MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU BRILLIANT FUCKERS LIKE WOAH. ANd thanks to Laura because she beta'd for me and got me to fix the formatting.


And yeah, long time in coming this chapter, and format changes because i stumbled across rules about english I forgot about and actually tried to follow them.

BUT YEAH there was a long long looooooooooong writers block on this at one point. Now though, I have like... ONE MORE CHAPTER OF THIS FIC. YEAH I KNOW RIGHT HOLY SHIT I MIGHT FINISH A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE THIS IS MONUMENTAL FOR ME OK.

Anyway, you people are brilliant for reading this hot mess, bless all your faces, I hope you like this next chap, if you want a clip of me voice acting a teeny part of it I have one, PM for a link, and also you need to have the Daft Punk song 'Digital Love' on standby. You'll see why.

Bands and singers mentioned at some point, no specific songs because I want you to choose for yourself, but an idea of the tone is all you really need.



~Death out.

"Nghhhh… Jazz… c'mon… this is CRUEL."

The saboteur gave a deep chuckle, patting a thoroughly fragged Bumblebee on the helm as he sat panting and shaking in his lap.

Jazz gently lifted Bee's hips off his spike, the minibot whimpering as the familiar cord pulled free.

Jazz had been sitting on Prowl's desk, facing the twins and riding the spy over his spike so the twins could witness every thrust.

It seemed the beetle had gotten off on them watching him get fragged, if the sounds he'd made were anything to go by. The Porsche rolled to the side and lay Bumblebee down on the desk, face up.

"What, y'expect punishment to be easy Sides?" Jazz murmured in amusement, straddling Bumblebee and rubbing his spike showily against the minibot's, making him mewl.

A rev from Sunstreaker told him the torture technique was working quite well. "Perhaps, Sunstreaker, your judgment was clouded." Prowl said coolly, wandering over behind the frontliner. "I can understand your reasoning. I know the circumstances that have led you to… your current relationship with Bumblebee. And I am willing to forgive you that. However…"

He leant over the stony faced warrior's shoulder, murmuring beside a helm fin, venting on it slightly. "I am also aware of the kind of bot you are… and I'm sure you would agree with me when I say you would have done what you did on my desk regardless of your state of mind. There would never BE any hesitation."

Sunstreaker cracked a smirk, not looking at the tactician, who's tone was more playful than stern.

"Can you prove that, sir?"

Bumblebee, even in a post overload haze, and with limited vision of the golden mech, could tell there was a strain to Sunstreaker's otherwise nonchalant tone that belied his arousal as being quite as bad as his brother's.

Prowl gave a small chuckle, leaning even closer to the helm-fin, nearly letting his lips touch it.

"I don't have to. You've both flouted the rules with your wash rack exhibitionism. That is quite enough to justify our punishment of you in this manner. Not to mention…"

Prowl moved away from Sunstreaker's helm, not missing the shiver his near-contact to the helm fin had caused.

"Sideswipe has built quite an impressive record in terms of fraternizing in inappropriate places."

He slid a thumb flippantly up one of the red twin's helm horns, making him moan and press into the touch.

Prowl gave a soft chuckle and moved around to face the two, his authoritative air somehow not spoiled at all by his open, slicked interface and half pressurized spike.

"The question is, how much punishment can the two of you take before you give in and provide a true apology."

Sunstreaker scoffed, the sound laced with static.

"And I suppose your idea of an apology involves us sucking you off, right?"

"Nope. Actually, our initial idea of an apology is you showin' us why Bumblebee keeps goin' back to ya." Jazz piped up cheerily, having turned around to face them. He was still straddling Bumblebee, riding his spike lazily. The twins gave each other wide optic'd looks of surprise.

~You think they're serious?~ Sideswipe, even over the bond, sounded both eager and extremely apprehensive.

~Not the point… do we WANT to be getting involved in this kinda stuff with them? They're our superiors… are they going to hold it against us forever?~

Sunstreaker, while undeniably interested in the challenge, was the most reluctant of the two of them. He was not sure he had quite gotten his helm wrapped around the fact Jazz and PROWL of all mechs were doing what they were right now, and in front of them no less…

~C'mon Sunny, they might be manipulative when it comes to stuff that isn't serious… but this is too personal, they're not gonna do something like that, they're both too responsible.~

Sunstreaker mulled that over before looking back up at the expectant tactician with a suspicious expression.

"You sure that's what you want? And it's not some kind of trick? Something to hold over us later?"

"You have my word, this is a confidential personal matter between the five of us. However, if we are not satisfied with your performance you will have to do wash rack cleanup duty the next time the Dinobots have a bath."

"We'll do it, let us goooo." Sideswipe squirmed.

"Good. But I'm not letting you free yet." Prowl smirked, wings twitching as both twins swore loudly.

"But you just said!-"

"Fragging liar! You're going to make us-"

"Mechs, calm your afts down, we'll letcha go in a bit, but he never said your apology would come now. We ain't done with y'punishment." Jazz purred, still rising and falling languidly on a whimpering Bumblebee's spike, stroking his own.

Prowl nodded, moving forwards and kneeling down. He took each twin's straining, twitching cable in a servo and slowly, firmly stroked them. Both twins arched and moaned, pressing into the delicious, long awaited contact.

After only three strokes, the tactician lightened his touches so that he barely held the two stiff cables, and teased them, both twins whining and trying to buck into his servos.

"You… you're… epitome… of evil" Sunstreaker managed to get out between grit denta."And you got lubricant all over my desk." Prowl replied mildly.

They both moaned loudly when the datsun palmed their spikes firmly again, only to dip his digits lower and tease their leaking valves. He went back to teasing the golden twin's spike when he tensed and looked uncomfortable at the port stimulation.

A loud whimper from the desk had the twins changing their focus back to Jazz and Bumblebee, the saboteur having moved again, now straddling Bumblebee's helm. He was bobbing his spike lazily up and down for the minibot to mouth and suck at while he lavished the beetle's own hard cord with attention.

The show had the twin's own spikes twitching, and Prowl brushed his thumbs ever so lightly over the tips of their hubs, electric charge tingling and arcing from their connection pins to his servo plating.

While they were transfixed on what Jazz was doing with his glossa to Bumblebee's spike, Prowl slipped a little something out of subspace and pressed it into Sideswipe's valve, making the red twin gasp and look back down. The SIC gave him a tiny, sly grin.

"Bumblebee did tell you he was off limits. It seems only fitting you be dosed with your own medicine, now that you are the one with his servos restrained."

Both twins engines stuttered and revved, but when the golden frontliner bucked up, Prowl withdrew his servo and bent forward to vent teasingly over the erect cable.

"NnnnghslaggitProwl!" Sunstreaker growled, glaring hotly at the SIC, receiving a heated smirk in return.

Sideswipe keened when Prowl remote activated the small vibrator he'd pushed into the red twin's valve. The red twin gasped and made a strangled sound, squirming in his bonds. "Gah… n-no way, that's…"

"The same vibrator you left in Bee when ya cuffed him to your berth. Surprised you- mmmmmm damn Bee, that's niiiice… ya didn't notice it missin'. Don't look so shocked, ahm the base's resident head ninja and Prowl- oooo yea, right there- is the head tactician. Don't think we didn't plan ahead fer something' like this. You were gonna get punished one way or another."

"You put… w-waaay too much thought into your punishments… haven't you officers got anything BETTER to do… than think up ways to torture your subordinates inappropriately?" Sunstreaker smirked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And having to think up an appropriate way to put you in your place took up valuable report filing time."Prowl purred coolly, pinching the tip of the golden mechs spike and leaning it from side to side ponderously, earning a heated look and a broader smirk from the frontliner."And now I'm behind, and it's all your fault. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sunstreaker's smirk turned into a full slag eating grin. "Suck it, sir."

The tactician raised his eyebrow ridge in response and removed his servo from the spike."Wrong answer." he responded flatly.

Jazz chuckled around Bee's spike as he bobbed his helm over it, the beetle keening beneath him. He pulled off momentarily to throw Sunstreaker an amused look.

"Oooo bad move Sundance. Word to the wise, don't make demands to the bot who's got ya tied up and can deny ya an overload."

The golden frontliner revved and gave him a miffed look. "Hey, you want me to 'apologize' right? Em gonna get an overload regardless."

