Sunstreaker says nothing. Doesn’t honor his brother’s stupidity with acknowledgement.
But his twin won’t be denied his fun.
“I’m…. Literally…. Right…. Next to you, fragger.”
The red bot is making those noises, speaking in what might be a conspiratorial whisper…. If it weren’t so LOUD. As they step out of the ark into bright sunlight, leaves in the trees causing dapples on the ground. On their paint.
“We should get Bee. Have him come with us!”
“What? Why??” Sunstreaker cannot keep the disgust from entering his voice.
Sideswipe looks at him like he’s lost a few bolts and screws. Sunstreaker growls more words.
“We don’t need him. For anything. Let’s go.”
“Alright. Fine! But….” His brother tilts his head and cocks a knowing smirk.
“…. What does a human eliminate in?”
Sunstreaker comes to a full stop and turns to glower at his brother in disgust.
“Eeeehhh???” Sideswipe looks at him with mock innocence.
Sunstreaker feels himself slump a bit. As much as he doesn’t like losing an argument, especially with his brother, he doesn’t want their new little roommate neglected. Not because of his own stubbornness.
“Oh alright. I GUESS.” He snarls out the last word.
They find the smaller mech also outside the ark, like themselves. Quite preoccupied. Laying with his arms crossed behind his helm. Just staring at the sky. Like he’s watching the clouds. His expression very far away.
“What…. Are you doing???” Sunstreaker feels incredulous.
The little bot ignores him. Shifting only to gently poke at a tiny insect fluttering around his optics. A butterfly, Sunstreaker thinks it’s called.
The thing alights right on the tip of Bee’s servo. And the fellow immediately freezes. Utterly motionless. Just staring at this butterfly as it slowly opens and closes it’s colorful wings.
“What my daft aft of a brother is ACTUALLY saying….. is that we need your help!” Sideswipe sounds downright cheerful.
The butterfly flutters away. Bee watches it go. Then, not sparing the other mechs a glance , those extended servos curl into the very same offensive gesture that little human had bestowed on Sunstreaker before. Just the middle one raised. Before Bee curls that arm back under his helm and he continues to cloud gaze.
“It’s for the human.” Sunstreaker is surprised at the earnestness in his own voice. Yes, he wants to punch Bumblebee right in his stupid cheeky faceplate. But he DOES need his help.
THIS perks the little fellow RIGHT up. He immediately turns his faceplate from the sky, blue optics flicking from one twin, to the other.
“We….. well this might come as quite the surprise…. But we don’t know what humans need.”
Bumblebee slowly rolls his optics. But he continues to pay attention after.
“We just….” Why is it so hard for Sunstreaker to admit what he’s admitting?
“We just want to make sure it has everything it needs.”
A robotic digital noise comes from Bee. Some word taken from the millions of songs, film clips, and sound bytes this bot has access to at any one time.
Just the one word. And Bee doesn’t look offended at all. It’s an oddly warm and tender expression. And, for once, Sunstreaker feels downright humble. That human was never an object, and he’s painfully aware that he ought to be the first to remember this fact. His own voice sounds quiet and weak. Soft.
He watches the corners of Bumblebee’s optics crinkle. Its an oddly innocent joy on the smaller bot’s faceplate. A brief moment where both bots understand each other completely. Both so willing to cooperate on just this one thing.
Bumblebee rises from the leaves and grass. And three high performance sports cars roar and scream into the horizon.
I’m smiling so wide that my tender nose stings. Watching this ridiculously handsome giant lower his hands. Just expecting me to let him pick me up. To come to him.
And I damn well do. Laughing as I walk over. Feeling those big warm fingers curling around me and lifting me.
“Fishing lures? I’m from MISSOURI. Of COURSE I know about fishing lures.”
Time slips away from me. I don’t care about anything else at all in these minutes. Or hours. Who cares??
His rigging is comical but efficient. Lots of giant lenses that help him see the tiny hook and strings and feathers.
He’s got things that look like the hooks and forceps one uses for such things, but it’s just so silly. Handles big enough for his fingers, tapering down into tips that can work on a proper hook.
He sees me gawping at these things, and flashes another smile that makes me feel wobbly.
“You have NO idea how hard I had to fib to get Wheeljack to make these for me. Don’t even ASK me what I had to do to convince Ratchet.”
I say nothing. Just grin like an idiot. Nope. Any secret this guy has is as safe with me as the secret I promised to keep safe for my brobot boys.
It's wonderful. Repetitive but wonderful. Instructing this beautiful giant on how to create a fly lure at the ridiculously tiny tips of those tools. Pulling the string taut for him from the spools. Pressing the feathers for wrapping. Giggling every time I look up and see a big glowing blue eye insanely enlarged by all those big lenses. Watching every movement I make. Attentive like a student.
It's so wonderful. He laughs at my puns and jokes. And makes puns of his own. He’s so charming I could just hurl.
When we are finished, he’s got a beautiful tiny fly lure pinched.
“Trout then? You’re after trout?” I wipe my hands on my pants. No reason. The action just feeling comfortable.
He squints at me quizzically.
