Chapter Text
Two orbital cycles later, and Bumblebee was driving into the newly overturned and remastered G.H.O.S.T. base. The last humans left in the base were the Maltos and the four G.H.O.S.T. agents who had helped during the final battle against Mandroid.
Jon, Kwan, Conway, and Rosato were doing their part in helping the Autobots fix up the base and keep an eye on the Decepticons. They were, Bumblebee was certain, why human-sized doors even remained in the base. Once everything was evacuated out of a room, though, they helped weld it shut.
G.H.O.S.T., after all, now belonged to the Autobots. To have there be areas they could not access was a bit… creepy. Twitch and Thrash were about the only Transformers who could fit, but they didn’t tend to like to be around the base. “Too much work”, they said.
Besides, the twins were busy soaking up each other’s and their other siblings’ presence. They had, after all, witnessed one another almost – if not completely – die.
Honestly, all the Maltos deserved the rest. They had been watching out for each other more now then they ever had before, relying on one another’s presences like they would die if they got too far out of sight.
Bumblebee had been witness to all too many nightmares and anxious servo-and-hand wringing to know that much. He had tried to be there where he could, but…
They were doing fine without him. They always had; he just never wanted to accept it.
Bumblebee transformed in the hanger, taking sight of the rows of G.H.O.S.T. vans still lining the area. He had never been completely comfortable with the idea of vehicles; that there could be frames so empty and lifeless but look so much like them. It was little comfort to know that the vehicles had never carried sparks in the first place, but still.
“Fun,” Bumblebee muttered, stretching out his pedes. He still felt sore from the battle, but short of replacing all his joints, Wheeljack had done all he could for Bumblebee. “Home sweet home.”
“Ha, sure.” Elita-1’s voice startled Bumblebee, and he pivoted around, surprised to see her standing near the entryway, a stack of crates precariously balanced in one servo. “It doesn’t even feel like home to us yet, and we’ve been bunked here for the last decade. So I doubt it feels more familiar to you.”
“Need some help with those?” Bumblebee asked, shaking off his embarrassment to approach her, holding out his servos willingly.
“No, but I’ll take some.” Elita-1 handed him two crates, keeping the other three in her grip. “It’s nice to have you back from the dead to help us out, Bee. Prime’s been a hardaft lately. There’s a lot to do, and it’s been stressing him out.”
“Can’t really blame him for that.”
“No.” Elita-1 agreed. “Usually he’s more laid-back. Or tries to fake it, anyway. It’s been a while since he’s had a project he can throw himself into, and I think the suddenness of it caught him off guard. We were expecting to defect, you know. Not overtake.”
“Thank goodness the human government isn’t throwing a fit over G.H.O.S.T. getting overrun.” Bumblebee sighed, trudging with her up the corridor and out of the base. “I really don’t want us to get engaged in another war so soon after ending the last one.”
“I’d like it if we never had to go to war at all, ever again.” Elita-1 grumbled, setting the crates down on a steadily building pile next to the entrance. “If the Decepticons behave, maybe then Shockwave can help Wheeljack reverse engineer whatever’s left of the Groundbridge, together, and figure out how to increase the range and get home. Huh, that’s quite an idea…”
“Shockwave and Wheeljack working together? Willingly?” Bumblebee chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I bet we have another orbital-cycle of the Decepticons playing nice before they stab us in the struts.”
“I think they’ll go in spurts.” Elita-1 bartered. “It’s a toss-up which of the big three S-tiers peel off first, but everyone else will eventually follow. I’ll bet my last cube of hi-grade that Breakdown will be the last to leave, though.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Elita-1 shot him a deadpan look. “I’m not answering that.”
Bumblebee pretended like the realization didn’t immediately click together, and just offered her a slow blink in return. “Riiight, whatever you say, Elita-1. Anyway, I better get going. That “hardaft” wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Uh-huh.” Elita-1 snorted. “See you…”
Bumblebee transformed again, if only so he could save any awkward time of them walking in the same direction, and raced back into the base. He didn’t revert back in the hanger, instead skirting around the sides of the vans to reach one of the corridors on the other end.
