Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Last minute summon? Again?"

Cliffjumper nodded, Bumblebee couldn't see him, but he could tell.

Bumblebee tried not to sigh as he reassured his friend that it's ok, he doesn't blame him for having to cancel their hang-out again.

After hanging up the comm, he leaned back on his seat. He can't get mad over their job, it's what they do. Getting called in on short notices was on the contract, just another aspect of the job.

Bumblebee worked for an interfacing company, specifically for helping bots during their heats. It wasn't bad, but it meant they were sometimes unavailable for long periods of time, which right now meant he won't see or hear from Cliff for the rest of the decaorn.

Getting called in just meant heading to the main building to wait for their client and head to one of the reserved rooms. Or wait for pick up if the client wanted privacy.

Usually it was scheduled ahead of time, especially if a bot had regulars. But sometimes heats come in unexpectedly, so if a bot is exclusive or a regular, they call the bot in. Like right now, with Cliffjumper.

Speaking of which, since Bee clearly isn't going to be busy for the foreseeable future, he might as well head in to his other job.

Yep, other job, because interfacing isn't as profitable as some bots think. Sure, he gets paid the baseline they all do, but others still earn a little extra.

Not that Bumblebee doesn't make good shanix. He just doesn't earn as much as Cliff, or Hound, or Blurr. Okay so he's seeing a common thread here.

See, his job relies a lot on the physical appearance and capabilities of a mech. and their personality, and compatibility with others. Bumblebee isn't saying he isn't good at any of the above, he's just not as favored.

Cliff has more regulars than any of them, how he manages all of that is honestly a mystery. Regulars not just mean having good 'business', but also getting paid an extra 5% per regular. Now, the why he has so many must be because of his charming personality… as if. It's probably because he gives the best head in the company, allegedly.

Hound went exclusive, which means his client is paying quite a pretty shanix for Hound to be available at all times just for them. Lucky him, paid well and only being called in 4 times a vorn.

Blurr was different. His paycheck wasn't heavier because he was a good lay, but because of his frame.

Depending on rarity, visible difference, and visual appeal, the company charges extra. And some of that extra goes into the bot's check.

Since Blurr has the particularly streamlined frame of a speedster, he gets more from clients than Bumblebee. And he also has regulars, so there's that too.

Now, Bumblebee does have some minibot coding in him, which is why he's so small. Unfortunately it's not enough to qualify for the bonus. Apparently there needs to be a 75% or more match to the coding, which Bee does not have.

So, he got a second job. Honestly, he lucked out with this job. His boss allowed a very flexible schedule to account for his weird work hours and doesn't ask many questions about his other job.

Bumblebee waved at Jazz, his boss, as he walked into the music shop. It isn't as physically demanding as his other job, just keeping the place clean and organized, and help the customers.

He settled easily behind the counter, already working the register so he's ready to ring up the customer Jazz is currently helping.

He smiled at another customer who approached him, asking about specific instrument maintenance, which Bumblebee does not know about, at all.

Here's to another long day

Bumblebee slumped over the table, resting his head in his arms. He ignored whoever was poking him, he was tired, okay?

"Yeah, I also don't know why they called all us in this early," Hound tried comforting Bee, quietly accepting an energon cube from Blurr, who had volunteered to get them all drinks.

Bumblebee finally got up to take his energon cube, also thanking Blurr. He took a sip in hopes it woke him up.

"You mean you also don't know?" Blurr wondered, as he settled down across the table from Bee and Hound.

They both shook their heads. Then again, Bee didn't exactly read the notice beyond "Report to the mess hall". Why they like being so formal, Bee will never know.

"Oh that's easy," Cliffjumper piped up, causing everybot on the table to jump.

"Where the frag did you come from?" Blurr asked, clutching his chest.

In their defense, Cliffjumper wasn't even in the room a few seconds ago. He just popped out of nowhere!

"Wouldn't you like to know," Cliffjumper dismissed with a wave of his hand, "Besides, what's important right now is why we were all dragged here early enough they're actually giving breakfast,"

"That is true," Hound hummed, nursing his morning energon.