"Don't be so sure. I know full well what your twin bond means for you during interface. I could easily just take Sideswipe's apology for the two of you and leave you with the overflow to get you charged without release."

Sunstreaker glared at the tactician, who merely gave him a tiny smirk of triumph. The golden twin was soon appeased when Prowl reached out to stroke one of his helm fins, thumb running horizontally over each slat and making him moan and lean into the touch.

His brother whimpered beside him, legs rubbing together, watching Jazz and Bumblebee and biting at his lower lip-plate.

Jazz overloaded with Bee's ministrations on his spike, staying still and trembling as the minibot swallowed hard around his cable. He pulled it free and sucked hard on the spy's own spike, sneaking two digits around to pump his clenching valve.

Bumblebee came with a squeal, unable to stop himself from bucking, but Jazz had a good enough grip on him that it didn't bother him.

Sideswipe moaned frustratedly, bucking into thin air, spike rigid and needy as his valve was tortured deliciously with his own vibrator.

Prowl ran the back of his digits up the underside of Sideswipe's spike, receiving a whimper from the red twin and a growl from the golden one.

It was clear Sunstreaker was being affected by his brother's condition, his vents panting and optics a deep blue. Prowl leant down so his helm was level with Sunstreaker's, servos resting on the frontliner's knees and sliding up the thighs to rest just shy of his pelvic gimble.

"I'll ask you again Sunstreaker. What do you have to say for yourself, disrupting my work and messing up my desk?" The golden warrior glared up at him from under the rim of his helm. There was an expectant silence between them, broken only by the ping of Jazz and Bumblebee's cooling armor, the whirr of vents and Sideswipe's noises of arousal.

"I'm sorry, sir… now for the love of slag just let me make it UP to you already." He growled through grit denta, looking away as his straining spike throbbed at the feel of the tactician's vents gusting down over it.

Prowl sighed. "I suppose that's the best I can ask for."

The Praxiun stood, turning his back on Sunstreaker, who made a noise of disbelief, which quickly morphed into surprise as the tactician spread his legs and leant back and down, easily lining his valve up with Sunstreaker's spike and pressing himself down over it.

The frontliner chocked out a moan and revved hard, arching his hips up to press in further, Prowl's valve a little tight around his cable.

Sideswipe watched in open mouthed astonishment as Prowl settled himself fully on his brother's lap and twitched his wings. The datsun settled his servos on Sunstreaker's knees for balance and ex-vented sharply as he clenched around the impressive girth, adjusting.

"Nnnngh if you want a proper apology, slagging well untie my servos!" Prowl threw him a look over his shoulder.

"Mind yourself, or I'll just get off and accept an apology from Sideswipe exclusively."

"No, he means… nnnnhhhh you're the same as Blue, right? F-frame wise… he KNOWS what he's do-oooing with door wings." Sideswipe panted heatedly, optics bright with lust.

"Mmmm that's a good point." Jazz hopped off the desk, where he'd left a now uncuffed Bumblebee to cool off and recover. He wandered around behind Sunstreaker's chair, giving Prowl a playful slap on the aft on his way past, earning him a rev.

Once his servos were free, Sunstreaker didn't even hesitate, golden digits tracing the edges of the splayed black and white door wings. Prowl gave a rumble of approval, pressing into the touches as he began to lift and rock himself over the frontliner's spike.

Jazz, meanwhile, had moved to straddle Sideswipe's lap, servos planted on the frontliner's shoulders, rubbing their spikes together and acting for all the world like he was a lap-dancer by profession.

The red mech whimpered and bucked against Jazz, sliding his cable against the black hip-plates."Mmmmm should I let ya apologize to me, or should ah letcha have a full dose of your own medicine."

"PleasefortheloveofPrimusletmeapologiseJazzohfragpleeeeease!" Sideswipe's rush of words was higher than his regular tone and barely intelligible.

"Tch, even I didn't beg that badly when you found me on his berth." Bumblebee chuckled from the desk, happily watching back now the tables had turned.

Jazz responded with a chuckle of his own, a deep one which ended in a purr of his engine.

"Whadya think Bee. Should ah have mercy on 'im, or let 'im charge up a bit more?"

Sideswipe whined and quivered as the vibrator kicked onto it's highest setting and Jazz gyrated his hips against his spike again.

"Mmmmm go ahead, I just wanna see his spike in you. You'll like it."

"Oh, ah don't doubt that. This'll be the first time ah feel it sober." Jazz snickered, raising himself and lining up with the stiff, eager spike.

Bumblebee laughed at that, lounging on the desk as he watched Jazz slide himself slowly down onto Sideswipe's cable, the red warriors optics brightening substantially. The saboteur certainly knew how to put on a show, but that didn't mean Prowl wasn't doing just as good a job with his own spectacle.

Once Jazz had hilted himself on Sideswipe, Bumblebee was having trouble deciding who to watch, trying to divide his attention equally and wishing he had four sets of optics.

Sideswipe sure hadn't been kidding when it came to his brother's prowess with door wings, if the way Prowl was arching and moaning was anything to go by.

For all that it had been Sunstreaker to commit the crime of taking him over Prowl's desk, Bumblebee felt Sideswipe was getting most of the punishment.

"J-jaaaazz… fragging… sonova… no fair… wanna touch… pleeeeeease!"

The panted pleading was met with a deep chuckle and a wiggle of black hip-plates.

"He has a point, Sideswipe was more of an accomplice." Bumblebee piped up in his defense.

"Aaaaalright, come untie him Bee. Ah was havin' fun takin mah time here." Jazz sighed in fake exasperation.

Bumblebee slid off the desk and moved to untie the red mech's servos. As soon as they were free, Sideswipe made a beeline, so to speak, for the Porsche's spike.

Jazz gasped and groaned, riding the red twin's spike a little harder as his own was pumped and played with mercilessly."Daaaamn Sides, forgot how good ya were with y'servos."

"Hey, I'm a walking arsenal, I'm a pro at handling dangerous weapons."

"Ooooh that was a baaad one Sides." Bumblebee groaned, reaching up to pinch a helm horn and making the frontliner chuckle and lean back into the touch.

"You sayin' it AIN'T a weapon? Ah…nnngh, beg to differ." Jazz snickered.

"Only if there's such thing as a frag missile." the beetle countered, peeking around Sideswipe to get a good look at Jazz working over the now lubricant slicked cord.

A sharp cry drew the three mechs attention to Prowl, who was being held tight around the middle as he arched forward in overload. Beneath him, Sunstreaker was biting the bottom edge of a quivering door wing and bucking up into the tactician, engine roaring as he followed into overload an astrosecond behind Prowl.

"Ooooh now that's a nice sight" Jazz rumbled, picking up his movements over Sideswipe and rubbing his thumbs over the Lamborghini's headlights.

"Aha… I'm the one… with the v-vibrator up m-my port and HE overloads f-first"

Sideswipe snickered between pants and moans."Oh ah think we can… mmmmm remedy that."

Jazz purred, placing his servos on Sideswipe's helm horns and kissing him roughly as he cycled the magnetics in his palms.

Sideswipe practically screamed into the kiss, grasping Jazz's hips and arching up hard in overload. He toppled into a second charge release when Jazz magnetized his socket, pulling his spike into a connection.

"Holy frag, that was… impressive." Bumblebee murmured, leaning on the back of the chair and playing idly with the tip of one of Sideswipe's practically buzzing helm horns, making the red mech groan.

"How come you never used your servo MF generators on me Jazz?"

"Mmmm not safe. Frontliners are built to take punishment. They're weapons, ah can't tune 'em down enough to use on you n' Prowl, but Sides ain't gonna be more-n dizzy from 'em. Ah cooould look into getting Ratchet to give 'em a wider scope… if you're really that keen to feel 'em."

"I recommend it." Sideswipe piped up with a huge grin plastered across his faceplate, optics unfocussed.

"Apology accepted, sir?" Sunstreaker murmured between laps against the bases of the SIC's quivering door wings.

Prowl could hear the smirk in Sunstreaker's voice, but rather than infuriate him, it only made his engine rev."Mmmmm only if you show me exactly what you were doing to Bumblebee over my desk."

Sunstreaker laughed, securing his hold around the tactician's midriff before standing and moving to the desk with him.

Prowl barely suppressed a squeak, door wings hiking up and quivering again as the spike still in his valve pressed up against his socket. He knew the twins were both much stronger than they let on, but sometimes he forgot just HOW strong they were. Sunstreaker lay him over his own desk with more care than he expected from the frontliner.

