Sorry this is like… 2 months late. I don't have much of an excuse. BUT, I finally decided to try a snippet of the question and answer session. I would've used even more specific questions of a more mature nature, but I never meant this fic to be all that serious (or even two-chaptered), so I tried my best to think of believable yet mostly generalized questions. I apologize if you wish I hadn't done that. I am not a telepath.
Disclaimer (In Spanish, but minus accents where they're needed.)- No poseo Los Transformadores, y no voy a poseerlos nunca. Ellos no son mios! Este es muy triste, yo se, pero es la verdad.
Send message of any/all typos/concerns, please. I actually appreciate it. : ) Also, shout out to dictionary dot com for a borrowed definition.
Bumblebee rested his hand back down across his leg, sitting up straighter. At least his friends knew enough to call on him first. All attention – native and alien alike – was zeroed in and alert.
"Why do people keep randomly calling me 'voyeuristic?'" He asked plainly. Before anyone began to answer he leaned in closer, ready to hear the explanation for this one. Several people had thrown that word at him. Some – like Mikaela, Sam, and Miles (with unmasked glee) – multiple times. He wasn't entirely sure why, either.
This one got a childish smile out of the humans.
"You know what that means, right?" Mikaela asked in return, just to make sure.
Bee nodded. "The online dictionary suggests in one definition that a voyeur is someone who 'derives sexual gratification from observing the naked bodies or sexual acts of others, especially from a secret vantage point,' or is an 'obsessive observer of sordid or sensational subjects.' I… I don't see how either of those definitions can be applied to me. We can't even get sexual gratification, or at least not like humans think of it. We don't even have genders by your standards!"
"Oh come on, Bee. We're only ever just joking with you," Sam admitted with a grin. "Not that the joking doesn't have some history backing it up. You wanna know why we picked that word to describe you out of all the words we could have chosen? Is that the question here?"
"Well, then, let's look back to that first day after Dad and I went and got you. When we got home, Miles and me – and you, though we didn't know it – went out to the lake."
"Where you LEFT me," interrupted Miles loudly. He was joking of course, having let go of that incident years ago, but let's be serious… it was still fun to nag.
"Already apologized for that," Sam hastily said. "Anyway, Bee, you were the one to prompt me to offer Mikaela a ride home, and then you were the one who decided to conveniently break down after driving off the road to a secluded place. That's without even mentioning the suggestive songs you decided to play for us."
The autobot blinked. Yes, he had tried to assist his new charge in procuring the female he desired, and help get them moving. In his defense, he had been doing it for Sam… sort of. With a mildly affronted whir at the young man, he still failed to see – even if he had sort of wanted to learn more about human and organic sexuality in general – how that would deserve him the title of voyeur.
"And that wasn't the only time, either," Mikaela continued. "There was that make-out thing after Mission City was winding down, remember? Oh, and the time at that drive-in movie we found? Oh, that was a bad chain reaction…"
It went without saying that human and autobot friends had to find simple activities that they could enjoy together while hanging out. Wheeljack had arrived about a week earlier and had already made it quite clear that he found the human race overly intriguing. There had been comments about the horror Perceptor would end up being if he showed up, but they didn't float around for more than a couple days.
Entranced by Earth culture and especially the humans he had met, Wheeljack begged to attend a human ritual known as a 'drive in movie.' He had looked them up, gathered information, and found the nearest one possible. He requested Bumblebee and Ironhide come along and bring their humans.
So, eventually, the three autobots and five humans (since Annabelle was brought) found themselves at a drive in. Will and Sarah made comments about the place bringing back memories, to which Sam had jokingly gagged and called him old, to which Will had jokingly threatened to beat and then shoot him if he didn't shut up.
Neither Sam nor Mikaela really remembered what the movie had been about. The first reason for this was that they really hadn't come to see the movie anyway, only to appease the newest autobot. They hadn't even bothered setting up seats outside of Bumblebee and instead remained in his interior. Second, the night was memorable for reasons that had nothing to do with any movie plot.
They forgot exactly when it was, but Bumblebee's voice had come out of nowhere and asked them, "Why do you never do that with me?" His tone was tinged with curiosity.
"Um, do what, Bee?" Mikaela tried to clarify.
"That. What those humans in the blue Ford about twenty feet up and to the left are doing."
Unsuspecting, the dating couple looked for the specified vehicle. What they saw through the ample back window was enough to make one of them stare and then turn away, and the other to jump and then avert her eyes. The thing the mentioned humans were doing – it turned out to be – was each other.
"N-no way," Sam worked out. "Sorry, buddy. Me and Mikaela are never gonna do anything like that inside of you, so long as we can help it."
His voice was way too innocent. It was a trait Mikaela and Sam were quickly learning to deal with. "Because!" Mikaela told him. "You're alive! It would just be… wrong… on every level, Bumblebee. Every level."
The engine purred unmistakably for a brief second. "Why? I wouldn't mind. Your habits are fun to learn about."
For once, the face Sam pulled wasn't an imitation of disturbed. It was the real thing. "What the hell?"
"Please? I don't see the problem."
"You're alive! You're not inanimate!" Mikaela repeated. In immediate response to her, Bumblebee turned on the radio to an all-too familiar song: Sexual Healing.
He wasn't getting it. The teens looked out the window directly to their left at Wheeljack. Obviously the mech had no face as a car, but they could just tell he would've been trying to listen in by now. To their right, Mr. and Mrs. Lennox were sitting in foldable chairs in front of Ironhide's massive grill, holding one another's hand. Annabelle was probably sleeping inside.
