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Beauty Within	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 4014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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Author’s note: My vision of the ‘garbage mechs’ is that they are similar in their history to the Junkions (G1). A split-off faction of mechs whom deserted Cybertron when the civil wars began; unlike the Junkions, the garbage Mechs had no unifying leadership. So they spread out in small groups across the galaxy, finding work in the garbage dumps and living poverty-stricken lives. Like the Junkions, they developed a distinctly different culture from the Cybertronian-based groups; with strange names and values.

Think of the poverty-stricken peoples living in the dumps in India; which groups like ‘Feed the Children’ show in their commercials. This is my vision of the garbage mechs’ world.

Gentleness

“I’m sorry, I know this has got to hurt, Yellow,” Droct said as he carried Bumblebee into the small shack he called home. He laid him down on his berth as gently as he could, wincing even as he did so. He could tell from the amount of damage on the almost-naked mech that any movement would hurt.

Bee felt a hard, smooth surface beneath him, as the garbage mech set him down gently. He figured he must be lying on Droct’s bunk. Fighting the pain of his exposed circuits, the Autobot turned his head towards Droct’s location and smiled. It was all he had energy to do. But he felt like he had to show the mech that he was cognizant, and was aware of what was going on around him. He hoped the mech was looking his way and would understand that he appreciated him taking a chance and rescuing him.

Droct’s hand rubbed the side of his helm. “So your audio receptors are still working?” he asked, noting Bee’s slight nod. “Good,” he said softly and patted Bee gently on his shoulder. Bee listened to the sound of the mech’s feet as they shuffled away from him. Then the sound of cabinets opening and shutting filled his audios. He wondered briefly what the mech was getting. Were they in a repair bay? But it felt like an old berth under him, not an exam table. Footsteps came back towards him, stopped next to him, and then Droct sat down by Bee. His aft making a slight thud as he sat down. The Autobot felt his head and shoulders as they were gently pulled into the garbage mech’s lap. As Droct propped him up, Bee felt something against his lips. Opening his mouth, he drank the energon that Droct was offering. It burned terribly going down; the grade so bad that only the poverty stricken garbage mechs would even consider drinking it. But it was energy; Energy that Bee so desperately needed. Gagging slightly, he slowly drank.

“Sorry Yellow, I know it ain’t the best – but it’s all we got,” Droct apologized, his voice soft. Bee felt him run his fingers across his helm, almost as if he was petting him. It was strangely comforting to him as he continued to drink the life sustaining energon.

As he finished the small ration and the mech took the cup from his lips, Bee smiled. Hoping that the mech would understand that it didn’t matter how bad the energon was. His kindness in giving him the chance of life more than made up for the miserable rations. The mech bent down, and Bee heard the sound of him setting the empty cup on some kind of table or shelf. Then the mech straightened up, shifting him in his lap slightly. He felt fingers caress the stump of his helm’s broken horn, could envision the garbage mech looking down at his face. Keeping his smile pasted to his lips, Bee hoped he understood. “For a mech so beat up, you sure smile a lot;” Droct mumbled softly.

Bee didn’t know if this bothered the mech, so he quit smiling and bit his lip. He didn’t want to offend his rescuer by any means. “No, please smile. You’ve got a beautiful smile Yellow,” the mech chuckled softly. This quiet statement made the Autobot absolutely beam, for he did like to smile.

He felt Droct’s fingers carefully begin to remove the blue shards that once were his optic lenses. It was a slightly uncomfortable sensation, to have fingers dancing around one’s sensitive photo receptor units. But Bee relaxed under his gentle touch, the warmth from the small ration of low-grade beginning to radiate through his depleted systems. “Well, at least they were blue. Means you weren’t a Decepticon,” Droct told him. By the mech’s voice, Bee could tell he thought that was a good thing, so he smiled his agreement. Yes, he’d hate to be a con.. They were evil, sadistic bastards! The mech shifted him slightly, trying to get better light to do his work. “What were you Yellow? Not built to be a garbage mech like me,” Droct continued to ponder out loud as he worked the shards out of Bee’s photo receptors.

Bumblebee realized that all his armor with Autobot insignia must have been ripped off. So he was just an unidentifiable wreck of a mech, from all appearances he did look like he was homeless. No wonder the mech was trying to figure out what he was by his basic characteristics! He’d just have to wait until Droct got his vocals repaired, then he could assure the garbage mech that he’d be repaid for his trouble.

The squeak of rusted hinges filled his audios, alerting him that someone else was entering the room they were in. Without realizing it, Bee’s few functioning hydraulics shot up in pressure as he tensed. “So how is your new project doing?” T’ran’s voice asked. At the sound of the femme’s voice, Bee’s pressure went down. It wasn’t a con.. It was the garbage femme.

Droct finished picking the last shards of Bumblebee’s lenses out. Standing up, he gently laid Bee’s head back on the hard bunk. “He’s doing fine. His audio receptors seem to work pretty well,” he informed her. Weakly, Bee nodded. His strength slowly coming back as the low-grade continued to work through his systems.

