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Something left Red Alert. He wakes up, but kept his optics closed. His arms are limp, and last time he checked, they were wrapped around something.
Someone.
…
Where did Bumblebee go?
Red Alert slowly opens his optics to the dark living room. The TV, that he remembers was still on when they fell asleep, is now turned off. Bumblebee's gone. Red Alert groans and slowly gets up. He's finding Bee.
The door to the washroom is still open and dark inside, he's not there. A quick peak in the bedroom reveals no one inside. At the patio door, a small light is on.
Using the wall as an aid to walk, Red Alert stumbles over to the patio door. Looking out the door window, Bumblebee’s on the deck, something in his hand. He opens the door and Bumblebee’s head darts right to him.
A closer look at Bee's hand reveals a cigarette.
“Hi- I was-”
Red Alert walks over. “Smoking?” Bee’s head drops.
Smoking can clog vents, and ruin the whole venting system. It's just a basic fact everyone entering med school knows. It's a basic fact everyone should know.
“You got another one?”
Bee is stunned for a moment before grabbing a small box off to the side and getting another cigarette. He gives it to Red and grabs his lighter as well.
It's been a while since Red smoked. ‘A while’ being way too many years. Yes, he knows the health risks of smoking, especially given his…current state. As long as his patients aren't doing it…
He sticks the butt of the cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. Red hands the lighter back to Bee as he inhales.
“Didn't know you smoked.”
Red Alert takes the cigarette out and blows out the smoke. He needed this. “Not in a long time. What about you?”
Bumblebee inhales and brings the cigarette out, copying Red. “Did it a lot more as a scavenger. Have a feeling that Prime probably wouldn't like me smoking.”
Red Alert laughs. “Ya, he wouldn’t really approve.” He laughs again and starts coughing. Bee steps closer and places a hand to his back. Expected while smoking.
“You okay?”
“Ya.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. “I'll be fine.” He leans against the railing of the deck and looks up into the sky. It's been a while since he's seen the stars. Bee comes closer and leans against him.
“Should you be smoking?”
“Mm. I've been shot at and exploded. I think one smoke won't kill me.” He looks down at Bee. “Just don't tell Ratchet,” he whispers. “Pretty sure he's already had a spark attack over my scans.”
Bee laughs before coughing briefly. “I won't say anything if you don't say anything.”
A puff of smoke escapes Red Alert as he kisses Bee's helm. “Deal. As long as you know-”
“Yes, yes, I know the health risks, I've lived this long.”
Red Alert laughs as he looks back at the sky. One time, he found Jetfire outside, trying to make stars out in the hazy sky. Honestly, Jetfire probably could've used a smoke at some point. Red Alert probably should’ve not been thinking that, as a doctor. But Jetfire looked like he really needed one at times. Jetfire can't really smoke right now, can he?
He offers a hand out for another cigarette. Bumblebee instead puts his own hand in.
“Not what I wanted, but I'm not complaining,” Red Alert chuckled.
“What did you want?”
“Another cigarette.”
Bumblebee grabs the pack and his lighter. He hands another cigarette to Red Alert. He lights it and drops it to the metal ground. Bee looks at him.
“The dead need a smoke sometimes.”
“Ah.” Bumblebee focuses on the cigarette, glowing on the ground. “You know any of them?”
“Ya. Jetfire needed a smoke,” Red Alert chuckles.
“The guy who knew the Sea of Rust?”
Red Alert nods.
“Get close with him?”
“Tried to.” He gestures to the cigarette on the ground. “You can see how that went.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Red Alert shrugs. “It's fine.” The grief in his spark is numb by now. Or there's no more grief. He can't tell anymore.
They fall into a silence, finishing up their cigarettes. Red Alert stares at the sky, somewhat wishing that Jetfire wasn't buried so he could see the stars again. Bumblebee stares at the dwindling embers on the ground, the dead having their smoke.
Red Alert, at the end of his cigarette, feels like passing out. He's been standing for too long and he's too tired. Bumblebee places a hand on his chassis and another one on his back, helping him back to the house. The cigarettes are forgotten.
They flop onto the bed and immediately curl into each other. They both smell of smoke, and Red Alert knows that he'll have to clean his vents out before heading back to medbay. Bumblebee, too.
Maybe they could do it together.
Maybe.