A/N: Thanks again to my beta TFPKOFANGIRL for her work beta-ing this chapter!

To the Guest Who reviewed I Will Never Desert You: I'm hoping given your comments you are following this fic. But rest assured, I am NOT canceling it. It's just on hold for the moment. :)

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CHAPTER 7
Small Breakthroughs

Dylan had never been clothes shopping for himself in his life, so actually doing it was a real treat. Ratchet recognized that he was a teenager, and therefore let him pick out his own clothing. They went through multiple departments in the large store he'd taken Dylan to. Where Dylan more focused on his everyday look, Ratchet helped him out with buying some dress clothing for occasions such as Optimus's upcoming visit. And together, they mad a pretty good team.

Ratchet had even allowed him to wear one of his outfits out, with the permission of the store. So for once, as Dylan checked out, he felt like a normal kid. In jeans that fit him, but were nice and baggy, a nice, red t-shirt with a logo on it, and a brand new black hoodie with grey stripes that wasn't too small for him. When he came out however, Ratchet looked over his hair, and suggested they complete his new look with a haircut.

Dylan had to admit, he didn't mind the idea. The last time he had had one was months ago, and it was starting to get too long anyway. So he allowed Ratchet to drag him to the hair salon downstairs, and let them work without complaint. Dylan had jokingly suggested a mohawk, but Ratchet had quickly turned him down. So he'd went for a simple, short haircut that he could spike in the front. He'd never had it cut this way, but from the picture he'd been shown it looked nice, and different.

And so did he when he looked at himself in the mirror. Dressed up in new clothes, with this brand new, "cool" haircut. Dylan almost had to do a double take at that, almost had to wonder if he really was looking at himself. He looked at Ratchet, who had subspaced the rest of their purchases as they exited the shop. "Ratchet, I'll uh, pay you back. I don't know how yet, but when I'm old enough to get a job-." He began.

"Nonsense," Ratchet replied with a shake of his head. "I did this of my own free will. And you look good kiddo," He told him with a gentle honesty. "You're going to look sharp from now on my boy. And with any luck maybe that can build some confidence," He smiled.

Elated, Dylan actually formed a smile on his face at that. He really did, in a way feel like a whole new kid, even if his personality, and traumas were the same. But he supposed that was what a makeover did for you - if this is what counted as a makeover. "Thank you," Dylan told him, this time loud enough for him to hear without listening closely. "For everything."

Ratchet smiled, his optics lowering to him as he gave a thumbs up. "Hey, no need for thanks it was my pleasure," Ratchet told him honestly. "Shopping for clothes is probably not my ideal day off. But I was happy to see you smile for a chance, mechling," He added.

"But there is," Dylan replied. "No one's ever taken me... Y'know, shopping like that before," He explained. "Everything I wanted I had to buy myself. Or get from hand-me-downs," He admitted. "Next thing I know you're going to tell me you got me a new backpack too."

"I might have done that while you were having a haircut," Ratchet explained. "And more school supplies too. I might have snooped to see how well they were doing. And it occurred to me that you were running low," He explained.

Dylan caught Ratchet's wink, rubbing the back of his hair slightly. He couldn't believe it, but it almost made him look forward to school. A day ago he figured he'd be going to school in a nicer part of town in hand-me-downs and a ratty backpack. But tomorrow, well tomorrow could be the start of something new when he walked in with nicer clothes, and a fresh backpack. And for a moment, he wondered if that's what Ratchet thought too, that it may make him feel more confident. If he had, he noted, Ratchet was really the first person that even cared.

And though Dylan wouldn't say it, wouldn't hint at it, it meant a lot to him that he cared enough to do everything. The thank you didn't even begin to cover it, even if he wasn't one-hundred percent sure the mech could be trusted yet. But he had to admit, the more Ratchet did for him, the more genuine he seemed. And for his part, Dylan still had a smile on his face, something that was a rare occurrence for him. He felt like he supposed most kids would smile at getting a new video game console, or movie, really. And as weird as it may have looked to those kids, he didn't care.

They walked for a good five minutes before Ratchet took a call. Dylan didn't pay much attention to what it was about, but he really didn't have to. Especially not because a few minutes later, he looked at Dylan. "Well Bumblebee says he's clear for tonight. So we're having him as a dinner guest," Ratchet told him. "I hope you won't mind. He's really excited to meet you," He added.

"I doubt that last part," Dylan snorted. "But no, I don't mind."

Ratchet didn't comment about that, figuring he wouldn't believe him if he said Bumblebee actually was excited. It was just the way Bumblebee was, as Dylan would learn. He'd always liked kids, and that was definitely not going to change. He watched as Dylan's eyes lingered on the shops instead, his eyes scanning everything. "See anything else you'd like to check out before we head out?" Ratchet asked.

