FIC: Beyond My Brave Facade (Human Series)
Beyond My Brave Facade
By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Others
Rated NC-17
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
In the two days since Sam had learned that he was the proud owner of the first Human set of receptors, he'd done two things.
Sleep and sex.
Oh, there were a few trips to the bathroom tossed in there and the occasional side trip to actual food, but their ratio in the pie chart of life was minuscule. Sleep and sex was what he had and no matter how worried he was about what those receptors were doing to him and how much he wanted to step back, just for a second, and get an objective look at all of this, every time he tried it always fell apart like a house of cards and left him with the basics. Sleep and sex, and sex, and more sex....and maybe just a little more.
It didn't help that Bumblebee was so very cooperative.
"Oh, God, oh, God....oh..." Sam moaned, hands clenched tight in the oddly soft tangle of Bumblebee's hair. The hot, silken wetness of Bee's mouth around him was the best, absolutely the best way to ever wake up. If Sam hadn't been half-convinced he was still asleep, dreaming of this in blurred sexual pastels, he would have opened his eyes to look. As it was he could already imagine what he'd see. The pale splash of Bee's hair between his legs, the brilliant green of his eyes barely visible from beneath his lashes as Bee watched him. He liked to watch, always, and Sam could guess this was no exception.
The hot suction around his cock made his blissed-out brain less coherent than normal but having it slow, the pressure lightening in minute degrees, was enough to remind him of what he was supposed to be doing. Hesitantly, Sam gathered up the ragged threads of his control and reached, the same way Bee had been teaching him the past two days.
For a brief moment there was nothing, casting out into darkness and like always, that feeling of emptiness made panic ache in his throat. Made it difficult for him to keep reaching, to keep control but he could do this, he could...another endless instant and then he felt it.
Connection.
It was like a flare of wordless emotion, not pleasure so much as just right, the incoherent rambling of his sending caught and gathered gently, soothed and comforted and the physical sensation wasn't secondary but it was no longer alone, it was just right, Goldilocks had found the perfect bed, porridge, and chair, all at once.
Bee was sucking him hard, brilliant eyes watching him and that same shimmery purple brilliance touching him in a way that he barely understood, inside him and yet not, and Sam nearly sobbed as he came, choking off desperate little gasps and cries as he threw himself completely into Bee, knowing he would be caught.
Easy, easy...that's it, you're fine...Gently soothing, easing him back down, and that was still seriously freaky. It wasn't like telepathy or Sam didn't think it was since he wasn't exactly an expert on the subject. Old Star Trek episodes could only do so much. It was more like a mental text message and what was weirder was knowing he could reply to it, in Cybertronian if he took the time to concentrate on what he was saying.
Of course, if he did that then Bumblebee would answer him the same way and who knew that Robotic terminology could be so dirty. Really Sam should be less worried that the other Autobots thought he was a filthy human pervert and more concerned that pervert seemed to be the normal Autobot state of being. Unlike other Autobots, he and Bee had to actually be touching to play mental Instant Messenger but Bumblebee didn't seem to mind and Sam was actually pretty relieved. If he wanted to send messages from a distance, he'd get an Iphone.
Bee let him go with a last gentle kiss on his softening cock, his hands stroking Sam's trembling thighs gently. Which was nice but not what Sam wanted in his afterglow. Impatiently, he tugged Bee's hair and he followed obligingly, met Sam's lips with his own too-hot, swollen ones. Perfectly done, Sam thought faintly, just like his own mouth felt after an extended blow job. Then he didn't much care to think about Bumblebee's skills in imitation, only wanted to taste himself on those soft lips.
Faint strains of music echoed to him, "...honey to the bee, that's you for me..."
"Stop, please," Sam pulled away to groan. "It's way too early for puns."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Bee stretched. "I was only assisting you per Ratchet's instructions. He propped his head on hand, letting his elbow dig lightly into Sam's chest. "Didn't it help? I was only trying to help," Bee added contritely.
His elbow wasn't the only thing trying to dig a hole into Sam. Bumblebee was still hard against his hip, the hot length of his erection pressing firmly. "Yeah, you're a regular charity contributor," Sam mumbled dryly, squirming a hand between them and gripping him tightly.
Bee closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, and just then he was so pretty Sam almost forgot what he was doing, instead staring at the face a few inches from his own. The dark smudge of his lashes against his cheeks, his bottom lip caught lightly between his teeth and knowing it was a construct, something that Bumblebee had created didn't make him any less attractive. This was how Bumblebee saw himself as a human and so that was who he was.
If he'd been less attractive to him, maybe it would have been harder for Sam to doubt. If it had grown on him instead of smacking him with the force of a sledgehammer maybe Sam would be able to relax...no, he couldn't think about this now, not while they were still touching. Bumblebee had assured him time and again that what they were doing was totally not mind reading and that he couldn't hear anything that wasn't deliberately sent but Sam didn't feel like taking chances.
Bee made a soft sound of protest in his throat, thrusting lightly into Sam's loosening grip and he hastily tightened it. Equal orgasms, right.
"You know, I don't have to do this," Sam told him, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Bee's cock in the way that always made him shiver helplessly. "Ratchet only said I had to have sex, you weren't on the list."
"I'm sure he thought it was a foregone conclusion," Bumblebee shuddered a little, pressed his forehead against Sam's as he rocked into his tight grasp. "If...if you like..we can ask him..."
Even the thought of another sex talk with Ratchet was enough of a threat to make Sam start moving his hand with real purpose. Bee was so close that Sam was practically cross-eyed watching him but he didn't want to look away, couldn't, watched Bee's face tighten, his mouth fall open as he whimpered out a string of, "Oh...oh...oh...."
Having Bee collapse against him while still conscious was still pretty new but it didn't mean Sam didn't like it. Sweaty flesh against his own, Bumblebee panting against him, still moving just a bit, like he couldn't be still yet, mouthing kisses against Sam's shoulder and neck.
For just this one moment Sam didn't give a flying fuck whether or not it was alien receptors making him feel like this. He felt good and he wrapped his arms around Bumblebee tightly, held him close.
"I think I like your upgraded sex skills," Sam mumbled into Bee's chest. "It's nice to be able to breathe afterward."
