"I don't know Smokes," Bumblebee started hesitantly, looking around. "I mean, I don't think we should even be here." The building they found themselves in was full of mechs and femmes either dancing, or playing games that the young Autobot was not familiar with. It was dark, the lighting dim, and Bumblebee stuck close to his companions as he was jostled around. A small part of him wanted to turn back and go home, while he knew that he would never find his way out without his friends.

Smokescreen held his servos up. "Hey, I wasn't the one who suggested we come here."

"No, but you were the one to drag me along," the yellow Autobot pointed out, moving past a group of femmes. "Why did you guys even need to bring me here?"

"Because if we get caught, you can talk Prime out of our punishments," Hot Rod said with a grin. "Now come on! The night is still young." And with a whoop, the young mech jumped into the crowd.

Smokescreen groaned. "Prowl's gonna kill me," he muttered.

Bumblebee snorted. "Think what Optimus will do to me when he finds out."

Smokescreen shot him a look. "You mean, if he finds out."

Bumblebee shook his helm. "No, he will find out."

Smokescreen stared at him before letting out a sigh. "You're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"I won't have to. He'll find out eventually."

Smokescreen snorted. "Unless Chromia get's to us first. Seriously, that femme can smell trouble a mile away!"

"Yo bros!" Hot Rod shouted. "Worry about politics later!"

Smokescreen and Bumblebee traded guilty looks, their minds flashing back to their guardians. Bumblebee knew how Optimus would feel about two of his Selected Cybertronians sneaking out. Though Hot Rod knew about the predicament his two friends were in, he didn't see it as too much of a big deal for them.

Hot Rod came over, dragging the two reluctant mechs into the crowd. "We should probably head back," Smokescreen shouted, his optics flickering around, almost as if he expected his guardian to pop out of nowhere.

Hot Rod nudged the white and red rimmed Cybertronian. "Relax, your guardians don't even know you're here. It's like they've been placing you in a protective cage or something."

Bumblebee bristled, reminding himself that Hot Rod meant no offense. He never felt restricted in his life. Optimus always found time for him, even during important meetings, though Bumblebee had stopped nagging him as he got older, understanding that the Prime had more important things to do. But that never stopped Optimus from putting everything on hold when he thought Bumblebee needed him. The same went for Elita and Chromia; his two mothers, as different as night and day. Chromia had been the one to teach him self defense, while Elita had been the one to teach him how to fight with words. Ironhide and Prowl were the overprotective mechs, and Bumblebee's found memories were of Jazz stealing him away from a sleeping Ironhide. Ratchet had always scared him when he was younger, as the medic's visit always included a sharp needle. But the gruff mech was just as dear to Bumblebee as everyone else.

"She looks pretty," he heard Hot Rod comment. He looked up to see a pretty purple femme smiling kindly at him. He looked away, not wanting to seem rude, yet not wanting to invite her presence.

Smokescreen shifted uncomfortably. "Um, Hot Rod…"

Hot Rod held up his servos. "I know, it was just an observation." The mech glanced at them with...was that pity? Bumblebee resisted a sigh that was threatening to break forth. This is why he didn't want to come to any large social events that involved young Cybertronians his age. Social events meant meeting other Cybertronians, maybe even a femme. Meeting a femme meant possibly developing feelings that he wasn't supposed to have, save for the one femme that had already been picked for him. The one femme he hadn't even met.

"But it's not like they can force you guys," Hot Rod continued. "I mean, none of you are the Heirs."

Bumblebee inwardly winced. While it was true that Smokescreen was free to say no to the femme he was betrothed too, Bumblebee was not. But that was something he had to keep to himself. And Smokescreen felt a strong sense of honor to Optimus, saying he wanted to meet the femme before he made any rash decisions. Plus, the fact that Bumblebee showed no intentions of backing out from being a Selected gave Smokescreen the courage to stay with his friend.

"I almost feel bad for the poor chump that has to bond with the Decepticon Heir," Hot Rod said.

Now, Bumblebee winced. "She might not be so bad," he said. At least, he hoped not. For his sake.

