Chapter Text
“Aw, look who came to join his ugly friend! It’s the oversized refrigerator!” Bumblebee snarked loudly, spotting the familiar fighter jet approaching them at high speeds. There was an offended shout and he watched as the zooming jet in the sky furiously changed into a tank. He let out a laugh at how the flightless alt. mode dropped like a rock, the momentum of his flight shooting the tank straight towards the Autobot.
Bumblebee was knocked right off his pedes and onto his aft as the tank’s treads heavily connected with the ground mere meters away, Blitzbrain — seriously, what kind of name was that? His creators must’ve hated him — giving a hefty “oof.” The Decepticon slowly transformed, rising from the dust as his reinforced armor slid and clicked into place. The triple-changer slipped into a menacing wide stance, his faceplate spinning to his angry red face. “I’ll show you refrigerator, Autobot! I will squash you like the bug you are!”
Alright, that's fine. That's cool. He can take on an angry 'con with scary guns. No biggie. He could do this.
Red hot lasers shot out from the 'con's dual cannons, whizzing past Bumblebee’s helm and striking the ground at his pedes. Okay, maybe not! Bumblebee shrieked and scurried out of the way of each shot, slipping on rocks loose from the crumbled ground as he tried to find his footing. Upon stabilizing, he called out to the Decepticon over his shoulder. “That’s not a refrigerator! That’s an oven!”
“Get a better joke then, insect! You’ve used that one before!” Hothead shouted, breaking his stance to follow the running Autobot, leading the big ‘con away from his preoccupied team.
Bumblebee snickered as he ran. “Yeah, and it worked twice!”
There was a whirr as Blitzbrain’s faceplates switched to Random, who laughed gleefully as his steps became more bouncy. “Oh~ fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on you!”
“It’s ‘shame on me,’ genius!” Bumblebee yelped as laser fire got a little too close to his tailpipe.
Hothead snarled at him, shaking the ground with a particularly heavy stomp. “That’s what I said, you idiot! ‘Shame on you!’”
“That’s not—!” The little Autobot groaned and decided not to continue that thought as he focused on evading Blitzbrain’s attacks, the laser fire becoming more erratic and angry, desperate to land at least a single hit on him as he pursued the yellow mech. What a moron!
“Can you stop running?!” Hothead shouted. “You are starting to annoy me!”
Bumblebee could not believe this ‘con! “Uh, no! You’re trying to kill me!” Despite that, he stopped running — definitely not because Blitzbrain had told him to — and swiveled around, transforming his forearms into his signature stingers and shooting out at the Decepticon still running towards him. “Eat it!”
Blitzbrain stopped as the double bolts Bumblebee shot out hit his leg, but rather than do the damage Bumblebee was hoping for, they didn't do anything more than make him twitch. Bumblebee froze as the intimidating face of Icy loomed over him, casting an overwhelmingly large shadow. His red optics were bright and zeroed in on his tiny frame, the large red monocle zooming in a little. His expression remained intensely passive.
He never felt so insignificant before.
"Oh frag!" Bumblebee scrambled back and fell on his aft again. He twisted around to get back on his pedes and made a break for it. He heard thumping steps behind him. "Frag, frag, frag!"
Blitzbrain, having switched back to Random, cackled. "Oh, where's the little Autobot going this time? Oh, oh! Are we playing a game of chase?"
"No! No, no, no!" Bumblebee squealed, running as fast as his little legs would allow.
There wasn’t much area to run. The Autobots had a run-in with the bomber, Lugnut, and engaged with him after he was seen stealing parts from the construction area. They fought in a large lot of dusty asphalt with various construction vehicles here and there and mounds and trucks of dirt strewn about. There was a single brick building being torn down in favor of a new one, crumbling further with their activity.
Of course Bumblebee just had to notice Blitzbrain flying in the sky, coming to Lugnut’s rescue, and started harassing him. His team was busy with Lugnut, Bumblebee wouldn’t be of much use in that fight — when was he ever useful against Lugnut? — and Blitzbrain needed something to focus on, so…
"Get back here, bug!" Hothead yelled, his large pedes leaving cracks in the asphalt as he ran. Bumblebee could feel the ground shaking.
