[TFP] Halfway to Heaven
Feb. 18th, 2019 06:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Halfway to Heaven
Universe: TFP, Post Predacons Rising, Beauty and the Bee Series
Characters: Original Vehicon Character(s), Bumblebee/Knock Out
Rated: M
Enticements: Fluff, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Description: Epiphanies set the stage for two very important questions as Bumblebee and Knock Out take two further steps in their relationship.
For Milagrosen
Tinny music played over the speakers above Knock Out's head. He only absently acknowledged it -- some kind of holiday tune from Earth, he believed -- his focus more reserved for his datapad. Ratchet had been on his aft about his certifications again, because it didn't matter if he could do the procedure, he had to have physical proof he was certified to do it.
Pitslag. Typical Autobot bureaucratic pitslag. But it had to be done and so Knock Out grudgingly skimmed through the procedure guidelines so he could pass the stupid quiz at the end. Every certification granted him a pay raise, and the more Earth credits he had, the more he could spend, so that was the only thing to make it worthwhile. That and he could lord his multiple certifications over their new medic's head.
Ratchet might be Chief Medical Officer around here, but Knock Out was no slouch and he was well on his way to a chief position of his own. Like the Pit he'd let some uppity incoming former Neutral come in and politicize his way to the top.
Frag that.
He half-focused on his surroundings, keeping track of his place in line and moving with the rest of the queue, taking care that no one came anywhere close to scratching his paint. He ignored the other mechs around him, only devoting a small percentage of his processor to acknowledging the other noises.
He might not have noticed anything beyond his datapad, if a designation hadn’t made his audials twitch, and his attention divert.
Knock Out surfaced from his datapad, looking over the top of it, listening intently. The murmur of conversation was background. Two vidscreens on opposite sides of the office were broadcasting the ever-running newsfeed, and the current topic was someone very near and dear to Knock Out’s spark – Bumblebee.
Truthfully, the topic in general was “Interview with an Autobot”. Knock Out remembered Bumblebee telling him about the interview, how he’d wanted to turn it down, but Ultra Magnus suggested it might improve morale. He was a hero, Bumblebee was, and mechs – new and old – wanted to know more about him.
The limelight didn’t suit Bumblebee, but he’d yet to learn how to say no to Ultra Magnus, especially when it concerned the “good of the Autobots”. It would be cute, how much Bumblebee looked up to the tenets Optimus Prime left behind, if it didn’t put him in so many awkward positions.
Still.
Knock Out couldn’t help but grin. Bee looked stunning on screen. Granted, Knock Out had spent many long, careful, devoted hours into making sure he’d be handsome. His paint glistened, his optics were bright, and he looked every inch the hero people believed him to be. He held himself with confidence, he spoke proudly of his teammates, sorrowfully of Optimus Prime, and even prouder still of the progress Cybertron had made post-war.
“If they wanted to interview someone, they should have chosen a real hero.”
“Bumblebee’s practically a sparkling. He got lucky.”
“He’s a Con-lover is what he is. All this worshippin’ at his feet? It’s disgusting.”
Knock Out’s optics spiraled into narrow points. Anger hummed through his lines as he tracked the rude remarks to the mechs standing in line in front of them, their cheap paint and boring lines suggesting they were bureaucrats of some sort. Stickered Auto-badges were the newest things on their shoulders.
Ugh.
Even worse than bureaucrats, they were newly arrived, newly sworn in Neutrals who’d taken the Autobot badge because they thought it would give them more benefits. They were worse fakes than the so-called Decepticon defectors.
“He’s even friends with a human, did you know that? Some mechs wouldn’t know good taste if it walked up and bit them.”
Anger burst and bubbled over.
“You would know that, wouldn’t you, mechs? Being as you seem to have poor taste yourself, talking so rudely about a fellow Autobot as you are,” Knock Out said, and attached a glare of ocular fire at the back of the two mechs’ heads.
They immediately looked over their shoulders, and their expressions went from mild distaste to outright revulsion. They probably recognized Knock Out on sight. There weren’t many former Decepticons wandering freely around the city, so what few had managed to make a home for themselves were very familiar to everyone else.
“I’m not taking that from a ‘Con,” the one on the right sneered, his dark visor with a visible crack running through one side of it. Poor maintenance that one. Disgusting.
Knock Out tilted his head, thinking of his collapsed energon prod, stored safely in his subspace. He wouldn’t need it for these cretins – and technically it was against the law to use it against a civilian – but the temptation was there.
“I am no more a Decepticon than you are an Autobot,” he said. “At least I don’t wear a badge under false pretenses.”
The other mech, who bore a garish orange and white paintjob, growled. “You shut your mouth.”
“No.” Knock Out drew up straight, though his height did not surpass the two idiots. “You two are the ones who need to be silent.” He snarled, engine revving, and his field burst throughout the room with chastisement before he could contain it.
He shoved a finger toward the monitor, where Bumblebee was still displayed, answering one of the interviewer’s questions.
“That Autobot you’re disparaging has more courage and honor in his femoral strut than you do in your entire frames!” Knock Out hissed. “If anyone is the traitor here, it is the two of you for going against everything Optimus Prime stood for!” And everything Bumblebee loved.
Flawed as it was, Bumblebee loved Cybertron, he’d loved Optimus Prime, and he loved what they were trying to build. How dare these cowardly once-Neutrals mock him?
Visored Neutral sneered and looked down his pointed nose at Knock Out. “We don’t care what some traitor’s pet Decepticon has to say.”
Knock Out’s engine revved. “I’m no one’s pet. At least I have manners.” He drew up straighter, slamming them both with a scan before they could throw up a shield. “And I’ll be sure to let Ultra Magnus know how respectful his new initiates are.” He tilted his head, optics glittering with menace. “Since I’ve just accessed your files, I know exactly who you are – Cork and Fallout.”
The garishly orange and white mech – Cork according to his medical ident tag – snarled and took a step forward, but his friend grabbed his shoulder.
“Not here,” he said with a glare in Knock Out’s direction, something resentful in the curl of his lips. “It’s not worth it.”
“Neither of you are worth the ground you’re standing on,” Knock Out corrected. He folded his arms over his chassis. “And I’ll make sure you learn about respect the next time I see you in the medbay.”
For the first time, their arrogance faltered. They exchanged a glance, unease trickling in a burst of their fields. They’d recognized him, but they hadn’t considered him.
Do no harm was supposed to be the motto Knock Out lived by. Well, Knock Out was a survivor. It was what he did.
Bumblebee was worth more than either of these idiots. Twice over.
“Let’s go, Cork,” Fallout said, stepping out of line just as it moved forward. “This place reeks of Con.”
Cork nodded, but unlike his companion, seemed to have lost some of his earlier gruff. His plating shifted around his frame restlessly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Knock Out watched them go. He made a point of following their exit, boring holes between their shoulders with his glare.
Ultra Magnus might not be particularly fond of Knock Out, but Bumblebee was one of his favorites. He wouldn’t be happy to hear about such casual disrespect. Those two pieces of slag would be lucky if they still had a badge by the time Magnus was through with them.
Good.
Knock Out huffed and turned his attention back to the line. He moved forward, right behind a wheeled Vehicon. Only then did he realize the background noise of conversation had vanished. His armor crawled with the weight of too many stares.
He pulled out his datapad, pretended it had his full attention, but cast a glance through his peripherals. Other mechs were staring at him, some of them full Autobots, some newly enbadged. He couldn’t tell if it was approval or distaste in their stares.
Strangely, he didn’t seem to care. He’d do it again, he realized. Insulting Bumblebee? That couldn’t stand. There were many things Knock Out could let slide, but that sort of behavior toward Bumblebee? No, it was unacceptable.
Knock Out cycled his optics. He stared blankly at his datapad as the realization slammed into him like a sack of bricks. His spark throbbed in his chassis.
He’d just.
He’d put another mech before himself.
What.
Knock Out stared down at himself. He resisted the urge to turn in a circle, to find a mirror, to run a scan on his coding to see what had gone askew. There was a thrumming in his spark, a kind of odd happiness that wanted to bubble up inside him.
“Yes?”
He looked up and realized he was standing at the counter, the attendant looking at him expectantly.
“Pick up for Knock Out and Bumblebee,” Knock Out blurted, handing over the two arrival slips. “Delivery from Earth.”
The attendant took the slip and vanished into the back storeroom, leaving Knock Out to stare dazedly at the billboard on the back wall. He saw it without reading it, his thoughts crashing one into another like one of those odd, loud, and brightly colored games on Earth.
