Archive of Our Own

“So that was the house,” Breakdown gripped the handle to the master berthroom a little too tightly, “and this…is your room.”

It had only been a couple of astrocycles since the fight with Liege Maximo, but Bumblebee insisted on seeing where he used to live. Where they used to live. The lie was Breaks and Bee had only recently moved in together after the Decepticons left for Cybertron. It had been discussed at nauseum in private comm channels on how to ease Bee back into his life and they ultimately decided that he should guide his own healing. With caveats. Of course. No one could pinpoint exactly where Bee’s memories cut off, however, he remembered landing on Earth, a bit of human culture, and Breakdown.

The whole ordeal made Breakdown nervous. He couldn’t remember if they were still talking to each other back then. Relatively speaking, it really wasn’t that long ago but he had his own personal problems going on. They made up countless times since then sure, yet, there was something unnerving about not knowing where he stood with Bee. He went out of his way to remove any trace of himself out of their home. If there was a picture of him he got rid of it, a shared item, it was gone, touch up paint and personal items were all thrown into storage. It could be too much all at once. Maybe it’d be better if Bumblebee thought they were only now rekindling something as ancient as the Earth itself. Ease him back into the truth.

But, strangely, there was something off with Bee, even with his missing memories. While he was in medical observation, Bee didn’t ask many questions. He was quieter than his normal self, a melancholic grief behind his optics. When the Terrans visited, he faked a smile and when Optimus sat in on his counseling he seemed to puff up with lackluster bravado. Breakdown visited him twice before bringing him home and both times Bee seemed lighter? He remained unsure of himself but looked around the room more, his frame moved in a way as if it still had wings and Breaks could’ve sworn he became flustered when they looked at each other.

Breaks swung the door open and a tightness gripped his chassis. He’d moved a lot of Bee’s personal items into their shared room. Old-timey human movie posters, his fancy rock collection, and the vast, vast amount of Bumblebee themed merchandise the humans had designed. Most of it was the Maltos, graciously on loan from Alex, but there were a few items that originally belonged to Bee. Breaks knew how much he hated selling his likeness and secretly hoped it would elicit some sort of reaction out of the mech.

Bee stared at the berth, “There's only one?”

“Yeah,” Breaks faked a smile, “I use one of those old standing bays to recharge.”

“Oh,” Bee slowly ran a digit along the berth as he tried to remember waking up in this place. “It's pretty big.”

“Your old alt mode, new? Former alt mode had wings.” He leaned against the wall. “Plus you roll around while you're recharging.”

“Hah,” Bee chuckled as he tentatively sat on the edge, “I know that.”

“What else?” Breaks eyed him and folded his arms across his chest, “What do you actually remember?”

Bee looked to his hands for some sort of answer and found one. Embarrassed, he turned his helm away and squirmed in his position.

“I'm sorry I-”

“No it's fine.” His turn to fake a laugh. “I uh, honestly I didn't want to upset you more, all things considered.”

Breaks held himself tighter, “What is it?”

Why he hesitated, Bee couldn't say. Maybe it was the shame of not knowing what happened next, or the fear of finding out. After a klik he shook the feeling away and whispered, “That fight we had in Holdrege.”

Breakdown's spark sank and his arms fell to his sides. “Holdrege.”

Tears began to well in the corner of his optics, “I'm....so sorry.”

“Hey,” Breaks was at his side in an instant, “hey now. Don't, don't do that, I'll start doing it too.”

A sigh came from the smaller mech as he tried to wipe away the moisture, “I wish I didn't remember it, but everything else after that is hazy. Did we at least, did it-”

“Yes.” Breaks held his mournful gaze. “I-I forgave you.”

“You shouldn't have.” He sniffled as his optics became dewy again. “I never should've-”

“Hey,” Breakdown gently took Bee's hand into his own. “It's over, and it worked out. Okay?”

“Did we ever,” Bee cleared his throat, “ever talk about it?”

“Yes,” He lied. “It was the first thing you said to me in Ravello.”

“No ‘Hi hello’?” Bee tried to laugh. “Just ‘I'm so sorry?’”

“I didn't believe you at the time,” Breaks’ voice trailed away as he actually remembered the place. “It wasn't until much later I finally did, I was stuck in my own processor over something else...I didn't need old ghosts forgiving me.”

“What?” He rubbed his thumb over Breaks’ knuckles. “What happened?”

Breaks looked back at him with another fake smile, “That's over too.”

“What was it though?”

He frowned. “I rather not talk about it.”

“.....oh.”

