Finding Our Place

by Charon_the_Sabercat

Summary:

Bumblebee's in charge of the new Earth branch of Optimus's coffee shop. Their cook's too big for the kitchen, their clerk's too small for the counter, most of their customers are ex-convicts, and half of the employees have never worked a day in their life. Bumblebee has a lot of work to do to make the new little store into a place they can call their own.

(A remastered version of the same fic posted elsewhere.)

Notes:

Disclaimer: Transformers: Robots in Disguise coffee shop alternate universe fanfic. All characters are owned by their respective companies, not me, and I write this for fun, not profit, purposes. Developed in tandem with Opatoes, who came up with the original idea. Please support the official release.

Chapter 1

 

Ratchet had pulled Bumblebee away from an empty lobby to meet with Optimus privately, and it was with no small amount of apprehension that he stepped inside and closed the office door behind him. Optimus was standing at the window when Bumblebee entered. He was a kind manager, but the situation was strangely foreboding. His office was darkened, lit only by a shaded lamp on the corner of a desk littered with work papers and calculating devices and oft-refilled energon mug for his dark blends of fuel to keep him awake. Little trinkets of affection and history covered his shelves, casting tiny but strong shadows against the walls. It felt too ominous for something that should have been mundane.

 

“Bumblebee.” Optimus turned and met his optics with a tender smile. “Come, stand by me.”

 

“Nothing's wrong with the shop?” he asked preemptively. “My customers have been-?”

 

The bigger mech shook his head, ever gentle even with his gestures. “Trust me when I say that I have heard nothing but good things from the mechs you serve. Come. Stand.”

 

With only a slight pause, Bumblebee stepped forward and stood next to Optimus, looking out the window and over Cybertron. Optimus had a beautiful view of Iacon from his office in the back of the restaurant. The city shined a beautiful energon blue from below, flecked with pinpricks of office windows and headlights curving over streets. Bumblebee found himself subtly taking a deep breathe and relaxing, and as Optimus's hand found his shoulder, he let himself fully at peace.

 

“It is beautiful.” Optimus squeezed his small shoulder. “You have done much good for Cybertron, Bumblebee. You have my gratitude.”

 

“A- hum- mmm.” Bumblebee flushed infrared and lowered his optics. “No, Optimus, that was mostly you.”

 

“Do not undersell yourself, dear friend.” Optimus looked out to the city again, subtly guiding his gaze outwards. “It has been a long time since the end of the war. Our world feels safer now... and you have taken very well to domesticity.”

 

“I like being a waiter.” Bumblebee shrugged. “Bulkhead likes being a cook. I think we all kind of missed doing this down-to-Earth stuff.”

 

Optimus's shoulders shook in a tiny, withheld laugh. “You still use human terms. I see your fondness for Earth has not weakened since our time away.”

 

Bumblebee's cheeks darkened again. “We spent a lot of time there...”

 

“That is why I am asking you to go back.”

 

The words hung in the air, waiting until Bumblebee was ready to hear them before they struck him like a hungry Scraplet. Bumblebee staggered, stumbling against Optimus for balance. “Ba- back. Back? Like, back to Earth? As a group? All of us?”

 

“Not exactly.” Optimus held him tight, even as Bumblebee began to shiver. “Bumblebee, I believe you are ready to lead. You are unsuited for a position under me forever...” Optimus smirked. Was that a smirk? Was he smirking at an innuendo? Bumblebee's CPU spun even as he kept talking. “And I want to see you successful as your own mech. I wish to send you to Earth to open another branch of the shop there. Are you open to this idea?”

 

“I- I- uh- sir-” One deep breath, one clearing of his throat, one squaring of his shoulders, and Bumblebee had his voice back. “I am. Sir.”

 

Optimus's smile faded in that slow, tired way that it so often did. Bumblebee's false confidence crumbled along with it, and it took much of his strength to keep himself upright. “Do not do this out of a sense of obligation, Bumblebee. I will not force this on you.”

 

“I know!” he answered too loudly, too fast, before turning his vocalizer down to acceptable levels. The customers would hear him through the door at this rate- wait there were no customers that’s why Ratchet had called him. He was getting flustered. “I know, si- Optimus, sorry... I-it's just a lot of news to take in on short notice. I have faith in you.”

 

“And I, you.”

 

“Thank you...” Bumblebee finally found himself able to smile back, a sincere welling of pride rising up in his spark. Optimus's grin echoed his growing joy. “And I won't let you down.” With the initial shock out of the way, questions began to bubble up into Bumblebee's processor. “Are we going to build the place from scratch? Do we have a big Cybertronian customer base on Earth? Who's coming with me?”

 

“We'll take care of that tonight, when the store has closed and we can concentrate. Ratchet is bringing paperwork.” Optimus cast a hard glance to his desk. “A lot of paperwork...”

 

Intimidated by Optimus's glare, his tall inbox of food truck orders teetered and fell to the floor in a heap. Bumblebee swallowed hard.

 

His own store, lightyears away from Cybertron, to manage and run on his own for the Earth-based Cybertronian population. Earth, bless the planet he loved it, but it had grown a reputation for being a hive of ex-convicts and pardoned Decepticons after Megatron's self-imposed exile. He'd need a menu, he'd need a theme, he'd need a crew...

 

What was he going to do for a crew?

Chapter 2

While going over the permits and expenses with Arcee, she and Bumblebee had come to the agreement that living on Cybertron and commuting would be a strain on his budget and schedule. He would have to move to Earth to make the shop work. It wasn’t awful news, but the prices on Cybertronian-friendly apartments was. The location they’d decided on was within a small drive of the Little Iacon neighborhood set up in the human settlement Crown City. The little failed industrial park was prime territory- no pun intended- to set up a community of ex-pats and businesses to cater to them. It perhaps worked a little too well, making a housing bubble that put most rental properties well out of his price range. Things looked bleak.

 

Arcee dipped into other, less traditional rental properties and found something Bumblebee couldn’t argue with: a human family who would house him for free in their home in exchange for some time on his off hours. There were dozens of them within Crown City alone. A quick call to Raf that night found that his old friend was part of a host family himself, and although Bumblebee couldn’t stay in Jasper, Nevada, he was welcome to visit whenever he could afford to make the 17 hour drive. Bumblebee made the arrangements the next day with a single human male, figuring it was easier than bussing children around on school days. He had a clean garage to live in for free while he worked for what was sure to be his entire day at the shop. It seemed perfect.

 

It was simultaneously a very exciting and very boring week on Cybertron. Bumblebee leaving and a new shop opening, coupled with building permits and dozens of resumes which had eventually gotten shifted onto Ratchet for handling, going over Earth lingo and media so he could be able to talk to humans without sounding like a tourist, tearful well-wishes along with lots and lots of meetings with contractors, and finally the tedious business of buying a reasonably-priced space bridge ticket, but finally Bumblebee was on Earth.

 

Now he needed to find his host. Or rather, he had to sit parked in an open lot at the airport/space bridge terminal and wait for his host to come to him. He was eager to make a first impression, and until then he could sit motionless in the warm yellow sun of Earth, listening to doves coo and wheels rolling along the criss-crossing roads past the fence...

 

He was woken up a few hours later by a hand patting his hood. “Hey there! You awake?”

 

“Wha- um! Hello! Uh!” Bumblebee bounced onto his suspension in an instant. He fell asleep in the parking lot, which was now half-empty and a twilight orange. “Sorry! What- excuse me! Hello again. Your name?”

 

“Denny! Denny Clay.” The human brought himself over to Bumblebee’s headlights to peer in the windshield, as if he were looking for eyes. He was taller than Bee was expecting. Maybe he was used to dealing with children, and Denny sported a full beard and mustache. The loud Hawaiian shirt and dusty blue jeans kept Bumblebee from reflexively tensing around him like he used to do with Fowler. Denny’s timid tuck of his shoulders helped with that, too. “I’m looking for my… space exchange car? Alien I’m keeping at home? I’m new to this, I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry, so am I,” Bumblebee assured him. “… wait, Denny Clay? You’re my host: I’m Bumblebee.”

 

“Ooh!” Denny stood straight up, grinning. “You know I should’ve guessed, from the paint job. Hey! Welcome to Earth!”

 

Bumblebee laughed. “Welcome back to Earth. I lived here for years before moving back to Cybertron.”

 

“You did, didn’t you? That was on your application and I forgot! I’m sorry!” Denny ran a hand through his beard. “I’m really distracted today. My ex-wife found out about me being a host for a guest, and she decided to change the date for visitation-”

 

“Visitation?” Bumblebee felt a knot settle into his tanks. “What’s that mean?”

 

Denny sighed long and heavy. “It means my ex-wife decided ‘Hey, I see you’re doing something important this week! How about I throw your entire schedule out of whack at the last minute because it’s more convenient for me!’ and now I have to pick up my son off his flight in about half an hour but it was nearly 6 hours later than I was supposed to meet you, so I had to stay home and clean everything-”

 

Parent and child relationships were confusing enough already. Bumblebee had no idea what most of that meant, but Denny was so stressed Bee could pick it up on his sensors. “Is he… here?”

 

“No, we need to go get him at the terminal gate-” Denny sighed again. “I’m sorry, I know you weren’t looking for a family with a kid but...”

 

“Hey, it’s not that I don’t like kids,” Bumblebee admitted. “Come on, let’s go get him. I’ll let you drive.”

 

Denny perked right up at that. “Wow… a classy muscle car like you? Maybe Rusty’ll be impressed with me for once! Thanks, Bumblebee. Here, I put some songs on my phone- you have Bluetooth, right? Do you like glam rock? Ever heard of Rear Axle-”

 

Bumblebee bounced so hard on his tires he left the ground. “I LOVE REAR AXLE!”

 

Denny nearly dropped his phone he was gesticulating so hard. “I DO TOO!”

 

“Today has just gone from good to great-”

 

“I have the greatest hits album-”

 

“Come on we have to go get your son-”

 

“Right! Rusty! Gotta go to the gate and get Rusty, right!”

 

His mood lifted up past the orange clouds of sunset and into the stratosphere. It wasn’t like the drive was long from the parking lot to the pickup gate, but Bumblebee and Denny spent all of it talking about life on Earth while Bumblebee lived there and Denny was a young man, both of them listening to heavy metal on local FM stations and trying to be tough and glamorous. They had the same taste in music, and some of the same TV shows. Bumblebee felt a bright, shining hope in his spark for the long stay with his new host family.

 

It dimmed, a little, when Rusty Clay solemnly slid into his back seat with a curt warning from his mother and a sharp slam of the door.

 

“Hey, Rusty...” Denny spoke to the rearview mirror. “Good to see you so soon!”

 

“It’s Russel, Dad.” Rusty, or Russel as he seemed to prefer it, crossed his arms and slumped against the door. Denny stayed silent, and Bumblebee listened, expecting more, but nothing came. Russel stared firmly out the window until his mother was out of sight, and Denny drove them away in silence.

 

No one tried to talk again until they were on the freeway. Russel shifted in the back. “You didn’t have to rent a car just to impress me.”

 

“What?” Denny and Bumblebee shared a look through his dash cam. “I didn’t rent this car.”

 

“Mom’s shown me your child support payments,” said Russel. “This is way above your pay grade.”

 

Bumblebee didn’t even know what a ‘child support’ was, but something about Russel’s tone and the way Denny flinched felt brutally painful.

 

“How about I put on something Russel enjoys?” said Bumblebee.

 

“Thanks, Bee,” Denny answered. “I’d appreciate that.”

 

Russel screamed and tried to scramble into the back windshield.

 

“Russel, this is Bumblebee.” Denny gave Bee’s steering wheel a little pat. “He’s going to be my housemate at the scrapyard. He’s from outer space.”

 

“I was born there, yeah,” he added. “But I actually grew up mostly in Nevada.”

 

“He’s an alien?!” Russel grabbed at his seats and pulled. “Are you one of those Decepticon ones that tried to blow up the planet?”

 

Bumblebee sighed. “No, I’m one of the Autobot ones that stopped the Decepticons from blowing up the planet.”

 

“And now he’s gonna live with me!” Denny cleared his throat. “With, uh, us! Until you go back home with your mom.

 

“What- you?! How?!” Russel twisted in his seatbelt, pushing forward between the front seats. “How did you manage-”

 

“Russel!” Bumblebee grunted. “We’re in traffic, sit down!”

 

“Hey, easy, Bumblebee!” Denny patted his steering wheel again while Russel settled hard back into his seat. His voice was even and patient, but the warning was still obvious. “I’ll do the parent thing, okay?”

 

“His heels were digging into my upholstery...” was the excuse he gave, but really, Bumblebee was starting to feel protective of his new human housemate. Russel’s passive-aggressive barbs were fairly obvious, even to him, and Denny letting most of them slide without comment was starting to get to him. Maybe Denny had noticed that, too, because he gave him another pat to calm him down.

 

“Hey, I get it. Nobody’s day went really according to plan. We’re all a little off-schedule, a little anxious, and we don’t know each other very well. There’s no rush! We have the rest of spring and a huge chunk of summer to change that.”

 

Denny pulled them into the scrapyard. Bee had been expecting a smaller place, with a one-car garage and a wifi signal, but the massive sprawl of land was only a little smaller than his apartment back on Cybertron. The walls went up high enough to block the view of the outside world. Denny had cleared out a roofed area for him, and even fashioned a bank of old tires and dirt into kind of a mattress for him to sleep on. Bumblebee waited until his humans had exited before transforming and trying out the seat. Firm, a little dusty, but manageable for sitting down. He had his own CRT television in a waterproof cabinet and a little sink in the corner. What a cozy little place.

 

“Woah...” Russel marveled. “You’re even taller in real life.”

 

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a few days,” Bumblebee said with a wave. “I’ve got to open my new shop tomorrow, so I’ll probably leave before you wake up and be back after you’re asleep. I’m about to head to bed.”

 

“What? But I just started talking to you!” Russel insisted. “Were you really in that big war? Did you kill anybody? Were you-”

 

“Rusty!” Denny waved from his trailer home in the corner of the yard. “Help me set up your TV! I’ve got some old Thomas the Tank Engine tapes you used to love!”

 

“It’s Russel!” Russel turned back to Bumblebee. “Come on, my dad’s so lame compared to you!”

 

“I dunno,” Bumblebee shrugged. “Maybe you have to give him the chance to be cool. Goodnight, Russel.”

 

“But-”

 

Bumblebee transformed back into auto mode and shut himself down for the night. That was a lot more human than he was expecting, but maybe the turmoil here meant it would be a peaceful day at work tomorrow.

Chapter 3

It had been kept small on purpose, to keep the overhead low and the staff equally tiny, to serve the relatively small Earth market. The front door, nested between two bay windows, opened up into a small customer area with four round tables with three chairs each, plus a little bookshelf for magazines and newspads, whenever they started collecting them. To Bumblebee's right, a counter with a showcase for snacks and a register, backed by a wall with a window looking into the one-mech kitchen. A little hallway to the left of the kitchen lead to two little washrooms and finally a littler staircase leading upstairs to the lounge and office, where he would be spending most of his time, like Optimus did.

 

It was homey, in clean pastel-y colors to complement the local Earth foliage. The whole building smelled overwhelmingly of fresh paint, which Bee enjoyed but he would probably need to air out before any paying customers came in. His optics snapped to the biggest difference between the main shop and the newest one; small tracks running along the walls, sliding into catwalks hanging from the ceiling and running down to the counter, kitchen, and lounge. They were Minicon railings, an accommodation that Bumblebee rarely saw outside of Minicon cities and only the most inclusive of public offices.

 

Bumblebee was not expecting the knock on the door behind him, but perhaps the timing was perfect. His mind was already on Minicons, which meant he automatically looked down to meet his newest employee, who introduced himself.

 

“Fixit reporting for work, sir!”

 

“Good to meet you, Fixit.” Bumblebee knealt to shake Fixit's small claw, obligingly turning on the lights for the Minicon as he rolled into the room. He recognized the bot from one of the dozens of resumes he'd gone over, and while it had mentioned he was punctual, he couldn't help but remark, “But the store doesn't open 'til tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, I know!” The Minicon flitted about the room, heedless of Bumblebee's information. “But I needed to make sure the store fit in me! Or- um-” His nervous wheeling about quickly shifted into nervous gesticulating. “Or, rather, that I fit in the store- no, that I could get in the st- OH look, railings!” Away he rolled from the conversation, whipping around a counter and, near instantly, motoring about on top of it. “Just the right angle! Easy access!” Fixit made a profound gasp, palming over the register datapad. “And the keypad scales!”

 

“To any size you need.” Fixit's enthusiasm was infectious. Bee bounced on his feet as he went around the store, opening windows and turning on vents to wick the paint smell out of the walls. He casually turned away from Fixit to concentrate on the thermostat. “I'm glad you like the place, Fixit. You're gonna be great with the customers.”

 

“Oh, it's going to be drastic!”

 

Bee's head snapped around to Fixit, who's optics had gone wide and slightly panicked. “Spastic!”

 

The Minicon violently whacked himself in the chest, and even from where he stood, Bee could hear the little bot's circuits hard-resetting. “FANTASTIC!”

 

Bumblebee pulled up Fixit's resume in his heads-up display and began going over it. He tried not to let Fixit know. “Are you all right?”

 

“I'm fine! It's just some battle damage!” Fixit focused back into the world, gently rubbing where he had struck himself. “Little kink in the hiring- wiring!”

 

Talk about a kink in the hiring. Bumblebee noted a little red mark on the bottom of Fixit's resume, in Ratchet's handwriting. It was only an internal memo, not meant to be read by anyone but Ratchet and maybe him, eventually.

 

“Faulty wiring due to past injury. Stutter. Recommended kept away from positions requiring heavy customer interactions. Option: 12.” Added even farther underneath, still in red, “Hired.”

 

The Option 12 caught Bee's attention, and he began to leaf through the other resumes submitted for Fixit's position. “Option 1. Not hired: didn't show up for interview.” “Option 2. Not hired: Disrespectful.” “Option 3. Not hired: Work history spotty, sketchy behavior noted in interview.” “Option 4. Not hired; turned down position for being 'too backwater'.”

 

Again and again, mechs with better work history, more experience, more references, all turned down or turning down the job themselves for refusing to work on Earth, until he arrived at Fixit, whose only prior job had been working on a prison ship full of Decepticons in suspended animation.

 

“Say, Fixit...” Bumblebee silently closed all the files, snapping back into the real world too quickly for his liking. “Have you ever worked in food service before? Even before the war?”

 

“Nope! I worked on a ship called the Alchemor as an all-purpose candyme- sandymec-” Fixit whacked himself again, and Bumblebee visibly flinched at the strength he used to correct his glitch. “HANDYMECH! And caretaker! And janitor!”

 

“And you...” Oh, he felt like an aft for asking this. “You didn't want to go into a position more like that?”

 

“Oh no, sir!” Fixit, bless his spark, answered with all the pep and innocent joy of a newbuild, which only made Bumblebee feel worse. “All those solar cycles of being on a ship with no one else to talk to, spending hour after lonely hour never saying a curd-” Bumblebee flinched at the sound of metal on metal. “Word! I can't wait to talk to all the customers!”

 

“Yeah...” Bumblebee cleared his throat. That was no way to act to someone so enthusiastic to work. “True. Sorry I doubted you.”

 

“Oh that's all right, sir. Ratchet doubted me too,” Fixit cheerily replied, occupying himself with the register. “But I know what I'm capable of, and I can help. Believe me.”

 

“I do,” Bumblebee replied automatically, and not long after he said it, he did.

 

That thought in mind, though, he dedicated tonight to looking over the resumes of the employees coming in. He didn't want there to be any more surprises.

Chapter 4

Nothing was quiet as disenchanting at going through 34 different resumes that said “I refuse to work at this establishment because it's too far away” in different words every time. Bee shut down for the night knowing that his two newest employees were under-experienced, under-traveled, and possibly going to hate the jobs they had applied for.

 

Bee arrived the next morning to two employees waiting for him at the employee entrance, bright and early and ready to work, and that was one more than he expected. The third bot was running a little late, which he expected for a 4:00 a.m. clock-in time. Perhaps today wouldn't be too terrible. Fixit, he already knew, and he shook hands with the young SUV as soon as they were close enough. “Good morning, ma'am.”

 

“Sir.” She nodded in curt greeting and immediately deployed her employee handbook. “You're 2 minutes early for opening. Permission to clock in early and begin my kitchen duties?”

 

Bumblebee couldn't help but laugh. “Sure, um...” and after a quick check, “Strongarm. Permission granted.”

 

“Thank you, sir!” With a small military salute, Strongarm turned to stand by Bumblebee as he unlocked the door, rushing inside before Fixit could even get in a greeting edgewise.

 

“Pardon me! Wipe your feet first! It's wet outside!” Fixit rushed in behind her. “They misted the planet before we got here!”

 

“That's not- oh jeez.” Bumblebee laughed and shut the door behind him, flipping on lights as he went. “Fixit, help out in the kitchen 'til we open up for the public, please! Thank yo-”

 

Two things happened in short order. Fixit whipped around on one wheel and rushed the kitchen door, optics shining, eager and ready to help. As he did, Strongarm stepped out of the kitchen and into the doorway, blocking the Minicon with her feet.

 

“Sir, with all due respect, that's against the rules in the employee handbook.” Out came the holopamphlet, beaming out of Strongarm's arm and hovering between her and Fixit. “Counter staff and kitchen staff are to keep contact to a minimum during work hours to prevent blocking workflow traffic. All transactions are to be taken, unless unavoidable, through the serving window located at storefront.”

 

Floored by rules, Bumblebee and Fixit shared a quick look, looking for answers from each other. Seniority demanded that Bumblebee speak first. “That... is true. But we're not opening for the public for another hour and a half-”

 

“With all due respect, sir,” Strongarm interrupted. “I will only be sharing the kitchen, in shifts, with one other employee, and he's not here yet. I don't need this Minicon's help-”

 

“Pardon me, ma'am!” Fixit interjected. “I see you don't know my name, yet, my apologies for the lack of formal introduction. My name is Fixit, and-”

 

Strongarm nodded in Fixit's direction and immediately spoke back to Bumblebee. “I don't need Fixit's help in the kitchen. I didn't make the rules, sir.”

 

“... right. Fixit,” said Bumblebee a little too loudly. “Why don't you help me set up the tables and chairs instead?”

 

“Um... gladly, sir.”

 

Strongarm didn't move, and neither did Fixit, and neither did Bumblebee for a solid, heavy minute before he sighed and took a step. Like a switch being flipped, Strongarm dipped back into the kitchen and Fixit fell into step beside Bumblebee, claws nervously hooked together. He didn't speak again until they were both in the lobby and Bumblebee had a chair in his hands.

 

“I wouldn't be in the way,” said Fixit as quietly as possible. Sound carried in a tiny, echoing space. “There are tracks installed through the building, and they don't take floor space-”

 

“Strongarm is... just very protective, Fixit,” Bumblebee answered, equally quietly. “She's enrolled in a law enforcement academy now, comes from Praxus, this is her first job... I understand if she wants to feel like she has a workspace all to herself. Give her a little time, and she'll warm up to you.”

 

“Do you think so?” Fixit held up a hand. “A lift, please. Thank you,” as Bee lifted him onto the table, where he dutifully refilled a napkin dispenser. “I suppose that makes sense. I just don't want to get in the splay- fray-” There came the crack of metal. “Way!”

 

“Is everyone okay?!” Strongarm's entire upper body shot through the kitchen window, balanced on her palms and surveying the store. “I heard punching!”

 

“We're fine, Strongarm, thank you.” Bumblebee waited until Strongarm was satisfied and back in her window before continuing. “See? She'll look out for you. Just respect her privacy until she's ready for you.”

 

“I... that makes sense, too. Thank you. Another table, please?”

 

The store cleaned beautifully, and the hum of the mixer and the energon steamer coming online made all three employees take a long, relaxed breath. All that was left for the very last employee to arrive, despite him being 30 minutes later. A hour followed thirty minutes, and opening after that, and Bumblebee was starting to feel like he'd taken that relaxing breath far too soon, especially when Fixit started making small talk through the ordering window to Strongarm's ambivalence, growing annoyance, and (to Bumblebee) increasing awkwardness. It was nearly 6:00 a.m. before they had a customer, and he strolled into the shop like he owned it, all smiles and loud, booming voices.

 

“Good morning!” The big wall of green greeted everyone he could see, one by one. “Mornin'! Good mornin'! You guys the new place? I had to find you by smell! You don't have a sign!”

 

He could have dropped a filament and Strongarm would have heard it in the back.

 

“We don't?!” Bumblebee bolted out the door, skidding to a stop in the empty street and looking up. Outdoor tables, clean windows, two stories, awning, and a big bare patch of concrete where the sign was supposed to be. “We don't! Where's the sign?! It's supposed to be a perfect replica of the one back on Cybertron!” He heard the door's bell sound, distantly, unable to tear his optics away from the building. “Strongarm?”

 

“Did I hear you say it's supposed to be identical?” Handbook deployed, Strongarm summarized, “You're opening a new branch, not a franchise. You can't have the sign be identical to the one back on Cybertron. They probably stopped the order at the manufacturing plant to prevent copyright infringement.”

 

The door chimed again, and along with Fixit's little whirring wheels, the customer stuck his head out and kept right on chatting. “So, if I found you before you got the sign, can I get a discount? I mean, I don't need one, but that'd be cool, right?”

 

“I can put in an order for a new one and it'll be here in a few days!” Fixit chirped. “What's the business name aga-”

 

“NOBODY TALK FOR A MINUTE!”

 

Nobody talked. Bumblebee seethed in place, rubbing his optics so hard they started leaving feedback. “I'm going to call Cybertron. Fixit, Strongarm, watch the front. Whatever this customer wants, give it to him for free. Sir, I apologize for the trouble. I'll be in my office.”

 

Bumblebee stalked up the stairs as fast as he could.

 

The customer cleared his throat. “So, I get a free coffee now, right?”

Chapter 5

Bumblebee spent a long time on the phone with Cybertron. The sign, yes, had been rejected and he had gone uninformed. The other employee, yes, had decided last minute that he didn't want to work and had simply stayed home. Optimus had not been available for advice due to heavy customer flow, which reminded Bumblebee, distantly, how that nice green customer was doing. Downstairs smelled delicious. Strongarm must have been fixing something specifically nice for him.

 

As the thought left his processor, he knew that sounded entirely wrong and rushed out of the safety of his office, whipping around the corner and checking the front lobby. Other than smelling nice, sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen, it was empty. Bumblebee could see mechs outside, through the windows, one new customer sipping a coffee and Strongarm strongly addressing a red mech just outside the door. Fixit must have been cooking. Bumblebee huffed in happy relief. Nothing like a little real work to get Fixit and Strongarm to work together.

 

“Thanks for watching the kitchen, Fixit.”

 

A deep, growling voice replied, “No problem.”

 

Bumblebee turned so hard he left tracks on the brand new floor. The customer was in the kitchen. He wasn't just in the kitchen, he was cooking! He had been cooking! He was taking a pan of cookies out of the oven even as Bumblebee watched, with more trays baking inside! Entirely too big for the compact room- he must have been something big like a Buffaloid or a Dinobot- he had the manners to look embarrassed and grinned at Bumblebee apologetically.

 

“I washed my hands?”

 

“Um... sir.” Bumblebee very gently placed one hand on the door frame so he could subtly throttle it. “Who let you into the kitchen.”

 

“Strongarm did!” The customer's fingers danced along the pan, probably hot and he was holding it bare-handed oh wow, as he spoke. “There was some kid outside trying to tag the building and she started readin' him the riot act, so she was all 'Fixit watch the kitchen!' and then Fixit said somethin' about getting soap to clean off the paint, and he was all 'watch the kitchen!' so I did, but I got bored, so I got bakin' and made that other guy a coffee.”

 

He took his time to absorb all the information. “You served someone a coffee.”

 

“Yep! Charged him $1.25, just like on the menu.”

 

“That... wow. Um, thank you.” First sale of the day, and he missed it. He missed it and it was made by someone who didn't work at the shop. The customer finally put down the cookie tray in the serving window and reached into one of his subspace pockets, holding out two bills.

 

“I didn't know how to get into the register, so I just made the change myself.”

 

“... wow.” Bumblebee numbly took the bills. “I'll... I'll make sure you're reimbursed, sir... what's your name?”

 

The tall bot flashed Bee a wide, jagged-toothed, and crooked grin. “My name's Grimlock!”

 

Whatever discussion Strongarm was having outside had turned into a clamor, and something crashed where Bee couldn't see it. Systems went to high alert, and Bee quickly backed out of the door. “Grimlock, you stay here and keep doing what you're doing I'll be right back thank you!”

 

The lobby was gone in two strides, and the door flew open to Strongarm slamming the red mech against the door frame face-first despite his loud protests. A single customer, with his coffee and the smuggest of smirks, watched the entire thing as if it were his own personal theatre. His legs crossed at the ankle, leaned back into his chair, the only movement that came from him were little flicks of his tail and the occasional sip.

 

“Sir! I caught this punk in the act of graffiti-in- graffiting-” Strongarm growled at herself and her lack of linguistics and squeezed the red mech against the building again. “He was spray-painting our building!”

 

“I didn't know you were using it!” He snapped back. “Make her let me go!”

 

“Strongarm, you do not have the authority to make arrests on your own!” Bumblebee shouted. “You! What makes you think it's a good idea to tag random walls?!”

 

“It's not random!” answered the red mech smugly. “It's my turf.”

 

The tailed customer laughed from behind him, and Bumblebee could feel his energon boiling with humiliation. “Okay, look. You. Name.”

 

It was amazing how the mech managed to look prideful even with Strongarm's hand mashing him into concrete. “Sideswipe.”

 

“Sideswipe, I'm willing to let you off without any trouble if you clean off what you painted.”

 

Strongarm shouted as if Bumblebee had punched her across the face. “Sir!”

 

“No need for that!” Fixit peeked out from around the corner of the alley, covered in soap suds and paint transfers. “I've already eliminated the unsightly mark!”

 

“Unsightly?!” Sideswipe snarled.

 

“OKAY, nevermind. Look, Sideswipe, you can work off the damages inside.” Bumblebee thumbed towards the door, and took a small amount of satisfaction in the dread in Sideswipe's face. “You're our table busser for the next three days.”

 

Strongarm tensed as if she wanted to pop Sideswipe's arm out of its socket. “SIR!”

 

“We're already short one team member!” Bumblebee explained, “And I doubt you want to be stuck on table duty for the rest of your shift.”

 

“I'm not tables!” Strongarm shouted. “I'm kitchen staff!”

 

“You were kitchen staff, until you let a random customer into the back and he started cooking for us!”

 

The tailed customer started to laugh again, out loud and unabashed and oozing with smug satisfaction. Bumblebee could feel the shame rippling through his field. The only thing keeping his face steady was the matching looks of humiliation on Strongarm and Fixit's faces, and Sideswipe even looked oddly affronted from his spot against the wall. The red mech sighed, long and obvious in a cry for attention, and gently wiggled himself out of Strongarm's grasp.

 

“I'll... meet you inside.” Sideswipe gently stroked his scuffed cheek. “Once I get cleaned up back home.”

 

Strongarm's scowl was barely contained. “We have the supplies you need in the public washroom.”

 

“I don't even get enough privacy to get my dignity back?!”

 

“Inside! NOW!”

 

“I, um, better get back to the senator- creditor-” Fixit whacked himself in the face, splattering the sidewalk with bubbles. “REGISTER! Sir. Um. Pardon me!”

 

The three bots gave him a wide berth, heading inside to Grimlock's loud and cheerful greetings.

 

The customer was still laughing. Bee didn't want to face him. Bee didn't want to even look at him.

 

Bumblebee turned to the customer. “I'm sorry about all of that. I'll get you a refund for that coffee.”

 

“Oh no,” the customer purred, voice sweetened and deep and rich like the drink held in his claws. “Don't even think of it, 'sir'. That little show was well worth the price of concessions. I'll be coming back here every day if I can see more of that.”

 

First repeat customer, and Bumblebee already hated him.

Chapter 6

Grimlock's head popped out of the serving windows about an hour later. “If nobody else shows up, can I eat the rest of the cookies?”

 

A heavy yellow head bounced down onto the counter. “No, Grimlock,” Bee grumped. “That's stock for later today.”

 

“But I made 'em!” Grimlock fussed. “Why can't I eat 'em?”

