Okay, sequel-ish bit here. I was asked to write drunk!Bee, and so I did. I own no song lyrics, nor Bee nor Sam. I know I forgot that first chapter, but forgive me. I've already got a request to write more little ficlets, so let me know if you'd like to see more of this stuff.
Sam had, for one of the few times since he'd helped save the world, stayed in on a Saturday night. At 20, he was enjoying his existence in an apartment shared with two other guys at school, taking classes in History and International Studies, and driving what was still a rather bitchin' Camaro, who also happened to be a giant alien robot and Sam's best friend. Sam never had any real girlfriends after that messy breakup with Mikaela - Bee never quite forgave him for that spilled bottle of JD on the leather upholstery - though that doesn't ever stop the girls from going crazy over Bee.
That part always made Sam chuckle. He knew no other girl could ever appreciate Bee the way Mikaela did, and that was, he admitted to himself, at least part of the reason he'd never actively sought out another girlfriend. It was also the reason he was stuck at home on a Saturday night. Bumblebee had gone out to meet with the other Autobots - there were quite a few now - and Sam had let him go alone. His flatmates were out for the night, leaving him alone in the apartment with not very much at all to do. Normally, Sam thought, he and Bee would head out somewhere, talking, laughing, listening to the radio. It never really mattered what they did, just so long as they had each other's company.
Sam flicked through the movie channels, finding some older films that might be good, but held no interest for him. He was startled out of his daze by the familiar rumbling of Bee's engine pulling up outside. Sam jumped to his feet and over to the window, slightly surprised to see his car weave a bit as it pulled into the drive. Sam bolted downstairs and out the door, to where Bee was blasting Jimmy Buffett's "Why Don't We Get Drunk?"
"Bee!" Sam examined his friend worriedly, but the car appeared to be in good condition. "What happened to you, man?"
The radio flipped. "Boat drinks! Boys in the band ordered boat drinks."
Sam couldn't help but sigh, a small smile on his face. "So this is what you guys get up to when I don't tag along, huh?"
"Give the man a prize!" The driver's side door opened up, a clear invitation for Sam to climb inside. He stared at it warily.
"Are you sure it's safe for me?"
"You are a getaway car, a rush of blood to the head..." The engine revved in time with the song, and Sam shrugged.
"Well, it's your fault if we crash then, okay?" he said, sliding onto the familiar seat and resting his hands on the wheel for the sake of appearances.
"Roger, Roger." Without another word, Bee flipped the radio back to Jimmy Buffett and took off down the road. Several minutes later, they pulled up to an overlook, different from the one where Sam had gotten drunk over Mikaela. The door opened once more, and Sam quickly exited before Bee started the fascinating process of transforming from vehicle to robot. Bee rocked a little unsteadily on his feet before he somewhat clumsily sat down; it was probably the least graceful maneuver Sam had ever seen from him. Seemingly from nowhere, the robot produced a large (to Sam, anyway) pinkish cube, from which he took a long drag.
"Sideswipe sure makes a good high-grade," the mech sighed appreciatively. Sam gave him an amused look.
"You guys were having a party?" Bumblebee shrugged, a purely human gesture that the mech had picked up.
"Somewhat. Optimus wanted us to have a chance to relax, and Sideswipe provided the high-grade." Sam could vaguely recall meeting the boisterous red mech and his frightening yellow brother, but he brushed those thoughts aside.
"So, the high-grade is to you what alcohol is to humans?" He'd never thought that giant robots could - or would want to, for that matter - get drunk, but then, many of his perceptions had proved to be false over the years of his acquaintance with the Autobots.
Bumblebee nodded, taking another drink from his cube. "Yes. High-grade energon produces similar reactions in Cybertronians as alcohol does in humans." Sam actually laughed at this.
"So, what do you do when you're drunk, Bee?" The question was meant in fun, but as soon as he asked, Bee clammed up and wouldn't look at him, staring at the stars. Sam had the distinct impression that he'd said something he shouldn't have (a rather familiar feeling, all things told). "Bee?" he asked gently, reaching out an putting a hand on his friend's thigh. Bee almost seemed to jump beneath his hand, but he still wouldn't look at Sam. "Bee, what's wrong?"
Without warning, Bee's radio sprang to life. "The road outside my house is paved with good intentions," sang Fall Out Boy. "Hired a construction crew, 'cause it's hell on the engine..." The radio spluttered and died, and Sam didn't know how to respond. Bee took another swig, finishing off his cube before making the odd little box disappear. The car-turned-robot stared at his hands.
Sam couldn't take it anymore. With a frustrated sigh, he climbed up on Bee's leg, poking at his chest with one finger. "Bee, you really should talk to me about what's bothering you," he said with an almost threatening tone in his voice. Bee finally looked at him.
"No, Sam, I don't think I should," he said softly, lifting his hand and running a finger very gently down Sam's back. It was similar to that of an owner to a pet, but was really more like a...lover? Sam shook his head. That couldn't be right.
But Bee's hand didn't stop, and Sam felt himself relaxing against his best friend, hardly noticing when Bee stopped and cupped Sam in his hands as both human and mech found some peace together.