A very long day, or "Joe uses the proper bait."
Title: Domestic Electronics, Pt. 21
Warning: This barely resembles Transformers at all. You're better off not reading.
Rating: PG
Stage: IDW/More Than Meets The Eye AU. This will make the most sense if you've read the RiD comics for the Prowl-Constructicons interaction.
Characters: Decepticon Justice Division, Constructicons, Prowl, Skids, Getaway
Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.
Motivation (Prompt): There was a translation error, and then Shibara drew a picture based on that error, and then I had to give it a story. It all went downhill from there. (Chapter commissioned by ZOMGitsalaura!)
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Pt. 21
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It'd been a long day already, and I'd only just gotten up.
I wasn't personally a fan of video game playing, but video game parties where I could hang out and cheer people on were great. Since the last party had been on neutral ground - Mandy's place - I'd brought along my horde to make everyone fresh guacamole and set up refreshments, handle the music, and generally fool everyone into thinking they're far nicer than I knew they were. It'd made Tesarus happy to be in charge of chip dips for the night, and Tarn had a complete inability to not be involved in the gaming. He had to take command. I'd laughed my butt off all night watching him work himself into a rage backseat driving everyone.
That did mean, however, that the last three days had been full of domestic electronics playing their own version of the video games. I'd been Donkey Kong'ed out, man. I could only take my ankle being barrel rolled into so many times before I threatened to turn the cat tree into an ape cage.
When I laid down the law about no more Donkey Kong, they'd switched over to Katamari Damacy. That had started out adorable. Tarn and Kaon had wound Tesarus up in their scarves and gone around the apartment rolling him along the floor. He grabbed stuff off the floor as he went, creating a ball of loose change, yarn, dust bunnies, and a lone shoe. That'd been cute.
Unfortunately, they'd continued playing after I'd gone to bed. When I woke up, I found myself faced with a giant Katamari ball made of crap from my apartment, some of which I actually needed to get ready for work. "What on Earth..?" It was blocking the door. It appeared to be stuck. I slowly sat up and swung my feet to the floor, not even caring how cold it was. "You friggin' idiots. I don't - what did you even - why?"
They'd gotten into my closet. They'd gotten into the kitchen drawers. They'd nabbed the toothpaste and what looked like an entire roll of toilet paper. My cellphone alarm had woken me up, but the beeping was muffled. It had to be in there somewhere. It likely had my keys attached, still.
Tarn and Vos were determinedly pushing at the thing, trying to get it through the door. From deep within it I could hear Tesarus' smug whirring. The Pet was more vocal, yipping away. I could barely see four legs waving from where someone had tied him to the ball with shoe strings. Beyond the spatulas, the Pet, and Tesarus, it was also a massive ball of knotted pants legs, underwear, and sweaters with socks stuck inside and out.
It'd generated the biggest cumulative static shock of my life, which I found out via Kaon shuffling across the bedroom carpet to poke my foot. KzzZAP!
"Sonnuvabitch!" Yow! I was up! Awake! Very awake!
Hopping on one foot after yelping out of sheer shock, because ow. "You little bastard." He'd zapped me while I'd been distracted staring at the huge clothing ball, but when I glanced around the bedroom, he'd disappeared from sight. He knew exactly what he'd done and was hiding under the bed sniggering at me. "You have to come out sometime," I threatened him after shaking the zap out of my leg. "As for you two…"
Tarn and Vos took off in two different directions on the theory that I could only get one of them before the other got to safety. The free 'bot could verbally abuse me while I was busy catching the other. Since I chose to go after Tarn first, the abuse was done in copious amount of Italian. Kaon screebled his own amusement when Vos fled to join him under the bed.
Evil. They were all evil.
So, yeah. It'd been ten minutes, and it'd already been a long day.
It didn't get any shorter on my walk from the bus station to the store. My efforts to ban Katamari like I had Donkey Kong had resulted in the next round of video game imitation. The quartet of terror had been starting something else when I'd left, and from the way Vos had perched on Tarn's tankmode, I thought it was Mario Cart. If I came back to an apartment turned into an obstacle course tonight, I didn't know if I'd laugh, cry, or help build ramps.