 

Sideswipe chortled from the corner of the lobby, twirling a broom handle in his fingertips and defiantly not sweeping the floor. The happy smug customer had never left his spot, and even now was watching through the window, even if his vantage point was mostly Strongarm's angry back guarding the door. “He's got a fair point there.”

 

Grimlock pouted. “I'd wait until the place was closed...”

 

“And you know what, that's another thing,” Bumblebee interrupted, lifting himself just enough to glare at the Dinobot. “Why haven't you left?”

 

Grimlock shrugged from inside the kitchen, a hint of a smile on his face. “I'm too big to get through the door?”

 

Sideswipe laughed again, and Fixit's claws twiddled nervously even as Bumblebee groaned and fell back onto the counter. It had been a slow, miserable few hours of no one. The only customer had been Mr. Smug And Self-Righteous, who'd ordered one more coffee and spent a good five minutes Pointedly Not Laughing at Fixit's stutter. Bumblebee's tank had been running low, as he'd spent the last few hours staying within sight of Sideswipe, neglecting to refuel in the process. Strongarm hadn't even tried to get back into the kitchen, but she seemed to have found a new job bullying Sideswipe into doing whatever menial task she could think of. Grimlock had just kept on cooking whatever recipe he could get his hands on, burning at least one batch of crullers because he'd gotten into a conversation with Fixit and forgotten about them.

 

Bumblebee sighed. “I'm tired, I'm hungry, and no one's shown up... our first day, and it's a disaster.”

 

“Wait, you're hungry?” Grimlock asked, peering down at him from the window. “Why don't you eat the leftover cookies?”

 

“Technically speaking, Mr. Grimlock, we're not allowed to take anything out of the store's stock for personal use,” Fixit explained, pulling up a copy of the employee handbook on his register screen. “Doing so would be appropriating fung-” A strike to his face knocked him back into place. “FUNDS from the till.”

 

Grimlock touched his chin in thought. “What if I bought something and gave it to him? That count?”

 

Bumblebee grunted into the counter. “We're not supposed to take gifts from customers.”

 

“We can't? That does it, I quit this job,” Sideswipe snarked. “The benefits are terrible.”

 

He couldn't find the energy to respond. Bumblebee sank his head into his arms, leaning into the dark, safe place he made for himself. When Optimus opened the Cybertron branch, there had been enough customers to clean out the showcase by lunch. If this was their first day, and they couldn't even create positive word-of-mouth for the store, then they were dead in the water. All that work, all the money sunk into the store, all the faith Optimus had put in him... all for nothing.

 

Strongarm's footsteps approached him, and even for an empty store, it was so quiet. “Sir?”

 

He didn't want to get up. He'd let down his team, what little one he had, and they deserved better than this. Slowly, measuring each motion to keep himself steady, Bumblebee pushed himself upright and leveled off his shoulders. “Everyone, I'm sorry about today. We're going to close up early, and all of you can go home.”

 

“Close?” Fixit sounded almost sad, checking a little pop-open window with the day's schedule on his register. “But we don't close until 4:00!”

 

“I'm not going to make you all sit here and do nothing for hours because I messed up a sign order.” Bumblebee reached across and tapped the register open, fetching seventy-five cents from the drawer and sliding it closed as he spoke. “Sideswipe, you don't need to come back tomorrow. Strongarm, Fixit, I'll call you if the store reopens and work out your paychecks from there.”

 

“If?” Grimlock cowered in the window, claws grasping at the edges. “You're not gonna come back?”

 

“There's only enough money in reserve to keep the store open for about a month, taking into account that no customers come in.”

 

Bee gave one last look out the windows. The customer had finally left, his coffee tipped over and spilling out over his table. He sighed as though he were breathing water. Everything felt heavy at the moment.

 

What was he going to tell Optimus?

 

“I'm gonna go upstairs and see what I can do about the sign.”

 

He had gotten lost in his thoughts. When Bumblebee looked back out of the veil over his mind, he saw his team already in mourning. Strongarm's shoulders sagged, doors drooping against her back. Sideswipe had pulled into himself, silently gripping the rubber handle of the broom and staring intently into the floor. Fixit ran a mournful claw over the keypad, too embarrassed to look back to him.

 

Bumblebee couldn't seen Grimlock behind him, but he did feel a long-fingered hand gently coming down on his shoulder. “Don't leave,” Grimlock pleaded. “I don't even know your name yet.”

 

Everything was heavy. Bumblebee gently pulled Grimlock's hand off his shoulder and left, automatically walking up and into his office and down into his chair, resting his head in his arms, just resting until he could think.

 

Downstairs, Grimlock had just watched him go, shrinking in his little window. “I don't know his name,” he finally said once Bumblebee's footsteps couldn't be heard. “I haven't even seen him smile yet.”

 

“Man, I...” Sideswipe wrung his hands against the broom handle. “I-I didn't mean to, like... If I'd have known he'd get this upset over a little paint, I would've gone someplace else!”

 

“It's not your fault, Sideswipe,” Strongarm said quickly. “He did forget to order the sign.” Strongarm flinched as Fixit shot her a strong, glowing glare. “But we... could have been more supportive.”

 

“This is just about getting people in the store, right?” Sideswipe asked. “I mean, Grimlock's stuff smells delicious. Hell, if I had any money I'd be buying, like, the whole bottom shelf. I'm starving.”

 

“I wouldn't know what to charge you!” Fixit blurted out. “None of the items Grimlock's been baking are on the fescue- v-venue-” Grimlock began to reach down, but Fixit blocked his hand quickly and smacked himself across the chest. “MENU.”

 

Sideswipe jolted up from the wall like he'd been electrocuted, but he was smiling, wide and sincere like a bot who'd discovered raw blue energon ready to eat. “OH! IDEA! I know how to get people here! I've just gotta get home!”

 

Strongarm's brows snapped to attention first, followed by the rest of her as she spoke. “And we can trust you to come back?”

 

“Trust me!” Nervously realizing he'd been squeezing dents into the broom, he passed it to Strongarm. “It's a 10 minute drive away and then I get my stuff and then back, but I'll come back, I swear! I know something I can do to get people's attention!”

 

Strongarm caught his optics and searched, Sideswipe gazing back in absolute sincerity. They checked each other, her resolve versus his enthusiasm, looking for any signs that the other wasn't in tune.

 

Strongarm nodded. “Safe travels, Sideswipe. Grimlock, if this works, we'll need fresh goods fast.”

 

“I know how to make minute icing!” he bellowed.

 

Strongarm took her broom in hand, planting it against the floor. “Team! Let's sell some pastries!”

Chapter 7

His office was roomy from a lack of furniture. He had a little desk, two office chairs and one armchair in the corner next to a bookcase. His wall-spanning bookshelf was empty, and while the sun was out and facing his window, his heavy blinds kept the room's light to a gentle, soothing orange glow. Tucked against the wall was a little cot, something he could unfold and recharge in if he needed. In the warmth of midday, bathed in gold and utter quiet, Bumblebee could have just prepared his bed and rested until he felt better. He had, of course, powered down in his desk chair half-sprawled over a hard wooden table.

 

Someone patted him between his wings. Bee bolted upright, office lights wirelessly flaring on in his panic. His battle systems revved to the ready, followed by his CPU and then a fresh wave of embarrassment. He was almost certain his cheeks were glowing from his blush.

 

Grimlock stood over him, completely unbothered and still smiling. “Hey. You have a good nap?”

 

“I- um...” Bee tucked himself a little farther under his desk, hunkering down in his chair and trying to scoot away from the larger bot. Grimlock watched him with that same, smiling patience. “I'm so sorry, Grimlock, I-”

 

“Hey, I'd be grumpy too if I needed a nap that bad.” Grimlock held his shoulder in one big hand. “Bet you got up super early. You wanna see downstairs?”

 

“... why?” was all Bumblebee could think to ask. “Is something happening downstairs?”

 

“Downstairs is awesome! Come see!”

 

Grimlock took his hand and pulled Bumblebee up to his feet like he was a Minibot, and he was honestly almost offended, but Grimlock did all his manhandling with such a gentle, innocent air that Bumblebee didn't quite care. He did care when Grimlock lifted him up and over the desk and dangled him for a few seconds before dropping him to the floor.

 

“Follow me,” Grimlock rumbled in what was supposed to be a whisper. “And be quiet. You'll wanna see everybody working like normal.”

 

“Covert observation,” Bee summarized. Grimlock responded with a blank look. “Nevermind. I'm following you.”

 

Grimlock gave him a big, toothy grin and pulled him along by the shoulder, out the office, through the break room, and straight downstairs.

 

Bumblebee, for the first time since leaving Cybertron, heard the babble of customers and the gentle hum of a happy crowd. Even the little sliver he could see from the hallway let him see filled tables and Strongarm cleaning up discarded cups and napkins. Grimlock put an arm around his waist and pulled him into the kitchen, letting him peek out of the serving window.

 

“That'll be $13.54.” Fixit scanned the new customer's card quickly, handing it back with the receipt. He zipped down to the dessert showcase and pulled out a few tiny energon mini-cheesecakes, bagged them, and passed the Minicon-sized package back to the pair of customers. “Thank you, and enjoy your food!”

 

Strongarm cleared an empty table, only for more people to take their place.

 

Sideswipe, outside, entertained passersby on a cyr wheel.

Fixit, in a moment without customers, tucked away $100 in bills in the safe.

 

“They...” Bumblebee couldn't believe his optics, resetting them a few times and rubbing them with his thumbs. “Am I still asleep?”

 

“Nah! Sideswipe went home and got a thingy to get people in the door, and we've all been workin' together since.” Grimlock watched him, leaning in close. “So? You feel better now? I gotta tell everybody if you do.”

 

“You did all of this... because I was upset?”

 

Grimlock corrected, “We did all of this 'cause you were upset.” Grimlock's smile didn't drop, but it got a little smaller. “Strongarm's got the words down better than me. She said she was gonna say 'em after we closed, so... can you wait thirty minutes?”

 

They were a long 30 minutes until closing. Bumblebee spent most of it on the phone once again with the sign company, postponing his order until further notice. At 25 minutes he went downstairs to an empty store. Customers gone, dessert case emptied, coffee machines turned off, his team all gathered together in the lobby taking the till and nibbling at the last of the cookies. They'd accomplished all of this without him. They had done their best while he was upstairs stone-cold asleep. A heavy weight fell into Bumblebee's tank at the realization, and for what felt like forever, he only stood in the hallway, watching them and feeling completely useless.

 

It was Fixit that finally checked to see if he was there, and the little bot jumped so hard he nearly fell off the table. “B-B- he's awake!”

 

They rushed him like a pack of bumblepuppies, Fixit at the forefront with Sideswipe bringing up the rear.

 

“We turned a profit!” Fixit announced. “We even met the goal you put in your budget!”

 

“And I helped!” Sideswipe called from the back.

 

“B- sir,” Strongarm said, interrupting herself. “We're all sorry about the way we acted today. You put a lot of faith in us, and when you took it hard instead of lashing out at us...”

 

His little crew exchanged their own little looks, nodding in agreement with each other.

 

Grimlock then had him in a massive hug before Bumblebee realized he was tearing up, and he laughed his way through what would have been wracking sobs.

 

“I don't have to get in on this, do I?” Sideswipe asked.

 

Grimlock quickly had Sideswipe and Strongarm in on the hug, with Bee in the middle, embarrassed and happy and proud.

 

As soon as they were all released, Bumblebee wiped his optics as quick as he could and spoke, “I can't get mad at a team like this! You all did amazing! Now, granted, the beginning of the day was a little rough-”

 

“I knew you would bring that up,” Sideswipe grumped.

 

“-but I think we can fix that with a little reorganizing.”

 

Bumblebee took a deep breath, the obvious pieces falling into place, and started doing some rough calculating in his head. “Grimlock, I'd like to hire you as our new kitchen mech.”

 

“Really?!” Grimlock hollered. “You'd get me a job here?”

 

“Gladly. There's already room for you in the budget.” Bumblebee could feel Strongarm bristling and quickly added, “Strongarm, I don't think you would have liked the kitchen anyway. I think I'd like to switch your duties around and move you to 'security'.”

 

“I don- 'security'? Hold on a second.” Up went the rulebook, a different color than Bumblebee was used to seeing, and he distantly recognized that he was looking at a different book. Strongarm recited, “Students may also earn credits outside of school hours by participating and/or becoming employed in fields related to their major.” Down went the rulebook, and Strongram delightedly bounced on her toes. “Does this mean I can put this down on my academy coursework? And I could graduate early working here?”

 

“Sounds right to me!”

 

“Do you think we need the sec-sec-sec-sec-” Fixit reset himself with a whack. “Security?”

 

“If Sideswipe agrees to a job,” Bumblebee explained, “Yeah.”

 

“Wait, me too?” Sideswipe's jaw hung open for a few stunned milliseconds. “Like, just on the spot? Doing what?”

 

“Bussing tables when we're slow.” Bumblebee smirked when Sideswipe chafed at the statement. “But normally, I'd like you to entertain people outside, like I saw you doing on your cyr wheel. You won't make much in hourly pay, but you're welcome to collect tips on top of that.”

 

“Dude, I would be collecting tips anyway! Now I have that AND a paycheck AND cookies whenever I want?” Sideswipe laughed and pumped his fist in victory. “Best job ever!”

 

“Bu-but there's no room in the budget for him!” Fixit pointed out. “We're only supposed to be a four-mech staff!”

 

Bumblebee shrugged. With the free housing situation he’d worked out with Denny and Russel, the answer seemed obvious to him. “I'll take the difference out of my paycheck.”

 

His crew, collectively, “woah”ed.

 

Grimlock rumbled, “I have never heard a manager say that ever.”

 

Bumblebee laughed, honestly laughed. Everything finally felt right, and his crew- his friends- started to laugh along with him. Grimlock pulled them all into another hug, even Fixit who loudly protested being too short to get caught up in the hugging naturally until Sideswipe hackey-sack kicked him into his open palm.

 

The Dinobot then dropped all of them. “OH RIGHT.”

 

Grimlock took Bumblebee's hand again, shaking it like a gentleman, and with purpose slowly said, “My name is Grimlock. What's your name?”

 

This whole day, and Bumblebee never told him his name. He laughed and shook the clawed hand. “I'm Bumblebee.”

 

Grimlock beamed, and Bumblebee blushed.

 

“Oh GOD that is enough cute! I regret everything!” Sideswipe complained. “'Hey, Sideswipe, where do you work?' Oh nowhere, just down at the who-the-hell-knows with the bossy not-a-cop, the clearance rack Minibot, and the Dinobot who can't stop making goo-goo optics at the manager!”

 

“What IS the name of the business, by the way, Bumblebee, sir?” Fixit deflected, saving Bumblebee's face with no subtlety whatsoever. “I had people in here today that couldn't make out checks!”

 

“I've been thinking about it, actually. Sideswipe, do you still have your spray paint?”

 

Bumblebee closed the door behind him, and Strongarm, Grimlock, and Fixit watched while Sideswipe effortlessly scaled the side of the building and balanced on the window sills. With the practice born of a great many times tagging from funny angles, Sideswipe painted on the temporary sign. He used big letters, a touch he felt reflected Grimlock, and hard angles for the Dinobot's claws and Strongarm's harsh attitude. Little star flourishes in the letters brought out Fixit's sense of energy, and while the quick strokes reflected his own sense of style, he kept the words bold and easy to read from a distance. This, Sideswipe thought, was Bumblebee, making things clear for everyone even with the limited resources at their disposal. Fitting, as Sideswipe had only brought along one color.

 

Written above their door was “Our Place”.

Chapter 8

Bee got the impression that everyone had gone to bed far too late, but in an excited sort of way. Everyone met at the back door with exhausted smiles minus Sideswipe, who immediately went to the break room and fell asleep in a chair. Bee let him; he did kind of have this job thrust upon him overnight. Strongarm and Fixit both popped into their daily duties to get their motors running while Grimlock had to guzzle a big mug of energon to really kick into gear. Bumblebee pulled his energy from theirs, greeting them all when they looked in the mood for it, small talking, and asking around about which radio station to tune to for the day.

 

His duties were not as physical as Strongarm's and Grimlock's. He did a fast inventory with Fixit and adjusted the menu based on what Grimlock had to cook with that day. He turned all the lights on and refilled the energon dispenser in the break room. He even made sure to cover up Sideswipe with a tarp. Their hour to prepare was over too soon, and Bumblebee was the one to open the front door.

 

Almost as soon as Bumblebee opened, there was The Customer, already up and ready to meet them with a smile on his face and a dollar coin in his claws. While Strongarm kept a quiet watch from the door, Bumblebee followed him to the counter, letting Fixit stay near the register. “Welcome back.”

 

“Hello again, sir,” purred The Customer with obvious glee. “I'm surprised to see you open again today.”

 

Bumblebee felt the jab in his spark. He quickly pictured The Customer's head falling off and rolling out the door, and he managed a smile. He couldn't help but put himself between The Customer and the hallway, though, subtly blocking Fixit from view with his winglet. “Yeah, you can't get us out of the game that easily.”

 

“So I've noticed!” The Customer chirped. He thumbed the coin in his claws without thought. “It warms my spark to see it. I've seen so many starting businesses fold far too quickly.”

 

“Make a habit of checking in on young entrepreneurs?”

 

“I do, actually. And I'm going to keep doing it today. An espresso lungo, please, and my card.”

 

Grimlock's head poked out of the kitchen. “What's a 'lungo'?”

 

“It's an espresso pulled from between 18 to 30 seconds know for it's pitter pats-” Bumblebee felt every twitch as Fixit struggled for his words. “Twitterpate-” and there came the whack. “BITTER TASTE!”

 

“Look, let me show you how to make it.” Strongarm quickly swooped into the kitchen with Grimlock, quickly enough to let Bumblebee know how uncomfortable The Customer was making her. They spoke in hushed tones, quiet as they could be to hear what The Customer had to say.

 

Paper flicked, and from some hidden pocket, Steeljaw slipped a business card and the dollar coin into Bee's hand. Bumblebee didn't get the chance to read it before he continued, “My name is Steeljaw, and my business is to help those young business owners who get in over their heads. If you start to struggle, I'll be there to help you get back on your feet.”

 

“Thanks.” Bumblebee thusly put the card away without reading it. “We'll be sure to let you know.”

 

Steeljaw chuckled deep in his chest. “Trust me, sir. I'll already know. Now, my espresso and your name, if you would.”

 

Every fiber of his carbon was telling him to keep Steeljaw far, far away from him and his friends and his business, but he couldn't risk a bad review on their second day. It was through a mouthful of sour tastes and bad intuition that he growled out, “Bumblebee.”

 

The shop was stone-silent. Fixit took the money and gave change without so much as looking at the massive Decepticon, and Grimlock's optics peered out at Steeljaw through the serving window. Strongarm left the kitchen and loomed in the hallway, half blocked from Steeljaw's gaze and half glaring with crossed arms and pursed lips.

 

“Bumblebee.” Steeljaw raised his tiny cup in a toast, the whole store's optics on him. “Fixit. Strongam. Dinobot.”

 

Said Dinobot nearly launched himself out of his serving window, broad shoulders filling up the little expanse and keeping Steeljaw's optics out of his kitchen. “Grimlock!”

 

“Grimlock, of course. Good to meet all of you.” Steeljaw smiled with sharp, clean fangs. “I look forward to being such an important part of your future. Good day.”

 

Steeljaw turned with a curl of his tail and swaggered out the door, Strongarm's optics on him all the while. He took a seat at an outdoor table and sipped at his drink, watching the street.

 

“I don't like him,” Grimlock stated. “His face needs a good punchin'.”

 

“We had people like him on Cybertron. Fixit.” Bumblebee passed Fixit Steeljaw's business card. “Run his name through a search engine for me? See what his deal is.”

 

Fixit snatched up the little card and opened up a search engine window on the register's touch screen. “On it!”

 

“So... what is he?” Strongarm asked.

 

“If I'm reading him right, he makes a living buying up failing businesses and gutting them to sell back in pieces to bigger franchises.” His head started to ache at the thought. He raised his hands to rub his temples, but froze in place when Grimlock started doing it for him. “Uh... yeah. We probably painted a big red target on ourselves yesterday.”

 

“Nothing in the first three pages, Bumblebee!” Fixit reported. “Should I keep looking?”

 

“No, Fixit, we're fine. As long as he doesn't do anything to us, we can't do anything about him.”

 

Strongarm puffed out a relieved breath. “We need music. I'll put the radio on.”

 

“Thanks, Strongarm.” Bumblebee grinned. “You can stop rubbing my head now, Grimlock.”

Chapter 9

“Sideswipe, get up. Go work.”

 

Sideswipe predictably groaned and turned over in his chair. “Fihmormins...”

 

“I let you sleep for two hours already.”

 

“TWO HOURS?!”

 

Sideswipe flushed with fear and embarrassment and no small amount of confusion at waking up in someplace he didn't recognize. At first, in his muggy boot-up, he thought he was in a waiting room, with its chairs in a square around a table with datapad magazines. Bumblebee stood over him, though, and he remembered quick that this was his new break room at his new job and his new boss telling him that he'd been asleep for two hours.

 

Bumblebee was smiling, though. “You needed it. But now there's a lot of people walking the street, and we need you to get their attention. Go get your wheel.”

 

“Wheel, yeah... get the wheel.” Sideswipe's cry wheel, yes, where was his-

 

“I put it in the supply closet. To your right.”

 

“Right.” Automatically going right until he hit a door, Sideswipe opened up a broom closet filled with strong cleaners, leftover paint, and his cyr wheel. The stink hit Sideswipe in the face harder than the pavement ever had. “GAKH- Oh, dude! Treat her with respect! She's not a broom! She was expensive!”

 

The yellow mech's smile immediately fell, and his winglets hiked up high to give him some height on Sideswipe. “Oh yes, how dare I put it in a closet safely away from the public eye.”

 

Bumblebee was grumpy, and that was good. Sideswipe didn't know how to deal with a smiling boss. Grumpy bosses, he could handle, and he comfortably fell into his normal smirk and swagger. He unloaded his cyr wheel with as much dignity as he could trying to fit a big round metal loop through a rectangle. “So, morning been slow, happy bot?”

 

“Slow enough to where Strongarm and I could take care of the lobby ourselves,” Bumblebee growled. “But steady enough to where we're not idling. Grimlock wanted me to ask how you feel about fresh bread-”

 

“Hell yeah! Tell him I like the slices right in the middle.” He kicked a mop loose from the bottom of his wheel and popped it back into the closet. He grinned at the satisfying crash of supplies falling to the floor. “Buttered and toasted.”

 

“- for the customers.” Bumblebee's arms crossed. Sideswipe could see him gripping his elbows in a tight, controlling death grasp to keep his temper. “Either way, I'm going to be in the office ordering the iron flour. Just pull in some people for lunch, and we can have an empty store for our break afterwards.” Bumblebee's optics narrowed the tiniest bit, and Sideswipe could feel the warning glare. He cocked his hip while Bumblebee put on his best Leader Voice. “Try not to mouth off to anyone outside.”

 

“Hey! I am a perfectly polite think fast.”

 

With a deft little kick, Sideswipe popped the cyr wheel over Bumblebee's head. He kicked it up with his toe, caught it in his hands at knee level, and pulled forward. Bumblebee would flop flat on his back, Sideswipe would be on top, and everything outside of this would be smooth sailing.

 

Bumblebee, with barely a yelp, fell back into a handspring. That was as much as Sideswipe caught before he was face-first against the wall, arm pinned behind his back, for the second time in two days.

 

“OW OW OW I WAS JUST FOOLING LEMME GO-”

 

“Stop it.” Bumblebee snarled into his ear. “I'm gonna call this a second strike. If I see you pulling a stunt like that with any of the customers, you are immediately fired.”

 

“Woah, what? Second strike? I didn't even get a first one!”

 

“That was the grafitti. Now go. Work.”

 

Bumblebee squeezed his wrist right on his primary cable, not enough to hurt. It was an directed pressure, though, and strong enough to make Sideswipe shudder. He didn't fall for the trip, he was smart enough to target that pressure point, and strong enough to hit it while forcing him into a wall. Sideswipe thought he'd just had another sucker for a boss, like his last five, but no, this mech was suddenly scary underneath the angry eyebrows and the yellow.

 

He left for downstairs in a hurry.

 

He had to come back upstairs for his wheel, but he left.

 

After napping for so long, going outside into the sunlight was a shock. Almost all of the buildings were fresh concrete, reflective and clean, and obnoxiously bright on his tired optics. The sun was already beating down on the darker parts of his shell. The street was nice and empty, but the sidewalks weren't. There are already flocked with random folks, and even just stepping outside, curious people went into the shop to see what kind of coffee shop produced muscle cars with cyr wheels. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

 

Grimlock poked his head out of the door. “Hey, Sideswipe! You gonna do the thing?”

 

This was going to be hard. Sideswipe didn't look back, just trudged into the street with cyr wheel. “Yes, Grimlock. I'm going to do the thing.”

 

“I wanna watch!”

 

“You're free to watch, Grimlock.”

 

Ready to tune out the world, Sideswipe put down his wheel and kicked off.

 

Every mech on the street became a smudge in his peripheral vision. A tiny tensing of his leg set the wheel spinning on the rim like a dropped coin, fingers fanning out of the way of the ground in a pulsing wave rhythm. He has practiced enough to spin himself into oblivion and never suffer a scratch. The only thing keeping him from launching into a spinning sky was his one tie to the ground, a single point of speed that pushed him faster and launched him up, whipped him down. He whipped around the air, street and clouds rocketing past his head until everything was a roar in his audio receptors.

 

Every action was its own response. Spinning his toe kept him off the concrete. Squeezing his fist sent the wheel flying towards his hand. If the world got too slow, he made it faster. If the sky got too big, he turned on his head and made the Earth the sky. Sideswipe was his own world here. A wall of metal kept everyone away. Here, he was control. He was chaos. He was alone and the master of his universe.

 

A comet struck his surface, rattling him out of orbit. “WOOOO SIDESWIPE!”

 

Grimlock struck the surface, and Sideswipe's world was destroyed. Coming down from his cloud, Sideswipe brought the wheel to a slow stop and stepped out back to the ground... to applause.

 

There was money coating the ground, coins and bills alike. People were looking at him like he was important, smiling and cheering for the work he did.

 

Leading them all was Grimlock. “Isn't he great?! WOOO! SIDESWIPE'S THE BEST!”

 

“Um- I- YES!” He was! He is! Sideswipe kicked out his wheel in a flourish and caught it up in his hand. “I am the best! Thank you everybody! I'll be doing this all day! Hey, don't forget, come on over to Our Place! It's where I work when I'm not doin' this! We've got muffins! And fresh bread soon, isn't that right, Grimlock?”

 

“YEAH! BREAD!” Grimlock caught up the crowd's attention. “Little bread! I bake it! It's gonna be awesome!”

 

With the attention off of him, Sideswipe ducked back into the door, bolting for the staircase to put away his wheel until next time. Halfway up the stairs, he met Bumblebee on his way back down. This time, seeing him automatically grimace hurt a little. “Sideswipe.”

 

“Hey, uh-! Bee! Hi. Um... people!” He hiked his wheel up higher on his shoulder and pressed against the wall, making room for Bumblebee to pass. He figured he should apologize for earlier, but apologizing was so messy and awkward... “Um... Stuff's about to get really busy, so I'm gonna wash my hands and stuff and be right down, okay? You worked all morning, you need a break.”

 

Bumblebee froze in thought, watching him, assessing him like his last five bosses.

 

Bumblebee smiled. “Glad to have you back with us.”

Chapter 10

The fourth day they were open, a tall figure cut through the front door. He stood nearly to the ceiling, shoulders broad and held high enough to fill the room on his own. He was bigger than Grimlock. Bumblebee caught a glimpse of him before Sideswipe’s arm shot out of the kitchen to pull him inside and peek out through the window. The customer’s red optics cut through straight to Fixit, who didn’t so much as flinch when he lowered his great antlered head to speak.

 

“Ey, Little Guy.” He pointed into the display cabinet. “What’s this thingy over here?”

 

Fixit checked through the glass. “That is a ‘donut’, sir.”

 

“Why’s it so big?”

 

“It’s not an additive for energon, sir!” Fixit explained. “It’s meant to be eaten as a solid foodstuff. It’s an example of Earth-Cybertronian fusion cuisine.”

 

This customer seemed to be one of the holdouts who hadn’t learned of eating foods other than energon. He cocked a brow high on his head, intrigued, but continued. “Eh. So what’s this doohickey?”

 

“That is called a ‘cookie’. It is crispier and less sweet that a donut.”

 

“And this one.”

 

“That is a ‘cheesecake’, energon thickened with oil until it reaches a soft solid consistency.”

 

While the customer went through and asked the name of every single item in the counter, Bumblebee and the rest of the staff hid in the kitchen and watched the guy through the window. Strongarm spoke low. “That’s the biggest Decepticon I’ve ever seen!”

 

“He looks like he could chew me up and spit me back out again...” Grimlock wriggled his claws. “It’s distractin’ me! I wanna punch him just to see if he could take it!”

 

Struck by how silly this was, Bumblebee huffed and stood up. “Guys, please, he’s just a customer.”

 

“But he’s one that isn’t Steeljaw!” whispered Sideswipe. “He’s even bigger and Decepticon-y-er! And doesn’t know how food works!”

 

“Guys, ‘food’ as you know it didn’t exist until the war ended.” Bumblebee rubbed at his temple. “I was there when Ratchet invented most of them. How old are you? I’m gonna go be friendly.”

 

Sideswipe waved him off. “Don’t let him step on you.”

 

Bumblebee tried to roll his optics before he made it around the corner and in view of the new customer. He and Fixit had made it about halfway through the display case. “Finding everything you’re looking for?”

 

The customer stood up tall and pointed down to Fixit. “Ey! Where do you get off makin’ Minis do all the work around here? I been waiting for a real mech to come out here and serve me!”

 

Oh, he could feel Fixit’s smile straining even from over here. Bumblebee kept his tone even. “Fixit is fully capable and authorized to do any transaction you need. Is this your first time here?”

 

“Yeah,” said the customer. “And I’m impressed. I like this place. It’s clean. It’s quiet. Nobody’s botherin’ me. Good place to get some work done without snoops hangin’ around.”

 

“We’re working on spreading word of mouth,” Bumblebee offered. “Just putting our roots down. Is there anything you’d like to try?”

 

He pointed to the cabinet, and Bee suspected he was just randomly putting his finger down because he didn’t deign to look at the glass. It landed just above the copper snickerdoodles. “I want one o’ them kooky things. And an energon, hot.”

 

Fixit took the order. “Small or large, sir?”

 

The customer gave Fixit one last incredulous look, darted his gaze back to Bumblebee for a split second, and finally turned fully to Fixit. “A big one, to match me.”

 

Bumblebee kept watch as the big customer sat down, took a bite of his cookie, and immediately lit up with interest. He came back the next day and asked for a “kooky” and an energon, and the day after that he wanted a donut, and the day after that the snickerdoodle again. He fell into a pattern of ordering the same thing every other day and something different the next, always the same drink, and soon he started bringing friends along with him. They learned his name by overhearing it enough: Thunderhoof. Thunderhoof never bothered to learn any of theirs, but he could recognize them all and greeted them with similar, dismissive nicknames every time. Strongarm particularly bristled at “dollface”, and Sideswipe laughed when Thunderhoof called her “sweetie” until he also started using the name for Sideswipe. All of them except Fixit were “kid”. He wasn’t perfect, but he was consistent and he brought new business into the place. Days were no longer so dead they were intolerable, and Bumblebee counted his blessings.

 

One day, Steeljaw arrived early, and he and Thunderhoof crossed paths, and Bumblebee started listening a little closer to their conversations.

 

Bumblebee was pretty sure Thunderhoof had committed murder, and Steeljaw helped ditch the body.

 

He meant it facetiously… mostly. He had to, to keep his plating from itching when he overheard their conversations too closely. Thunderhoof always had a business client who wasn’t treating him well, and a certain task he required of Steeljaw. Steeljaw was always happy to comply, so long as Thunderhoof agreed upon the price, which was never discussed in the shop. The conversation always stopped whenever any of his staff wandered too close. Bumblebee could handle his CPU taking him to odd, dark places every now and again. What he never wanted to happen was for Strongarm to pick up on the dialogues and put the pieces together herself.