“How about instead,” With one hand, Breaks snatched the holovid remote off the berth’s side table, “I reintroduce you to your favorite Earth movie?”

“Okay,” Bee optics softened as he readjusted himself on the berth. “........what is it?”

“Something called a ‘Western’.” Breaks flicked the image on and scrolled through the titles until he found the right one. “It's old, well for human standards, personally I never saw the appeal.”

“And I like movies about directions because……?”

“No,” Breaks grinned as he adjusted the volume, “It's about cowboys and robberies and horses.”

Bee blinked at him, “I know what a robbery is.”

“Maybe I shouldn't show it to you.” Breakdown scooted back until he was cozied up next to Bee. “Could be too scary for you.”

“No,” He fiddled with his digits and blushed. “I want to see it.”

“Alright,” Breaks yawned. “Don't say I didn't warn you. This is the second one to a trilogy by the way, it's not super important but, you know.”

“I don’t!”

They sat in silence for some time. Breaks fought off the urge to fall asleep while Bee jumped at every gunshot. During the quiet moments, Bee asked questions and Breakdown tried not to spoil what was about to happen. In truth, this movie bored him to tears. Humans had a natural proclivity for grotesque violence that soured their stories. He couldn't grasp the need for it all, plus the film style was rather slow. For some reason Bumblebee used to love these things and Breaks hoped that between the gun play and horse neighing something would trigger a memory. After all, Bee rewatched this trilogy constantly. Rewatch being a strong word, sometimes Bee would turn it on while working around the house and recite lines to Breaks like a movie star. He was a terrible actor but had a dramatic flair that made Breakdown laugh. There was a cowboy hat in storage somewhere. He wished Bee still knew the lines. 

At some point, Breaks dozed off, only to be awoken at the start of the film's climatic duel. The locket’s melody was always so eerie to him. Bee's optics were huge, his hands knotted in on themselves, his pede pushed him up against the wall, and if he could breath he'd be holding it. 

Breaks watched him out of the corner of his optic, a serious sense of sadness gripped at his spark, Bee really didn't know how it ended.

The orchestra swelled and the locket plinked out the final notes. In a flash, the human in the hat fired his gun. The sudden noise startled Bee and he instinctively grabbed Breakdown’s arm. 

“Bravo.” Breaks mouthed the words to the screen in time with the actor. 

Bee gripped him even tighter as the characters said their goodbyes. “Turn around,” He murmured nervously, “Turn around!”

The final gun shot ran out and the theme music keyed up, this time they said their real goodbyes. One human rode off into the sunset while the other went off with a cart full of dead bodies. Breaks eyed Bee's hand digging into his armor.

“Well,” Breaks slapped his thighs and jumped off the berth. “That was the movie.”

“Wait!” Bee reached for him, “Where does Douglas go?”

Breaks mouth twisted up at the question and he shrugged, “I don't know.”

“You said it was a trilogy,” Bee frantically searched for the remote, “He has to come back!”

“The actor does.” Breaks offered and shifted his weight, “But the character doesn't.”

“What?!” Bee's optics were dewy again. “He's just gone?!”

Breaks nodded, his voice tender as he said, “Yeah.....he's gone.”

“He doesn't even keep the money…” Bee slumped back and looked up at the mech sullenly.

“All he wanted was the locket.” Breaks stood in the middle of the room, unsure whether to leave or stay. “.....I shouldn't have shown you this.”

“No, no it was interesting.” Bee shuffled around on the berth, “Not too terrible.”

Breaks nodded, “Yes, well, good night!”

“Wait!” Bee caught himself and quickly turned his helm to hide his blush, “.....can you stay in here tonight?”

Breakdown blinked. 

“I'd rather not be alone.” Bee twiddled his thumbs. “Just for tonight.”

“I'm not watching the other movies,” Breaks warned, but he didn't move. 

“It's okay.” Bee made some room for him. “Can we watch one of your favorites?”

“I don't like human movies.” He tried to say with the least amount of disdain in his voice. “They're all, trite.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Breaks wiped some dust off his arm. “Not really my speed.”

Bumblebee watched him for a beat, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

For what could have qualified as an eternity, they looked anywhere but at each other until Bumblebee finally asked;

“Do you want to sit down?”

Breaks immediately sat his aft on the maintenance bench. 

“I meant over here.”

“I’m okay.” He leaned back nonchalantly. “Well, if you’re not tired we can look through some of your photos, that might do something.”

“I’d love to,” Bee muttered as he pulled up his holodisplay. “Unfortunately someone put a lock on most of my personal files.”

