AN: I've seen Transformers a dozen times, and I love the movie, love everything about it. So I thought I would write this story. I'm not sure how long it will be or even if it will be longer. Though I really would love to write about Captain Lenox . . .
This is movie-verse, and I apologize because I haven't read or seen anything else about the fandom. For those of you who haven't seen the movie, but like to follow my writing, please see the movie or at least read a brief synopsis of it or you will be lost, spoiled, or both. As stated in the story, this takes place four months after the movie ended.
Disclaimer: I do not own, and I encourage all of you to go see the second movie when it comes out Summer 2009.
Rating: PG-13, not for anything really, but I always make my stuff PG-13 on principle.
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"Oh, man, I'm late," Sam jerked the door open and jumped inside the seat, turning on the engine even before the door was shut.
Throwing his cellphone on the passenger's seat, he tried to put the car into gear.
"Seatbelt," Bumblebee growled at him.
Sam frowned at the dashboard; he wasn't exactly sure where Bumblebee's head went to when he turned into the Camaro, but he directed his disgruntled expression towards the front of the car.
Knowing Bumblebee was a stickler for safety, Sam pulled the seatbelt across his chest and buckled it. "There, can we go now?"
"Did you adjust the mirrors?" the car rumbled below him.
"Come on, man," Sam frowned even deeper, "I'm late. You're here. Why does it matter what the mirrors look like? You won't let me get in an accident."
"You humans have rules for the road," Bumblebee insisted. "You have to obey these rules, or you get pulled over by the authorities. I am not having you pulled over by the authorities."
"Jeez," Sam struck the steering wheel, "who are you? Optimus Prime?"
"I am not having you arrested and then Optimus finding out about it."
Sam thought about hitting the wheel again, but he knew Bumblebee was such a pain about stuff like this, having an incredible fear that Sam would be hauled off by the authorities. Just to save time, Sam grabbed the rearview mirror and jiggled it slightly until he could see everything out the back.
"Done, and side mirrors are fine," he reported.
"Have you been drinking alcohol or taken medication or done anything that would impair your driving?"
"Aw, come on!" Sam flopped his head back against the headrest. "Do you want to drive?"
"No, you may drive, but only if you are a responsible diver."
"I don't drink," Sam insisted. "I'm aware, I'm awake, and now I'm late to see Mikaela. I told her two o'clock, and it's already ten 'til."
"She will understand," Bumblebee promised. The gear stick moved into drive, and Sam grabbed the wheel and stepped on the gas petal. As the car squealed out of his parents' driveway, he heard Bumblebee grumble, "Slower, Sam."
Scowling, Sam just watched the road. So annoying when Bumblebee went into these moods, when he took his "guardianship" so seriously though the danger was over and the Decepticons were no longer a threat. Probably Optimus Prime's influence on Bumblebee – the big Autobot had this overbearing sense of right and wrong, and even four months after the battle against the Decepticons, Optimus Prime kept on his team (and Sam) to uphold all their moral values. Which for Sam meant being a total goody-two-shoes, a dork that could have walked off the set of the Waltons.
Once he got on the highway to Mikaela's house, Sam kept his foot on the gas, pushing the yellow Camaro faster and faster.
"You're past the speed limit," Bumblebee warned.
"By like two miles," Sam scoffed. The road was straight, smooth, and practically begged for cars to exceed the limit on it. Sam grabbed the sunglasses that hung from his collar and put them on. His glasses weren't as nice as his car, but he had been unable to convince any Autobot to give him money to buy an expensive pair. He was sure they could find money somewhere – heck, they could tell Captain Lenox they needed money for something, and the man would probably sent a briefcase full of cash within an hour. But Optimus Prime had remained firm.
"Why do you need another pair of sunglasses when you have that pair?" the blue/red Autobot had demanded.
"I have a cool car, I need cool glasses," Sam had replied, but Optimus Prime would not listen, and Sam was still wearing his 15-dollar sunglasses.
"Slow down," Bumblebee insisted. "This is your last warning."
"My last warning?" Sam scoffed. "What, you're my babysitter now?"
He pushed his foot down on the petal, causing the car to speed up, now a good 10 miles over the limit.
And then the engine died.
Sam felt it cut off, not even rumbling or slowly dying, just cutting off abruptly. The car kept going, but eased to the side of the road. Sam felt furious – he knew that a lecture was coming, and hell if he'd stick around for it. The moment the car slowed enough, he yanked off his seatbelt, flung open the door, and scrambled out of the car. The hot air rushed over him, but it only spurred his fury on to get away from Bumblebee.
He was walking on a divided highway, but only two lanes on each side with plenty of room on the shoulder so Sam knew he wouldn't get hit. As he stalked away from his car, Sam was careful to keep far away from the lanes as possible. The Autobots would not be pleased with him putting himself in danger, even if he was furious at Bumblebee.
He heard an engine behind him, and he knew without looking around that Bumblebee was following him on the shoulder of the road. Sam tried to walk faster, but of course, the car easily kept up. Sam thought about breaking into a run, but that would be stupid. The Camaro could go over 120 miles an hour while he could run up to about 6. Sam wished Bumblebee would turn into a bicycle – Sam was sure he could outrun a bicycle.
He turned to stalk off the asphalt, but before he could step on the dry grass, a horn blared behind him. Sam huffed, but he stayed on the asphalt. Bumblebee didn't honk at him often, but when he did, Sam knew he had to listen. Optimus would be mad if he heard Sam had started trekking through the California brush on his own, with Bumblebee unable to follow him in his automobile form.
