Chapter Text
“So I hit him with a left hook, right?” Bumblebee said excitedly, swinging his fist as much as the two large arms tucked around him would allow. “And then he dodges and starts coming at me, so I dip down really fast and slide right between his legs! All the way under, and then I was behind him, so I pulled my stingers out and hit right on one of his blasters! And then he—”
“Bumblebee, I was there,” Blitzwing said, cold as ever. Bumblebee would have been upset with the tone if not for the single digit swirling ever so delicately around one of his horns, the press of warm metal against warm metal keeping a smile curled on Bumblebee’s lips. Though blue optics did snap open, playfully narrowing as they fell on their amused crimson counterparts.
“Yeah, but you didn’t see the whole thing!” Bumblebee argued, squirming deeper into Blitzwing’s lap so he could fully dig an elbow into his massive partner’s stomach. “It’s better to tell the story anyway! You get all the details that way!”
“Oh, trust me, I’m aware of your affinity for useless storytelling,” Blitzwing said, his face spinning and a scarlet grin splitting his face practically in two. “But I didn’t tell you to stop! Keep going!”
Bumblebee rolled his optics as Blitzwing’s chin dropped onto the top of his helm, the sharp tip digging into the yellow plating. He worried for only a brief moment that being squeezed like this might scuff his paint—though it had only happened once, the questions he’d gotten from the Autobots were enough to put him on edge any time Blitzwing cuddled him too aggressively.
These were risky moments, ones like these. But they were always worth it, Blitzwing’s presence alone providing an escape back to some of the strangest and best months of Bumblebee’s life. He closed his optics once again, leaning back against Blitzwing’s chest, fully inviting the suffocating grip he was tangled in.
“Lugnut is so fragging annoying,” Bumblebee continued, nuzzling his helm into Blitzwing’s chin. “But yeah—so, I knocked one of his blasters completely offline, and he was so mad. And he started coming for me, but then Ratchet did his magnet thing and whipped me to the side, and Lugnut slammed into a lamppost, full speed, total attack mode. I think even Megatron laughed a bit.”
Whirr. “He did,” Blitzwing said, his voice slow and calm, a thin hint of levity clinging to the edge of each word. “Though it was more mocking than anything. Lugnut was disciplined quite heavily for losing his composure like that.”
“Yikes,” Bumblebee muttered. “Does Megatron flip out on you guys every time you don’t do the exact right thing? I mean, Prime yells at us sometimes, but nothing really bad.”
“That would depend on your definition of ‘flip out,’” Blitzwing said, his frame shifting as he shrugged, the tips of his pedes fidgeting uncomfortably. “Tire treads.”
Bumblebee bit his lip and nodded, silently scrambling for something new to talk about. He hated that phrase, despite being the one to come up with it in the first place. It was a hard-stop phrase, the subtle warning that a conversation was getting too close to something they shouldn’t talk about.
Bumblebee opted to let the conversation cease for a moment as he turned around in Blitzwing’s arms, pulling their frames chest to chest and planting a firm kiss on the curved black glass that comprised Blitzwing’s cockpit. The triple changer chuckled, leaning down to peck the top of Bumblebee’s helm.
“Kissing the cockpit because you can’t reach my lips, I presume?” Blitzwing murmured.
Bumblebee scowled, craning his neck to meet Blitzwing’s smirking gaze. “Shut up,” he said, trying quite fruitlessly to look angry. “I’m not short. You’re… you’re short.”
“Of course I am,” Blitzwing said dryly, his face spinning with a whirr and his crimson grin growing exponentially as he hunched his back. Bumblebee’s frown deepened as they came face to face, a giggle hanging nonstop in the air.
“Hm. Yes. You’re short,” Blitzwing reaffirmed gleefully, plopping a sharp kiss on Bumblebee’s forehead and cackling to himself. Bumblebee rolled his optics, wrapping his arms around Blitzwing’s waist as much as he possibly could, wiggling his fingertips as he tried to get them to touch.
Dammit. Almost. Maybe I am kinda short…
“What time is it?” Bumblebee asked, nudging his face into Blitzwing’s chest, smiling widely when Blitzwing squished him into a tight four-limbed hug.
“Late,” Blitzwing said brightly, chewing on the tip of one of Bumblebee’s horns as he so often did. “Or early, depending on when morning starts. No sun, though! So we still have some time for cuddles!”
His face spun with a whirr, and Bumblebee snickered as soon as he heard the low, irritated growl rumbling in Blitzwing’s chassis. “Though it would be a lot easier to cuddle if you didn’t have such tiny little arms.”
“Hey!” Bumblebee snapped, stretching his arms harder, trying desperately to interlock his fingers and deliver a proper hug. “Not my fault you’re, like, three times my size! I can almost touch my fingers, look!”