The yellow Autobot didn't bother glancing behind him to see how close the triple-changer was. He could hear his steps getting louder. "No way!"
Before Bee could think of what to do next, something large collided with his side and he was sent flying into the old building nearby, bricks clunking on top of his fallen frame. He sat there, dazed, for a moment. The impact hurt and sitting up to get out of the rubble only caused more pain to flare up.
Blitzbrain stood yards away, his arm relaxing. Had he backhanded Bumblebee? Since when had he gotten so close in their chase?
The large Decepticon turned towards him, cannons lowering once again and training on him. Bumblebee gulped. Blitzbrain gave no witty remark as ice shot out of the barrels, encasing the ground in a thin sheet. He raised the cannons’ aim until ice swept over Bumblebee and trapped him in the rubble.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Bumblebee exclaimed, struggling against the ice.
The triple-changer watched him for a moment, face emotionless, before he turned away from the trapped Autobot. Bumblebee felt his spark drop as the dangerous mech approached the others, who were still busy fighting Lugnut.
Bumblebee was splayed out in the rubble, buried in bricks and ice, but his helm and forearms were sticking out. Maybe, just maybe, he could transform his servos into his stingers? He activated the protocols and grunted against the strain as the ice prevented his armor from shifting. His servos retracted and the tops of the stingers peeked out from his forearms, but they jammed.
Tch-tch-tchew… and his forearm went back to its original state. No luck with his weapons. What good were they anyway? They could hardly be called weapons with the way the bolts bounced off stupid Blitzbrain. He was useless like this. He was useless. Bumblebee let his servos go limp.
He could only watch helplessly as the triple-changer trained his cannons on his friends. Lugnut threw Prowl away from him and blocked a hit from Optimus’ axe. Ratchet was busy off at the side tending to Bulkhead, who had been punched into the asphalt and crushed under rebars and cement.
But Bumblebee had an idea.
If he could get Blitzbrain to switch off Icy, he could get the ‘con to hit him with flames to melt the ice! Blitzbrain was a volatile mech and his weapons were known to be linked to each face he wore. It was risky but there didn’t seem to be any other choice.
“Hey, Blitzbrain!” The stuck Autobot shouted after him in a mocking voice. “Too much of a coward to take me on?”
Please switch to Hothead, please switch to Hothead, please switch to Hothead.
His pleas were not answered when Blitzbrain looked at him, still on his ever-so-calm Icy face. His red monocle shifted as it zoomed in on Bumblebee. “Why should I when it’s easier to trap you in ice?” His faceplates spun to a Random with a mock laugh. “You can’t fight! Where is the fun in that?”
“Wh— hey, I can fight!” Bumblebee clenched his fists. “You’re just big!”
“And you’re teensy weensy!” Blitzbrain giggled, jagged smile splitting his face in two. When he calmed, his face switched back to Icy. “You’re not worth the time.”
Bumblebee deflated with wide optics as the large Decepticon turned away, his words echoing in his processor.
You’re not worth the time.
He could only sit and watch uselessly as the triple-changer engaged in the fight, throwing Prowl off Lugnut and swatting away the little shurikens thrown at him as the ninja-bot flew away, landing gracefully on some bricks. Bulkhead was free of the rubble he was trapped under and whacked Blitzbrain in the face with his wrecking ball.
The triple-changer quickly recovered and shot out searing hot flames from his cannons, the Autobots jumping out of the way and seeking cover. The Decepticon stood guard, shooting out at any who tried to re-engage as Lugnut gathered up the materials they were stealing. Bumblebee could only watch with his optics wide.
Curse his lack of strength! He should be saving his team! His frame shook as he exerted all he could to escape the ice to no avail. Useless! He grunted and gave up, falling limp.
Sounds of battle from across the lot could be heard, thumps shaking the ground here and there, but Bumblebee could do nothing. He stared at the ground and watched the pebbles and rocks jitter with each little quake.
Two little rocks had a race towards a large crack in the dusty asphalt. One larger than the other, but the smaller was faster, being moved farther from the tremors more easily than the larger.
