FIC: Greeks Bearing Gifts (Bumblebee/Sam, Transformers, Human Series)
Greeks Bearing Gifts
By Keelywolfe
Bumblebee/Sam
Rated R
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Notes: Thank you so, so much to fyredancer for encouraging me on this story and all the stories in this series. She's helping to keep this going, folks. :)
~*~~
If Sam were to pick one thing as his tiny gift from god for the day, it would be that Mikaela was still completely engrossed in whatever Prowl was showing her, so much so that she barely glanced up when he and Bumblebee walked back into the operations room or whatever the heck they called it. Knowing Bumblebee's love of Star Trek, he could be calling it the Enterprise.
It made it a lot easier to not feel awkward about waving away the chair that Prowl distractedly offered him because sitting so did not sound like a great idea after getting fucked sideways against a steel door. Come to think of it, he and Bee seemed to have a thing for doors, maybe he should start keeping a list...
"You finished?" Mikaela asked him, absently, breaking into his weird sexual musing.
"Huh? I mean, yeah, we can go if you want." Bumblebee was busy detaching all of the wires that were hooked up to him and his holo form was still standing silently behind Sam, one hand resting very lightly on his shoulder. It was sort of weird to have Bumblebee and, well, Bumblebee in a room together but not in a bad way.
"Sure, let's hit it." She climbed up from her spot on the floor, dusting off her jeans and giving the array of blinking lights and whatever the hell else it was a longing glance. He should've known. It didn't matter if it was cars or computers, if it was mechanical, then Mikaela wanted to be elbow-deep into it. That was cool enough though, at least she'd have something to do here since Sam doubted she'd be interested in the World of Warcaft raid party that he and Bee were planning. It was a lot easier to play a ten-man raid when the other guy could control nine characters at once. Kept the asshole quota down.
At the moment though, all Sam wanted was a shower and a set of real clothes. Not that he didn't trust Bee's holograms, but even the feel of clothing didn't get rid of the creepy 'going to school in your underwear' vibe he had at the moment. If Bee was going to make a habit of tearing off his clothes in semi-public places, he'd better damn well be ready to start carrying around a spare set. There were limits to the weirdness that Sam could handle on a given day.
Speaking of weirdness, Mikaela got one good look at him and started laughing. "Got a little jealous, did you?"
For just one second, Sam could actually taste his own heart. He knew it was his heart because it had just leapt from its home in his chest straight into his throat and how in the hell could she know what had happened and-her fingers trailing over his arm made him automatically glance down and he suddenly remembered the tattoo that Bee had given him.
Sam laughed himself then, a little weakly. "Yeah, well, it looked pretty sweet."
"It did," she agreed. "Not bad on you, either. C'mon, it's been a long day already and I'd like to get a little bit unpacked before dinner."
"Come by anytime you like, Mikaela, the rumors about you haven’t been exaggerated," Prowl said, smiling a little. "You are quite good with your hands. I'll make sure you have clearance next time."
"And wouldn't that be a sweet little piece of justice the next time I see the Door Gestapo," she grinned. "Don't worry, I'll be around."
With a last wave, she sauntered out the door, leaving Sam and Bee to follow her bemusedly. The walk back down seemed even longer and it did not escape his notice that Bee's holo form was walking right along with his robot one, a hand on Sam's elbow like he was guiding him along. Whatever Mikaela thought of it, Sam figured it was probably in his best interest not having his imaginary clothes melting away, and if Bee touching him was keeping that from happening, he could go with it.
He finally vanished when they got outside and Bee transformed into the Camaro, Sam sliding automatically into the driver's side as Mikaela climbed into the passenger seat. He tried not to remember that the last time they'd been in here together, he and Mikaela had made out in the backseat, sticking sweatily to the seats and her hand in his pants.
The memory made a cold sort of sweat form on his forehead and in the middle of his back. He'd made out with Bumblebee in that backseat, too, a veritable wave of hormones had breezed through this tiny place, sweat and semen and he could not possibly be getting hard right now, it was so not of the good, sitting here next to his ex in imaginary clothes and thinking about the soft cushion of her breasts in comparison to the flatter, more muscular planes of Bumblebee's chest and...cold, cold, cold, think ice cubes, snow, hell, think icebergs, no erections, he had no idea how far Bumblebee's illusion covered.
Dropping her off at her little bunker was more of a relief than he would ever admit, taking the very first moment of privacy as an opportunity to adjust himself more comfortably in his pants.
Not quite private though, as a faint voice spoke up, "Problems?"
"No, and you can stop talking anytime now," Sam grumbled. "Ratchet is going to use your windshield wipers as toothpicks if you screw up your voice mod again."
"He'd have to catch me first." But he fell silent again, cruising through the wide street towards Sam's building. The roads were well built, as expected for a race of beings that spent about half their time on tires.
Bee's holo reappeared in a wave of silvery light as Sam got out of the car, lightly grabbing his elbow again and following Sam into his quarters as if they were just good friends on their way in. Or like he was an Autobot collecting up the boy he'd rudely stripped of his clothes an hour ago, but he figured none of the soldier boys would pick up on that option.
The door was barely shut before Bumblebee's hand tightened and he jerked Sam back against him, leaning against the door and pressing soft kisses against Sam's already sore lips.
"I'm starting to think you're pumping aphrodisiacs in through your air system," Sam joked breathlessly. Well, mostly joked.