Picking a rather inopportune time to test out pop culture phrases, the autobot scout tried, "I'll pay you."
Mikaela gaped at the radio, falling into laughter so hard that it was noiseless.
"Bee, we're not going to have sex in you!" Sam practically screamed at his friend, barely able to believe what he had just heard him say.
The scream set it off, really. Reinforced glass and Bumblebee's own dampeners muffled it, but when next Mikaela spared a glance at the Lennoxes, they were eyeing the yellow car with confusion, having heard Sam's yell but not the actual words. Ironhide's voice poured over Bumblebee's speakers.
"What is going on in there?"
"Oh, nothing much," Bumblebee responded daintily, "I'm just trying to convince my charges that they're safe to procreate if they wish to, like those humans in the blue Ford over there are doing."
The communications were dead for moment. The teens in the Camaro looked over at Ironhide, then noticed Will jump and pull a flashing phone out of his pocket. The man flipped it open, looked it over, and then he turned to the Camaro. He started laughing.
"Why would anyone want them to do that?" Demanded Ironhide.
"I want them to do that!" Wheeljack cut in, sounding very energetic. Mikaela and Sam both leaned away from the alien car on their left. "It would be the perfect opportunity to gather research on the act! Sam, Mikaela, I'd be very much obliged if you would engage each other in intercourse."
On the other side, Lennox started laughing harder. Ironhide was, apparently, sending him a copy of the conversation.
"Oh no, not going to happen," insisted Sam vehemently, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring alternately at Bee's radio and then Wheeljack through the window. "We are not an experiment and we are not a peep show. Why don't you go scan the Ford?"
As the humans were learning, hesitant pauses in conversations with eccentric autobots normally weren't there without good reason.
"That's a wonderful idea! However, they seem to be finishing. If you were to cover the entire process, there would be much more information available."
"Exactly!" Bumblebee agreed, jumping back into the discussion. "Please? I promise I won't care, even though I'm alive." Almost equally inappropriately as his last attempted comment, he explained, "You'll make me very happy if you do."
Sam and Mikaela both started laughing then.
"You're such a voyeur, Bumblebee," Mikaela informed him humorously. Sam concentrated a moment, trying to recall where he'd heard that word before. When he remembered at last, he chuckled. Bumblebee went on a split-second quest to look up the foreign term, the results of which caused him to rev his engine in his own defense.
"I am not! I just want you to mate for me so I can learn!"
The couple began their laughter anew, Sam slapping his hand amusedly on Bee's door, earning himself another irritated rev. Will began bawling outside and showed his phone to his wife, who gave a single high pitched laugh and then covered her face in embarrassment. This prompted someone else in the lot to shout out an order to "KEEP IT DOWN!"
"Voyeur," Mikaela repeated to herself with a calmed smile. "Bee, when we start 'mating,' we'll let you know, okay?"
Disappointed but no longer in the mood to argue, Bumblebee just beeped the begrudging affirmative and settled down on his shocks.
Until Sam laughed out the word "pervert," and Bee shot back an immediate "hey!"
Bumblebee did not happily recall the night at the drive in. Personally, he had found his charges' refusal and embarrassment to be rather uncalled for. He had learned later on that no, after only knowing each other for about two and a half months at the time, the human pair hadn't made it that far in their courting. Still… "You know, you never told me when you started mating anyway," he pointed out without resentment.
"We didn't have to. When we did, as Murphy's Law dictates, you were watching us," Sam said dully.
"…That was the first time?" Bee hesitantly asked them, knowing exactly what they were talking about.
Mikaela nodded. Miles rested his chin thoughtfully in a hand.
Bumblebee shifted. Unbeknownst to them, he felt rather proud to have been there – no matter how incidentally – the first time his charges had physically bred.
"But yeah, that's why people call you that. We know you're not an actual voyeur, but you really do act like one sometimes," concluded Sam as earnestly as possible. When Bumblebee nodded his understanding, the rest of the autobots raised their hands again.
Mikaela pointed at Prowl, politely instructing, "Go ahead."
Prowl regarded all three of the humans, giving each of them their own, special look while he crossed his arms over his chassis.
"It appears that there are very few places you humans would not consider mating in. Is it possible to provide a list of the places that you wouldn't?" It seemed for a second like he was done, but then he continued, sounding more than a bit distasteful. "And why, for the love of Primus, isn't 'the backseat of a car' on that list?"
There was no mistaking the expressions of twisted accomplishment on the faces of Sam, Mikaela, and Miles. They remembered the first time Prowl had been involved in any sort of 'sex talk' with them with very little haze.
The seasons were about to change from fall to winter. It was the trio of humans' last year of high school and marked the first school year that started with them knowing the existence of robotic life from distant galaxies. Earlier, in that September, the first two autobots to answer Prime's signal had shown up at base. Prowl and Wheeljack, they were called. They were followed another month and a half later by a very friendly but very talkative mech named Bluestreak.
Of the three, Prowl had been the strangest to get to know. It certainly hadn't helped that Sam had screamed like a frightened little girl the very first time he saw Prowl in alt mode. The boy probably shouldn't have run away from Bee to find the new arrivals by himself, and he probably should have realized much earlier on that the model of cop car before him was not the same as Barricade's, but it was too late for that. After letting loose his banshee yell and tearing away from that part of the base (running into a very confused Mikaela), and after eventually finding Bumblebee and the others, he was given a rundown on how, 'No, there is not an evil police car decepticon lurking around base trying to kill you. By the way, the new mech standing over there that's staring at you like you're an experimental gerbil is Wheeljack. Yes, he's the one that blows up everything that he gets near. Why don't you go over to him and say hi?'
