Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam was intrigued by these new creatures. The new creatures in question being the femmes that had arrived to Earth. He wasn’t the only one, the humans were curious and confused by the appearance of female Autobots after all this time. And how did that work? They looked female, sounded female, yet no one was inclined to answer any such questions he had on how that worked. Not even Bee who seemed particularly embarrassed when Sam asked if there was any difference.

He decided it was definitely a question for Ratchet later.

Sam was intrigued by the way they talked and carried themselves. Over video messages before landing, Sam had been able to observe them without them doing so in return. They were… he wasn’t sure dainty was the right word. But they definitely had some softer features. In a purely robot lady sort of way, they were beautiful, he decided.

Each one had a profile on hand from Prowl. Sure, he couldn’t read the whole thing, there were private notes about the bots in those, but Prowl gave him a summary and let him see the holos they had of them like he did for the last mechs who landed.

Elita One was the leader of their squad with Chromia being next in charge. There was also Arcee and Moonracer. Apparently Arcee had been a teacher once. And not just any teacher, she taught newsparks. Sam really hoped that did not mean he had to start their version of school, but Prowl kept talking not noticing Sam’s newfound discontentment. Lessons with Optimus and him were one thing, but school was another…

Everyone was excited as the days drew closer to their arrival. And Sam did learn one thing that made his not-brain glitch. Well, two things really.

Ironhide and Optimus were married.

Sort of.

He was not exactly sure how it worked, but he was not prepared to learn that information. So, as they talked on probably explaining it, he was stuck on the idea of Optimus and Ironhide on bended knees pouring their hearts out ring in hand. It made him giggle. The bots simply watched him with bewildered expressions until he was back to not so blatantly ignoring them.

Then the day came, and they arrived.

Sam figured the femmes had some form of an idea of him being here. Like when other bots arrived it was kind of hush-hush but definitely hinted at so they were prepared, but no information really got out about him. Things like saying Arcee’s old skills might come in use had piqued their interest. Sam was so ready to meet them, they were unlike the others he could already tell.

They landed met with Optimus and the command and returned inside for a debrief. Sam waited with Bumblebee in the back of the greeting party for obvious reasons. Mechs halted what they were doing the moment they sensed him, overtaken by questions, joy, and intrigue. When the femmes had spotted him, it was no different.

 Actually, it might have had a worse effect. Sam did not exactly know what was happening. He was overwhelmed by a flood of fields and four very tall robot ladies. It took Optimus’ direct order for them not disturb him. For a brief moment he actually thought he was a goner under their gazes. Strong and determined, he wasn’t sure what they were going to do. They looked at him with a strange intensity that outmatched anything he had encountered before.

“It really is a sparkling!” The one he knew to be Arcee cried out. Suddenly she was on bended knee before him. She said something in Cybertronian, but Sam just stared back blankly. For a brief moment her features flashed with concern until Bumblebee responded back with something. He forgot Bee was directly behind him.

She tried again. “Hello little one, you speak English, yes?”

He nodded dumbly under her stare. His plating was beginning to crawl.

“I can’t wait to teach you.” She purred and with drew standing again with her teammates. As they were pulled away for briefing, each set of optics lingered until they were out of sight.

Sam turned to Bumblebee, “What was that about?”

Bee simply shrugged but looked after where the femmes had disappeared with a less than amused gaze. That should have been Sam’s first clue.

But the femmes were great. There was Elita One, she was so motherly like Optimus was all fatherly. She was like his mom when she’d run errands, responsible and respectable and a go getter. Then there was Chromia. She also reminded Sam of his mom, but in a different way. All blunt and brash with a similar humor. Their presence didn’t quite fill that void, but it did comfort him.

Arcee and Moonracer were definitely younger than the other two, but not as young as Bee. Honestly, he had a hard time comparing their ages and wondered if it would be rude to ask like with earth women. And Arcee being a teacher hung in the back of his mind.

At first, they let him follow them around and ask his insatiably curious questions. Even giggling at some. They answered many with indirect answers and pointed him to Ratchet. Or responded with something along the lines of not to worry about it until he got creators and upgrades. Whatever that meant.

Like the bots they loved to coo and coddle him. And for once, Sam was okay with it. The femmes reminded him of his mother in a way he just couldn’t shake. He could never be mean to his mom. All of their doting felt right.

And they did a lot of doting.

If there was a stain on his chasis, it wasn’t there long. Chromia was sure to help him wipe down. It was embarrassing, but his plating had never been cleaner. If he was irritated at a game, Arcee was there to help him beat the level. He wasn’t even sure how she knew how to play the game. If he warbled in sadness, there was Moonracer ready with a hug. He did not need one, but the femme insisted. And Elita One had done something he did not know he was missing out on. She made him Energon treats. Actually made them from scratch. They were so good when they were warm and gooey.

Usually with the bots, Sam kept their treating him like a toddler in check. But the way Elita would talk to him and help him just reminded him of Judy. His mom who he never got to see and would probably never see again. He knew the mechs were seething with unbridled jealousy, which made him want to laugh a little. But the femmes were just different.

He very quickly began to expect running into at least one of them every day. Which wasn’t odd but was at the same time. There were mechs that he wouldn’t see for days or a week straight sometimes, but he saw one of them without fail every day after they first arrived.

That should have been his second red flag, but they were so nice!

Soon one femme a day was not the norm anymore. It was a combination of two, three, or even all. And Sam had to wonder just what did they do around here. Every time he was in the rec room the only ones in it were them anymore. It was like they knew he would be there. Granted, Jazz one time did say he could set a watch to him since he was usually in the rec room at certain times. But still… where was everyone else?

Once he entered the rec room, it was basically game over. As in he would be spending the day playing games, baking treats, or getting his plating buffed with them. He quickly found in the oncoming days as they hung around him more and more. At first, he thought it was the same reverence and intensity which new mechs watched him with behind their optics, but these ladies were starting to ride the line of overbearing. He wasn’t sure what to do. His father had taught him he should always respect women, but he wasn’t sure this applies to robot ladies too.

He soon put two and two together and figured they cleared out the rec room, so they could coo and coddle him undisturbed. For a brief moment, he thought he was simply overthinking it. There was no way they were doing all this. But after one strange interaction, he felt like his thoughts were justified.

“Chromia, don’t cha wanna go to the range and just have some alone time.” That was Ironhide in the rec room. He hadn’t run into him there in a while.

“At the moment, no. I went to the range with you yesterday.” Well, that was harsh. Honestly, it wouldn’t kill them to leave him alone for a day. Maybe the mechs might even come back to the rec room.

“‘Mia, you and Elita have hardly spent any time with me and Optimus. I think the kid’ll be fine if you’d just-“ Sam walked around the corner and gave a quiet unassuming stare at the pair. Both stared back, but Chromia did smile while Ironhide looked unimpressed.

“You know,” Sam started sweetly, “my parents used to go on date nights and leave me by myself. You don’t really have to be with me twenty-four seven.” Sam gave his best attempt at a smile, but he was nervous okay. He was trying to make this work. Ironhide was obviously confused for a moment before Chromia spoke up.

“You poor thing, they didn’t even take you along? Come on ‘Hide.” Sam gave an indignant chirp as he was scooped into the femme’s hold.

He was not really sure what just happened but looked back at Ironhide with a ‘I tried’ expression as he followed his femme love. She led them to the range, which was empty. Sam couldn’t help but think about how this would have been the perfect set up for him and Mikaela to slip off and do some extracurriculars. Wait-

“Look ‘Hide we can teach the bitlet safety and some pointers and do some target practice.” Sam was glad she interrupted that spiral he was about to go down.

“Sounds great.” Ironhide voice was tight with irritation.

“Look Sam, this is your standard blaster. It-“ Sam stopped listening as she put the blaster a bit too close to him for comfort. How was he even here right now. Any other time the bots would have been throwing a fit.