"You don't need them; your pheromones speak for you." Bumblebee sighed it into his mouth, lips clinging damply to Sam's. His voice still sounded rusty and weak, but maybe a little stronger now? "But I can't stay. I had a lead on some Decepticon activity this morning and I need to finish checking it out."
"Yeah," Sam agreed mournfully. One last kiss, and then he'd have to let Bee get back to work. Maybe just one more...he tore away with a gasp, stepping back hastily as Bumblebee's hands started drifting down his hips and lower. "Go, go, you horndog!"
"Going." Bumblebee licked the tip of his finger and rubbed it wetly against Sam's lips, one last damp touch before he faded into nothingness.
"Jesus," Sam whispered, shivering in a way that had nothing to do with cold. Although cold did sound like a good idea right now, particularly in a shower form.
**
His shower was less soothing than usual since he hadn't even bothered to turn on the hot water, but it did wake him up pretty well. By the time he'd gotten dressed it was only mid-afternoon and that left him with hours of nothing much to do until Bee came back. Not that they could do anything particularly fun, one illicit closet session was enough, thank you, and Sideswipe would be back tomorrow morning to--
He needed to stop thinking about it or his cold shower was going to have a sequel. Man, he swore he hadn't been this horny before he and Bumblebee had started with the pelvic delights. It was like having a little sex just made him want more and more, his body happily accepting every bit of touchy-feely it could soak up.
Of course, Bumblebee was never shy of providing a spare handjob but Sam couldn't stop feeling it was completely unfair. He didn't want the orgasm ratio to get completely skewed in his favor and not just because he suspected Bumblebee was keeping track.
So that left him here to do...what? He was vaguely hungry -- and he hadn't logged onto his computer in ages. Almost involuntarily, he glanced at his computer. The mail icon blinked at him accusingly, flashing the gratingly cheerful little 'you have mail!' symbol.
Okay, so maybe he should get out.
Only, the last time he'd gone out wandering, they'd bumped into the wonder twins doing some extremely unwonderful things and God knew who else he'd wander in and see screwing. It was like this place was a giant hormone factory and for all he knew, the soldiers themselves were finding dark corners.
The thought of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe made a little mental picture of it pop up helpfully in his head and what else had they done after he and Mikaela had run for it, God, had Sideswipe...no. Not thinking of it. It might be normal for Autobots but as far as Sam was concerned, the amount of asshole that Sunstreaker had going for him was almost worse than the possible incest angle and if it was his and Bee's fault that Sideswipe had gone back to him, then they owed him way more than a handshake and a thanks.
A niggling little thought occurred to him. Bumblebee had admitted that he didn't know all that much about Autobot twins...was it possible that he was wrong? Spark siblings, he'd called them. And Ratchet would know more about it.
Sam sighed heavily and stepped into his shoes so he could walk back over to the infirmary. This was starting to be a bad habit, but damn it, he actually liked Ratchet. He didn't want to be angry with him and maybe it was about time he buried that hatchet and planted a tree on it.
Ratchet was in the main garage-style room in his robot form, working on something, not someone, mechanical. Sam didn't recognize it but it was oddly fascinating to watch anyway, now that it wasn't someone Sam actually knew split open like a cheap dvd player. His large fingers, each one as long as Sam was tall, divided into slim, little instruments that worked at a speed that he could hardly keep up with it, shards of light glinting off the shining metal like a photo flash.
Before he could say anything, Ratchet said, dryly. "I believe I'm going to start training you as a medical assistant."
"Huh?" Sam blinked.
"It would give you a better excuse to be here. You're the only being who regularly visits without being in the process of dripping blood or lubricant."
Oh. "Sorry?" he tried.
"It's all right, Sam." He managed to wave it off without actually moving either of his hands from their work. "Since I can see that all of your limbs are intact, what is it that you'd like to talk to me about now?"
"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker..."
His voice cooled considerably and it told Sam clearly that Ratchet understood exactly what he was asking about. More than that, he either didn't approve of what they were doing or he didn't approve of Sam asking about it. Maybe both. "If you wish to know more about their relationship, I suggest you ask one of them."
"I was really more interested in Autobot twins in general; Bumblebee said you'd know more about it than he would."
Sparks danced out from Ratchet's fingertips and he made a rude sound, metal screeching against the metal. "I'm sure you'd consider it boring. I've noticed that general Autobot workings hold very little interest for you." He'd never been so curt before, on the edge of insulting. Sam had gotten used to thinking of Ratchet as a sort of curmudgeon, a grouchy old man who always kind of liked you anyway. Despite everything, despite Bumblebee and all the freakiness, he knew that Ratchet had only been trying to help. Had helped, he was the one who'd gotten Sideswipe to act as a energy reserve or whatever it was.
"Are you mad at me?" Sam had to ask. He felt just a little sick and it had nothing to do with the dark fluid coating Ratchet's fingers this time. He really did like Ratchet and maybe he really hadn't been as forgiving of that whole situation as he should have been.
Ratchet went completely still, perhaps considering his answer. After a long moment, he withdrew his hands from the innards of the machine, his fingers snapping and hissing as they slid back into their normal form. He moved to crouch in front of Sam, dipping his head low enough that they could look at each other properly. "No, Sam. I am not angry with you. It would be more accurate to say I am angry at a situation that I have been recently reminded is none of my concern. That you are involved in that situation makes it difficult to separate my irritation from it and you."
