A/N: It's time to introduce some of the crew! I had a fun time writing this one. Check out my tumblr for mini rants, story ideas, and updates on my fanfics!
Tumblr: MelodicAria
Link: blog/melodicaria
AO3: TheLazerBeam
Link: /users/TheLazerBeam/profile
"So...what are we supposed to tell the big guys?"
After a few minutes of their squabbling, Sam can only listen for so long before he asks, as quietly as possible, to be let down. Bumblebee gently caressed his hair with a digit before setting him on the floor. He's still reeling from the fact that there are actual aliens out there and they're living on Earth. He hears Bee say something else, but in what he assumes to be their alien language.
"Well, I know Megs is going to say we dispose of him but–"
Dispose?
"Okay, if we keep it a secret for too long they'll both get mad. Have you ever seen them both get mad at the same thing?"
Who's going to get mad?
"Look, chill Bee. I know you're supposed to be the 'responsible' one, but you and I both know how this is going to end up for the little guy! I mean look at him, he's one of the cutest things ever– what are the air quotations for? You know you're just as bad as me."
Sam isn't sure how to feel being labeled 'cute' of all things by an alien, but he'll take that as a compliment.
He taps on the side of Cliffjumper's…feet. Either way, it catches his attention and the bot in red armor crouches down.
"Not sure who's going to get mad about me seeing your cover blown," Sam said shakily, "But, I could act like I don't know?"
Cliffjumper blinks, turning up to Bumblebee who responds with a thumbs down, followed by a stream of static and alien garbles.
A soft gust of air comes from one of Cliffjumper's vents. "No can-do, teeny tiny. We don't hide secrets, especially since we're kinda stuck on this planet for the time being. Don't worry, they'll love you."
They? There's more of them?
Sam resists the urge to break down into hysterics.
"S-so the other cars and jets…"
"Are the rest of us? Sure are." Cliffjumper finishes, standing to his full height and making his way to the main building.
"Wait!" Sam bursts out, "From earlier, who's going to be mad? And who's going to be disposing of who?"
Cliffjumper laughed, waving a servo around. "Don't worry about it, you'll be fine–"
And then he proceeded to clash into another tall standing figure, clad in silver plating and armor with a blue visor covering the eyes. Sam flinched at the sound, hard steel clanging into one another.
With the care he was in, Sam 100% had a reason to worry.
Cliffjumper stumbled back in surprise, and Bumblebee rushed over to steady him before he hit the ground. Realizing who he had bumped into, Cliffjumper rushed to get up and formed a quick salute.
"Oh hey, Jazz!"
A sleek silver bot, towering over Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, slinked over from behind the corner, looking down in amusement at the startled duo. Sam's vision was partially obscured, but he could make out the shining blue visor that covered the bot's eyes and a cheeky, but devious, smirk.
"Yo, staying away from the human, I hope?"
The laugh Cliffjumper gave was unusually high-pitched and strained. The red mech quickly stepped in front of Bumblebee, preventing the yellow bot from getting a word in.
"Just stretching our legs, you know, we get so couped up in our alt forms all day. The human is still cleaning Ironhide in the back-"
Jazz laid a servo on Cliffjumper's pauldron, squeezing the metal until it made a tortured wail.
"Is that why he's right behind you, lookin' like a frightened sheepacron?" he said, before looking dead straight at Sam. "Isn't that right?"
Sam froze in place, stiff as a board, as their eyes locked. The shining bright blue visor made him incredibly nervous, and he shuffled backward. That was quickly proven to be a mistake as Jazz brushed past Cliffjumper and Bumblebee, gaining a clear line of sight.
Sam fidgeted with his nails before raising a tentative arm and waving at the mysterious giant. "H-hi." He squeaked out.
Jazz tilted his head as he stepped closer, crouching in front of Sam. The brunette was terrified of Jazz, who began getting closer until they shared the same breath.
Did they even breathe?
"You gonna run out screaming too, lil' man?"
Sam quickly spluttered, "No? No- I mean, it's not like it worked out before..." He trailed off, remembering his useless attempt from earlier. A part of his hindbrain is screaming at him to run far, far away, but he wisely squashes it down.
Yeah, because trying again would definitely work.
