Chapter warning - Explicit sexual content, (unintentional) self-harm.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
After they left South Quad, Bumblebee informed him that they had forty minutes before his seven o'clock appointment. Sam huffed a sigh as he walked towards the gleaming yellow Camaro parked just outside of the quad entrance. Bumblebee popped open his door as he approached, and Sam climbed into the familiar cab without hesitation. He shifted against the leather seat, reaching out to brush a thumb over the Autobot emblem set into the steering wheel.
"What are the new guys like?" He asked after a moment, surprising himself.
Bumblebee's door closed with an audible snap, the dash lights brightening as his engine turned over.
"I don't know them that well." He admitted after a moment, accelerating through the bridge, "Red Alert is nice but paranoid, although he is a security director. He and Inferno have been partners since before the Great War."
Bumblebee slowed down in order to turn into the receiving room. The large hangar was busy, despite the hour. On one end of the room was a long row of terminals and monitors, at which sat a cluster of busy looking technicians. Soldiers in full combat gear were stationed at both entrances, M4s held securely across their chests. At the opposite end of the room, standing close to the lift, were two unfamiliar mechanoids. One was red, blue, and silver with a large blaster mounted to each shoulder pauldron. His companion was a bulky mechanoid, plated entirely in yellow and blue. As Bumblebee drew closer, Sam could see that they were engaged in an animated discussion.
"Smokescreen and Grapple." Bumblebee explained, sensing his curiosity. Something about his bonded's tone took Sam by surprise, and he glanced down at the dashboard.
"Not friends of yours, I take it?"
Bumblebee chirped at him, "Smokescreen is a diversionary tactician, but he should have been in Spec Ops. He reports everything that he sees straight to Prime."
Sam's lips twitched up, "So he's a snitch, then?"
"He's an excellent soldier and a valuable ally." Bumblebee said, amusement in his voice, "But yes, he's a snitch."
The two Autobots turned to regard Bumblebee as he accelerated towards the lift. The yellow and blue mechanoid raised a hand in a friendly wave, and Bee flashed his high beams in response.
"Grapple, he's the architect?"
"He is. He's also bonded to Hoist."
Sam glanced at the dash in surprise, before his gaze flicked back to the yellow and blue mechanoid. The Autobot was staring down at them, curiosity written all over his faceplates. After a moment, they made eye contact through the windshield, and Grapple waved again. Sam hesitantly raised his hand and waved back as Bumblebee came to a stop on the lift. They waited as a number of people shuffled forward to join them, and then the lift began to rise towards the ceiling.
"The newcomers… do they think it's strange? That we're bonded?" Sam asked.
"They were surprised, certainly. If you are asking whether they disapprove, then no." Bumblebee responded, before his voice turned reassuring, "Their opinions wouldn't matter to me either way, Sam. You're mine."
Sam was blindsided by the way Bee's words cut through him, causing him to flinch back against the seat. He could almost hear Megatron's smooth voice, rumbling that same hated phrase—You are not a lesson, you're mine. Now and always.
"Sam." Bumblebee murmured, horrified, "I'm sorry."
The scout's words snapped Sam back to himself. It took a long moment before he could reply around the lump in his throat.
"Don't be." He said roughly, "You're right, I am yours. Only yours."
Bumblebee brushed mental fingers across his mind, as though in agreement. When the lift finished its ascent, Sam was surprised to see that the building at ground-level was nothing like he remembered. Rather than the large, empty hangar, he found himself within a smaller vault-like structure. Bumblebee accelerated forward as the heavy blast doors in front of them slowly opened, spilling sunshine into the dusky space.
"Security upgrades?" Sam guessed dryly.
"Security upgrades." Bumblebee confirmed.
They pulled out onto Britannia Way, accelerating towards the opposite end of the Downtown area. Sam glanced around them with undisguised curiosity. The base was largely the same as he remembered, but as they approached the dining facility, Sam realized that many of the buildings were unfamiliar to him. He glanced down at the dashboard, looking for an explanation.
