SUMMARY: Isn't it odd how easily a simple touch can be misconstrued? Bumblebee's reaction to Sam's caress is misread by Sam. Sam's reaction is misread by Bumblebee.

RATING: M, for intimacy

PAIRINGS: SamxBumblebee

SETTING: Movieverse

DISCLAIMER: Transformers is owned by Hasbro and Dreamworks. Unfortunately, none of this belongs to me. If it did, I'd be rich.


Bumblebee's Spark flickered in anticipation, as he saw Sam exit the house. He waited for Sam to come over and greet him, as he always did, something that always involved a touch, be it a pat or a caress. Bumblebee always enjoyed the contact, the sensations Sam's touch sent through his sensitive hide, and his deeper systems.

Sometimes, Bumblebee felt a bit guilty. For one thing, did Sam understand how much pleasure, verging on the orgasmic, his simple, friendly touch engendered? Would he mind, considering that that sort of contact was presumably that which Sam enjoyed with his mate, Mikaela? For another, Bumblebee had not yet gathered up the nerve to suggest to Sam that he try to return the favour.

Again, he feared that Sam's reaction to his suggestion would be negative. He had witnessed how narrow-minded and hard-headed some humans could be to anything they considered beyond the norm, and hoped Sam was not like that, but he didn't know. For a start, he had known him for barely nine months, much of that time in disguise, waiting outside the house for Sam to come to him-something he couldn't always do.

Bumblebee's Spark warmed as he possessively watched Sam approach. His human. His companion. His Sam. Bumblebee understood Sam's need for his family and his mate, but beyond that, no-one else had a greater claim on Sam than Bumblebee did.

Sam walked over as Bumblebee contemplated this, and that is why Bumblebee was taken by surprise when Sam greeted him as he often did.

"Hi, Bumblebee." he said, sweeping his hand across Bumblebee's hood in a gentle, sweeping caress. Surprised as he was, Bumblebee was unable to hide his physical reaction as he had so often to Sam's touch. He shuddered violently as the delicious sensation Sam's touch engendered ran through his systems within and without, and his vision clouded with overload.

When his optics cleared, Sam was staring at him.

"Bumblebee, what..?" Sam began. Then his expression changed, to one of horror, distress, and fear. He mouthed something Bumblebee couldn't read, and then turned and ran for the house.

Bumblebee was struck speechless by Sam's reaction. 'Oh no, he's either embarrassed or revolted at my reaction to him. I was right not to offer to touch him in the same way. He thinks it's perverted or wrong somehow. Oh Sam! I had hoped he were not like those other humans, but he is only human after all.' Bumblebee thought.

'What have I DONE?'

Sam fled upstairs, his mind a whirl at Bumblebee's reaction to his touch. He threw himself on his bed. He had caressed Bumblebee, and Bumblebee had shuddered. Shuddered! As if his touch had been repulsive!

Sam could then only remember the fight in Mission City, Megatron's cry of "Disgusting!" as he had flicked a human across a street. Up until that morning, Sam had thought that that had just been Megatron's own opinion, but Bumblebee's reaction to his caress got him thinking. Could it be that all Cybertronians found organic life revolting? Were the Autobots only withholding that opinion because they felt respect for the humans, and because of their belief in freedom? He would have to ask Optimus at some time.

However, Optimus was the least of his problems at the moment. If Bumblebee found his touch vile, then where did that leave their friendship? He remembered Bumblebee's statement to Optimus at the end of the big battle: "I would like to stay with the boy." Then there had been Optimus's reply:

"If that is his choice."

Sam remembered nodding, slightly overwhelmed by Bumblebee's request. That Bumblebee should want to stay with him, in preference to his Autobot colleagues, as his car and his friend. Then realising that the nod might not be interpreted right, and saying "Yes." So maybe their friendship could be salvaged. If he didn't touch Bumblebee unless it was strictly necessary, maybe they could still be pals. He would just have to hope he wouldn't be worrying about upsetting Bumblebee in the future.

He needed to go out, to somewhere away from here, so he could clear his head. He couldn't go in Bumblebee, couldn't put Bumblebee through having his fleshy, sweaty, and disgusting organic form against his bare leather seats. He would swing back through town on the way with some cushioned seat-covers. Anything for Bumblebee's comfort.

Tears pricked Sam's eyes. All this time, Bumblebee had been his friend and guardian, carefully hiding his revulsion. Why had that suddenly changed? What had he done wrong? Perhaps his daily touching-sometimes more than daily touching-had gotten too much for Bumblebee. Whatever the reason, he respected Bumblebee enough to not put him through that any more.