However, Prowl was royally inducted to the inner circle of human trust once they learned how easily they could take him down. Miles, Mikaela, Sam, Epps, and Lennox were sitting around in the rec room of the base, sipping on various cans of soft drinks, when the tactician happened to traipse in. He couldn't help but overhear their discussion.
"I'm just saying," Epps offered with a wave of his hand, "It's probably not very smart to be making out on top of your friends." He shifted to look at Lennox instead of Sam and Mikaela. "I mean, I love ya', Will, but I'd never let you and Sarah just start getting amorous with no warning on top of me."
"And if we gave you warning?" Lennox questioned humorously.
Epps whistled low, seeming to think about it as he settled back into his chair. "Depends on the role I'd be allowed to play."
Despite processors advising him to walk away, Prowl was interested. He glanced over at the beings. As he watched, one of the younger males – Sam – crossed his arms huffily.
"It was a mistake! Why can't anyone see that? Besides. I'm telling you, Bumblebee is a closet pervert."
"No, Sam, not closet. Bee just comes right out and says it without preamble; he doesn't even own a closet," Mikaela pointed out.
"Oh… true, true."
Bumblebee was supposedly a form of sexual deviant? What were these organics talking about? Prowl was beginning to regret not studying more into them. Until that point in time, the conversing humans had mostly ignored him. When the wandering eye of Miles closed in on him, though, the human called out a greeting.
"Hey there, Po-po! What's up?"
Optics narrowed slightly under the newly-gained attention of all of the humans, Prowl responded, "There is nothing up." Still against his better judgement he asked, "What is it you are conversing about?"
Miles glowed in a way that Prowl would later describe as 'maniacal'. "Oh, nothing much. Human stuff. Including my dimwitted best friend's faux pas about almost doing it in Bumblebee's back seat."
"What?!" Sam and Mikaela demanded in unison.
"We did no such thing!" Mikaela informed. The vehemence of it rather startled Prowl. "He was trying to get us to at the drive in the other week, but we wouldn't."
Lennox nodded in agreement. Miles shrugged. Prowl winced after he found the true meaning behind their use of the term 'doing it.'
"I should certainly hope not. That is no such place to be engaging in that sort of activity."
At the very same time, Miles and Epps said "That's not true," and Sam and Mikaela gave Prowl a hearty "Thank you!"
The room froze. Unsure of who to trust, Prowl looked between the humans. When he looked to William Lennox, the army captain just shrugged, leaning back in his seat. He very deliberately picked up his Coke and took a swig. He was content to sit this one out.
"Dude, cars are absolutely equipped!" Miles insisted.
"Yeah, they would work, but not when they're living robots, Miles!" Mikaela shot back.
"Hey, now let's wait a second and you answer me this," reasoned Robert Epps. "Have you and Sam ever gotten it on in the backseat?"
Prowl quickly came to the conclusion that it was a tactical error not to have left. It was too late now, though. He was involved and he would have to suffer the consequences. He prayed that one of the paired up teens would provide the answer he was hoping for. Seeing as Bumblebee posed as the only car either had ever had, any response other than 'no' would seriously set his processors to aching.
"Not yet," Sam ground out at Epps.
"What?" The autobot bit out, interrupting the sergeant's speech on how they couldn't knock it until they tried it. Hesitantly, all five humans turned their focus up to him. "What do you mean 'not yet?' You can't seriously be planning on breeding inside one of my friends!" Prowl had nothing personal against the organics, but that was just too much!
"No. No! We would never!" Mikaela insisted, trying to clear up the confusion before Prowl blew it out of proportion. "It's just… just…We can't say if we're absolutely never going to get amorous in the backseat of a regular car is all. The closest we ever came with Bumblebee ended in disaster. He's the one telling us to, not the other way around."
"But you would still fornicate inside of a vehicle, sentience of it aside?"
"Totally!" Miles piped up, very energetically. "Cars are hot breeding commodities, didn't you know? Just give a pair of humans in love a car to themselves and boy, you will never want to ride in that car again."
Utterly horrified at the prospect, Prowl consciously grabbed at the part of his frame that cased what would be his seats in vehicle mode. He did not register the way the two adults were holding tight hands over their mouths or the embarrassed hands over Sam and Mikaela's faces.
"Why," continued Miles with an absolutely conniving smile, "if there were no cars to get it on in, the human race would probably die out. We NEED cars, man! We freakin' NEED you!"
At which point Prowl excused himself and hastily left the room, processors trying to work out how that was possible. Humans had invented automobiles only within the last century, but they had survived before. But Miles had no reason to lie to him… And how did a 'perverted' Bumblebee fit into all of…?
The humans jumped at a loud crash coming from outside the room. They raced out of their seats and over to the doorway, where they spotted a collapsed Prowl a couple strides down the hall. A foot twitched.
All stiff attitudes and resemblance to Barricade were forgotten after that day. They were told they were lucky that Prowl didn't lock them in a cupboard once he found out Miles had been joking about the requirement of car interiors in successful modern-day human conception.