The mess hall had normal energon dispensers available at all times, but 'breakfast' dispensers were only for when they were called in before the sun rose. Like today.

"So, since you're so eager to share, why exactly are we here right now?" Blurr yawned, clearly not ready to start the day.

Bumblebee is with him, he had to stay up late last night to close up the music shop. Jazz had said something about having an appointment with a friend, so he asked if Bee could pretty please close up just for today.

"There's a VIP client coming in for browsing, so they're gathering everybody up," Cliffjumper explained casually, just another day then. Although this was how Hound went exclusive so it has its merits.

"They must be really rich then," Bumblebee mused, taking a sip of his drink, "Since, y'know, Hound and Jetfire are here too,"

From the corner of his eye, Bumblebee could see the aforementioned shuttle perk up from a few tables over, having heard his name. They should really invite him to their group some time.

Bumblebee turned back to his table to see them all staring at him.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, but why does Hound and Jetfire being here have to do with the client? I mean, Jetfire's pricier but Hound really isn't, no offense," Blurr apologized to the other, who just shrugged.

"None taken, but he does have a point, Bee," Hound agreed. Before he had been chosen, he was paid the same baseline as Bee, although he had a few regulars too.

Bumblebee just blinked at them.

"They're both exclusive? Normally they wouldn't be here if a normal client is browsing, but this client must be rich enough to overlook exclusivity," Bumblebee reasoned, "And given how much their clients pay to keep them, this VIP must have some deep pockets,"

The others nodded along. Bumblebee didn't blame them, it was too early to be able to logic things out.

"Well, then I bet I'll get chosen," Cliffjumper boasted, standing up on his seat. His small stature just meant he looked normal sized.

"You can't get chosen dumbaft, your paint job is still shiny," Blurr pointed out.

After spending the duration of a heat with a client, the bot would have to get a fresh, clean paint job to remove any paint transfers, for privacy reasons. Hence the whole 'shiny' paint job.

Shiny paint jobs also meant the bot in question had half a decaorn off. And Cliff has a very shiny paint job, since he's still on day 3 of his break.

"Doesn't matter, the client is browsing for somebot, and pick up will be a decaorn from now," Cliff defended, "Did none of you really read the memo?"

The rest of the table looked at each other, and they all shook their heads. Besides, Cliff most likely knows this because one of the higher ups let it slip, the memos never say anything important.

"Either way, I think I'll turn down the client if I'm picked," Hound said, as he finished his drink.

"Aww, you're loyal," Blurr teased, not noticing how the other three tensed up.

"Blurr, I know you're new but we don't use that term, or y'know, imply anything like that," Bumblebee whispered, trying not to draw attention from other tables. He could see Jetfire frown, hopefully he doesn't get involved.

"What, loyal? Is that bad or something?" Blurr asked, whispering back.

"It's just that 'loyal' implies, uh, personal attachment to the client," Hound tried explaining, but from Blurr's confused expression, he wasn't getting it.

"Loyal is-"

"Means that you got a crush on the client, y'know, talks of 'real relationships', 'forever', getting us 'outta here', as if this job was that bad," Cliff butted in, interrupting Bee, who turned to glare at him. Just because Cliff loves his job doesn't mean they all do.

Before Bee could say anything else, he noticed Jetfire approach their table. Without saying anything, he scooted over to make room for him, who gratefully sat down.

"Is there anything wrong with that? I think it sounds like a sweet love story," Jetfire commented, fidgeting with his own cube.

Bumblebee didn't blame him for thinking that way, he's still new. Exclusive from the start, everybot knows his story, many with jealousy. New bot looking for extra cash comes in, gets the heavy check of a shuttle frame, hits a regular immediately, and three heats later goes exclusive.

It's also why he doesn't have friends around here, since he's really only ever here for pick-up. Imagine that, having to work only 7 times a vorn. Even if he has his own heats here, he still doesn't interact with others.

"It is sweet but," Hound winced, "To put it gently, the client doesn't actually think that, it's the heat-addled processor still assuming you're their mate,"

"Having regulars, or exclusives, is even worse, since it's always the same bots," Bee added, "Convinces them it's actually true, but it's not, not really."