He headed downstairs, headed for where his Mom had put her new bike. He wheeled it out, flicked a pained glance at Bumblebee, and said "See you later, Bumblebee, I have to go out." As he pedalled off, his heart felt as if it had been put through the shredder.

As Bumblebee watched Sam pedalled off, his Spark hurt so badly he thought it was going to implode. Sam had left? Without him? Was he so revolted that he couldn't even go out in him any more? They usually went anywhere they could together. Sam never went off on a bike, not since his too-close encounter with Barricade.

Which reminded Bumblebee that the Decepticon was still unaccounted for. He could not leave Sam undefended, no matter how much disgust and contempt the boy felt for his earlier reaction. Also, he would have to try and find some way to talk to Sam, to apologise for his earlier reaction, to promise that it wouldn't happen again, to reassure Sam somehow that his reaction should not affect their friendship.

To beg his forgiveness.

Silently, Bumblebee slipped off the drive, remembering to activate his hologram, staying far enough back that Sam was unaware of his presence, but so that he could still see Sam. He didn't want to spook him and frighten him off, driving a wedge deeper between them, but he had to protect him, and talk to him.

Sam rode until he got to a patch of waste ground, then dismounted. He found somewhere to sit, and put his head in his hands. He felt lost without Bumblebee. Any other problems-problems with the parents, problems with Mikaela-he'd been able to share with his Autobot friend. But this one?

No, he realised, Bumblebee had to be the one person he should be discussing this with. Not right now, though, and not without thinking through how he should broach the subject. Sam thought through a half-dozen different opening phrases, and discarded them all. Just how did you bring up such a prickly and unpleasant subject? 'Hi Bumblebee, how are you, sorry you find me disgusting' just wouldn't work.

Sam was so deep in thought that he didn't notice Bumblebee come onto the waste ground some way behind him, didn't even notice when he quietly transformed into his robot form.

Bumblebee kept as far back as he could without exposing himself to the road, and as quietly as possible transformed into his robot form. Crouching, he cautiously crawled closer to where Sam sat, hunched and unhappy-looking. He was now close enough that he could have reached out and touched him, which is exactly what Bumblebee's Spark ached to do. He did not, however, wish to upset, frighten, or plain freak out Sam, so he resisted the impulse.

Bumblebee knew that he had to talk to Sam about that morning, but was suddenly not sure what to say, how to say it, or where, indeed, to start. Even if he did work that out, what if Sam didn't even hang about to hear him out? Bringing his hands to his head, he closed his optics. The situation was paining Bumblebee badly, and before he could stop it, he let out a cry of pure despair and pain.

Sam whirled at the keen that came from close behind him. 'Whatinhell?' he thought. That was Bumblebee, and it sounded like he was being captured by S7 again.

Turning, ready to run to defend his friend, he saw Bumblebee, in robot form, sitting hunched on the ground, head in his hands, optics tightly squeezed shut.

"Bumblebee?" he asked, confused. He couldn't see any damage on Bumblebee that might account for that cry.

"S-Sam?" the Autobot replied. Cybertronians could not physically weep, but by the sound of Bumblebee's voice, if he could, he'd be weeping buckets full. Sam's heart ached for him.

"Aw-Bumblebee." Sam said, feeling incredibly awkward and hopelessly inadequate. His instinctive reaction would have been to approach him and hug him somewhere on his body that he could. However, Sam held back, for if Bumblebee found him repulsive, that reaction would just exacerbate the problem, and possibly destroy their friendship irredeemably. So he controlled his gut instinct to rush over and hug the 'bot, instead standing there with his arms down by his sides.

"S-Sam, I'm sorry, please forgive me." Bumblebee said. He opened his optics to look directly at Sam, and Sam saw pain in them.

Sam was confused. What was Bumblebee talking about? Why was he so distressed? He had to reassure him, and what he couldn't do with touch, he decided he'd have to try with words. He swallowed: this was going to have to be raised sooner or later.

"No, Bumblebee, it's okay, you don't need to apologise for anything." Sam said, still not moving his arms. Tears threatened in his eyes again. "Why didn't you explain that we organics disgust you? Of course we must seem foul to you mechas, sweating and peeing and crapping and whatever else. We could have worked something out, Bumblebee, I'll go and get seat covers and we can still work out how to be friends-" He was cut off by an agonising blast of static from Bumblebee's vocal processor. He cried out and slapped his hands over his ears, only one thought going through his head: 'he doesn't even want us to still be friends! That's why he cut me off!'

Bumblebee realised that his staticky exclamation of surprise and shock was hurting his human friend, and quickly cut it.