Especially now that there were three of them. He'd gotten snatched from the ground faster than he could spit out Uncle. Because why not tilt the odds outside of his favor?
And seriously, why the hell were they multiplying?
He was brought out of his musings by Jazz laughing, low and husky, washing away the tension in the atmosphere.
"Good! Good. Would hate to lose out on another human. I mean, sheesh, what's a bot got to do around here to get a little shine and wax?"
Jazz stood up, snapping his fingers and motioning for the group to follow. "Let's get you acquainted then, eh?"
Acquainted? Oh, hell no.
"Oh, I'm fine-" he began, only to be cut off.
"I insist! Let's go!" Jazz exclaimed as he guided the other two bots in front of him.
He'd rather not, but it didn't seem like he had a choice.
As he jogged after the three bots, attempting to match their strides, which was still difficult when these guys could cross a football field in just a few steps, he was gently scooped up by Jazz, who set him on his shoulder. To his fucking horror, of course.
As they walked, the taller bot began talking animatedly, and Sam noticed the other two begin to relax, although Cliffjumper kept rubbing his shoulder, seemingly pouting.
Jazz peered at him from the corner of his optic, doing minute scans on the human. "Didn't mean to spook ya, just gotta be careful, y'know?"
As Sam gripped a fin of sorts that sat on top of Jazz's head, he nodded frantically, barely paying attention. He was five seconds from falling off, and this was in no way as safe as the mini cage Bumblebee had locked him in with his fingers.
"Uh-huh." He replied, staring at the floor, wondering if by some miracle could he survive a fall of 25 or so feet.
"You'll love everyone, they're the sweetest bunch of bots around. Well, except for Starscream and his flyboys."
"Uh-huh."
Maybe if he hooked his fingers into the gaps he saw down below, he could use them as leverage.
"Ya even listening to me?"
"Uh-huh."
Would that be invasive? Wouldn't that be like, their nerves, or something?
"Do you want to be our pet?"
"Uh-huh- what?"
That got his attention, and he turned to Jazz, who only snickered as he held out a servo for Sam to climb on. He set the human down, turning to the others.
"Just kidding."
Sam bit his lip, glancing at the other two. "Is he?"
Bumblebee avoided eye contact while Cliffjumper smiled. "Possibly."
A shiver ran down his spine.
Pet, or be squashed to death? He thinks the answer is quite simple.
As they arrived near the entrance, Cliffjumper quickly slid in front of them, placing his servos in front. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think it's a good idea that he meets with them yet."
The smile on Jazz's face faltered, and the tension began to creep in again. "Whaddya mean?"
Cliffjumper turned to Bumblebee for help, who only rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned to the side.
"You're about as helpful as a nano-gnat," Cliffjumper muttered.
He straightened his frame, gesturing to Sam. "Come on, I mean, remember what Starscream did to the last human we had?"
Jazz lifted a servo to his face, stroking his chin. "Wasn't here for that one. Drop the details."
Cliffjumper opened his mouth, but Bumblebee swiftly slammed a servo over his face, staring at Jazz. They seemed to be communicating with their bodies as they spoke no words. The silence consumed the space for a few minutes before Sam finally asked what was happening.
Cliffjumper maneuvered his face away from Bumblebee's grip. "Comms, Bee's voice box is kinda shot. So, overuse is a big no-no, and speaking anything but Cybertronian is out of the equation."
Sam hummed in response, just as Jazz vented in exasperation. It seemed their conversation was over.
"Alright, meet-and-greet is postponed, lil' man. Next time, for sure! I'll get him back to Ironhide, Bee, you've got some explainin' to do with the bigwigs."
Bumblebee's frame lightly shook, in what Sam assumed was a shiver. He silently lit a flame and prayed for his safety.
Cliffjumper harshly shoulder-checks Bumblebee with his good arm, and walks into the main building, with the yellow mech angrily trailing off behind him, both of them pushing and shoving all the way.
Jazz sets his full attention on Sam, wagging a single finger. "Straight back to Ironhide with you. No runnin' away, no screamin', and most definitely no callin' anyone on that phone of yours I know you have. Spill the bolts and I'll kick your can- got it?"
Sam slowly nods, before adding with good measure, "Yes. Yes, sir, of course."
Jazz grins, patting Sam's head with a single digit.