"You mean with Sideswipe?"
Ratchet snorted and reeled back a little, moving to sit on the concrete floor. He drew his knees up and let his hands dangle between them, an oddly human pose. "I mean you and Bumblebee. Your relationship is causing me a great deal of concern."
"We're working on it!" Sam protested. "We've been getting a lot better, Sideswipe said that-"
"I don't mean your sexual relationship. There is something to it besides the sex, isn't there?" The acid in his voice stung, disdain of the like that Sam had rarely heard from anyone, certainly not from Ratchet.
"I think maybe you were right before, this isn't any of your concern," Sam said stiffly.
"Yes, do put me in my place. I can see why you'd be reluctant to talk about it, since you're much more concerned with what others are doing. Shall we discuss Sunstreaker and Sideswipe now, or is that too personal for you as well?"
"Look, just because I don't want to discuss my sex life with you--!"
"Sex?" Ratchet asked sharply. "What does sex have to do with anything? Anyone could take sex from you and have not the slightest emotion for it at all."
Sam just stared at him, blue optics almost glaring at him. This didn't make any sense, what the hell was Ratchet going on about? "Sideswipe told me once that you're a being of extreme logic," Sam said, slowly. "He said that you don't comprehend the emotions surrounding a...a simi relationship, is that what it's called?"
"Sideswipe is hardly an expert on emotions and he doesn't know the first thing about me." Coolly, large hands curling briefly into fists.
"Then what has you so concerned?" Sam burst out, exasperated.
"Because you're going to hurt him, aren't you." Ratchet sounded so sure, so wearily certain that Sam's automatic protests died unspoken. Instead, he moved to sit on the floor, mimicking Ratchet's posture.
"All right, you've got my attention. So explain it to me."
For a moment, he thought Ratchet was going to balk and then he looked away, his voice low as he said. "Organics are always the same. If you don't know the truth of what we are, then we are lying to you, if you do, then it's a game to play, as if we were toys. You act like this is some affectation to Bumblebee but I assure you, it isn't. Your people consistently call them holograms but it's inaccurate. When his sensors are within that body, he is that body. I am very fond of Bumblebee, I was there when he was given spark. And I had no issue with him experimenting sexually with you. But it's gone beyond that, hasn't it."
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Ratchet that it was none of his damned business but Sam was beginning to truly understand that Autobots didn't see things the same as humans and Ratchet seemed to feel he had every reason to be concerned. Not as a medical officer but as a friend. Almost as a parent. And seriously, he wouldn't have told Mikaela's father to piss off if he asked about his intentions.
"Yes," Sam met Ratchet's optics evenly. "But I don't think of him as a toy. You can't make an assumption about all organics any more than I can make one about all Autobots. It's not fair and it's not true. You're nothing like the Decepticons."
Whatever Ratchet had been about to say was cut off as the shrill call of an alarm sounded. Ratchet was on his feet immediately, already transforming.
"We can discuss this later, I-" He stopped, and Sam started backing away to let him go. "Wait. Get in."
"What?" Sam asked, bewildered.
"Get in!" The front passenger seat swung open. "We can argue later, come on!"
"I don't really want to be a medical assistant-"
"Get in!" Loud enough to echo in the large room and Sam hastily slid in, the seat belt tightening around him as Ratchet tore out of the garage, sirens blaring as they shot through the streets at a pace that had even Sam's throat tightening and he was used to Bee's driving.
"What is going on?" Sam yelled, trying to be heard over the sirens.
"I'm not sure yet," Ratchet said, his voice tinny over the radio speakers. "But I know you entirely too well. If I didn't bring you, you'd hear about it from someone else and then I'd probably end up with two patients to deal with."
Sam fell silent, watching as they pulled up to the building he'd been at earlier today and Ratchet's words were starting to filter in now, starting to make sense and oh, God, he clambered out of Ratchet who barely waited to transform before he was already through the main doors, Sam running as fast as he could to keep up with his enormous strides and they were running down the same path
No
The same way he'd gone earlier today and
No, please
And main engineering was in view and he could already
God, no, you can't do this to me, you can't
hear the high, electronic squeal that passed for Autobot screaming and Bumblebee was on the floor, the large cables that had been connected to him earlier were torn loose, coiled around him like large black snakes. Another Autobot was kneeling by his head, his hands on Bumblebee's shoulders, holding him down and in the moment it took for Sam to recognize Sunstreaker, the light behind his eyes washed into pure red, his vision all but obscured by it, and he very nearly flung himself at Sunstreaker even if it would have been tantamount to suicide. He had faced down Megatron, this was nothing so terrifying as that and he would have if a large hand hadn't grabbed at him, holding him back.
"Sam, wait, he's helping!"
It barely registered, the familiarity of the voice not filtering in through his rage. Sam struggled against his mechanical jailer, watching bitterly as Ratchet crouched down and began running a diagnostic.
"What did you do to him?" Sam demanded, trying to squirm free, God, just let me go!
The hand holding him shook him, hard enough that his head snapped forward and banged hard against one metal finger. Stars sparked in his vision and he shook them off dazedly, finally looking up at Sideswipe.
"Sam, listen to me, he's helping," Sideswipe said urgently. "He's acting as a firewall to block the progress of the virus."
"Why are you two even here?" Ratchet asked sharply.
