Oh my gosh. . . I have no idea if this is going to be horrid or not. So, it pretty much starts off the same as any other fanfic I've read of the Transformers universe. It's my first Transformers fanfic, and I got the idea for it when I started to re-watch the movies today.
To be honest, I have no idea where I'm going with this, but depending on feedback there's a chance I'll continue. I feel like that not enough Bumblebee fic's out there.
Enjoy!

"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."
- Elbert Hubbard.

Chapter One: Wasn't Expecting That

Chapter Quote: "You haven't even got chest hair."

"Okay, Mr. Witwicky! You're up!" Our teacher called Sammy up last for the genealogy report. To be honest I couldn't remember the teacher's name. In fact I couldn't remember most of my teacher's names; I didn't really care for them much to remember.

Maybe it was Hobsey?

"Sorry Mr. Hosney. I've got a lot of stuff." Sammy unceremoniously dumped his pile of crap on the desk at the front of the classroom. "Okay."

Hosney.

Mr. Hosney.

I sighed heavily while I sunk down into my seat, and rubbed at my face. Don't get me wrong, I love Sammy, but he was utterly hopeless. I'm surprised he was able to get to school with his shoes on properly.

"For my family gen–"

Suddenly I watched as Sammy was smacked with a rubber band to the forehead; a slightly annoyed look crossed his features before he looked away. I rolled my eyes as Trent and his goons laughed up a storm in the back of the room.

"Yes," I turned around in my seat to face the douche bag. "Because that was hilarious. How I wish I could someday be as humorous as you." Before anyone could reply, Mr Hosney cut into the laughter, speaking about responsibility while poiinting a finger at the class, and then finally gave Sammy the all clear to proceed.

"Um, so for my genealogy report I decided to do it on my great, great grandfather." I admit after that, Sammy's words began to smash together. I've heard the speech over and over again for the past two days. Sammy was adamant that this was prefect. Why? Because, he needs three A's and two thousand dollars for Ron to buy him a car, that's why. And so I was then forced to look over all his assignments to make sure they were perfect.

Not that I understood why I was the chosen one.

So instead of listening like the good student I was supposed to be; I let my mind wander off. If Sam received his third and finale A today, then I was to go with him to a car yard of his father's choosing and help him pick out his first car, though I would be useless; I don't know shit about cars, as long as their shiny – who cares, right?

I started to tune back in when I noticed Sammy trying to sell his crap. Glancing at the clock, I noted that it was five to, and started to discreetly pack my things away into the little scrappy backpack at my feet; listening to my bestie ramble about those cracked glasses of his.

And then the bell rang. While the other students rushed to grab their things and shove them into their bags before sprinting out of the classroom, I hung back and gave Sammy a short wave; silently telling him that'd I'd be waiting with his farther while he spoke with the teacher about his grade.

I made my way quickly out of the building; weaving around people, and over to Ron, Sammy's dad, and hopped into the back of his shiny convertible. Once seated, I began pulling my too curly hair up into a gross messy bun.

"How'd he do, Wendy?" Ron asked as he popped his sunglasses up to rest on his head before looking back at me.

"Well . . ."

"Oh god." Ron muttered.

"He's got two A's!" I rushed in. "I just don't know about the third."

Ron snorted and gave his head a shake. "By the way, you're aunt rang – won't be back for another two weeks."

"It's her new Spanish boy toy." I let out a huff of laughter.

"Tell me about it." He agreed. "Judy won't shut up about him."

Sam's mother was probably one of my favourite people. She was completely nutters, but absolutely adorable at the same time. My aunt has lived next to the Witwicky's ever since she took me in about ten years ago, not that she ever really looked after me. I had Judy and Ron to thank for my upbringing. Not that I could blame Aunt Sara or anything, I was practically dumped on her after being the only survivor of a car accident that ended both my mother and fathers lives. My aunt was young, and my only known relative – and one night she received a phone call about me.

I couldn't blame Aunt Sara for wanting to live her life; she was twenty-three when she took me in; though nowadays I was old enough to look after myself, yet Judy was persistent in telling me that I was welcome whenever. And I took up that offer regularly.