“You know ‘Mia we haven’t really let the little guy around blasters.” Ironhide interrupted and Sam peeled his eyes from the very thing that had been shot at him before.

She paused and frowned. “‘Hide, none of you have taught him any safety of being around blasters.”

“We don’t really let him near them.”

“We didn’t let Bumblebee either, and the little terror almost shot his pede off.”

“Honestly, I thought you would have taught the bitlet by now. I guess we’ll have to go from the start. Sam, never point a blaster at something you don’t intend to kill.”

“Wait, that’s Safety 101 for you guys too? You pointed your canons at me and Mikaela in the alley when you met us!” Sam squawked indignant. “You could have killed us?”

“I did not intend to shoot you both. It wouldn’t have-” Ironhide began only to be interrupted.

“You did what?!” Chromia glared at him openly. “Ironhide!”

“’Mia-“

“Don’t you ‘’Mia’ me. That was so reckless, weren’t those the first humans you came across too! No wonder they think we’re all brutes!”

Sam sort of felt guilt edge its way up over the scolding he started, but he deserved it in some sense. After she was done with her tirade and Ironhide was thoroughly reprimanded, Sam got them back on track.

“Okay, okay, so gun, or canon/ blaster safety, right? I have the two best teachers for it. You guys can show me together.” Yay, he inwardly cringed.

It felt like forever, and they quizzed him. But they really did click and work together seamlessly. Sam could see it, he shipped it.

The real fun was target practice. They showed him how to aim and hold the blaster. They never handed it over to him completely; instead, they held it steady as he lined up the sight. They even let him shoot the blaster as they held it. It was loud and powerful. It was sort of thrilling to shoot a weapon that had been turned at him before. Hopefully Chromia and Ironhide had as good as time as him. They were smiling knowing smiles at each other, so it seemed to be a win. Maybe Ironhide might get some alone time later on with the femme.

When they came back, Sam knew it was late. He was tired from all the excitement and let the femme carry him back. They stopped at the rec room where Bee, Arcee, and Elita were lurking. Sam was so relieved to see Bee, and Bee perked up at the sight of him.

“There you are! I heard you had a fun time with Chromia and Ironhide.” Arcee blocked Bee from sight. It wasn’t purposeful. Slowly, he looked up to the femme.

“Yeah, super fun. Exciting, even. But man am I beat, I think it’s time I went to recharge.” Sam sat up in Chromia’s hold no longer lying limp across her plating and tried to wiggle down to get to Bee.

“Perfect, we’re just in time,” Arcee scooped Sam from her grasps before he even broke free. “We can take you to your quarters.”

Sam didn’t even get to answer, and they were off. Elita smiled and joining them as Sam looked over Arcee’s shoulder plating at a stunned Bumblebee. He was given a warm cube of Energon and was in recharge before Bee even ended up in their quarters.

They liked his chatter and never seemed to grow bored of him. But then he knew them and had very few questions left for them. The novelty of new bots always wore off eventually.

But he couldn’t shake them, he realized he had seen less and less of the bots and thought of instances where they had even managed to chase off Jazz. Jazz however was not above grabbing and scooping him to whisk him off somewhere.

The femmes watched with unreadable intense gazes. When one had tried to grab him and hold him like Bee would, he chirped in distress prompting him to be set back down. He liked them and would let them snuggle up to him, but he never really liked anyone to carry him. Jazz just didn’t care, and he was not about to have more bots that didn’t listen to him.

More than once mechs tried coming back to the rec room, but they never seemed to stay long. It was very much a ‘grab energon and run’ entrance. The few who dared stay were watched with what Sam could only call a cold gaze from the femmes. Disheartened optics would sometimes meet his, but then a femme would approach the mech in question and they took it as cue to head off. There was only the low, fast mutter of “bye, Sam” as they left.

Sam had a brilliant idea after Wheeljack was all but thrown from the room one day. He just wouldn’t go to the rec room. Prowl, Jazz, and Redalert might put the base on lockdown, but they would get over it when he was found. He was never told he had to go stay there. He was only told he wasn’t allowed to go outside alone. And the bots kept a vigilant watch over him. Now he just needed to decide where to go. That was another reason he was mainly in the rec room. There was always bots and video games there.

And then it came to him. He would just visit Bumblebee in the monitor room. It could get boring, but he would just bring the tablet Prowl gave him. He could also catch up with Bee. Despite sharing a room, he had barely had time to talk to the mech.

The next day he sped past the rec room. Bumblebee usually left before he awoke from recharge, so he was already on duty. Sam clutched the data pad to his chasis and booked it the whole way there. When he got in front of the door, he spammed the panel until the door slid open.

“Sam?” Sam rushed in and smashed the control panel so the door would close.

“Hi, Bee!” he chirped happily and plopped on the floor and powered on his data pad. “Hope you don’t mind me joining you today.” Now that he was sat, his vents were running just a bit faster than normal.

Bee chuckled, “No, of course not.” He then looked him over. “What is with the hasty entrance, did you manage to piss off Ironhide or something?”

With how their last meeting went, probably. “Nope, I just haven’t gotten to hang out with favourite buddy in ages.”

Bee hummed, “Yes, it does feel like it’s been a while.” Bee made his way back to the control panel and Sam noticed there was another bot manning the other set of monitors. In the dim light he saw Redalert carefully observing some strange frequency.

“Don’t mind him, he can’t here us. He’s looking into an imbedded frequency trying to decipher it. Though we should probably let him know you’re here if we want to avoid an incident.”

“Do not put my location on the channels.” Sam said quickly causing Bee to pause. “I don’t want anyone looking for me, just ping Red.”

Bee merely shrugged, and Sam guessed he complied. They chatted and Sam asked and listened about what Bee had been up to. Apparently, he was given the assignment of helping Redalert isolate the strange incoming frequencies and had been quite busy.

 “So how do you like the femmes? I heard Jazz say something about you spending a lot of time with them.”

“Yeah… They are interesting.” Sam struggled to describe them as anything but obsessive.

“I cant believe you let Elita One and Arcee put you to bed-“

“That was humiliating!” Sam snapped. “I do not want to talk about that. Matter of fact, let’s skip the femmes. What else do you want to talk about?”

“You know I haven’t really seen much of the femmes. Just at training. Are- Sam, are they why you’re hiding?”

“No.” Sam felt his face burn. “Maybe.”

“Why?” Bumblebee’s tone became serious. It was like he activated guardian mode. “Are they being aggressive or-“

“Nope, you have it all wrong! It’s worse than that, they are being nice! Too nice!” Sam thew his arms up in despair and fell back from sitting. “They are driving me nuts, Bee. And I hardly see anybody. It’s like they chased everyone off. Which I thought was crazy, but I have seen them do it. You didn’t tell me they were level 10 clingers!”

The door swooshed open, and Sam’s spark stop spinning. Illuminated by the pale light of the hall was Optimus. He looked the room over and settled his sight on Sam and Bee.

“Has any one seen Elita One?” He asked, and they shook their helms in a negative. It was not quite a sigh he gave but definitely a longsuffering vent. Sam wondered if he was missing Elita One like Ironhide was with Chromia. Optimus went to move on when Sam caught the sight of familiar plating.

“Jazz!” Sam shouted and the mech practically fell over himself to turn around and see him.

“Hey, lil’ mech! Long time no see. I’m surprised there aint no femmes in here.” That was as playful as it was seething. The femmes seemed to grind Jazz’s gears.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, “but, hey Jazz! I want to hang out with Bee.” Jazz looked from him to the mech mentioned and back. “You know,” he stressed. “with Bee.”

“Yeah,” he nodded catching on. “Yeah, with your favourite mech. I get cha, Sammy. I can make that happen.”

“Thanks!”

Bumblebee was given the week off.

Which was bad news for the femmes because Sam only had one mech that he would fight them over.

