Chapter Text
The first camping trip Bumblebee and Prowl ever went on was a disaster. So, it was no coincidence that it also happened to be the last camping trip they ever went on.
Disaster was putting it lightly. It’d ended up with both of them covered in space barnacles that inhibited their central processors and turned them into mechanical zombies; Bumblebee didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to them if Sari hadn’t sprayed them with enough hot water to boil the barnacles off (and fry their circuits in the process).
But the second time’s the charm. Or was it the third? He wasn’t sure why he bothered with these human expressions. That didn’t matter— it was just a convoluted way of communicating what he was trying to say, which was that if they tried camping a second time, then it’d go better than the first time, probably.
Mind you, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of camping again. From the little he’d experienced of it, he’d already decided that he hated the wild outdoors, with its big, scary animals, frigid cold that reminded him of Cybertron, and grainy dirt getting stuck between his joints. More than any of that, though, he hated not having internet. No movies, no video games, not a single kind of electronic in his immediate vicinity if, and when, he needed it. What was he supposed to do when he was bored, drive around? He’d crash into a tree trunk before he could even reach 50! And sure, it could make for an epic obstacle course if he found the right area, but he had a hunch that Prowl wouldn’t like him tearing up the grass.
But after disposing of what felt like the hundredth bag of debris that day, suddenly, none of that seemed so terrible. Bumblebee’s arms ached from just how many bags of rubble he’d carried; the Autobots had spent days cleaning up the city following their fight with Megatron, and he’d had hardly any downtime since. Why were they the ones cleaning the city, anyways? Didn’t the organics have people specifically for this?1
Optimus would never get off his aft if he tried to ditch cleaning the city for something like video games or racing around town. But maybe, if he did something under the ruse of being productive with another person…
“Heyyy, Prowl,” he sing-songed, leaning his weight onto Prowl’s back while he was bent over a pile of rubble. The sudden weight on Prowl’s back almost sent him tumbling face first into the clutter, before he caught himself with a hand.
“Bumblebee,” Prowl bit back, groaning, “Shouldn’t you be helping clean this mess instead of roaming around aimlessly? I assure you, there’s no lack of work to do.”
Bumblebee hummed thoughtfully. “But I’ve been working so hard—” A yawn, “And l’m just so tuckered out.”
“Remind me why this is of my concern?” Prowl stood up with enough force to send Bumblebee stumbling off of his back, moving another large boulder off of the pile of rubble and beginning to walk to the nearby disposal truck. Bumblebee skated alongside him without complaint.
“I had a proposal.”
“That is rarely a good thing.”
“It’s a great thing, actually,” Bumblebee said with a grin, earning him a sideways stare from Prowl before he chucked the large stone into the truck and swiped his hands clean of any dirt with two loud, firm claps. “Because I was going to ask if you wanted to go camping again.”
Silence followed. For one moment, then two. The longer it dragged on the more it made Bumblebee squirm; he couldn’t tell what Prowl was looking at him with. Ire? Distaste? Surprise, excitement? If only he would take those stupid shades off, maybe he could actually read him.
“Absolutely not,” came Prowl’s response after a moment, pushing Bumblebee aside to walk past him. Absolutely unnecessary, by the way, because he could’ve just walked him around if he needed to go that direction. “We have work to do.”
“Gah, come on!” Bumblebee whined, throwing his hands up but still following along, “Don’t you like nature?”
“I do happen to enjoy nature when there’s not a mosquito in my ear buzzing about how bored it is with no outlet for its trivial electronic media.”
“A— what? Actually, nevermind, look,” he skated in front of Prowl’s path and skirted to a stop. It was enough to stop Prowl in his tracks, at least for a moment. “That was a fluke. I won’t complain this time. Not even once! You can— meditate on the mountainside, or whatever it is you do, and I won't bother you. Promise.”
Prowl crossed his arms. “And just why would you do that? It’s not like you to be so peaceable.”
He scoffed. “I can be peaceable.”
“Perhaps. But there are much better things you could be doing with your time than going camping, surely. If you’re so bored, why don’t you go play one of your… TV games.”
“Video games,” Bumblebee corrected, following with an awkward cough. “There’s, uh… no new video games. Yep. Played ‘em all. Driving cars through tunnels and fighting monsters and… smashing things… it gets old, you know? Thought camping would be more fun.”
