Mr Fairy

Authors Note: I work in a bookshop – Dymocks, actually – and I've long had the idea of comparing the Mr Men range with the Transformers, hence this little ditty of a one shot. Me Men and Little Miss are trademarks of Roger Hargreaves; not me.

Night-time at the Witwickys...

Bumblebee peered into Sam's bedroom through the upper window, fascinated – as always – about anything to do with his Sam. The posters he'd seen lots of. They had been explained very early in Bee's friendship with his human. Human males liked to display pictures of females they couldn't have upon the interior walls of their habitat. It made them feel... man-ly. More so if the females were un-clad. This was something Bumblebee wanted to know more of, but Sam had not found it entertaining to be cross-examined about naked females when his parents were nearby.

"Sam..."

"Huh?" Sam ran one hand through his hair and looked up from the essay he was supposed to be writing but was still stuck on the opening paragraph. Buggar it, he couldn't work anything out for his History homework question. "What's up Bee?"

"I apologise for interrupting you, but..." One of Bee's fingers pointed at a spot in Sam's newly cleaned bookcase. Sam's mother had thrown one of her 'fits' and decided that everything in her son's room had to be cleaned and re-arranged. "What are the small white squares that your Mother unit has displayed for you? By my calculation there are seventy-nine of them. They must be important."

"Uh huh." Sam's lips pursed up. He tapped his lips with the end of his ballpoint pen. How to explain he had a collection of baby's books when he was 18? "They're my.... um...." Sam rubbed his forehead and shrugged. Whatever. "Mr Men and Little Miss collection."

Bumblebee's sky blue optics blinked at him, his face taking up nearly all of the window. "What is a 'Mr Men'?"

"It's... it's... um... (sigh) Look it up on the 'net, Bee."

Bumblebee's optics dimmed as he internally browsed the internet. "A collectable series of children's books featuring characters who have names after their most significant personality trait."

Sam breathed a relieved gust of air, "Yeah, that's it. You got it."

Bumblebee drew back from the window slightly, his optic ridges furrowed with concern, "But you are no longer a child, Sam. Why do you still keep these?"

Sam wriggled the fingers of one hand at him, "Because they're fun. It's a little piece of my childhood on that shelf. And everyone loves Mr Men. It's nice to compare people you know with one of the Mr Men. Or Little Miss, the girl version."

The expression on Bumblebee's face was as thoughtful as a robot could appear. "Sam, we have done nearly the same thing."

"What? We who?"

"We, the Autobots. Am I not yellow and vigorous like a bumblebee? Do I not sting those that attempt to hurt your kind?" Bumblebee straightened his stance proudly.

"Oh, no, no, no; only your name is like you – Ironhide isn't called Mr Scare-The-Pants-Off-Little-Children, he's Ironhide, which I presume is referring to his giant aft," Sam pointed out, "And Optimus isn't called Mr Perfect. Or Mr Big. Hey, even, Mr Femmes-Love-Me-To-Bits-Cause-I'm-Big-And-Gorgeous."

"Mr Femmes-Love-Me-To-Bits would be a more appropriate name for Jazz. Optimus is too shy around femmes," Bumblebee informed Sam with a totally straight face.

"Yeah? Really?" Sam left his chair and walked over to the windowsill, propping his hands on the edge so he could lean out. "Optimus has nothing to be shy about. He's being silly."

Bumblebee's optics twinkled, "Then we shall call him Mr Silly."

"And I am so telling him that you said that when he gets his big gun thing out and wants his awesome reputation back," Sam bantered back at him. "Hey, you know what? You can have one. To, like, study the back of and get names for when more Transformers arrive on Earth, you know?" So saying, Sam plucked one of the small books off the shelf and held it out to his friend. "Take it."

Gingerly; not wanting to damage the gift Sam was giving him; Bumblebee gripped the tiny item between his fingers. "Thank you Sam."

"Welcome. Oh, hey, you'll need a Little Miss too, for when all those girlfriends of yours start arriving." With a smirk, another book was held out to the yellow robot.

Bumblebee bowed his head in thanks, "Again, thank you Sam." A slight pause. "'Girlfriends'?"

"Yeah Bee, girlfriends. Or like you say, femme-friends."

Wanting to divert Sam's attention away from the subject of females, Bee quickly scanned the backs of both books, taking in the names and features of all the characters. "I do believe I have found a suitable new name for Ironhide. Does the sound of 'Little Miss Giggles' make you fear his fury?"

Sam descended into a shrieking bundle of humanity. "Oh God, yes!"

Bumblebee smiled, "In that case, perhaps Mr Cheerful would be the perfect tag for anti-social Ratchet."

That only made Sam wheeze harder and thump the windowsill with one fist. A faint yell of 'what the hell is going on up there' by Sam's father floated up the stairs from the lounge room. Sam staggered over to his bed and laid himself out flat on his back. Bumblebee waited while his boy got himself back together again with a few choked snorts and mad grinning.

... and then decided to set him off again.

"Mr Fairy for Ironhide? The small child seemed to think so."

That was the end of Sam's attempts at doing his History homework for the night.