"It also goes against policy, 'fraternizing' with the client," Cliffjumper muttered, no one actually listened to that policy though. Primus knows how many of Cliff's regulars became friends with him.

"Oh,"

That led to an awkward silence, Blurr and Jetfire taking the moment to let the topic sink in. The other three looked at each other, it's never easy to break this subject to the new bots.

"Subject change! Did you hear about the new datapads they're selling down at Pads Avenue?" Cliffjumper asked, slamming his hands down on the table, startling everybot.

"Oh yeah, the ones with 'infinite storage', I should check them out," Jetfire replied, happy to move on from the last subject.

"Just make sure you don't run into anybot when you go, you won't believe what happened when I stopped by Passion Pastry, I saw a client," Blurr shuddered in mock fear.

"He had a partner and bitlets, can you believe it? When he saw me, I have never seen a mech look so horrified," Blurr laughed as he recalled the memory.

Bumblebee tuned out Blurr, letting his babbling become background noise. He was about to finish his drink when he felt his armor prickle, like somebot was watching him.

Discreetly he looked around, before he turned to look up at the one-way glass that allowed clients to browse. Surely they aren't looking at him right?

It's not like he's anything special, sure many clients have a thing for his smaller stature but that's about it. The only thing on his file is any hard no's and the three bots he refuses service to.

Which means his file is as small as him. As per policy, until he gets regulars, which means he needs to get requested, by name, at least three times, he can't add any preferences.

So there's very little appeal to him besides his appearance. But next to the rest of the table? He didn't even have that.

Shaking off the feeling, he tuned back into the conversation, now about the best pastries at the bakery two blocks from here. He should stop by one of these days.

He periodically sneaks glances up at the window, subtly but still. He's not sure why, maybe it's curiosity. By now he's not sure if he wants to get chosen, but then again, meeting the client could change his mind.

He stubbornly ignores the way he can still feel the intense stare, sending chills down his struts.

He looked out at the workers having breakfast. His eyes roamed over all of them, none really catching his eye.

He turned his attention back to the files given to him, the order they were in made it clear who the owner hoped he would choose.

Rare frame-types, some pricier for reasons unknown to him, not that he cared much. Some were labeled 'exclusive' so he ignored those.

Minibots, a jet or two, speedsters, shuttles and other spaceships, even a few object alt-modes.

Nothing really stood out to him as he looked through every file, so he looked back out.

His eyes landed on a small yellow bot, they looked put together enough. Clean paint job, which seemed to be a staple at this establishment, thick armor that doesn't feel excessive, what looks to be sensory horns on their head. He can't see their face, they're talking to their friends but-

They turned around, the little yellow bot is looking up at him, he swears they're making eye contact. He's mesmerized, can't look away, even as the yellow bot turns back to their group.

He digs through the files in his hand, he's got to be here in them. He finds his file towards the bottom of the pile.

"Bumblebee - Poly-Iaconian - Mech

Alt-mode: car

Stature: 15 feet

Preferences: N/A

No's: Size difference is over twice his height, weapons, couples

Refuses to service: Vortex, Sky-Byte, Brainstorm"

He frowned, the file barely told him anything, even his dislikes were reasonable. Except for the bots, he'll make sure Bumblebee never has to see them again.

But the little picture on his file, Bumblebee's face smiling up at him. The matrix hums in his chest, pleased with his decision.

He turns back to the owner, file in hand. He's told the bots are technically allowed to turn down clients, but that doesn't happen often with higher paying bots, and he's ready to pay anything for Bumblebee.

"Sir, you found a satisfactory bot? Perfect, allow me to look over their file to run that through for… you. Sir, are you sure this is the correct bot?" The owner asked as he took the file.

He glared at the owner.

"Who are you to be questioning my decisions? I can very well take my endorsement elsewhere. This is the third establishment I visit, I can go to a fourth," he looms over the owner, not afraid to use his height to his advantage.

Of course, the owner doesn't know how much he's willing to spend for Bumblebee, so the owner reacts as he predicted.

