A/N: Wheeljack/Bumblebee. How's that for a rare pairing? But also hints of Wheeljack/Ratchet and Ratchet/Optimus. Nonsticky. Tactile.

I generally view Bee as more mature and experienced, but for the sake of this fic it was fun to explore him being new to things.

Sequel to Gonna Find Out Sometime,

There had been a few noticeable changes at the base.

Ratchet for one could not get a klik of peace when Bumblebee was around. The Scout hovered, beeped and booped, always brought a cube, and constantly tried to grab at the medic's busy servos.

And whenever Wheeljack came to visit, he brightened like a newspark with candied energon. The Wrecker beamed right back at him. Ratchet wasn't blind to it. His field snapped whenever he caught Wheeljack's optics on yellow plating. Once during a game of lobbing, Bumblebee crashed right on top of the Wrecker and Ratchet seethed in the corner.

He knew Wheeljack. Knew how he was. Bumblebee was still young. He'd spent most of his life as something of a child warrior. Didn't have the chances to live much of a normal life like the rest of them before the war. And because of his... injuries, he was, well. He was Bumblebee. Ratchet only wanted what was best for the him.

The medic didn't ever really voice his feelings, but Wheeljack knew him well enough to decipher his grunts and scowls and cold shoulders.

"Doc," the Wrecker would say, nudging his faceplate softly forward and rubbing the medic's lower back, coaxing his field into softness. "Don't worry."

Servos lowered and plates shifted. Ratchet's worries melted away as cries into the berth.

It remained as such for a time. Ratchet tried to get work done around the snuggly Scout while keeping an eye on him whenever Wheeljack popped up then all but forgot about it whenever he spent an afternoon in the warrior's ship. It was tiring and frustrating, and built up a lot of static under his plates.

And then in the late hours in his lab, red arms would wrap around him. Optimus didn't press, but assured his companion that he was there for him. Ratchet knew of course. As always he sighed and clasped a servo. When he finally retired for the night, he knew the Prime would be waiting for him. He always waited. Sometimes Ratchet felt he didn't deserve Optimus.

It is what it is, he supposed.

A tool clattered noisily to the floor.

"Bumblebee!" Ratchet shouted in surprise and irritation.

The yellow bot quickly lowered to pick the object up, bwooping apologetically and holding it out.

Ratchet sighed gruffly. It was impossible to stay mad at the younger mech. "I—thank you. Now please, let me work."

He turned back to his current project. Scattered bolts and various pieces were spread before him. He'd been at it for days now. Murmuring data subvocally, he measured a wire. As he raised his hand to cut it, he found his arm being squeezed.

"Bumblebee, I told you—" And a firm but affectionate helmbutt right above Ratchet's optics.

His plating rose in puzzlement and swiftly tightened back to his frame in realization. The Scout's optics were bright. His field a jumpy happy vibration. Oh, no.

Ratchet stared in shock before awkwardly prying those servos off of him.

"Bumblebee, I am... busy," he said carefully.

The other toned softly before optical ridges drew up. Oh, no, no, not the puppy eyes.

"Perhaps later we..." Ratchet started, though it was too late. Yellow doorwings drooped in rejection.

Scrap. Ratchet gathered his tools slowly. "I am sorry, Bumblebee. When I am not busy we will... go for a drive. I promise."

Before things could get any more awkward, the medic retreated into the corridor to get to their storage room. Bumblebee watched him go with a heartbroken tone and sat with a clunk on a steel crate.

The tunnel into base roared with the sound of engines and laughter. Bulkhead transformed out and turned around to grab his companion by the nose of his vehicle mode. Wheeljack's tires squealed and he shifted into root mode as well, though he couldn't escape the green Wrecker's hold.

"Alright, alright!" the warrior vocalized, half in amusement and half in pain. "You win, Bulk!"

He almost tripped backwards when he was set down. Optics stopped on something sad and yellow by the lab.

"Hey, kid," Wheeljack said, rubbing his arm where Bulkhead had nearly dented armor.

The Scout's optics cycled but he didn't wave at his friends.

"Bee, what's wrong?" Bulkhead asked now, ridges rising up as he approached his teammate.

