Archive of Our Own

“Has he been— knocked offline?” Whimpered Sari.

A gruff voice, “No, quiet down..”Prowl’s helm ached. He slowly propped himself up on his elbow joint as the pain started to fade. He reached a servo up to the source, no dents, no damage, just—

“Yeah! What’d I tell you, Sari? He’s a tougher hunk of metal than those concrete-cracking brick phones!”

Prowl immediately sat straight up to stare at Bee like an owl. Like he was something out of the ordinary. Bee was even a little startled, the expression on Prowl’s face almost unreadable. 

He chirped a nervous chuckle. “…You okay there, Prowler?”

Prowl finished buffering. “Did you just call me a hunk?”

The crew burst into laughter, relieved that Prowl was okay. Though still quite confused, it seemed. Of the group, he only turned toward the yellow bot. Staring and smiling at the uproar he’d caused, maybe, but only towards Bee.

Ratchet looked over the two-wheeler for— Prowl remembered now, he’d been sucker-shot with a ray gun— for any symptoms or ill-effects and he came up clean. Or clean as he could be, he still felt like he stuck his head in a smelter. Regardless, Optimus considered the whole affair a job well done and gave the order to “Transform and roll out!”

Prowl drove in the lane right next to Bee the whole way back. For no reason. Probably.

Back at the plant, Bee was just getting himself a cube of energon. He could see Prowl was hypnotized by another one of his earth nature shows that he loves so much, and figured Primus gave him two servos, so he might as well use ‘em. He scooped up a second ration from the supply. 

With his servo holding Prowl’s cube by the top, he leaned over the back of the couch to tap the tip of his chevron with a tink-tink-tink. Prowl startled and turned around. —There was that owlish look on his faceplate again.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you refuel since you got knocked out, nature-boy.” Said Bee, offering the cube. That expression suddenly melted; Prowl smiled, turning the look in his usually sharp visor into something… softer, sweeter. 

Prowl took the cube, and Bumblebee’s hand along with it. Only a gentle finger of his kept his servo on the fuel. “Thank you, Honeybee.” Pause. He said that ironically, right? As a joke or tease-?

No, Bee was sure he didn’t imagine that glint in his visor. Something sneaky. Bee just let Prowl take his servo. He was sure his own optics were blown wide and his face was glowing blue. He looked down in happy horror at the sight; Prowl smiled and pressed his warm, soft derma to the knuckles of Bee’s servo and— and he— 

He kissed his hand.

“I’m lucky I have someone so sweet looking my way.” He purred. 

Not fair.

Before he released the yellow servo, he stroked his thumb against the metal ever so gently. The touch burned. It sent his spark spinning like a centrifuge and the sensation contaminated his processor. Tall, golden-voiced Prowl just called him a honeybee—whatever that was—and kissed him on the servo. He must look like Bulkhead did when Blackarachnia first showed up.

Prowl lazed, leaning on the couch concrete where Bee found him. “I-! You’re welcome!” He yanked himself away a bit too fast. He couldn’t help it, his vents were searing. “Gotta go drink this, see you later, bye!!” And he’d already turned the corner and shut the door to his room. Pretending like he couldn’t hear a faint offer through the walls,

“The program’s almost over, don’t you want the remote? Or the console?” He sounded almost clingy. Okay, Prowl would never ask Bumblebee to play a video game.

Even so, when he finished his cube, he took Prowl up on the console. But he didn’t cycle away. He lounged against Bumblebee, watching the game with his arms crossed, looking almost bored. Bored but content. His engine purred. He even fell into recharge. Bulkhead commented on it as he passed by, asked if Bee wanted him to carry Prowl to his room.

Bee declined, he was okay, but they both had the same thought. Something was seriously off.

Bumblebee was grousing around the base; A whole day off and nothing to do, he bemoaned. Prowl must’ve had enough of his whining; “Come dance with me, then,” he said, and took Bee’s servo. He gave a little ‘why not?’ shrug and let himself be pulled up off the couch.

Music was playing over a little radio Sari had left in the base. A fuzzy, lively broadcast; tango music. Prowl guided a confused but willing Bumblebee to the middle of the room. Starting with just teaching him what poses made up the dance, before starting in earnest.

“Come on, how do you even know this stuff?” Bee’s gaze lingered on their fingers laced together. “Ninja-cademy require a course credit in dancing lessons?”

