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The walk back to his shared apartment with Starscream was longer than Bumblebee intended. Perhaps that was just the way his helm was still throbbing, because the commute was supposed to be a quick walk, but it felt so long and arduous.
As he reached the apartment, everything slowly dulled to a numb ache. Opening the door with a muttered out greeting, Bumblebee hurried to the wash room, ducking his helm before Starscream could see his face, however awful it looked.
The door was closed and locked behind him, and Bumblebee turned to stare at himself in the mirror.
Bumblebee ran his digits along the ridge of the warped metal, feeling the way it jut out awkwardly. Now that he was actually able to see himself properly, he could actually tell how bad it was. It wasn’t just his derma that was busted, though that was certainly the worst of it.
In the right lighting, even his side helm looked slightly warped. Not enough to be a problem, but enough to tell that there had been an impact.
The energon had clotted early, but was still stained across his face plate. Maybe nobody had gotten a good look at Bumblebee’s face on the walk home, but it still kind of stung that not a single bot had stopped him in the street to try to call a medic. Not that Bumblebee would’ve blamed them.
“Geez,” Bumblebee said quietly, dragging his servos down his face thoughtfully. “That’s just such a mess.”
The plan was, originally, to wait until Ratchet got home in a deca-cycle or so, but now it was starting to sound like a poor idea, especially if Bumblebee still had to go back to work tomorrow. What, he was just supposed to show up busted up?
His job certainly wasn’t cosmetic, but seeing as how it dealt with quite a few customers, it’d be better if Bumblebee looked good. Especially seeing as how he was literally dating the “most eligible bachelor on Cybertron”.
…he guessed that Starscream wasn’t exactly a bachelor anymore, but he had been voted as the winner of the title on two different occasions, both times within the last three cycles.
All he did know was that Starscream groomed and kept very good care of his armor, and Bumblebee would feel so put out at the next formal event if he walked in with a broken derma at Starscream’s side.
Augh, that would be awful.
A knock at the door startled him, Starscream’s voice echoing in the small room. “Goldenrod?” Starscream asked the door, fist continuing to knock, a silent demand. “What are you doing in there?”
“Uh, washing up?” Bumblebee scoffed back at him, touching his digits against his bottom derma. “What else would I be doing in here?”
“I do not know, but I don’t hear you using any products in there,” Starscream demanded. “If you are just going to stand in there and sulk, that’s perfectly alright, but I would rather explain why you are. Did you have a bad day? A rude client, perhaps? You know I have ways of making them disappear–”
“Don’t do that. Stop threatening your power for no reason, it’s not…” Bumblebee forced himself to carefully vent, refusing to actually let his frustration grow. Most of Starscream’s threats were just jokes, or at least stuff he never attacked on. Reaching up to scrub at the space between his optics, Bumblebee shook his helm. “I’m coming out, give me another nano-klik.”
He heard Starscream’s steps retreat, tapping away from him.
Bumblebee took another klik to steel himself, looking back in the mirror as he took some of Starscream’s cleaning supplies to claw away at his chin and try to get rid of the hardened energon.
It really didn’t look that bad, he tried to convince himself. Just… a little bit of elbow grease, and nobody would notice the difference.
Finally, Bumblebee opened the door and stepped out to join his partner.
“Alirhgt, if you need to polish up, you’re good now.” Bumblebee told Starscream, not exactly expecting Starscream to look in his direction or even acknowledge him.
He definitely wasn’t expecting the seeker to look straight at him and immediately lock onto his broken derma. After all, the seeker underwent a lot worse from Megatron even on the former warlord’s better days, and he didn’t always bother with looking at Bumblebee directly, too busy with his own thoughts.
However, he was able to spot the exact nano-klik Starscream found him, fanged and smug smile freezing. No immediate change played out in his frame, everything perfectly locked in place, but Bumblebee could see whatever life Starscream’s optics held melt away.
Bumblebee was just a little disappointed he didn't have as much time as he wanted to pout. The larger side of him sang from the fact that he meant something to Starscream.