Breakdown sat up, “What?”

“See look,” Bee offered out his wrist. He tapped the image folder and while several mundane pictures of Optimus, the other Autobots, a few from Cybertron and Terrans appeared, every other image was blocked with a big ‘Access Denied’ symbol. “Something about how ‘it might be too much all at once.’ and it might fry my circuits.”  

“That is,” Breaks didn’t know the kind way to say it, “kind of fucked?”

“I thought so……” Bumblebee tapped on a random one. “Feels weird.”

“I bet.”

“No it’s like,” Bee continued to tap through blocked images. “I was looking at these the other night, or, a couple dozen cycles ago? I know exactly which ones are missing but then there’s these new ones I’ve never seen before? Yet, there’s ones I’ve never seen before that aren't blocked out?”

“Probably your nudes,” Breaks tried to laugh.

“My what?”

He cleared his throat, “Human term.”

“Can I see some of yours?” Bee closed his holodisplay and scooted over on the berth. “Please?”

Breaks stared at him before shaking his helm and transferring himself over to the yellow mech's side, “Alright. What do you want to see?”

“Snow!” 

“Snow? Why?” He pulled up his holodisplay and left it on the image gallery selection. He really needed to clear some of these. 

“I heard it's really cold.” Bee replied sheepishly. “And pretty.”

“Yeah just wait until it's stuck to your fenders.” He muttered as he swiped through the pictures, “Here look.”

“Oooo!” Bee grabbed his arm and pulled the image closer to his faceplate. There sat a barn covered in snow, not the same one the Maltos said Bee was living in, this one it was much larger. It had a gambrel roof and what looked like an entire second barn attached on its side. The red paint was practically a dark brown with age while the white had long since schluffed off. All of the doors and windows were open and cast a warm glow out onto the freshly fallen snow. The picture was taken at Breakdown’s standing height. Bee blinked, he couldn’t be sure but there was a familiar shadow peeking back at him in the far left window. “Quaint.”

“Yeah,” Breaks smiled at the memory, “What else do you want to see?”

“Ducks?”

“How do you-sorry, no birds.”

“Why not?”

Breaks sat up straighter and cracked his neck, “Earth creatures are dirty……and gross. Especially birds.”

“Oh.” Bee’s brows upturned as he withheld a dejected sigh. He let go of Breaks’ arm and bashfully tapped the tips of his pede together. “......I want to see Cybertron.”

“You still have pictures of it?”

“I know.” He slumped up against him, “I want to see yours.”

Breakdown side-eyed where Bee was touching him and chose to ignore it. He swiped through a couple of galleries before deciding on one he’d long forgotten about. It was a kitchen window in a Renvo style house on Cybertron, light from the outside made the interior too dark to see. But outside, in the rock garden was a yellow mech pondering a boulder. Off in the distance he could make out the taller building of Iacon. The last Breaks time ever saw the city, it was on fire. Here though, they were still new. Still B-127 and D-51. Still in their first alt modes. They’d bought the house with their meager savings and were still in the process of moving in. Bumblebee wanted to get out of the city, Breaks didn’t care. It was a quiet life, their life. 

Bee peered at the image, his optics once again watery, “My garden.....”

“None of that,” Breaks murmured as he flicked to another one. “Here.”

This time it was a picture of somewhere in the city outside of a stadium. Hundreds of mechs crowded in the streets, cheering the win of their Cube team, Electric Shock, at that cycle’s Grand Plate. The buildings were unmarked by time, vandalism sure, but all of it petty at this point. Bee could make out a couple of his friends in the crowd. They looked so young. Most were scuffed and dinged with celebratory scrapes but in good spirits. The game went into overtime that night and everybody was long since drunk when they called the final score. Bee remembered getting tickets to go to that game, his job almost didn’t give him the time off. Didn’t matter. 

“Blurr broke a tail-light that night.” Bumblebee whispered as he blinked away the tears. “I got my hand stuck in Bulkhead’s rotator.”

“Almost had to amputate.” Breaks stopped himself from leaning his helm on the top of Bee’s coin. He swiped to a similar picture.

Bee yawned with a grin, “Ratchet was so mad. ‘Don’t you know I have better things to do than to pry you two scrap-heads apart?!’” 

“I always wondered why he decided to become a medic.” Breaks shifted his weight and continued searching for more pictures. “Never seemed to like it that much.”

“Ratchet always wanted to help.” Bee snuggled closer, “In his own special way.” 

