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Bumblebee adores Optimus.
It was simple fact.
Not he ‘adored when-‘ or ‘adored his-‘ he simply adored the large mech.
Bumblebee loved the leader no matter what. Whether he was kind and benevolent to all living creatures, or when he had to be violent and vigilant against enemies.
Bee often thought that the color blue suited his kind leader.
The large bots frame being a majority blue, making the little bot think of calm serene seas, and the beautiful skyes of earth.
The bright blue of the large mechs optics reminiscent of some of the purest of energon.
Fitting for a mech as noble as him.
The red, despite the contrast, suited the mech quite well as well the little bot thought.
For the color reminded him of passion and power, the bot with intense opinions on literature, and no mech would be as passionate for the autobots and their cause as their own righteous commander.
But far from superficial things such as paint color and status was his dear Optimus behavior.
The large bot had never looked down on a weaker or smaller mech, not even the little yellow bot himself who was small even among the smaller bots.
His lord never demanded obedience from other bots with his status as Prime. Even when bots such as himself gladly gave themselves over to his commands he never forced a bot into a role that didn’t suit them to fill out ranks.
No, his sweet director was the kindest bot to ever be graced by the matrix.
He had no doubt that even Primus themselves would be biased towards Optimus as their magnum opus of a cybertronian leader.
Bumblebee only wished his kind Optimus himself saw how fitting he was as a Prime.
He wasn’t disappointed, he would never be disappointed in Optimus, he was a great leader for the circumstances that no bot would ever wish to be put through.
Instead, Bee would do whatever he could to remain by his commanders side and smile.
Smile to remind Optimus that he had other bots looking out for him, a quiet comfort he could give the large mech no matter the time or place.
But what could Bee do to make sure the large and protective back of the bot who ruled kindly was also protected?
Bee learned to fight beside him despite his frame, to remind his General he always had a bot to cover his back.
He learned to cover small tasks and help delegate work away from his lord, so his blue optics could rest and his helm could lay without his processor running for solutions.
Bumblebee would and had followed Optimus to war, and he will push himself into the line of fire if it saved Optimus, the bot who was kind, the bot who respected the small and weak, the bot who fought for freedom of all living things.
He fought not just for the Optimus that was a commander.
But for the Optimus who loved poetry, who listened to his ramblings, the bot who inspired acceptance in all, the bot who felt more comfortable in an archive than he ever would in a battlefield.
The bot Bumblebee knew only behind closed doors due to war and circumstance.
Bumblebee looked up at the large mech that he walked next to as he babbled about gossip on the ARK. Servos intertwined as he swung his arm in tandems with their steps.
He looked up at the one who led the autobots, not out of want but out of necessity with a smile as he continued rambling.
Optimus looked down at him, patting his helm and faceplate.
Bumble squeezed the servo that was still intertwined.
For he knew Optimus was a bot long before he was a Prime.
So he would protect his kind, passionate, sad, and loving Optimus.
No matter the cost to himself.