FIC: Welcome Back to Normal (Transformers, Bumblebee/Sam)
Welcome Back to Normal
by Keelywolfe
Sam/Bumblebee
NC-17
SPOILERS: Okay, so if you're trying to avoid seeing anything about Revenge of the Fallen, then you should avoid this story because you need to watch the new trailer for it to really make sense! Okay?
Summary: Did you watch the trailer? Yes? Good, this happens after that! Whoops, they pulled that trailer. Try this link instead: http://www.mefeedia.com/entry/transformers-la-revanche-exclusive-footage-hd-vo/16948056
Notes: Eh, I'm trying to get myself back into Transformers so I wrote this to get into the mood. Besides, if you watched the trailer, you understand my inspiration. *G*
The wind felt perfect and cool against his overheated face as Sam walked up his driveway, waving at Mikaela as she pulled away. So what if her stepmom's car was a Chevy piece of shit; it had its perks. One of them being a very large backseat and Sam's very relaxed, still slightly sweaty body could testify to the glory of that. The second major perk it had was that it wasn't, you know, sentient, a thing that unsurprisingly really derailed the whole purpose of having a large backseat. Much as Sam loved Bumblebee, it was more than a little disconcerting to know he was sort of...well...there when they were making out. And really, what was the point of having a car if you couldn't make out it in?
Thinking of Bumblebee made him think of their talk earlier and that took a little of the after-sex glow off. Sam sighed a little, unhappily remembering Bumblebee's reaction. Which, okay, he'd been expecting but seriously, Bumblebee couldn't stay with him forever. There'd been no sign of the Decepticons for months and Bee was a freaking Autobot. Rotting away in his dad's garage couldn't be good for him. No, one of them had to put an end to this and if Sam was the one who had to do it, well, then he would. It was time for both of them to move on.
The faint sound of music distracted him and Sam frowned, turning in the direction of the garage. A soft gust of wind sent the plastic sheet fluttering and the waft of music that ghosted out was just loud enough for him to catch, mournful lyrics set to depressing notes. That meant that Bumblebee hadn't gone into his recharge mode yet and instead he was in there, sulking.
Just wonderful.
It was tempting to pretend he hadn't heard it; he could go in right now and have a nice long shower, hit the sack and attempt to fix things in the morning but Christ, what kind of friend would that make him? Bad enough that he was ditching Bee as a car; he didn't want to ditch him as a friend.
So rather than ending a great date with his girlfriend basking in the afterglow of hot sex, instead he was ducking beneath a sheet of black plastic and into the realm of gasoline fumes and the hum of machinery, accompanied by country music.
"Hey," Sam said softly, groaning mentally as Bumblebee swung around to look at him, that same mournful look on his face from earlier in the day. Reba McEntire's voice swelled briefly before the music cut away with the harsh squawk of static. Man, Reba McEntire? Bumblebee was obviously way more upset than Sam had first thought. He swore mentally, scrubbing a hand over his head. "Look, I know you’re upset but it's not you, it's me. This is something I need to--what?"
Bumblebee was gesturing frantically, tiny squealing sounds escaping him in the place of eager words. A light flicked out from the middle of his chest, dancing across the floor near Sam's feet before it expand upward and flared out.
"Whoa!" Sam yelped, scrambling back. He tripped over a box of parts and fell backwards into it, legs dangling over the cardboard as he stared at the form that appeared in that slim beam of light.
It was...Bee. If Bee were, you know, human, and blond, and smiling eagerly. It was the eyes that gave him away, blue, beyond blue, glowing impossibly in the dimness. He bounced on his toes, sneakers shuffling on the cement floor. Shoes, jeans, t-shirt. He was a perfect replica of a teenage boy, except he was grinning with happiness, which, really, was another clue entirely of his alien origins.
The boy held out his hands in a little 'ta-da' gesture. "To...go...college!" he grated out, and if his eyes weren't a dead giveaway, his voice certainly was. Purely mechanical, hoarse and weak. Purely Bumblebee.
