"Whoa, the hood is hot. Did somebody drive you today?"
"No, just feeling heated at the sight of you," Bumblebee would say, if only he could. It wasn't just his broken T-Cog stopping him.
He wished he could tell her and Sam, come clean with all of them. It wasn't his choice, though. He had to obey Optimus' orders. Stay low, protect the planet, and wait. Last night, he put out a beacon for Optimus and the others. They'd surely arrive soon, but the teenager had seen him and ran.
But he had to let it out a little, he's not the type to be completely boring. That, and she was really pretty. Prettier than the Femmes he's used to seeing. Prettier than the other humans, too. But he didn't want to bring a Decepticon army down on Earth because he couldn't keep it in his plates, and Primus knew how she'd react to a creature so different from herself. He couldn't transform, so he played a song.
"That's why I'm hot blooded. Check it and see, I've got a fever of a hundred and three. Come on, baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, hot blooded."
The female jumped slightly when the rock song burst from his speakers. "Jesus! That scared me," she muttered, returning to her task.
He couldn't explain it, but this human woman had some kind of power over him, like a spell. The way she moved entranced him. Atop her helm were these reddish-brown filaments that looked so soft he just wanted to bury his face in them. Not to mention the bags of flesh on her chest called breasts. They were mesmerizing, bouncing around every time she moved. The flimsy garment she wore did little to cover them, not that he was complaining. It was surely a blessing that the human race has such an evolutionary trait.
There was something about that squishy "flesh" stuff that got his motor going, but he'd never thought it was that attractive before. What he wouldn't give to actually talk to her. Then again, hiding in plain sight was kind of nice when the object of your affections started dragging her mammaries all along your hood, getting them damp and shiny. His engine started to heat up, but he pushed it back down, doing his best to hold it in. Then she climbed up on top of him, kneeling with her legs spread on his hood, and his work was undone. She swiped over his windshield, then reached above to soap up his roof. He was rocked by a tingling feeling deep in his fuel tank.
"If it feels alright, maybe you can stay all night. Shall I leave you my key? But you've got to give me a sign. Come on, girl, some kind of sign. Tell me, are you hot, mama? You sure look that way to me."
She got down but the intensity stayed the same.
She was stirring him up, the way she pressed her body against his windows and bent over to scrub his rims. He nearly yelped when she stuck the whole of her sponge in his muffler, swirling it around. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but it was different. He was just glad no one was around to see it.
Cybertronian metal was hard, unforgiving. Her softness was part of her charm; Dainty, tiny, and adorable, the polar opposite of his ilk.
And he thought the other humans were small.
Her cheeks were squishy and freckled. Her lips were full. Her hair reminded him of fire, and her eyes the bodies of water on this planet. Finishing up with the soapy sponge, she returned it to the bucket with a splash and once again picked up the hose.
It was cooler the second time it washed over his chassis. He shivered, and not just because of the stimulating visuals. She came back around to the hood, her front dripping soapy water as she sprayed. Once finished, she looked at the wet bottoms that clung to her hips. "Great." She unbuttoned and let her shorts fall down, stepping out of them in just her swimsuit. Rag in hand, she walked back over to dry off the bright vehicle.
Once complete, she rinsed out the bucket and sponge, stowing them somewhere in the garage. When she came back, she was wrapped in a towel with a spray bottle and clean rag in hand. Her hand was smooth on his handle, pulling open the door and wiping him down. She got in all the nooks and crannies he never could. Like scratching one of those itches the humans talk about.
It was divine, especially when she hopped into his driver's seat and started wiping down his dash and console. She wound her finger in the rag, using it to get at the stubborn dust that sticks to his vents. His spark fluttered. This human would be the death of him.
And then she stopped. She looked left, then right, and touched his ignition to check for keys. She was onto him.
He was hot under the neck plating, his engine growling with pleasure. His screws jolted at every slight caress of her hand, wrapped in a rag though it was. He was on a hair trigger, having not been touched like this for so long. Gently, like an object to be desired, longed for. Even Charlie's hands didn't make him feel like that. It took all his strength to quiet his whirring motor.
"Weird." Midge said to herself, a flurry of interest and curiosity flashing over her freckled face. "I could have sworn... Whatever." She brushed it off, tossing her long auburn locks over her shoulder. They'd stayed surprisingly dry. Spraying more of the lemon-scented cleanser on the rag, she gripped his stick shift and wiped it down, leaving him holding back a whine. He patted himself on the back for outlasting it.