"Megatron and Acid Storm heavily damaged this part of the base. We had to rebuild the administrative buildings from scratch, and the old dining hall had to be torn down."
Sam frowned, a sharp sense of loss needling him at the scout's words. He had spent many evenings at the Hall with the guys, watching football and drinking. It was how he had come to join their social group, friends despite the differences in their age and experience. Although the Hall was just a building, its destruction stung all the same.
Bumblebee continued past the edge of Downtown, driving west towards Simpson Point. It took less than five minutes before they pulled up to the secluded beach, with its white sand and scrubby brush dotting the high water line. Bee popped open his door, but Sam didn't move—he sat stiffly in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead. His bonded said nothing, waiting patiently for him to come to a decision. Eventually, Sam uncurled his fingers from the steering wheel and climbed out of the cab. Sam pushed his hands into his pockets, staring out at the vast expanse of cerulean water, as Bumblebee reversed. A moment later, the scout transformed into his bipedal mode and crouched down beside him.
"I always liked it here." Sam said quietly, "It's peaceful."
Bumblebee whistled at him contentedly, reaching forward to stroke a heavy digit down his spine. Sam glanced up at him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He enjoyed the feeling of Bumblebee's hands on him, whether mechanical or holoform. His touch always left a pleasant warmth in its wake. Sam reached out, brushing against the side of Bee's face affectionately. The scout shuttered his optics, warbling something quietly in Cybertronian in response.
Sam didn't need to speak the language to know what it was that Bumblebee had said.
"Right back at you." He replied.
They stayed like that for the better part of ten minutes, not speaking but communicating volumes through touch and emotion. Eventually, Bumblebee straightened up, looking down at him in regret.
"We have to go. You're due at medical in ten."
Sam stepped away, letting Bumblebee transform, before climbing into the scout's cab. They drove back towards the Downtown in silence. Bumblebee parked outside of the medical facility, and then they made their way into the building. It was surprisingly busy, with people in varying states of dress sitting around the large waiting room. The space could have been in any clinic in Middle America—generic prints hanging on the walls, side tables filled with old magazines, and signage with bland but obvious medical advice posted around the room. Bumblebee walked straight to the reception desk, speaking quietly with the man sitting behind the counter. The private glanced in Sam's direction, before standing and gesturing for them to follow him.
Eventually, Sam found himself in a small, dark room with an assortment of unfamiliar looking machinery. A heavyset, middle-aged doctor entered shortly thereafter, introducing herself as Dr. Wiley, before proceeding with Sam's eye exam. He dutifully answered the questions that she put to him, holding the black spoon over one eye and then the other, as he read from the chart on the opposite wall. When he finished, she instructed him to sit in front of the nearest piece of machinery. The doctor talked as she worked, explaining the purpose of the tonometer, before telling him to "Hold still, little puff of air."
He could not prevent the full-body jerk that happened when the jet of air hit him in the eye.
"That is the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced." He said conversationally, before grudgingly resuming his position in front of the machine.
"Yeah, no one likes the tonometer."
There was another puff of air, but despite knowing what to expect, Sam still jumped in his seat.
"Okay, one more."
Sam made an exasperated sound before resuming his position. The doctor repeated the test with his other eye, and by the time that she was finished, Sam's skin was crawling. As they made their way out of the exam room and towards dentistry, Sam muttered peevishly to Bumblebee, "If Megatron ever runs out of new ideas for torture, I can give him a few pointers."
Bumblebee turned to look at him, expression aghast, but Sam merely lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
His appointment at dentistry was less uncomfortable, at least. He was x-rayed and examined, before being sent to the dental hygienist for a cleaning. He stared at the television in the ceiling, aware of Bumblebee's quiet scrutiny across their bond, as the young woman worked on him. In no time at all, he was on his way towards the parking lot, with the taste of fluoride in his mouth.