“What happened?” Starscream demanded the klik his auto-reboot finished, snapping back to himself as he marched towards Bumblebee’s frame. “Who hit you?”
“I tripped.” Bumblebee lied, wincing as Starscream grabbed his helm between his servos and started to tilt it back and forth. “Was just being clumsy, wasn’t paying attention to the—!”
“Do not lie to me, goldenrod!” Starscream spat, seething with another aggressive tilt of Bumblebee’s helm. “I know the markings of a fist when I see one!”
“Really?” Bumblebee deflected immediately, trying to shake just how hard that punch had hurt from his processor. “You think someone was stupid enough to punch me?”
“Or smart enough. Because, clearly, they got away with it,” Starscream huffed, dropping Bumblebee’s helm to pivot around with an irritated hiss. His heels clicked rhythmically against the ground, and even without looking Bumblebee could count the paces it took for him to reach the medical box.
Still, even after getting it in servo, Starscream dithered, hesitation, rage, and amusement bubbling up through him. “So.” The seeker said, casual to the point that it was easy to tell he was faking. “Perhaps I should keep my servos on this until you ask a few questions.”
“A few questions?” Bumblebee scowled, already regretting coming home at all. “Maybe I should just go find Ratchet.”
“Question one!” Starscream announced, stopping Bumblebee before he could retreat fully. “I must admit, I know little about Autobot relationships. So, tell me, Bumblebee, are we friends?”
“We literally live together in a one-berthing apartment.” Bumblebee deadpanned. “I think we’re far past “friends”.”
“Oh, good, I was worried.” Sarcastically, Starscream spat out, his claws starting to scrape so deeply into the metal of the first aid kit that it looked like he was going to pop it like an organic grape. “Because hiding this kind of thing from a friend could make sense, and you’ve always been an annoyingly sensible bot.”
“Thank? You?”
“No, actually, that just makes this even more troublesome!” Starscream raved, finally remembering to march over and slam the kit down on the middle of the table, ripping it open to begin removing tape and metal patch kits from its confines. “After all, it makes no sense to be hiding this from a partner! What, did you tick off the wrong bot? Did you–”
He sharply cut himself off, and Bumblebee preemptively winced. He could practically already read exactly where Starscream’s processor was at, the piece of technology spinning a league a klik as he tried to puzzle together the situation. Starscream, for as arrogant and foolhardy as he acted, was a smart bot.
It took him far less time than Bumblebee wanted to piece together what happened.
“It was a Decepticon.” Starscream bit out, claws ripping into the piece of tape he held, ripping into shreds. “No– a seeker.”
“No.” Bumblebee denied.
Unfortunately, there was a very good reason that he never got the promotion from scout to spy, because Starscream didn’t so much as blink. Bumblebee could tell he didn’t even waste a fraction of a nano-klik rethinking his theory. If anything, his expression just hardened further.
“Bumblebee.” Starscream hissed between gritted denta. “I need a name.”
“Why? So you can kill them?” Bumblebee scoffed. “Seriously, Star, I tripped on the corner of North Efforex and Minth. Does that help? Or are you going to overreact and shut down that side of the city?”
“I’m not going to kill anyone!” Starscream snapped, though his optics quickly twisting away proved he had definitely been considering it. “Those cycles are behind me. Now I prefer more legal matters, such as ordering a restraining order against them regarding me and mine.”
Bumblebee scowled at the title, finding it degrading. He was no more Starscream’s possession than the seeker was his. Partners they may be, but conjunxes or anything close was still a long way off, even if they did eventually get there.
Bumblebee was pretty sure the both had enough of being labeled as another bots’ for their life-cycles as it was. “I don’t need a restraining order. She didn’t exactly follow me home.”
Starscream’s expression just cinched further, and that was how Bumblebee knew he had messed up. Dropping a pronoun was a sure way to get Starscream to enter detective mode. Not that Starscream was actually much of a sleuth, but he had connections.