"College?" Sam repeated weakly. "Oh...no. No, no, no," he repeated frantically. Seriously, this was a bad dream, it was all a dream. "No, this is not going to happen. You can not go with me, Bee. I'm sorry, but you can't."
Instantly, the boy in front of him wilted, like a puppet with his strings cut. He sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring at Sam mournfully. "No?" he repeated in that oh, so familiar raspy voice, and it seemed like all the pain in the world could be held in that one little word.
"Bee," Sam groaned. He managed to lever himself out of the box, wincing as something poked viciously into his thigh, and crawled over to the...whatever the hell it was. Hologram? Maybe not because when Sam cautiously touched his arm it felt real, soft warm skin beneath his touch.
Later, he would wonder about it, wonder how long this had been coming, how long Bumblebee had taken to come up with this idea. How long he'd waited to try.
How long he'd wanted.
Sam's lips were already forming words, about how they'd talked about this, about what they both needed, and how things were changing, and, and, and, but they were smothered instantly by the mouth on his. Soft, eager lips against his own and Sam could only inhale sharply, drawing back automatically in shock but the hands that descended on his shoulders were surprisingly strong, holding him still for a long moment. Sam was barely aware of parting his lips, hardly noticed that he was allowing this but Bumblebee's mouth--
(mouth, how was this possible, a dream, maybe, had to be a dream)
--was hot, slick tongue sliding against his own, teasing with sweet delicacy before he pulled away, those softly glowing eyes only inches from Sam's as Bee studied him solemnly.
"I...no...college," Bee said, so softly, "This? Once?"
"This?" Sam repeated weakly, what the hell was this, what was--but Bumblebee seemed to take that as agreement because he brightened instantly, the glow in his eyes sharpening until it cast his pale face in an unearthly light.
Abruptly, Sam found himself pushed to the ground, cool cement beneath his back and a warm body against his own. God, this was...this was crazy, he was still sticky and even a little sore from Mikaela but Bumblebee was crawling between his sprawled legs, one of his knees nudging up against Sam's crotch in a way that was uneasily wonderful, the pressure almost too much against his still sensitive skin. His dick didn't seem to care one way or another that the body against his own wasn't exactly real; he was already getting hard, already making tiny little movements against Bumblebee's knee.
It was strange, that feeling of unreality carrying through and there was grit beneath him and Bumblebee heavy on top of him, and Sam didn't even think of saying no; instead he was wriggling and twisting against him, trying to get more friction against him, trying to get more, and this he'd done before, just tonight, in the back of Mikaela's stepmother's car, both of them frantic and wanting more, and he felt that way now but it was different, this was Bumblebee making harsh little sounds, pleading sounds that spoke of need and want and, oh...
"Oh!" Sam whimpered, pressing his face into the sweaty curve of Bumblebee's neck, and the taste wasn't quite right, not in any way he could place exactly but it wasn't important, not nearly as important as thrusting up, pushing hard against Bumblebee's knee as he sucked in a sharp breath and came, hot wetness instantly soaking the front of his shorts, probably leaking through to his jeans.
Sam couldn't even care. He just collapsed back on the floor, his head thunking softly against the hard cement as he lay there, utterly limp and his heart pounding like he was going to die. Dimly, he heard Bumblebee make a sound, just this side of shrill like metal scraping against metal, felt him shuddering in his own pleasure but there wasn't much Sam could do about it except flop an arm around his back and sort of hold on.
Okay...so what the fuck had just happened? He was on the floor of his garage and he'd just had sex with his car. This was not what he'd come in here for, of that Sam was sure.
He didn't have time to pull his scattered thoughts together before Bumblebee was sliding off him and climbing to his feet. He held out a hand to Sam and he took it, staggering a little as Bee pulled him to his feet.
