Contemplations. (GrimBee Fanfic)
Bumblebee woke slowly, optics fluttering on and off in order to calibrate to the darkened state of the scrap yard. He made a soft noise as a stretch rolled through his cables, soft tugs on a firmly set path through his frame. This movement, even as small as it was, shifted the blankets and scraps around him into a flatter position, reveling more of the under coverage of the nest he was currently curled up in.
His gaze drifted upwards, silently taking in the sky he had come to love so much during his time on Earth. Strongarm and Sideswipe never really understood why he found it so peaceful, but they were far more vocal about the ‘far more useful ways he could spend his time.’ This was usually followed by a jest or a small skirmish, depending on who was making the remark.
Fixit and Drift didn’t understand what his fascination was either, but were far more willing to let him sit and enjoy the ethereal the view.
And what a view it was. The tops of Denny’s shelving climbed high above Bee’s helm, framing the incandescent glow of the twinkling stars above him. He couldn’t seem to find a constellation he recognized, but that didn’t bother him.
As a small smile crossed his lip plates, He softly pressed back against the warmth behind him, while a strong arm encircled his waist.
Without looking down, Bumblebee slid his servos between Grimlock’s much larger ones. He tore his gaze from the universe above him to gaze into unfocused blue optics, and was met with a sleepy smile.
Grim had become such a staple in Bee’s life, but neither mech could pinpoint when exactly they had made the shift from friends to…more.
Bee was still far too young to interface, but that never seemed to bother Grimlock. He was just as content holding Bumblebee close as the night sky drifted passed them, exchanging soft kisses and whispered sentiments until sleep claimed them once more.
Grimlock had become used to Bumblebee’s random awakenings, attributing it to old SpecOps coding fluttering through his circuitry and rousing him for a rough perimeter check. Just as Bumblebee had gotten used to Grimlock’s passive-agressive possessiveness. An arm around his waist, a soft helm nuzzle, a hard glare when someone got too close were all just as much a part of Bumblebee’s routine as his morning stretches and inventory of energon.
But now, when there were no optics or eyes upon them to challenge what they had, Grimlock took his time to savor the look and feel of Bumblebee beside him. The smoothness of his armour that covered the wartorn protoform beneath, the soft servos that stroked over his palms and forearm, the helm that closed the distance between their lip plates for a tender kiss that tasted of innocence and love.
Bumblebee’s other hand slid up to cradle Grimlock’s head into the crest of his neck, shivering as Grim’s hot exvents swept over the scars from the past. No damage was to come though, only a soft kiss and a whisper of love touched the cabling that protected his vocalizer as that arm tightened further around his waist.
Bee let his optics power down once more, content and safe within the nest Grimlock had so painstakingly crafted to comfort their joined frames during the night cycles.
As Grimlock’s ventilation’s slowed to a passive cycle, Bee onlined his optics again and gazed upwards, his mind drifting to Optimus.
What would he think of this relationship he had found himself in? Would he approve? Or would the gap between their minds and sparks prove too much?
Bee sighed softly, stroking a hand between Grimlock’s audials. They were so different, yet so similar. Where Grimlock’s mind faltered, Bumblebee’s excelled with his brilliance. Where Bumblebee's frame failed, Grimlock’s surged onwards to complete whatever task he was given with his usual chipper demeanor. Where his spark was new, and spinning with all the youth of a new life, Grimlock’s was tame and calmed, belonging to a mech several thousand vorns older than his yellow counterpart.
But still, they prevailed. The war that had formed much of their lives had placed them as equals, their strengths balancing out the deficiencies of the other until they had found something that simply felt /RIGHT/.
Even so, as bee contemplated the acceptance of a mech long passed, he found his spark at peace, the warmth of the frame beside him and the purity of his intentions easily calming that ever-present anxiety from the younger mech.
And so, with a helm tucked beside his, and an arm holding him close, Bumblebee fell back into a light recharge, unable to bring himself to care about anything other than the warmth in his frame and spark.
