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Disclaimer: I don't own TF or any recognizable characters, songs, movie quotes, or food I might mention. I own my OFC though. She's my bitch. :)


Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.
Christmas Vacation

(2)

After a quick stop at a drive through coffee joint (another of Malena's brilliant 1 AM ideas), we drove home, chatting the entire time about nothing important. Lena had a rule:

No serious talk in the car.

She got it from the Godfather and the Corleone rule of no business at the dinner table. I went along with it cause hell, the road's for pleasure, and you can't enjoy it when you're talking serious shit…

There was a tense moment when Lena spotted a pig-mobile in the rear-view, but it didn't stop us, and fell back out of view after only a few blocks. Thank goodness, cause Malena didn't exactly have a good rep around here.

It was just great to be with her again. She was everything Sam and the Autobots (with the exception of Ironhide and Jazz) weren't. Caustic, rude, but goofy and surprisingly motherly and intelligent, and a stubborn streak a mile wide (which I had the fortune of inheriting through our corrupt genes). Next to Jazz, she was the only one who didn't expect some other version of me; she didn't need to be impressed.

Then again it's hard to impress a person who's seen you in diapers.

The engine cut when she pulled up in front of the house and the world turned dead silent. Neither of us moved to get out of the car, both just staring quietly at the house.

"Where's Mom?" She asked after a moment of examining the dark windows and unkempt patch of grass.

That's what I'd like to know. I nearly said it but… she didn't need to worry about that too. Swallowing my self pity, I lied. "Probably in Vegas."

"And she left you alone?!"

"I'm almost 18!"

She sighed. "Yeah…" the drivers side door fell open and she grabbed her backpack & purse out of the back seat, scowling.

I could never lie to her. Well, I could, but she had a bullshit detector when it came to me and the family. Either that or she didn't trust us. Either way… she knew.

I got her inside and settled in her old room, then went to change, wondering why the hell she dropped out of college and came back here. If it weren't for Sam and the Autobots, I'd be faaaaaaaaar gone after I graduated high school, and there was no way in hell I'd come back. Whatever made her do it, it had to be big.

I found my pajamas and donned them, grinning. My favourites. The ridiculous bright yellow fleecy ones. And my Octopus slippers. One tends to forget they fought in a war and have giant metallic bodyguards from space when they're wearing octopus slippers. Absentee mothers and the occasional cockroach the size of my palm could be forgotten with the silly penguins emblazoned all over my body. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, fingering the penguin sewn on my boob. Stupid Pajamas.

SNORT

In the reflection I spotted my sister… wearing snot-green teddy bear fleecy PJ's and her gorilla slippers, hair braided into pigtails and a pair of the nerdiest horn-rimmed glasses I'd ever seen perched on her nose.

Somehow, despite all that, she managed to sound like a 70's pimp with a straight face.

"Well… fetch me my hot chocolate, bitch!"

I could have squeed like a fangirl on crack. SISTER NIGHT!!


Those were by far the most obnoxiously ugly coverings he'd ever seen. Ever.

Not only were they optic-searing in their brightness, but… penguins? The Decepticon nearly reconsidered the female's intelligence in the face of such horrid wardrobe.

He'd parked under a tree not far from the house, shaded from the street light, fully secure in his own safety. Even in such a derelict area, the inhabitants had enough respect for what his alt-form represented to keep their distance. And there was no sign of the Autobots anywhere near. Fools. They'd been cautious til tonight, leaving an opening Barricade would happily take advantage of.

Regrettably he could do no more than reconnaissance tonight. But it was the first time he'd felt safe enough to do so, and so he'd gather what intel he could before making any aggressive actions.

He only wished it was Frenzy out here in the bushes instead of him and his stupid holoform. The hyperactive little shit was made for this. Barricade was not. Barricade just smashed things. This sneaking around being quiet thing was wearing on his patience.

It took nearly a week to find the rest of Frenzy's head, and the last two just to re-attach it and fix the rest of the little bugger. Another couple of days and he'd have his partner online and driving him up the wall. He'd rather be tortured by the Autobot's crazed medic than admit it aloud, but he was looking forward to it.

Until then… it was fighting with half-dead flora and trying not to just smash in and do what needed to be done…

Waitaslagginminute… are they… drinking?


"Fuck girl, when I was your age, Baileys was the wussiest thing I'd drink!"

"You're a great influence." I laughed, pouring a generous stream into both our cups before settling back with a slice of pie balancing on my belly. Oh, if Sam ever heard about my Sister Nights he'd pee his X-men boxers.

Malena sighed and thanked me as if I'd just given her high praise.

Sister Night Plan, part one: Getting over-caffeinated and/or slightly tipsy. She'd only started adding booze to the equation last Christmas, the last time she'd been home, but before that it was straight up hot chocolate.

Part two: Grilling and Bitch Session, which was merrily underway when Malena asked me about my love life.

Stretching, she grinned and asked, "So, besides Mr. Boneable in the Solstice, who else do you have chained up in your man-stable?"

I spewed my drink. "LENA!"

She giggled evilly, but didn't prod me. I ended up telling her about Mike, Stephan, Trent and Sam.

"Four since Christmas? Go Mouse!"

