Disclaimer/warning: I own Malena, I don't own anything else. And She swears alot and thinks dirty thoughts, so if you have the emotional maturity of a five year old, don't read this. :P

bow chicka bowwow!

i'm thinking of switching this to M rating, cause, well, Malena has a bad bad mouth and things only get worse from here. LOL.

Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. - Pulp Fiction

(23)

Stop it. I gave myself a firm mental bitch-slapping. You're being weird. And perverted. AND you're breaking stuff.

I dropped the breakfast plates twice while doing dishes, and broke a coffee mug… then nearly walked into a wall… all because of that goddamn dream I'd had last night. I'd be totally focussed on doing the dishes, scrubbing at the dried on egg and ketchup as if my life depended on it, then POOF, my mind would just…wander.

It was getting annoying and expensive. And I couldn't afford more dinnerware yet.

Mikaela had noticed of course, and throughout the early morning kept giving me looks like I'd grown a second head and a third boob, but with this irritatingly knowing smile always just touching her features. And every time she did it I'd reply with a look of my own. Open your mouth and I'll shove my boot in it.

She was the one that woke me up in the first place, shaking me out of my extremely pleasant night-time world with a look of mild panic, saying she heard me screaming.

Thinking about her wild-eyed sisterly worry over…that… it made me snort my coffee. Mikaela cast another 'you're fucked in the head' look my way.

She'd tried to pry the info out of me, what that 'nightmare' was about, but there was no way in hell I was telling her about it. I'd rather have my nipples burnt off by habanero sauce than reveal what my brain decided to show me last night.

No…that was mine, and I would keep it safely under lock and key with an X rating on it, and planned on burying it somewhere in the Utah Salt Flats.

So I spouted a bunch of bullshit. "Monsters. Big ones."

"Right."

"Yeah, chasin' me down alleyways, eating everyone, it was terrible."

"Sure."

"There were spiders too."

"You're not the only one in this family with a bullshit detector you know."

Shit. You'd think you'd be a better liar, kiddo…

After the two Autobots left yesterday (which took a lot longer than they'd thought, recovery time and all), Mikaela started laughing and didn't stop for a solid two hours. She giggled through dinner, she chuckled through dishes, finally she stopped when I threatened to rat her out to Bee. Of course she vehemently denied her little crush on the yellow 'Bot (it was so damned obvious though), but she stopped laughing so that was enough for me.

"Lena, we're gonna be late!"

Oh fuck.

The engine of The Beast roared to life and we shot out of our home and down the street, tracking down the nearest coffee-shop for a drive-thru fix, then I dropped Mikaela off at her school just in time for her to have a few minutes with Bee and Sam before classes started. Before I could pull away my pager went off. It was text-message capable and by now I was getting used to getting strange messages from Bee, but I choked on my dark roast when I read what his latest message said.

"Jazz says 'same time next week?' ;)"

I nearly gave myself whiplash in my attempt to glare at Bumblebee. His holo sat happily in the driver's seat grinning like a maniac. I made a gesture as if I was going to chuck my coffee at him and I saw his holo laugh. Cheeky little shit.

Determined to enjoy my last day of freedom, I tore away from the school and to my meeting with Hammond, wanting to get it the hell out of the way so I could go home.

By the time I'd arrived I'd talked myself down enough for my blush to go away and last night's images to disappear. The blonde man leaning against his shitty blue pickup gave my Beast an appreciative look before frowning at me.

"Took you long enough, Banes."

"Had to drop off my sister at school." I slammed the door of my car and glared at him.

"Yeah, right."

"What?"

He gave me a once over. "Your eyes are sparkly."

Waitaminute…"They are not!"

"You got laid last night, didn't you." It was not a question.

I huffed. "No. Now you gonna show me the job or what?"

Hammond chuckled and led me inside. "Poor bastard."

A waitress? I rested my forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before wrenching the door open and getting out. Ugh. I hate waitressing… but… put up with it. The tip money in a place like that would be substantial…enough maybe to quit the other job eventually. It's only for a year. I dropped my purse on the floor and flopped on the couch, feeling the pound of an oncoming migraine. Hey, look at it this way Banes, you might get promoted or something. Bouncing would be fun. You'd at least get some action once in a while.

