Chapter Text
That night, Sam stayed up until three, and Bumblebee didn't protest once. When Sam opened his laptop, he only caught a glimpse of Bumblebee's name in his buddy window before the Autobot logged off. Bee didn't log back in again, nor did he comment on Sam's Facebook status (sad and confused). When midnight came, he didn't hack into Sam's computer, disrupt the cable signal to Sam's room, mess with Sam's radio, or call him to demand that Sam go to bed. Sam toyed with the idea of texting Bumblebee, or maybe shooting him an e-mail, but he couldn't decide what to say. "I'm sorry," didn't seem to cut it, not when Sam had straight-out suggested a relationship with the Autobot, then panicked after a single dance with his holoform. And even if Sam could decide on a message, he wasn't sure Bee would respond to it. Sam couldn't blame Bee for ignoring him. He wished he could ignore his own thoughts.
Now that she wasn't pressed up against him, everything about her screaming that she just. wasn't. Bee., Sam could admit that maybe he'd overreacted to the holoform. In the safety and solitude of his hotel room, he could even recognize that it had been kind of sweet for Bee to create her for him. Kind of. Bee had obviously been trying to please him: how could Bee have known just how creepy his effort would seem to Sam? In all fairness, Sam supposed he didn't know what would creep Bumblebee out. Of course, anything that could spook a centuries-old alien robot was probably beyond Sam's ability to pull off.
When one o'clock came without a protest from Bee, Sam moved to the window to reassure himself that the Autobot was still there. Hiding himself behind the heavy brocade curtains, though they'd probably do a fat lot of good if Bumblebee decided to scan his room, Sam studied the Camaro in the parking lot below. He wondered if Bumblebee had managed to fall into his recharge mode or if he, too, were mulling over everything that had happened. Sam choked back the lump of guilt in his throat that rose from Bee's earlier sadness and from the sight of him waiting in the parking lot, alone with his pain. Bumblebee deserved so much more than a spoiled, flighty human who took things for granted -- took people for granted -- even when they were as amazing as Bee.
Hugging himself, Sam leaned against the window. The cool press of glass against his cheek reminded him of Bee's face nuzzling him earlier, and he blushed. He'd kissed Bee. Aside from the initial awkwardness, it hadn't even felt that weird. Touching a finger to his lips, Sam remembered Bee's mouth vent hard and cool beneath his lips, the taste of alien metal on his tongue. He remembered Bee's optics glowing, the Autobot's huge hand pressing him close. It hadn't felt sexual, exactly -- Autobots just weren't made for kissing -- but it hadn't been bad. He wouldn't mind doing it again, not if it would make Bee happy. Watching his Camaro in the parking lot below, Sam thought that he would do anything to make Bee happy, not out of guilt, or because Bee was his friend, but simply because Sam loved him. True, Sam didn't know if he were in love with Bee. He wasn't even sure he could manage the same depth of love and devotion that Bee felt for him. He loved Bee, though. Dearly. He only hoped that Bee would forgive him once again.
* * *
Sam didn't remember leaving the windowsill and going to bed, but he knew it had been sometime after three o'clock. He remembered the glowing numbers on the alarm clock, and a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach because Bee hadn't protested his staying up so late. His dreams were troubled that night -- no hint of Scalpel, but an even worse nightmare in which Bee left him on the side of the road, driving away to never come back. Sam woke up with a pounding heart, and had to look out the window again to see if Bee were still there. The sight of the yellow Camaro in the parking lot calmed him. As he undressed for the shower, Sam decided that he and Bee needed to have one hell of a talk.
That didn't mean he looked forward to it, though. Sam lingered in the shower, and took his time getting dressed, trying to work out what, exactly, he could say to Bee. He ate cold cereal, fruit, and yogurt in the Continental breakfast, drank three cups of coffee, and watched an hour of news before he finally worked up the courage to face Bumblebee.
Checking out of the hotel, Sam stepped hesitantly into the parking lot and made his way to the yellow Camaro. Bee had gotten dusty on the drive, Sam realized as he approached him. When they got home, he'd have to wash the Autobot. His stomach fluttered at the thought, and Sam bit his lip, wondering if Bee would even stay with him once they reached Tranquility. After everything that had happened, Sam couldn't blame the Autobot if he booted Sam out in the driveway and sped back to the base as fast as his wheels could carry them.