Bumblebee beeped softly with a shrug.

"Aww. If we had known, we would've invited you to drive with us! Right, Jackie?"

Wheeljack confirmed as he approached and the younger bot gave a toned sort of sigh. The Wrecker thought for a moment.

"You know, I could use some help with the Jackhammer. You good at welding?"

Yellow doorwings shot up like happy dog ears.

• • •

It took Ratchet a good half-hour to find what he needed in storage. When he returned to the common room, he looked around cautiously.

"Where did Bumblebee go?" he asked Bulkhead, who was leaning down to watch the tiny human television. High-pitched voices screeched from the speakers and the big bot didn't blink.

"Jackie needed help with his ship."

The vial in Ratchet's hand nearly slipped from his hold.

• • •

"This is it."

Large blue optics spun at the sight of the ship. He'd seen it before, but hadn't had the chance to get close. As young as he was, he knew how nice it was to see something from home. And the Jackhammer was so cool.

Wheeljack watched the bot's reaction with his arms crossed. Cute. He stepped forward and pressed his servo into a panel and the hatch opened noisily. "Come on," he vocalized. "Inside's even cooler."

As expected, the Scout beeped loudly at the different displays and data grids. Servos hovered over some controls curiously so Wheeljack stepped forward and hit a few. The window monitors blipped online and Bumblebee jumped. They spent some time looking at saved flights. Bumblebee was particularly excited about one that featured a striped planet. He leaned over the console to peer at a mini-display before looking up at the Wrecker. Optics shifted.

In the dim of the ship, Bumblebee leaned up and nudged his forehelm to Wheeljack's.

Wheeljack was slightly surprised. Only slightly. He smirked.

"You're not playin' around, huh, kid?" Sweet little Bumblebee, I know what you want from me.

The bot bweeped cutely and touched their helms again. And Wheeljack nuzzled right back. Bumblebee rubbed his little faceplate into the older bot's so much that static popped between them. Fields were light and excited.

It didn't take long for Bee's fans to click on noisily, and when they did, Wheeljack pulled back from the "kisses" with his servos resting under the bot's doorwings.

Bumblebee gave a confused bwoop, servos on Wheeljack's chestplate.

"Only if you want to," Wheeljack answered.

Bee beeped in tri-tone, wings waving above his head.

Servos slid slowly down to yellow aft and the Wrecker couldn't help but give a low chuckle. "Hmm?"

The Scout repeated his sounds excitedly, fingers digging into the other's chest.

"Alright," Wheeljack said, and tightened his hold on that finely plated little backside. He stepped back until he was able to lower onto the pilot's seat, guiding the younger mech to sit on his lap.

Bee's gaze cut around, unsure of what to do. Wheeljack was going to get a denta ache if he kept being so sweet.

"You're cute, kid," he said, because he couldn't hold it in anymore. A hand rested on the waist before him, and Bumblebee looked down at it curiously. Wheeljack indulged in a little rub at a seam and the younger mech's plating jumped in surprise at the sensation.

"Good?" Wheeljack asked. Bee trilled a yes and spun his optics, still watching the hand. This was fun already. "How 'bout this?"

Finger slid and pressed under a plate just hard enough to get Bumblebee's beeping to falter and a nice squeeze of his thighs.

Wheeljack chuckled again, sounding his engine, and with an encouraging nod nuzzled the bot's neck, fingers gently rubbing over seams at backstrut. Bee's wings twitched at the soft contact and he looked for a seam to play with himself.

Fast learner. And Wheeljack could not stop staring at those doorwings. Curiosity got the better of him and so he let his servos trail back up as he leaned back to get a better view. He closed his palms under the tires for a moment before giving a nice squeeze. Bumblebee toned in a startlingly high pitch and nuzzled the Wrecker like mad. His energy field flared, hot and buzzing and heavy.

It slammed Wheeljack hard and he grunted as it tickled under his plating. "Keep that up and this won't last," he warned, kissing the side of Bumblebee's face a little.