Luckily that job didn't start for another week, so I had time to relax a little. The other one started tomorrow morning, bright and early, in some pre-baking warehouse. Gods, why did I say to get me a legit job? Ugh.

I dozed off for about half an hour before the headache really got bad, so I popped myself full of painkillers and did some yoga to help relieve the pressure. Naturally I couldn't do much of anything without music so I blasted some classic Koko Taylor to sing along to.

Unfortunately I was in a rather compromising position and singing 'Tease Your Man' when a faint cough came to my ears.

"If I knew you were that flexible I'da jumped ya weeks ago."

I quickly disentangled myself and fell splat on the floor. "Sonofabitch!"

"Yer balance sucks, though."

That's cuz you scared the shit outta me you bastard! "I'd like to see you try that."

Jazz grinned, showing off perfect white teeth, eyes practically glowing with the challenge. "Move over."

Five minutes later, Jazz had perfected moves I didn't think were possible without years and years of training, all done with a shit-eating grin that made me want to boot him.

"That's cheating."

He just smirked, so I pushed him over. "Ow! Yer fuckin' with my chi, woman!"

I shook my head and laughed when it switched to 'The Man Next Door'. Just having Jazz sprawled on my living room floor was a mood-lifter, but the headache hadn't subsided enough for me to completely enjoy the situation.

He must have noticed me wince or something because he instantly unfolded himself in a liquid move that reminded me a little of his regular transformations, was on his feet and at my side in mere seconds.

"What's up?" He'd bent at the knees and lifted my chin so I was looking directly into his eyes.

"Just a headache babe, don't worry about it." I shrugged him off. Last thing I needed was someone babying me.

"Uh uh, none o' that." Grasping my arm lightly he pulled me to the couch and sat on it, then pointed to the floor. "Sit."

"I ain't a dog." I quirked a brow at him, totally intending to fight back but he had this 'don't even bother' look on his face… how could I logically fight a dude who was a few thousand years (at least) older than me? So I saved myself the trouble and sat on the floor between his feet, facing away from him.

"I know ya aren't." I could hear the little reprimand in his voice. Then it brightened. "If ya were, I'd name ya Sparkles."

I whacked his foot. "Dink."

"Quit yer wigglin'."

I felt his fingers in my hair and stopped moving. He gathered hands full of it and pulled it behind, tilting my head up just a little.

"Close your eyes."

I did, and just shutting them blocked out the light and dulled the throbbing, and the ache was eased even more when Jazz's thick fingers delivered the best scalp massage I'd ever received. Starting around and above my ears, rubbing in small circles, and moving to my temples, then around the base of my skull and down the back of my neck, his strong hands and nimble fingers stroked and kneaded the pain right out. By the time he finished my neck I was a slowly melting pile of warm human goo.

"Man, if you ever get bored doin' the soldier thing you could totally make a livin' as a masseuse."

"Girl I ain't even started yet." He laughed, once again moving my hair out of the way and attacking my shoulders. "Well no wonder yer head hurts! Yer so tense!"

"Comes with the territory."

"Hmmm."

He was quite good, kneading the muscles til it felt like they'd plop right off, working out the knots, rubbing down my spine as far as he could go, and reducing me to a humming mass. "Oooh, so here's one of the four…"

His fingers traced the lines of my spinal tattoos, and then massaged the areas around them, asking about the little symbols meanings. After spending a moment trying to get my brain to work again, hooboy does he have good hands, I told him a little about each one, and about my short time in Ghana. By the time I was finished he'd gone as far down as he could go without clothing removal… which of course he had to push for.

"No."

"Can't massage what I can't see…"

"You just want me topless."

"That's just a bonus."

I smirked. "No. But thank you anyways. I feel like I could fall asleep right here and now." I leaned my head back and looked up at him, smiling. Man he's even hot upside down. Aaaand I have my head between his legs. Heh. This is the most action I've gotten in months.

"Why don't you then?" He swung his leg around me and got up, then helped me off the floor and onto the couch.

A niggling suspicion hit me as he propped my head up with pillows. "You're limberin' me up for something, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" He cast me a wicked grin and I laughed.