 

Of course, that meant she noticed by the next day. She hissed it to Sideswipe through the kitchen window while Thunderhoof, Steeljaw, and their various associates were having energon at their usual table. “You don’t hear them talking like we do! It’s all code! He comes up to Steeljaw saying he’s got difficult clients that he needs Steeljaw’s ‘expert touch’ in dealing with! Thunderhoof’s ordering hits on people, I just know it!”

 

“Just like I know you’re letting your coursework go to your head!” Sideswipe hushed back. “Who kills somebody and then runs down to the local watering hole for a ‘kooky’ and a drink?! That’d mean there’s a new dead guy every day!”

 

“You’re creating a false equivalency!” Strongarm accused. “Thunderhoof talks about guys he ‘needs taken care of’ all the time!”

 

“Watch Steeljaw be a caterer!” said Sideswipe. “Just. Watch.”

 

Bumblebee kept watch for Strongarm, and tapped her with his elbow when Steeljaw’s ears started to twitch in their direction. “Ixnay, guys.”

 

Strongarm barely felt the tap through her armor plating. She leaned in close on Sideswipe. “It’s probably some kind of weird hooligan’s honor you have rigged up in his favor, you deviant-”

 

Steeljaw was getting up from his chair, and Bumblebee elbowed a little harder. That smile on his face boded ill, and he was coming for the counter. Fixit stood at attention, and Bumblebee knocked Strongarm hard enough to hear the tap. “Strongarm.”

 

“Who the hell uses the word ‘hooligan’ anymore? Who the frag is your teacher? Alpha Trion-?!”

 

Steeljaw leaned right onto the glass display case and propped his head up on his splayed claws. “Having trouble with the underlings, Bumblebee?”

 

“Hardly,” Bumblebee covered. Strongarm and Sideswipe jumped apart and started making themselves busy. “Just small talk.”

 

Steeljaw let his optics linger on Fixit a while, and his smile grew. “Fitting. You know what I want by now.”

 

From the table, Thunderhoof raised a hand and waved over to Steeljaw. “And get me another one of those good ones! The ones I like! One for everyone at the table, yeah? Today’s a day worth celebratin’, for all the money we’re about to make!”

 

Steeljaw curled to face Thunderhoof, his tail making an elegant arc around his legs as a counterbalance. “Which one is that?”

 

“You know, the kooky thing!”

 

“Ah, I believe we have some of those coming out of the ovens in a bit!” Fixit waved over to Grimlock in the kitchen. “Is that correct, Grimlock?”

 

“Oh yeah!” Grimlock peeked out of the window, chin resting gently on his claws, which he wiggled as he explained. “Whole batch of ‘em, hot and fresh!”

 

Fixit checked the time. “I can have those brought directly to your table instead, in about five minutes!”

 

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Thunderhoof slammed the table and sent his associates’ drinks bouncing. “Little Guy knows how to treat his customers! Yous kids in the back should be embarrassed, bein’ outclassed by a Mini!”

 

Steeljaw waved a dismissive hand and dropped the money, generous tips and all, directly on the counter. “Bring my drink out with them, if you would. I don’t want our business interrupted.”

 

Strongarm hovered over Fixit while he tapped in the order and made change. Waiting until Steeljaw was talking again, she whispered, “Do you want me to bring it? I don’t like how Thunderhoof talks about you.”

 

Fixit answered without looking, “I dislike the way he addresses you, as well.”

 

“Yeah but-” Strongarm stalled, knocked out of her thought. “You’re seriously going to wait on a table full of Decepticons to defend my honor? I’m supposed to be the one serving and protecting!”

 

“While an honorable sentiment, I feel I must remind you that you are only an officer in training,” Fixit reminded. “Not a full enforcer.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I was a prison guard!”

 

Strongarm snapped around to Bumblebee in half a second. “He was what?!”

 

Bumblebee shrugged, smiling proudly. “It’s true. Listed it on his resume and everything.”

 

Fixit puffed himself up a little. He couldn’t flex his plating like a full-size Cybertronian could, but seeing him stand with his shoulders set proud and his claws on his hips made Bumblebee unconsciously grin. “I was in charge of a block of 350 Dec- inmates.” He checked the table; they hadn’t noticed his near slip. “Solely! With a clean record of service for over 55 million solar cycles!”

 

Grimlock stuck his head out the kitchen window. “Wait, hold up, which prison?”

 

Fixit answered fast. “The Alchemor prison ship!”

 

“For 55 million years?”

 

“Yes indeed!”

 

Grimlock settled his chin on the food shelf, staring out the window in deep thought. “You mighta been my guard.”

 

Bumblebee and Strongarm both jolted a little, while Fixit held his chin in thought. “Hmm… I didn’t spend a lot of time memorizing my charges’ faces...”

 

Bumblebee held his tongue, but Strongarm blurt out the question before he could make her stop. “You were a Decepticon? What were you in prison for?”

 

Grimlock shrugged. His face was neutral, and naturally so, and Bumblebee couldn’t read a thing off of him. “Me and another Dinobot got in a fight and I fell through a wall. So I spent a few years in the cooler for property damage.”

 

That accounted for the time in prison stasis. Bumblebee dared to ask, feeling a cold grip over his spark, dreading the answer. “And… a Decepticon?”

 

“A lot of Dinobots are Decepticons, where I’m from.” Grimlock still wasn’t smiling, or frowning, or emoting at all. It was just something to explain. He might as well have been talking about the weather. “I just kinda did what all my buddies were doing, so I joined last year. Then I got a job where I couldn’t wear sigils on the clock, so I got it removed.”

 

Bumblebee let out a long breath. The cold grip was gone. Grimlock was a post-war Decepticon, not-

 

Strongarm, again, cut in with her thoughts. “Maybe don’t brag about being a Decepticon to a veteran, Grimlock.”

 

“I ain’t bragging!” he defended. “Y’all asked!”

 

“Oh goodness, the timer!” Fixit yelped. “Grimlock, hurry, the kookys- I mean the cookies!”

 

“THE COOKIES!” Grimlock pulled his head back in fast, slamming the back of his head into the wall and cracking it. “OW.”

 

Steeljaw laughed. Bumblebee needed his break early today. He needed it like he needed energon. He didn’t feel comfortable taking it until Fixit had delivered Thunderhoof’s order to the table, so he not-so-subtly hovered over the mini while he rolled over the floor and up the rails with a tray of cookies bigger than himself. Stronger than he looked, Fixit deposited the tray of fresh cookies in the middle of the table full of Decepticons. Steeljaw reached for one immediately, only to have Thunderhoof’s massive hand clamp around his wrist.

 

“Ey,” Thunderhoof rumbled low. “Don’t forget your place. Boss eats first.”

 

“Yes, yes, how silly of me,” Steeljaw purred. “Of course he does.”

 

Bumblebee felt a shiver go through his back. Here came another dimension to the whispered conversations. That territorial sense he got from Steeljaw wasn’t just towards his little business, full of smaller and younger bots. Here he was trying to make moves on Thunderhoof, and right under his own roof.

 

Thunderhoof ate the first cookie and shuddered in joy. “SLAG that’s good hot… I want all o’ my kookys fresh like this from now on, Little Guy.”

 

Steeljaw huffed out a small laugh, finally “allowed” to eat. “To help you save face later, Thunderhoof, the proper pronunciation is ‘cookie’.”

 

Fixit began. “Actually, for the both of you-”

 

In a distant way, Bumblebee was proud of how every one of his staff- even Sideswipe who’d been hiding in the back- was suddenly just as tense and alert as Thunderhoof’s assorted goons. The entire table’s attention laser-focused onto the little minicon who stood at their table, smiling, telling them that their leader had done something wrong. Bumblebee flexed his fingers and wished he still had his stinger attachments, but he could get Fixit out of there and hold them off barehanded if he had to. No one moved, yet. Fixit kept talking.

 

“- this recipe is based on a human treat originating on the northwest landmass, where a sweetened dough is rolled in a spice and cooked at high temperature to achieve a crispy outer crust.” Fixit finished with, “It is a type of ‘cookie’, but to be precise, it is known as a ‘snickerdoodle’.”

 

Thunderhoof’s hand came down hard… on the table, as he was laughing.

 

“THAT’S what it’s called?!” Thunderhoof was beaming with joy. “My favorite little munchy-thing is a ‘snickahdoodle’?!”

 

One of his underlings giggled. “Snickerdooodle. It’s fun to say!”

 

Thunderhoof echoed, “Snickahdoooodle!”, and the entire table erupted into gales of laughter so powerful they rattled the windows. Sideswipe dropped against the back wall in a fit of funeral giggles. Bumblebee decided he didn’t need his break just yet.

 

The look of utter revulsion on Steeljaw’s face was enough.

 

Fixit’s triumphant little shoulder waggle as he turned and resumed his post was just icing on the kooky.

Chapter 11

They made it to their one month benchmark and turned a profit. It wasn’t the runaway success that Bumblebee remembered from Optimus’s opening month, but in retrospect, Optimus was the first restaurant to reopen on the reconstructed Cybertron other than Maccadam’s Oil House. Bumblebee also remembered a lot of days that ran too long, nights that ended too soon, and more than a few times he didn’t get to take his breaks. Work in Our Place was calmer, more satisfying in a quiet way, and gave him a lot of downtime to get to know his team better. On rare Sundays like this, where everyone was on duty with nothing to do, it even gave them time to have a little fun.

That fun came in with Denny, who promised to visit somewhere around closing time with “presents”. Bee waited at the counter, taking Fixit’s usual post while he gave the Minicon a break from constant talking. It happened to work out, then, that he was available to open the door when he spotted Denny and Russel jumping on the motion pad outside, trying to activate the sensor by themselves. He’d never adjusted it to open for humans. He would have to change that.

Fixit opened the door with a broad smile. “Wow! A real live human! I’ve never seen one up close!”

Bee greeted his host with a much more normal “Hey, Denny,” from the back. “Russel.”

“Hey Bee!” Denny strode right in, and Bee ignored the equipment under his arms for the moment. Seeing his face light up was welcome enough. “Woooow, look at how big everything is in here! Hey, what are those tube-looking things on the tables? Are those neon lights?”

Fixit darted to Denny’s side, eager to explain. “Those are accessibility rails! They should allow you to reach every surface in the shop without assistance!”

“That’s AWESOME!” Denny adjusted his grip on the equipment and practically sprinted further inside. “I thought I was gonna have to climb over everything like a Borrower! It’s like a dream come true!”

A quick check over Denny’s shoulder showed that Russel was not so easily impressed by the whole place. He seemed more interested in Fixit, who hovered close to Denny and picked up the spare electrical cords he was dangling behind him. Bumblebee rested his head in his hand and leaned on the counter a while. “So what’d you bring?”

“PRESENTS!” Denny said helpfully. “It’ll just take a little while to install them! This place does have roof access, right? Or a ladder? I really need to get to the ceiling more than the roof-”

Bee’s tank started to churn. Russel interrupted. “Dad, you should really ask first.”

“But then it’s not a surprise, Russel! All I need is a lift!”

“Wait who’s lifting?!” Grimlock’s head jutted out of the kitchen window. “Is it heavy? Bet I can lift it higher than Strongarm!”

From the break room, Strongarm shouted, “Don’t do anything until I get back up there to prove you wrong!”

The relaxing part of the day was over already.

Denny, by the end of it, installed a karaoke machine. It projected the lyrics onto the bare wall on one side of the lobby. It was fuzzy, obviously scaled much bigger than it was ever intended to project, but it worked well enough. Denny ordered all the tables pushed to the other end of the room except one, which he used as his base of operations and stage. He chattered a lot about rigging up giant microphones for the bots to use, maybe hook them up through Bluetooth?, anything that kept his hands waving and his mouth going. Bumblebee kept distant watch from the counter in the kind of detached state he used to make long drives disappear. It was all chatter to him, and soon Russel joined him at the counter to sit by his elbow and watch it all go down as well. It was worth it to let his host family have his fun and get a little attention. Besides, they’d already had their regular customers for the day. Even Steeljaw had left after a two and a half hour stay. He wasn’t expecting anyone else.

The rest of his team gathered in a closer perimeter to Denny’s dancing self. Karaoke was unheard of on Cybertron. Bots either danced or they were singing with a band, but they didn’t sing to a prerecorded track for fun. Denny took charge of their attention to teach them “Earth culture”, and Bee started to wonder if this wasn’t a surprise for the shop so much as Denny didn’t have a place to store the karaoke speakers at home. He danced and sang, growing a little more out of breath with each song, through a solid hour of “nonstop classic hits on 92.9, The Crown”, according to the radio broadcast on Denny’s phone. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon, a little past when they usually closed but with everything shut down and put away, that Russel made a noise of annoyance.

“My phone died.” Russel searched his pockets. “Do you have a charger?”

“Sorry,” Bumblebee answered glibly, “Nobody around here uses micro USB.”

“Can’t you do something with it?” said Russel. “What if I just hold it up to you and you zap it with waves or something?”

“I’m not a wireless charger, Russel.” Bumblebee tried to be patient with him, but Russel was no Rafael. He wasn’t even a Miko; Miko’s ignorance of how Cybertronians functioned was tempered with a joyful energy and a passion about life. Russel asked for everything like he was entitled to it and was constantly disappointed when life didn’t deliver. Bee found himself growing closer to Denny in his time on Earth. Maybe it was time to try and make some kind of connection with Russel. “I only look like a car when I transform. It’s not a one-to-one exchange. Who are you texting, anyway?”

“I was texting my mom.” Russel put his phone down and settled his head on his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. “She’s only really available between noon and five.”

“And you’ve been talking to her since noon?” Bumblebee shot a glance at the phone. “No wonder it’s dead. What else do you do with your day?”

Russel answered fast, clipped, and obviously hoping it would end there. “Try to study.”

A round of applause and Grimlockian cheering cut through the little crowd. Denny bowed for his audience and wiped the sweat from his neck. “All right all right! Y’all are great! Thank you! We got anybody here from Cown?”

Strongarm laughed. “That’s Ka-on!”

Grimlock gave a long, loud “Wooooo! KAON!”

“All right! This one’s going out to Kaon!” Denny pulled away from his mic to pant. “Fixit! What song’s coming up?”

Fixit hurriedly fussed with Denny’s phone. “The title is ‘She Blinde-’”

Before he could finish, Denny squealed with joy. “YES! Okay everybody pay attention, ‘cause this requires audience participation! Queue me up, Fixit- okay listen every time I point at you-”

Bumblebee let his wings droop and smiled. “They’re having fun. So, what are you studying for?”

Russel grimaced. His eyes were laser set on his father, who was dancing his way through “She Blinded Me With Science” and breathlessly relaying instructions to his team between lyrics. “To not turn out like Dad.”

“Woah,” Bumblebee winced, “That’s a lot to unpack. What’s wrong with your dad? Is this a divorce thing?”

“Mom said I need to study so I don’t grow up to be a loser without a real job,” Russel coldly explained. “And I need to set my goals and go for it, or I’ll wind up a nobody in food service.”

Bumblebee had a quick, fitting retort. “So I’m a loser.”

“What?” Knocked out of his trance, Russel checked his surroundings almost as if he’d forgotten where he was. Once he made eye contact with Bumblebee, he seemed to remember that he was sitting in Bumblebee’s coffee shop, where he served food to others, and went appropriately pale with shame. “What?? No! You’re not a loser, you’re a manager! That’s different.”

“Oh, okay.” Bumblebee could almost feel Ratchet’s cutting tone echoing up from his spark and out of his mouth. It was the same lovingly harsh speeches Ratchet used to give him when he was sinking into an angry funk. He just had to pick his subject well, or the cold comments would fall flat. “So it’s Fixit that’s the loser. Because he works in food service, even though he used to be a prison guard and can beat up bots 4 times his height if he wanted.”

Back at the table, Denny danced and sang. “When I’m dancing next to her! Blinding me with science-science!” He gave an exaggerated wiggle in time with the music cue and ended with a flourishing point at Fixit!

Fixit threw his hands into the air. “APPLIANCE- reliance-!” With a shy punch to his chest, Fixit tucked his shoulders low. “Science...”

The next line of the song had already started, but Denny paused his dancing to throw an arm around Fixit’s shoulders and hug him tight. No hard feelings showed in his face. “I can smell the chemicals! Blinding me with science-science!”

He even held the microphone up to Fixit’s face so he could sing “SCIENCE!” properly amplified.

Flummoxed, Russel didn’t answer. Bee took the opportunity to keep going. “Or do you mean Strongarm, who’s working here while going to school to learn to be a cop? Or Grimlock who can turn into a literal dinosaur? Or Sideswi-”

“I don’t know!” Russel threw himself back into his ball. “Okay?! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you or your friends.”

Bumblebee ventured a guess. “But you did mean your dad.”

Russel nodded.

“What happened between you and him?” Bumblebee lowered his voice and folded low on the counter, closer to Russel’s level. They couldn’t be overheard like this. “I know your parents split up, but I haven’t asked. I didn’t think I was supposed to know.”

The answer didn’t come quickly. Russel swallowed hard a few times, which Bee let him do without comment. When he did speak, there was a gentle rasp. “Mom said that he picked the scrapyard over me. When I asked Dad, he said Mom got a better paying job than him and wanted him to sell the scrapyard to relocate with her. He said if it was just a temporary position, ‘cause it was, then he could just stay at the scrapyard and take care of me while she was traveling for business. He said she freaked out and demanded a divorce. Mom said he was threatened by her making more than him. … I don’t know who’s right.”

“Or if you know the whole story?”

Russel nodded again, not looking at him.

Back at the table, unnoticed by the crowd, Denny was still dancing. He laid a hand on Fixit again. “I can feel machinery! Blinded me with-”

He didn’t manage to finish the line as he, and quickly the rest of the team, were laughing too hard to finish.

Over on the counter, Russel’s back lost some of its tension. “I thought Dad would be like Mom said. Lazy and dumb, that he likes his stuff more than people and wasn’t responsible.”

Bumblebee nodded. “And?”

Russel thought a while. “He’s not smart like Mom is, and he’s all weird and obsessive about the stuff in the scrapyard… but he’s not lazy, and he has a lot of friends. And now he’s making friends with all your employees.”

“They’re my friends too, now,” Bumblebee explained. “There are lots of people out there who are ready and willing to be your friend, no matter how well you knew them before.”

Bumblebee reached over and passed Russel a Cybertronian-size napkin. He needed it. He waited until Russel wiped his face dry and caught his breath. “What do I have to do?”

Bee shrugged. “Just… give them a shot, I guess.”

It was such a good moment, it physically stung to have it interrupted. The door chime rang. Bumblebee shot upright, as did the rest of the team. They were closed- although he realized late that the door had been unlocked the entire time- for nearly an hour and a half now. Who was here?

It was a short red mech, flanked by three others in green, orange, and white.

“Heatwave?” The words left Bumblebee in a breathy huff of delight. “Boulder? Blades! CHASE! SWEET SOLUS PRIME, GUYS, HI!”

It took three fast strides at a full run to meet the Rescue Bots in the door for one massive group hug. Everyone’s feet left the floor courtesy of Boulder, and Chase ordered for the hug to end about as fast as it started, meaning it was a proper Rescue Bot group hug. Bumblebee cackled out loud and pulled Blades in for an extra long squeeze.

“Ohmygod you really are in charge of this one!” Blades said into his shoulder. He pulled away to ask, “Are you guys still open?”

“Frag no!” Bee explained. “We close at 4!”

“And yet, the door is still unlocked, and the business fully lit,” stated Chase. “Highly unprofessional, Bumblebee. I will only overlook this transgression once.”

“And on that note,” rumbled Heatwave, “All of us are actually happy to see you.”

Bumblebee was quickly aware that there was a Dinobot peeking over his shoulder. Directly over his shoulder, too, as if he could hide back there. Grimlock asked low, suspiciously, “Who’s this?”

Bumblebee pushed Grimlock just enough to grant the rest of the team visibility. “These are the Rescue Bots. They’re permanently stationed on Earth, and we used to do missions together.”

Denny waved. “Invite them inside! Introduce us! They can join the karaoke party!”

“Come on, guys, they have busy schedules.”

A voice he didn’t know spoke up from the ground. “So what’s a ‘karaoke party’?”

Bumblebee startled.

Heatwave parted the Rescue Bots to reveal a little pocket of five small bots, huddled up behind them and watching Bumblebee with wary optics. Tiny little full body vehicles, right between Minicon size and the short stock of Rescue Bots.

“Our new recruits,” Heatwave explained, “Have been wanting to meet you.”

Chapter 12

Strongarm eyed them from a safe distance. “Are these… newbuilds?”

Sideswipe, wearing a matching look of confusion, answered. “Tiny newbuilds.”

Heatwave let out a long breath and prepared to explain a little more. “So, sorry to spring all this on you at the last minute. This is the recruits’ first trip out into Earth that isn’t school related, and we wanted to bring them somewhere special. Blades might have talked you up a little.”

Blades stopped in the middle of his introductions to Bee’s team with an affronted little gasp. “You talked him up just as much as I did! Don’t put this all on me!”

Grimlock was less openly distrusting of the Rescue Bots now that he knew their names. He gave them a big smile. “Hey, Bee’s easy to talk up.”

Bumblebee knelt to shake hands with each little recruit one by one. They introduce themselves with increasing volume, as if it was slowly dawning on them who they were talking to. Hoist, Hot Shot, Medix, Whirl, and the loudest and bounciest was Wedge. Five little Rescue Bots immediately crowded Bumblebee the hero of the war and started climbing his arms.

Hoist attached himself to one of Bumblebee’s arms and hugged tight. “Wow! The real actual Bumblebee! In person!”

“Look! He doesn’t have the super stinger arms anymore!” Whirl held up an obligingly limp elbow. “He’s gone full civilian!”

“Standard size vehicle model number 857-triple-B, no mods,” Medix summarized. “He’s surprisingly average.”

Hot Shot snapped at Medix from atop Bumblebee’s head. “MEDIX! You don’t call the bot that singlehandedly beat Megatron average!!!”

“THIS was the special surprise?!” Wedge, meanwhile, had nearly left Bumblebee’s side. He kept only a hand on Bee’s knee as he raged at the older Rescue Bots. “And you didn’t tell me?! All my stuff to autograph is back at the Academy! And you don’t tell me this is where we’re going?! Who do you think I am?!”

Grimlock loomed big and friendly over the Rescue Bots. He asked Blades, the closest one, “Are they gonna grow? Like Dinobots do?”

Boulder answered while Blades flustered over Grimlock’s overbearingly nice presence. “The recruits are built using some of our coding as a base. They’re the first Rescue Bots to go into production since the end of the war. Their frames will take to upgrades quickly, but they won’t naturally grow.”

Denny popped up on Bumblebee’s other shoulder, startling Hot Shot so badly that he yelped and promptly fell off. “Waait a minute, these are your kids?! That’s awesome! So which ones are whose? RUSSEL, BRING ME MY PHONE! I have to take pictures!”

Heatwave kept his arms crossed, a watchful optic over the recruits but never getting between them and Bumblebee. “Not really our kids, just our students. We’ve got about as much in common as Bumblebee and Chase do.”

“And me as well,” said Medix. He sat himself on Bumblebee’s leg and smirked. “Meaning that, in terms of coding and physical proximity, I am closer to Bumblebee than the rest of you.”

Grimlock grinned. “That sounds like a challenge, little bot!”

“I wanna be closer to Bumblebee!” Wedge jumped onto Bumblebee’s lap and tried to shove Medix out of the way. “No fair! You’re cheating!”

“You get an unfair advantage!” Hoist wailed before throwing himself into the growing pile.

Whirl shouted “Trial by combat!” and dove in, and after Hot Shot and Grimlock both did the same, Bee toppled onto his back. Denny went flying from his shoulder with a yelp, and Fixit dove to catch him.

Bumblebee couldn’t move. “OW! Grimlock, for Prime’s sake, WHY?!”

Grimlock shyly smiled. “I was gettin’ into the spirit?”

Chase mumbled critically. “I believe we are overstimulating the students.”

Blades nodded. “We might have planned a little too much today.”

Boulder shook his head. “We can’t know that yet. Let’s see how the rest pans out. We won’t get another chance for a while if it doesn’t work.”

Denny slowly untangled himself from Fixit’s arms and rubbed at his bruised back. “Okay, I think we might need a little ‘not sitting on Bumblebee’ time.”

Wedge sat up and settled a little harder on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “But that’s literally the best way to spend your time.”

Grimlock poked Wedge’s shoulder. “See, this guy knows what he’s talking about.”

Bumblebee just stayed quiet on the floor. This was the weirdest combination of feelings: being hero worshiped, being honestly appreciated, being talked about like he wasn’t here, being talked around like he wasn’t here, whatever Grimlock was doing on his legs, that kind of stuff. He didn’t usually spend this long on his back unless he was asleep. Maybe he was getting detached again, he wasn’t sure, but it felt really easy to just kind of tune out and let the recruits use him like a jungle gym.

Russel entered his field of vision, and he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Well, I mean,” Bumblebee admitted, “My legs are getting kind of numb, but I’m fine.”

The coffee shop exploded with motion as the Rescue Bots all gathered up the recruits and apologized, and the recruits apologized, and Sideswipe and Strongarm took each of his hands and helped him stand because his legs were much more numb than he first thought. Everybody took a seat at the pushed-aside chairs while Bumblebee leaned over a table and let Fixit check his plating. Pinched circuit, from when Grimlock tackled him. Very embarrassing. Grimlock put himself in the corner and sulked.

“Now,” Denny announced. “We DEFINITELY need some ‘nobody sit on Bumblebee’ time. I say we continue with EARTH CULTURE LESSONS! Now, who asked what karaoke was?”

Hot Shot raised his hand. “Me.”

Blades vibrated in his chair. “Oh, karaoke is the BEST! Is there a cover charge? How much is it?”

Bumblebee’s winglets twitched while he sat down properly. “This is a one-time personal party, Blades, not a weekly thing.”

“Why not have it be a weekly party?” Denny asked. “Come on, Blades can go next!”

“OO!” Blades jumped up and started programming the machine himself. “I think I’ll do a little Aretha Franklin. It’s a classic!”

Nobody was very impressed, and half the crowd wasn’t even surprised, when “Never Gonna Give You Up” blurted out of the speakers and Blades danced like he’d just won a bet. Denny, at least, laughed like it was the funniest damned thing he had ever seen. Bumblebee got in a laugh at how confused the recruits looked while it was all happening, but he used his leverage as the apparent Coolest Bot Ever to explain what they were looking at and have them honestly listen. The Rescue Bots took the opportunity to lounge in their chairs and not speak. Carting around recruits all day must have been tiring. Grimlock even got up and warmed up the coffee machine for them, and by the time everyone had a cup, the song was over.

“WOO! Good job, Blades!” Denny applauded. “Now, I think we need more AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION!”

Fixit’s arms leaped into the air in delight. “Hooray, audience participation!”

“All right, something we can bond over… Russel! Cue up ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’!”

It wasn’t often that Bee heard honest-to-Primus Cybertronian anymore, so the sound of it suddenly booming from the shop door shocked him and snapped the humans’ hands to their ears. He looked up to a tall bot, an empurata copter, entering with a grand gesture to no one in particular. <<”AH YES! Strike up the one song everyone thinks they can sing! We can all bond over how poorly we do, as a group!”>>

The shriek that came from Whirl was unearthly, and she jumped out of Blades’ grip and nearly flew into the bigger bot’s arms. The big copter hugged her tight and spun her around, pivoting at his waist, until she begged for mercy.

Denny pointed. “Okay, THAT’S her dad.”

Whirl settled herself into the big bot’s arm and introduced him. “This is my Namesake!”

The bigger copter switched to English. “We’re Whirl! I’m the one that came first, and she’s the cheap imitation!”

Whirl- the littler Whirl- punched him with a giant grin on her face. “No I’m not!”

“That’s true,” he relented. “You’re the BIG EXPENSIVE IMITATION! I’m still paying off the loans for you, you little recolor! Come here and hug me better!”

Bumblebee had an almost physical “click” in his CPU when it all fell together. “Ooooh… you weren’t coming for me.”

“We weren’t just coming for you,” Heatwave corrected. “It happened to be when first-gen Whirl’s ship was close to Earth’s orbit. We didn’t find out until the last minute, and there was a chance we wouldn’t be able to rendezvous.”

“And you all decided to meet here,” said Bumblebee, “So if Whirl didn’t show up-”

“We didn’t tell Whirl that her namesake would be coming,” Heatwave explained. “It was a surprise.”

“Meaning you didn’t want to disappoint her if he couldn’t make it.”

Heatwave grit his teeth. Bee had pegged it. “I’m not mad, but you do realize we’d normally be closed by now, right? Like, hours ago.”

Heatwave shot Chase a glance. Something about Chase’s gaze was astonishingly blank, so unreadable it wrapped back around into the strongest “I told you so” that Bumblebee had ever seen. Bumblebee chuckled. “What, were you going by Cybertronian time or something?”

“Yes, actually,” said Chase. “Despite my protestations, he insisted on using the schedule for the main office.”

“Cybertron’s in an orbit where the day is 6 hours longer right now,” said Bumblebee, “We run on Earth time here.”

“HEY BARKEEP!” Bigger Whirl shouted to Denny. “I got a request! You got Billy Idol on there?!”

Denny dramatically posed and pointed over his shoulder. “Oh you KNOW I do, big metal daddy!”

“I LIKE this one! ME, we’re doing a song together!”

Denny practically bounced out of his shoes. “I KNOW THE ONE! I KNOW THE ONE YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

Bumblebee had never seen “Dancing with Myself” sung so literally, or with so much fervor, as Whirl sang to Whirl. The bigger bot danced and spun the little one around like he would put her through the window, but she only shrieked and laughed and held tighter for everything he did. It was damn cute, in Bumblebee’s opinion. He could tell the other recruits were a touch bored, or maybe they were only tired, so he pulled two under each arm and they spent the rest of the evening quietly tucked into his sides. The shop reeked of coffee. Strongarm and Sideswipe left once Whirl picked another song, and Fixit not long after. Bee didn’t wind up locking the doors until Whirl- the smaller- felt into a recharge nap right on his shoulder during a song and the Rescue Bots started packing up.

“If we promise to come earlier,” asked Blades, “Could we do this again next week?”

“I dunno,” Bumblebee honestly answered. “Whirl had a great time, but without Whirl here, I don’t know how much she’d enjoy Earth music, and the other recruits got bored-”

“Hey...” Russel piped up from the ground. Bee listened, while Russel worked for the words. “Maybe next time… how about I bring Just Dance instead? I mean, you have to learn songs ahead of time but-”

Denny slapped a hand on his shoulder from behind. “But Just Dance has the moves on the screen! That’s a great idea! Don’t you think so, Bee?”

Russel beamed, and Bumblebee laughed softly. “I’ll keep in touch. Need to go over it with the crew, first.”

“Hey, Me! Wake up!” Whirl pinched Whirl’s little cheek. He snuggled her face under his chin. “Gotta go back to deep space work now! You promise to show those little on-the-grounders what for?”

Whirl, bless her spark, yawned before she answered. “You bet I will!”

“That’s my counterpart!”

“Bee?” Russel sounded all of two feet tall when he asked. “Can I talk to Whirl? Like, up there? Privately?”

Lifted by a massive hand, Russel “stood” level with Whirl and Whirl. She had to wipe the sleep out of her optics to focus on the boy, but he laced his fingers together and gathered his courage.

“So… you never see your dad?”

Whirl gave Whirl a bop on the cheek. “He’s not my dad! He’s my namesake!”

“But he’s like your dad.”

The bigger Whirl scratched at the side of his optic. It looked a touch painful. “I don’t really know what this ‘dad’ thing is, but Swerve shows me these videos sometimes. They’re hairy or something, right?”

“I mean...” Russel struggled. “He teaches you stuff? Hangs out with you? Tells you stories? Buys you toys?”

“No?” Whirl and Whirl shared a look. Whirl shrugged her shoulders. “I like him, but we live apart. I just like being around him because he’s fun and cool and kinda like me!”

“And I have emotional investment in her!” said Whirl. “I knew her back when she was a formless little living metal slug! With one optical processor center! I had to save her from her own goofy tendencies so she didn’t wind up with no depth perception! But she can’t live with me! I’ve seen slag in deep space that’ll literally turn you inside out! She’s happier and healthier on Earth with her mentors.”