"The backseat of a car isn't on that list because sometimes, my friend," Miles took up the explanation, "the backseat of a car is the most convenient place to do it. Honestly. That and some people really get turned on by hot cars."
"Agreed," Sam nodded, followed by Mikaela. The autobot twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe – who had arrived not three months earlier – had found that fact amusing when Mikaela had seen their Lamborghini disguises and announced that giant space robots had to stop turning into such sexy cars. After an explanation of the word 'sexy,' the twins had been unashamed to parade their own interpretations of their and their comrades' alt modes loudly around the base. Not to mention the little experiments…
Then Mikaela shrugged. "And I'm not sure we really could give you a list, Prowl. Each person is different. Personally, I wouldn't want to be screwin' around in places like a morgue, certain bathrooms, near one of you, etceteras, but that could just be me."
Prowl seemed to digest this information before giving them a daft nod.
Everyone in agreement that Prowl's question had been answered to the best of their abilities, Sam called on Ironhide. The large mech's frame made a gentle groan as he shifted into a different position.
"Why do so many humans engage in your 'sexual intercourse' if they have no desire whatsoever to produce children? All of the other species on this planet are driven only by that. I think."
The mech's question received multiple comments of approval, perhaps the most enthusiastic of which belonged to none other than Prowl. For a moment his eagerness stumped the humans, but they all drew the same conclusion before long – Prowl was a stickler for logic. He must have found the process strange, and none of them would've been surprised to learn that he had spent at least a handful of nights puzzling over the concept, trying to relate it into Cybertronian terms and always coming up short. After regulations avoiding it had been set up eons ago, Cybertronian contact with organic species of sentient standing had been limited. The few races that they had encountered were nothing like the human race with its obsession and variations on the otherwise commonplace act of reproduction.
"Eh," Miles shrugged, drawing the attention of the autobots. He shrugged a second time. "It feels good. Like I was saying before, the whole touching thing can get really enjoyable. And man, babies can be a lot of work," he warned, not missing Ironhide's knowledgeable huff. "Some people don't want to have to deal with that just because they want to get touchy-feely with one another. Can you imagine how many babies there would be if that happened?"
"…A lot of babies?" Ventured Wheeljack, optic shutters blinking once.
"Yes, my exploding friend," Miles agreed fully and with surprising sincerity. "A lot of babies."
Finding fault with the statement, though, Optimus interjected, "Why would parents have to 'deal' with their children? Do they not want children to begin with?" As far as he knew, the human parents he had seen that possessed sparklings of their own were very content with them. Perhaps he had misunderstood a colloquial use of the phrase 'deal.'
"Well, there are parents who don't want the children they have, that's true, and that can lead to problems… but no, what Miles means is that a lot of people aren't ready for the responsibilities of being a parent. You all know how troublesome little kids can get," Sam generalized.
Ironhide let out another sigh of air.
"It's pretty simple when you think about it," Miles continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "The whole 'sex without a baby' thing, I mean. Sex is all awesome, sometimes babies are all not awesome, so the one without the other can be pretty useful."
Ironhide was resting right outside the Lennox family's garage, comfortably in alternate mode. It was going on eleven at night so the surroundings were blackened in that tranquil way Earth seemed to provide. Despite the persistent chirping of the little earth insects, all was peaceful.
At least, all was peaceful until he heard a definite thud coming from inside the Lennox home. Intrigued (yet not exactly worried), the mech turned his sensors up, training them…
Was someone gasping in pain?
Still not certain if he should act or if he should chock it all up to human intricacy, Ironhide waited. The panicky noises did not cease. If anything, they got worse. Before long the growing-in-volume moaning had progressed to occasional screams and – while coming primarily from Sarah Lennox – Will sounded stressed as well.
How could anything have gotten into the house to attack them? He hadn't ever slipped into recharging negligence!
Ironhide transformed. Trying to keep the element of surprise on his side, he snuck over to the window where the moans and cries and half-screams and all sounds that pointed to a struggle came from… the master bedroom of Will and Sarah. Handy cannon at the ready, Ironhide spun quickly to face the window, glad the blinds were not closed.
Ironhide halted, all prepared assumptions flying out of his processing centers.
Was… was Will trying to kill his wife? The poor woman was practically crying out, possibly pleading for her mate to cease, considering she kept uttering his name in a taxed manner. She was trapped under him, and he was clearly physically assaulting her in some way.
In utter disbelief, the weapons specialist stared.
Then, something even stranger happened. The closed eyes of Mrs. Lennox opened. Although they seemed somehow misty, they happened to trail over to the window, perhaps to investigate the obvious blue optic lights there.
In an instant, every trace of cloudiness was gone. Sarah inhaled sharply, a moan dying in her throat, instead turning it into a gasp of "Ironhide!" Will repeated the autobot's name in confusion, not sure if he should feel betrayed or not, but once he followed her gaze, his own face morphed drastically at the sight of the robot war-veteran watching them. His expression was coupled with a startled "Jesus Christ!"
A flurry of movement caught up with the humans. Both tried to reach for a blanket, bodies shifting too fast, and they ended up on the floor of their bedroom, entirely undignified and with an innocent blanket falling and draping over them.
Ironhide simply blinked at them questioningly.
Clearing his throat, Will sat up, careful to keep the sheet in place. "Ironhide, what the hell are you doing?"
Very strange. All signs of stress seemed gone from the Missus, all signs of domestic rage gone from the Mister.
