Movie Star
Chapter 4
Optimus Prime lay awake. He was stretched out flat on his recharge berth in his quarters, staring at the ceiling. It was now several weeks past the time since his little recreational 'movie' had been released to the people of Earth. Things weren't going too bad, considering all the disastrous scenarios he had been fearing; the Autobots kicked off Earth, the SecDef throwing them out of the United States, a massive groundswell of support for the Decepticons (since Autobots were, you know, so RUDE, with their Leader making a porn video), rabid adoring human women crowding the entrance/exit doors to the base wanting to see him... at least Ironhide would've been happy with THAT one.
Apart from the damn film making an appearance anywhere and everywhere all over the globe, accompanied by gasps/laughter/shock/horror from the humans, nothing much had changed. He got funny sideways looks from almost everyone he met, but that was as far as it went. Hardly any of them wanted to challenge or question the huge alien robot with the big gun who could rip your limbs off, or just step on you and casually say 'Oops' in vaguely sincere regret.
He could live with that.
He lifted his head, slowly looking down at the length of his body on the berth, lifting one long sculpted leg and strong thick arm experimentally to gaze at their structure and appearance. Rarely did he ever think of himself as some sort of female-fantasy-made-real or as Ironhide gleefully called him, a Femme Magnet. He used his strength and height to aid his role as the Autobot Leader, being easy on the optics or attractive in any way was just not something about himself he paid attention to very often.
His head dropped back down with a thump onto his berth and he put one of his hands to his face, "Ugh..."
Maybe the decorative flames he had covered himself with in this form were a bit too much...? Why on Cybertron had he done that? What was wrong with basic red and blue, he scolded himself. Oh, he knew why. It looked good! Intimidating, bold and daring. Let's make the Earthlings sit back in awe at the great leader from another planet! He should've told his evil vanity to take a hike and scanned an innocuous black truck like Ironhide had done. Ironhide the I'll-fuck-anything-once mech.
After the first meeting with Sam and Mikaela in the alleyway; before they had transformed to leave for the Witwicky residence and hence, the glasses; Ironhide had stood stock still in front of him and pointedly looked him up and down, eyeing off his glaring flame decorations with raised optic ridges and crossed arms – then laughed his way through his own transformation into his plain GMC Topkick mode. Thank Primus Sam and Mikaela had already loaded themselves back into Bumblebee's car form and were oblivious to the Weapons Specialist's mirth.
Ratchet had rear-ended Ironhide with his huge Hummer Rescue vehicle form (and thick black bullbar) on their way out of the alley as payback, shoving the surprised Topkick a few feet along the pavement before Ironhide grumbled a 'Lay off, Ratch!' over the internal comlinks. Still, it had been nice to momentarily see Ironhide's rear end deformed before the mech had swiftly flattened out the organic metal back to normal again by following the configurations of his original scan in his memory.
Optimus sat up, smoothly letting his legs slide off the berth and his feet hit the floor. Enough musing. He had a meeting to attend to. The Autobots and humans (Sam, Mikaela, and Will Lennox, at least) would be gathering in the rec room for the weekly de-brief and catch-up.
Ironhide was the first to notice the subtle behaviour of Bumblebee. Ratchet had entered the rec room, walking over to stand; as he often did; next to the yellow scout. Bumblebee's optics had flared and he took one nervous-seeming step to the side, away from Ratchet. Sam and Mikaela, sitting on the human's couch, had burst into snickers and muffled chuckles. Ratchet was oblivious. He could have a very narrow focus, that medic.
Hide watched as Ratchet leant over to say something to Captain Lennox, and then straightened up, his movement bringing him closer to Bumblebee.
Again, the youngling stepped away, trying not to make it too obvious. It was more of a shuffle, really. Sam was clutching a cushion to his face and shaking, his knees drawn up to his chest. Mikaela's facial expression made her look like she was trying to hold back from expelling an object from her rear end.
As Optimus entered the room with long slow strides, Ratchet looked around to check they were all present and noticed a few odd looking dents in Bumblebee's forehead armor. "Bumblebee, were you in an accident?" he asked innocently, "what have you done to your head?" Reaching a hand out to touch the yellow bot, he jerked back in surprise when Bumblebee shrieked and took swift steps backwards away from Ratchet's hand. His optics blazed wildly. Ratchet followed him, moving in closer, curious. Bee darted sideways, running around to the other side of the human couch and crouching down, using it as laughable protection. He had placed his hands over his head and was whining softly.
"Bumblebee!" Ratchet put his hands on his hips, perplexed at the younglings behaviour.
Ironhide barked a few laughs, slapping a hand onto the medic's shoulder, "I don't think he wants you touching him, Ratch."
"Why not?" Ratchet's optic ridge's furrowed down.
"Primus knows why..." Ironhide shook his head, "But he's been moving away from you ever since you entered the room."
Bumblebee had by now snatched the cushion from out of Sam's hands and was holding it over his head. His blue optics blinked warily out from under it at Ratchet.
Optimus Prime stared at his cowering scout. "Bumblebee, come here."
Cautiously, Bumblebee moved to obey, taking small steps out from the couch, and sneaking over to his Leader. He was still holding the cushion between him and Ratchet's direction.
