Knock Out was beginning to think he shouldn't have turned to the med-bay doors as they opened while holding his rotary buffer aloft in a triumphant manner and wearing a manic grin. Of course, how was he to know that it wouldn't be Bumblebee behind the hover cart laden down with medical supplies? How was he to know the striped former scout would be on a mission instead of coming to join him as they had previously agreed on?
Now, on top of the rudeness of sudden, unannounced changed plans, he had to stand there and attempt to awkwardly explain his strange actions to a Wrecker who was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, scarred mouth turned up in a highly amused grin.
"Bumblebee owes me a favor." Knock Out said, attempting to maintain his poise.
"Yeah?" Wheeljack grunted, leaning on the handle of the cart.
"I was expecting him." Knock Out set the rotary buffer down and strode over to the cart, making a show of looking over the contents.
"He leave scuffs in the wrong place or somethin'?" Wheeljack asked conversationally, Knock Out's field tightening and growing prickly with irritation.
"I helped him with some general maintenance, if you must know." Picking up a data pad with the inventory list on it, Knock Out glanced at the Wrecker. Who was still grinning. And whose field was feeling decidedly smug. "I don't know what funny thoughts you've got going through your processor, but I'm beginning to guess you're getting the wrong idea."
"Could be I am, but I could see from here you missed some hard to reach spots. The kind that require a helpin' hand, Red." His words made Knock Out tense slightly, his field flickering with surprise. "Right 'round the wheel struts? Frame like yours makes it a long stretch when you're buffin' solo."
The medic wasn't sure what to say and so remained silent. Wheeljack's posture and field were at ease, relaxed, but his words had a playful and dare he say flirtatious note to them that Knock Out was sure he was imagining.
Wheeljack straightened and moved to pick up the buffer himself. "Mind if I borrow this? Never did get the scratches outta my chassis after Screamer was done with me."
"I'd rather you get your own." Knock Out stated honestly, Wheeljack shrugging and setting it down again. "After all, I have no idea where that frame of yours has actually BEEN."
"Same places yours has been of late." The Wrecker remarked, waiting for Knock Out to finish with the data pad. "We run the same patrols, through the same rust and rubble."
"And why is it you've been delegated to menial tasks like inventory?" Knock Out arched a brow himself and Wheeljack grimaced. The expression made the scars on his mouth more prominent.
"I owe Mags a favor an' I was tryin' to give my internal scans time to finish." The Wrecker muttered. "Think a wheel cylinder's outta place, but I wanna be sure."
That was... curious to say the least. Knock Out's entire 'medical practice' these days consisted of patching up Wreckers when they decided to do something stupid. It was never anything life threatening, mostly mesh wounds and the occasional reattatchment of digits, so Wheeljack being genuinely concerned about his frame's well-being was unexpected.
"I suppose it's my duty to tell you to come see me if you need help reading those medical scans." Knock Out said with a smirk, handing the data pad back to the Wrecker.
"I can read 'em just fine, but thanks for the offer, KO." He used the nickname with something like deliberation. Pronounced the two letters separately after a pause. It was something Knock Out had noticed him doing around others, almost like the Wrecker was testing the waters, feeling out a reaction. "'Course, I might have to come back if there IS a problem. Spend more time baskin' in your glamor."
Okay, that time, he wasn't imagining it. There really WAS a rather flirty note to the Wrecker's vocalizations despite the fact that he was obviously making fun of the medic. Rude. Knock Out raised a brow and regarded the other mech in confusion.
"Maybe I could help you get those hard to reach spots in Bee's stead. Y'know, as payment for helpin' out. I might not have medic's hands, but they get the job done." Wheeljack threw in a very cheeky grin as he spoke, flashing denta.
Knock Out opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his face plates curiously warm. He made a thoughtful noise and looked away, tapping claws against his leg... considering. He was considering. Which was in itself just as bewildering as the flirtations.
"I suppose." Very eloquent. "That would be... acceptable."
Wheeljack reached out and tapped his knuckles against Knock Out's shoulder, nodding and moving to the door with data pad in hand. Knock Out watched him, face plates growing warmer, and to his dismay the Wrecker turned and glanced over his shoulder with a smile before moving out the door.
The silence in the med-bay was deafening.
"No." The sound of his own voice startled him and Knock Out gave his head a good shake to clear his processor. "Just your imagination, Knock Out. The Wrecker was absolutely, positively not flirting with you. Wheeljack has no reason to flirt with you! Definitely not his type, not at all."
Turning and picking up the rotary buffer, Knock Out put it hurriedly back in its drawer and closed it, heading to push the cart to his storage cupboards to unload.
"He's probably off with Bulkhead and Arcee, having a good laugh. 'Got that smarmy medic good, I did.' Because that would be more in his character." Turning his thoughts over to the job at hand, Knock Out started shoving things into cupboards where they belonged, ignoring the lingering warmth in his face plates.