Work Text:
Contrary to his prediction, something had changed already.
He stared at the message long enough that his optics almost dried out, processing.
Can't make it, sorry
Again.
Since when had he become the more available one? It was new to him and certainly inconvenient. Frustrating even.
He wasn't ignorant or resentful — he didn't need Bumblebee to explain himself why he couldn't meet with him at 1:17AM in the abandoned warehouse near the harbor that'd been long out of commission.
The bug most likely had failed to sneak out again.
Theoretically, Blitzwing understood where Bumblebee's team's concern was coming from, however, in his view micromanagement was a more accurate term. As if they still feared he could harm their precious scout. He could certainly harm them if they were going to continue actively keeping Bee from meeting with him.
His time was valuable, and getting stood up yet another time was putting strain on his patience.
Then when? He sent the message. At this point he was willing to bend his schedule just to see his little bug.
Not sure
He exvented, unsatisfied by the vague reply.
Another text came.
I'm sorry
It was okay, he supposed. Just a lot of wasted recharge time. Nevertheless, if it was going to continue to be like this, they'd have to think of some other way to arrange their meetings.
Perhaps he could try to make time during the day if the nightly hours were the Autobots’ problem — because surely it wasn't his subscription to the opposed faction that made them skeptical.
Don't be. Text me when. He wrote back if only to ease his little sparked bug's distress. The tables had turned, and from now on he had to submit to Bumblebee's schedule.
With nothing else left to do, he headed back to the base, disappointed and concerned about the capacity of his processor, which recently had been entirely overtaken by the issues related to the yellow bot. Though, he suspected they weren't going to decrease in number anytime soon.