He almost ran over Nova Storm as he blazed through, ignoring her less-than-polite language over having to dodge. “You fragging Autobots! Why did we even fragging join this scrapheap if you’re going to attack us either way?! Go to the pits! Frag! You!”
Well. Bumblebee prayed nobody would be checking security footage later, because that was definitely his fault. If she went up the chain and complained to Starscream – Starscream, the actual leader of the Deceptions, official main peacekeeper between the factions, oh, the thought made Bumblebee laugh – then there’d probably be a good argument coming his way.
It was probably fine, though. Nova Storm and Skywarp tended to be a superficial bunch. Unless someone spurned on their grudges, they usually forgot things pretty quickly.
Bumblebee hoped so, anyway.
He reverted back to root mode just to be safe, continuing the rest of his trek on foot.
Wheeljack looked up when he entered the original Autobot faction of the base, pulling away from Teletraan-1. “Well, look who it is! Did we have a checkup set up? Because, I gotta admit… I don’t really have much time today, Bumblebee.”
“No, no checkup.” Bumblebee reassured. “I’ve pretty much self-repaired everything. No broken bolts or loose screws or cut fuel lines… I’m barely sore anymore! You did great, Wheeljack, in another deca-cycle I bet I’ll be ready to throw down with the best of them again, and–” He cut himself off from his friendly rambling, shaking his head.
The Autobots didn’t really like a chatterbox. They had made that clear, what with giving him the silent treatment when he delved too far into pointless topics. Honestly, he was lucky his conversation with Elita-1 had lasted as long as it did.
He had just… Gone for most of his life without his voice, and then had to go an extra fifteen years with nobody to talk to but himself. Everything ached, his spark, his processor, his vocoder. He tried to make up for it now, but it was easy to tell that a lot of the time, Bumblebee’s unsolicited thoughts weren’t welcome.
Ah, the pains of growing up, he supposed. It was no longer “cute” and “amusing” to ramble. To everyone else, he was just plain frustrating.
“Sorry,” Bumblebee cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Optimus is in his office?”
“Yup,” Wheeljack nodded, jerking his thumb up towards the sealed doors up at the top. “Careful, he’s been a bit stingy lately. Been letting the stress of having Decepticons here get to him.”
“Frag you too,” Hardtop snapped, lounging against the wall and sipping a cube of energon. “But you haven't thrown us into a cell yet – again – so I guess I can’t be too mad.”
“Maybe we should, since you sure aren’t pulling your weight!” Wheeljack snapped, pressing his servos against his hips. “Lazy spawn of Unicron…”
“Better than a stuck-up rust bucket!”
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Bumblebee gave them awkward finger guns, and hoped their subsequent deaths at one another’s servos wouldn’t be pegged on him.
It probably wouldn’t, and he was just being paranoid by all the times a Terran had broken their sibling during training or a game and he had to explain it to Dot. That woman could be ruthless when it came to her kids’ safety.
He descended up the stairs to Optimus’ office, hesitating for just a nano-klik before knocking and buzzing open the door.
Bumblebee winced to himself when he let the noise of the argument outside in with him, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Optimus looked up when he entered, optics glowing a soft blue. His desk was littered with data pads and thumb drives.
Before him sat an oversized human-esque computer, for easier file downloads and communication with the branches of human government that had yet to try to control them. At least some of them understood that the Autobots left on earth were trying to be diplomatic.
Looking over the mess, Bumblebee found he couldn’t tell the difference between Optimus’ completed piles and the ones he was still working on. Sympathy rose up in his spark. No wonder the Prime had been so stressed as his workload kept building.
Optimus had been left with more to work on than Agent Croft had, and that was probably, in part, to her shrinking her duties in favour of figuring out ways to control the bots around her. Now, in the wake of her death, Optimus was left to deal with the fallout.