“And he’s happy out in deep space!” Whirl finished. “I don’t really know what this ‘dad’ thing is you’re talking about. We’re both our own bots, and we decide how we’re friends!”

“I… you know what?” Russel smiled. “I think you guys have it pretty good. Thanks, Bee.”

“No problem, Russel.” Bumblebee put him back on the ground gently. Something about today… It felt like an accomplishment. He’d done something right, especially when he saw Russel automatically getting into the car with his dad instead of asking for a ride home from him. The Rescue Bots left with their charges tucked into their cabs, Whirl leaving with Whirl for an extra set of hands. Grimlock was the last one left when Bee locked the final door.

“I got nowhere to be tonight but home,” said Grimlock. “Can I walk with you while it’s all nice and moonlight-y?”

Bumblebee took a long breath and let it out slow and easily. “That sounds awesome. Come on, you can see where me and the humans live.”

“Cool!” Grimlock fell into step with him naturally. “I always wanted to see a human house up close.”

“You won’t, not with the walls up all around it,” said Bumblebee. “But I think you’ve earned a little peek inside.”

Something about that idea made Bumblebee feel oddly vulnerable, but.. safe.

Chapter 13

Some days brought in worse customers than other, but every day brought in Steeljaw.

He camped out at his table with his espresso and never moved, for hours. He was there for every little failure. The one time Strongarm burned herself, he was there. Every time Thunderhoof caught Sideswipe making faces behind his back, Steeljaw was there. Bumblebee could hear him chuckle every time Fixit stuttered. He and Fixit were the only full time employees, and he was starting to worry that Steeljaw was a full-time customer. He could live with it! He honestly could, if he couldn’t feel in his spark that Steeljaw was making a mental list of every single little screw-up. It put him on edge, and he was starting to see that anxiety echoed in the others. It took a week to organize everybody in the same room with no customers and no time limit, but he called a meeting.

“All right,” he began, “I’m not gonna mince words. Who here is getting creeped out-”

Everyone’s hands immediately went up.

Bumblebee, thrown, blinked. “I hadn’t said-”

Grimlock cut in. “It’s Steeljaw.”

“Okay yes, it’s Steeljaw. None of us like him, I wanna ban him, but he’s done nothing worth banning and it’s driving me up a wall!”

“It has to be something, sir!” Fixit added helpfully. “Something that keeps him coming back, I mean, that we can change! Maybe the music selection? Or the furniture?”

“Or, worst case scenario, he keeps coming back because he likes the food.” Sideswipe shrugged from his corner. “Can’t change that.”

“Maybe we’re onto something with the music, though!” said Grimlock.

Strongarm chuckled. “Yeah, we can just play Sideswipe’s playlists until he leaves.”

Bristling, Sideswipe snapped back, “Or we can put on one of yours and everyone can leave!”

“Look, I’m just gonna talk to the guy, okay?” Bumblebee threw his hands out. “I’m just gonna do the best manager magic I can, figure out why he keeps showing up and watching us, and maybe get him to stop being a creep!”

Grimlock pursed his lips in thought. “That’s a tall order.”

“Trust me, Grimlock. I have spent a lifetime filling tall orders.”

It was the perfect one-liner, if he thought so himself. So perfect, it felt like a disappointment when Steeljaw wasn’t there the minute they stepped out of the meeting. Bumblebee spent a long morning being steadily less hyped as time rolled on. It was such a good line...

It was nearly lunch time when Steeljaw arrived. Distressingly normal for lunch time on a weekday, they were quiet, so Bumblebee could give the problem guest his full attention. He manned Fixit’s place at the counter, leaving the Minibot tucked behind the register where he was hard to notice. Steeljaw noticed, of course, and matched Bumblebee’s gaze with a toothy smirk.

“Good day, Bumblebee. You know my usual.”

“I do.” Bee waited until he heard the steamer firing up behind him before continuing. “I always wondered what you did that gave you such a long lunch break. You’re always here over an hour.”

“You noticed, did you?” Steeljaw purred. “Yes, you would. I’m the owner of a small boutique of my own. I can afford a long lunch. I trust my employees to do things correctly without supervision.”

Bumblebee physically felt the jab to his pride. Fixit’s claws clacked a little too loudly against the register.

“I don’t think I’ve been to your place,” Bumblebee mentioned. “New?”

Steeljaw’s grin dropped, replaced by a stern neutrality that felt just a little forced, if Bee was reading it right. It was most telling that Steeljaw’s tail stopped wagging with a stiff, metallic lock.

“Established,” Steeljaw corrected. “In the business district. North part of town.”

Then Steeljaw was set up in the expensive Little Iacon part of Crown City, where he had researched apartments. Steeljaw must have been bathing in money if he could open his own business there. A bit intrigued but mostly making small talk, Bumblebee continued. “Huh. Selling what? Imported goods? You always seemed like the type to own a night club, to me.”

Steeljaw’s smile returned, and his voice took on a honeyed lilt that carried a hint of a challenge. “You should come and see for yourself. It would do you some good. Treat yourself to something a little more refined and elegant.”

With that, Steeljaw flicked his fingers and produced a business card. That seemed to be a thing with him. This was a different one than the card Bumblebee already had. He took it, and while he quickly entertained the idea of burning it, something inside him fired up. Here was an opportunity to look right in on Steeljaw’s territory. He could see what the mech was really about. What he did, and why he kept coming back. He checked the address. It wasn’t too long of a drive.

“All right.” Challenge accepted, he thought to himself. “I will. Fixit, you want to take your lunch break early and come with me?”

Asking Fixit was kind of a lark, a last-second upping of the ante, but Bee was doubly gratified when Steeljaw’s brows shot up and Fixit’s face split into a glowing smile. “Yes, sir!”

“Wait.” Steeljaw went stiff. “Now?”

Well, now he had to. Steeljaw was over there looking like they had caught him stealing. Bumblebee could hear Sideswipe muffling his laughter through the kitchen wall.

“Might as well. You three watch the store while I’m gone, okay?”

Grimlock nearly smashed the kitchen window shoving his head through it. “On it!”

Strongarm was already taking up the register. “You can trust us to do it correctly, too! And without supervision.”

Somewhere in the back, hidden from view, Sideswipe was cackling, and Bumblebee had never been prouder of his team.

Meanwhile, for the first time they had ever seen, Steeljaw was at a loss for words. His espresso sat on the counter right where Fixit had left it, getting cold and bitter. Bumblebee turned to the door with a saucy waggle of his wings. “Sorry I can’t keep you company for lunch again today, Steeljaw. Catch you tomorrow?” Before he could answer, Bee opened the door for Fixit. “Come on, let’s go.”

They left the shop with a dignified measure to their steps. Once that door was shut, though, Bumblebee was scrambling to transform and Fixit was diving for his door. They pulled out of the street along with a squeal of tires. Steeljaw’s flustered face burst out of the shop door, only visible for a moment, before it was just a long-eared dot in the distance.

Bumblebee couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. “Did you see his face?!”

“We got him, Bee!” Fixit’s laugh was a delightful high trill. “Totally unprepared, and completely alabaster- sandyblasted-” He punched his chest. “Flabbergasted!”

“I can’t wait to see what his place is like,” Bumblebee quietly gushed. “Finally, we’ll be working with some intel!”

“Wow! On an intelligence mission with my employer!” Fixit gave another little titter. “I never would have imagined such a thing on the Alchemor! There I was simply… ordered!”

Bumblebee could relate. “Liked to boss you around, did they?”

“Oh, no, Bee. I was ordered, in a batch of 100.” Fixit locked his claws together. “I hope my batchmates are as lucky as I am.”

Maybe Bumblebee couldn’t relate at all, and he swallowed the rest of his thoughts. They were pulling into the address.

Steeljaw’s boutique, “The Den”, was a ground-floor concrete standalone building, and that was all it had in common with the shop. The dark concrete, a match for Steeljaw’s colors exactly, pulled Bumblebee in from the hot sunny street with low eaves and a flat roof that promised privacy and exclusion. The second floor was offset, to Bee’s left, to make a small covered area surrounded by high walls and thick iron gates. The recessed violet lights shined out from under counters, within silent water fountains, and behind frosted glass panes set into bare walls. Bumblebee walked slow to keep Fixit at his heels. The Den felt like another world- a hauntingly Unicronian one- and they hadn’t even set foot in the front door.

The interior delivered the same promise as the outside. The open space bathed in purple mood light, granite blacks and chromatic grays, with booths and their high sides all angled away from the front. Private, quiet, impersonal on purpose, it felt more like a hideaway than a coffee boutique. It all felt so odd, until Bumblebee finally noticed the missing piece: a counter to his right lined with bottles and staffed by a single mech.

“It’s a bar.” He waited a moment and listened. “We might be the only ones here, Fixit. Fixit?”

Looking down, Bumblebee couldn’t catch Fixit’s face. His friend’s optics stayed on the floor, and his previous mirth was gone utterly, like it had never been there in the first place. Something about Steeljaw’s bar was wrong, he could feel it. He asked again. “Fixit?”

With a heavy shrug of his shoulders and a deep sigh, Fixit explained. “No railings.”

Which meant for the entirety of their visit, Fixit would be reliant on Bumblebee to sit at the tables, read oversize menus, and possibly even pay if the credit readers wouldn’t adjust to Mini-sized chip cards. Fixit might even- no, Bumblebee didn’t want to think about that. He just shared a quiet noise of disgust with his friend. “Do you need me to lift you?”

“I would rather be off this floor, yes.” Fixit pulled his shoulders in. “I can see where they haven’t swept.”

“Gross.”

He had lifted Fixit before, but the context this time made it feel so intrusive and disrespectful. It was almost viscerally uncomfortable, and as if life hated them today, Steeljaw was behind the counter when he stood back up. Granted, a winded and road-smelling Steeljaw was satisfying, but still Steeljaw.

“Hi there,” Bee plainly greeted. “Short lunch break today?”

Maybe it was that he was already panting, but Steeljaw’s usual dry chuckle came out as a proper laugh. “And miss your first reaction to my comfortable little corner of Earth? Not on your life. Please, order whatever you like. My treat, as a thank you and anniversary gift for your first month open. Belated, of course.”

At least with Fixit tucked into his arm, it was easier to meet his optics and share a look. “A thank you?”

“Why, for all the entertainment, of course.”

“Of course,” echoed Bumblebee. It wasn’t worth the effort to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “We’re flattered, but I don’t do high grade during work hours.”

Fixit nodded. “I don’t drink either.”

Steeljaw’s optics shot to the inattentive barmech. The long-legged insectoid bot barely looked up from his datapad before jumping to attention. “Indeed. Take a seat, then. I need a moment...”

Bumblebee was glad Steeljaw wasn’t looking, because the alarmed twitch of his shoulders when he grabbed and bodily hauled the barmech out of sight was very telling. Fixit and he both watched in combined horror as the two other mechs disappeared behind a door thick with soundproofing. Whatever Steeljaw was doing, he did not want it heard.

“We need to hide,” Bee announced to Fixit.

“You mean take a private booth?” Fixit asked with some small panic. “With no witnesses or direct line of sight to another bot?”

“You’re right, let’s find somebody else fast.”

A scouring of the restaurant found one single occupied booth. There, an older model warrior mech sat in silence while sharing a strong cup of oxidized green tea with his two Minicons. His fears were realized: the Minicons were using metal cups obviously hand made by larger fingers. He has seen them being fashioned even during the war. Rather than having cubes their own size, or having the cups properly machined, Minicons were expected to have their owners feed them from their own cubes. Optimus and Ratchet had taken great pains, and some Earth-based factory blueprints, to put everyday items made Minicon sized into production on the newly reconstructed Cybertron. To see a sight like that, not only post-war but on Earth where Minis, even in a pinch, could just use a ceramic mug-

The warrior mech was staring. Rather, Bee realized he was staring back. He apologetically dipped his head and sat at the booth across from them. Like it or not, these were the witnesses that would keep Steeljaw from murdering them in a soundproofed kitchen and serving them to Thunderhoof at the next assassination buffet.

Where did his imagination go, sometimes?

Bumblebee sat with a heavy spark and a deep sigh. “Fixit, I am so sorry. I had no intention of putting you in this kind of situation. This must be so demeaning.”

Fixit laid a claw on Bee’s arm, all gentle smiles. “Neither of us knew about the establishment beforehand. Don’t feel tilty- lilty-” Bee thumped him. “Guilty about something you have no control over.”

“I guess I’m so used to our place-”

“Exactly. To be frank, I do already prefer it there to here.” Fixit dug in his subspace, producing his own personal cup. Well aged and rounded on what used to be hard edges, Fixit’s cup was fashioned to fit his claws. He spent a few seconds trying to pull a napkin out of a dispenser made for bots Bumblebee’s size and up. He managed a torn corner, and used it to wipe off a fine layer of dust. “I haven’t had to use this since before I started work on the Alchemor.”

Bee asked, “Who made yours?”

“The mech who ordered my batch unit,” said Fixit. “This was before the war started, mind you, so I feel I must particularly emphasize that by the time I was brand new, she was thrice as old as I am now.”

“Woah.” Bee calculated. “I don’t think we have any bots left in the trillions.”

“She was just on the verge of becoming outdated when I was produced.” Fixit ran his claws fondly along the cup’s uneven rim. “Her memory banks- her internal memory- were already full to capacity, so she stored all other data on external drives. Her Minicon orders, such as our names and production numbers, were on the orange drive. That way she could remember what she was doing in between drive changes. It matched our paint schemes, you see.”

“She only remembered you when she had the right drive plugged in?”

“Oh yes! And she remembered all of us, individually! And regarded us quite fondly, as well. We were addressed mainly by our numbers.” Fixit turned the cup over, where the glyph for the number 27 was embossed into the bottom. “I remember seeing her in the street once while I was on shore leave. She had in the blue drive, for domestic chores, so when I waved and greeted her, she laughed and smiled.” He giggled. “She said, ‘If there’s a Mini on Cybertron, you can bet he’s one of mine!’ But past that, she couldn’t tell me from any other Minicon on the surface of the planet.

“It wasn’t long before she couldn’t even manage that, as her internal drives corrupted to the point she was no longer mobile. I doubt she survived, in any way. The memory has gone somewhat quitterbeat- spitterneat-”

Fixit’s smile hollowed out once Bee patted him into a reset. “Bittersweet, with time.”

Pulled out of his reverie by a noise, Bee focused on the barmech-turned-waiter standing a nervous distance away from the table. “M-my name is Kickback, what would you like to drink?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Bee cleared his throat. “I haven’t been looking at a menu. Bring me whatever Steeljaw usually has, please.”

Kickback turned and started to leave when Fixit shouted after him. “And a Tetrahex Toddy, for me , please!”

Bumblebee and Kickback both shot the little Minicon a look.

“You’re ordering a drink drink?” Bee asked. “You think they even serve high grade this early?”

Kickback huffed. “What, are you blind? Do you see the bar over there? We have-”

Steeljaw’s deep growl came from somewhere, somewhere close, and Bumblebee could not for the life of him see where. Kickback couldn’t tell either, by the look of his manically darting optics. He ducked away with a quick, nervous laugh.

They killed time by finally finding the menu- the entire table was a touch pad and they hadn’t noticed- and looking through the drink selection while they waited. Steeljaw’s place offered triple their menu, even without the bar. While there were many varieties of rare energon blends and fanciful foamed coffees, Bumblebee was served an espresso, just like Steeljaw always ordered at the shop. He had no taste for espresso, and he could faintly tell it was a little stronger than Grimlock’s. It left a pleasant aftertaste, though. Fixit, meanwhile, scooped his cup into the oversize serving of half-and-half high grade and tea.

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I don’t, said Fixit after his first mouthful. His optics lingered on his reflection in the tea. “But she did, every day. I wondered, after all this time, if it would taste any better now than it did then.”

“Does it?”

“No. Just as awful as I remember.” He laughed, although it was a tender and quiet laugh, and poured the rest back into the big cube. “But now, I have a choice to consume it or not. That said...”

“Yeah…” Bee put down his cup. “Let’s head back to Our Place.”

Bumblebee set Fixit back on the floor, and all the while, he felt optics on his back. He checked for them once he was upright. The two Minicons from the old warrior’s table, a matching pair of Buzzsaw models, ducked out of his sight. Their gaze followed them the whole way out. Steeljaw never showed his face again. Fixit spent the drive in sleepy, comfortable silence, and Bumblebee marveled at the time they wasted going there. It had been over an hour. The outside world felt jarringly bright and warm, and something clung to him even now. It was like a sticky air against his plating. He’d probably have to shower it off. He was eager to get back ‘home’, and he finally transformed and entered his place through the front door.

“Walk the Dinosaur” should not have been playing this loud.

“BOOM BOOM, AKA-LAKA-LAKA BOOM!” Grimlock thundered through the lobby in a flexing pose. Sideswipe and Strongarm laughed and dangled from an arm each. Tables had been knocked over. There were napkins scattered on the floor and display case. “BOOM BOOM, AKA-LAKA-”

“ GUYS!”

The impromptu dance party came to an abrupt halt. All guilty parties scrambled to re-dignify themselves.

“Is- is this what you do when I’m not here?!” he shouted. “What happened? Why are all the napkins on the floor?!”

That got an “Uh...” from Sideswipe.

“And Strongarm! You?! You too?! Really?!” Bee pinched at his optics. “How did this even- what did you do while I was gone?!”

Chapter 14

Roughly an hour earlier, things looked different from the other side of the counter.

Sideswipe laughed through Bumblebee’s entire exit. Strongarm kept up a proud grin all while Steeljaw met her optics, shyly quirked his lips into a smirk, and bolted out the door fast enough to rattle the glass. It sent the whole shop into gales of laughter, and by the time it faded, the skeleton crew relaxed into their own spaces to take advantage of the quiet. Strongarm studied. Grimlock cleaned. Sideswipe emerged from hiding to sit at a table.

Sideswipe, quickly, got tired of the quiet. “So Grimlock, how bad do you wanna ride the boss’s bumper?”

Strongarm nearly cracked her datapad n shock. “Excuse me?! Sideswipe, you-”

Grimlock’s head shot through the kitchen window, pushing the cracks just that little bit longer up the wall. “A LOT! REALLY a lot, and I keep flirtin’ with him all subtle and he keeps not noticin’ and it’s driving me bananas!”

It was enough to make Strongarm put down her datapad, because this? Needed addressing, seriously. “You think you’re being subtle?”

“You ever seen how Dinobots normally flirt?” Grimlock answered with a glib little lift of his brow. “That got me fired from one job.”

“And Bee’s still not picking up on it!” Sideswipe summarized. “Maybe you need to be more direct.”

“Maybe he needs to not flirt with his boss,” countered Strongarm. “Just a suggestion.”

“I wasn’t even trying to make him my boss!” Grimlock argued. “He’s the one that offered me a job! You try havin’ a handsome bot come up and say ‘I want to see you every other day and pay you for it’ and try sayin’ no!”

Strongarm, bluntly, said, “That’s prostitution.”

This knocked Sideswipe into another fit of laughter, and Grimlock blushed orange.

“Don’t put it like that, that makes me sound gross...”

Sideswipe pulled together enough to gasp and stand up. The grin on his face said plainly that he thought the next thing to come out of his mouth was going to be hilarious. Strongarm braced for the worst.

“Voulez vous coffee avec moi, ce soir?”

“That isn’t even grammatically correct!” fussed Strongarm.

Sideswipe kept on with his dumb little song and added a dumb little dance. “He sat in the lobby while he freshened up!”

“Sideswipe!”

“Boy drank all that decaf-triple-shot-mocha-no-whip-”

Strongarm huffed. “Grimlock, you have my permission to punch him now.”

Grimlock blinked at her blankly. “Why, what’s he doing?”

Apparently Grimlock hadn’t been paying that much attention to Denny Clay during the karaoke party. “Nevermind. Okay, Grimlock, if it helps?” Strongarm searched through her copy of the employee handbook. “Look, it’s only considered sexual harassment if you try, he tells you he’s not interested, and you keep trying. I think you’re okay to give it one shot.”

Talking to Grimlock’s head jutting out of the wall gave the weirdest impression of talking to a Muppet. Strongarm was starting to wonder why Grimlock didn’t just leave the kitchen and come into the lobby. Still, he talked animatedly enough, and the Dinobot was the perfect picture of innocent confusion as he spoke. “Then how do I know if he’s interested?”

“You don’t!” shouted Strongarm. “That’s why you ask!”

“But I don’t wanna ask him if he’s not interested!”

“Then you ask him to find out! That is the impetus of this whole conversation!”

Sideswipe leaned himself over the counter and cut in. “What’s an ‘impetus’?”

“Stop touching the display glass!” Strongarm huffed. “And it’s the reason that this awkward talk even started.”

Sideswipe snickered. “No, I’m pretty sure the ‘impetus’ was me being bored. You guys are fun to watch fall all over yourselves.”

“Can you say anything useful instead of playing with Grimlock’s emotions for cheap kicks?”

Grimlock, embarrassed, asked, “You guys remember I’m still here, right?”

“Grimlock, listen to me,” said Sideswipe. “As the only mech in this room who’s ever gotten any-”

That sent the other two into a shouting assault that nearly knocked him backwards in honest-to-Primus shock. Grimlock even finally left the kitchen to properly loom over him, and the shared fury between him and Strongarm was enough to send literal sparks snapping between them like an angry stereo Van de Graff generator.

“ OH, so you think ‘cause I’m taking it easy with Bumblebee-!?”

“Okay that is so harassment-!!”

“Bold of you to assume I’m some naive little newbot-!”

“Not to mention you have all the manners of a Junkion-!!”

“Here I am, baring my spark for you-!”

“This was all some cheap ploy to brag about yourself, wasn’t it-?!”

The door burst open. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

All three of them yelped in alarm at the bright red Decepticon in the doorway. This guy was broad like Thunderhoof but in a squat way, with giant claws and optics up on independent stalks. He talked without pausing for breath. “Relationship values start at zero! You increase it by giving the appropriate gifts! Limit of two per day except on birthdays! Flowers gain neutral affection from all characters, but favorite items-”

Strongarm stopped him. “What are you talking about?”

The bot punched the air. “Unless you wait for the next patch to unlock new characters! All aboard the Shane Train!”

The skeleton crew, flummoxed, simply stared.

The bot shrugged. “Also do you have free wifi?”

Strongarm answered, “Uh… yeah.”

“Perfect! Decaf triple shot mocha frapuccino, no whip!”

“OH!” Sideswipe kicked out his leg. “Who can call those orders?! It me!”

Grimlock sighed and dragged himself back into the kitchen. “I still don’t get how that helps me start asking Bee out.”

“Just ask him out!” said Strongarm.

“Ask him out romantically!” Sideswipe passed the customer coffee-in-name-only while Strongarm collected his payment. “I’m just saying, asking under the starry sky with some gentle music playing makes a way bigger impression than just asking.”

“And bring a gift!” said the customer.

Grimlock stuck his head back out the kitchen window. “You know, now I’m wonderin’ if Bee doesn’t flirt back on purpose, ‘cause hearing y’all talk about my business at work is really weird.”

“You’re the one that brought it up!” argued Sideswipe.

“No he wasn’t!” said Strongarm. “You were!”

“He didn’t have to take me seriously!” said Sideswipe.

“This is the best cutscene I’ve ever triggered,” said the customer.

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER,” Strongarm announced. “HAVE A NICE DAY.”

The bot quickly left, and Grimlock’s chin slumped lifelessly against the window sill. “This is never gonna work. And Bee ain’t even into me,” bemoaned Grimlock.

“Look, I asked because I’ve seen him looking at you!” said Sideswipe. “He’s gotta like something in you!”

“He was really relieved when he found out you weren’t a wartime Decepticon,” Strongarm put forward.

“And he, like, LOOKS at you, looks at you,” Sideswipe said helpfully. “Not like an ‘oh there you are’ way, or a ‘you’re doing something wrong’ way.”

“He only looks at you like that,” said Strongarm.

Grimlock wailed to the heavens. “You guys are mean! You’re mean to Bee and you’re mean to each other! How’m I supposed to take advice from you?!”

“Look I’m trying to be supportive here!” said Sideswipe. “Maybe-”

“Wait! WAIT that’s it!” Strongarm slapped the counter. “I’ve got it!”

Sideswipe cocked a brow. “Stop touching the display glass.”

Grimlock shrugged. “I’m lost.”

Strongarm cleared her throat. “Grimlock, you’re nice.”

Grimlock smiled. “Why, thank you.”

“That has to be it! I mean, Bumblebee and Fixit are already pretty good friends, and Fixit’s impossibly nice!” said Strongarm. “And me and Sideswipe aren’t winning any Friends of the Year awards.”

Sideswipe folded his arms. “That’s for sure.”

“So! Sincerity!” Strongarm interrupted. “You’re already big and strong and nice to him! We just have to work on the… uh...”

Grimlock thought. “… asking?”

“I mean, basically! We’re combining the only good idea Sideswipe had-”

Sideswipe came out of his pout just to make an angry noise in Strongarm’s direction.

“-with what we have to work with. We’re making you romantically big and strong and nice! So, Sideswipe, what do you do that convinces people to actually like you?”

Strongarm got a glare instead of an answer, and she matched that glare with one of her own. Sideswipe held her gaze. She wouldn’t let him snark about this. He wanted to start trouble by asking invasive questions? He wanted to offer ‘advice’ with underhanded comments? She could do the same, and she didn’t have Grimlock’s nice-ness to let him get away with it.

Sideswipe’s fingers drummed on his arm. “… I’d take them dancing.”

“All right! We can work with dancing!” Strongarm jumped for the radio and waved Grimlock out of the kitchen. Searching for a station playing music she recognized was… a challenge, as most of them were just humans talking and making jokes about sexual dimorphism. Grimlock hovered over her shoulder while she skimmed every channel she could. “Why it is all humans talking?!”

“What are you doing with the radio?!” Sideswipe shoved into her side and took control of the buttons. “Loo- you’re on AM! Do you not use the radio in your vehicle mode?”

“Who cares whether I do or not?!” said Strongarm.

Sideswipe hit two buttons and found a wailing, sweeping song. “There! This is a good one. Grimlock, show us your moves!”

Grimlock shyly twiddled his claws. “Dance with myself?”

“Oh-oh-ohoh,” Strongarm sang.

Sideswipe stepped up and offered Grimlock his hand, along with a shake of his shoulders to adjust his posture. “Pretend I’m Bumblebee, and dance with me.”

Grimlock waited a moment, giving the song his full concentration with his chin cradled in his hand. “Hmm… okay!”

Grimlock and Sideswipe haltingly joined hands and pulled against each other, Grimlock trying to lead and Sideswipe, detecting hesitation, trying to guide him. Strongarm felt a familiar kind of awkwardness that came with meeting her school higher-ups at social functions. The biggest sticking point in Sideswipe’s plan seemed to be Grimlock’s massive frown, which didn’t budge for as long as they tried to dance. His steps seemed a little too measured and gentle, even for how delicate the big Dinobot could be when he tried. Wasn’t this supposed to be him not trying too hard? Being sincere and all that slag Bumblebee liked?

“Maybe a different song?” she suggested.

“YES!” shouted Grimlock. “Please, I hate this one.”

Sideswipe stomped his foot. Grimlock didn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I thought it was part of the lesson! That’s romantic music, isn’t it?”

Strongarm flipped through the radio stations, stopping on a bubbly pop hit she’d heard in a commercial. “Oo, I like this one!”

“You can’t dance to ‘Thank You, Next’,” Sideswipe griped. “Do another one.”

“How do you know all this pop music?”

“How do you work on Earth and not listen to the radio?!”

The next station wailed louder than the previous one. “-and walk the dinosaur!”

“STAY ON THAT ONE!” Grimlock shouted. “MY JAM! I KNOW THIS ONE! THIS ONE’S AWESOME!”

Sideswipe winced. “It’s not really romantic-”

Grimlock had Sideswipe by the waist within a second. He swung Sideswipe hard enough to knock over three of the tables and pulled him into a dip which caught a napkin dispenser and popped it open. Napkins showered the shop, and Strongarm dove to right the tables even while Grimlock kept Sideswipe dancing.

Man, was he grinning, though. “I MET YOU IN A CAVE, YOU WERE PAINTIN’ BUFFALO- Strongarm get in on this!”

He didn’t give her a choice. He scooped her up in his other arm and whirled himself around at the waist. This was a lot like what Whirl did with his other Whirl, wasn’t it? The thought went through her mind before Grimlock accidentally mashed her into the wall and exploded another napkin dispenser. She got her voice ready to shout-

Out of the corner of her optic, she spotted Sideswipe, clinging to Grimlock’s arm for dear life and laughing.

For half a second, he saw what Bumblebee saw in Grimlock.

She maybe saw what other mechs saw in Sideswipe.

Then Grimlock spun her funny and brought his arms together, and Sideswipe used his forward momentum to kick her. Strongarm kicked him back and cackled at the face he made before Grimlock spun them around the other way.

“BOOM-BOOM, AKA-”

“GUYS!”

The dance party ground to a halt. Bumblebee and Fixit stood in the doorway looking more than a little confused at the napkins everywhere, and the dancing, and two of his employees dangling from one of the other ones.

“Is- is this what you do when I’m not here?!” Bumblebee shouted. “What happened? Why are all the napkins on the floor?!”

Sideswipe dropped from Grimlock’s arm. “Uh...”

“And Strongarm! You?! You too?! Really?!” Bee pinched at his optics. Fixit scurried along the floor picking up napkins. “How did this- what did you do while I was gone?!”

“Um...” Grimlock forced a little smile. “Trust exercises?”

Bumblebee said nothing… but did laugh, and he laughed like a madmech. “You know what? Don’t even worry about it! Just clean this up- I’ve GOT to tell you about Steeljaw’s place!”

“OH YEAH!” Grimlock dropped Strongarm and bolted to Bumblebee. “What was it like?”

“It’s a bar!” Fixit grumped. “And a dirty one!”

“Listen, guys, there’s soundproofing in the kitchen-”

Bumblebee helped clean while he told stories, and the rest of the day disappeared into an easy, playful roast of Steeljaw’s place. Grimlock stuck close to Bee’s side the whole time.

Chapter 15

Another day, another visit from Steeljaw that passed with an odd uncomfortable tension but no incidents. Bumblebee was just coming downstairs to kill time with Grimlock when Fixit waved him over. “Bumblebee, sir? I think I need your help with this customer.”

“Coming.” He took a spot behind the counter while Fixit regained his bearings. The customer was yet another massive war buld, but an Autobot instead of the typical Decepticon Our Place usually served. He wasn’t a smiler. Bumblebee prepared for the worst. “What’s the matter?”

“I believe he’s asking to speak in chirolinguistics?” Fixit held up his claws. “But I’m incompatible.”

The customer signed his apologies.

Bumblebee laughed and waved Fixit’s worries away. “You’re fine, Fixit, I know sign language.” He signed as he spoke. “Are you deaf?”

No, the customer told him, his voice modulator had been irreparably damaged. Mute for life, but not deaf.

Bumblebee signed him that his muteness had been a war wound. The customer nodded with an understanding in his optics. Bee smiled. There was an instant connection made. He wanted to chat with this guy. “Hey, Fixit, I’ll help this one, okay?”

“I will stay on post and assist the next caterer-” Fixit thumped his chest. “Customer! Sir.”

“And hey, if it’s a caterer, you can assist him too.”

“Roger!”

While Bee took the customer’s full attention, Fixit tidied up his station. Napkins restocked, currencies all facing the same direction, counter wiped clean, and promotional signs all facing outwards: he would dare to say he had the cleanest workstation in the whole shop! He held a particular pride in that thought ever since that rather foreboding trip to Steeljaw’s Den. Fixit did his best to think positively about all bots regardless of first impressions, but oh if he had Steeljaw here right now, he would have a few strong select words about his business acumen! Of course, he would also have a few thoughts regarding Minicon accessibility, but he nearly always had thoughts regarding Minicon accessibility. Fixit reminded himself that such things were not typically the bailiwick of taller, standard-sized bots.

The front door chimed, and Fixit couldn’t see a customer. To his delight, he had to look down to find them.

There are the doorway stood not only two new Minicon customers, not only the very first Minicon visitors to the shop, but the same two Buzzsaw Minicons he and Bumblebee had ‘met’ at Steeljaw’s Den! He could picture the chain of thought in his CPU. They must have heard him talking about the shop’s easy accessibility! They must have come to see for themselves! He and Bee must have stolen Steeljaw’s customers! Fixit nearly squealed. How wonderfully scandalous! “Oh, good morning! Both of you! Welcome to Our Place! Please come bin- come thin-”

Bumblebee broke from his signing to pat Fixit’s back. “COME IN, thank you.”