Bumblebee flapped his hands on Blitzwing’s back, and Blitzwing’s frame grew a few degrees warmer as he grumbled something incomprehensible. Probably a compliment that he didn’t want to fully vocalize, Bumblebee supposed. He chuckled, kissing Blitzwing’s cockpit a few more times, wishing he wasn’t wearing such a cheesy grin.
“It’s been, what, five months now that we’ve been doing this, Blitzbrain? You’re allowed to say nice things to me,” Bumblebee said snidely.
Whirr. “Five months and two weeks,” Blitzwing said, sounding rather bored.
“Gee, and you sound so thrilled about it,” Bumblebee teased.
“It’s dangerous,” Blitzwing said, though the slow circles he was rubbing into Bumblebee’s back betrayed his flat tone. “Extremely so. And we only get to see each other once a month at best, which is—”
“We saw each other twice in February!” Bumblebee interjected.
“And quite nearly got caught because someone fell asleep on my lap.”
“You could have woken me up, but no, you just left me there until sunrise! I take no blame for that. I refuse.”
Blitzwing sighed, and Bumblebee could practically hear the roll of his optics.
“Perhaps we could try to spend just one of our nights together doing something other than arguing?” Blitzwing said, hooking his hands under Bumblebee’s arms and lifting him up gently. Bumblebee squirmed a little bit, loving how easily Blitzwing could carry him but content on vehemently denying such a fact.
“We could try, if you really wanted to, but I like to think that it’s tradition at this point,” Bumblebee said with a smug grin, kicking his pedes a little, aiming just shy of Blitzwing’s stomach. “And it’s not really arguing. More like bickering. Kinda like me and Bulkhead, we bicker, but we don’t really fight all that often.”
“Please never compare me to that bumbling moron ever again,” Blitzwing said.
Bumblebee snickered and stuck his servos forward, wiggling his fingers in a blatant invitation for affection. “Hey, now, don’t mock the bumblers. I was named for my bumbling,” he said.
“Ever so appropriately,” Blitzwing said snidely as he set Bumblebee back down, the tree serving as a makeshift backrest groaning as he leaned against it more heavily.
Bumblebee smiled and took hold on Blitzwing’s cheeks, pulling the triple changer with him as he sat down comfortably in his lap. There was no resistance as Bumblebee dragged Blitzwing in for a kiss, sighing with content, cherishing the feeling of Blitzwing’s warm faceplates in his grip.
These visits never had any agenda, no rules, nor were they particularly well planned. Blitzwing had figured out a way to register Bumblebee’s comm-link frequency in his system, so they were able to contact each other easily enough, but they had yet to arrange a meeting more than ten minutes before it occurred. Bumblebee chuckled lightly, making Blitzwing recoil, a small frown on his face, his face significantly warmer than it had been a few moments ago.
“What are you laughing at?” Blitzwing asked shortly.
“I’m not,” Bumblebee said, still giggling. “Just thinking about—you messaged me, and I practically flung myself out of the base. Dunno. I just wish I had more time with you.”
Blitzwing looked almost sad for a moment before his expression hardened. “Admittedly, it would be nice to see you more,” he said, which was potentially the most romantic thing he had ever said. “But safety has to be a priority. You know that as well as I do.”
“I know,” Bumblebee said, as was routine. This conversation always started just before the sun came up and they were forced to part ways—Bumblebee saying that he didn’t want to go, Blitzwing quietly agreeing but reminding Bumblebee for the millionth time of the danger they were putting themselves in by being together.
Not that Bumblebee particularly minded. It had been five months—or, rather, five months and two weeks—and they’d only come close to being caught once. And even then, all Bumblebee had gotten were a few easily dodged questions from a curious Ratchet. So they had been forced to limit their visits to once a month, despite the ache Bumblebee felt to spend a night next to Blitzwing somewhere other than on the ground, tucked away in the woods, hidden on an island that sectioned the Detroit River into two.
They’d agreed that they’d both grown quite an affinity for the forest, not that Bumblebee would ever admit it around Prowl. The last thing he wanted to do was be woken up early for Prowl’s useless nature walks. Trees were only worth admiring when they were lit by the sharp red glow of Blitzwing’s optics, and moonlight only shone brightly when it clung to the edges of Blitzwing’s frame, casting a hazy white glow across his polished paint.
Bumblebee realized he’d been smiling like a dork again and quickly rearranged his expression, trying to ignore the whirr of Blitzwing’s face and the giggle that danced through the air.
“Smiling little bug,” Blitzwing said merrily, burying Bumblebee in a series of sharp crimson kisses. “Silly, smiley, happy little bug.”
