Optimus straightened his shoulders. "Men. Are you ready?"
Prowl and Ratchet both nodded grimly, while Bulkhead just stood there and looked stoic.
Optimus gave the three of them a steely look, then pushed open the door to Bumblebee's room.
They stared out across an expanse of trash, DVD cases, half-drank cans of oil, magazines, video game boxes, and insulation blankets that needed cleaning.
"It's worse than I thought," Ratchet murmured.
A resigned silence settled over the three mechs. They stepped inside and went about putting junk in large tarpaulin sacks. Once the floor was clear, they would be able to give it a good sweeping.
After about 15 minutes of cleaning, Ratchet paused by the grubby chunk of foam that served as Bee's recharging bed. (There was actually a Bee-shaped outline of grime on it.) Ratchet spotted something sticking out from under the mattress, and crouched to take a better look.
"Ratchet," Prowl hissed at him. "Don't touch that mattress. I'd propose that we take it outside and burn it, but I doubt that would be good for the environment. It would probably give off fumes."
Ratchet looked thoughtful and, ignoring Prowl, lifted the chunk of foam so that he could look underneath.
"Ah," he said. "I thought I'd find these here."
Optimus, Bulkhead and Prowl wandered over to see what Ratchet had found.
Ratchet stood up with a small collection of datapads in his hands. Before Optimus had a chance to protest, Ratchet switched one of the datapads on, and skimmed through it.
Prowl and Optimus stared. Bulkhead stared too, until Prowl leapt up and covered the larger mech's optics with both hands.
"Wait," Optimus said, very slowly. "What is that 'bot doing with that tire iron...? Oh." Optimus looked stricken. "Dear Primus, Ratchet, you've found Bee's porn stash. Put that back."
"Actually, I think he stole some of these off me. I wondered where they'd went, " Ratchet grumbled. He put the datapad aside, and picked up another one, switching it on. "Ah. This one's not mine." Regardless, Ratchet looked through it anyway. "It's not yours, is it, Prowl?"
Prowl squinted at Ratchet for a few seconds, then gazed upon the pad with a clinical sort of interest. While the ninjabot was distracted, Bulkhead pulled Prowl's hands away from his eyes so that he could see. Bulkhead took one look at the Datapad, then... slowly covered his optics with Prowl's hands again.
"I'm going to take the trash outside," Optimus said, very loudly. "When I get back, I expect you to have STOPPED looking through the private possessions of one of your team-mates." He hurried out.
Ratchet and Prowl continued to look over the datapad, regardless. Bulkhead peeked through a gap in Prowl's fingers.
Prowl suddenly tensed up. "Wait! Scroll back to the picture you just looked at a nanoklik ago."
Ratchet did so.
"...Is it just me?" Prowl murmured. "Or does the mech in that image look like someone we know?"
Ratchet and Bulkhead took a better look at it. "Huh," said Ratchet, after a long pause. "So that's how he paid his way through Autobot Academy."
Prowl gave the medic a sharp jab with his elbow. "It's not him, though. The build is similar, and they're both red and blue, but the face, shoulders and model type are completely different."
Prowl and Ratchet exchanged looks. "I wonder if there are any more pictures of this guy in here," Ratchet said.
"Primus, Ratchet, don't make this any worse."
Too late. Ratchet was already skimming through the datapad again. "Bumblebee is a lot dirtier than I'd gave him credit for. When I was this age, I didn't know that half this stuff was physically possible," Ratchet muttered, and Prowl took one hand away from Bulkhead's optics so that he could cover his own eyes for a moment.
They came to a set of static images that all featured the same blue and red mech as before.
There were a lot of them.
A lot.
Bulkhead's bottom jaw nearly fell off.
Ratchet just chortled. Laughing wasn't something that he did very often, so he ended up having a small coughing fit.
Prowl made frantic shushing gestures at Ratchet. "Shhhh. He'll hear you. Do you want to tell him about Bumblebee's 'art collection'? It's bad enough that we're looking at... extremely pornographic... images of a mech that resembles Optimus. How do you think Optimus is going to feel about it?"
"What I have seen... can not be unseen," Bulkhead intoned, gravely.
