Fic: To Cross the Divide (2/3?)
Title: To Cross the Divide (2/3?)
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Pairing: Sam/Bumblebee, Sam/Mikaela, Sam/Mikaela/Bumblebee
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Warnings: Uh. borderline crack!fic? Spoilers for Transformers (2007)
Author's Note: Sorry this is late (and still being written). My muse decided it wasn't going to cooperate with the PWP bunny and smacked me with some plot and character development instead. Also, this is set about six months post-movie, and early in the next school year.
Part 1
At school, Sam kissed Mikaela goodbye at her locker, sadness and longing welling up to tighten his hands on her hips. The warning bell rang, jarring him to awareness and making him back off with great reluctance.
"Go talk to Ratchet. I'll take notes for you," she said, cupping his cheek with one hand.
Sam nodded mutely and stepped away, finally turning toward the cafeteria and the back of the building.
Ratchet was waiting for him in the shade of an old oak tree, the normal ambulance markings traded for plain white.
"Hey, thanks," Sam said as he climbed into the passenger seat.
"Not at all," Ratchet's disembodied voice answered as he shifted smoothly into gear and pulled away from the curb. "Where to?"
Sam shrugged. "Somewhere quiet?" Over the last six months, that had come to mean somewhere he didn't associate with Bumblebee.
"All right."
For the next little while, Sam leaned against the headrest and focused on breathing, his eyes shut. By the time he vaguely felt Ratchet turn off the road onto gravel, and then grass, he'd slipped into a half-doze.
"We're here," Ratchet said softly, waiting until Sam had opened dazed eyes and shaken himself awake before opening the door.
Sam kept a firm hold on the door as he got out, not wanting to miss the last step and go sprawling as he'd done several times before. Once he was safely on the ground, he tried to figure out where he was, at the same time giving Ratchet room to transform.
Ratchet had driven to the military base; there were a few abandoned buildings, two with the roof falling in, and a rusted out jeep with no tires.
The sound of shifting gears and locking joints behind him ceased. "Sam?"
"I knew this diplomatic liaison gig wasn't going to be easy," Sam said. "I mean, aside from hiding the fact that I make more money than my parents, and that high school is pretty useless, or even that my 'summer internship' in D.C. was all expenses paid -- not that I mind that -- but..." He sighed.
"Do you want out?" Ratchet asked, a hint of hurt and confusion coloring his tone.
"NO!" Sam yelled, then stopped and swallowed. "This is the coolest, the most awesome job in the world. Bumblebee is the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I get to learn everything about you guys, and go badger political idiots and the military to get you what you need." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if I still feel like a kid, especially compared to you guys, I'm not walking away from you."
"Sam--" Ratchet started, compassion lighting his optics.
"No, no, I know, I'm not a kid, and I can't compare myself to you guys. And even my parents have been..." He grimaced. "Telling me how much I've grown up since I 'got my first car.'" The air quotes were mocking.
"But?"
"I didn't think this would be easy. But I never expected it to hurt this much." Sam had to force the words past the lump in his throat.
Ratchet reached out, gently stroking Sam's shoulder and back with an over-sized finger. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Sam closed his eyes, allowing himself to take some small comfort from the careful touch, hating himself for wishing it were from someone else. "There are so many things that just don't translate very well, I guess." He shrugged again and stared down at his feet, kicking at the grass.
"Like what?"
"Why me? Is it just because my great-grandfather--"
Ratchet cut him off. "Because Bumblebee loves you."
"See, that's the thing. Bumblebee and I are friends. Mik and I are going to get married someday, and -- what?"
"You asked her?"
Sam sputtered and felt his ears burn. "Well, no, but we've talked about it. We have an understanding."
Ratchet smiled. "I'm glad."
Sam fidgeted. "Yeah, thanks. But, uh, see, I live with my parents. My family. And someday I'll have Mik and my own family, and..."
"Bumblebee doesn't understand," Ratchet finished when Sam trailed off.
Sam nodded in dejection. "I was a soldier for two days, and don't ever want to be one again if I have a choice. Bumblebee's been one all his life and doesn't know how to be anything else." Frustration welled up. "I'm the head of Earth-NBE relations, and I can't even relate to my best friend!" he snarled, turning his head to swipe angrily at bitter tears.
