Summary: Sam decides to spend his summer at his parents, yet when Bee doesn't immediately greet him, Sam senses that something's wrong. SLASH. Fluff. Bee/Sam. Holo!bee too. Le one-shot.

Tweekerz: JUST TO WARN YOU THE END IS FLUFFTASTIC. IT'LL ROT YOUR BRAIN OUT. WATCH OUT GURL.

"Sammy!"

"Oh God."

Sam was promptly crushed to his mother's chest, arms snaking around him as his mother shook her "college boy" from side to side. Sam grimaced against her chest, trying frantically to pull away from her before she decided to plant a kiss on his nose…or somewhere even more embarrassing.

"Missed ya' too ma," Sam mumbled against his mother's shirt, which smelled faintly of tomato sauce. He pulled away from her and arched a brow.

"My sweet baby boy is finally home!" she cried, holding a hand to her face. She continued to stare at him with shimmering eyes, which made Sam feel slightly unnerved, until quite suddenly, her eyes widened and a vexed expression crossed her face. "Shit, the spaghetti!"

Sam watched as his mother frenziedly ran back into the house, all the while muttering "shit, shit, shit" under her breath. Sam merely shook his head and traipsed across the lawn, not caring in the slightest if his father scolded him for doing so. He smiled when he found that the garage door was slightly open, yet he somehow couldn't help but feel a little miffed that he hadn't gotten a greeting from Bumblebee yet. The Autobot would have detected him by now, right? Bumblebee was always keeping tabs on him, even from thousands of miles away across the country.

Back during his first year of college, after that whole Matrix debacle, Sam and Bumblebee had come to a compromise concerning visitation privileges. Bumblebee would keep tabs on him via sensors or detectors or whatever giant alien robots used to keep surveillance, and if Bee wished it, he could come and visit Sam two times out of each month. Bee had reluctantly accepted the terms, though Sam didn't know why Bee was so bothered by it; it wasn't as if they were completely separated from each other. They still texted each other every day, and occasionally Sam would video chat with him—they weren't completely severed from one another.

"Well, now he has something to be happy about," Sam mumbled. Since he'd be spending all summer here with his parents, Bee could have all of Sam's undivided attention, and then some.

"Beeeee, I'm home," Sam called out as he pushed the garage door open. He stepped inside, grimacing when the smell of musk and motor oil invaded his senses. His dad seriously needed some Glade for the garage or something; the place reeked. Sam let a smile stretch along his lips as he found the Chevy Camaro parked in the garage lot. "Bee?"

The alien didn't answer, nor did he do the usual things he did when hadn't seen Sam after a long period of time: Bee didn't flicker his head lights off and on, nor did his windshield wipers go haywire, the usual signs that Bee was alert and responsive to Sam's presence, actually, the car wasn't even on. Sam stepped down and ran his hand along the garage wall, his fingers flipping up the light switch. Light immediately illuminated the small lot, bathing the Camaro in luminescent light that amplified the sheer luster of the car. Either his dad was taking good care of Bee's paint job, or it was all natural—Sam guessed the latter. Sam sidled up to the Autobot, softly rapping his knuckles along Bee's hood. "Hey, you awake?"

It was a stupid question to ask, but he had asked it anyway. When Sam got no response, an inkling of concern invaded is mind. What if Bee was damaged, or what if he was in stasis? He really didn't know the internal workings of sentient alien life forms, but it didn't take much to notice that something was definitely wrong with his Autobot.

Slightly more cautious, Sam made his way to the driver's side of the car and toggled the handle—it wasn't locked. Slowly, he pried open the door and poked his head inside, his eyes scanning the empty interior of the cabin. It was dark inside. Usually Bee would have the radio on, or the dash of the car would be enough to add a layer of blue fluorescent light. This time, it was completely dark. Sam hopped inside and sat down on the seat, closing the door behind him. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the rubber that framed the wheel.

"Bee, stop playing around," Sam said, irritation lacing his tone. Still, no response. Deftly, he ran his fingers along the Autobot insignia in the center of the steering wheel, his fingers tracing the metallic design. "Come on, dude. This isn't- ."

