I bring fic!
Title: Communication
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: PG for bad language
Pairings: Mentioned Sam/Mikaela, heavy Sam/Bee vibes.
Disclaimer: Non-profit fanfiction, I own nothing but some merchandise.
Word count: 2578
Feedback: So very welcomed you would not believe XD.
A/N: First fic for this fandom so, as ever, am nervous as hell, even if I'm kind of pleased with how it turned out ^^.
Sam Witwicky currently felt like the world's most stereotypical teenager and he hated it. Storming out after a fight with parents was so cliché, and he'd always hated fighting with anyone - it wasn't exactly cowardice, he didn't like to think of it that way - he just didn't feel quick-witted enough most of the time.
And it wasn't as if he'd had a real, full force argument with them in months - yes, they were overprotective, kind of tight with money and strict about the house rules, but they weren't angry types. Normally a quick nag, morality tale or compromise sorted everything out quickly, which was why it felt even worse when their first real fight in forever wasn't about something where he knew he was in the wrong, at least a bit. It was about the one thing he thought - no, knew - he'd gotten absolutely right in ages.
Weirdly he managed to feel even lower when he involved Bee in the fight by storming off in him despite the fact the fight had been about him; maybe in part because he hadn't wanted to go until Sam pointed out the baseball bat his mum had brought out with her was about to get vigorously applied to Bee's front fender.
He knew he was going to regret this later but he'd had to stand up for Bee. God, why had he forgotten his mobile? If he hadn't left it behind at least he could mutter something about being safe when his mum inevitably started worrying. Now he was probably getting the police set on him while promises of grounding for the next ten years were drawn up.
Five minutes peace, sitting on Bee's hood in the middle of a scrap yard. It had been an awkward silence at first but eased off into something more comfortable after a while, his stomach unclenching a bit and his heart not racing quite as fast anymore, to the point where he felt almost comfortable when Bee finally piped up, "Sam, why were your parents in a violent mood?"
"They said I should get rid of you." Never mind the full extent of it, how they'd basically gone racist - no, wrong word, xenophobic - and chewed him out. "They think it's unhealthy, said some bullcrap about how I'm spending too much time with you.
"They're only concerned for your well-being, Sam. Worrying is what all parents do."
"Only thing they're concerned with is the neighbours," Sam grumbled before rolling onto his side. "You know, they keep telling me to go out and meet new people and make friends, all that, but it's not easy. I suck at making friends, I just say the wrong things or whatever, and you guys are the first new friends I've made in forever, you know? And now they're all 'blah blah blah, your best friend's a car, that sucks, blah blah blah'. Ugh!" Forgetting himself for a moment Sam slammed his fist into the windshield before remembering and rubbing it better. A split second realisation that he wasn't entirely sure what he was rubbing in terms of autobot mechanics had him blushing and withdrawing his hand quickly, wiping it down on his trousers as Bee made a faint rumble of complaint.
"Perhaps they just want you to have more human friends. It's understandable that they'd want you to associate with your own kind."
"I've got Mikaela, haven't I? And Miles. Besides, that's bull too, you guys aren't much different from us apart from the being metal and the shape-shifting and being able to replace your legs and..." what had his point been again? "Anyway, you're not much different, you've got morals and everything. You're good guys, that should be enough."
"They're probably more concerned with our weaponry," Bumblebee suggested, voice soft and soothing as it could be with the metallic undertone, and Sam nodded to concede that point. He couldn't remember ever seeing a gun around the house; certainly no ammo. Learning to drive was pretty much the first dangerous thing they'd been happy to let him do. "Should I take you to Mikaela's home? She could offer human advice, and physical comfort if you need it."
"I'm good," Sam mumbled before climbing back inside Bee, clambering into the back seat so he could stretch out a bit more. "Anything on the radio worth listening to?"
Bee went quiet as he scanned the channels, occasionally letting a little snippet escape as if to test it before finally just giving in and letting some generic easy listening tune play quietly in the background. "I can't find anything suited to your tastes."
"Mm." It didn't really matter, just that the dead silence when they weren't talking was a little frustrating.
"Sam, there is also the question of... age difference." Bumblebee sounded hesitant at that one, but Sam found himself snorting back laughter for a second at the idea.