“I saw it in a film.” He wasted no time putting Bumblebee’s servo on his own waist. Bee’s contact was hesitant. Prowl was not. His servo lingered to press Bee’s in place before grasping him by the shoulder. “It’s an absurd comedy, you might like it.” Fitting. The music itself seemed a little absurd. A nice-absurd thought. There was a swingy tempo to the melody. Light, brassy, and lively instruments that Bee didn’t know the name of yet. (Except the sound of an… accordion! He remembered that weird favorite of Wreck-gar’s) Bumblebee was a fast learner; He just had to mirror Prowl’s steps for the most part, he did that well. Or just let himself be spun around like those ‘beyblade’ things Sari mentioned sometimes. Repetitive, spirited. The trumpets sharp and violin consistent, easy. 

‘Look at him go,’ Prowl thought. When the footwork came to a pause, Bee looked off to the side and shimmied his shoulders a bit. He seemed to mimic how he thought the singer would move if the haphazard lip syncing was any clue. Prowl’s spark spun a bit faster than he expected to feel in his chamber. With that lovesick pang, trumpets swung and the duo moved their pedes again. ‘It’s annoying,’ he thought affectionately. ‘I keep seeing things I know you’ll like if you just slow down a little bit.’

Bumblebee, amused by that little moment where his mind wandered, snickered to himself. A teethy smile. They struck a mirrored pose; joined hands extended fully and chassis pressed together. Prowl knew to look to the side, but Bumblebee didn’t notice that it was part of the dance. He just looked up at him. Gleeful and impressed. His faceplate was so close. Then the music cued Prowl to spin him around again and resume the footwork. Thankfully, with the visor, it was impossible for Bee to notice how much he was staring at his mouth. 

If Prowl had the time to actually teach him more, this would be the part where Bee was looking at him even closer, and Prowl’d raise his right leg like he was about to hook it around that yellow hip plate. The song had begun to spiral around into a cacophony of noise. An interlude; the melody’s tension like a rubber band being pulled and pulled. Prowl’s mouth moved faster than his processor again. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Bee was visibly taken aback, flustered, giddy? Shy? His hand twitched, the one currently on Prowl’s waist. The one that Prowl seemed to love making him so conscious of, the one he’d kissed— “What, you’d like to?” he said with an incredulous chuckle, said like it was impossible. Like it was a challenge. 

“I would.” The music swung, the band released; and Bee was spun to be crossed inside Prowl’s arms, not for the first time this number. Bee’s back pressed against his front. In any other circumstance, he would be on cloud nine. But lately, Prowl— …He’s been acting so weird. 

Prowl leaned in (Slag-!) and paused right next to his audial horns. When he spoke, Bee could even feel the vibrations from his deep, resonant voice-box on his head. “If your answer’s no, you have nothing to be worried about, it’s fine.” Bee was venting hard. Breathless, but not from fear. “I mean it.” Oh, Bumblebee didn’t doubt anything he said in that voice. “You can even hit me for being so blunt.-” 

“-Promise?” He snarked. And immediately wanted to hit himself in the helm.

“I promise.” Bee tried to not shudder. He pressed his back harder against him and tensed his servos, almost without realizing. Almost. And he could hear the smug smirk in that bastard’s intoxicating voice, “But if that was your way of saying yes to me, I’d never be more thankful for that obnoxious restlessness of yours.” Bee made a muffled noise somewhere between a squeal and an embarrassed shriek. Prowl’s grip tightened to keep him upright; Bee’s knees were shaking a little bit.

“If you’re really being honest, I’m not gonna tell you no, Prowler. I-” Prowl, engine purring, spun them back to face each other again. Took Bumblebee by the chin, ‘-Oh slag, what have I done?!’ thought Bee. Right as Prowl tilted his helm, Bee clamped his mouth shut. But that wasn’t his target. It was— “Hah-ah~!” Bumblebee yelped— his neck.

Okay, if Bumblebee had to defend himself; he wasn’t very popular at boot camp. Or with repair bots. And to be honest with himself, most of his friends were not options for a wide array of reasons. He actually hadn’t had many options for a wide array of years. And now any attention apparently made his wide array— …well—

“Mmh-“ he planted another kiss to his throat- “Thank you.”

Primus, help him.

Prowl mouthed at his intake; at a spot usually shielded under his helm. For as much as Bee usually insisted he wasn’t weak, he felt weak. Prowl guided him towards the couch so Bumblebee could lean on the backrest. For as much as he knew he ticked Prowl off, he valued his criticism. “You’re so good at being still when you have the right incentive,” he sighed. Sighed in that resonant, crystal-clear voice of his. Not fair.