He loved Bumblebee.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, it must have come over him so slowly, and nestled in his spark so quietly he hadn’t been able to recognize it until now.
They’d been together a year. Maybe more. It was harder to keep track of time when they relied on Earth standard, but tried to remember Cybertronian standard, too. Time seemed to pass in a blink for humans. It still felt like yesterday when they kissed for the first time.
Knock Out’s tires wriggled.
Oh, Primus. That was embarrassing.
“Here you go.” Two boxes tumbled into Knock Out’s arms, amusingly tiny, their contents rattling around noisily. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, that's it." Knock Out checked the labels, but they were accurate. Bee would be happy. The new game he'd ordered finally came in.
"Sir?"
Knock Out blinked, looking up at the unexpectedly respectful address. The Vehicon who looked back at him was unfamiliar, but there was something earnest in glow of his visor.
"Yes?"
"For what it's worth, those mechs are in the minority. Even former Decepticons like us know Bumblebee is worthy of respect," the attendant said. "For one, he actually knows my designation." He hesitated and leaned in close. "It's Aviator, by the way."
Aviator?
Knock Out did a quick check.
Yes, definitely a Vehicon. They were such fans of irony.
"Thank you," Knock Out said. "I'll tell him you said hello."
Aviator spluttered, and his field went pink and flushed. Aw, did someone have a crush? It was kind of adorable. Enough that it didn't even trigger Knock Out's possessive urges.
"You don't have to do that. It's fine. I just--" He broke off, noisily coughed, and raised a hand. "Um. Next?"
Knock Out chuckled and stepped aside so Aviator could assist the next mech in line. He juggled his boxes, tucking them under his arms, and stepped out of the receiving center. There was a warmth inside of him, bubbling up through his spark, and it put an unexpected spring in his step.
It was odd. He wasn't sure what to do about it.
He loved Bumblebee. Of all the situations to reveal such a thing to him. He simultaneously wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and keep it a secret. Nestle it close to his spark, this fragile and precious thing, so no one could ruin it or taint it.
He needed to say it. He needed to tell Bumblebee.
Primus, Knock Out had never thought of something so terrifying. He didn't know if he was ready.
Well, he supposed he'd find out.
He merged into the busy, bustling streets, toward the apartment tower Bumblebee called home. Though calling it a tower was generous. It bore little resemblance to the towers of old Cybertron, massive structures so tall one could barely see their end from the ground. These were squat, stunted things, no more than fifty stories high. But they served their function.
As much as Knock Out longed for the glory days of old, a part of him was glad to find them gone. Decadence could only take one so far.
Bumblebee had a modest apartment on the thirty-third floor, just high enough to have a good view, but not so high as to be above it all. Knock Out had the door code. He could have let himself in. But tonight was a date, and it seemed better to ping the door and wait for Bumblebee to answer it.
Bumblebee grinned upon seeing him, his door panels arching upward with a little wiggle. "Hey," he said as he stepped aside so Knock Out could enter. "Why didn't you just use the code?"
"Because this is a date." Knock Out held out the boxes as the door closed behind Bumblebee, the smell of something sweet and tart floating in the air through the apartment. "Your package, sir."
"That is not my package," Bumblebee said with a glint in his optics. He leaned in for a kiss, chuckling as he accepted the box. "My actual package is elsewhere."
Knock Out groaned. "We still need to work on your humor."
Bumblebee laughed. "I'll have you know I'm hilarious." He curved an arm around Knock Out's waist, and tugged him in for a nuzzle. "Thank you for grabbing that for me. Saved me a trip."
"I was already there. It's not like I went out of my way," Knock Out grumbled. But he returned the nuzzle, sliding a hand over Bumblebee's arm to savor the smooth, slickness of recently polished armor. "Did you get polished just for me?"
"I wanted to look my best." Bumblebee's hand crept up, teasing at the mounts for Knock Out's upper tires, sending a low pulse of want through his lines. "Especially since you always make it look so effortless."
Knock Out tilted in, brushing his lips over the curve of Bumblebee's jaw. "Flatterer."
"I call it like I see it." Bumblebee swooped down, stealing his mouth for a quick kiss. "Ready for our date?" He tangled their fingers together, pressed their hands palm to palm.
"I'm interested to see what you came up with."
Bumblebee grinned. "Follow me."
He tugged and Knock Out went with him, letting Bumblebee tow him through the front entry, the main room, and the transteel double doors that led out onto a modest, small balcony. Most of the suites in this apartment building had these, and Bumblebee had taken care to make his comfortable.
That comfort had been extended to something romantic. The small table was draped with a glittery mesh cloth, and set for dining. A faux-candle flickered in the center, surrounded by an arrangement of faux-flowers -- Earth native rather than Cybertronian native. Knock Out doubted there were any living native Cybertronian flora remaining.
Strings of lights hung from the top of the balcony in crisscross patterns, and wound over the balcony railing as well. Soft music played from a speaker set up on a corner table.
"Color me impressed," Knock Out said as his spark throbbed with warmth and affection. "Is this a special occasion I don't know about?"
"Maybe." Bumblebee squeezed his hand and led him to one of the chairs, pulling out and motioning for Knock Out to sit.
"Such a gentlemech." Knock Out lowered himself into the chair -- newly padded, he noticed, and ran his fingers over the meshcloth. It was as soft and smooth as silk. It had to have cost Bumblebee a fortune to commission.
Delicate things such as these had definitely not survived the war.
"And hopefully a decent chef, too. Be right back." Bumblebee pressed a kiss to the top of Knock Out’s head, and vanished back indoors, his door panels hitching up and down, betraying his inner excitement.
A small smile curved Knock Out's lips.
He should say it. Now was good. He couldn't ask for a more perfect moment.
Bumblebee came back, carefully balancing two covered dishes, one in each hand. He had a little bounce to his step, and a proud grin.
"I have no idea how this is going to taste," he said. "Volt taught me the recipe, and this is my first time trying it. I'm not even sure where he learned it."
Knock Out chuckled and leaned back so Bumblebee would have room to set down the tray. "I'm sure it's fine, Bee." He winked.
Bumblebee immediately fumbled the tray. It tipped over in his hands, and Knock Out hurried to catch it before it spilled all over him. Dishware clattered. Bumblebee froze.
"That was close," Knock Out said as he carefully lowered the tray. "A little clumsy today, sweetspark?"
"Apparently." Bumblebee laughed, but it sounded a little anxious. "Must be nervous or something."
Knock Out tilted his head. "Do I make you nervous?"
Bumblebee set his own tray down, but didn't take his seat yet. "Yes and no," he admitted. "I don't want to ruin this, so I'm trying very hard not to."
Tell him now. He should tell Bumblebee now.
"It's impossible, Bee," Knock Out said, the wrong words coming out, but no less important. "You're the definition of perfect."
Bumblebee's face visibly heated, and he shifted around the chair. "I've made a lot of mistakes," he murmured.
"Not when it comes to us."
"Not yet," Bumblebee said, and his gaze dropped to the dinner in front of him, fumbling with the lid of the tray. "So, um, dinner's served," he added in a much brighter tone.
"Dinner?" Knock Out echoed. He grinned as he reached for the lid on his own tray. "I think I've finally reached the point where your human phrases are endearing rather than ridiculous."
He lifted the lid and set it aside, peering at what was on the plate. It was round and glistened from some sort of drizzle. The scent of energon and cadmium floated to his nasal sensors.
"It's an oil cake apparently." Bumblebee picked it up with his fingers and gave it a nibble. He made a pleased sound, his door panels wiggling up and down. "Oh, it's actually good." Crumbs of metal clung to his lips as his optics brightened with delight.
He could say it now, Knock Out thought. With Bumblebee taking another bite of his cake and looking so adorable as he enjoyed it, licking his fingers clean of the oily glaze.
Instead, he took a bite out of his own, a rumble of appreciation rising in his tanks. It was absolutely delicious. It reminded him of all the luscious treats he’d seen on the vendor carts. He’d never been able to afford them, but the smell alone had been enough to entice.
“It’s very good,” Knock Out said. He eagerly ate another bite. “You have my seal of approval, Bee.”
His lover chuckled and if there had been any tension in his frame, it was gone now. Silly mech. Did he honestly think he could be any kind of disappointment?
“Then I did good?”
Knock Out reached over the table – it was small enough he could do so – and rubbed his thumb over Bumblebee’s lip, wiping away the crumb. “Very good. These are delicious. Thank you.”
Bumblebee grinned under his thumb and gave it a kiss. “Good.”
Their optics met, and a throb of warmth stirred in Knock Out’s spark. Now would be a good time to say it, too. People deserved to know when they were loved.
