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"How much longer are you going to be loitering there?"
Swerve jumped at the voice; looked up and jumped again. Ambulon was half-way out the sickbay door, peering down at the Minibot with a neutral expression. Swerve tittered. "S-Sorry," he apologized. He glanced down the hall, quickly turned back to the medic; too late, Ambulon looked up and saw shadows quickly fade with the soft clattering of fleeing feet.
Ambulon squinted. He looked back down at Swerve, and Swerve just shrugged, his nervous smile crooked.
The medic invented. "You know," he said, "you don't need an appointment or bleeding from every orifice to come inside." With that, he disappeared back into the sickbay.
Swerve looked genuinely surprised, but quickly followed him in. Ambulon went back to his task, disinfecting equipment at the sink. The Minibot studied the medbay, but it seemed the former Decepticon was alone.
"Just you, doc?" Swerve asked.
"Just me," Ambulon answered without looking away.
Swerve bobbed his head. He sighed and strolled over to the nearest counter. Three vials of green liquid were perched on a test tube rack. Curiously, Swerve reached out to--
"No."
The Minibot choked on his gasp, quickly swung away from the counter. Put his hands behind his back. "Sorry," he chuckled, "people tell me I'm just too damn curious."
"I don't know you well enough to confirm or deny that accusation."
Swerve's visor flashed. Ambulon dried off a laser scalpel's hilt, set it aside. The Minibot rocked back on his heels; swayed back and forth, back and forth, for nearly thirty seconds before he loudly cleared his vocalizer. As it did not sound unhealthy, Ambulon kept to his task; but by the third very loud, very pronounced, very annoying throat-clearing, he put his equipment down and finally turned to face the Minibot, who looked completely innocent.
"What can I do for you?" Ambulon asked. "Do you want an early annual check-up?" He pointed to the wall-mounted scanner hovering above a med-slab.
Swerve shook his head frantically. "No! Sigma, no!" He laughed. "I'm not in the mood for any probin', doc. Plus," he snapped and pointed thumb and index finger gun-style at the medic, "you gotta buy me dinner first."
Ambulon stared. Swerve kept grinning, his hand kind of shaky. "... Nevermind," he mumbled. He turned away, still mumbling. Something about 'why' and 'course don't wanna.'
"You obviously want my attention," Ambulon said. "So, tell me what you need while I finish this up." He pointed to the equipment before turning, getting back to work.
"Well... Just. Was. Gonna... invite you."
Ambulon barely heard those last two words. But he did, and he... Prongs still in hand, he slowly turned and looked to Swerve, his neutral expression now curious, and a little confused.
"Did you say--"
"Invite you? Yeah, I said it," Swerve sighed. He swiped a hand across his forehead. "And I've been meanin' to say it for ten minutes now."
"Is that why you--"
"--was lingering by the door? Yeah. Sometimes medics tend to be... grumpy. Or something. I have no idea what I'm saying right now. Words."
Ambulon opened his mouth, closed it. Swerve titled his helm. "... Can I ask something without being interrupted?" the medic finally inquired.
Swerve tittered. "Yeah! Yeah. Course. Sorry."
"First off: invitation to what?"
"Movie night!" Swerve chirped. "Pipes is hosting this time."
Ambulon didn't expect that. He knew of this movie night, but it seemed to be low-key. "Who... else. Is invited?" Now he sounded like the uncomfortable one.
"Um, me, of course, Rewind, Pipes obviously, Cosmos, Trailcutter... Whirl's a 'maybe.' He's always a maybe. He always says he's just got too much work on his... hands," Swerve quickly repressed his snicker, "and that apparently sooo many other people want and need his attention first. But then he always shows up. Early." The Minibot paused, snapped his fingers. "Bob, too!"
Ambulon blinked. "Bob?"
"Yeah! Sure, he may be stupid and a pet or whatever, but he still enjoys them fascinating moving pictures," Swerve chuckled.
Ambulon was... still very baffled. He remained quiet, frowning.
Swerve inched away. "You're... not gonna tell Magnus, are you? You know how he gets." Paused. "Or maybe you don't. You're still new here. Well, see, there is a pole--bought yay high, and yay thick--shoved so far up his--"
"I'm not going to say anything," Ambulon interjected, hand raised. "Not to Magnus, or anyone else. You have my word."
Swerve forced a smile.
