Finding Our Place, ch. 1

Disclaimer: Transformers: Robots in Disguise coffee shop alternate universe fanfic. All characters are owned by their respective companies, not me, and I write this for fun, not profit, purposes. Developed in tandem with Opatoes, who came up with the original idea. Please support the official release.

Optimus was standing at the window when Bumblebee entered. Ratchet had pulled him away from an empty lobby to meet with him privately, and it was with no small amount of apprehension that he stepped inside and closed the office door behind him. Optimus was a kind manager, but the situation was still foreboding. Optimus's office was darkened, lit only by a shaded lamp on the corner of a desk littered with work papers and calculating devices and oft-refilled energon mug for his dark blends of fuel to keep him awake. Little trinkets of affection and history covered his shelves, casting tiny shadows against the walls.

"Bumblebee." Optimus met his optics with a quiet smile. "Come, stand by me."

"Nothing's wrong with the shop?" he asked preemptively. "My customers have been-?"

The bigger mech shook his head, ever gentle even with his gestures. "Trust me when I say that I have heard nothing but good things from the mechs you serve. Come. Stand."

With only a slight pause, Bumblebee stepped forward and stood next to Optimus, looking out the window and over Cybertron. Optimus had a beautiful view of Iacon from his office in the back of the restaurant. The city shined a beautiful energon blue from below, flecked with pinpricks of office windows and headlights curving over streets. Bumblebee found himself subtly taking a deep breathe and relaxing, and as Optimus's hand found his shoulder, he let himself fully at peace.

"It is beautiful." Optimus squeezed his small shoulder. "You have done much good for Cybertron, Bumblebee. You have my gratitude."

"A- hum- mmm." Bumblebee flushed infrared and lowered his optics. "No, Optimus, that was mostly you."

"Do not undersell yourself, dear friend." Optimus looked out to the city again, subtly guiding his gaze outwards. "It has been a long time since the end of the war. Our world feels safer now... and you have taken very well to domesticity."

"I like being a waiter." Bumblebee shrugged. "Bulkhead likes being a cook. I think we all kind of missed doing this down-to-Earth stuff."

Optimus's shoulders shook in a tiny, withheld laugh. "And yet, you still use the language of Earth."

Bumblebee's cheeks darkened again. "We spent a lot of time there..."

"That is why I am asking you to go back."

The words hung in the air, waiting until Bumblebee was ready to hear them before they struck him like a hungry Scraplet. Bumblebee staggered, stumbling against Optimus for balance. "Ba- back. Back? Like, back to Earth? As a group? All of us?"

"Not exactly." Optimus held him tight, even as Bumblebee began to shiver. "Bumblebee, I believe you are ready to lead. You are unsuited for a position under me forever..." Optimus smirked. Was that a smirk? Was he smirking at an innuendo? Bumblebee's CPU spun even as he kept talking. "And I want to see you successful as your own mech. I wish to send you to Earth to open another branch of the shop there. Are you open to this idea?"

"I- I- uh- sir-" One deep breath, one clearing of his throat, one squaring of his shoulders, and Bumblebee had his voice back. "I am. Sir."

Optimus's smile faded in that slow, tired way that it so often did. Bumblebee's false confidence crumbled along with it, and it took much of his strength to keep himself upright. "Do not do this out of a sense of obligation, Bumblebee. I will not force this on you."

"I know!" he answered too loudly, too fast, before turning his vocalizer down to acceptable levels. The customers would hear him through the door at this rate. "I know, si- Optimus, sorry... I-it's just a lot of news to take in on short notice. I have faith in you."

"And I, you."

"Thank you..." Bumblebee finally found himself able to smile back, a sincere welling of pride rising up in his spark. Optimus's grin echoed his growing joy. "And I won't let you down." With the initial shock out of the way, questions began to bubble up into Bumblebee's processor. "Are we going to build the place from scratch? Do we have a big Cybertronian customer base on Earth? Who's coming with me?"

"We'll take care of that tonight, when the store has closed and we can concentrate. Ratchet is bringing paperwork." Optimus cast a hard glance to his desk. "A lot of paperwork..."

Intimidated by Optimus's glare, his tall inbox of food truck orders teetered and fell to the floor in a heap. Bumblebee swallowed hard.

His own store, lightyears away from Cybertron, to manage and run on his own for the Earth-based Cybertronian population. Earth, bless the planet he loved it, but it had grown a reputation for being a hive of ex-convicts and pardoned Decepticons after Megatron's self-imposed exile. He'd need a menu, he'd need a theme, he'd need a crew...

What was he going to do for a crew?