The sound Bee made was almost like laughter and music crackled again around them, "...it's all about the pentiums, baby..."
"Please, stop," Sam begged, snickering a little helplessly. God, he'd been missing this. Sex was all good and well but he'd been missing his friend, the jokes and the teasing bits of songs from his car. Like whenever his mom had needed a ride, the radio would immediately blare out with 'Foxy Lady' and all his mom's laughing protests, and his much more horrified ones, hadn't made a bit of difference.
Somewhere in this tangle of sex and receptors and Decepticon death threats, he'd had the best friend in all the world and he honestly wasn't sure what he'd do without it. He still hadn't told Bee about what had happened with Sunstreaker, still hadn't been able to think past panicking over what his receptors might be making him feel. Two days of lying around waiting for Ratchet to clear him for upright duty hadn't given him any insight and all the knowing in the universe that they needed to talk about it at some point wasn't making it any easier for Sam to choke out the necessary words.
Now they were alone and sated, Bumblebee relaxed against him and thinking everything was working out just fine. How much longer could he do this? How could he not tell?
He couldn't.
Sam swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat, managed to work out a single, "Bee?"
Before he could get another word, it came, like a rescue from the Gods of Parental Humiliation; a soft knock on the door. "Sam? Bumblebee? Are you two done? I brought breakfast."
Fighting away his relief, Sam threw his emotions wholeheartedly into embarrassment and pulled a pillow over his head. "Mom, please go away and let me die in peace!"
True to form, his mom pushed the door open since she'd obviously decided if Sam could form coherent sentences, they must be done. He really had to remember to show Ratchet the doctor-patient confidentially clause that human doctors went with. At this point Sam wouldn't be surprised if he'd sent a memo to the whole base letting them know he was sleeping with Bumblebee for the good of his health.
Not that Bumblebee had been any help. Proving once again that Autobots did not know the meaning of the word shame, Bee only sat up in bed like he wasn't completely naked under the sheets and gave his mom a winning smile, "Good morning, Mrs. Witwicky."
His mom set the tray aside and gave a tittering little laugh. "Oh, sweetie, I've told you, call me Judy. Now, Sam, I brought you some orange juice with your waffles, you should really drink as much of it as you can, you don't want to get dehydrated. Bumblebee, I know you don't eat, dear. Have you recharged at all tonight?"
"Not yet, Mrs....Judy," he corrected.
She tutted at him, Sam watching in disbelief as she actually ruffled Bee's hair, pinching one cheek gently. It was plain to see who had replaced him as the favored son.
"Really, I know that you are watching out for Sam but you need to take care of yourself sometimes, too," she scolded. "Go on now, you've done your duty for the morning. I'm sure you have lots of other important things to work on."
"Mom, please--" Sam was almost choking on embarrassment. Bad enough that his mom knew he was having sex, but to call it Bumblebee's duty...
"What? I'm not blind, you know. Go get some rest, I'll make sure Sam eats his breakfast."
"I am sitting right here and I can get my own breakfast, mom," Sam said loudly even as Bee obediently stood up. Sam glared resentfully at the tidy clothes that abruptly appeared on Bumblebee, a black tee and skinny jeans, fucking hell. It was just as well that they weren't real because no human could have squeezed into those and still been able to breathe. If his mom hadn't been there like the world's brightest and bubbliest cock-blocker he would have yanked Bee back into bed.
"Of course you can," his mom said, oblivious to her skills at sexual interruption. "Now, eat up before your waffles get cold."
Behind his mom's back, Bumblebee winked at him and blew him a kiss before abandoning him to his mom's questionable nursing techniques. Dejectedly, Sam dug into his waffles while his mom bustled around him, fluffing up his pillows and tucking in blankets.
The hell with this. Sam was getting out of here today if he had to tunnel under the door and screw what Ratchet thought of it. He could bury Sam under a rock later if he so chose but if Sam didn't get out of this room someone was going to end up dead and right now he wasn't particularly caring who.
~~*~~
Escape came in an unexpected form at noon, when lunch arrived not with his mom but with Mikaela and Prowl.
Before she even set down the tray, Sam blurted out, "You have got to get me out of here."
"Good to see you, too, dead boy," Mikaela said, rolling her eyes. Since his second release from the hospital he'd only seen her long enough to verify they were both in the land of the living, possibly less so for him.
Prowl only smiled, nodding at him as he settled in to lean comfortably against the wall. His holo wasn't nearly as nice as Bee's but it was okay, if you liked the type and to his rather dismal knowledge, Mikaela did. Tall, broad-shouldered football type with dark hair and eyes. Perfect all-American glory.
"Come on, I'm going nuts," he wheedled. "Let's go for a walk, okay?"
Mikaela chewed her lip thoughtfully and for a second Sam thought she was going to refuse. He wondered what threats Ratchet had filled her with if she assisted in an escape attempt. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be intimidating enough because she nodded finally and started rummaging through the clutter of Sam's belongings.
"All right, but if you fall over and start turning into a toaster, I'm not going to be much help," she called, tossing a pair of semi-clean shorts in his direction.
He pulled them on as quickly as he could. Not that he cared if she saw him in his boxers since they'd gone on that route the second time they'd really met, but Prowl was staring at him and it was a little disconcerting. "You should be a doctor, seriously, you have the same bedside manner as Ratchet."
"We should, we're both mechanics." She held up one t-shirt critically before tossing it aside. "I bet on Cybertron Ratchet was just a big old grease monkey, overcharging for oil changes and bitching at everyone for riding their brakes."
"That does sound fairly accurate," Prowl said with some amusement. For being a police car he didn't seem to eager to tattle on them for making their escape and for that, Sam was very grateful. Maybe sex with Mikaela made him lenient...oops, that wasn't bitter at all, now was it.
"Here," Mikaela threw a shirt at his head that Sam caught easily and pulled on, shoving his feet into his shoes. He took the time to snatch the sandwich and soda off his lunch tray and then they were sneaking out the door where Prowl was already idling gently. Sam had a brief flash of Barricade, the last time he'd been in a car with flashers but it faded quickly. Prowl looked nothing like Barricade to him and wasn't that telling in its own way that he could see the differences in more than just their vehicle shape. He wondered if it was another receptor thing or if he'd just been spending so much time with the Autobots lately he could just tell them apart.
