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Warning(s): G, none
She usually didn’t put this level of care into her appearance. Supposedly, it was something everyone her age went through: outbreaks of acne, hair becoming greasier than Grease Lightning, and little nuisances that came with dealing with the former. Oh, and who could forget stupidly fluctuating moods? Those were always fun!
However, that morning, none of those things really mattered. It had been a year since then. A year since she’d had that happy swim meet and had her father cajole about how she was Olympics material. Charlie touched the periphery of that photograph almost reverently in the dim light of the garage, the Smiths playing low in the background enough that they were reduced to an oblique din she didn’t really have to pay much mind to. Just something familiar so that her thoughts wouldn’t drive her completely insane.
Charlie sighed again as she began to absently card her fingers through her own hair, in just some attempt at making herself look presentable. Was it wrong that she didn’t want to go? Would Sally just let it go and let her work on the car instead, or go to Uncle Hank’s so they could just work on cars and reminiscence? God knows she wanted to.
Behind her, the familiar click and whirring of gears and parts reassembling themselves into a familiar form and shape as bright as the sun and eyes clear as California skies put something of a smile on her face, but she pretended not to hear him despite the way his armored visage encroaching in the little excuse of a mirror she was using made a smile reactionary and inevitable.
“Hey Bee,” she greeted cheerily, even if the significance of the day dampened the mood a bit. Something about Bumblebee’s presence had its way of offsetting the worst of everything negative in her life. “Otis didn’t call me, did he? He said when we’d be going.”
The autobot shook his head and earned a wan smile in response, all before it faded when she turned her back to him. “Charlie, ARE you alright? ” the rise and fall of Bee’s voices beckoned, changing tone and timbre with every phrase spoken. The autobot squatted where there was more closure, hovering over Charlie like a protective shadow. “ YOU can tell m E any -t-h-i-n-g. ”
It was nice, knowing she could. “My dad died today. We’re going to be visiting his grave today. Me, my mom, and Otis.” Not that Ron was unwilling to come, but her step-father did have work to worry about. ”...You could come, if you wanted.” It was said with hopefully lifted eyes, searching for some affirmation. She found it in the form of Bumblebee craning down and resting their brows together, Charlie smiling small into it.
“Now I just have to get my hair done. He’d always did it in pigtails before my swim meets. He was kinda bad at it, but...” Though she couldn’t bring herself to continue, she marveled when Bee’s forefinger split into several smaller appendages like forceps.
”I can HELP with that, Charlie .”
The girl in question smiled as Bee waited attentively for an answer. “Do you know how to braid?” When Bee chirped what sounded like a confused lilt, she gestured for him to look closer. “It’s...sort of like pleating hair. Basically.”
Feeling those tiny extrusions take several strands of hair, Charlie proceeded to coach him on how it was done. He always tried so hard, and she loved that about him. Even when he didn’t really have to.
“Like this?” he asked aloud while gleeful doing as she instructed, Charlie’s lips splitting out in a wide smile.
“Yeah, good going. Then do the other side, okay?”
Maybe it wasn’t exactly like how her father had done it, but--it was the way Bee did it. He was his own person, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
”...Thanks, Bee.”