The lock clicks shut behind you.

Not ideal.

You and Bumblebee stand frozen in the hallway, dim emergency lights painting the metal walls in pulsing red. Wires dangle from the ceiling like dying vines, and somewhere deeper inside the abandoned facility, something hisses softly—maybe a coolant leak. Maybe something worse.

Bumblebee glances sideways at you, hands on his hips, mouth already twitching into a grin. “Okay, technically this isn’t my fault,” he says, as if you hadn’t just watched him hotwire the door with a stolen keycard and mutter “trust me” like a catchphrase.

You arch a brow.

“Hey!” he defends himself, backing up and bumping into a rack of defunct servers. “You wanted to see what was in here too. Don’t put this all on me, partner.”

A beat.

“…Though I may have misread the security override.”

The door behind you lets out a solid, irreversible clunk. Locked from the outside.

Bumblebee scratches the back of his helm. “Sooo… good news? I brought snacks. Bad news? We’re probably gonna get yelled at by Optimus again.”

Another beat. Then he grins wider and elbows you. “Wanna find the control room anyway?”

You already know you’re saying yes. That’s half the problem with you two.