Pairings: None
Rating: K+
Categories: Family/Friendship/Humor
Warnings: None
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: All that glitters isn't always gold, but yellow covered in Judy Witwicky's handiwork.

Notes: Watching the most recent Transformers movie got me pumped for the fandom again! I can't help but love Sam's parents and I wanted to write something involving them, so tada? This takes place between the second and third movie.

Keppiehed was kind enough to beta read, but whatever errors remain are no one's fault save my own. Lyrics used are from Madonna's song Survival.

Judy Witwicky was a force with which to be reckoned. Nothing in their household was sacred from her influence, not even Bumblebee.

Her son, Sam, made this profound discovery one evening while returning home during winter break from college. It was a pleasant surprise to see the Autobot there at all, their meetings being few and far between. Sam was away at school, and Bumblebee was called to arms more and more often. Soon, he worried his friend wouldn't be around at all.

But Bumblebee was there in the driveway, pristine and bright like that first morning a week after Mission City. Exiting his parent's vehicle, Sam was ecstatic to greet him, but then came up short.

"That's…new," he said, instead of the welcome he had intended.

He was eying the recent additions of wheel and matching seat covers, which resembled the eighties if it'd thrown up all over his interior. Upon closer inspection, Bumblebee's license plate frame was bedazzled with gaudy, gold jewels. Sam had seen that work before and gave his mother a withering look over his car's trunk.

"Mom."

"He didn't have a problem with it," his mother said, not looking Sam in the eye as she scurried to help her husband unload all of his things. "It was an early Christmas present! Tell him for me, Bumblebee."

Sam didn't allow him the chance, carrying on with his mother in a firm voice. "You have an addiction – a serious addiction. You can't just go around accessorizing a sentient robot from space like your personal Barbie corvette!"

"Oh, I know that. But there's nothing wrong with sprucing up for special occasions every once in awhile, is there? And look how sharp he looks," she placated.

Judy walked over and dumped his traveling bags into his arms, the heaviness of them causing Sam to grunt as he shifted to adjust his grip on them. Everyone, including Sam's father, looked over at Bumblebee in his altered appearance. He flashed his lights at them. Sam equated the gesture to an embarrassed wave. He glowered and turned back to his mom.

"Okay. Decking out Mojo and Frankie's collars? Borderline obsessive compulsive, but everyone needs a hobby. This, though? This?" he tilted his head to indicate his car's undue makeover as they walked toward the house, fumbling to keep hold of his things the entire time, "is not going to fly. I'm putting my foot down, if not for Bumblebee's dignity, than for the dignity of every Autobot out there. Bros don't let bros – especially Camaro bros – get decked out in girly junk."

Releasing an indignant huff, his mother nearly slammed Sam in the face with the screen door by accident as she turned on him.

"'Girly junk'? Honestly, Sam, it's no wonder you couldn't keep a girlfriend!"

"Ouch," he said, and kind of meant it.

"Yeah, honey," Ron spoke up next, shaking his head. He was giving his wife a disappointed glance over the back of their son. "Why not take a rip on his masculinity next, huh? If we're going for below the belt, I mean."

"Well I'm sorry, but it hurts my feelings when you badger my tastes, make fun of my pastimes and accuse me of coercing your friends into anything! I just thought it was a nice gesture, seeing as Bumblebee is practically a part of the family now, but all right, I see how things are."

The back door was slammed in both their faces, leaving Sam and Ron standing there holding all his stuff from school.

"I have no idea what just happened," Sam admitted.

"Me neither," his father said, and awkwardly maneuvered around him so that he could open both doors. "Go on, set everything down in the kitchen and let her cool off for a bit. Just be back before dinner if you want any of your mom's turkey come Christmas."

Sam hastily tossed his burden on the floor just past the opening, promising to return well before then. He'd do just about anything for his mother's famous recipe, and putting that in jeopardy was out of the question. Maybe while he was out he'd get a pre-holiday gift of her own. So long as it was shiny, she might forgive him any grievances.

He walked over to Bumblebee, giving him a real hello this time, and was accepted into the driver's seat. Sam was prepared to catch up with his friend when he noticed his shoes were on top of the most repulsive floor mat he'd ever bared witness to, his toes curling as if to escape being near it.

"My mom didn't spare you any expense, did she?" Sam asked, the question rhetorical, but to his horror Bumblebee's glove compartment sprung open to reveal a treasure trove of beads, a Rhinestone covered hood ornament and what looked like bright red, fuzzy dice.

"See, this is why you should never come early without me ever again," he pointed out, loathe to touch the steering wheel, but giving Bumblebee a sympathetic pat nonetheless.

"You said it, partner," Bumblebee's radio replied, in the exaggerated voice of some cowboy.

"Why'd you let her do this, anyway?"

Madonna's lyrics sprung from the speakers. "I'm too busy surviving. Whether it's heaven or hell, I'm gonna be living to tell, so."

Sam couldn't help but laugh, understanding his point well enough and buckled in as Bumblebee took off on the road soon after.

"Yeah, but at least you'll only have to put up with it until January. Right?"

-Fin-