A/N: This will be the last bit to this three-shot. Considering things, I might expand it into a collection of drabbles/short stories with this universe.
Scratch that, I will.
Please enjoy the last installment of this little three-shot.
And, I want to thank all who have read, put this in their favorites/alert lists and reviewed. They mean a lot to me. X3
There was a reason why the data-letter was so light. It had only one sentence. One measly sentence.
'Give me a comm . . . I want to talk to you as soon as I can.'
Everyday afterwards, Smokescreen waited for his comm. to ring.
He felt utterly pathetic.
It had been a good few vorns since the ex-Elite Guardsmech had last seen Bumblebee. His spark twinged in regret, remembering the reason how and why Bumblebee got so upset.
When Smokescreen went to go and try make amends, he had the door slammed in his face.
He hadn't gone back since.
Smokescreen exhaled. He put his servo to his face.
He lied in his berth. The mech up at the ceiling of his room. His back was supported by a dozen foam pillows. The material was slightly scratchy at his wings, but he paid no mind.
The Cybertronian had time off from his job for the next two solar cycles. The mech's mouth skewed into a cross between a rueful smile and a grimace.
Smokescreen had seen Bumblebee's glance to his shoulder. Originally, the Elite Guard's symbol was there. Emphasis on the was.
He wasn't dishonorably discharged. Smokescreen had to leave the Guard because of a sparkling that he was a Sire of.
VRRR-!
Smokescreen's door rapidly cycled open. The next thing he knew, his little femling jumped on top of him.
"Oof!" Smokescreen exclaimed when her weight landed on his midsection. "Oh! Morning Warp," the mech coughed. He readjusted himself on the berth. In the process of accommodating Warper, who sat in his lap, several foam pillows plopped to the ground.
"Morning Sire!" she threw her arms around him. "How'd you recharge?"
Smokescreen smiled at her. He patted her back. "I did fine sweet-spark. You?"
"Same, though I had a dream that I was flying."
He raised an optic ridge. "You said that the other day."
"Pfft, it was the same dream, only I flew over Crystal City this time."
"Oh."
It was a part of their routine on Smokescreen's solar cycles off. At least Warper didn't land on his helm or face-plates this time. The mech only could take so many miscalculated landings from his enthusiastic little femme.
Their chatter abruptly stopped when Warper's tanks rumbled.
"Energon flat cakes or-"
"ENERGON FLAT CAKES!" Warper bounced off the bed and speedily raced out the room. Smokescreen was at her heels.
"I'm gonna get ya!" Smokescreen declared, smiling wickedly.
"NEEEVVVVEEEER!" Warper protested, squealing happily once Smokescreen nabbed her up from the floor. The pair laughed and giggled loudly.
Smokescreen carried his femling to the kitchen. It wasn't a grand sight, as one could see the slightly musty and smaller than the average kitchen in any home. However, it was fine for Smokescreen, who was now on an archivist's salary.
"Uggghhh . . ."
Smokescreen and Warper froze. They looked like statues, but only their optics moved. Slowly in tandem, they looked down the narrow hall that led to a dinky guest room.
"Can you two ever be quiet?" grumbled a voice from the couch.
Oh right. Prowl was staying over for a few solar cycles. There was a glitch-mouse infestation in his home. All the hotels where he lived were packed full, so he had to ask his younger brother to accommodate him.
"Oh, sorry Uncle Prowl," Warp blushed, embarrassed. "We forgot you were here."
"Evidently," Prowl groggily mumbled.
His arm shot up from the couch and groped around.
"Visor on the table next to you," Smokescreen directed.
He got started on those energon flat cakes. As soon as Smokescreen finished cooking the first four, Prowl finally dragged himself to the table.
"Morning," Warper greeted him brightly.
Behind his visor, Prowl blinked blearily.
"Wha-oh, morning to you too, little one." He yawned.
"Rough night cycle?" Smokescreen asked. He soon had a short stack of the energon flat cakes on a plate. He placed thein front of Warper.
Within a minute, Smokescreen got himself and Prowl some energon.
The Enforcer didn't answer his younger sibling until he downed about half of the cube.
"If you call 'rough' by me having to chase down some delinquents into the early cycles of the solar cycle, yes, it was rough," Prow exhaled. He rubbed his face-plates tiredly.
