Unicron: This entry will deal with various parings in various permutations, and some timeline fudging. If either of those bother you, feel free to skip this entry.
Addiction
Archibald Witwicky was a feeble old man. He was feeble, old, and he was housed in a very prison-like room a few states away from his only living family, "for his own well-being". He snorted at the thought that being locked in a mad-house was in any way for his well-being, then looked up from his drawings –more of the strange alien glyphs that he couldn't get out of his head this was why they thought he was crazy- to see his only son and grandson enter the room he'd lived in for too goddamn long. The brighter florescent lights of the hallway made him blink a few times and nearly raise a hand to shield his eyes – he didn't because he knew his eyes would just have to adjust again when the door closed behind them. His rather feisty daughter-in-law stood haloed in the bright lights, watching the family reunion from the doorway.
Archibald let his lips twitch up in a smile as his adventurous ('He gets that from me,' he thought with fond pride)grandson broke away from his father's hand hold and ran up to him. "Grandpa!" He shouted with bubbly excitement, and wrapped his little four-year-old arms around Archibald's leg. Archibald was old and feeble. His grandson was young, strong and adaptable.
"Sam." Archibald greeted, reaching down and picking up his grandson, before setting him on his lap. Tiny legs absently kicked back and forth as a gap-toothed grin beamed up at him at full blast. "Do you see these?" He whispered with gentle urgency, using a wrinkled and liver-spotted hand to show Sam the ink marks he'd tirelessly transcribed to the notebook paper he'd been given. Sam turned his curious eyes to them, and concentrated on what was there for him to see for a very long time, his little brow scrunching up as he tried to make sense of them, and then he nodded.
"Yeah," he verbalized, his face clearly showing he'd just remembered his manners. Archibald smiled and wheezed out a chuckle at his adorable little grandson. He could see Sam's little fingers tracing the marks against his legs, repeating the pattern to himself.
'Smart boy, he's memorized them.' "I want you to run away as fast as you can if you ever see them again, alright? Promise me." Sam nodded very seriously, holding out his pinky, and Archibald gently curled his own pinky around it.
"I promise." Sam vowed as seriously as a child could, before grinning up at his grandparent enthusiastically. Archibald chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair, and leaned back slightly as the boy giggled and smoothed the mussed hair back down.
"Good boy," He murmured, hugging Sam one more time, and then opening one of the desk draws with a wooden sliding sound. He carefully lifted a small object out, before giving it to Sam to hold. Tiny hand close around what turned out to be a brass locket. "Sam, I want you to always wear this. It has brought me a lot of good luck, and it will do the same for you. Now remember, 'No sacrifice'…"
Sam whispered the last part as he slipped the too-long chain of the locket on. "'No victory'…" In the dull yellow light from Archibald's desk lamp, the locket's dull gold color glinted. Sam was set down gently, and Ronald Witwicky paced up to his father, bending down to lift his son up onto his hip.
"Dad," he started with fondness, but whatever he was going to say next was lost as Archibald Witwicky closed his eyes and stopped breathing, a small accomplished smile on his face. "Dad!" Ron called out , reaching out with a hand to check his pulse.
"Nurse!" Judy called quickly, frantic as she realized what had just happened. Ron tightened his grip on Sam, and held back shocked tears. He and his father had never been on great terms, and if it hadn't been for Sam might not have even been on good terms, but he did love the man. Ron gathered his family outside the room as the paramedics rushed in, knowing that his father wouldn't be revived, and they left in quite mourning.
Later that Night…
Sam lay down in his "big boy" bed, and held up the locket in his small hands. The room was bright from the moonlight shining in, and his Star Wars nightlight. The outside of the brass oval had a stylized human profile etched onto it. Sam smiled, and tucked the locket into his pajama top. He turned over with a little shuffling, and looked out the window. Like a scene from a movie, he spotted a shooting star and closed his eyes to make a wish. As he repeated the wish a couple times, he drifted off into sleep, one hand resting over the spot his locket lay.
Thirteen years later…
Sam woke up groggily to the sun in his face. He blinked a few times, before he grinned in excitement and scrambled to his desk to pick up the report he'd printed off at Miles's house last night. Although his grandpa was now long dead, Sam still loved him and was very excited about getting to do his genealogy report on him. Sam placed the report in the bend-proof folder and stuffed it in his bag with some of the expedition things his grandfather had left him in his will.