“You don’t look like you’re doing so hot,” Bumblebee put in, sliding down into the chair across from Optimus. Absentmindedly pushing one of the datapads that was hanging precariously off the edge of the table, Bumblebee found himself watching Optimus.
“It has been a rough orbital cycle,” Optimus returned with a sigh, digits reaching up to message his audials. “How has your recovery from our assault been going?”
“Fine,” Bumblebee said, frowning at his leader. He had recovered from Bot Brawl, only to almost immediately be thrown back into the throngs of war. First against Agent Croft and her G.H.O.S.T. bots, and then against the mind-controlled Autobots.
Aside from Elita-1 and Megatron, they had all got their fair shot of tussling with Bumblebee, and he had paid the consequence for each one. At least Wheeljack had scrapped him back together. Nightshade had helped, too.
Optimus, however, had taken the brunt of the guilt from it. The Prime was always concerned about everyone, and armed with the knowledge that he had assisted in beating Bumblebee within an inch of his spark, well. It probably wasn’t helping his stress.
“A little sore,” Bumblebee continued, “but other than that, I’m okay, really.”
“That’s good,” Optimus said, in a tone of voice that said he wasn’t fully convinced. “If it gets worse, ensure you check in with Wheeljack immediately. I know he is not the medic that Ratchet was, but he has been doing well in his studies and will continue to improve, and–”
“Optimus, you’ve got to relax.” Bumblebee stretched his arm back, wrapping it around the back of his chair as he looked up at his Prime. “I know Wheeljack’s doing great. He’s scraped me back together twice now.”
“Right,” Optimus dully responded, and looked back down at his keyboard forlornly.
Really, Elita-1 and Wheeljack? This is the “hardaft” and “stingy” Optimus you’ve been complaining about? He’s acting like Hashtag does when she can’t get onto the wifi! Bumblebee rolled his optics, leaning over to shut the computer.
Optimus ripped his servos away right before the computer could snap shut over his digits, giving Bumblebee a startled expression. “What are you–”
“You’ve really got to get out of your head, man.” Bumblebee chided. “Talk to me. You can take a break for a second.” He hesitated. “A nano-klik, sorry. But you’ve been overworked for a good while now.”
“Perhaps to the humans,” Optimus said, distantly, “but to us Cybertronians, an orbital-cycle is a blink of an eye. I can finish the rest of the work in three, and then I can properly rest.”
“An orbital-cycle is an orbital-cycle, no matter what species you are, OP. It doesn’t matter how long we live for, it’s still too much.” Bumblebee interrupted, keeping his palm pressed down over the top of the computer so Optimus couldn’t try to reopen it. “Everyone’s worried about you, myself included. When’s the last time you’ve recharged? Eaten?”
“Elita-1 made sure I remained in my berth for a full ten groons last lunar-cycle.” Optimus reassured. “And Arcee brought me some energon cubes just this morning. Megatron even ensured I took a walk recently. I assure you, Bee, you’re not the only one concerned, and I’ve been heeding everyone’s advice.” Warm optic ridges raised. “I am not one of the Terrans.”
Bumblebee laughed, “Of course you’re not. But just because you listened to our advice doesn’t mean that you’ve actually done any relaxing. But I don’t think there’s anything you or I can do to fix that. You’re an overachiever, Optimus.”
Optimus’ huffed out a dry laugh under his breath. “Unfortunately, that seems to be a flaw of mine, Bumblebee. Funny how I never used to think of that as a bad thing…”
“Yeah, I hear that.” Bumblebee sighed, and pulled his servo off the computer and tucked it over the back of his chair, reclining back.
They sat in silence for a few kliks, Optimus staring at his workload spread out before him, and Bumblebee running simulations in his processor. Short of becoming Optimus’ secretary, there wasn’t a lot Bumblebee wouldn’t do to help him out. He could pick up a few data pads to do at the Maltos’ during the less busy groons. He could tackle Optimus’ homework while his Prime took a solar-cycle off.
