Scrapyard, just after a mission. Team’s gathered around Fixit, who’s recording the mission summary. Bee’s standing real close to Grimlock. Like, real close.

“Mission debrief initiated!” Fixit chirped excitedly, holding up a datapad. “Status report: were the rogue Decepticon relics successfully contained?” Strongarm stood tall. “Relic secured. No casualties. Minor property damage.” “Hey, that billboard hit me, not the other way around,” Sideswipe muttered, brushing dirt off his shoulder. Fixit looked toward the center of the group. “And you, Bumblebee? Grimlock? Final impressions?”

Bee didn’t say anything at first. He was standing next to Grimlock—just a little too close. His shoulder lightly bumped Grim’s thick, dented arm with a playful little nudge.

“Oops,” Bee said innocently, optics flicking up. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

Grimlock turned toward him slightly, startled—but before he could speak, Bee looked at him. That smile. That very specific smile.