What's up with these guys and patting his head?
Jazz leaves, and Sam takes that as his cue to do his job and get the hell out of there as soon as possible. He's more than hesitant to go back to cleaning what he now knows is also an alien, Ironhide, but he doesn't have many other choices. So, backtracking his way to the black Topkick, he almost mechanically cleans the rest of the truck, not saying a word. He's afraid that if he breathes wrong the thing might transform and tell his buddies.
As he wipes down the rest of the car door, he wonders if this is normal for them to be washed and cleaned by another species. It couldn't be, could it? If they were an intelligent race, they would be cleaning themselves. Sam gets a few more icky thoughts before he washes them away, deciding it's far better not to think about it.
He jumps as his phone beeps, a text message from Jane telling him that his hours are over. He silently rejoices and makes a hasty retreat through the warehouse, limbs shaking from anxiety and jittery nerves. When he stumbles into the main building, however, all the cars were parked just like before, except for a few missing. He grips his phone tighter, walking briskly through the space, thanking God that none of them transformed into their bipedal modes. Sam would have lost it then and there. Three was far more than enough.
Nothing seems amiss until he passes the yellow Camaro. It flickers to life and rolls up to him, bumping his legs and giving a throaty purr.
Sam awkwardly pats the hood and waves goodbye to the rest of the vehicles. "Uh, bye?"
Quite a few horns beep in response and Sam inhales. Would you look at that?
He turns to the door and continues walking, not having the nerves to turn back. He supposes they all know by now, that he knows. Sam's not sure how he's going to return to work tomorrow. Or if at all.
He walks through the lounge, slipping the black keys on their hook. Another detail he lets slip from his mind. If they were aliens who only took on a...disguise of sorts, that being vehicles, didn't that mean they didn't need keys? Was it all for show?
When he opens the door, Jane, unsurprisingly, is waiting outside, leaning against some exotic sports car he probably wouldn't be able to pronounce the name of. It's brightly colored an obnoxious green that makes his eyes sting.
As he opens his mouth, ready to hurl a million questions, Jane holds a single hand up, telling him to pause.
"Hon, I didn't expect this to happen. They usually don't do this. Or, well, used to not do this. I know what you're thinking-"
Sam combs his hair with his fingers, huffing out a sigh, and abruptly cutting her off. "Just stop, Ms. Watson. I understand, I just- well I don't, but who hires someone to clean alien life forms? And on top of that doesn't tell them?"
He knows the answer: Jane. Jane does.
He gets a few sentences in before Jane tells him to listen, waving a few bills in his face that his eyes track with a single-minded purpose. On one hand, he could learn about an entirely different species that, he begrudgingly admits, is fucking cool. On the other hand, if the government somehow finds out their wash-and-go for extraterrestrial species, he's number one on their shit list. And last, but certainly not least, if he messes up one time with these guys, that's his ass. Smashed, squashed, and quite possibly torn apart.
Sam is a smart kid. He'll make the right decision.
But, money is money, alright?
So, in the end, he does agree to come back tomorrow. And the following days after that whenever he's needed.
The bots never transform, and only acknowledge him with a car honk or blinking headlights, but that suits Sam just fine. He's downright happy about it. For a moment, a single moment, he can pretend that it's a normal job again and that he's not hosing down extraterrestrial life forms from some planet light-years away.
Yes, he would be able to do that if not for the fact that everything previously mentioned was a big fat lie he was desperately clinging to by its last remaining threads to keep himself sane.
They were everywhere, and he means everywhere. Sam tries his best to avoid them, which means coming in through the back entrance closest to where he usually washes them. But he's pretty sure they caught on, well, at least Cliffjumper and Bumblebee did.
"How are you going to get used to us if you keep avoiding us?"
Bee nods, his radio beginning to chatter, "I swear- upon my life- we're harmless!"
Cliffjumper is completely right about the first part, the second part from Bumblebee, however, is quickly put into question when Sam catches who he thinks to be Ironhide showing off a vast array of weapons and blasters to said yellow bee.
But, Sam is fine with avoiding his problems. He does it all day, every day. And he's going to continue to do it, at least, until he's milked this job for enough money.