Even if Starscream and Prowl practically hated each other, all Starscream would actually have to do was mention the broken chin plate, and Prowl would be tracking the perpetrator down like a signal-locked missile.
Worse, was that Bumblebee had already failed his game of deny-deny-deny. Primus, he used to be better at this. Evan as a new-spark, he had withstood hours of torture with constant “I don’t know”s and “go frag yourself”s. Now, two kliks of scrutiny later, he had already titled his hand and threw everything off-kilter.
“Don’t even start.” Bumblebee huffed, looking away, shame faced. “It really– It wasn’t a big deal. I deserved it, so don’t even… Don’t make her life worse or more complicated, okay?”
Hesitating for a brief nano-klik, Starscream regarded him closely, optic ridges scrunched together thoughtfully. “Worse.” He echoed, and relief billowed through Bumblebee.
Starscream could be irritable even at his best, and downright hateful at his worst, but he had a strong adoration for his fellow seekers. Maybe he was angry at one for hurting Bumblebee, but it was certainly easy to remind him that they were thick of their own struggles.
Whatever little empathy Starscream had visibly rose up, and he diverted his optics. “I see.” He said slowly.
“Do you?” Bumblebee challenged.
“I do.” Starscream said, though he was still clearly deep in thought, quiet contemplation rolling off of him. Another klik passed before he raised his servos in surrender. “Very well, then! I’ll play the good partner, and I won’t do a thing to retaliate against her. I will simply listen to you gripe. Is that good? Will that satisfy you?”
A mix of delighted and relieved, Bumblebee nodded. “Thank you.” He said, “I appreciate you, and all your dramatics.”
Starscream rolled his optics, even as he leaned forward so that Bumblebee could cup his cheek in his servo. “Of course you do,” Starsceam muttered, servo reaching to the side to start fishing back in the first aid kit even though his optics were half-lidded. “It’s my most alluring quality.”
Bumblebee laughed, but he couldn’t fault Starscream for it. It wasn’t like the seeker was wrong, after all.
“Well, okay.” Bumblebee said out loud. “Her name’s Shadow Striker.”
“The name sounds familiar,” Starscream grumbled, crossing the distance to grab Bumblebee’s bottom derma and attempting to crimp it back into place with pure, brute force.
Bumblebee winced, his next words came out garbled. “A’pp’rntly, I ruin’d her l’fe.”
“That is no excuse! We were at war.” Starscream snapped. “Everyone ruined everyone’s lives. Even bots on the same side. There’s nothing new about that.”
“Yeah, bu’, she s’d th’t I–” Finally, Bumblebee reached up to slap away Starscream’s servo, scowling up at him. “Stop that, you’re not going to fix it that easily. I already have an appointment with Ratchet. I’ll have him fix it then.”
“Ratchet does not come home for another half deca-cycle.” Starscream accused, and Bumblebee preened from the amount of attention Starscream spent on his personal life. It shouldn’t be anything novel; partners were supposed to do that, but it was Starscream.
Funny how Bumblebee bounced around between being unable to believe he ever thought Starscream was selfish, and being impressed that Starscream had the capacity to not be wholly self-centered.
“Do not tell me you are expecting to walk around like that until he comes back,” Starscream continued, reaching out to grab Bumblebee again, scowling when the former scout easily ducked out of his reach. “I cannot have you wandering around looking like you get beaten up for fun!”
Bumblebee thought of his nights spent in illegal fighting rings immediately after the war ended, before he got his pedes underneath himself and found an actual purpose for himself. And, of course, before he started courting Starscream. Getting beat up for fun used to be his M.O., and honestly he was relieved Starscream still didn’t know about those relatively brief cycles of his life-cycle.
“Yeah,” he said dryly instead of confronting any of that. “Imagine people noticing Starscream’s partner isn’t as pretty as him anymore.”
“Please.” Starscream scoffed. “You’re only half right! Nobody can possibly match my level of pure attractiveness. However! Nobody can know I’m dating a brute. The media will talk, and we cannot have that.”
