Chapter Text
Once Team Prime was back on Cybertron, Bumblebee knew it was over. His spark ached with the knowledge that after the incredible photography and news coverage, he would have to say goodbye to the only bots he considered friends and the closest thing to a family he ever had. But after Prowl’s sacrifice, Bumblebee didn't think he had the heart to bring down the mood any more than it already was. So when they stepped out into the barrage of flashbulbs and explained the heroic actions of Prowl, Bumblebee made sure to smile the brightest, talk the loudest, and be the most cheerful he could be. He stalled on every question, desperate to prolong the inevitable. Bumblebee got increasingly more desperate to be distracting and rambly as people left the crowd until he was reading out his logs from Earth to keep bots there. “And then, at 1500 hours that day, Sari, our techno-organic teammate, tripped over the spilled oil! She landed right on her af- oh, I mean her backplates. Anyway, then she-“
“Alright, folks, that’s all the time we have for now; we gotta get these bots back to base. Thanks for coming!” Sentinel placed his servo on Bumblebee’s shoulder, pulling him back and ushering the remaining crowd away.
“But- I didn't even finish answering these questions. Come on, just a few more breems?” Bumblebee asked hopefully, but his answer came with a forceful shove backward and a stern look. Whelp, guess that's over and done with. Bumblebee pleaded with Primus for another distraction or roadblock. Anything short of more war and fighting, to spend just a nanoclick longer with his team.
But Primus decided to say, ‘Frag you, Bumblebee!’ and made the trip to the base perfectly smooth, and even worst the debriefing and dismissing went by so fast Bumblebee barely processed it. He did catch the line that almost everybot was set to go home, as there was no reason for so many Autobots to be deployed.
Not only would Bumblebee be forced to say goodbye to his team and family, but he now had to return to the place he joined the Autobots to escape from. Bummer.
They first went to say goodbye to Sari and lingered as she went through the transwarp portal back to Earth. Then they went to some bar in Iacon, even though Bumblebee suggested other places to go and protested against a bar, but Maccadams isn't that bad, so Bee let it be. They all sat down, Bumblebee looking visibly uncomfortable until they got their drinks. High-grade energon around the table except for Bee, who “won’t touch the stuff” and ordered a rust stick instead. The conversation turned to what they would do now that the war was over. Ratchet and Optimus are both fully employed by the Autobots and said they would remain on active duty. Arcee (who was invited by Ratchet) would go back to being a teacher for Sparklings. Bulkhead would return to his family’s Energon farm for a while before returning to his job as a space bridge mechanic.
“What about you, little buddy?” Bulkhead asked Bee
“What?” Bee replied
“What are you going to go do now?”
“Oh, uhm...” Bee fiddled with the rust stick in his servos. He already knew what he was going to do; he really didn't want to. “Well, seeing as I'm not actually qualified for space bridge repair, I'm going to go back to Kaon’s Subsection Alpha.”
“You’re from Kaon?” Arcee asked suddenly.
“No, I'm from Kaon’s Alpha Subsection. It's different.”
“Not by much,” Ratchet added unhelpfully.
‘Of course, THEY would think so,’ Bumblebee thought. Noticing Bee’s souring mood and poorly concealed glare at Ratchet, Optimus sought to change the subject.
“Won't you have to take transit there, Bumblebee?” Optimus asked, checking his chronometer
“Yeah, I’m taking the same one as Bulkhead is; it's in relatively the same direction. That is if you are ok with that Bulkhead.”
“Of course, little buddy! One last road trip!” Bulkhead exclaimed jovially, missing the melancholy look Bumblebee had.
They finished their energon in a timely manner, although every time they went to check out, Bumblebee ordered something else. “Primus, how hungry can a minibot even get?” Ratchet exclaimed out loud once they finally made it to the transit center. This caught the attention of a mech and he sauntered over
“Maybe the little mini is hungry for something more? I can help with that.” he said suggestively reaching out towards Bumblebee, and in response, Bumblebee immediately bared his dentae in disgust and yelled out,
“Get away from me, you slagger!”. When the bot failed to retreat he puffed out his chest and transformed his stingers, trying to show that he was prepared to fight. The bot brought up his servos in a placating manner before he walked back. Ratchet pulled on Bumblebee’s shoulder, “What the slag is wrong with you?! He didn’t do anything wrong!” He yelled
“It’s what he said, Ratchet!” Bee stated,
“He was just contributing.”