“I guess.”

Bee’s optics wandered around the room to all of his earthly possessions. Most he didn’t recognize, there certainly was a lot of movie memorabilia, toys themed to his likeness and various knickknacks. “Do you really hate Earth?”

For a klik, Breaks really considered the question, and in truth, yes he did. But the tone in Bee’s voice gave him pause. He looked at the poster directly across the room and it answered the question for him. Without a word, he pulled up one last picture. It was at night, taken somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the sky touched the ground and all was bathed in the inky abyss of nothing. Stars littered the sky like tiny pinholes, far too small to give off any meaningful light. There was a campfire. Breakdown took the picture with his arms folded across his chassis. If Bee saw his reflection in Breaks’ arm he didn’t mention it.  

He turned away. “Did-did I ever tell you....that space travel.” He swallowed hard. “That space travel really scared me?”

“No.” Breaks closed the pictures. “Why?”

“It’s just,” He closed his optics. “The nothing of it all. It goes on and on……I used to look at the floor whenever I had to walk by windows on the Ark.”

Breaks blinked, Bumblebee rarely spoke about the Ark, “Yeah you told me that.”

“I don’t like it.” He whimpered and covered his faceplate with his hands, “The nothing, nothing, nothing…it’s not there anymore! It’s me! Me! I’m the nothing!”

“Woah,” Breaks twisted to somewhat face the smaller mech, “Are you-?”

“No!” Bumblebee wailed as he threw his hands down. “Look at me! What is this?!” He held up his Stinger arm and shook it. “Where is it?”

“Your arm?”

“The Stinger!” He shook it even harder. “All I get is ‘Access Denied’! There’s nothing there! Is it empty? Gone?!!?”

“It’s still there.” Breaks tried to sound calm but Bee’s sudden mood swing made him nervous. “Don’t worry.”

“Why can’t I summon it?!?” Bee grabbed him, “Why don’t I have access to my own frame?!?!” 

Breaks instinctively leaned away, “They didn’t want you hurting yourself -”

“What?!” Bumblebee held him even tighter, his optics frightened by the implication. “Hurt mys- Why would I- Do you hear what you’re saying?!?!” 

“Yes.....” Breaks slowly nodded, “If it helps, I voted against locking you out.”

“It doesn’t help!” Bee shook him, “They want me to remember but they took everything away!”

Breaks pulled himself out of Bee’s grasp and placed a hand between them, “Not everything.”

“Yes!” Bee wailed as he clutched his own chassis. It felt tight, his T-cog heavy and his actuators seized. He keeled away from Breakdown as his frame began to tremble, his engine cylinders fired off pace and a high pitched whine came from somewhere within him. “Everything.” He gasped as his vision became blurry, “T-they took it from me twice.....”

“Hey,” Breaks sat up but didn’t touch him, “Hey.....the Ark? What do you remember about it?”

“I-I remember being on the Ark, bits and pieces,” Bee searched his memory files for the millionth time. “Flashes of faces and, ugh! I know it wasn't just yesterday, but it feels like it! Yet, hazy? Like I'm remembering a dream?!” Bee rolled over and slapped his palms to his helm. “Why is this so hard?” His voice hissed a high pitched whine. “I was there! I lived it! It was real! Where is it? Where is it?!”

Breaks watched him shake, crying together wouldn't help either of them. He looked elsewhere. 

“Bumblebee? Do you remember who won the final Cube game?”

“.........Curb Checkers,” Bee sniffled. “47 to 32.”

“What was the weather like that day?”

“Acid rain in Iacon,” He wiped the tears from his optics, “I had to stay in, watched it on the main screen with Arcee……S-Springer yelled at us for wasting time right before launch.”

“Where was I?”

“Parkcarber,” Bee really thought about it, “on your way to Parkcarber.”

Breaks laughed, “I never told you that.”

“I-I don't want it to end like that,” Bumblebee's voice became hoarse. “Or, didn't. I-uh keep, kept an optic on you when we went static.”

“Spying on me?” Breakdown nudged him playfully. “Sounds like a misuse of Autobot resources.”

Bee blushed, “Scouting out is my job. Or.....was.”

“Not much need for a scout these days.” Breaks stretched and settled into a more comfortable position on the berth. “You've been out of a job for quite some time now.”

“I've heard.”

“Is that a…bad thing?”

“Yes,” Bee whispered into the dark. “Breakdown?”

“Hmm?”

“W-what do I do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday I was Optimus’ prized scout starving to death and now I'm fat and the war is over. What do I do all day?”