“Oh!” Bumblebee abruptly stood up, Knock Out’s hand falling away from his lip. “I forgot the music.”
He scooted away from the table and started fiddling with the stereo, upping the volume and selecting a soft, romantic melody to spill through the balcony. Knock Out recognized it as a tune from Earth, though one of the more appealing ones. He liked it because it didn’t have any words, just a beautiful melody.
Knock Out took another nibble of the oilcake, licking the sweet syrup from his fingers. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Bumblebee slipped back into his chair and dived into the rest of his cake, eating with abandon now.
“Not at all.”
Quiet fell between them, but it was a comfortable quiet. The quiet of two people who were comfortable in each other’s presence, and didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with inane babble.
Now was a good time, too.
Knock Out licked his lips clean and cycled a ventilation, gathering his courage. Anxiety twisted and coiled in his belly, and he wasn’t sure why. He trusted Bumblebee. He trusted Bumblebee wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
But putting himself out there, laying open the truth of his feelings… it was an act of courage Knock Out didn’t know he could support.
He cycled another ventilation and rubbed his fingers over the meshcloth, reminding himself of what Bumblebee had done just for a simple date. “Bee,” he started, optics focused on the oilcake. “I--”
“Damn it, I forgot the engex, too,” Bumblebee muttered, and then he was up and off, back inside the suite.
Primus.
Knock Out scrubbed at his face and laughed a little to himself. Honestly, this was perfect. It really couldn’t go any other way.
Bumblebee returned with a bottle of engex and two crystal tumblers, pouring a splash into each one before setting the bottle in the middle. “I got your favorite,” he said.
“That’s because you’re the best.” Knock Out grinned and sipped at the engex, the sweet burn of it coating his glossa and pooling courage in his belly.
“Well, I try.” Bumblebee lounged in his seat, looking much more relaxed. He finished off his oilcake, and sipped on the engex, his gaze falling on Knock Out.
Warmth shone in blue optics. It was an affectionate look, but a heated one, too. The anxiety in Knock Out’s belly warred with a stirring lust, and he fought not to squirm in his chair, he probably failed.
“And succeed,” Knock Out said. He steeled himself, cycling slow and steady ventilations. “No one’s ever tried for me as much as you have, Bee. It… it means a lot to me.”
Bumblebee straightened, setting the tumbler aside. “You’re worth it,” he said, with that outright frankness and honesty that never ceased to baffle Knock Out. “I’d give you more if I could. All the things you deserve.”
Oh, Primus.
Heat banked at the back of Knock Out’s optics, and he cycled it away. How could Bumblebee say something like that without flinching? How did it come so easy to him?
Knock Out squeezed the tumbler for courage. “Smooth talker.”
“It’s easy when it’s the truth.” Bumblebee shrugged, his door panels lifting and falling behind him in a playful dance. His optics were a beautiful, bright blue, and a tight squeezing sensation started up in Knock Out’s spark.
He just needed to say it.
Now was the perfect moment.
The music floated lightly in the background. The faux-candles pretended to flicker. Bumblebee’s paint all but glowed, as if he’d gotten specially waxed just for the occasion. He was beautiful and handsome, and Knock Out loved him.
He was courageous and considerate and he treated the people around them as if they mattered. He learned the names of mechs who’d never been given any, he listened to former Decepticons when no one else would, he tried so very hard even when people didn’t deserve his effort. He was earnest, and he was kind, and Knock Out loved him so much he could barely ventilate.
Bumblebee was looking back at Knock Out as if Knock Out meant the world to him, and Bumblebee would offer it if he could.
Knock Out needed to say it.
He shifted. He cycled a ventilation. He gathered his courage. He opened his mouth.
“I love you.”
“Move in with me.”
They both, somehow, blurted their words in unison. Phrases tangled together in a confusing melange. Knock Out rewound the conversation to pick out what Bumblebee had said through the pounding in his audials and the quiver in his spark.
Knock Out cycled his optics. And then his audials, too. He stared at Bumblebee, who stared back at him, his optics wide and his field wafting across the balcony with a startled affection in it.
“I love you,” Knock Out repeated, his spark pounding a mile a minute, and a cold flush of worry spreading through his entire frame. “I just wanted you to know that.” He stared hard at the table, feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever felt in his entire life.
A moment of silence passed. The weight of Bumblebee’s gaze fell on him, but Knock Out didn’t dare lift his optics to meet it.
Bumblebee’s chair creaked. He stood and circled the table. Knock Out looked up as Bumblebee leaned over him, his face full of wonder. He didn’t say anything. He cupped Knock Out’s face, tilted it up, and slanted their lips together in a kiss so chaste and tender it sent a shiver up Knock Out’s spinal strut.
He sighed into the kiss, relief rushing a path through his lines, through his cables, and straight through to his spark.
Bumblebee pressed their foreheads together, his other hand cupping Knock Out’s face as well. “I love you, too,” he murmured, and his lips curved into a soft, warm smile. “And I want you to move in with me.”
Knock Out rested his hands on Bumblebee’s hips, fingers splayed over black and yellow paint. “Well,” he said, resisting the urge to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness. “Your habsuite is bigger than mine, Mr. Hero.”
“It has the better washrack,” Bumblebee murmured with a nuzzle.
Knock Out shuttered his optics, drawing in a slow, careful ventilation. “It’s closer to work, too.”
“Why did we ever spend so much time at your apartment anyway?”
“Because I’ve got the better berth.”
“Oh, right.” Bumblebee’s ex-vents puffed warm over him, his lips brushing a soft caress over Knock Out’s cheek and nose. “That’s coming with you, just so you know.”
Knock Out chuckled before he could stop himself and leaned up, stealing Bumblebee’s lips for a kiss that tasted of oilcake and sweet engex. Bumblebee’s glossa slid against his, slow and exploratory, his thumbs sweeping soft patterns over Knock Out’s cheek.
“Can I take that as a yes?” Bumblebee asked against his lips.
“You’re such an idiot.” Knock Out dug his fingers into Bumblebee’s seams, jerking him closer, nearly off-balance, so he could kiss Bumblebee again.
Primus, it was so easy. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been. And now his spark danced and soared, and the heat in his belly flared like a furnace.
“We’re done with dinner, right?” Bumblebee asked between kisses, one hand sliding down to stroke over Knock Out’s shoulder and back over his tire mounts.
“It’ll keep.”
Knock Out stumbled out of his chair, chuckling as Bumblebee stumbled with him, and they both nearly tumbled as their legs tangled and the chair proved an unfortunate obstacle. The table rattled, the dishware, too.
Neither of them cared.
“Berth?” Bumblebee asked.
“Your tiny berth for the last time,” Knock Out agreed as he pinned Bumblebee against the balcony wall by the door and buried his mouth against Bumblebee’s cables, pinning them between his denta.
Bumblebee shivered, his field exploding to slam Knock Out’s with want and need. “You’ll move in tomorrow?”
“As soon as I get off shift.”
Movement happened between kisses and caresses. Stumbling inside, through the main room and the open doorway into Bumblebee’s berthroom. It was larger than Knock Out’s, and better furnished, except Bumblebee had never upgraded from the standard fare and was inadequate in comparison to the one Knock Out had saved to purchase.
They tumbled onto the berth in a messy tangle of limbs, chuckling against one another's lips as hands roamed everywhere. Knock Out purred as Bumblebee stroked his thighs and nibbled on his cables, his mouth hot and wet and full of hunger. Knock Out got a fistful of tire himself, squeezing and pulling, and Bumblebee's engine revved, his field flowing through the room with thick, electric charge.
"If I move in, you'll cook for me again, right?" Knock Out asked in between kisses, heat building inside his frame, throbbing silkily through his lines.
"Every night," Bumblebee promised.
Knock Out groaned and tugged Bumblebee harder against him, pulling him between Knock Out's thighs so he could buck up, grind himself against Bumblebee. Arousal throbbed heavy in his groin, slicking his valve and thickening his spike.
"Anything you want," Bee said as he grabbed one of Knock Out's hands and pressed it above his head, tangling their fingers together. His other hand skated up Knock Out's side, a teasing caress over his seams.
Knock Out shivered, his spark swirling impossibly fast in his chassis. "The promises you make," he gasped and hooked the back of Bumblebee's neck, pulling him down for another kiss, a tangle of glossa, the sweetness of the oil cake and engex lingering between them.
He slid his other hand on Bumblebee's side, his thighs squeezing in on Bumblebee's hips, his own rolling upward in an erotic dance of metal on metal. Arousal bloomed inside of him, but rather than fierce and desperate, it was slow and rolling, filling his frame with warmth and his lines with charge.