"Hey, Bee," Sam said softly, hesitating a few feet away from the Camaro. Bee didn't answer, but the driver's side door unlocked itself. Sam reached for the door handle, fumbled with it a second before opening the door. He hadn't felt this nervous around the Autobot since Bee had first come home with him after the battle of Mission City. For the first few weeks, Sam hadn't known how to relate to Bumblebee. No advice column in the world had guidelines for dealing with a car who wasn't really a car, but a robot in disguise. Bee had smoothed things over for him then, joking with Sam, playing ridiculous songs on the radio, challenging him to games of poker online, and (finally) pointing out rather that since he had volunteered to be Sam's car, Sam really didn't need to feel awkward about driving him. By the end of that first month, Sam's nervousness around Bee had entirely disappeared, and they'd fallen into a casual friendship. By the end of the summer, Bee had become the best friend Sam had ever had. As he tossed his backpack into the backseat and slid into the car, Sam frowned at the thought that Bee definitely wasn't going to be smoothing things over for him this time. Now, the pressure was all on Sam.
The engine started as soon as Sam reached for his seatbelt, and Bee backed them out of the parking space and swung around to face the lot's exit.
"We need to talk," Sam said softly, resting a hand on the steering wheel.
"Don't speak! the radio sang.
'Cause I know what you're saying.
And I don't need your reasons.
Don't tell me 'cause it hurts."
"Bee," Sam said, his lips quirking up in a half smile. "Come on. You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"Do I have to say the words?
Do I have to spell it out?"
"Bumblebee," Sam started, unsure what to say. Abandoning words altogether, he rested his fingertips on the dashboard instead, hoping his touch could convey some measure of comfort. Bee responded instantaneously, sliding the driver's seat back, out of reach. Sam gasped as his head bounced softly against the padded leather headrest.
"You're a heartbreaker! Dream maker! Love taker don't you mess around with me!"
"All right, fine!" Sam snapped, glaring at the dashboard. "We won't talk. I'll leave you alone. Happy?"
Bee didn't respond, but the radio switched to a classical music station, probably chosen to keep Sam from accusing him of being too quiet, like he had yesterday. Sam shook his head and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, angry and hurt, but also kind of relieved. Bee's endless patience often amazed him. Strange as it was, Sam felt comforted to know that even Bee had his limits. He'd give the Autobot some time to cool down, and then he'd try again. If Bee had one fault, it was curiosity. Sam knew that sooner or later, Bee would want to know what he had to say.
* * *
Four hours later, Sam was starting to doubt the efficacy of his plan. The problem, he decided, was that you just couldn't out-wait someone who measured his life in centuries. He'd figured that Bee couldn't ignore Sam the entire drive home, but Bee seemed determined to do just that. The Autobot stopped at a rest station when Sam announced that he needed to use the bathroom, and later at a restaurant, when Sam got hungry. Aside from that, Bumblebee seemed determine to pretend that Sam wasn’t riding inside him.
Halfway through Wyoming, Sam decided to try again. "Bee?" he said hesitantly.
Bumblebee kept driving without so much as a rumble of his engine to show that he'd heard Sam.
"Bumblebee, come on."
The volume on the radio crept up, Vivaldi's "Gloria" blasting through the cabin. Sam wondered if that were the Autobot equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and singing, "I can't hear you."
Undaunted, Sam shouted over it, knowing that Bee's audio processors were more than capable of separating his voice out from the choir. "Bee, look, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you. You surprised me last night. That's all."
Still no answer, but the volume on the radio slid down a few notches. It was better than nothing, Sam supposed.
"I understand if you hate me right now," Sam continued. "I don't blame you."
The engine made a grinding noise of protest, and Bee finally spoke, his voice sounding worn and exhausted. "I don't hate you, Sam."
"But you're mad at me."
Bee hesitated. "Perhaps," he said softly. "However, I believe I am mostly angry with myself. I was foolish to believe that a romantic relationship might be possible between us."