As Sam climbed into the driver's seat, he became acutely aware of his exhaustion. It pulled at him, body and mind, and he scrubbed a hand over his face as Bumblebee turned onto the road. The sun was low in the sky, painting the horizon in brilliant oranges and pinks, as they drove back towards the Hive. Sam stared at the sunset unthinkingly right up until the moment that Bumblebee drove into the bunker. As the heavy blast doors lumbered shut behind them, the warm light vanished. Sam closed his eyes, turning to press his cheek against the supple leather of Bee's seat. He stayed like that, silent and unmoving, until they pulled into Ratchet's medical bay.
It took a monumental effort for Sam to climb out of Bee's cab. Ratchet stood by his berth, arms folded over his chassis, with a clinical expression on his face. Sam ambled towards him, hands in his pockets and a weary stoop to his shoulders.
"You've been given a clean bill of health by Drs. Wiley and Scott. How are you feeling?"
"Tired." Sam admitted.
Ratchet nodded faintly, crouching down as he extended a servo towards him, "That is understandable. You can rest after you've eaten."
It was a testament to his exhaustion that Sam let the comment pass without complaint. Ratchet set him down on the berth, and Sam took off his shoes and jeans, before climbing onto the gurney. As soon as he was settled, Ratchet's holoform appeared beside him. The medic reconnected the intravenous tubing to the cannula taped to the back of his hand, before adjusting the clamp at the bottom of the bag of fluids. Sam leaned back against the pillows, pulling the blankets over his legs. A moment later, the holoform pushed the overbed table towards him. Sam glanced down curiously to see that Ratchet had brought him a tray from the cafeteria—oatmeal, yogurt, and a banana. Beside the plate was a small, familiar paper cup. He frowned faintly, feeling inexplicably irritated at the sight of the medication. It was not as though Karen was going to forget about their conversation.
"I'll lower the lights. Eat as much as you can." Ratchet instructed, before he moved away.
Sam obediently picked up the banana, peeling it with a well-practiced motion, as Bumblebee accelerated forward to park a short distance away. He started working through his dinner, but he had barely put a dent in the oatmeal before he was nodding off. A moment later, warm hands were on his shoulders, gently guiding him to lay back against the mattress. Sam blinked up at Bumblebee's holoform, who moved the overbed table aside, before lying down on the gurney beside him. Sam sighed softly, shifting forward to tuck his nose into the crook of the holoform's neck. He felt a fierce swell of affection from across their bond, a moment before Bumblebee draped an arm across his waist.
Sam was asleep moments later.
Sam dreamed as he always did, in snatches of memory and emotion. Imagery skipped across his mind, simultaneously logical and bizarre. Ravage, padding along beside him as he walked through Ops. Bumblebee crouched in front of him, handing Sam a package of candy. Optimus frowning down at him, disappointment written all over his face.
"Tell me, what would Optimus Prime think of that?"
A sudden, loud crash startled Sam into wakefulness. He surged upwards in bed with a choked cry, panic seizing him in an instant. Hands were on him a moment later, restraining and firm. Unthinkingly, Sam lashed out, struggling to get away from the blankets tangled around his legs. A warm body pressed against his back, wrapping him in a bear hug that pinned his arms to his sides.
"Sam." Bumblebee said sharply, his voice breaking through the haze of Sam's panic, "You're okay. I've got you."
His breath came in shuddering gasps as reality slowly reasserted itself. He blinked rapidly, realizing all at once where he was. The medical bay was almost exactly the same as it had been before he fell asleep, with one glaring exception—an unknown Autobot stood halfway across the hangar, an empty box in his servos, as dozens of metal cylinders rolled across the floor in every direction. The red and white mechanoid was perfectly still, an expression of guilty remorse on his face.
He stared at the stranger for the length of a heartbeat, before blurting incredulously, "Who the hell are you?"
Realizing that Sam was fully cognizant again, Bumblebee's grip around his mid-section loosened.
"Sam, meet First Aid. First Aid, meet Sam." Bee said dryly.
"Please accept my sincere apologies, Sam. I feel terrible." First Aid said contritely, bending down to gather the cylinders back into the box.
"Not as terrible as you're going to feel in about thirty seconds." Bumblebee replied blithely.