"It sounded as if your wife was under attack, Lennox," explained the black mech calmly. "As your guardian, it was my duty to investigate. I had no idea that humans could become so homicidal when mating. Such a very violent process…"
Sarah now blinked, looking very taken aback, and blushing for the first time in over a decade.
"Why are you even mating to begin with?" Ironhide continued after a moment, looking personally affronted. Why he looked this way neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lennox could fathom. "You already have a child. Or is Annabelle not meeting your standards? Is that why you wish to attempt to conceive a more desirable progeny?"
With a rub to the forehead and eyes, Will spoke up, "Annabelle is entirely fine and I'm not trying to kill Sarah. Nothing is wrong at all, so could you please go away, Ironhide? Please? We're not hurting anyone."
"You are hurting your wife," Ironhide disagreed immediately.
"No, really, I'm fine," Sarah weakly spoke up. God, she hadn't been this embarrassed in years. "We're just… making love, okay? There's nothing harmful about it. I'd like it if we could finish, if there's still something to salvaged. So, if you would just please go back to wherever you were, we'd really appreciate it."
Surprised at the way the femme had worded it – just making love, A.K.A., only mating? – Ironhide stepped hesitantly away from the window and walked back to his resting spot, transforming quietly, mulling over the new and disturbing information he'd learned.
He did not even take note of the closing of the blinds as he settled down. His CPU began to wrap around the idea of breeding without any intent to actually breed, and the giant paradox that created.
A look of concentrated essence of epiphany washed over Optimus Prime. "Is that why there are so many types of intimacy on record for your species, then?"
It took a second before collective understanding passed through the humans.
"Part of the logic, yeah. If it was only done to make kids, there'd really only be a handful of variations," Mikaela agreed. She managed to pull off a scholarly tone, and Sam gave her a curious look. No one commented.
Nodding faintly, Optimus said, "Not desiring any children as a result would indeed explain why many documented practices of human sexuality seem to be an absolute waste of genetic material."
Now, that comment took a little longer for Sam, Mikaela, or Miles to start to comprehend. In the end, Sam was the first person to light up in personal understanding.
"Ooooooooh," he drawled. He paused for a moment before raising his eyebrows a bit, noticing that Miles and Mikaela had both come to their own conclusions. "Oh. Optimus, that's a whole different topic right there – like, several different topics – but yeah, you're right. This helps explain that."
Considering Ironhide's question mostly done for, yet newly inspired by it, Ratchet immediately raised his hand. Mikaela pointed at him and gave the medic the go-ahead.
Ratchet promptly crossed his arms again. He fixed the rolly-chair partnership with a serious gaze. "And why don't you two, personally, start a family? It's not as if you are unable or too immature to care for a child if you had one." In an undertone that everyone still had no problem hearing, he added, "And it's not as if there's anything functionally amiss with either of you…"
"Oh, no, it has nothing to do with that!" Mikaela said. "It's just that babies are a big responsibility. Besides – we're only, like, twenty-one. We're not ready for kids. We still have years of freedom left before that becomes a real consideration, Ratchet."
"…When will you?" Bumblebee asked, optics bright but deceitfully innocent.
They could see it now. Bumblebee, the car, fawning over newborns, with the exact same response coming from a dozen 'Uncle Aliens.' That wasn't something to be concerned over. But then came the toddler years. Plus, since there was almost no way any Witwicky child henceforth could be kept from the autobots… Little children crawling and racing around enormous beings that essentially were tons of metal was not exactly something mothers hoped for.
Not that either Sam or Mikaela thought any of the autobots would step on their kids or anything. The kids, on the other hand, could not be spoken for. It would be just their luck to get a child stupid enough to pop out at a mech walking by without saying anything, or trying to jump in the middle of a friendly brawl and then – bye-bye, son!
A single instance flashed lightning-quick through their minds.
"Has anyone seen the Lennox girl?" Ironhide demanded irately of the group of standing mechs. Sam, Mikaela, and Miles were by for a visit, still getting accustomed to a new mech – Beachcomber. Mr. Lennox had decided, also, to bring a five-year old Annabelle over for a visit.
Optimus, Bumblebee, Beachcomber, Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Prowl all shook their heads. When they realized the weapons specialist had turned his attention to them, the humans gave him a negative.
With a gentle growl, Ironhide made to stomp right back out of the cramped room, key word being 'made.' Just as he was about to leave from the doorway, a shrieking little Annabelle leapt around the corner at him, her kamikaze yell melting into a 'BOO!'
Ironhide was about a tenth of a second from stepping on her. Of course, he would never allow such a thing, even if it cost him all of his dignity. The massive black mech threw his weight in the opposite direction and went reeling backwards to avoid crushing her.
He ended up overbalancing.
Bumblebee was the first to get pushed over by Ironhide as the mech fell back. Crying out pathetically, the yellow scout reached wildly for the autobot nearest him: Ratchet. Cursing as his arms shot out in a futile attempt to balance himself from the tackling force of an Ironhide-rammed Bee latching onto his legs, Ratchet managed to smack Prowl in the face and send Wheeljack careening into Beachcomber. Beachcomber was too stunned to say anything as he fell backwards into Optimus. Optimus, by this time, really had no room to successfully fall all the way down, and instead collided with a wall half way. The commander proceeded to slide down that with a grating metal-scratching-metal sound until he sat on the floor.