It wasn’t very convincing. And judging by his long stare, Prowl didn’t seem to think so either.
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Now if that’s all, I have a mess to clean.”
“Prowl—”
But Prowl was already sidestepping him to leave again. Bumblebee groaned loudly and banged the palm of his servos against his helm.
Alright, whatever. So what if it wasn’t just exhaustion or boredom that was driving him to want to go camping suddenly? Maybe he felt bad about how terribly the previous trip had gone, because Prowl had initially looked so excited for it, and even though Bumblebee wasn’t enthused by the thought of scary animals and mud gluing his gears together, maybe he realized he could use it an an excuse to spend time with Prowl, because they’d hardly had any time together after the initial camping fiasco. But of course, Prowl was deadset on telling him no for some reason, because nothing could ever be that simple.
“Come on, Prowl!” he called after him, watching as he walked away unbothered. Did he have loose bolts where his processor should be? Bumblebee was offering to do something he liked. Surely it wasn’t because Prowl didn’t want to go camping at all, he was way too into that nature crap not to be interested. “You like this stuff, don't you? I’m—”
He sputtered. Say something, he urged himself, come on. He’s going to leave.
“I’ll take over your patrolling duty. And— and I won’t bother you while you’re meditating. For a month.”
Prowl finally stopped walking. There was another pause, but Bumblebee couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Suddenly, he regretted saying anything at all. He sounded way too desperate to do something he supposedly hated.
“Unless you don’t want to go camping, then whatever. Just me trying to be nice! Of course community service is obviously far more thrilling—”
“Why do you really want to go camping?” he interjected before Bumblebee could continue rambling on.
Bumblebee cringed. There was no way he was telling Prowl the whole truth. ‘I want to spend time with you’ sounded far too sincere.
“I… wanted an out from cleaning.”
Not technically a lie.
There was a loud grumble of complaint from Prowl, but he didn’t start walking away again. “I suppose that we do still need to check the area for any remaining space barnacles…”
“See! Come on, I know you want to get out of cleaning too.”
“If you’re packed come morning,” Prowl turned his head slightly, just enough for Bumblebee to see the side of his face, “With the real bare essentials, this time, then I might consider it. And make it two months.”
And then he was walking off again. Bumblebee only watched him go for a single, shocked moment, before he was skating off towards the warehouse at speeds that would absolutely get him ticketed.
ノ . ༄↟𖠰₊⋆ ᓚᘏᗢ𝗓ᶻ ᗢᘏᓗ ⋆₊𖠰ᨒ ོ . ノ
So as it turned out, Bumblebee didn’t actually know what the “bare essentials” for camping were.
He wasn’t dumb, alright, he knew some of the things. He knew to pack water and oil and something soft to go into a stasis nap on (which he probably wouldn’t end up needing, because he preferred to sleep in vehicle form). But he felt terribly underprepared with those things alone. He was definitely missing something, but he couldn’t figure out what, and he couldn’t ask Prowl, because Prowl would probably laugh at him, and he’d rather hit his head against a wall until something was permanently damaged. Trying to look it up didn’t help either, because most of these traditional camping items that websites and shows suggested were meant for humans, and he either didn’t need them, or there were no bot-sized equivalents.2
Now, in hindsight, asking Sari for help might not have been any better than asking Prowl. But at the time it had seemed like the right course of action, okay? Even if she hadn’t actually camped before, not including the first time they tried, they could figure it out together.
…Is what he’d thought initially.
“Are you sure we really need these?” he cringed, holding up a small bag of marshmallows. The bag read ‘jumbo’ in big, bright letters, but it was only very jumbo compared to Sari. He was worried he’d crush the contents of the bag into a sugary mess between his fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ruined organic food trying to hold it. “You were the only one that ate them last time.”
Sari didn’t want to come this time. Which was to be expected, really, because she seemed just as thrilled at the idea of another possible space barnacle encounter as he was. She was happy to help him choose things to pack, however— and he appreciated the help, really. It was just that he wasn’t sure quite how “essential” these all were.
“Duh!” Sari scoffed, “You can't camp without marshmallows. That’s, like, the— the basics for camping. Without marshmallows you aren’t camping, you’re just… hanging out. In the woods."
He squinted. “I don’t think you know what the basics for camping are.”