"I've seen all that angsty age difference rubbish on Buffy, it's dumb. I mean, my uncle Charlie's been married for, like, thirty years and auntie Flo's ten years older. They've just got loads in common."
"There's a big difference between a decade and several centuries," Bee commented, slightly wryly. "Besides which, we don't have much in common."
Sam rolled his eyes before rolling over to match, trailing one hand lazily down the upholstery just to wonder at the feel of it, trying to work out what happened to the soft bits like this when Bee transformed or if they were just pretend in some weird way. "I'm not getting rid of you. It's not like you've done anything bad to piss them off, except that thing with the yard that totally doesn't count. You're my best friend, we could have nothing in common, it doesn't matter, I just... I just know, right? That you'd die for me?"
"Yes." No hesitation, and Sam smiled a little, settling more now Bee's words confirmed that he shouldn't have worried about being wrong in fighting for him, ever.
"Same here."
Bee went quiet for another bit and even though he couldn't, Sam liked to imagine he could feel Bee thinking. "Humans are strange."
"Try being one."
"Sam? Sam!" Sam stirred from a sleep he didn't remember falling into, blinked several times to try and absorb the fact his mum was staring in through the car window at him, as were several torches, one gun, and their porch light. Ah, home.
Wait, a gun, shit, and then his world exploded into pain as he sat up too fast and bumped his head.
"Oh thank god you're alright, we were worried sick, where's that boy who drove him home, I want to thank him, oh my poor baby, are you alright, did you get hurt, where were you, that bump sounded painful, are you alright?"
Another few blinks as he clambered out of the car, answered the only question that had registered due to its repetition with "Uh, fine," and found himself crushed by his mum's arms while his dad continued watching Bee suspiciously. Only the constant thought of oh shit there was a gun in my face kept him from opening his mouth to say something to Bee, given that guns and his best friend didn't mix too well.
"Where have you been?" asked his mum again, seeming to forget at first that Sam did kind of need air to reply, but reluctantly letting him loose after a while longer. "Who was that with you?"
"Just out with a friend, you know." Sam gave his dad a knowing glance before wondering what Bee's hologram had looked like, somewhat disappointed his parents got to see it before he did. "Hanging out. I just needed time alone with a mate." Technically Bumblebee's keys had no use but there was something comforting in holding them anyway, kind of like holding someone's hand but less weird.
"Well, I for one want to thank the boy who brought my son home. Officers, you will thank him if you see him, won't you? Dark skin, yellow t-shirt, about Sam's height?"
Said officers had been blatantly eyeing Sam up for signs he'd drunk, eaten or smoked something he shouldn't, but bowed out quickly at the orders of a middle-aged woman. Ingrained suburbia.
Bee's hologram was coloured? That was... cool, really. Unexpected, but it made sense if the autobots had learnt about humans from the internet and all, as far as global statistics were concerned. Yellow t-shirt was a good sign too, because if Bee had believed everything he read on the internet and driven him home in a tracksuit or pimp coat then that would have been it, car-divorce filed and coroner's certificate starting 'cause of death; embarrassment'.
As things stood it was now just him, Bee, mum, dad, and tension you couldn't cut with a knife.
"So..." He began, figuring it best to just get things over and done with.
"Yeah," his dad replied, actually looking relieved when Bee shifted into his robot form.
"Why did you run away, Sam?"
"Mrs Witwicky, Sam was acting in my defence." Both Sam and his dad took a step back, bracing themselves for the potential fight to follow as Bee addressed Sam's mother. "I don't want him punished for acting on my behalf."
Sam's mum didn't gawp for too long - it was easy to forget she'd never had a proper face to face conversation with Bee - before gathering herself and folding her arms, glaring. "I don't want my boy spending his time with an armed soldier in the middle of a war. I've kept him off drink and drugs and I don't want him hanging around with bad influences."
"Hey, Bee's not a b-"
"Quiet, Sam," chorused his mum and Bee before returning to their stare-off thing.
"I'm sorry that your family got dragged into our war but the moment you came into possession of the allspark's coordinates it could not be helped. Besides, Sam would be defenceless without us should the decepticons attack again." Sam bit his lip so that he didn't say anything to ruin this messy sort-of-reconciliation, knew Bumblebee had managed to turn his mum's paranoia about family safety to his advantage. "Not only are we incapable of sharing our weaponry with Sam, but even if we could we wouldn't endanger him that way. We don't want to hurt you, Mrs Witwicky, or your son."