But Bumblebee would not be crammed in this stuffy office without so much of a glimpse of sunlight for solar-cycles on end. Which was what Optimus needed most of all. Company and sustainable help.
“I am glad you are back with us,” Optimus said after a beat, holding a data pad gingerly between his servos. “I have missed having you close to me. I have hated every klik I spoke of you as if you were dead.”
“And I’ve hated being dead.” Bumblebee joked, but sobered at Optimus’ sad expression. “But, seriously. I know how you feel about deception and that whole lot. I appreciate you looking out for me. I appreciate you caring so much, that you kept me away from G.H.O.S.T.. Really, I do.”
“I know.” Optimus agreed. “You are near to my spark, Bumblebee.”
“And you’re near to mine.”
The silence continued for a little longer. Optimus turned a downtrodden gaze to his data pads, setting the one he was holding down to slide open the computer. He stared at the screen aimlessly, like it would drop the solution for his burden into his lap and relieve some of the stress.
Bumblebee guessed that was why he was called here in the first place. “Okay, O.P., talk to me. You brought me here, tell me what you need me to do. You’ve got a mission or something, right? Put me on the field, I’m ready.”
Optimus rolled his optics. “I nearly feel bad that I do have a mission for you, and I did not invite you to simply “hang out”.”
“Oh, we haven’t hung out since I was a sparkling doing homework in your office.”
“This is true,” Optimus agreed. “We will have to rectify that. You reached the age of maturity six stellar-cycles ago, did you not? We’ll visit the Spacebridge Memorial soon, and take some hi-grade.”
Bumblebee rolled his optics. “Nice as that sounds, you’re dancing around the question of “what’s my new assignment” an awful lot. If you’re worried about the Terrans, don’t be. They handle themselves pretty well when the kids are at school, and they survived a whole orbital cycle without me when I was discovered. They’re doing just fine.”
“I was not worried about them,” Optimus denied, a little too quickly to be genuine. “But yes, admittedly, it is a longer mission. It will likely take you a full deca-cycle to complete. I have already checked with the Maltos that it is fine with them.”
“Right, so you shouldn’t be worried about the kids at all.”
“I’m worried about how you will handle being away from them,” Optimus corrected. “You care about them a great deal, and I can foresee your connection being a hindrance for your missions, at least until they reach their third vorn.”
“That’s literally over two hundred cycles from now.” Bumblebee grunted, but he got it. He had been younger than three vorns when Megatron had stolen his voice, and he had seen how stiff and uncertain it had made Optimus.
The idea that someone would hurt Bumblebee simply for being close to Optimus had haunted him. He had made a couple bad choices then, but none that anyone blamed him for.
“I’ll be fine, Optimus.” Bumblebee promised. “Tell me what you need.”
“I do not trust the Decepticons.” Optimus said, immediately, and they both looked towards the door as one, like that admission would summon the ‘Cons themselves. “They are… their sudden change of loyalties is a welcome surprise, but a suspicious one.”
“Man, don’t let Megatron hear you talking like that.”
“Megatron knows my reservations.” Optimus told him. “As a matter of fact, he agrees with me. He wants to trust them, desperately, but we both worry about their ulterior motives. We need solid proof about what’s going on.”
“So you want me to do some snooping. Earn their trust, learn their motives, pretend to be one?”
“What? No.” Optimus shook his head. “Not anything nearly that underhanded. We simply know where one of their bases is. It has been abandoned ever since Megatron joined the Autobots, but it’s still connected to their servers, and we haven’t entered it in cycles.”
“Oh, I see. So you want me to search everything in that thing. Hack the computers, scour commlink channels, check entry logs for other bases, see where they’re going when we’re not watching?”
“Precisely.” Optimus agreed, reaching into his desk and pulling a data pad out of one of the locked drawers. “This should have all the information you need on the mission. Make sure it’s the right one, because Primus knows I can stand to be more organized.”