"We're on monitor duty today. I am, really, but Sunstreaker is supposed to be working with me at all times. We relieved Prowl about an hour ago and then this happened." Shakily, Sideswipe was actually trembling, Sam could feel the tiny tremors in the hand holding him, a faint vibration.
Sunstreaker's expression was tight, his optics closed and his fingers clenched so tightly on Bee's shoulders that they were leaving dents, slight impressions on the metal. Even as they watched, they tightened harder, metal screaming along with Bumblebee. The first trail of blackness down Sunstreaker's face made no sense to Sam, a ribbon of darkness trailing from his optic. It wasn't until the second appeared at the other, then a third to trail down his chin that Sam realized what he was seeing. Sunstreaker was bleeding. First in a faint trickle then it was running freely, dripping down to stain the yellow of Bee's plating.
"Ratchet..." Sam started, staring in horror as the flow worsened. He was drowned out by Sideswipe, his voice mod shrill.
"Ratchet, power him down!"
"I can't!" Ratchet snarled, his fingers moving with blinding speed as he plugged a wire from his chest into Sunstreaker.
"What do you mean you can't?"
"His wifi isn’t accepting commands and he's got some firewall that I can't get past!" Ratchet had one hand on Bumblebee, tendrils of wire curling in to connect with him. "Bumblebee has no control at all and I have no idea how far the virus progressed before Sunstreaker blocked it. This piece of Decepticon treachery is trying to eat its way through both their systems."
The tableau was of pure stillness, Bumblebee caught in a silent scream, Sunstreaker's broken only by the terrible blackness seeping from every opening that he had and Ratchet, his face tight with concentration as everything he tried to do was internal, trying to force his way in so he could do what he could. Sam barely noticed that Sideswipe's grip was tighter than was really comfortable, his legs tingling in warning at the lack of free flowing blood and Sam could have simply screamed, the tension unbearable as minutes ticked by with nothing but the sound of dripping Autobot blood.
It was almost worse to have to broken, Sunstreaker making an odd, feeble sound as he fell away, collapsing on the floor on the opposite side. Sam stumbled as he was abruptly released, Sideswipe barely restraining himself from flinging him as he lurch over to his brother, his hands hovering helplessly as they tried to decide which path of blood to staunch.
"You were wrong," Sunstreaker said faintly, his voice mod crackling like an ancient radio. "Would...have been...terrible...Decepticon."
Sideswipe let out a low moan and was cut off when Ratchet shoved him rudely aside, placing a small, glowing square on Sunstreaker's forehead. He watched it intently, the lights shifting from red to green and then he leaned away with a sigh, returning his full attention to Bumblebee.
"You'll have to save your drama for another time, Sideswipe," Ratchet said curtly. "He'll be fine. I finally broke through his firewall and, believe me, that's something we will be discussing later. He's only powered down. Pull him back and get comfortable. I'm going to have to do a memory sweep on Bumblebee and it's going to take some time."
"Memory?" Sam barely recognized his own voice, pale and weak.
Ratchet spared him a glance before he said, with surprising gentleness. "I'm going to do everything I can for him, Sam." He looked back down at his patient, Bumblebee's limbs twitching with odd little involuntary movements.
"Sam, this is going to take some time. It's possible that he can hear you, I want you to talk to him."
"Talk...but what--"
"Talk to him," Ratchet repeated. "Stay back, I don't want you to get hurt if he seizes. Just talk from there, you don't have to speak loudly; if he's conscious at all, he can hear you."
For a moment, Sam's mind went predictably blank, refusing to cooperate. His eyes were full of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker in his lap and the dark fluid seeping from him slowing down to a trickle. Bumblebee sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a web of black cables and Ratchet, still and silent as his processors probed their way through Bumblebee's databanks, looking for...god, looking for damage.
"Bumblebee?" Words came to him slowly, quietly leaving his lips. "We keep saying that we're going to talk about this thing between us, you know? I feel like I've talked about it with everyone but you, and now I'm here and I'm supposed to be talking and I don't know what to say."
"I'll tell you what I do know. I'll never regret going with you that night. Even with everything that's happened, I don't regret it and I don't want to be anywhere but here. So please, please, stay here with me. Please." His voice broke but Sam pushed past it ruthlessly.
"There was never a chance of me going back to Mikaela. You know that, don't you? You should and maybe I understand why you doubted. I think maybe I haven't been as...as intense in this as you have. That first night you told me that you weren't unaware of my attraction but I was completely blind to it. I didn't even realize until that night."
"You've been afraid in this, haven't you," Sam said softly, "I guess I didn't really notice. I should have. Ratchet said I was going to hurt you but I think I already did. You didn't want me to think this was a game...Ratchet said the same thing. That's what you're afraid of. That I'm playing with a toy that I'll get sick of and then I'll want a new one. A human one, maybe, like Mikaela."
Bee shuddered, whether from Ratchet's ministrations or Sam's words he couldn't know, but he pressed on desperately. "This isn't an affectation to me either, Bumblebee. I'm not playing a game and I outgrew toys a long time ago. You're real, this is real, and I should have told you before this that I love you."
"I love you," he repeated it, softly, not caring that there was no response. "I love you and I'm going to spend a very long time after this convincing you of how much."
His voice was a low murmur beneath the hum of the computers and the slightly louder one of the Autobots. Just the faintest sound amongst so few others as he spoke, the minutes ticking by until he was hoarse, his mouth and throat dry and sore, and he talked on, softly, telling Bee how much he loved him and how he would prove it, again and again, if only he would wake up.