He didn't have time to consider it long. The second he sat down a seat belt snaked around him and all he could do was munch on his sandwich and ride along. No one stopped them or even gave them an odd look and whether that was because they didn't know there was an escape in progress or they didn't care, Sam didn't know. Hey, it was all to the good. If Ratchet sent out a search party later, at least it would be a brief one.
For all that he seemed willing to smuggle Sam out of there, Prowl didn't take them far. Just outside of the city, he slowed to a stop near a straggling, twisted tree that offered some shade and let them out. Sam sank down to the ground under it with a sigh, breathing in the fresh air gratefully. He felt perfectly fine, truth be told, and he was starting to suspect that Ratchet only had him on bed rest as a punishment for getting out of it and getting his arm broken in the first place.
Still, they were in the desert and it was a little too hot for the suggested walk. Mikaela settled on the ground next to him, her long legs bare and very tan compared to his own pale, hairy ones. She didn't say anything and after a moment, Sam realized she was waiting, very patiently, for him to talk. Was he that obvious, Sam wondered, and then he didn't much care. He wanted to talk to someone and Mikaela was a good friend, more than a friend, and obviously willing to listen.
"Mikaela--" Sam started, hesitantly, because okay, Mikaela was a good friend but Prowl really wasn't and Autobots were only experts in keeping secrets that they wanted to keep.
"I have a few duties to attend to," Prowl said abruptly, not bothering with either transforming or a holo. "I'll return for both of you shortly."
"That would be great," Mikaela called to him and Prowl revved his engine in response before he drove away. The crunch of gravel beneath his wheels faded and then they were left in the shimmery heat and silence, not so much as a bird chirping around them. It was almost eerie and Sam actually jumped when Mikaela covered his hand with her own and squeezed.
"Okay, Witwicky, spill. You're so wound up I thought you were going to break a spring."
"Inside your boyfriend? I wouldn't dare," he joked, weakly.
"His springs are just fine," she said, tossing her hair back with a practiced twist of her head. "Now tell me what's going on and don't spare the details."
Once, not long enough ago, Sam looked at her and wanted everything he thought she was. It had taken giant robots trying to end the world for him to see her differently, better, and now he knew the look of concern in her eyes, her caring about him, as a friend if not as a girlfriend. Other than Bumblebee, she was probably the best friend he'd ever had.
So Sam took a deep breath and told her. Everything, even the bits that had him squirming in embarrassment and shame. About Barricade's attempted rape and he and Bumblebee's first time in the backseat. About coming to Autobot city and everything, everything that had happened since then. Even about the coldness of Sunstreaker's mouth, of Sideswipe's rescuing him from both Sunstreaker and himself, about how Ratchet and Optimus both had made him hard and how humiliating it had been. The only thing he kept to himself was how he'd broken his arm; that was still a secret wasn't his alone and he couldn't tell, not just yet.
And he told her about Bumblebee. God, everything about Bumblebee, words spilling out of him in dribbles and floods until he felt like he'd spat a book at her feet. Not even the cliff notes version, every tiny gory detail that could possibly matter until he was hoarse from talking, barely even realizing that his eyes were damp and Mikaela had been holding him for some time now.
When he finally managed to stop, the silence was again deafening and Mikaela was practically squeezing the breath out of him.
"Jesus, Sam," she said, finally, the first words she'd spoken since he'd begun. "When you dive into the shit, you just aren't happy until you're neck deep."
"Tell me about it," he said, a little raspily. He took a long sip of Coke, trying to wash away dust and the growing lump in his throat. It was only half-successful. Where was the feeling of relief that was supposed to come with confession, he wondered. It was obviously overrated because he didn't feel a damned bit better, only a little more mentally organized. With a little sigh, he leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. "So what do I do?"
Mikaela rubbed her cheek against his hair, pressed a light kiss there. If nothing else, it was nice to have someone else who at least knew why he felt half-insane. "Have you told Ratchet about this?"
"Tell him what? After I spent all that time arguing with him that I want to be with Bee that now I'm not so sure?"
"Okay, okay, hang on," Mikaela pulled away and stood up, arms crossed over her chest as she looked back at the city. Even from a distance, it was a fairly stunning sight, faintly gleaming metal and building shapes that were nothing like human cities. It almost blended into the desert, Sam realized abruptly and if it weren't for the fence around it, people probably could have driven past it from a distance and never really noticed it. Blending in, adapting, it was what they did, Ratchet had said. Stood to reason that after a few million years of existence they'd be pretty damned good at it.
"You came up with this idea because you never had an urge for a human guy, right?" Mikaela turned back to him, chewing on one thumbnail as she considered. "You were totally, 100% straight, and you were all over me."
Sam looked at her, not exactly a hardship. She was still beautiful. And strong. And brave and smart and everything a guy could want in a girl and if his receptors had wanted him to jump Mikaela at least once a day before breakfast, he wouldn't have told them no.
But he didn't feel that way about her. Not anymore.
And Bumblebee was...beautiful...and strong..and brave. What was there not to want?
"Yeah. I was. And now I'm not. Part of me just wants to forget about all of this, you know?" Sam admitted. "I mean, so what? Even if I am getting shoved in that direction, is that really just, so horrible? It's just...Ratchet told me they'll adapt and I won't need to pull energy from Bee anymore. What if I wake up one morning and look at Bumblebee," he took a deep breath, "What if I don't feel anything for him anymore?"
"Oh, Sam," she said, pained. "I don't know what to tell you. Prowl and I have been messing around a little..."
"Yeah, I noticed."
She smacked his arm. "A little late for the jealous, Dear John."
"I know. It's cool." It didn't really hurt, just a little twinge in the could-have-been department.
She bit her lip. "It's not like with you and Bee. He was curious and so sad, and I'm not with anyone. He and Jazz were..." she trailed off and Sam blinked.
"Okay, did not know that."
"It's fun for right now but we're not going to be driving off into the sunset or anything like that."
"Oh." He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. His ex-girlfriend-to-friend handbook hadn't explained how to commiserate about her new boy toy.