"I'm not going to be allowed to tell anyone about this on pain of permanent oil-tank cleaning duty am I?" the golden warrior murmured, unplugging himself to pull out and rub his still pressurized spike against the tacticians entrance.

Prowl gave a rumble of affirmation as his legs where held up and trapped at Sunstreaker's hips."I may consider allowing you to reveal it to Bluestreak if- Ah~… if it becomes relevant to do so."

"Mmmmm it just might. He's been getting a little more possessive of late. Me and Sides are cutting back on the berth hopping." the golden mech admitted in a murmur as he bent over and nipped a door wing.

He smirked at the way the SIC quivered beneath him at the attention. Praxians, it seemed, were a very responsive lot when you pressed the right buttons.

"So you are serious about being with him long term?" Prowl panted slightly, moaning when Sunstreaker lined up and thrust hard, hilting himself.

"Mmmmhmmm~… no more talking. Unless it's to scream my name… sir." the golden twin rumbled over him, starting up a slow out, fast in pace and attacking the door wings with gusto, reducing the tactician to a keening, squirming mess.

"Daaaaaamn if I wasn't so low on fuel, I'd be going again just watching those two." Bumblebee muttered, engine revving slightly.

"With me or Jazz?" Sideswipe purred with a cheeky grin.

"Either, both, my own servos if I had to." The minibot snickered.

"While ah am partial to watchin you get y'self off, how about we go with the 'both' option?" Jazz chuckled, drawing a cube out of subspace and dangling it in front of the minibot.

By the time they were all done, Prowl was slumped in his desk chair wiping lubricant off his faceplate, Sunstreaker was lying across his desk on his front, and Bumblebee was sprawled across Jazz, who was sprawled over Sideswipe on the floor.

The room reeked of lubricant, ozone and ionic discharge. As far as Bumblebee was concerned, it was possibly the best smell in the world. But they would have to wash it off and out of them and cover the remnants with polish or wax to keep their little tryst secret.

"So… I do hope you two have learnt your lesson about appropriate engagement with our minibot." the tactician almost drawled in a very lazy version of his stricter tone.

Sideswipe chuckled."Yessirrrrrrrrrr, no stealing the minibot unless I wanna get a spanking from you."

"And me. Don't think ah don't know how to deliver a decent smack to the aft." Jazz snickered, voice laced with a deep, sated purr.

"On a separate note Jazz, when's that party?" Sunstreaker mumbled, stretching his arms like a cat before folding them under his helm and peering at the saboteur with deeply azure, dim optics.

"Hmmmm gonna put it off a day, jus' t'give myself time to organize it properly. Plus Blaster said somethin' about not wanton' to have it before he had all his gear ready. Don't know what the slag he meant by that, ah mean he IS the gear, and far as ah know, he doesn't need repairs."

"Also, I take it you and Bumblebee have overcome the experiential problem? I haven't had a chance to ask since you used my office to sort it out." Prowl murmured softly to the golden frontliner as the others talked about party requirements.

"Yeah… guess you guys know about all those times Sides pounced Bee to uh… help me re-associate him with positive stuff, huh?"

"Hmm. I never actually minded about that, Bumblebee, after all, is a free mech. Despite our various claims on him, which he seems to like nonetheless."

"I still don't know how he's done it though." Sunstreaker admitted quietly after a brief silence while they'd listened to Sideswipe and Jazz bicker over decorations.

Prowl flicked his wings mildly in a 'please explain' motion, which the gold twin caught out the corner of his optic.

"I never felt threatened by him. It's weird, cause y'know, he's so nice, like the carers were… well, most of them. Apart from that, I KNOW he's dangerous. Anyone Jazz trains is dangerous. And yet, he still doesn't scare me, at all. Never did."

"Well, considering your history, would you not expect more mechs to be frightened of you?" Prowl asked softly.

Sunstreaker turned his helm to look at the tactician over his shoulder. "They ARE though, to a degree… but I guess not everyone is… what are you getting at?"

"Well, consider Chip Chase. You could harm him, you've shown just how capable of random acts of violence you are in his presence, and he has absolutely no defense against you. Yet he doesn't fear you, because he trusts you. In the same way you trust Bumblebee, because you know well enough that he's never done anything to willingly hurt his own."

Sunstreaker blinked at Prowl as he digested that."Oh… yeah, I guess so." He turned back to watch the others on the floor, Bumblebee having moved to grab them some more energon while Jazz and Sideswipe did scissors-paper-rock to decide who got to choose the initiation ceremony.

He was confused by a tinkling noise, until he realized it was the collar on Bumblebee, which he'd forgotten about.

"Guess I should take the tag off Bee. Unless you want me to change it to say 'if found, please return to nearest police mech'".

Prowl laughed at that, patting the golden mech's leg and pulling Bumblebee into his lap when he came to hand him a cube. "Much as I would like that, I think we had better just take it off to spare our poor spy the further humiliation."

Bumblebee wandered down the hall, returning from what had been a rather fun patrol with Wheeljack.

Without any Con activity in sensor range, they'd played. And Bumblebee had forgotten how much fun it was to play in alt. mode.

Why had it been so long since he'd driven and rallied and raced? He was quite filthy from it, given the recent rain and copious amounts of mud on their off-road tracks.

He didn't mind though, really. He was too high on life, and it was a good feeling. Especially when he considered his more recent near bushes with death.

Not that I wouldn't die happy right now. All the same, prefer to live, more fun to be had yet.

He grinned, thinking of all the KINDS of fun he was yet to have with the two mechs that had become the center of his world.

Not to mention the satellites that were the twins, and all his friends. The fact all the tension around Sunstreaker had been resolved was probably what had him feeling so light, on top of everything.

Despite the war, he was pretty sure his life had not felt so full since he'd first been activated.

Of course, a mood that good could never last.

He walked into the wash racks in companionable silence with Wheeljack, the two of them just grinning (at least Bee knew the colour of Wheeljack's helm fins meant he was grinning).

The racks were already occupied, but given it was the mid-morning shift change, that was normal. Bumblebee merely headed for the closest vacant spigot, Wheeljack taking the one beside him, both of them greeting Trailbreaker and Hound in the next two spaces over from them.

"Sooooo Bumblebee, what's this I hear about you and Hot Rod?"

The minibot paused and tensed mid scrub across his chassis.

"'Breaker." Hound said in an almost exasperated tone.

"Aw c'mon Hound, gossip like this, I gotta ask."

"Gossip like WHAT exactly?" Wheeljack asked, a cautionary note in his voice.

Bumblebee turned a schooled, neutral expression on the black mech.

"Well, y'know… Hot Rod's been tellin' us how the two of you used to be an item. Y'know, before the war." Trailbreaker said airily, aware he was treading on slightly thin ice.

"Is that so." Bumblebee remained neutral, returning to his cleaning.

"What slag has he been spreading about Bee?" Wheeljack huffed, not hiding his feelings like the beetle.

"Weeeell he's made allusions to his uhh… berth habits." the black mech continued lightly.

"Allusions like what?" The engineer actually growled, making the defense specialist lose his nerve.

An angry Wheeljack was a rare Wheeljack, but when he was, he could match the imposing nature of even Ratchet.

"Um… not a lot, y'know, not details, just uh… what they used to do sometimes in berth…"

Bumblebee decided he was not going to bother denying anything, since the damage was already done. He had enough experience and confidence this time around to best any childish mud slinging Hot Rod wanted to start.

After all, he was Ops. Information was his weapon of choice.

"You mean what I used to do to his spike that made him squeak? Or how he used to crash after about two overloads? Or maybe how he liked it when I-"

"You mean you two actually WERE…" Trailbreaker seemed shocked, both by Bumblebee's forwardness and the lack of denial.

"That depends, mostly on how he chooses to remember the whole thing. So IS that what he's been saying? Or is it more along the lines of how bad at it I was? How sweet and tight his favourite little mini's valve was."

Bumblebee threw the defense specialist a nonchalant, expectant look before squatting to wipe mud out of his wheel wells.

He'd also noticed Hound and Wheeljack looking somewhat dumbfounded and lost for words, but continued pretending there was nothing odd about the conversation.

"I…um… yeah… he did say something along those lines… the um, the valve… thing… not that you were bad."