He perked up and was wide awake by the time he had two more cubes of energon.
"Uncle Prowl," Warper lightly patted her servo on the mech's forearm, "can I ask you something?"
"Yes?" The black and white mech looked at her.
"Did you know Mister Bumblebee back then?"
Smokescreen choked on his energon. The liquid went down the wrong pipe, which caused him to cough raucously.
Warper immediately leaped out of her seat and slapped her little servo against her Sire's back. She hoped it would help.
Her actions did, but the odd expression upon his face-plates didn't escape her notice.
"Did I say something wrong?" the femling questioned. Warper hadn't seen that look on her Sire's face-plates since she asked why her Carrier wasn't around anymore.
Abruptly, Smokescreen got up.
"I . . . I'll be right back." His expression was full of sadness and regret. He half shuffled, half sprinted out the front door.
Warper got up to follow him, to apologize. She didn't mean to upset him! She didn't want him to leave!
Prowl placed a servo on her shoulder. Her fear was tangible through the familial bond.
"It's all right."
"B-but-!"
"He'll be back," Prowl reassured her. He rubbed her upper back. "He always has before, correct?"
"Yeah . . ." Warper sighed. She got back into her seat and slumped. The young femme frowned, optics furrowed.
"I did know Bumblebee, yes," Prowl stated. Warper looked up at him, interested.
"I take it that you went through your Sire's old data-pads," the Enforcer commented.
Warper blushed furiously. She knew she wasn't supposed to go through her Sire's old data-pads. Curiosity got the better of her, and Warp went through several of them one solar cycle when Smokescreen had taken a nap.
"I saw those . . . the ones when Sire had his other paint job. Mister Bumblebee too, only it's backwards from when I met him," Warp replied quietly. She rubbed her neck.
"Mmm. Are you confused about anything?" Prowl knew it was a touchy subject with Smokescreen.
The fact that he didn't say anything about it to his little femme was understandable.
"Yeah. Just one," Warper admitted. She lightly kicked her pedes up and down from her seat. She placed her servos on top of the table, lightly pushing her pointer digits together.
"They looked so happy in the holo-scans . . . but then . . ." Warp exhaled loudly. She looked up at Prowl with bewildered optics.
"What happened?"
At a local cafe . . .
Smokescreen sat on an outdoor seat in an inconspicuous spot near the side of the establishment. His door-wings were almost limp on his back.
Oh Primus . . . why was this still a touchy subject for him?
The mech looked to his servos that cupped his cube of cooled energon. His grip tightened on it.
Because you still loved him when you said you couldn't be with him anymore, you idiot, he berated himself.
Smokescreen face-palmed. Oh well . . . he couldn't change the past.
He placed his helm on top of the table. He stared into the cube, looking into the cool blue energon contained within it.
Slowly, a shadow fell over him. Smokescreen's lips skewed into a frown.
"I know, I KNOW," the mech exhaled. His door-wings flopped onto his back. He was just taking up space . . . Smokescreen knew he would have to give an additional five credits to the place if he stayed longer than a mega-cycle.
"I'll leave in just a second, but can't you bots see a-"
"Actually," the voice said politely, "I was hoping we could talk."
Smokescreen jerked upwards in such a way that he nearly knocked himself to the ground. His two servos barely slapped onto the table in time, stabilizing himself.
Tentatively, Smokescreen looked up from behind his energon cube. His door-wings flared upwards, stunned.
It had to be a figment of his imagination. It had to be.
Smokescreen experienced them before. Prowl told him that his imagination at times could get the better of him at times.
"Smokescreen?" Bumblebee slowly waved a servo in front of the mech's optics. "Hello? Are you in shut-down?"
Smokescreen shook his helm vigorously. His door-wings flapped. He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor a moment and shut his optics. The blue mech held his other servo up in a 'hold on a moment' at the apparent apparition in front of him.
"You better not be a figment of my imagination," Smokescreen said aloud. Please don't be a figment of my imagination, he begged to the higher powers.
He rubbed his optics and looked at him.
Smokescreen saw that smile and was convinced he was hallucinating
"Um, you are real, right?" Smokescreen asked.