The end of the workday seemed very far into the future right now, but I had plans, oh yes, I had plans. The only solution to bored electrodomestics running rampant through the apartment was to put Tremors on when I got home. True, I'd have to contend with them playing graboids all night, but getting 'pulled under' a blanket by Tarn was far funnier than playing 'dodge the speeding tank' down the hall for the fortieth time. Besides, tiny moving blanket-lumps inching across the couch or bed had an inexplicable cuteness that rendered me helpless to resist. It's a scientific fact that people will intentionally tuck a sheet over a cat when making the bed, just to watch the lump move. Now imagine four of bitty lumps pretending to be graboids, just waiting to pull me under there with them.
Scientific fact, man. No point in trying to resist. I could only give up and play along.
With that in mind, the day wasn't all bad. I had a large thermos of coffee freshly pulverized and brewed by Tesarus - once I'd freed him from his ball o' stuff, of course - but I'd guzzled most of it on the way to work. I was wearing about twenty layers of sweaters because the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Winter turned everything cold and grey in this city. I felt warm enough but sort of sluggish. The caffeine hadn't kicked in yet. Still, as long as the store wasn't complete mayhem when I walked in, things were on the up and up.
*Tremors tonight.*
Bob took the news calmly enough and texted me back. *hey checkit out! UM found teh ass end!*
It took a moment to translate that out of movie-speak. Ultra Magnus had found what? *He found your face?*
*shit for all you knowthey can fly.*
Ha! That quote could only mean one thing: Whirl. Ultra Magnus had gotten Whirl. How had he gotten loose?
Grinning, I took the turn toward the store. We'd be throwing movie quotes at each other the whole day. Considering our coworkers, everyone would get involved. Convince Carl to turn his back, and I bet we'd be able to get the TV displays playing it instead of movie previews. If we got the domestic electronics aisle addicted as easily as my horde had been suckered in, the day would go by a lot faster. Really, it shouldn't be that difficult. The top troublemakers on the A-line side of the aisle were Rodimus and Whirl. They'd either be mesmerized by the ultimate cheesy horror/action film, or I'd make them watch Army of Darkness to check that Ultra Magnus hadn't broken them at long last.
Although watching that movie would probably end with Whirl convinced he worked at S-Mart. He'd persuade First Aid to replace a pincer with a chainsaw by the weekend, and Rodimus would talk the little nurse PDA into modifying his vehicle mode into the assault Oldsmobile. They'd take the aisle by storm, hauling a Christmas Sale advertisement and bellowing, "Shop smart - shop S-Mart!" in binary at the customers.
I could see no downside to this plan.
Before I could get too into my planning of Ultra Magnus' next conniption, my phone buzzed again. *Headsup. Bobs crying.*
Since the text was actually from Bob the sales guy, I deduced that he was talking about Bob the Insecticon. If Bob the Insecticon was sad, that meant Sunstreaker had run away. Again.
Before anyone got alarmed over that, keep in mind that Sunstreaker made a break for it about once a week. That was down from his original every-other-day escapes, so Bob (the dude) considered that progress. He didn't get very far. For one thing, winter weather froze common sense into him overnight. The store was warm. He wasn't going to find a power cord and convenient electrical outlet waiting for him outside the store. He might hate us employees, but random humans who might have children were even worse, in his opinion.
For another thing, a certain bug slumped miserably on the floor and wailed pathetic binary cries until he came back. Sunstreaker had successfully shut down his own imprinting software, but Bob the Insecticon wouldn't leave the store no matter how Sunstreaker called or coaxed. Attempting to drag the bug out after himself only made Bob more distressed. However, Sunstreaker insisted on shaking Bob off his leg and escaping anyway.
Stubborn independence, hatred of humanity, sulking - who knew why he kept running. He ran away, but then he changed his mind when reality smacked him upside his teensy head, usually in the form of 'holy crap, it's cold out here!'
The problem he then faced was how to get back into the store without damaging his massive ego. Seriously, the dude had a case of pride bigger than he was. He could spend an entire day polishing himself, and heaven help you if you smudged him with a fingerprint by picking him up afterward. Pride like that wouldn't bend to merely walking back into the store.