He floated, or at least it felt like he did, lost in a sea of kisses and caresses, the gentle grind of Bumblebee against him, the hot slide of their spikes together. Bumblebee dribbled pre-fluid, and it slicked their lengths, making for a delicious friction of heat.
Knock Out's spinal strut lit up with charge. He shivered and licked into Bumblebee's mouth, holding him close enough for their chestplates to grind, and for him to feel the pulsing heat of Bumblebee's spark behind his armor. It seemed to beat at a pace as fast as Knock Out's own, and his field matched it, swelling and filling the room with a heady arousal.
"What I want is you inside me right now," Knock Out purred as he tightened his thighs around Bumblebee's waist. He teased his fingers on the back of Bumblebee's neck, toying with a cable he knew to be sensitive.
Bumblebee's orbital ridges fluttered. He briefly buried his face in Knock Out's intake, ex-venting with a shudder. His free hand slid down to Knock Out's hip, curving around it.
"As you wish," Bumblebee murmured, and the head of his spike nudged against Knock Out's valve, the damp tip brushing over his exterior sensors and anterior node, sending shocks of want through his frame.
Knock Out's backstrut arched, and he rolled upward, trying to urge Bumblebee deeper. "More," he demanded.
“What’s the rush?” Bumblebee asked, but he inched forward, the thickness of him sliding over Knock Out’s internal sensor clusters, sending another electric shock of desire up his backstrut.
He groaned through his denta, fingers digging into Bumblebee’s seam, keeping him from moving away. “Why are you dragging it out?”
“I’m not. I’m savoring.” Bumblebee’s lips traced over the curve of his jaw as he sank deeper, ever so slowly, until he was fully sheathed.
Knock Out moaned and crossed his ankles behind Bumblebee’s back, keeping him in place, his valve cycling down on him. Sparks of charge danced between node and receptor, arousal building in his frame in steady waves.
“Such a romantic,” Knock Out panted, kneading into Bumblebee’s seams, teasing the cables beneath.
“Unrepentantly,” Bumblebee agreed, and he slotted their mouths together. The kiss was a careful tangle of their glossa, the fluttering touch of his lips, the puffs of his warm ex-vents.
He didn’t so much thrust into Knock Out as he did rock forward, grinding gently on Knock Out’s exterior node, sliding purposefully over his inner nodes. Knock Out moaned, his processor spinning dizzily. His fans sputtered, venting heat into the space between them, his internal temperature skyrocketing.
“That’s… that’s fair,” Knock Out said against Bumblebee’s lips.
A chuckle vibrated over his mouth. Bumblebee’s hand slid into a firmer curve around Knock Out’s hip, holding him in place for a long, leisurely grind that sent electric fire licking up Knock Out’s spinal strut.
He shuddered, heat flaring through his sensory net, his thighs trembling. Knock Out vented, in and out, and realized too late that Bumblebee was matching his rhythm. Bumblebee’s lips brushed over his, but their foreheads pressed together, and Bumblebee’s hand squeezed his against the berth.
Knock Out’s ventilations hitched. The pleasure coiled inside of him, almost lazily, and it tightened and tightened with each slow rock of Bumblebee’s hips. Every forward motion was a lingering slide across his sensors, and every retreat barely counted. They rocked together, metal purring in a delicious friction, and Knock Out’s optics fluttered shut.
Words were lost, and he focused on the rhythm instead, the feel of Bumblebee’s lips fluttering over his, the press of Bumblebee’s weight on top of him, the stroking warmth of Bumblebee’s field as it blanketed him as much as Bumblebee did. His spark strobed a deep, affectionate beat, and he swore Bumblebee echoed it, the throb of Bumblebee’s spark tangible through his chestplate.
When overload came, it was a hot, slow wash through his sensory net. It started in his spark and spread outward, left his fingers tingling and his vents fluttering and his fans humming. Bumblebee’s mouth slotted over his, quieting his moans, and Knock Out clutched at him, shaking through the delicious waves of pleasure echoing through his frame.
An answering splash of heat in his valve announced Bumblebee’s overload, as did the shuddering ex-vent that puffed over Knock Out’s lips before they were covered in a sweet kiss. Slow and savoring again as Bumblebee stroked his hip and squeezed his hand. He nuzzled Knock Out’s face, his field flowing with warmth and affection.
“I love you,” Bumblebee murmured.
Knock Out’s face heated at the naked intimacy. “I know. You’ve showed me that a dozen times over.” He stroked the back of Bumblebee’s neck, pressing their cheeks together in a nuzzle. “I should have said it sooner.”
“You said it when you meant to. That’s what matters to me.” Bumblebee released his hand, but only so he could cup Knock Out’s face and sweep his thumb over Knock Out’s cheek. “I thought I’d end up saying it first.”
“Me, too,” Knock Out admitted.
“What changed?”
Knock Out sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, some mixture of embarrassment and shame coloring his emotions. “I had an epiphany, I guess. It happens,” he evaded.
“Mmm.” Bumblebee pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth and shifted, easing out of Knock Out first before he snuggled down on top of Knock Out, making himself into a yellow and black blanket. “You’re comfy.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Knock Out said, but he knew it lacked heat. His tone betrayed too much of his affection.
Bumblebee slung his arms around Knock Out’s chassis and tucked his face in against Knock Out’s intake. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” He sounded pleased, like the voltaic cat who caught the metallocanary.
“I suppose I do.”
Knock Out stroked Bumblebee's back, not enough to arouse, but enough to soothe. "I just realized something," he said.
"What?" Bumblebee asked against his intake, his door panels idly shifting against Knock Out's fingers.
"I'm going to have to change my address."
Bumblebee chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cables. "So?"
"So Ultra Magnus will know."
Bumblebee hummed, the vibrations buzzing against Knock Out's chassis. "So?"
Knock Out cycled his optics. "It doesn't bother you?"
"Why would it?"
He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, unease daring to trickle into his post-coital bliss. "Because you're you. He'd probably disapprove, you know, considering your image.'
Bumblebee snorted. "My personal life is no one's business to disapprove of. I love you, and I want you to move in with me, and you said you would. That's all there is to it."
Warmth fluttered through Knock Out's spark. He slid his arms tighter around Bumblebee, strengthening his embrace. "It really doesn't bother you." He wasn't sure if he meant it to be a question or a statement. Not when all he could think about was how much he was dragging Bumblebee down.
"It never has." Bumblebee looked up, concern flickering in his field, his forehead scrunching. "Why do you think it would now when it hasn't for the past year? You don't believe me?"
"I believe in you," Knock Out said quickly, hoping to forestall the hurt threatening to creep into Bumblebee's expression. "But I'm well aware of what others think, and how others view our relationship. I know what I am, and I'm not ashamed of it, but..." He trailed off.
He didn't want to admit aloud that he was afraid Bumblebee might leave him someday because he was such a political liability.
"But other people are," Knock Out finished. "And perception is the name of the game when it comes to the politics Cybertron plays right now."
"I've never cared about politics. I don't want to be a leader, I don't even want to be their hero, that's just the mantle Ultra Magnus gave me." Bumblebee stroked a hand around Knock Out's face, impossibly gentle, sweet enough to hurt. "Eventually, I'll be forgotten, and that's a good thing. I'm not going to be miserable just to make someone else feel comfortable."
Knock Out cycled a ventilation, his spark swelling in his chassis. "How did I get so lucky?"
"I think I'm the lucky one." Bumblebee brushed their lips together, barely a kiss, but it sent flutters of warmth through Knock Out anyway. "I meant everything I said."
"So did I." Knock Out finished the kiss, making it slow and savoring, pouring all of his emotion into it, relief flooding in and chasing out the last echoes of any unease that might have lingered.
If it didn't matter to Bumblebee, it wouldn't matter to Knock Out either. Or at least, he'd stop letting it matter to him.
Bumblebee was right.
Every one else's opinion was moot.
"I love you," Knock Out murmured, again, because it needed to be said, as many times as his pride would manage.
Bumblebee's cheek slid against his before he leaned their foreheads together. "Me, too," he whispered. "Roomie."
Knock Out laughed before he could stop himself. Primus, Bumblebee was such a dork, and by the Allspark, Knock Out loved him for it.
He smashed their lips together for a kiss, playful and heavy with intent. They had all night together if they wanted, and Knock Out definitely desired.
He wanted to make love to his new roommate until they fell into recharge together out of exhaustion, in the habsuite they would soon share.
And that's exactly what he intended to do.