"They teach you how to smooth talk where you come from?"
"We didn't have schools," Bumblebee replied, and something Sam couldn't place seemed to pass between the two of them before his mum said,
"Hm. Well, you can stay the night, we'll talk about this in the morning. Come on Ron."
His dad followed in obediently but not before tapping Sam on the shoulder to get his attention and whispering "I'll see what I can do to win her around," leaving Sam and Bee in peace at last, though this time it was Bee who slumped and let out a long sigh. Hearing any sort of breathy frustrated noises from the autobots still weirded Sam out a bit as they didn't seem to need air, but he had to admit, it did make them more humanly expressive.
"That was awesome, Bee, you sounded like a right grown-up!"
"Thank you Sam. Have you got any lubricants? I've not said that much in a long time."
"Uh, there's a can of WD-40 in the garage somewhere if that'll do? Don't know if it'll be any use but -"
"That sounds fine, thanks," Bumblebee replied, folding back into Camaro form given that he didn't have to make visible eye contact with anyone now and it was a lot easier to play at being part of the family when he wasn't as flagrantly an alien. "Just lift the hood and spray all around, it's easier than giving directions."
Sam wasn't quite sure how many years of grease were clinging to the side of the can but decided it was enough to warrant pulling on gardening gloves before he caught some weird poisoning, returned to find Bumblebee's hood already open and ready for him to get working. "Just curious, 'cause I'm not sure how like a real car you are or anything, would this be a really bad idea with a normal Camaro?"
"I think so." There was a slightly blissed-out edge to Bee's voice as Sam continued spraying, lingering anywhere that earnt a vocal reaction.
"You needed that, huh?" Bee's engine purred slightly in response and Sam couldn't help grinning when the hood refused to lower on being tugged down, figured he may as well use up the rest of the can given it had been almost empty in the first place. "Really needed it."
"Mm," Bumblebee sort-of-replied as he finally let Sam close his hood, metal starting to visibly shift about in a very not-a-real-car way beneath the surface. "Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"
Sam shrugged, tugging the gardening gloves off and throwing them at the garage entrance so he didn't forget to put them away properly later. "Nothing I can think of. Guess you can just owe me one." He patted Bee's hood again before folding his arms and yawning. "Might go to bed. D'you think mum'll be alright in the morning?"
"Lets hope so. Goodnight, Sam."
"Night, Bee."
Two hours of tossing and turning when normally he was out like a light despite not being a heavy sleeper and Sam gave up, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and shuffling back into the yard, walking on the grass despite what he'd been told because it felt about fifty times better to bare feet than the path did.
Seemed Bee knew him better than he knew himself, door open and ready for him to clamber into the back seat before he had the chance to ask. "Bee, if - if, you know, things don't really work out with you and mum," and geeze, given the way he felt just about ready to puke with nerves, was it any surprise that he hadn't slept? "Do you think I could stay with you at the base sometimes?"
"We've built human suitable quarters," Bee replied with what definitely sounded like a smile. "You'll always be welcome with us.
"Bee-"
"I'm your guardian, Sam. I don't want to upset your parents more than they have been but I'm looking after you no matter what."
Sam nodded before shifting so that he was settled better, the blanket no longer twisted to the point of cutting off his circulation. "Do you guys sleep?"
"We can go partially offline while leaving our sensors running in case of danger. I suppose it is similar to sleep."
"Cool." Sam couldn't resist sniggering as he rested his head on his folded arms, closed his eyes to test out the position for comfort. "So Jerry Springer."
"Jerry Springer?"
"'I'm sleeping with my car'. Sounds like a Jerry Springer show."
Bee hummed quietly for a moment, but before Sam could ask if something was bothering him, stated "There are worse fetishes on the Internet."
Sam couldn't argue with that logic, let his limbs go heavy as he tried to get to sleep properly this time around. Mikaela was ridiculously gorgeous, Miles as close as he had to a best human friend, but logistics aside he knew who he was safest and happiest with.