"Could be worse," Ratchet said. "I wonder if he's got any smut of mechs that look like Prowl."
Prowl's faceplate twitched. "Put the datapads back under the mattress before my optics short out," he said.
"You sure? This is some good stuff." Ratchet held the datapad up, and shoved it at Prowl, who recoiled.
"Ratchet, put it back. You're making Bulkhead uncomfortable."
Bulkhead didn't look that uncomfortable. He just looked like his CPU hurt. The big green mech rubbed at his brow. "Guys," he said. "Let us never ever speak of Bee's porn stash again."
"Agreed," Ratchet and Prowl replied, in unison.
Bumblebee returned to the base later that day, having gone out on a scientific expedition with Sari to see how long an 8-year old human female could play DDR without vomiting after consuming half her body weight in frozen dairy products. (Result: 56 minutes.) Sari wandered off to share the details of this research with Bulkhead, while Bumblebee stopped by his room.
He opened the door, stared in horror at the perfectly tidy area before him, then marched off to the living area to find the villains responsible.
"You cleaned my room," he told Optimus. Prowl and Ratchet were in a corner, playing chess. They studiously minded their own business.
"We had to, Bumblebee," Optimus replied. "It was a health hazard. We have a human protoform running around the base - we can't just leave junk lying around. I know it's your personal space, but it was pretty..." He paused to look for the right word. "...Horrendous. And Bulkhead thought we'd be doing you a favour by cleaning it for you."
"You cleaned my room," Bumblebee repeated, in shock.
"Yes," Optimus said, crossing his arms. "Someone had to, as you quite obviously weren't going to do it." His optics narrowed slightly. "Oh. And, I'd like a word with you about something. Follow me in to Ratchet's workshop, please."
Bumblebee trailed after him like a lost puppy.
As soon as they were somewhere relatively private, Optimus closed the door behind him. He turned to face Bumblebee and gave him a level look. "Bumblebee, we found the datapads under your mattress."
Oh slag, Bumblebee thought. He knows.
Optimus gave him a long, despairing look.
Bumblebee felt something curl up and wither inside him.
He had always thought that Optimus was the sort of guy who rejected people gently. Bumblebee had been prepared for this moment, and had expected to hear something like, 'I like you, but not in that way, so can we just be friends?' at the very worst. So... Optimus' sour expression rather took him by surprise. Perhaps Optimus felt betrayed in some way, or he was wondering how many times Bee had been staring at his aft when his back was turned. (Answer: every. Single. Time.) Or perhaps Optimus was annoyed because affection between a Prime and his subordinate went against the anti-fraternization policies - Bumblebee didn't know how it worked if the affection was unrequited, however. Or perhaps Optimus was just plain ol' weirded out. Bumblebee supposed that's how he'd feel, if he discovered that one of his team-mates had been looking at smut that involved a bot that looked like him. Flattered, but... weirded out.
Either way, the Boss was Not Happy.
"I'M REALLY SORRY," Bumblebee said. "I didn't mean any disrespect by it. You must think I'm a total creep now, right?"
Optimus blinked. "What? I was going to say, 'can you please hide your pornography somewhere less obvious in future?' The datapads were pretty easy to find. Sari sometimes goes in your room, and, well... There are some things that a human protoform just isn't meant to know. I'm in no hurry to explain the nuances of Cybertronian interfacing rituals to an 8-year old girl, and human sexuality seems to be a very sensitive subject. It's all extremely complicated. With that in mind, it'd just be easier if some of our social customs were never discussed with the organics - at least not until we're more familiar with Earth culture and its taboos, anyway." He stopped there, and scratched the back of his neck. "...Bumblebee, do you really think I'm such a prude that I'd be upset at you for owning pornographic materials?"
Bumblebee considered his answer very carefully. "Yes?" he ventured.
"Well, I'm not," Optimus said, flatly.
Bumblebee studied Optimus' face, carefully. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"
"Yes."
"Alright. I'll, um, go, then." Bumblebee turned to head out. He took one step towards the door, and tentatively added, as an afterthought, "Oh yeah. And thanks for cleaning my room."
As soon as he was out the door, he made a mental note to smash his datapads and then bury the remains at a crossroads, or something.