One day, he knows they've had enough, because as soon as he's done for the day and waiting for Jane, the gigantic Western Star that's always on the move rolls up to him, transforming into a metal goliath, and Sam's pretty sure they don't get bigger than this.
As the panels shift and fold away in a symphony of clicks and grinding gears, it gives way to a massive robust frame of red, white, and blue, complete with the same eerily brilliant blue eyes. What seems to be a battle mask slides away and retreats to the sides of his face.
Optimus takes a knee, still keeping a fair amount of distance from Sam, but this does him no favors as Sam has already dropped his bag and phone in pure shock.
He's heard both Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, with the occasional peep from Jazz, talk about their leader. They spoke with a fevered reverence of him, and Sam could see why. The bot practically oozes protection and safety.
"Samuel James Witwicky."
His voice is a deep baritone, commanding and clear. Befitting of a leader, he thinks. But of course, the most important detail he plucked out of that sentence?
He knows his fucking name.
"I thank you for your service, and for keeping our secret. My name is Optimus Prime, I am an autonomous robotic organism from the planet Cybertron."
Ah, so that's what Cybertron is. From the dumb look on his face, he's sure Optimus is putting the pieces together.
"Forgive the younger ones for their brash behavior…and inability to explain to you why we are here."
As if on cue, the yellow Camaro and red Dodge are right beside him, both transforming and greeting Optimus, while lightly rubbing Sam's head.
They seemingly heard their conversation from before, and Cliffjumper was the first to leap at an opportunity to explain himself, "I swore we forgot something, Bee."
Bumblebee is a flurry of clicks and whirrs, glaring daggers at the other small bot.
"Language, Bumblebee." As Optimus says his name, Bumblebee quickly shuts up, turning his focus lightning-quick to the larger bot.
Optimus brings his attention back to Sam. "Following a distress call, we were knocked off our course and thus landed on your planet, Earth. Our sensors still detect a foreign Cybertronian presence here. And it may not be an ally, but we still search this land for them. We cannot return, however, as our ship is damaged. We are here collecting resources and waiting for our signal to reach the rest of our team. Reinforcements will be here shortly-"
Cliffjumper quietly snickers, "Five cubes it's Blackarachnia and her group of bits for brains trying to frag Optimus in hopes it'll gain her a title- or worse, respect."
"Cliffjumper."
Bee's laugh is boisterous, and by the look on Optimus' face, Cliffjumper's choice of words did not please him.
"You both seem relaxed, which means you have nothing to do."
Bee stopped laughing and Cliffjumper paused. "Wait-"
"Both of you will look over Skids and Mudflap for the next two cycles."
"Frag!"
Sam snorts, if he didn't know any better, he'd say they got put on babysitting duty. He watches them go bittersweetly, missing their vibrant energy. But he smiles anyway and addresses Optimus.
"I don't need any thanks- or apologies. Honestly, I enjoy what I do. It's quite…nice spending time with everyone."
Optimus, however, doesn't seem convinced. "Is that why you avoid us and arrive through the back entrance?"
Sam flinched. Found-fucking-out.
"Well-"
"No need for explanations, Samuel. Your hesitancy is justified. We too, are wary of humans, given past interactions, but we would not have survived without Jane. She treats us well, as do you."
Sam sighs. "It's…nerve-wracking just speaking to you- I mean you're all about the size of a building, and probably twice the weight. I…" he trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He knew his wariness of them was justified, it's not every day you meet aliens made out of hard metal and steel, big enough to compete with a house. But, it's also true that they have yet to do anything violent to him.
Optimus' eyes flicker. "Unfortunately, I cannot take back what you've seen. For our safety and your own, it is best you continue to hold your silence on our inhabitance. And we shall do our best to keep you, and your planet safe."
Sam's shoulders drop in defeat, or maybe relief. He didn't realize he held any importance at all to them. Frankly, all he did was keep them clean. He didn't upkeep their maintenance, let alone speak to more than three of them. Nevertheless, he was already knee-deep.
"Thank you, Optimus Prime, sir."
"Optimus."
Sam glanced up at the mech. The more he looked at them, the less threatening they got. Maybe.
"Sam," he replied softly.
The brunette picked up his phone and bag from the ground, just as he heard Jane honk her horn outside.