Bee keened. “Primus, Prowl,” he scolded. But the black plating on the other side of his throat was still peppered with more kisses. Slow ones. Savoring. The noises they were both making were absolutely unfit for any audience whatsoever. Radio in the distance forgotten; Bumblebee squeaked and whined, Prowl’s derma moved up to his helm, each metallic peck and sweet mumbled praise audible over Bee’s mewling. Two different engines revved and rumbled. His derma lingered when they kissed his cheeks and forehead. 

For as much as Bee feared to be taking advantage, Primus, did he feel like he was a prey animal being eaten alive. Like he was something delicious. His own derma untouched, like Prowl was saving the best for last.

Prowl leaned forward onto the back of the couch, caging the buzzing bug in. For as much as Bee hated being stuck anywhere and not allowed to move, frag, did he love this. But he would get himself unstuck soon, he would do the right thing and escape as soon as he had the strength— Then Prowl kissed one of his horns. 

Bee glitched. He had to have short circuited, he just moaned and trilled like a bird, even with his servo over his mouth. He just went strutless over the back of the couch. Some steam rose from his mouth and faceplate, Prowl’s hand on the small of his back struts was the only thing keeping him upright.

Prowl looked like the cat that got the cream, “I take it you really enjoy when your horns are played with.” Bee grabbed Prowl by the fins on his pauldrons to heave himself back up.

“Oh come on, not that mu-uch~“ The hand cupping his helm stroked a horn with his thumb. He turned into butter immediately. Nuzzling Prowl’s hand, sighing, whimpering needily.

‘Slag.’ His processor was almost waterlogged static. ‘Please be Prowl, please be Prowl,’ he thought— begged. Every part of his spark was praying to a Primus he didn’t even believe in that this wasn’t processor damage. Or some glitch. Not the ray or some new barnacle. Just Prowl. A Prowl who wouldn’t be disgusted by this. ‘Please, just be Prowl.’ 

Like he was wishing for it to magically come true.

Without thinking— his spark spinning too fast to think; whatever foggy mantra was in his mind slipped out. From Prowl’s perspective, he was hazily murmuring, “Prowl.. Slag. …Please~, Prowl, please just— ~Prowl…” A pang of heat and hunger flared from his very spark.

Primus, was that appetizing.

Prowl wiped his derma on his arm like a cat licking its chops. He was spellbound. Starving. It would be cruel to keep a begging bee waiting, wouldn’t it? He planted a last frantic kiss on that horn and cupped Bumblebee’s flushed, dazed face. “What is it? ‘Please,’ what? What do you need?” He needed to hear him say it. Bumblebee buffered. He panted. His response was still loading, but his servo reached up to hold Prowl’s helm in the meantime. Holding it in place because he could tell it wanted to dive back into his neck.

Bee’s expression grew an undercurrent of scrutiny. He saw it again, that look in his visor again. “Take your time,” said Prowl.

A slow, uneven blink. He gave his best play-it-cool grin. He looked punch-drunk. “What’cha tryna kiss me for?”

Prowl slightly withdrew; concerned. “Because I’d like to kiss you. And you seem to like it quite a lot,” he said like it was a question.

Bumblebee never took his gaze off his visor. His head clearing up, he scoured that— that look on his face. What was that? 

Bee’s optics were lidded, his mouth parted in tired thought. He leaned in, Prowl leaned in too, —Wait, he thought he was leaning in for a kiss. No—

“Prowl—“ Bee interrupted, mere inches (and note how mere a few inches would be for giant robots-) from his derma. A reassuring touch to Prowl’s faceplate also nudged him back. “I’m- …You sure you feel okay in the head?” Prowl had to note, he looked genuinely concerned.

“You- Okay?” Did I mess up? Do you not want this? Like ,,this? …Me? 

“It’s not that I don’t like you. A lot,” completely true. Horrible time to be truthful, though. “But just-“ He scrounged around for the words, “You know you’ve been acting really weird since yesterday, right?” 

“I feel perfectly fine.” Oh primus, he looks like a kicked puppy— But ‘fine’ wasn’t entirely the nature of Bumblebee’s concern.

“Just- before anymore, could’ya go see Ratchet one more time? There’s probably a few diagnostics he could run in the med bay that he couldn’t on the field.”

“If you think my insistence wouldn’t be genuine-“

“I know, I know,” he lied. “Just don’t want you, uhm, short circuiting on me.” He smiled. It didn’t look quite right.

He nodded toward his dance partner and helped to pull him upright. “Afterwards, may I take you out somewhere?”

“Should I be worried?” He joked.

