Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Day One: Brushing their teeth together"

The sound of the sink running in the other room woke Barricade up. Other than that, the first thing he noticed was that his conjux’s small frame was missing from the berth– an empty, warm spot in his place. The ex-Decepticon onlined his optics and immediately saw the door to their shared washroom was slightly ajar. A sliver of dim light from the other room was occasionally blocked out by whomever was inside. Barricade sat up and stumbled to the washroom, the cold air almost painful compared to the warmth of his berth. The officer went to open the washroom door, but his conjux beat him to it.

“Good morning, Cade!” Bumblebee chirped happily. Barricade smiled at his conjux. “G’mornin’, Honeybee,” the larger mech leaned down and kissed his coworker/conjux on the forehelm, giggling when the minibot returned the affection by kissing him on the cheekridge. “Whatcha doin’ up so early on our cycle off?” Barricade fully entered the washroom. Bumblebee slipped past his conjux and dipped his dentabrush under the running water. Barricade reached for his own dentabrush, copying Bumblebee as the minibot squeezed paste onto the stiff metal bristles and put that under the running faucet, too.

The two stood in comfortable silence– I mean, not like they could say anything when their intakes were full. Bee and Cade would exchange glances through the mirror and turn away when they were caught, as if they were a newly bonded couple. Turns out, it’s also hard to laugh when you’ve got a full intake. Barricade learned this the hard way when he cracked, sending foam everywhere as he laughed. “SLAG!” “Mmph!” Bumblebee made a strangled sound before leaning over the sink and spitting out foam in a much more controlled manner. When he came back up, he was cackling. Barricade couldn’t help himself: he started laughing, too.

Bumblebee braced himself on the edge of the sink, servos shaking wildly. Barricade leaned back against the opposite wall, helm thrown back in laughter. Bee spat some more foam out before breathlessly saying, “I love you, Cade, but you’re cleaning this up!” “Oh, give me a break!” The ex-Con groaned, but was already making a move for the cleaning products in the mirror cabinet with a rather clean smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Prowl watched his sparkmate play with the cyberhound. The large, jet black creature bit down on the opposite end of the thick wire Bumblebee held. The minibot smiled and pulled his end, earning a muffled bark from the hound. The black hound shook its helm violently, bracing itself on the ground with its large “murder mittens,” as Bee had affectionately called them. They kept up their little game with each other before Bumblebee let the robo-dog have the wire, laughing hard as the cyberhound bounded towards Prowl.

The hound dropped the now drenched wire in the cyberninja’s lap and looked up at him expectantly. “What does it want?” Prowl raised an opticridge at Bumblebee, who was slightly panting. “She wants you to play with her, duh!” The bright yellow minibot grinned at his clueless partner. Primal green optics peered up at the SIC. Prowl frowned. “But I don’t really want to play with it…” The black and gold mini picked the wet wire up and threw it across the room before going back to the datapad in his servos.

Suddenly, a black muzzle dropped the toy back into the bot’s lap.

Bee snickered. The cyberninja huffed and threw the toy again, but in a different direction. Bumblebee sat down on the sofa next to his mate. “Babe, you’re playin’ with her right now . I’ve heard Sari call it “fetch” before,” the scout leaned against the SIC, helm resting on his shoulder pauldrons. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m trying to do…” “That’s a cyberhound , Prowler. Not a Cybertronian. She can’t— she doesn’t understand social cues,” Bumblebee took the wire before the hound could drop it in Prowl’s lap again. “Watch me,” Bumblebee smiled wider.

“Get it!”

The toy went soaring through the air, smacking hard against the opposite wall. The black dog barked excitedly and ran towards the landing site. Taking the toy into her mouth, the cyberhound bounded back towards the couple. “Good girl! Hey, we should give you a designation, huh?” Bee scratched the cyberhound behind her triangular audials. “What should we call her, Prowl?” “Does it matter? It— She’s going to a shelter soon…” Prowl eyed the cyberhound suspiciously. “It’ll be easier to get her attention,” Bumblebee pointed out.

Knowing he’d won, Bee moved his servos down the cyberhounds neck and back. “Alright, girl, what should we call ya?”

“…Skulk.” “Prowl, that’s just a synonym of your name—“ “And? I’ve got a pretty good name,” Prowl grinned earnestly. Bee rolled his optics. “By that logic, we could name her Hornet— what if we named her, like, after a different organic animal? Not Dog, ‘cause that’s what she is, but like… Snake,” the smaller mech suggested. Prowl’s grin grew larger. “Yeah, we can do that. How about Woodpecker?” Bee scrunched his face up. “Nah, too long. Cheetah’s pretty cool!” “Hm, maybe. Robin fits her.”

“I stand by Cheetah,” Bee proclaimed, pulling his servos away from the nameless cyberhound. “Counterargument: that’s a feline. Perhaps we could call her Crow,” Prowl paused when Bee let out a loud gasp. “ Crow ! That’s perfect! And if anybot doesn’t know what a crow is, we can just say it’s short for Crowbar! Isn’t that right, Crow?” Bumblebee leaned forward and petted the now sitting cyberhound. Crow barked happily.

“Hey, Prowl?” “Yes?” “If we ever get a pet cyberhound of our own, can we name them Cheetah?” “Sure, honey.”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Megatron,” Soundwave didn’t have to look up from the berthsheets he was folding to know his conjux had entered the room. Megatron didn’t say anything, but set Soundwave’s cup of hot oil on the table next to him. “Already working, I see. Need some help?” The Decepticon leader eyed the overflowing box of clean towels next to the clean sheets. “Unrequired, but appreciated,” came the clipped response.

Megatron smiled— a rare sight for anybot other than Soundwave— and joined his mate. “Starscream’s in the MedBay again,” the dark blue mech skillfully folded the covering. Megatron huffed. “Blitzwing again?” “No. Some Vehicon he was in charge of threw him at a wall,” Soundwave had clipped the report that Knockout had given him. Megatron chuckled. “I’m gonna have to find that soldier and give ‘em a raise,” Lord Megatron momentarily struggled with a fluffy towel before finally getting the corners to fit together. Soundwave’s amused smirk was hidden by his black visor.

“He’ll be out of commission for a while,” The silent mech commented, setting the crisply folded covering to the side and grabbing a second one. “I’ll tell Knockout to put Starscream on the bottom of the list,” the grey mech grinned lazily, setting the technically folded towel down as well. Soundwave sighed behind his visor. He’d go back and fix the towels later. Megatron either didn’t notice his conjux’s affectionate scrutiny or didn’t care about it; probably the latter.

Soundwave set a few folded sheets to the side and glanced at the growing stack of lopsided towels when an alert popped up on his HUD. “Megatron, you have a meeting in one joor,” Megatron groaned in response. “Can’t I cancel it?” “No. Go prepare for the call. I’ll see you afterwards.”

After giving the Decepticon warlord a quick kiss and shooing him off to the control room, Soundwave cast a backwards glance at the two stacks of laundry.

Might as well go ahead and fix the towels…

Chapter Text

Organic music spewed from Bulkhead’s speaker while he painted. Bumblebee was sprawled out on his front on the ex-Wrecker’s berth. The two were pretty quiet, save for Bulkhead humming. “Hey, what’re ya listenin’ to?” the minibot rolled over onto his side to look at his sparkmate. Bulkhead didn’t look back at him, instead opting to answer with his back turned, “Black Tide. Miko showed me one of their albums yesterday— this one’s my favourite, though.” “What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Bee sat up, suddenly interested as he began to understand what the singer was saying. “Um… it’s called “Give Me A Chance.” You like it?”

Bee hummed. “Restart it. I wasn’t really listening when it first came on,” he admitted. Bulkhead put his “paintbrush” down and tapped a button on his radio, restarting his music.

Have you ever felt this way before?

(Felt this way….)

Pushed to be someone you don't know.

I don't know!

The singer’s words were staticky, as if his voice box needed to be reset. Bee wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. What he did like was the guitar and drums.

I've never felt this way before…

(Felt this way…)

Pushed to be someone I don't know !

People telling lies all the time,

Another part of this pointless game!

