All a Mistake
By Sinead

Author's Note: This is kinda a cross between LadyKnightSkye's "Men Within the Machines" fanfic and the 2007 Transformers Movieverse, for one scene only. You'll understand when you read it, promise! The characters are hers, and are used with her permission, but I'm not sure that I really got them down just the right way. First time writing in her universe, this is just a drabble.


It started out with a request. Frankie was bouncing from one foot to the other, staring through the window at the items within it, biting his lips together with anticipation. "Brandon, can I? Seriously, can I please?"

"No." The tone was final, dull, and annoyed. He looked away from Frankie's "cute" face. "And I don't care for that look. If you even dare go behind my back on this, I'll leave you at the base while Shane and I do missions. With Bonecrusher as your babysitter." A pale hand reached up to pull down glasses that hid crimson irises as he looked over the younger Companion's shoulder, into the shop. Shaking his head, he pushed the sunglasses up again with a sigh. "I don't know what you see in them."

"They're cool."

"Whatever. Look, I'm going down the next block to get something to eat. Don't leave this block, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." Frankie looked over his shoulder as Brandon walked away, the man's swagger getting him wary looks from men and most women. But the remainder of the females seemed to appreciate his aft after he passed them. The skinny Companion sighed. "Dude, way to wag your butt." Turning back towards the pet shop, he sighed, looking at the little cute things again.

It wasn't too much longer when Brandon heard the wail. Cussing, he dropped the food, booking it back to see Frankie holding onto his hand, with a shopkeeper, presumably the one who owned the pet shop, stoically holding a spare clean cloth over the affected hand. If anything, the man was amused. "Oh, hey, Officer."

"What happened to my little brother?"

Despite the skeptical glance, the man replied, "Well, seems to me that the little guy didn't quite realize that not all our fish like to be . . . ah . . . touched. Especially the oscars."

Touched? Ew. The kid touched the fish? In the tank? Well, duh, how else? Brandon closed his eyes, rubbing at his nose to ward off a headache. "So let me guess: he got bit?"

"It was colorful, Brandon! I . . . I . . . Aw, crap, don't gimme that look. I'm-I'm sorry?" Frankie 

fidgeted while trying to keep himself from being hurt any more than need be. His finger throbbed, and the pressure that was being kept upon it wasn't helping in the least.

The shopkeeper seemed to take glee in the look that Brandon gave to his "little brother," but didn't comment upon it. He asked, "So, will you be purchasing a pet for mister curious here?"

"You're an idiot, Frankie," he said later, not truly as mad as he sounded. They were driving off, sans pet, Frankie sitting in the back seat with one hand lightly bandaged. Brandon fixed him with a look of weariness in the rearview mirror. "Didn't I tell you not to get into trouble when we left? Didn't Shane tell you not to get into trouble?"

"Brandon, do me one huge favor, and don't mention this to anyone."

Snickering, the elder mech gave his assent.

Two years later had Frenzy spying upon Sam Witwicky. He was hanging from the side of the house under one second-story window, careful to not be noticed. Frankie was sitting in the small service road behind the Witwicky household, and he was playing a small handheld game while his other half was busy doing the spy work. After many years on Earth, the Cybertronians often made sure that certain embarrassing subjects weren't brought up. Such as the rosebush matter. That was in particular one of the worst blunders.

For Frankie, anyway. Shane still took the cake with his own incidents.

Frenzy carefully crept upwards to look in through the window, and looked to his right, not seeing the Witwicky boy anywhere. He slowly scanned in a panoramic arc to his left—

Oh dear Primus, no!

Falling and shrieking as he did so, Frenzy fell into the garden bed. But of course, he landed in the worst bush to land in: a rose bush that seemed to specialize in thorns. Shrieking at the double-insult, joining his equally-startled Companion and both dashing off into the night, he vowed never again to think upon the bad luck happenings while on a mission!

Sam turned away from the TV and the movie that was on, and looking out the window to his backyard, seeing only a swaying branch of a tree. Ron Witwicky followed his son's glance. "Prolly just the stray cats fighting again. Did you feed your fish?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Uh-huh. Go feed your fish, Sam. Or they'll go belly-up and you'll lose another one. That, or I tell your mother what we're watching when she comes back from her scrapbook meeting."