The two Minicons entrance was a slow one. Their optics tracked a path along the railings and up the tables, but carefully avoided landing on Bumblebee or the customer. Fixit noted that one of them always kept a hand lingering on the other’s shoulder. Both checked behind them, frequently. Fixit’s imagination took him places , drawing together a narrative of the two Buzzsaws escaping their partners ever-present watch to venture out into the world for the very first time. How exciting! He wondered how correct he was.

They scaled the counter ramp with a sort of reverence one expected for more famous locales. When they reached Fixit, they spoke Cybertronian in hushed tones. <<”We beg your forgiveness,”>> said the black one of the pair. <<”But are you, by chance, the Minicon who sat across from our table yesterday?”>>

<<”I am indeed!”>> Defaulting to Cybertronian felt a little odd. Bumblebee spoke English almost exclusively, and the rest of the staff found it easier to simply stay in the language rather than shift back and forth. <<”My name is Fixit, and this is my employer, Bumblebee.”>>

The two Buzzsaws flinched when Bumblebee turned and nodded a greeting. “Hiya.”

<<”He is your employer only?”>> asked the red one of the pair. <<”He did not order you?”>>

<<”Yes, and no, in that order. He had nothing to do with my production.”>> Fixit took a chance ans asked. <<”The mech I saw you two with; was he involved in your production?”>>

The black one shook his head. <<”No. He is our Master.”>>

Fixit was glad for the Cybertronian language in this instance. <<”Master”>> in this context and tone carreid the appropriate meaning that the two Minicons were under his tutelage and stewardship. “Master” in English could potentially carry rather more unsavory implications. Fixit inwardly noted that even with their word usage, the implication was not entirely gone. The did his best not to let it color his tone.

<<”Well, I could carry on. Instead, what would you like to order?”>> He reached up to the sides of the menu datapad’s screen and pulled down. The entire pad mass-shifted into the appropriate size, to the audible amazement of the Minis. <<”While you’re making your order, I’ll set up your table!”>>

Bumblebee chuckled, and Fixit startled because honest-to-the-Primes he had outright forgotten Bee was there. “I’ll get it for you, Fixit. We’ll call it even, for letting me talk to Blastwave.”

“Th-that sounds like an excellent exchange for talking to Blastwave!” Fixit cleared the stutter out of his throat. “Who is Blastwave?”

Bumblebee gestured politely towards the mute customer, who was nursing at a very sweet and foam-capped drink. “My new friend over there.”

Grimlock’s head jutted out of the kitchen window with enough force to crack the repaired wall. “Who’s the ‘new friend’?”

Boggled for a few seconds, Bumblebee laughed and gently patted Grimlock’s cheek as he passed. “You crack me up, Grimlock.”

Fixit allowed himself a moment to enjoy Grimlock’s dawning expression of delight before returning his attention back to his Minicon customers. They had been entranced with the menu for seemingly the entire time. It was not often he saw someone pour over the afforded items so thoroughly.

He dared to offer. <<”Do you require assistance?”>>

<<”I believe so, yes...”>> the red one admitted. <<”I cannot find green tea on your menu.”>>

<<”Regrettably, green tea is not offered at our establishment.”>> Fixit worried that maybe they had not been allowed to drink anything else before, as he had experienced with his previous employer. <<”I could maybe make a suggestion based on your preferences. Do you like your drinks sweeter, or bitter?”>>

<<”Bitter!”>> said the red.

<<”Sweet!”>> said the black.

Each Minicon looked at the other in alarm, and Fixit figured he had stumbled onto something.

The red one muttered low. <<”Master Drift has told us numerous times that proper tea is bitter and dark like the moonless Cybertronian sky.”>>

<<”And yet even when it is made so, Master Drift does not compliment its taste,”>> argued the black one. <<”This noble Fixit asked for our preference, and my taste lies in the sweet and heavy oils found at the bottom of the cube.”>>

<<”But the surface of the tea is cleansing and astringent!”>> countered the red one. <<It does not lie about on the tongue for the remainder of the day!”>>

The black one squared up his shoulders. <<”Do not speak so harshly of the things that bring me pleasure!”>>

Without warning, a heavy red hand slapped down on the counter, scaring the Minicons out of their talk. “Hey there. Name’s Sideswipe. Just gonna weigh in on the brother trouble going on here.” Sideswipe checked his fingertips. “You two do know that you can order for yourselves, right?”>>

The two Minicons gasped in wonder.

“Oh yes!” Fixit pointed to the menu’s pricing guide. “See? We have standa- oh wait, English! <<We have standard sizes, but also those same sizes in Minicon-compatible cups!”>>

“How about we get you something based on what you both like?” Sideswipe spun the register back to full size. “So! Strong and bitter goes to...”

Sideswipe gestured at the little red Minicon until he jostled and spoke. <<”Slipstream, sir Sideswipe!”>>

<<”And I am Jetstorm, sir!”>> the black one offered. <<”And I would like a sweetened one!”>>

<<”Our very own drinks...”>> said Jetstorm. <<”We will not have to share… I will have mine be the largest size possible so that I might drink my fill!”>>

<<”Mine as well!”>> Slipstream piped up in a fit of joy. <<”I would share my drink with you, if only to prove that mine is the superior taste.”>>

Jetstorm laughed and pushed him. <<”You will be too busy wearing it if you continue to antagonize me!”>>

Sideswipe playfully sighed. “Ah, family. Nobody else annoys the slag out of you like a brother does.”

It was a quick setup. Bumblebee, and Strongarm after she came back from her break, placed the Minicon sized furniture on top of a table and placed the napkin dispenser. Fixit saw them to their seats while Grimlock and Sideswipe brainstormed their order, which Fixit charged them for. They waited with eager smiles, and even a few shy waves to Blastwave once he left, for their drinks.

Fixit served Slipstream a simple coffee. Jetstorm was given the sweetening agent for their energon recipes, steamed into a foam and served plain.

(Bumblebee asked Grimlock in the kitchen. “You just served him steamed milk?”

Grimlock, confused, asked, “What’s ‘milk’?”)

Together they tapped their plastic cups. <<”Kanpai.”>>

The Minicons took their first drink. The cups left their lips, and they both squealed and kicked their feet in joy.

<<”It is lovely!”>> Jetstorm said. <<”The top is light and cool, which holds the heat in the liquid below!”>>

<<”Mine is strong and bracing!”>> Slipstream took a long breath over his cup. <<”And the smell is most amazing.”>>

Slipstream leaned over the table and did the same. <<”It is good! Perhaps I shall try that next time-”>>

Jetstorm gasped. <<”Then you agree! This place is worth returning to!”>>

<<”I… will admit, I did not believe you at first.”>> Slipstream’s feet met underneath his chair. <<”But, yes! Indeed! Here, I feel most comfortable. I enjoy things being the proper size for us. But I feel we must tell Master Drift.”>>

<<”We will tell Master Drift after we return home.”>> Jetstorm held his coffee under his face, letting the smell surround him. The way his fingers gripped at the cup, making tiny adjustments to chase the heat coming through from inside, he was clearly taking a small comfort from it. <<”Until then, let us take this moment to simply enjoy ourselves. We might… not get another opportunity.”>>

<<”That is… very true.”>> Slipstream took his next sip slowly, and it left his lips like he was already mourning it. <<”Very true.”>>

Back at the counter, Bumblebee and Fixit kept watch. Bumblebee could almost feel the other three peeking out from the kitchen window, and it was confirmed when he heard Grimlock’s too-loud whisper. “They’re breaking my spark over here.”

Sideswipe shushed him equally loudly.

Strongarm poked her head through. “Fixit, I want to apologize for not letting you into the kitchen on the first day.”

“I had put it out of my CPU,” Fixit assured her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Bumblebee sank onto the counter. “I feel awful for them… And there’s nothing we can even do. That’s the worst part.”

Fixit laid a hand on his arm. “I believe we’re already doing all we can do, by providing them a calm, peaceful place away from their cause of stress.”

“I suppose...” Bumblebee casually checked the windows.

“Their cause of stress” was glaring at him from outside, with Steeljaw on his heels and grinning.

Bumblebee made the most undignified noise and jumped back so hard he hit the wall. Grimlock must have done the same, because the scramble of pots clanging and Sideswipe shouting in pain was swiftly followed by a noisy crash just about the time Drift walked in the door. Steeljaw slunk in behind him. The Minicons jumped from their seats and immediately stood at each other’s shoulders. Their drinks stayed clutched tight in their hands.

Steeljaw flexed his claws. <<“Exactly where I told you they would be.”>>

<<”Slipstream. Jetstorm.”>> Drift spoke low, nearly as low as Steeljaw’s voice, with an even timbre that gave away nothing of his emotions. <<”We will discuss the nature of your misbehavior when we return home. Both of you, discard your trash and return to your places immediately.”>>

He held out his arms, where Bumblebee could see two empty docks for Minicons to attach to. The little Minicons tucked their shoulders low, saying nothing and not surrendering their drinks. Jetstorm inched his cup just a little closer to his mouth.

Steeljaw chuckled. <<”You do have a willful pair of Minis, don’t you?”>>

Drift’s voice cut like steel. <<”Jetstorm. Now.”>>

In slow, measured steps, Strongarm stepped out of the kitchen and placed herself directly between Drift and the Minicon table. Arms solidly planted on her hips, face stern even while her shoulders trembled, she ordered, “Sir, you are harassing our customers and disturbing the peace. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

Drift’s optics settled on Strongarm. His optics visibly recalibrated; he must have been zoomed in on the Minicons. <<”I did not ask your opinion.”>>

“It isn’t my opinion.” Strongarm popped her arm panel open and projected her handbook files. “The harassment of patrons to this establishment is not tolerated under any circumstances. If you continue to refuse, the authorities will be summoned and you will be escorted from the premises.”

<<”Ignore her,”>> said Steeljaw. <<”She’s only a student. She has no authority here.”>>

“She does.” Bumblebee took her side. “And so do I. As the owner of this business, I am telling you that if you don’t leave immediately, I’m having you arrested.”

Jetstorm made a noise of distress behind him. <<”Please, sir Bumblebee, do not permit me to make trouble for my misdeeds.”>>

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Bumblebee assured him.

Drift checked Bumblebee over, sizing him up from head to feet. His posture didn’t change. Bumblebee wasn’t worth considering, it seemed, and he spoke to him instead of Strongarm. <<”Steeljaw has told me of you. You make a paltry living selling facsimiles of human food, disguising it as proper Cybertronian cuisine.”>>

Steeljaw’s expression wavered for a moment. Apparently Drift wasn’t supposed to let that little nugget of gossip be known. Bumblebee smirked. “Aw, did he really? That’s a shame. Last time he came in for a snickerdoodle, he looked like he was really enjoying himself.”

That caught Drift’s attention. He turned to Steeljaw, who quickly stopped his retreating step backwards. <<”You have given this place your business before?”>>

Steeljaw let out one uncomfortable laugh. <<”Only to gather intelligence, of course.”>>

“You have a lot of intelligence gathered,” Strongarm commented, “Considering you’re in here every day.”

Oh, Bumblebee wanted to grin so hard at Steeljaw’s tail starting to curl downward. Time to twist that knife. “I’m not used to hearing you speak Cybertronian, either. It’s a shame; your voice speaking English is so nice.”

Drift’s tone might have stayed steady, but his fists were starting to buckle and groan from how hard he was clenching them. <<”You are not only in this establishment daily, but you speak this garbage language?”>>

Bumblebee was fairly certain he didn’t want either of these bots in his business anymore. “All right, that’s enough. Grimlock, Strongarm, could you escort these two out, please-”

<<”Wait, sir!”>>

Strongarm and Bumblebee parted their shoulders to let Slipstream come forward, Jetstorm at his back. <<”Master Drift, if I could have time to explain-”>>

Drift glowered. <<”I expect better behavior from you, Slipstream. Do not fall into Jetstorm’s bad habits.”>>

<<”I do not speak as your student at this time, Master!”>> Slipstream insisted. <<”I speak to you as a fellow child of Cybertron, and as your comrade! I know what you seek from Steeljaw’s tea house! Please, permit sir Bumblebee’s people to prepare a drink for you, as they did for us!”>>

<<”Yes, please!”>> Jetstorm stepped forward. <<”I believe if you do so, you will see what drove us to this place!”>>

Steeljaw regained his voice. <<”You aren’t really going to listen to them, are you? I’m tired of-”>>

<<”Then perhaps you should not have accompanied me. You may part from here, if you wish.”>> Drift stepped past Strongarm and took a seat. <<”I will take my tea here.”>>

“You can put your order in,” Strongarm gestured to Fixit. “At the counter. With our host.”

It was the last hour before they closed, and Bumblebee felt like something important was on the line. With a little wave of his hand, he ordered everyone back to their posts. Grimlock and Sideswipe shot Drift one last dirty look from the kitchen before ducking away. Steeljaw took his seat at another table, clearly unhappy and waiting for Drift to make a move. Strongarm kept guard at the door.

Time to impress Drift.

Chapter 16

Jetstorm and Slipstream kept a tense watch. Bumblebee hiked his winglets. “Team. Meeting in the kitchen. Fixit, you have the front.”

Fixit saluted. “Yes, sir!”

“You can check the menu at the counter.” He turned and left without another look at Drift. The others joined him in the kitchen and packed in tight. It really highlighted the size differences among his crew, because it felt small when he was there by himself and now there were four of them all trying to share the same floor space. Grimlock went from big to oppressive in the little room. Sideswipe folded in on himself to make a little space and Strongarm moved to fill it. If he had a choice, he would have brought them to the office instead, but he wouldn’t let Fixit take on a task this big on his own. He was staying close and briefing his team.

He wouldn’t give Drift the satisfaction of speaking to one of them, either. If he wanted service, he would go through Fixit.

“What do we do now?” asked Strongarm in a low whisper.

“Just wait until Drift orders,” said Bumblebee, keeping his own voice gentle and quiet. “Then back to your places.”

It might have been a bad sign then, that Fixit first addressed Steeljaw. “I assume you won’t take your usual again today?”

Bumblebee was trying very hard to avoid the kitchen window’s line of sight, but even without the window view, he could picture Steeljaw’s exhausted sigh and the heavy slam of his head into his hand. The switch back to English was immediately evident. “No, Fixit, I don’t plan on having two extra-strong shots of espresso in the same day. Just a long black and a tea biscuit.”

“A snickerdoodle, sir?”

Grimlock held back a chuckle.

Steeljaw’s voice seemed to drop an octave, even without actually changing, just from the sheer amount of threat that soaked into his tone. “You know which one. And have Bumblebee make my coffee.”

“Oh! Er, certainly.”

Bumblebee muttered to the team. “Why does he want me to make his coffee? Who normally makes his espresso?”

Strongarm raised her hand. “It’s usually me. Grimlock’s not good with the espresso machine.”

“Am too!” Grimlock hissed. “Just not with Steeljaw’s kinda drink. I always burn it.”

Sideswipe, already squirming uncomfortably, managed an affronted noise. “Do we really need to ask these questions in here? I can barely breathe as it is!”

Bumblebee fussed. “Sideswipe, you don’t need to breathe.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like to!”

“And why isn’t Drift ordering anything?” Bumblebee dared a peek out the kitchen window. Drift still sat at his table along with his Minicons, who had stopped drinking entirely. “He hasn’t even moved. The Minis look miserable...”

Catching a glimpse of him, Steeljaw called out, “I don’t hear my coffee being made.”

Steeljaw’s track record of making everything worse continued unbroken. He groaned and addressed the team. “All right, everybody back out so I can man the kitchen.”

“Even me?” Grimlock worried.

“Even you, Grim. Don’t let Drift order you around or try to tell you what to make him. He goes through Fixit directly to me. Sideswipe, go tell the Minis I’ll remake their drinks, anything that will make them more comfortable.”

“Oh, I’ve got an idea already,” said Sideswipe.

“I’m… choosing to trust you with this,” said Bumblebee. “Don’t let me down. Grimlock, clean. Strongarm, you’re on the door.”

They parted on “Break!” Sideswipe peeled out of the kitchen and went immediately to the Minicons’ table. “WOO that is way too long to spend in a tiny room! I’m back!”

<<”I will forgive your breech of conduct only once,”>> said Drift. <<”I will have-”>>

“Hold on for me just a second!” Sideswipe dropped his elbows onto the table and lowered his head to Minicon height. “Hey there, Jetstorm! Slipstream! So, Bee said he would remake your drinks hot and fresh so you can enjoy them the whole way through. You want the same ones?”

Slipstream’s optics snapped to Drift automatically, but Jetstorm spoke up. <<”Yes, sir Sideswipe, but I would like mine in a smaller size.”>>

Drift’s fingers twitched where he clasped his hands. <<”I would-”>>

Sideswipe raised a finger. “First customer, first serve.”

Emboldened, Slipstream broke his gaze away from his master. <<”I would like mine smaller as well! And I wish to try the>> tea biscuit <<Steeljaw spoke of.”>>

Drift’s shoulders hiked in obvious surprise from Slipstream’s sudden shift to English. Sideswipe made a show out of writing down the order on his palm, while saying it loud enough for Fixit to hear. “A coffee, a babyccino, and a snickerdoodle, got it.”

Slipstream grinned. “Snickerdoodle.”

Jetstorm smiled so hard his optics started glowing. “Snickerdooodle.”

Steeljaw’s head met his hand again.

Drift watched. His mouth hung a sliver open, but he only watched.

Sideswipe pointed a thumb over to the bay window. “Hey, if you want, I can move your table over to the sunny spot. Best pace in the house. Not even Strongarm can ruin the view.”

A laugh escaped Steeljaw so involuntarily that his hand slapped over his mouth. Strongarm, keeping watch by that same window, went from idle to infuriated in half a second. “I have done NOTHING to you all day!”

“THAT is for crowding my personal space!” snapped Sideswipe.

“I can hear both of you,” Bumblebee chided. “This kitchen isn’t soundproof. Grimlock, could you bring Steeljaw his order for me?”

Grimlock, halfway into stacking chairs up for the night, promptly dropped what he was doing very literally. “Comin’!”

Steeljaw took his coffee and kooky cookie without making direct optic contact with Grimlock. Sideswipe picked up the Minicons’ table and chairs to deposit them in the bay window, where the Minis took their own seats. It was Sideswipe who brought them their new drinks and half of a snickerdoodle, which Slipstream split further in half so Jetstorm could try it too. It made for a sizable chunk of cookie for each of them.

Drift watched.

Sideswipe checked on him. “You ready to order yet?”

Drift shook his head and kept watching.

Steeljaw finished his drink and shot Drift one last astounded glance before gulping down his cookie in one bite and leaving. The clock ticked down. Fixit completed his night tasks except for closing the register.

Drift watched.

Grimlock packed away the tables and chatted with Bumblebee through the window. Strongarm waited until Sideswipe’s guard was down and kicked him in the back of the knee. Slipstream and Jetstorm finished their drinks in peace and cleaned their own table.

Drift watched.

Ten minutes until closing, Drift stood and approached the counter. Fixit met him at full attention. “Yes, sir?”

<<”I humbly request the privilege,”>> said Drift. <<”But I feel my order is best given to the one called Bumblebee, if he is willing to entertain me.”>>

A motion caught the corner of Fixit’s optic. The twin Buzzsaws were waving, and nodding, and pleading with their hands for Fixit to say yes.

“I believe I can permit you, sir.”

Fixit said it loudly enough for Bumblebee to hear. He stepped out from the kitchen, out from behind the counter, and let Drift meet him out on the floor. The old warrior, taking a cue from Bumblebee’s rigid silence, spoke first.

<<”In the years before the war, before I was the mech that stands before you, I would spend many joyful hours in a tea house in Vos. I had a well-worn cushion by a table in the southeast corner, which allowed for a view of Luna-1 by nightfall. I knew the servers by name. I watched the ebbs and tides of their lives as they passed before me. The sound of the spouts of tea kettles clicking against cups, and the smell of steam rising from my hand… I remember it all, when I drink the green tea from Steeljaw’s den.”>>

Drift’s optics fell to the floor. <<”But the drink holds no such memories for my students. They drink in the dark confines of Steeljaw’s palace, withheld from the world they inhabit while I chase a Cybertron that now only exists as a taste along the roof of my mouth. Today, for the first time, I saw them sitting seats made for them at a table which allows for a view of the sunset. I saw them address their servers by name. I saw them catching the ebbs and tides of your lives as they passed before them, spending a joyful hour not as deployers or students… but as people.”>>

Bumblebee’s spark pulsed as Drift met his optics. <<”I would ask, sir Bumblebee, for your best drink. Chasing memories of my Cybertron is a pursuit best taken in solitude. I will take efforts to join my students in the lives they are building on this planet.”>>

Bumblebee took a few seconds to parse it all, but it was… refreshingly optimistic. Drift had some baggage, that was normal, and it seems like he had realized he was shouldering it on his Minicons. Asking to resolve it via “his best drink” struck him as weird, but Drift was pretty obviously on a very different wavelength than Bee was. But he could do patching up friendships, at least. He scanned the room until he found the Minicons standing by Drift’s feet. “Would you all like to sit at the same table again?”

<<”Yes, we would, sir,”>> said Jetstorm. <<”If our master would permit us the honor, of course.”>>

Drift’s face twisted in something like pain. Bumblebee recognized it after a few seconds as guilt. <<”If I have given you any impression that I do not consider your company an honor, then I have failed you as a mentor. I humbly beg your permission to be in your presence in this, your haven from an unjustly over-sized world.”>>

Oh. Bumblebee’s pulsing spark turned a flip and warmed his core. That was an apology, and an acknowledgment of his Minicons. Their faces were lighting up- and his cheeks were twitching as he fought the reflexive smile splitting his face.

Oh slag Drift was waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat to cut the tension. “I’ll- um- make you something. On the house, since today went kind of… pear-shaped.”

Drift looked at him funny. <<”Days do not have shapes.”>>

“Nevermind. Sideswipe, the tables again. Fixit, key in number 3 and put it as a manager override, please?”

Fixit saluted. “On it!”

“You can start closing up the kitchen, Grim.”

“Finally!” Grimlock stretched. “Today’s been too much talkin’.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. The shop’s closed the day after tomorrow. One more day, and you can sleep in.”

Sideswipe cheered. “Woo! One more day!”

Bumblebee made Drift a cappuccino. It seemed natural to give him a blend of what Jetstorm and Slipstream liked, maybe a little stronger on the coffee since Drift liked bitter tea. Drift took his seat and drank long and slow, and after a few comfortable moments, he turned his arms upward. The Minicons transformed and took their places in their docks.

Drift left with a low bow, a smile, and a parting phrase. “We shall return tomorrow.”

Chapter 17

Our Place’s operating hours went by Earth time, but Bumblebee made the schedule on Cybertron’s calendar. It only seemed fair, as all of his original staff commuted from Cybertron. Cybertron’s current orbit meant that time moved slightly slower on his “home” planet, not quite matching Earth’s at any given point and making for a lot of “off” time for Cybertron-dwelling employees. Now it was only half his staff that commuted, and it didn’t seem to matter at all. Sideswipe did so little actual work that coming in for a week straight didn’t phase him. Grimlock just loved being there, and Bumblebee counted himself very lucky for it. It was with no guilt and no complaints that after 40 days on Earth of being consecutively open, Bee locked up Our Place.

“Okay, team,” he announced. “You have the weekend off.”

“WOO!” Sideswipe transformed and peeled out of the street. “Later-”

Grimlock roared after him. “WAIT DON’T LEAVE I HAVE PRESENTS!”

Sideswipe peeled right back around and transformed onto his feet. “All right, I can spare maybe two minutes, but then I gotta get home! I’m way backlogged for some do-nothing time.”

Fixit, ever peppy, smiled up at Grimlock. “Is there something for all of us?”

Grimlock flashed a great big toothy grin. “Check this out! I found these in the kitchen back at the fratenity. I think everybody forgot about ‘em, so I figured I’d give ‘em to you guys!”

Strongarm held up a hand. “Hang on. You’re not about to give us stolen property, are you?”

“No! These were gifts to all of us at the construction firm for-”

Bumblebee cut in. “Wait- Grim, what construction firm?”

Grimlock shrugged. “That’s my other job.”

A ripple of surprise went through the entire team. Bee could feel it, like, palpably, because it started with him twitching and echoed back to him as Strongarm shouting protests and Fixit trying to count out evidence to the contrary and Sideswipe just being loudly confused. He tried to get his words out over the volume, and eventually switched to crowd control as Grimlock started to shrink under all the attention.

“Okay, okay! Everybody stop! Guys!” Bumblebee waved down the crowd. “Reel it in!”

Grimlock untucked his shoulders just a bit. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Bumblebee sighed. “That’s kind of a thing, Grim. Telling your employer if you’re working somewhere else before taking on another job.”

“But I wasn’t working!” countered Grimlock. “We’ve been getting contracts to build stuff, and I’m in the demolition and cleanup crew. I hadn’t had a job in two months before I started working here.”

Sideswipe shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, he’s got a point.”

Bumblebee groaned. How did this slip by him? He know he was still getting to know his crew, and his knowledge was superficial in some places, but he didn’t know about all fo this? Grimlock’s entire other job? Not to mention his home life. He only heard a sliver of the fact that Grimlock lived in a fraternity. He never considered why.

“Okay, look, you know what?” Bumblebee sighed one more time, and with that, he mentally removed the weight of work. That tension he held in his shoulders, and the deep Optimus-like tone of his voice came off. “The shop’s closed. We’re not talking about work anymore, we were- talking about presents, right.”

Grimlock’s bright grin came back in an instant. “Oh right! Uh- blah-de-blah, this was in the kitchen, here you go!”

One by one, to each of them, Grimlock passed out three laminated coupons. Bumblebee read his out loud, skimming for brevity. “Coupon entitles the holder, one per customer, one day free admission, full body detailing and oil bath?”

Strongarm gasped. “I know this place! It’s crazy expensive to get in even for an hour!”

“And I built it!” Grimlock postured for a moment before returning to normal. “Well, I helped clear and level the land it got built on after the war. They gave us all these coupons since they didn’t have enough money for the full payment- work stuff, y’know?”

“I feel kind of bad accepting these...” Sideswipe held the coupons gingerly. “No offense, but these are- like- your hard work in coupon form.”

“Yeah, we didn’t really earn these,” Strongarm realized.

Fixit was already straightening up his fan of coupons to give back.

“I dunno,” Grimlock mentioned, “They send us a bunch of new ones every year…”

Sideswipe transformed and peeled out. “Guilt gone see you later!”

Strongarm raced after him, only transforming once she had a running start. “These is no way I’m bathing after you, you nasty petty crook!”

Fixit cleared his throat. “Well, I’m off… literally! As well as configura- disfiguri-” He thumped himself. “Figuratively! You two have fun!”

“We will!” Bumblebee called after him as he rolled away. He turned his attention back to Grimlock, who had taken on a serious look. “And thank you, by the way. I didn’t think I would have to do that on everyone’s behalf, but-”

Grimlock cut him off. “Do you want to go to the bathhouse with me?”

Bumblebee felt like he was lighting up from the inside, and he answered before he thought. “Sure!”

“You mean it?!” Grimlock gasped. “No foolin’?!”

“Why would I joke about that?” Bumblebee puffed out a gentle laugh. “Wow! And I was just thinking about how I wanted to know you better.”

It was odd; Grimlock almost had a way of feeling bigger when eh was happy, even if he expressed it by bunching up his hands and tucking his shoulders. “Really?!”

“Really!” The unguarded joy beaming off Grimlock just made his smile grow, not to mention his ego. His spark pulsed that little bit faster. “I’m sorry, Grim, I just try to be professional at work and I get distant-”

It was the second time Grimlock interrupted him talking, and normally he would put down a boundary there, but Grimlock reaching out and grabbing up his hands thoroughly shattered his concentration.

“I’ve been wantin’ to know you better too! And just hang out with you and talk and stuff! You wanna meet up at your house and we can walk to the bridge station together? Like we did the other night?”

Bumblebee chuckled and joked to break the tension. “You gonna hold my hands the whole way there?”

He wasn’t entirely prepared when Grimlock earnestly answered, “I would love that.”

“You wo- you would? Oh. OH.” Bumblebee swallowed. “Wow. This is… you’re actually asking me out. On a date. Like, a romantic one.”

Grimlock’s smile finally broke to shoot him a quizzical look. “Well… yeah. Was I really not making that clear?”

“No! I mean, no, you were!” Bee stumbled over his thoughts. “That was me not picking up on it. I’ve never been asked out before.”

“Wow...” Grimlock’s claws drummed on Bee’s hands. He still hadn’t let go. “Whoever passed you up was dumb.”

That… was a perfectly Grimlock assessment of the whole thing. Bumblebee managed a gentle laugh and pulled his hands free. He gave Grim a firm pat on the shoulders. “Okay, I’m gonna take a quick shower before we leave. Meet me at the scrapyard in an hour?”

Grimlock chuckled. “You take long showers.”

“Most of that is driving!” Bee said defensively. “You coming to get me or not?”

“Oh, I am! See you then.”

“Great!”

Bumblebee drove the entire way home actively telling himself to slow down before he broke the speed limit. Even at the scrapyard, he spent his rinse-off in a happy cloud. A date! With Grimlock, of all mechs, who had been wanting to date him! And he had missed it for a month out of sheer… Act Like Optimus-ness. Suddenly his Prime’s emotional blindness made a little more sense. Maybe constantly Being Like Optimus was a bad thing in the long run.

He voiced these thoughts to Denny, who was both proud of his maturity and concerned that he was thinking about Optimus on the even of his very first date. Also he’d apparently been washing the same door for twenty minutes instead of taking a real shower. Thoroughly embarrassed, Bee dropped the subject.

Grimlock arrived early and paced about the front gate until it had been one full hour. Bumblebee and Denny watched the top of his head bob up and down over the scrapyard wall the entire time. Bee needed that little extra towel-off period anyway, and it was with a cleaner frame and a bounce in his step that he took Grimlock’s hand.

He smiled up at his date. His date… that still boggled his mind. “Ready?”

“Oh yeah!” Grimlock flexed his free arm. “Let’s go get clean!”

“Looking forward to it.” Time to head out for the space bridge station. The real start of his real first date. Bumblebee waved back to Denny and Russel before setting off. “Be back later!”

“You’re a grown man!” Denny called after him. “You don’t have a curfew! Go have fun!”

Russel waved at him until Denny shut the main gate, then scaled the wall and waved until they were down the street and out of sight.

Grimlock squeezed his palm to get his attention. “Why’s he talking about curfews?”

“I think he assumed I’d be staying with you overnight.”

His face didn’t show any embarrassment, but Grimlock did blush. “But the coupons are only for day use.”

“I didn’t tell him that part.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I wouldn’t!” Bumblebee squeezed in. “The overnight, that is, that’s just another thing I never considered since you live in a fraternity.”

Grimlock groaned in frustration. Gesticulating with his free hand, Grimlock began to lay out his thoughts. “It wouldn’t matter if my fraternity wasn’t the worst! But everybody there’s gotta be all nosy, and Sludge never cleans the bathroom, and Swoops’s always in the common room saying he has something planned to do but never does, and you don’t even wanna know about Slag!”

Bumblebee was a touch disgusted and impressed at the same time. “He named himself ‘Slag’?”

“He named himself Slag!” Grimlock confirmed. “That should tell you all you need to know.”

“I’m not sure you could stay at the scrapyard either. Denny tends to come by and fuss when I’m home, and Russel’s a light sleeper.”

There went Grimlocks’ blush again. “Hey, Bee, you did hear that I wanted to get to know you better, right? I’m not trying to jump your struts on the first date.”

“I know!” Now Bumblebee was blushing right along with Grimlock. “I’m just- not discounting it- sorry, I’m just kind of thinking about everything all at once. It is my first time. Dating.”

Grimlock nodded understandingly. “You’re holdin’ it together real good, though.”

“Thanks,” Bee said sincerely.

Grimlock pulled at their joined hands and gave Bee a squeeze. “Maybe talk about it more in private?”