First Aid ex-vented a loud sigh, as though in resigned agreement. Sam glanced over his shoulder at the holoform in confusion, but before he could ask for clarification, the doors to the hangar banged open. Ratchet stalked into the medical bay with all the fury of a hurricane, pointing at First Aid as he snapped a question in Cybertronian. First Aid whistled apologetically, gesturing towards the crate that he held. Ratchet's optics flashed dangerously as he exploded into an angry tirade.
Sam didn't need to understand the language to know that Ratchet was being decidedly unflattering. He leaned back against Bumblebee, feeling a swell of sympathy for the other medic. The holoform's hands splayed over Sam's stomach, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his skin. As First Aid retrieved the last of the canisters, he glanced in Sam's direction.
"It was nice to meet you, Sam. I am sorry that it wasn't under better circumstances."
Sam's lips quirked in a smile. The Autobot's voice was kind, his entire demeanor open and friendly.
"It was nice to meet you too."
First Aid crossed one arm over his chassis, bending deeply at the waist, before he turned and made his way out of the medical bay. Sam huffed softly, disquieted by the familiar gesture.
"I wish they would stop doing that." He muttered.
"They bow to you not only to honor what you have done, in saving Prime's life, but also to keep the spirit of our people alive." Ratchet admonished, crossing the bay towards him. He came to a stop a short distance away, tilting his head in open consideration, "How are you feeling?"
Sam laughed softly, "I'm fine. I've had worse wake-up calls."
At his words, Bumblebee's arms tightened around him, before he withdrew entirely. Sam glanced over his shoulder, frowning as realization dawned on him.
"Did I hit you?"
"You did. Nice right hook." Bumblebee replied, lips twitching precariously.
Sam huffed at him in exasperation, "Not funny."
"It was a little funny."
Sam rolled his eyes, but before he could quip back, Ratchet reached forward to grasp his arm. With exaggerated gentleness, the medic turned his wrist over, examining the cannula on the back of his hand. Sam followed his gaze, grimacing as he realized that blood had spiderwebbed beneath the tape affixing the IV. He must have struck it while he struggled.
"I'll re-bandage that." Ratchet said briskly, before walking across the medical bay. He returned in short order, carrying a tray of supplies. A moment later, his holoform flickered to life beside him, and Sam surrendered his arm without complaint. He watched curiously as Ratchet peeled away the tape, staunching the sluggish bleeding with gauze. When the white cotton came away clean, he sterilized the apparatus and re-affixed it to the back of his hand. After he had finished, and the end result met with his satisfaction, Ratchet glanced back towards him.
"Can you eat?"
Sam shrugged, "Yeah, sure."
Ratchet made an approving noise, "I've ordered a tray for you. It will be here shortly."
The medic turned, walking across the medical bay to his workbench, where he proceeded to work on a complicated looking piece of equipment. Sam watched him curiously for a moment, before glancing back at Bumblebee's holoform. He lay beside Sam on the gurney, propped up on one elbow, watching him with a quiet expression on his face.
Sam smiled fondly, reaching out to card his fingers through Bee's short, sandy hair. The strands were soft, although stiffer than human hair might be, but otherwise indistinguishable from the real thing. Sam dropped his hand to trace Bee's jawline, ghosting his thumb over the holoform's bottom lip. An indefinable emotion gripped him, lodging itself deep in his chest, and Sam leaned down to brush a soft kiss against Bumblebee's mouth. He felt his bonded's lips curve in a smile before the holoform kissed him back. It was a gentle press, chaste and affectionate, before he pulled back far enough to murmur, "What brought this on?"
"I have no idea." Sam laughed lightly, "I guess the fact that you know how to take a punch is a turn-on."
Bumblebee chuckled, but before he could reply, a familiar voice called out across the hangar.
"Look at you two! You are just adorable."
Sam glanced across the room, his entire face lighting up with a genuine smile as he saw Hot Rod walking towards them.
"Roddy!" He said with a laugh, "What are you doing here?"