“Hmmmmm,” Breaks pretended to think about it, “Enjoy retirement?”

“T-this can't be the end of my life?” He scratched a digit against the berth. “What did, do, what do I do now?”

Breaks gritted his denta and did his best to keep his voice unbothered, “Prime had you training those Terran kids.”

Bee scooted closer to him, “Training them for what?”

“I could never figure that out either.” Breaks shifted away with a laugh. “Combat drills mostly.”

The yellow mech went cold. “Combat? The war is over?”

“It is.” A lump formed in Breakdown’s throat and he swallowed hard. “But what else would you teach them? You're a terrible singer.”

“Am not!” Bee sat up indignantly.

Breaks smiled and turned to face him. “Are too, you can't carry a tune to save your aft.”

A grin teased the corner of Bee’s lips and he settled back down on the berth. They were both quiet again.

“Do you still sing?” Bee murmured as he flipped a Bumblebee themed plush over in his hands.

Breaks watched him mess with the toy. “Nah, nobody wants me to.”

Bee didn’t look at him, “I want you to.”

The former ‘con turned his helm away with a slight frown. He used to sing. Before. Not professionally of course, but he enjoyed performing for small crowds in dim-lit bars back in the day. It was how they met....maybe. It’d been so long he couldn’t remember. Breaks was somewhat confident they met at one of his shows. ‘Show’ is being generous, it was more, took over the mic during karaoke night. Or maybe earlier in the timeline and he just didn’t know. He knew the first time he really noticed Bumblebee, that was for sure. 

A bar fight had just been settled and he jumped on stage to lighten the mood. There at a table with a couple of his friends, one sharp, the other taller, was Bumblebee, half drunk and still joking about the fight. Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe because Breaks was half drunk himself, but that night the sight of this golden mech made his gears stop turning. He almost fell off the stage right then and there to introduce himself but the music keyed up. The song was a bit of a joke song he and the guys would do, but that night he hit all the parts without taking his optics off Bumblebee. The whole crowd sang along but Bumblebee stared right back at him, just as dumbstruck as he felt.

Breaks’ spark twittered at the memory, “Maybe next time......you should be recharging.”

“What was it like?” Bee set the plush down and returned his gaze back to the other mech. “When the war ended.”

“Honestly?” Breaks scratched the back of his neck as he searched for an answer, “Not great. Tensions were high with the loss of the Allspark, some people accepted living on Earth, the rest scattered.”

“Like you?”

“Like me.” 

“The other Stunts must have loved it.” Bee discreetly fondled Breaks’ arm. “Free at last and all that?”

Breaks stiffened at the mention of the Stunticons, “Sure.” 

“Where did you go?” Bee sensed his unease and quickly pulled his hand away.

“Savona.” 

“Was it…nice?” Bee looked around the room, unsure of where that was on this planet. 

Breaks grinned at him, “You thought so.”

“I did?” 

“Yeah,” Breaks pulled up the pictures again, “That’s where I took these.”

Bee squinted at the image, it was him alright. Same alt mode as he had now, he sat parked on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The setting sun glinted off his hood and gave him an ethereal golden glow. He’d never seen so much water before, or, turns out he had. 

“It’s pretty,” Bee breathed, transfixed on the reflective watery surface. “Why’d we leave?”

Breaks instantly shut it off. “......Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” He tucked his knees in and sat up straighter, “yes please.”

For a klik, Breaks thought about lying. He folded his arms across his chassis and stuck his hands into his armpits, pretending to really consider the memory. His lips wavered as he didn't know how to say it politely, “You put your duty to Prime first.”

Bumblebee blinked, “Duty?”

“Yeah ‘duty’.” Breaks bit back the sting in his voice. They'd argued and forgiven each other over this so many times now that he truly didn’t care. He hoped Bee would’ve remembered the emotional development two decades brought him before this topic came back up, but no. “Prime called you back, and you left.”

“What did he need me for?” Bee’s optics wandered around as he attempted to puzzle out why Optimus would need a scout during peace time.

“He couldn’t-” Breaks tried to be tactful, “He couldn’t keep tabs on you while we were in Italy. He wanted you in the States.”

Bee stared at him, “Huh?”

“See that’s what I said.” Breakdown turned to him while chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Prime didn’t need you anymore.”

“If he didn’t need me,” The gears in Bee’s processor were not turning. “Why did he want to keep tabs on me?”

“Old habit?” Breaks shrugged, “You were supposed to be in hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“He wanted everybody to think you were gone.” The bigger mech stretched his backstrut. “Italy was as good of a place as any.” 

