In My Head (TFP Bumblebee x Femme Reader)

6

The minimal tension in the cave was short lived to say it simply.

(Y/n) stalked down the hall of the base, shoving against Bumblebee. "Spend some alone time with you, they said," she hissed. "It'll be fun, they said."

"They must think we're getting better, thanks to your brilliant idea," he beeped back in the same tone. "We're just trying to hide it, keeping all this bottled up-" He shoved roughly back against her, causing her shoulder to hit the wall with a screech. "-and it's driving me crazy!"

"Well, you're not the only one." She grabbed the top of his chest plate and dragged him out to the main room where they had space. Ratchet visibly flinched at the monitors as Bumblebee's body hit the ground with a loud clang.

"Hey!" he shouted. "This is extremely delicate! If you break another of my things, so help me!" Bumblebee stood up as (Y/n) brushed herself off, venting.

"Sorry, doc," she said. The medic gritted his denta. "How about you spend some quality time with him?"

"That is your job." She looked up as Optimus walked out of the shadows of another hallway, a disapproving look on his face. She shrank in on herself. "He is your partner. You know why I assigned him to you. It is now your responsibility to move beyond your grudges and find the good inside your partner. I know that you are perfectly capable of such a feat, and I expect that the soft relationship you have pretended to develop will become reality." He fixed them with a stern look.

"Optimus, we-"

"You are confined to base until further notice." He turned around and left without another word, leaving the three bots gawking at his backstruts.

"Well," Ratchet said after a moment of silence. "I guess you better get used to keeping me company. While you're here, you may as well make yourselves useful."

"Let me guess," Bumblebee sighed, deflating. "Mop job."

It. Was. Horrible. (Y/n) was suffering! Ratchet ordered them to be in the same room as each other, cleaning with their shoulders brushing, getting absolutely no breaks from the other. Bumblebee pointed out every mistake, as did she, and Ratchet counted this as a twisted win as the base was spotless by the end of it.

"You missed a spot."

"We're cleaning the same space, idiot. It could have been you!"

"I wouldn't miss a spot like that." (Y/n) grabbed the cleaning bucket and chucked it at his helm. It slapped him in the face plate, the soapy liquid dripping down his front side.

"Oh, here. Let me get that for you," she sneered, moving forward. He ripped the bucket off his face plate and threw it aside, grabbing her shoulders and slamming her against the wall. She grunted and his mouth guard retracted. He spat an intake full of cleaner on her face plate.

"Let me help you with that," he whirled angrily. He grabbed her chin roughly and she batted at his servo, her intake pressed into a tight line to keep the cleaner out. "Now that backfired, didn't it?"

"Shut up," she spat. "Now we're both due for a wash."

"I think you deserve to get it off. I'll get yours in return."

"Like I'd do a good job."

"You'd better." She glared at him and he smirked, the look enhanced by the fact his mouth guard was still down. She balled her servos into fists. Keep it cool, fem.

"(Y/n)? Bumblebee? What's going on down there? I heard crashing!" Ratchet called, his pedesteps signaling his approach.

"Nothing," Bumblebee beeped coolly as the medic came into sight. "(Y/n) just agreed to clean up this mess."

"I did not!" she yelled angrily.

"Hey!" Ratchet shouted. They shut up, looking at him. "(Y/n), just do it. And Bumblebee, clean up whatever's on her face plate."

"I planned on it," he whirred. "So long as she does a good job. She started it, anyway." (Y/n) opened her intake but Ratchet lifted both servos.

"I don't care who started it," he said. "Just that you clean it up and get back to work." He turned around and walked away, leaving one fuming (Y/n) and one triumphant Bumblebee.

"Alright then," she growled, turning and nudging Bumblebee's shoulder roughly. "Let's get to it." She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall to the washroom and sat him down, looking for the power washing tool. If she was going to wash him, she would make it thorough.

She found it and turned to Bumblebee. He was fiddling with one of the gears on his chassis, a horrible squeaking sound coming from it. That cleaner was not Cybertronian cleaner.

"Hang on," she said, setting the tool down and getting down in front of him. She nudged his servo aside and inspected the gear.

"Guess I'm going to need an oil as well," he beeped as she began working at the gear. She flicked bubbles off her digits and looked up at him.

"That's your job," she said. "I'm not sticking around long enough to see that through."

"That's unfortunate." She retrieved the power washing tool, then hesitated. Then she put it away and got the normal cleaning kit.

"Hold still," she said, bending back down in front of him. "This might take a while."