I don't want to be part of your lie.

Give me a chance and you'll know

( What I want to be !)

Give me a chance to figure it out

( Who I am! )

Bulkhead hadn’t picked his brush back up, Bumblebee noticed. The Constructicon’s attention was on him , nervously watching the minibot’s faceplates. Bee smiled up at his sparkmate. “I like the instrumental,” the yellow minibot smiled wider when Bulkhead’s face brightened. “Really?” “Really!”

I've told you what I have to say.

(I've told you…)

You never listened

And you pushed me away!

People telling lies all the time

Another part of this pointless game!

I don't want to be part of your lie.

Give me a chance and you'll know

( What I want to be !)

Give me a chance to figure it out

( Who I am! )

Give me a chance and you'll know

( What I want to be! )

Give me a chance to figure it out

( Who I am! )

Bee opened his intake to say something, but was interrupted by the radio.

NOW!

Just give me my life back!

SO!

I’m taking it back now!

NO!

You never will take me in vain!

I told you what I had to say

(I told you…)

You never listened

And you pushed me away!

As the song ended, Bulkhead became restless. “What do you think? Was it— is it good?” Bee hopped up to his pedes and approached his sparkmate with a wide smile. “Yeah, that was awesome! Actually, that reminds me: I was gonna show you a song I found yesterday! Let me try and find it,” the minibot stood on his pedetips and fumbled around with the music player that the speaker was connected to. Bulkhead, always one to try and help, grabbed the small electronic and handed it to the minibot.

“Have you heard this before?” Bee muttered as he found the song he was looking for and hit play. “What’s it called?” “Little Talks. It’s a little sad, but it scratches my processor. In a good way.”

I don’t like walking around this old and empty house.

So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you, my dear.

The stairs creak as you sleep,

It’s keeping me awake.

It’s the house telling you to close your eyes.

Some days I can’t even dress myself…

It’s killing me to see you this way.

‘Cause though the truth may very, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore.

Bulkhead closed his optics in thought. Bumblebee wrapped his arms around his lover’s stabiliser, as it was the only part of him he could reach. They stayed like that for a while.

There’s an old voice in my head that’s

holding me back.

Well, tell her that I miss our little talks.

Soon it will be over, and buried with our past.

We used to play outside when we were young,

and full of life,

and full of love.

Some days, I don’t know if I am wrong or right.

Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear.

‘Cause though the truth may vary this, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore.

Don’t listen to a word I say.

The screams all sound the same…

Though the truth may vary, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore.

“I don’t get it… why wouldn’t he want her to listen to him?” Bulkhead looked down at the yellow minibot clinging to him. Bumblebee hummed. “Maybe he’s not really there? I haven’t really thought about it before…”

You’re gone, gone, gone away,

I watched you disappear.

All that’s left is a ghost of you…

Now we’re torn, torn, torn apart,

there’s nothing we can do.

Just let me go, we’ll meet again soon.

Now wait, wait wait, for me;

please hang around!

I’ll see you when I fall asleep!

Don’t listen to a word I say!

The screams all sound the same…

Though the truth may vary, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore.

Don’t listen to a word I say!

The screams all sound the same!

Though the truth may vary, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore

Though the truth may vary, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore.

Though the truth may vary, this

ship will carry our

bodies safe to shore…

“I… have no clue what any of that meant, but y’know what? I like it.”

Chapter Text

Ratchet had finally gone to berth, meaning that two of the grumpy medic’s comrades had officially taken control of the rec room. Bulkhead sat on the sofa next to Bumblebee, draped in a warm blanket that covered both of them. Bumblebee was pressed up against his lover’s front. Between his huge comrade’s front and the large fluffy blanket, the minibot looked like he was drowning. The lights were out to add effect. “This game is creepy ,” Bulkhead whispered, arms tightening around his little lover. Bee chuckled lightly. “You’ll get used to it after a while. But until then, I’m here to keep you safe!” Bee was a little less careful with his volume, but when he saw Bulkhead’s disapproving look, his voicebox dropped to a lower setting, “Sorry.”

The forest green mech shifted slightly. The blanket curled around the two tighter as Bumblebee’s frame was crushed against the ex-Wrecker’s own. The minibot didn’t seem to mind.

The character Bee was playing as crouched down and picked up a notebook. “Oooh, cutscene,” the ex-Wrecker mumbled. “This notebook… it’s Mister Takemine’s…” the organic boy said. “Oh, this next part is kinda creepy. You might wanna look away…” Bumblebee glanced nervously up at his sparkmate as a flashback started playing. Bulkhead headed Bumblebee’s warning and offline his optics. Immediately, stasis began to creep up on him. The Constructicon mentally shook it off. His time with Bumblebee was becoming less and less, so he was not going to miss out on this! He also turned down his audials– not muting them, but lowering the sensitivity enough to tune out the television.

A klik passed before Bee nudged him. Bulkhead– much to his frame’s dismay– reset his audials and optics. Bumblebee grinned up at him. “It’s been two weeks since I last heard from my brother,” a feminine voice spoke, “But he left a note that led me to this place.” “Imagine talking to your brother,” Bumblebee snickered. Bulkhead stifled a laugh, trying not to wake the four Cybertronians recharging down the hall. “I felt as though… something was calling me here… Mafuyu…”

“...The Strangling Ritual? That doesn’t sound very fun...” “What are ya talkin’ about? It sounds festive!”

As Bee played through the first night, Bulkhead– despite his fear– could feel a recharge ghosting his system.

“Haha! Bulky, did you see…! Oh,” Bumblebee noticed his sparkmate had fallen into recharge. Smiling fondly, the minibot snuggled into Bulkhead’s front and wrapped the blanket tighter around them before continuing his game.

Chapter Text

Prowl swiped at the screen of the docupad in his servos. The cyberninja sat cross-legged with his backplates to an organic tree. Not many humans were awake this early in the solarcycle, so the motorcycle was free to lounge about in the forest. Not only that, but he was able to lounge about in the forest with his favourite person .

Lugnut shifted uncomfortably on the grass, unused to the feeling of morning dew against his plating. Prowl grinned imperceptibly. All five optics narrowing at the grass, the green and purple mech huffed with indignation. “It’s not that bad. I’m sitting here with you, remember?” Prowl glanced at the picture displayed on the docupad before smiling up at his sparkmate. “Well, not all of us have flat afts ,” Lugnut grumbled. “What are you even reading?” “It’s an educational text about the native avifauna of Earth. Rafael had it copied into a docupad so I could comfortably read it,” the Autobot explained. “That little squishy that hangs around the bug– eugh, Bumblebee ?”

“That’s the one,” Prowl shifted his attention back to the docupad. Lugnut leaned over his shoulder pauldron, careful not to crush the much smaller mech. “Have you read anything recently?” The question caught the Decepticon off guard. “Um… I’ve been re-reading Steelvine’s works, but not anything new , if that’s what you meant,” the brawler shrugged and leaned back. Prowl raised an optic ridge. “Never thought you’d be into the classics. I’m not complaining, though,” the Autobot swiped the screen again— flipping pages, as Raf would’ve said. A picture of a strange bird with a long neck, beak, and legs took up most of the screen.

“Oh my Unicron what the frag is that?!” Lugnut jumped back as if the offending creature would leap out of the screen and attack him. “It’s a great blue heron. They’re pescatarians, apparently…” Prowl muttered, scanning the subtitles below the image. “Heron? Like the series?” “Yes, I believe so. I never finished it, so I’m uncertain—“

“ You never finished the Heron series? ” Lugnut was surprised. “It’s a literary classic ! Where did you leave off? Do you even remember what happened?!” “I didn’t expect you to be so offended,” Prowl interrupted the Constructicon’s rant. “I wouldn’t say offended , more like… puzzled. Aggressively puzzled. Perturbed , even,” The Decepticon corrected his sparkmate. “But, seriously, where did you leave off?” “I don’t remember,” Prowl admitted. Lugnut huffed. “The next time we see each other, I’m lending you my copies of the first three instalments,” the bomber jet flopped down on the ground, causing the tree that Prowl was sitting against to unceremoniously drop dead leaves onto him. Lugnut snickered.

