Chapter Text
Bumblebee sped down the pavement, each turn on the winding road becoming more and more precarious as his speedometer rose.
He couldn’t slow down, not with the way his processor buzzed with battlefield protocol. Everything felt like a threat; every russel in the bushes, every bump under his tires. Every little thing sent him into a spiral of panic and aggression, his proximity system working overtime to detect the threat that had disappeared years ago.
What was wrong with him? He had nearly blown Megatron’s cranial chamber wide open, all because of a stupid servo on his stupid shoulder.
Rationality had been thrown out the window. As the scenery around him melted into a blur of greens and browns, Bee’s processor simply continued to work itself up.
All he could think about was escape. From what, he had no clue. All he understood was he had to escape .
Bumblebee pulled a ninety degree turn, zipping into the dirt driveway that led to the Maltos’ home. He activated his t-cog as soon as his wheels met the soil, nearly sending him spiraling to the ground when his pedes slid on the shifting dirt.
The mech could hear the distant sounds of the Malto kids and Arcee. Almost on instinct, the bot began to trudge towards the familiar voices.
As he made his way up the dirt path, the five came into view. Arcee was leaning over the four Maltos, clearly in the midst of teaching her own lesson.
The scene was so painfully mundane, it mixed with Bee’s inner presence like oil with water.
As he practically stumbled up the pathway, Arcee looked up at him, waving in greeting. The Maltos turned to follow her gaze.
“Bee!” Thrash shouted, rushing over as Twitch switched to alt-mode and zipped up to the mech.
The Terrans, quickly joined by their human siblings, began to recount their day in a cacophony of voices. The chaos whirled around Bee’s processor. His fuel tanks felt as if they were about to purge.
“Bumblebee?” Mo’s soft voice broke him out of the violent trance, “are you okay?”
The question made the Terrans stop their rambling. Turning back to their mentor, they looked over him once more.
Bee must’ve looked like just as much of a mess as he felt. The Maltos’ faces quickly morphed into concern, and the Autobot couldn’t find it in him to dispel their worries.
Instead, the exhaustions brought on by his earlier outburst finally caught up with him. His stabilizing servos began to shake, and soon enough he found himself crouching down on one knee, unable to support his own weight.
For the first time, Bee took notice of the puffs of air coming from his own vents. Irregular blasts pushed themselves out of the outlets, as his internal systems tried their best to cool down. It seemed rather futile. His processor continued to push defensive protocols, demanding a response to a threat that wasn’t there.
Suddenly, Bumblebee felt a small servo land on his knee plating. With a shudder, he suppressed the instinct to draw his blaster. He glanced towards the servo, and to the Terran attached to it; Twitch looked up at him with sunset-colored optics as wide as dinner plates.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his leg as best as her frame would allow. Soon enough, Bee felt the others follow, each embracing him the best way they could.
A servo found itself on his shoulder. But, this time, protocols didn’t work on instinct, flashes of war didn’t invade his mind, and his blaster stayed neatly tucked away against his protoform. Bee glanced up to see Arcee standing above him, her steady servo offering another comforting weight on his frame.
Slowly, slowly his cyrdaulics decompressed, his frame released the tension he hadn’t even realized it was holding, and the pressure on his helm subsided, as shadows of the past within his databanks dissipated.
The war was over, he reminded himself. He was safe. Safe within the arms of his family.