Bunnicula!
A Halloween fic bunny, it bit me!
Title: A Protectobot Halloween
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1299
Characters: Hot Spot, First Aid, Blades, and a cameo by Fireflight as "The Very Scary Bat"
Summary: Some trick-or-treaters get a unique experience. Fluff and silliness
Note: double slashes to indicate "gestaltspeak" borrowed from seikk ^^
The Protectobots’ base was one of the more popular stops in the neighborhood for Halloween trick or treat this year. The display of Jack-O-Lanterns was so incredible that news crews had been out earlier in the evening to take pictures (Sunstreaker had gotten a little carried away when First Aid loaned him one of his high precision laser scalpels), and a jet dressed up like a giant bat next to an eerie collection of ghosts, ghouls and witches drifting beneath slowly rotating helicopter blades was a sight not to be missed. (The potential scariness of the giant bat was somewhat marred by the adorable squeaking sound effects Fireflight insisted on adding. Whenever a batch of trick-or-treaters seemed in danger of breaking out into giggles -- rather than the horrified screaming that Fireflight was aiming for -- Blades would thoughtfully intervene with some truly unsettling cackled laughter.)
Once word got out that they were giving away entire candy bars (among other things), First Aid and Hot Spot were hard pressed to keep up with the constant stream of eager visitors; luckily Groove and Streetwise were able to incorporate a quick detour into their safety patrols to replenish their depleted supplies.
“It’s safe, Aid. You can come out,” Hot Spot called. “I think you’ll really like both of these costumes.” First Aid emerged to help his brother pass out treats to a youngster dressed as a firefighter, with boots so big they had been duct-taped to her pants to stay on. Her older sister, wearing a long white lab coat complete with stethoscope, hung back somewhat uncertainly. Hot Spot admired the young firefighter's costume ("I'm going to be a fire truck when I grow up," she announced proudly), while First Aid smiled reassuringly at the older girl.
"So, are you going to be a doctor then?" he asked.
"I don't know. I'd like to, but I don't know about all that blood and stuff," she replied. "Maybe I could be a dentist?"
"A dentist! That sounds like a wonderful idea." First Aid beamed as he precisely dropped the treats into her bag -- two big chocolate bars, a full tube of tooth paste, and a brand new tooth brush. The would-be dentist giggled and thanked him, all shyness forgotten.
Code Red, Code Red! Blades commed them from his post as mobile Halloween decoration as the two girls turned to head back out the walkway with many waves of farewell. Aid, you'd better get out of there.
First Aid shifted a little, but then shook himself and settled back in place. I think I'll be ok, Blades. It's only costumes after all.
I don't know, Aid, Blades replied doubtfully. This is a whole pack of zombies - blood, missing limbs, the whole works. Blades paused his transmission to cackle ominously, when the zombies showed signs of being less than terrified by the giant bat. The zombies edged away uneasily and started shuffling up the walkway at a faster pace. Fireflight gave a happy squeak.
I'll be fine, First Aid sent back stubbornly, though he edged a little closer to Hot Spot.
"I don't know if this is a good idea..." Hot Spot began, giving his brother a worried look, but the zombies were already ringing the bell. Hot Spot shrugged and raised the garage door. First Aid tried not to whimper, pressing close to Hot Spot as the gruesome costumes were revealed.
"Trick or treat!" the group called, maybe rather louder than was absolutely necessary (because they were not in the least afraid of giant alien robots, no most certainly they were not).
"Happy Halloween!" Hot Spot responded cheerfully, passing out the treats. Next to him First Aid let out a strangled sound.
//It's ok, Aid; only costumes remember? All fake// Hot Spot tried to reassure his brother through the gestalt bond. First Aid buried his head under Hot Spot's arm.
//Eyeballs, Hot Spot// First Aid moaned through the bond. //They've got eyeballs hanging out//
//Fake eyeballs// Hot Spot repeated firmly, as the trick-or-treaters eyed the strange robot trying to burrow into his side and gave him puzzled looks. //Use your scanners, not your optics//
//It’s not helping// First Aid pressed his visor tightly into Hot Spot’s side. //I can’t stop seeing them!//
"Hey, dude, what's wrong with that guy?" one of the zombies asked.
"Some of the costumes upset him," Hot Spot replied, awkwardly trying to dig First Aid out from under his arm while not dropping the basket of (to him) tiny treats. "He'll be fine though, won't you, First Aid?"
Apparently charmed by the thought of a giant alien robot that was terrified of them, the zombies immediately adopted a sympathetic air.
"Aw, it's ok, First Aid, see? Just a costume." One of the zombies helpfully pulled up her mask to reveal the makeup-smudged face beneath, and First Aid cautiously peered out from under his gestalt commander’s arm.
"Yeah, it's all fake, nothin' to be scared of." Another zombie thumped his bloody detached arm a few times against the garage wall to prove his point. First Aid winced.
"Could...could you do me a favor?" First Aid asked, voice wavering a little.
"Sure, buddy," the zombie nodded, fake eye dangling.
"Would you let me wrap this sterile dressing around that eye?" First Aid dug into one of his storage compartments, pulling out a length of bandage. "Optic nerves are so delicate..."
"Um...ok...." The zombie let out a slightly incredulous laugh, but allowed First Aid to bandage the rubber mask.
"And...maybe some ointment for your pustules?" First Aid asked, blue visor glowing hopefully. Hot Spot sighed. The zombies giggled.
"I'll do it!" one of the zombies volunteered, and First Aid happily dabbed away at all of her "oozing sores."
"Ok, that's enough, Aid," Hot Spot said finally, when the zombies were becoming so well-bandaged they were beginning to resemble mummies instead. "I think they're all going to live."
"Have some extra toothpaste at least." First Aid dropped another tube into all of their bags. "Be sure to visit a dentist as soon as you can, and don't forget to floss."
"That guy is really weird," a zombie whispered to Hot Spot, his detached arm now neatly splinted and cradled in a sling, "even for a robot."
"Yeah, I suppose he is," Hot Spot murmured back softly, "but we love him anyway." The zombie looked thoughtful at that, as much as an undead creature bandaged to within an inch of its unlife could manage to look thoughtful. "Thank you so much for humoring him," Hot Spot continued, with a warm flicker of his optics. "You've made him very happy."
"Hey, anytime, man. Anytime," the zombie whispered, giving Hot Spot a black-toothed grin.
What the Pit? Blades commed, as the group of zombies passed him on the way out.
First Aid...may have gotten a little carried away, Hot Spot replied.
That does it, Aid, Blades sent sternly. Next year, you get to be the decorations.
First Aid looked up at Hot Spot with a sheepish expression, and the Protectobot commander rested his fists on his hip plates and shook his head in fond dismay.
“First Aid’s zombie tune-up service,” Hot Spot said with a longsuffering sigh, though the twinkle in his optics made it somewhat less than convincing. He wrapped an arm around First Aid, who snuggled willingly against his side. "What would we ever do without you?" Hot Spot chuckled, hugging him close. "What on Earth would we do?"
The next group of trick-or-treaters started up the walkway. A witch, a fairy, and a giant banana. Should be safe enough, Blades thought to himself as they walked by. Until he saw the axe protruding from the back of the fairy, blood and gore streaking over her wings. Oh slag.
Um...Hot Spot...