Annabelle stared wide-eyed. She had been knocked off her feet and onto her butt from the series of tremors. The chair Sam had been in had vibrated a couple feet to the left and he was clinging to it like his life depended on it. Mikaela was positioned the same way, although her chair had moved about half a foot to the right. The flimsy wooden chair of Miles had toppled over backwards. All three of them were gaping at the pile of groaning, buzzing, indignant autobots on the floor – plus a disgruntled looking Prowl who had managed to stay standing but was massaging his face plates.
"Annabelle," Mikaela said sweetly, "Let's not jump out at the autobots from now on, okay? Earthquakes aren't fun."
"I strongly disagree," Miles insisted. "Come on, let's do that again. WHOO!"
To which the young man earned several disapproving looks, a couple blank ones, and a very confused one from Beachcomber. They were sure he made some comment as to the safety of this planet as Optimus stood and helped him up, but no one knew what exactly, and no one planned to ask for clarification.
"We'll let you know when we get on that, Bee," Mikaela promised with a reassuring nod of her head.
Rolling his eyes, Sam gestured immediately to the next mech – Wheeljack.
Wheeljack lowered his hand quickly, happy to be called on. Even before he started speaking the panels on the sides of his face began to flicker. "Why don't any of you ever accept help when it's offered?"
Sam, Mikaela, and Miles all exchanged looks here. A collage of occurrences flashed through their heads.
1)Setting: second time Miles had ever been to the autobot base. Mood: the boy was still a bit anxious about the giant robots. Dominating thought: 'I need to get the hell back to Sam and his girlfriend because I am so not running around these robots without supervision!'
Miles remembered finally finding his friends, both of them arguing with two yellow robots about the significance of couples holding hands.
"That does nothing for reproduction! You are simply holding hands as you walk; I don't see how that can be construed as intimate or pleasing in even the slightest of manners!" the taller one was saying.
"Ratchet, seriously, humans do not walk around thinking 'SEX!' twenty-four seven. I don't look at every guy on the street and think, 'Oh boy, I gotta make sure I get with that!' It doesn't work that way!" Mikaela was defending adamantly.
Miles did not enter the room. Instead, he stayed outside of it, listening, and amazingly not laughing as the conversation progressed. It ended with Ratchet cursing the strangeness of human procreation, and warning the two teens that if they ever came face to face with that biological imperative, and Mikaela became pregnant, he was 'So going to rub it in their human faces.'
2)Mikaela was reapplying some makeup in the rec room. She wasn't alone. Sam and Bumblebee were talking, Ironhide was doing something or other with a gun, and Wheeljack was staring at Mikaela in fascination.
After she could no longer stand being stared at, the girl looked up at the robot, asking, "What?"
Wheeljack lit up and questioned, "Are you trying to attract a mate? Because I was under the impression that you already had one. If you wanted to mate, couldn't you just ask him?"
Glancing quickly at Sam (who had stopped talking with Bumblebee and was looking between Mikaela and Wheeljack), Mikaela sighed. "No. I'm not trying to 'attract a mate' or whatever."
"Are you trying to excite the one you already have?" he tried again, striving to understand. "Sam is not really paying attention. If you needed, I could help."
3)"Do you require assistance? I'd be happy to help you achieve conception…" There were Prowl and Wheeljack, standing over them… Sam and Mikaela could have died…
4)Mikaela remembered distinctly Ratchet pulling her to the side one day, trying to 'break the news' to her that, "I'm sorry, Mikaela, but you are not pregnant."
The girl had been so confused, it wasn't even funny.
Okay. It was sort of funny. But in a distinctly 'funny because it's very unfunny' sort of way.
"What are you talking about?"
"You and Sam. Your attempt was a failure. For whatever reason, you were not impregnated," Ratchet told her calmly. Mikaela, on the other hand, felt her stomach sink. She believed she knew what he was talking about now. It had been her and Sam's first time, and Ratchet could only be referencing that. It had happened after a pretty tense day when she and Sam had spent the night out at the base, in the human 'quarters.' One thing had led to another, and they had ended up… Well, if Mikaela hadn't had the foresight to bring protection, they wouldn't have ended up with anything, but she had, and so they did.
But they hadn't told anyone! It had only been two weeks now, on the dot, and they hadn't told anyone. How did Ratchet know, unless he had seen?
It dawned on her that the newest addition, that 'Red Alert' fellow, probably didn't keep his cameras out of the human areas…
"…but we could assist you, though, if you let us," Ratchet was saying, mistaking her disturbed silence for disappointment and mourning.
5)"Mikaela's at the peak of her reproductive cycle, Sam! Surely you would conceive if you mated with her now!"
6)"Mrs. Lennox? Ironhide tells me you've been unsuccessful in conception, despite multiple attempts. I believe I can help you…"
Mikaela shook her head, pushing away the memories. Those little instances were exactly the things this mini-meeting was designed to get rid of. The autobots didn't see the questions or statements as obtrusive or rude, and the humans generally understood that. They weren't a bunch of touchy, immature people who gasped at the word 'sex' and blushed when it was brought up, after all. It was the constant repetition that was simply too much.
"They don't accept help because they don't want help," said Miles, shifting against the wall. "We homo sapiens are a pretty sexual bunch, I'll give you that, but we know how to get things done without the intervention of space robots. Plus, in our culture, if the relationship is actually meaningful, most people prefer to keep it under wraps." With a distinct grin he decided to tack on, "You're a lot more likely to see two humans getting it on if you don't say anything to them. The more they forget you're there and that they're not alone, the further things tend to get."
