First Serious Conversation
###
First Aid glanced between the neat manifest list on his datapad and the jumbled storage room. Somewhere in there, according to Perceptor and the manifest, was a pair of optical tweezers. He was surprised Ratchet didn't already have it out, but he supposed he wouldn't want to dive into these boxes casually either. It was entirely possible to do most repairs without optical tweezers. It was just much easier with them.
He looked at the manifest again then at the nearest box. That inventory number wasn't even on this manifest.
He cycled his vents in a sigh. Oh well. Best get to hunting.
Two hours later, he was really starting to miss Cybertron. Constant threat of Decepticon discovery aside, he'd been able to find things on any given base.
"You need a hand?"
First Aid startled, almost dropping the box in his hands, and glanced over his shoulder to see Slingshot leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. He looked annoyed, but the few times First Aid had met the Aerialbots outside of Medical, Slingshot always looked annoyed. When he wasn't heckling one of his brothers.
The Protectobot set down the box with an incomprehensible mixture of Tellurian rock samples and Wheeljack's experiments. What was the Aerialbot doing down here? "Um. I'm just looking for a pair of optical tweezers."
"Well, at least you're in the right room." Slingshot smirked. "What's that, something of Ratchet's? Or did he send you to get a left-handed torque wrench?"
"Perceptor's, actually." He ignored the crack about left-handed torque wrenches. It had been a long, long time since he was enough of a newbie to fall for wild goose chases.
The Aerialbot nodded. "You see a box over there labelled RA-X8734b?"
First Aid glanced around and spotted it under three other boxes. "The optical tweezers are in there?"
"Nah. Just something Red Alert wants." Slingshot jerked his thumb at the left corner nearest the door. "Perceptor keeps all his stuff over there."
"Oh." First Aid's optic-band dimmed tiredly, but he started unstacking the boxes atop the one Slingshot wanted.
"I'll get that." The Aerialbot grabbed his arm, scowling. "Your thing isn't going to find itself."
"I was just-" trying to help, he started to say. He trailed off in the face of Slingshot's glare. "All right."
He went to stare at the boxes in the indicated corner, wishing the inventory numbers on the boxes actually matched the manifest Perceptor had given him. Out of the edge of his optic-band, he saw Slingshot take his box out into the hall.
Well, he reminded himself, certain repairs would go a lot more easily once he had the optical tweezers. The time he spent now would be worth it later.
"Seriously, it's not going to find itself," Slingshot said from behind him. "Just grab a box."
"I was trying to figure out where to start," First Aid said as he grabbed the nearest box and flipped it open.
"With a box." Slingshot snorted and grabbed a box himself. "Perceptor says he has it organized, but he just throws things in wherever."
First Aid blinked.
"What's your thing even look like?"
"Uh. Well..." His processors scrambled to catch up while he described the optical tweezers to Slingshot. The Aerialbot who had (understandably) knocked him on his aft the first time they met, the mech everyone had warned him about - that mech was going to help him dig through boxes?
Maybe Slingshot wasn't such a jerk after all.
"I'm sorry," he added, "for grabbing your injured arm."
"You'd better be," Slingshot snapped.
Of course, First Aid had been wrong before.
###
After another hour, the silence was starting to get oppressive. First Aid glanced sidelong at the Aerialbot, wondering if they could manage a civil conversation. He was starting to suspect Slingshot only managed those with his teammates.
That was unfair, he chided himself. He'd only just met the Aerialbot, and they hadn't exactly started out on good tires.
"What's flying like?" he ventured.
Slingshot froze.
First Aid resigned himself to never getting along with the prickly Aerialbot.
"Flying is like freedom," Slingshot said in a low voice. "You've got the entire sky open to you, and you can just go forever. It all becomes the rush of wind over your body, the roar of your engines, and the endless blue."
First Aid stared down at his hands, trying to remember when he had ever felt as if driving was freedom. Never, he didn't think. How could he, living on a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron? There had always been rationing, always the need to sneak and hide, always the fear.
He wondered if Slingshot had ever been afraid.