Bumblebee clicked on the data pad, skimming the information quickly. Sure enough, everything added up. He pulled a transfer cord out of his arm and plugged it into the data pad, downloading the information. “Okay, great. When do you want me to head out?”
“The morning after tomorrow.” Optimus told him. “You’ll get an early start, likely before the Terrans awake, so say your goodbyes that night.”
“Ah, roger.”
“Also…” Optimus hesitated. “You’ll see for yourself once you finish downloading the data, but you will not be going alone.”
“Oh?” Bumblebee said absently, studying the progress bar. “Who’s the lucky bot?”
“Megatron.”
Bumblebee felt everything in his processor come to an abrupt halt. The progress bar stopped filling, his fuel lines stopped pulsing, his background tasks stalled, and it felt like his spark was no longer online. He wondered if this was what humans defined as “bluescreening”.
“Oh.” Bumblebee blinked. “How unexpected.” Slowly, everything began clicking back online, but a steadily growing panic meter popped up, too. Hopefully, he could get out of the conversation before it overfilled.
He was supposed to be calm when Megatron wasn’t actively in a room, so what was wrong with him?
“Yes,” Optimus mildly agreed. “It is… not your usual partner.”
Who even was his “usual partner” anymore, really? Blurr, Mirage, and Cliffjumper were all dead or stuck on Cybertron, and none of them knew where they fell in that lineup. Not to mention, Optimus no longer took him on missions with him. Arcee seemed to avoid him ever since she dragged the twins into the throngs of battle, and…
So. Megatron was no more unusual compared to anyone else. He was a good guy, on their side and everything. Bumblebee was perfectly chill.
“Hey, no worries,” Bumblebee forced himself to grin. It slotted onto his face easily enough, and he hoped it looked genuine. “Why him, specifically? I assume because he knows his way around the base pretty well?”
“In part.” Optimus agreed. “We also have gotten our insignias recertified after removing G.H.O.S.T.’s badges. We have decided against replacing Megatron’s Decepticon symbol for the time being, because its signature frequency could prove useful for missions like these.”
He paused for a moment, giving the door behind Bumblebee another glance. “Wheeljack even managed to give him new credentials based on scans he has managed to get from our Decepticon allies during medical exams. He can get you into any facility you wish without alarms.”
“That makes sense,” Bumblebee readily agreed. He was going to snap something in half as soon as he had some privacy, he could tell. “Well, I’m game! Does he already know about all this?”
“He does.” Optimus reassured. “I had not yet decided who would be best to accompany him at the time, or if you’d even be available with your current assignment. He may be expecting Elita-1, since she was the backup option. Megatron will meet you here when you depart.”
“Oh, great.” Bumblebee nodded. He could already feel the onsets of fear sweeping up. But, hey, a mission with Megatron, right? Just the two of them. Maybe that would force Bumblebee to get a hold of himself and prove that he wasn’t held back by what happened seven hundred cycles ago.
He was a good scout. Optimus’ best scout. He could handle anything.
The download completed, and Bumblebee unplugged the data pad from his arm. He handed it back, and Optimus tucked it back away.
“I appreciate this, Bumblebee.” Optimus told him. “It will take a great amount of stress off my shoulders, you doing this for me.”
“Yeah, of course.” Bumblebee reassured. “It’ll be my pleasure to figure out what’s going on behind their optics. I’ll keep us safe.”
“I know you will.” Optimus smiled, gentle. “Thank you.”
Bumblebee gave him a two-fingered salute, and turned to go. He was out the door quickly, closing it firmly behind him. The argument had cleared out at some point while he was in the meeting, and the quiet came with a wave of relief.
He really wanted to break something. Or purge his tanks. Maybe both.
It was in a dull fog that Bumblebee navigated out of the base, greeting everyone with a smile and a wave but feeling the dread creep up on him. He’d be alone with Megatron for a whole mission.
How long would it be, again? An entire deca-cycle?