"I don't know what Bumblebee told you, but--"
"That you guys don't have families, because you were built, not born. That the only family he knows is his squad, and now me and Mik and Major Lennox. That I'm in love with Mik and I've been sharing that with him and he'll never have a clue what that means," he finished on a whisper, dropping to his knees in the grass and covering his face with his hands.
"Bumblebee told you the truth, from his point of view."
Sam tilted his head up just enough to see Ratchet through the gaps between his fingers. "From his point of view."
"For an Autobot, Bumblebee is very young," Ratchet explained. "He was one of the last built on Cybertron, before the Cube was lost. Comparatively, he's a little older than you are, but not by much."
"And this matters how?" Suspicion laced Sam's voice.
"Long before Bumblebee was built, when the war was still spreading across our planet, it became obvious that anything not directly related to the war and basic survival was a luxury. Things like family."
"Like love." The words brought bile to Sam's throat.
"Like any love that had to do with peace, and not comrades in battle, yes." Ratchet smiled sadly. "Optimus and Ironhide and I, we pre-date the war. We knew what we were giving up when we joined the fight. It was believed, then hoped, then dreamed, that when the war was over, we would have the freedom to reactivate those systems."
"But the war ran on Energizer batteries." The image of Optimus' projected Cybertronian battlefield flashed through Sam's mind, with rows and rows of plush pink bunny rabbits, all banging on toy drums, marching across the dead. Sam's lips twisted in an effort not to laugh at the sick humor. "And Bumblebee never knew what he was missing."
"No, he didn't."
"And you haven't told him."
"No. It would have been cruel."
But what about NOW? Sam wanted to scream, jaw tight. His hands slid along his scalp, clenching into fists at the back of his neck. The war is OVER!
Or was it?
"Listen to me, you're a soldier now." Lennox, shoving the Cube into his arms, Bumblebee's whimpers and squeaks of pain somehow louder than the firefight going on around them.
Sometimes he thought he'd only managed to follow orders because Mikaela had been there, taking care of Bumblebee. He shook his head, trying to banish the memory, only to have another pop up.
"If I can not defeat Megatron, you must push the Cube into my chest. I will sacrifice myself to destroy it."
And another.
"Prime, we couldn't save him."
Sam knew about being a soldier and leaving a friend behind
Bumblebee Mikaela
That one battle had scarred him, changed him in ways he was still discovering. He knew about fatal choices
Optimus Prime Megatron
He knew about loss
Jazz innocence
He knew that the sacrifice the Autobots had made of their culture, of much of what made up their lives, hadn't been the right choice. But it had been the only choice.
The war was over. Megatron was dead; there were no more Decepticons alive on Earth. Someday, more might find it and start the war all over again.
"Tell him."
"Sam--"
Righteous fury burned in Sam's eyes, tightened every muscle in his body as he raised his head. "Bumblebee doesn't deserve to miss out on life because of a maybe."
"We would have--" Ratchet started, only to be cut off again.
"What do you mean 'you would have?' I understand that -- for lack of a better term -- he's a virgin in theory as well as practice, but what the hell does that have to do with anything? You're just going to leave him ignorant forever?"
"As a people, we are much like you in that we choose partners to spend our lives with. Bumblebee is fixated on you."
Sam stared numbly. "You're telling me that if you told him, and activated those...systems, he'd be in love with me. That he is in love with me and just doesn't realize it."
Ratchet's expression changed to one of mixed emotions. "You're in love with Mikaela. We felt it would be best for Bumblebee if he were spared the pain of unrequited love."
A poisonous rage bubbled up, borne of despair and grief and fear. It pushed Sam to his feet, moved his ribcage like a bellows as he puffed in air, the same way he had during the battle, spurring memories: racing through the carnage of wrecked vehicles and spent artillery shells, shattered pavement and shards of glass; screaming civilians; harsh, metallic voices calling him
Fleshling
telling him
You’re a soldier now
sunlight filtering through ashes and dust
"Sam?"
scents of ozone and gunpowder and sulphur
"Sam!"