One particular impact caused both to jump, sending the little one flying. But upon coming back down from its little flight, it hit the asphalt on the wrong corner and bounced away from the crack. The larger rock stopped just short of it, ready to fall in at the next shake.
But there were no more impacts. No more stomps of pedes or frames hitting the ground. The construction area grew silent.
A shadow loomed over Bumblebee, and a large green pede crushed the rocks he was watching.
“Are you okay, Bumblebee?” Bulkhead asked, concerned as he crushed the ice in his servos to free the little Autobot. Useless, needing a teammate to get him out.
Bumblebee sullenly waved off the question with a smile that didn't quite reach his optics, picking himself up out of the rubble. “I’m fine.”
Ratchet approached and scanned over his frame, looking for damage. “Hmph. That was really stupid of you, you know. Taking on that lunatic ‘con by yourself.”
“He was gonna go after you guys! What was I supposed to do?” Bumblebee shot back. He didn’t move away when Ratchet went to grab his arm, exposing a deep gash in the metal.
“Oh, I don’t know — not provoke a dangerous Decepticon? Letting us handle it?” Ratchet snarked as he welded the cut on Bumblebee’s arm. “You can’t be so reckless around these ‘cons!” He spat, treating the name like a curse word.
Bumblebee snatched his arm away when he was done and stubbornly crossed it over his other one, ignoring the ache from the fresh welds. “I wasn’t being reckless; I was being an Autobot.”
“Kid, you’re not strong enough to take him on.” Ratchet tiredly swept a servo over his face. “Stop trying to be a hero.”
Bumblebee stared at him, taken aback. He knew he wasn’t strong but… he could do it, couldn’t he? He didn’t have to kill a Decepticon! Just hold him off until his team could handle the other. He wasn’t trying to be a hero, as much as he wanted to be. He was just trying to do what was right. But how could he when he wasn’t strong enough? How could he when he was so useless?
You’re not worth the time.
He couldn’t respond because Optimus stepped forward to mediate and placate the aggravated medic. “Ratchet, he did the best he could…”
“Yeah, and only got himself hurt.” Ratchet grumped. He’s a liability was left unsaid, but Bumblebee could hear it in his tone. He just knew that was what Ratchet truly wanted to say. He was a weak link in their team. Small and unable to fight. He got the message loud and clear and didn’t respond.
“Let’s get back to base and rest. Primus knows we all need it.” Optimus glanced at Bumblebee with a little concern.
Bumblebee pointedly looked away.
The young Prime sighed, but didn’t press. “Autobots, roll out!” Optimus did his little pose, pointing off into the distance, then transformed with the rest of his team. The five of them left the lot, Bumblebee in the back.
They drove slowly, having lost the fight with the two Decepticons.
Instead of doing his usual antics of driving recklessly around his teammates or racing through yellow lights, Bumblebee let himself lag further behind the team. He allowed human cars drive around him and actually used his turn signal for once.
He could feel the tension and concern in his teammates’ EM fields, occasionally brushing against his, which he kept quiet and close to himself. Blitzbrain’s stupid words were still ringing in his processor.
Bumblebee just wanted to get back to base and play his new video game. At least in that he could fight, and pretty darn well if he said so himself. He had already beat many of the levels and was slowly but surely approaching the final battle. He relaxed a little as he thought about it.
Humans could really make some fun and satisfying games.
Hopefully Prowl wouldn’t want the TV. They tended to fight over the remote a lot. Bumblebee enjoyed playing his games or watching competitive, actiony shows and absolutely despised the boring nature documentaries the ninja-bot watched. Seriously, how could anyone find that interesting?
Feeling a bit better, Bumblebee shot in front of his team when they neared the base, zooming into the lot and transforming, using the momentum to throw himself towards the front door. He had to get to the TV first!
He burst into the room and thank the Allspark! The TV was off; nobody was using it. The only one who could have been was Sari, but she wasn’t in the room, probably out for the day.
Bumblebee vaulted over the arm of the couch and tossed himself onto its hard, cement “cushion.” He grinned excitedly, snatching the controller off the coffee table and turning on the game console. It was time! He was going to beat the game, or at least get closer to beating it.
