Flesh is Frail
Prologue: Waiting
Bumblebee waited. It seemed to him that he spent an amazing portion of his time doing just that. There were many places that he simply couldn't follow Sam. For instance, Bumblebee would not fit inside the Witwicky house—even if the parents were of a mind to allow Sam's "Camaro" to come inside. And going to school with his boy was simply not a possibility either. Neither of those things truly bothered Bumblebee. However, what did bother the Autobot was when he was forced to wait while Sam took Mikaela on what humans referred to as "dates." Bumblebee had learned from the internet that dates were usually done only with the couple present, but he simply didn't like it when Sam chose the female over him. On that particular night, Sam and Mikaela seemed to be gone an extremely long time. Was two hours and nine minutes a long date? Bumblebee thought it was.
At two hours and thirty-seven minutes, Bumblebee spotted the pair walking out of the mall. Oddly, Mikaela was not clinging to Sam's arm, and he noted the fluid (called "tears) on her cheeks. Sam's face was contorted in a form that the Autobot recognized as anger. The boy slipped into the driver's seat without so much as a word.
Mikaela leaned against Bumblebee's frame and sobbed. "So it's over just like that? Over something so stupid?"
"Just like that?" Sam demanded incredulously. He got out of the car, slamming the door unintentionally. "You cheated on me!"
"It was before we'd really defined this…this thing between us," the female stammered. "I wanted to tell you.'
Sam sighed heavily. "You had seven months to tell me, and you didn't. As for "this thing between us" not being defined—I thought it was pretty damn obvious. Mikaela, get in the car and we'll take you home, but I DON'T want to talk to you now."
Mikaela nodded. "Well, then I guess I'll find another way home." She touched Bumblebee's hood gently. "I'll see you around, Bee."
As soon as the girl was half way across the parking lot, Sam got back inside the car. "I'm sorry, Bee," he said softly. His voice sounded oddly strangled and he gripped the steering wheel a little harder than usual. "I wasn't planning on that. Can we just go home now?"
Bumblebee started his engine, and he scanned the radio frequencies for a song but this was harder than most other situations. He settled for a soothing jazz station. Sam relaxed into his interior. "Thanks, Bee," he murmured, resting his cheek against the soft leather. Bumblebee could feel the wetness against him, and he wished more than anything that he could just make it go away. He wished that he could hold Sam as humans held each other and kiss away those tears. Was it wrong to wish these things? No, this was his Sam.