Day one with Bumblebee did not play out so smoothly as Sam wanted. He and Bee had awoken from recharge and set them selves on the simple task of acquiring energon…which was in the rec room. Sam played as tactfully as he could keeping a close glom onto Bee’s side. As suspected, there were indeed femmes there and waiting, Arcee and Moonracer. Sam could see the femmes stiffen in surprise at Bumblebee’s nonchalant presence. They decided on paying him no mind however as they approached Sam.

Sam watched them with a wary eye, or uh, optic. Moonracer strode up to him with a confidence of a bot foolish enough to try and pick him up. Sam stumbled back away from the approaching teal menace grasping for his guardian only for his servos to collide with nothing but empty air. Sam made the mistake to turn in search of his guardian, only to see him at the energon dispenser collecting them two cubes.

How considerate.

Moonracer picked him up while his back was turned. Sam yelped in a high distressed warning. Moonracer, startled, held him at arm’s length unsure what had happened. Bumblebee did not take kindly to Sam’s cry of alarm and was there in a flash.

“Good morning, Moonracer,” Bumblebee said curtly, “I thought you and the other femmes had become accustomed to Sam, but it seems a few things escaped your notice. Sam is not fond of being picked up. So, it would be in your best interest to put him back on his pedes.”

Bumblebee was clinical in his speech. His annoyance was not veiled at all. Sam’s spark fluttered at the curt rescue on his behalf. Rude yet heroic.

Moonracer did not appreciate the talking down to, “I know Sam quite well, thank you. I’ve gotten to make his acquaintance these past few orns, I can’t say the same about you. I’m sure Sam doesn’t need you talking on his behalf.”

Sam did not like that.

“PUT ME DOWN!” Startled, Moonracer did just that.

Sam scampered behind Bee and wrapped his arms around what he could reach of his waist. From his knew strategic position, he eyed the femme with a newfound hostility. It seemed to throw both Moonracer and Arcee through a loop. The femmes stared after him in confusion, and Moonracer’s features took on a hurt, wounded expression.

“S- Sam are you all right?” Arcee said peering around Bumblebbe’s form where Sam had buried himself in his side.

“Fine now, thanks.” He mumbled in Bee’s side. He looked up at the mech who seemed concerned. Sam merely gave him a dashing smile and noticed Bee still held two cubes of energon. “Gee, thanks Bee!” he chirped sweetly. “Do you want to watch the SpongeBob Movie? The first one, it’s the only good one.”

Bumblebee huffed a small laugh, “I thought you’d never ask.” Bee looked over him fondly as he let Sam lead him to the couch in front of the giant monitor the had converted into a designated TV.

Sam plopped down but noticed how Bee hesitated and looked back over to the femmes. Don’t start feeling remorse now, Sam thought exasperated. He knew what Bee was about to do, why did the mech have to be considerate.

“Would you two like to join us-“

“Yes!” Arcee was seated before Bee with how fast she moved. She plopped down, right next to Sam who was also seated next to the arm rest leaving no space for Bumblebee next to him.

Sam was gobsmacked by how quickly it all fell apart. Bee took a seat next to Arcee and passed the cube over to Sam. Somewhere in the process, an energon goody was placed atop the cube and Sam elected to ignore it. He had had enough of the treats. Moonracer settled somewhere behind them, Sam felt her lingering presence but had no intention of beckoning her closer. Arcee at some point in the movie pulled out a thermal tarp and draped it over them. They cuddled up watching movies huddled under the thermal tarp for the day. Sam wanted to show Bee some more new movies but wanted them for when they were more alone. Bumblebee suggested a few titles the femmes might like that they had watched before. It irked Sam that Bee had to give the suggestion over Arcee, and it irked him more to find he wasn’t even under the blanket.

Finally, Sam was done with movies and he and Bee made their way to their quarters much to the femmes’ disappointment. His irritation was seething under his plating still as they unwound.

“What’s the matter, Sam?” Bee asked as he hoisted Sam onto the higher berth in the room.

Their room configuration was odd compared to other layouts. It was about the same size as every other shared quarters. It seemed smaller though it was because they had both berths on the floor and not stacked like bunks. Sam’s shorter berth was to the left against the wall, and Bee’s was pushed up against the wall one faced when walking into the room. The arrangement made an ‘L’ shape. He and Bee had decorated the walls with posters, pictures, and anything they deemed interesting. Currently, due to Bee’s absence and Sam’s uncaring attitude while he was away, the room was a disheveled wreck.

“The matter? Bee, we got stuck with Thing One and Thing Two all day! Actually, that probably would have been fun, but no!” Sam let out a frustrated groan. “I wanted to spend time with you. Jazz is going to make me sit with him for hours for this. I can already hear the coos. No doubt I’ll have to up play my ‘cute’ sparkling chirping.”

Bumblebee rolled his optics but smiled fondly. “Thank you for your sacrifice. I- appreciate it. I was not sure how much longer I could stand to be trapped in there with Redalert.”

“Yeah, he seems intense.” Sam decided that was the best word for him. Bee said nothing in disagreement.

“Well, we could always spend time together cleaning up in here tomorrow.” Bumblebee did not sound convinced that that was what he wanted to do with their time.

“Tomorrow? You’re already talking about tomorrow? We still have today. And I know you don’t want to clean. I don’t.” Sam lied on his back, helm hanging over the edge of the berth, pedes on the wall, and his arms sprawled.

Bumblebee gave a low thoughtful hum as he pushed one of Sam’s arms back to him and hopped to sit on the berth with him. “It might not be what I or you want to do, but we’ve been reported.”

“Reported? By who, no one comes in here!”

“I have my guesses,” He stated stalely. “But we mainly need to get on it because of Prowl. He did room inspections, and everybody got cited with violations. Jazz was the one who told me someone tipped him off. I was told we needed to clean up before they separated us for being bad influences on each other-“

Sam sat up nearly falling off the berth. “Absolutely not! I would throw the biggest fit you ever seen- don’t use that against me, you know what I mean! I am talking a melt down to match the time that security guard put me in a holding cell for ‘try to sneak in’ a top-secret base underground! Honestly that was sooooo stupid! I was already past three security check points. You know what, no, this is worse than that- I’ll make it worse than that!”

“Sam, Sam!” Sam snapped his attention to his frantic guardian. How long had he been calling him? “Sam,” Bumblebee tried again seeing he had his attention, “it was just a joke, but a warning. No harm done. I doubt they’d even think of actually doing it.” He stroked his fins and plating in a soothing manner.

Sam deflated. “Oh.” With the wind pulled from his sails, Sam felt exhausted. Curse his tiny new, fragile spark.

“Time for recharge.” Bee stated and scooped Sam into his lap. Instead of getting up and placing Sam on his own berth however, Bumblebee simply reclined the two of them back, rearranging Sam until they were both comfortable.

“But you already recharged.” He complained yet snuggled down deeper into his guardian’s side.

“Some more time in recharge won’t hurt me, might help actually. Now, it’s time for all good little newsparks to recharge.”

 Sam grumbled in protest at the teasing. But he was tired, and soon recharge took him.

The next time he awoke, he begrudgingly helped Bee organize. It turned out that Bee was just as lost as him on how to do so. In the end, they worked it out. More than half the day was gone to their efforts, but Bee was still willing to do more with him.

 “I checked the weather, Jazz and the others are patrolling, it seems like a good day to go outside. Would you like to?” Bee definitely knew the answer.

“And here I thought I’d never see the light of day again. Lead the way!”

 Bee laughed as they exited their newly made-up room. To say they had fun outside was an understatement. Sam ran around for what felt like hours. Jazz, Swerve, and Bluestreak stopped by for a moment. It had been so long since he’d seen them. They played a quick game of tag and were off. Jazz had left them with a strict warning about the time, all but saying to head inside. Sam was saddened since the sun had barely started it its trek to set.