"Don't call me that."

The story of 'meeting Sam' (altered a little of course) got some interesting reactions. Malena hated jocks as much as Sam did, and she applauded when I told her about the Football brain damage jibe. Then she pretty much drooled over Bumblebee's 76 Camaro alt-mode, oohed and ahhhed at all the right places during the ride home, and sighed like a girl when I told her Sam's parting 'more than meets the eye' line. By the end of the story even I was smiling with the fond memory of Bee's malfunctioning radio and Sam's very bad attempts at getting me in the car. Like to ride you home indeed.

"Cheesy, but sweet. So what's the problem?"

I told her. Not anything involving the giant mechs, just the Sam relevant details. She listened, sipping her spiked cocoa, nodding or cringing or outright laughing. Everything came out, my frustration, my peeves, all the little things that pissed me off about Sam and our relationship. When I finally fell silent and downed the rest of my cocoa, she spoke.

"Sounds like love to me…"

"Just how much Baileys did you drink before I got out here?" I waved at the bottle.

"Yo yo yo, hear me out..." she chugged her drink and poured us both straight shots. "He's cute." A statement of fact, not a question.

"Yeah."

"He has a nice car."

"Yeah." In all senses.

"He lets you drive it."

You could call it that. "Yeah."

"And despite his high-school standing of…" Air quotes. "Loser, he had the balls to stand up to that shit-stick Trent AND getting stalked afterwards?"

It wasn't a full on lie there, now was it? "Yeah?"

She huffed and lit a smoke.

"Damn girl, you ain't givin' the kid enough credit."

"Buh?"

"You said he acts more or less like a 12 year old with diaper-rash… and he plays around with 'the guys' too much, yeah?"

Monosyllabic answers for the win! "Yeah."

"Look down."

I quirked a brow, but she just nodded. "Do it."

I did.

And I saw what she did.

A 17 year old girl in yellow Penguin pajamas and octopus slippers, eating Doritos at 2 in the morning. A kid getting her second taste of booze with her big adult sister. A teen that had to grow up too damned fast and too damned hard and had to take a break from being mature once in a while, if only to keep her sanity.

"Give the fuckin' kid a chance. He deserves that much."

That he did. I pouted. "You suck."

"Only when asked nicely."

Thoroughly scandalized and admittedly buzzed I threw a pillow at her. She blocked it and cackled. In the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder how she did it. Somehow she made me feel both shamefully hollow enough to do some deep-ass thinking in the morning, AND make me laugh and blush like some Southern Belle.

"So, when do I get to meet Captain Underpants?"

Part three: Horror movies and leftover Chinese food from three days ago… and more booze.

"I'm gonna have a hangover."

"I'll take you to brunch… if you promise to keep the undigested bits off my seats."

"Gross!"

After both Death Proof (in which I laughed over the Bee-look-alike Mustang and we both drooled over the other cars) and The Decent (which was a guarantee neither of us would ever go caving), the sun was up and I was just stumbling into bed. I already had a headache and more bad images of exposed bone and cannibalism than my brain could handle… then…

"Oh yeah, press my buttons… yeah… oh… Oh!... OH YEAH!"

If there was ever a moment I wanted to psychically make someone's head explode, this was it. Seeing the number displayed on the LCD screen doubled my desire.

"If the world isn't ending, I don't wanna hear it." click

"Oh yeah…press…"

click

"Jazz, don't make me dismantle you."

"What crawled up your exhaust?"

"A bottle of Baileys and congealed dim sum. Now go away."

Jazz chuckled. "So, no mall trips today?"

"Helllll no."

"No cruising?"

"No." Someone must have put my vocabulary on repeat sometime after Malena showed up.

"How 'bout a wash?"

"N… piss off!"

Wicked laughter poured from the speaker.

"You're gonna meet the intimate end of an acetylene torch if you don't let me sleep."

"Oooooooh, is that a promise?"

"Jaaaazzzz!" I whined, pulling a pillow over my head and sobbing into it.

"Alright alright, I'll leave you alone..."

Sweet Relief! "Thank you." Between him and my sister my hair would be grey by the end of the week.

"Only if you tell me why your sis calls you Mouse."

"No." aaaaaand we're back to single syllable words.

"I'll let you sleeeeeeep."

"I'll hang up."

"I'll keep callin'."

After a minute of negotiations I gave in, when he threatened to run over my lawn and honk outside my window. Good guy my ass…


Barricade retreated back to their temporary base after the first movie. He hadn't intended to stay, but the main character was fascinatingly evil, and the car chases were worth the long streams of human female dialogue.

He'd gotten very little actual useful information, but the outing was still worth it. Know thy enemy. And now that he felt he knew the human Mikaela Banes a whole lot better, it would be simple to twist and use the information in a way to suit his purposes.

There was also another option he and the others had not considered before. The families. The blood ties between the targets and their close ones could also be taken advantage of. That annoying Witwicky child had a family, his creators and that rodent they called Mojo that he cared very much for. What would he sacrifice for their safe return?

He'd have to mention this prospect to the others…

"In war, the way is to avoid what is strong and to strike at what is weak."

The humans had a point. Strike at the weak points and even the mighty would fall.