Sam shook himself, wiping the sweat from his face. He should have remembered. Anger triggered flashbacks. It didn’t help.
It never did.
"I’m all right," he managed, voice shaky. "You really think that--that--"
"That he’d spend the rest of his life in pain over what he never could have had."
"What about spending the rest of his life in pain because you kept him from something he could have had? What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?!"
Ratchet’s optics had gone wide at Sam’s anger.
"I told you, I’ve been sharing my love for Mikaela with Bumblebee. I’ve been sharing my love for him with her."
"It’s not normal for humans to-"
"Do you really think my life is normal?!" Not waiting for an answer, Sam bent down to pick up a piece of gravel, throwing it in Ratchet’s direction. The Autobot let it bounce off a body panel with a dull ping. "Aside from my diplomatic responsibilities, do you really think Mik and I would make love all over Bumblebee if we didn’t want to share that love with him? Do you really think that’s normal?"
"Sam--"
"Damn, I wish I had a bigger rock," Sam muttered, then grunted as robotic fingers wrapped around his middle and lifted him off his feet. He didn’t bother fighting; Ratchet wouldn’t hurt him.
"Bumblebee’s love isn’t unrequited," Ratchet prompted.
Sam huffed a sigh, glancing up at the sky as if for support. "No."
"You’re going to marry Mikaela someday."
"Hey, not without Bumblebee, I’m not. I don’t know what kind of marriage ceremony you guys use, if any, but as for human, the handful of people who matter and don’t know are willfully oblivious. I’m sure we can come up with some kind of ceremony with a Camaro. And a few large vehicles in the audience."
"But you said-"
"Because I wanted him to have the opportunity, not because I wanted to force myself on him." Sam couldn’t keep himself from squirming uncomfortably at that. "I’m guessing here that I don’t have to worry about compatibility issues."
Ratchet raised…what passed as an eyebrow. "That, you don’t need to worry about."
"Good. Now-"
"You want me to activate his core-merge, then."
Jealousy and possessiveness washed over Sam in a red haze. "No, I want you to tell me how to do it."
Part 3
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Pairing: Sam/Bumblebee, Sam/Mikaela, Sam/Mikaela/Bumblebee
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Warnings: Uh. borderline crack!fic? Spoilers for Transformers (2007)
Author's Note: Sorry this is late (and still being written). My muse decided it wasn't going to cooperate with the PWP bunny and smacked me with some plot and character development instead. Also, this is set about six months post-movie, and early in the next school year.
Part 1
At school, Sam kissed Mikaela goodbye at her locker, sadness and longing welling up to tighten his hands on her hips. The warning bell rang, jarring him to awareness and making him back off with great reluctance.
"Go talk to Ratchet. I'll take notes for you," she said, cupping his cheek with one hand.
Sam nodded mutely and stepped away, finally turning toward the cafeteria and the back of the building.
Ratchet was waiting for him in the shade of an old oak tree, the normal ambulance markings traded for plain white.
"Hey, thanks," Sam said as he climbed into the passenger seat.
"Not at all," Ratchet's disembodied voice answered as he shifted smoothly into gear and pulled away from the curb. "Where to?"
Sam shrugged. "Somewhere quiet?" Over the last six months, that had come to mean somewhere he didn't associate with Bumblebee.
"All right."
For the next little while, Sam leaned against the headrest and focused on breathing, his eyes shut. By the time he vaguely felt Ratchet turn off the road onto gravel, and then grass, he'd slipped into a half-doze.
"We're here," Ratchet said softly, waiting until Sam had opened dazed eyes and shaken himself awake before opening the door.
Sam kept a firm hold on the door as he got out, not wanting to miss the last step and go sprawling as he'd done several times before. Once he was safely on the ground, he tried to figure out where he was, at the same time giving Ratchet room to transform.
Ratchet had driven to the military base; there were a few abandoned buildings, two with the roof falling in, and a rusted out jeep with no tires.
The sound of shifting gears and locking joints behind him ceased. "Sam?"
