Fluffy fluff of ultimate fluffiness!

*A*

There couldn't be more fluff in this story if it had fallen into the stuffing pit in a Build-a-Bear Workshop!

Alright, enough silliness aside. I think this is probably my first fluffy and nice and sweet oneshot.

Also, I'm kind of working on a Bumblebee story with the same plot line, just saying.

Could you review it and tell what you think? I'd appreciate it. c:

*plays with flying tuffs of fluff* Fluffiness!

Mockingbird

Ironhide was not amused. Why, why in the name of Primus, Wheeljack was experimenting with, frag, what did he call it? Molecular - atom - Pit, Ironhide wasn't paying attention. The fact remained; Wheeljack, Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee and Preceptor were now humans. Wheeljack said that he could turn them back into their previous metal Cybertronian bodies, if the resulting explosion hadn't destroyed the machine - and all notes pertaining to said experiment. So, while good old Wheeljack was busy racking his, now human, brain and Perceptor helped with the remembrance process, Optimus, Bumblebee and Ratchet set to work making the best of the situation.

Lennox and Sam had a hearty laugh over the matter, while a blushing Mikaela passed out clothing for the humanized mechs. Ironhide had wanted nothing more than to beat the Major and human boy to within an inch of their little lives, but Optimus had been firm ("Don't harm the humans! Even if we, ourselves, are humans"). So Ironhide punched a wall. Unlike when he was a giant twenty-plus foot tall robot, his small human hand was no match for the metal wall. Having nearly shattered his knuckles, and with a berating from Ratchet, Ironhide now had heavy bandages wrapped around his right hand, and was very upset.

Lennox had insisted Ironhide stay with him, Sarah and their now six-year-old daughter Annabel. The ex-Top Kick had just been giddy at the thought. Little Annabel was just as fussy at six as she was at three, and Ironhide saw no end to it. The girl would laugh and kick at Ironhide's seats, regardless of her father, mother and Ironhide's own protests. She was a hellion. Ironhide expected no more respect from the small child now that he was human.

"Daddy, whossat man?" The small child looked up at Ironhide, her lisp from just losing her second upper incisor and a lower canine.

"This is Mr. Hide. He'll be staying with us for a while."

"Wha' happened thu the thalking thwuck?" She rubbed her eye, boredly.

"It's - er," William failed to come up with an excuse, "It's complicated."

William tousled his daughter's shoulder-length hair. The child giggled and skipped away, dragging a piece of jumping rope behind her, childlike curiosity gone. Ironhide watched the child leave and noticed she stopped and looked back at him. She had that mischievous glint in her eye. Oh, yes. This was going to be a fun ride.

[...]

"But, Daddy! I don't want him thu wassh me!" Annabel stomped her foot, dressed for bed. Sarah and William were going out and Ironhide was asked to baby-sit Annabel. By the name, Ironhide was more than happy to sit on their child, until William quickly explained to his friend that babysitting didn't literally mean sit on my child. The fun taken away from his evening, Ironhide still accepted the job. Annabel was not happy. "I'm nawt a kid ahnymora!" She scowled at her parents, before turning her attention to Ironhide. William pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Annabel, sweetie, it's just going to be for a few hours." Annabel huffed, stomping her foot once more. Sarah's turn to snap.

"Annabel Lennox! You stop this nonsense right now and get to bed!" The six-year-old's eyes fell on her mother, wide and full of self-pity.

"But, Mommy!"

"No 'buts'! March!" Pointed in the direction of her daughter's room, Sarah ended the discussion. Annabel gave one final act of defiance by groaning loudly and marched toward her room, stomping the whole way before slamming the door behind her. Ironhide looked at William and Sarah.

"Are you sure I can't just sit on her?"

[...]

Ironhide relaxed against the chair, flipping through the channels on the television. Glancing over at the digital clock, he wondered how much longer the couple would be out. The weapons specialist stopped his channel surfing on an old black-and-white movie. Leaning back, he stretched his arms over his head.

"Hide?" Ironhide groaned, looking over at the child.

"What do you want?" he muttered. The little girl stared at the ground, her cheeks red and tearstained. Ironhide carefully rose from his chair. "You have a nightmare or something?" The girl shook her head, sniffing. He stepped forward, and the child quickly retreated three steps. He stopped, and frowned. "Well, out with it. What's the matter?"