The heat on the highway was burning, and Sam knew he must look completely ridiculous, walking along the edge of the road with his car following him. Cars kept speeding by him, and Sam guessed they thought he was guiding a broken down car down the side. With the windows tinted, Sam knew they couldn't see inside to realize there was no driver.
The highway fell silent for a moment, and Sam could hear Bumblebee drive a little close.
"Sam."
Sam kept walking straight ahead. He was already late; he should call Mikaela to tell her he would be late because his car was being a total jerk, but he had left his cellphone in the car. He knew if he turned around to demand his phone, Bumblebee would insist he get back inside.
"Sam."
Sweat trickled down Sam's forehead, but he swiped at it hastily as he stalked on.
"Samuel."
Sam jerked to a stop and whirled back. He wasn't quite sure how, but the Camaro looked displeased, the front fender pulled down into a frown.
"Get in the car," Bumblebee said to him though Sam still couldn't see his face.
"Are you going to let me drive?" Sam demanded, crossing his arms.
"No, I will drive and take you to Mikaela."
"I'm not getting in unless you let me drive," Sam argued.
"Samuel Witwicky," Bumblebee's usually friendly voice was stern, "we are on a highway where you could get hit by another car, and I am not arguing with you. Get in."
Sam kept his arm crossed, trying to stare down the car. Hearing nothing else, Sam turned to keep walking.
The passenger door of the Camaro flew open, and something wrapped around his waist and yanked him back. Before Sam could figure out exactly what had grabbed him, he was jerked into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed, the seat belt strapped over him, and the car started.
"Oh, screw this," Sam jerked at the seatbelt with one hand while the other pulled on the door handle. "Let me out."
The seatbelt would not budge, the door was locked fast, and the Camaro was driving back on the road. Sam felt anger burning inside him, but the AC came on, blowing cool air over him as he sat trapped in the passenger seat of his own car. As they drove down the highway, Sam began to calm. He wasn't sure why he burst into such anger; he seemed to be having trouble with his temper, ever since that day of the battle when he had tried to run the Cube up to the roof, when he had stood against the pillar, sure Megatron would throw him to his death to street below.
Refusing to remember the terror of that day, Sam glanced around the car for his cellphone. He couldn't see it, he wasn't sitting on it, and he was not asking Bumblebee what happened to his phone. The clock read 2:09 already, and by the time they pulled up to Mikaela's house, it was 2:21.
She was standing out on the sidewalk, in a denim mini skirt and a tank top, and her baggy purse flung over one shoulder. She was looking off in the distance, but she turned when she heard the car and smiled slowly as the Camaro pulled up to her, showing all her white teeth. She opened the passenger door and froze when she saw Sam in the seat.
"Um," she ducked to look over to the empty driver's seat, "didn't feel like driving today?"
"Get into the driver's seat," Bumblebee said quietly.
She looked down at Sam, but he turned away, refusing to meet her eyes or explain why they were late. Going around the front, she got into the driver's seat. The Camaro pulled forward, heading towards the mall where Sam and Mikaela were spending the afternoon, she needing to look for some new clothes and he agreeing to tag along, mainly for the hope of seeing her try on bathing suits. Mikaela did not touch the steering wheel, keeping her feet back from the petals to let Bumblebee drive.
After a minute of silence, Mikaela leaned towards Sam. "Hey," she whispered, "are you two fighting again?"
"No, he's being a jackass," Sam hissed back. "He wouldn't let me go a mile over the speed limit."
Mikaela pressed her lips together sympathetically, reaching over to touch the side of his sweaty face. "We get to the mall, and I promise I'll make it up to you."
"No kissing in the mall," Bumblebee said in a normal voice.
"Hey, give us some privacy," Sam snapped.
Mikaela laughed, leaning back against her seat. "Bumblebee, we've made out on your hood. I let him get to second base. Now, we can't kiss in a mall? Our chaperon's getting strict, I guess."
Sam tried to smile; she made everything easier, make him want to relax, but right now he still felt upset.
Mikaela pulled the visor down and looked into the mirror, brushing her bangs back. As the cool AC blew over both of them, Sam watched her primping in the mirror, like she didn't already look so pretty and sexy.
He wasn't sure how he liked her sitting in the driver's seat – he wasn't chauvinistic, he wanted to think, but it was his car, after all. Well, maybe it was Bumblebee, but Sam had paid 2000 for the 1977 Camaro that had turned into an Autobot which had turned into this super cool, new Camaro. No one at school believed he got the car until he showed them, and they were all impressed, except for Mikaela's old boyfriend who was just jealous.
They pulled up to the front of the mall, and the car stopped as Bumblebee said, "Okay, I'll be back out here at five-thirty sharp."
"We're not eleven," Sam snapped, but Mikaela elbowed him.
"We were going to meet with the Autobots by eight," she reminded him as she tucked her purse over her shoulder. "And don't we want to eat first?"
"Fine, we'll be back then," Sam agreed reluctantly. His seatbelt clicked free, and he and Mikaela got out of the car. Sam stuck his hands in his pocket as he started for the glass door, but Mikaela wrapped her hands around one of his arms, leaning against him as they walked towards the mall.
"Cheer up," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. "It's not like he will really know what we do in the mall. As long as we're back by five-thirty, we're free to do all the kissing we like."
She giggled, and he managed to smile as they walked into the cool mall and the empty Camaro drove away from the front entrance.