Mikaela waved off his non-reply impatiently. "But you're the one with the issues right now, we can deal with mine later. So you're concern here is that you aren't gay."
"I...what?"
"You said you were never attracted to any guys," she pointed out.
"Not that I know of."
"But you didn't have any trouble with Sideswipe," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. "You even managed to suck on Sunstreaker's tongue for a minute, a guy you don't even like."
"But that doesn't matter, don't you get it? They're Autobots! I get near one when my energy is low and I'm all over them. It's like some stupid venereal form of diabetes!" Another joke of the universe at his expense and all he could do was sit here, watching Mikaela with desperate eyes and hoping beyond reasoning that she could think of something.
Because he couldn't do this forever and the longer he waited to figure out the truth, the more Bumblebee would be hurt if the truth was that this was all a horrible facade and All Spark receptors were even more clever at disguising and adapting than any of them could have believed.
"Yeah, I know," Mikaela said, quietly. She considered it for a long time, crouching down to sweep her hands through the pebbles at their feet. "So...maybe you should find a guy who isn't an Autobot."
Sam's growing frustration drained into shock, "Wha--are you serious? You're serious. This sounds like the worst idea ever. Did you get this from Twilight or something?" He'd been hoping for a plan and what he'd gotten was a bad plot from a Lifetime movie.
Mikaela shrugged and sat down next to him again so that she was back in the minuscule shade. "All right, we'll go with your plan, then."
"I don't have a plan!" Sam exclaimed. Mikaela raised an eyebrow at him and he slumped back against the tree. "All right, good point. But how is getting turned on by a human going to help me here?"
"Here's the way I see it. If you can feel attracted to guys who aren't just giant Duracell batteries to you, then you'll know that when your receptor thingies stop running your hormones for you, you could still possibly want Bumblebee."
"But how is that going to help me know how I feel?" he sputtered.
She patted his arm. "Oh, sweetie, that kind of therapy has to come from someone who's going to charge by the hour. But if you don't even feel a bisexual tingle, then I'm not sure if it matters how you feel emotionally. Even if you do love him, you won't want to have sex with him and you're going to have to talk to Bumblebee about it one way or the other."
Slowly, Sam nodded. It did sort of make sense. "Yeah...yeah..okay. That's something to go with anyway, right? One problem, though." Actually there were lots of problems with this plan, but there was one big one. "Where am I going to find a guy to test this theory on? I can't just walk up to one of the army guys and say, "Mind if I kiss you? Oh, it's not gay, don't worry, just an experiment! No need to go all, 'don't ask, don't tell' on me."
"Probably not the best idea," she agreed, half-smiling. "But we aren't prisoners on this base, are we? Couldn't we go out for an evening, say we're going to a movie or something? We're in the middle of the desert, not Siberia, there has to be a town around here somewhere."
"Mikaela," Sam said, strangled, "I can't go to a town and just ask some strange guy to kiss me, either."
"You can if we go to a gay bar. We just have to find one nearby. That's why they invented Google Maps."
"To find gay bars?"
She ignored his incredulous yelp. "The only other question is how would we get there. We'd have to go without Bee, of course."
They were actually considering doing this. Sam wondered if he wasn't the only person here who was half-crazy. He blew out a breath, resignedly. "Yeah, and Prowl is out, too. I don't think a police car would be good choice for a night on the town."
"Not really, no," Mikaela said slowly but there was a light in her eye that made Sam nervous. "But Sideswipe would probably take us."
"What--I don't know---"
Mikaela punched his arm in a way she probably thought was companionable but actually just damn well hurt. "Come on, he owes you, doesn't he?"
"What?"
"You lie for shit, Sam. Please. You kissed Sunstreaker to pay him back for saving Bee and then suddenly had to go to the infirmary with a broken wrist because you fell? Please."
"Mikaela," he started, panicked. But she didn't let him interrupt.
"You and I both know you wouldn't keep it quiet for Sunstreaker so you had to do it for Sideswipe," she brushed aside his sputtered protests. "Oh, chill out, I won't tell anyone. But Sideswipe owes you. Might as well use it."
The cloud of dust rising from the road was a pretty good sign that they had run out of time and, sure enough, Prowl pulled up beside them. This time his holo shimmered to life, hands in his pockets as he gave them both a half-smile. "I hope you're ready to head back now. Ratchet said you've been in the sun long enough."
"Why do I try to hide anything from him?" Sam muttered to himself but Prowl seemed to take it as a legitimate question.
"I have no idea, the rest of us abandoned all attempts millennia ago," Prowl said easily. His eyes widened a little as Mikaela walked up to him, smiling at him warmly before she gave him a firm kiss. His hands automatically slid down her back to pull her in close, pale against her tanned skin. Sam looked away and it didn't twinge at all to see that, not one bit, he told himself. It didn't.
Luckily, they didn't draw it out, Mikaela pulled away after only a moment and got into the driver's side. Sam still hadn't stood up and he scrambled to his feet a little clumsily, stiff from sitting for too long.
"Here, let me help," Prowl said softly, giving Sam a slightly abashed look as he pulled him up but then his eyes caught on the tattoo on Sam's bicep and went wide before they narrowed thoughtfully.
"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" Sam touched it lightly, almost caressing the dark lines on his skin. "Bee gave it to me."
"I'm sure he did, " Prowl said agreeably, his mouth quirking up in a wry smile, "Possessive, isn't he."
"What--why? What does it say?" Sam frowned, craning his neck to look at it. His limited knowledge of Cybertronian didn't help him read the symbols. They weren't quite like the others he'd seen around the city. Older, maybe? Another dialect? If Earth had hundreds of languages, it stood to reasons Cybertron could have more than one.
"Oh, you don't really think I would spoil the surprise, do you?" Prowl shook his head in mock despair. "You'll have to ask Bumblebee."
"I have!" Sam protested but Prowl had already vanished in a glittering sparkle of falling receptors, his engine revving invitingly. Sam climbed in with a sigh and slouched back in his seat, scowling as the seatbelt clamped around him.
So he had a stupid plan; now he just had to play George Clooney to Mikaela's Brad Pitt and get a crew going so they could do this. While Ratchet was monitoring him and Bumblebee was sleeping with him and his mom was coddling him.
