A/N: Yeah so whatever, I needed to write this. You all must find this horribly strange, but I'm going off solely the movie as it's been probably a decade since I've seen any of the original cartoons. DEAL. Just a nice little fluffy thing.
Sammy boy, you have really fucked up now.
The list of things a high school boy wants is relatively short. Beautiful, babelicious girlfriend – check. Parents that stay out of his personal business – check. Super-cool, awesome car that can transform into a giant robot – double check.
Sam Witwicky has all the amenities a young man could possibly want. There's just one tiny little problem.
He's pretty sure that he's in love with his car.
You know, the one that transforms into a giant robot.
And not in the way guys normally are in love with cars – like, he thinks he might feel actual affection for the thing. Not thing, him. Bumblebee.
Seriously, really fucked up here, Sam.
Sam rests his head on the steering wheel of the giant robot, eyes closed as Mikaela goes into her home. He runs over the checklist again. He's got the girl, the family, the car.
So of course, he has to make things complicated, doesn't he? He has to love the girl but love the car more. Jesus – as if life couldn't be any more complicated.
The radio dial spins and lands on the quiet after-hours music station they always listen to on the way home after dropping off Mikaela.
"Yeah, yeah... I know. Curfew."
Bumblebee never really talks when he's a car, but it's not a big deal. He's really good at using the radio, so it all works out.
When Garbage comes on the radio singing, "I never said I was perfect, but I can drive you home," Sam leans back gratefully and nods.
The Camaro pulls back onto the main street and steers itself – something no one would believe possible in real life. Not Sam, though – he's pretty sure nothing could surprise him now.
"Mikaela gave your engine one hell of a work-over, huh?" No answer, but then again, he's not expecting one. "I dunno if I should be jealous or not, man."
"Secret lovers, yeah, that's what we are-"
Sam chuckles. "I really wonder what's going to happen when the airways don't have a song for you to use."
Bumblebee doesn't change the station and so Sam listens to Atlantic Starr, wondering if the robot's answering him, or just likes the song. That wouldn't surprise Sam at all – the guy's got a weird taste in music.
You have the weird tastes, Sam, he thinks sardonically, tilting his head back against the leather headrest, You love your car.
He looks at the clock on the radio and asks, "Hey, do you wanna go stretch your legs for a bit, before we go home? We've got enough time."
Bumblebee revs his engine and turns off the main street, heading towards the lake and, in turn, the overlook they go to when the car is no longer a car.
Sam wonders where the other Autobots are, but isn't too concerned. They're out there – just like he's out there. If he really needs them, they'll show up.
He'd like to maybe talk to Optimus, though. Get his opinion on the very forbidden Car and Owner relationship.
They hit the outlook in about fifteen minutes and Sam slides out of the Camaro easily, taking a few steps back as Bumblebee shudders, jerks, and – well, transforms.
"Much better," the Autobot groans appreciatively, stretching his arms over his head.
"Seriously, Atlantic Starr? You've got the weirdest taste in music."
Bumblebee shrugs. "It fit the accusations."
"I wasn't accusing – wait! Do you mean you are secret lovers?" Sam hides his grin when he turns dramatically. "Great, even my car can steal my girl."
Bumblebee puts a hand down in front of Sam and picks him up flawlessly, turning the boy to look at him. "What can I say? She's good with engines."
"Okay, now I don't even know if you're kidding or not."
He's pretty sure the robot's grinning, but it's kind of hard to tell, with the strange facial structure.
Sam turns his head away from the grinning robot and towards the view from the cliff. He can see pretty much an entire city spread out below him. "This is pretty cool, Bumblebee. You can see everything from way up here."
The Autobot sets the human on his shoulder and nods a little. "You have a beautiful planet."
"It'd be better off without some of the humans," Sam sighs, "But yeah, all in all? Pretty nice."
They stand in silence for a bit, taking in the view, and then Bumblebee asks, "Do you... Why do humans find this..." Silence, and then, "Romantic?"
"Serious questions tonight," Sam replies, looking at the lights. "Not sure, really. I guess pretty things just... get people in the mood or something."
"There is a – mood?"
Bumblebee hasn't been on Earth very long, Sam decides, so it makes sense he wouldn't get all the finer points of being human, or having human emotions.