"Disgust me?" he cried in Sam's own language "Where did you get that idea from? You don't disgust me, Sam, you could never disgust me! Sam, your touch does special things to me, I can't deny it any more. I'm sensitive, especially on my hood, and when you stroke me there, it feels wonderful all through my systems. I thought you were disgusted at my reaction to your touch!"

"You-you don't find me disgusting? You-enjoy it? But you shuddered this morning, Bumblebee." Sam said in confusion.

"I temporarily lost control over my systems because I was enjoying your caress, Sam." said Bumblebee, taking a risk. Sam could still react negatively to this confession.

As Bumblebee watched anxiously, Sam smiled.

"Then-we can still be friends? Still do things together?" Sam breathed.

"Yes." said Bumblebee. He stretched out his arms and hands towards Sam imploringly. "Please don't withhold your caresses, Sam. If it feels right for you, Sam, please, please touch me."

Sam was pressing his face and hands to Bumblebee's fingers before Bumblebee had finished the last word. Stroking and nuzzling and kissing each fingertip, he then climbed into one of the hands, pulling off his T-shirt, curling up, pressing his back into Bumblebee's cupped palm. Bumblebee let out a moan of relief and bliss, his optics half-shutting as he felt the delicate, warm, smooth skin of Sam's back against his own. Any lingering doubt over Sam's reaction to his confession dissolved. 'He doesn't mind at all!' Bumblebee realised.

Sam sat up in Bumblebee's palm, and carefully climbed up his arm until he was on a level with Bumblebee's chest. Holding on to Bumblebee's arm with one of his hands, he stretched out. Reaching out a hand, he began caressing what parts of Bumblebee's chest he could reach. Bumblebee moved his hand up in front of his chest, and Sam saw it as the invitation it was, stepping up, pressing his own chest against Bumblebee's, using both hands to rub and caress the chest on either side, for Bumblebee, even as a smallish mech, had such a big chest. Bumblebee threw his head back and locked his limbs, his optics closing all the way this time.

'How does he know?' Bumblebee wondered, even as the pleasure built to almost unbearable levels. 'How does he know how sensitive a mech's chest is?' Then he remembered: he had told Sam himself.

"Bumblebee." Sam sighed, turning his head so his breath warmed Bumblebee's chest. He briefly stretched his arms, embracing as much of his metal friend as he could, then allowed his hands to slide up towards the junction of Bumblebee's chest and neck. "I love you, Bumblebee." he breathed. As his fingers rubbed and stroked and caressed the juncture, Bumblebee let out another cry of pure ecstasy, and began to shake all over.

Alarmed, Sam pulled his hands back, but Bumblebee said "No, Sam, please don't stop!" in a small, pleading voice. Sam reached up again and resumed his caresses of Bumblebee's neck joint, and planted kisses on the chest in front of him. The shaking grew even more violent, but now Sam knew that it was a pleasure reaction, he didn't worry about it. He stretched, pressing as much of his body up against Bumblebee's as he could, never stopping his kissing and caressing. Bumblebee threw his head back again, and cried out, a small, ecstatic cry.

Sam was unprepared for Bumblebee's other hand to suddenly come up and clasp him in place against his chest. A split-second later, the shaking stopped, and Bumblebee locked up, went totally rigid. Sam felt Bumblebee topple backwards, hitting the ground with a mighty thud, but he was cushioned by the restraining hand and Bumblebee's chest, and was only a little shaken.

Sam began to panic. What had he done?

Bumblebee shifted beneath him, he raised his head and blinked his optics at Sam. Sam let go the breath he had been holding.

"Apologies for grabbing you like that, Sam, but I didn't want you being jolted off and getting hurt." Bumblebee said.

"You're okay, Bumblebee?" asked Sam. Bumblebee gave a contented sigh.

"More than okay." Bumblebee told him, pushing himself back into a sitting position with one hand while still holding Sam against his chest with the other.

Once he was sat up, he curled his fingers around Sam's body. Sam was expecting to be set back gently on the ground, but instead felt his guardian tip his hand back, gathering Sam's body gently into it, tipping him into a reclining position.

"What are you doing, Bumblebee?" asked Sam, startled but not at all alarmed.

"You, Sam Witwicky, have just given me pleasure beyond anything else I have ever experienced." he said softly.

He raised his other hand, just his little finger extended, and lightly ran just the tip of it down Sam's exposed chest. Sam squirmed as the touch sent an indescribable surge of pleasure down every nerve ending in his skin and muscle, extending into his neck and scalp, where every hair stood up slightly on end. His head began reeling, but in a most enjoyable fashion. Bumblebee lowered his face close to Sam's, and Sam was sure that if Bumblebee had had a mouth, he would have been smiling. He spoke in a gentle, quiet, but firm voice to Sam.

"Now it's my turn."