"I come bearing gifts!" He replied, stopping in front of the berth before extending a servo towards him. He glanced down, surprised to see a cafeteria tray in his palm. Sam's lips twitched as he reached forward to retrieve the tray.
"Thanks man." He said sincerely as he placed the tray on his overbed table, "How'd you get to the mess? Did you develop a holoform?"
Hot Rod shook his head good-naturedly, "Nope. I got my very own human."
Sam's eyebrow quirked up, "Oh?"
"Prime assigned Robin Williams to the Elite Guard." Bumblebee said dryly, "Kup partnered him with Roddy, probably hoping that some of Williams' work ethic would rub off on him."
Hot Rod shrugged at the holoform good-naturedly, before glancing over at him.
"How're you feeling, Sam my man?"
Sam could hear the concern hidden behind Roddy's cheerful manner as plain as day. Although he knew that his friend was worried about him, something about the cavalier's tone rankled for reasons that he could not explain. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable.
"I'm fine, thanks Roddy." He replied after a moment.
If Hot Rod noticed the tension in Sam's voice, he didn't let it show in his expression.
"Glad to hear it. Oh, Cliffjumper sends his regards. I mean, he literally said 'tell him I send my regards'." Hot Rod said, before shaking his helm minutely, "I think it was the most that I have ever seen him emote. He's not usually so effusive."
Sam rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh. Cliffjumper's stoic nature was often the target of Hot Rod's teasing. The smell of something mouth-watering caught his attention and he glanced towards the tray. Upon inspection, Sam saw that beef stew with dumplings was on the menu tonight. He picked up a spoon, pulling the overbed table towards him.
"Well, I'll let you eat." Hot Rod said, before his voice turned cheerful, "Duty calls. Knock Out's not going to guard himself."
He distantly noticed Bumblebee stiffen in the periphery of his vision, but Sam's attention focused solely on the cavalier.
"Knock Out's in the brig?" Sam asked sharply.
Confusion flickered across Roddy's face, "Of course. Where else would he be?"
Anger flared through him, hot and sharp, and he narrowed his eyes. Immediately, he felt Ratchet's scrutiny across their bond.
"He saved my life." Sam snapped, "How long does Optimus plan on keeping him there?"
Hot Rod glanced at Bumblebee uncertainly, a moment before his expression turned grim. All at once, Sam realized that they were speaking to one another on a private channel.
"Do you two have something to share with the class?" He hissed, turning to glare at his bonded.
"Sam." Ratchet reproved as he approached, "Knock Out has been confined to the brig until he is willing to swear his loyalty, something that he is as yet unwilling to do."
Sam felt an angry flush spread across his face, "What about the others?"
Ratchet crossed his arms as he stopped a short distance away, "Ambulon and Deadlock have already sworn their fealty to Prime. They've both changed paint and accepted the Autobot emblem. Deadlock has gone so far as to take a new designation—he's going by Drift now."
"I want to see him." Sam said, making to push the overbed table aside, "I know I can talk some sense into him."
At once, Ratchet's holoform flickered into existence by his bedside. The grizzled medic reached out one hand to press against Sam's chest, the other reaching forward to pull the overbed table back towards him.
"What you want and what you need are, evidentially, two very different things." Ratchet said gruffly, "You are going to eat your meal, and then you will get some rest."
Sam narrowed his eyes at the holoform, infuriated by his tone, "Take your hand off me."
Ratchet's expression became closed off, but he withdrew his hand without comment. A moment later, the medic's mental presence disappeared behind heavy blocks.
"You can't keep me here, Ratchet." Sam said lowly, "I am not a prisoner."
"You are not a prisoner, you are my patient," Ratchet replied, his voice tight, "and you are in no condition to leave."
Hot Rod watched their exchange in silence, his troubled expression deepening with each passing moment. Before Sam could reply, he felt Bumblebee's presence brush against his mind. The concern and anguish in the simple touch pulled Sam up short, and he glanced back towards the holoform. Although Bumblebee's face was carefully composed, betraying nothing of his emotions, Sam could tell that he was stricken.