“Oooohhhh….” I widen my eyes with interest.
“Ohhh I love bass fishing. You should think about crappie. Honestly they’re the BEST.”
“Says you.” Now his eyes are crinkling with the very same camaraderie I’d see if I were talking to an old fisherman that knows more than I ever will. And my chest swells with adoration.
“Well. I’d say you’ve got yourself a fine lure….. you’re welcome!”
He grins openly now. It’s such a disgustingly handsome grin. All open and happy.
“Thank you! Eh….” He hesitates, suddenly looking sheepish again. Reaching one of those big hands up to rub the back of his metal head. Just like before.
“Say….. could you maybe show me how to cast this thing?”
I can’t help my barking laugh. He’d seemed so knowing before. But so uncertain now.
I stand tall and smile so hard it hurts.
I watch him carefully gather everything. His fingers pinching at the string the tiny new lure is attached to. It disappears when his hand nears his side. I have no idea where it went. And I gawp.
“Subspace.” He offers me another sheepish smile. “My rod is already in there.”
I don’t question it. More ghost car alien robot magic, I suppose.
“Okay! Let’s go!” I reach up for him as he reaches for me.
He presses me to the center of his big warm metal chest. I can hear the same soothing whirring noise I’d heard inside the chest of Sideswipe. His alien heart.
He’s walking. I don’t care. Just closing my eyes for a moment to enjoy this whirring sound. Trusting him just as much as I trust Sunstreaker. Sideswipe. Bumblebee. Ironhide. Optimus Prime. I’m so….. so safe.
“Eh…..” He hesitates near that big door to his room.
“You’re gonna have to apologize….” He murmurs my name.
“Yep. Prowl is kinda mad at you.”
The doors slide open. And there he is.
Big police robot. Looking SO mad. Glaring right at ME and my human self at Hot Rod’s chest.
“You’re still HERE????” I can’t help my consternation.
He doesn’t answer. Is just staring at me like Hot Rod is just clutching a dog turd to his chest.
The pretty orange robot doesn’t give me a chance to hide or deny. His big gray hands extend with me in them. I clutch desperately at his warm fingers. He isn’t offering me, at least that isn’t how this feels to me. He’s putting me out to speak to this other grumpy fellow. I can FEEL his quiet strength in these big fingers. I don’t know HOW I know he’s not gonna let anything hurt me. I just DO.
“Heya Prowl!” I grin at the grumpy guy in front of me as I grasp and cling to these hands around me.
The other bot doesn’t say anything. Just glares down at me in disgust. I notice what appears to be honest to goodness police door looking wing things. I smile huge.
“I owe you an apology!” I don’t even try to be coy.
“And why should I care about your apology?” He looks like he’s eaten lemon. Or something else that leaves a sour taste on his robot tongue. But he IS listening.
“Because I was a total dick to you, obviously.” I finally feel secure in these big warm grey metal hands. And so I lift my chin and focus right on Prowl.
“I don’t trust cops. But that’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” My dumb grin softens. He’s…… kind of adorable even though he’s looking at me all grumpy.
“Take me in, officer!” I lift my fists and extend them to him. Like I’m ready for cuffs.
He sneers in disgust. Before just huffing. I can feel warm air all over me as he vents.
“You’re not worth the booking.”
I grin again. I can’t help it. I apparently just like giant grumpuses I guess.
“Just…. Stay off the floor, okay? You could be crushed under ped.” Now this guy looks like a grumpy cop dad. And I suddenly feel so warm and humble. THAT’S why he’d been after me. I was on the floor where I could be squished. I remember how the big giant hadn’t even seen me.
“You… you got it. No more floor. Done.” I smile up at him softly.
He glares down at me for several moments. And then just turns and stalks away.
“Bye….” It’s a quiet murmur. Humble. And I feel bad for being so annoying to him. He doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking away.
“He likes you.” Hot Rod sounds quietly amused above me.
“Really?” I balk. “It sure doesn’t seem like it.”
“He’d still be here if he didn’t.” It’s stark and honest. I believe him. And I just lift my hands to smile into my palms. Feeling oddly shy.
“Let’s go?” His voice is impatient and yet calm. As I look up at his big gorgeous smile.
“Oh yes!” Bass fishing with a drop dead handsome giant alien????? YES!
He walks calmly thru these corridors. Big hands pressing me right to that odd red symbol on his chest. I hear his heart again. Feel so oddly content, as we go along these dim giant corridors.
The sunlight is blinding bright and I have to shut my eyes. I can hear engines. High pitched, and low.
“Ah…. Scrap. Maybe some other time, little friend?” Hot Rod’s big voice sounds sheepish and regretful. I look out as his big hands lower me to the ground for me to stumble onto my own two feet.
I see immediately what he’s looking at. Can hear it too.
Three sports cars are screaming towards us. Two unmistakable Lamborghinis and a Camaro.
The golden Lamborghini is already transforming. I don’t notice the possessive scowl on Sunny's face focused at Hot Rod because I’m staring at the other two.
There’s a mattress strapped to the top of the Camaro. But the red Lambo…..
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