Work Text:
A silent demand for attention comes in the form of the soft clink! clink! of a finger tapping his thigh. Blitzwing stoops down to accommodate their vast differences in size and Bumblebee’s little hand slides into his own. He holds tight to it as he is led out further into the forest. Here the trees are tall, branches heavy with pine needles and leaves like a blanket far above their helms, the perfect cover for a furtively planned, interfactional rendezvous.
He doesn’t know where Bumblebee is taking him. Perhaps he means to show him something, or service him in other ways that require further cover. It could also be a trap; perhaps Bumblebee really had been tricking him all along, only prepositioning a temporary truce in order to lower his guard and gain his trust. He offers a quizzical glance but the minibot is focused on the path straight ahead.
A soft hum of flowing water soon fills Blitzwing’s audials. He steps over a cluster of boulders wrapped in moss, lifting Bumblebee up and over by his tiny servos. He then looks over and finds a river splitting their pathway in half. Ready to lift him over it so they can continue on their way, Blitzwing tugs at Bumblebee’s servos again, but he is instead met by resistance in the form of a playful swat. Quickly retracting his own servos, worried his actions had somehow offended, he makes a confused rumble.
“No, let’s wash off here,” Bumblebee says.
Chk-wirr. “Here?” Blitzwing is hesitant. “In there?”
He bends down and splashes at Blitzwing’s pede. “What, is the big bad Decepticon scared of a little water?”
Bumblebee expects a chk-wirr followed by the usual thunderous shouting slag, something like “How dare you! I am not afraid of anything, puny Autobot bug!” as he takes an offensive stance, fully intending to blast the minibot to smithereens.
(Sure, Bumblebee had been slightly fearful of that particular side of Blitzwing, but after spending a relatively short amount of time with him, he realized that the hotheaded personality chip was harmless, if only a slight nuisance, when he handled Bumblebee.)
But Blitzwing just folds his servos and pouts. “No. I just don’t see why it has to be here,” the blue face complains.
Huh, he didn’t get mad, he thinks. Maybe he’s finally warming up to me.
“What do you mean? We can’t go back to our bases looking like this.” He gestures at his own transfluid-soaked, dirt-caked belly, modesty paneling, and thighs, then to Blitzwing’s similarly grimy state. “We’re filthy!”
Bumblebee gives him no time to argue before he submerges himself in clear blue water. It’s fairly deep by minibot standards, the surface level reaching just below his shoulder-tires, and he can already feel a pleasant liquid sensation rushing into several loosened seams. He turns to Blitzwing, who is now coolly leaning against a tree — whose trunk trembles in a struggle to stay upright — stares down at him with an impressive amount of stoicity, even for the icy blue face. Although, to Bumblebee, it looks suspicious, as if he’s desperately trying and failing to hide something.
Decepticons and their secrets, he thinks with a shrug of his shoulder tires.
The faint whirr of a processor is strangely audible. Blitzwing’s internal systems are uncommonly noisier than most war frames, which Bumblebee had chalked up to a triple-changer quirk; he didn’t even want to think of the amount of energy expenditure it probably took to manage the derisory of such a helm — three separate personalities, united by one processor, fighting for dominance, urging the frame to obey their command instead of the other two.
He had never really asked Blitzwing about it despite constantly wondering how he truly felt about the triple-changer procedure, how he thought of himself, how his poor spark could possibly cope. Unfortunately, they don’t know each other well enough yet to delve into anything so personal. Bumblebee doesn’t want to scare him off by being too invasive. No matter how innocent, there is no telling if Blitzwing might grow suspicious of his intentions, as their little truce is still fresh and uncertain.
Gradually Blitzwing nears the river’s edge, peering into the water as if it’s the least riveting thing he’s ever seen, which is probably true, given that he’s a Decepticon general of unimaginable military prowess and might, although the movement looks strangely disjointed to Bumblebee, almost exaggerated, as if Blitzwing is merely performing disinterest instead of being genuinely disinterested. He has never seen him do that before. Why would he be trying to convince Bumblebee of disinterest if he was, in fact, interested?
What’s with him today? Bumblebee wonders. Is he being moody or something?