Chapter Text

TW: Memory loss, forgotten trauma

“Prowl? Can I… can I talk about something?”

The uncharacteristically vulnerable tone took the cyberninja by surprise, and it took a few nanokliks to register that Bee had called him “Prowl” instead of “Prowler.” “Of course, Honeybee. What’s going on in that beautiful processor of yours?” The black and gold mech patted the ground in front of him invitingly. Bumblebee sat on his kneejoints and fiddled with his servos before settling them in his lap. “I– um– I just… I– I’ve never really talked about this with anybot other than Ratchet and Optimus, but I thought it would be important for you to– to know – to be aware of… it ,” the smaller mech stumbled over his words, voicebox cycling again and again. Prowl waited patiently for Bee to gather his thoughts.

“I– I have something called dissociative amnesia. It’s pretty localised, not too serious, I haven't– I can remember my designation and a couple points from my sparkhood, but I… Prowl, I don’t…” Bumblebee audibly reset his vocalizer fully before continuing, “Prowl, I can’t remember my creators . Or my friends, or– I don’t know where I lived before joining the Autobots.”

Prowl blinked. Dissociative amnesia. He’d heard of it before. “It’s, um… Ratchet thinks it’s a trauma response to some form of repeated trauma that happened during sparkhood, but there’s– well, that’s not true, I am abnormally short, and that could be a sign of malnutrition, but it’s unlikely , and, like, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you this before, but–” “Bumblebee,” Prowl held up a servo, silencing his sparkmate. Bee looked down at the floor between them, digits picking at transformation seams on his upper stabilisers. The cyberninja took a few nanokliks before saying, “Three questions: what can be done about it, how can I help, and are there certain topics or actions I should avoid?”

“Umm, well… Ratchet said that he could put in a request for me to be discharged so I can go to therapy, but that’s… I don’t want that. It doesn’t really affect my ability to function, anyway, so the Magnus would most likely say no. I’m… I don’t know. I don’t know yet. I hate being called cute, but you already knew that…” Bumblebee refused to make eye contact with his sparkmate. The taller mech shifted onto his kneejoints, uncrossing his stabilisers so he could cautiously shuffle closer to his sparkmate. Bumblebee looked up at him through his shutters. Prowl carefully wrapped his arms around Bee’s helm and cradled him close. “Is this okay?” “...Yeah.”

The two sat there for a while, the bright yellow mini slumping into his lover’s arms. One of Prowl’s arms wrapped around his waist while the other stayed loose around Bee’s helm. Bumblebee’s faceplates pressed against the cyberninja’s neck cables. Prowl occasionally looked down and pressed a kiss to the top of his helm, right in between his sensory horns. With a sigh, Prowl laid the side of his helm against Bumblebee’s and offlined his optics. Bee muttered an apology. He mistook Prowl’s contentment for annoyance. “We can stay here as long as you need, Honeybee. I’ll be right here,” Prowl soothed his lover.

And he wasn’t lying. The two sat there for what felt like joors, nothing but soft words and gentle kisses exchanged. Eventually, Bee fell into recharge, soft snores vibrating against the ninja’s neck.

Prowl smiled and nuzzled Bee’s helm before falling into recharge himself.

Chapter Text

Breakdown pulled Knock Out closer to his chassis, trapping the shiny red mech in his arms. The shiny mech chuckled and let himself be cuddled. “The work day doesn’t start until Starscream gets beaten,” Breakdown muttered against his assistant’s audial. “Words to live by,” Knock Out shifted in Breakdown’s grasp, turning around to face his spouse. Breakdown hadn't even onlined his optics yet. The smaller mech wiggled his arm free and traced the side of Breakdown’s face, sighing in content when the CMO’s engine rumbled against his frame.

“You were twitchin’ a lot last night,” Breakdown’s voice was gravelly with recharge. “I was dreaming.” “What about?” Breakdown’s optics finally online, dim yellow lenses casting a slight glow on his lover’s cloud-white faceplates. “Oh, it was sappy. Not sure you’d want to hear it,” the assistant shrugged against the berth, cuddling closer into Breakdown’s front. “Knocks, you know I love sappy stuff,” the CMO unwrapped his arms and playfully shoved Knock Out away with a surprising amount of strength, considering the mech had just woken up. The coverings followed the lithe mech, only catching on the edges of Breakdown’s bigger frame. The medic chuckled apologetically and pulled the covers– and subsequently, Knock Out– back into place.

“Okay, fine … I had a dream that we were living in Kaon together after the war, and everything was rebuilt, and we were just… living . And we were happy. We had that cosmetics parlour we’ve always talked about having, but I don’t remember what it was called– somethin’ ‘bout luck,” Knockout shuffled back into his warm spot next to his even warmer sparkmate. “Aww!” Breakdown’s dorky smile made the ruby red mech’s spark flutter. Knock Out grinned happily and asked, “What did you dream about?”

“Oh, nothin’ special. I don’t really remember what it was,” the dark blue CMO wrapped an arm around his conjux loosely, helping the shiny mech nuzzle back into his previous spot before pressing a kiss to his forehelm and saying, “But I hope your dream comes true one cycle.”

“Don’t we all?”

Chapter Text

Shockwave stumbled down the stairs, his singular red optic flickering with recharge. “Good mornin’, Shocky!” Bumblebee chirped. The minibot, unlike his conjux, was well awake. He had been for the past two joors. The dark purple mech mumbled his greetings and made his way to Bee. “Your lunch is on the table next to the door and there’s a cube of hot oil on the table,” the bright yellow mech grinned as Shockwave wrapped his lanky arms around them, slowing down the mini’s progress on their own lunch. “Can I bond with you a second time? …Is that possible?” “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Bumblebee shifted in the ex-Decepticon’s arms to plant a few kisses onto his conjux’s helm.

If he had derma plating, he would kiss Bee back.

Instead, Shockwave’s servos wandered up Bee’s back and rubbed lovingly at the minibot’s doorwings. Bumblebee shuddered and his engine purred with content. After a few kliks of gentle kisses and caresses, Bumblebee pulled away and said, “Hey now, neither of us want to be late to work, do we? Go refuel before your oil gets cold.”

The morning went by quickly for Shockwave. The bakery wasn’t terribly busy on the weekdays, save for the businessmechs grabbing donuts for the office and the occasional guardian dropping by before school to treat their sparklings. Once he announced lunch break, most of his employees filtered out the bakery to go refuel.

Shockwave sat in the break room with a few of his workers. Opening his lunchbox, his optic was immediately drawn to a small notepad stuck in the pocket.

Hi! ♡

I just wanted to let you know that I love you and that I hope you have a good cycle today! ♡♡♡

Oh, also, it’s your turn to get groceries.

♡♡ Love you!!!! ♡♡

♡ ~ Bee

If he had derma plating, he’d smile.

Chapter Text

After the Decepticons' unpleasant loss to the Autobots, the heavy influx of battered soldiers was to be expected. Breakdown and his assistant worked incessantly and methodically, making sure that nobot under their care went offline. The kliks felt like solarcycles as the horde of Vehicons slowly filtered out of the MedBay until only the two medics remained.

Breakdown flopped down into his chair and exvented in relief. “Now that was a shift ,” the aegean blue mech shuttered his optics. “You’re tellin’ me,” Knockout mused before catching sight of himself in a wall-mounted mirror. Paint transfers and small indentations were scattered across his normally flawless frame. The not-so-red mech cringed at the sight and looked over at his conjux to see if he was in a similar condition. Feeling Knock Out’s woe through their bond, Breakdown reassured him, “Don’t worry, we’ll fix all this after work.” “Why not now ?” Of course the red mech, who was so notoriously fastidious about his appearance, was already heading towards his and his lover’s private washracks.

