Hello, everyone!! I've missed you all so much... I'm not getting emotional, I swear. Really.

This is a present-fic! I'd giftwrap it for ya babe, but I can't... so imagine lots and lots of silver, curled ribbon! I'm the Queen of Ribbon and Scissors... I think I had a blog post about this once.. .com/ found it! Nothing interesting. I'll have a new (and better) one soon. But I still get a kick out of all my old posts.

Moving on!

Just a few disclaimers (know what would be intersesting? to look up stuff about these... *ranting about copyright law and the first amendment and search warrants* Ignore me, please)

Disclaimer #1: This isn't mine. I'll be the first to say that it should be, though.

Disclaimer #2: And I don't CARE that Jazz is dead! I want to play with him, so, frag it, I will!

Disclaimer #3: These aren't really disclaimers, more like.. .warnings.

Disclaimer#4: The last disclaimer didn't really count, did it?

Disclaimer #3 For Real: Assume Ratchet put Jazzy back together.

Disclaimer #4: I didn't feel like getting into the mortality issue with this one. I thought it would just get all distracting-like.

Disclaimer #5: Yeah, Sunny and Sides aren't twins anymore. I decided that. Executive decision, y'know.

DISCLAIMER #6: This one's important, so I'm gonna give it its own section:

WARNING: (hahaha, I should say "this is slash, so be warned" but come *on*, you guys know what I write...) ACTUAL WARNING:

This won't be thirty chapters.

This won't be another novel.

This is going to be short and sweet and.. I'm sorry but... it's gonna get updated fairly slowly. I'm in the home stretch of college apps and those consume all my life, so it's not because I don't love you guys!! I do!!

Enjoy :D

Notice the snazzy chapter titles!

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1. Tongue-tied

Maybe he just wasn't doing it right.

There was bound to be some logical explanation for why he just wasn't reaching Sam. There was logic in everything else in the world, so, naturally- well, logically- there shoudd have been logic here. There had to be an explanation. Of course, there was that one, but Bee truly didn't want to think about that.

At the moment, Sam was lying on his bed, making pathetic whining sounds and resting his head on an open textbook. He'd been studying for the past three hours, and apparantly, the dense nature of the material was taking its toll on him. Bee wondered why Sam wasn't just working at his desk, the designated study spot. Bee was sitting in Sam's desk chair, tilting back and looking at the bed a few feet away.

"Bee?" Sam's voice was muffled against the textbook. "Can I ask you a question?"

That was the singularly most dangerous question Bee had ever heard.

"Sure..." Some of the most creative had included bizarre questions about the Bots' holo program, but all it had taken to get rid of those was one far-too detailed answer about why certain Bot couples really liked the holo program to get Sam to stop asking.

"If I begged someone to shoot me right now, would I still be able to die?" Bee heaved a sigh at that.

"Diplomatic relations are that bad to study?"

"Would I?" Sam persisted. Bee swiped a tennis ball off the desk and threw it at Sam.

"Yes, you would still die. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Another cause of constant questioning was Sam's new mortality. It turned out that coming back to life didn't happen without an intervention in his normal lifespan by otherworldly forces. It hadn't been the medic's lifesaving techniques that had brought him back to life, it had been a fragment of Optimus's spark that had brought Sam back. It had reacted to the Matrix dust; its creators had posessed unheard of foresight, typical of the Autobots, and designed it to react with the nearest spark in the case of a dire emergency.

Thinking of the details made Bee's head spin, but it was something like that. Whatever had happened, a spark had fused with Sam's heart, and he had the same lifespan as the Bots did. Human body, Ratchet had explained for them when all the Bots stared at him after his technical decription, Bot insides.

Despite that, Bee still felt like it was hopeless.

He was just going to be rejected for that much longer.

"How's your thing going?" Sam called over. Bee blinked.

"What thing?"

"You were reading." There was a distinct tone of amusement in Sam's voice. "Forget already?"

"I... oops." Bee had, a few minutes ago, picked up some book of Sam's, and had, a few mintues after that, tossed it aside. "I didn't understand all the words."

"You're like, fluent in English. It's practically your first language."

"Yeah, in literal English" Bee pouted, "Some of these words make no sense whatsoever."

"Like?"

"Like," Bee huffed, glaring at hte book he'd tossed facedown on the desk some time ago, "who the hell cares when pigs fly? They won't, ever. So why talk about them?"

"It's a phrase" Sam tried to keep the smirk out of his voice, "it means... it's impossible."

"Then why not just say that? Is it impossible to be straightforward? You dont have to say, 'oh, maybe when pigs fly', you can just say, 'no, it'll never, ever happen, give up'!" He crossed his arms over his chest as Sam laughed. It was almost impossible for Bee to hide just how much he loved that laugh- but he'd been getting better at it.

"That sounds a little harsh, Bee."