Prime sighed, looking down, "Please put down the object you are, uh, shielding yourself with."
The cushion was dropped onto the floor, followed by Bumblebee squealing and dashing behind his massive upright Leader for protection when Ratchet took firm steps in his direction. Bumblebee held onto Optimus Prime's hips from behind, looking around them to watch what Ratchet was doing. His optics shone in the shadow cast by his enormous confused Commander.
Prime carefully tried to pry off Bumblebee's hands from his hips, but those small gripping hands would not be budged, "Bumblebee, let go, what is the problem?!" He shifted around, trying to see what was going on behind him. Bumblebee jerked him back into place. He was being used as shelter!
"I WON'T INTERFACE WITH RATCHET!" Bumblebee finally howled loudly in answer to Prime's question, crouching down and considering transforming his solar particle cannon into readiness. Anything to keep the medic from laying his dirty hands on his chassis!
A wild chorus of 'what!', 'you're joking!' and 'say that again?!' burst out from everyone in the room.
Ratchet froze in place, his head lifting up, expression shocked, "WHAT did you say?!"
Bumblebee was kneeling on the ground, arms over his head, and a chant of 'nononono' was once again coming from the worried little mech.
Optimus Prime met Ratchet's dumbstruck gaze, "Er, did you, uh, DO anything to him that he didn't want or ask for?" he asked awkwardly of his medic.
"NO!"
"Oh, right. Good. Okay then." Optimus patted the moaning Bumblebee on the head kindly, then looked over at Sam and Mikaela. "Can either of you shed some light on this situation? What is going on with Bumblebee?"
Sam shrugged, grinning, "We don't know any more than you do. He just suddenly a few nights ago started beating his head into the driveway yelling that he wouldn't interface with Ratchet."
Mikaela looked at Ratchet, eyeing him off with mock seriousness, "Are you a femme in disguise or something, Ratchet? A cross-dressing transgender robot? That might explain it. Maybe he's worried you'll jump him."
"Yeah," Sam added, "did he catch sight of you in a dress?" He started snickering.
Captain Lennox had stayed silent during all this. "This is one heck of a meeting..." he muttered, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. He could've been at home eating freshly-made lasagne and watching stupid TV sitcoms with his wife and daughter, but oh no, instead he was watching Bumblebee cry behind Optimus while the others accused Ratchet of being a cross-dresser. Nice.
Ratchet had a scowl on his face that was threatening to overflow into tool throwing violence. "I have NOT, and WILL not, make any attempt at trying to interface with Bumblebee. I do NOT go for other mechs!" he growled.
Ironhide quirked an optic ridge, "Really? Because, damn, I was thinking you had a cute rear end, and I've seen you in the wash racks, I know you have a big-"
Ratchet hit him before he could finish the sentence. One swinging left hook. Right in the nose plates.
"OWW!" Ironhide grimaced, rubbing at his face. "You're fixing that!"
"Keep your interfacing deviancies and opinions to yourself, fragger!" Ratchet snapped angrily.
Optimus Prime groaned and looked down at his cowering soldier. He reached a hand out and snagged the armor behind Bumblebee's neck, lifting him upright. Bumblebee hung from his grip, blinking at him with enormous optics. "Bumblebee, why are you so worried about Ratchet touching you? Please, explain."
The Camaro looked around at the others in the room, nervously refusing to look at Ratchet, who had crossed his arms and was looking very miffed. Optimus set him down onto his feet and waited.
Bumblebee spoke slowly, trying not to let the urge to run overcome him, "Ratchet and I are the only one's who don't... who haven't... um..." He went silent, staring at the floor. How could he explain that when he went into recharge at night he had lurid dream sequences of Ratchet standing over him with his interface unit out and saying, 'Come on Bumblebee, you know you want to!'.
"Haven't what?" Ratchet demanded, trying to think of anything he and Bumblebee had been the only ones to NOT do. What was the fragging youngling yabbering about?!
"Ohhh, I know." Ironhide shook his head, grinning. "We're all getting some – or had some, had a LOT, in Prime's case – and he isn't. Neither are you, Ratch. Interfacing, I mean. The runt is worried you'll try to seduce him."
Bumblebee squealed again, starting to back up towards the door. Optimus stalled him with one leg planted firmly in his way. "Is that what this is all about?" he asked curiously, looking down at the yellow mech. Without looking at him, Bumblebee nodded miserably.
"Wait, I don't get it, do you want to interface with me or you don't?" Ratchet asked, confused.
"NO!" Bee yelled frantically.
"I'll do it," Ironhide offered helpfully.
That broke Bumblebee completely. He leapt in a stumble over Prime's leg and charged out the door to escape. They all heard his rapid transformation sequence and then the desperate spinning of his wheels as he accelerated away.
"Ironhide, you're not helping," Optimus said with a disgusted look at his Weapons Specialist.
Ironhide grinned, "I know. He's fun to tease. And hey, he is cute, even if he is, you know, small."
Sam clocked him in the head with a well-thrown cushion.
NEXT – there will be, uh, M-Rated type action in the next chapter. Couldn't quite work it into this one!