"Of course sir, I apologize, I was just concerned since you had shuffled the files so much, I didn't know-"

"Exactly, you don't know. Now, will I be able to purchase the bot's service or not?" He interrupted, leaving the owner a stuttery mess before he just took the file and left.

Finally alone, he looked back out, seeking the yellow bot once more. He seemed to be laughing, a positive sign this establishment isn't horrible, just the owner.

His friends were a weird assortment, a shuttle, varying car models, different origin cities if what he skimmed on their files is anything to go by.

Doesn't matter, soon the little yellow bot, Bumblebee, will be his, even if just for half a decaorn. Then again, he read about 'exclusivity', keeping the bot to himself.

After his heat, if they click, which judging by the approval radiating from the matrix they will, then he'll keep him.

And Bumblebee will be only his, he does not like sharing.

Chapter Text

Bumblebee stared at the datapad. It was sitting innocently on his table, screen still lit up with the message it carried. A message Bumblebee still refuses to believe is real.

Is this a prank?

But it can't. For one, the only people who could do this wouldn't go this far. For another, the sign at the bottom makes it clear it's very real.

"You have been personally selected to aid a VIP client.

Please report to your handler to receive the file."

Short and concise, but real. Very real.

Normally, when they're selected by new bots, they get messages and the client's file. And the option to turn down the client.

For privacy reasons, whenever they get VIP clients, they don't receive their respective file over datapads. They have to respond directly to their 'manager'. Their handler, really.

If they want to turn down the VIP, then they need 1, a valid excuse and 2, tell their handler that directly, who then handles negotiations with the client until satisfaction on both sides is reached.

Aiding a VIP is something all bots strive for, mostly because of the big paycheck that comes with that. But they're usually picked and sent by their handler, not the client themselves unless they're recommended.

Being chosen by a VIP is usually the biggest honor, since that meant the client browsed all the bots, scanned every file, and then had to actively argue with the respective handler to get the bot they wanted.

It was a lot to process.

Him, Bumblebee, hand-picked.

This was too much to handle by himself right now. There's no way this was happening, he must be dreaming.

So he did the only reasonable thing anybot would do. He opened a group comm-call with his friends.

BB :Guys, anyone available right now? I am losing my mind:

H :Bee? What's wrong?:

Jf :Is everything alright?:

BB :Remember that VIP client last orn?:

Blr :The one that gathered us at an unholy hour of the morning? What about it?:

Cj :OMP Bee, you didn't!:

BB :Yes I did!:

Blr :Somebot tell me what they're going on about?:

BB : [sent image capture]:

H :'Personally selected,' Bee, you know what that means right?:

BB :Yes I know what that means, why do you think I'm going insane right now?:

Blr :Damn Bee, what did you do to get the VIP interested?:

BB :I don't know! I haven't even gone to pick up the file yet!:

Jf :You should go do that. While I doubt they'll hand the client to somebot else, at least you should get to know who it is:

Cj :Yeah, what if it's somebot who sucks?:

BB :I'm on my way, stop fussing:

Blr :Imagine it's somebot who's on TV? What if it's an actor?:

H :Those usually don't pay enough to be VIP. Most likely a politician or something similar:

Jf :Senator Shockwave?:

Blr :If it is, can you tell him to do more interviews with that black polish? He always looks so much better with it:

BB :Okay, I'm gonna go now, I'm right outside the office:

BB :And Blurr? If it is, I'm telling him to throw it away. You're welcome:

Jf :Good luck Bee, tell us how it goes:

Cj :Tell us who it is!:

Blr :Wait, Bee I didn't mean it, please don't-:

H :Good luck!:

Blr :I'm sorry, Bee please:

Bee chuckled as he exited the comm-call. Blurr was so easy to rile up sometimes.

They all knew Bee wouldn't be able to tell them who the client is, legally speaking, but if they happened to guess, then that's not his fault.

Talking with his friends did actually help him calm down on the way here. But now that he's standing in front of the office, the earlier nerves came rushing back.

What if it was sent to the wrong address and it wasn't him at all? What if the client grabbed the wrong file? What if they change their mind once they meet?

Bumblebee shook his head. He needs to keep a cool helm if he wants to get through this. With a deep, stabilizing vent, he knocked on the door.