It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Breakdown to come with him. Knock Out shook his touch-up paint and frowned at the lack of noise. “Slag, I’m gonna have to replace this soon. Do ya think I can convince Swindle to get me some?” “Not without a pretty credit, ya won’t,” the larger medic huffed. Breakdown sat on the edge of the washtub, covering a sizable paint transfer on his stabiliser with grey paint. His smaller, thinner conjux finally sat downon the edge next to him and started to perfect his own frame. It was now that the blue mech realised that there was a decent-sized dent high up on his partner’s backplates.

Frowning, Breakdown reached out and lightly grazed the spot. Knock Out hissed and froze, servo clutching a small paintbrush way too tight. Breakdown muttered a few apologies and retracted his servo. “I’ll fix that when you’re done,” the mech promised. “Sounds like a plan,” Any pain or discomfort was forgotten as Knock Out chuckled and loosened his hold on the brush.

Breakdown finished his own paint job much faster than his perfectionist conjux did, but stayed seated and waited for Knock Out to finish. “Y’know, you could fix your own dents first,” the crimson mech commented. “I wanna fix the dent on your back, first. It’ll only hurt worse if it goes unattended.” “I don’t think a few kliks without treatment will affect my overall health, lover bot ,” Knock Out teased his worried partner. “I’d rather not risk it. Who else is gonna sit on the counter and look pretty while I fix up Starscream?” Breakdown smiled when Knock Out rolled his optics at him.

The moment his assistant was finished with his paint job, Breakdown ( gently ) picked Knock Out up and took him to a medical berth. Fiery orange servos were quick to work, producing a small torch from his subspace. Knock Out rolled over onto his abdomen without hesitation. Even though they did this often– fixing dents and transfers that were out of their respective reaches– the sign of trust made Breakdown’s spark throb with emotion. The medic leaned down and kissed Knockout between his helm’s ridges before beginning to work on the minor damage.

Knock Out’s engine purred as the uncomfortable pressure on his spinal strut began to diminish. The warmth of the flame only added to his relief. The circuits in his upper back relaxed under his lover’s care, allowing Breakdown to work the dent out faster. His engine rose in volume and his spark stuttered when Breakdown caressed the middle of his back strut, large digits rubbing the now untensed wires and seams. His conjux’s servo didn’t pull back when the dent suddenly popped back into place, or when the smaller medic groaned at the sensation .Breakdown presumably put the torch away and wrapped his arms around his conjux as he planted butterfly kisses on the newly repaired plating.

It took a klik for Knock Out to silence his engine– no thanks to Breakdown , might he add! Much to the crimson mech’s dismay, Breakdown let go of him and stood back up. Knock Out sat up on his kneejoints and, noticing the nicks and dings on his conjux’s frame, tutted. “Gimme that torch. I’ve got to return the favour somehow.” “Will do, dollface,” the larger mech gave Knock Out a quick peck before swapping places with him on the medical berth.

Chapter Text

Maybe those thirteen crates of engex last night was a bad idea.

That was the first thing Lugnut thought when his processor onlined. His HUD buzzed with strange, illegible pop-ups. Every sensor in his frame was buzzing, making his processor lag painfully. The fighter groaned when a particularly sharp pain stabbed his processor and curled up under the coverings. The sound of something being set on the nightstand grabbed his attention. The berth shifted as somebot sat next to him. A servo, gentle as an organic breeze, caressed Lugnut’s helm. “Are jou avake, Süßer?” Blitzwing spoke softly. Lugnut hummed in response as his vocaliser was too busy resetting for him to verbally respond.

“I’ve brought jou some zings to help,” the triple changer whispered. Lugnut onlined his main optic, deciding to leave the other four off for now. The room was dark, but Blitzwing’s mismatched red optics cut through the shadows. Anybot else would’ve found the sight terrifying, but Lugnut found it slightly endearing. The red lenses cast defining shadows onto Icy’s impassive faceplate. “I got jour morning rations, und I snatched zome Schmerzmittel from ze MedBay,” Blitzwing shifted on the berth and picked something up of the nightstand. The mech offered the item to Lugnut, who onlined his innermost set of optics to try and see what the object was.

After coming to the conclusion that Blitzwing had an energon cube, the bomber jet slowly sat up and took the cube from his sparkmate. His movements were sluggish, but Blitzwing waited patiently for him to finish his cube before saying, “Do jou veel better? I mixed ze medicine into ze energon vor jour convenience.” Lugnut was surprised. “Really? I didn’t notice,” he rasped, static lining his words. Blitzwing’s unnatural smile was highlighted by his optics. “Gut, sehr gut. Let me take zat for jou…” “Are you leav–?” The purple and green mech’s vocaliser cut out before he could finish his sentence, but Blitzwing seemed to understand. The beige mech took the empty cube and set it aside before slipping under the covers with Lugnut, who had laid back down.

Whirr.

“Aww, Knuddelbӓr!” Random giggled quietly as he threw his arms around Lugnut. The bomber jet didn’t pull away, but instead pushed back against his sparkmate. Another whirr against Lugnut’s audial made him groan. “Sorry…” Blitzwing pressed apologetic kisses onto Lugnut’s hunched back. The unbelievably warm frame against his own was enough to make Lugnut’s engine hum in delight.

Hothead always gave the best cuddles.

They stayed like this for a while, only occasionally interrupted by an engine (or two) and Blitzwing swapping faces, which was usually followed by muttered apologies and butterfly kisses. Lugnut could feel himself drifting off into recharge as Blitzwing’s frame pressed closer to him. Eventually, he couldn’t ward it off any longer and fell into stasis.

When Lugnut onlined again, he felt much better. The pop-ups on his HUD made sense and his systems were rebooting one-by-one. Blitzwing wasn’t there anymore– oh my Unicron Blitzwing was gone. Lugnut shot up, all five optics snapping open and scanning the room before they fell on a strange shape beside the berth. Leaning over, Lugnut blinked. Then, he laughed. Blitzwing was splayed out on the ground between the berth and nightstand, snoring as if nothing had happened. Lugnut threw the covers off the berth and onto his sparkmate. He’d leave the rest to Blitzwing once the triple changer woke up.

Chapter Text

“By the Thirteen, Bee, what the– how did you know?!”

Barricade was silenced by a small yellow servo clasping gently against his intake. “I have my ways,” the yellow minibot smiled innocently before removing his servo from his conjux’s intake and leading them to the table, “Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

The officer’s stabilisers moved without their processor noticing, and suddenly, Barricade was sitting at the table directly across from his spouse. The blue-and-white mech looked down at his plate and wondered just how long Bumblebee had been planning this. Cybertronians didn’t commonly eat solids, save for special occasions or medicinal purposes— especially after the war. Solid materials were just hard to come by during the reconstruction of Cybertron, it was a wonder Bumblebee had cooked enough for both of them.

The meal itself consisted of a slab of raw nickel cut bigger than his servo and lots of celestite chunks on the side; both Cade’s favourite metal and crystal, respectively. For a moment, the officer wondered how Bee got his servos on either of the materials, but the more pressing questions were how did he know? and why haven’t I tried a bite yet?

Watching Barricade’s faceplate light up as he ate made Bee’s spark do loop-de-loops in his chassis. Bumblebee bit into his own nickel, content. Their EM fields mingled, sharing happiness and contentment as they ate.

Chapter Text

Bumblebee: Ben, “Honeybee,” “Bee”

Shockwave: Sebastian, “Sebby”

Sebastian hummed an old love song as he put the freshly-baked muffins on the tray next to the stove. The baker poured two cups of coffee and set them on the tray as well, making sure his husband’s cup was perfect by taking a small sip. The raven-haired man stopped humming for a minute to listen to the quiet house. Without the noise, he could hear Ben’s soft snores from their bedroom.

It felt like Sebastian blinked and was suddenly in front of their shared bedroom’s door, balancing the tray in one hand while opening the oak door with the other. The dim room was lit by a single ray of early sun which cascaded across the bed and highlighted Honeybee’s sleeping form. Sebastian’s blonde husband stirred as he approached and carefully climbed onto the bed. Ben flipped onto his back and squinted at his husband. “Why’re you up so early, Sebby?” the smaller man sniffed and added, “And what’s that smell?” “I made muffins,” the pale baker shifted and rested the tray on his lap. Ben sat up on his elbows and smiled. “Aww, Sebby,” the lithe man cooed.