“Are you the earth expert?”
“...No.”
“Eeeexactly! Now pack the marshmallows.”
Bumblebee sighed, but reluctantly tossed stuffed them into his back compartment. “Alright. Now other than,” he held out his fingers and began counting with them, “Paper, some glitter, a rope, a spinning top, a chair, and a bag of marshmallows, what else do we need?”
“You said you have water and a sleeping bag right?”
“The… yeah, yeah, I have those.”
“Then you’re all set!”
He squinted. There was no way that was everything.
ノ . ༄↟𖠰₊⋆ ᓚᘏᗢ𝗓ᶻ ᗢᘏᓗ ⋆₊𖠰ᨒ ོ . ノ
“A camping trip? Do I look like I know what to bring to a camping trip?”
Bumblebee groaned. Evidently, Ratchet was no more knowledgeable than Sari.
“I don’t know, you’re, like, millions of stellar cycles old, aren't you?” he reasoned, watching as Ratchet shoved piles of debris to the side of the road. “I thought…”
“Kid, the closest I’ve ever gotten to camping were solar cycles spent on the battlefield, and all I had on me then were weapons and energon to get by. That’s the closest to the bare essentials you’ll get.”
“Right.” He deflated. “Sorry.”
ノ . ༄↟𖠰₊⋆ ᓚᘏᗢ𝗓ᶻ ᗢᘏᓗ ⋆₊𖠰ᨒ ོ . ノ
Bulkhead tapped his chin with a metallic finger. “Camping, camping…” he muttered, shifting the position of a large boulder trapped firmly under his left arm. “I dunno, buddy, I haven’t been camping before. Oil, obviously… I think I’d bring something to draw with— oh, or paint! The trees are real pretty. Good inspiration.”
“Prowl said only the bare essentials,” Bumblebee groaned, “I don’t think a canvas and paint count.”
“You didn’t seem this concerned about packing the bare essentials last time.”
“Well, that’s— that doesn’t count, last time was different!”
“Alright, alright,” Bulkhead waved his free hand, “Well then… I’m not real sure, either. Sorry Bumblebee.”
He sighed, long and exasperated. “It’s fine.”
ノ . ༄↟𖠰₊⋆ ᓚᘏᗢ𝗓ᶻ ᗢᘏᓗ ⋆₊𖠰ᨒ ོ . ノ
“Camping?”
“Looking for any left over space barnacles,” Bumblebee corrected quickly before Optimus could start questioning, “But we’ll probably have to camp while we’re out there to make sure we scan everything.”
Optimus hummed. “Well, I guess I don’t mind. We need to make sure those things don’t spread, if there are any left. But I’m surprised you even want to go camping again after what Sari told me happened last time.” he laughed under his breath, leaning over their communications console. “If you’re going with Prowl, why not ask him? That’s his area of expertise, anyhow.”
“I can’t ask Prowl,” Bumblebee scoffed, “Prowl will— he’ll laugh at me. And I know what to pack, I just— wanted a second opinion.”
“Right,” he laughed. It seemed like he was about to say something else before the door slid open, and both of them turned their heads to see Ratchet stamp through the door with Bulkhead in tow.
“Is he asking about that camping trip again?” Ratchet groaned, “He’s been pestering everyone about it.”
“I’m not pestering anyone—!”
“I still think you should pack something to paint with,” Bulkhead shrugged, “You’re going to get real bored without something to do out there.”
“Bumblebee, painting? Tch, I think he’d rather stick his head in the dirt.”
“I can draw!” Bumblebee objected, “When I want to!”
“Give me one time you’ve wanted to draw, kid—”
“He doesn’t have to bring something to draw with,” Optimus interjected with a hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t want to. They’re going on a mission to look for any left over space barnacles, not for recreation. What do you have packed so far Bumblebee?”
“Oil, water, some bedding…”
“Sounds good to me,” Ratchet sighed.
“But it’s not, I’m pretty sure I’m—”
“What’s happening?”
All four of their heads turned as Prowl eased open the door and walked inside. Bumblebee’s finials reeled back in a panic as he scrambled to excuse himself. “Nothing’s—”
“Bumblebee needs help packing,” Optimus interjected. Bumblebee whirred around and shot him the nastiest glare he could muster, but Optimus just continued while averting his optics. “For your camping trip, if you’d be willing. He’s been asking us for help, but none of us are any more knowledgeable.”