Revelation overcame Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Bumblebee (though Bee already sort of knew this from observation of his charges).
"God, you guys are so weird," Sam said, exasperated. "Why are you all so intrigued by organic reproduction? We don't go running around asking about robot sex, do we? None of us have ever gone, 'Hey there Ratchet! What's up? You and,' oh, I dunno, 'are you and Wheeljack taking it to the next level?' Or, 'Prowl, hey! When's the robot-baby due?' No. I don't think we do that."
"And even if we did, I don't think we'd be volunteering to assist," Mikaela agreed, pointedly ignoring the background line of "I certainly would" coming from Miles.
Now, Ratchet crossed his arms. "We can't possibly have 'sex.' That is a process engaged in by two organic creatures. The closest thing we possibly have is the merging of sparks, and while certain Cybertronians are designed to nurture new sparks as they develop before transplanting them into new frames, we have no technical genders, therefore there is no such thing as pregnancy or sexual interaction. The concept is absurd," he said definitively.
"That's fun to know, but point is, we wouldn't interrogate you guys about it, and we wouldn't offer to help. We might talk about it behind your backs…" Sam stopped himself, remembering this session was all about honesty. "Okay, we would definitely talk about it behind your backs, but we wouldn't just skip into a room where, like, Bumblebee and Prowl were trying to get it on and start throwing advice their way. That's creepy."
"No, that's illogical," Prowl insisted. "I would not spark merge with Bumblebee. Your hypothetical situation would never come to fruition."
Mikaela sighed, "That's not the point. It could be any two of you – or even one huge, giant robot orgy, it really wouldn't make a difference. The help-offering is just weird, end of conversation." While that anecdote-wannabe settled in, Mikaela gestured to Optimus, signaling him to ask his own question.
Once again the humans were reminded that the autobot commander's amazingly amazing voice totally made everything… amazing.
"Why are humans as defensive and embarrassed as they are to be caught in any situation relating to procreation?" Quickly, he clarified, "And I do understand that intimate actions are desired to take place only between the persons involved, thus the title of 'intimate.' I only observe that your kind can overreact on occasion, especially considering your actions are of no offense to us whatsoever."
Bluestreak arrived in one piece a month, almost two, after Wheeljack and Prowl, perhaps a year apart from Red Alert. Optimus had been overjoyed to see yet another of his comrades show up largely unharmed. Two Earth days had elapsed before Bumblebee, Sam, and Mikaela returned to base. Bee was happy to come and see Bluestreak again, and Ratchet was happy that it was about time for the scout to have a systems check.
"You're not running off to see Bluestreak," Ratchet had ordered, "Unless I'm positive you can keep running and seeing!"
As Optimus showed Bluestreak around, he wondered where exactly the two humans had gotten off to. He knew Bumblebee was currently with Ratchet, but Sam and Mikaela…? Bluestreak very much wanted to see a human up close.
" – and I looked at a lot of pictures of them and I can't wait for Beachcomber to get here, but I think it would be very interesting to be introduced to some of the ones that helped you battle the decepticons. I mean, that was awfully brave and kind of them to help out, especially because I doubt they really had any idea what was going on; and to believe one of them – a youngling! – managed to use the All Spark to terminate Megatron! Oh, I can't wait to meet…!"
It was wonderful to have Blue back.
"I believe I know were we can locate them," assured Optimus, leading the gunner towards the humans' sector of the makeshift base.
A minute or so later, as they stepped into the main room that led into the sleeping bunks, Bluestreak brightened. There, towards a corner with a television, were the two humans he had heard the most about.
But they were doing something odd. They were pretty close to one another, hands on one another, organic mouths touching…Bluestreak looked curiously to Optimus.
"Sam and Mikaela are partners," Optimus explained, his voice startling the two humans in question. They flew apart from one another to opposite ends of the green couch and opted for staring up at the robot aliens apprehensively. "They were engaging in some pre-mating, courting ritual. We've seen them do that multiple times."
Mikaela gave Optimus The Look, but the flaming semi-turned-robot was unfazed.
"How curious," Bluestreak took in, smiling and waving amicably. "Bumblebee told me about you over a radio transmission. He likes the two of you very much, and he did mention that you were a mated pair, I simply forgot. Oh! My name's Bluestreak, and I'm very happy to meet the two of you, even though I'm sorry we interrupted your ritual."
"It's not a ritual," said Sam. "And hi to you, too."
Bluestreak blinked. "It's not? Was it actual mating?"
"Bluestreak," chided Prime, "you know that was not actual mating. You've read the descriptions and seen the depictions over their internet, haven't you?"
The newest mech shrugged, nodding ultimately. "But I don't understand. If they weren't trying to breed, and that wasn't a gesture of intimacy, then why were they so close… Why were you so close?" Bluestreak asked, unusually down to the point as he looked from Optimus to the humans.
"Optimus, you should know better," Mikaela announced. "We were only kissing!"
"Kissing, kissing… intimate kissing? Because most of the sources I can find say that that's an intimate gesture, or at the very least affectionate, and since they all told me you were partners, and because some of these other sites say that certain types of your 'kissing' can be very arousing, I would have thought you were trying to urge the other into a procreative temper," presented Bluestreak. As the mech wondered where his reasoning had gone wrong, Mikaela and Sam looked at one another.
Joy. The new autobot was just as weird when it came to sex as all the other ones. If there was one thing they hadn't signed up for with aliens, it was that.