“On a date, motor-mouth.”

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying you don’t know yet?” Bee cocked his head to the side.

“Of course not, I’m not you.”

Bee giggled, “Y’know what? Sure. Come get me when you’re done, I’m free the rest of the day.” Bee turned towards his room and waved away a smiling Prowl. “Now go on, git!”

Ratchet groused around the lair. His theory was seeming to become more and more plausible by the second. The data output from the scanners strung along. 

He’d turned away for a nanoclick, a nanoclick after Prowl had asked if that was all the input the scanners needed from him. “Yeah,” he’d replied. “Don’t strip any screws over it, just sit tight and wait for the scan to show up..” 

Not only did he just not ‘sit tight,’ as the humans would say; he was apparently incapable of lounging around in any way at any sort of tensile strength whatsoever! The entire base, and the ninjabot was nowhere to be found. “Prime! Have you seen the two-wheeler anywhere?” Ratchet said with a huff.

“No, but I was looking for Bumblebee. Sumdac needed Bulkhead’s help, so I need him to take over monitor duty while he’s out.”

“Con-slaggit…” Optimus suddenly felt like he found a lead. 

“Ratchet,” he said tightly. (but with no ill will towards the probably faultless medic—) “Do you have any clue as to why almost half our crew is unaccounted for?”

“My leading theory? My patient’s just botnapped yer scout—” unfazed, he held out his screen displaying strings of numbers that meant nothing to Optimus, “—to either slag him or frag him.”

Optimus blanched. “I- I’m sorry??”

“The ray he was hit with yesterday; no abnormal brilliance or color in the visor, static in the vocalizer, or any gyroscopic deficiencies. I thought that meant it was some average run-of-the-mines incapacitator.” He shook his head, “you can never be too sure these days, I suppose. His impulse control’s operating at about 10% his usual capacity. Decreasing pretty linearly ‘fer the past 16 hours.”

“They have trackers on them, right?”

“Prowl, no. Bumblebee, also no.”

Bumblebee was half expecting Prowl to take him into the woods for a do-over of that barnacle-cursed camping trip or whatever. So when they kept going down the 75 freeway instead of turning off to one of the many parks they’d just passed, he was intrigued. 

Not enough to forget about the fact that this loose-lipped version of Prowl apparently didn’t stick around long enough for his prognosis, but hey. They’d already been driving for about 20 minutes by the time he mentioned it. ‘He ran the tests. So right now is after, isn’t it?’ — In what universe would Prowl find a pedantic loophole just to save on time?? (And Bee would never admit it, but he was a little annoyed that Prowl was stealing all his gimmicks)

The sun had just left the sky, but the city stayed awake. Bumblebee tried not to sigh or huff. “So, where is it you’re taking me, Prowler?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” he said lightly. “We’re only about five minutes away.”

It was nice, the lights and buildings. Under the stars, it almost looked like Cybertron. Shortly thereafter, Prowl pulled into the shoulder lane and slipped back into root mode. “We’re here,” and he motioned for Bumblebee to follow him. He hopped off the highway’s barracks to the flat roof of a building right below. Bee followed, but with his helm in the clouds; where the ninjabot leapt and landed quite gracefully, Bumblebee almost fell when he hit the ground. Thankfully Prowl caught him by the chassis.

“Agh-!” embarrassing! “-Thanks Prowl,” he added genuinely. 

“Don’t mention it.” Prowl said, leading the way.

Bee chuckled a bit. “Could you imagine if we drove all this way and I immediately fall right on my bumper?”

Prowl sat down on the roof. “Hmm- And if they blamed me for the dents,” he noted slyly. “Would you want me to deny it?”

“Obviously, yeah. It’s not your fault I flunked into spacebridges and not ninja school.” Oh, if only he gave that question a bit more of his attention. Naive? No, but airheaded? Yeah. He was using almost all his processing power to not rib Prowl for being stupider than normal.

Bumblebee surveyed the area. Past a crop of solar panels, nestled in an area with a little roof access door, there was an oil barrel. It and some other rocks were weighing down a tarp. And judging by what other roofs he’s seen, the dead leaves and sticks were swept away. Like a picnic. Oh, slag. He really tried. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, colorful lights lit up a whole city block.

His helm swiveled to the source; he saw windows of a building light up in bright, specific colors. They moved around like giant pixels. He was shocked when he recognized the pattern and grinned from audial to audial. “What is that!?”

Prowl smiled and pointed at him, “I knew you’d like it! It’s the work of some local college students. I ran into it one night on patrol, they do this every weekend at dusk until their term is over,” he explained. “I see you playing it with Sari sometimes, what’s it called?”