*
a/n: Feedback, as always, is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. :)
Universe: TFP, Post Predacons Rising, Beauty and the Bee Series
Characters: Original Vehicon Character(s), Bumblebee/Knock Out
Rated: M
Enticements: Fluff, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Description: Epiphanies set the stage for two very important questions as Bumblebee and Knock Out take two further steps in their relationship.
For Milagrosen
Tinny music played over the speakers above Knock Out's head. He only absently acknowledged it -- some kind of holiday tune from Earth, he believed -- his focus more reserved for his datapad. Ratchet had been on his aft about his certifications again, because it didn't matter if he could do the procedure, he had to have physical proof he was certified to do it.
Pitslag. Typical Autobot bureaucratic pitslag. But it had to be done and so Knock Out grudgingly skimmed through the procedure guidelines so he could pass the stupid quiz at the end. Every certification granted him a pay raise, and the more Earth credits he had, the more he could spend, so that was the only thing to make it worthwhile. That and he could lord his multiple certifications over their new medic's head.
Ratchet might be Chief Medical Officer around here, but Knock Out was no slouch and he was well on his way to a chief position of his own. Like the Pit he'd let some uppity incoming former Neutral come in and politicize his way to the top.
Frag that.
He half-focused on his surroundings, keeping track of his place in line and moving with the rest of the queue, taking care that no one came anywhere close to scratching his paint. He ignored the other mechs around him, only devoting a small percentage of his processor to acknowledging the other noises.
He might not have noticed anything beyond his datapad, if a designation hadn’t made his audials twitch, and his attention divert.
Knock Out surfaced from his datapad, looking over the top of it, listening intently. The murmur of conversation was background. Two vidscreens on opposite sides of the office were broadcasting the ever-running newsfeed, and the current topic was someone very near and dear to Knock Out’s spark – Bumblebee.
Truthfully, the topic in general was “Interview with an Autobot”. Knock Out remembered Bumblebee telling him about the interview, how he’d wanted to turn it down, but Ultra Magnus suggested it might improve morale. He was a hero, Bumblebee was, and mechs – new and old – wanted to know more about him.
The limelight didn’t suit Bumblebee, but he’d yet to learn how to say no to Ultra Magnus, especially when it concerned the “good of the Autobots”. It would be cute, how much Bumblebee looked up to the tenets Optimus Prime left behind, if it didn’t put him in so many awkward positions.
Still.
Knock Out couldn’t help but grin. Bee looked stunning on screen. Granted, Knock Out had spent many long, careful, devoted hours into making sure he’d be handsome. His paint glistened, his optics were bright, and he looked every inch the hero people believed him to be. He held himself with confidence, he spoke proudly of his teammates, sorrowfully of Optimus Prime, and even prouder still of the progress Cybertron had made post-war.
“If they wanted to interview someone, they should have chosen a real hero.”
“Bumblebee’s practically a sparkling. He got lucky.”
“He’s a Con-lover is what he is. All this worshippin’ at his feet? It’s disgusting.”
Knock Out’s optics spiraled into narrow points. Anger hummed through his lines as he tracked the rude remarks to the mechs standing in line in front of them, their cheap paint and boring lines suggesting they were bureaucrats of some sort. Stickered Auto-badges were the newest things on their shoulders.
Ugh.
Even worse than bureaucrats, they were newly arrived, newly sworn in Neutrals who’d taken the Autobot badge because they thought it would give them more benefits. They were worse fakes than the so-called Decepticon defectors.
“He’s even friends with a human, did you know that? Some mechs wouldn’t know good taste if it walked up and bit them.”
Anger burst and bubbled over.
“You would know that, wouldn’t you, mechs? Being as you seem to have poor taste yourself, talking so rudely about a fellow Autobot as you are,” Knock Out said, and attached a glare of ocular fire at the back of the two mechs’ heads.
They immediately looked over their shoulders, and their expressions went from mild distaste to outright revulsion. They probably recognized Knock Out on sight. There weren’t many former Decepticons wandering freely around the city, so what few had managed to make a home for themselves were very familiar to everyone else.
“I’m not taking that from a ‘Con,” the one on the right sneered, his dark visor with a visible crack running through one side of it. Poor maintenance that one. Disgusting.
Knock Out tilted his head, thinking of his collapsed energon prod, stored safely in his subspace. He wouldn’t need it for these cretins – and technically it was against the law to use it against a civilian – but the temptation was there.
“I am no more a Decepticon than you are an Autobot,” he said. “At least I don’t wear a badge under false pretenses.”
The other mech, who bore a garish orange and white paintjob, growled. “You shut your mouth.”
“No.” Knock Out drew up straight, though his height did not surpass the two idiots. “You two are the ones who need to be silent.” He snarled, engine revving, and his field burst throughout the room with chastisement before he could contain it.
He shoved a finger toward the monitor, where Bumblebee was still displayed, answering one of the interviewer’s questions.
“That Autobot you’re disparaging has more courage and honor in his femoral strut than you do in your entire frames!” Knock Out hissed. “If anyone is the traitor here, it is the two of you for going against everything Optimus Prime stood for!” And everything Bumblebee loved.
Flawed as it was, Bumblebee loved Cybertron, he’d loved Optimus Prime, and he loved what they were trying to build. How dare these cowardly once-Neutrals mock him?
Visored Neutral sneered and looked down his pointed nose at Knock Out. “We don’t care what some traitor’s pet Decepticon has to say.”
Knock Out’s engine revved. “I’m no one’s pet. At least I have manners.” He drew up straighter, slamming them both with a scan before they could throw up a shield. “And I’ll be sure to let Ultra Magnus know how respectful his new initiates are.” He tilted his head, optics glittering with menace. “Since I’ve just accessed your files, I know exactly who you are – Cork and Fallout.”
The garishly orange and white mech – Cork according to his medical ident tag – snarled and took a step forward, but his friend grabbed his shoulder.
“Not here,” he said with a glare in Knock Out’s direction, something resentful in the curl of his lips. “It’s not worth it.”
“Neither of you are worth the ground you’re standing on,” Knock Out corrected. He folded his arms over his chassis. “And I’ll make sure you learn about respect the next time I see you in the medbay.”
For the first time, their arrogance faltered. They exchanged a glance, unease trickling in a burst of their fields. They’d recognized him, but they hadn’t considered him.
Do no harm was supposed to be the motto Knock Out lived by. Well, Knock Out was a survivor. It was what he did.
Bumblebee was worth more than either of these idiots. Twice over.
“Let’s go, Cork,” Fallout said, stepping out of line just as it moved forward. “This place reeks of Con.”
Cork nodded, but unlike his companion, seemed to have lost some of his earlier gruff. His plating shifted around his frame restlessly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Knock Out watched them go. He made a point of following their exit, boring holes between their shoulders with his glare.
Ultra Magnus might not be particularly fond of Knock Out, but Bumblebee was one of his favorites. He wouldn’t be happy to hear about such casual disrespect. Those two pieces of slag would be lucky if they still had a badge by the time Magnus was through with them.
Good.
Knock Out huffed and turned his attention back to the line. He moved forward, right behind a wheeled Vehicon. Only then did he realize the background noise of conversation had vanished. His armor crawled with the weight of too many stares.
He pulled out his datapad, pretended it had his full attention, but cast a glance through his peripherals. Other mechs were staring at him, some of them full Autobots, some newly enbadged. He couldn’t tell if it was approval or distaste in their stares.
Strangely, he didn’t seem to care. He’d do it again, he realized. Insulting Bumblebee? That couldn’t stand. There were many things Knock Out could let slide, but that sort of behavior toward Bumblebee? No, it was unacceptable.
Knock Out cycled his optics. He stared blankly at his datapad as the realization slammed into him like a sack of bricks. His spark throbbed in his chassis.
He’d just.
He’d put another mech before himself.
What.
Knock Out stared down at himself. He resisted the urge to turn in a circle, to find a mirror, to run a scan on his coding to see what had gone askew. There was a thrumming in his spark, a kind of odd happiness that wanted to bubble up inside him.
“Yes?”
He looked up and realized he was standing at the counter, the attendant looking at him expectantly.
“Pick up for Knock Out and Bumblebee,” Knock Out blurted, handing over the two arrival slips. “Delivery from Earth.”
The attendant took the slip and vanished into the back storeroom, leaving Knock Out to stare dazedly at the billboard on the back wall. He saw it without reading it, his thoughts crashing one into another like one of those odd, loud, and brightly colored games on Earth.
He loved Bumblebee.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, it must have come over him so slowly, and nestled in his spark so quietly he hadn’t been able to recognize it until now.