“What? Are you rusting or something? I don’t want a bot like him to contribute anything!”
“You need to calm down! Pulling out weaponry like that is a crime, bolt brains!”
Optimus intervened at the moment he saw Ratchet and Bumblebee advancing on each other, “Hey, stop, both of you. We are here to see Bumblebee and Bulkhead off. Stop fighting!” He pulled Bee away from Ratchet, which effectively killed their argument, even though both were still grumbling about each other.
“That’s better! Now, Bumblebee, help me find New Kaon’s uh subsection, please.” Bumblebee looked at the map with Optimus and Bulkhead, and after analyzing it, he frowned, “It’s different; what path is that?” He followed the line from his destination to the transit center, “Sorry, little buddy, looks like we have to take different transits….” Bulkhead said in a dejected tone he was looking forward to spending time with his little buddy.
However upset Bulkhead was, Bumblebee was fairing much worst. He now had to take the scariest journey of his life alone. To make matters worst, the transit he would have to take was a lot sooner than Bulkhead’s.
“Hey Bee, it’s ok! We will have plenty of opportunities to talk! Why don’t you meet me here in the next four megacycles? We can catch up then, and I’ll drop you off that time!” Bulkhead tried to cheer up Bumblebee and smiled warmly as he seemingly perked up
“Yeah! That sounds great, Bulkie!” Bumblebee knew it might not be as simple to hop on a transit like it was for Bulkhead, but he would make it work!
The crew spent more time together, though Arcee left in transit to head to a school she said she was working at, and Bumblebee was not talking to Ratchet. When Bumblebee’s tram came, the gang stood up, each hugging Bumblebee, save for Ratchet, who merely shook his servo. Bumblebee stepped on the transit and mentally bid farewell to his independence as he outwardly put on his biggest smile and waved goodbye to his found family.
Ratchet and Optimus watched as Bulkhead went on his own tram, waving goodbye all the while. It was only a few breems before Optimus headed out to settle into his new job as a ‘proper Prime’ or whatever that meant while Ratchet lingered, deciding on resting his old metal aft before heading out. Then a bot came up to him, “What happened to the yellow mini?” The mech said. Ratchet recognized him as the bot Bumblebee behaved aggressively towards.
“He went back to his home on New Kaon’s whatever,” Ratchet said, waving the kid off
“Eager to work, was it? Good to know that rude little thing is getting put back into its proper place.” The more he spoke, the more uneasy Ratchet felt about the mech,
“What are you going on about?” Ratchet quirked up his brow plate but was not prepared for the vile words that slipped out the mech's mouth,
“Aw, all bots know minis are nothing but pleasure drones. Probably some autoslut runaway trying to get better spike here in Iacon. I could recognize a pretty faceplate like that anywhere; its boss must have been looking for him for cycles!” The mech pulled out a cyberette and lit it, “I might head over there myself. Runaway drones usually get put up for cheaper to teach the thing a lesson.” He took in a drag and blew it out after a second, missing the disgusted look the old medbot shot at him.
Ratchet could hardly believe his audials, “Pleasure drone? You mean he gets paid to be fragged?” Ratchet could not imagine Bee putting himself in such positions for credits.
“Nah, the boss gets paid; that little mini-drone just gets rented out. You must not leave Iacon much, do you? Honestly, I should have figured with how you talked to the thing, as if it was a real Cybertronian or something.” He laughed and took in another drag, “If it weren’t for the Prime right there, I’d have pulled the drone over to teach him to back talk like that; of course, it’s not legal if it’s not paid for here in Iacon. But with that attitude chip on it, I’m sure it is getting the lesson it needs by now.” As he talked, puffs of smoke pooled out his derma. He felt uncomfortable when he noticed the shocked look on Ratchet’s faceplates so he snuffed his cyberette under his ped and walked away.
Ratchet was appalled. If this bot was right, he and his team just sent Bumblebee to work as a sex drone. Ratchet felt sick knowing he defended that bot from Bumblebee’s ire when he should have joined in.