"Not that, you perve."

"Heh heh heh."

I let the rest of my body relax into the soft cushions. "Well you didn't come over here just to give me a massage…" I watched him move to the stereo and start flipping through CDs. "So… out with it."

"Alright, alright. Oooh, can I play this one?" He held up a collection of Ella Fitzgerald and I nodded. Boy's got taste.

He put the CD in and made himself comfortable on the couch, just lifting my legs and plopping them on his lap like it was nothin'. I would have been offended at his audacity but when he suddenly started massaging my calves I couldn't find the willpower. Damn it.

"This must be big…"

"Naw, not really. Anyway, can't a guy reciprocate a favour?"

"Hah, whatever…" I made to kick him but he grabbed my foot and gave it a rubdown too. "Mmmm."

As he pressed his thumbs along the arch of my foot, he finally came out with it. "So… can I move in here?"

My brain fizzled. "…huh?" That was unexpected.

Before I could get up he pushed me gently back down and nabbed up my other foot. When I relaxed again he began listing off reasons. "Well, Bumblebee lives with Sam, Ironhide practically lives over with Will, there's some new guys arrivin' soon, an' they'll need the room at the base…"

"New guys?" More Autobots?

"Yeah, two of em. Sometime next week if Ratchet got it down right. Anyway, it's kinda hard for me t' be Mikaela's guardian if I'm stuck out at base all th' time… and I asked her already an' she said it'd be alright, but only if you said so… so?"

I didn't need a whole lot of convincing, so I shrugged. "Makes sense. You practically live here already anyway…"

"Yeah?" Jazz's eyes sparkled.

I gave him a smart-ass grin and continued, "'Cept this way I get a live-in masseuse!"

"Only if you let me park inside at night."

I pretended to think it over, though there was no question at all of my answer. "Deal."

Jazz practically glowed as he threw my legs off his lap, lifted me right off the couch by the waist and hugged me. I smiled into his neck.

"Get yer hand off my ass."

"Damn."

I moved my hand.

Jazz laughed. "Get yer shit, I'm takin' you out for coffee." He playfully spun me around and pushed me off, then fizzled out.

As I grabbed my purse and some extra cash from my bedroom, it finally caught up with me. I was going to have an Autobot living in my house…warehouse…whatever. This was most definitely going to have consequences later on…. But for some dumb-ass reason, I couldn't find it within myself to give a shit about it right now. Honestly, the benefits would outweigh anything else. Mikaela would have someone around when I wasn't home, she'd have a ride to school on those mornings when I'd have to work early, and there'd be a major sense of security having a dude with cannons around. This wasn't the safest of neighbourhoods, after all.

And I had to admit it, the anthropologist in me was curious about the Cybertronian culture and if anyone could teach me about it, it'd be Jazz. That, and my greedy self wouldn't mind having that shiny Solstice or his very hunky hologram to talk to and stare at… I grinned as I checked my hair really quick, caught myself acting like a high school girl, and walked out.

As soon as I stepped outside I was confronted with the one and only problem I had with the Autobots so far. An open driver's door.

"Get on in here, girl." He waggled his side mirrors at me.

I'd been inside them before, but both times I was either fighting to be free, or unconscious. Those times couldn't be helped. This time could be. It was… weird. To crawl inside and sit in a PERSON…no.

"I can't just sit inside you like that."

"What? Why not?" Jazz sounded genuinely confused. This was normal to him, I supposed, with Mikaela and all, but…

"I'd feel like a parasite. I can only imagine how fuckin' weird it feels to have some living being crawling around your innards…" I shuddered. "I'd feel like a tapeworm."

Jazz's hologram fizzled into life right behind me, laughing his gorgeous head off. "You ain't a tapeworm, babe." He said as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me close. I had to smile at the sensation.

"Okay, I'm not a parasite… but there's also the 'Venus Flytrap' theory."

I watched his eyes dim momentarily to a lighter blue, which I learned from the past couple weeks was the hologram's way of showing a 'net search'. Then he just laughed harder. "Woman, I'm not gonna eat ya!"

"Call it human paranoia, can't help it."