"Bumblebee..." Sam started, uncertainly, because that was what you did after sex, even freaky-ass sex; you talked about it until it made sense or it was fucked up completely. Sam was prepared to do just that but he trailed away as Bee pressed two fingers against Sam's mouth.
"You...college," Bumblebee said, firmly. "Normal."
"Normal," Sam repeated, numbly, because this was everything but normal, this was something else entirely that was the exact opposite of normal, but the hologram or whatever the hell it was faded as quickly as it had come into existence and Bumblebee curled into himself, his eyes closing to pinpoints of light as he sent himself into recharge.
All Sam could do was turn and stumble into the house, staggering into his room and grimacing at the squelchiness in his jeans as he peeled them off. Ugh, disgusting. He stashed them underneath his bed before he collapsed on it, yanking a pillow over his head. Sleep, now, he decided. Tomorrow he could figure out what the blue fuck was going on.
~~*~~
The sun was already high in the sky by the time Sam managed to crawl out of bed. He took the time to shower only because he preferred his mother's disapproving looks to be limited to his laziness and not his hygiene. His hair was still dripping wet when he stuffed his feet into his shoes and went out to the garage, still mentally composing his...his what? His breakup speech? He'd tried that and it had gotten him freaky sex with his car, okay, so that speech was scratched for all time. It was officially off the list of acceptable speeches.
He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say when he ducked under the plastic sheeting but the tentative words died away unspoken as he stood in the empty garage. Bumblebee was gone, every sign of him erased. There was not so much as an odd- shaped bolt, not a scratch of yellow paint.
Sam stood there for a long moment, staring at the emptiness in front of him. It was what he'd wanted, what he'd asked for, damn it. But still, there was an echo of emptiness inside him that he hadn't expected. Bee was his first car, he'd told himself, his first car but that wasn't all he was leaving behind.
The plastic sheeting rustled behind him, and behind it was the whole world, waiting for him. Behind it was normal. He stood for a moment longer, closed his eyes and inhaled the sharp scent of gasoline and oil and then Sam opened his eyes, pulled back the tarp, and took his first step back into normal.
-finis-
by Keelywolfe
Sam/Bumblebee
NC-17
SPOILERS: Okay, so if you're trying to avoid seeing anything about Revenge of the Fallen, then you should avoid this story because you need to watch the new trailer for it to really make sense! Okay?
Summary: Did you watch the trailer? Yes? Good, this happens after that! Whoops, they pulled that trailer. Try this link instead: http://www.mefeedia.com/entry/transformers-la-revanche-exclusive-footage-hd-vo/16948056
Notes: Eh, I'm trying to get myself back into Transformers so I wrote this to get into the mood. Besides, if you watched the trailer, you understand my inspiration. *G*
The wind felt perfect and cool against his overheated face as Sam walked up his driveway, waving at Mikaela as she pulled away. So what if her stepmom's car was a Chevy piece of shit; it had its perks. One of them being a very large backseat and Sam's very relaxed, still slightly sweaty body could testify to the glory of that. The second major perk it had was that it wasn't, you know, sentient, a thing that unsurprisingly really derailed the whole purpose of having a large backseat. Much as Sam loved Bumblebee, it was more than a little disconcerting to know he was sort of...well...there when they were making out. And really, what was the point of having a car if you couldn't make out it in?
Thinking of Bumblebee made him think of their talk earlier and that took a little of the after-sex glow off. Sam sighed a little, unhappily remembering Bumblebee's reaction. Which, okay, he'd been expecting but seriously, Bumblebee couldn't stay with him forever. There'd been no sign of the Decepticons for months and Bee was a freaking Autobot. Rotting away in his dad's garage couldn't be good for him. No, one of them had to put an end to this and if Sam was the one who had to do it, well, then he would. It was time for both of them to move on.
The faint sound of music distracted him and Sam frowned, turning in the direction of the garage. A soft gust of wind sent the plastic sheet fluttering and the waft of music that ghosted out was just loud enough for him to catch, mournful lyrics set to depressing notes. That meant that Bumblebee hadn't gone into his recharge mode yet and instead he was in there, sulking.
