A Simple Kiss

Droct walked up to Cliffjumper's head, noticing that Bee shifted nervously as he stood next to him. Glancing up, he saw Bee quickly lower his optics to the floor in shame. Sighing inside, Droct knew that the dancers were so right – Bee did actually love him. And the yellow mech was truly ashamed that he'd lied all these years. A wash of warmth flew across his neural nets. A recognition that he might actually be able to forgive the mech for being who he was… Maybe look past it… Live again as mates….

Looking down at the red mech, he could see the standard look of repulsion in the Autobot's optics. Anger briefly flooded his core, for he'd gotten so tired of every mech judging him by his appearance. And wasn't it the Autobots to blame? But he pushed his anger aside, knowing that this red mech didn't know what had happened. So he couldn't blame the mech for his reaction. Heck, Droct himself would probably have the same reaction to a mech who looked like him. Perhaps Bee would tell him while Droct defragged? The yellow mech did owe Droct that. Yes, that much – and a lot more..

Turning Cliffjumper's head to the side, Droct put the funnel on the end of the feeding tube. "Sorry this stuff ain't the best, but it's all we've got," he apologized even as he poured half of the cube slowly down the tube.

Cliffjumper wanted to bolt out from under the ghastly medic's hands. Not only was he totally repulsed by the very thought of this mech even being in the same room as him, but now the slogger was apologizing even as he poured the worst grade of energon down his throat that he'd even had the misfortune of tasting! Disgust and revulsion flooded through the red mech's core. It wasn't that he was overly concerned about appearances or the quality of energon he consumed – damned if this wasn't the lowest of the low on both counts! But, here Bumblebee was forcing him to endure it. As soon as this tube was removed, he was sure going to give that yellow mech a piece of his meta!

As he tube fed the red mech, Droct looked at Bee outt've the corner of his optic. His bond mate was still shifting nervously and looking down at the ground. His blue spark pulsating within his open chest, connected to the red mech's spark through the cable. Droct guessed he should feel a little jealousy that Bee was sharing his spark with another. Yet he knew the mech was only doing it to save this Autobot's aft. After all, any one of his beautiful dancer friends would bond with him at no charge – wouldn't they? But for cycles Bee had only wanted to share his spark with one mech. And that was Droct.

So instead of jealousy, Droct looked at Bee with a sense of wonder flooding through him. It was truly amazing the lengths that the yellow mech would go through for a friend! No wonder he was stationed at Central Command. And they must've really missed him for all these cycles. His spark waivered at the thought of what pain Bee's disappearance must have caused them. Anyone with half a spark would love this yellow mech. Love him – yes love him!

But then Droct thought about the future. What would the Autobots think about him? Even if they rebuilt him and gave him a chassis that gave him the ability to fight – would he be able to? Especially after being one of the unfortunate souls caught in between the two factions - He doubted he'd ever be able to raise a gun. He'd be too busy worrying about the bystanders. But if he thought he wanted to stay with Bee, he knew the Autobots would want the yellow mech back. And if he didn't come back, then the Autobots might come to this planet to try and talk some sense into him. Then they'd meet up with the cons that did business with the miners – and the whole scenario of the cycle of violence would again occur. With innocent miners caught in the middle. Always caught in the middle!

Droct sighed, watching the energon slowly trickle down the tube and into his reluctant patient. He couldn't deny that he still loved Bee. Even though it tore him apart that the freager was an Autobot! And if he could actually kiss him, then he knew he'd never want to let the yellow mech go. However, could he actually live amongst the violent Autobot faction? Face the fact that they eagerly went into battle, time-and-time again? Did he want to chance that – by trying to kiss the mech again?

But he had to know…. Had to know if he could…. He'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try…

Tipping the cube back upright, he stopped the tube feeding right at half a cube. Taking the funnel off, he quietly said to Bee "Wait about an astrohour or so, and then you should be able to pull the feeder tube. Just do it slow and gentle. I figure he'll be able to swallow well-enough after the next defrag cycle."

Bee simply nodded, keeping his optics glued on Cliffjumper. Still afraid to meet Droct's optics, afraid he'd still see the disgust and quiet rage within the garbage mech.

Droct willed himself to stay calm; he knew how he'd go about this. He just had to know. And he really didn't care what the red mech thought about it. After all, Bee was supposedly his bond mate, wasn't he? And the red Autobot would just have to understand..

