The Band's Called...

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this fic. Note that this takes place in a calm, idealized version of the Lost Light with no risk of death and only a vague sense of continuity.

"Skids! You gotta watch this, this is the big concert! You can't miss it!"

Skids did look up from his drink at Swerve's delighted request, but only to placate him. He'd gotten tired of the Music Movies marathon about an hour in, and he was only really staying for the smile on Swerve's face.

Swerve hadn't gotten this into any Earth media since the Swearth incident. It seemed like he'd finally lost the flinch, although his love of sitcoms still hadn't fully recovered. Instead, it had migrated into cartoons and, this last month, musicals. It had started with musicals, at least, and migrated into cartoons about music, then cartoons about bands, then documentaries about actual bands. It got him organizing Movie Night again and filling his bar with noise and bots and business. It got Skids out into the middle of the Lost Light, connecting with friends and keeping the guilt out of his head. It brought a smile to his face again after being in a funk for so long, and if Swerve was smiling, then Skids could sit through another Beatles movie or two.

It wasn't a Beatles movie this time, he realized. He must have tuned out for a long while It was back on cartoons, with this one being an assemblage of humans playing on a stage while all facing each other. From what he knew about musical equipment, they should have been blasting feedback into the crowd. Instead, they 'rocked out hard', and Skids faintly smiled. Good on them for having fun. A little check over his shoulder saw that Swerve was glowing with the kind of pride that meant he saw himself up on that stage instead of them. It warmed his spark. Good on you, Swerve.

With Swerve's attention back on the projector screen, Skids let his attention wander. Most of the crowd wasn't actively paying attention to the screen. They were lost in their conversations with friends, sipping drinks, and in Brainstorm's case playing board games in the corner with most of the science division.

"Look, look, here's the gag!"

The gag was the leader of the band flopping over and exposing their undercarriage. There were a lot of those gags in band cartoons. Swerve laughed as the screen cut to a shot of food in a striped bowl. "See?! Get it, 'cause censorship!"

"Uh... sure, Swerve," Skids bluffed. "But I figured that was obvious."

"Oh! Yeah, right, BUT it's still great, right?! 'Cause that's only in the TV adaptation and not the original-" Swerve's attention was suddenly fully on him. "SKIDS. We gotta go to a theme park!"

He nearly spit into his glass laughing. "What?"

"A theme park! They always go to theme parks in these shows, but they don't! They always spend the episode with the one character that didn't go so they don't have to animate the park. But WE should go! It'll be amazing!"

Skids could feel his smile getting wry. "Oh yeah, to any one of the Cybertronian compatible-sized theme parks dusted all over the galaxy."

Swerve's smile twitched as reality set in, after a split second, Skids felt guilty. He extended a hand. "I mean, we should go on shore leave together, sure, but realistically."

"But you don't make memories by being realistic, Skids buddy!" The smile bounced right back and Swerve caught his hand in a grip. "You get it by taking risks and doing things that don't make sense! That's every Behind the Music we've watched!"

"What does Behind the Music have to do with theme parks?"

"Come on, Skids, work with me here!"

"I'm just saying, your argument's a little askew here."

"At least the theme park's a reasonable goal! We could just go to a theme park!" Swerve twitched to attention; someone was calling for a refill. He hopped away from the table. "You have to learn to play something to be in a band!"

You have to build a theme park before you can go to one, Skids thought a little later. The band seemed like the more reasonable goal at this point. His optics focused back on the screen, watching carefully-crafted animated fingers dancing up and down the neck of a guitar. That didn't look so bad. It was a simple algorithm of finger placement determining the note played by striking the string. He was already getting a sense for how guitars worked just by glutting on music media along with Swerve.

He was getting an idea. If Swerve brought up the idea of theme parks again... well, first thing first. You had to build a guitar before you learned how to play it.

The next week rolled around, and Skids was a little delighted to see Swerve waiting for him at his usual table, with all his drinks and snacks laid out. Sure, he was late and he should apologize, but seeing that he was wanted and well-known made him feel like a Prime. It was doubly worth it to see Swerve's lips twist in confusion and then split into a beaming grin at spotting the guitar thrown over his shoulder.

"Skids! SKIDS!"

"Thus proving that starting a band is actually easier than us going to a theme park. Look." He swung the guitar down into his lap and balanced it over his leg. He went with an electric, easier and more slim than trying to make a full-scale metal acoustic. The body was a utilitarian rectangle with only a little dip in one side so he could rest it on his leg. The tuners were all different sizes and the strings different colors, but he'd made it and practiced on it himself. It worked, and it sounded fine. Enough to make his point. "The 'Serenade to Letting Swerve Down Easy'."

"Oh goodness! What's that?" Tailgate's little head popped over the other side of the table. "Is that a guitar?"

"Skids ordered a guitar!" Swerve gushed. "Just to play it for me!"

"Ordered, nothing! I built this thing from scraps!" Skids corrected.

Swerve echoed. "In a cave!"

Tailgate, oblivious, swooned in delight. "Really?!"

Skids laughed. "No, Tailgate, he's quoting a movie."

Tailgate playfully pushed Swerve's shoulder as the bartender guffawed. "You're always quoting a movie!"

As with any time someone held Tailgate's attention for too long, Cyclonus emerged from out of the crowd and took up silent vigil behind the little mini. Skids sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd intended to only play for Swerve, but a crowd of three wasn't too bad. He pressed down the little nervous tickle at the top of his tank. "Okay, take two. This is called 'Swerve Sets Unrealistic Goals'."

"Hey, come on..."

He dropped into the quickest guitar thing he knew, one of the first he learned: "Dust in the Wind". He liked playing it, it flexed both his hands in interesting ways and felt good just to do.

He played it for about two seconds before Cyclonus raised a hand. "You're rushing."

He slapped down on the strings to quiet them. "What?"

"It's true, your tempo's off," Tailgate corrected.

"You see that all the time in concerts," Swerve added. "The guitarist always motors through the intro until the drums come in and reign him back with the-"

"Well excuse me for not being a consummate professional!" Skids defensively snapped. "Mr. Superlearner-Only-Got-All-The-Chords-Down-Yesterday."

"You just need the time kept for you!" Tailgate climbed into a chair and made a fist just above the tabletop. "Okay, how fast does the song normally go?"

"It- I- agh-" Skids sighed. "Okay. One two three four one two-"

He kept going until Tailgate started tapping the beat on the table. He started playing once he felt like Tailgate was in the right groove... and damn it, yeah, he'd been fast. He could play it much better now without having to knock his heel against the floor to keep the rhythm. He could just focus on the strings and the sound they made plunking against his metal hands. Guitar was a charming instrument.

"Oh primus on a pogo stick in the pit this is amazing!" Swerve gushed all over again. "Look at this! We have musicians!"

"We do?" Tailgate's head checked the room, still keeping the beat. "Where's the other one?"

"You!" Swerve's body couldn't contain the mounting joy. His fists clenched and his optics started to shine so bright the light bled through his visor. "A drummer and a guitarist! The basis of rock! It's just like Weird Al Yankovic but without the accordion!"

Skids could feel the grip of Shenanigans Incoming closing around his spark, and his fingers fumbled on the strings. "Swerve, don't-"

"This! This is our realistic goal! We could totally make this happen!" Swerve gripped the tabletop. "Everybody meet me in my room when the bar closes! We're gonna start a band!"