Just wonderful.
It was tempting to pretend he hadn't heard it; he could go in right now and have a nice long shower, hit the sack and attempt to fix things in the morning but Christ, what kind of friend would that make him? Bad enough that he was ditching Bee as a car; he didn't want to ditch him as a friend.
So rather than ending a great date with his girlfriend basking in the afterglow of hot sex, instead he was ducking beneath a sheet of black plastic and into the realm of gasoline fumes and the hum of machinery, accompanied by country music.
"Hey," Sam said softly, groaning mentally as Bumblebee swung around to look at him, that same mournful look on his face from earlier in the day. Reba McEntire's voice swelled briefly before the music cut away with the harsh squawk of static. Man, Reba McEntire? Bumblebee was obviously way more upset than Sam had first thought. He swore mentally, scrubbing a hand over his head. "Look, I know you’re upset but it's not you, it's me. This is something I need to--what?"
Bumblebee was gesturing frantically, tiny squealing sounds escaping him in the place of eager words. A light flicked out from the middle of his chest, dancing across the floor near Sam's feet before it expand upward and flared out.
"Whoa!" Sam yelped, scrambling back. He tripped over a box of parts and fell backwards into it, legs dangling over the cardboard as he stared at the form that appeared in that slim beam of light.
It was...Bee. If Bee were, you know, human, and blond, and smiling eagerly. It was the eyes that gave him away, blue, beyond blue, glowing impossibly in the dimness. He bounced on his toes, sneakers shuffling on the cement floor. Shoes, jeans, t-shirt. He was a perfect replica of a teenage boy, except he was grinning with happiness, which, really, was another clue entirely of his alien origins.
The boy held out his hands in a little 'ta-da' gesture. "To...go...college!" he grated out, and if his eyes weren't a dead giveaway, his voice certainly was. Purely mechanical, hoarse and weak. Purely Bumblebee.
"College?" Sam repeated weakly. "Oh...no. No, no, no," he repeated frantically. Seriously, this was a bad dream, it was all a dream. "No, this is not going to happen. You can not go with me, Bee. I'm sorry, but you can't."
Instantly, the boy in front of him wilted, like a puppet with his strings cut. He sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring at Sam mournfully. "No?" he repeated in that oh, so familiar raspy voice, and it seemed like all the pain in the world could be held in that one little word.
"Bee," Sam groaned. He managed to lever himself out of the box, wincing as something poked viciously into his thigh, and crawled over to the...whatever the hell it was. Hologram? Maybe not because when Sam cautiously touched his arm it felt real, soft warm skin beneath his touch.
Later, he would wonder about it, wonder how long this had been coming, how long Bumblebee had taken to come up with this idea. How long he'd waited to try.
How long he'd wanted.
Sam's lips were already forming words, about how they'd talked about this, about what they both needed, and how things were changing, and, and, and, but they were smothered instantly by the mouth on his. Soft, eager lips against his own and Sam could only inhale sharply, drawing back automatically in shock but the hands that descended on his shoulders were surprisingly strong, holding him still for a long moment. Sam was barely aware of parting his lips, hardly noticed that he was allowing this but Bumblebee's mouth--
(mouth, how was this possible, a dream, maybe, had to be a dream)
--was hot, slick tongue sliding against his own, teasing with sweet delicacy before he pulled away, those softly glowing eyes only inches from Sam's as Bee studied him solemnly.
"I...no...college," Bee said, so softly, "This? Once?"
"This?" Sam repeated weakly, what the hell was this, what was--but Bumblebee seemed to take that as agreement because he brightened instantly, the glow in his eyes sharpening until it cast his pale face in an unearthly light.