“C’mon, don't be a big baby!”
“What is a baby?”
“‘What is a baby?’” He laughs at his own poor imitation of Blitzwing’s voice, playfully swishing around, trying to entice Blitzwing further like some ill-intentioned nymph. “I’ll tell you if you join me,” he sing-songs.
Then something very strange happens: Blitzwing awkwardly puts a hand on his own cheek, and Bumblebee notices a slight tremble in the faceplate, as if it is trying to switch and being unceremoniously blocked. He then drops his servo to his side, switching to a red snarl and giving Bumblebee a what-are-you-looking-at glare, before coming to a begrudged agreement that he will in fact join Bumblebee in the river. His hulking pedes create small waves as he shuffles in, promptly sitting beside Bumblebee in an almost hilarious display of dog-like obedience. The water around them splashes over eroded segments of the outer banks, enveloping Bumblebee’s helm in a momentary tidal wave.
He places two palms on Blitzwing’s thigh and lifts himself up. He sits comfortably, pedes kicking at the water and lightly spraying Blitzwing’s chassis in the process. Bumblebee looks up at him playfully.
“Why do you gotta be so difficult all the time?”
Blitzwing absently picks up a large rock — a mere pebble in such large hands — and drops it with a small plop!
“I don’t know,” he says lamely.
Bumblebee rolls his optics. And they call him the childish one! Blitzwing is practically a moody, difficult-for-the-sake-of-being-difficult teenager!
“Well, ‘might as well get to work, then.”
Bumblebee begins rubbing at the grime on his own frame, fingers curling beneath seams and hard-to-reach apertures. He scrubs at a particularly stubborn tan paint transfer stain on his modesty panel. Blitzwing watches him boredly — although it looks similarly performative to his “disinterested” peak into the river — then mirrors his movements.
The last time they secretly met up to interface, any potential for pillow talk had been regretfully cut short when Bumblebee left in a hurry due to an urgent “Where the frag are you?!” comm from Optimus. It was a real shame — Bumblebee had been looking forward to getting to know Blitzwing and his triple-personalities better. This marks their first official post-coitus hangout and so far, he is delightfully surprised if not slightly bewildered. He would never in a million stellar cycles expect this sort of attitude from the triple-changer. Is something wrong, or is he like this all the time and Bumblebee simply hadn’t noticed?
Maybe this is just a side effect of being a Decepticon: maladjusted, poor social abilities, and prone to general moodiness.
Or maybe he’s just trying to act cool in front of Bumblebee. Fat chance! He covers a snort by lifting a cupped hand of river water over his helm and letting it cascade over him. Blitzwing might be weird — like, really weird — but he’s one of Megatron’s most esteemed generals, a fierce Decepticon warrior characterized by sheer strength, brutality, and cunning. Blitzwing would have to be pretty severely socially inept in order to… well, hold on a klik.
Is Blitzwing… awkward?
Despite the derisive state of his processor, the triple-changer had always struck Bumblebee as a confident mech, comfortable beneath his plating, unafraid to say whatever he wanted. Some of the things he’s seen Blitzwing do are pretty out there; there’s no way someone with so little self-esteem could possibly dance around like a loon or maniacally bellow such scathing obscenities. Maybe Blitzwing is only awkward in relation to mechs he doesn’t know well, that he wants to make a good impression on. That would explain why he’s trying to act “cool” by straining to keep his blue face in control, as it proved to be the most composed out of the three.
Perhaps he thinks Bumblebee won’t want to meet up again if he acts strange — acts like himself. Bumblebee’s spark pulses emphatically; it’s a sad thought, one he hopes isn’t true, although it’s hard to imagine Blitzwing wanting so badly to make a good impression on him. He isn’t even sure if Blitzing really likes him all that much. It’s very likely he just wants an Autobot frag toy to relieve stress.
On the other hand, soldiers aren’t exactly known for their vast array of opportunities for… well, recreational activities of the sexual nature. Bumblebee had heard enough jokes back at the Academy about self-servicing Decepticons to know that. If that were true for Blitzwing, he might be reticent to intimate relationships, especially if it involved interfacing.