Guilt and shame slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball, obliterating his anger in an instant. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly, his cheeks burning.
"Hot Rod, thank-you for coming." Ratchet said, a clear dismissal if Sam had ever heard one. The cavalier whistled at him softly in acknowledgement.
"It was good to see you, Sam." Roddy said, although his voice was strained. Sam nodded faintly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at his friend. Hot Rod stepped away, making his way across the hangar and out of the medical bay. The silence in the wake of his departure was deafening.
"Ratchet, I'm sorry. That was rude." Sam murmured softly.
"It was." The medic agreed, and Sam flinched at his clipped tone, "Eat your meal."
His holoform disappeared as Ratchet crossed the room to stand at his workbench. It took a long time before Sam was able to pick up the spoon to comply with the medic's instructions. Bumblebee brushed against his mind, supportive and reassuring, but it only made Sam feel worse. He ate slowly, methodically, as he stared at the bowl in front of him. As soon as he finished, he set the spoon down, pushed aside the overbed table, and laid back against the mattress. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Bumblebee's holoform, as he pulled the blankets up to his shoulders.
The holoform settled down behind him, cautiously draping his arm across Sam's waist. When Sam didn't protest or pull away, Bee shifted forward until his chest pressed against his back.
/He isn't angry at you./ Bumblebee reassured him softly, /He's angry at the situation./
Sam didn't reply. He found that he had nothing to say.
Sam's guilty conscience persisted long after Ratchet's cold demeanor had thawed out. By the following morning, the medic was back to his usual self, bustling around the hangar as he worked. Sam was quiet and taciturn, avoiding Bumblebee's attempts to draw him into conversation. He ate when Ratchet told him to eat and he submitted to the medic's scans without protest. Sam became aware of the other's quiet scrutiny around noon, and by that evening, Ratchet had instructed him to stretch his legs until he was ready to go to sleep.
An hour later, Sam found himself wandering mindlessly through North Quad, with Bumblebee's holoform by his side. His bonded had been endlessly patient with him all day, neither pushing in nor allowing himself to be deterred by Sam's aloofness. As they turned down the hall towards the residences, Sam hesitated.
"Do I still have my apartment?"
Bumblebee looked at him in surprise.
"Of course. Your apartment is just as you left it."
Sam felt a sharp sense of longing, "Can I see it?"
"Certainly." Bumblebee said, his expression softening, "Let's go."
They walked together through the officer's section, arriving a short while later at Sam's apartment. Bumblebee unlocked the door, before pushing it open. Sam stepped into the room, turning to flick the switch by the entryway. Warm light flooded the apartment, illuminating the familiar space. Bumblebee had been right—everything was just as he had left it that afternoon. He slowly walked across his living room, running his fingers over the back of the sofa.
"I spent a lot of time here." Bumblebee said, glancing around the room, "While you were gone."
Sam looked at Bumblebee in surprise. It was the first time that his bonded had talked about his experiences during Sam's captivity.
"I felt closer to you, being here." Bee continued, walking towards him, "It made things marginally more bearable."
The holoform's raw tone cut Sam to his core. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that he wasn't the only one who had suffered for the last two years. Sam stepped forward, reaching out a hand to brush their fingertips together. Bee glanced down, something unfathomable and intense in his expression.
"I was never not thinking about you." Sam said softly, "Not even when things were at their worst."
Bumblebee glanced at him, hesitating, before he said, "I'm sorry that I left you."
Sam flinched. The words settled over him as though they had physical weight.
"It's not your fault." He replied at last.
Bumblebee keened softly, pitching forward to press their foreheads together. His hands came up to cup Sam's face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Sam felt their bond shiver before it blossomed to life in his mind. At once, he was aware of the depths of Bumblebee's emotions—grief, guilt, remorse, and rage, all twisted up together. The intensity of it took Sam's breath away.
He reached forward, brushing against Bumblebee's mental presence, as he pressed deeper into their bond-space. The winter-white glow of Bee's signature surrounded him, warm and familiar.