He could wait at the back door until someone came in to work, but that would require apologizing and asking to be let in. He could scurry in through the front door under the laughing eyes of the cashiers, but we'd decided he'd freeze his circuits stiff before sacrificing his ego that way.
This had led to us finding different ways to help the yellow glitch along.
Bob developed a highly complicated method of catching him. It involved a fishing line attached to a mouse trap baited with one of the polishing cloths he kept at the domestic electronic endcap for cleaning up the demo models.
Alright, so it wasn't all that complicated. It was kind of ridiculous.
It worked, and that was good enough. Sunstreaker got stuck in the trap, usually headfirst, and Bob reeled him in, usually struggling and swearing foul electronic things the whole way. Today, I assumed the line had already been baited out back by the employee entrance. If my buddy hadn't nabbed the vain little device yet, the 'bot was probably up front dithering over how to get back inside this time.
My turn. I detoured into the Dollar General next door to the store - Bob freaked me out by texting *SOON.* the minute I walked in the door, like some sort of omniscient villain counting down the days - and spent a couple bucks on a pack of crayons. There were only five in the pack, but I only needed five.
I opened the package while walking toward the store and promptly dumped them on the sidewalk. "Oh no," I said in my flattest voice. "I dropped my crayons. Whatever shall I do?"
Without stopping or looking back at the scattered crayons, I went over to knock on the front doors so a cashier would come unlock it and let me in. Angie seemed surprised to see me up front. Rung and Swerve peeked out of her shirt collar and pocket respectively to give me inquiring looks. They grinned when she came over, and she laughed as she opened the door for me.
I followed her eyes down to my feet. "Ah yes, my crayons. Be careful, they're expensive," I told the tiny yellow 'bot at my heel.
He'd gathered up all five crayons into his arms and staggered a bit under their weight. At that, he straightened up. Those sullen optics went wide, and he held the crayons tighter. Expensive art supplies!
He was extremely careful with them when he followed me into the store. The cashiers and their bevy of cold morning heat-seeker electrodomestics giggled, although Rung nodded thanks to me for saving one of his patients. Sunstreaker held his head high and ignored them all. He jogged after me, toting my important art supplies like a good artist assistant. Since the wonder brat hadn't been able to repair his transformation joints, Sunstreaker was useless as a drawing tablet. The damage was too bad. But he could still assist, which was clearly what he was doing. He wasn't returning to the store in shame after failing to run away. Nope. Just helping me with my crayons, yup.
"Got him?" Bob called as I headed toward the back. He didn't even look up from untangling Whirl from what looked like an extension cord.
"Got him."
"I'll send the nurse in."
From ankle height, angry mrr-mrr-mrop noises muttered commentary on the nurse, Bob, and everything else Sunstreaker hated about the world. My name was likely in the list somewhere, crayons or not. Sunstreaker was not a happy electrodomestic any day, but especially right now. There was nothing about this day that he liked.
An ecstatic chittering heralded the one thing in the world that he did like, no matter the day.
I immediately turned and cleared my throat meaningfully. "Bob…"
The chittering slowed. The teeny-tiny office bug that'd been skittering down the aisle plopped himself down and gave me a soulful look of appeal. When I shook a finger at him, he chittered at Sunstreaker as if the yellow 'bot could change my mind. Sunstreaker stayed at my feet and stared at the floor.
When Sunstreaker didn't do anything, Bob inched forward, balling up and rolling onto his back before straightening up and crawling a few steps. Canny optics - four of them - watched me watched him kick and squirm. Inch inch inch.
I shook my head at him. The cute act wasn't going to win me over today. "Bob! No. Bad bug."
The Insecticon flattened to the floor in a sad puddle of bug. Noooo, he wasn't a bad bug! Don't call him a bad bug!
"You know the rules." Every office had rules. This office just happened to go by the store rules, once of which was that Sunstreaker wasn't allowed back onto the sales floor until the nurse had cleared him. First Aid liked it because he got to play doctor, and it did give us a chance to see if Sunstreaker had picked up any dents or anything while he'd been gone. It also got at least a few minutes of this byplay every time.