Bumblebee heeded the warning, probably not wanting to be sent back to the lair of a monitor room with Redalert earlier than expected. Once inside Bumblebee marched both of them to the wash racks. Sam did not like the sand between his joints but felt like the scrub downs he received were always unnecessarily thorough. Bluestreak had said when he helped him once that they wanted to keep his flimsy sparkling armor in top condition. In nicer words obviously.

Once clean, Sam was once again tired out. He felt as though he had been more active today than he had in months.

“Sorry Bee,” he muttered as Bumblebee helped him put fresh wax on his back plates. He was drifting off.

“Why are you sorry? We had a lot of fun outside today. That’s bound to make any sparkling tired.”

Sam gave a distasteful huff. “I hate being a sparkling.” Bumblebee stopped what he was doing, and Sam realized what he had said. He sat up in alarm. “I mean, I just hate not being able to keep up with you guys. I mean I am one of you, but I suck at it.”

“You are simply new to it.” Bumblebee corrected. “Besides, when you were a human you slept way more.”

“Hey!”

“Well, you did. Now you stay up much longer. I do not think you could have stayed up five days in a row as a human. Although it was not for a lack of trying.” Ah yes, the time he aimed to stay up for a whole week without recharging. He had been miserable the last two days. Absolutely wretched to everyone. Ratchet had been furious. His personal best as a human had been broken though. He definitely surpassed his 78-hour record.

Sam giggled at his own antics.

“Recharge, Sam.” And with that comforting command, he did.

Sam realized they had never went to the rec room the day before. They also never ran into femmes. Sam hoped to keep up that streak, but it wasn’t meant to be.

Sam sat up and looked over to Bee’s berth where the mech was sitting reading a data pad. He gave a small chirp in greeting and Bee looked up in acknowledgement. His attention however was directed to the door. Maybe he got a com because he went over, unlocked, and opened the door. Elita One stood tall and imposing on the other side.

“Bumblebee, there you are.” She said coolly.

Bumblebee was taken aback at the sight of the femme leader. “Yes, uh, did you need something?”

“Yes actually, Optimus needs your help with something. I told him I would come get you.” She looked past him briefly and spotted Sam giving a pleasant smile.

“Oh. He does? Did I miss a com.” Bumblebee was genuinely confused.

“Nope. Nothing to worry about, sweetie. He didn’t have the chance.” Elita stepped into the room. “He is in his office.” She glanced around the place with a scrutinizing gaze, much like his mother after he was done picking up his room. “Wow, it looks much better in here, good job boys.”

Sam frowned at that.

With grace and authority, Elita successfully managed to chase Bumblebee off. “How are you, Sam?” she smiled delighted.

“Oh, I’m fine. I just…woke up.” He trailed off distracted. He hadn’t even really sat up yet. Recharge was still clouding his processor.

“Would you like to come with me to the rec room?” Even in his sleepy state he should have seen that coming.

Sam groaned. She probably chased Bumblebee off for the day. “Sure, why not.” He was sure it was biting. He could feel the angered warble in it.

Elita just smiled, probably blaming it on a cranky sparkling. Bleh. Elita dared scoop him. She was fast about it, pinning him to her chest in a way his mom did when he threw tantrums at the grocery store. Sam did not throw a tantrum. He was simply too tired still. He would let it slide just this once as he listened to the thrum of a spark that sounded like his mother’s heart. And just like that, another day was stolen away by fussy femmes.

The next day, Sam found himself dreading going anywhere near the rec room.

“Bee please, let’s hang out in our room.” Sam knew he let out a distressed chirp and cringed. Those femmes probably heard it and would be coming. They had gotten to close for Sam’s comfort to the rec room.

“If you want,” Bee conceded.

It did not take long for them to be tracked down. Arcee had opened their door as Sam sat coloring on the floor. He looked up at the femme appalled they had left the door unlocked.

“What are you guys doing?” She asked sweetly. Sam wanted to explode. Why couldn’t they leave him alone for even one day.

“Hanging out.” He gritted out pausing in flipping the pages.

“Mind if I join,” Sam did actually. This was his room! Well, his and bees. And he wanted privacy!

“NO!” Even Bee looked shaken at the outburst. “I mean not in here,” he quickly added quickly. “Let’s go to the rec room. There’s more room and we can get some energon.”

They walked to the rec room without saying a word. The whole time Sam was as close as he get to Bumblebee without tripping him. He wasn’t overly short, and Ratchet said he would actually get taller after upgrades. The universe was actually kind to him for once with that. He would have hated being proportionally the size of an eight-year-old to the bots all his robotic life. Right now, he stood at Bumblebee’s elbow. That was not tall at all compared to the other bots since Bee was shorter…shortest? Yep, probably the shortest. Maybe Cliffjumper or Jazz could be shorter. But no, Sam saw Jazz not laid back and slouching before and he was taller than Bee then.

Sam looked up at Bee with a silent appraisal. Bee noticed him staring and stared back only for Sam to look away leaving him bewildered.

Sam concluded that Bee was in fact the shortest. Something he knew he couldn’t share until he himself got taller.

“Sam there you are! We have more Energon goodies!” Moonracer’s greeting grated his audio receptors.

Sam actually felt sick to his stomache, or uh, tanks? Either way, he could not choke down another Energon goodie without purging.

“Ummm, no thanks, I’m good.” He scooted closer to Bee after declining. Though after the last month or so, he wasn’t sure Bee could save him from the femmes.

“Wh- what?” She seemed to deflate.

“I’m just not hungry.” He tried to placate.

“But you just said to Bumblebee you wanted energon.” Arcee supplied from behind him. If it could, his optic would be twitching.

“But that is like a drink, you know?” That look told him they did not know. He might as well tell the truth. “I think I’ve just had one too many energon treats for a while.” Bee had the gall to snicker beside him.

Sam knew the perfect way to get back at him and let the femmes know how his favourite list went.

When they sat down for the movie to start Sam purposely ignored the femmes moving to make spots for him to join or their hushed whispers of “over here Sam, here’s a spot”. He turned to Bee and pushed him into a spot dab smack in the middle of the femme hoard. They quickly made room for them both, but Sam had no intention to get on either side of Bee. Instead, he jumped right into his lap with a none too gentle plop that seemed to knock the air from Bee’s vents. He made sure to make himself comfortable by snuggling in close to his guardian as the movie opened.

As the movie slowly went on, he could feel the stares of the femmes on the both of them. Bee seemed to notice too since he sat with a stiff rigidness not common to him. The first time a femme tried to grab him he saw it from the corner of his optic and shifted before they even brushed his plating. The second time he took his arm and wrapped it around Bee’s neck and shifted until Bee’s hold was around his sides. Sam was practically buried in his chest plates, but it beat the femmes playing pass the sparkling. When he was genuinely tired and bored of the movie, he burrowed his face into the crook of Bees neck and stayed that way for a long while.

He hoped the femmes caught on that there was only one true favorite and that was his guardian. They chased off every bot, but they were trying to cross a dangerous line. No one tried to replace Bee. Sam almost felt bad for snapping at them, but they did not try to so blatantly chase him off again.

Chapter Text

“Here Sam you can help with this one. It’s a horror piece. Gore, violence, drama.” Sideswipe led him to a canvas that was taller than the red bot.

It had to have been at least a few feet taller than the bot and wider than the twins standing side by side. The content of the canvas was not clear to Sam at first. It was dark and gloomy, painted in grey tones that were hard to see in the faint lighting of the room. As Sam stared, he could make out a desolate landscape that stretched out for miles. It was littered with debris and jagged edges that did not make a whole lot of sense to him. Towards the bottom almost undistinguishable from the torn landscape were the forms of bots with unclear features. Their optics held no color nor did their frames. They looked dead.

Sam didn’t like it.

The whole piece made him uncomfortable. Waves of sadness washed over him for nameless, faceless bots that weren’t even real. A low mournful sound reverberated through his chasis as his optics searched each figure. As disturbing as the piece was, Sam found himself unable to look away.