Annabel muttered under her breath.

"Beg 'pardon?"

"..bed." Ironhide was growing frustrated.

"One more time and where I can hear you, this time."

"I thaid I weth the bed!" Annabel practically screamed, burying her face in her hands. Ironhide then noticed the wet patch on her nightgown. Ironhide's face fell.

"W-what. You, you ..." he closed his eyes and took a large breath. The child was now sobbing more.

"I di'nt mean thu! It wath an athident!" She managed to squeak out. Ironhide ran a hand through his hair. Primus, help me.

"All-alright, calm down." He looked around, "I'll get your bed sheets in the washer, and you change your clothes." The child whimpered, and hurried back into her room.

Ironhide felt old. He shook his head, and waited for the girl to leave her bedroom before walking in to get her dirtied sheets and clothing. Dumping in two capfuls of detergent (Ironhide didn't think one tiny capful was enough), he walked back into the living room, only to find Annabel sitting in the chair he was occupying before, turning the channel to some kind of cartoon about anthropomorphic cats. Ironhide growled in irritation, but kept quiet. The girl's face looked completely distraught.

"Why don't you move to the couch and try to get some sleep?" Annabel shook her head, slowly. Her body quivered and Ironhide sighed. "Accidents happen, but it's late and you really should - "

"I can't go back thu theep. Mommy or Daddy uthually thing me a lullaby after that happenth to help me theep." She said, her eyes never leaving the television, "And Mommy and Daddy aren't here, tho I can't theep." Ironhide's brain felt like pudding.

"Why don't I sing you a lullaby, then?" Annabel's attention was pulled from the cartoon, and her eyes fell on Ironhide.

"Wha?" Ironhide felt a smile tug at his lips and he walked over.

"Come here," The child slowly stood up and walked over to him. Ironhide then picked up the child and began to sway his body, humming softly a tune he had heard William and Sarah sing to Annabel when she was a baby. Annabel remained still for a while, unsure of being rocked like a baby, but soon began to relax as Ironhide began to half sing, half recite the lullaby.

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Ironhide will buy you a mocking bird," Annabel's arms tightened around his shoulders and the little girl's head buried itself in his neck. "And if that mocking bird won't sing, Ironhide will buy you a diamond ring." Annabel yawned, but did her best to stifle it. It was obvious she didn't want Ironhide to know she was sleepy.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, Ironhide will buy you a looking glass," Ironhide shifted her weight, balancing the little girl on his left hip, as he continued to rock her, "and if that looking glass gets broke, Ironhide will buy you a billy goat." Her grip was beginning to loosen, and Ironhide knew she was more tired than she previously lead on.

"And if that billy goat won't pull, Ironhide will buy you a cart and bull," He shifted her weight to gently stroke the young child's hair, "and if that cart and bull turns over, Ironhide will buy you a dog named Rover." Ironhide briefly wondered why anyone would want to name their dog 'Rover', but decided it was a question for another day, and another time.

"And if that dog named Rover won't bark, Ironhide will buy you a horse and cart," Annabel was asleep. He knew it. He smiled, walking over to the couch, prepared to put her down. She clung tightly to him as he moved to set the child down.

"Finish the thong," she whispered, her eyes fluttering open briefly. Ironhide smiled, finally setting the child on the couch. She curled herself into a ball snuggling with a throw pillow.

"And if that horse and cart falls down, you'll still be the sweetest girl in town." A smile finally touched Annabel's lips.

"Thankth, Ironhide." Ironhide relaxed in the chair, deciding to leave it on the channel Annabel had picked.

[...]

Major William Lennox and his wife returned home around eleven to the sight of Annabel curled up on the couch in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, Ironhide passed out in the Lay-Z-Boy recliner and the television on cartoons. The two would later learn that the ex-Top Kick and their little child seemed to have bonded within the three hours they were left alone. Neither would say what happened, but the Lennox's, after pulling Annabel's bed sheets and nightgown from the dryer, decided they knew, and thanked Ironhide.

Ironhide smiled. "Just make sure she stops kicking my seats once old 'Jack gets us back to normal."