He screeched like a canary. “They programmed ‘Tetris’ into the side of a building?!!?!?”

Prowl smiled, “You see why I rushed the medical diagnostics. I apologize for that,” he tacked on genuinely. “But, do you wanna go try a round?” Prowl pointed out the sidewalk across the street from the game. People had formed a small line at a control panel to try their hand at a level. (‘Curse you Prowl, for having a great grasp of my hobbies,’ he thought.) It was tempting. So very tempting.

“Alright, I’ll cave!” He threw up his servos. “But I’m not gonna let you do anything you’ll regret,” he said with a pointed look.

“Isn’t that usually my line?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

They hopped down to the street and simply took a spot in line like they weren’t at least 10 feet taller than everyone else.

“…And that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Prowl insisted; “I’m not doing this because I’m glitched!” Why is he so stubborn about this?

“Glitchintheheadsayswhat?”

“Wha-? Oh, shut up!” Prowl gently took his servo, “I have no idea how I put up with you.”

Somewhere down the line, Bee started explaining the rules of the game to the other bot; he who looked lovesick. Bee kept his eyes on the building while he explained and answered questions, trying not to worry or stress about Prowl holding his hand. The way it made his spark spin…

The way that it probably wasn’t Prowl.

When Prowl pet the back of his servo with his thumb, Bee froze his still. He couldn’t let himself get used to the taste. That intoxicating bot. The sweetness of the teammate he— (not that he ever planned to do anything about it, he was used to getting the attention he wanted by ticking him off. Not good courting protocol—) the teammate that he… had a bit of a thing for liking him back. Looking at him like his yellow paint was glittering gold. Like he was golden.

It was finally their turn! The line felt like it was going at a snail’s pace. Feeling mischievous, Bee snuck behind Prowl and pushed him up to the console first; “Come on, ninja-bot! I just told you how to play!”

“Uh,” he blanched. “Well, it couldn’t hurt.” How hard could it possibly be? He pressed the button. Game start. Bumblebee cheered him on while he frantically placed blocks, used his neural net to make sure there was room for others, watched the timer, he was doing it-! 

For about 40 seconds. Embarrassing, but not enough to wait in line again for a do-over.

He stepped aside to ‘let the master work.’ As Bee put it. 

Watching him plot the blocks down; focused, observant, calmer, knowing when and where to strike. It fascinated Prowl. ‘Did he already know the things I taught him?’ He wondered, ‘Just not how to apply them to everyday functioning?’ You learn something new everyday. Bumblebee’s time was a whopping four minutes! Even earned some impressed-sounding murmurs from the present humans.

Having had their fun, they went back to the rooftop for dinner and a light-show.

“When’d you find this?” Bee asked. Somebody cleared a line on the display.

“About a week ago,” he said casually. “I’d wanted to share it with you and Sari but she couldn’t make it this time. And I figured making you of all bots wait a week would just be cruel,” he said, amused. An O-block slotted perfectly into place.

He raised an eyebrow at Prowl, “You wanted to take me here a week ago?”

“Yeah, I-? That’s what I just said.”

“What about this whole,” he gestured to his surroundings, “picnic setup?”

“What about it?”

“Did’jya come up with it today? Yesterday?” He probed.

“No,” he said, sounding exasperated. “What are you getting at here?”

Bee looked away from his date. “I…” He leaned into the parapet, holding his serving of oil in both hands. “It’s…” Fidgeting, bouncing his leg. Staring off somewhere between the tetris-building and into space. Whichever poor sap was at the console kept rotating a pesky L-block that wouldn’t fit anywhere, and it landed poorly.

“You like me, right?” Prowl asked. Bumblebee froze a moment, response still loading. Then, shock faded into resignation. Bee nodded, slow and heavy. “Do you think I don’t like you?” 

Bee set his jaw in a deep frown; steeling himself. Then sighed. He mumbled, “I think this is way too sudden to be real… And I don’t wanna take advantage.” 

Oh.

Oh my…

“I’m… sorry I hid it away until now.” Prowl said, wide-eyed.

“Mm-hmm, yeah.” Bee said, obviously not even trying to hide that he didn’t mean it. “Okay, Prowler.” Oh, this was going terribly.  He didn’t believe him. It wasn’t that he didn’t love him back — Primus, it’s almost worse that he does — but he just doesn’t believe his words. Even if he thinks Prowl means them, he doesn’t think they’re true. His spark was cracking in its casing. It probably showed on his face; Bee wasn’t looking him in the eyes. ‘Look at me,’ his spark pleaded. ‘Look at me and let me love you back, you noble hardhead. Please.’