"... And I know it's hard to trust, given I'm a Decepticon traitor, but--"
"Oh, no! No no no!" Swerve threw his hands up, suddenly frantic. "No, it-- No! No way, that-- No! I just..." And while he genuinely did not doubt Ambulon's word, it felt like he just smacked himself in the face.
"Why me?" Ambulon asked.
Swerve's visor flickered. "... Well." He rubbed the back of his head. "... Why not you?"
Ambulon didn't get it. Swerve understood, and continued, "Well, you're new here, and you don't got any friends, so you must get bored on your time off, and Cosmos said when he was in here for his tune-up, you looked, uh..." He rubbed the back of his head, now staring at the ground.
Ambulon squinted. "'Looked' what?"
"Hypothetically speaking, if one of these words he used was 'lonely,' how offended would you be?"
Swerve honestly expected a backlash, some sort of angry defensive rant. But instead Ambulon remained his usual, stony self. However, Swerve had been serving drinks to people for years--he knew a poignant look when he saw one, even under the best disguises. While Ambulon was hardly offended, he did seem a little... surprised.
"Then I'd say, 'I'm not lonely,'" Ambulon answered, straightening up.
"Sure, suuure. And I believe it." Well, partially believed. "But, hey! No harm in just spending a couple hours with a few of your new crewmates, right?" Swerve grinned all his teeth.
Ambulon didn't look too sure. Swerve's face was starting to hurt.
"... If you're all in agreement with me joining," Ambulon muttered, "then..." He looked away, arms folding. "I'll... accept the invitation."
"Of course we are!" Swerve laughed loudly, clapping and rubbing his hands together. "Good! I'll go tell the others!" He headed for the door, stopped, ran back. "Right, uh, Pipes's suite, 19:00 tonight, got it?"
"Got it."
Swerve left, little snickers trailing after.
Ambulon remained standing there, staring into empty space, for a few minutes longer. With an invent, he turned back around and went to finish his work.
---
Ambulon felt like a hypocrite.
He had been standing in front of Pipes's door for a whole minute now. Unsure what to do, what to say. Except he knew what to do, and perhaps what to say, but... There was one teeny weensy part of his CPU that told him this was all a ruse.
They were going to play a trick on him. Maybe something wild, maybe something sophomoric, maybe something that would eventually involve the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord. But that was...
Ambulon's finger curled away from the keypad.
"Hrm."
Well, whatever. He was never going to find out if he didn't take the first step. Ambulon hesitated another two seconds before punching the 'pad, alerting the suite's inhabitants.
A second later, a very familiar voice replied over the comm:
Password.
Ambulon blinked. "I wasn't given a password."
Then you can't party with us.
Ambulon frowned, optics half-lidded. "Let me in, Whirl," he said.
No, we're closed, Whirl replied, I am the Great Whirl, and no one is allowed to see the Great Whirl. So says the gatekeeper.
"Whirl--"
C'mon, work it; sell it! Give me some tears, maybe get on your knees. Beg for--
There was a shuffle followed by a loud thump, and a moment later, the door swished open, Swerve greeting the medic. "Come on inside, doc," he said, gestured to Whirl flanking his side, "please ignore the mess."
Whirl's optic lit up. "You invited the Flaky McFlakster curmudgeon traitor?"
"Yeah. I told you earlier, and you were okay with it."
"I don't remember giving my approval."
"If this is going to be a problem," Ambulon said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll leave."
"No, no!" Swerve exclaimed, waving his hands. "Whirl's just being an aft, which is kind of his natural state anyway." He nudged Whirl aside and stepped back, gesturing around the room. "Come on in, doc! We've been waitin' for you!"
Ambulon wasn't so sure about that, but he slowly walked into the room. Rewind was helping Pipes set up the screen, while Cosmos lingered at the table of snacks with Bob at his feet. Trailcutter looked particularly happy, as if he were some nerd that the jocks finally let into their party.
The door shut behind Ambulon, Whirl bowing down, his "face" right in Ambulon's. "You a narc? Don't be a narc," he said, firmly. Ambulon promptly stepped a few feet away.
"The Hell would he be a narc for?" Swerve snorted.
"He's not yet one of us. I can't trust him."
"You can't and don't trust anyone."
"How does that apply to the current situation?"
Swerve shook his head, turned back to Ambulon still studying the room.