“Optimus wanted me to come back, just to go into hiding?” Bee stared at his hands. They held no answers. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I also said that.”

“A-and I just went?” 

Breaks looked at him, really looked at him. That same absent expression on his faceplate now just like when he was first hit by Liege Maximo. His spark sank. “Yeah, yeah you just…went.”

“You didn’t stop me?” Tears began to form in the corner of his optics. “You just let me go?”

“Hey, I begged you to stay.” Breaks felt the same irritation this argument always brought. “Pleaded, even, okay?”

“You should’ve tried harder.” Bee whimpered and took a klik to steady himself. “I-I don’t know why I left. I don’t. I really truly don't. Because if you asked me right now.....I’m still feeling really guilty about leaving you the first time.”

Breaks blinked. “First time?”

“Yes,” Bee stared directly into his optics, his faceplate was wet and crumbled as he sniffled out the words. “I-I regret leaving you behind. On Cybertron. I never sh-should’ve gone.”

“You had to.” Breaks never heard this from Bee before. He forgot himself and reached out to wipe away the moisture from his Conjunx’s faceplate. “I don’t blame you for that.”

“I didn’t want to.” Bee’s voice became a high whine and his helm fell into Breaks’ palm. “Felt obligated to? Yes. I’m Optimus’ right hand mech, if I stayed behind……only Primus knows what could’ve happened to our cause. To me. But to leave you?” His optics flickered as Bee tried to look at him. “Cried myself to recharge every night. Nobody ever said anything.....I heard them doing it too. It was war, our duty-our duty was to follow Optimus."

“Bumblebee.....” Breaks scanned his faceplate and held back his own tears. “I-”

“And you’re telling me, that something happened between then and now where I left you again? For duty? To Prime? The war is over?” Bee choked on his words. “The war is over and I still followed orders?”

“Like I said,” Breakdown murmured, “Old habit.” Breaks suddenly realized how he was touching the smaller mech and pulled away. “It is over, though.”

“Are we,” Bee skittered around what he actually wanted to say, instead deciding to ask, “good?”

Breaks let out a short laugh, “I’m good, I can’t speak for you.”

 “I’m okay.” He nodded slowly, “I guess it doesn’t matter? We worked through it already.”

“Sure.”

“And we can work through it again?” 

“Only if you want to.”

A smile threatened Bee’s lips as he snuggled up to the bigger mech. “You know,” He gingerly caressed Breaks’ thigh, “I never did get to pay up on that bet we made.”

Breaks half-sparkedly brushed away Bee’s hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Oh,” Bee hastily sat on his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Breakdown yawned and settled back down on the berth. “Tired yet?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

“Are you?” Bee delicately rearranged himself next to the other mech without touching him. 

“A little bit.” He yawned. 

“Oh.....if I'm interrupting your normal recharge cycle, let me know?”

“It's fine,” Breaks stifled another yawn. “Ask me more questions.”

“Hmmmmm.” Bee pursed his lips in thought, “Are there any sparklings running around here?”

“None that I’m aware of?” Breaks folded his digits together and stretched out his arms. “That’d be major news for sure.”

“Those Terrans are kind of like sparklings,” Bee peered out of the corner of his optic at Breakdown. “Right?”

Breaks shook his helm. “It's not the same.”

“Why not?”

Suddenly Breakdown became very interested in the crack on his hands. They were worn and faded and scared. His hands. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, yet he knew he could never see those kids as his kids. They weren’t his. The Terrans were Bee’s kids at one point and maybe they still were. But they weren’t their kids. Truthfully, Breaks always wanted kids that looked a little like him. Was it bad to think? He wasn’t sure. He did know that whenever they spoke about having a sparkling, that he would imagine a smaller Bumblebee running around. Maybe the kid would have his optics, or just a splash of his natural color, something. 

“I-I remember we used to talk about sparklings.” Bee fiddled with the plush again. “Back in the day.”

He slowly nodded and remembered what they used to say to each other, “When the war is over, as many as we want.”

Funnily enough, they tried for a sparkling a week ago. Perhaps it was lucky they weren’t successful. It was too early to tell but Breaks knew it didn’t work. Something, or the lack of something, deep down inside of him said that it wasn’t time. They’d been trying for at least a cycle, on and off. Humans told Bee that stressing about it made it less likely to happen so they got really casual about sparking each other. Breaks tried to be more spontaneous, interrupting Bee while he was working, in the middle of a sonic shower, during lunch. More and more Breaks was coming to terms with another Cybertronian in the house and a part of him was upset they weren’t here yet. 