With a stretch to get out the lingering stiffness of sleep, Sam let out a pleased groan. Then he took off his night shirt, revealing a typical teenage boy physic, and his brass locket, now a better fit. Sam smiled, and ran his thumb gently over the trinket as he had hundreds of times before. He would have used the locket in the report as well, but he didn't need to give Trent any more ammo to beat him up and call him derogatory slurs, and jewelry would definitely be adding kindling to a bonfire.
Sam slipped on a clean pair of boxers, some mostly-clean jeans, a black tee-shirt and then a blue-grey button up which he left open. He quickly thudded down the stairs, careful of jostling his bag as he went. He grabbed a piece of bread and popped it in the toaster he'd carefully rigged to toast the bread until it was just the right amount of crunchy.
As the toast was going, he placed his bag on the table and he got out a non-stick pan and two eggs. Although he wasn't a bad cook, he was by no measure a great cook. This is why he didn't bother to make his parents –who were probably outside working anyway- breakfast too.
The toast sprang up just as the eggs finished. Sam caught the hot toast and quickly dropped it on the plate (shaking his fingers at the heat), then flipped the eggs onto it. Sam quickly shook some salt and pepper on his eggs and poured a glass of orange juice. Finally, he sat down and devoured the warm breakfast as quickly as he dared, eyes occasionally darting to the kitchen clock, which was five minutes off the actual time.
As the minute hand got closer to his cushion time, he sped up his chewing, careful not to choke on the last of his orange juice as he stood and gathered his plate and utensils. Without much time wasted he put his dishes in the sink, slipped into his pre-tied shoes, snatched his bag up, and was rushing out the door.
Outside –sure enough- his mom and dad were working on the lawn and garden. "Hey, hey, hey! Stay on the path!" Ron Witwicky reprimanded as Sam scurried passed. Sam rolled his eyes at the familiar reminder, but did as he was told. Then he ran a thumb over the locket one last time, and tucked it into his t-shirt.
Sam loped over to his normal starting position, and dropped into his stance on the road, got ready, and then as if hearing an imaginary starting 'bang', raced to school at a sprint. Sam was by no means a track star –his school didn't have a track team to join even if he wanted to be one- but he was fast, and had learned through practice and several comical never-to-be-spoken-of-again accidents how to turn or stop almost on a dime. He and Miles had tested it out, and the blonde was sworn to secrecy about certain -ahem- incidents.
He reached his locker in just-short-of-record (for him) time. He carefully set his bag in the locker, before he was suddenly pushed into it – one hand quickly shooting out to the metal back of his locker to keep him from crushing his bag and the items therein. "Watch it Witworthless!" an unfortunately familiar arrogant voice called out. Sam gritted his teeth, and waited until Trent had passed to pull himself out of the locker. He grabbed his Math textbook angrily and nearly stomped his way to class, his shoulders tight with unreleased tension.
Bolivia's Finest Quality Used Cars and Petting Zoo
Bumblebee patiently waited in the used car parking lot of one Bobby Bolivia, in the guise of a beat-up yellow VW bug. In his monitoring of the Witwicky family, he'd overheard the co-creators of Samuel James Witwicky arguing about buying the boy a used car. This was a perfect opportunity to get closer to his charges, the descendants of one Archibald Witwicky, and he had planned the most likely car lot the two older humans would visit first. As the male creator came over, Bumblebee set his mind to the task of getting the man to buy and tow him home – no matter what he had to do to the mindless shells around him.
Meanwhile…
Barricade was stalking the human friend of Samuel James Witwicky. The Witwicky boy would doubtlessly be guarded, his friend, however, was a different story. The Autobots could be rather short-sighted and thought more directly than the average Decepticon, which meant they weren't likely to keep as close an eye (or possibly any) on the friends or allies of the Witwicky family. Observation of the youngest Witwicky's internet conversations indicated Miles Lancaster to be the boy's most frequent non-family contact. And, as of that moment, the blonde was on his way to school. As the teenager moved, his pace was gradually increasing, and glanced back at the cruiser following him every so often.
Finally, he turned and nearly shouted, "Dude, what the hell is your problem?!" Barricade's holoform smirked, and he pulled up alongside the teenager. He rolled to a stop, and let his front window roll down so he could be heard by the tense boy.
"Get in." His tone was serious and demand, as he made his holoform open the passenger door. Lancaster looked confused, and wary, but he looked around and got inside anyway, not yet closing the door.