“Got it,” Bumblebee agreed, wincing as Starscream drew a pair of pliers out of the kit. “Not sure most bots will care much. There’s plenty of senators publicly dating their bodyguards. At most we’ll be accused of following trends–”
“Except you’re not a bodyguard.” Starscream scoffed, sticking his olfactory sensor into the air. “You are a simple courier, who follows after me during meetings. You only play at being my loyal shadow, but everyone knows it’s a lie.”
“Right,” Bumblebee said dully, scowling at his partner.
“So what did Shadow Striker say?” Starscream prompted. “She insisted you did something, and forgive me if I’m curious on what it was.”
“I blew her up during the war.” Bumblebee explained. “She was in a Decepticon warehouse, stocked with energon, that I ignited. She barely pulled through. Shockwave fixed her up, but you should see her, Star. She barely looks like an actual bot anymore. She just looks…”
“That’s it?” Starscream deadpanned.
“That’s– Star! That’s pretty awful! She can’t even walk the same! I broke her, irrepairibly! I killed her whole team in the same blow, and she didn’t have a Ratchet to fix her! She had a cruel scientist who doesn’t do anything tried-and-true! He just made it worse because of his experiments!”
“Then she should be punching Shockwave.” Starscream fired right back. “That sounds like she’s just being dramatic! She wants to take it out on someone she’s not scared of, rather then the actual culprit! Ha! Do not tell me you are actually falling for her dramatics!”
“I’m just trying to be realistic!” Bumblebee scoffed back. “Of course she’s angry about it! Emotions aren’t exactly linear, Starscream! And if I can keep the peace by taking a beating or two, I will!”
“That is not keeping the peace,” Starscream refuted. “That is just encouraging them to spill your energon, without consequences! If you really want everything to settle, the troublemakers need to be apprehended! Forget the war, for her enacting a vendetta! At the best, this is assault! Without cause, no less!”
“Didn’t you hear me?! I ruined her life!”
“And you weren’t listening to me! Ignore the war! Every other bot has moved past it! Why can’t she? Why can’t you?”
“We can’t just ignore the past, Star!” Although Bumblebee partially agreed that maybe Shadow Striker shouldn’t be quite so hung up on the past, he understood the rage that came with having a pivotal part of yourself removed.
It took being on Earth until Ratchet got the necessary parts to repair his voice box, and even then it was stilted. Wrong. It wasn’t his voice, nor would it ever be again, no matter how many times Ratchet tried to fix it.
Sometimes, Bumblebee wanted to snap Megatron’s neck, or dig out the former warlord’s voice box himself, just to make something even. Just to make him feel better. Shadow Striker was not nearly as violent as Bumblebee would’ve expected. She was just angry, and he could understand that.
“Is that so?” Starscream demanded.
“It is! We have to pay attention, so we can learn from the past, so we can move on! I get being angry, I do! You can’t retaliate.” Bumblebee shook his helm, looking away from Starscream. “Trust me. If you want bots to respect you, you have to be the bigger person.”
Almost immediately, he felt Starscream’s whole frame tense up. Privately, he winced. He should’ve known that was the wrong thing to say, but the seeker was already opening his intake, and it was too late to take it back.
“Ah, I see how it is!” Starscream scoffed, kicking back and away from Bumblebee to raise to his full height, looming over Bumblebee like a tower. “So you think you’re a better senator than me! Lo and behold, the mighty Bumblebee! Knows exactly how to act at all times, has never messed up once! Perhaps the rest of us should resign and return to the old ways! Give Bumblebee the Matrix! That will solve things!”
No! No, no, no! Bumblebee could not have the Matrix. The idea of having it was…
He already got enough of attempting to be a leader, in the interim between Optimus vanishing and Rodimus returning with his half of the Matrix.
Bumblebee grit his denta. “Stop it, Star! I’m just trying to keep the peace! Okay? Why can’t you get that?”