“Sorry for liking you,” Bumblebee said grumpily.
“Adorable little in-denial bug,” Blitzwing continued.
“Stop saying little.”
“Itsy bitsy, teeny weenie, itty bitty Bumblebee,” Blitzwing said, taking one of Bumblebee’s horns between his dentae. Bumblebee scoffed, faking a pout.
“Yeah, well, you’re—you’re—big,” Bumblebee muttered.
“Oh!” Blitzwing gasped, dramatically draping a hand over his face, a falsely stricken expression on his face. “My spark, little Bee! You’ve damaged it! Please, take that back, I can’t stand such insults. I may never fully recover!”
“You’re the worst.”
Blitzwing cackled, his face spinning back to blue, a kiss landing on Bumblebee’s helm—a gentle one, soft, warm, the kind of kiss that could only signify one thing.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Time to go,” Bumblebee droned before Blitzwing could even open his mouth. The triple changer chuckled lightly, nodding, his helm bonking against Bumblebee’s.
“I’ll see you soon, little Bee,” Blitzwing said, an odd sincerity lacing his tone. Bumblebee perked up a little, his spark fluttering.
“You’re sure? How do you know?”
“Tire treads.”
“Aw, come on! I’m not gonna steal your plans or anything! I just wanna know when I’m gonna see you!” Bumblebee stuck a more genuine pout on his face, hoping that it would successfully get him what he wanted—not that it ever did, but one of these days, he was sure to get it right.
“Tire treads,” Blitzwing said, much more firmly, confirming Bumblebee’s failure. He shifted slightly, large servos trailing up Bumblebee’s waist in deceptively tender manner given that Bumblebee was being pushed away. “I do very much enjoy these nights with you, know that. But—”
“We need to be safe, yeah, I know,” Bumblebee grumbled, crawling out of Blitzwing’s lap and clambering onto the ground. “It’s fine. I just miss you, like, all the time, that’s all.”
“Then get off your aft off of your couch and get out in the field for once,” Blitzwing hissed, his face spinning to crimson. “You could use the exercise. I don’t know how you have all that weight crammed into such a puny little frame.”
Bumblebee snickered and brushed off the insult, very much used to being tormented at the end of their visits. Bumblebee pouted and Blitzwing made fun of him: two very different and equally strange coping mechanisms, but they worked. He stretched his limbs out with a sigh, glancing beyond the trees, noting how much dimmer the moon had gotten as the sun climbed closer and closer to the horizon.
“Bye, then,” Bumblebee said, holding his servos forward with a smile. “One more for the road?”
Blitzwing’s visor flickered irritably, but he knelt down regardless, gathering Bumblebee into his arms and connecting their lips in a brief kiss. Bumblebee tried to hang onto it for as long as he could, but he could tell that Blitzwing was already getting twitchy, so he didn’t force it to linger.
Bumblebee was certain that Blitzwing’s punishment for sneaking out at night would be far more severe than his own. So as disappointing as it was to let go of the towering triple changer, Bumblebee set him free, albeit rather regretfully.
“See ya,” he said lamely.
Blitzwing’s face spun to blue with a whirr, and he nodded curtly. “Until next time,” he agreed quietly.
Bumblebee was at least glad that he caught a glimpse of a smile on Blitzwing’s face as he took a running start and leaped into the air, transforming as his thrusters kicked into gear and rocketing crookedly into the distance. Bumblebee smiled to himself as he watched his boyfriend—Primus, the word boyfriend still felt so strange in his processor—vanish into the clouds, thin stripes of pink and orange clouds obscuring him in seconds.
He felt his shoulders slump ever so slightly as Blitzwing’s frame disappeared, and he rubbed his optics as if trying to massage his frustrations away. He couldn’t deny that this relationship was insanely tedious and nothing short of completely mentally exhausting, and Bumblebee really, really hated feeling tired. But he’d persisted thus far, and he intended to keep going, no matter what it took.
“Stupid,” he grumbled to himself, his frame collapsing and his engine roaring as he took on his alt mode and spun his tires a few times. “‘See ya’? What kind of loser says ‘see ya’? You have to get better at goodbyes. Man, that was so stupid. Ugh.”
Stupid Blitzwing, getting him all flustered, leaving him void of the words he wanted to say. Sure, Bumblebee said lots of words, but he had plenty more that he could say instead. Yet they all dissolved into a mass of butterflies in his tanks as soon as he heard the whine of Blitzwing’s turbines and saw the glimmer of his frame in the moonlight.
Stupid. So fragging stupid.
Bumblebee’s tires squealed as he zipped through the forest, dodging trees and revving hard as he made his way toward the shore. At least the water would be warmer now than it was back in December, their first real visit in a secluded place. Willingly plunging himself into a river in April was palatable—cracking through ice in the dead of winter was only barely worth it.