They were on a public street, still. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he kind of forgot about the outside world. They kept their talks more general and mellow during the rest of the walk, Bumblebee’s life told to Grimlock in scattered pieces as small stories and memories. They were almost all war stories until his friendships with Raf, Jack, and Miko. Grimlock lived long stretches of labor jobs between rowdy parties, remembering events and places but few people. For all his time around his Dinobot fraternity brothers, he had only dated about five people, all outside the company housing. Bumblebee had comrades he thought were handsome, but never pursued. There was a war at the time.

He fell out of the storytelling fog somewhere in the space bridge depot. Grimlock was buying his ticket, and he shook himself back into manager mode. “Hey, wait, I’m paying for mine.”

“No you’re not,” Grimlock insisted. “This’s my treat.”

“But you’re paying for the oil bath!”

Grimlock shot him such a look. “No I’m not!”

“But-” Bee stopped in his tracks. The coupons were free. He forgot. Well, he didn’t forget, he just- he stopped himself. “No, you’re not. This still feels weird-”

“You think you feel weird?” Grimlock countered with a toothy smile. “I’m on a date with my boss!”

There went a flush of heat up his back. It wasn’t humiliation, or even embarrassment at all. People were turning to look, some of them trying harder than others to see, and Bumblebee didn’t really care. Here was his first date: breaking a workplace rule, fumbling over his words, having banal arguments about who was paying for what. All of it with Grimlock, who just by being there made it all kind of fun and a little exciting. Strangers staring at his back because of some out of context slip of the tongue? What did it matter? He had the whole evening with Grimlock all to himself, and that outweighed everything else.

Bumblebee laughed. “Okay, you win. The boyfriend treats.”

Grimlock squealed with joy.

Chapter 18

Bumblebee smiled. “You do good work, Grim.”

The bathhouse stood right at the center of a cleared concrete lot framed by the tall sterile towers of New Iacon. A half wall around the perimeter marked the clean zone of the bathhouse yard. Always a little damp, the textured concrete kept bots from the slipping as they moved about the property from station to station. Showers here, dryers there, towel attendants detailing alt modes, root modes, and interiors at a customer’s call. The attendants were what set this particular bathhouse apart from the more standard self-service places. The great glass pyramid at the center was the jewel of the crown, and Grimlock had a servo in building it.

Grimlock puffed up and preened. “Why, thank you.”

With a little puff of laughter, Bumblebee linked their arms and pulled them into the line. Grimlock fell into step easily; it was a comfortable feeling that made Bee smile. “All right, compliments shared, let’s get in those oil baths.”

“Now see this?” Grimlock gestured back and forth between their joined elbows. “What we’re doing here? I like this. I wanna do this all the time.”

“You want me to rush you?” teased Bumblebee. “And force you to take baths?”

Grimlock played at being offended. “Here I am tryin’ to compliment you, and you’re being an aft!”

That made him chuckle. “Oh, you haven’t seen me being an aft yet.”

Grimlock, hiding a grin, said, “I’ve got such a good innuendo that I can’t use right now.”

“You kidding? I’ve got at least three!”

“Next!” called the ticket taker.

Bumblebee stepped up to the front gate and slipped Grimlock’s arm over his shoulder. The ticket taker, a young blue Decepticon with an orange, open face greeted him with a little wave. Something about it made Bumblebee smile on reflex. “Hey there. I’ve got some coupons for a day bath?”

“Okay! You have- oh! Oh wait I forgot-” The mech cleared his throat. “Welcome to Sunrise Oil Bathhouse, my name is Wildbreak, how may I serve you today?”

Bumblebee tried not to laugh. The kid was trying. “Day bath coupons.”

Wildbreak blinked twice before catching up with himself. “Oh! Right, you said that- um- have them with you?”

Bumblebee passed over two of them. “One for me, one for my partner here.”

Grimlock hugged him from behind and squeezed hard enough to lift him off his heels. There was a giddy trill to his voice when he squeaked, “I’m a partner!”

Wildbreak just watched them for a few awed seconds before hurriedly keying in the coupons. “Two- you two are cute- I meant free! For the public oil bath and detailing. You both are cute, though.” Bee received the receipt wirelessly, and Wildbreak continued to gush. “Is it your anniversary?”

Grimlock put Bee down to answer. “First date!”

“Oh wow!” Wildbreak said. “Cute- hey I got told whoever used these coupons, my boss has a message for them? Or something? Head inside, I’ll send him your way.”

That was odd. There wasn’t much Bumblebee could think to say to that. He just shrugged and wished Wildbreak a good day, pulling Grimlock along behind him.

Tracking dirt inside the bathhouse was a double whammy of ‘against the rules’ and ‘uncouth’. After an automatic wash of both their feet and Bumblebee’s undercarriage, attendants came to vacuum away anything that fell off their chassis. Bumblebee wirelessly pinged each one, making sure they had the notice on their drives so they could cash the pings in for their “tips” later. Free of debris, Grimlock and Bumblebee took to the showers. The open row of faucets and sprayers promised no privacy, but post-war Cybertronians expected none. A few bots went out of their way to avoid it; even now, customers there on their own were chatting along the shower wall and even crossing into each other’s showers to wash their backs.

It struck Bumblebee as a great idea. “Hey, Grim, grab a seat and I’ll wash your back.”

Grimlock- Bee hadn’t noticed until now- was already picking up a stool and stopped to think. “Can you do both of them? I have a lot of back.”

“You are the bot with two backs,” Bee offhandedly joked to himself. “I guess so, sure.”

“I feel the need to apologize in advance.” Grimlock set the seat down and transformed out in a wide patch of yard. Bumblebee never really took in how big Grimlock was until he had to think about it logistically, and now that he was, Grimlock did indeed have a lot of back to clean. His partner gave him a doleful look over his shoulder. “This isn’t even a date thing by this point. I just really can’t reach.”

Attendants hovered around Bee’s peripheral vision like scraplets eyeing a dropped beam.

Bumblebee shrugged. “Okay. But I get your neck.”

Grimlock smiled. “You’re the best.”

Attendants fell upon Grimlock with towels and sponges. Grimlock sagged onto the clean concrete in bliss. Bumblebee had a thank you at the ready, but something in the atmosphere made him pause. The chatter in the yard changed pitch. The attendants hands looked up, and then kept their optics purposefully down. Someone had their optics on his back, and he could hear steady footsteps approaching him. Two mechs, one very big, walking with purpose in his direction. Bumblebee’s systems cycled up.

A voice spoke. “Well, you had your fun-”

Oh, it was only Knock Out. Bumblebee turned, and yes, the two bots changing the entire mood of the yard were Knock Out and his permanent shadow, Breakdown.

“-and I’m not surprised Wildbreak let you in, but...” Knock Out froze in the middle of his wild gesticulating, mouth hanging open, while his optics caught up with his mouth.

Bumblebee couldn’t resist cutting in. “Hey, Knock Out, Breakdown.”

Breakdown waved a hand. “Hey.”

Grimlock waved in a tiny way. “Hi.”

“You?!” Knock Out finally shouted. “You’re the one using the day use coupons?!”

“And there goes a sentence I never thought I’d hear Knock Out say.” Bumblebee relaxed further. “Grimlock gave me one of his as a gift.”

Grimlock waved again. “I’m Grimlock!”

Bumblebee stepped back in. “So what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I am at work! You think I wanted to stay in a stuffy government position with a corner office and no underlings?” Knock Out shifted his plating to hit the light better and bragged. “I’m Head of Quality Control here, thank you very much! I got reports from the higher-ups about attendant harrassment, rowdiness, public overcharge, indecent transformation- I get sent down to tell the dangers-to-myself-and-others that their goodwill with the business has run out, and I find you? Prime’s golden boy and his...”

Visibly at a loss for words, Knock Out gestured at the half-cleaned Grimlock. “Body guard?”

“Actually,” Bee corrected with a waggle of his wings. “We’re on a date.”

Breakdown grunted. “Huh. Thought you and Smokescreen were swappin’ paint.”

“Nah, he’s ace.”

“Oh,” said Breakdown.

“Well then who the hell has my manager been complaining about?!” Knock Out wailed.

Grimlock answered, “Probably my work buddies.”

“Are we, like...” Bumblebee guessed. “Kicked out?”

“No! Do you know what kind of press we’ll get for kicking out the savior of Cybertron?!” Knock Out pinched at his optics and groaned. “And there’s another 5 solar cycles on those coupons I nee- wait.” Knock Out casually slapped Breakdown’s arm. “Breakdown! Take a note. New address to forward the coupons to. Don’t you do something now, Bumblebee? Work in a bakery on Earth?”

Typical Knock Out: only minimally invested, but always in the know. Bumblebee explained. “Running a coffee shop on Eart- wait you’re not sending those to me, are you?”

“Oh of course not!” Knock Out grinned. It was no normal grin, either. Knock Out was gaining ground after his initial flustering. Bumblebee could feel it. “I’m sending them to… Grimby over there.”

“Grimlock!” said Grimlock.

“Grimlock, right. He’s still a member of the construction firm-”

“That’s not the point!” said Bumblebee. “You don’t even know Grimlock works there!”

Knock Out laughed. “Please! You’re running a small business! You either have the friends you came with before, none of whom you’ve ever touched, or you start sleeping with the people you work with.” He reached up and gave Breakdown’s cheek a gentle caress, making the big mech blush. “How do you think Breakdown and I met?”

“Wait-” Bumblebee nearly choked. “Wait that’s- what kind of logical processor are you working off of?!”

Knock Out just leaned a little past Bumblebee and spoke directly to Grimlock. “So, Grimrock, where else do you work? Besides the construction firm?”

Grimlock, hesitating, tucked his very clean shoulders in. “… at the coffee place with Bumblebee.”

Knock Out pinched Bumblebee’s cheek. “Don’t try to play like you’re all sweetness and perfect rule-following, Bumblebee, I’ve been around this galaxy a few times. Look at you, finally being naughty! Prime’s little golden child, fraternizing with a subordinate.”

Bumblebee returned Knock Out’s smarmy little self-satisfied smile with a glare. “Peacetime calls it ‘dating’.”

“And I call it not having to break the terms of payment!” Knock Out parted with a little pat to Bumblebee’s face. “And, just as a thank you for keeping this information away from my manager, you both get an upgrade to a private room with a bath. One big enough for the both of you.”

Grimlock jumped up before Bee could protest, transforming back into root mode and grabbing Knock Out’s hands to shake. Breakdown jumped forward, bodyguard that he was, but Grimlock only grinned and shook Knock Out’s arm. “Hey, wow! Thanks a bunch, Knock Out! Like I know we aren’t introduced or anything, but thanks so much! Being big makes it hard to get nice stuff like this- well you maybe know, ‘cause you and Breakdown, right?”

Grimlock kept chattering, and in the back of Bee’s mind, it clicked. Rushing up, getting between him and Knock Out, staying quiet up right up until that exact moment: this wasn’t Grimlock’s usual aggressive kindness. He flattered and complimented and gushed while Knock Out sat there drinking up Grimlock’s frame with his optics, accepting every kind word with a shift of his plating. He must have been watching, absorbing all of this information while Bumblebee stood guard between his old enemies and his new relationship.

He was protecting him.

Knock Out pulled away looking nearly a head taller just from prideful glowing. “WELL, I have to say, Bumblebee, you have excellent taste in mechs. I’m back to my rounds! Let me know when you and Grimlock start up your exercise routine.”

Breakdown and Knock Out turned to leave, and Grimlock locked up in confusion.

“Exercise...” Bumblebee looked to Grimlock, who shrugged. He was pretty sure he hadn’t heard Grim say a thing about exercising. “What?”

“Exercise, dear Bumblebee!” Knock Out put an arm around Breakdown’s waist. “You and I can bond over how much we love a good morning stretch. Ta-ta!”

Stunned into silence, Bumblebee watched Knock Out and Breakdown leave.

Grimlock quietly said, “That guy’s an aft.”

“You don’t know the half of it...” said Bumblebee. He’d forgotten how exhausting talking to Knock Out could be. He was tired down to his struts.

“Bet he gave us the private bath just to recover from talkin’ to him.”

Bumblebee laughed loud and ugly, and it echoed through the yard.

As if going into the bath house wasn’t surreal enough, passing up the public oil pools for the elevator upstairs was even stranger. Past all the clean glass décor and bare walls into the private rooms for overnight use, it was almost… boring upstairs. All the interesting things to see where downstairs in the lobby. Up here? Past the bed they wouldn’t be using and the minibars they couldn’t afford, Bumblebee and Grimlock opened their one (admittedly very big, very nice) window and settled into their extra-large oil tub. It was indeed big enough for the both of them, but only just big enough. Bee had to sit with Grim’s feet on either side of him. It wasn’t awful. He liked both views, of Grimlock’s contented face and the lights of Cybertron rolling to the horizon.

He asked, “Are all dates this weird?”

“I dunno.” Grimlock shrugged. His optics stayed comfortably closed. “We gotta go on more and find out.”

“You were pretty great down there, with Knock Out.” Bumblebee shifted his weight and threw his legs over Grimlock’s so he could sit lower in the oil. “Thank you. I was getting...”

“Yeah, I could see it in your wing-a-lingies.” Grimlock flexed his fingers. “They were all high and twitchy. I think he gets off on making people feel gross.”

There was a long period of quiet where the both of them, silently, were trying very hard not to mention Steeljaw out loud during their date.

“Next time?” said Bumblebee. “I think I just want you to come over to the scrapyard. We can watch a movie and snuggle together.”

That made Grimlock wake up a little. “What’s keeping us from snuggling now?”

“You know? You’re right.” Bee stood up and sat himself right back down on Grimlock’s side, tucking under his arm while his partner pulled him close. He was pretty sure he was onto something, too. They didn’t need a fancy oil bath or an exclusive retreat (although it was objectively pretty fantastic) for this to be something wonderful. Bumblebee was warm and relaxed and comfortable, physically and emotionally, with Grimlock here.

Grimlock laughed. “And I didn’t have to take you dancin’, either.”

“You know,” he admitted, “I’ve never been taken dancing.”

“Next date?”

“Maybe the one after. I still like the idea of snuggling at home.”

“So do I.”

Going back to work after a day like today would be so strange. It would be worth it, though, with Grimlock there. He wondered if Sideswipe and Strongarm were on the property somewhere, arguing over who had to wash the other’s back. Maybe Fixit was off in another wing, where the furniture was smaller and the drinks were served in tiny cups.

The weekend off was a treat. Going back to work, with Grimlock there and his friends to share stories with? He couldn’t think of anything better.

Notes:

This isn't the end, by the way! I still have more ideas after this, I've just really been looking forward to getting to this part of the story.

Chapter 19

The street felt dark without the store lights on. Steeljaw loathed to admit it, even to himself, as he transformed outside the door. Without the mechs inside, the building was about as lifeless as the materials it was made of. He spent a moment peeking through the darkened bare windows. It would give him no secrets, no hidden formulas, no magic that made this odd little spot so lively day after day. The blood of his business was Bumblebee, and on this rare occasion, eh was gone. Yet, here was Steeljaw.

The little hotspot had a magnetic effect on people Steeljaw deemed important. Drift had pull with the ex-pat community, which Steeljaw had now lost since his interest fell upon Bumblebee’s place. One by one- admittedly for all of two days- he had lost a steady customer after they tracked Drift to the plain little burrow. The hobbyists and their clubs, barred form The Den but steered towards his other properties, were conglomerating here. Bumblebee was even pulling a crowd from Minicons, the enfeebled, and the irreparably broken, if the frequent return of Blastwave and Filch’s Corvicon flock were any indication. Steeljaw had thought them beneath his notice. The broken couldn’t work, what good were their shallow pockets and limited income to a business like his?!

He took a long breath. His mind was getting away from him. Idleness did as much. He focused on what he could smell. The roads in the fringes of Little Iacon were being repaved, held up by a crack in the water main. The nearest filling station was lying about their percentage of ethanol. The rain promised for today was falling harmlessly in the ocean.

Steeljaw grinned. The scent he was waiting for drifted in on the breeze: Thunderhoof was on his way.

Almost as intriguing as watching Bumblebee struggle with his staff, Thunderhoof was half the reason Steeljaw kept coming back to the dinky little startup. The massive brute was pure thug, all shoulders and legs with a constant look on his face that spelled out murder for whoever crossed him. Thunderhoof, of all things, transformed into farm equipment. He should have lost his legs to an energon thresher or an angry farmhand- or both- eons ago. Yet, Thunderhoof was the head bot in more businesses than Steeljaw could even name. He owned most of the police in Iacon proper. Half of Little Iacon was funneling money directly into his back subspace pocket, and Thunderhoof was spending it here, instead of The Den. Steeljaw had to know why.

He took up a spot leaning against the wall, a hindpaw tucked up against the concrete for a subtle flash of leg. Thunderhoof rolled up at a lower speed than usual, and Steeljaw heard the subtle shift of hardware as he came closer. He was being scanned. It was all excellent. When Thunderhoof transformed, his optics methodically slid right off Steeljaw’s face and into the store window beside him.

“Eh. Look at that.” Thunderhoof kept up only the thinnest veneer of surprise. “It’s closed today.”

“I know!” answered Steeljaw with the sweetest lilt of astonishment he could manage without making himself sick. Thunderhoof passed in front of him, within a micron of being too close for comfort, and settled his back against the wall as well. Steeljaw continued as he moved. “I suppose I grew accustomed to their schedule. I would up driving here out of habit.”

Thunderhoof reached into his subspace and pulled out a cygarette. He snapped his fingers hard enough to spark, lighting his cygarette instantly. The smell made Steeljaw nostalgic for his younger days. He and his frame brothers spent many long hours smoking cygarettes and scoping out marks in alleys just like this. The bigger mech took a long drag and puffed the rolling smoke out through his shoulder vents. “Yeah. Worth the trip for the peace and quiet, even without the food.”

Thunderhoof put up a hand and held a finger to his comm. Steeljaw could faintly hear the voice on the other side, smooth and luxurious much like his own, reporting on a job well executed. Thunderhoof congratulated his underling on the other side and settled back against the building. They stood in silence together a while.

Being this close to the shop without a coffee or a tea biscuit was making him hungry. It was embarrassingly Pavlovian. “One can only hope our favorite little cup-slingers are spending their time off well.”

That got a thing grin out of Thunderhoof. “I bet they’re someplace real nice. Having themselves an oil bath or somethin’ fancy like that.”

They specifics coupled with that smile gave Steeljaw pause. “One would have to have certain connections to spend that kind of money on their pay.”

Thunderhoof tapped his cygarette against his fingers, and his smile grew. He looked down at Steeljaw through heavy lidded optics. “I s’pose I’m accustomed to some connections, then.”

That bastard. This tractor-bot had done something, and Steeljaw was totally in the dark, and he know it. He fought back a sneer and put the pieces together. “Spoiling the little upstarts, are you? I’d worry about word like that going around. People would say you’re going soft.”

The hot end of the cygarette bore down on his nose just close enough to fill his nostrils with the reek of ash. Thunderhoof hovered over him and spoke gently, like Steeljaw was a newbuild being scolded. “Then let’s set that record straight, see? Thunderhoof doesn’t go soft, and never will. What I do is recognize a good deal when I see it, and I sees to makin’ it work. That’s what a good community organizer does.”

Making a move to regain his ground, Steeljaw chuckled. He gently guided the offending cygarette out of his nasal sensors. “And your ‘good deal’, Mr. Community Organizer, is a start-up bakery?”

“My ‘good deal’ is a place where I can work in peace. Where I ain’t got bots with an agenda eyein’ my back while I’m tryin’ to eat.” Thunderhoof cocked an eyebrow at him. “And if they happen to see that I make a better boss than some chump who ran with Prime, then that just works out good for everybody, now don’t it?”

Steeljaw huffed. “Do you really think they’ll ever turn enough profit to be worth your notice?”

“It ain’t about the profit.” Thunderhoof took another drag and blew the mouthful of smoke into Steeljaw’s optics. “You wolf bots is all alike. All about gettin’ everything in sight, never thinkin’ about how you use it once you got it. That’s why the service is scrap at your place.”

It took every ounce of his strength to keep his voice down. Steeljaw plunged his claws into the joint of his arm. The pain focused his attention on the brute bearing down on him. “Thank you for the unsolicited advice.”

“Think of this spot as the nice thing I’m gonna let myself have,” Thunderhoof capped off, “For takin’ such good care of all my other business.”

Steeljaw let himself laugh. “Not if I get it first.”

“What, so you can eat it?”

He smirked. “Something like that.”

Expecting a fist in his face, or a cygarette put out on his tongue, Steeljaw was pleasantly surprised when Thunderhoof chuckled. “A’ight. IF that’s how you’re playin’ it, what do you wanna bet?”

“A bet with you?” said Steeljaw. “Please. You’ve rigged the game from the start.”

“See, that’s why I like you.” Thunderhoof finished off his cygarette and pulled out another, offering it to Steeljaw. “You’re smart. Here. I could see your tail waggin’ when I lit up.”

How… embarrassing. The lure of an old vice, though, was irresistible, not to mention it would be social suicide to turn down a gift from Thunderhoof. Steeljaw took the cygarette and the light Thunderhoof offered. The first drag tasted like the past, at once both reminding him of simpler conquests and also why he stopped. The smoke in his vents dulled his senses, made him blind to the smells of the city. He breathed out through his mouth to spare his nose. “It’s been a long time.” He let the ‘thank you’ go unspoken.

Thunderhoof tucked his cygarette butt away rather than drop it on the street. “Why’d you stop?”

Did he admit to Cybertron’s biggest crime boss that he stopped to keep his senses sharp? To prevent being jumped from behind? No, not today. Out of the multitude of reasons he had, he gave the one least important. “I didn’t like how it made my voice lower.”

Thunderhoof surprised him yet again by taking out another cygarette and tossing it his way. He cut a path back to the road. “You should start again.”

He transformed and left in a calculated hurry, leaving Steeljaw with a burning cygarette and equally burning questions.

Chapter 20

The weekend slipped by like oil down Bumblebee’s throat. It was just as refreshing, if he could say so himself. Seeing the shop peeking out from the buildings as he rounded the corner made his spark sing.

By the time his tires hit smooth, freshly-paved asphalt, he know today was going to be fantastic.

Fixit was already there when he pulled up and transformed. The Minicon was polished clean and moving with ease, much like Bumblebee was after his oil bath. “Good morning, Bumblebee! Pleasant vacation?”

Bumblebee unlocked the shop and chuckled. “A day trip’s hardly a vacation.”

“It felt like one for me!” Fixit gushed. “I went on Sunday. Were you there and we missed each other?”

“No, I went Friday afternoon with Grimlock.”

Fixit clapped his claws. “Oh, goodie! Such things are always better with company.”

Bee’s cheeks went warm. “Yeah. It was a fun date.”

He told himself he made the right choice, telling Fixit first before it turned into workplace gossip. His preemptive feeling of good luck held as Fixit made a polite little cheer. “Romantic company at that! How blunderbuss- Thunderhoof-”

Bumblebee patted his back, and Fixit shyly grinned up at him. “Wonderful, sir.”

The shop slowly came back to life with every light, and it filled with the delicious smell of a new road. Grimlock was the next to arrive, and Bee greeted him with a nuzzle. It stayed quiet until Strongarm came in and cycled a long breath.

“Mmm… makes me want to go out and drive.” Strongarm stretched out her arms. “Nothing like hot asphalt on a sunny day.”

“What is it with you cars and the smell of asphalt?” asked Grimlock. “You can’t even eat the tar.”

“You can’t eat most of the stuff you bake in a day,” countered Bumblebee. “Does that make it stop smelling good?”

“After a couple o’ hours, I just stop smelling it.”

Strongarm dipped her head behind the counter, and then around the corner into the hall. “Where’s Sideswipe?”

Bumblebee simply said, “Late.”

Strongarm punched her palm into her fist. “I was more than ready to scrap with him today,” she said with a grin. “I paid extra for the deep cable tune-up. I could dead lift Grimlock if I wanted to.”

Grimlock rubbed at his neck. “You want to?”

When Sideswipe drove up twenty minutes later, it was to Strongarm standing outside with Grimlock- in Dino Mode- wiggling and giggling in her upstretched hands. Sideswipe transformed, and without breaking stride, he jabbed two fingers into the soft seam of her torso. She and Grimlock both dropped with matching yelps. Sideswipe kicked open the front door with nothing but a proud smile and an energon shake.

“Mornin’ Bee,” he greeted.

“Don’t act like I didn’t see that,” scolded Bumblebee. “Go apologize to Strongarm.”

Sideswipe smugly sipped his shake. “So?”

Bee and Fixit shared a quick look. Sideswipe could be fairly oblivious. Maybe it was best to stay subtle.

Bumblebee shrugged. “I just have a feeling it’ll come back and bite you in the end.”

“Please!” Sideswipe slurped at the shake at the very bottom of his cup. “They’d have to catch my end first!”

“Well, maybe it’ll bite you on the top instead.”

He savored the half second of confusion on Sideswipe’s face before Grimlock’s jaw came down over his head and lifted him off his feet. As delighted as he was to hear Sideswipe scream, he probably wasn’t as delighted as Strongarm.

“Come on, Grim, use those teeth!” Strongarm pounded on Grimlock’s shoulders from her perch on his back. “Chew him up REAL good!”

Fixit beamed from his post. “I have to say, I really missed all of you.”

Bumblebee agreed. “Me too, Fixit. Today’s going to be pretty great. I can tell.”

The door chimed, and when Bee looked over, there was Blastwave.

“And it just went from great to awesome.”

The sunny weather broke into a full-on scorcher, heating the asphalt to an air-warping shine and flooding the whole street with the smell. Our Place got customers who had never heard of the shop before just because they were chasing the scent. They never had more car-based Cybertronian customers. Drift and the Minicons brought a guest, who called her friends and filled the store with a chorus of gentle Camnian accents. The outdoor tables filled fast, which was a first, and the indoor tables nearly ran out. Business, for the first time yet, was stellar. Even Sideswipe didn’t complain for how busy it kept him.

The last indoor table sat Thunderhoof and his herd of lackeys. Bumblebee, keeping an audial sensor on things from the hallway, could recognize the big boss bot from his footfalls. His distinct accent whenever he spoke sealed the mental picture in Bee’s head.

“Ey-yo, where was you, Minicon?” asked Thunderhoof. “I show up for my coffee and kookies and you all ain’t here, what’s the deal?”

“We were all on vacation for our off days, sir!” Fixit immediately shared. “We all got oil baths and detailing, and the proprietor came and talked to me specifically- after a few tries, he got the wrong snot- rot-” There came the thump. “Bot! A few times! Where was I- he said I could come back to his business as much as I wanted!”

Thunderhoof chuckled. “Heh, Knock Out. ‘The proprietor.’ Funny.”

Bee’s hands froze against his paperwork, and he fully tuned in. Fixit made a little surprised noise. “It was a mech named Knock Out! How did you know?”

“Please. As much as I’m in and out o’ that place? Knock Out’s always out prowlin’ the grounds and makin’ like he looks better than everyone there.”

No, that couldn’t be it. Bumblebee pulled a little closer to the wall and kept out of sight. Thunderhoof had gone to that name way too fast. Not to mention the fact that Knock Out, who still called Arcee ‘the motorcycle’, went out of his way to talk to a specific mass-produced Minicon that happened to work here, after finding Bee and redirecting the ‘gift’ coupons to him? Not to mention Thunderhoof knew exactly where they had gone. Thunderhoof said nothing else of value, and Bumblebee was left to wonder if that had been an honest slip, or an intentional clue for him to pick up on. Maybe Thunderhoof knew he was back here.

Thunderhoof picked up his snacks. “Send your regards to my boss.”

“Certainly!” Fixit wheeled to the end of the counter and stuck his head right out. “Bumblebee! Thunderhoof sends regards!”

Bumblebee nearly jumped out of his plating and dropped every datapad he had on him. The shop went stone quiet and stared for a second and a half before resuming their conversations.

Thunderhoof cackled. “Wassa matter, kid? You got a guilty conscience?”

Bumblebee scooped up his datapads. If Thunderhoof could get under his plating so easy, then Bee was losing his touch. He cleared his throat. “No, just deep in thought. Going over the budget. Thinking of maybe getting an extra bot to work in the kitchen.”

Grimlock’s head launched through the kitchen window. “What?! But there’s no room! Literally!”

Thunderhoof pointed an accusing finger. “So you do got a guilty conscience!”

“What I have is a worker who didn’t tell me they had another job,” Bumblebee scolded, “So now I have to make sure his shift is covered on off days.”

Grimlock apologetically cowered. “M’sorry.”

At least Grimlock felt properly bad when he messed up. Bumblebee cupped his cheek and gave his face a little rub. “That’s okay, Grim.”

“See?” said Fixit. “No guilty conscience-”

“Wait what are you doing?!” Now it was Strongarm’s turn to point the accusing finger, and down from the other side of the lobby, too. The sheer scandalized look on her face burned itself into Bumblebee’s mind as the most hilarious thing she had ever done. “Hand! Face! Grimlock!”

Grimlock grinned and pushed his head into Bumblebee’s palm. “We’re datin’ now.”

Sideswipe and Strongarm yelped at the same time. “WHAT?!” (Drift politely clapped.)

“Bangin’ the help with no guilt,” teased Thunderhoof. “And here I thought-”

Thunderhoof stopped mid-thought. Bumblebee heard a particular set of tires pulling to a stop on the road outside. He flinched. There was Steeljaw. The good luck streak for the day finally broke. Bubmlebee went silent for one and a half seconds when Steeljaw transformed, stood up, and coughed loud enough to shake the windows. Their favorite customer to hate walked in with his claws over his nose and a pained pinch to his optics.

If nothing else, it distracted Sideswipe and Strongarm. Strongarm swiftly and audibly clicked all her vents shut, and Sideswipe took the chance to snark. “Jeeze, tough break, S.J. The one day the road’s freshly paved, and you have a virus and can’t smell it.”

Steeljaw didn’t bother making optic contact and instead kept his gaze steady on the menu. Still, he wouldn’t give Sideswipe the satisfaction of being right. He spoke with a growl to his voice, not from anger but from wear. “On the contrary, my sensors are working perfectly.”

That made it click in Bumblebee’s head. “Oh… your sense of smell is so good, the fumes are overwhelming.”

Steeljaw’s teeth flashed. He freed his nose so he could probably gesticulate. “Thank you for the armchair diagnosis. Now, where is my food?”

Grimlock called from the back. “Strongaaarm, do the espresso for meee.”

“If I could please not have to wait for this-” His order fell apart once his sensors calibrated back to the asphalt smell, and Steeljaw coughed enough to stagger. Bumblebee dove for one shoulder, Thunderhoof for another, and together they kept him on his feet.

“Maybe make his usual to go, Fixit,” Bumblebee said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to hang around today.”

Steeljaw groaned. His voice had gone rough and ragged. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

Thunderhoof quickly jerked Steeljaw out of Bumblebee’s grip. One massive hand clamped down on Steeljaw’s shoulder like a vice. “All right, that’s enough. Kid, bill his stuff to my table. Steeljaw, I had something for ya, and you’re gonna take it, capiche?”

Steeljaw shot him a glare that could kill a lessor bot. “No.”

That massive hand squeezed down harder. Bumblebee was sure if Steeljaw were at full capacity, there would already be a fight. His hands shook nervously. Steeljaw opened his mouth, almost certainly to complain or maybe even threaten, and Thunderhoof bore down again.

“When I says ‘capiche’, I means ‘capiche’.”

The surprises continued to stack up for the day, because Thunderhoof reached into his subspace and pulled out a silk handerchief. A rarity on Earth and a luxury on Cybertron, it was then offered silently to Steeljaw.

Steeljaw stared for longer than a second and a half. He silently took the handkerchief and held it over his nose, and his coughing stopped.

Thunderhoof and Steeljaw spent the next few minutes sitting at Thunderhoof’s table, Steeljaw on the bigger bot’s left. It wasn’t the most dignified look for Steeljaw, of course, but it kept him out of pain until Sideswipe delivered their coffee. Thunderhoof and company up and left without any more trouble. The two most worrying regulars Our Place had, and they were both gone within half an hour.

Grimlock watched the pair leave. “… are they dating?”

“I’m… not sure?” Fixit answered him.

Strongarm pointed at Bee again. “This doesn’t get you off the hook! I want summaries!”

Best day yet, Bumblebee tallied, and he hoped they had more days like it.