There was an up-side to my sad little story; it was how I met my Sammy.

Speaking of which, I saw the moron run out of the school building and towards the car.

"Yes!" He threw his bag down next to mine in the back seat, giving me an award winning smile, and jumped into the passenger seat.

"So?" Ron asked, not looking hopeful.

"A minus!" Sam waved the paper in front of his father's face, before shoving it in my own, and then back in Ron's. "It's an A though!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait!" Ron grabbed the sheet of paper and squinted at it. "It's an A."

"So, I'm good?"

"You're good." Ron stated, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

Sam turned to look back at me, a smile splitting his lips. "I'm getting a car!"

"My Sammy's growing up." I pretended to wipe away a tear.

My remark only earned me a mock glare.

We drove into town in the afternoon traffic, the wind blowing the curls that had somehow managed to escape my bun around my face; which I annoyingly kept sweeping behind my ear as I tried to focus on my phone.

"Got a little surprise for ya', son." I looked up at the sound of Ron's voice to find him pulling into a car yard littered with Porsches'.

"What kind of – No! No, no, no! Dad!" Sam cried out with a looked of pure shock upon his features.

I snorted once seeing Ron's grin in the side mirror, and continued away on my phone.

"You've gotta' be kidding me!" Sam went on, not realising that Ron was being a dick.

"Yeah, I am!" Ron scoffed. "You're not getting a Porsche!"

"You think that's funny?" Sam grumbled which led to Ron barking out a laugh.

"Yeah, I think it's funny."

"What's wrong with you?"

"You really think I'd get you a Porsche?" Ron mocked. "For your first car?"

"I don't want to talk to you."

I laughed at Sam's sulking face, but agreed. "That was mean."

"But worth it!" Ron chuckled.

"It wasn't funny!" Sam bit out.

We drove along for a bit in silence before Ron made another turn, and pulled into an unattractive looking car yard that was littered with shit boxes that had seen better days and a guy out that front holding up a sign in a creepy looking clown suit.

Dude; not cool.

I followed Sam and his father, trailing behind as my bestie complained about the type of car he was getting. I had to agree, Sam would more than likely die within a week in one of these crappy looking things. The green one I glanced at looked particularly guilty.

I jumped away from who I assumed was the mechanic that worked here and watched as he chased down the scary clown that was on the side walk.

"Wendy, tell him!" Sam pointed to his father.

"Don't look a gift horse if the mouth, Sammy." I wagged a finger at him and gave a smirk; which only made him roll his eyes.

"Gentlemen!" A salesman abruptly appeared in front of our little group of three wearing a Hawaiian shirt. "And lady!"

"Bobby Bolivia; like the country except without the runs!" I watched as he laughed at his own joke and scrunched my nose. Sam and I shared a look. "How can I help you?"

"My son here is looking to buy his first car." Ron answered.

"You come to see me?" Bobby asked, looking touched.

"I had to." I elbowed Sam.

I listened as Bobby Bolivia announced that we were family, but then glanced around the car yard looking for a half decent car that wasn't going to break down as soon as Sammy bought it. I followed behind the trio as Bolivia spoke, rambling on as any salesperson would and pointing out cars.

"Let me tell you something, son." Bolivia paused in his tour. "The driver don't pick the car, the car picks the driver –"

I couldn't listen to anymore of the bullshit that Mr Bolivia was spouting, so I walked away. I weaved in between cars, looking for any decent ones. There was a beaten up blue Honda, and an old little yellow buggy that weren't too bad.

I scanned the car yard, looking for Sam when a horn blasted from right beside me. One I got over the scare, I turned and noticed the yellow car with race stripes that wasn't there before.

I frowned at it.

Marching over, I stuck my head through the passenger window, peeking inside.

Not bad.

"Sammy!" I called out, hoping he'd hear me. I swung the door open and jumped in, looking for anything that might need to be repaired so we could try to get the price knocked down, but couldn't find anything. I mean, there were a few rust markings on the outside, and the paint job wasn't great, but the inside looked to be well taken care of.
I suppose it's pretty.

