A/N: Ratchet/Wheeljack and... Bee learns something new! Slight crack, very silly, some lulz. When I wrote this I wanted to characterize Bee as more innocent for the silliness of the story, though really I see him as more mature and already knowing about these things, obviously.

Follow up: Taste of Honey

Bumblebee stretched his yellow legs out with a low, satisfied beep. Boy, did he need that nap. They'd all been so busy recently, there wasn't any time for short recharge. His protoform had ached for stasis. With the kids on a field trip and most of the team out on recon, it had been the perfect opportunity. The nano-klik he'd settled into his berth, his systems had cycled down with ease and optics offlined in a slow dimming of light.

Now that he was online, he knew he should refuel and try to meet up with Arcee in the desert. After another short stretch, he stood from the berth and exited his room at the far end of the corridor.

Hopefully Ratchet had a fresh batch of energon ready. Bee's tank was way underfueled from the previous day's 'Con fight. Knock Out was probably still crying about his dented helm. The Scout buzzed softly at the memory.

Just as he passed another room, a crash sounded ahead. He nearly jumped from his plating, doorwings flipping down and back up in surprise.

"Ahh—Wheeljack—"

Bumblebee rebooted his audials. That was Ratchet's voice. He stepped forward after he heard another crash, cautiously peering into the next room.

Wheeljack had the medic pinned to the wall, one arm holding an orange and white leg up. He slammed his pelvis forward, causing Ratchet to yelp and grab at the Wrecker's shoulder.

Uh-oh. He'd seen the two argue before, but he didn't think it would escalate into an actual fight. They could really hurt each other. And Optimus would not tolerate physical altercations with his team members. What if he banned Wheeljack from the base? Bulkhead and Miko would be sad!

Ratchet cried out again and the Scout's ridges pinched over his big blue optics. He had to do something, he had to break it up before someone got hurt. He knew Wheeljack was tough, but maybe he could reason with him. Nodding to himself, he bot took a ventilation and then another step into the doorway.

He halted immediately. The medic had grabbed Wheeljack roughly by the helm and smashed their mouthplates together in an audible scrape. Both mechs panted and groaned as electricity jumped between them. The Wrecker's doorwings slanted sharp and high and Ratchet's engine revved loudly.

Bumblebee cocked his helm, optics cycling large and confused. Oh.

"Slow down," Ratchet gasped, breaking the oral link when the back of his helm thunked against the wall.

Wheeljack chuckled, and Bee noted his vocals were drenched in static. "Can't help it, Doc. You've been ignorin' me all week."

"I have done no such thing," the medic argued, squeezing his optics shut. "... Do that again."

Bee's gaze followed Wheeljack's arm to his servo, which was still holding Ratchet's leg up. Dark digits found their way in the gap between pelvis and thigh, digging in like they were searching for something. Suddenly the medic shuddered in a broken gasp.

It was then that the Scout became aware of the unbearable heat to his frame. Just when he noticed it, he felt a clicking inside, and then something spinning. Hot air circulated out from his vents and he looked down at his frame in utter astonishment. Bumblebee looked up again, and his optics spotted something he hadn't seen before. Pulling and crackling between the mechs were cables. An orange one came from Ratchet's side, and a larger dark grey one from Wheeljack.

The Wrecker vocalized something low though a grin and Ratchet seemed to have a hard time finding his voice, so he nodded though half-opened, nearly melted optics. Their mouths came together again and frames mashed into the wall, hard and fast and loud.

Bumblebee's cooling fans went into overdrive at the sight. His frame couldn't expel the heat fast enough. He tried to take a step, regain himself, but his circuits were being scorched and he felt a charge run up his backstrut that tickled every sensor.

The Scout let out a long, helpless trill as his system burst with static and he fell back in a loud clang of metal.

Ratchet and Wheeljack froze mid-thrust, turning helms to see Bumblebee clearly passed out in the doorway.

"What in the—Bumblebee?" Ratchet squawked, voice cracking in shock.

Wheeljack's ridges rose up and he couldn't help it, he started laughing. Ratchet predictably glared at him, reaching to unplug himself from the Wrecker.

"Aww, come on, Sunshine, " Wheeljack protested, keeping his hands on the medic's waist.

"Wheeljack," Ratchet warned, giving his best serious scowl.

"The kid's fine, you can check on him when we're done."

Ratchet pulled the Wrecker's cable from his port, detaching the adapter and practically throwing it at his lover. He gave a final warning glare and coiled his own cable back in before going to the unconscious Autobot.

As soon as he reached him, he could feel the unevenness to the young mech's field, and those were definitely the whirrings of cooling fans that he heard. Oh, for Primus' sake. Why did he have such bad luck?

"Bumblebee," Ratchet called, sitting the Scout up. With a garbled bwoop, Bee onlined, optics spinning dizzily.

Wheeljack leaned against the doorway. "Enjoy the show, kid?"

Ratchet whipped around impressively fast for an old ambulance. "Go get some spray coolant," he barked at the Wrecker. With a grumble and a shrug, Wheeljack obeyed.

The medic shook his head and activated his scanner. "Do you feel alright, Bumblebee?" he asked, completing the scan and noting nothing other than an overheated system.

"Here," he heard Wheeljack say, and thanked him when he was handed coolant. He gave it to Bee, instructing him to spray wherever he felt circuits tingling underneath.

"You need to cool off," he explained. Wheeljack snorted a laugh and Ratchet felt a helm ache coming on.

Bumblebee sprayed his midsection a few times, beeping in a few uncertain tones.

"No, you're alright," Ratchet answered, pressing the space between optics. Suddenly he spun on Wheeljack again. "Would you—stop that!"

Being interrupted mid frag like that would leave any mech's field buzzing, but Wheeljack's was as rough as sandpaper when he was horny. It was wearing on Ratchet to have him standing so close.

Wheeljack groaned. "Come on, you're killing me. Get him to his room so we can frag."

Ratchet's optics went wide and he made a vague "shh" motion.

"What?" Wheeljack vocalized, looking at Bumblebee who still seemed dazed. "He saw us. He was gonna find out sometime. How old are you, kid?"

Ratchet really, really hoped he hadn't just seen Wheeljack's eyes on the Scout's pelvic plating—"No!" he yelped before Bee could answer. He helped him stand quickly, glowering over his shoulder.

When he'd gotten Bumblebee settled back into his room with orders to sleep it off, he returned to find Wheeljack waiting on the berth with a cube of energon.

The Wrecker held out the fuel, smirking a bit.

"That wasn't funny," Ratchet said, bashfully taking the cube and drinking from it.

"Didn't say it was."

"You were thinking it."

"Yeah." Wheeljack gave in with a smile. Ratchet half-sighed and sat down. After a moment, the bigger mech put an arm around him. "Don't worry, Doc. I'll teach the kid a trick or two."

Ratchet spluttered, choking on energon and Wheeljack almost fell from the berth laughing.

Hours later, when the others had returned, Wheeljack hung around the medbay while Ratchet tended to his team. What was supposed to be simple recon mission turned out to be an oops-suddenly-Vehicons fight again.

A high-pitched beep alerted everyone to Bumblebee's presence, and he waved excitedly. Azure optics were brilliantly bright and he had an extra happy bounce to his step.

Ratchet scowled when he passed Wheeljack and saw that he was looking at the Scout.

"Look who found a new way to self-service," the Wrecker said subvocally, and Ratchet almost tripped over his pedes.