They stayed in bed together even after their meal was finished. Ben had managed to coerce Sebastian back under the covers and had his leg draped over his lanky husband’s side. Sebastian’s arms wrapped around his spouse’s sun-kissed torso and pressed soft kisses onto his face. “Honeybee… we need to get moving…” “Just a few more minutes… please?” Bright blue eyes bore into Sebastian’s one brown eye pleadingly. They’d been at this for hours. Why would he say no now?

Chapter Text

He was supposed to be home three joors ago.

Ratchet plopped down on the couch and grumbled to himself, a habit he’d picked up from the centuries he spent in the medical field. “Stupid mech, losin’ track o’ time,” the medic glared at the door as if it’d summon his conjux. When it didn’t work, the grumpy mech commed him.

[[ Optimus. ]]

[[ Look, I know, I’m sorry, but Sent— ]]

[[ Sentinel can eat scrap metal and offline!— ]]

[[ Ratchet! ]]

[[ —Get your aft home, now! No buts. ]]

[[ Ratch, sweetspark, just a little longer, I promise… ]]

[[ Now. ]]

[[ Sweet Solus Prime, fine. I’m on my way home now. ]]

[[ Good. See ya soon, love. ]]

[[ Love you, too ]]

Ratchet huffed and shut down his comm link. Even after the war, Optimus still worked himself to the wire. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so  annoying. The red and white medic shifted on the sofa, laying down and flinging his stabilisers over the side of the seat. The doctor side of him protested, saying that this posture would wreak havoc on his spinal struts, but the rest of him didn’t care. Shuttering his optics, he waited for Optimus to get home…

…And onlined in berth.

Optimus had an arm wrapped around his windshield, the other underneath the medic’s helm. His chronometer said it was nowhere near time to get up. The Prime pulled Ratchet closer in recharge, nuzzling against his red back plate. Ratchet huffed and rearranged himself under the coverings. His conjux’s engine purred when the medic turned in his grip to face him. Optimus’s optics were heavily shuttered, but he was online. “Go to recharge, stupid,” Ratchet shuffled closer and stuck his faceplate into the Prime’s chassis. Optimus simply chuckled and pulled him closer, enjoying his conjux’s warmth.

Chapter Text

There was nothing wrong with the picture, per se, but the fact it was on his lord’s work desk was… peculiar.

Starscream hadn’t ever paid attention to his lord’s desk unless there was something left there, but his optic ridge furrowed as he tried to remember when this picture showed up. When did Megatron get this picture of his Third-in-Command? Why did he have the picture on his desk? And why didn’t Megatron have a picture of him on his desk, as well? Was Lord Megatron playing favourites? Starscream huffed and mumbled, “How typical of him.” “How typical of who?” Starscream jumped about 4 metres into the air with a screech. “My Lord!” The monochromatic flyer spun around defensively.

Megatron merely chuckled, mildly amused by his SIC’s reaction. The smaller mech stumbled over his words before shoving an accusatory digit into the warlord’s chassis. “You’ve been playin’ favourites.” Megatron’s growing laugh just made Starscream angrier as he added, “It’s Soundwave!” At that, the grey mech threw his helm back and laughed straight from his spark. His chassis shook from the action. Starscream narrowed his optics and hissed, “Why are you laughing?!”

Lord Megatron’s fit lasted for nearly half a joor. The warlord had sat down in his chair to keep himself from falling to the ground. Starscream crossed his arms and watched, annoyed by his leader’s mirth. “Starscream, out of all the gossip, you didn’t— you didn’t know?! ” Megatron’s plating shook as he attempted to stop the onslaught of laughter. A massive servo gripped onto the edge of his desk while the other dangled between his stabilisers. “Didn’t know what?” Starscream snapped.

“Soundwave: Megatron’s conjux.”

Again, Starscream jumped and shrieked. “Unicron’s Will! Would you two stop sneaking up on me?!” He paused before realising what Soundwave had said. “Wait, what? ” “Megatron: My conjux,” Megatron’s TIC glided past the SIC towards his conjux. Starscream blinked dumbly before saying, “But— but that’s— why’re you the third-in-command?!” “Megatron: Wanted Soundwave safe. Soundwave: Wanted to be near Megatron. Current position: Compromise,” Soundwave picked the picture off of Megatron’s desk. Turning the frame over in his servos gingerly, he added, “Megatron: Sentimental.”

Megatron chuckled and nodded while Starscream looked between the elegant Communications Officer and the brutish Decepticon warlord, intake agape. Soundwave set the picture back down and moved towards the slim white and grey mech with an unnatural gracefulness. “Starscream: Has reports to finish.” Starscream huffed and muttered, “You have reports to finish, too.” The TIC and Decepticon leader stared at him impassively. The seeker huffed and stomped off. “Soundwave: Has work.” “Oh, forget the work. I’ll put it on Starscream’s agenda for tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

“How can food be… spooky?”

Bumblebee laughed before answering. “We’re supposed to decorate the food, Shockey! Like, give the rosies some oil-black icing or make a few edible ghosts.” Shockwave ohh’d and looked at the list of food. “Looks like we’re bringing rosies and rust rods… how the Pitt—? “Ew, rust rods… I’ll think of somethin’ to make ‘em fit the theme. You just worry ‘bout bakin’, Shockey,” Bee wrapped his arms around his conjux’s stabilisers and strode to the cooling unit.

Whipping up two batches of rosies and rust rods was as easy as snapping his digits. The familiar trays of silvery cubes and flaky sticks gave the seeker an unusual sense of nostalgia. Shockwave turned to his partner, who was vigorously mixing coloured dye into fluffy frosting. “Try not to make a mess, Honeybee,” the seeker watched as a few flecks of the spread landed on his conjux’s faceplate. Bumblebee huffed and slowed down his frantic mixing to a gentler pace. Shockwave’s optic brightened, pleased. “I’m thinkin’ bodily-energon blue frosting and microchips for the rosies, ‘cause y’know, what’s spookier than death? And for the rust rods, I can stain them with the dye and sharpen one o’ the ends for a weapon effect. Whaddya think?” Bumblebee set the bowl down and grabbed the now cool batch of the silvery treats and a few other materials. Shockwave hummed in thought before saying, “I think that’s perfect.”

The bright yellow minibot grinned and began to pipe bright blue frosting onto the rosies, occasionally stopping to make sure he hadn’t messed up. Shockwave watched in silence and noted how focused his conjux was. Small servos moved confidently, though the appendages shook imperceptibly due to his grip on the piping utensil. “Would you grab the bag of microchips from the cabinet? I forgot to grab them,” Bumblebee’s voice was uncharacteristically tender. “Yes, dear,” The dark purple mech turned and began to forage through the kitchen cabinets for the small emerald green bag.

While his conjux fetched the toppings for him, Bee turned his attention to the rust rods. Sharpening them was going to be a pain in the aft. Fortunately– or unfortunately, take your pick– Bumblebee wasn’t one to give up so easily.

Chapter Text

When Bumblebee and Bulkhead trudged tired lying into their habsuite and crashed on the couch together, it was pretty obvious that neither of them were cooking that night.

Bulkhead wrapped a forest green arm around his conjux and groaned. Bumblebee planted his kneejoints on either side of the Constructicon and sighed into his tinted windshield. Smaller yellow arms reached up and around Bulkhead's helm, nimble digits lazily toying with the back of his neck cables. The guard rumbled in appreciation and returned the lieutenant's affection by oh-so-carefully tracing his thick digits around the hinges of Bee's doorwings.

"You wanna order takeout?" The bright yellow minibot asked, not looking up from the foggy glass. Bulkhead hummed and shuttered his optics as well. "Yeah, sure. Let's get Maccadam's. Heard they opened a delivery function yesterday." "For real? Can you call them and order?” “Umm… yeah, sure, gimme a klik,” Bulkhead wiggled his arm out from between the back of the couch and his own frame to produce a handheld console from his subspace. Bumblebee pushed himself up to help the bigger mech access the compartment. “Whaddya want? The usual?” “Yeah,” Bumblebee offlined his optics and squeezed himself tight against Bulkhead’s frame, as if the Wrecker would disappear if he let go. The bear hug didn’t phase Bulkhead. This was something they’ve done since boot camp . Primus, that brought back memories. The green mech wondered if anybot ever found out about him and Bee’s “rendezvous” to the races, where Bumblebee first opened up about his past.