-finis-
Read Next Chapter
By Keelywolfe
Bumblebee/Sam
Rated R
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Notes: Thank you so, so much to fyredancer for encouraging me on this story and all the stories in this series. She's helping to keep this going, folks. :)
~*~~
If Sam were to pick one thing as his tiny gift from god for the day, it would be that Mikaela was still completely engrossed in whatever Prowl was showing her, so much so that she barely glanced up when he and Bumblebee walked back into the operations room or whatever the heck they called it. Knowing Bumblebee's love of Star Trek, he could be calling it the Enterprise.
It made it a lot easier to not feel awkward about waving away the chair that Prowl distractedly offered him because sitting so did not sound like a great idea after getting fucked sideways against a steel door. Come to think of it, he and Bee seemed to have a thing for doors, maybe he should start keeping a list...
"You finished?" Mikaela asked him, absently, breaking into his weird sexual musing.
"Huh? I mean, yeah, we can go if you want." Bumblebee was busy detaching all of the wires that were hooked up to him and his holo form was still standing silently behind Sam, one hand resting very lightly on his shoulder. It was sort of weird to have Bumblebee and, well, Bumblebee in a room together but not in a bad way.
"Sure, let's hit it." She climbed up from her spot on the floor, dusting off her jeans and giving the array of blinking lights and whatever the hell else it was a longing glance. He should've known. It didn't matter if it was cars or computers, if it was mechanical, then Mikaela wanted to be elbow-deep into it. That was cool enough though, at least she'd have something to do here since Sam doubted she'd be interested in the World of Warcaft raid party that he and Bee were planning. It was a lot easier to play a ten-man raid when the other guy could control nine characters at once. Kept the asshole quota down.
At the moment though, all Sam wanted was a shower and a set of real clothes. Not that he didn't trust Bee's holograms, but even the feel of clothing didn't get rid of the creepy 'going to school in your underwear' vibe he had at the moment. If Bee was going to make a habit of tearing off his clothes in semi-public places, he'd better damn well be ready to start carrying around a spare set. There were limits to the weirdness that Sam could handle on a given day.
Speaking of weirdness, Mikaela got one good look at him and started laughing. "Got a little jealous, did you?"
For just one second, Sam could actually taste his own heart. He knew it was his heart because it had just leapt from its home in his chest straight into his throat and how in the hell could she know what had happened and-her fingers trailing over his arm made him automatically glance down and he suddenly remembered the tattoo that Bee had given him.
Sam laughed himself then, a little weakly. "Yeah, well, it looked pretty sweet."
"It did," she agreed. "Not bad on you, either. C'mon, it's been a long day already and I'd like to get a little bit unpacked before dinner."
"Come by anytime you like, Mikaela, the rumors about you haven’t been exaggerated," Prowl said, smiling a little. "You are quite good with your hands. I'll make sure you have clearance next time."
"And wouldn't that be a sweet little piece of justice the next time I see the Door Gestapo," she grinned. "Don't worry, I'll be around."
With a last wave, she sauntered out the door, leaving Sam and Bee to follow her bemusedly. The walk back down seemed even longer and it did not escape his notice that Bee's holo form was walking right along with his robot one, a hand on Sam's elbow like he was guiding him along. Whatever Mikaela thought of it, Sam figured it was probably in his best interest not having his imaginary clothes melting away, and if Bee touching him was keeping that from happening, he could go with it.
He finally vanished when they got outside and Bee transformed into the Camaro, Sam sliding automatically into the driver's side as Mikaela climbed into the passenger seat. He tried not to remember that the last time they'd been in here together, he and Mikaela had made out in the backseat, sticking sweatily to the seats and her hand in his pants.
The memory made a cold sort of sweat form on his forehead and in the middle of his back. He'd made out with Bumblebee in that backseat, too, a veritable wave of hormones had breezed through this tiny place, sweat and semen and he could not possibly be getting hard right now, it was so not of the good, sitting here next to his ex in imaginary clothes and thinking about the soft cushion of her breasts in comparison to the flatter, more muscular planes of Bumblebee's chest and...cold, cold, cold, think ice cubes, snow, hell, think icebergs, no erections, he had no idea how far Bumblebee's illusion covered.
Dropping her off at her little bunker was more of a relief than he would ever admit, taking the very first moment of privacy as an opportunity to adjust himself more comfortably in his pants.
Not quite private though, as a faint voice spoke up, "Problems?"
"No, and you can stop talking anytime now," Sam grumbled. "Ratchet is going to use your windshield wipers as toothpicks if you screw up your voice mod again."
"He'd have to catch me first." But he fell silent again, cruising through the wide street towards Sam's building. The roads were well built, as expected for a race of beings that spent about half their time on tires.
Bee's holo reappeared in a wave of silvery light as Sam got out of the car, lightly grabbing his elbow again and following Sam into his quarters as if they were just good friends on their way in. Or like he was an Autobot collecting up the boy he'd rudely stripped of his clothes an hour ago, but he figured none of the soldier boys would pick up on that option.
The door was barely shut before Bumblebee's hand tightened and he jerked Sam back against him, leaning against the door and pressing soft kisses against Sam's already sore lips.
"I'm starting to think you're pumping aphrodisiacs in through your air system," Sam joked breathlessly. Well, mostly joked.
