Work Text:
As Will walked by the open door, he paused. In the middle of the hangar, completely silent, Sam Witwicky and Bumblebee appeared to be frozen in a very serious staring contest. The yellow scout was crouched down to the boy's level, hands resting comfortably on his knees, utterly motionless, while the normally hyperactive teenager was tense as a wire, glaring hot human murder at his impassive Camaro.
Predictably, Sam broke first. "I said I was sorry! God! Do you have to turn everything into a huge freaking drama?!" Ah, irony, Will thought.
//It's too late to apologize,// Bee's speakers crooned. //It's too late...//
"You are the most ridiculous, high-maintenance girlfriend in the history of ever!"
//I know you are, but what am I?// Bee replied with a clip of a young girl, melodious and taunting.
And there they were. The two individuals upon whom public acceptance and future Autobot-human relations would depend.
Will walked away, quietly despairing.
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