut your dress in the door.”
Mikaela climbed in and gathered her dress in after her. She sat there shaking.
“You still need to breathe,” Elita told her.
“Oh, I forgot about that.” Mikaela sucked in the cold, purified air. “Yeah, the air conditioning does help.”
“Have you seen the flowers?” Chromia asked, trying to distract her.
“Flowers?” Mikaela echoed. “I have…flowers?”
“Yes,” Chromia answered. “They are red and they smell nice.”
“Roses!”
“Yeah, that’s what they’re called. And in your bouquet there’s different ones…” Chromia hummed as she tried to remember. “Another kind, on branches. They’re purple and white, and they also smell nice. Sam said they’re your favorite.”
“Lilacs!” Mikaela broke into a grin. “They are my favorite!”
“I hope you don’t feel like vomiting anymore,” Elita said.
“I don’t think so.” Mikaela rested her head on the steering wheel. “Can you find out if Sam survived the bachelor party?”
There was a moment of silence while information was exchanged and then Elita said, “Sam survived. Optimus and Bumblebee are taking care of him. He’s the only one who is not severely hungover.”
“Luckily for him,” Mikaela said darkly. “My bachelorette party wasn’t half as wild as what they did.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Chromia scoffed. “Male strippers, Mikaela? Really?”
“And how do you know what they did?” Elita asked severely.
“I was following them the whole time in case somebody got too drunk to drive.”
“Well, the strippers weren’t all we did,” Mikaela said defensively. “We also went to Godiva and, uh, Fredericks of Hollywood.”
“Fredricks of…what does that mean?” Elita inquired.
“It’s a lingerie store…with, uh…ahh...”
“Did you buy anything?”
“No comment.”
Elita laughed. “Now, what’s Godiva?”
“That’s a chocolate store,” Mikaela told her without hesitation. “Best chocolate ever. That’s also for tonight.”
“I will refrain from asking anything else, because something is telling me that I’m better off not knowing.”
From the other side of the park, across the lake, a loud, familiar air horn blared.
“That’s the signal,” Elita said cheerfully. “Let’s go get married, shall we?”
“Okay. Okay.” Mikaela got out of the car and smoothed her dress down. “Do I look all right? I’m not all sweaty and gross, am I?”
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Elita assured her. “You like the girl in that animated film the Twins made me watch…what was it called? Oh—Cinderella! That’s it! You look like Cinderella.”
Mikaela grinned. “Thanks. That’s what moms are supposed to say.”
“Of course it is!” Elita said, nudging Mikaela again.
“Consider me the naughty aunt who always gets you into trouble,” Chromia suggested.
“Chromia!”
“I was just kidding.”
Elita ignored her. “We will all be watching from the parking lot, Mikaela.”
“I wish you could be there,” Mikaela said.
“I think a bunch of vehicles would be a little too conspicuous. Besides you, the only one who knows about us it the priest—pastor—whatever he is,” Elita concluded. “And he does not seem to care.”
The priest was over eighty, and had been an Army chaplain during WWII and Vietnam. When the Autobots transformed in front of him, he had looked up at them, blinked, and asked Optimus Prime if he could bless them. Optimus shrugged and said yes. Five minutes, Holy Water, and oil upon the Autobot’s hands was all it took. The priest walked away without a word.
“Awesome, isn’t he?” Mikaela asked.
“Yes, he is,” Elita answered patiently. “Now stop stalling. Time for you to panic your way down the aisle, my dear. Let’s go.”
As Optimus and Elita had promised, everything went perfectly.
Sam’s ring was a brightly colored circle of metal. Of course, Ratchet had made it. Sam snorted and swallowed the laughter. Mikaela glared at him with a ‘don’t you dare’ look in her eyes.
It was Mikaela’s turn to laugh when she saw her own ring: In place of a diamond was a glowing Energon chip.
She pressed one hand against her mouth to quell the giggles. Sam looked at her and had to bite his tongue to stay silent.
“I’m gonna get them for this,” he whispered. “I think they’re messing with us.”
“Wait till you see what I’ve got planned,” Mikaela whispered back.
They went silent when the priest gave them a glare that would freeze an ice cube.
Two minutes later, the old priest became even less happy. The astrominute he said you may kiss the bride, automotive chaos erupted from the nearest parking lot—horns, head lights, sirens, and one huge truck engine racing.
“What in the world is that?” hissed one of the bridesmaids.
“Just some friends,” Judy told her. “Mechanics, you know.”
“Skyfire, deploy,” Ironhide transmitted.
“Ironhide,” Optimus said warningly.
“It’s only fair that Skyfire get to do his part, since he can’t sit with us,” Elita pointed out soothingly. “It was Mikaela’s idea.”
Skyfire buzzed overhead and dumped a half-dozen confetti-filled missiles.
“You are dead when I get my hands on you,” Optimus growled at Ironhide.
“Just wait til you see the fireworks,” Ironhide said lightly. He barreled down the hill toward the reception tent.
