Chapter Text
Jack's heart raced, his eyes grew wide and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up. Lying back on the dusty shed floor, he raised his hands in a protective gesture as he looked up at the looming dark figure rising before him like a phoenix from the ashes. The light coming in from outside concealed the face of the sinister shadow, which looked down at him with its arms on its hips.
Then he heard a laugh.
It was at this moment that he realized who he had in front of him and his initial panic turned to outright indignation, anger and infinite shame as his face, for the umpteenth time today, took on a reddish hue.
“Miko!”
The japanese girl held her stomach as she leaned forward and squeezed her eyes shut. In between the short breaths she could barely take, she pointed her finger at the bewildered teenager.
“You should see your face!” she burst out as she nearly rolled on the floor in sheer amusement, like an inverted ladybug. "Too good. And then that screeching. I didn't know you could reach such tones. Ever thought about starting in the school choir, Jack-Man?"
“Not funny!” the victim grumbled and got up from the floor before brushing off his now soiled pants. Great, he had freshly peeled them out of the closet today and had planned to wear them again tomorrow. So much for the plan.
He glared at the girl in front of him and crossed his arms. She, however, took the older boy's murderous gaze almost nonchalantly, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. She rebuilt herself to her full height. Though she was still smaller than Jack as a result, that didn't stop her from teasing and picking at the teenager's metaphorical wound.
"Hah, I wish I had captured that. That would have been a great picture for the group chat." Teasingly, she poked him in the side with her elbow and gave him a mischievous glare. “Don't you think so, Jackster?”
"Are you done now? Have we had enough fun at other people's expense?" - “Ugh!” Miko rolled her eyes and threw her head back. "You're almost as much of a bore as Ratchet or Optimus. And here I thought you were cool."
With a whistling tone, the younger girl sauntered out of the shed, leaving only a, again very indignant, Jack behind. "I am cool! And older too, so you'd better show some respect."
In response, he only received a hand gesture to mimic him, otherwise Miko didn't give him a second glance. Jack huffed, briefly considering following her and standing his ground, which could prove difficult with Miko if you weren't careful, but decided against it in the end.
He was the wiser and the wiser gave in, right? No matter how unsatisfactory that might be.
So he grabbed the grill behind him again and dragged the heavy thing out of the shed and into the sun, where he quickly spotted the others who had joined them, spread out on the lawn like garden gnomes.
Miko had joined a broad, beefy man who was looking around the garden with his big green eyes and rubbing his short, brown mop of hair thoughtfully. Despite his muscular form, you could see that he was rather unsteady on his feet and didn't know what to do with himself. Countless bags hung from his cargo pants, and he wore a worn-out denim vest over his green shirt, on which numerous patches were sewn or glued. Band logos or other symbols were emblazoned on it, some of which Jack even recognized as wrestlers' trademarks. A black Autobot crest was tattooed on the massive upper arm of the warm-skinned giant, whom Jack immediately recognized as Bulkhead.
Raf and Bumblebee were standing not far from them, by the flower beds. Curious, the young scout had bent over the many different, colorful blossoms and had Rafael explain to him which ones they were, who googled it directly on his laptop, which he had in his lap while sitting cross-legged in the grass.
Jack couldn't help but realize how young Bumblebee actually was. Maybe just around twenty years old, barely older than Jack himself.
While the teenager was sure that the Autobots could adjust the age of their holoforms as they pleased, he firmly believed that they chose an age that was in proportion to their real age. Again, a strange sentence when you thought about the fact that these were millennial warriors, but Jack was sure he'd gotten the message across enough.
Bumblebee stood out the most of the bots.
With straw-blond, wild hair and an almost youthful, round face that always had a big grin on it, he seemed so much more childlike than the rest of the Cybertronians. The bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement whenever the scout discovered something new, and this was reflected in the fidgety and energetic way in which Bumblebee moved as a human. When it came to his clothing style, however, the youngest of the Autobots had taken a great example from Rafael, because just like the boy, Bumblebee was dressed in oversized clothes. A yellow and black hoodie with a long hood, loose black trousers and sneakers that weren't even tied properly. Jack wondered whether this was intentional or if the scout simply couldn't tie his shoelaces.
Unfortunately, as they had soon discovered, the holoforms did nothing to change the Scout's muteness and, on top of that, took away his ability to communicate via Morse code - at least that's how Ratchet had explained it to them once. Bumblebee's beeps and tones were not random, but reflected an ancient Cybertronian Morse code that only remotely resembled human Morse code. This, or something like it, could explain why Miko and he couldn't understand what Bee was saying and Rafael did.
Jack still hadn't fully understood that.
As the teenager dragged the grill further across the lawn, over to the spot where they always grilled, he inevitably attracted the attention of the others. Rafael raised a hand in greeting, shouldered his backpack and strolled over to Jack with Bee beside him.
“Sorry about Miko,” the red-haired boy began. “I tried to stop her.”