"No," Dylan said quickly, his voice shaky. "I was just looking around. You got me more than enough."

Ratchet knew that was true, but he could notice the fear in his voice. Was he scared to even think about going anywhere else, even to browse? "I wouldn't mind letting you look around," Ratchet stopped, to which Dylan barely followed suit. "We're supposed to be bonding here, youngling."

Dylan put his hands into his hoodie's pockets nervously. But after a moment, made his way towards a shop that Ratchet was surprised by. An art shop, or what seemed to be a hobby shop for artists at least. Up until that moment he'd always thought that Dylan tagged because he was being rebellious. But could it be that the boy actually had a creative mindset? Perhaps that of an artist? "You know you can't go tagging while under my roof," Ratchet told him calmly.

"I know," Dylan replied. "But I like doing art, even if it's "bad". I mean, I know the art they do with this stuff is different. I guess it's just always intrigued me," He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

Ratchet looked over the art supplies, perhaps this might have been another good idea for Dylan. A solution for his issues with tagging, to show Dylan another form of art that he could do to express himself. "Well, if you want to learn, I'll buy you supplies," Dylan's eyes stared up at him. "But you have to swear to me that you won't use the supplies on anything but canvas. If you really want to learn to do proper art, then you're going to learn," He added firmly.

Dylan stared blankly at Ratchet for a moment, chewing his lip. After a long moment, he shook his head honestly, and turned away. "No, no... I really don't need that, I'd probably suck anyway," Dylan replied. "People hate my graffiti, so why would anyone like what I painted?"

"Because I've seen the things you've done with graffiti, Dylan. While it's not good to do to any sight or person," Ratchet looked at him. "You seemed to be very artistically gifted. And if you ask me, I believe that it's time you honed your artistic skills in a healthy fashion," He told him honestly. "If you did there's no telling what you might be able to create," He explained.

Dylan couldn't believe what Ratchet had just said. He thought he had... Talent? That was a new one, he thought. Most people saw nothing but graffiti, but for Ratchet to say that, he must have seen some art in what he did. He rubbed his arm and looked over at the art supply store again. He really did want to learn, some part of him, however small, had always wanted to learn to paint the kinds of pictures that hung in art galleries.

"You really think I have the talent to do that?" Dylan asked quietly.

Ratchet nodded his head vigorously, hoping that his encouragement was helping. "I think you're extremely talented, though I was not happy when I saw it," He explained. "And it would be a shame to let that talent go to waste. Believe me, Dylan, it'd be rewarding."

Dylan continued to stare at the art supply store window for a long, hard moment before making his decision.

...

They arrived home, placing the new clothes where they belonged, and putting the others into a box to give to charity. Since they still had to start on his new room that week, Ratchet helped him carefully put his new art supplies in a corner of his temporary room. A corner that, by all accounts, was wide enough to give him room to paint if he decided to start soon. Dylan had to admit, between the new clothes, and the art supplies, he was beginning to get more excited to move into a new room too. Maybe Ratchet would even let him have a say in his new furniture, though he didn't get his hopes up.

It had been a long time since he'd felt this good about an outing with a foster family. The only other time had been his first few foster homes, back when he was a small child. He'd never really trusted his foster families then either, especially not the men, but he was young enough to keep some ignorance until he was six. That had changed in his third home, the first physically abusive foster home he'd been in (out of three), and he realized that he couldn't be ignorant. That there were other evil people out there, even if they weren't abusive in the way his father was.

But none of them did what Ratchet did, in fact, no foster family really had either. It was weird, but Dylan thought, even for a fleeting moment that day, that maybe, just maybe... This could make a good home if things continued the way it did. But would it? He wasn't sure, he really wasn't. Ratchet wasn't part of his species, and though he knew that in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter, especially not now... Well, what would happen if Ratchet decided it did matter? Or any number of things?

Even if it was a defensive thought he'd gotten after years of disappointment, was he wrong to? As he thought of this, he stepped out and made his way towards living room where he knew Ratchet was. Sure enough, he was there, watching a medical show on the television. He watched for a moment before making his way towards the mech, and tilting to take a look at the show. "Oh, would you like to come watch TV?" Ratchet asked calmly. "We can change it to something else. I'm aware most people dislike my choices. I'm not much for action or drama, I got enough of that to last eons," He added.

Dylan didn't know how to respond, but after a long moment, shook his head. He let the mech pick him up and set him beside his leg though, considering he couldn't get onto the couch on his own. He held back telling the mech how much that annoyed him, now wasn't the time. "Nah, it's cool, I don't know many TV Shows," Dylan admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "As long as you don't watch crime shows though. That kind of stuff grosses me out," He added.