Chapter 21

Interviews were made, and applicants were screened. Bumblebee recognized a few from Thunderhoof’s gang and put their applications away in private. One was Kickback, from The Den, and while Bee liked the idea of getting him out of Steeljaw’s grip, Kickback botched the interview by bad-mouthing his many, many ex-bosses. Steeljaw and Kickback sounded like they deserved each other. Bumblebee picked two promising employees, and the day after their interview, he gave them to Fixit to train. He stood at a safe distance, watching them all work together and gauging how well Fixit could do on his own.

Jetstorm and Slipstream made attentive students.

“We are ready to do our best, sir Fixit!” Slipstream announced.

“We even updated our English drivers so we could be of most use!” added Jetstorm.

Fixit clenched his claw. “Oh that is wonderful! Thank you ever so much! In return, I shall endeavor to be a most helpful teacher! Let’s begin: what would you say is your level of fluency in customer service?”

(Thankfully, all of them missed the incredulous look Bumblebee shot their way.)

Used to such ridiculous verbiage, Jetstorm quickly answered, “This will be our first paid employment serving customers.”

Slipstream finished, “But we have been receiving tutelage from Master Drift regarding tea house etiquette!”

Fixit’s answering laugh was gentle and soft. “Well, tea house etiquette is not entirely different from what we do here. I will warn you now: we are much more informal than even the most lax places on Cybertron.”

The door chimed. Fixit squealed with delight and pushed Slipstream and Jetstorm to his usual station. He took up position at the register and waved them on. “Oh! The opportunity to see your capabilities firsthand is here! Please, greet this customer and ask how you might help him.”

Jetstorm and Slipstream froze up a little under the taller customer’s inquisitive gaze. He was a huge Decepticon, rounded and broad-shouldered with a wide face. He watched the little Minicons in silence, one eyebrow cocked, challenging them without saying a word. They rallied themselves and bowed.

“Welcome to our humble house, master,” they greeted in unison. “How may we serve you today?”

The customer (and Strongarm, on the other side of the lobby) broke into uproarious laughter. Bumblebee’s shoulders locked up out of a mix of shock and self-restraint. What was Drift teaching those bots? Was that the Cybertron Optimus grew up on?

Jetstorm and Slipstream froze as Fixit rushed over and pulled them out of their bows. “Nononono no no, nonono, no no no we do not address customers as ‘master’ here, especially not standard-sized bots-”

The massive Decepticon slapped a hand down on the counter. He spoke in a roar that filled up the room, and gesticulated wildly with his other hand. “OH, what is the harm in it, little yellow fellow?”

Fixit replied, “I-I’m ora-”

“A title fitting for a master of the thespian arts is most welcome with me!” The Decepticon leaned fully onto the counter and grinned. “Young sirs, you may address me as Master Overload, and I shall take your finest offerings available!”

“That would then be the cappuccino and snickerdoodle, yes?” asked Jetstorm.

“NO!” Fixit yelped. “Well, I mean, yes, they are very tasty but-”

Overload thumped his hand again, jumping Fixit off the counter and into the air. A little bundle of money just barely peeked out from under his massive fingers. “Then what is the trouble, my quivering friend?”

Fixit tucked in his shoulders and claws, holding himself entirely stiff. “I’m not quivering!”

“Then a cappuccino and a snickerdoodle it shall be!” Overload turned and strode to a table, sitting with a flagrant flourish. “And with haste, young sirs!”

Jetstorm and Slipstream bowed again. “Thank you, Master!”

Fixit shook himself out of his stiff lock-up. “I cannot possibly communicate how uncomfortable that makes me...”

Jetstorm picked up the money Overload left behind and counted it. “We did make a sale, though!”

“Did we accomplish our mission successfully, sir Fixit?” asked Slipstream.

Fixit whipped around hard enough to squeak his tires. “Bumblebee, help me.”

Tapped in, Bumblebee stepped forward. “Guys, look, I know you want to do your best, and Drift’s got… his… own set of manners, but here we don’t want you to lower yourselves just for our customers’ sake. You’re offering them a service temporarily; they are not better than you.”

Jetstorm nodded enthusiastically, but Slipstream clasped his hands and pondered. “But Master Drift has told us to always address others with due respect.”

“Right,” Bumblebee acknowledged. “Due respect. Not excessive respect. I know maybe one bot on all of Cybertron that actually uses a title, and that guy-”

Overload shot him a look, he could feel it. Bee ignored it.

“-is not him.”

Jetstorm took a guess. “Master Drift?”
Slipstream tried another. “Optimus Prime.”

“Okay, Drift’s not on Cybertron, he doesn’t count.” Bumblebee thought again. “Okay I know maybe two bots on Cybertron who use a title, and Optimus doesn’t even make you use his unless you’re being a pest. The other o-”

Bumblebee, eventually, had to learn to stop talking about people in the shop, because the door chimed and he looked up. At first, no worries. Sure, it was strange seeing Knock Out and Breakdown in the door, because the last time he saw them it was on another planet and he was on a date. No, the alarming part was seeing the exact bot he was talking about stooping through the door and quickly overtaking the other two bots on his way to the counter. Bumblebee lost his voice from shock, and only regained his thoughts when Grimlock jutted his head through the window to gawk.

Predaking only shot Bumblebee a sharp look and a fiercely cocked brow.

“See?” said Knock Out. Bumblebee couldn’t see him past Predaking’s massive frame, but he could feel the self-satisfied smirk. “We told you.”

Grimlock gasped, “Woah.”

“Y-your Highness!” Bumblebee dipped his head in a bow, too stunned to properly genuflect. “Predaking, sir- um- you are the last bot I expected to see here.”

“The same to you,” said Predaking. Predaking never did get in the habit of calling Bumblebee by… any name. Ever. Having him here felt surreal, like something had folded in the world and made it go wrong. “I expect to be properly serviced.”

Knock Out popped out from behind Predaking to talk, and Bumblebee felt a knot in his tank growing steadily as the door chimed over, and over, behind them all. People must have been coming in just to see the only Predacon on Earth. “Couldn’t help myself,” said Knock Out in a tone that said he entirely could, “Once word got around to my favorite Predacon customer that you, of all people, were serving up drinks in a little dive on Earth, I simply had to show him. And of course, a few others heard-”

“Here now!” Overload shouted. “Don’t you dare think you can serve a king’s retinue before I’m delivered my order! I got here first!”

“Oh no...” Bumblebee went cold… all of him, at once. This was Predaking’s entire flight; this was thirty Predacons easy, and more customers were gathering at the windows just to ogle at him. Not to mention this Overload guy, and he could hear an engine approaching and he knew that engine, that was Steeljaw, today was getting worse-

Wait why was Predaking one of his customers? Predaking didn’t spa. Hold on a second-

Jetstorm and Slipstream clicked their heels and bowed. “Welcome to our humble house, master. How may we serve you today?”

Predaking didn’t really emote so much as he moved, made little noises that could be approval or disdain. Bumblebee wasn’t sure if every Predacon was hard to read, or just him, but he gave a grunt and addressed the minis. “Promptly, and like royalty.”

A Predacon shoved at Predaking’s back. “Yeah, and with the good stuff!”

“And a lot of it!” shouted one behind him. “With… extra sauce! And crunchy bits!”

That’s about when Bumblebee realized that maybe they didn’t know what they were doing here either. This might take… special attention. They needed these Predacons out of the line, they needed something to eat and drink (with no guarantee if they’d like it or not), their totals written up, and all of them out of the way for the regulars whenever they came in.

He set his wings. “Jetstorm, Slipstream, Fixit, stay on registers. Strongarm!”

Strongarm wiggled into view from behind an increasingly wide cluster of Predacons. “Sir!”

“You’re with me- we’re seating all the Predacons and being waiters until the line’s down.”

“I-I’m not trained to waitress, sir!”

“That’s why you’re with me! Grimlock, trusting you!”

Grimlock saluted! “Right on!”

Bumblebee hooked Strongarm by the elbow and pulled her into the nook of his winglets. He would have to cut through the line and separate the into smaller, manageable chunks. He’d pass the little groups onto Strongarm so she could seat them at a table, and keep doing that until they were all settled so the regulars could come up and order like usual. Then he could work out explaining the menu to them after. He used to do this back at Optimus’s place. He worked the floor shift a lot of nights. This was natural. This was routine.

This was already sending his spark pounding, and it only jumped up higher into his throat when Predaking whipped around at him at the first motion he made into the line.

“What are you doing?”

“Uuuh- aah-” Bumblebee straightened up before he could reflexively duck his head down. “A-attending to your needs, Your Highness. You’ll need a table-”

Predaking bore down on the both of them, optics flaring wild. “Do not presume you can give orders to MY Predacons! Do you have no respect?!”

“Yeah, know your betters, smart-aft!” shouted another Predacon.

That Predacon swiftly met the ground with a sharp crack, courtesy of Predaking’s backhand. “Do not interrupt me, Darksteel! You barely rank above him as it is!”

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Bumblebee bowed his head again. He could feel Strongarm flinching behind him. Predacons were just… like that. They couldn’t be escorted off the premise for ‘displays of dominance’ against each other, as they demanded of Optimus. It always looked and sounded worse than it actually was, but it still sent bolts of panic through Bumblebee to hear the smack of metal against metal. “I’ll-”

“Hey hey, lookit all this now.”

When did Thunderhoof get here?! Bumblebee whipped around to catch Thunderhoof and Steeljaw taking their usual seats with big slag-eating grins on their faces. That was about all he got; Predaking rushed into his personal bubble so fast and so loud it blinked his vision out.

“Do not show your back to me!”

Somewhere behind Predaking, Grimlock’s knuckles cracked. “All right, I’m mad now.”

“Grimlock, stay on your post! Everything’s fine!” Bee took another long breath. He could do this. It wasn’t even the worst shift he’d ever handled. “Everything’s fine. I apologize, Your Highness, Lord of the Predacons.”

Steeljaw snickered out loud. “He’s almost cute when he’s submissive, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Thunderhoof answered. “It’s almost like he’s worth somethin’.”

Breakdown and Knock Out both laughed, and Bee promised to himself that he was going to slit all their throats in their sleep and burn their houses down, as long as he survived today.

And poor Jetstorm and Slipstream at the counter...

Notes:

NEARLY SIX MILLION YEARS OF NO UPDATES AND HERE I AM! I think... three more chapters of this fic, and I'll call it done.

Chapter 22

Summary:

Beware The Rush.

It had been an hour since The Rush began. Our Place was crawling with Predacons, all of whom needed special attention and extra space for their tables. They were also fast eaters, and easily bored. Bumblebee started to notice a pattern: same customers, multiple trips to the counter, different orders every time, but a lot of the same things at once. They were talking, and comparing, and getting up in movements to eat the next New Thing.

Bumblebee grabbed Sideswipe from bussing tables and ordered, “Outside. Tip jar. Distract them.”

If the Predacons had the kind of money they were dropping on snickadoooodles and machiattos, then Sideswipe was going to leave today a rich bot.

And of course he had left his cyr wheel at home today, like an idiot. Sideswipe had to think fast. There wasn’t enough cardboard to breakdance. He had only just started learning how to do ladder tricks, so he had no routine prepared. Cybertronians in general had innate timing and momentum calculations, so they would be bored by juggling. All he needed was one good prop to stand on, and he could be amazing. That was all he needed: one solid, sturdy platform he could climb all over-

He grabbed Strongarm from her post and dragged her out onto the street. “Congrats, Strongarm, you’re part of the act now!”

Part of the Predacon Problem was that the tales had to be pulled out of the shop and onto the street. They left only the smallest two-lane sliver for the rare human car to pass through, and how fortunate! It was just big enough for one offended, highly confused Strongarm.

“Excuse you?!” Strongarm immediately tried to escape. Sideswipe practically had to dance in front of her to body block her out of the shop. “I am not here to be a- I don’t even- performing… thing!”

Their little back-and-forth was already getting attention. Sideswipe could feel all the optics on him. “Well, the good thing is I don’t need you for your elocution skills-”

He dodged a right hook. They were back to dancing, except Strongarm was the lead and Sideswipe was trying to keep his head attached to his shoulders. The Predacons were already laughing at the whole thing, so Sideswipe was still sort of in control, he told himself.

Strongarm raged. “Yesterday, you thought ‘elocution’ was what happened when you licked batteries!”

Only one bot laughed, and it was Steeljaw.

“What, do you want an award for knowing what words mean?” Sideswipe ducked back from an uppercut. “’Smartest Aft on the Street’, just for you, Strongarm.”

He knew his crowd well. The Predacons guffawed. Strongarm’s electromagnetic field was so keyed up he was getting warning signs in his vision.

“Good luck performing with your legs twisted behind your back, you little-”

She went for his neck with both hands, and Sideswipe couldn’t have gotten a better opening if he had asked for it. He grabbed both of her hands, even laced their fingers together for full contact. The shock of it stopped her cold.

“Now-!” Sideswipe cut her off. “The thing is, I could perform with my legs behind my back. Observe.”

He had seen her trip, he had seen her stutter, he had seen her swing and miss, but Sideswipe had never seen Strongarm drop anything, ever. When he shifted his full weight into her palm, her entire body followed to push back against him. He hadn’t lifted himself from shoulder height often, but it wasn’t too different from practice at home. As long as he didn’t rush, and minded his center of gravity, he could pull it off.

Mind, his practice block at home didn’t scoff or backsass like Strongarm. “Pfft. This is just like work.”

The Predacons might have missed the obvious set-up. They were murmuring in awe of Sideswipe holding himself parallel to the ground with only his hands. He was always in focus for the show, though. “How? Stealing your attention? Having all the talent?”

Strongarm smirked. “You can only do something impressive with my support.”

Talk about her support, too: she was holding him up with her elbows pointed at the ground. He had trouble carrying heavy stuff with his arms bent at all. She was holding up all of him entirely wrong and wasn’t even straining!

Was she… flexing on him?

Oh he would not abide by that. He whispered low. “Higher.”

This was the hardest part; maintaining his balance while Strongarm moved underneath him, effortlessly putting him over her head. He needed time to center himself, and he needed the Predacons’ focus back. The solution to both: more banter.

He let his foot droop as a counterweight. His head naturally fell closer to Strongarm’s sassy smirking face. “Here, let me fix that statement for you: ‘Only I can do something impressive.’ You’re just lifting.”

She was quick. “Just like you’re lifting you act from Cirque du Soleil?”

Speaking of lifting, he uncurled his frame into a handstand. He heard at least one Predacon slap the table while more of them cheered. Somebody-

His concentration shattered. It was Thunderhoof, and he had wolf whistled at him and just how gross that was rocked him right to his tank. He was too aware of himself now, and how every part of him was just out there on display, and-

Strongarm’s fingers crushed down on his. It made his joints ache.

She came back into focus. Banter. Reset.

“R-really? Cirque du Soleil?” He tried dipping one foot down over his back to touch her head. He knew halfway he couldn’t make the reach, and instead rested his sole against his back. “Where are you streaming your media from? 2004?”

“Says the bot doing contortion.”

This would be tricky. If he was going to keep from collapsing, he had to rest his arms, one at a time. He tried fluttering his fingertips- only the tips- against Strongarm’s hand, and thank Primus above she actually loosened her grip. He pulled his hand free and disguised his resting stretches as a grand flourish. It got cheers from the crowd.

“Madame,” he purred. “I am a performance artist.”

Strongarm hid her own stretch and rest behind a fake yawn. “And I’m Solus Prime.”

And he was out of act. What he had been doing was basically his strength training. He could do a few flips and rolls on his stuff at home, but he didn’t want to walk all over Strongarm’s hands. He had to keep the momentum going; easy-to-please or not, even Predacons would know when the act came to a screeching halt. That, and his other arm was starting to ache.

Wait. He remembered something from the video he had watched. (If Strongarm ever figured out it was actually Cirque du Soleil, he was done for.)

He fluttered his fingertips against Strongarm’s hand again, but this time, she didn’t loosen up. There, in that little space between their faces, her brows tensed and her smile snapped away. Maybe she could tell, somehow, that he hadn’t practiced this move. Maybe she couldn’t read him well enough to ready herself. His throat ran a little dryer.

She swallowed. “W-well, you heard me. I’m Solus Prime. Aren’t you going to bow?”

She let go. Sideswipe moved fast, jumping from one hand to his other with a loud smack against Strongarm’s palm. Strongarm let out the biggest puff of breath against his face. The Predacons screamed.

He used his freed, very tired arm to flip her off. “Here’s my offering.”

Strongarm linked their fingers together again and started to move. She walked herself in a tight circle, keeping her optics on Sideswipe. He could feel everyone’s optics on him again, and he could even hear a few of them getting out of their chairs to creep closer.

Strongarm was back to smiling. “Bold move to make against the bot holding you up with her bad arm.”

“You can’t scare me with that,” sassed Sideswipe. “I know for a fact you don’t have a bad arm.”

“Now that’s the only smart thing you’ve said this week.”

He fingertips fluttered against his.

With a bolt of excitement, he did the switch again. Apparently the Predacons found it just as nerve wracking as him, because they screamed all over again the instant their palms made contact. Back to his original orientation, he placed his other hand back in Strongarm’s and slowly, steadily, started to lower himself back down. Her optics never left his.

He still had to poke. “I’m gonna report you to Bumblebee for harassing me.”

Strongarm called him on it near immediately. “Please. And lose the other half of your act?”

He swung his feet down, finally upright for the first time in five minutes. “I could literally replace you with a box.”

She set him gently down back on his feet. “Find a box that can keep you interesting for five minutes.”

“I’m the one making you look good, smartaft.”

“As if.”

He got hit in the back of the head with a coin.

Not just him, either: Strongarm was getting pelted with tips as the Predacons roared and clapped for them. He was pretty sure no matter how he moved, he was going to step on money. The next part of his act: how to pick up change off the ground in a dignified way.

Strongarm’s hands squeezed his. They had never never let go.

Chapter 23

Summary:

This chapter was helped along by... recent events that served for good inspiration.

Where did the Predacons get all this money? Did they have jobs? Did the King of All Robodragons have to sit down in a chair and interview? “What can you bring to this company?” “Fire breathing and pointy teeth and loud.” “You’re hired.” What did Predacons even need money for? Probably put it in big piles and bathed in it like chinchillas. They sure weren’t sleeping on it, not with the amount of coffee they were all putting away. And the sweeteners! Sweet Solus Prime, they were going to run out. Not even exaggerating, run out, emergency rush order. Maybe even close the store for a day to fix the inventory back up.

Oo, closing for a day…

It was that kind of thinking that kept Bumblebee smiling the entire day, even through the tow extra hours they were forced to stay open because the Predacons would not leave. It really was like they had bottomless pockets. They only started filing out in force after Knock Out jumped up and raced out in vehicle mode. Some of them were laughing, and Thunderhoof was scowling when he stormed out.

Something was up. He had to know.

He caught Predaking’s attention before he left. He was one of the last to go, flanked as usual by Skylynx and Darksteel. “Always an honor to see you, Your Highness. Was today a special occasion?”

Predaking’s departing back froze in the door. Bumblebee was caught in warring emotions- fear and satisfaction- and wondered if he should have asked at all.

When Predaking turned back to face him, it was with a wide, fanged grin. “It is now. You have delivered us a great victory, scout.”

“I...” He checked his periphery for help, but his whole support network was down. Jetstorm and Slipstream had collapsed on the counter. Fixit was on his third recount of the till. Grimlock, he was sure, was hiding in the office. Strongarm and Sideswipe were still packing down the garbage. It was just him, there, looking like an idiot. “I’m sorry?”

“We leave here to collect a vast treasure,” Predaking explained. “Knock Out underestimated the terms of his bet.”

“His bet?” It… almost made sense. “He bet on us?”

“The terms were agreed upon the day before. We would would come, and we would spend,” Predaking explained. “The instant one of our orders went unfulfilled, we would pay Knock Out whatever we had spent in full.”

Knock Out would back on him screwing up. At least, he assumed the beet went two ways, and not just- “Wait, that- hold on, that doesn’t have an end point. If we didn’t mess up at all-”

Predaking bellowed with laughter. “We have dined like kings, and now, we shall be rich as kings.”

Darksteel snorted. “Now he had to pay US double! As soon as we catch the little stooge.”

“Yeah! Did you see the instant he realized we won the bet?” Skylynx guffawed. “Sucker’s probably all the way back to Cybertron by now!”

“No doubt your abilities outstripped his pockets,” mused Predaking. “It will be an excellent hunt.”

“Huh… well.” Bumblebee managed a little bow. “I’m honored by your faith in me, Your Highness.”

The great Predacon huffed. “Do not congratulate yourself for the obvious. Knock Out was a fool to take me for a dupe.”

“I...” Bumblebee shrugged. “Honestly can’t argue that.”

“Of course not!” Skylynx snapped. “We’re all wise and slag!”

“Silence yourself, whelp!” Predaking straightened himself up. “Knock Out has received enough of a head start. We must leave the scout in peace.”

Darksteel and Skylynx waved them off with clipped little wiggles of their hands, and Predaking left, taking all his gravitas with him. Bumblebee ran for the door and deadbolted it behind them. Finally, they were done. The shop was empty, pretty dirty, deadly quiet, and dark. Best place on Earth, at the moment. Bumblebee took a deep breath and wondered why the air smelled funny before he realized it just didn’t smell like Predacon anymore.

Grimlock’s head peeked out from upstairs. “Is it over?”

Jetstorm croaked up from the counter. “I believe we have passed the admissions test, Master Bumblebee.”

Slipstream followed, “Not to be presumptuous, sir.”

Strongarm threw open the back door, reeking of trash. “I would rather have all my finals on the same day than ever do that again!”

Sideswipe dragged himself in behind her. “That was, like, Megatron level bad!”

“No, it wasn’t,” said Bumblebee. “But it was very close. Fixit, we counted out yet?”

Fixit, looking a little robotic even for him, snapped out of his trance and reported. “We made approximately more today than we did all of last month, sir!”

He had a feeling. Bumblebee asked, “Gross?”

“If I’ve done the calculations sight, net, sir!”

He threw his hands up. “It’s official! Shop’s closed for the next two days. Everybody gets tomorrow off!”

Slipstream and Jetstorm high-fived from their counter. “Thank you...”

“Sweet!” roared Grimlock. “I’m gettin’ takeout!”

Fixit chirped in joy. “Oh, wonderful! What an eggshell- excel- excellent creation anniversary gift, sir!”

“Wait, tomorrow’s your birthday?” The Earth term slipped out before he could stop himself. He was too tired to care much. “Earth calendar or Cybertronian?”

Fixit answered, “Both!”

“You-” he demanded, “Should come over to my place. I’m gonna throw you a party.”

“Oh, how lovely! Are they very heavy?” Fixit asked.

It only just occurred to Bumblebee at that moment that Fixit had maybe received gifts for special occasions at some point in his long life, but had probably never had an actual party before. If he told Denny, Denny would probably freak out and make it ridiculous, sappy, and over-electronic.

Well, now the plans were just set in stone.

Grimlock thumped the wall to catch his attention. “Can I come too? I can bring the takeout!”

“Wait, there’s a party?” Strongarm gasped. “I can bring my cocktail kit! I haven’t used it in a solar cycle!”

“I’m going if there’s booze!” Sideswipe cheered. “Woooo!”

“Okay, party tomorrow,” Bumblebee announced. “Cleaning now. I wanna be able to pretend we never had Predacons in here for at least the rest of the week.”

Chapter 24

Summary:

Fixit Appreciation Day

Fixit was somewhat enamored with the human world. IT was here that he felt like the proper size, as opposed to a tiny intruding pebble on his own home planet. Denny Clay’s residence was a wonderful example; the main door, meant for the unloading of industrial scrap, was a hulking behemoth gate of steel and iron surrounded by Fixit-sized slim glass doors. In his optics, it made the heavy, the stately, the broad, and the massive outsiders in this world where the tiny ruled.

Fixit remembered, with a touch of embarrassment, that he was supposed to be knocking on that door. He only gave the gate the tiniest tap before it cracked open to Denny Clay’s face. “Fixit!”

“O-oh, Donny- Danny-!” Fixit thumped his chest. “Denny Clay! Greetings!”

“Come on in! We’re not all set up yet- Russel! Fixit’s here!”

Russel shouted from within, only barely audible. “Happy birthday, Fixit!”

Denny Clay tapped his forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you past the soundproofing so you can actually hear it. Russel, say it again in a minute!”

Fixit rolled in after Denny Clay. Denny Clay’s scrapyard was comfortable to his Cybertronian sensibility. Messy in compartments, but navigable, and each section was delineated by a theme. One such compartment of scrap, he noted, was Bumblebee and Grimlock fussing over an energon distiller. At least, he assumed it was an energon distiller, as the air smelled like distilled energon. Grimlock’s broad back almost completely blocked his view.

“This feels weird doing it outside,” said Grimlock.

“It’ll- it’ll add flavor,” Bumblebee assured him. “Like grilling. It’ll be fine.”

Russel hovered near their feet, holding bags of aluminum tubes and small crumpled tin pogs. “I got the old soda cans you wanted. Can I look at it now?”

“That’s nice, Russel,” Bumblebee said in a way that meant he wasn’t listening.

“When we gonna start cooking it?” Grimlock asked helpfully.

“As soon as Fixit gets here.”

Russel shot Fixit a helpless look. Perhaps he could be helpful.

“I do love freshly forged aluminum!” he chirped.

Bumblebee yelped and jumped so hard he landed on the awning behind him. “OW- frag- Fixit! Is here!”

“Fixit’s here?!” Grimlock turned around with some wiggling and effort. “Oh hey!”

“Happy birthday!” repeated Russel.

“I’m sorry- somebody came and bought all the aluminum we were gonna cook for you-” Bee spilled out quickly. “-and now either you’re early or Strongarm is late and Russel had to find more aluminum for us-”

Fixit recognized that specific brand of flustered. “Bad morning, Bee?”

“No!” Bumblebee insisted. “This is your party and everything is great!”

Grimlock nodded over at the energon distiller. “That’s why we’re stockpiling high grade for when Strongarm finally shows up. She’s gonna make us cocktails!”

“That sounds lovely!” Fixit said. “What do I need to do?”

Russel laughed, “It’s your birthday party! Go relax!”

“Oh, yes! Indeed!” Fixit flexed his claws. “What do I need to do to relax?”

Grimlock laughed, and Fixit wasn’t entirely sure why.

Denny Clay thumped his back from behind. “Hey, Strongarm just called and said what happened was Optimus found out-”

Bumblebee groaned.

“-so she’s got extra stuff to pick up. So I’m just gonna get Fixit started on the first game, okay?”

“A game?” Fixit turned so fast that his wheels spun dirt. “Is it a relaxing game?!”

Denny Clay paused before he answered. “… Depends! I, for your birthday, give to you-”

He took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket too fast, and it caught on his button and tore in half. Silently, Denny took a half in each hand, checked them, and continued his grand gesture.

“TWO scavenger hunts!”

Russel giggled. “Oh my god.”

“If I could be that smooth,” Grimlock mused, “I would be the smoothest Dinobot on the planet.”

Bumblebee let out a big, heavy breath. “Denny… you’re a lifesaver.”

“Into the scrapyard, Fixit!”

Fixit moved after Denny Clay to hunt for scavengers, and back with Grimlock, Bumblebee groaned again. “I just wanted his first party to go right...”

“It’s not going wrong yet!” argued Grimlock. “It just started weird.”

“And I still can’t believe Optimus found out...” Bumblebee pinched at his optics. “He’s not gonna let me pay for the cake...”

“How do you know it-”

The scrapyard door slammed open on its sliders, powerfully bumped out of the way by Strongarm’s hip. Her hands were filled with two cake boxes, one conspicuously bigger than the other.

“Ratchet stopped me-” she said, “In the street! To give me this giant cake!”

It impressed Grimlock. “Well damn… we’re gonna have leftovers.”

Sideswipe wiggled in behind Strongarm, holding a carrying case. “I am so ready to be overcharged, you have no idea.”

Fixit remained joyfully oblivious to all the stress happening in the main sitting area. Denny Clay had him on the most exciting foraging expedition! His list of items to find in the scrap yard had him exploring all the little him-sized hidey-holes and discovering the most amazing artifacts of human culture! He grabbed one and held it aloft by its metal stem.

“I believe...” Fixit thought aloud, for Denny Clay’s benefit. “Based on the clues you gave me, THIS is the handheld water protection device!”

“Good job, Fixit!” Denny Clay cheered. “Great guess! But that’s a Christmas tree.”

“Oh! A free- twee-” He reset. “Tree! ‘An example of Earth flora!’ That’s Number Seven on the list!”

“You know, I was hoping you’d find a live one? But sure, I’ll give it to you.” Denny Clay stroked his beard. “That’s kind of what it is, a free twee tree...”

“Maybe I would have better results if I looked for something other than the object I am looking for...” Fixit nodded. “The Earth seems to run equally on irony and gravity.”

“Now that,” exclaimed Denny Clay, “I want on a t-shirt.”

“Five t-shirts! Number Six on the list!”

Back in the sitting area, Russel watched in awe as Strongarm fussed over the tiniest cup with the biggest tools he’d ever seen. She started confident, at first, but whenever the pulled out the mug they had gotten for Fixit to use, she lost a big of her smile and a lot of her shoulder. Tucked into herself and stiff with concentration, she measured everything in her case out with itty bitty movements.

“Why can’t you just make a normal-size drink and then give him some of that one?” he asked.

He got something like an answer when all of the bots flinched at the same time.

“Do not,” said Sideswipe simply.

“Yeah don’t even hint at something like that where Fixit can hear you,” said Strongarm.

Bumblebee explained a little better. “Think of it this way: how would you feel if you went out to eat and you didn’t get your own food? You only got to eat what your dad gave you off of his plate.”

That made so much more sense… and also made him feel a little guilty. “I’d feel bad.”

“I really should have practiced before I got here...” Strongarm dipped her mixing stick into the little cup, and after a two second delay, it made a puff of smoke and turned orange. Russel jumped, but Strongarm almost squealed and downed the drink herself. All of her smile and posture- and volume- came back in an instant. “Nope! I take that back. I got it perfect on the first try!”

“Great job,” Sideswipe snarked. “Now you get to do it over and over again on request.”

Grimlock pointed out, “You drank out of Fixit’s cup.”

“Oh.” Strongarm growled. “Oh right! Damn it!”

“A-HA! A T-SHIRT!”

Fixit whipped around Russel in a tight circle and jabbed him in the gut. “T-shirt number four!”

“That wasn’t-” Denny jogged after him and panted. “That’s not one of the ones I put out!”

“And number five!” Fixit pointed at Denny. “I win that one too!”

“No you do NOT!” Denny posed. “MY shirt isn’t a t-shirt because MY shirt has BUTTONS!” He shuffled back and forth in a teasing victory dance. “Hahaaa~ buttooons~”

“Curses!” Fixit shouted. “I am spoiled- oile- FOILED!”

“And you drank his cocktail,” said Sideswipe.

“I was doing quality assurance!” Strongarm snapped back.

“I am ready for cake right now!” Bumblebee shouted. “Who wants a cake break?!”

“Oh!” Fixit raised his hand. “Me please!”

They all took a break for cake. Optimus had sent a fancy one, with multiple layers and oil jam in the middle. The cake Bumblebee purchased, by his own admission, felt inadequate by comparison. Fixit was delighted that he got to sample two cakes.

And then he went back to his scavenger hunt, and Strongarm went back to mixing cocktails, and Bumblebee slumped onto a concrete wall and lost track of his train of thought.

“… am I-”

Grimlock transformed beside him and laid his dino mode head in Bumblebee’s lap, and Bee’s train of thought was gone again. His hands came up and stroked along Grimlock’s jaw. “Uh… yeah okay.”

“The list is complete!” Fixit cheered. He rolled proudly out into the main area, umbrella in hand. “It was under the last t-shirt!”

“Good timing!” Sideswipe waved Fixit over. “Come on, you get to actually drink this one!”

Strongarm growled, “Sideswipe I swear to Solus Prime-!”

Fixit was handed a ceramic mug. It was sized to his hands, very obviously too large for humans, and decorated with a swirling red and orange pattern. He inhaled the scent of strong high grade and drank it all in one go. It tingled on his tongue, and false-flagged his sensors to full before they evened out again. It was a delightfully “sweet” sensation that made him laugh. “Oh this is much better than hot toddies!”

“And that cup’s yours to keep!” Denny Clay told him. “Happy birthday, again!”

