Author's note: Happy New Year! This was meant to go up for Christmas, but Eowyn was stuck with dial-up, Ish was stuck with babysitting duty and Kateydidnt was blissfully enjoying the Pacific Northwest. (No, no vampires were sighted.) There will be 12 chapters for maximum pain/enjoyment.
The presentation was as brief and unoffensive as they could have possibly managed. They had gone through about half a dozen drafts of the sales pitch before the boss arrived and timing was even harder to pin down. They couldn't ask a favor as soon as Morshower hit dirt on Diego Garcia and they couldn't make it sound like an afterthought. The best thing was to find a casual way to drop their crazy idea into a conversation midway through the good General's visit. That way, he could be in a good mood and if he blew them off, they could laugh and move on to other business.
Morshower didn't quite react as expected. For a long moment, he squinted into space and frowned as if he were trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of their suggestion and that was saying something for the man in charge of NEST. Then, as if he had no control over his appendages, his hand crept up from his desk blotter to rub at his temples.
Finally, he spoke in a slightly wheezing tone as if he'd been sucker-punched or had laughed himself silly in silence. "I have a few questions before I make my ruling," he commented.
Will Lennox made a passable attempt at looking harmless and cooperative. It didn't come naturally to him, but he hoped that he wasn't looking constipated. "Sir?"
"Are you saying that our alien friends…" He paused for a breath and to consider wording. "Are you saying that they believe in Jolly Old St. Nicholas?"
"No, sir," Epps interjected. "We're trying to give them a little taste of human traditions. They're pretty interested in things like Arbor Day…"
"Valentine's Day…"
"Yom Kippur," Epps recalled with a grimace at the memory of Ironhide trying to figure out the non-biological equivalent of fasting.
"So I had gathered from the blog," Morshower conceded.
"They've learned most of what they know about human behavior from the internet," Will added. "That's got its own challenges, but there are all these MSN articles about how to pull off a successful office Christmas party and someone…"
"We're not sure if it was Optimus Prime or Mudflap…" Epps inserted in an attempt to help.
"Decided we should have one of our own," he concluded. "Secret Santa was 'Bee's idea."
"He's going to be on-base for Christmas…"
Morshower waved a dismissive hand. "I don't need to hear about the sociology of it all, Major. I'm just trying to figure out what purpose this serves."
"Camaraderie," Will answered. It sounded more like a question than an explanation and he cursed silently. "We are trying to understand them and it's only fair that they get to do the same. If that means having poker night or inviting the Primes over for the Super Bowl, we say we should give it a try."
"I don't see anything fundamentally wrong with the idea," Morshower murmured.
"And they aren't exactly blowing their paychecks on anything," Epps added. "This may be one of the more human things they ever do."
"It will have to be heavily moderated," the General insisted. "I don't care how human they're trying to be. If I get a whiff of one NBE gift-wrapping a hydrogen bomb, you'll wish you had become an accountant."
"Yes, sir," Epps responded dutifully.
"Of course, sir," Will added. "We have just the person in mind. The individual in question is utterly uncompromising and merciless when the need arises."
Morshower seemed to be in the process of nodding in approval, but then paused. "Your wife is moderating?"
"You have a better idea?" Will asked bluntly. "Sir?"
…
The mood in the NEST hangar was cheerful in an almost brittle way. Mechs and humans would talk about plans for the upcoming holiday, share the latest news, and laugh at the twins most recent prank, but sooner or later the conversation would fall into a pregnant silence and eyes and optics would dart to the booth in the back of the room. It wasn't even a cubicle, really, just three cloth partitions set up near the wall, but behind those thin sheets, their fates would be decided.
"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," Jolt murmured, his optics brightening in humor.
Every conversation in the room was abruptly cut off when Sarah Lennox stepped forward from behind the partitions. The more militant occupants of the room stood to attention.
Soldier's wife that she was, she stood at ease without thinking. "Okay, we're going by rank in reverse. Skids and Mudflap, you're up first. Step into my office," she added with a gesture toward the booth.
The twins literally tripped over each other in excitement, but even they were hushed in anticipation. A faint silhouette moved behind the screens and the rattling of balls in a bingo cage echoed in the silence. The rattling stopped and, after a moment, Sarah said, "Hm."
"Is there a problem, Spitfire?" Optimus asked.
"Not…as such. The rules are fixed and immutable, so what's done is done. I'm going to have to monitor this one, though."
Double Trouble emerged with a high-five and a lot of their usual boisterous b-sing. "Dat right, bro, we gonna stick it the man!"
"Dat punk goin' down…"Mudflap agreed. "I gots me some ideeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeas."
It was unclear who the man was, what they were going to stick and what ideeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeas either of them could come up with, but the anxiety level went up six more notches. You could practically hear even the humans sweating energon.
The bingo cage rattled to life again, but this time Sarah texted the results to Simmons who was currently on the East Coast protecting Sam. Leo (who was also one of Sam's bodyguards) followed him, and Sarah texted him after drawing a ball.
Poking her head out, she hollered, "Next!"
In his alt-form, Wheelie zipped into the booth. The bingo cage turned and, after a moment, he drove back out without comment from him or Sarah. Jolt's turn was next and he returned to the hangar with a worried expression. Sideswipe was glowering ominously when he rejoined his fellow Autobots. Arcee looked almost as vexed. Bumblebee also received his notification by text since he was with Sam.
To the crowd's collective relief, Ironhide seemed pleased with the results of his drawing (or at least he was less grumpy and high strung coming out than going in).
Epps was the first human to draw a name and he returned to the hangar whistling "Here Comes Santa Claus" slightly out of tune. Ratchet looked almost smug after his turn, again to everyone's relief. Lennox returned deep in thought after drawing his name. When he returned to the hangar, Optimus gave away nothing - as usual.
Three more times the bingo cage rattled to life. Three more times text messages were sent to the absent individuals. Finally Sarah stepped out into the hangar again. "You all have your assignments. Remember the cap is $100, I'm happy to answer questions if you have them, and Skids and Mudflap, you two are invited out to the house tonight for dinner. The rest of you, dismissed and merry Christmas!"
Her little speech was interrupted, however, by a text from General Morshower that went to man and 'bot alike. /What idiot put *my*name in the Secret Santa drawing?/