“You never listen to me without a fight first, do you?” He sighed and rubbed his  faceplate with the palms of his servos. Just when Bumblebee was about to speak, he interrupted; “…The slumber party. The following night, I realized it then,” said Prowl. I thought it was an annoying crush that showed up because I wanted to crush you,” Bee laughed, “But the night after the camping trip… I knew you were so much more than what makes me so exasperated.” He shifted to lean against the roof access, wringing his hands. “You’re stubborn, you’re impulsive, you challenge me and embarrass me. You’ve made me grow more than I have in a long time,” he confessed. Then continued with a sacredness in his voice; “You knock me down a peg and think nothing of it, nothing less of me.” He stared off at the building, trying to see Bumblebee in his periphery, too scared to actually look. “— And you’re really good with the organic children. You’re Sari’s favorite by far, it’s really quite endearing,” he tacked on.

“Oh, come on, I’m not— “

“Do you remember what she said when she was sick? After the camping trip?” ‘Something about nature and technology… working together?’ “I knew she had a good point, and I had known for a while. But I felt like a fool for having known it and not acting like it.” He took Bumblebee’s servos and placed something in them that Bee cupped with both hands. It was… It was a new media player. “She helped me pick that out last week,” he confessed. “I was waiting for a good moment to give it to you. — To make up for breaking your last one.”

In the distance, someone slot a long, I-shaped block into a spot and cleared four rows in one fell swoop.

Last week, he said. The receipt with the return policy was still politely attached and the sell date was… Yeah, a week ago. 7 whole days where he was in the same plant, living under the same roof, talking to Bumblebee more than several times a day, all while he had this media player in his possession. But he didn’t give it to him because he was waiting for a good moment.

A good moment? Bumblebee looked at the homesickening city, the apartment building still playing Tetris, the barrel of oil built for two, and down at his own hands. A good moment. ‘One with you and me?’ He thought. His optics glowed brighter, his servos clutched the player ever so gently tighter like a flower bud.

Yeah. A moment where they were together.

Yeah, ok. This was real. He didn’t know how, but—

“Thank you, Prowl, I— This is so thoughtful.” ‘Now or never, man. Don’t back out now—‘  “I didn’t think you’d like me back!” He blurted out. “Like, ever.”

Prowl’s shoulders relaxed. “Neither did I,” he said with a smile. He went in for a hug and paused a moment, for any sign of confirmation from the buggy. Bee subspaced the media player, lifted his arms up, and with a happy yelp— Prowl swept him off the ground. 

Both held each other tight like they wanted to make up for all the time they spent apart before this. Bumblebee locked his arms and legs round Prowl’s neck and chassis. Through that visor he looked happier than he’d ever let himself show before. Like curtains drawn back for the first time ever; the sunlight flowing through the window was breathtaking. A long, indulgent peck pressed into the side of Bumblebee’s face. One that ended so reluctantly. Then one to the other side of his warming face; to match. 

Then the embossed crest on his helm. Prowl had wanted to feel the indent of that triangle against his derma all night. He wanted to kiss away that tension pulling his expression into one of worry and confusion: He wanted him to melt down again. He wanted to hear and feel him glitch again and for it to be something he did to him-

“Prowl-“ He wrenched himself back again. Bee— smiling, thank goodness, he looked fine still— …His gaze flit down to Prowl’s derma. The vents in Prowl’s intake hitched, Bumblebee could feel it on his face. “Can I? Just once— MMPH!” 

Bumblebee could feel warm, warm derma pressing into his own, a servo at the back of his helm to lock him in place like Bee’s own koala grip around Prowl’s whole body. Boy, was he thankful for that, and for Prowl’s other servo supporting his weight. He could feel his legs getting weaker the more flattered he felt. Flattered more so than kissed silly (though he certainly was) because, well… he didn’t really know what to do. He just pursed his derma and let Prowl pounce on him again.

With a gasp and a huff, Prowl unlatched by mere inches. “Sorry,” Bee said, “not a very popular bot, not a very good-“ Prowl interrupted.