They’d been together a year. Maybe more. It was harder to keep track of time when they relied on Earth standard, but tried to remember Cybertronian standard, too. Time seemed to pass in a blink for humans. It still felt like yesterday when they kissed for the first time.
Knock Out’s tires wriggled.
Oh, Primus. That was embarrassing.
“Here you go.” Two boxes tumbled into Knock Out’s arms, amusingly tiny, their contents rattling around noisily. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, that's it." Knock Out checked the labels, but they were accurate. Bee would be happy. The new game he'd ordered finally came in.
"Sir?"
Knock Out blinked, looking up at the unexpectedly respectful address. The Vehicon who looked back at him was unfamiliar, but there was something earnest in glow of his visor.
"Yes?"
"For what it's worth, those mechs are in the minority. Even former Decepticons like us know Bumblebee is worthy of respect," the attendant said. "For one, he actually knows my designation." He hesitated and leaned in close. "It's Aviator, by the way."
Aviator?
Knock Out did a quick check.
Yes, definitely a Vehicon. They were such fans of irony.
"Thank you," Knock Out said. "I'll tell him you said hello."
Aviator spluttered, and his field went pink and flushed. Aw, did someone have a crush? It was kind of adorable. Enough that it didn't even trigger Knock Out's possessive urges.
"You don't have to do that. It's fine. I just--" He broke off, noisily coughed, and raised a hand. "Um. Next?"
Knock Out chuckled and stepped aside so Aviator could assist the next mech in line. He juggled his boxes, tucking them under his arms, and stepped out of the receiving center. There was a warmth inside of him, bubbling up through his spark, and it put an unexpected spring in his step.
It was odd. He wasn't sure what to do about it.
He loved Bumblebee. Of all the situations to reveal such a thing to him. He simultaneously wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and keep it a secret. Nestle it close to his spark, this fragile and precious thing, so no one could ruin it or taint it.
He needed to say it. He needed to tell Bumblebee.
Primus, Knock Out had never thought of something so terrifying. He didn't know if he was ready.
Well, he supposed he'd find out.
He merged into the busy, bustling streets, toward the apartment tower Bumblebee called home. Though calling it a tower was generous. It bore little resemblance to the towers of old Cybertron, massive structures so tall one could barely see their end from the ground. These were squat, stunted things, no more than fifty stories high. But they served their function.
As much as Knock Out longed for the glory days of old, a part of him was glad to find them gone. Decadence could only take one so far.
Bumblebee had a modest apartment on the thirty-third floor, just high enough to have a good view, but not so high as to be above it all. Knock Out had the door code. He could have let himself in. But tonight was a date, and it seemed better to ping the door and wait for Bumblebee to answer it.
Bumblebee grinned upon seeing him, his door panels arching upward with a little wiggle. "Hey," he said as he stepped aside so Knock Out could enter. "Why didn't you just use the code?"
"Because this is a date." Knock Out held out the boxes as the door closed behind Bumblebee, the smell of something sweet and tart floating in the air through the apartment. "Your package, sir."
"That is not my package," Bumblebee said with a glint in his optics. He leaned in for a kiss, chuckling as he accepted the box. "My actual package is elsewhere."
Knock Out groaned. "We still need to work on your humor."
Bumblebee laughed. "I'll have you know I'm hilarious." He curved an arm around Knock Out's waist, and tugged him in for a nuzzle. "Thank you for grabbing that for me. Saved me a trip."
"I was already there. It's not like I went out of my way," Knock Out grumbled. But he returned the nuzzle, sliding a hand over Bumblebee's arm to savor the smooth, slickness of recently polished armor. "Did you get polished just for me?"
"I wanted to look my best." Bumblebee's hand crept up, teasing at the mounts for Knock Out's upper tires, sending a low pulse of want through his lines. "Especially since you always make it look so effortless."
Knock Out tilted in, brushing his lips over the curve of Bumblebee's jaw. "Flatterer."
"I call it like I see it." Bumblebee swooped down, stealing his mouth for a quick kiss. "Ready for our date?" He tangled their fingers together, pressed their hands palm to palm.
"I'm interested to see what you came up with."
Bumblebee grinned. "Follow me."
He tugged and Knock Out went with him, letting Bumblebee tow him through the front entry, the main room, and the transteel double doors that led out onto a modest, small balcony. Most of the suites in this apartment building had these, and Bumblebee had taken care to make his comfortable.
That comfort had been extended to something romantic. The small table was draped with a glittery mesh cloth, and set for dining. A faux-candle flickered in the center, surrounded by an arrangement of faux-flowers -- Earth native rather than Cybertronian native. Knock Out doubted there were any living native Cybertronian flora remaining.
Strings of lights hung from the top of the balcony in crisscross patterns, and wound over the balcony railing as well. Soft music played from a speaker set up on a corner table.
"Color me impressed," Knock Out said as his spark throbbed with warmth and affection. "Is this a special occasion I don't know about?"
"Maybe." Bumblebee squeezed his hand and led him to one of the chairs, pulling out and motioning for Knock Out to sit.
"Such a gentlemech." Knock Out lowered himself into the chair -- newly padded, he noticed, and ran his fingers over the meshcloth. It was as soft and smooth as silk. It had to have cost Bumblebee a fortune to commission.
Delicate things such as these had definitely not survived the war.
"And hopefully a decent chef, too. Be right back." Bumblebee pressed a kiss to the top of Knock Out’s head, and vanished back indoors, his door panels hitching up and down, betraying his inner excitement.
A small smile curved Knock Out's lips.
He should say it. Now was good. He couldn't ask for a more perfect moment.
Bumblebee came back, carefully balancing two covered dishes, one in each hand. He had a little bounce to his step, and a proud grin.
"I have no idea how this is going to taste," he said. "Volt taught me the recipe, and this is my first time trying it. I'm not even sure where he learned it."
Knock Out chuckled and leaned back so Bumblebee would have room to set down the tray. "I'm sure it's fine, Bee." He winked.
Bumblebee immediately fumbled the tray. It tipped over in his hands, and Knock Out hurried to catch it before it spilled all over him. Dishware clattered. Bumblebee froze.
"That was close," Knock Out said as he carefully lowered the tray. "A little clumsy today, sweetspark?"
"Apparently." Bumblebee laughed, but it sounded a little anxious. "Must be nervous or something."
Knock Out tilted his head. "Do I make you nervous?"
Bumblebee set his own tray down, but didn't take his seat yet. "Yes and no," he admitted. "I don't want to ruin this, so I'm trying very hard not to."
Tell him now. He should tell Bumblebee now.
"It's impossible, Bee," Knock Out said, the wrong words coming out, but no less important. "You're the definition of perfect."
Bumblebee's face visibly heated, and he shifted around the chair. "I've made a lot of mistakes," he murmured.
"Not when it comes to us."
"Not yet," Bumblebee said, and his gaze dropped to the dinner in front of him, fumbling with the lid of the tray. "So, um, dinner's served," he added in a much brighter tone.
"Dinner?" Knock Out echoed. He grinned as he reached for the lid on his own tray. "I think I've finally reached the point where your human phrases are endearing rather than ridiculous."
He lifted the lid and set it aside, peering at what was on the plate. It was round and glistened from some sort of drizzle. The scent of energon and cadmium floated to his nasal sensors.
"It's an oil cake apparently." Bumblebee picked it up with his fingers and gave it a nibble. He made a pleased sound, his door panels wiggling up and down. "Oh, it's actually good." Crumbs of metal clung to his lips as his optics brightened with delight.
He could say it now, Knock Out thought. With Bumblebee taking another bite of his cake and looking so adorable as he enjoyed it, licking his fingers clean of the oily glaze.
Instead, he took a bite out of his own, a rumble of appreciation rising in his tanks. It was absolutely delicious. It reminded him of all the luscious treats he’d seen on the vendor carts. He’d never been able to afford them, but the smell alone had been enough to entice.
“It’s very good,” Knock Out said. He eagerly ate another bite. “You have my seal of approval, Bee.”
His lover chuckled and if there had been any tension in his frame, it was gone now. Silly mech. Did he honestly think he could be any kind of disappointment?
“Then I did good?”
Knock Out reached over the table – it was small enough he could do so – and rubbed his thumb over Bumblebee’s lip, wiping away the crumb. “Very good. These are delicious. Thank you.”
Bumblebee grinned under his thumb and gave it a kiss. “Good.”
Their optics met, and a throb of warmth stirred in Knock Out’s spark. Now would be a good time to say it, too. People deserved to know when they were loved.
