TITLE: Join the Club
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are....
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis


For saesama because she drew this awesome little comic… (link at the end of the story)


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Sam found the package on his desk – yes, he had his own desk now – when he came back from getting his ass handed to him by Trent. The desk had come with an office, though Sam had argued that he didn’t really need one. Yes, he was employed by the government to work with the Autobots and yes, he was stationed at the base, but he didn’t need an office. No one ever made appointments with him at the base. If he had to talk to Banachek it was by email, video conference or he drove to Nellis Airforce base. He didn’t even hold seminars or gave lectures, so there was no need to have a desk and office space for him.

In the end he had a desk in a shared office-like area. His ‘room mate’ was Lennox, who had argued just like the technopath and had, like Sam, lost.

Trent and Sam had started a regular work-out. Sam knew moves that were taught by the Marines or the Airforce and Trent hadn’t had sparring in mind when he had offered. It had been about endurance training, like running. Trent was the more enduring and faster runner. They had chosen the track used by the soldiers on the base, which ran around the former Airforce hangars, down the tarmac that had once seen fighter planes launch and land, and then a short run through the actual desert, until the path wound back to the Autobot base. All in all it usually took an hour to complete the course at a leisurely pace, thirty minutes when it was a real run, and Trent managed to complete it in under twenty-five. Sam respected the time greatly. He had never managed it under forty.

The mail for the base was usually electronic and packages were brought in by the planes and trucks coming from Nellis. This particular one had arrived on his desk via Nellis as well, ‘attn. Cpt. Bowman for S. Witwicky’.

Sam frowned and wiped sweat off his brow. He fingered the envelope. It was one of those extra strong, polythene envelopes, the tear resistant ones. There was no sender.

Strange.

But shower first. The package couldn’t be dangerous since it went through a rigorous screening at Nellis, then scanned again when it arrived at the base. It had been one of the first installments after Trent had taken over as logistician. He had wanted a scanner in the secure hangar to test deliveries, and Ratchet had immediately agreed. He and Ironhide had developed and installed the desired device.

After his shower, Sam grabbed the innocent envelope and walked into the kitchen area. Several soldiers were lounging on the comfortable seats, reading, talking, playing games, or just having a quick coffee and snack while reading over papers. Some looked up and nodded at Sam as he got himself his coffee. Sam nodded back and took the coffee outside.

He was about to open the package when a familiar figure sauntered over to him.

“Hey, Tony,” he greeted their visitor, dialing down his senses to keep himself from following the interesting emissions from the Extremis nanotubes.

Tony Stark, industrialist billionaire genius, grinned back at him. He looked better than the last time Sam had seen him, more relaxed, no longer tense as a wire and ready to snap. It had been six months now since the Extremis nanotube virus had been accidentally injected into Stark, and he was handling himself a lot better. Though the infection hadn’t killed him as had been planned by Dr. Maya Hansen, it had changed Tony’s life profoundly. Sam knew that Hot Rod had his hands full keeping an eye on his charge and Tony wasn’t always happy with his ‘baby-sitter’, but the two got along.

Stark had arrived yesterday to go over designs and talk shop with Ratchet concerning the remodeling of the Ghost-2, as well as go through his planned flight aboard the newer, upgraded model to visit the Ark.

“I see you got one, too,” Tony remarked.

Sam frowned and lifted the soft envelope. “This?”

Tony nodded. “Open it.”

“What is it?”

“Just open it.” There was a light in the other man’s eyes that had Sam grow wary.

“If you got one, too… who sent it?”

Tony had this shit-eating grin now. “Just open it. It won’t bite.”

Sam shrugged and looked around for a pair of scissors or a knife. In the end he borrowed one off one of the guys in the kitchen.

Inside the envelope was… a white t-shirt.

Tony’s smile was impossible to describe, as was Sam’s expression when he unfolded it.

“Who?” he finally managed.

“It was a delivery of three, all in one package that was sent to Bowman,” Stark replied playfully. “The sender was someone from the base.”

“CafePress?” Sam hazarded a guess as he studied the print on the shirt, trying not to laugh out loud.

CafePress was an online marketplace that offered fun t-shirts and more. Whatever you wanted printed, you could create there. It was unique merchandise from a neat ecommerce place.

“CafePress,” a new voice agreed.

Sam looked up at Bumblebee and frowned. “You!” he exclaimed after a moment, frowning.

“Aren’t mental bonds fun?” Tony remarked amusedly.

“You did this?” Sam repeated.