"Well, nice to know he's changed his tune. Unfortunate about his manners though."

The humid air in the wash racks was thick with tension, which none of them dared to break as they got on with cleaning in heavy silence.

When Bumblebee was done, having seethed silently, with what felt like a lump of lead in his tanks, Trailbreaker spoke up.

"Bee, look, I know it's none of my business-"

"Yep. Sure isn't." He cut the black mech off with a hollow, cheery tone.

Trailbreaker made to say something else as the beetle continued towards the door, but Wheeljack held a servo up and shook his helm."Leave it 'Breaker. He's a private mech." He murmured, following his friend out without bothering to finish drying properly.

"You OK?" The engineer asked softly as he caught up.

"Yeah. It's just, I can't decide if I want to get him in his sleep or with an audience. Also, should I make it a vocalizer offlining hit, or just a straight up schooling and a punch to the face? Or just steal his spike while he's asleep?"

"You keep talking about that in those 'everything is perfectly normal' tones and I'm going to have to ask Jazz to lock you up before you do something you regret." Wheeljack gave him a sharp look, more concerned than worried. "If it were me though, I'd go for the punch to the face."

"Yeah I was leaning towards that. More satisfying." He nodded, still looking calm, but the Lancia had known him long enough to see the warring emotions behind the light blue optics. "Probably get in a codpiece caving hit if I can too."

"Seriously though Bee, you gonna be OK? I mean, he's way outta line, but don't let it hurt you, he's gonna get what's comin' to him if he keeps slag talking about you like that, especially if he says anything within earshot of the twins or Cliffjumper."

"Yeah, I know… I'm alright, I'm just… I'm so done with him, with his attitude. He never cared about what he did to me, clearly, and he still doesn't, so I'm not going to invest any more emotion in this than I have to. He's a sleaze, an aft hole, and I've done WAY better since then. If I don't give bots a reaction, they'll stop being so interested… hopefully." Bumblebee sighed, not sure exactly where he was going, since Wheeljack had taken over steering them through the halls, and he'd just automatically followed.

They came to the rec room, and Bumblebee noticed he was indeed in need of a refuel. He'd been too distracted to take note of his fuel gauge, but clearly Wheeljack had thought of it.

When they entered, the place was bustling with a little more activity than usual. Party decorations were going up, and Jazz and Sideswipe were in the midst of it, arguing again over the best layout for the balloons and the table arrangement.

Bumblebee couldn't help but smile slightly, reminded once more of what they'd done in Prowl's office, and Wheeljack relaxed at the bleed out of tension from the minibot's field.

"So how DID you and your duo-chromatic friends sort everything out?"

The beetle threw Wheeljack a small amused look as they drew up a few cubes of energon.

"There was a lot of exchanging of words… among other things."

Wheeljack canted his helm with a calculating look. "You mean… do you seriously mean… you lot didn't end up solving your issues with a love-in, surely?"

"Could call it that. There was still punishment involved, but by the end I'd say it was more um… what's the word… that Rungian thing… positive group tactile rehabilitation therapy."

Wheeljack's helm fins flashed a surprised pink. "Seriously? You mean… sir stick-up-his-aft even… you're having me on, you HAVE to be having me on."

"Well I'm not about to give you footage, but yes, Prowl was very much a part of it. Like I said though, there was still punishment, and it was more the kind that the Twins actually respond to, but everything is cool now. Twins know the whole deal, Prowl and Jazz know the whole deal, that's one less secret I have to keep." he grinned and sipped from his cube, optics lighting up again with that impish happiness the engineer had noted from the start of their shift.

"Explains you being so giddy all morning. I think I like what this p.g.t.r.t does for you. You should have regular sessions. Bet it mellows Prowl right out too. Might wanna find a better acronym for it though."

Bee shrugged and grinned. "Prowl is actually quite mellow MOST of the time, but it might be a new way for the Twins to apologise when they do something stupid to stress him out. And yeah, it does. Should just call it T.G.P for tactile group therapy."

Wheeljack laughed at that. "Shhhh don't tell me that or I'll be asking them to 'de-stress' him for me before I tell him when I do something stupid. Heh, hey, by the way... has Sunstreaker ever uuuuh... ever come to you with drawings... of what he wanted to do to you? As a way of suggesting you do them?" the Lancia fiddled with his cube as he asked.

Bee canted his helm curiously at the engineer. "Nooooo... why do you a- wait did he do that to you?"

"Damn, can't get anything past you can I." Wheeljack chuckled, rubbing the back of his helm, lights flushing an embarrassed orange colour.

"Ooooh now you HAVE to spill the beans. When did he do that?" Bee centered all his attention on his friend, grin plastered on his face.

"Uhhhh couple weeks back now? He and Sideswipe just came up and showed me a datapad in my lab. It was full of all these sketches Sunstreaker had done of me with them in uh... some extremely creative positions."

Bumblebee snorted and giggled. "Oh Primus, how creative are we talking?"

"Well... at one stage I had to rig a simple pulley system to-"

"Ah, so you tested them out then?"

"...Fraggit stop being so good at your job." He grumbled with a hidden grin, sipping at his cube through the slot in his mask.

Bee mock pouted at him. "Seriously though, they didn't even tell me. I'm kinda disappointed now, I want some creative pose suggestions. Although honestly we end up in pretty creative poses anyway but y'know, seeing yourself drawn doing it is different."

"Yeah. It's a whole other level of kinky. But hey, apparently it was your fault, they told me you're the one who put the thought of doing me in their heads. Well, in Sunstreaker's head at least" Wheeljack snickered.

"Ooo... yeah, might have been my fault... that time they got me tipsy they asked me my list of the top five bots I would... y'know... and yeah you were sortofmaybeonit." he murmured sheepishly.

Wheeljack just rumbled a laugh. "Yeah, I figured I must be since the fragging incident. If it makes you feel any better... well, possibly more awkward, but I'm sure we'll get over it, you've always been on my secret list too. As a curiosity kind of thing. Just never went there cause, well..."

Bee nodded understandingly. "Yeah. We have friend chemistry more than lover chemistry. It's cool. Hard to be someone's friend as long as we have and not wonder at least once what fragging them might be like."

"BeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE tell your boyf- your boss he's being stupid, we TOTALLY need giant balloons!" Sideswipe's voice whined loudly across the room.

Bee turned around in his seat and shared a look with Jazz, the two of them not missing Sideswipe's near slip. No one would take it serious in all likelihood, but still. They might have to work on the twin's ability to keep a secret.

"Sideswipe, is Kup going to be at this party?" Bee asked.

"Yeah? He doesn't usually miss a chance to get a bit 'charged."

"And is Ironhide going to be at it?"

Sideswipe gave him a curious look. "'Course he is, he'll be drinking and playing cards all night like he usually does at parties, he even reserved a table."

"So, Kup and Ironhide, both at the party, both drinking, both doubly trigger-happy. What do you think they'll do if a giant balloon pops? What do you think they'll do if several balloons pop? What do you think happens when big metal people are dancing around rubber filled with air under pressure-"

"OK OK! I get it! No balloons so there's no panicked shooty shooty. Geeeez, you think too much." Sideswipe threw his servos up in defeat. Jazz grinned and clapped Sideswipe on the back.

"I did teach him well. Anyway we don't need Balloons man, we're gonna have streamers for bots to throw around, and lots of human size balloons, courtesy of Carly. Those are hilariously tiny, and the pops don't set anyone off cause they're too small to sound like our gunfire. It'll be good 'Sides, nobody's gonna say 'that party was good, but it'd be better with giant balloons and silly string."

"Can I still bring that box of custom huge streamer whistle thingies?" he pouted plaintively.

Jazz made an optic rolling motion. "Aaaaahm gonna regret this, but... yes. Bring 'em. Gonna annoy the slag outta everyone with 'em, but if it gets too bad I'm sure Sunshine will go around dutifully destroying them."

The golden twin helping connect up Blaster's sound equipment on stage raised a thumbs up without looking around. "You know it."

Bee snickered and sipped at his cube. The light feeling returned, and he really, really hoped he could hold onto it a little longer this time before Hotrod or anyone else brought him down again.

"Ahm gonna kill him."

Jazz stood smiling and bouncing on his pedes as if nothing was wrong. The tone of his voice was even cheerful. Bee had picked up a lot from him, but Jazz was still the master of exuding one emotion while feeling another that was completely the opposite.