Bumblebee turned back around, slowly, and just as he dreaded there was a wide, amused grin splitting Prowl’s face.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Bumblebee crossed his arms and averted his gaze to the ceiling. “I don’t— I didn’t know what to pack, and I thought the others could help, but—”
“Bumblebee, you—” Prowl tried to speak, only to cut himself off with an airy giggle that served to make Bumblebee’s fans whir a little harder when heat began gathering around his face plate. “Primus, alright. Come on, let's pack your things.”
Prowl turned to leave, and Bumblebee skated after him before the others could comment.
“I didn’t need help packing,” he defended himself before Prowl could say anything more, “He didn’t— I have things packed. I just wanted a second opinion to see if I was missing anything.”
“Well, in that case, I can serve as a second opinion,” Prowl smiled, chest puffed out as if he’d just been praised, only to break off in another laugh.
“Shut up!” Bumblebee shoved him, but it sent Bumblebee stumbling farther than it did Prowl.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You’re laughing!”
“Alright, alright,” Prowl snickered, but stayed true to his word. It didn’t wipe the smug smile off of his face, but maybe Bumblebee didn’t mind that part.
When they stopped walking, they’d arrived at Prowl's room. The large, twisting tree was just as tall as it usually was, although now it was void of leaves or birds— originally, when its leaves began turning shades of orange and yellow, and the rest of the plants Prowl had collected in his room began shrivelling and dying, everyone thought the poor thing was done for, before Sari explained to a very distressed Prowl that trees just tend do this during the colder months of the Earth’s stellar cycles. It was awfully weird.
Prowl walked to the tree and placed his outstretched servo gently on the rough bark. “What do you have packed already?”
“Water, oil… and bedding.”
“You wont need water all the way up there. The snow shouldn’t have melted yet; you’ll be plenty cooled off.”
“Oh.” Bumblebee scratched the back of his neck. “Okay.”
“You’ll also need a tent,” Prowl turned to lean his back against the tree and face Bumblebee, “And some stakes to put it up— if you want the bedding to be useful, that is. If you’re planning to sleep in your alt mode you’ll hardly need anything to sleep on as much as you’ll need something to sleep in. But in that case—”
“Hey, why don’t you just show me, instead?” Bumblebee suggested, with a nervous grin. “Think it’d be easier than telling me.”
Prowl coughed awkwardly. “Ah— yes, I suppose that would be easier.”
ノ . ༄↟𖠰₊⋆ ᓚᘏᗢ𝗓ᶻ ᗢᘏᓗ ⋆₊𖠰ᨒ ོ . ノ
Eventually, they got their things packed. Prowl had looked at Bumblebee distastefully when he emptied his back compartment and out came everything, including the marshmallows and the glitter and the paper Sari had suggested, but when Bumblebee explained that it was not his intention to smuggle glitter up to the mountaintops, Prowl shrugged it off with a grin and told him to dispose of it.
They didn’t end up packing much more than Bumblebee had originally. Although the water was discarded, Bumblebee’s oil and frankly excessive amount of blankets were kept, and loaded in alongside some large pieces of flint and steel (“for practice” is what Prowl had said when Bumblebee brought up they could make fire perfectly fine without it), a tent, and coolant to keep their internal heaters functioning. That was it, and then it was all stuffed in a bag and kept in his back compartment.
Bumblebee couldn’t go into stasis that night. He felt like all of his circuitry had been upped a voltage; he was giddy and full of energy and had to make at least three laps at his highest speed around the city before he could even consider shutting down. By the time he did, the sun had been down for some megacycles, but he figured some rest was better than none.
The sun had hardly even risen when Prowl was suddenly looming over him.
“Gah!” Bumblebee yelped and jumped back, banging his head on the cold stone wall. “Warn a bot before doing that!”
“Apologies,” Prowl said, except when Bumblebee adjusted his optic sensors to the dark, he was smiling, so he didn’t look very apologetic. “Wouldn’t want to waste camping time, would we?”
Bumblebee groaned and rubbed his head. “The sun hasn’t even risen,” he complained, “I have half a processor to think you’re more excited about this than I am.”