"And you were touching each other," Bluestreak added as a side note, drawing the attention of all three other occupants in the room. Optimus had, somehow, missed that. Mikaela and Sam had hoped it hadn't been noticed.
Catching the looks of uncertainty, Bluestreak elaborated, "You see, I was just cross-referencing what you were doing, since neither of you are really feeding me much information, so I thought I'd just look it up on my own. You, Sam, were fondling her about the chest area, primarily her breasts, and also her sides. She was sort of reaching under your shirt and also holding your face, and most of the images I'm coming up with suggest those places are commonly implemented as a precursor to sexual activity. Am I wrong?"
Feeling awkward, Mikaela lifted a hand and hugged at her chest, using her other hand to straighten her shirt out some more. Just a shade below noticeable blushing, Sam straightened his own shirt, rubbed at his hair, and shifted with a deliberate cough.
With a sigh of his own, Optimus told them, "There's no need to be embarrassed. Neither Bluestreak nor myself mind that you wish to engage one another in intercourse. You both know any offspring of yours would be welcomed wholeheartedly."
Sam blinked twice, then raised an eyebrow. "We're eighteen."
"… And are physically matured, yes, we know," Optimus filled in the blanks incorrectly, albeit logically. "Bumblebee tells us all the time."
Now Mikaela also raised her eyebrows. "What does Bumblebee tell you?" She inquired suspiciously.
Bluestreak watched, enthralled by the conversation. He'd never talked with such sentient organics before!
"He informs us whenever he knows you've been mating, and he insists he cannot wait for the pair of you to produce a human sparkling… a baby. Bumblebee is quite thrilled with the idea."
A baby? "I want to see a baby," Bluestreak noted to himself, although out loud. Then to Sam and Mikaela, "I heard of another mated human pair, the Lennoxes, and Ironhide said that they have a child, but that she's not really a baby anymore. If you two would please create a baby, it would be very wonderful, because I've never seen an organic baby, let alone a human baby, and since you helped us out and all, it would be very…"
And so went a mostly one sided conversation, which somehow steered into a soliloquy on human reproduction, and what the most effective way to actually conceive a baby would be, with Optimus occasionally putting his two cents in.
For about ten minutes Sam and Mikaela listened to their 'prescription' until Bumblebee showed up. They thought they had a good excuse to leave, but instead, Bumblebee too jumped into the conversation.
About two minutes after Bee showed up, Mikaela and Sam removed pillows from the couch and stuck their heads under them, content to let the three autobots discuss sex all they wanted so long as their voices were muffled by stuffing.
Not that it drowned out the whole conversation. Somehow, though, contraceptives ('baby-preventers,' as Bluestreak eloquently called them) and foreplay ('pre-mating courting that riles up so many pheromones your CPU will fritz,' or so Bumblebee called it) were not as disturbing when filtered through a pillow.
Miles tapped his shoe thoughtfully on the floor. Sam was still remembering the Introduction to Bluestreak Incident. Mikaela ultimately answered.
"I… I wouldn't want to call it embarrassed or defensive (at least not after the first few times you said something), I'd want to call it frustrated," she began a little clumsily, still trying to line out her response in her mind coherently. "We know you don't mind, but we mind. We do tend to like to do that stuff in private if we can, like you said. And like Miles said, we also end up doing the low key stuff around people when they don't say anything."
"But when people just jump in and start giving running commentaries, or staring," interrupted Sam, "That's went it gets irksome. You know, maybe once and a while we wouldn't mind treating you guys to a kiss or something, and we wouldn't care about you catching us cuddling, but when every time we touch someone of the opposite gender it becomes mating season, it sorta gets on your nerves."
The autobots considered that. Bumblebee asked, "If we left you alone about it, you wouldn't care?"
"Not as much, no, we wouldn't," confirmed Mikaela. She shrugged a bit. "I mean, you're not going to find any of us actually having sex in front of you – unless you're watching on a hidden camera," she corrected pointedly, earning shrugs from Ratchet and Bumblebee. "We aren't gonna do people in front of you, but hugging and kissing and whatnot really aren't taboos unless autobots like you make them taboos."
The Cybertronians mulled over that tidbit in earnest.
Sam gave them hesitant looks, then asked, "I think we've made some good progress here. If that's it for now, do you think we could maybe take a quick brea–?"
Optimus twitched mildly, cutting off Sam's request for an intermission. Sam, Mikaela, and Miles all looked at him curiously when he smiled, as did the rest of the autobots.
"I've just received a transmission from an Earthbound mech. It's Perceptor. He should be arriving within the next several days."
This was certainly great news, and the gathered autobots were clearly happy to hear it. As they broke out into questioning Prime about the transmission, the three friends glanced around. Then, something struck Mikaela, who was already halfway standing, anticipating a break.
"Perceptor… Hey, he's the scientist, right?"
"Yes," confirmed Wheeljack.
"Oh God," mumbled Mikaela, a similar response coming from Sam. Miles didn't know whether to laugh at his friends or feel empathy for their pain.
Sam stretched dramatically, defeated by the universe. "Not another one!"
Like last time, I guess I'll have to keep this story under 'completed' for now. I may or may not add the 'first time' scene that is referenced, but I make no guarantee as to time length if I do decide to post it. Again: comments and reviews are mega-loved, and if you feel the need to fix a typo or something, just contact me. I'll take a look at it.
Yours, hydraling110 (Azumara)