"It was a stupid arrangement in the first place," Hot Rod argued.

'Stupid' was exactly how he had heard Chromia describe it many times. While everyone had adjusted to the treaty, he still heard snippets of arguments floating around. Not like years ago, when he was a youngling sneaking down the halls, only to stop when he heard the screaming, the pleas. He had stopped, recognizing Chromia's and Optimus's voices. Optimus was pleading with the blue femme to understand, while Chromia shouted back how 'it wasn't fair' and how 'he never stood a chance.' Bumblebee had at that moment stood frozen when Chromia stormed out of the room, heading away from where Bumblebee was. She was so blinded by her rage, that she hadn't even detected his presence. He was still grateful to this day that his guardian had not seen him.

But the sight of a dejected Optimus was forever burned in his processor. It was why he held no anger or hate toward his guardians. Because he understood how important it was for them to attain peace. And he had seen how Optimus fought for him in front of the Decepticon Council. It showed him that Optimus only wanted the best for Bumblebee. This arrangement was, in a way, more painful to his guardians then it was for him.

Smokescreen shrugged. "I guess...we can hang out for a bit."

Bumblebee nudged his friend playfully, trying to help lighten the mood. "There's no harm in having fun. As long as we stay out of trouble."

Smokescreen snorted. "Yeah, trouble usually finds us anyway."

"Look at those two mechs," Ark said, pointing.

Arcee looked in the direction her friend was pointing and smiled. "They look so stiff," she commented. Indeed, the two mechs they were now watching looked lost and uncertain as they shifted in the shadows, away from other Cybertronians. One mech happened to look up, catching her optic. Arcee smiled again before making her way over to him, noticing how he seemed startled that she was even coming over.

"You new here?" she asked, her tone friendly.

"Um, no. We've been here before," the yellow mech said quickly.

Arcee grinned. "Really? Then you must be looking forward to the races."

The mech blinked. "The races? Oh! Yes, I am. It sounds like...fun."

Arcee smiled again but dropped the subject. She didn't want to make these mechs feel any more uncomfortable than they already were. She stuck her servo out. "I'm Arcee," she said.

"Bumblebee," the mech said, shaking her servo. "My friend Smokescreen is the one who wandered off." He gestured to the white mech who was now chatting excitedly to one of the racers.

"Did you come here with Hot Rod?" she asked, aware that the conversation was slipping. She knew how to converse with others, as it was one of the etiquette lessons Soundwave insist that she learn.

Bumblebee cocked his helm. "Yeah, you know him?"

She nodded. "Not personally. But we know how he races." She chuckled. "He can never pass third place in any of them."

Bumblebee grinned, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. "You race?" he asked, interested.

She shrugged. "I dabble when I feel like it."

"Most of the time, she doesn't feel like it," Ark piped up, joining in on the conversation.

Arcee rolled her optics. "Thank you for that bit of information," she said. She looked back at Bumblebee. "How about you? Do you race?"

Bumblebee beamed. "Sometimes, mostly when it's a dare or for fun. I like to think I'm pretty fast. My friend Blur though will beat anyone anytime."

"When he's either talking or driving," Smokescreen said, coming over.

Arcee grinned, placing a servo on her hip. "I'll take that as a challenge," she said.

"He'll take you up on it," Bumblebee said, matching her grin.

Ark cocked her helm, her optics twinkling with interest. "What part of the city are you from? Your accents are hard to place." Arcee frowned, glancing at her protector with a raised optic. Why was she always so suspicious? And what did placing these two mechs accents have to do with anything?

"We're from Iacon," Bumblebee said, unfazed, though she could see the way he stiffened up again. "With our guardians busy, Hot Rod thought it would be a good idea to slip away."

Arcee frowned. "Iacon? Where-?" She was cut short when a sudden, loud 'bang' startled everyone. Arcee looked up to see a group of large mechs emerge through the doorway, their expressions fierce.

"I thought you said this place wasn't illegal," she heard Smokescreen whisper to Bumblebee.

"Blame Hot Rod," Bumblebee hissed.

