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“There’s someone very important you have to meet,” Thundercracker said with an enormous grin on his face as he held his hands out in front of him, cradling a tiny, furry organic creature that yapped at Bee excitedly. Bee had been made aware of Buster during his time as Starscream’s invisible companion, but he’d never been properly introduced. Thundercracker remedied that, “This is Buster; she’s a beagle/pug cross – those are types of dogs by the way – which makes her a puggle, which the internet says is one of the friendliest types of dogs, and Buster sure is friendly, but I don’t like to think it’s because she’s a puggle; that seems too much like functionalist stereotyping to me. She’s my best friend on Earth. Buster, this is Bumblebee; he was kinda dead for a while or…not...er, it’s a bit difficult to explain, but it doesn’t really matter, he’s alive, or tangible, or whatever now. He would have been my best friend on Cybertron, if Cybertron wasn’t, y’know, gone. I guess that makes him my best Cybertronian friend on Earth.”
Bumblebee smiled widely as he looked down at the little alien who made Thundercracker so very happy and said, “It’s very nice to meet you Buster; I’m sure I’m going to get along great with anyone Thundercracker calls their best friend...well…these days anyway.”
“So put out your hands!” Thundercracker demanded excitedly, and Bumblebee gave a little start at the sudden command and quickly complied. With incredible gentleness, Thundercracker deposited Buster into Bumblebee’s palm, and she sniffed at his hand and gave it an experimental lick.
Bumblebee cradled the tiny creature with nervous reverence, her extreme fragility and preciousness to Thundercracker at the forefront of his mind. Even after everything, part of Bumblebee was still amazed that anyone who had been a Decepticon for so long, who had been involved in the deaths of so many organics, could come to love an organic so fiercely, and care for her with such mindful tenderness. But the mech who loved and cared for this fragile little creature, that was who Thundercracker really was, thought Bumblebee, the killer he had been was just another role he had been trapped in. Back before the war they had been caged by Functionalism, and then the war that was meant to liberate them from these cages only managed to trap many of them in new ones, the Decepticons especially. But now it was finally all over, and they had the freedom to be who they really were, and nobody had embraced that freedom with quite the same unreserved passion as Thundercracker. Bumblebee was a little in awe of it, to be honest.
“She’s beautiful,” Bumblebee told him earnestly, and Thundercracker beamed at him.
Buster gave a happy-sounding bark, “She thinks you’re beautiful too,” said Thundercracker, before he hurriedly added, “Er, I mean she likes you.”
Bumblebee gave him a warm smile, before he asked, “I heard you were working on a new script, want to read it to me?” Bee’s interest in Thundercracker’s writing wasn’t just politeness, it was completely genuine. He was fascinated by the way TC was choosing to deal with his experiences in a constructive and introspective way; after millions of years of being used as a tool for destruction, he was embracing creation.
Thundercracker practically vibrated with giddy excitement at the suggestion, before he rushed off to retrieve his script. He quickly returned with it in hand and started reading it to Bumblebee, who watched him narrate with his chin in his hand and fondness in his optics. Thundercracker made Bee consider all the possibilities that could finally be embraced now that they at last had the freedom to do so. As Bee thought of possibilities while he listened to Thundercracker’s endearingly enthusiastic narration, a particular possibility crossed his processor and a feeling stirred in his spark. Buster may be Thundercracker’s best friend, Bumblebee thought, but there were other privileged positions one could hold in a bot’s spark.