Sam loved his car.
The End
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: PG for bad language
Pairings: Mentioned Sam/Mikaela, heavy Sam/Bee vibes.
Disclaimer: Non-profit fanfiction, I own nothing but some merchandise.
Word count: 2578
Feedback: So very welcomed you would not believe XD.
A/N: First fic for this fandom so, as ever, am nervous as hell, even if I'm kind of pleased with how it turned out ^^.
Sam Witwicky currently felt like the world's most stereotypical teenager and he hated it. Storming out after a fight with parents was so cliché, and he'd always hated fighting with anyone - it wasn't exactly cowardice, he didn't like to think of it that way - he just didn't feel quick-witted enough most of the time.
And it wasn't as if he'd had a real, full force argument with them in months - yes, they were overprotective, kind of tight with money and strict about the house rules, but they weren't angry types. Normally a quick nag, morality tale or compromise sorted everything out quickly, which was why it felt even worse when their first real fight in forever wasn't about something where he knew he was in the wrong, at least a bit. It was about the one thing he thought - no, knew - he'd gotten absolutely right in ages.
Weirdly he managed to feel even lower when he involved Bee in the fight by storming off in him despite the fact the fight had been about him; maybe in part because he hadn't wanted to go until Sam pointed out the baseball bat his mum had brought out with her was about to get vigorously applied to Bee's front fender.
He knew he was going to regret this later but he'd had to stand up for Bee. God, why had he forgotten his mobile? If he hadn't left it behind at least he could mutter something about being safe when his mum inevitably started worrying. Now he was probably getting the police set on him while promises of grounding for the next ten years were drawn up.
Five minutes peace, sitting on Bee's hood in the middle of a scrap yard. It had been an awkward silence at first but eased off into something more comfortable after a while, his stomach unclenching a bit and his heart not racing quite as fast anymore, to the point where he felt almost comfortable when Bee finally piped up, "Sam, why were your parents in a violent mood?"
"They said I should get rid of you." Never mind the full extent of it, how they'd basically gone racist - no, wrong word, xenophobic - and chewed him out. "They think it's unhealthy, said some bullcrap about how I'm spending too much time with you.
"They're only concerned for your well-being, Sam. Worrying is what all parents do."
"Only thing they're concerned with is the neighbours," Sam grumbled before rolling onto his side. "You know, they keep telling me to go out and meet new people and make friends, all that, but it's not easy. I suck at making friends, I just say the wrong things or whatever, and you guys are the first new friends I've made in forever, you know? And now they're all 'blah blah blah, your best friend's a car, that sucks, blah blah blah'. Ugh!" Forgetting himself for a moment Sam slammed his fist into the windshield before remembering and rubbing it better. A split second realisation that he wasn't entirely sure what he was rubbing in terms of autobot mechanics had him blushing and withdrawing his hand quickly, wiping it down on his trousers as Bee made a faint rumble of complaint.
"Perhaps they just want you to have more human friends. It's understandable that they'd want you to associate with your own kind."
"I've got Mikaela, haven't I? And Miles. Besides, that's bull too, you guys aren't much different from us apart from the being metal and the shape-shifting and being able to replace your legs and..." what had his point been again? "Anyway, you're not much different, you've got morals and everything. You're good guys, that should be enough."
"They're probably more concerned with our weaponry," Bumblebee suggested, voice soft and soothing as it could be with the metallic undertone, and Sam nodded to concede that point. He couldn't remember ever seeing a gun around the house; certainly no ammo. Learning to drive was pretty much the first dangerous thing they'd been happy to let him do. "Should I take you to Mikaela's home? She could offer human advice, and physical comfort if you need it."
"I'm good," Sam mumbled before climbing back inside Bee, clambering into the back seat so he could stretch out a bit more. "Anything on the radio worth listening to?"
Bee went quiet as he scanned the channels, occasionally letting a little snippet escape as if to test it before finally just giving in and letting some generic easy listening tune play quietly in the background. "I can't find anything suited to your tastes."
"Mm." It didn't really matter, just that the dead silence when they weren't talking was a little frustrating.
"Sam, there is also the question of... age difference." Bumblebee sounded hesitant at that one, but Sam found himself snorting back laughter for a second at the idea.