"Don't worry about it," Ark said. "This happens most of the time anyway." She tugged on Arcee's arm, leading her toward one of the nearest exits.

"If we shouldn't worry about it, then why are you two leaving?" Smokescreen asked, quickly following the femmes.

"Because Ark can be a little over protective when it comes to things like this," Arcee said, yanking her arm out of Ark's grip, glaring at the other femme.

"I think we should go," a sudden voice said. Another mech showed up, pushing Bumblebee and Smokescreen toward the exit, nearly causing them to bump into the two femmes. "Nice meeting ya ladies, but we gotta go," the mech said.

"Okay, should we be worried or not?" Smokescreen demanded.

"You two should be," the mech hissed. "Jazz and Prowl are here."

Arcee's optics narrowed. Jazz and Prowl? She recognized those names, and apparently, so did Bumblebee and Smokescreen. The two mechs optics widened before they bolted, running out the door.

"As I said before," the mech said, whom Arcee assumed was Hot Rod. "It was nice to meet you ladies, but we've-"

"Hot Rod!" Bumblebee growled, yanking on the other mech's arm and dragging him away. He gave Arcee a small smile. "It was nice meeting you," he said, before breaking out into a run.

Ark raised an optic brow. "Well, that was interesting," she commented. Arcee nodded, watching as the three Cybertronians ran down the hallway. She looked back up to see the mech she recognized as Prowl came over, his blue optics scanning the room as if he were looking for something. He looked up, his optics narrowing before he quickly left the room.

"Autobots?" Ark asked, looking at her charge. Both femmes were thinking about the three mechs they had just met. The room had been a bit to dim for her to see any Autobot or Decepticon insignia, but she wondered just what had Bumblebee and Smokescreen done to attract the attention of Prowl and Jazz, two of Optimus's closest comrades.

Arcee nodded. "Or they could be Decepticons running from the Autobots," she said.

"We are so dead we're so dead, we're so dead!" Smokescreen kept chanting as they ran. Bumblebee was surprised that the white Autobot managed to talk and run without sounding out of breath.

"Stop saying that!" Hot Rod bellowed, shoving them down another hallway. "We are not going to die. It's not like we were doing anything wrong."

"We snuck out," Bumblebee pointed out. "That alone could get us in trouble. We didn't even have a escort!"

Hot Rod glared at them. "You have me as your escort."

"I doubt Prowl will see you as a responsible one," Bumblebee said.

Hot Rod rolled his optics. "I can be responsi-" He stopped when he spotted two mechs up ahead, his face lighting up. "Good news boys," he said cheerfully. "I got us a way out of here...maybe."

Smokescreen scowled. "Maybe?" he demanded.

"Yo! Sunny! Sides," Hot Rod called out, approaching the two mechs. "My main bros."

"Main bros?" Smokescreen whispered to Bumblebee with a frown. "I thought we were his main bros!"

"Don't call me Sunny," the yellow mech said to Hot Rod. "And I'm not sure we're even bros anymore."

Hot Rod frowned. "You still carrying a grudge about your paint? It was an accident!"

"As is this encounter," Sunstreaker said with a huff, turning away. Sideswipe grabbed his brother before the yellow mech could walk away.

"Okay," Hot Rod started, pleasantries gone. "These two mechs need your help, as they're kinda in trouble with Prowl at the moment," he said, gesturing to Bumblebee and Smokescreen. Bumblebee frowned. He wouldn't exactly say they were in 'trouble' with Prowl. The worst their punishment could be was extra rounds of workout with Chromia.

Sunny raised an optic ridge in interest. "What'd ya do to get in trouble with Prowl?"

Hot Rod shot his friends an apologetic look. "They're part of the Selection," he said.

Both mechs were eyeing them with sudden respect now. "That's cool," Sideswipe said casually, but Bumblebee could see the way he regarded them, as if they were completely different beings.

Smokescreen groaned. "That bit of information is not something we like sharing with total strangers."

"Strangers no more," Sunny chirped happily. "Ya need us to get rid of Prowl and Jazz? You got it!" And with that, the twins ran the opposite way Bumblebee and his friends had come from.