"Better than flying farm animals."

Sam laughed, getting up and shutting his book.

"Done studying?"

"Yeah, I can't really think today." Sam tossed the heavy book aside, sighing.

"If a date with Mikaela can't get you to be in your happy study place, nothing can." Bee didn't miss the look on Sam's face, something like quick hesitance. "What?"

"About that date..." Sam flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I was gonna tell you about it..."

"Yeah?"

Bee felt bad, but he still crossed his fingers and hoped for the outcome he wanted.

"We talked... and... we broke up. It just wasn't... wasn't working." Sam lifted his head to look over at Bee, "I don't think it was a coincidence that I told her about the spark thing today, either."

"I..." sad, Bee reminded himself, be sad. Sympathetic at least, "I'm sorry to hear that." Primus, it even sounded too-measured-out to him.

Sam just looked at him and laughed.

"No you're not. You hated Mikaela."

Bee blushed a dark scarlett at that. There was no human reaction he hated more. Bots weren't this transparent with their emotions.

"I mean.... I was happy you were happy."

"But you hated her anyways" Sam shook his head, grin on his face, "It's okay. I just think it's funny."

"It wasn't my fault. Or hers, technically. I was-" Bee shut down that sentence before he said what he was thinking, which wasn't something he wanted to admit.

"You were what?" Sam arched an eyebrow. Bee blushed darker. "You may not realize this, but I can tell you're not telling me something."

"I was, umm..." Bee bit his lip, making a face, "I don't remember."

"Liar." Sam snorted. "You know you can't hide anything from me."

"That's not true!" Bee protested. (The irony killed him. There was so much he was hiding), "I can't hide anything from anybody else, either. So it's not just you."

"True..." Sam propped himself up on one elbow to look at Bee. "You were saying?" he prompted impatiently. Bee looked down.

"Nothing. I forgot. Nothing."

"Okaaaay" Sam lay back down, "whenever you're ready."

That day, Bee was sure, would not come for a long time.

He didn't exactly want to tell Sam he'd been jealous.

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"Don't tell me they're at it again?" Bee hopped up onto a stool to join the other Bots. The special opps team never failed to choose a bar for their choice of guys' night out with the Bots. The majority of them liked hanging out at the bar beacuse of how entertaining it got.

The three left at the table were collectively stunningly attractive. They'd spent endless time perfecting their holo programs and altering to their specific likes. Sideswipe had steely grey eyes and dark red hair- he apparantly couldn't be bothered with human qualities like normal hair colour- and looked like some sort of extra edgy model. Ironhide was muscular, brunette and blue-eyed like he was the very posterboy for the colour. His counterpart Jazz had messy brown hair, and a lean, lithe body he had sprawled over his chair like he was just inviting people to try and hit on him, even though it was common knowledge that he really couldn't be brought down to their level, no, not even in their dreams. Bee always felt out of place near them. He'd been told his holo was attractive, with the tousled brown hair and deep amber eyes, tan skin and white smile, but he felt... outdone. The other Bots were beyond him.

Sideswipe just looked at Bee.

"What do you think?" He gestured to the array of empty glasses, "Ratchet deactivated the program that let them get drunk, but they're determined to somehow overload it into reactivation." True to his word, Skids and Mudflap were up at the bar, irritating the bartender. Sunstreaker was with them, their designated babysitter. (How the twins hated that job title). "Some Bots shouldn't be allowed to have holos, in my opinion."

"More like everyone's opinion." Ironhide added, grinning at how the bartender snapped at the twins with a towel and told them he didn't know how the hell they weren't drunk, but they should have been. "I had to force Jazz not to match them drink for drink."

"It's not my fault my program ain't disabled" Jazz grumbled, clearly completely sober and not liking it, "little brats can still rub it in my face that I've had two and they've had sixteen."

"They're cheating, so it doesn't matter." Ironhide reminded him, and Jazz just huffed out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fragging little monsters..."

"Maybe we should let you get drunk" Ironhide rolled his eyes, "you'd be more pleasant."

"Aren't you suppsoed to like me?" Jazz readjusted his sunglasses, huffing out a breath. Bee couldn't see his eyes- never could- but would guess that Jazz was glaring at Ironhide.

"Yeah.... but do I have to all the time?" Ironhide grinned to let Jazz know he was kidding. Sideswipe sighed at this.

"I'm gonna go make sure the bartender doesn't beat the twins to a pulp" he hopped off his stool and crossed the bar, leaving only Bee, Ironhide and Jazz. It soon became clear that he couldn't really be bothered as to whether the twins ended up as pulp or not. He was more occupied with slipping an arm around Sunstreaker's waist, murmuring something in his ear and ducking his head to kiss along Sunstreaker's neck. They weren't twins, that had been common knowledge for centuries. The first time Ratchet had caught them kissing in a corridor, one or the other had decided to attempt inducing spark meltdown and said they were twins; the designation had stuck, if only to make Ratchet glare every time he heard it.