He opened the door when he heard the faint 'Come in'.

His handler's office wasn't anything special. Small but spacious to accommodate his frame, with the occasional knick-knack here and there.

"Bee! I was expecting you, if you could close the door? Thanks. Take a seat, I have a feeling you'll want to be sitting for this," Cosmos, Bee's handler, suggested as he rifled through the datapads on his desk, before he opened a drawer to pull out the correct file.

Bumblebee took a seat. One of the things he likes about Cosmos' office is how things are already adjusted to smaller frame.

"Here's your client's file, but I want to make it clear right now, don't feel pressured to agree if you don't want to, no matter how much the client offers you, okay?" Cosmos stressed, as he handed Bee the file.

Bumblebee nodded as he opened the file.

"[Redacted] - Iaconian - Mech

Alt-Mode: Truck

Height: 29 feet

Interests: To be discussed in person

Payment: Willing to negotiate"

He blinked. The file was more sparse than he thought.

No name, no picture, almost nothing, except that he's rich enough to 1, remain anonymous, and 2, let Bumblebee name his price, risky in this business.

But the company is really good at vetting out dangerous bots, so it's more for Bee to not go blabbering who the client is.

"Did the client mention a maximum?" Bee asked. The number given is already insanely high, but 'negotiating' is a good test of the client, seeing how they react.

"Nope, said he's willing to pay 'whatever it takes to convince him'. Him being you, obviously," Cosmos replied, before he leaned forward, "Talk to me, how're we feeling about this,"

Good question. Bumblebee wasn't sure.

"I dunno, they're paying well, like really well, so well I can probably live off of this for the rest of the vorn well," Bumblebee rambled, still in shock that a client is willing to spend so much just for him.

"Besides the money, but you're right, in this business that's what matters," Cosmos muttered to himself, nodding along to his own logic.

Bumblebee also nodded, albeit distractedly. How did he really feel about this?

It's a good offer, lots of money. However, he won't know who the client is until either they reveal themselves or until their trial. Even if they don't click during the trial, Bumblebee will still be compensated so that's not the problem.

The trial being a 'test run' to see how compatible they are, physically and through their coding. Bumblebee is, admittedly, a bit nervous about their trial since he's never interfaced a bot with this big of a size difference.

The client is confident that Bumblebee will agree to the contract regardless of any doubts that he will reasonably have. The biggest doubt being not knowing who the client is until it's too late to back out.

He's heard horror stories from other bots, although none from this company, which is why he works here in the first place. Even then, any bot can be swayed with enough money, right?

Bumblebee shook his head, he can't be thinking that way about the company. Or, at least he should put more faith in Cosmos. Bumblebee knows, if he really didn't want to, Cosmos would fight the client to let go of him, regardless of anything the client could offer or threaten.

Right, Cosmos has to know who the client is. He wouldn't put him in danger, physical, emotional, or otherwise. Bumblebee has to trust that, if he doesn't trust the client.

"I'll do it,"

So as it turns out, the client is rich enough to send Bumblebee with their own medic to give him a physical check up. Not unusual, since Bee has heard from Cliff and Hound that it happens.

What is unusual is that the direction he was given was the Prime's Palace.

As far as Bee knows, the only medics that reside and practice within the Prime's Palace are the Prime's own medics. The only bots they work on are the Prime himself, and those that work directly for said Prime.

The client must have pulled some serious strings to get Bumblebee an appointment there. Not even an appointment actually, a walk-in, to go 'at his earliest convenience'.

As he made his way over, he might as well get another important thing out of the way. With a steadying vent, he opened a comm to Jazz. He always got nervous asking for the time off, even if Jazz was always agreeable.

Jz :Bee? What's up:

BB :Jazz, I know this is rushed, but can I have the orn off-:

Actually, isn't the client twice his size? And truck-bots are really big, so the client's spike would be appropriately sized too. Bee might need an extra day or two to recover.