It's not your fault. He repeated softly. His sincerity was unmistakable with their minds so closely intertwined together.
Bee's grip on Sam's face tightened minutely as he tilted his head upwards. The holoform stared at him for a long moment, his expression a maelstrom of emotion, before learning forward and pressing their lips together. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as though he were waiting to see whether Sam would balk or pull away. Sam smiled against him, a faint quirk of his lips, before kissing him back. Bumblebee made a soft sound, low in his throat, before walking them backwards until the couch pressed against Sam's hips. As he collided with the sofa, Bumblebee began planting gentle, benedictory kisses across Sam's cheeks, nose, and throat. Sam huffed a soft laugh, bringing his hands up to card through the holoform's short hair. Seemingly encouraged by Sam's reaction, Bumblebee trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up Sam's jaw to nuzzle into the flesh below his ear. As he sucked at the sensitive spot, Bumblebee rolled his hips against him.
Sam's eyes flew open in surprise.
"Are you serious right now?" He gasped.
Bumblebee pulled back slightly, his expression earnest and searching.
"Do you object?"
Sam didn't have to ponder his response. He could feel Bumblebee's need for closeness, for reassurance—it was a perfect mirror to the hallow feeling in Sam's own chest.
"Fuck no. I'm traumatized, not dead."
Bumblebee's eyes warmed with amusement, his lip quirking mischievously.
"Then let me do this for you." He murmured, palming Sam's growing erection through his jeans. Sam exhaled a shaky breath, nodding his consent.
"Yeah, alright. Sure."
The warmth in Bumblebee's eyes deepened momentarily, before his eyebrows knit together in determination. He kissed Sam's neck gently, almost chastely, before lowering to his knees in front of him. Sam's eyebrows flew to his hairline as the scout reached out, unfastening his jeans and sliding his pants down over his hips. Sam barely had a moment to stare in surprised disbelief, before Bumblebee wrapped his fingers around his aching length and took the head of Sam's cock in his mouth.
Sam moaned loudly, forced to grab the back of the couch with both hands to steady himself. Bumblebee swirled his tongue over the head of Sam's cock, lapping at the pre-cum that had gathered there. Sam's breath came in sharp, shallow pants as Bumblebee began to work him—one hand pumping his dick as he explored the glans with lips and tongue. It quickly became evident that Bumblebee was experimenting, watching Sam with razor-sharp focus to assess his reactions. He sucked lightly at the head of his cock, before taking him into his mouth. Sam only just managed to draw a ragged breath before Bumblebee swallowed him down.
Sam choked out another moan, the muscles in his abdomen tightening pleasurably as Bumblebee's tongue laved at his length. It was hot and wet and so fucking perfect. Bumblebee hummed in amusement, and the sensation almost undid him. He cried out, his hips jerking forward instinctively. Bumblebee's hands flew to his waist, pushing him back against the couch with an iron grip.
"Oh my god, please do that again." Sam begged shamelessly.
Bumblebee obliged him, humming lightly as he began to suck enthusiastically. Sam's breath stuttered out of him, his hips twitching helplessly in Bee's grasp, as his bonded bobbed against him. All at once, Sam felt Bumblebee's mental presence shift forward—
"No." Sam gasped, his eyes flying open, "Not that."
He was distantly aware of Bumblebee's surprise—knew that he was taken aback by Sam's refusal to share his charge—but his bonded didn't dwell on it for long. He bent himself to task, swallowing Sam back down as he pressed a thumb firmly into the flesh behind his balls. The shock of pleasure at the unfamiliar sensation was intense and unexpected. Sam didn't even have the chance to whimper a warning before he was coming down the holoform's throat. Bumblebee swallowed around his cock, coaxing the shudders of pleasure from him. When the scout finally pulled away, he sat back on his heels with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Sam moaned as he slid bonelessly to the floor. Bumblebee's expression turned fond, before he learned forward and kissed him deeply. Sam flinched slightly at the taste of himself in Bee's mouth, salty and bitter.