"What did I do?" He asked with dread and caution. Barricade didn't –couldn't- answer him. He was feeling to damn good right then to formulate and verbalize a response. The human's emotional field and warmth on and in Barricade felt …really good. He'd had no indication humans had some sort of spark-field around them, hence he was unprepared for the pleasant onslaught of having a human so close - Barricade's control wavered, and his holoform flickered, before it disappeared. Miles, shocked and now panicking at the apparent ghost-cop, scrambled out of the Mustang.
Immediately after the human had fled his interior, the feelings generated by his presence were gone, and Barricade could think once again. He growled a bit in embarrassed frustration and re-calibrated his expectations, before he powered up his holoform and dragged the human back in before he could get even a yard away. "Don't. Move." Barricade growled at the terrified youth, nearly daring him to disobey and suffer the consequences. His scanners picked up the presence of an Autobot, and he could see the 2007 Pontiac Solstice coming his way. Barricade securely strapped the human in –maybe a little tightly because Miles didn't seem able to move much, but that might have been from fright- and took off with squealing tires.
Jazz tore after the Mustang as fast as he dared, intent on saving the poor kid he'd kidnapped. Whatever Barricade wanted from the teen, he didn't look ready to give him up without a long chase and a fight. Jazz managed, with some clever maneuvering and careful speed bursts, to get ahead of Barricade and cut his exit off, making the Decepticon toss the kid out so he could transform and face him. Jazz took out some power lines, and used that brief pause to gear forward and rescue the poor kid.
Miles landed hard on the ground, hands bracing him as he hit the asphalt of the street, rather disoriented. Things were moving way too fast for him to understand what was going on – as much as he could without any explanation. He barely had time to get to his feet before the driverless Solstice pulled up next to him and opened its door. "Hurry, he won't be long." Miles looked over his shoulder and saw the giant cop-car robot tangled in some phone lines. Miles climbed into the nice car, and the door closed with a soft click.
Jazz felt a nice buzz in his processor, like one too many cubes of high-grade energon. The human's aura was slightly panicked, a little confused, and very curious. Jazz liked the feeling; it tingled and shivered through his frame. But he was a saboteur, and a used to racing the twins after more than just a little too much high-grade, so he was already making tracks away from the temporarily disabled Decepticon.
After a few minutes sorting himself out, so he wouldn't be too distracted, Jazz was able to speak. "Ma name's Jazz." His voice came through the radio, startling the blonde haired teen in his driver's seat. Relief entered the teen's aura, assured he'd made the right choice to trust the strange car he was a guest in.
"Um, I'm Miles… Can you take me back to school? I'm already late, and Sam'll get worried soon." He asked. Jazz chuckled, and drove to the high school at a quick pace. He pulled into the parking lot, close to the building, and released the teen. With a 'thanks' to the car, Miles raced into the building just as the bell rang, and Barricade swerved into the parking lot.
"Where is he, Autobrat." Barricade demanded with venom lacing every word. Jazz looked at the Mustang, with false innocence, and felt a sense of smug satisfaction.
"Now why would I tell ya' that, Decepticreep?"
Barricade growled in near-tangible frustration, but his scanners picked up on Miles's lifesigns quickly. He turned towards the build, and weighed the importance if remaining un-detected to the importance of securing the human. He reluctantly came to the conclusion that he could wait, he could.
At lunch, Miles told Sam everything that'd happened on his way to school. Sam reached up and felt his locket from its place under his shirt, cold metal on his chest, and frowned. "You're sure?" He asked, very unsettled at the idea of Satan's police cruiser and the mysterious driverless Pontiac. Miles nodded vehemently, knowing his best-buddy Sam was not asking out of disbelief. "Why don't you walk home with me?" Sam decided, falling back on the mentality of safety in numbers.
Miles shook his head, frustration and resignation coloring his voice. "They'd follow us." Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead, knowing there was no way to change his sometimes-squirrely friend's mind. There was no use telling Miles what to do when he'd already decided on his own course. Trying led only to bad decisions and tears – Sam would know; he'd been there before.
"Alright, fine. I'll see you tomorrow, and don't trust them. 'Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain'." Sam quoted sternly, poking his friend's stomach. Miles rolled his eyes and batted the poking hand away.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley. I won't open the Chamber of Secrets." Sam rolled his eyes fondly, bumping shoulders with him as they dumped the remnants of their lunch off the trays, before heading off to their next class.
On a Flight to the USA…
William Lennox laid a wary eye upon the restrained tail of the giant metal scorpion they'd fought, and couldn't help but wonder. 'If this thing can move on its own, what about the rest of it…?' Will thought, then shook if off the pessimistic if valid concerns. 'Don't be so paranoid Lennox; you're going home to see your wife and daughter. Annabelle…' He grinned and thought fondly of seeing his daughter in person for the first time.