He should get Blitzwing to open up a little, show him that he doesn’t need to put on a cool face — pun intended — to hang out with him. He wracks his processor for some light, inoffensive conversation starters.
“How did you clean off last time if you didn’t use water?” Bumblebee asks casually.
He cups his hands underneath the river surface and lifts them up over Blitzwing’s large chassis, droplets escaping through his fingers. Metal loosens and unfurls, exposing sensitive internal components to the air. He releases the cold water over the exposure, watching as it washed out dirt and grime and flecks of dried transfluid.
“Rolled around for a bit then flew off. That usually takes care of it.”
“Rolled… around?” Bumblebee asks, incredulous. “In the grass?”
Blitzwing seems perturbed by the way Bumblebee is staring up at him. Chk-wirr. The switching mechanism falls on a red-faced scowl, intake poised to shout vulgarities at Bumblebee, before being interrupted by another chk-wirr. It’s the blue one again. “Is that strange?” His voice quivers on a syllable, struggling to speak properly.
He tries not to laugh at Blitzwing, he really does, but the thought of an enormous war frame rolling around in a forest clearing in an attempt to clean himself off is as adorable as it is hilarious. He would have expected the behavior of Blitzwing’s manic personality, but since the serious face divulging this information retains his usual stoic manner, it must also be this face who is in control as he — pffft! — rolls around in the grass. Bumblebee fails to suppress a laugh as imagines stone-faced Blitzwing on his back, twisting and turning his purring frame like those videos Sari had shown him of cats begging for belly rubs.
As he predicted, Blitzwing is embarrassed, and when he’s embarrassed enough, he gets uncontrollably angry. Again, he switches to a red visor glowing with rage and, surprisingly, doesn’t have the strength to force himself to change back to blue.
“What are you laughing about down there, huh?! I’ll put my fist through your stupid intake if you think you can insult me and get away with it!”
Bumblebee covers his intake but can’t stop the laughter convulsing his frame. “No, I — I just — I thought of something funny, it — ha! — it has nothing to do with you, I swear!”
Maybe they should leave the river and go to a clearing. He wants so desperately to witness Blitzwing roll around like an oversized kitty-cat. Judging by his initial reaction and embarrassment, he doubts Blitzwing would show him now.
Primus, slag me and my big intake! he thinks, mentally kicking himself. I shouldn’t have laughed at him! I thought the black face would appear and he’d laugh with me, but now he’s just mad. Now I’ll never get to see it! I bet he looks so fragging cute all curled up and purring…
Chk-wirr. Bumblebee looks over to see a pair of crossed servos and a pouty blue face. He seems both irritated and humiliated by his own actions, as if this interaction is not going the way he wants. The whirr of his processor is louder this time, producing a faint buzzing sound.
Great, now he’s back to being all moody and stressed! Just my luck!
“C’mon, I wasn’t making fun of you, you just said something kinda funny. Don’t take it the wrong way, you know?” Bumblebee says, desperately trying to remedy his mistake with what he does best: rambling. “Rolling around in the grass is funny ‘cause Earth animals do that sort of thing all the time. Sa — my human friend showed me. You’d think it was funny too if you knew about Earth creatures. I could tell you about them, you know? They’re actually really fun to learn about if you give it a chance.”
Blitzwing is still pouting as he looks down at Bumblebee. Even so, there is a glint in his red optics, an expression of previously repressed interest coming to light. The slightest fracture in his stony façade.
“Sorry,” Blitzwing bites out. “I shouldn’t have threatened you. I don’t want to do that.”
“Oh.” He certainly hadn’t been expecting an apology. “I-it’s okay.” He continues scrubbing at the sides of Blitzwing’s torso. “I don’t really take those things seriously when you say them.”
Bumblebee is glad that he is coming around, little by little. He would bring it up but he doesn’t want to overstep any weird Decepticon boundaries and scare him off. He might ask him about it another time, when Blitzwing is more comfortable around him.
“You’ve been really tense today,” he suddenly remarks, spark in his intake. “Are you doing alright? If it’s, you know, Decepticon stuff then you don’t have to go into any detail, I’m just a little curious.”