“I’ve got a smaller tarp in my shack, why don’t you get it? You can wrap him up in that,” Bee heard the femme offer. He envisioned the idea of having tarps for protective armor. It was a humorous idea for sure, but it was better than going around almost naked. Getting grime even deeper into his sensitive grids.. Yes, he would be happy for the tarps, no matter how bad he looked in them.

Droct left his shack to fetch the tarp. Bee listened as T’ran come towards him; he felt her sit down next to his side. He could sense her leaning over him, her face mere inches from his. “I know you will leave him once he’s fixed you up. You all do. Please know that he may not look like much, but his core is pure gold;” she whispered, “When you leave, do so gently. You owe him that much for all he shall do for you.”

Bumblebee wanted desperately to tell her that Autobots just didn’t abandon those mechs that helped them. They paid them back in full – and then some! He wouldn’t just leave her brother with nothing. He owed him his very life now! But he couldn’t. All he could do was weakly nod his agreement to her words.

Then Droct came back in, Bee hearing the distinctive sounds of a tarp in his hands. He envisioned what Sunstreaker would say about all this. His smile widening as he pictured a bunch of mechs trying to hold a naked Sunstreaker down so that they could cover him in tacky orange tarps. It was a hysterical vision. Perhaps he’d convince Sideswipe to do it? If anyone would – it’d be the prankster..

“Well, I’ve got a date with M’ron tonight;” T’ran said as Bee heard her standing up.

“Will you ask him about parts?” Droct asked in a pleading tone. Bumblebee was glad to hear that he was already thinking about the next steps.. About fixing him up.

“Sure thing,” the femme said. Then Bee heard T’ran stop near the door. “By the way Droct, you need to work on his circuits a bit before you wrap him up. Get the shards and garbage out of them,” she told her brother. The squeak of protesting hinges, the door thudding to a close, and she was gone.

He heard the tarp being set down, and Droct came over to him. “So you feeling a little stronger now?” he asked him in a concerned tone.

Bee simply nodded, gasping as he struggled to sit up. He felt the mech gently push him back down with a hand on his chest wall. “No, no. You heard the lady. We’ve got a lot of work to do on you,” Droct informed him in a soft tone.

Lying as still as he could, Bee felt the mech’s hands run over his naked circuits. Probing and prodding; removing even the smallest bit of debris. As thorough and careful as Ratchet ever thought of being! Bee couldn’t help but grin a little since he didn’t think this mech would hit him in the helm with a wretch afterward. He relaxed as he let himself remember life before the cons. A life he would soon know again thanks to Droct!

The mech worked his way down Bee’s torso slowly and carefully. Then he felt Droct’s fingers sink into his most sensitive circuits in his exposed pelvic region; they were also some of the most damaged circuits from the abuse that the Decepticons had dished out. Grasping in pain, Bee couldn’t keep himself from jerking. Tears streamed from his empty optics, as the terror came rushing back. The cons ramming their fists into him, cackling as he shrieked in agony. Sticking the roboprod deep inside his circuits.. Lighting his nets up in an agonizing blast of electricity… He began to rock his head side-to-side as he relived the torture through the brief memory echo. His fingers curled around the edges of the old berth as his pressure shot up.

Droct removed his fingers, and Bee felt himself being pulled into the mech’s arms. “It’ll be Ok Yellow, I won’t let you be raped again..” the male gently cooed as he gently stroked Bee’s helm. Bee broke down, his body shaking with sobs. He buried his head into the garbage mech’s chest. He felt gentle hands rubbing his bare back, those strong arms encircling him, the voice telling him over-and-over that he’d be protected now.

Slowly, his sobs subsided, and he lay limply in the mech’s arms. “You’re going to be Ok Yellow. Trust me, I’ll never hurt you,” the gentle voice said over-and-over. Bee turned his face towards that voice, wanting to be safe from the Decepticons. He felt gentle fingers wiping away the tears, taking his pain away. Finally, he smiled at his rescuer, so glad that he seemed to understand.

“That’s it Yellow. Sometimes a good cry will make you feel better,” Droct said softly. Bee felt those gentle fingers stroking his helm as he was squeezed slightly. The mech pressed Bee’s naked form protectively against his armored chest. “But we have to repair what we can, I know it’s painful, but we got to do it,” he said softly. The tone of his voice telling Bee that he understood his fear.. His terror… Fingers encircled Bee’s hand. “If the pain gets to be too much, just squeeze my arm and I’ll stop for a bit, Ok?”

Bee nodded, and lay back down. Wincing as Droct’s fingers went back to their work. He squeezed the mech’s arm several times, each time the mech stopped and patiently waited until Bee nodded that he could handle more.

Finally, Droct began to work on his backside. But again, as he started to work on Bee’s aft; the Autobot had to take breaks from the agony of the repair. The mech was overly patient with him, seeming to understand the physical and emotional trauma that Bee had apparently gone through.

The repairs done, Bee slowly sat up. He felt the mech put his arms around him again. This time, Bee circled the mech with his as well. Setting his head on Droct’s shoulder, Bee sighed. Just glad that such a kind and patient mech had found him. Droct felt his sigh, “You’re a tough little mech, Yellow. To even survive what must’ve happened to you, is a miracle..”

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Beauty Within