"Yeah!" Sammy came up to the side of the car. "This ain't bad."

"I know!" I spoke up from the inside and Sam bent down to look at me.

"It's got racing stripes." He stated as he peered inside, nodding approvingly as he did so, and jumped in.

"I don't know nothing about this car." Bolivia muttered before calling out someone's name.

"Feels good." Sam grasped the stirring wheel.

"Pretty, right?" I smiled but it quickly turned into a frown as the car shuttered.

Sam had the same expression, "What the hell –" He cut himself off to give me a disapproving look. "Okay, no! If I'm buying the car, you're not calling it 'pretty'! It's a man's car."

I snorted, "You haven't even got chest hair."

"Not the point!" He sighed heavily and looked away, wiping at something on the steering wheel. "What is that?"

"What's what?"

"That." He pointed at the funny looking face in the center of the steering wheel.

I observed it before announcing, "That's freaky looking, that's what 'that' is." I wrinkled my nose. "Maybe the previous owner put it there?"

Sam hummed in agreement.

"How much?" Ron's voice brought our attention back to the sale of the car.

"Well, considering the semi classic nature of the vehicle," Bolivia started. "With the slick wheels and the custom paint job –"

"B-but it's faded!" Sam interjected.

"Yeah, but it's custom." Bolivia leaned down looked at us through my window.

"Its custom faded?" I raised an eyebrow at the sales rep.

"Well, Blondie, it's a car. I wouldn't expect you to understand." He gave me a look before rising to his full height again.

"Did – did he just insult me?" I turned to Sam who looked wide-eyed.

"I-I think so?" He stuttered and cringed away.

"Wanker!" I launched at the passenger door, but was pulled back by Sam.

"Wendy, no!" He scolded. "I want this car, don't ruin my chances."

I huffed, but did as I was told.

"Five grand!" Bolivia declared with a smirk.

"Nah, I'm not paying over four, sorry." Ron stated.

"C'mon, get out. Get out of the car." Bolivia tried to usher us from the vehicle.

"No, no, no; you said cars pick their drivers!" Well, at least Sam was trying.

"Well sometimes they pick drivers with a cheap father, now out of the car."

"Ron, c'mon!" I pleaded. "Don't be such a tight arse!"

"Language, Wendy!"

"You know, I can wire you the money for the car." I said in a hushed tone to Sam.

"What?" He frowned before catching on. "No, that's illegal! Besides, you don't even have a computer!"

"Oh, sweet naïve Sammy." I cooed and pulled out my mobile. "All I need is this beauty."

"No."

I sighed heavily and pouted. "Fine."

We watched as Bolivia moved onto the little buggy I was looking at before finding the pretty car we were sitting in, he was going on about how it was four grand while Ron tried to convince Sam about another car. I moved once Sam was half way out his door and as he slammed his door, mine popped open and smacked into the side of the buggy.

I stared in shocked and watched as the buggy smashed into a shelf, a huge dent now in the side of the car.

"Oh my god." I whispered frantically.

"Wendy!" Sam whined.

"I didn't do it!"
"No worries, we can knock this right out!" Bolivia tried to reassure while looking thoroughly annoyed, and gestured to another car. "That one's my favourite! Drove all the way from Alabama!"

The car radio started going crazy, sounding at a high pitch. I made to move; thinking the car was going to explode, when my door slammed in my face.

I ducked down at the sound of breaking glass sounding all around me; wrapping my arms over my head and thinking that someone was shooting up the joint.

"Wendy!" I heard Sam call over car alarms.

"I'm okay!" I called back as I peeked through the windshield. "Holy shit."

The entire care yard was littered with tiny bits of glass. Each and every car window had been blown out except for the one I was currently sitting in.

"Shit-fuck." I mumbled to myself.

"Four thousand!" Bolivia turned to Ron, his voice cracking on 'thousand'.

"Woo!" I cheered and gave a still stunned Sam the thumbs up.

So there it is!
*sighs*
-13teen xx