Abruptly, Sam found himself pushed to the ground, cool cement beneath his back and a warm body against his own. God, this was...this was crazy, he was still sticky and even a little sore from Mikaela but Bumblebee was crawling between his sprawled legs, one of his knees nudging up against Sam's crotch in a way that was uneasily wonderful, the pressure almost too much against his still sensitive skin. His dick didn't seem to care one way or another that the body against his own wasn't exactly real; he was already getting hard, already making tiny little movements against Bumblebee's knee.
It was strange, that feeling of unreality carrying through and there was grit beneath him and Bumblebee heavy on top of him, and Sam didn't even think of saying no; instead he was wriggling and twisting against him, trying to get more friction against him, trying to get more, and this he'd done before, just tonight, in the back of Mikaela's stepmother's car, both of them frantic and wanting more, and he felt that way now but it was different, this was Bumblebee making harsh little sounds, pleading sounds that spoke of need and want and, oh...
"Oh!" Sam whimpered, pressing his face into the sweaty curve of Bumblebee's neck, and the taste wasn't quite right, not in any way he could place exactly but it wasn't important, not nearly as important as thrusting up, pushing hard against Bumblebee's knee as he sucked in a sharp breath and came, hot wetness instantly soaking the front of his shorts, probably leaking through to his jeans.
Sam couldn't even care. He just collapsed back on the floor, his head thunking softly against the hard cement as he lay there, utterly limp and his heart pounding like he was going to die. Dimly, he heard Bumblebee make a sound, just this side of shrill like metal scraping against metal, felt him shuddering in his own pleasure but there wasn't much Sam could do about it except flop an arm around his back and sort of hold on.
Okay...so what the fuck had just happened? He was on the floor of his garage and he'd just had sex with his car. This was not what he'd come in here for, of that Sam was sure.
He didn't have time to pull his scattered thoughts together before Bumblebee was sliding off him and climbing to his feet. He held out a hand to Sam and he took it, staggering a little as Bee pulled him to his feet.
"Bumblebee..." Sam started, uncertainly, because that was what you did after sex, even freaky-ass sex; you talked about it until it made sense or it was fucked up completely. Sam was prepared to do just that but he trailed away as Bee pressed two fingers against Sam's mouth.
"You...college," Bumblebee said, firmly. "Normal."
"Normal," Sam repeated, numbly, because this was everything but normal, this was something else entirely that was the exact opposite of normal, but the hologram or whatever the hell it was faded as quickly as it had come into existence and Bumblebee curled into himself, his eyes closing to pinpoints of light as he sent himself into recharge.
All Sam could do was turn and stumble into the house, staggering into his room and grimacing at the squelchiness in his jeans as he peeled them off. Ugh, disgusting. He stashed them underneath his bed before he collapsed on it, yanking a pillow over his head. Sleep, now, he decided. Tomorrow he could figure out what the blue fuck was going on.
~~*~~
The sun was already high in the sky by the time Sam managed to crawl out of bed. He took the time to shower only because he preferred his mother's disapproving looks to be limited to his laziness and not his hygiene. His hair was still dripping wet when he stuffed his feet into his shoes and went out to the garage, still mentally composing his...his what? His breakup speech? He'd tried that and it had gotten him freaky sex with his car, okay, so that speech was scratched for all time. It was officially off the list of acceptable speeches.
He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say when he ducked under the plastic sheeting but the tentative words died away unspoken as he stood in the empty garage. Bumblebee was gone, every sign of him erased. There was not so much as an odd- shaped bolt, not a scratch of yellow paint.
Sam stood there for a long moment, staring at the emptiness in front of him. It was what he'd wanted, what he'd asked for, damn it. But still, there was an echo of emptiness inside him that he hadn't expected. Bee was his first car, he'd told himself, his first car but that wasn't all he was leaving behind.
The plastic sheeting rustled behind him, and behind it was the whole world, waiting for him. Behind it was normal. He stood for a moment longer, closed his eyes and inhaled the sharp scent of gasoline and oil and then Sam opened his eyes, pulled back the tarp, and took his first step back into normal.
-finis-