Antenna laid back, Bob chittered a mournful apology to me. Sunstreaker winced. He could obviously feel the full force of four tragic optics on him, asking what Bob had done wrong that the 'bot had left him behind. Didn't Sunstreaker love him? Didn't he?
The real point of the health check was to rub in that Sunstreaker was making Bob a sad, sad bug every time he tried to run away. Because the Insecticon couldn't go near him until First Aid said he could, and that made Bob even sadder than just being abandoned by his beloved Sunstreaker. Why did Sunstreaker leave him? Whyyyyy? Boohoo, sniff sniffle, waaaaah.
"Aww, don't be like that," I told him. "It's not like Sunstreaker does this to you on purpose or anything."
That got another wince. My significant look downward got nothing, as I was studiously not being looked up at.
Turning to keep walking, I shook my head. "C'mon, Sunny." Arrogant, proud bastard was going to break his own heart.
Bob stayed where he was, a miserable chittering pile. Sunstreaker hesitated a minute, not exactly looking at him but reluctant to walk away. I hid a smile. Slowly but surely, the Bob treatment was working. Heh.
Muttering angrily, Sunstreaker trudged after me.
"How dare we make you care about someone who loves you unconditionally," I translated helpfully.
Mrop! Objection, Your Honor! Sunstreaker had said no such thing!
"Well, that's what I heard you say."
Mrrrrr. Sunstreaker hated me. He hated me so much.
A forlorn chitter followed us through the Employee Only door. "Sunstreaker doesn't love me," I translated for him, and Sunstreaker dropped my crayons in order to huff and puff and tell me how much of a jackass I was for pointing out what he didn't want to think about. There were tiny fists shaken in rage up at me. "How dare I?" I kept translating as I walked. "How dare I say what you were thinking?"
MrrRRRop. Mrr-mrr-rrrrrrop! He hadn't even been thinking it. I was just making thing up! Lies! All lies!
"Horrible, just horrible. It wasn't like Bob was left out in the cold all night, away from the comfort of the display case and recharging plugged into the outlet, because he was sitting by the doors waiting for someone." I paused to look back. "Oh, wait. He was. Now who would do that to the poor bug? What'd he do to deserve that kind of treatment?"
Stricken blue optics stared up at me from the floor.
I shrugged and went into the kitchen to refill my empty coffee thermos. "It wasn't like anyone was worried about you or anything," I called back. "Me, Bob, that other Bob guy who's your boss or something, Rung, Ultra Magnus, Swerve...no, wait, none of us could possible care about you or anything. But you don't like any of us, so that's okay. Right?"
Ooo, low blow. I kept my face straight and didn't turn around, keeping myself busy to let the feeble, flabbergasted mrop? noises subside.
When I finished filling the thermos and turned around at last, Sunstreaker had wrestled the last of the crayons up onto the table. I silently handed him the empty package, and he just as silently started putting them away inside it. He wouldn't look at me, and I didn't make him. I'd done enough damage to his self-warped emotional algorithms this morning.
Hey, Rung I was not. I didn't know how to do kind, thoughtful therapy for guiding adaption software into adjusting to a new situation. All I had to go on was Tarn's version of therapy - better known as blunt trauma - and a heartbreaking set of doubled optics peering into the kitchen. The rest of the bug hid behind the door, but any hope I wouldn't see him died with the eye-catching wiggle of antenna in Sunstreaker's direction.
Bob: the most pitiful bitty Insecticon ever.
First Aid completed my morning by bustling in right then. I wolf-whistled at him. "Hel-LO nurse! The patient is ready!"
Woop! My innuendo was unappreciated, although First Aid's scandalized siren woop-woops were accompanied by a pleased scrunch of his visor when I picked him up for a cuddle. First Aid did like his snuggles. He was all business after I placed him on the table, however. Woop! Woop-woop-woop. Sunstreaker! Time for an examination.
Mrrr. Sunstreaker crossed his arms. He didn't want an examination. Mrop. Go away, nurse. He was fine.