“Keeping the peace does not mean rolling over! Perhaps you should retaliate! I’m sure Shadow Striker will love some time in jail, to reflect on her horrible behavior!”
“You said restraining order–”
“We are far past a restraining order!” Starscream laughed, and laughed, and the sound of his laughter made Bumblebee’s tank crawl with discuss and disbelief and no matter how much he tried to stop it, Starscream just wouldn’t stop.
In fact, his servo was lifting towards his audial, already ready to comm someone, probably law enforcement or another one of the seekers still rapped around his digit, and–
Bumblebee crossed the distance between them, jumping up as far as he could. He grabbed Starscream’s wrists, allowing the two of them to crash to the ground in an undignified pile.
“Starscream, stop it,” Bumblebee spat at him, their faces so close that all he could see were Starscream’s optics, wide and furious. “You’re not going to solve anything! I promise you you aren’t! And you promised me you’d listen!
“Maybe I changed my mind,” Starscream snapped. “Did you ever think of that, oh wise leader?”
“Stop doing that,” Bumblebee pleaded, bowing his helm to rest on Starscream’s chassis as Starscream hissed at him. “Stop trying to– Do you even want us to work out? Do you even want me?”
That, finally, finally, gave Starscream some pause. His spark spun quietly beneath Bumblebee’s forehelm, his vents barely moving as he thought and contemplated and ran through every scenario in his helm.
Please think this through, Bumblebee pleaded mentally, waiting for Starscream to reach a conclusion. He knew Starscream was retaliating so hard, again his own people, because he loved Bumblebee. But going through with it, when Bumblebee didn’t want it, wasn’t a sign of love. It was a sign of power. Worse, a sign of ownership.
Bumblebee could kick his pedes and complain all he liked, but when Starscream just did what he wanted, over and over again, then he’d be no more than a prisoner in a cage.
He would have to cut it off short, immediately, or risk being stuck in the trap so many other bots fell into. Screaming into the silence, and hoping someone, hoping their partners, would listen to them.
“I want us to work out.” Starscream said mildly, scoffing quietly as the back of his helm titled back against the ground. “I do not want to… I want to help, Bumblebee.”
“I know.” Relieved, Bumblebee slowly let go of Starscream’s servos, sliding off of him. “I know you do. But this… this isn’t what I want. Even if I’m wrong, even if she starts ambushing me all the time, I don’t want… I don’t want you to hurt her.”
“If she does ambush you, then that isn’t you being merciful.” Starscream scoffed at him, slowing sitting up. “At that point, it’s you being masochistic. And then I really will think that you enjoy being beaten up for fun.”
“No, that’s not…” Bumblebee trailed off, thinking about it. He could admit that Starscream was right, there, in some small way. “...okay, it might be, but it’s just… I understand where she’s coming from, okay?”
“What.” Starscream deadpanned, scoffing as he leaned close to Bumblebee, observing him closely. “How could you possibly know where she’s coming from?!”
“I’ve gotten hurt before, too.” Bumblebee said, leaning the rest of the distance between them to rest his helm between Starscream’s shoulder and his chin. It was like it was made for him, with how seamlessly the two of them fit together. “And I’ve wanted my revenge. Came close to it, too, but I’m not the best fighter, and probably would’ve gotten myself killed.”
“Ah, warframes,” Starscream sighed dramatically, as if he wasn’t one, too, wrapping an arm around Bumblebee’s shoulders. “So reckless, only after the next fight–”
“I’m not like that anymore!” Bumblebee protested, slinging one leg around Starscream’s to try to get as close to his partner as he could. “I’ve gotten better about it. Trying to, I don’t know, be more forgiving?”
“So I noticed.” Starscream scoffed. “It’s not… It’s not a weakness, Bumblebee, but it sure is annoying.”
“Ha,” Bumblebee chuckled, optics lidding shut. “I bet.”
They sat in silence for a long beat, and Bumblebee let himself relax in the peace that was his partner. Funny, how not too long ago, being the one to take down Starscream would’ve gotten himself so much favour and respect from the other Autobots, and now they were sitting in the middle of their shared floor, cuddling.