Breaks traced his forearm the same sensual way Bee had done that week prior. If only they knew. 

“I think…I would want to carry.” Bee stated matter-of-factly, as if saying it out loud made it official. “Yes. Yes I would.”

A laugh escaped Breakdown as turned his helm back towards Bee, he had said the same thing last week. “What if I wanted to?”

“You would?” Bee’s optics became dewy at the suggestion. “You’d carry my sparkling?”

“Yeah,” Breaks gently knocked on his chassis, “I got more space in here.” 

Bee leaned in closer to his faceplate, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No.” He held his gaze. There was a pause as he craved to lean in and kiss his Conjunx. Instead he slow-blinked at him then said, “I've always wanted to carry. What if it’s too big for you?”

“We could have a small one.” Bee countered playfully as he snuggled up closer to the larger mech.

His optics upturned in genuine concern, “But what if it's not?”

Bee shrugged his shoulders and tightened his grasp around Breaks’ arm, “I'll manage.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle this time, their ‘argument’ was quite literally word for word. Breaks grabbed the plush and began to mess with it, “What if we both carried?”

Bumblebee watched him, acutely aware the movement had shaken him off. “Like twins.”

Breaks tossed it in the air with a little spin just to catch it and repeat the gesture. “Could be a half and half assembly, you make the legs, I’ll make the arms, we can split the difference on the torso.”

“Oh no that sounds scary.” Bee scooted away but slumped up against him, he kept his optics trained on the movie posters across the room. “What if you make it in one scale and I make it in another scale? Baby with a big helm and little legs.”

“What about cold-construct? Neither of us have to carry.”

Bee shook his helm, “No…seems too impersonal.” 

“It's our child,” Breaks caught the plush again. “We made them with our hands?”

“Still.” Bee yawned, the name Lee Van Cleef on a poster reminded him of Cliffjumper for some reason.

“Fine,” He tossed it again, this time a little too high and it hit the ceiling. “What about disassembly?”

“I like my hands, thank you.” 

“Core transfer?”

Bee casually stretched and snuck himself closer to Breaks’ side. “To be completely honest, the idea of being merged together as a hot cube for 4 cycles is not for me.”

Breaks noticed and held the plush in his hands. “What if we forgot the whole enterprise?” 

He grabbed the plush but didn’t move away. “No, no I want one. It sounds like I'm behind.”

“There's no rush.” Breaks studied his faceplate, concern pinged in the back of his processor.

“I have time I need to catch up on!”  

“Bee, I can wait.” He tried to sound like he meant it as he took the plush back.

Bumblebee didn’t let go. “I don't want you to!”

“That's sweet,” Breaks tugged on the plush, “but it’s not that serious.”

Annoyance creased his faceplate and he gave up the toy. “Now you tell me you don't want one?”

They stared at each other for a klik too long before Breaks rolled over on his side to recharge. He clutched the plush tight to his chassis and closed his optics. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have entertained the conversation from the start but in his own selfish way, Breaks hoped that something would’ve jogged Bee’s more recent memory. Nothing. They were thinking about trying a data transfer this week, they just needed new cables. Maybe there was still time to cancel that order.

Bee’s voice was small as he broke the silence, “Why didn't you like my last alt mode?”

He didn’t open his optics, “......I did.”

“No you didn't, I can hear it in your voice.” Bee scolded him with a gentle shove. “Tell me.”

“Fine, I didn't.”

“Why not?”

“It was too…” Breaks rolled onto his back, the plush had been effectively flattened to his chassis.

Bee took it from him and began to fluff it up, “Too what?” 

“Flat.”

He paused, “Flat???”

“Can you blame a guy for having a preference?” Breaks opened his optics and shrugged.

“It was aerodynamic!” Bee’s gaze flicked away as he wasn’t sure if it actually was, he’d only seen pictures of it. 

Breaks grinned at him, “And ugly.” 

“What!?” Bee playfully slapped him with the plush. “Take that back!”

“Slowed you down.”

“Did not!” He hit him again.

Breaks laughed as he blocked the hit. “Did too!”

“Did not!” Bee kept trying to get at him, but each strike was gentler than the last.

“Okay fine!” Breaks got a hand on the plush, yet he didn’t try to take it away. He looked at it, then up to Bee, shifting around as he was scared of admitting the truth. Eventually, the guilt got to him. “It……it always reminded me of Dragstrip…in a way.” 

