#kinderformers

Scrapper thinks the front of Ratbat's apartment looks intimidatingly fancy. Prowl thinks it looks intimidatingly unfamiliar. Neither feels any less intimidated as they walk into the lobby, and are immediately stared at by half a dozen mechs who each probably make more in a day than all six Constructicons make in a year.

Prowl's hiding in the shadow of a slide, looking dismally at four pieces of candy in his hands.

They were today's snack time offerings. Which is all well and good, except Prowl can't eat candy. So now he's stuck with these snacks he can't do anything with.

Might as well pass them off to someone who can appreciate them. He looks around until a kid passes near his shadowed hiding spot, and then he gets up and runs into his path to catch his attention. He holds out the candies.

The class is quietly working on a reading assignment with a little story about proper manners.

Prowl, however, is not. He's frowning distrustfully at the story. He stands and runs to Blurr's desk, holding his datapad up for Blurr to see.

First aid watched a larger bot limp to the 3rd orns rooms from the doorway of the wash room. His special squeak hammer had gotten energon on it during the snack break. Now all clean, if a bit wet, he tucked the hammer back into his med kit and walked towards the room the mech had gone into.

Everything was higher up, and there were no finger painting pictures on the walls. Instead crayon glyphs and other such things that older bitlets drew lined the wall in an orderly fashion. First Aid peaked in through the open door, spotting the green mech sitting at a desk near the back of the room.

There was no play area! Getting old didn’t seem like such a good idea if there wasn’t any play time. And all the desks were in rows that were too far apart to touch the mech sitting next to them. First aids tank turned a bit, maybe he should go tell the after snack watchers that there was a hurt mech.

No, he was going to be a medic. Just like Ratchet. He can do this, and, and maybe he’d still tell the after snack time teacher. Pulling his med kit to his chest, he stepped into the older bittlets class room and started for the seated mech.

“Are you lost? This is the big bitties room.”

First Aid stopped and shook his head, momentarily forgetting what Ratchet always said when meeting a new patient.

“I’m First Aid, I’m going to be a doctor.”

He smiled big and held the med kit out like a badge.

“I don’t need a Doctor, I’m fine.”

The med kit sank and First Aid shifted on his red feet.

“I saw you limp in here. Do you want me to get the teachers instead?”

The green mech huffed and crossed his arms, revealing a scuffed knee joint.

“No, my alt form is coming in, I’m just unbalanced and fall a lot, I’m going to be big and strong! I don’t need a medic or the teachers!”

Now that the mech mentioned it, there were some green bits that were sticking out. No tires or wings but… defiantly something was forming on the mechs back and arms.

“I can help with the scuffed knee though! I have just the stuff!”

First aid set the med kit on the floor and rustled around inside of it, a myriad of little squeaks as all the toys were jostled. From the very bottom he pulled a small jar of nanite cream and some band aids.

“See, I’m a doctor.”

He showed his prize's to the green mech then knelt down and smeared a healthy glob of nanite cream over the scuff and the joint giving the whole area a wet shimmering look. Then he pulled the biggest band aid from the pile and made sure that the ouchie was covered.  It had the autobot symbol in the center and the green mech flexed his bandaged leg to get a better look at it.

“Those are really neat! I’m going to be a Big Autobot Warrior! Warriors need medics I guess.”

With a shy smile First Aid offered another Band aid and the green mech pointed to a small dent near his elbow that quickly was covered in an Autobot band aid.

“I’m Springer you can be my doctor First Aid.”

The little medic glowed and plastered a few more band aids on his new friend.

The bell signaling that after snack play time was over rang and easily a dozen band aids covered Spinger, who admired the ones on his arms.

“Here hold out your hand.” First Aid said as he put all the wrappers in his kit and pulled out his hammer.

“I’m not that broken! I don’t need surgery!” Springer teased.

With a laugh First Aid bopped it and his toy made a soggy squeak.  

“All better.”