"I knew this diplomatic liaison gig wasn't going to be easy," Sam said. "I mean, aside from hiding the fact that I make more money than my parents, and that high school is pretty useless, or even that my 'summer internship' in D.C. was all expenses paid -- not that I mind that -- but..." He sighed.
"Do you want out?" Ratchet asked, a hint of hurt and confusion coloring his tone.
"NO!" Sam yelled, then stopped and swallowed. "This is the coolest, the most awesome job in the world. Bumblebee is the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I get to learn everything about you guys, and go badger political idiots and the military to get you what you need." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if I still feel like a kid, especially compared to you guys, I'm not walking away from you."
"Sam--" Ratchet started, compassion lighting his optics.
"No, no, I know, I'm not a kid, and I can't compare myself to you guys. And even my parents have been..." He grimaced. "Telling me how much I've grown up since I 'got my first car.'" The air quotes were mocking.
"But?"
"I didn't think this would be easy. But I never expected it to hurt this much." Sam had to force the words past the lump in his throat.
Ratchet reached out, gently stroking Sam's shoulder and back with an over-sized finger. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Sam closed his eyes, allowing himself to take some small comfort from the careful touch, hating himself for wishing it were from someone else. "There are so many things that just don't translate very well, I guess." He shrugged again and stared down at his feet, kicking at the grass.
"Like what?"
"Why me? Is it just because my great-grandfather--"
Ratchet cut him off. "Because Bumblebee loves you."
"See, that's the thing. Bumblebee and I are friends. Mik and I are going to get married someday, and -- what?"
"You asked her?"
Sam sputtered and felt his ears burn. "Well, no, but we've talked about it. We have an understanding."
Ratchet smiled. "I'm glad."
Sam fidgeted. "Yeah, thanks. But, uh, see, I live with my parents. My family. And someday I'll have Mik and my own family, and..."
"Bumblebee doesn't understand," Ratchet finished when Sam trailed off.
Sam nodded in dejection. "I was a soldier for two days, and don't ever want to be one again if I have a choice. Bumblebee's been one all his life and doesn't know how to be anything else." Frustration welled up. "I'm the head of Earth-NBE relations, and I can't even relate to my best friend!" he snarled, turning his head to swipe angrily at bitter tears.
"I don't know what Bumblebee told you, but--"
"That you guys don't have families, because you were built, not born. That the only family he knows is his squad, and now me and Mik and Major Lennox. That I'm in love with Mik and I've been sharing that with him and he'll never have a clue what that means," he finished on a whisper, dropping to his knees in the grass and covering his face with his hands.
"Bumblebee told you the truth, from his point of view."
Sam tilted his head up just enough to see Ratchet through the gaps between his fingers. "From his point of view."
"For an Autobot, Bumblebee is very young," Ratchet explained. "He was one of the last built on Cybertron, before the Cube was lost. Comparatively, he's a little older than you are, but not by much."
"And this matters how?" Suspicion laced Sam's voice.
"Long before Bumblebee was built, when the war was still spreading across our planet, it became obvious that anything not directly related to the war and basic survival was a luxury. Things like family."
"Like love." The words brought bile to Sam's throat.
"Like any love that had to do with peace, and not comrades in battle, yes." Ratchet smiled sadly. "Optimus and Ironhide and I, we pre-date the war. We knew what we were giving up when we joined the fight. It was believed, then hoped, then dreamed, that when the war was over, we would have the freedom to reactivate those systems."
"But the war ran on Energizer batteries." The image of Optimus' projected Cybertronian battlefield flashed through Sam's mind, with rows and rows of plush pink bunny rabbits, all banging on toy drums, marching across the dead. Sam's lips twisted in an effort not to laugh at the sick humor. "And Bumblebee never knew what he was missing."
"No, he didn't."
"And you haven't told him."
"No. It would have been cruel."
But what about NOW? Sam wanted to scream, jaw tight. His hands slid along his scalp, clenching into fists at the back of his neck. The war is OVER!
Or was it?
"Listen to me, you're a soldier now." Lennox, shoving the Cube into his arms, Bumblebee's whimpers and squeaks of pain somehow louder than the firefight going on around them.