“Optimus!” Elita turned his attention back to the ceremony, when he had been about to chase off after Ironhide. The missiles had detonated. “Oh, scrap. That is a lot of glitter.”
“Ironhide?” Sam guessed.
“Yeah,” Mikaela said. She looked up. “We better get out of here.”
“Why?”
“Because I know exactly how much is in those things.”
The park rangers were still picking up sparkles three weeks later.
THE END
Location: Lakeside, Tranquility Nature Gardens
Outside Temperature: 97 degrees
Sam straightened his tie with lightly shaking hands. “This is one of those times that I step back and say to myself, ‘self, this is insane.’”
“What is insane, the wedding or that…we…are here?” Optimus Prime asked. Since they were outside, he stayed in his alternate mode and muted his voice.
“Both.” Sam looked up at the enormous truck. “But I think it’s mostly the wedding.”
The Camaro beside them squeaked and wiggled its side mirror pointedly.
“Bumblebee says your collar is crooked,” Optimus translated. “But I think he is joking because it looks fine to me.”
“Knock it off, ‘Bee,” Sam grumbled, but straightened the neckwear again anyway. “You think I can’t freak out all on my own?”
Bumblebee whistled apologetically.
“It’s okay.” Sam took a deep breath. “Anybody seen my dad? I mean, you guys are great, but I need a human right now.”
“Your father is on his way,” Optimus reported. “He was throwing up behind a tree, according to Jazz.”
“Te-qui-la!” Bumblebee sang.
“I warned them,” Sam said ruefully. “Shots are not a good idea.”
“I have to agree with you, Sam,” Ratchet said as he pulled up. “I do not understand the concept of alcohol, nor the concept of a bachelor party. It all seems like a lot of trouble.”
Sam’s best man, Miles, climbed out of Ratchet’s front seat. His nose was purple and tightly bandaged. “Thanks for the ride, doc-bot.”
“You’re welcome,” Ratchet muttered.
“Miles, what happened to you?” Optimus demanded.
“Tequila,” Bumblebee and Sam said.
“Broken nose,” Ratchet clarified. “We were at the ER all night. Or what was left of the night after 1:00 am.”
“What happened?” Optimus asked with a sigh.
“I was climbin’ an epic tree,” Miles explained. “But it kicked me off and I faceplanted.”
“And no one tried to stop you?”
“I did,” Sam informed Optimus. Bumblebee wiggled his side mirror again, this time in a ‘me too!’ gesture.
“I didn’t actually see it,” Ratchet admitted. “I was following at a safe distance in case this”—he motioned to Miles with a front tire—“happened.”
“Oh, for Spark’s sake…” Optimus muttered. “So the father of the groom is throwing up, the best man is hungover with a broken nose, and the groom himself is unharmed and sober?”
“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Miles protested. “But the dude doesn’t like Jell-O shots, doesn’t like tequila, and doesn’t like vodka—what else was I supposed to do?”
“I heard the girls were almost as crazy,” Ratchet said, earning himself a door-slap from Bumblebee.
“Is my bride in one piece?” Sam demanded.
“She is fine,” Optimus hastened to assure him. “Elita and Chromia are with her now.”
“Good.”
Miles suddenly make a choking noise and dove behind a bush. He vomited noisily.
“Apparently blows to the head can cause regurgitation,” Ratchet remarked.
“Or half a bottle of tequila,” Sam pointed out. “But me and Mikaela are sober. That’s all that matters.”
“Keep thinkin’ that, buddy.” Miles came out from behind the bush. “If everything else sucks, you got your girl. Your hot girl.” He looked around. “I feel like I need to climb a tree.”
Ratchet leaned over, used his door like a shovel to scoop up Miles, and locked the young man inside. “You are not going anywhere. If you need to throw up, stick your head out the window.”
“Hey, I don’t throw up in my own car, let alone a talking ambulance,” Miles said indignantly. He grinned. “Trippy stuff always happens to me. That’s why I wasn’t surprised about you guys. Always knew there was more out there than just us, you know?”
No one chose to comment. Sam leaned against Bumblebee, looking green.
“Sam,” Optimus said quickly. “You’re holding your breath. Breathe. Everything will be fine. Even if it is not, you have Mikaela and she will always love you.”
“Hungover or sober,” Ratchet added.
“Mikaela, you need to breathe.” Elita One nudged the girl with her bumper. “Take a deep breath. You’re fine, sweetheart.”
“I’m gonna throw up.”
“No, you are not. You are going to get married and you are going to…uh…”
“Live happily ever after,” Chromia supplied.
“I can’t do this,” Mikaela moaned. “This was a stupid idea.”
“No it wasn’t,” Elita said soothingly. “You love Sam, and he loves you.” She opened her driver-side door. “In. I have air-conditioning. It will help. Make sure you don’t shut your dress in the door.”
Mikaela climbed in and gathered her dress in after her. She sat there shaking.
“You still need to breathe,” Elita told her.
“Oh, I forgot about that.” Mikaela sucked in the cold, purified air. “Yeah, the air conditioning does help.”
“Have you seen the flowers?” Chromia asked, trying to distract her.