BB :Orn and a half off, maybe two orns about a decaorn from now?:

Jz :Vaguely specific time off, is your heat coming in?:

BB :Would I get the time off if I said yes?:

Jz :Normally I'd say yes, but I'm guessing it's not that. Is this for your 'other job'?:

BB :Yeah, I got called in today to discuss details, I know it's short notice but-:

Jz :It's not that, it's just that I was about to ask if you were okay with managing the store solo for the orn next decaorn:

BB :Oh, I'm sorry I didn't think-:

Jz :It's all cool, I'll just close the shop for the orn:

BB :Oh, would that be ok?:

Jz :Eh, the shop makes enough that it won't affect me much, and as long as it doesn't affect me it won't affect you:

BB :Thanks Jazz:

Jz :Don't worry 'bout it:

And so Bumblebee disconnected from the call. That went as well as he could have hoped, even with the weird coincidence of them both needing the same orn off.

On another note, the comm took just long enough to arrive at the Prime's Palace. He transformed back and approached the main gate. He was given an invitation in, which is what he would use right now.

"Name and purpose?"

"Bumblebee, I'm here for a medical check up with-"

Bee didn't even get to finish before the gates opened, and the security guard he was talking to just waved him in. Guess he didn't even have to show the guard the invitation.

Nervously, Bumblebee walked in.

When he reached the door, another security asked him the same questions, and this time she asked for the invitation, which he gave. She seemed to analyze it, probably to check if it's fake.

She nodded and gave it back, before gesturing for him to follow. He did.

He was escorted through the building until they reached the medical wing. She pointed down the hall where Bee could see two doors, and then she left.

Looking around, he slowly made his way to the doors, it's where he needs to go, right?

"Hey! Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The voice startled Bumblebee, who dropped his invitation. He turned to his left to see another bot there, although he didn't look like security. In fact, his paint job was in medic colors, he even had the doctor emblem on his pauldron.

"I'm Bumblebee, I'm here for a check-up?" The last part sounded more like a question than Bee would have liked.

The other bot looked at him, before shaking his head.

"You're the interface aid, aren't you?" he asked, and Bee vented in relief.

"Yes! I am here for a check-up? The client just said to come here and ask for one when I was available," Bumblebee explained as he kneeled down to pick up the invitation, before handing it to the medic.

The medic barely spared it a glance before he just sub-spaced it.

"In that case, come on in, welcome to my medbay Bumblebee. I'm Ratchet, Prime's CMO," The medic, Ratchet, welcomed as he pushed Bee to sit at one of the med-berths.

Bumblebee's vents stalled. Prime's CMO? As in, the Prime's personal medic?

"Right, I was given access to your medical records, but I still want to check you myself, if that's alright," The way Ratchet said it made it clear it wasn't a question.

Bumblebee nodded. Ratchet ran him through different physical tests, drew some energon, everything that happens at check-ups, before he sat down on a stool across from Bee.

"Now that that's over, I have some questions to ask, and I would ask that you are as honest as possible," Ratchet waited for Bee to nod before he asked, "First, and among the most important, what are your anti-sparkling protocols like? Because I can see that your coding has been altered but there are no physical changes that I can tell,"

"Oh that? My forge is shut down-"

"You what?!"

"Not like that! I meant the coding to initiate sparkling protoform is shut off, I literally can't get sparked up. Besides, my creator protocols are locked down, so I can't access them even if I wanted to," Bumblebee rushed to explain.

He didn't understand the specifics, but it was relatively harmless unless he really want to spark. But he has no interest, mostly because he doesn't have a partner. If he had one he loved and trusted, then he would, but until then he's not risking a sparkling.

"Is it permanent?"

"I… don't know actually. It shouldn't be,".

"Okay, can I plug in to see the coding myself?" Ratchet asked, already opening his medic ports.

Bumblebee shrugged, before offering his arm, his ports opened. Ratchet plugged in and started digging through the code. Normally, Bee would be more apprehensive, but 1, he was the literal Prime's medic and 2, Ratchet was actually just digging through his creator and forge coding.

Eventually he unplugged, and Bumblebee relaxed a bit. Even if he agreed, and Ratchet didn't do anything bad, it was still unsettling to have someone dig through his code.