Taking off his mask, Droct drank the rest of the energon cube down and then set the empty cube on the stone slab next to the red mech's head. He'd figured that it would seem like a rather good excuse to take his mask off. He pointedly ignored the red mech's look of total revulsion at seeing his bare scarred face. The slogger would know soon enough that it was his own faction's fault wouldn't he? Droct felt the courage well up in him. The courage to find out… To find out if he could actually kiss a freagin' Autobot.

"Bee, look at me," he said. His normally soft voice had a slight hardness to it. He didn't want to pause – to go slow.. If he tried – he might back on out of it all!

Hesitantly, Bumblebee looked up at his bond mate's bared face. He hadn't dared to since he woke up, afraid that all he'd see was disgust in those blue optics. Disgust that was well-founded, for Bee was nothing but a pathetic Autobot liar. Suddenly, Droct's lips were on his. His soft glossa probing Bee's, almost questioning in its entrance. At first, Bee was completely shocked, unable to respond. But then he realized that Droct was truly kissing him. Wrapping his arms around his bond mate, he met Droct's glossa with his own. Delving deeply into the warmth recesses of the garbage mech's mouth with the softness of his living metal. Trembling with elation that Droct even wanted to kiss him!

Feeling the yellow chassis tremble against him, Droct wrapped his arms around him. Desperation filled him as he pressed his lips even tighter to Bee's. He could kiss an Autobot! He could look past Bee's insignia! Elation flowed through him as Bee's glossa entered his mouth. Bee's soft lips were his, forever his! Pressing his chassis against Bee's, Droct could feel the mech's spark pulsing along the cable connecting him to the red Autobot. He didn't care. For Bee's entire being was his! No matter whom he had to 'share' his spark with.

Cliffjumper couldn't help but watch. His optics widened in absolute horror as his gorgeous yellow friend seemed to be WELCOMING the ghastly mech's kiss. He shook his head back and forth, thinking that his meta must have a major glitch. Here was Bumblebee, surrounded by absolutely stunning femmes – and he was kissing the ghastly medic! Even Optimus himself would have a damned hard time understanding this one, Cliffjumper was sure of that! Primus, he couldn't wait until Bee pulled this stinking tube out of his throat. He needed to talk some sense into the yellow mech. For what Bee was doing over him – was absolutely disgusting! To say the least….

Slowly, the two separated. Bumblebee staring into his bonded's optics, wanting to believe that everything was truly ok between them. He searched the scarred face, praying, hoping…

Droct ran his digits along the gorgeous mech's cheek. His blue optics finally soft again as he met Bee's pleading orbs. "Sorry Bee, I just wanted to see if I still could.." he softly explained. He desperately hoped that Bee hadn't been offended by his forwardness. But he'd just had to know…

Bee's lower lip trembled, "Can you?" he asked. He knew that it was far more than just if Droct could kiss him that was at stake.

Droct lowered his optics and walked towards the other mine shafts. He answered Bee with the one word that the yellow mech had been praying for. "Yes." Then he was gone, to find a quiet spot to lie down and defragment.

Bumblebee's spark brightened in intensity, almost overwhelming the red mech he was currently bonded with. Looking down at the red mech, Bee hugged him excitedly. "Did you hear that Cliffjumper? He loves me! He really, really does!"

The red mech stared at him in absolute shock. Bumblebee was in love with that rust bucket? Cliffjumper just couldn't believe his audios, so he quickly ran a check on them. What the hell? There was nothing wrong with them. So Bumblebee was truly in LOVE with the most grotesque mech that Cliffjumper had ever had the misfortune of laying his optics on.

As Bee stood up, and slowly began to pull the feeding tube out of his throat. Cliffjumper knew he had more questions than ever for his friend to answer…

….. Back on Cybertron…..

The clang of metal on metal rang out across the landscape as Inferno plopped himself wearily down next to Ironhide. The echoes continued across the battered landscape that stretched out in front of them, dancing around from skeletal building to skeletal building until it finally blended into the drone of the wind.

"Dontcha tell me that a little security round has gotcha energy systems low," 'Hide chuckled under his breath. Shifting his weight, he set his weapon across his legs, ready for any con he might chance seeing.

The firefighter gave a heavy sigh, yet didn't speak a word. No, he was not low on energon. The laughter and bragging of a much loved comrade was ringing through his memory banks. The echoes of that cycle-dead mech's life had been flitting across his processor all day cycle. He simply couldn't get Cliffjumper off his meta it seemed. And the old familiar sensation of guilt crushing his core was slowly sneaking back….