Jack just waved it off in response. " Nah, never mind. No big deal. We know Miko. What's up, Bee?" He smiled at the scout, who raised his hand brightly and then pointed a finger questioningly at the grill. Jack couldn't tell exactly what Bee wanted to know from him - and inwardly he wondered how Raf and he Scout communicated with each other at all in this form - but with the human facial expressions, at least the Scout's non-verbal messages were easier to understand.
Jack rubbed the sweaty back of his neck before answering, sending a prayer to the heavens that he had interpreted Bee's question correctly. "That's the grill. We'll make dinner on it later. You put some coal in it, light it and then the cooking can begin."
Bee blinked understandingly and took a closer look at the appliance before stroking a finger over the sooty grate, only to grimace in disgust when his finger turned black. Almost offended, the bot raised his hand and stared at his finger with wide eyes.
Raf chuckled, but then quickly gasped in disgust when his protector swiped his dirty finger across his face in response, leaving a black, unsightly stain.
"Bah! Stop that Bee." Raf pushed his attacker's pricking fingers away as he lapsed into giggles.
In response, the scout's eyes merely narrowed challengingly as he crossed his arms with a triumphant grin.
“If you want, Bee, you can bring me the coal,” Jack interrupted them, pointing to the sack a few meters away. Better stop any kind of challenge between Bee and Raf before the duo disappeared into the next corner with their consoles and became unapproachable for the rest of the day.
Man, Jack thought, almost annoyed. Ever since the bots had the holoforms, it was Bee who used his by far the most and yet he was seen less and less because he and Raf were lost in gaming for hours as a result. Ratchet had even started giving the scout time-outs and confiscating the bot's beloved game console for the night, which in turn had only left Bee in a bad mood. How many times had he been seen standing in a corner like a sulky child?
But now the scout blinked at Jack a few times, then looked at the bag before saluting, turning on the heel he'd knocked together earlier and marching over to the coal.
Jack, meanwhile, lifted the filthy grate from the grill and grabbed the brush hanging on the side before he began to scrub. Behind him, he heard the rustling of the coal bag as Bumblebee carried it to the grill, huffing and puffing.
“You can throw the coal into the basket,” Jack explained without lifting his eyes, once he was sure that Bee was within earshot.
The sounds that followed spoke enough for him to know what was going on in the teenager's back. He heard the rustling of the coal bag and Raf's advice as Bumblebee seemed to lose the fight against the bag.
Amazing, Jack thought for a moment as he hung the brush back up and looked proudly at his cleaning job. That Transformers had such problems with a simple bag of coal. It was almost hard to believe that these were the same warriors who had been locked in a bitter war for eons.
Jack turned and almost burst out laughing.
Bee, his head bright red, stood over the coal sack with his legs apart and tried with all his might to open it, so much so that the young man's knuckles were already sticking out white. Raf stood next to him, tilting his head, but also biting his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud as the scout's head turned the next shade of red.
Bulkhead and Miko joined them behind them.
The Japanese girl shifted her weight to one leg, sticking her hip out and looking with a raised eyebrow at the endeavor Bee was currently struggling with.
“What's that supposed to be, Bee?” Quickly, her confusion turned to energy as she clenched her fists. "Come on! You're a several-ton warrior from an alien planet. You're not going to let some ridiculous bag get you down, are you? Show me you've got some muscle!"
"Hold on, Bee. Gimme that. I'll do it."
Those were the famous last words of Bulkhead as he reached over Bumblebee's shoulder to take the bag from the scout's hand, against the latter's protests and wounded pride.
Bulkhead was undoubtedly much stronger than Bee, no question. But Jack wondered how long the bots would fight with the coal before they realized that the pouch was held together by a threaded string. Had they even realized that? The string, which was threaded into the thick paper at the top, was easy to see.
Well, Jack's considerations came too late and the disaster inevitably took its catastrophic course.
With a final, deep grunt, Bulkhead's holoform tugged at the very ends of the bag. The seam, which had bravely withstood every attack until now, surrendered to the sudden force with a hiss and from one second to the next, the top of the pouch opened without any protest.
Unfortunately, the Wrecker had seemingly forgotten all about centrifugal force, and the excess power he had used evaporated into thin air as his arms flew back aimlessly and his fist landed unfavorably in Bumblebee's face.
Jack's eyes widened, Miko cupped her hands over her mouth, Raf went pale, Bulkhead ducked his head in shame and Bee? Well, the scout danced around on one leg as if stung by a Cybertronian tarantula, pressed his hands to his nose and grimaced.
Funnily enough, Jack was quite grateful that the scout couldn't talk. He didn't want to imagine what would otherwise come out of his mouth.
"Bee? Are you okay?" Raf rushed over to his friend and put a hand on his arm, but it didn't do much good as the man turned on the spot, clenching his hands into fists at his sides and eyeing Bulkhead with a look that would make even Megatron take a cautious step back.