He selected his save data and loaded in as the rest of his team entered the base. They each looked exhausted but still walked with a sense of duty. Bumblebee chose to ignore them and turned the TV up, the sounds of action filling the room as he mashed the buttons.
At least here he could accomplish something—!
“Bumblebee, why don’t you help us with the cleanup?” Optimus suggested, picking up a datapad and writing notes on it. “We have some repairs and inventory to do.”
“But I’m busy with this campaign,” Bumblebee complained. “I can’t!”
Ratchet scoffed. “Seriously, kid? You just started playing.”
“Deliberately too.” Prowl added, unsurprised, as he walked past and disappeared into the corridor. Probably to tend to his stupid tree or something.
Bumblebee rolled his eyes as he mashed the controller buttons more aggressively. “I’ll just do it all later.”
Bulkhead came up behind the couch and rested a servo on the back of it. He glanced between Bee and the loud game. “Don’t you always say that?”
“Shhh! Sh-sh-shuuuu.” Bumblebee brought the controller closer to his face, optics glued to the screen. “I mean it this time.”
“...You said that last time, little buddy.” Bulkhead pointed out.
The little Autobot sunk into the couch. “Well, I mean that this time. And I mean that!”
“Exactly what you said last time,” Ratchet said, passing by with a box of various machine parts that only Primus knew what he was gonna do with.
Bumblebee swiveled around. “Nobody’s talking to you!” He quickly returned to his game, not pausing it as he glanced at the medic. But the action noises stopped and the screen was all black with the words GAME OVER in red. Bumblebee groaned. “You’re distracting me!”
“You’re the one that’s distracting,” Ratchet grumbled as he left the room.
The scout didn’t acknowledge it and pressed continue on the game. His virtual team was revived and he resumed playing.
The rest of the Autobots left him alone as he played.
An hour quickly passed and Bumblebee realized he was wrong; he couldn’t beat the game today. His characters weren’t at a high enough level and their gear wasn’t maxed out. He had hours of grinding ahead of him if he wanted to be able to take on the final boss.
Bumblebee let the controller fall into his lap and he sighed, his helm falling on the back of the cement couch. Grinding the same things over and over took forever and got old real fast. He was never gonna beat it at this rate!
He got to a save point in his game and with a pout saved and exited the game, turning off the console. He’ll pick the game back up in a few weeks. Or never.
With that out of the way, Bumblebee jumped off the couch and stood in the center of the room. Optimus glanced at him from the terminal. “Done with your game?”
“Tch.” Bumblebee crossed his arms defensively. “Maybe.”
“Well, we finished everything while you were playing,” Optimus said. “But you could—”
“Leaving!” Bumblebee announced, marching out of the room before the Prime could give him a task he didn’t want to do. He walked around a little until he came across the corridor with all their rooms. Sunlight peeked through Prowl’s door at the end of the hall, so naturally — pun intended — he was drawn to it.
He knocked on the wall and entered the room, gazing up at the large tree that broke through the ceiling and let in dappled sunlight that decorated the floor. Prowl sat in the center, servos settled on his crossed legs. He looked stiff and focused.
Bumblebee kicked some dust around, waiting to be noticed by his quiet teammate.
Prowl finally sighed but remained aggravatingly patient. “Don’t you have something better to do than disrupt my meditation, Bumblebee?”
“No.” Bee let himself flop on the floor and stared at the rustling leaves above. “Hey, how many leaves are on your tree?”
The cyber-ninja followed his optics up to the large canopy. “I… have not thought to count,” Prowl said, maintaining his meditative position as he observed the green leaves with him.
Somehow Bumblebee didn’t believe that. “Really? With all the time you spend in here, tending to that thing? You haven’t counted?”
“Nature is ever-changing. I cannot possibly begin to track how many leaves are on the tree, how many grow and how many fall, nor can I control it. Such is life and how the flow of nature—”
“Okay, okay! Geez. I didn’t ask for a nature lesson.” Bumblebee waved his arms. “Could’ve just turned on your boring documentaries if I wanted that.”
Prowl breathed in and out deeply and straightened his back. “They are not boring. They are just understimulating to your overactive but starving processor.”