Primus. This was bad. This was really, truly bad.
(:)
It was a long drive back to the farm house. Realistically, it had taken precisely fifteen kliks to get back, the exact amount of time it had taken to drive up. It just hadn’t seemed fast enough, with the desperate need to put as much distance between the Autobot H.Q. and himself.
Bumblebee found the Terrans all playing in the front lawn. It was easier to stay in the open now that G.H.O.S.T. was gone, although admittedly Bumblebee should’ve implemented safety into their processors earlier on. It was fine now, though. It wasn’t like any bots were a secret anymore.
“Okay, kids, listen up!” Bumblebee summoned, trying to stomp down his remaining anxiety as he circled his servos, summoning them all close to him.
The Terrans came running, tumbling over to his side, and rolled into obedient sitting positions. Bumblebee’s spark warmed. He loved them so much and how hard they tried.
“I’m going to be heading out on a mission soon. I’ll be gone for about a week and a half.”
They all stared at him, optics wide and frightened. Right. The last two times he had to go out on his own for a while, it hadn’t ended particularly well. He hadn’t done much to inspire their confidence in him.
“But!” Bumblebee quickly pointed at the sky, puffing himself up with all the authority he could manage. “I’ll have a partner for it! Low risk and everything.” Primus, he tried to believe it. He tried with every fiber of himself to believe it. “And this is important. If any of you sneak along, you’re grounded for a month, got it?”
He left out the part where it was too high priority to double back if one came with them. That was just an incentive for them to come even more, if nothing else. He’d make sure whatever punishment they did get was swift, though.
“Aw, no fair!” Hashtag pouted, tugging her knees to her chest. Bumblebee felt a prickling of sympathy for her. The purple bot, after her experience with Mandroid, was more firmly on the side of “tag teams” than anyone else, after all. “What even is the mission anyway?”
“Sorry, Terrans, that’s need-to-know only. And as far as I know, only three of us are in that bracket. Maybe four.”
“I suppose it's better than just disappearing.” Nightshade said, aiming for positivity but instead coming out bitter.
“What about training?” Twitch asked, optics not quite focusing on anything, staring past Bumblebee. “Will we be getting a substitute?”
“Don’t be Arcee, don’t be Arcee, don’t be Arcee–!” Thrash chanted.
“Well, we haven’t exactly discussed it.” Bumblebee reassured. “One might come, but I doubt it. It’s more than likely that you’ll get a nice vacation from bossy bots.” He tapped Jawbreaker’s nose, and the youngest Terran grinned at him brightly. Sometimes, it was hard to realize they were only a couple orbital cycles old. Other times, it was so tragically easy.
Bumblebee sobered. “Or, maybe your Mom will be handling training in the meantime.”
“Oooh, Mom!” Twitch brightened. “Do you think she’ll teach us how to use a rifle? Pew, pew!”
“Prooobably not.” Bumblebee laughed, “But if she does, let me know how it goes!” He resisted from joking that they could use him as target practice. He didn’t think they’d find that as funny as he did.
Someone should teach them about self-deprecating jokes, but it wouldn’t be him. He didn’t think Dot would approve.
“Who’s your partner going to be?” Hashtag asked, all business and far too serious.
Bumblebee blinked in surprise. “I’m pretty sure that’s need to know, too, H.T.”
“Oh, please. No, it’s not. I bet I can log into G.H.O.S.T. headquarters and find out who you’re going with easily. I mean, anyone who isn’t there is probably with you, right?”
“Oh, please,” Twitch stretched her arms over her helm. “I know exactly who Bumblebee is going with. Didn’t even need to play detective! Because, come on, Mom doesn’t trust any Autobots near us except for one, and definitely no Decepticons! So if nobody’s going to be our substitute… Then that means he’s with you!”
“Oh, yeah, that’s true!” Thrash nodded exuberantly. “You’re going on a field trip with Megatron?!”
Oh, Twitch. Oh, Thrash.