Bee sat back, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Breaks whispered, “it didn't suit you.”

“Oh.”

Bumblebee fumbled around with the plush, unsure on what to say. It smiled at him, the eyes a vacant blue, it knew as much as he did. He set it down where Breaks couldn’t reach it and folded his hands into his lap. 

“I-I remember one time, Dragstrip flipped a corner because he took the turn too tight,” Bee laughed cautiously. “Iacon 500, Cycle of Drakonis, no, Cycle of Duralumin, total wipe out.”

Breaks frowned and quickly looked away. “Yeah he did.”

“H-How is he,” He tried, it bothered Bee he kept upsetting him, “a-anyways?”

“I don’t know.” Breaks muttered and faced away from Bee. He hadn’t thought of his quintet in cycles. They were dead for all he knew. But he knew they weren’t. Combiner Resonance or something like that, a free perk to being force-forged together. It wasn’t his life anymore. He’d forgotten about Dragstrip’s crashout. It was before everything, while they were still friends. You could hear Dragstrip screaming from down the block, he was so mad he had to drop out of the race. He practiced that turn endless as soon as he was patched up. It didn’t matter in the end.  

Bumblebee squirmed, the cowboy posters seemed to taunt him with their joyless glares. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to watch those films, yet he couldn’t deny, there was a sense of certainness and the vaguest hint of hope that intrigued him. The dusty colors and unkempt humans reminded him of Cybertron. He shuffled on the berth for a moment, he wasn’t uncomfortable, only restless. Breaks was practically falling off the edge with how far he was leaning away from Bee. Bee wanted to snuggle up behind him, pretend like it really was just yesterday they were naive enough to think the war wouldn’t get them. He knew better. 

“Your favorite color is still blue, right?” Bee tucked his hand between his thighs and stared at the back of Breaks’ helm. “Me? I know I’ve always been partial to yellow.”

A yellow hue from Breaks’ optics on the wall caught his attention. Warm and intimate. Bee nodded and continued to ramble.

“I always thought it would catch on, Sunstreaker had the right idea, Nova Storm…..a third mech…” Bee rolled onto his side and kicked his legs into a more comfortable position. “Maybe I should change it though, new alt mode, new color. I can't do red, purple would be cool, you like purple, right?”

Breaks said nothing. A blink of darkness and the instant return of yellow told Bee he was listening.

“Although, I mean I could do red, I did do red for a couple cycles,” Bee smiled softly to himself. “Cliffjumper hated it but we looked so good together.” He clicked his holodisplay back on and swiped through the pictures, he couldn’t find any of his old friend. Concerned he tapped the recognition search and set it to ‘RED’. Access Denied. Bee settled onto his back. “Damn. Well. I’ve never done blue before, that might be interesting.”

Again, Breaks was quiet.

Bee threw his hands in the air. “There's so many choices! Dark blue, light blue, sky blue, energon blue, ombre. Oooo! Ombre! I could have a gradient blue that would be fun!”

Silence.

“......Would you like that?” His voice strained to hide a whimper, “What if I was iridescent?"  

Laying there next to Breaks, it felt so familiar. They used to have to lie to everyone, just being together was a sacred act when no one was around to see. Their own private religion. Stolen kisses and quick deflections from prying optics. In a way, being trapped on Earth made it easier. Bee turned his helm back to Breaks, he remembered when Breaks got that alt mode. It was early into their time on Earth. The old one had been compromised, as shame really, it hugged his frame just right. This one was fine, not perfect, but it suited him. Tears welled up in the corners of Bee’s optics, he knew this feeling well, not even the Blades of Time could make him forget that they were Conjunxed, try as it might. 

“Breaks?” Bee's gaze twitched across the ceiling.

“Hmm?”

“You don't recharge on a standing bay, do you?”

“.......no.”

Bee shifted, he closed his optics and squeezed his right hand together into a tight fist almost like he was holding a grain of sand. He concentrated on how each digit felt, the piercing, the roughness and strain in the servos. If in that moment he could cry, he would have. Tears of joy? Relief? Yet, something was still bothering him.

“You used to call me Sweetbee,” Bee's voice trembled nervously. “W-when when did that stop?”

Breakdown stared into the sullen eyes of the man on the cowboy poster, clutching his sides as if he let go he'd disintegrate into a million billion pieces. “.......it didn't.”

There was silence between the two for a long while until Bumblebee worked up the courage to ask. 

“What did I call you?”

Tears slipped down his faceplate as Breaks bit his lip, “......Countach.”