“My who-what now?” Bumblebee picked up his helm to quirk a confused optic ridge at the cyber-ninja. Before Prowl could answer, the words he said suddenly appeared in his mind. “My starving processor?!”
“Yes. You need something to do with your frame while you partake in TV activities, and sitting to watch unengaging footage of Earthian fauna will predictably lead to irritation and restlessness. Hence why you prefer more involvement and action in the media you consume, such as those racing shows or fighting games you’re constantly playing.”
He blinked owlishly at his teammate. Not a single word was absorbed in Bumblebee’s processor except “racing” and “fighting.” He nodded with a grimace. “Riiight. Sure.” He let his helm thunk back on the ground and he was back to staring at the wiggling leaves. They were a little mesmerizing. After a single minute of silence, his optics widened with a new surfacing question. “Oh! What about acorns?”
Prowl sighed heavily at the disruption. His visor trained itself on the far wall and his mouth was set in a firm line. “What about them?”
“Have you counted those?” Bee asked with a hopeful smile.
“No. This tree doesn’t grow acorns.” He repositioned himself and resumed his meditation, his chin held high.
Bumblebee pouted at the cyber-ninja and went back to staring at the leaves as they fought valiantly against each other for some sun, the wind aiding them in their fight—! But Bee’s excitement quickly died down when he remembered they were all leaves that led to the same tree. There was no fight to be had. He clicked his tongue, then came up with a new idea. He sat up quickly, bringing his knees up. “Oh, what about—”
“Bumblebee,” Prowl said firmly, then softened his voice. “You know this is a time for meditation. Why don’t you find something else to do?”
Time. You’re not worth the time.
The little scout sagged but soon picked himself up off the floor. “Alright. It was getting kinda boring in here anyway.”
“As life tends to be for you,” Prowl commented.
Bumblebee groaned as he walked out of Prowl’s room. He needed something else to do, but what? He paced around the hallway and noticed the door to the med bay was open.
Perfect.
“Hey, doc bot,” Bumblebee poked his helm in. Ratchet merely glanced at him and pointedly returned to his welding, ignoring the scout. He pouted but wasn’t deterred. “Hey. Hey, doc bot. Doc bot? Doc. Hey, Docky. Dockydoodly bot. Dockledoodly-doo. Hey, Dockl—”
“WHAT.” Ratchet whipped around, servos gripping his tools and looking about ready to break them. “Can’t you see I’m busy? What do you want?”
Bumblebee shrugged with a grin.
Ratchet seethed. “Typical annoying brat. You are wasting my time.”
The grin on Bee’s face faltered a little and he clenched his jaw as that sentence once again echoed in his processor. You’re not worth the time. But that didn’t deter Bumblebee. If anything, it only encouraged him. He needed some sort of socialization, even if it was annoying someone. Better than nothing, right?
“I have nothing to do.” He shrugged again then leaned into the medic’s work. “Want me to do something?”
“Oh, so now you have time for us?” Ratchet snarked, shoving Bumblebee’s face away. “Go bother someone else, kid. I’m trying to work. You know, like a functional member of this team? Tired of hearing your voice already.”
Bumblebee chose to ignore the last couple comments and the sharp sting they sent shooting through his frame and let out an exaggerated groan. “There’s no one else to bother!”
“And how is that my problem?” Ratchet huffed, leaning into his work and welding a fine line. “Go bother Bulkhead. He’s your friend, ain’t he?”
He’s your friend, but I’m not, he could hear and finally deflated. Bumblebee muttered quietly. “He’s always busy with his art.”
“‘Course he is. At least he’s spending his time well. What about Prowl?”
Oh, seriously? “You know he meditates at this time! Besides, I already tried bothering him.”
“Optimus. Go bother Optimus then. Primus knows only he has the patience for it,” Ratchet grumbled. “Now leave me alone.”
Bumblebee crossed his arms and turned around to walk out of the med bay. “Fine! You’re no fun anyway.”
“War does that to you,” the old medic mumbled.
Neither made any further comment as Bumblebee left and Ratchet continued his work. The base was quiet. Way too quiet for someone like Bumblebee and it was bound to drive him crazy. He needed activity!