“Hey now, don’t be like that.” Sideswipe knelt beside him to also face the canvas. From Sam’s level, they were optic level with those pitiful faces. Sideswipe frowned and looked away from the haunting optics to Sam. He gently lifted Sam’s servo and smiled. He inspected the appendage and pulled him by the wrist to show Sunstreaker. “What do you think Sunny?”

Sam involuntarily flexed his digits. Why were they looking at his servos? Sunstreaker looked at his servos and nodded. That only left Sam more confused.

“I would say it’s close enough.” Sam was wondering if Sunstreaker would ever admit being satisfied with anything.

“What’s close enough?” Sam asked carefully, his digits twitched from nervousness in Sideswipe’s hold.

“Your servos are just the right size.” Sunstreaker sounded passive as if he did not admit Sam was adequate for the job. “You can use this.”

Pink paint. Neon pink paint so hideously bright it seemed to glow.  Sam never really liked pink. Not that he had anything against it. It just wasn’t his color. And it probably still wasn’t with his plating being the shade of green that it was. Sam wasn’t sure how pink paint of this variety matched the horror and gore that Sunstreaker was aiming for.

“What do you want me to do exactly?” Sam asked warily turning an eye back to the life-size horror scene in front of him.

“Get messy with it. We need splatters and motion; a few prints of your servos here and there will do too. We will help you smear it out. Just lay into it and get inspired, let the feeling of the piece guide you.”

Sam frowned. “You want me to finger paint?”

“If that’s what you humans call it.” He turned his nose up at him.

“Won’t the paint get into my- my seams and under my plating?”

“Oh Please,” Sunstreaker sneered, “one thing I hate is a mess. We’ll help you get cleaned up.”

That only slightly comforted Sam. Sunstreaker did hate dirt, so a mess all over Sam and the floor probably wouldn’t last long. It was also probably why they were having him do it in the first place. He hoped they weren’t lying.

Sam was unsure as he dipped his hand- no- his servo into the cool, staining liquid. He felt as the thick substance seeped into his seams and gathered under his plating. His digits felt weird as the paint passed through them.

He looked up at the canvas deciding to focus on it rather than the sensation. Inspiration? What inspired him? Sam wasn’t too sure. The last time he had done anything close to finger painting… had been when the AllSpark had been stuck in his head, and he had written many symbols and diagrams along the walls. That hadn’t been pleasant.

He grimaced but followed suit. On the faceless mech in front of him Sam gently reached out and placed his servo on the mech’s chasis slowly dragging down. Sam didn’t want to ruin the painting as horrifying as it was. He pulled back his servo holding it slightly away from the rest of him and turned to look up at Sunstreaker.

“Perfect.” Sunstreaker’s optics were focused on the tiny print. “Now we just need more.”

With that approval, Sam dipped his hand again. The next bot Sam reached under the darkened optics and dragged his digits down roughly. The mech looked like he was crying neon paint.

“Oh, that’s good.” Sideswipe praised. “Hey, add some splatters down here.”

Sam gathered more paint but paused looking at where he had gestured. The halting caused the pooled paint to drip down his arm. He grimaced as he became more saturated.

“That’s close to the floor, I will get it all over the place.”

“That’s fine. Believe me, as much as Sunny here hates messes, he sure knows how to make them painting.” Sideswipe beamed and Sam turned to the golden bot.

“It’s true.” Sunny- er uh, Sunstreaker commented nonchalant.

With that subtle permission Sam went ham. He was not sure what possessed him to dip his arms up to the elbow joint and throw the stuff at the canvas the way that he did, but he started having fun. Splatters ricocheted from the canvas back across his pedes and chasis. Sunstreaker added some paint towards the top, gleaming streaks across the jagged edges. Somehow the bot tactfully avoided Sam’s erratic throws. At one point paint dripped from Sunstreaker’s brush and landed just below his optic. Sam blinked and scrunched up his face as he felt it drip down.

“Oops.” He said and knelt down pulling a rag from subspace. “Close your optics.” With more gentleness than he expected from the mech, he wiped his face.

Once he was done Sam opened his optics and smile up at him in thanks. Sunstreaker gave him a smile of his own, even if it was small and arrogant in appearance. Sam looked to their handy work and was surprised. He wasn’t exactly keeping track of what he was doing as he went, but the neon color really did help the whole thing pop.

“What do you think?” Sunstreaker asked looking it over with a much more critical eye.

“Me?” He nodded and Sam stepped back to observe some more. “Maybe some more in that corner off the rocks?” Were they rocks? Sam didn’t know, but Sunstreaker obliged.

“Good suggestion, that helped balance it.” Sideswipe admired from afar. He then turned to Sam. “I- I think we’re done now, right Sunny?” Sam heard that snicker; it wasn’t hidden at all.

He looked down at himself and found quite the mess. He was almost more pink than green now. Almost. 

“Yes, let’s get him cleaned up before someone sees him. We’ll never hear the end of it.” Sunstreaker stood and placed his paintbrush in a bucket.

Yeah, the bots were not fond of him getting his plating dirty. Sam was absolutely covered in paint. He hoped they weren’t lying, and the stuff came off. Sam walked forward out of the muck and found his plating dripped onto some of the clean floor.

“We definitely need to get cleaned up.” Sunstreaker said disdainfully. “Come on, Sam.” Sunstreaker guided him stiffly keeping a large gait between them. Sam was careful to keep from touching anything. Sunstreaker hit the keypad for the door and Sam stepped out into the clean hall.

“Aren’t you coming?” Sunstreaker snapped back into the room.

“I think you can handle it yourself.” Sideswipe called back. “You’re going to need to take some finer detail brushes to get under his tiny plating.”

“There’s none in the wash racks?” Sunstreaker sounded disgusted and disappointed all at once.

“Nope.” Sideswipe called back.

Sunstreaker looked down to Sam. “Stay put. Seriously don’t go anywhere.”

Sam heard the atomatic door slide shut as Sunstreaker stepped back into their quarters. He felt awkward standing in the pristine clean hall looking like he did. After a minute or so of standing very still to not get anymore paint anywhere he heard pede steps and a bot turned the corner.

Bluestreak. Sam really hoped this wasn’t one of those “cute moments” the bots wanted a holo of. The paint was drying and beginning to ich. What was taking Sunstreaker so long?

Bluestreak stopped dead in his tracks and did a double take. He took one good look at Sam and screamed.

Sam was so startled by his scream that he nearly jumped out of his plating. He stumbled back into the wall causing him to lose his balance and slide down it with a thud. Bluestreak rushed over to him in near hysterics. Whatever he was saying in either Cybertronian or English, Sam was sure no one would understand. Sam was being to panic from Bluestreak’s panicking. The bot’s optics held nothing but sheer terror.

“Wh- what’s wrong-” Sam tried but was cut off by Bluestreak grabbing him in a tight hold. He instantly took off with a speed of mech running from death. It jostled Sam with each stride. He groaned at the roughness of it all. That only spurred Blustreak to go faster.

“Ratchet! Ratchet! Ratchet! RATCHET!” Was the only thing Sam could make out of the spew. Bluestreak gave an all-powerful kick to a door that resulted in an echoing bang. All at once there were under blinding, sterile lights.

The Medbay? Why were they in the medbay. Sam thought they were running from sort of intruder.

“Bluestreak, what in the frag!”

“Ratchet- “ Suddenly Sam’s eyes caught Ratchet’s. Ratchet took one look at him and reeled back. Ratchet reeled back. Away from him. His mind raced. What was happening?!

If robots could pale, Sam would say that was what happened to Ratchet. The mech lost all color and it was the closest thing Sam had ever seen to terror etching the medics features.

“Put him on the berth.” Ratchet’s tone was void of any panic, but it also void of anything else too.