He began fiddling with the door handle, giving one last small smile to Optimus. "That's me. Uh, I'll see you next week then?"
The mech tipped his helm in goodbye.
"The others are extremely excited to meet you…the past humans that have made contact with us, barring Jane, were…less than unsavory. We enjoy learning from other species on our travels. A simple chance is all I ask. Until then, Sam."
Is this guilt-tripping? Sam thinks this is guilt-tripping.
It has to be because he starts making an effort to be around the other bots after their conversation. Well, it's not like he has much of an option, because Cliffjumper and Bumblebee make it a mission to stay in the main building, forcing him to either wash them there or call them over personally. Or maybe it's unintentional and nobody's out to get him.
There's a voice in his head that whispers: Everyone's out to get you.
It's been one month since their first encounter, and Sam has regularly come to work every weekend. He doesn't mind, but he unexpectedly doesn't go simply for the money anymore, especially after learning that these bots weren't so bad after all. Well, some of them.
Optimus had been an archivist of sorts before his duty as a Prime. When he wasn't busy, Sam would sit and listen to the tales and tidbits of culture Optimus taught him.
While he is one of the most intimidating, he is the most kind mech Sam thinks he will ever have the pleasure of meeting. He studies the interactions between the bots- Optimus is more than just a stable foundation for everyone in his team- he's their leader, their listener, and their confidant. When Sam finally gets the delight of encountering Skids and Mudflap, Optimus is the one to save him, on more than one occasion, from being stepped on by the brother's violent scuffles. And for that, Sam is forever grateful.
He picks up the habit of affectionately calling him, 'Big Guy'. By the quirk of Optimus' lips, he's sure he doesn't mind.
And if he spends a little more time cleaning the gentle giant, nobody says a word or bats an optic.
He learns of the tank, sometimes jet, and Lord High Protector: Megatron. He is gone for the most part, but Sam has caught a glimpse of him. Just a single look was enough, as he was proven wrong about Optimus being the largest because that honor belonged to the 35-foot-tall silver behemoth. Said warlord had offered to make Sam his pet, where had he heard that one before, and Sam made it a priority to plead with Jane to never have to go near or clean him again. Jane promptly said no. Sam's sure she didn't even have to think about it.
He's never come face-to-face with Megatron in his bipedal form, but his rumbling and guttural tone is enough to make him scared. So, he can't imagine trying to have a full conversation with the mech. Because of this, he keeps his mouth shut and entertains the tyrannical mech until he's happy. He still keeps trying to make Sam his pet though.
While he's already met Jazz, the sparkling silver bot is always near the forefront of his mind, and day. Sam can say with confidence that he is one cool damn cat. His easy going nature makes Sam forget that Jazz is Optimus' second-in-command and head of their Special Ops division. Smooth, terrifying, and would murder you in your sleep. Looks like a cat, sounds like a cat, it must be a damn cat.
Jazz is all culture-consuming, and comes to Sam with many inquiries about their lingo and traditions, despite the mech having half of it down to an exact science. Half of the slang that slips out of Sam's mouth is met by a reply from Jazz, hot and ready on his tongue.
Do they even have tongues?
He thinks they do.
Sam is endlessly amused at Jazz's fascination with human music, who rattles off his new favorite musician every time he comes by. Who would have thought that a few million-year-old alien would enjoy and indulge in the works of Miles Davis, Kamasi Washington, and Snoop Dog to Katy Perry?
Despite their awkward first meeting, Sam feels safe and relaxed around Jazz. It's hard not to, so he doesn't fight the feeling.
Just a few weeks ago, he had been traversing through the warehouse, cleaning the ground after Mudflap had lived up to his namesake and tracked mud throughout the entire building. It needed to be as spotless as possible. Jane was finally about to move the bots to another location, where they could hopefully be in bipedal mode whenever they wanted, away from prying eyes.
When he approached the sleek gray fighter jet near the back, it had shrieked, actually shrieked at him when he got too close. He now knows why his name is Starscream.
Starscream was a fickle character. Cowardly, a snitch, and rude, yet, at the end of the day he still joked and laughed with the rest of the crew. He had no idea why they even tolerated Starscream, but he supposed whatever the mech did to earn their trust, it was for life. If you could look past his slimey behavior, Starscream wasn't half bad. He knew what he wanted it, and how he wanted it, and did just about anything to get it, no matter what it may be. The brunette watches from the sidelines as the jet once again swindles another Energon cube or two from an angry Cliffjumper.