“...who hurt you?” Starscream asked after a while, claws scraping quietly against Bumblebee’s plating.
Bumblebee sighed. “I told you– Shadow Striker got a good hit on me. That’s all that happened–”
“No, I know what that glitch did,” Starscream hissed. “I meant, who hurt you during the war that you wanted revenge against? I think this is the first time I’ve seen you hurt.”
Ah. Right. “Well, I want to start out by reminding you that the first time you actually registered I existed, I was on a busted leg. So you have seen me hurt, you just didn’t really used to care.”
“Ah, you can’t blame me for that!” Starscream protested immediately, not even bothering to deny it. “You were a tiny little thing before, and taking charge of the Autobots… Perhaps I was a little jealous. After all, I’ve been trying to overthrow Megatron for four million cycles, and then you come in and take over the Autobots without issue.”
“Optimus was gone, and somebody did have to take charge–”
“Ah, ah–” Starscream said, waving his servo. “That is not the point! I believe I vaguely recall you walking about with a cane.”
“And a leg brace.”
“And a leg brace! So? Who did that to you?”
Thundercracker. “I don’t remember,” Bumblebee lied through his denta, shrugging his shoulders even as Starscream pulled back enough to glower at him suspiciously. “But that wasn’t the injury I’m actually angry about. When I was… It was Megatron. He ripped out my voice box some cycles back.”
Starscream went very, very still.
“I hated him for it for so long. Bots avoided me like I was carrying the cybonic plague, they hated the effort that came from understanding, or…” Bumblebee shook his helm. “I was just a sparkling back then. I never understood why he never just killed me, but chose to make my life awful instead."
“It was during Tyger Pax, wasn’t it?” Starscream asked, voice quiet.
“It– Yeah. Yeah, it was. How did you…?
“I remember you.” Starscream told him, voice tight. “Not your face, perhaps, but I remember witnessing it. Megatron had… damaged my voice, too, the deca-cycle prior. I was so furious at him, and then I watched him tear out another bot’s – yours. And I realized how much worse I could have had it. I…”
Starscream trailed off, tilting his helm away as if embarrassed. Bumblebee was pretty sure he knew exactly what Starscream was thinking, and found a teasing smile begin to crawl its way across his face.
He twisted around to face Starscream, reaching out to hold the seeker’s face between his servos. “Let me guess. You were relieved it was me instead of you.”
Starscream winced, a shudder wracking through him, and his optics shuffled away. “Yes, I– I suppose I– I did not mean to…”
“Star. Oh my gosh, Star.” Bumblebee said, letting loose a disbelieving laugh, and then realized just how that must sound to him when Starscream wilted beneath his touch. “Star! I don’t blame you for that! I’m not fragging Megatron, who’s just going to yell at you for every thought you’ve ever had!”
“Well obviously you’re not Megatron.” Starscream said irritably, diverting his optics.
“Right, Megatron would’ve beat you already just for touching him.” Bumblebee affectionately teased. Starscream chuckled dryly, but there was no real mirth there. “But, Star… Two things. First of all, you don’t have control over your thoughts. Even if you still thought like that now doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that I’m going to leave you over it! If you acted on it, then it would be an issue, but I know you wouldn’t.”
“I did, back then.” Starscream corrected, voice thick in annoyance and distress. “Even if you pretend like I’m your perfect partner, back then I would have hurt any bot in order to guarantee my own comfort. Not even Thundercracker and Skywarp were safe from my ego, from the way I hurt every bot around me–”
“Starscream, stop it. That just brings me to my second point, and that’s that you were a different bot back then. You weren’t my partner. You were a commander in a ruthless war, under a warmonger who treated you like a pet. But you’re not a pet anymore, are you?”
“No.” Starscream agreed with a tiny nod. “Nobody owns me. I am… Free of the shackles Megatron has forced upon me.”