Smokescreen frowned. "Uh, wha-?"

Hot Rod pushed him forward. "Later, right now, you need to focus on escape."

"Stop making it sound like we committed a crime!" Smokescreen exclaimed.

Hot Rod raised an optic ridge. "You're running, aren't you?"

"Because you told us too!" Smokescreen said.

"Stop complaining," Hot Rod said, looking around as a sliding door opened. Bumblebee had to admit, he was relieved that this night was over before it had even begun. But his relief was dashed when Hot Rod pushed them back inside the building.

"Hey!" Bumblebee exclaimed as he stumbled back. "What are you doing?"

"Prowl's out there," Hot Rod hissed. He looked up, pressing his finger near his audio receptor. He frowned as he answered the comm link call, his optics flickering over to Bumblebee and Smokescreen. He sighed in disappointment, lowering his servo. "Which mech would you prefer to get in trouble with? Prowl or Jazz?"

Bumblebee blinked. "I thought you said we could avoid them."

Hot Rod shook his helm. "We can only avoid one, not both. The twins would like you to make your decision fast, or they'll make it for you."

Bumblebee and Smokescreen didn't even think twice. "Jazz," they said simultaneously. "Love my guardian," Smokescreen said. "Hate his punishments."

Bumblebee nodded. "With luck, Jazz will go easy on us."

Hot Rod nodded. "Jazz it is." He then lead them back into the room they had previously left, all three trying to act casual. "With luck," Hot Rod said. "We won't even run into-"

"Bumblebee?" a sudden voice asked in surprise.

All three mechs winced and Bumblebee slowly turned to face one of his guardian's. "Jazz!" he said with forced cheer. "It's...what a surprise to see you here!"

The silver autobot blinked. "I can say the same with you." He then smirked. "Enjoying the party?"

Bumblebee blinked. "The party? You're not...upset?" He yelped when Hot Rod elbowed him in the sides.

Jazz laughed. "Why would I be? You're allowed to go where ever you please. As for me, I came to pick up a few troublemakers." He eyed the three Cybertronians. "You haven't seen the bots that go by the names of Sunny and Sides anywhere, have you?"

Bumblebee blinked. "Sunny and Sides?"

"Nope!" Hot Rod said dismissively, pushing his two friends toward the exit. "As a matter of fact, we have not." He paused. "But I would highly recommend looking for them at the race track."

Jazz wrinkled his face. "The old dirt road?"

Hot Rod shrugged. "Hey, it's where most of the mechs go."

"But Sunny would never go near that place," Jazz said, confused.

"But Sides would," Hot Rod said. "You find one twin, you'll find the other."

Jazz nodded. "True." He then looked at Bumblebee and Smokescreen who were standing nearby, both trying not to look guilty. "You two have fun, and enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks," Bumblebee muttered as they left the silver bot behind.

"Next time," Smokescreen grumbled. "We'll just tell someone where we are going, now that we know we won't get in trouble for being out."

Bumblebee frowned. "Why did we even think we'd get in trouble in the first place?"

"Because I was raised by Prowl and you were raised by Ironhide," Smokescreen said simply.

Bumblebee sighed, rolling his optics. "True."

"So," Hot Rod started. "That femme you were talking to looked really nice."

Smokescreen glared. "Hot Rod," he warned.

"Hey, it's an innocent comment," he said, looking back at Bumblebee.

"We didn't even talk much," Bumblebee pointed out.

"Yeah, but I've seen her around," Hot Rod said. "She's a regular visitor, though she's not from around here."

Bumblebee frowned. "Arcee is not from Iacon? How do you know that?"

He shrugged. "She said so. But all I'm saying is that you guys should come back to this place, it'll be good for you to mingle."

"And just who would you mingle with?" a sudden, familiar voice demanded.

All three mechs froze as they looked up to see Prowl glaring down at them. "Hi Prowl," Smokescreen squeaked.

"I know where Sunny and Sides are," Hot Rod said helpfully, eager to throw the other two mechs under the bus.