It takes Blitzwing several kliks to respond. “I don’t know how to be… with an Autobot,” he admits sheepishly. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
An apology and emotional vulnerability?! Bumblebee’s spark leaps joyfully beneath his chassis. Primus, give him the strength to not mess this up!
“What, you think you’re gonna scare me off just ‘cause you change faces?”
“…I think I should go.”
The water around them ripples as Blitzwing shifts his frame in an effort to stand, nearly knocking Bumblebee from his perch on his massive thigh.
Slag, I did it again!
“What?! No, stay!” Bumblebee pleads, gripping Blitzwing’s chassis as if he has the strength to stop him. Surprisingly, it works. “I was just teasing!” he continues. “Hey, you can tease me if you want. Switch to the red face and give it to me, I can take it!” Bumblebee spreads his servos as if steeling himself for a blow to his torso. “You have my permission to say something really mean!”
Blitzwing’s optics widen, but he quickly schools his shock. “It’s no fun when you want it.”
“Alright,” he says, trying not to sound too relieved, dropping his servos to his sides. “But please don’t leave. I wasn’t trying to — I just don’t really know what you’re comfortable with, you know? We haven’t really figured each other out yet. I mean, it hasn't been so long since I only thought of you as an enemy. I don’t really know much about war frames or Deceptions or triple-changers.”
“We do…” Blitzwing pauses, searching for the right word, “…come from different worlds.”
“Yeah, exactly! We’re so different that it’s tough to even know what to say, right?”
Blitzwing tiredly rubs the sides of his own helm. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah, I noticed the little… war going on in your helm.”
Blitzwing switches his faceplate twice, lands on a red jagged grin, cackles maniacally to no one in particular while screeching, “Nothing gets past my little Bee, my little bitty buggy-bee, teehee!” then indecisively switches three more times before returning to the pouty blue one. He looks down and scratches at a dent in his torso plating self-consciously.
“I’m trying not to,” he says quietly.
“I think that’s what’s making it so difficult, though. You shouldn’t hurt yourself like that. I don’t even mind your other faces! I actually think they’re really cool, and I missed seeing them today.”
“You missed them? Even the…” He leans in close and whispers as if he’s afraid someone might hear, “…angry one?”
“Especially the angry one! You’ve been nothing but super agreeable and pleasant this whole time — it was really grating on my nerves!” Bumblebee says. “I need some action, for Primus’ sake!”
Chk-wirr. “Ahahaha! Oh, you are so funny, I could just eat you up — but I won’t, no matter how tempting your bright yellow plating looks! Well, maybe just a tiny nibble! Nom-nom!”
Blitzwing surges forward and gently puts a yellow servo between his black dentae, lightly gnawing on the wet metal. The calm river water splashes in protest.
“Is this your own little way of saying I look nice?” he giggles.
Blitzwing reels back and his frame stiffens. Chk-wirr. “Hey, that’s not what I was — you idiot, you can’t just go and, uh — sh-shut up, puny Autobot, before I flay you!” An accusing finger jabs into Bumblebee’s cat-like smirk. “I wasn’t—”
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
Blitzwing’s faceplates spin rapidly before landing on blue, his hulking frame wobbling due to the resulting dizziness. He clutches the top of his helm to ground himself.
“Maybe take a break from the incessant flirting, yes?” he says weakly. “I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to this.”
“That’s alright, but I wouldn’t call that ‘incessant.’ Oh well, you’ll get used to it eventually!”
His spark swells. “So you want to… see me again? After this?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”
“I fear that I’m no good at this sort of thing,” Blitzwing explains. “I like seeing you. Even if it’s hard, even if I’m not really sure how to act. I really like this… thing between us.” He gestures vaguely, failing to meet Bumblebee’s optics.
Bumblebee smiles. He finds that he also likes this, whatever it is. He wants to be around Blitzwing, beside him, together with him for as long as he can. Although he has no reason to doubt they will meet again, as both factions are still none the wiser to their secret meetups, he cannot shake the vehemence that he doesn’t want this to be the last time. He hopes they can stay like this, even if it must only be a short while.