"Sorry about that." Sam rasped at last. His voice was wrecked.
Bumblebee tilted his head in surprise, "For what?"
He gestured to himself vaguely, "I should have given you a heads-up."
Bee's smirk returned, turning sharp and predatory.
"I was inside your mind, Sam. I knew." He said, his tone salacious, "And I wanted every bit of you."
Sam groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Bumblebee, that's the filthiest thing that you've ever said to me."
"We're just getting started." Bumblebee promised. Sam groaned again, lifting his hips to pull up his clothes. They sat there like that, curled together at the base of the couch, for an indeterminate time. It was quiet and companionable, and before long, Sam felt himself nodding off. The second time that he jerked awake, he huffed a reluctant sigh.
"We should probably get back."
Bumblebee hummed in agreement as he stood. He reached down, helping Sam to his feet, before glancing around the apartment.
"Is there anything you want to bring? Books? A tablet?"
"Let me use the bathroom and I'll take a look around." Sam replied. He straightened his shirt as he walked into the bedroom, trying to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles. He vaguely considered finding a change of clothing, before deciding against it. All of the clothes in his closet would be too large for him now. Sam stepped into the bathroom, snapping on the light, before he froze.
The reflection in the mirror was a stranger. His hair was long, far longer than he'd ever worn it, curling at the base of his neck. His beard was thick and full, startlingly dark against his skin, which was unnaturally pale. Despite his beard, the gauntness of his face was painfully obvious, with sharp cheekbones jutting over hallowed cheeks. Sam forced himself to look up, making eye contact with his reflection. The circles under his eyes were dark, so pronounced that they looked like bruises.
Sam was distantly aware of the way that his heart was thundering in his chest, his breath coming fast and shallow, but he couldn't look away. The person in the mirror was not the same person who had left this room two years ago—whoever had come back from the Nemesis was someone else entirely.
"Sam?" Bumblebee called from the living room, voice pitched with concern.
He barked a harsh laugh. Was he? He wasn't sure anymore.
At the sight of the stranger in the mirror smiling morbidly, something in him snapped. He reared back a fist, driving it into the glass in front of him. He took enormous satisfaction at the look of pained surprise on the other's face as the mirror shattered. Glass cascaded to the counter, tinkling over the porcelain. He pulled back his fist again and again, lost in the red haze of unfettered rage—
"Sam!"
Sam startled in surprise, coming back to himself abruptly. He turned towards the voice, confused to see Ratchet's holoform standing a short distance away. The grizzled medic was tense, his expression closed off and inscrutable. Behind him, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, was Bumblebee. His bonded was openly upset, his face stricken.
"Sam, please give that to me." Ratchet ordered, his voice calm and controlled. The medic had extended his hand toward him, as though in expectation. Sam frowned, following Rachet's gaze down to his side. It was only then that he realized that he was clutching a broken piece of mirror, the jagged glass cutting deeply into his flesh. Blood streamed down his fingers, dripping to puddle on the tiled floor at his feet. Sam glanced up in confusion, before his eyes widened in shocked disbelief. The mirror was destroyed, broken glass covering the countertop and sink. There was blood everywhere—splattered over porcelain and tile and brass. The smell of it was heavy in the air.
"Sam." Ratchet prompted sharply.
He looked back towards the holoform, shakily extending his hand towards him. Ratchet carefully removed the glass from his numb fingers, tossing it into the bathtub, before stepping towards him. The medic yanked the towel off its ring set in the wall, wrapping it tightly around Sam's hand.
Sam didn't feel a thing.
Ratchet said something to Bumblebee, who stepped forward to hook an arm around Sam's shoulders. Together, the medic and the scout led him out of the apartment, leaving the evidence of his mental break scattered all over the bathroom.
Notes: If you are so interested, here is the map of Diego Garcia I use in my writing. Sam was attacked by Thundercracker and Skywarp at Barton Point, and he was captured by Megatron on the part of the map in the south that reads "thickly wooded". Also, here is a map of the Downtown area that shows Medical/Dental and the dining facility.