Bluestreak followed the instruction like a true mechanical being. Once he was on the berth, two medics hovered over him. Where First Aid came from Sam wasn’t sure. He probably heard the commotion that was Bluestreak’s grand entrance. Over Ratchet’s shoulder he could see the mechanical sliding door kicked in and off the track. Smooth Blue.

There was not much time to observe the door. The medics were in a panic which left him in a panic. Honestly, Blue was also in a panic with the way he kicked down that door. And there was panic in the air. Sam was panicking! A pressure on his chasis of someone trying to lay him back made him more uneasy.

“What-“ Firstaid laid him out across the berth none too gently and Ratchet was over him with a scanner.  A solemn foreboding presence encapsulated him.

Sam tried to bolt, or at least sit up, but First Aid was quick pushing him flat again.

“Hold him still!” Sam was venting hard optics darting to the two mechs. Had they lost their minds! Did they finally think they wanted to dissect him to find out what made him this way.

Sam let out a high screeching chirp. It only served to motivate Ratchet and First Aid more.

“Hey, hey, i-it’s okay. Ratchets going to fix you up. Don’t worry Sam.” Sam was not worried; he was petrified. First aid flared his field in blanket of warm calm. With all the commotion, however, it felt like a tiny match amongst a blizzard. His field and words could do nothing to calm the raging chaos in his spark at the moment.

“What’s going on?” He croaked.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find out.” Despite his tone, First Aid was clearly panicked.

Ratchet waisted no time scanning and rescanning him… And scanning him again. And then again. “Aid, get me another scanner!”

“Wh-what?” First Aid asked, yet he scrambled to do as he was told.

“This one’s not working!” Ratchet chucked the old one aside as the new one was placed in his waiting servo. The old one narrowly missed Bluestreak who was smart enough to stand a bit further back.

Ratchet rescanned him with the new scanner. And once again scanned him repeatedly. There was a shift in Ratchet’s demeaner as he did so. Slowly his startled vents became irritated grunts. Finally, he stopped scanning altogether and started messing with the settings. Once assured they were within the proper parameters he scanned again.

“You guys, what’s going on?” Sam whined, a low pitiful sound.

“Sam what happened? How did you get like this?” Ratchet was leaned over him to match his optics. He still seemed worried but now more baffled than anything.

“Get like what?” He sobbed. “Dirty? you guys are freaking me out!”

“Dirty?” Ratchet parroted. Sam might have laughed in any other situation at the look on Ratchet’s face.

“Sam,” Ratchet asked carefully lifting Sam’s servo to indicate the paint, still somewhat tacky on his digits, “what is this?”

“What’s what? The paint?” Sam looked at him through blurry optics.

“Paint, is that what this is? Paint?” Ratchet grabbed his servo in a firm yet gentle grip. He took on a new tone. One filled worry and insistence.

“I was just painting with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.” Sam sobbed. “Honest.” Sam let his terror be known in his field. Whines, cries, and all. Ashamedly, he knew there was nothing he really could do to stop it.

“Ratchet, we’ve made a terrible mistake.” First Aid said in a low voice. Gently he placed a servo on Sam’s helm which only caused him to flinch away. Sam felt a flash of remorse from First Aid but it was gone as quick as it came.

“You couldn’t tell that it was paint!” Ratchet rounded and smacked Bluestreak atop the helm with the scanner.

That got Sam’s attention. Bluestreak stumbled back and away from the medic. “You couldn’t tell either! Look at him! He was in the hall by himself and fell back into the wall! HELOOKSLIKEHEGOTMAULEDBYRAVAGEFORPRIMUSSAKE!”

“You were panicking, that made us panic! Use your basic scans, aren’t you a Special Operative! Where is your deductive reasoning!”

They continued on in Cybertronian. Their yelling only seemed to escalate from there. First Aid who seemed to have genuinely calmed looked Sam over.

“Well, it can’t hurt to do a small checkup.” He offered a smile and a friendly nudge from his field. With a wobbly vent Sam recognized this as a way to put them both back at ease. A verified “nothing’s wrong” ticket.

Somehow Ratchet and Bluestreak were able to keep going while Aid looked him over. Once in a while they’d yell at each other in English, but it made no sense without context. Like their last exchange.

“This is going to be reported to Prowl. This is something that needs taken into consideration!” Ratchet words were biting. They even hurt Sam’s feelings.

“You- you- you wouldn’t.” Bluestreak’s tone was low and filled with uncertainty and regret filled his optics.

“I am! This was a show of a complete lack rationality in an emergency. This is the kind of thing that needs to be taken note of.”

Was Ratchet going to report Blue for a misunderstanding? It wasn’t like it was his fault.

“G-guys? I don’t know what’s going on, but I think there was a big misunderstanding.”

“Tell me about it!” Ratchet snapped and Sam flinched. Ratchet was careful as he spoke again, “Sam, those damned twins are known for pulling some very idiotic and juvenile pranks, but this one? This one goes too far.”

“Prank? Ratchet, I don’t think this was a prank. We, we were just painting?” Sam was so unsure of everything at the moment. He was still coming down from the whirlwind of panic.

“Bluestreak, how did you find Sam?”

Bluestreak jumped to attention being put on the spot. “He was just in the hall, all alone standing in a puddle of the stuff. I swear Ratchet it looked-”

“We will get this all sorted out. Bluestreak, go report to Prowl. Aid and I will be joining you shortly.” Without so much as a protest, Bluestreak headed out.

“Are you mad at Blue?”

“Moreso that idiotic pair we keep around. But Prowl needs to be made aware of this incident for multiple reasons. Notes on Bluestreak, and to insure this does not happen again.” Ratchet’s voice had turned to ice by the end. “No need to worry yourself, Sam. This has nothing to do with you.”

But it did though, Sam thought incredulous. How dare Ratchet even say that. When he was the main focus of whatever had just happened. What had just happened?

“Ratchet, please for once explain what is happening.” He pleaded. “My spark felt like it was going to explode in worry- that was a metaphor!” Sam quickly realized his mistake, but it was too late. Ratchet scanned and checked over his vitals once more.

“Just a stress response.” He assured him.

“Ratchet, explain. What just happened with you guys.”

“Sam, I think it is quite obvious, but allow me to elaborate with a question. What colour is your blood?”

His blood was re-! He was about to shout but stopped short. He supposed it was no longer red. But what did they bleed? He racked his not-brain trying to skim unwanted memories of battles for any bot who might have been bleeding with hope it was not too graphic or horrifying. But his memories settled down to the moments after that first battle. To Bumblebee bleeding out on the back that old tow truck.

Pink.

Their blood was pink.

Sunstreaker really knew what he was doing when he was painting. Sam thought impressed. They must have made one awesome battle scene.

“Your guardian is coming to get you. He was given explicit instructions on removing this- paint,” he spat, “from your seams and removing your plating to get underneath. I would not try fighting on this as I am the alternative.”

That threat was enough for Sam to go quietly with Bumblebee to the washracks for a thorough scrub down. When his guardian arrived, Sam was irritated to find he still fretted at his state even knowing full well it was only paint.

Chapter Text

The protectors of earth were always busy. But not busy enough to not annoy him.

Sam was annoyed. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was filled with a seething burning rage that kept getting doused by the ridiculousness of the situation and his own exasperation. So maybe annoyed was right…

But every time he saw that list hanging in the rec room his anger and frustrations reached a level beyond annoyed. Someone, or someones, had taken it upon themselves to start a list for him.

A list of names.

Whoever did it did not do it on his behalf or for him to participate since it was conveniently out of his reach and near enough the Energon dispenser he couldn’t stack anything without fear of breaking it. He did not want to risk Wheeljack’s only working converter of earth materials to Energon over the stupid thing.

The list could be read by him and everyone else. And surprisingly, no one listened to his protests to take it down.

“Aww, come on Sammy, it’s all in good fun, yeah? They just want to give ya some ideas.” Jazz’s laugh told him he found this way too humorous and innocent to do anything about it.