Sam swallowed. "I . . . I know I don't have the best track record with relationships," he said. "I messed up with Mikaela, and I only managed one date before I messed up with you. I still want to try this, though. If you'll have me."
A sputtering, metallic groan sounded beneath the hood, and the Camaro shook around him. "It's never been a question of my being willing to have you," Bee said, as if he were explaining something to a three-year-old. "You don't return my feelings for you, Sam."
"I love you!" Sam protested.
"As a friend," Bee said. Sam wondered if he'd imagined the faint note of bitterness in Bee's voice. "And as you've pointed out before, even that has infringed upon the normalcy of your life."
"That's not fair!" Sam glared at the dashboard. "Look, I was confused when I said that. I told you already, I just needed a chance to figure out who I was without you!"
"A chance you never got," Bee pointed out. "Your life is in a state of transition right now, Sam. My research indicates that humans do not do well with such liminal periods. Between losing your residence at the university and breaking up with Mikaela, it's not surprising that you would reach for a relationship with me merely to add some stability to your life. I believe humans have a term for it: I would be your rebound."
"That's not true!" Sam protested. "Well, okay, the transition part is true. I'm not sure where my life is going, and that freaks me the hell out. But believe me, Bee, dating you would not make things any simpler for me!"
"All the more reason not to attempt it," Bee said, sounding entirely too smug.
"Are you just looking for a reason to shoot this down?" Sam asked.
Bee's processors whirred as he looked up the idiom. After a moment, he said, "I'm merely pointing out that, before yesterday, you've never given any indication of returning my feelings for you."
"That's because I didn't know you even had feelings for me! Now I do. I want to try this, Bee."
"Why?" Bee asked.
A thousand answers flashed through Sam's mind, and silence stretched between them while he considered them. He didn't even realize he was speaking until he heard himself whisper, "I don't want to lose you." His voice hitched a little, and he blushed, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. To his relief, Bee didn't push him away.
"Sam," Bee said gently, "our friendship doesn't depend upon your returning my affection for you."
Sam swallowed. He was trying to decide how to answer that when his cell phone rang, startling them both. Sam jerked upright, his hand scrambling for his pocket, while Bee rocked on his suspension as though he'd hit a pothole. Sam pulled the cell phone from his pocket, intending to silence it. But the name on the caller ID caught his attention, and he hesitated. Of all the people Sam hadn't expected to hear from again, Mikaela probably topped his list. He hesitated a moment as the phone rang and vibrated in his hand.
"I . . . I have to take this, Bee," he said. "It might be an emergency." As pissed as Mikaela had been at him, he couldn't imagine her calling him for anything less than a full-scale Decepticon attack. Although, if that were the case, she'd be better off calling Optimus Prime. Maybe her dad was back in prison, or Wheelie had managed to escape, or . . . The engine rumbled in acquiescence, interrupting Sam from his panicked train of thought, and Sam flipped open the phone.
"Hello?" he asked, wincing at the panicked note in his own voice.
"Hi, Sam." To his surprise, Mikaela's voice sounded just as nervous as his. Mikaela never sounded nervous. Even when facing down Decepticons, she kept a calmness about her that Sam envied.
"Is something wrong?" Sam asked, fearing the worst. Mikaela hesitated. As quiet as Bee had been that morning, Sam wouldn't have guessed that he could get any quieter, but the normal rumble of the Camaro's engine quieted to the faintest hum.
"I was talking to Leo last night," Mikaela said at last. "Sam, why didn't you tell me something was going on?"
"I guess I didn't want to worry you," he said.
"So instead you made me feel like I was nothing to you?" Mikaela snapped. "Sam, I flew across the country for you when you started seeing those alien symbols. Didn't you think I'd understand whatever’s happening to you now, too?"
"Sorry," Sam stammered. "I was a jerk. I know. It's just . . . Mikaela, things were really bad then. I was kind of messed up."
"That's what Leo said." Mikaela sighed, and Sam could practically picture the frustration on her face. "He said you left a few days ago with Bee. Where are you guys?"
"Wyoming."
"You should be home tomorrow then," Mikaela said thoughtfully."Yeah," Sam said. "I guess." A small kernel of disappointment settled in his stomach at the thought, but he didn't have time to examine it.