"I've seen all that angsty age difference rubbish on Buffy, it's dumb. I mean, my uncle Charlie's been married for, like, thirty years and auntie Flo's ten years older. They've just got loads in common."
"There's a big difference between a decade and several centuries," Bee commented, slightly wryly. "Besides which, we don't have much in common."
Sam rolled his eyes before rolling over to match, trailing one hand lazily down the upholstery just to wonder at the feel of it, trying to work out what happened to the soft bits like this when Bee transformed or if they were just pretend in some weird way. "I'm not getting rid of you. It's not like you've done anything bad to piss them off, except that thing with the yard that totally doesn't count. You're my best friend, we could have nothing in common, it doesn't matter, I just... I just know, right? That you'd die for me?"
"Yes." No hesitation, and Sam smiled a little, settling more now Bee's words confirmed that he shouldn't have worried about being wrong in fighting for him, ever.
"Same here."
Bee went quiet for another bit and even though he couldn't, Sam liked to imagine he could feel Bee thinking. "Humans are strange."
"Try being one."
"Sam? Sam!" Sam stirred from a sleep he didn't remember falling into, blinked several times to try and absorb the fact his mum was staring in through the car window at him, as were several torches, one gun, and their porch light. Ah, home.
Wait, a gun, shit, and then his world exploded into pain as he sat up too fast and bumped his head.
"Oh thank god you're alright, we were worried sick, where's that boy who drove him home, I want to thank him, oh my poor baby, are you alright, did you get hurt, where were you, that bump sounded painful, are you alright?"
Another few blinks as he clambered out of the car, answered the only question that had registered due to its repetition with "Uh, fine," and found himself crushed by his mum's arms while his dad continued watching Bee suspiciously. Only the constant thought of oh shit there was a gun in my face kept him from opening his mouth to say something to Bee, given that guns and his best friend didn't mix too well.
"Where have you been?" asked his mum again, seeming to forget at first that Sam did kind of need air to reply, but reluctantly letting him loose after a while longer. "Who was that with you?"
"Just out with a friend, you know." Sam gave his dad a knowing glance before wondering what Bee's hologram had looked like, somewhat disappointed his parents got to see it before he did. "Hanging out. I just needed time alone with a mate." Technically Bumblebee's keys had no use but there was something comforting in holding them anyway, kind of like holding someone's hand but less weird.
"Well, I for one want to thank the boy who brought my son home. Officers, you will thank him if you see him, won't you? Dark skin, yellow t-shirt, about Sam's height?"
Said officers had been blatantly eyeing Sam up for signs he'd drunk, eaten or smoked something he shouldn't, but bowed out quickly at the orders of a middle-aged woman. Ingrained suburbia.
Bee's hologram was coloured? That was... cool, really. Unexpected, but it made sense if the autobots had learnt about humans from the internet and all, as far as global statistics were concerned. Yellow t-shirt was a good sign too, because if Bee had believed everything he read on the internet and driven him home in a tracksuit or pimp coat then that would have been it, car-divorce filed and coroner's certificate starting 'cause of death; embarrassment'.
As things stood it was now just him, Bee, mum, dad, and tension you couldn't cut with a knife.
"So..." He began, figuring it best to just get things over and done with.
"Yeah," his dad replied, actually looking relieved when Bee shifted into his robot form.
"Why did you run away, Sam?"
"Mrs Witwicky, Sam was acting in my defence." Both Sam and his dad took a step back, bracing themselves for the potential fight to follow as Bee addressed Sam's mother. "I don't want him punished for acting on my behalf."
Sam's mum didn't gawp for too long - it was easy to forget she'd never had a proper face to face conversation with Bee - before gathering herself and folding her arms, glaring. "I don't want my boy spending his time with an armed soldier in the middle of a war. I've kept him off drink and drugs and I don't want him hanging around with bad influences."
"Hey, Bee's not a b-"
"Quiet, Sam," chorused his mum and Bee before returning to their stare-off thing.
"I'm sorry that your family got dragged into our war but the moment you came into possession of the allspark's coordinates it could not be helped. Besides, Sam would be defenceless without us should the decepticons attack again." Sam bit his lip so that he didn't say anything to ruin this messy sort-of-reconciliation, knew Bumblebee had managed to turn his mum's paranoia about family safety to his advantage. "Not only are we incapable of sharing our weaponry with Sam, but even if we could we wouldn't endanger him that way. We don't want to hurt you, Mrs Witwicky, or your son."