“That’s right! You are. You’re Senator Starscream, the one and only, and you’re adored by your people.” Bumblebee told him, laughing as he watched his partner preen under the praise. “And like it or not, even the Autobots like you to some extent. So you’re probably doing something right.”
“You’re right, that’s horrible and tragic. Perhaps it’s just because I’m dating you. Perhaps they didn’t love you back when you were missing your voice box, but now? Now they adore you. Your loyal subjects.” Starscream responded.
tipping forward to place his dermas against the side of Bumblebee’s helm. “You,” he muttered around the metal, “are quite wise. Are you sure you don’t want to be a senator too?”
Bumblebee laughed, wrapping his arms around Starscream’s neck, letting the seekers’ affectionate field bubble around him and swirl. It tightened around him, and he laughed at the feel of it, craning his helm away from Starscream as much as he could even though neither let go of each other. “I’m sure! I’m sure!”
“But you have such a gift with words!” Starscream said with delight, pressing against him. “You can tell you were Optimus Prime’s squire.”
“Squire?!” Bumblebee laughed, half offended, but at least it wasn’t someone calling him Optimus’ attack hound, or “little sparkling”, or something equally as offensive. Scout or, apparently, squire, suited him just fine. “Star, I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but Optimus was absolutely awful with words! He was always… He could write the speeches, but as soon as he opened his intake…”
“Hmm,” Starscream murmured against his helm. “I thought he got better about that once he became a Prime… After all, how else would he draw Autobots to him? I am certain he summoned millions of Decepticons to Megatron’s side with his pretty words, even if they were spoken by Megatron’s glossa instead of his own.”
Ah, that’s right. Starscream used to know Optimus, back when he was Orion Pax, when he and Megatron were trying to reshape the world with only the two of them and a whole lot of determination.
Bumblebee never listened to whatever speeches Megatron made to his Decepticons during the war, and he didn’t really expect Starscream to have listened to Optimus’. It was easy to hate the other guy if you never had to listen to them speak and try to create propaganda, he supposed.
Sometimes, Bumblebee wondered what his life would’ve been like if the Decepticons took him under their arms instead and nurtured him as if he was their own.
“Don’t worry,” Bumblebee teased. “Optimus was still an introvert, for every klik of his spark-cycle. Even after so many cycles of war, I guess he never figured out how to handle the social aspect of… everything.”
Starscream’s olfactory sensor wrinkled. “Are you certain? I cannot recall hearing of a charismatic Autobot aside from the Prime himself. Surely one of you filled that spot in his place…?”
Bumblebee shrugged. “Jazz was pretty good at that kind of thing, but he wasn’t actually allowed to make speeches.”
“Who the frag is Jazz?!”
Bumblebee just laughed, patting Starscream again. “Nobody, he’s not…” Ah, then again, the war was over. Surely Starscream could know about Bumblebee’s commander. “He was our spy. He’s a bot of a thousand designations. He was the best infiltrator we had, and… Ah, remember the fall of Praxus?”
Starscream’s optics widened.
“That’d be him.” Bumblebee grinned. “Orchestrated everything from beginning to end, he…” Bumblebee shook his helm quietly, burrowing right back into Starscream’s grip. “He’s pretty great, just… he was always busy, I guess. Doing a million different things and missions.”
“You Autobots.” Starscream scoffed. “You were always getting in the way. I must say, it was impressive. You are impressive. Sometimes, I cannot believe that you were not born before the war like all the rest of us.”
“I’ve been told that my whole life.” Bumblebee snarked right back. “So don’t worry, I’m not offended.”
“I wasn’t worried I would offend you,” Starscream scoffed. “I was simply pointing out that it is interesting that you’ve been… raised by Autobots. That you know so much about their order, their secrets… And yet they still failed to teach you self respect!”
“Dude, what the frag?”
“I am simply saying! You allow yourself to be bullied so easily by Shadow Striker, and yet you do seem to be bothered!” Starscream pressed his digit to Bumblebee’s forehelm, watching him wilt with a smug smile etched upon his face plate. “Honestly. How did the Autobots allow you to lead them, no matter how briefly?”