"Sam, when you get home, we need to talk," Mikaela said. "I feel bad. I wouldn't have dumped you if I'd known what was going on." She hesitated. "Maybe when you're home, we could get back together. Try again."
Once before, Sam had felt the world slow down around him, as though fate were zooming in on a single scene that would change his life forever. He'd thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime event, but here it was, happening again, the air around him growing heavy, as if the entire universe had stilled to see what he decided. A sense of deja vu blurred his vision, and for a second, he could almost see Bee's door swinging open, hear the radio speak, as the memory of that first key moment flared up inside him.
Any more questions you want to ask?
Gripping the phone, Sam swallowed, acutely aware of both Bumblebee and Mikaela waiting for his next words. His heart pounded in his chest, traitorously indecisive, as the memory of that first pivotal decision of his life played on.
"Sam?" Mikaela prompted.
At the same time, he heard the echo of his own voice from years ago. "Don't you want to know that you had the guts to get into the car?"
"Mikaela I can't," he said. "There's somebody else."
As suddenly as that, the world snapped back into focus. Bee swerved into the next lane, inches away from hitting the motor home in it. Sam gasped, gripping the steering wheel with his free hand as if that might somehow help. Through the squealing of brakes and the honking of the motor home's horn, Sam barely heard Mikaela's response.
"What?" she gasped. Bee centered himself in the lane, and Sam released the breath he'd been holding, gradually loosening his death grip on the steering wheel.
Mikaela's voice went cold and dangerous. "Were you cheating on me, Sam?"
"No! It's not like that, I swear! You know I wouldn't cheat on you, Mikaela."
"Then what?" she said. "It's been less than two weeks since I dumped you. Are you saying you already found someone new?"
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I didn't want to hurt you. I promise, this new person . . . it didn't happen until after you dumped me. I wouldn't have considered it otherwise. But . . . I think this could be special. Really special."
"Better than us?" Mikaela's voice sounded tight. Sam ached for her.
"I'm so sorry, 'Kaela."
"Screw you, Sam," she said, and hung up.
Sam stared at the phone for a second, and then closed it, dropping it on the passenger seat. He leaned back against the head rest, and drew in a shaky breath.
"Tell me I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life."
The engine raced, sputtering a little as Bee searched for words. Finally, Bee said, "Sam, I never expected --" he hesitated, searching for words. The radio clicked on, but instead of a song, Sam heard his own voice drift through the speakers, so panicked it was barely recognizable.
"Bee, you're not a girl!
Sam shook his head. "Bee," he said softly, "I wasn't upset because you're not a girl. I was upset because she didn't remind me of you."
The engine made a series of wondering clicks. Abruptly, Bee turned on his blinker, swerving off the road and up the shoulder. Sam gripped the steering wheel as Bee muscled through the underbrush, handling the rough terrain as easily as any ATV Sam had ever seen. Bee pulled behind a grove of trees, and his door opened. Sam had no sooner stepped out than Bee began his transformation. Seconds later, a huge metal hand clasped around Sam's waist, and Bee was lifting him up and pressing him to his chest.
Sam spread his arms wide, wishing he could fully embrace the Autobot. He settled for running his palms down the racing stripes on Bee's chest, and resting his head at the center of Bee's chest, knowing that Bumblebee's spark was pulsing below him.
"Sam," Bee said softly. "Sam, I . . ." His optics sputtered on and off, and for once, he seemed completely speechless.
"I . . . I'm going to make mistakes," Sam warned softly. "I'll probably hurt your feelings again. And I'm going to be all confused and emo for awhile while I try to figure out what I'm doing with my life." He shrugged. "But I love you, Bee. I want to try this with you. And it's not just to keep you with me, or because you're my friend. It's because, like I said, I think we could be really special."
Bee chirped at him, then, as he so often did, resorted to song:
""And if it terrifies you
Then it terrifies me
'Cause I will be there
So we've got each other in the dark"
Sam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bee's chest, at the seam where the two armored plates met together. "You're going to have to teach me," he said. "About how we can . . . " he hesitated, feeling his cheeks go hot.
Bee chirped happily. Lifting Sam higher, he nuzzled Sam's neck. "I look forward to it," he promised.
The End.