“Flowers?” Mikaela echoed. “I have…flowers?”
“Yes,” Chromia answered. “They are red and they smell nice.”
“Roses!”
“Yeah, that’s what they’re called. And in your bouquet there’s different ones…” Chromia hummed as she tried to remember. “Another kind, on branches. They’re purple and white, and they also smell nice. Sam said they’re your favorite.”
“Lilacs!” Mikaela broke into a grin. “They are my favorite!”
“I hope you don’t feel like vomiting anymore,” Elita said.
“I don’t think so.” Mikaela rested her head on the steering wheel. “Can you find out if Sam survived the bachelor party?”
There was a moment of silence while information was exchanged and then Elita said, “Sam survived. Optimus and Bumblebee are taking care of him. He’s the only one who is not severely hungover.”
“Luckily for him,” Mikaela said darkly. “My bachelorette party wasn’t half as wild as what they did.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Chromia scoffed. “Male strippers, Mikaela? Really?”
“And how do you know what they did?” Elita asked severely.
“I was following them the whole time in case somebody got too drunk to drive.”
“Well, the strippers weren’t all we did,” Mikaela said defensively. “We also went to Godiva and, uh, Fredericks of Hollywood.”
“Fredricks of…what does that mean?” Elita inquired.
“It’s a lingerie store…with, uh…ahh...”
“Did you buy anything?”
“No comment.”
Elita laughed. “Now, what’s Godiva?”
“That’s a chocolate store,” Mikaela told her without hesitation. “Best chocolate ever. That’s also for tonight.”
“I will refrain from asking anything else, because something is telling me that I’m better off not knowing.”
From the other side of the park, across the lake, a loud, familiar air horn blared.
“That’s the signal,” Elita said cheerfully. “Let’s go get married, shall we?”
“Okay. Okay.” Mikaela got out of the car and smoothed her dress down. “Do I look all right? I’m not all sweaty and gross, am I?”
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Elita assured her. “You like the girl in that animated film the Twins made me watch…what was it called? Oh—Cinderella! That’s it! You look like Cinderella.”
Mikaela grinned. “Thanks. That’s what moms are supposed to say.”
“Of course it is!” Elita said, nudging Mikaela again.
“Consider me the naughty aunt who always gets you into trouble,” Chromia suggested.
“Chromia!”
“I was just kidding.”
Elita ignored her. “We will all be watching from the parking lot, Mikaela.”
“I wish you could be there,” Mikaela said.
“I think a bunch of vehicles would be a little too conspicuous. Besides you, the only one who knows about us it the priest—pastor—whatever he is,” Elita concluded. “And he does not seem to care.”
The priest was over eighty, and had been an Army chaplain during WWII and Vietnam. When the Autobots transformed in front of him, he had looked up at them, blinked, and asked Optimus Prime if he could bless them. Optimus shrugged and said yes. Five minutes, Holy Water, and oil upon the Autobot’s hands was all it took. The priest walked away without a word.
“Awesome, isn’t he?” Mikaela asked.
“Yes, he is,” Elita answered patiently. “Now stop stalling. Time for you to panic your way down the aisle, my dear. Let’s go.”
As Optimus and Elita had promised, everything went perfectly.
Sam’s ring was a brightly colored circle of metal. Of course, Ratchet had made it. Sam snorted and swallowed the laughter. Mikaela glared at him with a ‘don’t you dare’ look in her eyes.
It was Mikaela’s turn to laugh when she saw her own ring: In place of a diamond was a glowing Energon chip.
She pressed one hand against her mouth to quell the giggles. Sam looked at her and had to bite his tongue to stay silent.
“I’m gonna get them for this,” he whispered. “I think they’re messing with us.”
“Wait till you see what I’ve got planned,” Mikaela whispered back.
They went silent when the priest gave them a glare that would freeze an ice cube.
Two minutes later, the old priest became even less happy. The astrominute he said you may kiss the bride, automotive chaos erupted from the nearest parking lot—horns, head lights, sirens, and one huge truck engine racing.
“What in the world is that?” hissed one of the bridesmaids.
“Just some friends,” Judy told her. “Mechanics, you know.”
“Skyfire, deploy,” Ironhide transmitted.
“Ironhide,” Optimus said warningly.
“It’s only fair that Skyfire get to do his part, since he can’t sit with us,” Elita pointed out soothingly. “It was Mikaela’s idea.”
Skyfire buzzed overhead and dumped a half-dozen confetti-filled missiles.
“You are dead when I get my hands on you,” Optimus growled at Ironhide.
“Just wait til you see the fireworks,” Ironhide said lightly. He barreled down the hill toward the reception tent.
“Optimus!” Elita turned his attention back to the ceremony, when he had been about to chase off after Ironhide. The missiles had detonated. “Oh, scrap. That is a lot of glitter.”
“Ironhide?” Sam guessed.
“Yeah,” Mikaela said. She looked up. “We better get out of here.”
“Why?”
“Because I know exactly how much is in those things.”
The park rangers were still picking up sparkles three weeks later.
THE END