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Bumblebee sighed. The guys had drawn him out on another boring night at the A&W. Hot Rod was prowling the parking lot, parking beside all the 'smokin' hot' sports cars. For some reason, he couldn't get it through his head that not all cars are sentient. He'd drive up next to a brand new crimson Porsche 911 convertible with beige seats, and try all his corny pickup lines. It was funny at first, but after the third or fourth time, when it was made clear that Hot Rod was doing this seriously and not as some sort of third-tier ironic maneuver, it became another depressing fact of Bumblebee's everyday life. Why did he keep agreeing to nights out with the guys?
In truth, Bumblebee found no enjoyment in nighttime street races, or long road trips, or anything of the sort. It wasn't because he disapproved of the activities, it was because of the company. Optimus never joined them on their nightly prowl, since a fire truck would draw a lot of attention. The boyish antics of the rest of the Autobots didn't suit him. What he yearned for was the wisdom and guidance of their leader. So what if he was just a yellow sports car with a learning disability? He had feelings for the guy.
Sideswipe nudged him out of his thoughts.
“Yo bumble, anyone home? We're gonna stop for gas and then head back to base.”
“Oh... alright.” Why they needed gas was a mystery to him, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. An hour later they were driving up to the station. Hot Rod transformed and gave a dramatic yawn and a stretch.
“Well guys, that was fun, but I'm beat. Gonna hit the hay now.”
“Night Hot Rod.”
“You think that little red Porsche likes me?”
“Go to bed, Hot Rod.”
“Ha ha. A guy can dream right?”
Before bumblebee turned in, he paid a visit to Optimus to wish him a good night. Optimus turned from his important workbench desk thing, and looked at bumblebee from over the rims of his dad glasses.
“Ahh, Bumblebee, how was your night out?” Bumblebee smiled shyly.
“Umm, well, it was okay.” Optimus gave him a searching look.
“Is there something wrong bumblebee?” He blushed harder. How did Optimus always know? The bot could read him like an open book. He was so understanding. Maybe that was just another thing that made him... special?
“If you don't want to talk about it that's okay. But I'm here if you do.” So authoritative. So logical. Yet so compassionate.
“Well, I guess it's just not that much fun... without you there.” Optimus looked taken aback.
“Without me?”
“The other guys... Hot Rod and Sideswipe and them... they're just so... I'm sorry. I don't know how to explain it.”
“Don't worry. I think I know what you mean.” He sighed deeply. “Though I do wish I could join you some nights. It does get a little bit lonely when I'm cooped up in the base,”
“Maybe... I could stay here with you Optimus. Next time everyone leaves I mean.”
“I'd like that, Bumblebee.” Happiness welled up inside him. Happiness so severe that it needed to find a way out. He felt like screaming, jumping for joy. Instead, he did something that he never thought he'd have the bolts to do. He kissed him.
CLANG.
Optimus looked taken aback at first, but his expression quickly turned from one of surprise to one of warmth. He went in for another.
CLONK.
And another.
CLINK. CLANK. WHAM.
They held each other at arms length. “I... I love you Optimus” Bumblebee stammered. Optimus silenced him with a finger.
“Shh, I understand.” Optimus took Bumblebee's hand. “What do you say we get to know each other better? Let me see what's under the hood, if you know what I'm saying.” Bumblebee gasped. His trunk popped open and his hands shot down to cover it.
“R-right now?”
“Yes, why not?”
“I... just... be gentle.”
Optimus got up and shut the door. He looked coyly at Bumblebee with both hands behind his back. He walked assertively over to bumblebee, with his hips swaying seductively from side to side. He held him in a tight embrace. “Let's transform.”
He didn't need to be told twice; Bumblebee felt a little overexposed in his current state. He tried turning into his signature car: a yellow Z-28 Camaro. Optimus changed at the same time, turning into a big, burly firetruck. They were too close. Halfway through the transformation they got stuck together. Optimus honked with pleasure.
They were perfectly entwined, stuck somewhere between motor vehicle vehicle and giant gay robot. Bumblebee squirmed a little, not sure if he felt comfortable with this.
“Rev your engine!” Optimus yelled. Bumblebee did as he was told. Gingerly at first, and then full throttle. A cloud of exhaust blew into Optimus's face and he grunted and greedily took in the musty scent.
“You need an oil change Bumble, what say we do that right now?”
“O... okay”
Optimus transformed back into a giant robot and headed for a red cabinet in the corner of the hangar. He took out a bottle of exotic smelling Pennzoil. He brought it over to Bumble, whose motor was idling loudly, and opened his chest cavity. He began humming and rubbing the oil over all of his exposed parts. It was as though he had no idea how cars worked.
“This'll get everything running nice and smooth.” he chuckled. When he had finished polishing and tuning Bumblebee, he stepped back to admire his work. “You have a really nice set of pistons, if you don't mind me saying.” Bumblebee blushed hard. Optimus smacked him on the ass. “And I like a robot with a little junk in the trunk, if you know what I'm saying.”
The next hour or so turned out to be an enjoyable time for Bumblebee. He drove around the hangar, Optimus in hot pursuit, spraying him with his fire hose. They had given each other a thorough washing and were sitting under a lamp to dry when Optimus made the first move.
It was a shock to Bumblebee when Optimus reached around and started rummaging around in his trunk. Rather than feeling violated, Bumblebee found that he just wanted more. His engine gave a small rev of excitement. All of a sudden, Optimus dug his hands under Bumblebee's hood. He jumped a little, and gave a squirt of windshield washer fluid.
“Let's take this into second gear” Optimus whispered. He reached inside Bumblebee and started pumping his clutch.
HOOONK. Bumblebee screamed in delight as he reached around to return the favor to Optimus.
HONK! HONK! HOOONK! They quickly got into the rhythm, engines revving in unison as they drove back and forth, first straddling each other as giant gay robots and then mounting each other as a firetruck and a sports car.
HOOOOOOOONK!
Optimus began spraying water out of his hose. Bumblebee's car alarm went off. They both hit their brakes and lay there, letting their engines cool. The sound of Optimus's radio filled the room like smoke.
“That was great, Optimus,” Bumblebee panted.
At that moment, the door to the hangar flew open, and Hot Rod and Sideswipe ran in, weapons drawn.
“What on Cybertron is going on in here?” Hot Rod gasped. “We heard noises.” Optimus turned off his radio.
“Routine engine check. Go back to your quarters, men.” They gave each other uneasy glances and backed out of the room. Optimus turned to Bumblebee. “You too. Get some rest, Bumble.” He winked.