Work Text:
Optimus and Bumblebee sat down for dinner on the restaurant balcony for some privacy.
“Highland Energon and Coagulated Petroleum.”
The waiter nodded, heading back to give their order to the chef.
Bored by the wait, Bumblebee took the Prime's hand and began to inspect it.
He hummed as his palm and digits were moved along to Bee’s will and want.
“Is there something interesting regarding my servo?”
He moved the Prime's hand into a fist.
“Did you know that apparently your spark is the size of your hand?”
Optimus raised an optic ridge.
“Oh? And where did you learn that?”
“When I was assigned to assist in the med-bay, I picked up a few things. Ratchet told me about it. How the spark reveals all, both physical and emotional, more than even a face and words can.”
Prime laughed lightly.
“How poetic for him. Although I doubt my servo reveals anything as much as my face ever would, and a spark is the most difficult thing to understand.”
Bumblebee hummed, still playing with his hand, pressed two of his own digits lightly down.
Optimus tilted his helm in silent inquiry.
“You know…when you can feel a spark beat coursing through a mech, it's interesting. It’s sometimes calm and subtle and other times it jumps around like a cyberrabbit.”
“Sometimes out of panic and injury.”
Bumblebee intertwined their digits.
“Other times it’s excitement.”
Prime could feel his spark stutter.
“I always thought it was interesting, how a spark could show itself in ways outside of a medical setting.”
The server mech had returned, two plates of Coagulated Petroleum and two glasses of Highland Energon.
With a bow and well wishes, they left once more.
Bumblebee untwined their hands and grabbed the utensils.
Optimus sat there, faceplate warm and spark flittering, staring at the bot in front of him.
Bumblebee looked back at him.
“What?”
He asked, a coy smile on his derma.
“Nothing…your explanation simply…made me rethink my former opinion.”
Bumblebee hummed a jaunty tune in acknowledgment and took the Prime’s servo back, placing a kiss on the back of his palm.
“Wh-why?-”
“A thank you, for giving me your hand. Besides, you're probably right. Sparks are too difficult to truly understand.”
He waved his fork at Optimus’s plate.
“You should probably eat that before it turns sticky.”
Optimus glanced back down at their meal, the one which Bumblebee had already started on.
With a light shake of his helm to try to dissipate its warmth; he picked up his own fork, spark still faintly fluttering.