Bumblebee tilted his helm to the side, amused. "Yeah, as much as you are sitting right in front of me."
Good job processor, Smokescreen thought sarcastically.
Smokescreen felt a solid servo touch his shoulder. He looked to the servo, up the arm it was attached to, and then to the shoulders and the helm on those shoulders.
Yup. It was him.
"Um, h-hi," Smokescreen mumbled. He looked up at the Enforcer. He paused a moment and looked up at him questioningly.
"How the scrap did you find me?"
"I have my resources," Bumblebee replied. He gestured to the empty chair nearby. "May I have a seat?"
The low level archivist could only nod.
Bumblebee turned the seat around. He used the back of the seat to lean his weight upon it. The black and yellow mech wrapped his arms around it, one forearm on top of the other on the table.
"Smokes-"
"Look, I'm really, really, really, really sorry," Smokescreen rambled. "I know I screwed up and I know I made you really upset that night when I told you and I-I . . . I-"
"Smokes, Smokes!" Bumblebee stopped him. The poor mech was hyperventilating and his chassis rattled loudly at this point. "Geez, take some deep intakes."
Bumblebee nudged the energon cube to the mech opposite him. Smokescreen grabbed the cube and took two swigs. He nearly choked on the energon and coughed. Some of the energon dribbled out of his mouth.
The black and yellow enforcer was kind enough to give him a synthetic cloth to wipe his mouth.
"Dear Primus I'm a mess . . ." Smokescreen groaned. He let his forehead smack into the table. His servo held the cloth like a vice.
"We all are at one point or another," Bumblebee countered softly.
The archivist gazed up at him. "Y-yeah . . . and I understand if you're only sitting there because you feel sorry for me." Smokescreen averted his gaze away from the shorter mech.
"Smokescreen, that's not the reason why I'm here," Bumblebee stated softly.
"Okay . . ." Smokescreen said timidly. He sat up straight and looked Bumblebee in the optics. "What's the reason?"
"It's been a long time since we actually could properly talk, and well," Bumblebee took out a familiar looking data-letter from his sub-space. He placed it down on the table.
"Well, I don't have your comm. anymore, so I thought . . . face-to-face?"
Smokescreen smiled. "Sure."
He was glad to see Bumblebee smile right back at him.
Hours later . . .
Warper listened to the front door cycle open. The familiar pattern of footsteps came through the threshold. She exhaled in relief.
The femling paused, listening.
One voice was Sire's, another was Prowl's . . .
Wait. Who was the third one?
Warp quietly tip-toed out of her room. She listened
" . . . sorry we were out so late-"
"No, no, you got him back just in time-"
The voices were hard to hear now. Warper tried not to get frustrated.
"Prowl, can you give us a moment?" her Sire asked.
"All right. Five cycles, tops. Warp's been waiting up on you." Prowl turned around.
Warper dived back into her room and scurried into her berth. She yanked her blanket over her helm and waited for several cycles before she went out again.
The purple femling peeked out into the hall. She saw Mister Bumblebee's wing and her Sire at the front door. Smokescreen's back was to her, talking to the Enforcer in front of him.
The little one couldn't hear much coming out of the two of them, but before her Sire closed the door, Warper heard something that made her spark pound with excitement.
"So . . . I'll see you around?" Bumblebee asked.
"Yeah. I am moving to Iacon. I'm being transferred to the Hall of Records, remember?" Smokescreen said.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Bumblebee nodded.
"So . . .?"
A quiet exhale and a chuckle were heard by young audios.
Two sets of door-wings wiggled and flapped.
"Good night Smokescreen."
Bumblebee turned to go. Warper could hear his foot steps going down the steps that went away from the house.
The young Cybertronian looked to her Sire.
With one servo, Smokescreen waved farewell to the Enforcer. With the other, he pressed buttons that made the entrance cycle closed.
And in that servo, clutched a dark blue cloth.
Warp suppressed a giggle. She put on her sleepy expression and groggily waddled out of her room to meet with her Sire.
A/N: Questions, comments and concerns? You know what to do.
Thank you all for reading this little fic.
A companion fic, with a different pairing in focus, but that will be related to this, is in the works. I dunno when it could be posted, but maybe after finals in June . . .
Good morning/day/night to you all! :D