"No, you're not. If you kill him, I won't get the satisfaction of punching his stupid face in." Bee murmured at his side, arranging the bunches of Balloons Spike and Carly had brought with them.

He was the only bot around who could deal with the fiddly little strings on them and tie them to things without them slipping out of his hands and floating up to litter the ceiling. The amount up there was a testament to how many bots had already tried fruitlessly.

"Ah swear to Primus if he steps in here and starts mouthin' off aboutcha, he's a dead mech." Jazz continued to be all smiles, waving at Sandstorm and Springer as they wandered in together.

"And I swear to steal your visor for the rest of the night if you do that. He starts bad-mouthing me, I'll deal with it Jazz. Same way I dealt when he decided to corner me in the hallway. Besides, if YOU hit him, bots will think they can still start mentioning to me what he's been saying. If I remind everyone why they don't want to ask me about it by dealing with him myself, then that's two birds with one stone."

Jazz dipped his helm and shot Bee an 'I guess you have a point' look. "Can ah at least give him a good kick in the aft when ya done? Ah think it'll do him good. Bet Kup wouldn't disagree."

Bee snickered. "Yeees, fine, you may kick his aft. Once."
He finished up tying balloon bunches to sand filled bottles that weighed them down. "So where's Blaster, usually by now he'd have music going and everything."

"Hmmm he said somethin' about makin' an entrance. Wants to impress the newbies. They still remember him as a superstar from before the war, he likes playin' to his fans." Jazz smirked. "Ah mean I don't blame him, but if he thinks he ain't gonna cop flack from the regular crew for showboatin' he's got another thing comin'."

"Yeah, well, they might remember him only as some kind of superstar, but he IS just a big dork who likes to dance in inappropriate situations. Kinda like someone else I know." Bee grinned and elbowed Jazz in the hip.

"Hey hey now, whadid ah do t'you huh?" He gave Bumblebee a melodramatic look of betrayal.

"Don't be dissin' the dancin'. Confuses enemies into dropping their guard. They get all caught up in how good I am and don't anticipate a foot flyin' into their faceplates."

"And you never covered this as an espionage technique why? Am I such a terrible dancer you never thought I would pick it up?" it was the beetle's turn to put on the melodramatic hurt face.

"Ha, no, but you n' Mirage never struck me as the kind of agents willin' to try it out in practice. Might have to spend tonight reassessing your suitability for learnin' such an advanced technique." He grinned, giving Bumblebee a look that made a shiver of anticipation run down his spinal strut.

The spy forgot all about his dread over HotRod's appearance for a few moments.

By the time pretty much everyone was there, Blaster still hadn't shown up. Even Prowl and Optimus had come along, the former having sequestered himself in a corner with Red Alert, Inferno, Ratchet and Skyfire.

Bumblebee had opted out of their gathering to play 'avoid red and orange mech as long as possible', which was actually fun to a degree.

He was the perfect social butterfly, flitting between conversations gracefully, all the while keeping a room's worth of bots between himself and HotRod without anyone being the wiser.

At least, he hadn't thought anyone was much the wiser.

"So why's my bug jumping around the room like his tyres are on fire?"

Arcee was behind him and looking both amused and expectant of an answer.

"Oh, hi Arcee." A quick check to make sure HotRod was nowhere near them and he settled in to talk to her, standing in the shadow of Hotspot just to make sure he was well concealed. "Y'know, it's a party, meeting and greeting and being a good host. All that stuff."

"Mmmmhmmmm. Wouldn't have anything to do with avoiding someone would it? Because that's what it looks like. I just haven't worked out exactly who you're avoiding yet."

He gave her an innocent look he was sure she saw right through. "Avoiding someone? Why would I-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as the room went dark and the music stopped. There was a hush as everyone wondered what exactly had happened.

Before even Huffer could open his mouth to complain though, spotlights came up on the stage area, which was really just a raised dias at the end of the room with extra power outlets.

There stood Blaster, wearing... shutter shades? Where had he even GOTTEN a pair his size?... and was that a guitar he was holding?

"Oooooh SNAP, that's what he customed from Wheeljack!"

"Got it in one. Isn't it a thing of beauty?" The engineer sidled up behind him, helm panels glowing proudly as one of his creations gleamed in the spotlight.

Bumblebee couldn't help but beam as widely as he knew Wheeljack was when Blaster put a servo in the air, several bots whooping and cheering.

Bumblebee was close enough to the stage to see through two other mechs and notice movement. Rewind and Eject scuttled around to man the equipment Blaster usually covered, a full cybertronian DJ setup. He'd never told anyone exactly how he'd managed to save the whole lot throughout the duration of the war.

No one really cared considering how good he was with it. He'd not been famous for no reason after all.

Blaster's servo came down on his guitar as he activated the photon beam 'strings'. In the background, Rewind and Eject started up the music. Daft Punk blasted from every speaker in the room, and someone was singing. It took Bee a few moments to realize it was Rewind, sounding extremely convincingly like the altered human voice from the original track.

Every anxiety over HotRod flew out of Bee's mind as everyone started getting into it, dancing and throwing their servos in the air. Jazz appeared out of seemingly nowhere, dancing around him and looking ecstatic. /Slagger really does know how to make an entrance/ he comm'd to the beetle, making him laugh.

Jazz only rocked out harder when Blaster began playing out the guitar solo. Bee spotted Spike on Optimus Prime's shoulder off to the side, recording the whole show on a camcorder and admonishing the Prime for bopping around and making his shot all wobbly.

The guitar Wheeljack had made was clearly much more than just an up-sized replica of a human guitar.

It had panels that were integrated into the design that seemed to be for controlling the effects, and an in-built amp to negate the need for chords or plugs.

And frankly, Blaster was phenomenal with it.

Bumblebee looked around the room, astonished by just how MANY bots were up and dancing. It was so much like the old clubs on Cybertron before the war.

It took him a while to realize he was already dancing along enthusiastically himself, Jazz watching and grinning like a cheshire cat.

Shivers ran up and down his spine and in the midst of the music, and the dancing, and the look on Jazz's face, it felt like there had never even been a war.

When the song ended, there was uproarious applause and calls for more. Ever the showman, Blaster started up a new song, falling back into his old role, like he was playing a tour gig.

Bumblebee lost himself in the music, in the moment, and it didn't matter to him if he looked stupid or not. Arcee and Jazz didn't seem to care either way as they danced with him and jumped about like lunatics.

Bee beamed over at Prowl when he spotted him beside Prime, doorwings twitching in time with the music as he bobbed his helm and smiled back, watching them.

/No point tryin' to drag Prowl out here. He only dances to certain kinds of music/ Jazz came through on Bumblebee's comms.

/Don't worry, I remember what happened that one time you got persistent when he didn't want to dance. I prefer not to have a helm horn twisted off/ Bee snickered back.

He burst into giggles when the Aerialbots moved over a little and he spotted Perceptor and Wheeljack dancing away in their own corner. Wheeljack had always been a dorky dancer, but Perceptor, well... he wasn't bad, but he was very... unique.

/Is he a regular at parties?/ Arcee came over Bumblebee's comms, following his line of sight.

/Heh, not really. I suspect someone managed to get him drinking./ the beetle replied.

/They'da had to give him some of Ratchet's private stash to get him tipsy that fast. Lotta bots don't know it, but Perceptor has phenomenal tanks for High-grade. Neeeever challenge him to a drink off/ Jazz chimed in, smirking and shimmying between them.

Bumblebee giggled and went along with it happily, he and Arcee bracketing the Porsche as they

coordinated their dancing and got a few cheers from bots nearby.

Bee glanced back over at the corner with the two scientists and snickered. /Yeah I think maybe Wheeljack came good with Ratchet's stash there, he's getting pretty funky with Perceptor/.

/Think we should give them some competition in the funk department?/ Jazz responded with a playful lilt to his voice.

/Pfff yeah you can cover that one, you're the funk-meister/ the minibot chuckled.

/Oooh so you want the Meister to get his funk on huh?/ with a broader smirk, Jazz slipped out from between them. As if on cue, the bots around them stepped back to form a small circle. Everyone who knew Jazz knew his dancing face. It was like an extra light that would turn on behind his visor and he got that very specific tilt to his grin. When Jazz wore his dancing face, bots gave him space.