First Aid crossed his arms right back at the arrogant runaway. Woop. Oh yeah? Well, this nurse wasn't taking any guff, so Sunstreaker could just sit his artistic aft down and take it his free healthcare like a 'bot, or there would be a scolding. Such a scolding would there be.
I looked between the two of them, rolled my eyes, and started to make another pot of coffee since I'd drained this one. When next I looked at the table, Sunstreaker had been glared into submitting to the most benign assault in medical history. Behold the power of First Aid pouting at someone.
To picture this, go back to the beginning of the college semester when the education companion electronics were on their big sale pushes. First Aid was activated specifically to help sell his model line, which meant that he spent an entire week perched on an endcap display wooping his sirens at potential customers. The medical students had loved him. First Aid had loved the doll accessories Bob had bought to decorate the endcap. We'd yet to pry them from his grasp. He hauled the oversized doctor's kit with him everywhere and checked on everyone, even if he had to sit on them to make them cooperate.
First Aid had job enthusiasm in spades. 'Bots either went along with his demands or were bowled over by a medic on a mission. Heck, any employee who came in with a cold was nagged into cooperating. Sunstreaker didn't stand a chance. He grumbled, but he sat down and let First Aid check him over.
No, the thermometer didn't work. First Aid stuck it in Sunstreaker's mouth anyway. The vain little glitch spat it out of his mouth the second First Aid let go. He crossed his arms to get some angsty brooding in, only for the nurse to pry an arm free in order to wrap a blood-pressure cuff around it. The whole arm, because the cuff was far too large for an electrodomestic. It covered Sunstreaker's arm from fingertip to shoulder, and the yellow 'bot sat there looking embarrassed as First Aid pretended to check his blood pressure. The stethoscope was molded out of plastic, and First Aid didn't actually have ears to stick the earbuds in, but that wasn't going to stop him. He hung the stethoscope around his neck and pressed the end to Sunstreaker's chest as if listening to his fan rate.
Sunstreaker shook the blood-pressure cuff off just in time to put his hands back to catch himself before falling flat on his back. First Aid had gone after his knees, next, and was tapping away industriously. The reflex hammer had been stolen half a dozen times by Whirl for nefarious purposes, but First Aid always got it back. Intimidation had likely factored into the process. Laid back on his elbows, foot held in the air, Sunstreaker warily watched First Aid tap on his knee. That was a familiar look. All the store domestic electronics gave the little nurse PDA that same look. They seemed to have a healthy dose of respect for First Aid. It made me wonder how much of the nurse-sass was badass.
Someone suspiciously Rodimus-shaped had managed to get the syringe stuck on the end of one of Ultra Magnus' helm antenna, so First Aid concluded his examination by carefully wrapping the kit's plastic bandaid around Sunstreaker's head. Muffled mrop noises protested this, but the nurse ignored those. He typically did.
"Good job," I told him when he finally turned to me for approval. He positively beamed at me. "Is the patient ready to leave the isolation ward, nurse?"
First Aid gave it some hard thought, wooping quietly to himself. Behind him, Sunstreaker pushed the bandaid up over one optic and waited. He looked like he didn't care unless you spotted the quick glances he kept shooting toward the doorway. He cared, all right. He just wouldn't admit it.
Woop. Sunstreaker would live. First Aid declared it so.
"Very well." I raised my coffee thermos over the electrodomestics like I was bestowing a blessing upon the table. "I now pronounce you theoretically able but realistically unwilling to rejoin the store. Go forth and continue hating our guts for giving a shit about you, dude."
Sunstreaker sneered at my sarcasm and turned to jump off the table. I sighed and shook my head. It was going to be a long day.
(First Aid and I totally caught him hugging Bob hello in the hallway not a minute later, but you didn't hear that from me. Because he'd probably combust out of flouted pride and run away forever if he knew there were witnesses to his shmoopy reunion with the Insecticon. Even if Bob did jump all over him and wriggle like a puppy when Sunstreaker gave him tummy rubs.
Shhh. We saw nothing.)
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[A/N: Chapter commissioned by ZOMGitsalaura, who wanted Sunstreaker, First Aid, Bob, and who 'paid for this just to spite you f*ckers.' Thank you!]