“They didn’t let me! Someone had to do something, and, I love you Star, but I wasn’t going to let you and the other Decepticons kill everyone!”
“And yet you’ll let Shadow Striker–”
“That’s enough.” Bumblebee interrupted, pressing his digit against Starscream’s dermas, cutting him off. “Look I just… We’ve talked about this, okay? I’m trying not to be so angry all the time, not being so… defensive. “
“Defend yourself the way you would your Autobots!” Starscream demanded. “The way you would me, the way you did do for me.” He grabbed Bumblebee’s servo off of his intake and pulled it to his chassis, holding it “Please, Bumblebee. It’s not that I think you look hideous the way you are, or that I do not want to be seen with a… how did I put it?”
“Brute.” Bumblebee said with a small, quirked smile.
“Yes. I would not mind being seen with one, if that one is… you.” Starscream said, awkward and shy, ducking his helm so that he did not have to look Bumblebee in the optics. “I just would prefer it if you… took your own safety into account. Do not forget. If she attacks you again, you come to me, and I handle it.”
“Yeah. I’ll try to take care of myself, Star. I promise.” Bumblebee reassured, unsure how much he would actually listen to him. He wasn’t going to actively seek out trouble.
He hadn’t for a long time. His last tournament, after all, had almost gotten him killed. All he had gotten was Ratchet yelling at him for kliks on end and threatening to kill him himself if Bumblebee ever did something that reckless ever again.
“Good. You do that.” Starscream said. “After all, I do not want Ratchet to come home and find he has more repair work to do on you than a damaged derma.”
“Hey, don’t forget about the scuff mark.” Bumblebee said, pointing to his arm, where over an orbital-cycle ago he actually had gotten into a tumble while making a supply run.
“And a scuff mark.” Starscream rolled his optics, but wrapped his arm around Bumblebee to pull him back in for a quick peck. This time, Bumblebee didn’t even pretend to pull away. “Thank you for agreeing to tend to yourself. I do not like the idea of… Do not get more hurt. Neither of us are medical professionals, after all.”
“I picked up on that when you tried to snap my faceplate back into place by forcing it.” Bumblebee teased, turning up to touch his own dermas, warped and bent as they were, against Starscream’s chin. From the momentary tension that gripped Starscream’s optics, it probably didn’t feel that great. Not that Bumblebee could blame him; it wasn’t all that pleasant to Bumblebee, either. “I’ll be careful until Ratchet gets back, okay? I promise.”
“You better be, goldenrod.” Starscream huffed at him. “You better be.”
(:)
That lunar-cycle, while Starscream dozed on beside him, Bumblebee trailing his digits against Starscream’s chassis, he tried to make even himself believe it. He didn’t want to be a pain, or to hurt his partner in any sense of the word.
He should, probably, feel honored by the extent Starscream would go for him. How much the seeker wanted to protect him, even after cycles of trying to kill each other. Well, not specifically each other, but basically the same thing.
Bumblebee hated to be a burden with all his spark. He hated remembering that he had hurt bots in a similar way to how Megatron had hurt him, and his busted derma was a reminder of how deep that hurt ran.
Shadow Striker had looked at him with so much hate when he failed to recognize her even though she was an amalgamation of parts and pieces that Bumblebee had never seen before. Bumblebee felt like he should’ve remembered her. He remembered how mad he was when Megatron looked right past him.
Funny how Starscream remembered him better then Megatron had, even though all Starscream had been doing was standing there while Megatron actually did the work.
Bumblebee was just a little amused by that.
Still. Starscream wasn’t the only bot who had changed for the better. Bumblebee was more compassionate, now, wished he could help every bot, even those who had hurt him. Even Megatron, even Shadow Striker. Perhaps especially Shadow Striker.
He didn’t know what that would look like, what he could do. But he could try, right?
He could try.