When there was no reply, the red van looked up at his so-called bond mate with concern in his blue orbs. It wasn't like Inferno not to have a quick comeback to every comment he made. That's what had made them best friends. That's how they had survived this long-running act together. "Ya ok bud?"

Those three simple words blasted the last of Inferno's waivering self-control. Was he ok? How could HE be ok while Cliffjumper was nothing but ash floating in Cybertron's thin atmosphere! How could HE be ok? Tears filled his optics. Tears of pain… guilt…. Frustration… "I…. I…." he couldn't say anything! He had no right to still be alive while his charge was dead! His chassis shook with held-back sobs…

Realizing what orbit day cycle it was, Ironhide realized his error. Guilt and empathy washed over the roughneck's circuits as he met Inferno's tortured stare. "Forgot the anniversary, I'm real sorry Bud," he offered in a tone so low it was barely perceptible over the wind.

"Yeah" the word came out as more of a sob. He turned his optics away from the van and looked across the devastation. The war had devastated everything – his friends… his life…. His very world.. Nothing but devastation.. And nothing seemed to ever change. He almost wanted to give up.. Give in.. Leave this travesty that was his existence and join Cliffjumper's spark. Wander freely amongst the energy of the cosmos…

Uh-oh.. Ironhide thought as he realized just how black Inferno's mood had gone. He'd seen this side of the Firetruck before – even been there himself. Scooting closer to the larger mech, he ignored his homophobia and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend. "One day this'll all be behind us. We'll make the Decepticreeps pay for all they've done. Cliff's and Bee's sacrifices' won't be in vain!"

Inferno sniffed and wiped away the tears before they could stream down his faceplate. Ironhide was right. Offlining himself now would just mean the evil 'cons had taken down another one of them. He couldn't leave this planet, their future, in the hands of the enemy. Cliffjumper would've kicked his aft for even contemplating the idea of giving up. "Yeah, you're right. Just gets to me sometimes." His arm drifted over the shouldermounts of his friend without either of them noticing.

They continued to talk for a while. Remembering the bright young lives they so dearly missed. Neither one pay attention to any Autobots that might be watching – might be listening…

Prowl ground his dentals together in frustration as he observed their intimate moment in total silence; He desperately wanted to join them, but he was uncomfortable around mechs when they showed emotion. He'd never learned how to deal with emotionally-charged scenarios – well, except for those involving battle of course. To adapt to his lack of empathy he'd learned to hide his own emotions. It was pointless to expect others to assist him when he cried if he couldn't assist them when they cried – so his philosophy was to never cry….

He cringed a bit (a simple narrowing of the edges near his optics not a fully expressed cringe by any means) as the two mechs put their arms around each other. He could feel a memory echo of when they had put those arms across his shoulder mounts. His engine revved in a low rumble, for of course that sensation had culminated in the most processor-blowing interface session he'd ever experienced. But no, he stomped down those emotional responses. It was beneath him as an officer to reminisce over past encounters – much less long for them. He was Prowl – he was in control.

Turning away, the officer shrugged off any emotions concerning the event and went on his way. There was no con activity in this sector; it was time to go check the next. Without even a glance back at the pair, he rejoined Bluestreak and Jazz on their rounds.

"Hey man – where ya been? We've been wondering if we'd have to come a lookin' for ya?" Jazz's faceplate lit up like a concert light show as he transformed and patted Prowl on a doorwing.

Poor Jazz, so totally unaware of the raw emotions rolling under the surface of his prim and proper hood – thought Prowl. In a way, the cheerful mech was truly the best match for him. Always happy to see him, always happy with what little time he had to give. No, Jazz didn't ever demand much. Except for the times he showed up unannounced and horny as hell in his office and did that little dance …. Which was…. Well….. – Prowl could feel his faceplate heat up at the memories.. Again, shaking the emotions off – he did nothing outwardly more than nod at Jazz. No, no emotion – no smile – nothing more. "Inferno and Ironhide are keeping their optics on this sector – let us move on." With that cryptic reply, he transformed to alt mode and headed out.

"And just how is it that you fell for him – and not me?" Bluestreak snickered to Jazz.

"Man, I couldn't tell ya. Love's funny like that," Jazz quipped. Transforming, he fell in behind the sharpshooter as they continued on the patrol.

… Please review… I'll write some more whenever life slows down for a day!