"Man, I'm getting-" She cut herself off with a yawn, something that indicated the human need to sleep. "-tired. Maybe I should have slept in."
He didn't want to keep her up, but had read a trick about playing soft music to help someone sleep. Delicate piano notes played in the low baritone of Elvis Presley.
"Wise men say, only fools rush in."
The toasty little creature kept his chair warm and breathed heavily, the pace slowing down. Like the pistons on a motor coming to a stop, her body's processes seemed to slow down until she became still. She looked so comfortable, curled up in his front seat.
He could go for a recharge himself, and he does, lulled into stasis by the steady sound of her heartbeat against his leather and the pleasant melody from his own speakers.
"But I can't help falling in love with you."
"Stop with the barking, Mojo. It's too early. Please?"
The high tenor of Samuel Witwicky made him turn his engine over. He'd woken up a few breems ago and was waiting for an opportunity, which seemed to have just presented itself.
As fast as he could, he tracked down the boy, spotting him from the backyard through an open window. In alt mode still, he rolled across the grass and revved his engine a couple of times to catch the teenager's attention. They needed to talk. Sam was in great danger, having posted Archibald Witwicky's glasses on the Ebay platform. It was how Bumblebee found Sam, and so it was how the Decepticons would find him, too. He couldn't risk the boy's life, regardless of Sam's feelings on the matter.
He followed, driving around the side of the house, threading the needle between the fence and the wall, zipping through the front lawn after the boy. He pedaled his heart out, looking over his shoulder every few nano-klicks. Bumblebee's best shot was to catch him and try to make peace until Optimus and the crew showed up to explain everything. The dark-haired child had been running from him since he saw Bumblebee transformed last night.
They make it to the end of the street before his forgotten occupant starts squealing like a car alarm. He's only following the boy, not running over him and his pink bike. Why was the woman so upset?
Her hands went for the wheel, but couldn't keep a grip on it with all its moving around. He was driving, after all. The woman let out high-pitched wail after high-pitched wail until he tried to say something. His radio switched on. The melody of Don't Worry, Be Happy by Bob Marley starts to play. Her screech died out, a concerned look focused on his radio.
"Don't worry-"
"We're chasing-"
"Your brother-"
"-to protect and serve!"
The chopped up audio formed a sentence, something he learned from an old friend, and she blinked, befuddled. She was shocked to her bones, fingers digging into his seats and her throat moving as she gulped.
"The car is driving itself. Midge, you're dreaming, that's the only reasonable explanation." Margaret held the sides of her head, grabbing hanks of hair in her fists. She shook her head, refocusing on what he said. "Wait, what about my brother?"
He stopped at an intersection, watching as Sam flipped over and flattened out on the ground, bike clattering. The boy peeled himself from the ground, rocketing off on the bike again as soon as he saw the Camaro.
"S-"
"Am."
"...have to get to him. He's in danger."
"I can't believe I'm talking to a car." She grabbed tighter on the seat and pressed her body into it. "Girl, you've gotta start going to therapy. No more- Wait!" She had lowered her voice, rocking slightly, before she looked up and snapped out of it.
"You can't drive on the sidewalk! You're gonna get us pulled over." Her smooth skin glides over his wheel, tan hands curling around his parts. Her voice comes out breathy and a little hoarse. "Let me drive."
"Never in a million years!" said a childlike tenor from his speakers, the pout obvious in their voice. He didn't even like it when Sam drove him, clunking about in his chassis with the clubs of meat he calls hands. After the first day, there were stains he couldn't even name all over his wheel and shifter.
A frustrated grunt left her. "Do you want to catch him or not? Because we won't if the police catch us, you get impounded, and I get taken to the station." She made a good case for herself. He thought back on her sensitive cleansing of his compartments and body, the gentle strokes of her skin on him. Maybe he did want her to drive.
She placed her hands at 10 and 2 on his steering wheel, waiting. She grinned when it loosened in her hands. He gave up control to a little human. What would he tell Optimus, that she gave him puppy-dog eyes? That she was the most gorgeous Femme he'd ever laid optics on? That he'd only known her for a few days and she'd already stolen his heart?