Clinging to the underside of the plane, Scorponok was waiting, hissing and tailless. His partner Blackout was already on his way to the rendezvous point, so it was just a matter of Scorponok hitching a ride to get there – and possibly also retrieve his tail.
The plane took several productive hours to get to the United States, but when it landed William Lennox exited at the military landing site. It was a short drive from the landing site to the base, where he retrieved his luggage speedily, and headed to the government assigned vehicle waiting outside, a black GMC Topkick. He reached out grab the handle, only to pull back with a swear word ghosting passed his lips as he got a small but nasty static shock from the contact.
Scorponok stealthily disengaged when the humans landed the aircraft, scuttling to a serviceable and concealed vantage point to observe the humans who'd seen him. He tracked the most interesting of the humans, before he followed the leader of the small combat team he'd faced to the waiting Cybertronian. A need to determine the reason for the Autobot presence dictated he follow them to the human's dwelling at a stealthy distance. The Autobot didn't even notice his tailing them.
Scorponok looked around the human's home and clicked in frustrated disappointment when he did not locate his tail. He did take notice of the human's mate and spawn, who greeted the male human with enthusiastic tactile affection. The smallest one was placed upon the ground, and allowed to crawl in the dirt while the adults made full body tactile contact.
The little helpless one actually managed to spot him. Scorponok tensed as it approached his concealed spot, and went to bat it aside, when it gently touched his claw and let out a happy gurgle. Scorponok felt the electricity shoot through him as he made contact with the human's energy field, and couldn't bring his self to kill the human sparkling, especially when the sparkling cooed at him and it's energy field conveyed it's curious affection.
Scorponok, instead, curled up around the tiny human protectively. He wasn't sure exactly why, but this human was now precious to him, and he let out a happy rattling purr. She was his, his little human to take care of. Scorponok settled himself for recharge, the tiny little vulnerable baby safely protected by his armored body.
Meanwhile
Ironhide was observing the human he'd been sent to monitor, due to the messages they'd picked up of his interaction with a Decepticon, embrace his sparkmate. He was still feeling the effects of having said human 'drive' him to his residence. It was unusual, the heady feeling of a human. It wasn't a bad feeling, in the sense of pain or discomfort, more of a pleasant tingle. But it was very distracting, due to the effects of its unexpected pleasantness. When Ironhide really thought about it, he supposed that this might be something of a bond. Not a sparkbond, no, both Will and he were happy with their respective sparkmates. This felt more like a co-creation, or an honorary co-creation bond. Which, he might have to confer with Ratchet do confirm his suspicions on why humans had this effect but, it might be fairly accurate.
He'd have to inform Optimus about this first, but then he'd bring the topic up with the Autobot medic. If anybot could figure it out, it would be the cranky old mech. That's when he picked up on something, a blip on his scanners as he started to regain his full senses. A Decepticon was near the house with the human's sparkling. Before either Will or Sarah knew what was happening, Ironhide had transformed and aimed at something near the kitchen window.
A few hours earlier, at Sam's home…
Sam sprinted up the sidewalk, and stopped. In the driveway was a beat up yellow '76 Camaro, and his parents were smiling at him. A tingle of dread made its way up his spine. This didn't bode well. This didn't bode well at all. "Sam," His mother started, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Your father finally got you a car!" she finished, grinning, hands splayed expressively.
Sam forced himself to grin. There went his carefully laid plans to save up and get his dream car. "That…That's great, mom…" She pulled him over to it while a disgruntled and spooked Ron just watched, wary. Sam, with a little prodding, reluctantly got into the Camaro's driver seat. Put his hands on the steering wheel, and felt a thrum of…of something go through him. Some sense of things going in the right direction. His thumb brushed some of the gathered grime from the center of the steering wheel, revealing a strange face. 'Never seen that logo before…' He thought, looking at the rest of the interior with interest.
Bumblebee was in heaven. Sam's sitting inside him was making his processor fuzzy. If he'd been a cat, he'd probably be purring very loudly – as it was, he had to use what little focus he had to keep from revving his engine. Sam's hands on his steering wheel felt soft, and yet calloused and somehow Bumblebee was feeling a high sort of like when he drank a little of Ironhide's highgrade as a sparkling.
Sam was startled when he started the car and its motor practically roared to life. It didn't sound like the junker it was. He looked out the window to see his mom giving him the thumbs up. He nearly groaned in long-suffering embarrassment. 'When will she learn that she's not cool?' He wondered as he backed out of the driveway.