“Who put it up?” he demanded, his optics probably burning bright like when Ratchet’s did when he was angry.

“Hmmm,” jazz hummed in mock curiosity, “don’t know.”

“Oh, I know that’s a lie.” Sam seethed. He took a deep vent and shuttered his optics. “You know what, I have a pretty good idea who it was anyway. Nevermind.” Sam was ready to stomp off when Jazz caught him.

He chuckled, “How about this, if I told ya who put it up, ya wouldn’t mind.”

Sam went still then proceeded to push his way out of Jazz’s grasp and stomp off to go find his menace.

“Take it down,” he all but snarled, but that stupid beep bordering a honk came out. His little engine or whatever was inside was running hot in his anger.

“What?” Bee asked as he turned from the monitors to see where Sam had barged in. Cliffjumper was there as well and merely took one glance at Sam’s state and turned right back to the monitors.

“I know you put it up, Bee. Go. Take. it down.” Sam really wanted to stomp his foot/ pede or whatever down in frustration. He couldn’t believe Bee had done this after their little conversation. It was so embarrassing.

“It wasn’t me, Sam.” So Bumblebee did know what they were talking about. Great, just great. His own guardian betrayed him.

“But Jazz said-“

“Did Jazz actually say it was me?” Bumblebee inquired affronted.

“Bee, this better not have been you, or I am never forgiving you this time.” A little dramatic, but Sam needed to drive the point home. “Anyway, just go take it down. Please.” He tacked the plead on at the end to be not entirely insufferable. Plus, he had some manners.

“I think it’s a great idea though, Sam.”

“I think you need to quit scrambling your processors staring at a screen all day and go read that list because it is most definitely not a good idea. In fact, it is a bad idea. The worst one executed by the Autobot army in all of history. Those names alone are why there are no Newsparks, they would have died of embarrassment.” A little dark, but Cliffjumper snorted. He had definitely seen it at some point. He better not have put something on there.

“Maybe you’re just being a tad bit dramatic,” Did he really just say that, “but if you want I will take it down when I get out of here. Just avoid the rec room for now, okay Sam?”

Talk about being snubbed in a time of need. Sam turned to stalk off, thinking about how this was in some way related to their previous conversation.

It was a known fact that he would eventually need to get a new name. After all, none of the bots walked around with human names. How weird would it be to call them John, Mike, or Steve…No, the idea was ridiculous. One time it had make Sam wonder though about their names. Were they randomly given? Did they choose them? Were they literal translations or did they have their own Bob’s, Mike’s, and Steve’s? Of course, Earth names meant something. Usually. They did mean something once at least in English. Now it was more of what sounded nice over the actual meaning of the name most of the time. His own name didn’t have a deep meaning. He wasn’t the one ‘heard by God’. No, he was Samuel because it had been his uncle’s and a good classic name.

Bumblebee was a patient mech, at least in regard to Sam and his endless questions. Ratchet barked out a harsh laugh at that, and even Optimus had disagreed with the sentiment. Bumblebee still answered his questions about names as he so often did with his random choice in topics.

Names often had meaning, sometimes to do with function, some personality, even interests. And names could change. A new look or reformatting often had a name change follow it. A mech wanting to get a new start or a life changing event, it could be very symbolic. Sometimes new upgrades could influence a mech’s choice in name even if they were small. Choosing names… not everyone chose their names. The ones who didn’t were the ones whose names had more to do with their function. And as for literal translations, Bumblebee said they had names and glyphs made them have meaning. The closest he could give as an example without reverting to Cybertronian was how the name Melissa meant ‘honeybee’. Some words the human languages did not have so they gave a close approximation most often. Jazz for instance was the closest thing that sounded nice for their Jazz’s musical glyphs. But then there were names that just sounded nice like in English. Bumblebee called the name Chase for a bot the equivalent of John Smith or Mohammed, it was just that common. But Chase also no longer had a real meaning like Samuel and Melissa might. It was just a good sound name, a classic choice.

And then there were names like Megatron. Sam was loath to hear it, even to be used as an example. Megatron had no meaning except to them, it was a shortened version of the name Megatronus who had been one of the original Primes (and the fallen). There was a lot of Symbolism in taking a mech’s name, a Prime’s no less, and to be honest Sam stopped listening as Bumblebee hesitantly began to explain the concept.

“That’s cool and all, Bee, but what about me?” Sam had cut him off, not wanting to even talk about that monster’s name. He rather forget about him until faced with the inevitable again.

“What about you, Sam?” Bumblebee tilted his head in confusion.

“My name, Bee,” he said pointedly, “not a lot of bots have the name ‘Sam’ I’m guessing. I know Jazz has been trying them out on me. It’s hard to disguise ‘Switchblade’ as an average friendly nickname.”

“You don’t have to change your name, Sam, if that is how they are making you feel.”

“Bee, I know I- I’m going to be around for a while,” Sam was loath to say it aloud, nearly choking it out, “but don’t you think it would be bad if we ever left Earth and we met bots and you guys were like ‘this is Sam! A human. What’s that? Some organic thing you haven’t seen before, now he’s metal like us!’. You- you do get the picture, right?”

“Actually Sam, you are losing me on this one.” Bumblebee proved to be little help on staving off his worries.

Sam truly liked his name. It was the only thing left over from him being human. It was inevitable that he’d lose it too.

Against Bumblebee’s advice, Sam had gone right back the rec room and approached the list. Bots who definitely were not getting Energon stepped out of his way. To his disbelief, the list had gotten longer in the time he’d stepped out. Sam stared in wide eyed horror, reading each one in different print and scrawl. Just how many bots put up suggestions? And what even were these suggestions.

Aviator- He didn’t even fly.

Samsung- Was that copyrighted? That had to be copyrighted. He didn’t need to figure out how to deal with that kind of lawsuit. Could he even be sued as a robot?

Taser- He felt like he should tase somebody, or at least he’d earned the right to.

Witwitty- that was just flat-out making fun of him.

Reacharound- What… What did they mean by that exactly. Who wrote that? They had to have known. And if they didn’t Sam was not explaining.

Rubaway- This and the previous suggestion had to have been Skids and Mudflap, there was no other way to reason it out.

Adore- Oh they definitely adored him alright.

Questionmark- Were they making fun of his questionings?

Questionnaire- Or were they trying to relate it back to those glyphs Mirage had painted on his frame involving curiosity. A reflection of his perceived nature.

Gullible- Rude.

Guzzler- Ruder.

Sonic- The hedgehog?

Starmade- He refused to be star anything, not wanting to sound like Starscream. He shivered at the thought at even rhyming with a Decepticon.

Heely- That was a shoe.

Sweetspark- Yeah, he was not keeping a permanent reminder for the rest of his life of the time as a Newspark.

Lounge- Just because they didn’t let him do anything did not mean he was lazy.

Jumper- that was already someone’s nickname.

Scrounge- He could have been made of spare parts for all he knew. (Which wasn’t much.)

Roughit- A better name, still not great. Not good even.

Rockit- Like Rock’n’roll? Jazz had way too many suggestions up here.

Sparky- No.

Sparkbolt- I didn’t speak to him.

Sparkplug- So a tool like Ratchet? He had no plans on being name twins.

Sparkbeat- He gets it. He has a spark. Moving on.

Selfmade- That did not sound right at all.

Wheeljiggly- Sam snorted.

Wheelbiggy- What? Were they trying to rhyme Witwicky with these. He already spent his other life having people saying it wrong. He didn’t want a reminder anyways.

And the list kept going. He was kind of impressed the sheer volume of suggestions. Sure, he could tell Jazz wrote a bunch, but he could also see where other bots put multiple. He skimmed the rest and gave a few more a quick look.

Soundboom, Windspark, Skylight, Rainblash, Swftstrike- On and on it went.