“No-no-no, I should’ve let you lead, just—“ ‘Primus, that face.’ Prowl thought, Bee looked dazed and divine— “Just relax your faceplate…” Prowl stepped back to lean against the metal of the roof access door and slide down onto the ground. With Bumblebee in his lap, (now slightly above him, optics in the dark brighter than anything else)

The servo not already looped around to his back struts moved up to hold his chin. He kissed his audial horn, once, twice. Bee made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Good, there you go. Just like that,” Prowl purred. Both engines rumbled like they just saw the light turn green. “Part your derma just a little.” He did just that. “Good bot.” And Prowl simply kissed his bottom lip, slow and soft, like he didn’t just make Bumblebee’s engine rev like a jet plane’s. “Pay attention to what I’m doing, mmh~” Whenever he spoke, he’d stay nearby, derma only hovering an inch or so apart. “It’s just like a hug. But smaller.” Bee… thinks he understands. He tries to enter into that rhythm, that flow. And jumped on the moving ride.

A pang of warmth and satisfaction and comfort and wanting hit him through the spark. It made his engine block feel like he was in a race. He finds himself— yeah, he’s actually kissing Prowl back! He figured it out!

An aggressive, raspy, popping rev of the motorcycle’s engine rumbled his entire chassis. Prowl himself melted; locked Bee in place with both arms while he slid further and further down, down the wall he was leaning against. Like he wasn’t making the deepest, strut weakening engine-roars around town. Thank Primus Bumblebee was straddling him now. He kept himself upright with a servo planted on the ground. The other that cupped his face thumbed at his smooth chevron. 

Like a hypnotic daze, everything Bumblebee noticed below him just beat this thought alone into his processor; ‘I did that.’ He was free to take and take more and more and it was giving something at the same time. Prowl’s face twitched in delight; ‘I did that.’ His abdomen spasmed right between his legs; ‘I did that for him.’ Prowl smiled, right under Bumblebee’s insistent, demanding derma; ‘I made him smile.’ 

Bee felt like he was eating Prowl alive. And they both loved it. He popped his mouth off of Prowl’s to get more air— it was so hot, he would overheat if it wasn’t such a cool night out— and panted; raspy, hungry. Each exhaust ran ragged in his intake and feinted toward an actual snarl. 

He didn’t bite— Prowl hoped thought he might— but he smiled, wide. A nefarious grin showing all his dentae, and buzzed; a small, overjoyed little sound from the back of his engine. Prowl clenched his fists, “You are so cute!” he growled. 

Bumblebee actually nipped at his lip for that. 

“Cute, my entire skid plate,” he said with Prowl’s faceplate between his teeth. Playfully, of course, but he was still surprised. He sounded like he nearly choked. 

“—Not because you’re short, I’m just in love with you, you maniac.” He said, grinning maniacally.

Bee froze, wide-eyed, to stare at Prowl like an owl. Like he was something out of the ordinary. Still venting hard and heavy. Spark still spinning like a centrifuge.

“What?” Prowl asked.

“Wha?” He parroted, buffering. “Oh- Sorry,” he shook his head like an etch-a-sketch, “I—“ a moment. His helm drooped, groggy. His intake drifted over to his neck and gave it a kiss. “Same.” With a whimper from the ninjabot and a soft, disbelieving chuckle, peppered his intake in more slow, sleepy kisses.

Sadly, even with the noise mostly over, just low, contented purring from the both of them, they couldn’t hear the footsteps of the befuddled, incredibly disheveled human coming up the flight of stairs. Muttering under her breath, “Who the hell puts a motorcycle—? …How could they even get it on the damn roof—?!”

The door next to them clicked and was thrown open. “Micheal! If this is any of your nonsense aga-“ She looked right at them.

Neither bot knew humans could blue screen too, but they’d be laughing their aft plates off if they weren’t so mortified. 

“—Hey, um.” Said the human, “I know it’s Sunday, but there are still people working in the office below-“

“We are so sorry!” Bee screeched.

“Yeah, no, it’s cool, just wanted to let you know.” She shrunk back inside the door, “Thanks for fixing the highway the other day, though. That was nice of you.”

“It’s nothing!!”

“It’s our duty, think nothing of it—!”

“We’ll be outta your hair faster than a—“ the door shut on them with a click. “…So, Prowl,” Bee continued. “What was that seppuku thing you were talking about a while ago?” Prowl only replied with burying his face in his servos. “It sounds really interesting right now, you can tell me more about it.”

It was an interesting, silent, drive back.