Bumblebee let Sam direct them, but he was very much in control. He'd managed to clear a bit of the haze as he adjusted, and was now fully focused on memorizing every detail of his human. Something metal around the boy's neck drew his attention.
It held a bit of… well, he wasn't sure. He could tell it wasn't too strong, whatever it was, but it was apparently an energy of some sort. Bumblebee brushed it off as temporarily unimportant. How much trouble could one little locket be?
Sam was surprised how easily the Camaro drove. He didn't even realize he was passing the lake party, until Mikaela –Trent's latest fling- flagged him down. Sam blinked and rolled the window down to see what she wanted. Bumblebee, however, only allowed him to do so with wariness. She smelled like flowers, hormones, frustrations, and booze. Nothing at all like Sam's slight musk, sweat, and light metallic sent.
"Hi, you're Sam right? From math? Look, I need a ride home and…" she trailed off giving a huff and gesturing back at Trent, and Sam nodded sympathetically. He could completely understand the need to be as far from the jock as possible. Though, Miles might disown him for helping the 'evil jock concubine'.
"Where to?" She smiled gratefully at him and flowed into 'Bee's other seat. Now familiar with the sensation of having a human in his interior, Bumblebee was ready for the feel of this human – and was slightly surprised when, for some reason, she didn't feel…well, to be honest, she didn't feel right. She didn't fit into the leather, felt a bit too warm, and her smell was practically driving him insane – and not in a good way.
Sam stopped at Mikaela's house, and opened the door. "Thanks, Sam." She murmured, and kissed his cheek in a way that reminded him of posh people in movies. "You're a nice guy." Then she walked up the stairs into the house. Sam blinked once, a little confused at the suddenness of the action. Then he frowned. 'Is it me or did the seat belt just tighten?' He shook off the thought as a quirk of the old car, or just his imagination, and began to drive home.
Bumblebee was annoyed and he was annoyed that he was annoyed. Part of him was annoyed that the kiss might be an initiation of a romantic relationship, meaning he'd have to put up with her in his interior in the future, and other part of him wanted to drive her away from Sam for good. He accidentally tightened the seat belt possessively before he realized what he was doing and stopped. 'She can find her own human. This one's mine.' When realized what he thought he got a bit worried. 'Maybe I should talk to Optimus about this.' It wasn't like him to get territorial, especially over a sentient being. He barely knew Sam, and now he was behaving strangely.
Elsewhere…
Miles was absolutely positive he didn't like this situation. First, because he wasn't gay; second, because he really didn't like the idea of being fought over by two guys; third, why were aliens fighting over him in the first place?
Miles watched from his 'pedestal' as the two Cybertronians exchanged blows. Honestly, they could find another human. Miles looked at his watch. 'Greeeat. I'm late getting home.' He looked down the rock he'd be set down on, and back at the giant robots. Then, with a sigh, he slid down the rock and began to make his way to the ground.
Miles looked back once he'd touched the packed dirt, noticed they weren't focused on him, and made a break for it. He was lucky enough and made it home just before the two noticed he was gone, and was inside a few seconds before they'd tracked him down. He panted, leaning on his knees, and considered taking up running with Sam again because if this kept up he was going to need a lot of practice in speedy exits.
With Optimus and Ratchet
"Have you figured it out, Ratchet?" Prime asked, worried but not yet pace about the news that humans might have some sort of destabilizing effect on Cybertronian minds. Ratchet checked his answers again, before conceding they weren't going to change, and nodded.
"Humans, like any sapient species, have a form of spark. The human spark is dispersed like an energy cloud or "aura" around the human. The humans we are most likely to come in contact with call it a 'soul'. Not far enough to effect each other or us without touch. Such as sitting in our alt-modes. When unexpected contact is made with a human aura, it acts similarly to the process of making a spark bond – the type of which seems to be up to chance and compatibility. Ironhide believes he and Major Lennox have a co-creation bond, while Bumblebee is in the beginning stages of forming a sparkmate bond with Samuel James Witwicky. The process itself is like taking several shots of high-grade in rapid succession without having any tolerance – it can act like a drug." Here Ratchet paused, and ran a hand over his face plates.
"And then we have the case of Miles Lancaster, who made contact with two mechs who are similar, but on opposite ends of the war. His soul has begun making sparkmate bonds with both Barricade and Jazz. Which has led to jealousy and fighting already. It's going to be a headache and a half, Prime." He focused his attention on the blue and red mech, who was visibly much calmer and looking far more contemplative.