“Oh!” Bumblebee abruptly stood up, Knock Out’s hand falling away from his lip. “I forgot the music.”
He scooted away from the table and started fiddling with the stereo, upping the volume and selecting a soft, romantic melody to spill through the balcony. Knock Out recognized it as a tune from Earth, though one of the more appealing ones. He liked it because it didn’t have any words, just a beautiful melody.
Knock Out took another nibble of the oilcake, licking the sweet syrup from his fingers. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Bumblebee slipped back into his chair and dived into the rest of his cake, eating with abandon now.
“Not at all.”
Quiet fell between them, but it was a comfortable quiet. The quiet of two people who were comfortable in each other’s presence, and didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with inane babble.
Now was a good time, too.
Knock Out licked his lips clean and cycled a ventilation, gathering his courage. Anxiety twisted and coiled in his belly, and he wasn’t sure why. He trusted Bumblebee. He trusted Bumblebee wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
But putting himself out there, laying open the truth of his feelings… it was an act of courage Knock Out didn’t know he could support.
He cycled another ventilation and rubbed his fingers over the meshcloth, reminding himself of what Bumblebee had done just for a simple date. “Bee,” he started, optics focused on the oilcake. “I--”
“Damn it, I forgot the engex, too,” Bumblebee muttered, and then he was up and off, back inside the suite.
Primus.
Knock Out scrubbed at his face and laughed a little to himself. Honestly, this was perfect. It really couldn’t go any other way.
Bumblebee returned with a bottle of engex and two crystal tumblers, pouring a splash into each one before setting the bottle in the middle. “I got your favorite,” he said.
“That’s because you’re the best.” Knock Out grinned and sipped at the engex, the sweet burn of it coating his glossa and pooling courage in his belly.
“Well, I try.” Bumblebee lounged in his seat, looking much more relaxed. He finished off his oilcake, and sipped on the engex, his gaze falling on Knock Out.
Warmth shone in blue optics. It was an affectionate look, but a heated one, too. The anxiety in Knock Out’s belly warred with a stirring lust, and he fought not to squirm in his chair, he probably failed.
“And succeed,” Knock Out said. He steeled himself, cycling slow and steady ventilations. “No one’s ever tried for me as much as you have, Bee. It… it means a lot to me.”
Bumblebee straightened, setting the tumbler aside. “You’re worth it,” he said, with that outright frankness and honesty that never ceased to baffle Knock Out. “I’d give you more if I could. All the things you deserve.”
Oh, Primus.
Heat banked at the back of Knock Out’s optics, and he cycled it away. How could Bumblebee say something like that without flinching? How did it come so easy to him?
Knock Out squeezed the tumbler for courage. “Smooth talker.”
“It’s easy when it’s the truth.” Bumblebee shrugged, his door panels lifting and falling behind him in a playful dance. His optics were a beautiful, bright blue, and a tight squeezing sensation started up in Knock Out’s spark.
He just needed to say it.
Now was the perfect moment.
The music floated lightly in the background. The faux-candles pretended to flicker. Bumblebee’s paint all but glowed, as if he’d gotten specially waxed just for the occasion. He was beautiful and handsome, and Knock Out loved him.
He was courageous and considerate and he treated the people around them as if they mattered. He learned the names of mechs who’d never been given any, he listened to former Decepticons when no one else would, he tried so very hard even when people didn’t deserve his effort. He was earnest, and he was kind, and Knock Out loved him so much he could barely ventilate.
Bumblebee was looking back at Knock Out as if Knock Out meant the world to him, and Bumblebee would offer it if he could.
Knock Out needed to say it.
He shifted. He cycled a ventilation. He gathered his courage. He opened his mouth.
“I love you.”
“Move in with me.”
They both, somehow, blurted their words in unison. Phrases tangled together in a confusing melange. Knock Out rewound the conversation to pick out what Bumblebee had said through the pounding in his audials and the quiver in his spark.
Knock Out cycled his optics. And then his audials, too. He stared at Bumblebee, who stared back at him, his optics wide and his field wafting across the balcony with a startled affection in it.
“I love you,” Knock Out repeated, his spark pounding a mile a minute, and a cold flush of worry spreading through his entire frame. “I just wanted you to know that.” He stared hard at the table, feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever felt in his entire life.
A moment of silence passed. The weight of Bumblebee’s gaze fell on him, but Knock Out didn’t dare lift his optics to meet it.
Bumblebee’s chair creaked. He stood and circled the table. Knock Out looked up as Bumblebee leaned over him, his face full of wonder. He didn’t say anything. He cupped Knock Out’s face, tilted it up, and slanted their lips together in a kiss so chaste and tender it sent a shiver up Knock Out’s spinal strut.
He sighed into the kiss, relief rushing a path through his lines, through his cables, and straight through to his spark.
Bumblebee pressed their foreheads together, his other hand cupping Knock Out’s face as well. “I love you, too,” he murmured, and his lips curved into a soft, warm smile. “And I want you to move in with me.”
Knock Out rested his hands on Bumblebee’s hips, fingers splayed over black and yellow paint. “Well,” he said, resisting the urge to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness. “Your habsuite is bigger than mine, Mr. Hero.”
“It has the better washrack,” Bumblebee murmured with a nuzzle.
Knock Out shuttered his optics, drawing in a slow, careful ventilation. “It’s closer to work, too.”
“Why did we ever spend so much time at your apartment anyway?”
“Because I’ve got the better berth.”
“Oh, right.” Bumblebee’s ex-vents puffed warm over him, his lips brushing a soft caress over Knock Out’s cheek and nose. “That’s coming with you, just so you know.”
Knock Out chuckled before he could stop himself and leaned up, stealing Bumblebee’s lips for a kiss that tasted of oilcake and sweet engex. Bumblebee’s glossa slid against his, slow and exploratory, his thumbs sweeping soft patterns over Knock Out’s cheek.
“Can I take that as a yes?” Bumblebee asked against his lips.
“You’re such an idiot.” Knock Out dug his fingers into Bumblebee’s seams, jerking him closer, nearly off-balance, so he could kiss Bumblebee again.
Primus, it was so easy. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been. And now his spark danced and soared, and the heat in his belly flared like a furnace.
“We’re done with dinner, right?” Bumblebee asked between kisses, one hand sliding down to stroke over Knock Out’s shoulder and back over his tire mounts.
“It’ll keep.”
Knock Out stumbled out of his chair, chuckling as Bumblebee stumbled with him, and they both nearly tumbled as their legs tangled and the chair proved an unfortunate obstacle. The table rattled, the dishware, too.
Neither of them cared.
“Berth?” Bumblebee asked.
“Your tiny berth for the last time,” Knock Out agreed as he pinned Bumblebee against the balcony wall by the door and buried his mouth against Bumblebee’s cables, pinning them between his denta.
Bumblebee shivered, his field exploding to slam Knock Out’s with want and need. “You’ll move in tomorrow?”
“As soon as I get off shift.”
Movement happened between kisses and caresses. Stumbling inside, through the main room and the open doorway into Bumblebee’s berthroom. It was larger than Knock Out’s, and better furnished, except Bumblebee had never upgraded from the standard fare and was inadequate in comparison to the one Knock Out had saved to purchase.
They tumbled onto the berth in a messy tangle of limbs, chuckling against one another's lips as hands roamed everywhere. Knock Out purred as Bumblebee stroked his thighs and nibbled on his cables, his mouth hot and wet and full of hunger. Knock Out got a fistful of tire himself, squeezing and pulling, and Bumblebee's engine revved, his field flowing through the room with thick, electric charge.
"If I move in, you'll cook for me again, right?" Knock Out asked in between kisses, heat building inside his frame, throbbing silkily through his lines.
"Every night," Bumblebee promised.
Knock Out groaned and tugged Bumblebee harder against him, pulling him between Knock Out's thighs so he could buck up, grind himself against Bumblebee. Arousal throbbed heavy in his groin, slicking his valve and thickening his spike.
"Anything you want," Bee said as he grabbed one of Knock Out's hands and pressed it above his head, tangling their fingers together. His other hand skated up Knock Out's side, a teasing caress over his seams.
Knock Out shivered, his spark swirling impossibly fast in his chassis. "The promises you make," he gasped and hooked the back of Bumblebee's neck, pulling him down for another kiss, a tangle of glossa, the sweetness of the oil cake and engex lingering between them.
He slid his other hand on Bumblebee's side, his thighs squeezing in on Bumblebee's hips, his own rolling upward in an erotic dance of metal on metal. Arousal bloomed inside of him, but rather than fierce and desperate, it was slow and rolling, filling his frame with warmth and his lines with charge.