But now wasn’t the time for reminiscing– actually, wait, yeah, it was. With Bee cuddled up against his chassis, Bulkhead mindlessly ordered their dinner while remembering all that was said that night. He had almost– no, he did purge after the minibot had told him of his sparkhood. After that cycle, the Constructicon became very protective of his little buddy, getting into arguments and even a few fights to defend the bright yellow minibot. Sometimes, he still did. The Constructicon recalled a specific sparring assignment with Ironhide after the bright orange mech had laid his servos on Bumblebee with an unremorseful fondness. Not that he would ever admit it, but even after being punished for breaking several sparring rules, Bulkhead still took pride in the fact that Ironhide wouldn’t hurt Bee again.

Snapping out of his trance, Bulkhead noticed that Bumblebee had dozed off. The bright yellow minibot still held him in a death grip, sure, but the tranquil vents and twitching doorwings were evidence that the minibot was in recharge. Bulkhead sighed and set his console down in favour of caressing his conjux’s backplates. When the food got here, Bulkhead would have to wake Bumblebee up; but for now, the Wrecker relished in his spouse’s peaceful company.

Chapter Text

Megatron awoke with a start. Ravage had jumped up on his chassis and was now running around on the berth while the warlord’s conjux tried to catch him. “Ravage: It’s cold. The coat: Will keep you warm.” “I don’t need a stupid coat!” The cassette hissed as he jumped under the berth coverings to get away from his master. Megatron shuddered at the feeling of the cassette’s cold frame against his own. “Ravage: Come here. When: Now,” Soundwave tore the dark grey covering off of the berth, leaving his dazed conjux and hostile cat susceptible to the frigid air. The warlord groaned and curled in on himself in an attempt to stay warm. Soundwave sent him an apologetic ping over their bond and threw the coverings back over him.

Megatron accepted his spouse’s apology but at up in their shared berth to see what was going on. Soundwave held a black cloth in his servos and held Ravage in a few of his tentacles. The cassette master put the black fabric around Ravage’s frame, much to the feline’s protest, and set him down at the foot of the berth. “My apologies, Megatron. Ravage: Wants to die of hypothermia.” Megatron laughed and crossed his legs under the messy covers. Ravage grumbled and stalked towards the cat tree on the opposite wall. “Oh, it’s alright. Come here, the workday doesn’t start for another joor,” Megatron lifted the covers invitingly. Soundwave displayed a happy emoticon on his visor and slid gracefully under the coverings.

Chapter Text

Starscream smiled up at his sparkmate. The slim seeker swirled his highgrade in one servo while the other rested on his chin plates, listening intently to Skyfire talk. If it was anybot else, the red and blue Decepticon would’ve been interrupting constantly, but the scientist’s voice was just so endearing to the seeker that he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt the flow of the conversation. The hangar lights cast dim crimson rays on the two mech’s plating, causing their respective frames to glisten under the red bulbs. Skyfire looked down at Starscream lovingly as he took a sip of his own highgrade. “Thank you for planning this, really. Work’s been incredibly stressful, and I’m sure yours has been as well,” the scientist’s free servo reached out and tenderly caressed the Air Commander’s black helm.

Starscream leaned into his sparkmate’s touch, finials twitching happily. “Don’t mention it, Sky. I’m just glad Shockwave let me steal you from the lab,” the commander beamed up at his lover, sharp denta highlighted by the hazy light. Skyfire shuffled forward on his kneejoints, careful not to spill his drink and his servo slipped down to Starscream’s chin plates and urged the seeker to lean up. The scientist met him halfway with a kiss; it was swift and tender, serving just as a simple reminder of what they felt like when they were united. Their respective jobs had kept them from being in the same room for longer than half a joor– there wasn’t much time for them to reconnect. Now, Starscream has Skyfire all to himself, and vice versa.

Starscream leaned back up, situated on his own joints to reach his tall sparkmate, and kissed Skyfire again. It was just as sweet and gentle as the first was, and Skyfire was taking his highgrade from him so Starscream could move closer to his lover. Skyfire broke the kiss and leaned down, pressing their forehelms together and gazing into Starscream’s dimmed ruby optics. The Air Commander did the same for the white seeker, looking into the lapis pools that were trained on him and him alone. “I feel like I don’t say it enough, but I love you so much, Screamer,” the alabaster seeker spoke sincerely. The smaller mech’s engine rumbled as he responded, “I know, Sky. I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

He’d gone and done it again. Optimus laid in a medical berth with an IV of coolant connected to his arm with his frame littered with welds while his lover scolded him. Ratchet sat next to the berth with his helm in his servos as he spoke, “Primus, Optimus, why do you do this to yourself?” The Prime swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t— If I hadn’t taken the hit, the others… they wouldn’t be here” Optimus mumbled. “You and your nobility…” The ambulance massaged his temples, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Bee and Bulkhead are alright, but you’ve got to give up this self-sacrificing junk. We need you. I need you.”

“The sentiment is shared,” Optimus smiled up at his conjux. Ratchet huffed and looked away in a futile attempt to hide his flustered expression, but the Prime could still sense it over their bond. A pop-up arrived on Optimus’s HUD, telling him to recharge so his self-repair could work on the wounds. Ratchet, sensing his conjux’s fatigue, turned back to him. “Optimus, go to recharge. Doctor’s orders.” Just as the blue and red mech went to protest, a grey servo clamped over his intake, “Doctor’s. Orders,” Ratchet persisted. Optimus sighed and offlined his optics. Arguing with Ratchet was about as effective as trying to pick glitter off of one’s frame.

Ratchet chuckled at the thought the Prime sent over their bond. “We wouldn’t have to argue if you’d do what you’re told,” the medic stated. They bickered over their bond until Optimus fell into stasis, an automatic firewall blocking Ratchet out of his conjux’s dreams. With a sigh, the medic plopped down in the chair next to his bonded and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

To say Shockwave was lost was an understatement. He thought that an Odestian market would be no different then, say, a Kaonian market. He was so, so very wrong. The market spanned a 38 metre by 20 metre rectangle on the outskirts of Kaon. Stalls Condensation beaded and slipped over his plating. Whenever the condensation met his protoflesh, it evaporated into steam almost immediately. “Honeybee, where are you?” He sent a message to Bumblebee over their bond. The minibot responded quickly. “I’m at the jade stand. Are you lost?” The sound of a mech chattering about prices faded in and out in the background of his message. Shockwave sighed and glanced at the stalls near him. A young, pastel green femme had her back turned to him, stacking some kind of exotic gem-fruit. The dark blue shell of the fruits glistened in the hot afternoon sun. The seeker shifted the basket of goodies from one arm to the other.

“I’m near this stand with dark blue gem-fruits…” “Oh, that’s Keys’ stand! Those fruits are the best thing ever, they’re somewhere on the list. Tell ‘er Bee said hi!” Bumblebee chirped over their bond. Shockwave looked at the small femme and pulled the grocery list out of his subspace. The only thing he didn't have already was listed as “Cave Yijube ((ONLY if Keys is there!!!!!))” With a sigh, Shockwave approached Keys’ stand. “Um… are you Keys?” The ex-Decepticon asked. The green femme turned around and peered cautiously at Shockwave. “Yes, I’m her. C-can I help you?” She slightly withered under Shockwave’s gaze, but didn’t run. She couldn’t be in her third frame yet, but was still running her stand in the face of a potential threat. “My conjux, Bee, wanted… “cave yijube” and said I could get it from you.” At the mention of Bumblebee, Keys perked up.