"Yeah. You know; the mood. Fuzzy feelings and roses and stuff."
There's a sigh within the robot as he shifts, "Such as kissing on my hood? Is that mood?"
Sam blushes. "Yeah, I guess. I dunno. It's not really a... non-human thing."
"We have something like... 'romantic.' Though, we don't... kissing, moods... fuzzy feelings – they're not part of it."
"I'm not surprised. Robots can't really – well, y'know, kiss."
Bumblebee sounds slightly smug when he says, "You would be surprised at what we can do."
Sam grins, "More than meets the eye?"
"That is becoming a catchphrase, isn't it?"
The human chuckles and leans against the robot's head, relaxing. "So, what would happen if you transformed with me still inside?"
He can actually feel the mechanics inside the robot's head whirl as he decides on an answer, and now the metal body is tensing slightly.
"That would be... disastrous."
"New upholstery, to say the least."
They lapse back into silence and the lights below flicker like real stars.
"Romantic," Bumblebee says suddenly.
Sam finds himself nodding, "Yeah," before flushing again and saying, "Well, as much as it can be, with a giant robot and a teenage boy."
The robot's gears hum in his head and he says nothing.
"Kind of late," Sam finally says, after the silence stretches to near-unbearable, "Should we go?"
"In a moment. I'm... looking up something on the World Wide Web."
"Normal conversation topics for romantic situations."
"You do realize this isn't really, you know, a romantic situation? I mean, giant robot, little human, doesn't really strike the mood."
"Just researching." Gears click and Bumblebee chuckles, "You sound vaguely nervous."
"Well – I mean, you're my car. Er. Protector-slash-car-slash-giant robot. Still, a car. Metal and engines and stuff."
Bumblebee doesn't say anything, leaving Sam to fidget on his massive shoulder. The human can hear the mechanics inside the other's head and figures they must be the... search engine of sorts.
"This is useless," Bumblebee finally says, sounding resigned and just a smidge annoyed, "Everything is contradictory."
"Welcome to the land of human relationships, my friend," Sam sighs, patting the robot on the side of the head lightly.
"Do you realize I can feel that?"
The human blinks and leans forward to see one blue optic. "For real? I thought you were all metal."
"Metal conducts sound, vibration, and heat just like flesh, if a little muted. We feel just as much pain and pleasure from touches as humans... though I suppose a human kicking me wouldn't be very painful at all."
"Point. So, like, this entire time, you've... felt me? That's kinda weird."
The robot seems to grin again and he says, "Now you know why I don't mind you making out on my hood."
"Dude – that means, that one time when Mikaela and I..."
Oh Jesus, Sam groans inwardly, slouching in embarrassment.
"It was more awkward for me then, than it is for you now," Bumblebee says, reaching a hand forward and holding it out for Sam to step on to. "Almost curfew."
Sam climbs into the robot's hand and when he hits the ground, the other is staring down at him in thought.
"What's up, big guy?"
"I am just... thinking. It's nothing. Let's go."
Bumblebee shudders as he folds back into the Camaro, and when he opens his door Sam is all too ready to get in. He hadn't realized how cold the night was.
The heaters are already going and that same old soft-rock station is playing.
"So you feel me, huh?" Sam asks vaguely, letting Bumblebee take care of the driving.
The radio spins and a DJ exclaims, "Give the man a prize!"
Man, this is awkward.
Deciding that showing is easier than telling, Sam reaches out and runs a hand along the leather upholstery.
"You feel that?"
He chokes a little on his laugh as the engine revs a little.
"I'll take that as a yes." He strokes the leather one, two, three more times, and then leans his head back against the headrest. "Yeah, that's kinda weird."
A moment of static and then Jim Morrison cries, "C'mon c'mon now touch me baby-"
Sam blushes hotly but obliges Mr. Morrison, and pets the interior all the way back home.
So, hot girl? Check. Loving parents? Check. Bitching Camaro who digs getting his upholstery felt up? Check, check, check.
The engine purrs and Sam decides that hey, loving a car isn't so unusual for a boy his age.
Now he just needs to figure out how to explain stroking the leather seats to Mikaela.