Bumblebee shrugged and his blue optics glowed with good humor.

“Do you like it?” the mech asked. “I was guessing the sizes.”

“Now it sounds like you were buying lingerie,” Stark chuckled.

Sam felt the heat in his face. He glared at the older man, but Tony looked unrepentant. He opened his leather jacket all the way and the same t-shirt Sam was holding in his hands appeared. It had the same print.

“Do I need to ask who got number three?”

“You’re a bright kid, Sam. Think.”

“Will?”

Tony grinned. “He already changed into his after laughing his ass off. I think Ironhide’s having fun, too.” There was a gleam in his dark eyes. “Betcha I can get Hot Rod to wear the bumper sticker version.”

Sam burst out laughing.

“I bet I won’t!” came the indignant reply from the silver R8 as Hot Rod joined them.

His blue optics fixed on Tony, who simply smirked.

::Thanks:: Sam sent to his partner.

::You’re welcome::

The technopath exchanged his dark blue t-shirt for the white one, grinning.

“Oh come on, Roddy,” Tony wheedled. “It would be fun.”

“Not my definition of fun. You won’t stick anything to any part of me!”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

Hot Rod stared hard at his charge. “It’s a warning and a fact. No bumper sticker.”

“Spoilsport.”

Tony pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, grinning at Sam in a conspiratorial manner.

::He’s gonna do it:: Bumblebee remarked.

::Of course. He likes to play with fire::

::Hot Rod won’t hurt him:: the mech replied.

::No, he never would. And he’s having fun, too.::

Leaving the two to argue, Sam emptied his coffee and Bumblebee transformed, opening the door as an invitation. Sam took it. He had planned to drive into Mission City today anyway, so why not make an early start?

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By the time he got back it was already dark, but inside the base it was still business as usual. Trent was checking the contents of a late shipping and Tony was in the process of leaving. Hot Rod had already transformed into car mode and was waiting for the human to finish talking to Epps and Lennox.

::Sam:: Bumblebee sent, amused. ::Look::

Sam had to bite his lip not to burst out laughing.

There, on the silver Audi’s rear, was an innocent little bumper sticker.

‘I was screwed over by alien technology and all I got was this lousy bumper sticker’.

Tony left with a knowing grin in Sam’s direction, then the car tooled out of the hangar.

“He’s so dead,” Sam chuckled.

“He’s resilient,” Lennox shrugged, smirking. “I’m still wondering how he got the sticker onto Hot Rod in the first place.”

“Extremis?” Sam hazarded a guess.

Another shrug. “Don’t know much about how that works. Distraction of any kind might do the trick.”

“Or Hot Rod knows,” Bumblebee argued. “And plays along.”

The two humans who had a good grasp on mechanoids and their sensitivity exchanged looks. Tony had announced his intention, but Hot Rod had probably not taken him seriously. So sneaking the sticker onto him… a possibility. On the other hand…

::Don’t get ideas:: Bumblebee warned.

::Nah. Never would::

::Sam…::

Sam chuckled. “Your bumper is safe from me,” he promised out loud, looking at his friend.
Bumblebee appeared doubtful, but he accepted the promise. Lennox left them to call Bowman at Nellis to handle some matters that had come up there, and Sam decided to check in with Ratchet. The medic had wanted his assistance on a new project.

Bumblebee watched his friend go, then opened a line to Hot Rod.

-- I know – Hot Rod answered his call, sounding amused. – Tony might be sneaky, but he’s not that sneaky --

Bumblebee chuckled. – And you’re having fun --

-- With Tony? Yeah – Hot Rod replied easily. – When you get past the sometimes self-destructive behavior, he’s a lot of fun to be around. His mind is amazing and the Extremis gives him an edge even I envy him sometimes --

The Camaro had to agree. Stark was a fascinating man, but he was rather high in maintenance. You had to be on your toes and Hot Rod was the right mech for that. Bumblebee had had his hands full with Sam, and still did. Sam’s technopathy might be comparable to Tony’s Extremis abilities, but it was something still unique between them.

-- Have fun – he sent.

-- Always have. See you next time – Hot Rod replied playfully.

Bumblebee chuckled soft, then transformed and left the base for his scheduled patrols. Sam would be holed up in the lab for a while and he was completely absorbed in Ratchet’s new project. The t-shirt had been a great success and Bumblebee had intended it as what it had been received: a joke gift. The three humans had gone through a rough time, well, several rough times, and the little piece of fabric had summed it up just fine:

‘I was screwed over by alien technology and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.