But Bee was new to this after all, and didn't have a good hold on his field in this situation. Wheeljack turned those sensitive tires before slipping his servos to grip the doors themselves. He got a keening tone in answer and dipped his helm down to press glossa against a burning headlight, his own dorsal planes quivering with excitement as charge raced up to their tips.

Every scrape, every press into a seam or sensor node got a different sound out of the Scout. Oh, Wheeljack played him like an instrument.

When the other's legs started trembling, Wheeljack pulled back a little to see his faceplate. Ridges were drawn tight, optics a blazing azure in the dim lighting of the Jackhammer. It was clear from this and the waver to his field that he was dancing on the edge of overload. Bumblebee's servos scrabbled for purchase on his partner's body, trying to reciprocate and hold on at the same time. Frame twitched and jerked, filled to the brim with static and stimulation.

All it took was a hard scrape under a dorsal plate for the yellow Autobot to seize up as overload engulfed him from helm to pede. Wheeljack gripped him hard, dentals grinding as white noise assaulted his audials and he got dragged down into the crash as well.

When it passed, he lifted his helm to look at his partner. Large optics flickered and Wheeljack almost laughed at the endearing image. It was obvious that the bot was in sort of a daze and likely tired, so the Wrecker reclined the seat just enough to allow them both to get comfortable.

"You gotta get home, kid," Wheeljack vocalized, rubbing the mech's back slowly with one servo.

Bee bwooped deeply and shook his helm, nuzzling his new friend.

"Alright," Wheeljack chuckled. Just for a bit longer.

• • •

The sun had long gone down by the time the tunnel sounded with engines again. It was just lucky that Optimus was in recharge and the others left to be with the children.

Bumblebee shifted to root mode, broadcasting his happy field so strongly that someone on the moon could probably sense it. Ratchet stood by the console, field in dark contrast to the Scout's. Ridges down, plating tight.

"To recharge, Bumblebee," he said as Wheeljack finally arrived and shifted out. Bee's optics whirred in slight confusion but he did not argue and trotted off.

The Wrecker approached his lover, knowing what was coming. And when Bumblebee was safely down the corridor, it came.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Wheeljack?"

Yep. Totally knew this was coming.

"Doc."

"Wheeljack, I swear, if you do anything to—to—"

Servos came to rest on tense orange shoulders. "Doc," Wheeljack repeated. "Kid's fine. I didn't push anything."

Ratchet relaxed for only a moment before pulling away with a scoff. "Oh, I'm sure you pushed something."

Wheeljack sighed and gave the medic a moment to ventilate his anger out. When he seemed to have calmed a bit, he said, "We didn't plug in. If that makes ya feel better."

Optics cut up from glaring at the floor, blinking widely. He tried to switch back to being upset. "I just—don't want him to..."

Servos returned to shoulders and Ratchet allowed it. "I know. I get it," Wheeljack said quietly. "But ya can't baby him. He's a tough bot. I mean, you know that. "

Ratchet suddenly felt very silly. "Yes," he agreed almost guiltily.

He did know that. Bumblebee was very tough. Had endured what would have destroyed a lot of mechs. And he continued to put himself at risk, put others before himself, always fought his hardest.

Maybe he was being too overprotective. Bee was grown up now. They all were. Despite his concerns about him getting involved with Wheeljack, perhaps... it was better him than someone else. Like there were a lot of other bots to choose from. He almost snorted. They'd all gotten to grow up on Cybertron. Go to school, make friends, partners... And then there was Bee. Curious Bee who sometimes asked Arcee what luxury oil baths were like or Bulkhead what his favorite thing to build was. Or told them in many beeps what he remembered from before the war. It wasn't as much story as they had, but they always listened. Cherished Bee's stories like golden, healing energon. And it did heal. Made their heartache fade temporarily. Eased the homesickness. Brought them together.

Wheeljack hugged Ratchet softly during his thoughtful silence. "Alright, Doc?"

Ratchet nodded.

With a final squeeze of armor, the Wrecker said goodbye and transformed as he turned for the tunnel.

"Goodbye," Ratchet said, to no one now. After a long moment he looked down the corridor where their rooms were.

Bee was strong. Maybe... it was time to let him make his own decisions.