The following was inspired by the Random Pairing Generator.
Pairing: Bumblebee/Mikaela Prompt: Hands.
I don't own Transformers. Period. If I did, there would be more femmes. Not all femmes, but a slightly larger number.
Bumblebee had to admit something. If there was anything he really, well, he wouldn't say loved, but liked, about humans, it had to be their hands. Their hands were much like Transformer hands, had the potential to destroy, but also had the potential to bring life to the lifeless. Bumblebee still couldn't forget the day Sam placed the Allspark fragment in Jazz's repaired body, as it was a joyous to the Autobots to see their friend alive once more.
Much of Sam and Mikaela's time was indeed spent on his hood, whether it was an act of love, or simply laying back and guessing where Cybertron was. Sam's hands, Bumblebee found, were rather rough on the spy. He had calluses.
But Mikaela's were simply perfect. She had the knowledge of a mechanic, and knew where to touch him. It didn't happen too often, but sometimes Bumblebee would find himself alone with the young human female. She would talk, but sometimes they would simply sit in silence, with Mikaela simply sitting and occasionally caressing his leather interior. She had no idea how much that would electrify him.
Bumblebee didn't know how much he would miss that touch, the simple sensation of Mikaela running her smooth hands over his seats until it was far too late. It was rare that either one went anywhere without him, but there were occasions when that happened. Bumblebee couldn't help but worry over his friends when they were gone. That night, Sam was gone well into the early hours of the morning. His mother called his cell phone several times, with no avail. Bumblebee himself dialed both Sam's and Mikaela's numbers, desprate to contact, since, in their rare separations, Sam checked in with him once every few hours.
He was nearly in recharge mode when Sam banged on the front door. And it opened on his parents angry faces. To put it kindly, Sam looked like hell. He had Mikaela's blood on him.
"Sam, where have you been?" his mother demanded, her voice betraying every ounce of motherly concern.
"Mikaela's dead." At this, Bumblebee's spark nearly stopped.
"How?" his father asked.
"Drunk driver…She w-was crossing the street and…This guy…He slammed right into her…I tried…I tried to save her…" At this, he broke down. Bumblebee's Spark ached, not only for Sam, but for himself, and for Mikaela's soothing touch.