"You don't need them; your pheromones speak for you." Bumblebee sighed it into his mouth, lips clinging damply to Sam's. His voice still sounded rusty and weak, but maybe a little stronger now? "But I can't stay. I had a lead on some Decepticon activity this morning and I need to finish checking it out."
"Yeah," Sam agreed mournfully. One last kiss, and then he'd have to let Bee get back to work. Maybe just one more...he tore away with a gasp, stepping back hastily as Bumblebee's hands started drifting down his hips and lower. "Go, go, you horndog!"
"Going." Bumblebee licked the tip of his finger and rubbed it wetly against Sam's lips, one last damp touch before he faded into nothingness.
"Jesus," Sam whispered, shivering in a way that had nothing to do with cold. Although cold did sound like a good idea right now, particularly in a shower form.
**
His shower was less soothing than usual since he hadn't even bothered to turn on the hot water, but it did wake him up pretty well. By the time he'd gotten dressed it was only mid-afternoon and that left him with hours of nothing much to do until Bee came back. Not that they could do anything particularly fun, one illicit closet session was enough, thank you, and Sideswipe would be back tomorrow morning to--
He needed to stop thinking about it or his cold shower was going to have a sequel. Man, he swore he hadn't been this horny before he and Bumblebee had started with the pelvic delights. It was like having a little sex just made him want more and more, his body happily accepting every bit of touchy-feely it could soak up.
Of course, Bumblebee was never shy of providing a spare handjob but Sam couldn't stop feeling it was completely unfair. He didn't want the orgasm ratio to get completely skewed in his favor and not just because he suspected Bumblebee was keeping track.
So that left him here to do...what? He was vaguely hungry -- and he hadn't logged onto his computer in ages. Almost involuntarily, he glanced at his computer. The mail icon blinked at him accusingly, flashing the gratingly cheerful little 'you have mail!' symbol.
Okay, so maybe he should get out.
Only, the last time he'd gone out wandering, they'd bumped into the wonder twins doing some extremely unwonderful things and God knew who else he'd wander in and see screwing. It was like this place was a giant hormone factory and for all he knew, the soldiers themselves were finding dark corners.
The thought of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe made a little mental picture of it pop up helpfully in his head and what else had they done after he and Mikaela had run for it, God, had Sideswipe...no. Not thinking of it. It might be normal for Autobots but as far as Sam was concerned, the amount of asshole that Sunstreaker had going for him was almost worse than the possible incest angle and if it was his and Bee's fault that Sideswipe had gone back to him, then they owed him way more than a handshake and a thanks.
A niggling little thought occurred to him. Bumblebee had admitted that he didn't know all that much about Autobot twins...was it possible that he was wrong? Spark siblings, he'd called them. And Ratchet would know more about it.
Sam sighed heavily and stepped into his shoes so he could walk back over to the infirmary. This was starting to be a bad habit, but damn it, he actually liked Ratchet. He didn't want to be angry with him and maybe it was about time he buried that hatchet and planted a tree on it.
Ratchet was in the main garage-style room in his robot form, working on something, not someone, mechanical. Sam didn't recognize it but it was oddly fascinating to watch anyway, now that it wasn't someone Sam actually knew split open like a cheap dvd player. His large fingers, each one as long as Sam was tall, divided into slim, little instruments that worked at a speed that he could hardly keep up with it, shards of light glinting off the shining metal like a photo flash.
Before he could say anything, Ratchet said, dryly. "I believe I'm going to start training you as a medical assistant."
"Huh?" Sam blinked.
"It would give you a better excuse to be here. You're the only being who regularly visits without being in the process of dripping blood or lubricant."
Oh. "Sorry?" he tried.
"It's all right, Sam." He managed to wave it off without actually moving either of his hands from their work. "Since I can see that all of your limbs are intact, what is it that you'd like to talk to me about now?"
"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker..."
His voice cooled considerably and it told Sam clearly that Ratchet understood exactly what he was asking about. More than that, he either didn't approve of what they were doing or he didn't approve of Sam asking about it. Maybe both. "If you wish to know more about their relationship, I suggest you ask one of them."
"I was really more interested in Autobot twins in general; Bumblebee said you'd know more about it than he would."
Sparks danced out from Ratchet's fingertips and he made a rude sound, metal screeching against the metal. "I'm sure you'd consider it boring. I've noticed that general Autobot workings hold very little interest for you." He'd never been so curt before, on the edge of insulting. Sam had gotten used to thinking of Ratchet as a sort of curmudgeon, a grouchy old man who always kind of liked you anyway. Despite everything, despite Bumblebee and all the freakiness, he knew that Ratchet had only been trying to help. Had helped, he was the one who'd gotten Sideswipe to act as a energy reserve or whatever it was.
"Are you mad at me?" Sam had to ask. He felt just a little sick and it had nothing to do with the dark fluid coating Ratchet's fingers this time. He really did like Ratchet and maybe he really hadn't been as forgiving of that whole situation as he should have been.
Ratchet went completely still, perhaps considering his answer. After a long moment, he withdrew his hands from the innards of the machine, his fingers snapping and hissing as they slid back into their normal form. He moved to crouch in front of Sam, dipping his head low enough that they could look at each other properly. "No, Sam. I am not angry with you. It would be more accurate to say I am angry at a situation that I have been recently reminded is none of my concern. That you are involved in that situation makes it difficult to separate my irritation from it and you."
"You mean with Sideswipe?"
