A/N: Sorry the update on this is so late. College has been sucking the life out of me. D8 But no worries, I haven't forgotten any of my stories. Fragile hopefully will be updated soon but don't hope too much on that. Midterms are coming up this next week. Joy.

Enjoy!

Polished, unwarped floors. Walls no longer cracked or sporting dents and deep scratches from years long since past. A table, two chairs, and a desk that no longer wobled, and it all fit in with the relaxing deep blue color that the room had been done in. Even the berth that once had only just been big enough to fit them with hardly any room had been converted into a double wide berth, big enough for them to lay on it comfortablly side by side but not so big it took up any unnecessary space.

"Well, well, well. This old room has taken quite a turn around, doll-face." Bumblebee turned from where'd been arranging his little gift to Prowl, a small plant that looked a lot like those bonsai trees from Earth that he'd gotten on the last planet they'd been on to restock, to face the tan and purple mech in the door way, drawing his fusion blaster from underneath the armour guard on his hip. One of the mods he'd gotten from Swindle when they first joined up.

"The ONLY one on this ship who has any right to call me 'doll-face' is Prowl. Don't think I won't shoot you for it either." Swindle's servos immediately flew up over his helm in alarm, purple optics wide as they could get. Which was saying alot.

"Whoa, whoa! Kid, put that down. It may be little, but it packs a heavy punch. It'd punch a hole through my chassis and back without any trouble." Bumblebee hestitated, his servo unnvervingly still while he held the weapon even with Swindle's chassis, with his spark chamber. The temptation to simply shoot the mech and be done with it was enormous but remembering Prowl's words from a few weeks ago, he reluctantly lowered the weapon.

"Don't tempt me." The yellow mech muttered grimly, holstering the sidearm underneath the guard, crossing his arms once he did so and glaring at the salesbot, "What do you want, Swindle?"

"What?" The arms dealer shrugged, lowering his arms once the blaster was out of sight, "Friends can't visit friends on this ship?"

Bumblebee scowled, "You're hardly my friend, Swindle." The salesbot merely shrugged as though the comment hadn't bothered him at all.

"Fair enough." He said cheerily, crossing his arms over his chassis, "Anyway, that's not why I'm really here." Bumblebee's optics narrowed in suspicion while one optic ridge went up in curiousity. "With your lover-bot gone bounty hunter training with Lockdown, I need some help with my wares. You're the only one around so come on."

Bumblebee hesitated, giving him a dubious look. Helping Swindle with his wares? With weapons that could've very well been used to kill his friends, the only family he'd ever known? Another thought crossed his processor, making him shudder at the very idea. What if his friends' weapons were somewhere in there? Optimus' axe, Ratchet's EMP, Bulkhead's wrecking ball. What if he found them among Swindle's collection, priced low enough so that any ranked Decepticon could buy them and use them to kill more?

What Bumblebee wanted to tell the so-called 'former Decepticon' was to frag off and go do it himself, but then he remembered what Prowl had told him about pissing off Lockdown's pal and what it could mean for them. Sighing, Bumblebee reluctantly agreed and followed him down the dark, dreary halls of the Death Head.

Swindle had been staying with them for awhile and would probably be with them still for awhile yet. An old storage room was serving as his personal store on the ship which helped when an occasional customer dropped by and bought a few weapons, putting a little more credits in all of their accounts. But it didn't mean he planned on staying for good.

The tan and purple mech kept an escape ship docked in the small hanger for emergencies while his own ship was docked on the planet where he procurred most of his wares and with mechs even he trusted. That, and there was no doubt any would-be thieves were likely to meet one of several booby-traps if they trespassed on Swindle's personal ship.

For nearly a megacycle, Bumblebee helped Swindle move and rearrange the various weapons and miscellanous items that looked normal but could have been cleverly disguised death traps. He had yet to run across anything that might have looked like they once belonged to his friends, and he counted that a small blessing.

Finally, Swindle broke the silence, straightening up and leaning up against the crates he'd just set down on the floor, "You know, I never forget a pretty face, and something's been bugging me since I got on this ship."

"What?" Bumblebee asked cautiously, still trying to figure out exactly where he was supposed to put this box containing more of Swindle's over-priced weaponry. He heard the pede-steps telling him that the salesbot was coming over, and he tensed when he felt Swindle standing directly behind him. He dropped the box and turned to face him, scowling while one servo hovered over the guard on his hip, ready to draw the fusion blaster should he need it.