He called up Optimus, intending to find a way to get Bumblebee out of a bad situation, “Can’t help but get yourself into trouble, eh kid?” he muttered to no one, knowing full well that Bumblebee very well could have been asking for help that everyone neglected in their eagerness to get to their own lives.
On the transit, Bumblebee found himself fiddling with his servos, hyper-aware of the optics on him. He couldn’t blame them. He knows that as a minibot, he technically should not even be on a tram, especially without an escort. The glances at him were not all curious, though. He could feel some bot’s optics scanning his frame provocatively as if it were thorns gently scraping his battle armor. It seemed that even with a thicker hide, as a minibot, he could not escape the fact that he was more of a material than a mech.
Eventually, bots started to sit near him, only getting closer and closer until they were basically touching. Bumblebee kept his EMF as close to his frame as possible and tried to school his reactions to the sly brushing against his hip struts.
He was aware of where he was -more importantly, what he is- and knew he could not retaliate. The sad truth was that if these bots wanted their way with him, Bumblebee had no choice. Not legally. He remembers the few times he was detained for fighting back, threatened with deactivation, and punished with mutilation or humiliation in different forms depending on the enforcer or officer.
When the tram came to a stop, Bumblebee was torn between jumping up and leaving to detach from the wandering servos that lingered on his frame and stalling for time, maybe missing his stop and having to circle back a few times. He had to bite the bullet eventually, however, and his mind was made up when a particularly bold bot’s servo moved into his inner thigh and grazed his interface panel. The touch felt like acid, and Bumblebee could not help but jump up in shock and decided to take the opportunity to depart and distance himself.
Once away from the transit center, Bumblebee suddenly felt the heavy weight of fear lingering in the back of his intake that signified the early stages of a panic attack. Something that in this setting would result in a processor rewire. Bumblebee set off to his old subsuite complex when he was stopped by the sight of his faceplates on billboards and holoimages.
They were dated, of course, and were tastefully showing the public his array while promoting a brand or store. ‘After all these solar cycles, they still don't have some other bot to flaunt?’. Bumblebee felt too exposed, not only just in the advertisements.
If he were to be noticed by a bot or, Primus forbid, an enforcer he would be sent to some building to be reunited with his old ‘boss’. The thought made him shudder and forced him to take backroads from now on.
He would have to reunite with the mech sooner or later, but Bumblebee needs to reacquaintance himself with the rules and regulations of Section: Alpha. Until then, he needed to remain low profile.
Moving in the back alleys was not something new to Bumblebee. He is glad that his time with his team and in Iacon did not leave him sloppy when it comes to sneaking around. He even got practice for it in most cases. The real challenge is the fact that things have moved around. Bee knew that it was likely he would get lost if he strays too far from the main road, but being so close to the public would be quite risky. He would have to be even more quiet than usual. Sketchy bots tend to hide in these back roads, eager to take advantage of a stray bot.
There were a few close calls, causing Bumblebee to run away or hide for some time, but he made it to his old complex. Not wanting the confrontation he decided to sneak in the same way he snuck out all those orns ago. The window was still there, and still stuck open looking as rusty as ever. Climbing through the window would be more difficult with this new bulkier armor, so he took it off and slid it through the window piece by piece, wincing at each thud sound that occurred when the metal hit the floor.
He then shimmied himself through the window and quietly made it to the ground. He hurriedly put his armor back on, feeling less tense now that he wasn’t so exposed. He looked around and noticed the room was exactly the same as before, maybe more dusty. He opened the door to the hallway and peeked his horned helm out to check if there were any bots around.
Eventually, in his careful navigation he made it to his old quarters. Punching in the code (thankful he didn’t delete it in his memory banks) he stepped in. It was dark, dusty. Nothing was ever touched, which was good.
Normally Bumblebee would just grab what he needed and ditch this place, as this whole situation was giving him the creeps and he just wanted to leave. But he was exhausted, and decided it could wait until morning. Climbing into his berth, relishing in the higher quality sheets, he shut off his optical systems and started his recharge. He felt lonely and sad in the last few moments of his conscience moments. He missed his team, he missed Detroit, he missed Sari.
He really missed Prowl.