“So, is this the basics of the ‘party’?” Fixit asked. “An entire day of leisure activities, food I like, and gifts? All for me?”

Russel shrugged, “At my birthday parties, Mom always rented a bouncy house or a DJ or something. This one’s actually pretty tame.”

“Well, I was hoping to get a game of Mafia going.” Denny Clay looked over to Bumblebee and Grimlock. “But I don’t know if Bee’s ready for it yet.”

“And we still have the hot pot to make,” said Strongarm. “We’re still finishing up the aluminum sheets.”

“Oh, by all means! There is no rush whatsoever!” Fixit handed the mug back. “I’m more than happy to let you take all the time you need for today! I…”

The words stuck on his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I… I want this to last. As long as crossabl- posabl-” He reset. “POSSIBLE.”

“Aw.” Sideswipe gave him a little nudge with his thumb. “We love you too, little guy.”

“Sideswipe don’t-” Strongarm sighed. “I mean, it’s true. It’s just more platonic than that.”

“You guys are a bunch of saps,” said Russel.

“And I am very grateful for it!” Fixit insisted. “Now then- let me try another drink! Please, of course, Strongarm.”

Fixit wondered if maybe Denny Clay was open to renting out the scrapyard on a more permanent basis. Fixit felt perfectly at home.

Notes:

You know I writing this, and I first thought, "Oh man, this party is so realistic and slow... where's the escapism?"

But having a party of any kind feels like escapism at the moment...

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Summary:

Today was gonna be great.

Bumblebee went back to work the next day with a feeling of home. He was about to spend the rest of the day with friends that he got to occasionally boss around, and they would kill a lot of that time joking around and making each other laugh. He must have done something right. Maybe this was the universe finally getting around to paying him back for saving Cybertron. He was definitely owed some back-happiness after all the scrap he’d been through.

That was the kind of thought that made him unlock the front door to show tunes. “Good morning, Baltimore~”

Immediately Sideswipe wailed in protest. “NO! NO show tunes!”

“Hey, we love and respect Broadway in this house!” Bumblebee corrected. “Isn’t that right, Fixit?”

“But that was two hours of party!” Sideswipe cried. “Two hours that we could have spent playing paint-strip poker-”

“Which is harassment,” Strongarm interjected.

“-that you spent singing show tunes!”

Bumblebee shrugged. “There’s worse things you can do when you’re overcharged.”

“I know! I wanted you to DO THEM!”

Grimlock poked his head out of the kitchen window. “Do the sweet one next.”

“Nooo!” Sideswipe stormed into the bathroom to hide. “NOOO.”

Bumblebee had already forgot to keep opening the door. He hid a laugh behind another line of song. “Every day’s like an open door~”

He opened the door. There was Ratchet.

For real, there he was, right in the shop door. Bumblebee choked on a few words and nearly had one out before he noticed Optimus behind Ratchet and his CPU just completely gave up.

“Woah!” Strongarm yelped. “The Optimus Prime!”

“He’s taller than me!” Grimlock spoke in awe. “Nobody’s taller than me!”

“Oh dear!” Fixit halfway ducked behind the register. “O-oh my! Big names in the store! Not prepared!”

Sideswipe dipped his head out of the bathroom just enough for a look, and then silently shut himself back in.

For a bot as big as he was, Optimus could still tuck his shoulders in quite a bit. “I… did not mean to cause a fuss. I apologize.”

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Good day, Bumblebee.”

Bumblebee jumped into Ratchet’s arms for a hug. Ratchet, for all the grump, was a great hugger, and he couldn’t help ducking his head to be smaller. “You! You’re store! In the here!”

Ratchet smirked. “Yes.”

“We learned of your store being closed yesterday, and the preceding day,” said Optimus. “We were worried.”

“Oh, that was my fault, sirs!” Fixit piped in. “It was my first birthday.”

“It was not your fault, Fixit.” Bumblebee let Ratchet go and took Optimus’s hand. He wanted a hug, really, but Optimus wasn’t the type.

Everything he knew about Optimus Prime flipped over as he, Leader of the Autobots and Savior of Cybertron, grabbed and hugged him so hard his plating popped.

“WELL.” He coughed through the pain. “Time to catch up… snickerdoodle?”

Catching up took a seat to everyone at the shop settling in Thunderhoof’s usual table to gawk at Optimus. Bumblebee watched while Optimus and Ratchet answered the usual fan questions. Strongarm sat closest, Sideswipe picked the seat next to Grimlock so he could hide behind his bulk, all the usual people watcher things. Optimus and Ratchet though… apparently ‘gawking’ had been an issue lately. He could only intuit a couple clues: Optimus’s fingers laced and unlaced over and over, his optics darted to the windows and door, and he stayed quiet even directly answering questions. Ratchet’s squared shoulders and gritted teeth spoke volumes over his polite answers. If he had to guess…

He cut in during a lull in the small talk. “Yuh-huh. So how long have the paparazzi been bugging you?”

Conversation stopped at Optimus’s sudden gasp.

“You told him!” he whispered at Ratchet, sounding utterly betrayed.

“I said no such thing!” Ratchet, just as flustered, stammered. “Someone else must have!”

“Oh come on!” hollered Sideswipe. “How do you guess that but miss that Grimlock-”

“We will GET to what happened with me and Grimlock later.” Bumblebee laced his fingers. “Now. Optimus.”

Ratchet growled. “We had to train Smokescreen for your position.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“He keeps punching people who are Decepticon apologists.”

Optimus gently corrected. “He doesn’t always punch them.”

“No,” said Ratchet, “But he does spill hot drinks on them, and trip them, and-”

“And he still has the job?” Strongarm marveled. “And I thought our policies were lax...”

Bumblebee cut back in. “Wait, what does that have to do with paparazzi?”

Optimus frowned- more than his usual frown. “Public reprimands.”

Now Bumblebee frowned. “Oh… hey wait a minute...”

“Exactly,” said Ratchet.

“Damn it!” said Bumblebee.

“Wait I’m lost,” said Grimlock. “Did I miss something?”

Ratchet summarized. “I looked into the tabloids after a pattern started to establish itself. A customer would make a scene, Smokescreen would overreact, Optimus would address him in the storefront, and by morning pictures from every angle would be all over the gossip rags.”

“This was a pattern?” Bumblebee’s tank ran cold. “How many-”

Optimus fought off a sigh. “15 solar cycles in a row, currently. Before then it was only… sporadic.”

“A total setup,” Sideswipe summarized.

“They go after everyone at the shop,” said Ratchet. “I’ve seen similar articles with Bulkhead and Arcee. But it’s the ones with Optimus on the cover that sell the fastest.”

Bumblebee saw the opportunity for levity and jumped at it. “Because you buy them all and burn them, probably.”

Ratchet slammed a fist on the table. “Damn right!”

Optimus laid a gentle hand on Ratchet’s knee. “My friend, we have discussed this. You’re giving them money-”

“I know, I know...”

Prime took the conversation back. “We’ve closed the shop for two solar cycles. When I heard you had done the same...”

“Oooh...” Bumblebee huffed a relieved little breath. “No, we got mobbed by Predacons who bought up all our supplies.”

“It was weird,” said Strongarm.

“Very ‘weird’,” said Optimus. “Considering the same happened to us not long ago.”

“All right, that’s enough ‘coincidences’ for me to call shenanigans.” Bumblebee stood up. “Do you need a place to lay low? I can let Denny know you’re coming and set you up in the scrapyard.”

“Actually, I’m here to meet a friend personally after a long correspondence,” said Optimus.

Grimlock made an understanding little noise. “I have a bunch of internet friends I haven’t got to meet yet.”

“Indeed. It will be a challenge, to see if we speak so comfortably in person.” Optimus pointed made optic contact with Bumblebee. “Even on Cybertron, word has reached us about this place. It has gained a reputation for inclusion and quiet, where disputes are either settled or left at the door. I trust that to be the truth, Bumblebee.”

“Well…” Bumblebee flexed his doors. “Only thing left is to have ‘em over. Let me make you something to drink, and you and Ratchet just relax. Be normal bots for a while.”

“For once,” Ratchet grumped.

“Aw man...” Grimlock stood, and quickly the rest of his crew got up from the table. “I was enjoyin’ being out here.”

“A very strong cocoa for me, please,” Optimus ordered.

Ratchet gave the longest, most put-upon sigh. “… silver machiatto. Two shots.”

Strongarm stepped close to Bumblebee to whisper. “Sir… at Thunderhoof’s table?”

Bumblebee couldn’t hide his grin. “Today’s gonna be great.”

As if summoned, Blastwave came through the door.

“And I’m proven right again. Blastwave! Just in time, lemme make your usual.”

Here were his happiness back taxes getting repaid. Optimus and Ratchet took their drinks and sat together chatting for hours. Customers came and went without troubling them too much. The traffic slowed even more when the sky darkened and rumbled, and within minutes, a heavy rain settled in outside the shop and refused to move. Sideswipe and Strongarm came in from outside and settled in with datapads to read or play until the rain let up. They got one or two brave bots who took advantage of the empty lobby to shake Optimus’s hand. Optimus and Ratchet settled into the lobby like a pair of grandfathers, entertaining the bold young bots with light stories and encouraging words. It was a little like living at the base again, but without the omnipresent tension of Megatron at their backs. Well, maybe the base with a very, very open door policy.

Rain outdoors, warm drinks inside, and his two favorite old bots comfortably fed and happy in their little corner. Bumblebee was practically glowing with quiet joy.

Bumblebee caught the first glimpse of Thunderhoof transforming through the window, and he felt it. A thrill so intense, it hurt him. It was like the first split second of free fall, all the weightless freedom and shock just as powerful, and he practically teleported into the kitchen to watch it all play out in hiding. With Grimlock’s chin on his shoulder, he held still, and he watched.

Thunderhoof, catching the faint shape of bodies at his table through the wet glass, entered the shop already at full swagger. His usual troop of bots hung back in the rain, glaring and wet. “’Ey! Maybe you mooks don’t know, but-”

Maybe it was just that no one ever expected Optimus Prime, so no one just assumed it was him right away. Thunderhoof stuck on a syllable and held it while his CPU caught up with his optics.

Optimus, gently, asked Ratchet, “What is a ‘mook’, exactly?”

Ratchet sipped his drink assuredly. “A pejorative term for someone beneath oneself and others, such as a ‘peon’ or ‘flunky’.”

“Ah.” Lowering the timbre of his voice, the Prime rumbled. “Then I believe you have me mistaken for someone else.”

Bumblebee wanted to shriek and fire cannons out of sheer joy. The unstoppable force met the immovable Optimus.

Perhaps a second too long to play it off all cool, Thunderhoof patted the dirt off his hands. “A’ight… chance of pace today. We’ll get a table outside.”

One of his mooks whined. “But it’s raining-”

Thunderhoof whipped around on all of them and bulled them, step by step, out of the shop. “And you got a problem with that? What, your wipers busted or somethin’? When I say you do somethin’ new, we do somethin’ new!”

And out they went. Thunderhoof’s tirade rolled on through the glass along with the pouring rain and the actual thunder.

“They forgot to order,” said Fixit.

The entire shop, Optimus included, erupted into giggles.

Bumblebee popped his head out of the kitchen window. “I’m putting money on it; he’s not gonna order. There’s no way he’s coming back in here!”

Grimlock squeezing his head through the window made for a cheek-to-cheek fit. “I hope he does! I wanna see his face!”

Optimus hid his laugh behind his hand. “I was too much mook to handle.”

Sideswipe was quick. “Optimook Prime.”

Ratchet nearly spit out his coffee.

Thunderhoof split the difference by sending in one of his men to order the drinks and snickerdoodles. Bumblebee started to wonder if Optimus had made up the story about meeting his friend just to have an excuse to loiter. He never worked up the nerve to ask: the other daily visitor would be here sooner or later.

Steeljaw transformed in the rain and shook himself off in the doorway before entering. He smiled his usual smile and purred his usual greeting. “Bumblebee. Fixit. Optimus Prime.”

Nothing shook this bot, and it was infuriating.

Optimus, not used to Steeljaw’s candor, took the bait. “I do not believe we’ve met, sir.”

Steeljaw affected a little humility. “Oh, my apologies, sir! You must have been away from Earth for quite a while.”

Optimus narrowed his optics, and while Bumblebee again felt that weightless jolt of electricity, it wasn’t joyful.

“Indeed.”

“My name is Steeljaw.” Steeljaw did the flippy finger thing he did and produced a card that, even at a distance, Bumblebee could tell wasn’t the one he was given before. “Business mech and regular.”

“Thank you.” Optimus took the card. “This is my counterpart, Ratchet.”

“Charmed,” said Ratchet, clearly not.

Steeljaw’s ears flicked at a crack of distant thunder. Otherwise, he kept an easy smile with a hint of fangs on his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything by exchanging pleasantries. I can’t imagine you’d come all the way out here just for drinks. My dear Bumblebee hasn’t found himself in any trouble, has he?”

Steeljaw’s ears wiggled again, and that was the only clue Bumblebee had that he hadn’t gone deaf… or crazy. The world, suddenly, sounded so loud. Steeljaw’s last few words seemed to boom out and echo within his little walls. He wondered if this was that “about to be struck by lightning” feeling Miko told him about once, before he remembered that he had been struck by lightning before and it didn’t make things loud.

No… it was that everything else had gone stone quiet, except for the little bell of the shop door.

He was taller than Bumblebee remembered. Not the same shape. He almost looked like he had spent the long years since the War clawing away at his body until he looked like his old self. How else was there to spend an exile?

Optimus greeted him with a simple nod. “Megatron.”

Chapter 26: Final chapter

Summary:

In which Megatron out-Steeljaws Steeljaw.

Megatron met his optics.

“… all right, I need a minute.” Bumblebee threw his hands up. “I’m out.”

Optimus started to protest. “But- Bumblebee-”

“I’m OUT.” He was already backing up. “You don’t spring Megatron on me without warning me first. Who- how long have you known me!?” He took a breath and dialed himself back. He hadn’t meant to shout. “I need a minute.”

“But-”

Megatron snarled. “I was not told he would be here, Prime.”

Ratchet sighed. “I didn’t think he would actually show up...”

Bumblebee let Optimus stammer at his table at his table. Optimus could have Megatron, for all he cared. He was in the back out of sight within a second, and in the next second, his team was on him from all sides.

“Sir, all due respect,” whispered Strongarm, “But has Optimus blown a gasket?!”

Sideswipe could only shrug. “Maybe he got catfished? That’s literally the only thing that makes sense.”

Grimlock, giving it a moment’s thought, cracked his knuckles. “I’mma fight him.”

“Please do not.” Bumblebee’s whole mouth felt thick and fuzzy. He was shaking all the way down to his feet. “I just- I can’t think. I used to do this so much, but here is different, and I’m not armed anymore and I can’t-”

Grimlock wrapped him a tight hug. “You gotta freak out?”

“Pretty sure I do...”

“All right, mechs.” Strongarm punched into her palm. “Bee Team’s A-game, just like the first day.”

“You got the kitchen until I get back?” Grimlock asked her.

“Right.” Strongarm whispered into her comms. “Fixit, you okay in the front?”

Fixit replied, quietly, “Megatron is very angry that you’re here. Apparently Optimus didn’t inform him. Otherwise he’s not causing trouble.”

Bumblebee groaned into Grimlock’s chest. “I have something in common with Megatron and it’s being mad at Optimus, by the Primes...”

Strongarm snapped her comm off. “Sideswipe, you’ve got tables.”

Sideswipe cracked his knuckles. “One ‘Drift doesn’t know how to order food’ special, got it.”

Bumblebee could feel himself sinking deeper into the hug. Grimlock hadn’t let up an inch. He wiggled free enough to look up into Grimlock’s face. “What are you gonna do?”

Grimlock softly kissed his forehead. “That, but until you feel better.”

Bumblebee blushed. “Okay that sounds great.”

“Split up!” came Strongarm’s order, and the Bee Team splintered off to their zones. Sideswipe slipped into the lobby, ready to charm, and made a point of skirting right past a pouting Steeljaw’s new seat. “Know what you want, no point!”

Steeljaw sunk low in his chair and growled. “I hate you.”

Sideswipe hovered himself right over the Big Important People table. “OKAY, we’re back to normal operating hours! Everybody having a good day?”

Optimus was practically radiating embarrassment. Ratchet had started pinching the bridge of his face sometime after Bumblebee bailed and hadn’t let go at all.

Megatron glared and gave it to him straight. “No.”

“Thought not!” Sideswipe could work with this. “Well, now that Optimus botched reading the room and tanked the mood, how about some cookies?”

Ratchet’s first, stifled laugh cracked the silence like a brick through a window. Megatron’s rasping cackle erupted out of him like it hurt, and soon the whole lobby was cracking up.

Except for Optimus, but now at least he was properly sour instead of humiliated. “That was very unprofessional.”

“Yeah, well, I made Megatron laugh,” Sideswipe countered. “It’s equivalent exchange.”

Megatron was smiling now, and Sideswipe honestly preferred it when he scowled because Megatron’s teeth were something horrible. “So, this is the new face of Cybertron? The spawn of the Matrix itself?”

“I know,” Steeljaw interjected. “Planet’s already doing down the smelter.”

With a heavy pause, Megatron’s attention very slightly turned to Optimus. He never really turned to face anyone he was speaking, preferring to keep his optics low. “Who is this mech?”

“He calls himself Steeljaw,” said Optimus. “Apparently he is regular.”

“Yes I-” Steeljaw cut himself off. “Wait-”

Megatron laughed again, with Optimus letting slip a little smirk. “And here the both of you are, on Earth. I would have thought the end of the War would have kept the population of newsparks on Cybertron.”

Steeljaw sounded like he was trying not to choke on his words. “I am not a newspark!”

Optimus stepped in on the thought. “It seems they view this planet as a means of beginning anew, rather than rebuilding from the ruins.”

Sideswipe mulled on that. “I mean, I live on Cybertron with my brother, but I can barely find any jobs there. Hard to have eight thousand years of experience when you’re only five years old.”

“Oh, don’t fret, Sideswipe!” Fixit piped up from the counter. “It is just as difficult when you’re close to a billion years cold- sold-” He reset. “OLD! Or, actually, any combination of the three.”

Strongarm piped up from the kitchen. “Ratchet only let me have this job because I was a good student.”

Megatron’s smile fell. “How quickly we fall into the old habits.”

Ratchet’s noise was wordless, but extremely guilty.

Sideswipe cleared his throat. “This philosophical debate have any room for cookies?”

“He has said this twice,” said Megatron. “What is a ‘cookie’?”

Fixit squealed at the register. Strongarm started to snicker from the kitchen.

Steeljaw went to full alert. “Don’t you dare.”

Sideswipe knew exactly what that meant. “Oh. I dare.”

Strongarm’s giggling grew. “I put them in the oven first!”

Steeljaw snarled. “DON’T.”

Grimlock felt as much as he heard the team scream, muffled through the floor of the office. “SNICKERDOODLE!” Bee, finally, laughed a little. He’d spent a long few minutes nestled into Grimlock’s side, just evening his breathing and taking in Grim’s body heat. It grounded him. It was easier to stay in the moment when the moment was calm, heavy, and solid beneath his back. Grimlock knew it without being told… but Bee started telling him anyway.

He ran a hand down Grimlock’s tail. “You being here with me is the only reason I can laugh about it.”

With Bumblebee on his hip, Grimlock wasn’t super mobile. He still managed to wriggle out a few little punches at the air. “If I were down there, I’d be tossing cookies at him.”

Bumblebee’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay quick American English lesson: ‘tossing cookies’ is a euphemism for throwing up.”

Grimlock thought on that. “… I’d throw up on him, too. Just let me at him. I’ll picture Thunderhoof and Steeljaw makin’ out, it’ll be easy-”

He figure he would just make Bumblebee giggle, but every thought had just started him guffawing even louder until he was tapping out on his leg. “Stop- stop! I can’t breathe!”

Proud, Grimlock let his tail wag. “I win!”

“Whoo… I gotta go back down there.”

“You sure?” Grimlock didn’t think he’d made him laugh hard enough to be delusional. Grimlock craned his head up and over to nuzzle at Bee’s side. “Do you need to breathe some more?”

Bumblebee turned to kiss his jaw. “I can’t just leave them down there with the Lord of the Decepticons.”

Grimlock still worried. Megatron had been enough to make Bumblebee crack once. Megatron would be leaving in a recycle bin if Bee got upset again. “They’ve got Fixit?”

“Oh that’s a good point.” Bumblebee fired up his comms. “Hey, Fixit. Status report.”

“Everything’s calm, sir!” Fixit piped back. “Nothing to report.”

“Megatron hasn’t been bothering you?”

“Nope! Hasn’t even really noticed me, much. This is one of the rare occasions where it is a good thing to be small and quiet.”

“And Steeljaw?”

“Oh he decided to be big and loud, and now Megatron is paying attention to him.”

Bumblebee pulled Grimlock’s face to his for another little kiss. “Yeah, me and Grim will be down in a minute. Stay positive, Fixit.”

“Positive and neutral like a nucleus, sir!”

Bumblebee popped the comm off and grinned up at him. Grimlock pulled a pout. “That ain’t fair, you kissin’ me when I don’t have lips.”

Bumblebee offered, “You wanna stay the night at the scrapyard and kiss for real?”

“Yeah,” he answered automatically. He thought on it. “Well, if Denny doesn’t mind. And after Russell’s asleep, I know he doesn’t like make-outs.”

“And if they bother us a lot, we can just do more of this.” Bumblebee stood up and brought their foreheads together. “If I’ve got you, I can do it.”

Grimlock pushed back, gently as he could. “You’ve got all of us, Bee. You could always do it.”

“Yeah… that’s right.”

Something below the floor sounded like Sideswipe and Strongarm crashing into each other and starting to squabble.

“Well, I jinxed it.”

Grimlock nuzzled him. “But you still got us.”

“I do...”

It wasn’t all that bad. Sideswipe hadn’t gotten in trouble, at least. When Bumblebee came downstairs, he found Sideswipe and Strongarm trying to do their little lifting and balance routine in the middle of the lobby, even while Fixit was moving the tables. Optimus and Ratchet and… him watched enraptured from the wall. Steeljaw was very obviously not pleased, as evidence by his stubborn refusal to get out of his chair. But at least he had his espresso finally.

And also maybe Sideswipe wasn’t all that happy either.

“I am not gonna let you throw me!”

“It would be dynamic!” Strongarm complained. It was hard to take the complaint seriously while she had her fingers interlaced with Sideswipe’s.

It was hard to take Sideswipe’s indignation seriously when he rolling himself into a handstand in Strongarm’s hands. “And I can’t practice being thrown at home!”

“Well then we need to practice more!”

“But I don’t wanna!” Sideswipe very obviously fluttered his fingers. “Being around you is tiring enough!”

“Okay that does it!” Strongarm dropped Sideswipe and caught him by the middle in a move that was too smooth to not be practiced. She turned on her hip, ready to toss him bodily into the back of the house. “INTO THE TRASH-”

Except Bumblebee was watching her, Grimlock at his back, from the back of the house. He smiled at Strongarm. “Harassment.”

“Oh hey, sir!” Strongarm threw Sideswipe over her shoulder instead. “How do you like the new routine?”

“Your cues are a little easy to read,” he said, “But the banter’s good.” He checked back in on the other side of the world: Optimus gave him a weak smile when their optics met. “I feel better now, it’s okay.”

Optimus nodded. “I apologize for imposing.”

Bee took a breath. He could do this.

He stepped back into the lobby, all while Megatron glared at him from Optimus’s side. There was no squaring up from either of them, no posing or blustering, just a very obvious discomfort that Bumblebee could tell was mutual. Megatron probably felt as threatened as he did… as much as Megatron could feel like he was in danger anyway.

Bumblebee smirked. “Nice to see you playing well with the other children.”

Megatron spit out the sound. “Feh.”

Steeljaw’s claw scraped against the table. “How can you speak to him like that?! He is the Lord of the Decepticons-”

“Silence, whelp.” Megatron’s red optics bore down on the smaller mech, and how rarely was Steeljaw the smaller mech in these situations? “How this mech addresses me is none of your concern.”

Steeljaw stood full height at that. “How is it not my concern?! You’re Megatron! As a Decepticon, demand the respect you deserve!”

“Hmm...” Megatron turned his attention back to Bumblebee. “All right… do not address me as one would a newspark.”

“Done,” said Bumblebee. “I’m glad to see you getting along with my crew.”

“Acknowledged,” said Megatron.

“What is going on here?!” Steeljaw roared. “Am I losing my mind?! The leaders of the War, mortal enemies, the most powerful mechs on Cybertron, and you’re here in a little dive coffee shop eating cookies and watching street performers and talking about nothing?!”

Optimus laid a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “It was exactly the experience I hoped to give Megatron: a short reprieve, free of politics and history.”

“And you did it here?!” Steeljaw fumed. “Of all the nepotistic farces-!”

Bumblebee spoke to Megatron. “I apologize for him. He owns a competing business.”

“Is that right?” Megatron rolled his shoulders back, and his massive weight turned to bear down on Steeljaw’s personal space. “And an ex-Decepticon at that.”

“What? NO, I am proudly a- Oh.” Steeljaw laid a hand on his Deceptibrand. Bumblebee had never noticed before- never really bothered to look- but Steeljaw’s Deceptibrand had long been clawed through. “Ooh right that- that’s merely a cosmetic wound I haven’t found time to fix-”

“Then tell me, Steeljaw.” Megatron waved his hand out to the crew. “If I were to partake in your business, and deign to give you my time and attention… would I see this? I haven’t seen Minicons and Decepticons share the same room in eons that they did not shrink and hide from our presence.”

“Oh that is…” Fixit cleared his throat. “Rather uncomfortable history you are touching upon, sir.”

“ Or where the young and inexperienced could test their metal against their elders?”

Strongarm finally put Sideswipe back on his feet. “I hope he means that less...”

Sideswipe nodded and completed, “Literally?”

“Even he...” Megatron finally laid his optics on Grimlock. “You have been hiding from me, Dinobot. Tell me; during the war, where did your allegiance lie? Be truthful.”

Grimlock transformed back into his robot mode and answered simply. “I was a Decepticon, sir.”

“And changed your mind, I see.” Megatron chuckled low. “In my younger days, I would have called you a traitor. Now I see the folly of my partisan thinking.”

“I mean, I never fought or nothin’,” said Grimlock. “Well, I mean, I did, but not in the War.”

“A fact that saved you from certain death, no doubt,” said Megatron. “And what of you now? A Dinobot without a battle to fight must live in constant, unending frustration… what drives you to continue ever day?”

Bumblebee could feel it, he swore, as a prickle along his spinal strut. He felt it hit him about a nanosecond before Grimlock grabbed him from behind and crushed him into a hug. “I got a great boyfriend.”

“Oooh,” said Ratchet, as if this were no surprise. “So that’s ‘what happened with Grimlock’.”

Megatron honestly laughed. “Optimus’s finest, consort of a Decepticon Beastformer. That I have lived to see the day!” His voice dropped into a growl, but… almost a playful one. “After you killed me, of course.”

Bumblebee squeezed out from Grimlock’s hug. Megatron’s tone was a little too familiar for his comfort. Just because he was friendly now… He had to pick his words carefully. “You first.”

Knocked back onto even footing, Megatron’s scowl returned. He withdrew back into himself. “Of course.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course’?!” Steeljaw roared. “Don’t let him talk to you that way! You’re Megatron! ACT like it!”

With a split second of motion, Megatron reeled back and backhanded Steeljaw through the front window, across the street, and into the front window of the next building.

Everyone reacted- some with twitches, some with yelps- but the fact that Optimus jumped up from his chair and gasped like this was somehow unexpected was the worst part. Or the best? Bumblebee would laugh about it later, and he knew that, but in the moment all he could do was gawk at Optimus jumping to Megatron’s arm and holding it like he was calming down a rampaging partner. It almost didn’t look like Optimus, with the sheer difference in their heights, but like someone much younger, more naive, more forgiving if a loved one did… something so cruel and callous…

Bumblebee was learning lots of new dimensions to Optimus today, and maybe this was the most telling one of all: how Optimus and Megatron used to be. Or maybe he was just making a wild guess. His processor worked at hyperspeed when he was startled.

“Megatron…” Optimus’s words faltered, as did his hands on Megatron’s arm. “Please- that is not our world anymore-”

“It is not your world,” said Megatron. “But it is still mine. Do not think I haven’t seen through your transparent attempts to fold me into your good graces. You no doubt have placed those memories of our younger days upon a pedestal.”

Optimus pulled away, hurt in his optics. Ratchet rose from his chair and stood at Optimus’s back. “I know… we cannot erase what has been done, but-”

“Nor should it be erased,” said Megatron. “I went into my exile willingly, and will return to it shortly. I was forged in the fires of war, as a weapon against what was: and like a weapon, I am to be put away in peace times. You and your kind flourish in peace. For the sake of our dwindled race, Optimus Prime, allow yourself as much.”

“I…” Strongarm cleared her throat. “I’m going to have to ask you-”

Megatron sneered. “To leave, I know.” He turned to Bumblebee. “For what it is worth, scout, you have cultivated your dominion well.”

Bumblebee shrugged. “Eh. ‘Living well is the best revenge,’ and all that.”

That got a single laugh out of Megatron. “Trite, and dripping of the sentiments of Earth. You haven’t changed.”

And that was it. Megatron turned and left without a goodbye or a parting glance, shaking the ground with every step. Bumblebee hoped that it would actually be the final time, like it was supposed to be the last time this happened. He waited until the air settled down again before taking a long breath. Nobody moved. Optimus was stiff in his spot, fingers nervously laced together. His crew wouldn’t budge, but he could feel their optics on his back.

He and Ratchet raced for the chase to speak first, zero to sixty in less than a nanosecond.

“OPTIMUS PRIME of all the ridiculous-”

“PRIME WHY?! You come into MY house-”

“-did you think that was actually going to WORK?!”

“-and now I have to replace a window-”

Optimus shrank about two sizes just cowering between them.

Sideswipe muttered. “This is the kind of thing Megatron wishes he could do.”

An excellent point! Bumblebee’s hands flew over to Sideswipe just to point out what a good point he made. “See?! SEE??”

“I had only hoped…” Optimus explained, in the smallest voice he ever achieved, “That if we were to come to a truce, tensions would be lessened…”

Ratchet made a noise that was something close to “GUUuuh” and stomped off for a few minutes to regain his composure. Bumblebee closed the gap between he and Optimus with a reassuring hug. That he was the one having to tell Optimus this… “Look, I’m proud of what you tried to do. It might have worked if it was literally anyone other than Megatron.”

Ratchet, for emphasis, wailed “MEGATRON!” in the middle of his cooldown stomp.

“But you know what?!” Bumblebee grabbed for Optimus’s hands and held them tight. “There’s always gonna be some aft port or rude customers or people quick with the cameras, and they? Can all suck it!”

“YES!” wailed Ratchet, perfect hype bot. “Yes exactly!”

“Because this is what ‘lessens tensions’.” Bumblebee pulled Optimus in for another hug, and thankfully, Optimus returned it. “Okay? Bots you love and places to call your own. Let Megatron be… him and let you be you. We’ve all got your back instead, don’t we, guys?”

Grimlock was the first to shout out an enthusiastic “YEAH!” before the rest of his crew followed. Optimus’s grip tightened around him, and his shoulders shook.

“Oh god I made Optimus cry…” Bumblebee sighed fondly. “Sorry! Come on, Grim, let’s put him in the back office- Ratchet could you lock up for me?”

Only taken aback a moment, Ratchet grinned and made for the door. “Gladly!”

“We’re not gonna get in trouble for being closed again, are we?” Strongarm asked.

“Who cares?” Bumblebee patted the tears off Optimus’s smiling face. “We’ve got tomorrow to make up for it. Stuff will be fine.”

What a weird day that had been… that still was, really, nothing had wrapped it up or called it all done yet other than the fact that Bumblebee had kind of… checked out of doing any more business that particular day. But Optimus had come to his place for some peace, levity, and maybe a little closure, and he’d been able to deliver. Maybe he could do this management thing after all, and be a leader to the new Cybertron. Even if it was just in a little coffee shop on the cheap end of town while he lived in a scrapyard.

Oo, but that scrapyard would have Grimlock in it at the end of the night… Bumblebee could hardly wait.

Notes:

MAN, that was a long haul. I hope you liked it! Took me longer to finish this fic than the show lasted...