And though he wouldn't point it out, they triggered some of his flashbacks as well. But by the look in Ratchet's optics, he really didn't need to say anything. He smiled slightly, and turned a channel before continuing down the list of channels and finding something they could meet in the middle with. Namely the show HOUSE, which was over a hundred years old, but playing on some oldies channel. Dylan noticed within moments that Ratchet was really into. "Funny, this was who First Aid said you were like," Ratchet's optics widened. "Is this really what your bedside manner is like?"

Ratchet looked ready to blow a gasket, clearly not liking the comparison. He grumbled something, leaned back, and frowned, as if to make the point. "How would you even know what this was? Over a century before you were born," He grumbled under his breath slightly. "No my bedside manner is NOT like that!" He stated, a little more loudly than Dylan expected. "Which reminds me, when was the last time you had a medical examination?" He asked.

"Oh no, you're not doing an at-home medical examination," Dylan groaned. "The fact my foster dad is going to be my pediatrician I'm guessing probably is bad enough."

The mech snorted, the boy had better believe he would be his doctor from here on out. Sure, there were plenty of mechs he would trust to look over Dylan, but what was the point? This was his ward now, and being in the hands of a medic had to be good for something. "Of course I'm going to be your doctor. You're my foster creation," He shook his head. "But I'll have you know, it's a blessing. As I'll know what to do for you when you're sick, or hurt," He added calmly. "Now, I repeat, when was your last medical check-up?"

"I don't know, four months ago?" Dylan asked.

"You had me at I don't know, I'll give you one tomorrow after school," Ratchet told him, his optics looking down upon him with a firm nod. "I'll put you in my schedule... Done," Another quiet groan, but Ratchet wasn't having it, if Dylan was living under his roof, he would be in good health. "Don't worry, it should be relatively easy. You don't have any medical issues outside of trauma, do you?" He asked.

Dylan shrugged silently, looking down at the ground. "Not that anyone's told me. Mostly it's just... Flashbacks, nightmares," He shuddered silently. "Then my disability, but you know all about my NLD," He shook his head slightly, thinking. "I guess the world thought I had enough problems with all of that. So they gave me a break with medical issues," He told him, making a small attempt at a joke.

Indeed, Ratchet thought, the boy had enough things to categorize him as "special needs" without that. But he'd still double check for any problems, of course, just to be sure. He shook his head slowly, and looked at him calmly. "Let's move onto something less sad," Ratchet replied finally, his optics looking over at Dylan. "Tomorrow you'll be going to school with the son of another member of my old team."

Dylan's eyes shot up, surprise in them. "Another member of Team Prime adopted?"

Ratchet nodded, indeed they had. Bulkhead hadn't really planned on it, or having kids for that matter. But Ratchet had been there when he'd found the young sparkling digging around in his trash for a meal. That had been years ago now, he'd gotten his sparkling when he was about five, and now he was only a year old older than Dylan. "Yes, his name is Shawn," Ratchet explained. "He was adopted by my friend Bulkhead, and he's in your grade. We talked while you were in your room, and he'll be meeting you outside the school when I drop you off," He nodded. "I want you to stick by him, he'll be showing you around the school."

Dylan crossed his arms, so he wasn't the only person with a member of Team Prime as a parent. Maybe this boy, Shawn, could even give him an idea of what to expect, he figured. "Alright," He shifted in his seated position calmly. "As long as he isn't a judgmental jerk I can handle him," Ratchet looked a bit offended at that. "What? You can't look at me and say this school doesn't have jerks. It's high school, there's plenty of them."

"Do you ever just try and put your trust in anyone?"

"Would you?" Dylan asked honestly.

Ratchet supposed that after all that Dylan had been through in his life, he wouldn't either. It was a miracle that he seemed to even slightly trust him as it was. And even then, it was only the first step of many towards the family Ratchet was inwardly hoping that they could become.

...

Dylan liked the aura that seemed to reverberate off of Ratchet's friend, Bumblebee, right away. The smaller yellow mech entered the home with the biggest smile on his face that Dylan had ever seen, and a friendly set of soft optics as well. For some reason, and Dylan couldn't touch on it, the mech just seemed to be nicer than most he'd run into. "So you're this Bumblebee Ratchet said I should meet," Dylan commented as he approached the living room calmly, trying to keep a tough shell up as he usually did. "Well the name certainly fits with the racing stripes," He noted.

"If I had a credit for every time I heard that," Bumblebee chuckled. "Yeah, that's me and you must be Dylan. Who am I kidding, you have to be. Who else would live with a grump like Ratchet willingly?" He teased, only to receive a gentle swat for that. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you kiddo. I've heard a bit about you from Ratchet already," He added.

Dylan wasn't sure how to take that. Had Ratchet told him good things? Or had he, like most of his foster parents, told him he was a pain in the neck? He put his hands in his pockets, and looked up at Bumblebee defiantly, just in case. "Yeah, what did he tell you?" He asked as Ratchet went back into the kitchen.