And Blaster, for his part, gave him a ripping guitar solo to dance to.

Bumblebee just stood on the edge of the circle, bouncing on his pedes and smiling so broadly the actuators in his faceplate were starting to ache. He didn't care at all. He was enraptured by Jazz and his co-ordination as the saboteur began to breakdance.

He'd seen humans do it plenty of times, but for Cybertronians it was another feat entirely. Jazz was one of the few able to even attempt it.

Gyroscopes were usually pretty hardy parts of their anatomy, but spinning that much and changing orientation that fast required top notch components. If you only had a standard gyro setup, you'd be flat on the floor with your orientation systems rebooting after the first ten spins.

But Jazz had software specifically designed to keep his gyros up to speed on what he was doing in relation to local gravity fields.

Which was why he was able to do a spinning handstand for about half a minute straight. Bots all around where whooping and cheering him on.

Bumblebee glanced over at Prowl and did a double-take. The Datsun wasn't over by Optimus but right behind him, watching Jazz and smiling wider than the minibot had ever seen him smile.

As soon as the song ended and Jazz was back on his feet, taking a bow as flamboyantly as he could, Blaster started up a new song. Bumblebee blinked. Had Prowl just...

He glanced behind him, then back on the floor, just to confirm that his optics weren't lying to him.

Yes, Prowl was indeed in the middle of the circle with Jazz now. And there was something very intense and deliberate and... electric between them. Clearly Blaster knew EXACTLY what type of music Prowl danced to, because it seemed fairly clear the SIC was ready and willing to do so.

And Jazz too, but then he was always ready to dance.

Bee watched, engrossed as the two began to move. If it had been a surprise to him to find out that Prowl got his groove on to Black Eyed Peas, that was nothing to his dumbfoundedness at just how well he MOVED.

His optics couldn't take in enough of him all at once. And then there was the way Jazz managed to just fall into step with him as if they had practiced this a thousand times.

Well, for all he knew, they had. Just not when he was around. And if they HAD been practicing behind his back, he'd have to slap them both, because he could NOT take his optics off them.

He was deaf to the whoops and cheers around him, the only thing in his mind other than Primus they are hotter than molten titanium, was is it actually black eyed peas he likes or flamenco because I'm sure that's a paso-doble he's doing and wow I really don't care because how the hell am I being turned on by the way his doorwings twitch dammit.

A laugh beside him did manage to catch his attention, because the tone of Arcee's laughter hit a deep and fond chord in him.

"Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor there Bee."

Feeling his face flush furiously with heat, he shut his mouth fast enough for his denta to clunk together and looked around nervously to see if anyone had noticed him openly gawking.

Thank Primus cybertronians didn't suffer the issues Spike had told him about. He had no doubt if he was a human male he'd have no hope of hiding just how aroused the little show was getting him.

He was also very glad everyone seemed too focused on Jazz and Prowl to notice his reactions to them. He still couldn't look away, swaying and gusting air through his vents as Prowl dipped Jazz and the saboteur looked about a nanosecond away from snogging him, instead winking and doing a back flip around the arm supporting his back.

Prowl went with the motion, the dance flowing seamlessly, a twining, heated series of intense gazes and intimate brushes between the two.

When the music stopped, the two were flush together, looking as if they didn't even hear the crowd roaring around them with applause. And then those bright, intensely heated gazes shifted to him, and Bumblebee felt like his knees were going to malfunction.

As it was, they nearly buckled when a servo dropped onto his shoulder and a familiar engine revved beside him.

Bumblebee looked up slightly alarmed, Sunstreaker smirking down at him, Sideswipe coming up on his other side, wearing an identical smirk.

"I think we have ourselves a throwdoooooooown!" Blaster called over the whooping crowd of bots now making room around the twins.

Bumblebee found himself in the spotlight suddenly, stuck between the red and gold brothers as a heavy base line began to reverberate through the floor, Missy Elliot apparently what Blaster thought was best for this situation.

He gave Prowl and Jazz an alarmed look, which he then turned on the twins. Their smirks were full blown cheshire grins to rival even Jazz's most mischievous look.

Before he knew it, the spy found himself the center of a dance not unlike something he'd seen on early morning music programs the humans ran.

The weirdest part of this was that this wasn't the first time this had happened. More than once, the twins had made him the center of their dirtiest dancing.

But they'd also done it to other bots, and for the sole purpose of teasing the slag out of bots that didn't ever stick themselves in the dancing spotlight. No one had ever made fun of bots hauled up by the two, it was something of a right of passage, and generally harmless if not amusing for those watching.

The difference in this instance was that Bumblebee wasn't standing there laughing nervously and trying to slip free and escape. No, he was trying not to watch too intently, faceplates burning with the heat of arousal.

Prowl and Jazz had visually worked him up, and now he had the heat of two extremely powerful, beautiful bodies twisting and thrusting around him.

Like a deer in headlights, he stood stock still, unsure exactly how to handle his mental boner. His instincts were telling him to flee from the spotlight and his training was telling him to make the situation work in his favour.

The bots around them were jeering, whooping and heckling... except when he listened, they weren't shouting anything derogative at all... they all sounded like they wanted him to stop holding out and just dance.

He looked over at Jazz, who was bopping along to the music. His comm buzzed to life.

/C'mon bug. Y'wanted to show me you could master the meister technique. Zone out the bots around you and tune into the music/.

Either Blaster was psychic, or Jazz had sent him a line on a private comm, but the music was shifted smoothly from the heavy hip hop pulse into something that got the nodes in Bumblebee's legs firing as if they had their own consciousness.

Oooo Jazz had to have told the boombox what kind of music he couldn't stop himself moving to. It was like a switch had been flicked in his head. Flustered embarrassment and reluctance melted away.

The twins dancing shifted style as the music changed, complex layers of electronic sound and rhythm kicking Bumblebee into gear.

The tables had been turned. The small yellow spy now had the lead, music flowing through his mind and setting his spark alight, body moving to express the intensity of the resonance between the sound waves and his spark pulse.

The crowd on the dance floor was going absolutely mental, aerialbots hollering and Bluestreak wolf-whistling, all the while Bumblebee let himself get lost in the moment, playing up his enthusiasm as a show, but he could see the lust in Sunstreaker's eyes as they danced together, Sideswipe bracketing the minibot between them.

He glanced over at Prowl and Jazz as the twins got on their knees and rolled their hips in moves that looked downright illegal.

Prowl's jaw was hanging open, and Jazz was biting his lip as if debating the wisdom of his encouragement and contemplating going over there to extract his little spy from the twin's clutches. Bumblebee winked at him cheekily and merely put on even more of show, solely for his lover's benefit.

Everyone around them had become too engrossed in their own dancing and little groups to pay the exchange much mind. If they even noticed it at all in the noise and the laser lighting.

The twins laughed when Jazz did actually move towards them, scattering after giving Bumblebee a brief grope and honing their sights in on Bluestreak instead.

Before Jazz could actually reach Bumblebee, the beetle found a large red and orange mass between him and the oncoming saboteur he'd been about to try and entangle himself with.

The high of his mood evaporated in an instant, and he turned his face up to greet HotRod's.

The look he'd found so appealing on Sunstreaker's face moments ago now disgusted him coming from the flame painted mech.

As if completely oblivious to the icy look being shot up at him, HotRod began trying to engage him in a similar bout of grinding.

Several emotions raced through Bumblebee's mind and spark, the main one being offense. He'd just been relaxing into really enjoying the party and this bot had the nerve to push his unwanted attention on him when he'd made it QUITE clear what his attitude towards him was.

Along with the offense was a healthy strain of anger, but he was still running on espionage lines of code from Jazz's prompting to put on a show. He used this and HotRod's over-eagerness to his advantage.

He cocked an orbital ridge at the red and orange bot, leading him through the crowd and throwing Jazz a look to relate to him that he had the situation under control.

The saboteur gave him a nod and a hand signal for 'call if you need me'. Bee acknowledged, attention back on HotRod, who had clearly missed all of the little exchange.

Bumblebee walked with a swing in his hips to keep up the illusion that he wanted HotRod to follow him out, and it worked.

Once outside the common room, Bumblebee transformed and took off, hearing the other bot follow suit, engine revving eagerly.

Bee headed for the sparring room. If things got heated (And not in the way he was sure HotRod thought they were going to) he wouldn't hurt the mech TOO badly in the padded training area.