They walked through the garage doors of the plant to the rest of their team immediately locking in on them like heat seeking missiles. The three rushed up to the two, clamoring and fussing; “Where were you two?!” “—I was so worried!” “You’re lucky your processor isn’t melting out your optics!” “—Just let us know when you’re gonna silence your comms next time—.“

They didn’t escape for what felt like forever. Until, saved by the bell, Ratchet dragged the two wheeler into the med bay. “I’ve got your glitch right here, the ray you were shot with yesterday had malware downloaded that was turning down all these components called your impulse inhibitor diagnostic protocols!” He seemed to tamp down his temper. “So I suppose it’s not completely disrespectful that you just wandered off. You were just doing whatever ya darn well pleased with the deficiency.” He handed Prowl a USB bridge cable attached to his computer monitor, “Already wrote you up the antiviral. I’m gonna need you to download it to your mainline nervous server, you know where yours is?”

Prowl put the tool in the back of his neck with a soft click, “Yep.”

Ratchet typed in some finishing touches on the antivirus before finally exporting the new code. Then flipped his monitor around so Prowl could see the progress bar. “Don’t take that cable out until it says it’s installed. Got it?”

“Yes.” Prowl said.

Ratchet gave a long sigh. “Now, I’m gonna go to my room and collapse in a heap,” he said in a drowsy tone. “Don’t wake me up unless somebot might die.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said genuinely. “Good night. —And thank you, doctor.”

“G’night n’ welcome.” Ratchet said, opening the door right when— “AAH!” It was Bumblebee, pressed up to where the door once stood. “Slagmaker supreme, kid! Nearly attacked my spark!”

“What happened with him?” Bumblebee looked positively mortified, “What happened with his head?”

Ratchet sighed, “Hippa violation, go ask him, g’night, don’t die.” And Ratchet walked out of the room with no darns left anywhere on him to give.

Bumblebee marched himself over to where Prowl sat with the cord still attached. 86%. He could feel his sense of patience coming back, the calmness in his mind, oh how he never knew he missed it. Bumblebee couldn’t even see the monitor yet when he said, “Oh, finally, you’re going back to normal.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your vibe went back, to like—“  he hopped up to sit next to him, “harder to read, but, zen.” Bee gesticulated with his servos to mimic water flowing, “Chill. I missed it,” he smiled up at him. Prowl couldn’t help but return the expression.

“Thanks,” said Prowl.

A ding from the computer! 100%, the screen read. Installing… You may now remove the USB :] ‘Finally,’ he thought, and took it from his spinal strut.

“And yes Bumblebee, I do— just like I did before— like you now that my impulse control is back online.” He caught that nanosecond where Bee’s shoulder’s relaxed, reassured. Just before he regained his insufferably responsive ego, like it rose from the dead.

“That was just a lack of impulse control?!” Both their faceplates flushed; Prowl having just regained his pesky fear of being perceived and Bumblebee now perceiving that Prowl apparently finds him irresistible. “How long have you had the hots for me, Prowler?”

“Primus, Bumblebee…” he groaned.

“No-no-no—!” Bee leaned in and gently pulled Prowl’s servos from where they were hiding his face. “I need to know how long you’ve been waiting to call me Honeybee!” He could hardly contain his glee, he couldn’t even hide his giddy laughter.

Prowl started to walk out of the med bay, “It’s bedtime, I’m going to bed! Good night!”

“Can I follow you there?”

Prowl looked back at him, gears turning, face flushed. “…You may.” Bee hopped down and caught up to the other with a smile. “But I’m not about to let you do anything you’ll regret,” he said slyly. “We’ve got work in the morning.” Bumblebee looked like that made him just too happy to let himself recharge.

The buggy swept up the other bot’s servos in his own, “There’s the Prowl I know & love!” And kissed him on the hands before just clinging onto a forearm. “Aren’t I a lucky autobot,” he said. They walked through to his room. The martial arts decorations, the big tree, the moon casting bright blue light like a great big optic in the night sky. It creeped Bee out. He was glad Prowl slept in the corner where that moon wasn’t watching, yeesh.

“So am I, I suppose,” Prowl joked.

“You suppose, ya little glitch?” Bee let himself be picked up by the abdomen as Prowl laid them both down on his berth. “I’ll zap you with my stingers,” he chuckled.

“In the morning, if I don’t wake up on time.” Prowl laid his helm down, and Bumblebee followed suit, on his upper arm. And when he looked up into Prowl’s faceplate for the last time that day, it was there again.

It was there, in the dark of that room, when no one else was near, that he saw it again: That expression. That glint or that softness in the shape of his visor which seemed so unnatural to Bumblebee, at least on Prowl.

Fondness, belonging— not to someone superior, but to one another—, sappiness, wanting, the shy embarrassment of vulnerability.

It finally clicked.

Love. 

That’s what that mysterious spark was. 

It was love.