He floated, or at least it felt like he did, lost in a sea of kisses and caresses, the gentle grind of Bumblebee against him, the hot slide of their spikes together. Bumblebee dribbled pre-fluid, and it slicked their lengths, making for a delicious friction of heat.
Knock Out's spinal strut lit up with charge. He shivered and licked into Bumblebee's mouth, holding him close enough for their chestplates to grind, and for him to feel the pulsing heat of Bumblebee's spark behind his armor. It seemed to beat at a pace as fast as Knock Out's own, and his field matched it, swelling and filling the room with a heady arousal.
"What I want is you inside me right now," Knock Out purred as he tightened his thighs around Bumblebee's waist. He teased his fingers on the back of Bumblebee's neck, toying with a cable he knew to be sensitive.
Bumblebee's orbital ridges fluttered. He briefly buried his face in Knock Out's intake, ex-venting with a shudder. His free hand slid down to Knock Out's hip, curving around it.
"As you wish," Bumblebee murmured, and the head of his spike nudged against Knock Out's valve, the damp tip brushing over his exterior sensors and anterior node, sending shocks of want through his frame.
Knock Out's backstrut arched, and he rolled upward, trying to urge Bumblebee deeper. "More," he demanded.
“What’s the rush?” Bumblebee asked, but he inched forward, the thickness of him sliding over Knock Out’s internal sensor clusters, sending another electric shock of desire up his backstrut.
He groaned through his denta, fingers digging into Bumblebee’s seam, keeping him from moving away. “Why are you dragging it out?”
“I’m not. I’m savoring.” Bumblebee’s lips traced over the curve of his jaw as he sank deeper, ever so slowly, until he was fully sheathed.
Knock Out moaned and crossed his ankles behind Bumblebee’s back, keeping him in place, his valve cycling down on him. Sparks of charge danced between node and receptor, arousal building in his frame in steady waves.
“Such a romantic,” Knock Out panted, kneading into Bumblebee’s seams, teasing the cables beneath.
“Unrepentantly,” Bumblebee agreed, and he slotted their mouths together. The kiss was a careful tangle of their glossa, the fluttering touch of his lips, the puffs of his warm ex-vents.
He didn’t so much thrust into Knock Out as he did rock forward, grinding gently on Knock Out’s exterior node, sliding purposefully over his inner nodes. Knock Out moaned, his processor spinning dizzily. His fans sputtered, venting heat into the space between them, his internal temperature skyrocketing.
“That’s… that’s fair,” Knock Out said against Bumblebee’s lips.
A chuckle vibrated over his mouth. Bumblebee’s hand slid into a firmer curve around Knock Out’s hip, holding him in place for a long, leisurely grind that sent electric fire licking up Knock Out’s spinal strut.
He shuddered, heat flaring through his sensory net, his thighs trembling. Knock Out vented, in and out, and realized too late that Bumblebee was matching his rhythm. Bumblebee’s lips brushed over his, but their foreheads pressed together, and Bumblebee’s hand squeezed his against the berth.
Knock Out’s ventilations hitched. The pleasure coiled inside of him, almost lazily, and it tightened and tightened with each slow rock of Bumblebee’s hips. Every forward motion was a lingering slide across his sensors, and every retreat barely counted. They rocked together, metal purring in a delicious friction, and Knock Out’s optics fluttered shut.
Words were lost, and he focused on the rhythm instead, the feel of Bumblebee’s lips fluttering over his, the press of Bumblebee’s weight on top of him, the stroking warmth of Bumblebee’s field as it blanketed him as much as Bumblebee did. His spark strobed a deep, affectionate beat, and he swore Bumblebee echoed it, the throb of Bumblebee’s spark tangible through his chestplate.
When overload came, it was a hot, slow wash through his sensory net. It started in his spark and spread outward, left his fingers tingling and his vents fluttering and his fans humming. Bumblebee’s mouth slotted over his, quieting his moans, and Knock Out clutched at him, shaking through the delicious waves of pleasure echoing through his frame.
An answering splash of heat in his valve announced Bumblebee’s overload, as did the shuddering ex-vent that puffed over Knock Out’s lips before they were covered in a sweet kiss. Slow and savoring again as Bumblebee stroked his hip and squeezed his hand. He nuzzled Knock Out’s face, his field flowing with warmth and affection.
“I love you,” Bumblebee murmured.
Knock Out’s face heated at the naked intimacy. “I know. You’ve showed me that a dozen times over.” He stroked the back of Bumblebee’s neck, pressing their cheeks together in a nuzzle. “I should have said it sooner.”
“You said it when you meant to. That’s what matters to me.” Bumblebee released his hand, but only so he could cup Knock Out’s face and sweep his thumb over Knock Out’s cheek. “I thought I’d end up saying it first.”
“Me, too,” Knock Out admitted.
“What changed?”
Knock Out sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, some mixture of embarrassment and shame coloring his emotions. “I had an epiphany, I guess. It happens,” he evaded.
“Mmm.” Bumblebee pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth and shifted, easing out of Knock Out first before he snuggled down on top of Knock Out, making himself into a yellow and black blanket. “You’re comfy.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Knock Out said, but he knew it lacked heat. His tone betrayed too much of his affection.
Bumblebee slung his arms around Knock Out’s chassis and tucked his face in against Knock Out’s intake. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” He sounded pleased, like the voltaic cat who caught the metallocanary.
“I suppose I do.”
Knock Out stroked Bumblebee's back, not enough to arouse, but enough to soothe. "I just realized something," he said.
"What?" Bumblebee asked against his intake, his door panels idly shifting against Knock Out's fingers.
"I'm going to have to change my address."
Bumblebee chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cables. "So?"
"So Ultra Magnus will know."
Bumblebee hummed, the vibrations buzzing against Knock Out's chassis. "So?"
Knock Out cycled his optics. "It doesn't bother you?"
"Why would it?"
He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, unease daring to trickle into his post-coital bliss. "Because you're you. He'd probably disapprove, you know, considering your image.'
Bumblebee snorted. "My personal life is no one's business to disapprove of. I love you, and I want you to move in with me, and you said you would. That's all there is to it."
Warmth fluttered through Knock Out's spark. He slid his arms tighter around Bumblebee, strengthening his embrace. "It really doesn't bother you." He wasn't sure if he meant it to be a question or a statement. Not when all he could think about was how much he was dragging Bumblebee down.
"It never has." Bumblebee looked up, concern flickering in his field, his forehead scrunching. "Why do you think it would now when it hasn't for the past year? You don't believe me?"
"I believe in you," Knock Out said quickly, hoping to forestall the hurt threatening to creep into Bumblebee's expression. "But I'm well aware of what others think, and how others view our relationship. I know what I am, and I'm not ashamed of it, but..." He trailed off.
He didn't want to admit aloud that he was afraid Bumblebee might leave him someday because he was such a political liability.
"But other people are," Knock Out finished. "And perception is the name of the game when it comes to the politics Cybertron plays right now."
"I've never cared about politics. I don't want to be a leader, I don't even want to be their hero, that's just the mantle Ultra Magnus gave me." Bumblebee stroked a hand around Knock Out's face, impossibly gentle, sweet enough to hurt. "Eventually, I'll be forgotten, and that's a good thing. I'm not going to be miserable just to make someone else feel comfortable."
Knock Out cycled a ventilation, his spark swelling in his chassis. "How did I get so lucky?"
"I think I'm the lucky one." Bumblebee brushed their lips together, barely a kiss, but it sent flutters of warmth through Knock Out anyway. "I meant everything I said."
"So did I." Knock Out finished the kiss, making it slow and savoring, pouring all of his emotion into it, relief flooding in and chasing out the last echoes of any unease that might have lingered.
If it didn't matter to Bumblebee, it wouldn't matter to Knock Out either. Or at least, he'd stop letting it matter to him.
Bumblebee was right.
Every one else's opinion was moot.
"I love you," Knock Out murmured, again, because it needed to be said, as many times as his pride would manage.
Bumblebee's cheek slid against his before he leaned their foreheads together. "Me, too," he whispered. "Roomie."
Knock Out laughed before he could stop himself. Primus, Bumblebee was such a dork, and by the Allspark, Knock Out loved him for it.
He smashed their lips together for a kiss, playful and heavy with intent. They had all night together if they wanted, and Knock Out definitely desired.
He wanted to make love to his new roommate until they fell into recharge together out of exhaustion, in the habsuite they would soon share.
And that's exactly what he intended to do.
a/n: Feedback, as always, is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. :)