There was a sound of gears turning and metal groaning as they warped, before Prowl was in alt mode. “It will rise while we drive there,” he explained, “Now come on.”
“It’ll rise while you drive there,” Bumblebee corrected. Before Prowl could begin to question what in the world that means, Bumblebee was suddenly climbing on top of him and settling his weight onto the seat.
“Wh— get off of me!” Prowl snapped, “You’re heavy! You don’t even fit on—”
“I fit fine,” Bumblebee waved his hand, punctuating his speech with a yawn. “Don’t be such a… what was the phrase for that again? The tiny organics that cry…”
“I believe baby is the word you’re looking for.”
“Right, that one. Don’t be such a baby. It’ll just be for a little until I wake up.”
“I am not being a baby, you weigh as much as three boulders,” he defended himself, while Bumblebee’s servos roamed the buttons and levers that decorated the front of his interface. Did these actually do anything? He didn’t know how human vehicles worked; Cybertronian vehicle interfaces had looked so much more different. “Bumblebee, do not ignore me, and get your servos off of there. There is no need foooorr—!”
The moment Bumblebee twisted the throttle on the handlebar, Prowl’s voice ramped to a high whine before shutting off completely. His engine revved loud enough to echo the entire warehouse, and they were suddenly both vibrating so hard that Bumblebee could feel the rumble deep in his circuitry. There was a long, shocked silence.
“Um—”
“Don’t say anything.”
“Did you—”
“Bumblebee,” Prowl said shakily, breathing coming in short bursts. “Do not ever do that again.”
Bumblebee couldn’t help the laugh beginning to bubble up from his chassis. “There’s no way,” he grinned in disbelief, “Did you just—”
He couldn’t get another word in, because without any warning, they were driving off. Bumblebee yelped at the sudden acceleration and gripped the small handlebars with all his might, because he was pretty sure if he didn’t at the speed they were going he’d be thrown off the side, and the half of him that hit the ground would be turned into busted up scrap metal.
“Ok, ok!” he shouted over the wind as they drove out of the warehouse and entered onto the road. “Point taken, slow down—!”
“I can’t hear you,” Prowl snapped over the wind. Bumblebee groaned.
“C’mon, Prowl, I didn’t—”
“Still can’t hear you.”
He folded further inwards against the wind and squinted at Prowl’s handles. Maybe if he did that again he could get him to stop…?
Before his servo could even reach the throttle again, Prowl came to a halt, and with a loose grip on the handles Bumblebee was sent flying over his front and tumbling onto the ground. He landed with a loud crash onto his back, sliding across the hard concrete with enough force to scrape his paint. “Ow!” he exclaimed painfully, clenching his jaw, “What—”
An arm was slammed right next to his head where he lay on the concrete, and in a moment Prowl was on top of him with his face right up next to his.
“I explicitly told you not to do that,” he growled, exhaust cold on Bumblebee’s face.
“You weren’t stopping!” Bumblebee argued, sliding backwards to prop himself up with his arms. “You—”
“That wouldn’t be a problem if you rode on your own.”
“I’m going to fall into stasis on the road if I try to roll out right now, Prowl!” he whined, “I’ll transform as soon as I feel more awake, just— give me a second.”
Prowl huffed, but mercifully let his weight off of Bumblebee and stood up. They were still in the middle of the road— the blacktop was just as chilly as the breeze— so he kicked up his internal heaters before he froze to death.
There was a grumble of something under Prowl’s breath. Bumblebee’s finials twitched.
“What’d you say?”
“I said,” the sound of metal on metal and joints clicking into place filled the otherwise silent air as Prowl shrunk and transformed back. “Don’t touch anything this time.”
Bumblebee blinked in disbelief, but just as quickly scrambled to get up and take his place back on Prowl’s seat. This time his servos still kept a firm grip, but only on the metal parts of the handles, and they didn’t wander. There was a satisfied rumble beneath him, and then they were off again, at significantly less breakneck speeds.
“What would you do without me?” Prowl laughed beneath him.
“Right now? Napping.”
“Hm. What a shame.”
1 Of course, he didn’t dare say any of this to Optimus, in fear of getting trapped in one of his long-winded speeches about “building trust” and “having integrity”. Just because it was the right thing to do didn’t make it any more pleasant. [return to text]
2 Searching ‘what do robots need for camping’ on Google yielded no results. [return to text]