“Oh! You must be Shockwave! Bumblebee’s told me all about ya! How many’d he want?” Keys grabbed a fruit from the makeshift shelf behind her and weighed it in her servos. “Give me a second… Bee, how many do you want?” “Three. And ask her to crack them for you.” “Three, and something about cracking them for us…” Shockwave watched in wonder as the young femme (who couldn’t be older than 14) reached under the counter and grabbed a large, blunt knife. A large yijube was placed on the counter and crushed under the side of the knife, cracking the outermost layer of the fruit. Pale, translucent juice dribbled out of the cracks and stained the surface underneath it.

Keys chose a crack and inserted the tip of the knife. Using her free servo to hold the cave yijube still, she pried the shell open and revealed the slimy pale flesh. A disposable cube was filled with some of the excess juice and offered to Shockwave. “Free taste? It’s pretty obvious ya’ve neva had this befo’.” Shockwave took the cube and thanked the femme; anything to off put the sweltering heat. Lifting the cube to his hidden derma, Shockwave watched Keys crack open another fruit. The juice met his glossa. His taste sensors exploded with the tangy, piquant yijube juice. The sweet liquid felt cool in his tanks, helping lower his frame temperature.

“Cave yijube only grows in humid underground areas,” Keys explained, opening the third yijube, “The juice inside them is naturally cooling to keep the flesh from drying out.” “Bee said something about new regulations on precipitation checks,” Shockwave mentioned idly. “A couple centuries too late, but I’m sure the yijube fruits would appreciate it,” Keys beamed and offered the packaged fruits to the seeker. “Four credits, forty-four shanix,” the femme put the knife away under the counter and looked up at the purple mech expectantly. Shockwave set the now empty cube down and pulled five credits out of his subspace. “Here. I’ll tell Bumblebee you said hello.” Keys smiled wider and took the credits.

It didn’t take long to find Bumblebee; the minibot had gone looking for him after he said he found the yijube stand. “Awesome!” Bumblebee took the yijube from Shockwave, “I’ll have to show you how to make glass yijube soon!” Bee led Shockwave out of the Odestian market and back to their pod. “It’s super good. You cut the yijube into strips and dry them; the longer they dry, the more flavorful they are! And once they’re done drying, you put them over a flame and roast them until perfectly clear, and voila! You’re done!” The minibot’s chatter filled the otherwise silent walk back. Shockwave just smiled— or, tried to smile— and nodded.

Chapter Text

“Hey, can I ask you a super basic question?” The green Constructicon asked. Bulkhead stared up at the countless stars, listening to the soft ambience of Earth’s solarcycle and his sparkmate’s venting nearby. Bumblebee was pressed against the ex-Wrecker’s side. His thin, nimble digits traced the welds on Bulkhead’s shoulders and chassis lovingly. “Sure,” the minibot shifted against Bulkhead: the minibot was now laying across the ex-Wrecker’s stomach, servos braced on his chassis. “If you could buy or do anything without having to worry about the cost, what would you get?” “Oh, easy, I’d buy us a habsuite,” Bee answered quickly. The uncharacteristic decisiveness made Bulkhead raise an opticridge. Bee sat back up, kneeling on his kneejoints next to Bulkhead and his servos moving to brace against his own thighs. “It’d probably be two stories high with a basement, and we’d probably make it a studio of some sort. Y’know, for your paintings! And the first floor would have, like, one of those connected living spaces and food units… y’know what I’m talkin’ about?” “Yeah.”

“Oh, it’d also have big cabinets for you and little cabinets for me. I can’t reach that high and you can’t reach that low, so it works out!” Bumblebee patted his thighs happily. “Think we could have one of those canopy berths?” “ Yes! We could put wire lights in the curtain! It’d be so cool!” The Constructicon sat up and smiled at the minibot. “I’d like that,” Bulkhead pulled Bee into a tight hug, “I’d like that a lot.” The minibot continued, rambling about his dream habsuite that he shared with Bulkhead, and eventually, Bumblebee fell into recharge mid-sentence, still in Bulkhead’s arms. Smiling fondly, Bulkhead oh-so-carefully picked the bright yellow minibot up and began to amble back to base, all the while construction plans for a two-story habsuite were projected inside the ex-Wrecker’s processor.

Chapter Text

“Um… you’re early.”

Bumblebee glanced between his adoptive sires, quickly taking in their expressions. Ratchet looked like he was going to blow a gasket. Optimus, on the other servo, looked like he always did; aloof and unaffected. Grimlock sat up, still in his dino form, and still wrapped around Bumblebee. The mechanical T-Rex’s bright yellow optics were cycled to their largest setting, pure white pupils contracted to slits. His tail thumped softly against the ground. “We thought we’d surprise you,” Optimus stated, and the ghost of a smirk crossed his derma. “It would seem that we were successful.” Bee sighed and shuttered his optics, his servo coming up to his faceplates. “Indeed you were...”

A moment of silence, then Ratchet spoke. “So, who is this… creature wrapped around you?” “Ratchet!” Bumblebee hissed. The minibot went to get up, but Grimlock’s weight kept him down. Grimlock’s metallic derma lifted over his sharp denta, and his optics narrowed angrily. Ratchet folded his arms over his chassis and observed Grimlock’s aggressive reaction. Bumblebee escaped Grimlock’s hold and stood up, putting himself between the massive dinobot and his adoptive sires, “Okay, first of all, he is not a “creature,” he’s a dinobot ; secondly, this is Grimlock. He’s… he’s my sparkmate.”

Ratchet visibly flinched at the word “sparkmate.” Optimus clasped a deep grey servo over Ratchet’s intake before the medic could even think of talking. “As unexpected as this was, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Grimlock,” Optimus and Bee exchange a quiet look of understanding, then Bee gives Grimlock the same look. “…Grimlock thinks it's nice to meet you, too, Prime,” the dinobot said hesitantly.

It took a bit of time, but Bumblebee managed to convince Grimlock to go help Sideswipe with patrol, which left the lieutenant alone with his parents.

Immediately after Grimlock’s heavy pedesteps disappeared from earshot, Bee began the conversation, “Alright, I know you two had different expectations for any of my partners, but hear me out—” ““Different” is an understatement. Bee, not only is he a dinobot, he’s under your command!” Ratchet emphasises. “You were under Optimus’ command when you two started dating,” the lieutenant stated. “That’s different!” The medic snapped. The Prime looked between his bonded and their child. “I, for one, fail to see the difference,” He commented. Ratchet glared at him. “Don’t encourage this!” The medic began to bicker with his bondmate. Bumblebee sighed, somehow managing to sound both fond and tired of his adoptive fathers.

“Please, just give him a chance, Ratch,” the lieutenant pleaded. “Ugh, fine! One chance, no second chances. That’s final,” Ratchet crossed his arms and looked away with a disdainful expression. Optimus approvingly pats his bonded on the shoulder, offering Bee a warm smile. “I’m sure Grimlock is wonderful, Bee. I can’t wait to get to know him,” the Prime gestured for Bumblebee to come close before squashing both his bondmate and their son in a bear hug. “Dad!” Bumblebee laughed. “Orion!” Ratchet snapped.

Chapter Text

It started slowly. The first warning signs were his lover’s twitching frame, his irregular venting, and the fact that his faceplate had stopped cycling and was stuck on one face. Then he began talking, and that’s when Lugnut got suspicious.

Sitting up in their shared berth, the Constructicon looked down at his sparkmate cautiously. Blitzwing was still in recharge; but by the looks of it, the warmachine was having a nightmare. Icy’s derma twitched down in an unusual scowl. “…was ist passiert…” Cautiously, Lugnut reached out to his sparkmate. He shook the triple changer in an attempt to wake him, but to no avail. The mech’s arm jerked into the berth, as if trying to elbow something away. “Hast du mir nicht…?” Blitzwing’s face twitched, the icy blue metal jerking between its usual numb expression and a panicked one. Lugnut shook his sparkmate again, this time with more gusto. Still, his lover did not respond.

“Blitz?” Lugnut whispered softly, shaking Blitzwing’s shoulder pauldron a third time.

Whirr.