Bulkhead dropped the sack of coal and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, his head retracting further and further as he kept apologizing to Bumblebee for the slip, but to little avail. Bee just stomped towards Bulkhead, standing on tiptoe as he stood directly in front of him, overcoming the remaining inches to Bulkhead's face.
For a moment everything was quiet, then Bee raised his fingers, pointed them at his eyes and then at Bulkhead's. An unmistakable message that said: Better sleep with your eyes open tonight, buddy.
The message would have been a lot scarier if the scout's nose hadn't turned a bright red, giving him a slight resemblance to Rudolph the Reindeer.
Nevertheless, the Wrecker just swallowed and refrained from any further apologies.
The three kids all gave each other thoughtful looks, but then it was Raf who came to Bee's side, took the scout by the hand and pulled him towards the house. "Come on, Bee. Let's ask Mrs. Darby for something to cool your nose, yeah?"
At last, at last, the scout took his eyes off Bulkhead and with a snivelling look, rubbed his aching nose, leaving only Jack, Miko and Bulkhead behind. The latter was still holding his head between his shoulders, looking after the scout.
Just as Bee had disappeared into the kitchen, Arcee peeled out, giving him a startled glance and then looking at the other three.
“What happened to Bee?”
“Bulkhead accidentally punched him in the nose.”
“Ah.”
***
As Bumblebee stepped into the kitchen with Rafael, where June was currently sweeping up the last shards of the plate incident, the Medibot himself was busy hopping around Optimus like a grasshopper, scrutinizing the last of the Primes down to the finest hair, hoping to either find no permanent damage or discover an excuse to leave this event without a second thought and put these holoforms to rest.
Unfortunately, the former was the case and Optimus was left with no permanent damage other than an unpleasant headache and a small bump on the back of his head. However, just as Ratchet was about to press the cold pack to the back of the Prime's head, the medic's gaze fell straight on Bumblebee, who stepped into the kitchen with a bright red nose and a disgruntled expression.
“Bumblebee!” gasped the oldest man in the room. “What, by the Spark of Solus Prime happened to you?”
Knowing that he wouldn't get an answer from the scout himself - they really had to find a solution to that at some point - Ratchet turned to Rafael, who just solicitously pulled Bee back a chair at the kitchen table where Optimus was also sitting.
“An accident,” Raf replied, his eyes fixed on Bumblebee.
Ratchet suppressed an eye roll as much as he suppressed the urge to throw wrenches at Bulkhead whenever he destroyed something that belonged to the Medic. So not at all. An accident, of course.
It almost seemed like the bots around him got more damage in one day as humans than they had in the past million years of war.
"And what is it this time? Did he run into a door or what? Were you two again engrossed in your Daddle thingies and not paying attention? I knew those video games are no good. We'd better put a time limit on this nonsense. Or even better! A complete ban."
While Bee was already pushing his lower lip forward at the thought of saying goodbye to the video games that he had become so fond of in his years on Earth and felt equally wronged because, on the one hand, he was not responsible for his condition and, on the other, Ratchet wanted to punish him for it, Optimus sighed in resignation next to the Medic while Raf was the only one gracious enough to clear up the whole situation.
“It wasn't Bee's fault, Ratchet.” - “Oh?” The Medic raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
"It was Bulkhead. He accidentally punched him in the face when he..." Raf suddenly became very quiet as he looked up at the Autobot Medic again, realizing rather quickly that perhaps he should have found a different way to phrase the story, which should have started with the fact that it was all just an accident. Because the Medic almost seemed to shake in his place behind Optimus and there was that twitch on the mech's lower eyelid again.
“Five minutes,” he finally mumbled, after everyone in the kitchen had eyed him anxiously. Then the CMO raised his hand, pressed the cold pack harder than necessary against the back of the Prime's head, who only scrunched up his face in pain in response, and then stomped straight out into the garden, continuing to rant to himself.
"Five whole minutes, apparently that's all it takes for someone to get hurt again. Just wait, he's in for a big surprise if I get my hands on him. He'll clean up the whole base, I promise you that, that enormous, clumsy..." The rest of the rant was lost when Ratchet had left the kitchen so far behind that he could no longer be heard.
Only the four others remained, looking after him with their heads tilted.
While Raf was already ducking his head at the thought of what awaited Bulkhead, June wondered whether she should teach the Autobot doctor a few blood pressure-lowering exercises - apparently he needed it. Optimus, meanwhile, walked over to Bumblebee and pressed the cool pack he'd been using on the scout's nose, which only made Bumblebee flinch in shock before he realized how good the cooling was and dropped back into his chair without lifting another finger.
In the end, it was Raf who looked up at Optimus. “Shouldn't we stop him?”
“Sometimes, Rafael.” the leader began slowly, looking down at the boy. "It's better not to stand in the way of fate. Especially when fate is leading Ratchet. I'm sure our old friend will do Bulkhead no harm."
Optimus couldn't have been more wrong.