As he walked down the corridor, he snapped his digits and bumped his fist on the wall repeatedly, processor desperate for some sort of noise to fill the silence. He watched his pedes as he took each step, adjusting his gait for some variation in his currently lacking life. He had so much energy, and nothing to do!
Bumblebee lifted his optics from the floor as he entered the main room, spotting Optimus over at the terminal still. The Prime didn’t notice the scout’s return at first until Bee entered his peripheral. He hummed. “Oh, back to play more video games already?”
They glanced at the unoccupied TV, his controller sitting innocently on the coffee table. Bee shook his helm and kicked at the floor. “No…”
“Do you need something from me, then?” Optimus asked, turning away from the terminal to focus on his scout.
Bumblebee was quiet for a moment, helm ducked and pede still kicking. His shoulders hunched then exaggeratedly relaxed and he groaned. “I’m so bored!”
Optimus thought for a second. “Well, like I was going to say earlier, you could go on a patrol. Always good to have somebot out there.”
“That’s too boring!” Bumblebee complained, throwing his helm back. “There’s nothing to do!”
“Bulkhead can’t spend time with you?” The Prime innocently suggested.
This again? “He’s busy with his art — and before you ask, Prowl is meditating and Ratchet is working …on something. Old medic things. I don’t know!”
“Old medic things that are probably important. Best not to bother him.” Optimus nodded in understanding. But you’re not important.
“Ugh! Well I know that now!” Bumblebee exclaimed. “Everyone’s too busy to do anything.”
The Prime hummed, “I can’t help you with that, Bumblebee. I have my own duties right now. Maybe you can clean your room for once? Would be doing something productive with your time.”
He groaned even louder than last time. Clean his room?! He was bored but not that bored! Bumblebee groaned again, dragging it out for several seconds. He let it end dramatically, slouching for emphasis, then started another that went on for twice as long. He hunched over further with each one.
He was so, so bored.
Optimus watched the spectacle for a moment and turned back to the terminal. “Try starting with all the empty oil cans. That’s usually the easiest task.”
Bumblebee let his faceplates contract into a deep scowl, his brows and the corner of his lips pulling down as far as they could go. He kept that expression as he left the room once again. He didn’t want to do that! At all! He wished it could just be done for him but alas, it was his own room and he was responsible for it.
Primus, how could he be so useless?
Everything that came out of everyone’s mouths hurt, but Bulkhead wouldn’t say something mean, right? He’d enjoy Bee’s company? Bumblebee opted for his big green best friend and made his way down to his room. The door was closed but unlocked, so he pushed it open and poked his helm in.
“Hey, big guy.” Bumblebee grinned. “Whatcha up to?”
Bulkhead didn’t spare him a glance, fully focused on his little (okay, really large) painting. His optics were bright and happy as they stared at his work. “Art.”
“Wanna chat while you do that?” The scout put his servos behind his back and walked up to his friend. “I’m pretty bored.”
“I’m sorry, Bumblebee, but I don’t have the time.” Bulkhead gestured to his art with his large flat paintbrush, a soft, prideful smile on his face. “I’m working on my next masterpiece!”
Time. You’re not worth the time.
It was all he could hear from that. Nobody had time for him. Was he just a waste? Bumblebee tried to smile regardless. Bulkhead was his best friend! He couldn’t care more about art than him, could he? Bumblebee looked at the mess of colors on the canvas. “What does it all mean?”
“The importance of empathy and peace,” Bulkhead said, inspirationally while holding his paintbrush up.
Bumblebee blankly watched as red paint dripped off the brush and onto the messy palette below. “Riiight… That’s cool n’ all.” Bee leaned up on the large table the easel sat on, his shoulder bumped the canvas. “Say, you wanna know how long it took me to beat—”
“Careful!” Bulkhead exclaimed. His big servos came to steady the canvas, which had started to slide off the easel. He looked a little aggravated. Was he angry? Was that a look of anger? Was he angry at Bumblebee? Did that make him really mad? Bulkhead huffed. “I need this piece done for my art show soon. I can’t afford it getting messed up!”