Ratchet snorted and reeled back a little, moving to sit on the concrete floor. He drew his knees up and let his hands dangle between them, an oddly human pose. "I mean you and Bumblebee. Your relationship is causing me a great deal of concern."
"We're working on it!" Sam protested. "We've been getting a lot better, Sideswipe said that-"
"I don't mean your sexual relationship. There is something to it besides the sex, isn't there?" The acid in his voice stung, disdain of the like that Sam had rarely heard from anyone, certainly not from Ratchet.
"I think maybe you were right before, this isn't any of your concern," Sam said stiffly.
"Yes, do put me in my place. I can see why you'd be reluctant to talk about it, since you're much more concerned with what others are doing. Shall we discuss Sunstreaker and Sideswipe now, or is that too personal for you as well?"
"Look, just because I don't want to discuss my sex life with you--!"
"Sex?" Ratchet asked sharply. "What does sex have to do with anything? Anyone could take sex from you and have not the slightest emotion for it at all."
Sam just stared at him, blue optics almost glaring at him. This didn't make any sense, what the hell was Ratchet going on about? "Sideswipe told me once that you're a being of extreme logic," Sam said, slowly. "He said that you don't comprehend the emotions surrounding a...a simi relationship, is that what it's called?"
"Sideswipe is hardly an expert on emotions and he doesn't know the first thing about me." Coolly, large hands curling briefly into fists.
"Then what has you so concerned?" Sam burst out, exasperated.
"Because you're going to hurt him, aren't you." Ratchet sounded so sure, so wearily certain that Sam's automatic protests died unspoken. Instead, he moved to sit on the floor, mimicking Ratchet's posture.
"All right, you've got my attention. So explain it to me."
For a moment, he thought Ratchet was going to balk and then he looked away, his voice low as he said. "Organics are always the same. If you don't know the truth of what we are, then we are lying to you, if you do, then it's a game to play, as if we were toys. You act like this is some affectation to Bumblebee but I assure you, it isn't. Your people consistently call them holograms but it's inaccurate. When his sensors are within that body, he is that body. I am very fond of Bumblebee, I was there when he was given spark. And I had no issue with him experimenting sexually with you. But it's gone beyond that, hasn't it."
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Ratchet that it was none of his damned business but Sam was beginning to truly understand that Autobots didn't see things the same as humans and Ratchet seemed to feel he had every reason to be concerned. Not as a medical officer but as a friend. Almost as a parent. And seriously, he wouldn't have told Mikaela's father to piss off if he asked about his intentions.
"Yes," Sam met Ratchet's optics evenly. "But I don't think of him as a toy. You can't make an assumption about all organics any more than I can make one about all Autobots. It's not fair and it's not true. You're nothing like the Decepticons."
Whatever Ratchet had been about to say was cut off as the shrill call of an alarm sounded. Ratchet was on his feet immediately, already transforming.
"We can discuss this later, I-" He stopped, and Sam started backing away to let him go. "Wait. Get in."
"What?" Sam asked, bewildered.
"Get in!" The front passenger seat swung open. "We can argue later, come on!"
"I don't really want to be a medical assistant-"
"Get in!" Loud enough to echo in the large room and Sam hastily slid in, the seat belt tightening around him as Ratchet tore out of the garage, sirens blaring as they shot through the streets at a pace that had even Sam's throat tightening and he was used to Bee's driving.
"What is going on?" Sam yelled, trying to be heard over the sirens.
"I'm not sure yet," Ratchet said, his voice tinny over the radio speakers. "But I know you entirely too well. If I didn't bring you, you'd hear about it from someone else and then I'd probably end up with two patients to deal with."
Sam fell silent, watching as they pulled up to the building he'd been at earlier today and Ratchet's words were starting to filter in now, starting to make sense and oh, God, he clambered out of Ratchet who barely waited to transform before he was already through the main doors, Sam running as fast as he could to keep up with his enormous strides and they were running down the same path
No
The same way he'd gone earlier today and
No, please
And main engineering was in view and he could already
God, no, you can't do this to me, you can't
hear the high, electronic squeal that passed for Autobot screaming and Bumblebee was on the floor, the large cables that had been connected to him earlier were torn loose, coiled around him like large black snakes. Another Autobot was kneeling by his head, his hands on Bumblebee's shoulders, holding him down and in the moment it took for Sam to recognize Sunstreaker, the light behind his eyes washed into pure red, his vision all but obscured by it, and he very nearly flung himself at Sunstreaker even if it would have been tantamount to suicide. He had faced down Megatron, this was nothing so terrifying as that and he would have if a large hand hadn't grabbed at him, holding him back.
"Sam, wait, he's helping!"
It barely registered, the familiarity of the voice not filtering in through his rage. Sam struggled against his mechanical jailer, watching bitterly as Ratchet crouched down and began running a diagnostic.
"What did you do to him?" Sam demanded, trying to squirm free, God, just let me go!
The hand holding him shook him, hard enough that his head snapped forward and banged hard against one metal finger. Stars sparked in his vision and he shook them off dazedly, finally looking up at Sideswipe.
"Sam, listen to me, he's helping," Sideswipe said urgently. "He's acting as a firewall to block the progress of the virus."
"Why are you two even here?" Ratchet asked sharply.
"We're on monitor duty today. I am, really, but Sunstreaker is supposed to be working with me at all times. We relieved Prowl about an hour ago and then this happened." Shakily, Sideswipe was actually trembling, Sam could feel the tiny tremors in the hand holding him, a faint vibration.