Yeah, well, he said half bad.
Ratchet is their grumpy medic and one of the only bots it seems with common sense. He's got a no-nonsense attitude that immediately takes Sam back to his first introduction to Jane. As luck would take it, Ratchet is also caring towards his teammates and looks after them constantly.
Sam is introduced to the mech when he gets a minor cut trying to tug out bits of glass from Jazz's interior. As soon as blood spills, Jazz rushes him to the white and orange ambulance, almost panicked enough to step over his pedes. Sam tries and fails, to tell them that it's nothing serious.
"We're just fragile. Squishy! We don't have thick plates or armor."
Ratchet pokes and prods at him, glaring at the small crowd they amassed. "Well, maybe you should."
"I swear it's not as bad as it looks, it doesn't even hurt, okay?"
Nice try, Sam.
Ratchet is scooping him up and scanning his entire body, never mind that the cause of concern was the equivalent of a paper cut on his index finger. After cleaning the wound, Ratchet wraps his finger up and tells him to wear gloves the next time he handles sharp objects. He would argue, however, Sam has learned quickly not to disagree with anything Ratchet says unless he wants a dent the size larger-than-life via a hammer on the side of his head. He still doesn't know where Cliffjumper's left horn went after the incident.
Speaking of Cliffjumper, Sam realizes that the bright red mech is a magnet for trouble. As in, he attracts it. Or, directly causes it. Cliffjumper is stupidly daring, reckless, and a 'fight now, ask questions later' type of bot. Sam, however, admires his courage and ability to adapt to situations. Or maybe he's just got an extra thick inch around his helmet. Cliffjumper is always busy, he's hardworking, and he shows it every day with his dedication to his tasks, no matter how small or large. And Sam? Well, Sam honestly wouldn't have another friend. He's the first one Sam met, and in turn, Cliffjumper has always been on his side.
If he's not working, or spending time with the others, he's showing Cliffjumper his favorite action movies on his phone. While Sam is a bit worried Cliffjumper has taken a bit too much influence from them, he continues regardless, basking in the happiness.
Bumblebee is sweet, understanding, caring, and Sam's ride-or-die. On numerous days Sam has been in a pickle, and the yellow mech was right there to help him. Although his damaged voice box causes his speech to be limited, and it takes Sam a few tries to guess what he means, they have a whole lot to say to each other.
When he's off of work and waiting for Jane, Bumblebee will saddle up to him, all heat and warm metal, staying with him until he leaves. Sometimes, he lays himself out on Bee's hood or rests against Bee's leg, watching the sunset until he takes his leave. In those moments, Sam feels like it's just them. At other times, Sam knows Bumblebee feels partially guilty for exposing their secret to Sam and dragging said human into their situation, but Sam tells him loud and clear that he wouldn't have had it any other way.
While cleaning his exterior, the Mercedes-Benz reveals himself as Soundwave.
As he scrubs the stubborn dirt stain on the front bumper, he peers up at the windshield. He thinks it's funny to imagine them having eyes there, similar to the Cars movie. There are dozens of burning questions running through his mind, and he can't help himself from shooting out one.
"It's a bit odd referring to you as 'the cool Mercedes-Benz'. So, what's your name?"
There's a few seconds of silence before he hears a cold vocoded voice that has his inner child thrumming with excitement. It reminded him of the robot toys he'd seen advertised in commercials.
"Designation: Soundwave."
Hopefully, the bot doesn't mind chatter, so he continues babbling on, getting short replies and answers in return. Eventually, he asks who would win a fight between a few of them, and he gets a simple answer in reply that Sam pointedly doesn't disagree with.
"Soundwave: Superior."
Well, who doesn't love a mech with a bit of confidence?
Ironhide is their gun-wielding weapons expert who never seems to stop threatening people. He's tough, loud, and not afraid to put a few bullet holes in his friends. Despite this, Ironhide is loyal to a fault and would do just about anything for his team. Sam is always a bit cautious around Ironhide, not because he's scared of him, well, not anymore- but because the bot is always trying to shove a weapon in his hands. Blasters, grenades, canons, missile launchers, hell, Ironhide tries to give him a sword at some point. His reasoning?