"Everything you say checks out, creator protocols locked, protoform creation suspended, but no lasting damage, or any for that matter given that these can be undone easily enough," Ratchet mused, as if surprised the coding worked as intended.

Ratchet vented, before settling back down on his seat. Right, he mentioned multiple questions. If they all follow this vein, Bumblebee knows he'll be able to answer them.

"How do you prepare to deal with heats? What do you do to make sure you handle them?"

"Well, many of us, me included, run the base of a synth-heat. Just the coding designed for-"

"Adapting and keeping up with another's heat, that's smart. I'm trusting this works for you, given the coding I checked earlier,"

"It's a system that's been in place for vorns," Bumblebee mentioned, hence why he trusts it works.

"Right, moving on. Again, I ask you to be as honest as possible, given you're smaller than I thought-"

"I'm what?"

"Anyways! To put it as straightforward as possible, if a bit crude, what's the size of the largest spike you've taken?"

Bumblebee flushed. He really should have seen this kind of question coming, given the size difference between him and the client.

"I, umm, pretty sure not as big as the client's, given that the biggest mech I've interfaced is nowhere near as tall," Bumblebee stammered, shy about having to admit that despite being an interface aid, he might not be capable due to lack of experience.

"But! I'm a minibot, so I'm quite durable. I'm sure I can handle the client, if all goes well during the trial, that is." Bumblebee boasted.

"A minibot? I mean I figured, looking at you, but your file said none of that. I assumed you were withholding that," Ratchet looked surprised.

"I mean, yeah it doesn't say that. According to the boss, my coding doesn't line up enough to be considered a minibot, even if I got my sire's frame," Bumblebee clarified, rubbing the back of his head.

"Not everything has to do with coding though, your frame-type and classification depend on many things, from coding to physical appearance, sometimes even the city you were raised in," Ratchet explained, "And you are, in fact, a minibot, even with your mixed coding."

Bumblebee froze. He's… what?

"Moving on from that, although I will be having a talk with your boss and whatever medic refused to classify you appropriately, you mentioned a 'trial'?"

"Uh huh, it's when we interface before the heat if there's any doubts we won't click. Whether we aren't size compatible, or to see if the heat coding will reject the bot. Obviously, I'm much smaller in every way compared to the client, so we will have a trial," Bumblebee elaborated, snapping out of his earlier stupor. He just shelved that thought to have a mental breakdown about it later.

Ratchet frowned, and that wasn't a good sign. He seemed okay with everything else the company did, why was the trial so bad?

"It appears there was a miscommunication, as, how did you call him, the client? The client won't be able to have a trial with you,"

What?

"What? What do you mean, the client can't? It's mandatory for size differences over-"

"The client hasn't had a heat in nearly 5 vorns, this heat will be more than a little intense, and if he were to interface at any point, there's a high chance the heat will kick in early. And given how infatuated he seems with you already, there's a near guarantee that simply existing in the same space will absolutely start the heat,"

Bumblebee was sure his face was going to melt from how hot it was. He couldn't have a trial because… Primus he couldn't even finish the thought.

"Don't worry, from what I've gathered from your history, your physical appearance, and how you will handle this, I know you can get it done," Ratchet reassured, politely not commenting when Bumblebee's cooling fans clicked on.

"I- yeah, okay. You're the doctor! I'm, uh, we're done right? Can I go? Now? Please?" Bumblebee stammered, already inching towards the door. He needs a moment to process, well, everything.

"Yes, I understand it's a lot to take in right now, here, I'll walk you out," Ratchet offered, as opened the door.

Bumblebee was in a daze for most of the trip, too many revelations happening right now for him to do more than keep moving forward.

"Right, be ready for pick up on the agreed upon date. Here's my comm and an id for you in case the heat comes early and we need you here. Have a nice rest of your day," Ratchet said as he handed Bumblebee a slip and a card before closing the door behind him.

Right, okay, that's perfectly normal. Just another day in his line of work, right?

Bumblebee was sub-spacing the given items and heading off home when it clicked what Ratchet said…

Did he really imply that the client lives in the Prime's Palace? He even gave Bumblebee an id to go in whenever!

Just who, exactly, was the client?