Wonderful. What could possibly go wrong?
-fin
Read Next Chapter
By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Others
Rated NC-17
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
In the two days since Sam had learned that he was the proud owner of the first Human set of receptors, he'd done two things.
Sleep and sex.
Oh, there were a few trips to the bathroom tossed in there and the occasional side trip to actual food, but their ratio in the pie chart of life was minuscule. Sleep and sex was what he had and no matter how worried he was about what those receptors were doing to him and how much he wanted to step back, just for a second, and get an objective look at all of this, every time he tried it always fell apart like a house of cards and left him with the basics. Sleep and sex, and sex, and more sex....and maybe just a little more.
It didn't help that Bumblebee was so very cooperative.
"Oh, God, oh, God....oh..." Sam moaned, hands clenched tight in the oddly soft tangle of Bumblebee's hair. The hot, silken wetness of Bee's mouth around him was the best, absolutely the best way to ever wake up. If Sam hadn't been half-convinced he was still asleep, dreaming of this in blurred sexual pastels, he would have opened his eyes to look. As it was he could already imagine what he'd see. The pale splash of Bee's hair between his legs, the brilliant green of his eyes barely visible from beneath his lashes as Bee watched him. He liked to watch, always, and Sam could guess this was no exception.
The hot suction around his cock made his blissed-out brain less coherent than normal but having it slow, the pressure lightening in minute degrees, was enough to remind him of what he was supposed to be doing. Hesitantly, Sam gathered up the ragged threads of his control and reached, the same way Bee had been teaching him the past two days.
For a brief moment there was nothing, casting out into darkness and like always, that feeling of emptiness made panic ache in his throat. Made it difficult for him to keep reaching, to keep control but he could do this, he could...another endless instant and then he felt it.
Connection.
It was like a flare of wordless emotion, not pleasure so much as just right, the incoherent rambling of his sending caught and gathered gently, soothed and comforted and the physical sensation wasn't secondary but it was no longer alone, it was just right, Goldilocks had found the perfect bed, porridge, and chair, all at once.
Bee was sucking him hard, brilliant eyes watching him and that same shimmery purple brilliance touching him in a way that he barely understood, inside him and yet not, and Sam nearly sobbed as he came, choking off desperate little gasps and cries as he threw himself completely into Bee, knowing he would be caught.
Easy, easy...that's it, you're fine...Gently soothing, easing him back down, and that was still seriously freaky. It wasn't like telepathy or Sam didn't think it was since he wasn't exactly an expert on the subject. Old Star Trek episodes could only do so much. It was more like a mental text message and what was weirder was knowing he could reply to it, in Cybertronian if he took the time to concentrate on what he was saying.
Of course, if he did that then Bumblebee would answer him the same way and who knew that Robotic terminology could be so dirty. Really Sam should be less worried that the other Autobots thought he was a filthy human pervert and more concerned that pervert seemed to be the normal Autobot state of being. Unlike other Autobots, he and Bee had to actually be touching to play mental Instant Messenger but Bumblebee didn't seem to mind and Sam was actually pretty relieved. If he wanted to send messages from a distance, he'd get an Iphone.
Bee let him go with a last gentle kiss on his softening cock, his hands stroking Sam's trembling thighs gently. Which was nice but not what Sam wanted in his afterglow. Impatiently, he tugged Bee's hair and he followed obligingly, met Sam's lips with his own too-hot, swollen ones. Perfectly done, Sam thought faintly, just like his own mouth felt after an extended blow job. Then he didn't much care to think about Bumblebee's skills in imitation, only wanted to taste himself on those soft lips.
Faint strains of music echoed to him, "...honey to the bee, that's you for me..."
"Stop, please," Sam pulled away to groan. "It's way too early for puns."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Bee stretched. "I was only assisting you per Ratchet's instructions. He propped his head on hand, letting his elbow dig lightly into Sam's chest. "Didn't it help? I was only trying to help," Bee added contritely.
His elbow wasn't the only thing trying to dig a hole into Sam. Bumblebee was still hard against his hip, the hot length of his erection pressing firmly. "Yeah, you're a regular charity contributor," Sam mumbled dryly, squirming a hand between them and gripping him tightly.
Bee closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, and just then he was so pretty Sam almost forgot what he was doing, instead staring at the face a few inches from his own. The dark smudge of his lashes against his cheeks, his bottom lip caught lightly between his teeth and knowing it was a construct, something that Bumblebee had created didn't make him any less attractive. This was how Bumblebee saw himself as a human and so that was who he was.
If he'd been less attractive to him, maybe it would have been harder for Sam to doubt. If it had grown on him instead of smacking him with the force of a sledgehammer maybe Sam would be able to relax...no, he couldn't think about this now, not while they were still touching. Bumblebee had assured him time and again that what they were doing was totally not mind reading and that he couldn't hear anything that wasn't deliberately sent but Sam didn't feel like taking chances.
Bee made a soft sound of protest in his throat, thrusting lightly into Sam's loosening grip and he hastily tightened it. Equal orgasms, right.
"You know, I don't have to do this," Sam told him, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Bee's cock in the way that always made him shiver helplessly. "Ratchet only said I had to have sex, you weren't on the list."
"I'm sure he thought it was a foregone conclusion," Bumblebee shuddered a little, pressed his forehead against Sam's as he rocked into his tight grasp. "If...if you like..we can ask him..."
Even the thought of another sex talk with Ratchet was enough of a threat to make Sam start moving his hand with real purpose. Bee was so close that Sam was practically cross-eyed watching him but he didn't want to look away, couldn't, watched Bee's face tighten, his mouth fall open as he whimpered out a string of, "Oh...oh...oh...."
Having Bee collapse against him while still conscious was still pretty new but it didn't mean Sam didn't like it. Sweaty flesh against his own, Bumblebee panting against him, still moving just a bit, like he couldn't be still yet, mouthing kisses against Sam's shoulder and neck.
For just this one moment Sam didn't give a flying fuck whether or not it was alien receptors making him feel like this. He felt good and he wrapped his arms around Bumblebee tightly, held him close.
"I think I like your upgraded sex skills," Sam mumbled into Bee's chest. "It's nice to be able to breathe afterward."
