"Cybertronians Can't..."

This is just a mindless little drabble. A random thought that I had one day and finally put down on paper. Enjoy

PS. This is my first fic EVER, so please be gentle. But I do welcome constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING...NOTHING! Except my insanity. Transformers and all things Cybertronian in nature are owned by HasTak. I am making NO money from this. At all. In fact, in the time it took me to write this I could have gone to work and made real money. :P

Fighting back a sigh, Ratchet could only shake his head in dismay at what he was seeing.

The past few weeks had been blissfully peaceful. The Decepticons were being unusually quiet, and the residents of the Ark had been relaxing and enjoying the down-time. Even Ratchet himself had taken to meticulously cleaning and reorganising the Medbay in an attempt to keep himself busy - not that he was complaining. He was currently reorganising a drawer of unused surgical clamps when the Medbay doors whooshed open. Turning, Ratchet expected to see Wheeljack or First Aid, and his mood instantly darkened as he spotted a nervous looking Jazz who was being held up by a cheekily grinning Bluestreak.

"Do I even want to ask what you have done to yourself this time? growled a disgruntled CMO "Honestly Jazz...you're just as bad as the twins sometimes! What is it with you young bots...do I not have enough fraggin work as it is!?" Said disgruntled CMO now stormed his way over to the supply cabinet while hastily stabbing his finger in the direction of an empty berth.

Jazz could only give Ratchet a half-shrug and a smirk as he was helped onto the Medbay berth. "Well yuhsee Ratch I just thought ya could use the company...I mean yer in here all by yurself..."

"...and how in the Pit did you hurt yourself anyways?! Bulldozed the angry CMO. "The Decepticons haven't even been acting up in the past few earth weeks!"

It was all Bluestreak could do to not burst out laughing. The gunner's faceplates were rapidly turning a bright red and his intakes were struggling. "Well-im-gonna-run-now-that-you're-okay-Jazz-have-fun-with-Ratch...gotta-go-bye! And with that, the gunner was out the door.

Ratchet, his somewhat less than mellow mood now thoroughly ruined, brandished his wrench threateningly at Jazz as he pushed the mech down into a reclining position and began to scan the saboteur for injuries.

"Well Ratch, see it's like this...a couplah us were in the rec room watchin' the tv and there was this beach party thing bein' broadcasted..." started Jazz as Ratchet pulled a tray of tools closer to the berth and began to work on removing the armour plating from the saboteur's right side above his hip.

"...and we saw these humans doing this weird thing with a wooden pole, and Spike told us that it was a game that some humans play, and you know how competitive Sides is, he said he could take on anyone at any game and then Spike said there was no way he would lose to us..."

"And you just had to accept the challenge then, am I correct?" shot Ratchet as he directed a pointed look at the reclining Jazz and continued to delve his fingers into the saboteur's side.

"Well, " answered a sheepish Jazz, "Spike wanted ta play too, and I thought that maybe this would be a great way ta bring the species together yaknow, and I figured that since it was rainin' out and we couldn't really do anything outside anyways that this was a good solution to keep the twins occupied..."

Ratchet had the distinct impression that Jazz was, as the humans put it, 'beating around the bush'. With a final glance at his work, he refastened the armour plating and moved away from the berth to clean up his supplies.

"Spit it out Jazz!" he replied brusquely, in no mood to hear the rest of what was obviously an attempt to stall until a better excuse came to mind.

Sitting up, Jazz tested his range of motion and was relieved when the searing pain no longer assaulted him. "Well, turns out Spike was right," Jazz said as he hopped off the berth and made his way towards the door of the Medbay. "There are some things that Cybertronians can't do."

Ratchet paused from his cleaning, and turned his head to view the saboteur, silently warring with himself if he even wanted to ask.

Shooting the CMO a cheeky grin and wave, Jazz walked through the Medbay doors and cocked his head back around the corner. "We can't limbo."

All Jazz could do was chuckle as the sound of a wrench hitting the medbay door and an angry CMO's growling followed him down the hallway.

END

A/N: I haven't seen any other mention of TF/limbo so I hope I haven't stepped on anyone's toes...if so, please know that no infringement is intended. This fic came purely from my caffeine-fried brain.

Reviews and Criticism are welcome.

Flames will be given to my G1 Inferno toy. Awww...look at him, he's so cute.