It was fairly innocent in the beginning; before the world was twisted and corrupt; before people he thought were his friends stabbed him in the back; before children several years his junior used their loss of innocence to savagely chip away at his own.
His own actions, on the other hand, had not really reflected that jealously guarded "innocence". He had deliberately lied to his Guardian. And Lennox. And Ironhide. And Optimus, Ratchet, Skidz, several unnamed soldiers, and anyone else he had happened to encounter. It had been Epps who caught wind of his plan, and subsequently ratted him out. All Sam had wanted was to spend a day out in the water, with his brand-new-to-him-but-was-really-bought-used surfboard, trying to relive his robot-free childhood days in California. He'd have preferred subtracting the sand forcefully being shoved down his shorts by his robot-free childhood version of Trent, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Although Epps wasn't exactly throwing finely-eroded rock down his wetsuit, he certainly did a fine job of making Sam itch.
The then nineteen year old had just wadded into to the beautiful, cool, sparkling water when the stolen walkie-talkie haphazardly dangling from a shoelace on his wrist buzzed to life. He'd freaked out, jerking his arm so hard his boyscout-certified knot came undone and the walkie-talkie fell into the water with an un-foreboding "bloop!" He'd freaked out again, before realizing the whole reason he'd brought it was because it was waterproof. He'd fished it out, flipped it on to listen, and realized that in only three feet of water he was completely sunk.
You see, Epps wasn't just shoving sand down his shorts, laughing about it, and running away to do something else. Epps was much worse than Trent. Epps was making sure that the sand got in ALL the places sand was not supposed to go, and inviting everyone to watch as Sam flopped around trying to get it out. He'd never thought he could die of embarrassment until that day, even if it would have been indirectly through drowning himself.
"The Baby Bird has left the nest! I repeat, the Baby Bird has left the nest!"
After being "rescued" (nearly drowned by Bee in his needless attempt to "save" him from absolutely nothing),"returned" (half dragged by Ironhide while being yelled at about any variety of things) and "treated" (Ratchet hosing him down – way too much water directed at Sam's not-dirty-at-all face – and nearly drowning him AGAIN) Sam tried to play it cool; he only got about as cool as half-drowned cat – mildly amusing at best.
He'd argued it on the grounds of just shear stupidity; calling N.E.S.T. the nest ruined any semblance secrecy they tried to hold. He'd argued it on the matter of safety; obviously he was base's youngest member, everyone knew that; anything that implied "young" would immediately tip the Decepticons, politicians gone wild, or paparazzi off. Eventually he all but submitted and argued for the sake of his already low self-esteem and nonexistent ego. Fate waved a dismissive hand at his efforts, and the name stuck.
He wished Epps had said something a little cooler. Sam could deal with being called Eagle, or Robin, or Bluejay or, hell, he could have even dealt with Cygnet – "swan baby" was about as unmasculine as you could get, but he could have dealt with it.
No, Fate (aka, Robert "the sand shoving jerk" Epps) said and laughed.
Sam was from then on, in code and nick name, Baby Bird.
He boycott it in his own way at first; refused to respond when addressed, glared, or for a brief period of time flipped the bird at the addresser (that had been a mistake, as the action was then used as a valid argument to keep using the name). Eventually though, as embarrassment from the name causing event faded, his animosity and others' abuse of the name dwindled to a minimum. It became almost endearing.
"Don't get your feathers ruffled, Bird." when the twins got on his last nerves.
"Come on, Baby Bird," when Bee was trying to get him to put down his work and get some much needed sleep.
Countless croonings of the name when he was sleepy, or sick, or injured simply didn't manage to leave a bad taste in his mouth and ringing in his ears; no matter how much he wished it did. And besides, the odd looks anyone out of the loop gave to anyone who (oblivious to an uneducated audience) slung an arm across his shoulders with a greeting of "Hey Baby!" were revenge enough for him.
Now, at the ripe young age of twenty two-pushing-three, all the negativity of the name came flooding back.
Sam had never know any parents who actually used the "Birds and the Bees" as opposed to "When a mommy and daddy love each other very much." Granted, Sam's sex talk wasn't exactly traditional either. "Well, one day your mom thought the mailman looked very attractive-" insert screaming Judy Witwicky. Even when he was older, the tale of his very conception , after having counted nine months back and realized that his parents wedding date was not for a month after, was not taken seriously; "Well son, your mother was a very attractive young hippie that didn't believe in condoms." Sam's traumatizing childhoods aside, the fact still remained that he had never heard of anyone's parents giving the actual birds and bees talk.
Cue six year old Annabel Lennox.
Plump, freckled little cheeks; check. Bouncy, honey colored curls; check. Innocent, chocolate brown doe eyes; check. The face of a demon if Sam ever saw one. She stood in front of him, swaying back and forth, hands clasped behind her back, smiling sweetly as she looked between him and Bee expectantly.
Sarah Lennox sat at the table in the rec room, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide, and red as a beet. Lennox himself flattened his chest against the table, looking very much like he was trying to crush his skull with his own hands. Epps, the sand shoving jerk who started it all, sat almost doubled over in laughter he could only barely contain. Ratchet had merely rolled his optics and left.
Beside him, Bee was making an odd noise that Sam was almost certain was his processor breaking. Sam could feel his ears burning despite the complete lack of color in his face.
"Well?" Annabel chimed, giggling. "I saaaaaid can I have a baby?"
"Wh…what?" Sam stammered for the third time.
"Can I have a baby?" She clapped now, giggling and dancing in place. "Daddy said Bird and Bee make babies!"
The Bird and Bee in question turned to the eldest Lennox, murder in their eyes and optics respectively.
Upon further questioning, Lennox hadn't actually used them as his example; or the birds and the bees at all. Annabel had overheard him goading Sarah into giving her daughter the talk, and the six year old misinterpreted. Regardless, a memo banning the use of "Birds and Bees" among N.E.S.T. parents was released a day later, and the young man and mech refused to speak with the major for the next month.
[ fin. ]
Another of my humor one shots. I swear, all I can write is humor. :c
And no, this isn't hinting at them as a couple. xD
This ones a bit short but whatev; not much I could do to make it longer while sticking with the original idea. Hope you enjoyed~
Yes, I fourth wall Sam's mom with Shia's and see her as a hippie (in her youth). You might see that as a repeated theme with future one shots.
I promise I'm working on Stockholm, guys. xD I'm just having issues now that I want to do more than just recovery.