"You and I both know that you remember me from Earth," Swindle started almost thoughtfully, keeping an optic on the scout's servo, his own arsenal on stand-by just in case. "I know you can fight. Pit, you're the reason I was stuck in my alt. mode for as long as I was." At that point, Bumblebee switched on his comm., not actually contacting Prowl, but keeping the line open in case he had to call for help.

One of Swindle's optic ridges went up in an arch while his mouth formed a thin line as he spoke again, "Weapons I've sold could be the ones that killed your friends, and here I am, wondering this." He tilted his helm to the side as he asked, "Why didn't you slag me when you had the chance?" The scout honestly hadn't expected that. For a moment, his guard lowered as he considered what Swindle was asking him then, remembering how close the salesmech was, he was instantly on alert again.

"Why does that matter to you?" Swindle shrugged, crossing his arms over his chassis.

"It doesn't really. Either way, I'm still online and in business, but it's out of my curious nature that I ask. I mean, surely you and lover-bot must have some grudge against me."

"Like I told them on Paradron, Swindle," Both mechs turned at the sound of Lockdown's familiar drawl, Prowl right behind him as they entered the storage room. The cyberninja gave Bumblebee a questioning look and in return, the scout shot him one that said he'd tell him later, "personal grudges have no place in the life of a bounty hunter."

"Eh, so I just wanted to know. It is my skidplate on the line, ya know." The yellow mech went back to considering Swindle's question. Why hadn't he just slagged him when he could? Part of him kept telling him that it was because Prowl was right. They needed the two neutrals to survive until they themselves had the skills-and a ship of their own-and resources to make it on their own. Then another voice spoke up that reminded him he'd never been one to follow orders or common sense.

'That was the old me, though. The old me didn't need to rely on others just to live. As much as I hate it, me and Prowl both need those two rotten slaggers.'

Sighing, Bumblebee looked at Swindle, faceplates near expressionless as he told the tan mech in a dead-pan sort of tone, "Because it's bad business to kill somebot who's useful." The answer surprised the other gathered mechs including Prowl. Slowly, though, Swindle's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk.

"I knew that kid was smarter than he looked. And speaking of useful," Suddenly, one of the larger mech's arms was around his shoulders, turning Bumblebee around to face Lockdown and Prowl, each of whom were wearing similiar expressions of curiousity, "I've decided I need to start passing on the tricks of the trade, and the scout here is the perfect candidate to be my apprentice. I mean, the kid has to do something around here other than warming up Prowl's berth at night."

Two pairs of blue optics widened and then doubled in size when Lockdown grinnned at Swindle and said as though the decision were final, "Sounds good to me. Just keep the kid out of trouble."

Prowl frowned as did Bumblebee. "Now, hold on a klik."

"Yeah. Who says you two get to decided what I do around here." The scout wriggled away from Swindle's arm and went to stand by Prowl, glaring at the two. Lockdown returned it with one of his own while the other bot kept smiling that damn smile.

"Listen, kid. I'll be blunt with ya. The only reason I'm letting you stay here is because Prowl asked me to let ya live here, and that bot's got the good potential to be a damn fine bounty hunter. I ain't gonna waste that by refusing a request. But," His tone turned dark as he nearly growled, "If you ain't gonna work when it's offered to ya, I don't want either one of you on this ship."

"Take the offer, squirt. I can show you everything I know, and teach you how to use those big optics of yours to your advantage. Those babies are more trustworthy than mine." Bumblebee looked at Prowl, almost as if he were asking for permission or some kind of guidance. He seemed unsure what to say himself.

Lockdown's hook suddenly rested on Bumblebee's arm and both he and Swindle took on identical smirks, their optics flashing. They'd planned this beforehand. Prowl knew it.

"Unless, of course, you want to start sharing the little guy, Prowler." The bounty hunter stated causally, throwing the black mech a smirk and chuckling at the look that crossed his visor. Prowl leapt forward and dragged the scout away from them, glaring at them.

"Fine. He'll do it."

"But-" One look from Prowl silenced whatever protest Bumblebee had. Sighing, the yellow mech nodded his consent to Swindle whose cheshire grin lit up his faceplate once again.

"Perfect! We start tomorrow, Bee." Bumblebee nodded though he wasn't exactly looking forward to his apprenticeship with the arms dealer, the entire idea making him uncomfortable with the thought that he'd be learning how to sell weapons.