"What do you mean 'further training'?!"
"We do NOT misbehave,"
"I have much better things to be doing..."
"Look, I know you might not notice it, but you lot in particular have caused more infractions than your colleagues. Therefore, we have organised extra behavioural training for you," Theodore Galloway informed the (less than pleased) younger Autobots.
"Delta, Optimus, do something!" Sideswipe pleaded to his leaders.
"Yeah, we'll do anything!" His twin, Sunstreaker, even dropped to his knees in a last-ditch attempt for freedom.
"Sorry boys, but even your Primes and other senior officers cannot stop this; in fact, if I remember correctly," he turned maliciously towards said senior officers, "They agreed to this further training so that they didn't have to do any more paperwork,"
The younger Autobots blinked, while the higher-ranking Autobots glared mutinously at the human.
"What do you mean?" Bumblebee asked suspiciously.
"He blackmailed us into doing it," Ratchet's glare at the human was still unwavering, "He promised us that if we sign you all up to this, then we wouldn't be subjected to any 'unfortunate accidents' befalling all of our completed reports..."
"Seriously?! You did this to save your own-?! Arrgh!" Sunstreaker's jaw dropped before he stalked off in frustration.
"He also promised that our little agreement would be left out of it..." Prowl growled, narrowing his visor at the human.
Said human tried not to show his obvious intimidation by merely shrugging at the ninja and smirking, "Sorry," he then turned smugly to Delta, "By the way, Ms. Prime, how exactly is your paperwork going?"
Although it seemed impossible, her glare turned even more hateful. It turned murderous.
Her colleagues were fully prepared to leap in and intervene, however, the femme seemed to curb her desire to see the human's internals squished on the floor, and forced her sickliest, sweetest smile, "Absolutely fine, thank you. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I will be practicing on the firing range,".
And with that, she thundered off (Sam couldn't describe it in any other way) towards the training yard, all the while spewing various guttural Cybertronian curses and growls.
After Galloway had left and the coast was clear, Sam walked warily up to the seething Autobots.
"Hey guys?" they all turned their helms to him sharply in sync, and he couldn't help but flinch.
"Anything we can do for you, Sam?" Ironhide asked, trying to sound more pleasant.
"Yeah, I was wondering if it was hard to speak Cybertronian,"
The Autobots blinked.
"Guys?" Sam prompted.
To his surprise, they actually laughed. At him.
"Look, I know it's kind of a stupid question-"
"Don't worry, Sam, it's just amusing that Delta's colourful little rant has intrigued you," Prowl smiled.
"Yeah, well..." the teen rubbed the back of his head self-consciously.
"Why don't we give him lessons?" Jazz suggested rather excitedly.
"How is that even gonna be possible? Cybertronian sounds different to human ears than it does to mechanical audios!" Ratchet exclaimed skeptically.
Sam stopped in his tracks, "Wait - it does?"
"You didn't know?"
"Uh, no, pretty sure I didn't,"
The Autobots blinked.
"Uh, yeah,"
A familiar femme then rejoined her colleagues, "I'm back. Sorry about the mess on the firing range, Ironhide, I'll tidy it up later, but-"
"Delta, Sam didn't know that Cybertronian sounds different to organics than it does to us," Optimus looked to his partner.
Delta blinked too, "Really?"
"Really,"
"Aww, come on guys, you're making it sound like it's a big deal. But nobody's ever told me!" Sam was getting aggravated by this point, and clenched his fists slightly.
"Okay okay, keep your hair on, I'll tell you," Delta tried to calm him down, preparing herself to lecture the young human, "Basically, to you, Cybertronian sounds like a bunch of beeps, clicks, whirrs and chirrups, right?"
Sam nodded. The other Autobots either sidled off or braced themselves for one of Delta's lengthy scientific lectures.
"Well, to us mechanical organisms, it sounds more like a language, like...," she paused to think of an example, "Like French, or Latin. With proper words. You keeping up so far?"
Sam wasn't sure whether he should nod or curl-up in a corner and cry in confusion.
"Now, there are numerous scientific explanations and reasons for this phenomenon; Ratchet?"
The medic shook his helm, "No way, I am not going there. It'll take ages, and I'm not prepared to waste my time,"
Delta suppressed the need to roll her optics, "Whatever. But anyway, all you need to know is that it does. Any questions?"
Sam quivered slightly, but smiled and nodded.
The simple fact of the matter was that he didn't.
"And this, Sam, is why it would be difficult to teach you proper Cybertronian; without a Cybertronian's vocal system, you would find it too hard to recreate sounds," Ironhide explained.
Jazz jumped slightly on the spot as an idea struck him suddenly, "Why don't we make it phonetic? Like, spell-out the words as we hear them with the English alphabet, and then he can recreate the sounds!"
The others paused to think about that for a moment.
"Well, I don't see why not..." Optimus mused.
"Uh uh, count me out. I'll be safely out of the way in my med bay..." Ratchet grumbled, ambling away.
"Why don't we help?" the Lambo Twins revealed themselves.
"Good luck..." Ironhide muttered as a statement before heading-off himself.
"I thought I had assigned you two to patrol," Prowl raised an optic ridge behind his visor.
"Oh," Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glanced at each other before answering, "We got the other twins to do it instead,"
"But Mudflap and Skids are under curfew after last week's macaroni incident," Optimus frowned.
"Oh, come on, guys! It's character-building for them!" Sunstreaker tried.
"Hm. As if they weren't already..." Delta muttered.
"Anyway, we'd be happy to help Sammy Boy learn Cybertronian!"
"And Bee'll help, right Bee?" Sideswipe volunteered his wary friend, who nodded vigorously despite himself.
At this, all of the senior Autobots simultaneously raised optic ridges.
"Fine. But Jazz, you supervise," Optimus finally relented, "But know this: it was your idea, and you are the senior Autobot here, therefore if anything happens, it's your responsibility - understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Jazz rubbed his hands together eagerly.
Maybe it was the way he'd all too eagerly accepted this unusual responsibility, or maybe it was the ominous chuckle, but his colleagues were frightened.