Bumblebee guessed they were right. It would be easy to figure out who he was going with if they just knew who was at the Autobot base and who wasn’t. The Decepticons would likely pick up on it, too, and Starscream would be livid he wasn’t included in a discussion for an apparently high-risk mission.
Bumblebee’s smile felt tight on his face. The gears locked awkwardly as he nodded at them, panic bubbling up in his chassis once again. Primus, something was wrong with him. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Megs and I are heading on a field trip. But you’re not getting any more out of me! So don’t even try.”
“Oh, is this a lesson in investigation and interrogation?!” Twitch asked.
“I&I…” Nightshade whispered in fascination, servos clasped before their face.
“No.” Bumblebee scowled. “Definitely not. Remember, you can’t do stuff like that against me, because I know all your tips and tricks, because I’m the one who taught you everything. I know how to cover my tracks!”
“Well then, how are we going to practice this stuff?” Jawbreaker asked in despair.
Bumblebee groaned, dragging his servos down his face. “Guys, that’s war time stuff, too! I’m not supposed to be prioritizing that right now! You’re… You’re supposed to get a fuller spectrum of training,” dumb it down, Bumblebee, dumb it down, “So no, I’m not teaching you how to interrogate anyone!”
“Not like we need it,” Thrash said, usually the most outspoken about how much he hated being sucked into a war and learning war things, inspecting his digits as if they were fingernails. Actually, Bumblebee could see tiny little smiley face stickers and stars decorating them. It appeared his human sister had gotten her hands on him. “Since we’re already just so awesome.”
“Hey, I’ll never argue against you being awesome,” Bumblebee told him, because he really never would. These kids had ten times the amount of competence than Bumblebee did at their age.
In fact, back then, it was all he could do to hold Breakdown’s servo while the elder led them as far away from the war as he could. He could barely remember back then, enough memories taking priority that all he could really remember was how scared he was.
He knew the world was not supposed to be like that. But he knew his brother was keeping him safe from the raging war. Technically, they were on the other side of the planet from the major wars. And yet they had still been far too close.
“But I’d rather, now that G.H.O.S.T.’s gone, that you focus on actually being kids. I’ll talk to Optimus and Dot and make sure you actually get some fun time, okay? You deserve it.”
Hashtag hid a shy smile behind her knees. Bumblebee wondered when she began to think she had to hide it.
“Thank you, Bumblebee!” Nightshade said gratefully. “I will take our newfound break with gratitude! I have so many things I want to work on that I haven’t had the chance to!”
Bumblebee rolled his optics. He knew that was a bold faced lie from the middle child. An attempt to get out of more work, or to simply falsify their gratitude. Either way was fine, he supposed. As long as it made them happy. “Glad to help, Nightshade.”
The younger beamed up at him, delighted.
“When are you leaving?” Twitch asked, curious.
“Day after tomorrow, early in the morning.” Bumblebee told them. “If any of you are awake in the morning, I take everything back and you’re stuck with extra homework. Got it? I’d rather you sleep well than try to say goodbye before I go.”
Twitch and Jawbreaker lowered their helms and muttered out some kind of promise that Bumblebee half believed.
Sometimes, he was worried they knew he was no bite and all bark. Other times, he even impressed himself in how well he was able to keep it hidden.
However, he was someone assured that the kids would be on their best behavior while he was gone. They would at least fake it, if not to risk wrath from the rest of their siblings.
“Well,” Bumblebee said kindly. “What do you say we do something fun tomorrow? No G.H.O.S.T. business. Just something nice and easy.”
He tried to think of something kids liked to do for fun. Seeing as how the Terrans couldn’t eat ice cream, he had nothing.
Regardless, they brightened and started whispering excitedly.
Well. Hopefully they had ideas. Because honestly, it would be for Bumblebee’s sake as well as theirs. Anything to take his mind off his upcoming mission with Megatron.
And just like that, any feelings of peace and calm disappeared in an instant.