Bumblebee took a deep breath as the rippling edge of the water came into view, transforming as quickly as he could and sealing his vents before hurling himself feet-first into the chilly water. He gritted his dentae as he sank, beginning the trek back, watching for the familiar path of mossy rocks that he’d laid as trail markers.
If six months in the wilderness had taught him one thing, it was to always, always make sure there was an easy way to get home.
Blitzwing landed a few hundred yards from the mine, waiting patiently for the panicked birds around him to scatter before making his way to the entrance as quietly as possible. His footfalls were loud, heavy, practically thundering against the silence of early morning, but he doubted anyone would notice.
Or, rather, he hoped they wouldn’t.
He ducked through the small opening in the side of the mountain, the thin light of day immediately giving way to the dank grey of the rocky corridor. Pale strings of light bulbs dangled above his helm, and he avoided them all with ease, rolling his optics as the thick shades of grey morphed into purple. Megatron and his aesthetics, he thought with a quiet sigh.
The command area was, fortunately, barren, save for the human sealed behind a tube of glowing green glass. Blitzwing’s monocular easily located the snoozing organic as it lounged in its chair, monitors blinking with some sort of error that Blitzwing didn’t care to investigate.
Megatron must have kept the pitiful thing up all night. Blitzwing chuckled in spite of himself, and the human jolted with a strange snorting sound, its—or his, Blitzwing supposed—eyes darting around in a weak attempt to locate whatever had disturbed him.
Blitzwing leered briefly at the human, their gazes locking. Filthy little thing. How did Bumblebee tolerate these little pests? He was quite close with some sparkling-aged human, wasn’t he? The one with the Allspark key, Sari. Not that Blitzwing particularly cared about her name, but since Bumblebee did, Blitzwing made an effort to do the same.
Fortunately, he could be as rude to this human as he wanted. And he fully intended to.
Irritation blurred Blitzwing’s vision with scarlet. The human jumped in surprise.
Blitzwing snarled. The human spun his chair around, unsuccessfully attempting to conceal the fear that shook him to the very tips of his fingers.
Blitzwing snickered darkly and made his way back to his quarters. Next time he saw his little Autobot, he’d be sure to ask about the appeal of such primitive creatures. Only Bumblebee could make such a bland topic worth listening to.
It was true that Bumblebee despised being mocked about his height, but it did come in handy sometimes. Like the fact that he could squeeze—barely—through the side entrance of the plant, avoiding the racket that would inevitably be caused by the sliding garage door. It was a tight fit, but a manageable one, and the silent entrance bought Bumblebee enough time to quickly wipe himself free of river water and mop the remaining evidence from the floor.
He grinned once the job was done and slipped the sopping towels into his subspace, dusting himself free of the the flecks of dirt lingering in the seams of his armor. Good enough, he thought with a shrug, tiptoeing over the Autobot symbol emblazoned on the floor as he crept toward his quarters. A good night of sleep seemed to be in order, and with any luck, he’d have dreams about Blitzwing. He’d stored up plenty of memories to pull from, all of their autumn adventures and the kisses they’d shared afterwards, the laughter, the arguments, the everything. He sighed and turned the corner, rubbing his optics sleepily as he tried to pick a single memory from the stash to focus on.
And he nearly plowed right into Ratchet, who had somehow appeared in the doorway without Bumblebee even noticing. Bumblebee yelped and shielded himself instinctively, peering through his fingers into the curious, narrowed optics of the medic.
“You’re up early,” Ratchet noted.
“Y-yeah, well, not really,” Bumblebee lied. “I, uh, sorta lost track of time playing games last night. I didn’t even realize it was morning until the sun came up, heh… whoopsies. So I’m just gonna go nap now.”
“Come on, now, kid,” Ratchet said exasperatedly, folding his arms. “You can’t be staying up late like this, not with Megatron on the loose and Professor Sumdac still missing. We need you alert and ready for anything.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bumblebee grumbled. “It’s been a stressful couple of days, okay?”
“Doing… what?” Ratchet said, raising a brow. “All we’ve done is chase some petty criminals around.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hard on me!” Bumblebee said, slipping under Ratchet’s arm and toward his room. “You know I hate working! Naptime, okay, bye!”
He slammed the door behind him as he practically threw himself into his room, sighing in relief and clicking the locks into place. I am so getting a lecture later, he thought bitterly, swaying as he walked toward his berth, not realizing just how tired he had been. Though a grin lifted on his face as he flopped down and closed his optics, pretending that Blitzwing’s hefty arms were wrapping around him as he curled into a cozy little ball.
Lectures sucked, but man, was it worth it.