HotRod fishtailed and came irritatingly close to his bumper as he chased him along the halls. Bumblebee often regretted not having a more powerful engine, and now was one of those times.

He was quick, but he lacked the real horsepower bots like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had. HotRod had always been a speedster, and clearly time had not tempered his pistons.

When they reached the training room, Bee transformed up and ducked in, waiting for HotRod to follow and shutting the door behind them.

The flame painted mech transformed up and gave him an eager look. "Knew you'd come around again. Hard to resist huh? Just took a little time to remember what it was like... mmmm it's been a loooong time and I have neeever forgotten you-"

"Shut up." Bee spat, dropping his guise of attraction and leveling HotRod with a hard, disgusted look. It was enough to make the larger mech stop in his advance towards the yellow mini.

"Woah... no need for THAT, you brought ME here, I ASSUMED-"

"You assumed wrong. I brought you here so I could settle this with PRIVACY and DIGNITY. What the ever-loving slag is WRONG with you?" Bumblebee snarled, taken aback by the amount of venom in his own voice.

"MY problem? I'm not the one playing hot and cold. What are you, touched in the head? That explosion rattle your brain module or something? Cause I'm cool with getting kinky, but I need to know the game if I'm going to play it." he crossed his arms, a slight smirk creeping onto his face.

"ENOUGH! Enough with this... this facade or whatever it is Ignitor... HotRod... whatever, this isn't a GAME. You know damn well what you did! Why the SLAG you think I'm even remotely interested in you after what you did astounds me."

Bumblebee watched as HotRod's face seemed to crumple in on itself. But rather than guilt, or anger... his expression morphed into hurt... he looked CRUSHED, and that was not something he'd accounted for.

All the same, if this was a ploy to appeal to his sympathetic side, he wasn't going to stand for it. Not with the anger boiling out of the old wounds opening in his spark and simmering to the surface.

"What I did to you? YOU ran off on ME! If anyone should be indignant here it's ME!" If the hurt in the red and orange mech's voice was fake, he was a damn good actor.

Bumblebee stared at him, dumbfounded. He sighed harshly and rubbed at his temple in frustration.

"Are we even remembering the same situation here? Because I'm pretty damn sure I'm the one who was publicly humiliated, who's work colleagues harassed him after YOU told them all about our private life. I'm failing to see how me leaving to escape the constant hounding from my co-workers was worse for you than it was for me. I always assumed you'd done it deliberately, after all, I WAS just a BET to you."

The look of dawning comprehension only made the hard, icy pain in Bumblebee's spark increase. All this time, and the mech who'd forced him to move out of his own home hadn't even known he'd done it.

Now he was angry AND confused, and he loathed it. The urge to hit something was certainly rising, and it would be a struggle to aim for one of the practice dummies and not HotRod's face.

"They... what? I didn't... I mean, I know now I'm older that I probably shouldn't have told them the things I did, I was just making conversation and I went a bit far, I never thought they'd... I thought they were your friends?"

"Yeah, so did I" Bumblebee spat, emotions getting the better of him, voice rising. "Not going to thank you for revealing how very much NOT my friends any of them were, if you're expecting that. I know you and I were young then, but for Primus sake, how STUPID do you have to be to talk about what you do in berth with the mech who thought you loved them? What kind of IDIOT... they were my friends so far as I knew, you... you didn't even know them, and you humiliated me, I heard what you said, about us, about why you were with me, what you considered me, like it would impress them! Me being your stupid little... booty-call, tight valve, berth slave or something STUPID like that. I TRUSTED you. You broke my spark, and I want to know WHY."


The two of them stared at each other in shock, the tension peaking and leaving an uncomfortable weight in the air between them.

Bumblebee blinked and mulled that response over through his rage fogged processor. The connotations slowly sank in, while the full measure of Bumblebee's experiences seemed to seep into HotRod's consciousness.

They stared each other down for what felt like an age before Bumblebee spoke. "You... your first what, exactly? First minibot? First non-one-night-stand?"

"I'd never interfaced with anyone before you. I removed my own seals, but I'd... never been with anyone. At all. I just talked a big game to impress MY friends. And they weren't good friends either. Yeah, OK, they put me up to a bet, and you were the first mini to walk through the door... but you were AMAZING. You were nice, and you were cute, and you knew what you were doing and you made me feel so damn good about myself and I kept worrying that my friends would eviscerate my reputation if they knew I actually liked you... and I was afraid of losing you... I ran my mouth a lot, that's what I did... I didn't know that you left because of what I'd said to your friends, I just wanted them to like me, and the only way I knew how to get bots to like me was to talk a big game, like I did with mine. I had no idea that's what made you leave. I figured you'd just... realized I'd never been with anyone and left because you thought I was pathetic."

In contrast to Bumblebee's confession, which had grown in volume as he spoke, HotRod's voice grew quieter the longer he talked. The flame painted mech no longer held the cocky posture and self-assured grin. He'd pulled in on himself, arms crossed, slouched, gaze averted.

Bumblebee now felt a gaping void where his fury had been, and it was an extremely uncomfortable sensation. And worse than anger, since he could channel that, but this... he didn't know WHAT to do with this.

The awkward silence stretched between them further as Bumblebee moved to flop down on the edge of the raised matting that made up the boxing ring.

"Well, this is a royally fragged up situation. I'm slagged-off because you broke my trust and told my co-workers things that made them harass me to the point of getting a job in a completely different city state to escape it, and you're slagged-off because I was your first and you thought I rejected you. Which has probably left you with some sort of abandonment complex. I think maybe we both got royally fragged by the whole deal."

HotRod seemed to deflate from his tense, defensive position, slouching over and flopping down on the edge of the boxing ring a good three meters away from him. "If I hadn't been so damn stupid trying to please everyone and 'be the cool guy', none of this would have happened."

"Yeah, and if I had gotten up the ball bearings to confront you about it at the time, I could've saved us a few million solar cycles of festering regret too. I think it's safe to say the blame is shared. Gotta say... still having a hard time believing I was your first". Bee murmured, giving him a sideways look.

"What, you never wondered why I came so damn fast all the time? I had NO stamina. Never felt anything but my own servo on my spike until you gave me that first blow. Tch, you didn't just blow my spike, you blew my mind."

Bumblebee groaned and dragged a palm down his face. "That... that was utterly terrible. I forgot how terrible your jokes were. Now you mention the lack of stamina though, a lot of things are making sense. Like how you seemed super nervous the first time you spiked me."

"Pffff forget super nervous, I was super TERRIFIED. I didn't think I'd fit, I thought I'd tear right through you if I went to fast, and the whole time I was worried you'd figure out I'd never done it before."

"Lucky for you, I didn't really have an extensive amount of experience to draw on myself, so I didn't notice. The only other bot I'd ever been with was Astra." he admitted, looking over at him properly.

The anger and the pain and the emptiness had left him exhausted, and in their wake with the new information and factors settling into his meta were shining a new perspective on the whole thing.

HotRod's actions were explained so well by the extreme youth and inexperience Bumblebee had not known of at the time. It was... relieving, in a way, to know most of what the red and orange mech had done had not been active spite against him.

HotRod looked at him with a weird expression. "Astra?... That's Arcee's old designation isn't it? I mean I know there are a lot of Astra's out there, but you two HAVE been awfully chummy."

Bumblebee just gave him a smirk, watching his optics widen. "Oh SNAP, Arcee was YOUR first?"

Bee snickered and nodded. "Yup. But don't go running your mouth about THAT, will you? I'm hoping that by now you'd know BETTER. Especially since I won't hesitate to school you if you start any of that slag again. This time around, I'm much better trained and experienced."

HotRod grimaced and raised his hands to wave them in a fervent negative. "NONO, that's... quite alright, I've already had a taste of the scary aft spy Bee, I won't say anything. But I mean... it's OK to talk to HER about it, isn't it?" he asked meekly.

"Yeah, assuming she actually wants to. I mean if she doesn't obviously there's no point pushing your luck, but she's probably likely to regale you with our dumbaft forays into 'how the slag do you do this right without laughing'. Once we got past seals, there was a lot of stupid giggling and fumbling. Got the hang of it eventually. Well, obviously, since I ended up teaching you what I learned from the whole thing myself."

"So, if you two are still friendly... and you took each others seals... why'd you split up?" HotRod asked curiously, the tentative edge to his voice still there as he tested the waters of how far he dare go with the mini.