Blitzwing sat up with a shout, the sudden outburst a heavy indicator that it was Hothead who woke up. The triple changer heaved desperately. Lugnut’s arms were immediately wrapped around his sparkmate in an attempt to comfort him. Blitzwing tensed under his hold and whipped around defensively. The two war machines stared at each other, the sound of heavy venting filling the room. Lugnut couldn’t tell what Hothead was feeling behind his visor, but judging by the way Blitzwing suddenly fell forward into his arms, it was probably not a good feeling.

Hothead pressed his face against Lugnut’s chassis, choking back sobs from behind his visor. He clung to his lover like he’d disappear if he let go. Optic fluid that welled up in Blitzwing’s optics evaporated as they spilled, making small puffs of steam billow up from behind his visor. Lugnut wrapped his arms around Blitzwing and held the triple changer even closer. Blitzwing sniffled and crushed his scorching hot faceplate against Lugnut’s chassis.

Unsure of what to say, but still wanting to be there for his sparkmate, Lugnut held his distraught partner close. Blitzwing cried until his vocalizer was scratchy and his optic fluid— “tears,” as Lugnut had heard organics call them— ran dry. Blitzwing, panting harshly to catch his breath, relaxed into Lugnut’s arms. Whirr. Familiar cool blue faceplates turned up to look at Lugnut’s expression. “…Danke,” Icy murmured. He was exhausted. Lugnut smiled softly. “No problem, Blitz.”

They sat there for a few seconds longer before Lugnut broke the silence. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” He asked cautiously. Blitzwing shook his helm against Lugnut’s chassis, and that was the end of it. “Let’s just cuddle, okay?” Blitzwing whispered. Lugnut nodded and laid Blitzwing down next to him on the berth, still cuddling the fellow war-mech close to his chassis. They fell into recharge as soon as they settled under the covers.

Chapter Text

“Bee, please, don’t make me do stabilizer training with you.”

Barricade and Bumblebee were already in the training room. Bee just grinned up at him, a mischievous gleam in his optics. “I’m not making you do anything. You wanted to tag along with me,” the bright yellow mech skipped to the centre of the padded room. Barricade trudged behind him, dread already setting in. “It’s not too late to opt out, y’know,” Bumblebee stretched his arms over his helm, and his joints popped and snapped back into their proper places. Barricade sighed. “I know, let’s just get this over with.” “That’s the spirit! It’s not even that bad, Cade!”

It was exactly as bad as Barricade thought it would be.

Barricade laid on the padded floor, sprawled out like he’d just fallen from a 15 story building. His cooling fans were on high. Condensation slipped off his plating and evaporated almost instantly as it came into contact with his protoflesh underneath. Bumblebee bent over him, looking down at his sparkmate with a seemingly permanent smile. “You alright down there?” Bumblebee nudged the breathless officer with his pede. “Just peachy,” the officer rasped. Barricade couldn’t feel his protoflesh from the hips down, and the numbness was beginning to creep up his aft, as well. The Earth scout looking down at him shook his helm and giggled. Bumblebee himself had a light sheen of condensation, but nothing like the absolutely drenched officer on the floor that was greedily sucking up air. “Alright, we’ll take a break,” the yellow minibot waltzed away, probably going to get some water.

“Next time,” Barricade calls out tiredly, “I’m gonna make you do arms with me.”

Chapter Text

“I hope this is worth it,” Bumblebee grumbled as Prowl dragged him out of the Autobot base. A quick glance at his chronometer revealed that it was 2:28 in the morning cycle, and Bee groaned. “I was having a good dream, until, y’know, you woke me up,” the bright yellow minibot complained. Prowl said nothing in response, just pulled the stumbling scout up onto a base maintenance ladder. “It is well worth it, I assure you,” the Cyberninja waited patiently for Bee to climb up and helped him get onto the roof. “Look,” Prowl grinned and pointed up at the sky.

“What—?” The look on the yellow minibot’s face was well worth the trouble of dragging him out of berth. Stars. Millions, probably billions of them, sparkling up in a clear, deep blue sky. Having floated on a meteor for centuries, Prowl was well adjusted to the sight of distant stars and planets. But Bee grew up on Cybertron, where the smog was so thick that no matter the time, it would always be dark without the lights that constantly lit the planet. Bee had revealed he’d never seen stars before just the other day, and Prowl found the notion ridiculous.

“There’s so many! I mean, I knew there were a lot, but there’s gotta be, like, a bajillion of them! And look at the moon!” Bumblebee’s optics twinkled. Prowl looked up at the familiar spots of light and said, “I thought you’d enjoy this.” Bumblebee sprawled out on the roof, his limbs stretched in different directions while he looked up at the star-speckled sky. “Hey, what did Sari call those pattern things? Constellations?” “Yes, constellations. I know quite a few of them,” Prowl laid down next to his partner. Without turning to the cyberninja, Bumblebee asked quietly, “Could you show me them?”

Prowl pointed and dragged his finger between three stars above them. “Those three are Orion’s Belt. They’re part of a constellation called Orion the Hunter…” Prowl connected the belt of stars to a few others, making an irregular shape. “That’s supposed to be his torso, and that’s his sword over there—” “Looks more like a bow than a sword,” Bee commented. “Kinda, but it’s supposed to be his sword. Anyways, up on the right, above Orion’s sword, you can see Taurus…”

It only took Prowl two constellations and a nebula for Bumblebee to fall into recharge on him. When he noticed, Prowl was feeling quite tired himself. The ninja shifted next to his smaller sparkmate and tapped him on the shoulder. Nothing. Prowl sighed and picked up the bright yellow mini before jumping down from the roof and landing expertly outside his own room.

When Bumblebee woke up in Prowl’s berth later, he wasn’t too surprised. He was surprised, however, when he went to get up and Prowl pulled him back into the berth, the ninja’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist to keep him in place while Prowl held him.

Oh well, not like Bumblebee complained about the attention.

Chapter Text

[[INCOMING VIDEO CALL REQUEST FROM: <3]]

[[ACCEPT]] [[DECLINE]]

[[CALL ACCEPTED]]

“Hey Strongarm! How’s it hangin’?” Sideswipe had his camera angled so that Strongarm could see his face and upper frame. He was in their washroom, which made the cadet suspicious. “Sideswipe… did something happen?” “Oh, lighten up, Strong! I just wanted to show you somethin’!” Sideswipe bent under the camera and resurfaced holding a small, moving ball of black fluff. “Look at his little face!” Sideswipe coos. He holds the fluffy organism— a cyberpuppy, Strongarm realizes— to the camera. The small pup yawns, its wide, pale yellow optics squinting as it does. “Sideswipe, where did you even find that?!” Strongarm demands. “He was in a crate on the side of the road. Can we keep him? Please?!” Sideswipe holds the cute cyberpuppy next to his helm. It’s smaller than his face (and adorable), and Sideswipe’s giving his best pleading smile (which is also adorable).

Strongarm groans and leans back in her desk chair. “Sideswipe…” She groans. “Please! I’ll take him on walks every cycle and buy him toys and get him his own doggy pad and—!” “Alright! Alright, alright, we can keep the puppy,” Strongarm gave in unusually quickly. Cyberhounds were her weakness; she loved canines. “But we’re gonna have to take him to the veterinarian soon.” Sideswipe cheered and held the cyberpuppy up over his face like that monkey did to that lion cub in that animated movie Denny had shown them. Primus, that made Strongarm’s chassis ache with longing. Longing to go back to Earth. “ Raghh , you’re so cute !” Strongarm watched with a fond smile as her sparkmate kissed the little pup’s forehead, forgetting her aching. “What should we name you, huh? Fang? Hatchet? Bullet? Denny Clay Junior?” “We are not naming the hound after Denny.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Sideswipe gave Strongarm a look of mock offence. “Something that wouldn’t embarrass us when it’s called out at the vet’s office, preferably,” Strongarm sighed and opened a tab on her laptop. The cyberpuppy yipped. “Are you looking up dog names?” Sideswipe chuckled. He was now holding the black puppy securely to his chassis.

“Dustcloud, Brood, Drago, Gatekeeper—“ “You’re actually looking up dog names?!” Sideswipe cackled. Strongarm scowled at him through the camera.

[[CALL ENDED]]