"You're all so tiny and your planet is way too dangerous for you to not be carryin' protection!"
Yes, because Sam was definitely in danger at this very moment and exact point in time. Thankfully, Optimus is there just about every time to pluck the heavy weapon out of his arms and sprout a few words of wisdom. None of which Ironhide listens to because he's doing the same thing the next day.
Overall, he's nice to Sam though, and Sam promises to give him an extra nice wax down when he has the time. Totally not because he doesn't want to be full of holes.
Perceptor is a mech of science. Mechanical, chemical, you name it. He's cold, aloof, and calculated at all times. When it's Perceptor's turn for a wash, the mech treats it as a nuisance. Sam knows that Perceptor knows the importance of cleanliness, especially with the bot being a scientist, but Sam has an inkling that Perceptor is simply being difficult on purpose for being dragged away from his latest scientific discovery. Or sniper rifle.
Stay far, far away from Perceptor when he has any sort of weapon. It usually means temporary decommission or a busted windshield for whoever has vexed him.
Sam likes Perceptor though. Why? Because he does his science homework for him when he asks. He has to offer another scheduled date for Perceptor's wash, but he thinks it's a fair trade.
And perhaps an explanation is long overdue for these munchkins, that Sam has dubbed them the Terrible Duo. If it was between him and himself, he preferred it when they were in their alt modes only, because Skids and Mudflap are a step away from unbearably horrendous. A baby step, he might add.
They're the youngest and have the most energy for absolutely no reason. They're always up to something, not harmful, but headache-inducing nonetheless. These two brothers take first place for a mech in need of a wash, just about every other day. While he is mildly irritated whenever they roll up to him covered in dirt, bugs, and whatever the hell else they pick up in an hour after he just cleaned them, he looks after them like his little siblings. They don't listen to him half the time, but when it counts, they do. When Skids and Mudflap are not up to pure mischief and pranks, they're dependable. Kinda. Kinda sorta of.
Do you think those two are weird? Don't even get him started on the sports cars. He thinks they all share a brain cell or fragment of a processor because they're usually trying to do the same thing: flirt, get into trouble, flirt some more, and get into world-damaging trouble. In that order.
Knockout is in a league of his own and switches sides faster than a hummingbird flaps its wings. Sam has sat and watched him cause unnecessary drama with Starscream and filter between which side benefits him the most. It's almost hilarious if you count out the fact that Knockout once suggested keeping Sam as a permanent experiment to keep him from spilling the beans, or bolts, to other humans.
Note One: Stay away from Knockout in isolated places. And avoid being alone with him. Period.
Sam can marvel all he wants at the flawless red Aston Martin with gold rims and details, but he is not falling for the conceited surgeon's mind games. Well, he has once, but the point is that Sam has learned his lesson. Not really though. As narcissistic and snobbish as Knockout is, he's a highly talented surgeon that even Ratchet has complimented. Never mind his keen eye for cosmetics when it concerns the other bots, Sam is asking him for tips and advice when Ratchet is swamped with other work.
That, however, still doesn't change Knockout's flirty and snake behavior to gain or curry favor.
He thinks, maybe, that's why Starscream and Knockout get along so well. They're similar, and sometimes their goals align. However, Starscream lacks common decency most of the time and has a frightening obsession with playing the victim card whenever he can.
And maybe he gushes over Knockout's fiery paint job and luxurious plush interior. Maybe Knockout praises him for doing a good job and Sam feels proud compared to when he's received compliments from the other bots.
So what?
The Lamborghinis: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, are probably the worst, just ahead of Knockout and a fraction behind Starscream. They're all terrible if you ask Sam. Terribly terrible. He's never seen anybody go from flirty and endearing to brash and violent-loving douchebag as quick as Sideswipe, and he's 101% sure Sunstreaker is a sociopath.
Sideswipe is constantly showing off, which more often than not gets him into trouble with Optimus, fearing a human seeing Sideswipe showcase his new blades or battle skills. It doesn't help that the thrill-seeking mech likes to go lone-wolf when given the chance. When Sideswipe isn't teaming up with his brother to create a world-ending event or bragging about his looks, he's teasing Sam and trapping him in his backseat for 'joyrides'.