He must be mad. Bee placed his servos on the canvas, helping steady it further. He didn’t want his friend to be mad. “I didn’t mean to—”
His digits suddenly smeared on the wet paint and Bulkhead quickly but carefully snatched the canvas away from him, examining the painting with a meticulous gaze. He held the canvas at a distance as he looked at the yellow scout. “Maybe you should just go.”
Too focused on the canvas, the scout missed what Bulkhead had said. “What?”
“I said maybe you should just go!” Bulkhead repeated, louder and more irritable.
Bumblebee froze, his helm tingling with hurt. He stared at his friend with wide optics. “I’m sorry.”
Bulkhead didn’t respond, his frame turned away from Bee and his gaze glued to his canvas. His palette was left on the table, messy and splattered a little from being dropped when the canvas slipped. Empathy and peace… where was that for him? Bumblebee clenched his fists and removed his optics from the stupid palette of annoying chaos.
Just go.
Something in him wanted to stay, to continue talking to convince Bulkhead he was fun to be around, but another part of him hated that. Hated himself for the idea. He knew it’d just make his friend — friend? — more mad. He slowly sulked out of the room, fuming at himself, and left Bulkhead to his calm and likable art.
His shoulders ached as he scrunched them as far as they would go and stomped down the hall, away from all the stupidity. Away from the people who didn’t want him around. Who found him annoying. His fists at his side occasionally loosened to grip at his upper arms, his digits leaving small dents and scuffs on the small black plating.
Maybe he shouldn’t be here.
Bumblebee furrowed his brows and tightly squeezed his optics shut. His throat felt like it was twisting and coolant stung at the backs of his optics. He quickened his gait, hurrying down the hall.
Maybe they didn’t want him here.
He opened his optics but didn’t truly see his surroundings as he stormed through the main room, ignoring whatever stupidly considerate greeting Optimus threw his way and the concerned questions that followed.
They didn’t need him.
Bumblebee kept his optics dead set on the door leading outside, his fists firmly at his side with his shoulders scrunched. Anger poured off him, dripping like thick oil puddles lying in his wake. He felt too hot. Too constrained. Too cold. Too scrutinized. Too useless. Too annoying.
The word stung to him. Annoying. That's all he was.
He left the base, greeted by the cool night air of Detroit. He transformed, ignoring the sparks flying from parts shifting too aggressively and sped off, away from the base to anywhere but there. Where would he go? He was most certainly not in the mood to go looking at games, his current one had him exhausted and he did not think he could handle socialization right now. He would just annoy everyone anyhow.
It was too early in the night for any street races. He would get in trouble for those anyway and he didn’t want to make his team angrier. To hate him more.
Bumblebee could feel his frame tighten with anger and he sped up on the street, flying through a yellow light before it could turn red. He wasn’t going to be stopped. He needed out. He needed to be as far away from stupid reminders as possible. He left the base, he passed by a bunch of places the Autobots and Decepticons previously fought at. He passed by the empty lot from earlier today. There was a large wet area where the ice he was trapped in had melted, taking longer to dry in the night.
Whatever. He didn’t care. He just wanted to leave.
Primus fragging stupid Prowl and his stupid nature obsession, Bee thought as he zoomed out of Detroit, leaving the glistening city behind him and heading towards the forests that surrounded it. Maybe he would feel a little better after being away from everything. Away from civilization and people and his team and stupid Decepticons and the video game that would take him too long to beat and his messy room he hadn’t cleaned in months and the ice he had gotten stuck in and he wished he could get away from his stupid frame. His stupid, useless, weak frame. And his stupid, annoying processor that everyone hated him for.
He was useless in battle, he was useless at the base, he was useless to his team. He was just an annoying washout who happened to get stuck with this team. Not even Bulkhead liked him.
You’re not worth the time.
Primus, did he wish he could get away from his processor. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be a functional member of his team and stop annoying the slag out of everyone?
Bumblebee ignored the dirt and gravel that stung his undercarriage as he drove off the road into the forest. His alt. mode was not made for off-roading but he didn't care. At least it wasn't the urban streets he was suddenly tired of.