Sam was so busy staring up at the never-ending suggestions he hadn’t noticed Wheeljack approach at first. Sam had turned to see him holding an empty cube and sheepishly stepped out of the way so he could get to the dispenser.

“You guys really brainstormed for all of these.” Sam gestured to the list and Wheeljack gave it a passing glance.

“It is an interesting compilation for sure.” He agreed.

Jazz had come over with his own cube and observed them passively as he waited for Wheeljack’s cube to finish filling. He too stared at the list.

“Any suggestions yours?” Sam asked in genuine curiosity. He hadn’t recognized the inventers quick, chicken scratch scrawl. He’d seen it enough to be able to pinpoint it, or so he thought.

Wheeljacked hummed softly, “No, I do not think it is necessary.”

“Enough suggestions from others?” Sam grinned.

“Yes, but also, I always refer to you as something else.” That caught Sam off guard, what exactly did that mean?

“You do?” he needed more context.

“Yes, yes. In different instances where I would need to compile a categorized listing. It keeps things organized and uniform to have a base line reference for a subject, so keeping it all compiled under a common designation makes sense.”

It turned out Wheeljack’s context never made any sense to him. Sam merely shook his helm and followed as Wheeljack began to collect his cube.

"Well… What do you call me then?” he asked after him, not moving from his spot in front of the list. It seemed as though Wheeljack was not staying in the rec room today; instead, heading back to the lair of a lab he had.

“Spike, of course.” He said it so matter-of-fact Sam did not know what to respond with. And by the time he glanced back towards the bot, tearing his gaze from the list again, he had already gone.

He turned once more and saw Jazz who looked after Wheeljack with a distinct frown on his derma.

“What’s wrong?” Was it something Wheeljack had said?

Jazz looked down to him and didn’t speak for a beat until, “So, Bumblebee told ya Optimus put the list up. Buzzkill.”

Actually, he hadn’t. But that Sam reeling as well. Optimus, really? All of a sudden instead of wanting to kill the perpetrator Sam just wanted to laugh. He was not at all who he’d thought would be putting up the list. Sure, he was still angry, but he was not going to stomp up to Optimus with an attitude and demand he take it down. In fact, Sam was of the mind he would just forget the whole thing and have Bumblebee take it down later like he said.

Chapter Text

Wheeljack had truly outdone himself. Jazz was beyond pleased with his latest invention; in fact, everyone was. It was simple in design and function, yet everybot found it enjoyable. It was a small little device that humans with maternal instincts would pay big money for. It was sleek in design and might as well have been an average holo-info disk. It was like a digital photo album. Except it had videos from the security cameras around base with a full written summary of the participants of whatever event was captured. It was more encrypted than any other file sharing system on base and passed around under strict secrecy. Bots’ signatures were required just to make it past step twenty two; but once in, bots were free to add their own holos and view away. 

Compilation after compilation of things such as mundane daily activities to times they played games. Injuries, health reports, when and where everything happened- everything was kept in meticulous detail. It was nothing like his security file. This information was mundane compared to those progress reports. It was more “sparkling’s first rust stick” kind of progress. 

Jazz was in the midst of adding his own files and holos at the moment.  He had gotten the hang of login in and was the quickest at accessing the device.  He had the cutest holo of Sam and Prowl in Prowl’s office. Sam was sitting on the edge of his desk kicking his pedes, watching as Prowl drew out a particularly intricate glyph. Sam watched with interest as the scene played over and over again. He might as well take this moment to look through everything one more time, just in case someone added something he’d not seen yet. 

There were multiple holo captures of their bitlit in Mirage’s ceremonial cloak and his presentation glyphs. These were the favorites of many where Sam stood painted, polished, and waxed. He was absolutely swimming in the fabric. There was a capture of him right before they’d arrived back on base. It was Sam’s reflection as he stood in front of a mirror with Mirage behind him. He seemed to be looking into his own optics. Mirage had quite the series of that particular day. There was even one of Sam’s servo as he painted a dainty gold design. There was a holo capture of him being a total scraplet, biting Swerve when he kept stroking his faceplates on one occasion when he was fighting recharge. Swerve's face was just as priceless, being stunned as the little slagger somehow bit between plating and nicked protoform. After he had mixed him some sweet warm Energon too, how rude. 

There were other times too like when he had climbed on top of a stack of crates (to get away from Firstaid) and gotten stuck but refused to admit he couldn’t get down. The image was him being nonchalant as he sat up high from a low angle where the bots were trying to get him down.

There were captures of Jazz himself that sprung to life showing him tossing the itty bitty up and catching him on an endless loop. It was something that Sam found enjoyable if he was in a playful mood.

There was of course the time Optimus had nearly stepped on a dodging bitlit. He was on the run from the terror twins who decided his paint needed a retouch. Little bitty came zooming around the corner a little too hot and Boss Bot was left tripping over pedes and sparkling. But their ever so dignified leader was swift in catching a ball of green plating and lifting him high before falling on his aft. Sam apologized profusely and Prime sat staring blankly in confusion as he tried to register what just happened. That was the image Optimus with his arms outstretched, holding a babbling Sam as he sat on his aft in the hall. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had promptly slunk away when they reached the scene, but still were reprimanded by Prowl about terrorizing and endangering sparklings.

Then there were ones of Sam and Bee. They were so adorable. Yes, Bee could be cute too. He was their original youngest afterall, and he held a special place in almost all of their sparks. One was them snuggled up together in recharge in the rec room. Sam sitting sprawled out on top of Bumblebees altmode. Another was Bee holding Sam both waving to the viewer the day Optimus’ group returned from a mission. There was one where they had been (play) fighting and Bumblebee held Sam upside down by his pede. That one ruffled a lot of plating, some insisting Bumblebee was being too rough. Jazz didn’t think so. 

There were times he watched with a careful optic over a bot's shoulders. He liked watching Swerve mix things into Energon trying to make the stuff more appealing. He watched Ratchet and Firstaid patch up Wheeljack more times than they had captured. He even watched as Optimus gave speeches and orders, listening so very carefully. That had been a proper looking holo, Sam standing next to Optimus both looking rather official. There was Sam looking at various pieces of a dismantled blaster as Ironhide held out a piece and explained its function.  

Wheeljack even had some entries he’d added himself. There was a holo with him and the bitty at his work table. Both looking at something Wheeljack had procured. Another swipe had a point of view from Wheeljack, looking down at the sparkling sitting on top of the work surface. He wasn’t looking up but down at some blueprints. There was even one where Sam willfully posed for a picture with him. It looked the most like a human’s photo as they posed instead of the natural capture of a moment. That had been where Wheeljack had gotten his idea, that and all the holos they sent back and forth between everyone. It irked Jazz to no end being in competition to be his favorite. Was his dazzling personality not enough? He snorted at his own thoughts. Sam found him a bit much at times, he knew that.

There were many that ranged from cute to humorous: a time where things got sticky when Sam tried an Energon treat Swerve attempted to recreate, the many painting escapades with Sunstreaker where things just got out of hand, the time where Bluestreak had lost him and Jazz was throttling him in the background- that one had not been so fun. But there were moments like Sam practically drowning in soapy suds because the container to the cleansing fluid had broken and flooded the water lines. The whole washroom was overflowing with bubbles and Sam had barely gotten to the door before they completely overtook it. 

Jolt had a nice few holos where he, Jazz, and Cliffjumper had taken Sam around the island. They didn’t do that very often, so those captures had some of the most unique scenery. Jolt had crouched down to Cliffjumper’s level and Sam stood on both their shoulder pauldrons with his arms outstretched to the sky. They all faced the camera smiling wide. It was quite a nice picture with the pink sunset and water behind them. 

Bot after bot, captures upon captures- Jazz scrolled away reminiscing. They had quite the collection and it would only get bigger. He added his own and dated them, adding a brief description on a few. This was so nice to have. He’d have to thank Wheeljack once more. And convince him to make his own personal copy of the device.