The sound Bee made was almost like laughter and music crackled again around them, "...it's all about the pentiums, baby..."
"Please, stop," Sam begged, snickering a little helplessly. God, he'd been missing this. Sex was all good and well but he'd been missing his friend, the jokes and the teasing bits of songs from his car. Like whenever his mom had needed a ride, the radio would immediately blare out with 'Foxy Lady' and all his mom's laughing protests, and his much more horrified ones, hadn't made a bit of difference.
Somewhere in this tangle of sex and receptors and Decepticon death threats, he'd had the best friend in all the world and he honestly wasn't sure what he'd do without it. He still hadn't told Bee about what had happened with Sunstreaker, still hadn't been able to think past panicking over what his receptors might be making him feel. Two days of lying around waiting for Ratchet to clear him for upright duty hadn't given him any insight and all the knowing in the universe that they needed to talk about it at some point wasn't making it any easier for Sam to choke out the necessary words.
Now they were alone and sated, Bumblebee relaxed against him and thinking everything was working out just fine. How much longer could he do this? How could he not tell?
He couldn't.
Sam swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat, managed to work out a single, "Bee?"
Before he could get another word, it came, like a rescue from the Gods of Parental Humiliation; a soft knock on the door. "Sam? Bumblebee? Are you two done? I brought breakfast."
Fighting away his relief, Sam threw his emotions wholeheartedly into embarrassment and pulled a pillow over his head. "Mom, please go away and let me die in peace!"
True to form, his mom pushed the door open since she'd obviously decided if Sam could form coherent sentences, they must be done. He really had to remember to show Ratchet the doctor-patient confidentially clause that human doctors went with. At this point Sam wouldn't be surprised if he'd sent a memo to the whole base letting them know he was sleeping with Bumblebee for the good of his health.
Not that Bumblebee had been any help. Proving once again that Autobots did not know the meaning of the word shame, Bee only sat up in bed like he wasn't completely naked under the sheets and gave his mom a winning smile, "Good morning, Mrs. Witwicky."
His mom set the tray aside and gave a tittering little laugh. "Oh, sweetie, I've told you, call me Judy. Now, Sam, I brought you some orange juice with your waffles, you should really drink as much of it as you can, you don't want to get dehydrated. Bumblebee, I know you don't eat, dear. Have you recharged at all tonight?"
"Not yet, Mrs....Judy," he corrected.
She tutted at him, Sam watching in disbelief as she actually ruffled Bee's hair, pinching one cheek gently. It was plain to see who had replaced him as the favored son.
"Really, I know that you are watching out for Sam but you need to take care of yourself sometimes, too," she scolded. "Go on now, you've done your duty for the morning. I'm sure you have lots of other important things to work on."
"Mom, please--" Sam was almost choking on embarrassment. Bad enough that his mom knew he was having sex, but to call it Bumblebee's duty...
"What? I'm not blind, you know. Go get some rest, I'll make sure Sam eats his breakfast."
"I am sitting right here and I can get my own breakfast, mom," Sam said loudly even as Bee obediently stood up. Sam glared resentfully at the tidy clothes that abruptly appeared on Bumblebee, a black tee and skinny jeans, fucking hell. It was just as well that they weren't real because no human could have squeezed into those and still been able to breathe. If his mom hadn't been there like the world's brightest and bubbliest cock-blocker he would have yanked Bee back into bed.
"Of course you can," his mom said, oblivious to her skills at sexual interruption. "Now, eat up before your waffles get cold."
Behind his mom's back, Bumblebee winked at him and blew him a kiss before abandoning him to his mom's questionable nursing techniques. Dejectedly, Sam dug into his waffles while his mom bustled around him, fluffing up his pillows and tucking in blankets.
The hell with this. Sam was getting out of here today if he had to tunnel under the door and screw what Ratchet thought of it. He could bury Sam under a rock later if he so chose but if Sam didn't get out of this room someone was going to end up dead and right now he wasn't particularly caring who.
~~*~~
Escape came in an unexpected form at noon, when lunch arrived not with his mom but with Mikaela and Prowl.
Before she even set down the tray, Sam blurted out, "You have got to get me out of here."
"Good to see you, too, dead boy," Mikaela said, rolling her eyes. Since his second release from the hospital he'd only seen her long enough to verify they were both in the land of the living, possibly less so for him.
Prowl only smiled, nodding at him as he settled in to lean comfortably against the wall. His holo wasn't nearly as nice as Bee's but it was okay, if you liked the type and to his rather dismal knowledge, Mikaela did. Tall, broad-shouldered football type with dark hair and eyes. Perfect all-American glory.
"Come on, I'm going nuts," he wheedled. "Let's go for a walk, okay?"
Mikaela chewed her lip thoughtfully and for a second Sam thought she was going to refuse. He wondered what threats Ratchet had filled her with if she assisted in an escape attempt. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be intimidating enough because she nodded finally and started rummaging through the clutter of Sam's belongings.
"All right, but if you fall over and start turning into a toaster, I'm not going to be much help," she called, tossing a pair of semi-clean shorts in his direction.
He pulled them on as quickly as he could. Not that he cared if she saw him in his boxers since they'd gone on that route the second time they'd really met, but Prowl was staring at him and it was a little disconcerting. "You should be a doctor, seriously, you have the same bedside manner as Ratchet."
"We should, we're both mechanics." She held up one t-shirt critically before tossing it aside. "I bet on Cybertron Ratchet was just a big old grease monkey, overcharging for oil changes and bitching at everyone for riding their brakes."
"That does sound fairly accurate," Prowl said with some amusement. For being a police car he didn't seem to eager to tattle on them for making their escape and for that, Sam was very grateful. Maybe sex with Mikaela made him lenient...oops, that wasn't bitter at all, now was it.
"Here," Mikaela threw a shirt at his head that Sam caught easily and pulled on, shoving his feet into his shoes. He took the time to snatch the sandwich and soda off his lunch tray and then they were sneaking out the door where Prowl was already idling gently. Sam had a brief flash of Barricade, the last time he'd been in a car with flashers but it faded quickly. Prowl looked nothing like Barricade to him and wasn't that telling in its own way that he could see the differences in more than just their vehicle shape. He wondered if it was another receptor thing or if he'd just been spending so much time with the Autobots lately he could just tell them apart.