"I love it when you touch me there."

And suddenly, the leather seat caved and Sam found himself resting on his back, staring up into two electric blue eyes that crackled and hummed so vividly that Sam had to blink a couple of times. The young man above him, platinum blond hair framing his face and a lazy smile scrawled along his lips, winked down at Sam.

"Bee," Sam breathed. He realized it had been quite a while since he had last been with the alien directly. It had been so long since he ran his fingers through those silky strands of hair, or ran his hands along Bee's gear shift, his insignia, anything else that was tangible. Sometimes he had to remind himself that in this form, every inch of this being, this alien, was entirely synthetic and artificial—a hologram. Was hair supposed to be that glossy, was skin supposed to be that smooth and unmarked? But then at times, he found it hard to determine which was reality and which was not. Sam concluded that as long as he was able to touch Bee, regardless of alt modes and holo forms, it would be real enough for him.

He then realized that the strange tightening ache in his chest was simply because he had missed Bee; he'd been missing him all along, even though he'd been the one to limit their visitations all for the sake of fitting in at school. He could only imagine what Bee must have felt like spending all those days locked up in the garage when he wasn't needed at Diego Garcia (because if Bee couldn't protect Sam directly, the closest thing he could do was guard Sam's family), with absolutely nothing to do but text and surf the internet.

Suddenly, Sam felt terrible.

"Sam, what is wrong?"

Bumblebee's voice, throaty and accented, broke Sam free from his thoughts. Ever since Ratchet had fixed the bot's voice receptors, Sam couldn't get enough of that voice. It was strangely lulling, a bit on the synthetic side, but lulling nonetheless.

Before he knew it, there were warm lips at his throat, and Sam could only grit his teeth as a moan threatened to escape his lips. Bee continued to mouth at Sam's throat, icy eyes peering through tufts of blond hair. The holo's teeth scraped at the thin stretch of skin along Sam's neck, the boy resisting the urge to thrash his head from side to side.

"W-why didn't you….oh God…why didn't you answer m-me?" Sam stammered, gasping when he felt something slick and moist run along his Adam's apple.

"I merely wanted to surprise you," the Autobot answered back, nosing at Sam's jawline.

"By jumping me?" Sam weakly protested.

"I suppose," Bee hummed against Sam's throat. Bumblebee marginally pulled away, hands placed on either side of the boy's head. Sam stared up at the holo, feeling so terribly awkward. Where was this all heading, what was he supposed to do?

"I have missed you."

The confession was so incredibly modest and affectionate, that Sam gulped. He always had trouble with expressing his emotions, the more intimate ones, the ones that were sincere and genuine and heartfelt. Not to say that he didn't feel that way, because he did—he truly, truly did, but it was hard.

"I…" Sam began, yet he trailed off and averted his eyes. If he couldn't even say it to Mikaela, then what made him think he could say it now? He heard Bee let out a small laugh. Sam felt a sting of anger sweep through him, his brow drawing together. Did Bee think he couldn't say it? Because he certainly could.

"I've…I…I….fuck," Sam trailed, smacking the back of his hand against his forehead. Bee merely smiled and removed Sam's hand from his face.

"It is alright," the holo trilled.

"No, it's not," Sam quipped, locking gazes with the alien. "It's not alright! I said it before and I could say it again! Dude, I mean—you're my first car, my best friend, I…." Before this relationship had ever even started, it had been so easy to tell Bumblebee that he loved him. Bee was his best friend; he still was and forever will be, but it had been different back then, platonic.

Bumblebee tilted his head, wisps of hair catching along his cheek. "What?"

"I love you," Sam breathed. Before Sam even had time to breath, his lips were hungrily captured in a languid kiss, a kiss of tongues, teeth, and saliva, the kind of kiss that left you breathless and panting for more. Bee ran nimble fingers along Sam's hips, pulling away from the boy's mouth with an audible pop.

The holo smiled. "I know."

Teekers: OH LAWD THE FLUFF. Please review? Please review. OuO