"They teach you how to smooth talk where you come from?"
"We didn't have schools," Bumblebee replied, and something Sam couldn't place seemed to pass between the two of them before his mum said,
"Hm. Well, you can stay the night, we'll talk about this in the morning. Come on Ron."
His dad followed in obediently but not before tapping Sam on the shoulder to get his attention and whispering "I'll see what I can do to win her around," leaving Sam and Bee in peace at last, though this time it was Bee who slumped and let out a long sigh. Hearing any sort of breathy frustrated noises from the autobots still weirded Sam out a bit as they didn't seem to need air, but he had to admit, it did make them more humanly expressive.
"That was awesome, Bee, you sounded like a right grown-up!"
"Thank you Sam. Have you got any lubricants? I've not said that much in a long time."
"Uh, there's a can of WD-40 in the garage somewhere if that'll do? Don't know if it'll be any use but -"
"That sounds fine, thanks," Bumblebee replied, folding back into Camaro form given that he didn't have to make visible eye contact with anyone now and it was a lot easier to play at being part of the family when he wasn't as flagrantly an alien. "Just lift the hood and spray all around, it's easier than giving directions."
Sam wasn't quite sure how many years of grease were clinging to the side of the can but decided it was enough to warrant pulling on gardening gloves before he caught some weird poisoning, returned to find Bumblebee's hood already open and ready for him to get working. "Just curious, 'cause I'm not sure how like a real car you are or anything, would this be a really bad idea with a normal Camaro?"
"I think so." There was a slightly blissed-out edge to Bee's voice as Sam continued spraying, lingering anywhere that earnt a vocal reaction.
"You needed that, huh?" Bee's engine purred slightly in response and Sam couldn't help grinning when the hood refused to lower on being tugged down, figured he may as well use up the rest of the can given it had been almost empty in the first place. "Really needed it."
"Mm," Bumblebee sort-of-replied as he finally let Sam close his hood, metal starting to visibly shift about in a very not-a-real-car way beneath the surface. "Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"
Sam shrugged, tugging the gardening gloves off and throwing them at the garage entrance so he didn't forget to put them away properly later. "Nothing I can think of. Guess you can just owe me one." He patted Bee's hood again before folding his arms and yawning. "Might go to bed. D'you think mum'll be alright in the morning?"
"Lets hope so. Goodnight, Sam."
"Night, Bee."
Two hours of tossing and turning when normally he was out like a light despite not being a heavy sleeper and Sam gave up, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and shuffling back into the yard, walking on the grass despite what he'd been told because it felt about fifty times better to bare feet than the path did.
Seemed Bee knew him better than he knew himself, door open and ready for him to clamber into the back seat before he had the chance to ask. "Bee, if - if, you know, things don't really work out with you and mum," and geeze, given the way he felt just about ready to puke with nerves, was it any surprise that he hadn't slept? "Do you think I could stay with you at the base sometimes?"
"We've built human suitable quarters," Bee replied with what definitely sounded like a smile. "You'll always be welcome with us.
"Bee-"
"I'm your guardian, Sam. I don't want to upset your parents more than they have been but I'm looking after you no matter what."
Sam nodded before shifting so that he was settled better, the blanket no longer twisted to the point of cutting off his circulation. "Do you guys sleep?"
"We can go partially offline while leaving our sensors running in case of danger. I suppose it is similar to sleep."
"Cool." Sam couldn't resist sniggering as he rested his head on his folded arms, closed his eyes to test out the position for comfort. "So Jerry Springer."
"Jerry Springer?"
"'I'm sleeping with my car'. Sounds like a Jerry Springer show."
Bee hummed quietly for a moment, but before Sam could ask if something was bothering him, stated "There are worse fetishes on the Internet."
Sam couldn't argue with that logic, let his limbs go heavy as he tried to get to sleep properly this time around. Mikaela was ridiculously gorgeous, Miles as close as he had to a best human friend, but logistics aside he knew who he was safest and happiest with.
Sam loved his car.
The End