Sunstreaker's expression was tight, his optics closed and his fingers clenched so tightly on Bee's shoulders that they were leaving dents, slight impressions on the metal. Even as they watched, they tightened harder, metal screaming along with Bumblebee. The first trail of blackness down Sunstreaker's face made no sense to Sam, a ribbon of darkness trailing from his optic. It wasn't until the second appeared at the other, then a third to trail down his chin that Sam realized what he was seeing. Sunstreaker was bleeding. First in a faint trickle then it was running freely, dripping down to stain the yellow of Bee's plating.
"Ratchet..." Sam started, staring in horror as the flow worsened. He was drowned out by Sideswipe, his voice mod shrill.
"Ratchet, power him down!"
"I can't!" Ratchet snarled, his fingers moving with blinding speed as he plugged a wire from his chest into Sunstreaker.
"What do you mean you can't?"
"His wifi isn’t accepting commands and he's got some firewall that I can't get past!" Ratchet had one hand on Bumblebee, tendrils of wire curling in to connect with him. "Bumblebee has no control at all and I have no idea how far the virus progressed before Sunstreaker blocked it. This piece of Decepticon treachery is trying to eat its way through both their systems."
The tableau was of pure stillness, Bumblebee caught in a silent scream, Sunstreaker's broken only by the terrible blackness seeping from every opening that he had and Ratchet, his face tight with concentration as everything he tried to do was internal, trying to force his way in so he could do what he could. Sam barely noticed that Sideswipe's grip was tighter than was really comfortable, his legs tingling in warning at the lack of free flowing blood and Sam could have simply screamed, the tension unbearable as minutes ticked by with nothing but the sound of dripping Autobot blood.
It was almost worse to have to broken, Sunstreaker making an odd, feeble sound as he fell away, collapsing on the floor on the opposite side. Sam stumbled as he was abruptly released, Sideswipe barely restraining himself from flinging him as he lurch over to his brother, his hands hovering helplessly as they tried to decide which path of blood to staunch.
"You were wrong," Sunstreaker said faintly, his voice mod crackling like an ancient radio. "Would...have been...terrible...Decepticon."
Sideswipe let out a low moan and was cut off when Ratchet shoved him rudely aside, placing a small, glowing square on Sunstreaker's forehead. He watched it intently, the lights shifting from red to green and then he leaned away with a sigh, returning his full attention to Bumblebee.
"You'll have to save your drama for another time, Sideswipe," Ratchet said curtly. "He'll be fine. I finally broke through his firewall and, believe me, that's something we will be discussing later. He's only powered down. Pull him back and get comfortable. I'm going to have to do a memory sweep on Bumblebee and it's going to take some time."
"Memory?" Sam barely recognized his own voice, pale and weak.
Ratchet spared him a glance before he said, with surprising gentleness. "I'm going to do everything I can for him, Sam." He looked back down at his patient, Bumblebee's limbs twitching with odd little involuntary movements.
"Sam, this is going to take some time. It's possible that he can hear you, I want you to talk to him."
"Talk...but what--"
"Talk to him," Ratchet repeated. "Stay back, I don't want you to get hurt if he seizes. Just talk from there, you don't have to speak loudly; if he's conscious at all, he can hear you."
For a moment, Sam's mind went predictably blank, refusing to cooperate. His eyes were full of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker in his lap and the dark fluid seeping from him slowing down to a trickle. Bumblebee sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a web of black cables and Ratchet, still and silent as his processors probed their way through Bumblebee's databanks, looking for...god, looking for damage.
"Bumblebee?" Words came to him slowly, quietly leaving his lips. "We keep saying that we're going to talk about this thing between us, you know? I feel like I've talked about it with everyone but you, and now I'm here and I'm supposed to be talking and I don't know what to say."
"I'll tell you what I do know. I'll never regret going with you that night. Even with everything that's happened, I don't regret it and I don't want to be anywhere but here. So please, please, stay here with me. Please." His voice broke but Sam pushed past it ruthlessly.
"There was never a chance of me going back to Mikaela. You know that, don't you? You should and maybe I understand why you doubted. I think maybe I haven't been as...as intense in this as you have. That first night you told me that you weren't unaware of my attraction but I was completely blind to it. I didn't even realize until that night."
"You've been afraid in this, haven't you," Sam said softly, "I guess I didn't really notice. I should have. Ratchet said I was going to hurt you but I think I already did. You didn't want me to think this was a game...Ratchet said the same thing. That's what you're afraid of. That I'm playing with a toy that I'll get sick of and then I'll want a new one. A human one, maybe, like Mikaela."
Bee shuddered, whether from Ratchet's ministrations or Sam's words he couldn't know, but he pressed on desperately. "This isn't an affectation to me either, Bumblebee. I'm not playing a game and I outgrew toys a long time ago. You're real, this is real, and I should have told you before this that I love you."
"I love you," he repeated it, softly, not caring that there was no response. "I love you and I'm going to spend a very long time after this convincing you of how much."
His voice was a low murmur beneath the hum of the computers and the slightly louder one of the Autobots. Just the faintest sound amongst so few others as he spoke, the minutes ticking by until he was hoarse, his mouth and throat dry and sore, and he talked on, softly, telling Bee how much he loved him and how he would prove it, again and again, if only he would wake up.
-finis-
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