"He's assessing for weak spots--"
"We don't got many rules, but we do got some!" Swerve said, loudly. He raised a finger. "One: no spoilers. You may have seen... whatever it is we're watching, you may know how the plot unfolds. But don't say scrap, or you're forever banned from movie night." A second finger up. "Two: talking and mocking is allowed durin' the film if it's a bad one. But if it's good, then keep your trap--or whatever you use--shut. Please." Three. "All snacks an' drinks are free, but don't touch the pops. The pops are strictly reserved for during th--Cosmos!" Swerve snarled as he turned to address the table, the green and yellow Autobot sneakily nibbling on a pop. "What'd I say!? You know the rules!"
"Sorry," Cosmos mumbled. When Swerve looked away, he ate another pop, and gave one to Bob.
"You know about the entire 'don't go tattling to Magnus' rule, annnd, that's about it," Swerve said, arms akimbo, proud smile on his face. "How 'bout it, doc?"
Ambulon still felt a little... displaced. But after another quick sweep of the room, he looked down at Swerve and said, "Yeah. It's good."
Swerve snapped his fingers; Whirl nodded, reached up, tugged a cord nearly out of sight--
The entire room broke into loud guffawing as the pink paint spilled on Ambulon from the bucket above, turning the former Decepticon a vibrant pink.
"You said the magic words, Ambulon!" Swerve roared boisterously. He started clapping, and so did the others; Bob stomped his feet excitedly. "You've officially been initiated into the movie club, an' got your hazing finally out of the way!"
"I lost a bet," Pipes whined, "so we had to do it in my room." His optics creased sadly. "It's gonna take forever to get that paint out..."
Ambulon had not spoken a word, nor even moved the moment the paint hit him. He finally raised a hand, wiped his optics clean. Stared down at his hand covered in the pink goop.
"It's gonna take a day to come out completely, but... we figured. You know. Since your paint job's... Well, you know."
"I see." Ambulon swept more paint off his right shoulder.
"If you freak out and have an angry fit, you have to leave," Whirl said, "but if you start crying, you get to stay but we get to call you a 'weenie' for a month. ... But when you're on shift, we'll call you Doctor Weenie. You know, to be respectful."
Ambulon looked up at Whirl, just... "I'm not going to cry," he replied a moment later. "Nor am I... angry." He was, a bit. Anyone would be. "I just... didn't see it coming."
"That's the whole point, ya mook."
Swerve swished a hand. "It dries up fast. Won't cause any damage. But if you really want to, you can go to the washracks. We can wait for ya."
Ambulon wiped off more of the paint. Swerve was right--it was already starting to dry. It wasn't too uncomfortable, just a little... sticky. "I'm fine," he assured, "besides, I'd rather not track paint through the ship."
Whirl reached over, grabbed Pipes, and forced his hand to smack Ambulon on the back for him (didn't want to get dirty, you see.) Pipes snarled, ripping his arm free, glaring at the paint on his fingers. "Thatta boy!" Whirl snickered. "Now you're one of us!" He raised his claws, snapped them together. "One of us, one of us, neeble nobble peeble pobble, we make you one of us!"
So that tiny suspicious voice was right. They did play a trick on him. But... As messy as it was, as slightly annoying as it was... he wasn't angry. In fact, he felt kind of... at ease. It was weird, but he wasn't in the mood to question it.
Swerve offered the seat with the mesh spread over it. Ambulon sat, just about dry by now. Once the screen was up, everyone took their seats. Whirl on Ambulon's right, Cosmos on the left. Whirl sat... a bit too close, and Cosmos's girth sort of... sandwiched the medic between them. It was-- Well, no, Rewind had started the movie. No use complaining.
So Ambulon sat there, covered in dried pink goo, stuck between a big spacecraft and a big psychopath. But he watched the movie, focused on that. A second later, Swerve was reaching over, offering Ambulon a bag of energon goodies. He shook it when the medic looked confused; Ambulon took it, stared into the bag. He wasn't sure... if he should reach in... His hand was dry, but--
Whirl stuffed his claw into the bag, nearly ripping it open. Rummaged around loudly, optic still focused on the screen. He took one of Ambulon's hands, deposited a handful of the goodies in his palm, then tossed the bag carelessly over Cosmos, spilling more of the treats on the floor. Bob happily gobbled them up.
Ambulon looked from Whirl, then the food in his hand. Looked up at the movie. He slowly sat back, cautiously took a small bite out of the first goodie, and... Ten minutes later, he felt a tension he never knew he had lift from his shoulders. It didn't take much longer to become immersed in the film. And soon, people were chattering, laughing, and...
Ambulon relaxed.