Mud caked his bright yellow plating as he tore through the forest. When the trees and foliage became too thick, he transformed and continued on pede. His optics glued themselves to the ground, not catching onto any rock or plant that he walked over. They didn't matter anyhow. Did he?
Bumblebee soon approached a large clearing, trees and large rocks framing it. At the far end, there was an opening that looked out into the sky. Bumblebee could see the tips of skyscrapers just over the ground; it was most likely a cliff. He crossed the clearing to see more of the skyline, then sat near the edge of the cliff. His optics dimmed as he looked over the sparkling city of Detroit.
Sounds of the city were faint, with the occasional honk of a car or helicopter flying heard. Bumblebee didn't care. He was quite numb to it all. Nothing he saw or heard registered as he focused on the pain gripping at his spark and processor. Useless.
He knew this happened often and it didn't matter the next day, but something about this day caused him to be more stupidly sensitive and quick to anger. He hated it. He hated being like this. He hated being like himself. He was sure his team hated him too. They only interacted with him just to humor him, just to get him to go away faster. Did they even like talking to him? Did he say anything of use to them ever?
And that stupid Decepticon. Bumblebee kicked himself for being so dumb and taking his words to spark. Why did his stupid words hurt so much? You're not worth the time. Bumblebee mocked the jet-tank-whatever the slag he was in his helm with a silly voice, then deflated. Perhaps because it was true. When was Bee ever worth the time? He was useless. He had no actual skills, no advantage in battle except for his obnoxious personality as Prowl once put it, no worthwhile friendship value. All he did was talk, talk, talk — did anyone care about his words?
Of course they didn't. Why would they? He never had anything good to say. He was just annoying, and so was his voice. Bumblebee's mouth twisted and his servo came up to grip his aching throat. His stupid, annoying, grating voice. How could anyone like it? Why did he have to have not only an annoying personality but an annoying voice to listen to? His digits tightened. Why couldn't he just be mute? Or speak less? Everyone would thank Primus for it, they wouldn't get so irritated upon hearing it.
Empathy and peace, frag that. If his team wanted that so much, then he just won't go back. It was very clear that they didn't need him. Bee's absence would give them peace. It was one way he could be empathetic.
His servos absently went down to the damp dirt and curled into it, feeling the crumbly earth that cooled his digits. It felt nice. He wished he could just bury himself in it and never come back out — that was what humans did with their dead, wasn't it? If that's what it meant to not bother his team anymore…
His optics found the city again, he wasn't quite sure if they ever looked away but he certainly hadn't been seeing. The lights glistened and blinked from the distance and sounds distantly rumbled. A couple sirens could be heard, probably human firefighters or ambulances going around being more heroic than Bumblebee could ever hope to be.
Fragging Ratchet, the old grumpy ambulance. He probably hated Bumblebee the most. But something in Bee thought about Bulkhead. He hated Bee too, didn't he? He was the one who probably really really hated him, only tolerated being friends out of pity or-or something. Bumblebee wasn't quite sure why Bulkhead or anybody for that matter put up with him. Obligation? Boredom? Just trying to be nice, but in a bad way?
Bumblebee's spark curled in on itself, his stomach following as his position crunched a little, bringing his knees up to his chest. Did they only interact to be nice? That awkward social situation where they only interact out of necessity and because the annoying kid didn't have anyone to talk to? The city smeared and blurred as coolant stung his optics.
No. He angrily swiped the tears away and sniffed. He wouldn't cry. All of this was his fault, and crying wasn't going to magically make his team like him. He was pathetic. Why couldn’t he just be likable?
The city noises grew louder, a deep hum tearing through the sky to reach his audios — his suddenly very sensitive audios ...or was the sound getting closer? Whatever. If whatever that sound was was dangerous, so fragging be it. He didn’t care. So Bee didn't bother figuring it out. He kept his stinging optics on the city, still blurring the scene. It was fine, he wasn't seeing it anymore. He just let the thoughts take his processor away.
He ignored the deep sound of the engine as it got closer and didn't react when something heavy landed behind him, shaking the ground. He didn't even care when he heard the telltale whirr of none other than stupid Blitzbrain's face.