Bumblebee shrugged, seating himself down. Dylan tried his best to read the mech, and found... Nothing mean, nothing nasty, rather he was simply smiling. Was that normal with Bumblebee? In a way it made him uncomfortable, but at the same time made the mech far less intimidating. "Well, he told me that you could help me with a little something for starters," Bumblebee stated, and Dylan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what did you have in mind?"

Bumblebee smirked a little, and for a moment, Dylan's body tensed up on all levels. He didn't like where this was going, and he surprised himself when he thought of running to Ratchet. "Well, you see, I hear that you are pretty good with paint," Dylan's eyes widened. "And we're doing this race for charity down at this family owned race track nearby. I've known the family for years... But, it's kind of a small track, and they don't have a ton of money," Dylan blinked. "They're looking for artists and they're looking for suggestions. Now I know a few artists, but they have a history with the one I had in mind, Suntreaker..."

"I don't design stuff like that," Dylan commented. "I'm gonna start trying, but I don't know."

"No! But that's the thing! I thought something graffiti style could actually be cool," Dylan raised an eyebrow at Bumblebee as he began to explain his thoughts. "I don't know, maybe it could draw in a younger crowd. I mean, plenty of adults like it, and some kids. But if it has a sort of edgy vibe on the flyers and posters, maybe it'd be even more kids," He added.

Dylan didn't know what to think about that, though he supposed that the mech would know better than he would. Plus the idea to do his natural art, even if he didn't do it the usual way did sound tempting. "Alright, I guess I could help," Dylan replied honestly. "But I can't promise how good it will be on canvas. I just know that I was pretty good on the side of walls, and on cars and stuff..."

"So I heard, were you the one I heard tagged Ratchet?" Dylan nodded hesitantly. "Oh wow, that's sick! I really need to introduce you to my friends, the twins. They would get a kick out of you," The boy looked surprised at the fact the young mech found it a riot, but still managed to smile. "I'd actually kill to see what technique you used to pull it off too, the ole doc bot's a notoriously light recharger."

Dylan's smile seemed to grow, after all, Bumblebee was speaking his language. And as far as he could see, Ratchet noticed that perhaps, Dylan looked a fraction more comfortable around the mech. "It was really nothing," Dylan finally spoke up. "I just work fast, my record for tagging an Autobot is about ten minutes. I had Ratchet done in about thirteen though," He told him.

"Whoa kid, that takes skill to do on a sentient robot," Bumblebee laughed. "Though I probably shouldn't be encouraging this. I'm kind of an enforcer the same as Prowl," Dylan's brow furrowed a bit as he looked up at Bumblebee. "It's cool though, I did some pretty crazy stuff at your age too. Once I even pulled a prank on a whole group of enforcers in Kaon. It was pretty sick," He added.

And then Dylan seemed to light up again before Ratchet's optics. He watched from a distance as the mech and the boy chattered away, talking calmly. But none to Ratchet's surprise, the boy was keeping a good distance from Bumblebee, likely not softened enough to trust a strange mech closer to him. He watched as Dylan looked over at him, as if nervous, or perhaps wanting him nearby now. And in a way that warmed his spark if that was the latter, the thought that perhaps he was starting to trust him even a little.

So he grabbed the energon cubes, and let his holoform grab Dylan's dinner, making his way inside. "For sure, I can totally help you out," Bumblebee spoke as he came inside, taking the Energon Cube from his friend. "As long as the doc bot's cool with it," He added.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Okay with what?"

"Dylan here's a skater apparently," Bumblebee told him. "But he doesn't know the skate park on this side of town. I know the kids there pretty well from my rounds. So I figured I'd take him down after school sometime and show him," He then added. "If that's okay with you?"

Ratchet was surprised, Dylan was okay with going alone with Bumblebee? He looked at the boy, who seemed to be shying away a bit, and nodded. "If he'd like that, I don't see why not," Ratchet replied honestly. "As long as you stay safe, of course. I know that so-called "extreme sports" like that can be dangerous."

"O-Okay," Dylan replied. "But it won't be for a little bit. Bumblebee says he wants us to get to know each other first," He explained. "Said he wants me comfortable around him first."

Ratchet gave a "thank you" Bumblebee's way for that. Knowing that Bumblebee was being gentle with Dylan's past meant quite a bit. As did the fact that, at this point, he wanted to spend time with Dylan. And perhaps, in time, he really would become the friend Dylan needed. "Well you're welcome over any time you want to spend time," Ratchet explained. "I think it would be good for Dylan."

And from the small smile, it seemed Dylan might have agreed.

...

A/N: I know the meeting with Bee was a little short. But he'll show up more, so don't worry! Next chapter, Dylan gets a feel of his new school. :)