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Sam watched in horror from his perch on Optimus' roof as the bucket (that he'd just kicked) fell, hit the side mirror (that he'd just washed), tipped, and tumbled through the driver's side window (that he'd just opened to step on).
The swish and splash of dirty, sudsy water over Optimus' pristine interior seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that had fallen over the backyard. Sam opened his mouth. Realizing there were no words in the English language grave enough to convey his chest-caving dismay, he closed it.
The silence lengthened. Not even Bee, waiting patiently in the driveway for his own wash, said a word. On the plus side, Optimus hadn't yet thrown him from his roof into the Sharmas' rock garden across the street.
Sam jumped when Optimus' engine made a sound like a very polite cough. "Sam?" the radio called.
"Oh my God!" Sam exploded in fast-paced, desperate damage control. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. Holy shit, that just happened. Oh my God."
"Sam? Are you hurt?"
"What? Am I- No, not yet. No. Are you hurt? That didn't hurt, did it? I'll get some towels. And my mom's hair dryer. It'll be fine-" Sam slid recklessly from the roof to the flame-decorated hood to the ground with a grunt that was matched by an alarmed honk from the semi. "Here, we'll use my shirt to get the worst of it before it soaks in-"
In his rush to simultaneously strip off his t-shirt and get Optimus' door open, he almost hit his head on the offending mirror. With a quick twist and slide, the mirror was swiftly pulled up and out of the human's way. "Sam, please be more cautious," the radio said, strained. From the driveway came the chirp-chirp-chirp of Bumblebee's laughter.
"I will, I promise. No more buckets on the roof. Never again, here-" And with a yank, Sam pulled open the door.
Optimus' interior was in its customary uncorrupted state.
"What the... hell? What happened to- Where's the water?" Sam ran a hand over the upholstery, then pressed down as hard as he could just to make sure nothing seeped up.
"Place the bucket on the ground next to me," Optimus instructed. Bewildered, Sam plucked the empty bucket with its sponge from the footwell and dropped it on the ground by the door. There was a quiet snap, and a length of black tubing snaked from beneath the cab and proceeded to fill the bucket with soapy water.
"That's a neat trick," Sam said, almost dizzy with relief. He swished a hand around in the bucket, marvelling. "Hey, this water is clean! What did you do to it?"
"I filtered out the soil and detritus," Optimus said hesitantly. "Should I not have done so?"
Sam squinted at a shining red flame. "And this detritus is where, now?"
If a semi could shift uncomfortably- "I deposited it on the ground, Sam."
Sam got down on his hands and knees and peered beneath the truck. A small pile of dirt, bone dry, sat in the grass, being whittled away by the breeze stirring under the rig's chassis.
"Okay," Sam began in a tone that Bumblebee would recognize but that Optimus hadn't yet been subjected to, "so, basically you can, like, suck up all the dirt and stuff on your skin and spit it out. This is what you're telling me."
"In effect," Optimus replied, and Bumblebee gave a metallic moan of grief.
"So why the hell am I spending my weekends sweating like a pig, climbing all over you like a macaque?"
For once, Optimus seemed to be speechless, though whether it was because he was affronted by Sam's unusual outburst or because he knew he was in the doghouse, Sam didn't know.
"And you!" Sam turned to his Camaro, who played an exaggerated //ruh-roh// and rolled back a few feet. "Three years! I've been washing you for three years! Bee!"
A wild cackle of recorded laughter spilled from the cheery yellow vehicle, followed by Patsy Cline's poignant sorrow. The effect was nullified by the fact that the laugh track continued quietly.
Sam dropped down into a defeated crouch, wrapping his arms around his head. "I've been played by my own car. My car played me for three years. Why is this my life?"
Bee rolled forward onto the grass. //Whoa! I feel good. I knew that I would, now!//
"Yeah, good job, Bee," Sam said dully.
//No, no, no, no, no,// a chorus of women cooed, sultry.
Sam looked up as Bumblebee crawled by him and went up to where Optimus was sitting. Gently, he nosed the bucket, not spilling a drop.
//It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.// Sam held his breath as the smooth jazz curled around him, basically sex in audible form. //And I'm feeling... good.//
There was no way Bee didn't grasp the sensuality of that clip. No way.
He flicked his eyes over Optimus' silent form, and back to Bee.
For the second time that afternoon, Sam was struck silent by the emotion pressing against his lungs. Feeling a little shaky with this new possibility, Sam straightened. Bee rolled back obligingly as Sam walked back to the bucket and Optimus.
Clearing his throat determinedly, Sam reached into the water and grasped the sponge. He soaked and wrung it out a few times, thinking.
"Sam," Optimus ventured, "if it makes you at all uncomfortable-"
"No, no. I was just thinking." A pause while an idea formed gradually in his mind. "And I think I deserve a little payback for having been kept so rudely in the dark, here. Really, big guy, I expected better from you." Sam lifted the sponge with a sly grin.
Air brakes whistled nervously, and from the driveway, a car alarm chirped in glee.
//I love the way you touch me, darling, you sexy thing! It's ecstasy, you sexy thing!//
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