Bumblebee stepped lightly into the Med Bay so as not to startle Ratchet. He wasn't quite sure why, but he had a fondness for catching the usually gruff and cranky medic in silent study, pouring over old datapads and hypothesizing new and better treatments for his Autobot patients.
The small Autobot leaned against the doorframe, silently observing. Ratchet sat down an old datafile and replaced it in his hands with another. Bumblebee watched silently as red hands held out the large viewing tablet. The screen flickered to life. He watched Ratchet carouse the wavering blue screen for the information he searched for.
"You should really take a break," Bumblebee advised from his post at the doorway. "You've been at it for Primus knows how long."
Ratchet answered him without fully diverting his attention from his research. "Isn't there something you should be doing, Bumblebee?"
The smaller Autobot scout shrugged off the harsh address. He was used to the older mech's grumpy attitude, especially after an interruption. "I decided to do a check up on the medic," Bumblebee answered softly. "Sometimes he gets too caught up in his work and doesn't remember that he has the same limitations as very other Autobot."
Ratchet cycled air for a moment, unsure of what to make of Bumblebee's concerns. "I'm fine, Bee." He stated simply. "You should go see Spike and have some fun today."
Bumblebee, however, would not be so easily dismissed. "You've been in here for days," he prompted as he lowered Ratchet's datapad and gently placed it aside. Placing both of his hands on one of Ratchet's own, Bumblebee pulled the now thoroughly confused mech into a position where they could converse while facing each other.
"It is your day off, Ratchet," the smaller yellow and black scout reminded him. "The Dinobots can wait for a day."
Bumblebee watched helplessly as the medic's optics turned a cold shade of slate grey. Finally Ratchet answered him. "And what would you have me to do, Little Bee?" Ratchet questioned his pain obvious in the light baritone of his voice. "I have nothing but my work. When I am not working as a medic, I work as a soldier. I do not have friends to spend my day with, like you, Little Bee. You should go. Don't trouble yourself about me. I'll be fine here." Ratchet made a move to return to his research.
Once again, small black-clad hands stopped him. "Well, if you aren't leaving, I'll stay here too," Bumblebee stated emphatically. "I'm sick of seeing you hurt," the smaller mech gazed deeply up at Ratchet's smooth grey facial plating. "Every single time I come to the Med Bay damaged I can see it. Yet, however badly damaged I am, between you and me, it always seems to be you who is the more badly pained.
Ratchet was once more rendered speechless. A dry, grating sound, not unlike a human sob, escaped over his vocal processor. It had been years since another Autobot had shown such concern for him. As the medic, all the rest just assumed that Ratchet had his emotional circuits under firm control. Not even Optimus could see through the firewalls masking Ratchet's lonely pain.
Bumblebee turned Ratchet's hand over in both of his. Very slowly, he began to rub his thumbs in modest, sensual circles around Ratchet's palm.
"I can take the pain," he whispered, gazing up to the medic above him, offering the only help and release he knew he could give.
"Bee," Ratchet whispered in reply, placing his other hand on a yellow and black shoulder. "You don't have to do this."
"I know," Bumblebee answered, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's just, I've felt like this for a while. I'm no quite sure where the feeling came from, or what I should even do about it..." He stared intently at the floor in front of his feet, scared out of his processors. "I just, I have a need to make you feel better. I see your pain and it makes my spark ache to also see that scowl permanently etched on your face, knowing that if you ever want me to, I can take it all away."
They stood in silence for a moment, one of Ratchet's hands enveloped in Bumblebee's and the other resting gently on the scout's shoulder.
"I never noticed it until now, Little Bee," Ratchet smiled for the first time in Earth months. "But you too re a healer." He looked tenderly at the younger, much more innocent mech before him. "Not a healer as I am," he clarified. "But a healer's healer; a gently coaxer and physician of the mind."
Bee only smiled slightly in return as he withdrew a hand to wipe away energon tears from the corners of his optics.
A slight pressure from Ratchet's hand was it took for Bumblebee to lean into Ratchet's embrace. He felt strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and back, warming him with their security and acceptance. Bumblebee acknowledged his desire that this moment would go on forever, but of course, time could only stand still for so long. He buried his head into the tender spot between Ratchet's warm chest plate and his arm.
"You don't have to do this, Bumblebee," Ratchet warned him, his voice strained with the weight of putting Bumblebee's feelings above his own burning need for contact. "You know as well as I do that once a Sparkbond is consummated, it can never be undone. There is no taking it back, no returning to the way things once were. If you have any doubts, Little Bee, don't do this."
Bumblebee nuzzled his face closer to Ratchet's core. "I do know that," he whispered, suddenly terrified once more. Fearing the worst, Bumblebee's request came out more as a garbled mumble. "Just tell me one thing, please, Ratchet," Bumblebee repeated at the medic's silent prompting. "Tell me you aren't accepting me just because I was the first willing one who came along."
"No!" The finality of Ratchet's answer was only made clearer by his definite tone. "No, my Little Bee, his voice softened back to its loving coo, "I could never do that to you. While it is true, you are the first to offer such a bond to me, it is also true that you are the first to take such a deep concern toward me. You are the first one who as ever cared for me in a capacity deeper than appreciating my function. No Bee, I could never, would never hurt you like that."
With that, Bumblebee sighed with relief. "Thank you," he whispered, the gratitude laden with emotion.
Ratchet moved a hand to where he could cup it under Bumblebee's chin. "No, my Little Bee, thank you."
Before Bumblebee could make any sort of physical or verbal reply a harsh and angry beep interrupted the engrossed Autobots.
"Hatchet," Wheeljack's voice filtered from Ratchet's radio console. "Have you got the schematics for Grimlock ready yet? You can bring 'em to my office wh-"
"Wheeljack," Bumblebee could feel Ratchet's angry rumble underneath his chest plating. "I do not have the schematics ready. If you have not noticed, it is my day off. I do not plan on having you schematics finished any time soon. I am observing my day off. I advise you to take caution. If another one of your experiments goes haywire and explodes, you will have to find someone else to repair you, or else wait for tomorrow."
"Woah, Ratchet, it's okay if you don't have 'em ready! I didn't mean to rush you! If you need some help wi-"
"What I need," Ratchet thundered. "is for you to slag off so I can get on with my interfacing! Occupy yourself with something other than an invention for a change! Get a social life!"
With that, Ratchet shifted Bumblebee to his other side, freeing a hand to switch off the power buttons on both his comlink and his radio.
"There now, my Little Bee," Ratchet purred in a voice only for Bumblebee as he gently stroked a finger down Bumblebee's jawline. "Where were we?"