Sam does not have a good time.
For all the metric tons of stupidity that is Sideswipe, he admits when he's in the wrong and tries his best to fix it. He's the life of the party, and everybody's done a bit of rule-breaking. Or bending.
Sunstreaker is a bit too confident in himself. This leads to him biting off far more than he can chew- or Energon that he can consume- and Sam's pretty sure his ego is the size of the solar system and then some.
He has his moments though, where he realizes how much his actions and words have hurt those around him, and he backs off. Sam doesn't consider himself a great judge of character, but he knows Sunstreaker is making an effort to become a better person, and sometimes, that's all you need.
He compliments Sunstreaker a little less though. Not like he needs it!
It's his second month with the bots when he finally has enough money saved up to buy a car. He's antsy, especially after being exposed to the jaw-dropping vehicles he looks after every few days. He wants a car of his own, damn it.
It's a wonder to him, with how adamant he was to escape them, he now can't go a week without seeing them.
He cherishes their time together, their knowledge, their quirks and oddities. And they accept Sam all the same. He feels comfortable with them, enough to spend some of his off days just talking to them for hours. He feels like he belongs, and maybe that's why Sam agrees to continue to stay with the bots.
Maybe that's why he listens with rapt attention to their stories and tells them about Earth Culture and history after school. If his teachers were here, they'd be proud.
He hears of a city made from pure crystals to metal foxes that explode when they're angry. Maybe it's his thirst for more, something different, or his innate curiosity.
Whatever it is, it brings him closer to them, and he latches onto it with a death grip that he decidedly doesn't want to let go of.
He feels foolish looking back on how scared he was of them. Of how unsure he was to even speak to them. While not human, they're sentient and alive. Living metal hidden beneath their armor, with their own 'hearts' and 'brains'.
And there's no other place Sam would rather be.
A/N:
1. For those of you not familiar with the mainly North American expression, saying "Uncle" is just the equivalent to "I surrender" or "I give up".
2. A sheepacron is part of Cybertron's wildlife. From my knowledge, it's only spoken about, so not much is known. But if we can use our brains.. they're obviously a variant of the sheep we have here on Earth. Here's a picture and mini description made by the lovely Tokki-Trickster on Deviant Art that I found:
tokki-trickster/art/Transformers-Wildlife-Sheepacron-649652258
3. A nano-gnat is another of Cybertron's wildlife, described as annoying little creatures. Similar to just regular ol' gnats that we got here. Unfortunately.
4. For simplicity's sake, we'll use IDW's 2019 Transformer's continuity definition of a cycle. A Cycle is about 1 day, a bit shorter than a day here on Earth!
5. In Optimus Prime Issue #8, during an interview Jazz speaks of artists who's music he enjoys. Of them are Miles Davis, Ornette Coleman, John and Alice Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, Charles Mingus, and most recently Kamasi Washington. Jazz also enjoys Samba, hip-hop, and taiko! So, if you listen to jazz, or just want to be like Jazz, I suggest checking out these artists if you haven't already.
I personally think Jazz is a bit like me when it comes to music. It's such a marvelous thing for him that he's not confined to simply one genre. While jazz might be his favorite for obvious reasons, he branches out to other categories as well. That being said, don't be afraid to drop a few Spotify or YouTube links in the comments!
6. Idk about y'all, but Perceptor is most definitely having the time of his life on Earth, or any other planet he might have the chance of traveling to. He's a nerd at heart- or spark- guys. He's fucking ecstatic to be tearing apart Earth piece by piece and learning of the many different minerals or elements we have, or have yet, to discover. Pull him off kicking and screaming because he is coming right back.
7. Also, the Bayverse Skids and Mudflap are so funny to me, I can't.
8. Knockout wants to get Sam alone so he can get some sweet Earth decals. That's literally it. His comment from before is working against him though.
9. Sideswipe wants to go out and explore, so he takes (kidnaps) Sam as an excuse to go out. He gets in trouble every time, obviously.
If you've made it to the end of my notes, tell me who's meeting you were most excited for! Or, if they haven't appeared yet, who do you want to see next? Chances are, they're probably coming, so let's double up the luck. Thank you for reading, as always!