He didn't have time to consider it long. The second he sat down a seat belt snaked around him and all he could do was munch on his sandwich and ride along. No one stopped them or even gave them an odd look and whether that was because they didn't know there was an escape in progress or they didn't care, Sam didn't know. Hey, it was all to the good. If Ratchet sent out a search party later, at least it would be a brief one.
For all that he seemed willing to smuggle Sam out of there, Prowl didn't take them far. Just outside of the city, he slowed to a stop near a straggling, twisted tree that offered some shade and let them out. Sam sank down to the ground under it with a sigh, breathing in the fresh air gratefully. He felt perfectly fine, truth be told, and he was starting to suspect that Ratchet only had him on bed rest as a punishment for getting out of it and getting his arm broken in the first place.
Still, they were in the desert and it was a little too hot for the suggested walk. Mikaela settled on the ground next to him, her long legs bare and very tan compared to his own pale, hairy ones. She didn't say anything and after a moment, Sam realized she was waiting, very patiently, for him to talk. Was he that obvious, Sam wondered, and then he didn't much care. He wanted to talk to someone and Mikaela was a good friend, more than a friend, and obviously willing to listen.
"Mikaela--" Sam started, hesitantly, because okay, Mikaela was a good friend but Prowl really wasn't and Autobots were only experts in keeping secrets that they wanted to keep.
"I have a few duties to attend to," Prowl said abruptly, not bothering with either transforming or a holo. "I'll return for both of you shortly."
"That would be great," Mikaela called to him and Prowl revved his engine in response before he drove away. The crunch of gravel beneath his wheels faded and then they were left in the shimmery heat and silence, not so much as a bird chirping around them. It was almost eerie and Sam actually jumped when Mikaela covered his hand with her own and squeezed.
"Okay, Witwicky, spill. You're so wound up I thought you were going to break a spring."
"Inside your boyfriend? I wouldn't dare," he joked, weakly.
"His springs are just fine," she said, tossing her hair back with a practiced twist of her head. "Now tell me what's going on and don't spare the details."
Once, not long enough ago, Sam looked at her and wanted everything he thought she was. It had taken giant robots trying to end the world for him to see her differently, better, and now he knew the look of concern in her eyes, her caring about him, as a friend if not as a girlfriend. Other than Bumblebee, she was probably the best friend he'd ever had.
So Sam took a deep breath and told her. Everything, even the bits that had him squirming in embarrassment and shame. About Barricade's attempted rape and he and Bumblebee's first time in the backseat. About coming to Autobot city and everything, everything that had happened since then. Even about the coldness of Sunstreaker's mouth, of Sideswipe's rescuing him from both Sunstreaker and himself, about how Ratchet and Optimus both had made him hard and how humiliating it had been. The only thing he kept to himself was how he'd broken his arm; that was still a secret wasn't his alone and he couldn't tell, not just yet.
And he told her about Bumblebee. God, everything about Bumblebee, words spilling out of him in dribbles and floods until he felt like he'd spat a book at her feet. Not even the cliff notes version, every tiny gory detail that could possibly matter until he was hoarse from talking, barely even realizing that his eyes were damp and Mikaela had been holding him for some time now.
When he finally managed to stop, the silence was again deafening and Mikaela was practically squeezing the breath out of him.
"Jesus, Sam," she said, finally, the first words she'd spoken since he'd begun. "When you dive into the shit, you just aren't happy until you're neck deep."
"Tell me about it," he said, a little raspily. He took a long sip of Coke, trying to wash away dust and the growing lump in his throat. It was only half-successful. Where was the feeling of relief that was supposed to come with confession, he wondered. It was obviously overrated because he didn't feel a damned bit better, only a little more mentally organized. With a little sigh, he leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. "So what do I do?"
Mikaela rubbed her cheek against his hair, pressed a light kiss there. If nothing else, it was nice to have someone else who at least knew why he felt half-insane. "Have you told Ratchet about this?"
"Tell him what? After I spent all that time arguing with him that I want to be with Bee that now I'm not so sure?"
"Okay, okay, hang on," Mikaela pulled away and stood up, arms crossed over her chest as she looked back at the city. Even from a distance, it was a fairly stunning sight, faintly gleaming metal and building shapes that were nothing like human cities. It almost blended into the desert, Sam realized abruptly and if it weren't for the fence around it, people probably could have driven past it from a distance and never really noticed it. Blending in, adapting, it was what they did, Ratchet had said. Stood to reason that after a few million years of existence they'd be pretty damned good at it.
"You came up with this idea because you never had an urge for a human guy, right?" Mikaela turned back to him, chewing on one thumbnail as she considered. "You were totally, 100% straight, and you were all over me."
Sam looked at her, not exactly a hardship. She was still beautiful. And strong. And brave and smart and everything a guy could want in a girl and if his receptors had wanted him to jump Mikaela at least once a day before breakfast, he wouldn't have told them no.
But he didn't feel that way about her. Not anymore.
And Bumblebee was...beautiful...and strong..and brave. What was there not to want?
"Yeah. I was. And now I'm not. Part of me just wants to forget about all of this, you know?" Sam admitted. "I mean, so what? Even if I am getting shoved in that direction, is that really just, so horrible? It's just...Ratchet told me they'll adapt and I won't need to pull energy from Bee anymore. What if I wake up one morning and look at Bumblebee," he took a deep breath, "What if I don't feel anything for him anymore?"
"Oh, Sam," she said, pained. "I don't know what to tell you. Prowl and I have been messing around a little..."
"Yeah, I noticed."
She smacked his arm. "A little late for the jealous, Dear John."
"I know. It's cool." It didn't really hurt, just a little twinge in the could-have-been department.
She bit her lip. "It's not like with you and Bee. He was curious and so sad, and I'm not with anyone. He and Jazz were..." she trailed off and Sam blinked.
"Okay, did not know that."
"It's fun for right now but we're not going to be driving off into the sunset or anything like that."
"Oh." He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. His ex-girlfriend-to-friend handbook hadn't explained how to commiserate about her new boy toy.
Mikaela waved off his non-reply impatiently. "But you're the one with the issues right now, we can deal with mine later. So you're concern here is that you aren't gay."