Bumblebee shrugged. "We were always just... friends, I guess. Neither of us really loved each other in a lust related way. There was no urge to be anything more than just... comfortable with each other. And then we had our own lives to live, and those took us in different directions."

The flame painted mech nodded. "Ssssoooo... you and me?... What are we now?"

There was a very pregnant pause between them as HotRod waited expectantly, apprehensively, for an answer, and Bumblebee delved into his emotions to find one. Eventually, he could only draw one thing up from his processor when he queried himself on what he wanted them to be.

"... We're history. We're each others history. We can't ignore each other. But... we were both young, we were both kinda dumb... you more than me but I'm pretty sure you're younger than me so I guess I can excuse that... eventually. Anyway... short answer?... I think we can be friends. Almost friends."

"So... we're cool?" HotRod gave him a tentative hint of a smirk and Bumblebee returned a full one.

"Yeah. We're cool. But we're not fragging for the sake of nostalgia so you can stop thinking about asking."


"Oh, also, by the way."

There was a clang that rang through the room like a bell and HotRod staggered forward from where he'd been sat, yelping in pain from the smack upside his helm. "I THOUGHT WE WERE COOL?"

"Yeah well... we are NOW. I can forgive you being an afthead when you were young, but THAT was for coming into this base and talking about us to the rest of the crew. Clearly you're still not past the young and dumb phase." Bee crossed his arms and gave HotRod a disapproving look.

The flame painted mech rubbed the back of his helm and looked sheepish.

/Ya good bug? You've been gone a while. Can't hear ya, but it looks like Red can cause he just wandered out with his 'I can't make out what that is I'm hearing' face and walked back in with his 'shouldn't really of heard that' face./

/Yeah yeah, I'm fine. We've worked things out. Going to head back now, I think he's got the message. Finally. I'll tell you all about it later./

"Ya jokin?" Jazz gave him an incredulous look. "His first?... Well, guess that explains a lot at least."

Bumblebee nodded at the saboteur and sipped from his cube of high-grade. They were tucked away in a corner of the room relaxing, the music having taken on more of a 'sit and enjoy and socialize' tone than a dancing one. It had been several hours now since his one-on-one with Hotrod, and the party was well into it's last phase.

"Apparently so. Also, he misses my blow jobs. Go figure."

"That I can understand" Prowl said in a perfectly reasonable tone, as if they were talking about battle strategies. "So what is the situation between you now?"

Bumblebee made a non-committal sort of gesture, shrugging and waving his servo. "Not sure. Truce? Not quite friends but no hard feelings... much... anymore? We'll get to some kind of friendship eventually I think. For now we lick our separate wounds and give each other space."

"Bet he wishes it was a mutual licking of spikes not wounds"

"Jazz, how overcharged are you?"

"Weeeell on my way to an enormous hangover" the Porsche grinned, raising his cube and grinning.

Bee just snickered and shook his helm. "Also well on your way to progressively more terrible jokes."

"And what about you. Do you plan on competing with him in terms of drinking?" Prowl asked Bee lightly with a nod to his cube.

"Pffff like I could keep up with Jazz. I'm too much of a lightweight. I'll get as overcharged as I dare before I pass out and recharge 'til midday." he sipped from his cube again.

"Sounds like a good strategy to me." Prowl tilted his helm and sipped his own cube, doorwings flicking in time with the music and distracting Bumblebee a little.

He was snapped out of his fixation on the Datsun's kibble by a comm. From Arcee, of all bots.

/Hey Beeee, feel like meeting me in my new quarters for a little nostalgic romp? You can bring your two lover bots if you waaant~/

/My whuuu?/ He tried to play off his surprise at her mentioning lovers by exaggerating his overcharged state.

She giggled down the line, the sound still sending pleasant tingles down his spinal strut the way it always had. /Ooooh Bee, your crew might not have noticed but I dooooon't miss anything. I know your spymaster might be up for it, but I wasn't sure about your handsome praxun/.

Bumblebee did a small spit-take, the other two giving him surprised and curious looks. His optics went wide and he opened the comm to them. /HOW exactly did you-/

/Saw the looks you gave them. Oh, byyyyy the way, Hotrod's officially on my punishment roster for the next vorn. And you can stop looking so surprised, you aren't the only spy around here. Well... I'm more a scout than a spy, and he did come and TELL me, so I guess I didn't really do any sleuthing, but that's beside the point. You going to come with your boys and have a private party with me in my quarters?/

Bee looked around the room and saw her dancing. Not many bots were on the floor, most now sitting, drinking, talking or passed out. Except for the corner full of card players having a rousing game of 'snap!'.

Arcee therefore stood out extremely well, dancing away as if in her own world, looking far too enticing for her own good.

Bee looked back at the other two and raised an optic ridge expectantly. Jazz gave him a wicked grin and shifted his gaze to Prowl. "All up to you Prowler. Ahm in, even if you ain't."

"Let you have that much fun without me? Hardly. You are lucky I have had as much high-grade as I already have though. Also that I have read her personnel file extensively enough to trust her, and that she was Bee's-"

"Aaaaah shut up and let's get the private party rollin'" Jazz laughed, draining his cube and dragging Bee and Prowl eagerly over to dance with the femme.

It wasn't even a cycle later they'd found their way to the femme's quarters. And only three minutes before Prowl was leaning back against the edge of a berth moaning, Arcee on her knees and working his spike with her mouth with a skill the likes of which Bee didn't think he'd ever seen.

Jazz, for once, seemed a little off-balanced by this, not sure if he should touch Prowl, or Arcee, or Bee, or more than one, or just watch. He really wanted to just watch because... wow. She was forward. And Good. REALLY good. But then she made him want to touch SOMETHING, and his dilemma was deciding WHAT.

Bee solved the problem by getting down and under the berth behind Prowl's legs, coming up to work on Prowl's valve, the tactician crying out and trying to stifle himself with a white fist pressed to his mouth.

Jazz ended up taking up a post on the berth, dutifully working on the datsun's wings. Between the three of them, the SIC was overloading within a minute.

And as soon as she was done with him, Arcee pulled Bee into a heated kiss. Bumblebee groaned and gave as good as he got, memories surfacing. Really GOOD memories. He let them flood his high-grade fuzzed processor and his servos wandered, mapping all the new contours of her frame.

She smelt the same, even if she felt different. The longer, slender digits that traveled down his sides and began to grope at his aft and panel were both new and familiar.

He snicked open his panel as three engines revved in symphony with his own, and gasped against her lips as those long digits delved into his valve.

Primus but she had him shaking and melting against her in astroseconds as she touched him, rubbing and twisting and thrusting and frag, but he was already dripping with lubricant.

He barely noticed her lifting him up and onto the edge of the berth. He certainly noticed when she spread him with her digits and slid her spike in alongside them, making him cry out in pleasure.

He clutched at her frame, drawing huge gulps of air through his vents, fans buzzing. It was difficult through his overcharge haze to concentrate on finding her sensitive spots and touch her in kind. She didn't seem to care though, if her enthusiastic thrusting was anything to go by.

Bee let himself be laid back and pounded, Prowl's lips descending upon him, what he thought was Jazz's servo on his spike. Everything became one big, long blurr of pleasure. When he overloaded, he was vaguely aware of laughing about something, and then he was dragging Arcee's hips towards him and sucking down as much of her spike as he could fit in his mouth while Prowl tended her valve.

Jazz may have hovered to watch or been busy kissing Arcee, Bee wasn't sure. When Arcee overloaded, she ended up climbing onto the berth with them, and there was a very giggly, fumbled attempt at the four of them spiking in a group, with Bee doing Arcee, who was doing Jazz, who was doing Prowl.

Despite taking a fair while and a few clumsy attempts to get into a synchronized rhythm, the overload from that was powerful enough that they all ended up in a heap afterwards, the air full of the smells Bee had come to associate with the best of times.

While he didn't really like the vagueness that came with fragging while overcharged, there was certainly something to be said for the constant level of euphoria. Not to mention the company. All in all, he certainly wasn't going to complain about ending his night that way.

P.S. sorry If you sent me a PM or review about this fic and I never responded, I'm a dick and I suck at responding to things, my bad ^.^;

Also I have drawn pictures of Blaster with his electro-guitar somewhere but don't ask me to find them i have no idea where they are now.