"So essentially, that would be similar to what happened with Prowl when he first interfaced with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe." Ratchet nodded at the apt comparison. The twins and been unbearable for vorns. "We'll have to warn all future Autobots of the effects, so as to mitigate future incidents. Have you relayed this to them?"
"As soon as I got the results back. Ironhide has informed me that Scorponok has taken to the Lennox child. This could be a Creator-creation or a Guardian-guarded bond." Then Ratchet frowned. "Then again, it could also be a co-creation bond, but that is unlikely because Scorponok is only just above a drone."
Optimus sighed, realizing just how much this could muddle things. "Now, let me get this straight. Bumblebee has sparkmated with a human, Ironhide has a human co-creation, Barricade's fighting another mech over their shared human sparkmate, and Scorponok has a bond with a human child that we don't know the exact details of." Ratchet nodded. "…Sometimes, I wonder why I ever accepted being leader." He shook his head in exasperation at the situation, before straightening. "There's no going back now. Have Bumblebee make contact with Sam."
With the Hacker Duo
"Maggie, do you fly a plane?" Maggie looked at Glen, surprised at the strange and nervous question.
"Well, not exactly, I was dropped off by one controlled by a ground base, why?" Glen looked a bit spooked. Almost as bad as the last time they were arrested.
"'cause I think your ride is glaring at me…" Maggie looked at the F-22 and then back at Glen with incredulity. Sometimes her friend was a little too paranoid.
"Don't be ridiculous." She said with her Australian accent as strong as ever. "It's just a plane." Glen didn't look to sure, but continued to show Maggie to the hacker's room.
"I still can't believe they sent a government plane to pick you up while you were visiting your parents." Glen said. Maggie nodded, as she'd been wary and concerned too. It didn't seem like something that required a jet plane to pick her up – in fact it seemed like an awful lot of fuss to go through for one person.
"Well, they said they needed the best for…whatever this is." She tried weakly. Glen grinned cheekily, poking her in the side as he spoke.
"That doesn't explain why you're here." Maggie teasingly swiped at Glen, who rubbed his arm and shot her a wounded look.
"Oh you're horrible!" The two continued to banter, unaware of the acute inhuman focus trained on them.
Time skip, two weeks after mission city…
Sam looked at the burns on his hand with a scowl on his face. 'Sorry Grandpa…I tried, but it looks like I didn't escape them after all.' He reached up and touched the now-dented and slightly marred locket. The stylized human profile was melted a bit, and looked slightly like Bumblebee's autobot insignia, slightly if you squinted a bit. It had protected him from a shard of hot Allspark shrapnel.
Speaking of Bumblebee, he was honking loudly from outside. Sam sighed and reluctantly got up. 'Looks like I'm not going to be able to skip out of the human/Cybertronian checkup.' Sam went down stairs, only to stop at the foot of the stairs.
He looked down at the locket, and opened it. Inside, on the right, were the words, "No Sacrifice, No Victory" and on the left side was a black and white photo of his grandfather. Sam smiled fondly, and closed the locket.
'You know what grandpa? I think I'm safe. At least, until the druggie out there gets his fill of me.' Bumblebee honked impatiently. 'But, you were right about one thing.' Sam clenched his fists again, eyes narrowed in remembered anger.
When Megatron had found out about the bonds, he'd killed every human he could that stood near him and tried to tear Jazz in two. If Barricade hadn't shot him and made him drop Jazz, he would have. 'The Iceman was definitely someone to get away from. Far away from.'
Sam stepped outside into the warm light, and noted that the sky seemed a bit clearer. 'Huh. This human/transformer bonding thing might be a good thing.' Sam thought, heading over to Bumblebee, who was nearly vibrating in his spot.
Bumblebee's holoform grinned as he noticed Sam's thoughtful expression. He couldn't wait any longer, and exited his alt-mode. A few quick steps and he let himself tackle the contemplative brunet. Sam let out a yelp and flailed as the blonde above him gave him a quick kiss, and then beamed down at him. Sam glared back in fond irritation. "'Bee, how many times have I told you not to do that?"
Bumblebee grinned wider, recalling exactly how many times he'd said it – and how many times he'd tried to say it and got interrupted. "Twenty-six." Sam rolled his eyes, as Bumblebee pulled him up to his feet. Sam was pulled to sit on holo-Bee's lap as they drove to the base being retrofitted for the transformers and their human allies.
'Is it too late to take back that last thought?' Sam wondered, sighing as he leaned into the warm projection behind him.