"I...what?"
"You said you were never attracted to any guys," she pointed out.
"Not that I know of."
"But you didn't have any trouble with Sideswipe," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. "You even managed to suck on Sunstreaker's tongue for a minute, a guy you don't even like."
"But that doesn't matter, don't you get it? They're Autobots! I get near one when my energy is low and I'm all over them. It's like some stupid venereal form of diabetes!" Another joke of the universe at his expense and all he could do was sit here, watching Mikaela with desperate eyes and hoping beyond reasoning that she could think of something.
Because he couldn't do this forever and the longer he waited to figure out the truth, the more Bumblebee would be hurt if the truth was that this was all a horrible facade and All Spark receptors were even more clever at disguising and adapting than any of them could have believed.
"Yeah, I know," Mikaela said, quietly. She considered it for a long time, crouching down to sweep her hands through the pebbles at their feet. "So...maybe you should find a guy who isn't an Autobot."
Sam's growing frustration drained into shock, "Wha--are you serious? You're serious. This sounds like the worst idea ever. Did you get this from Twilight or something?" He'd been hoping for a plan and what he'd gotten was a bad plot from a Lifetime movie.
Mikaela shrugged and sat down next to him again so that she was back in the minuscule shade. "All right, we'll go with your plan, then."
"I don't have a plan!" Sam exclaimed. Mikaela raised an eyebrow at him and he slumped back against the tree. "All right, good point. But how is getting turned on by a human going to help me here?"
"Here's the way I see it. If you can feel attracted to guys who aren't just giant Duracell batteries to you, then you'll know that when your receptor thingies stop running your hormones for you, you could still possibly want Bumblebee."
"But how is that going to help me know how I feel?" he sputtered.
She patted his arm. "Oh, sweetie, that kind of therapy has to come from someone who's going to charge by the hour. But if you don't even feel a bisexual tingle, then I'm not sure if it matters how you feel emotionally. Even if you do love him, you won't want to have sex with him and you're going to have to talk to Bumblebee about it one way or the other."
Slowly, Sam nodded. It did sort of make sense. "Yeah...yeah..okay. That's something to go with anyway, right? One problem, though." Actually there were lots of problems with this plan, but there was one big one. "Where am I going to find a guy to test this theory on? I can't just walk up to one of the army guys and say, "Mind if I kiss you? Oh, it's not gay, don't worry, just an experiment! No need to go all, 'don't ask, don't tell' on me."
"Probably not the best idea," she agreed, half-smiling. "But we aren't prisoners on this base, are we? Couldn't we go out for an evening, say we're going to a movie or something? We're in the middle of the desert, not Siberia, there has to be a town around here somewhere."
"Mikaela," Sam said, strangled, "I can't go to a town and just ask some strange guy to kiss me, either."
"You can if we go to a gay bar. We just have to find one nearby. That's why they invented Google Maps."
"To find gay bars?"
She ignored his incredulous yelp. "The only other question is how would we get there. We'd have to go without Bee, of course."
They were actually considering doing this. Sam wondered if he wasn't the only person here who was half-crazy. He blew out a breath, resignedly. "Yeah, and Prowl is out, too. I don't think a police car would be good choice for a night on the town."
"Not really, no," Mikaela said slowly but there was a light in her eye that made Sam nervous. "But Sideswipe would probably take us."
"What--I don't know---"
Mikaela punched his arm in a way she probably thought was companionable but actually just damn well hurt. "Come on, he owes you, doesn't he?"
"What?"
"You lie for shit, Sam. Please. You kissed Sunstreaker to pay him back for saving Bee and then suddenly had to go to the infirmary with a broken wrist because you fell? Please."
"Mikaela," he started, panicked. But she didn't let him interrupt.
"You and I both know you wouldn't keep it quiet for Sunstreaker so you had to do it for Sideswipe," she brushed aside his sputtered protests. "Oh, chill out, I won't tell anyone. But Sideswipe owes you. Might as well use it."
The cloud of dust rising from the road was a pretty good sign that they had run out of time and, sure enough, Prowl pulled up beside them. This time his holo shimmered to life, hands in his pockets as he gave them both a half-smile. "I hope you're ready to head back now. Ratchet said you've been in the sun long enough."
"Why do I try to hide anything from him?" Sam muttered to himself but Prowl seemed to take it as a legitimate question.
"I have no idea, the rest of us abandoned all attempts millennia ago," Prowl said easily. His eyes widened a little as Mikaela walked up to him, smiling at him warmly before she gave him a firm kiss. His hands automatically slid down her back to pull her in close, pale against her tanned skin. Sam looked away and it didn't twinge at all to see that, not one bit, he told himself. It didn't.
Luckily, they didn't draw it out, Mikaela pulled away after only a moment and got into the driver's side. Sam still hadn't stood up and he scrambled to his feet a little clumsily, stiff from sitting for too long.
"Here, let me help," Prowl said softly, giving Sam a slightly abashed look as he pulled him up but then his eyes caught on the tattoo on Sam's bicep and went wide before they narrowed thoughtfully.
"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" Sam touched it lightly, almost caressing the dark lines on his skin. "Bee gave it to me."
"I'm sure he did, " Prowl said agreeably, his mouth quirking up in a wry smile, "Possessive, isn't he."
"What--why? What does it say?" Sam frowned, craning his neck to look at it. His limited knowledge of Cybertronian didn't help him read the symbols. They weren't quite like the others he'd seen around the city. Older, maybe? Another dialect? If Earth had hundreds of languages, it stood to reasons Cybertron could have more than one.
"Oh, you don't really think I would spoil the surprise, do you?" Prowl shook his head in mock despair. "You'll have to ask Bumblebee."
"I have!" Sam protested but Prowl had already vanished in a glittering sparkle of falling receptors, his engine revving invitingly. Sam climbed in with a sigh and slouched back in his seat, scowling as the seatbelt clamped around him.
So he had a stupid plan; now he just had to play George Clooney to Mikaela's Brad Pitt and get a crew going so they could do this. While Ratchet was monitoring him and Bumblebee was sleeping with him and his mom was coddling him.
Wonderful. What could possibly go wrong?
-fin
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