Sometimes he thought he'd only managed to follow orders because Mikaela had been there, taking care of Bumblebee. He shook his head, trying to banish the memory, only to have another pop up.
"If I can not defeat Megatron, you must push the Cube into my chest. I will sacrifice myself to destroy it."
And another.
"Prime, we couldn't save him."
Sam knew about being a soldier and leaving a friend behind
Bumblebee Mikaela
That one battle had scarred him, changed him in ways he was still discovering. He knew about fatal choices
Optimus Prime Megatron
He knew about loss
Jazz innocence
He knew that the sacrifice the Autobots had made of their culture, of much of what made up their lives, hadn't been the right choice. But it had been the only choice.
The war was over. Megatron was dead; there were no more Decepticons alive on Earth. Someday, more might find it and start the war all over again.
"Tell him."
"Sam--"
Righteous fury burned in Sam's eyes, tightened every muscle in his body as he raised his head. "Bumblebee doesn't deserve to miss out on life because of a maybe."
"We would have--" Ratchet started, only to be cut off again.
"What do you mean 'you would have?' I understand that -- for lack of a better term -- he's a virgin in theory as well as practice, but what the hell does that have to do with anything? You're just going to leave him ignorant forever?"
"As a people, we are much like you in that we choose partners to spend our lives with. Bumblebee is fixated on you."
Sam stared numbly. "You're telling me that if you told him, and activated those...systems, he'd be in love with me. That he is in love with me and just doesn't realize it."
Ratchet's expression changed to one of mixed emotions. "You're in love with Mikaela. We felt it would be best for Bumblebee if he were spared the pain of unrequited love."
A poisonous rage bubbled up, borne of despair and grief and fear. It pushed Sam to his feet, moved his ribcage like a bellows as he puffed in air, the same way he had during the battle, spurring memories: racing through the carnage of wrecked vehicles and spent artillery shells, shattered pavement and shards of glass; screaming civilians; harsh, metallic voices calling him
Fleshling
telling him
You’re a soldier now
sunlight filtering through ashes and dust
"Sam?"
scents of ozone and gunpowder and sulphur
"Sam!"
Sam shook himself, wiping the sweat from his face. He should have remembered. Anger triggered flashbacks. It didn’t help.
It never did.
"I’m all right," he managed, voice shaky. "You really think that--that--"
"That he’d spend the rest of his life in pain over what he never could have had."
"What about spending the rest of his life in pain because you kept him from something he could have had? What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?!"
Ratchet’s optics had gone wide at Sam’s anger.
"I told you, I’ve been sharing my love for Mikaela with Bumblebee. I’ve been sharing my love for him with her."
"It’s not normal for humans to-"
"Do you really think my life is normal?!" Not waiting for an answer, Sam bent down to pick up a piece of gravel, throwing it in Ratchet’s direction. The Autobot let it bounce off a body panel with a dull ping. "Aside from my diplomatic responsibilities, do you really think Mik and I would make love all over Bumblebee if we didn’t want to share that love with him? Do you really think that’s normal?"
"Sam--"
"Damn, I wish I had a bigger rock," Sam muttered, then grunted as robotic fingers wrapped around his middle and lifted him off his feet. He didn’t bother fighting; Ratchet wouldn’t hurt him.
"Bumblebee’s love isn’t unrequited," Ratchet prompted.
Sam huffed a sigh, glancing up at the sky as if for support. "No."
"You’re going to marry Mikaela someday."
"Hey, not without Bumblebee, I’m not. I don’t know what kind of marriage ceremony you guys use, if any, but as for human, the handful of people who matter and don’t know are willfully oblivious. I’m sure we can come up with some kind of ceremony with a Camaro. And a few large vehicles in the audience."
"But you said-"
"Because I wanted him to have the opportunity, not because I wanted to force myself on him." Sam couldn’t keep himself from squirming uncomfortably at that. "I’m guessing here that I don’t have to worry about compatibility issues."
Ratchet raised…what passed as an eyebrow. "That, you don’t need to worry about."
"Good. Now-"
"You want me to activate his core-merge, then."
Jealousy and possessiveness washed over Sam in a red haze. "No, I want you to tell me how to do it."
Part 3