Bee started frantically going through excuses in his mind, wanting to find some, any excuse, before Ironhide said, in that tone he had-

"So." Primus, but Bee hated that tone of his. It never failed to lead into discussing something he needed to talk about, but would really rather forget. "Sam." Bee was able to calm down for a fraction of a second; Ironhide knew nothing, no one did.

"You plannin' on tellin' him you got the hots for him?" Jazz. Bee practically died. Ironhide just laughed.

"You think we don't know." The look on his face was one of pure amusement, and made Bee sink further into his sulk.

"I- um-" Bee couldn't quite string a sentence together, suddenly feeling much too hot and uncomfortable, "I- he-"

"He still with that chick?" Jazz hadn't liked her much; something about a comment of hers about Porches and inferiority.

"No. Broke up last night."

"And you still haven't told him?" Ironhide may have been staring- nearly glaring- at Bee, but he was still able to catch Jazz's wrist as he tried to steal Ironhide's drink. "Primus, Bee, it's been over twelve hours!"

"B'sides," Jazz added cheerily, "I doubt he liked her much anyays."

"Because she hated Porsches, right?" Ironhide edged his glass further away from Jazz. "I swear to Primus, you can be so insecure..."

"No, more like cuz he's gay. And who you callin' insecure?!"

Bee spluttered at that. "You didn't tell me that!"

"We-ell, we assumed it was obvious." Ironhide shrugged a shoulder. "Not my fault your phermone reader sucks."

"But- but-" He would have been less surprised if he really had seen a pig flying through the sky on white wings. Primus, compared to this, that would have been run-of-the-mill.

"So you've got no excuse then" Ironhide's contribution was entirely unhelpful, however he had intended it to be, "go get him."

"It's not that easy!" Bee protested, tossing his hands up into the air. "It's not!"

From somewhere behind them, there was the shattering of glass, wild laughter, and loud cursing.

"Man, don't talk to me about not easy" Ironhide snorted, "you want impossible, it's him" He gestured to Jazz. Jazz flipped his dark hair out of his eyes and sent a surly look at Ironhide.

"An' what did I do?"

"You had to be all-but screamed at to get the message, Jazzy."

"Not my fault"

"That you're denser'n a brick wall?"

"That I'm a challenge." He gave Ironhide a smug grin. "You know you liked winning after a good fight."

"That doesn't mean you should have made me fight for you" Ironhide rolled his eyes, "Beacuse, really, there kind of was no competition." Neither noticed Bee sigh and slip off his stool to go find entertainment elsewhere.

"Now you're sayin' I'm not desirable" Jazz pretended to be offended, crossing his arms and shooting Ironhide a hard glare. "Let's see how undesirable I am to you, why don't we."

"Okay" Ironhide failed at keeping away a grin, "Try me. You can't do it."

Jazz could never, ever resist a competition.

"Watch me." He slid off his chair and onto Ironhide's lap to settle down, doing so with a fair amount of squirming and hip grinding. Ironhide refused to show any reaction, though, and not beacuse Jazz was the slightest bit undesirable- the longer he pretended not to care, the more Jazz would do.

And Ironhide loved playing with that competitive streak.

Jazz scowled at the lack of reply; Ironhide could almost see gears turning behind his eyes- well, imagine, anyways- see levels being taken to a burning hotness. Jazz slipped his hands up under Ironhide's shirt, tracing designs onto the hot skin. As he did so, he leaned forward to press a kiss to Ironhide's neck, adding bites in between kisses when he didn't get the reaction he sought immediately. Ironhide nearly gave in when Jazz started muttering curses in between kisses and bites, unaware that his sullen nuzzling and kissing was about the hottest thing Ironhide had ever seen or felt. Jazz tilted his head to get his hair out of his eyes, fixing Ironhide with a sulky look before ducking his head again to lay kitten licks along his neck, and Ironhide found it nearly impossible not to shiver with delight, not to kiss Jazz back and beg for more. He could wait, though. Jazz only got better with patience. And Jazz, thankfully, was starting to get irritated. He shifted around to face Ironhide, one knee beside Ironhide's leg on the chair, the other slid up towards Ironhide's crotch.

Ironhide had to admit, he enjoed the thought that the other people at this corner of the bar were getting a good show. Secluded it may have been, but there were always two or three innocent bystanders.

Jazz was growling to himself in irritation. He pressed against the growing heat of Ironhide's crotch, kisses turning fervent and biting as his frustration mounted higher. Ironhide feigned indifference, glancing over at the other side of the bar in time to see SIdeswipe smack one of the twins upside the head, then reaching around Sunstreaker to punch the other in the shoulder. He watched for longer than he'd meant to, seeing as Bee was attempting to talk Sideswipe out of strangling Skids, and it was damn entertaining. The bartended was edging away from the fighting Bots.

