I just want to thank teh blumchenkinder, Dragonflamecrystal, Prime Revolver, LoveHopes, Jason M. Lee, Cafcow, The L Factor, blood shifter, Blue Viper, Fire From Above, Elita One, and shadowblade-tara for all their kind reviews!

II

"You're late! You're late! You're late you're late you're late! And you're uuuuugly, and your momma dressed you funny huh!" Bumblebee's speakers crowed for the whole neighborhood. As usual, Sam had failed to awake with his bedside alarm or the brilliant Nevada sunshine pouring over his bed. Bumblebee filled in.

"I know I know!" Sam's voice came from his bedroom window. There were some sounds of shuffling, rustling, and the pounds Bumblebee recognized as Sam pulling on a pair of jeans and shoving on his shoes. More thumping as Sam ran down the stairs, cutting off abruptly at the usual glare from his mother, and a moment later Sam appeared at the screen door.

"I'll be there in just a sec, lemme just grab something to eat, yah?"

"No, no. No, no-no-no. I said no, no, you're not the one for me!" But Sam had already disappeared back into the house, presumably to the kitchen. Frag. Bee hated food crumbs between his seats. Bumblebee could hear a conversation between Sam and Judy Witwicky. Judy did most of talking, as Sam had stuffed some kind of food into his mouth. Now once again he saw Sam turn into the hallway.

"Yeah, goodbye! Be at the lookout with Mikaela!" Sam yelled as he jogged towards the door.

"Have you got protection?" Judy shouted from the kitchen. Sam turned at just the wrong moment and ended up face down and spread-eagled across his father's prized, pedicured lawn. He quickly sat up, grabbing his right foot with both hands and working his mouth open and closed like a fish.

"Fuckfuckfuck…shi-it," Sam gasped.

"Sam?" Judy's voice came out of the house.

"Fine, Mom. And, I, uh, don't need protection, but, thanks for checking." He grit out a little sarcastically. He limped over to Bumblebee, climbed in the drivers seat, closed the door, and released a tightly held breath.

"Damn." When Bumblebee made no move to the meeting place, Sam said, "Uh, Bee? What are we sitting around for? We're already late."

"Are you injured, Sam?" Bee's scratchy voice came out of the radio.

"Nah, I'm fine. I just stubbed my toe on the doorframe. Happens all the time. Doesn't do any real damage, usually anyways. It just hurts. A lot." Sam guessed Bee was probably remembering the Aurora Borealis of bruising he'd had after Mission City. He pat the dash board reassuringly.

"Seriously, not a big deal. You may have noticed I've got the coordination of a drunk monkey, so I'm pretty used to running into windows, hidden poles…walls…" Sam trailed off as he realized he'd just been digging himself in deeper.

"See how they run… He's an operator, he's a real player!" Bee teased as he pulled out of the driveway and tore off down the road. Sam smacked the radio dials and rolled down the window, play scowling.

"Yeah, real funny, real funny."

"Understand, it's a curse, you've got trouble in your blood. Write a song, second verse, underneath it there's love!"

Music: "You're late..." - A camp song, "No, no..." - "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" by KT Tunstall, "See how they run" - "Lady Madonna" by The Beatles, "He's an operator, he's a real player!" - "Too Cool for School" by Fountains of Wayne, and "Understand, it's a curse..." - "Trouble" by Voxtrot.