hey did someone say they want more babybee? i say as i shove someone out of the way.
i brought more…. so…. take it ig
“You’re going to get me in trouble!” Jazz hisses, picking B up. The bot dangles down like a roudy newbuild, crossed arms and pout included. Well, that makes sense, since nobody knows how old B is, though it can’t be more than 10 cycles with how underdeveloped some parts of his frame were.
“I was trying to help!” B cries, eyeridges furrowing. “How was I supposed to know that would happen?”
Jazz gestures wildly to the light fixture that, suspiciously, was now shattered and scattered on the floor. “The fact it was swinging didn’t clue you in?”
“Everyone deserves a chance!”
“It is— was— a fragging light!”
B’s shoulders slump. “‘m sorry, Jazz.”
“You should be,” he huffs, glaring at the younger bot through his visor. “Honestly, if you got hurt Elita would flip out. You aren’t, right?”
“Nope!” B gives him a thumbs up.
Jazz shakes his head, feelings simmering down. “I’m sorry for yelling, I just got stressed thinking you were hurt. Check in with Ratchet to make sure you didn’t cut yourself on any glass, alright?”
“What do you mean you can’t find him?”
Elita levels him with a look. “You know what I mean. He’s not in Optimus’ office, he’s not trying to bother me, and Cliffjumper and Hotrod have been racing with Mirage all day.”
“Oh,” Jazz says. “Have you checked with Ratchet in the medbay?”
“Why would B be in the medbay?!”
Jazz raises his servos. “Hey, hey, calm down Dad. I told him to check in with Ratchet after he had a little accident, that’s all.”
“An accident?” Elita places her servos on her hips, looking less than convinced.
“He fell,” Jazz says, not technically lying. “He was totally fine, though, just thought he should get looked over.”
Elita’s face softens. He won’t be maimed, then. “Right. Well, you’re coming with me to check when Ratchet last saw him.”
“B hasn’t been in for any checkups,” Ratchet says, scrolling through a datapad. “I think he’s been ignoring the developmental ones, too.”
“Oh,” says Jazz, who’s chance of being murdered have increased fivefold. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Ratchet sighs heavily, squinting at whatever he’s reading. “I need to take his inner energon samples to see if he still has that mineral deficency…”
“We’ll leave you to it, doc,” Elita says, smiling.
“Please don’t send Jazz back to me,” the medic deadpans.
Jazz laughs awkwardly and backs away. “I’ll go look over… here.”
Elita glares. “If I find him first, I’m cutting your pay.”
“Your reward is survival.”
Jazz takes the hint, sprinting down the hallway.
B messed up. He messed up and Jazz was mad at him.
He covers his mouth to stifle another sob, curling up more. His frame hurts, glass shoved into delicate joints and under thin plating. His digits ache. It hurts and he deserves it, doesn’t he? He messed up, like he always does.
They’ll realise how useless he is and then they’ll send him back to sublevel 50 because that’s the best place for a useless glitch like him—
Above him, something creaks. He glances up and yelps quietly when he sees Laserbeak staring back at him.
“Wh- How did you get in here?”
Laserbeak chirps, hopping down and landing on his shoulder. He cringes a bit and the cassessete starts rumbling gently.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, which just makes Laserbeak hunker down more. “Alright, alright.”
He shuffles to place the cassessete in his lap, messing with some of the kibble on his wings. “It’s a long way from the base,” he says. “Are you hungry?”
The cassessete hops around, doing an uncharacteristically obvious basic scan. B blinks, realising his own energon levels are low. “Oh.”
Laserbeak nudges his helm gently, before taking off out an open window he never noticed before.
“That’s one hidey hole compromised,” B says, standing up on shaky legs and sliding out of the storage room.
He presses himself against the wall as a blur of colour rushes by. He recognises the shades of blue, white, and black as belonging to Jazz.
… he should probably help him.
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