Author's Note: OT. Decided to begin with the innuendo fics. In other fic, I might consider letting Mikaela not be the spoilsport. No bashing intended. It's just...she's a girl getting between a boy and his car, y'know? *snicker* (xposted to LJ comm SamxBee)
Car Wash
Mikaela's been at me again. Nothing really bad, I mean. I'm not one of those guys who thinks girls should just be stupid and look pretty or who talks crap about them behind their backs. I like that she loves cars, too. She's good with them. It's just that she doesn't get my relationship with Bee. And maybe I shouldn't try to explain. Not to her. Ever since the time we went to the drive-in and made out in Bee's backseat and she caught me rubbing the upholstery, she's been…suspicious. Jealous, I guess. I just told her I didn't want him to feel left out. She kinda lost it. So, when I told her I couldn't go to the carnival today because I needed to give Bee a good wash, she wasn't happy about it. "You love that 'Bot more than me," she actually said. I couldn't believe it, but she said it. And she's probably right. But I didn't admit it.
Bee transforms down from that amazingly huge Autobot presence to his car self, and I just stand their watching, like always. I'm used to how big he is and how he makes that awesome change. But I'm still wowed by the might of him and how he stays all crackling with power as he compacts down into the prettiest little Camaro I've ever seen. My Camaro. My Bee.
I lean in through the window and turn on the radio—spend a bit more time with the knobs than I have to, of course. He plays this classical piano thing. It's pretty. I think he's trying to class me up or something now that I'm going to college. I run my hand over the driver's seat and tell him he's going to get a hot, wet, soapy rubdown in a low voice. He revs his engine in response. We're just tight like that.
Of course, Bee's not dirty. He never is. Autobots seem to have this amazing ability to just stay clean. Still, I've got my bucket of hot soapy water, my towels (no old rags for my Bee), and the hose ready. Even got some wax to buff him with. The Bee loves the buffing. He rumbles for it, almost like begging, or plays the Beatles' "Please Please Me" and makes me laugh. Guess that's what I love best about me and Bee: everything's so comfortable, so easy, so us.
I soak the towel and my hands are all warm now and foamy, and I start to rub down his hood. Leaning over and into him, pressing up against the metal that's never cool like a "real" car, but like human body temperature or maybe a little hotter. Autobots aren't cold. In any way. The piano music's still playing, and I'm scrubbing him everywhere, and I feel like I could spend the whole day like this, just making Bee feel good. It makes me feel good too. And there's nothing wrong with that, even if Mikaela never understands.