Jazz's heartbroken little moan made Ironhide's attention snap back. His lover was staring at him with a wholly miserable look on his face. Ironhide swore to Primus Jazz was tearful and sniffling, and hell if he knew whether Jazz was acting or really hurt. This, Ironhide recalled too late- as always- was the danger of toying with Jazz too much. The Bot tended to take everything- everything- intensely seriously. Great sense of humor normally- abslutely none concerning his own spark. He'd worked too hard to get Ironhide to realize what was going on and get what he wanted. And Ironhide had accidentaly let play go on for a moment too long, and Jazz was devastated to see he'd failed to keep his own lover's interest, let alone get it in the first place. One thing Jazz would never be able to forgive himself for would be losing Ironhide; Ironhide kept telling himself he really should stop playing with Jazz like this. One of these days, Jazz was going to have a mental breakdown. Ironhide never knew when Jazz was playing it up and when he was truly offended.

"Jazz" Ironhide couldn't help the slight exasperatoni, but it just made Jazz hang his head, "Oh, come on, Jazz. You don't think you're really that resistable?" Jazz just made some interpret-at-will mumble. "Well," Ironhide smiled, "You're not resistable. At all." Jazz made a loose gesture with his hand, shrugging in silence. "Honest, Jazzy." He pulled Jazz to him and kissed him hard, Jazz moaning against his lips in relieved delight. "I've just gotten good at pretending you aren't the hottest thing in the universe. It makes you go farther."

"Yeah, well" Jazz ran his hands over Ironhide again, absolutely incapable of hiding a smile when Ironhide couldn't help a moan at that, "you don't have'ta be that good"

"Do you know yourself at all?" Ironhide allowed himself a quick glance at that long, lean body before him, "beacuse if you did, you'd know you're irresistable." Jazz made that deep purring sound- like a perfectly tuned Porche engine, really- and kissed him.

"Want you. Know that?" he gave Ironhide a wickedly devilish smile, "this why you wouldn't let me drink?"

"I like you when you're able to think clearly" Ironhide skimmed his hands over Jazz's enviable form, "beacuse you're just so much more creative that way."

"Yeah? I'll show you how creative I can be."

Over at the bar, there was the sound of all the glasses that had been in the upper wineglass rack raining down on the ground and an enraged howl, but neither Jazz nor Ironhide noticed a thing.

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Bee hated the humans' language sometimes, and not just beacuse the words tripped him up. It was beacuse they made no Primus-damned sense, no matter how many times his overthinking mind reprocessed and reanalyzed and reexamined them. He was aware he was only reading beacuse he was avoiding talking to Sam, but it still irritated him anyayws.

Tongue-tied.

That had to be the stuipidest word he'd ever heard. It wasn't only physically impossible it was- well, it was a physical impossibility, he scowled down at the page, and that was enough for him to want to damn it to hell and back many times over.

"Bee?" Sam's voice right behind him made him jump. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he sunk further into the couch cushions, glaring at the page. "I'm just..."

"Snarling at a book?" Sam's hands rested on Bee's shoulders as he leaned forward to read. "What exactly did it do?"

"Confused me" Bee mumbled darkly. He shut it and tossed it onto the couch beside him with a sulky little growl. Sam laughed.

"You are so weird." He wandered off across the small living room; Bee missed the feel of Sam's hands on him. "And speaking of you and being weird," Sam added, leaning back around hte doorway into the kitchen, looking in at Bee, "what were you saying this morning? About Mikaela?"

"I, um..." Bee struggled to get the words out, mouth open but no words obeying his desire to speak, "Ummm... I didn't like- like you and Mikaela-" Primusdammit, it was as if he just couldn't talk anymore, like the words were disappearing into silence before he could find them, "because-" all the words were garbled in his mind, everything he wanted to say melting together into an unspeakable mess. I want you, I want you, I want you, he hated how easily the words could howl and whimper through his mind but refused to be spoken, like he just couldn't talk anymore, "you weren't happy" he finally forced out, not hte words he'd wanted to say, not at all, but damned if he'd ever be able to say them.

"Ah" Sam looked perplexed. "Okay. If you say so."

Bee just lay back on the couch and said nothing. He couldn't have if he'd wanted to anyways. He reached one hand into his jeans pocket, wiggling a little to get the small notebook out of hte pocket. Sam would laugh himself to death if he ever saw it, but Bee had diligently been collecting the human phrases he didnt understand. He wasn't one to make a fool of himself twice on the same word. With an almost bitter glare, he snatched a pen off the table beside him and added another word to the too-long list.

Tongue-tied: the absolute inability to speak under pressure or stressful circumstances.

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Hope everyone liked that :)

Please review! I love it!!!

Love ya,

Sunshine! (didja miss me?)