"And you should know by now I don't bite… unless asked." He replied, grabbing my wrist and pulling my giggling and non-resisting body over to his Solstice form before once again fizzling out of existence. The next time I heard his voice it was streaming from his ass-kickin' stereo speakers. "Come on in, beautiful, and I'll let you play with my gearstick."

"Oh, well when you say it like that…"

I cautiously settled inside and my seat automatically adjusted to fit me perfectly, and the seatbelt slinked its way around me and buckled me in. "This is so weird." I laughed.

"Yeah, but you look good strapped down." Came that smooth voice from the speakers again, right before the whisky-voice of Koko Taylor turned on.

Just what the hell have I gotten myself into? Goddamn flirty SOB. "Oh, shut up and drive."

Frenzy was already sick of his brothers. He'd already had to get Ravage out of a tree (the cougar shaped mech got tangled in the growth), hunt down his twin only to find him at the bottom of the same frozen lake he'd bathed in a couple of solar cycles ago, and Laserbeak, the slagging flyer, had decided to make up for the several hundred years they'd been apart by teasing him endlessly about, well, everything.

Frenzy found himself hiding inside Barricade whenever feasible just to keep his sanity. His creator was none too happy about his idea of refuge, but Frenzy couldn't help it. Barricade's interior, though not the same enclosed shelter of Soundwave's chest, still made Frenzy feel safe, comfortable. His brothers could not torment him here.

"What was it this time?" Barricade grumped, closing the door softly behind the little hacker. Frenzy gripped his partners' steering wheel in all four hands and growled.

"Rumble making fun of my ssssspeech imp-p-p-pediment again."

Barricade's engine roared. "Rumble should not talk. He has…what do the human's call it?"

Frenzy thought a moment, then chirped at finding the correct term. "Tourettes?"

The Mustang rumbled. "Yes. He curses too much and starts fights he cannot finish. So do not listen to his slag."

Frenzy nodded and fiddled with Barricade's stereo equipment. He'd found a local radio station he didn't mind so much, the only one that didn't play country music or inane human political babble, switched it on and sat back in Barricade's unexpectedly soft seats and shut his optics. "Cadecade?"

The black and white humphed at the nickname but acknowledged.

"D-d-do you miss Cybertron?"

Barricade hesitated for a moment before answering in a somewhat saddened voice. "I try not to think about it."

Frenzy patted the seat underneath him and chirped. "Yyyou know what I missss?"

"Hmmm?"

"Femmes."

Barricade snorted. "Of course you do."

Frenzy sighed, remembering the days he would spend with some of the larger femmes, crawling along their frames, tickling wires and circuitry mechs like Barricade could never reach without a set of tools. For such a little mech he had quite the following. This was before the war really got going, when he split his time between doing planetary reconnaissance work for Soundwave and messing around with Cybertron's security networks. After long shifts he'd nearly always find a femme to escort him to one of his city's many high-grade clubs and have a grand ol' time.

Rumble hated it. There'd been a competition going for a while on who of the two mechs would get the higher score of femmes, but Rumble's horrible language and violent tendencies drove the femmes away, even though he had the better 'hands'…

Frenzy had to grin. Speech impediment or no, he was still the ladies mech of the two.

'Frenzy: Report.'

His creator's voice might have been monotone, but the bond between him and his creation was strong enough to let Frenzy know that Soundwave was…displeased.

'Chillin' out in Barricade monitoring…uhhh… human weather reports.' He replied mentally, sending calming waves of innocence through the bond.

"Soundwave?" Barricade asked.

"Oh yeah. He's p-p-p-pissed."

'Cade rumbled laughter. "What'd you do this time?"

Frenzy put on his best guiltless face, but Soundwave's link to him shook with enough ire to regain his attention. Sudden flashing images of Rumble dangling upside down from one of the many green conifers like a twisted Christmas decoration assaulted his vision, and Frenzy cackled loud enough to scare the local wildlife from their hideouts.

'Return immediately.'

Frenzy gripped Barricade's seats, knowing that if he went out there…well, Soundwave was a force to be reckoned with.

"I do not want to know…" Barricade said, resigned. "Get out before Soundwave dismantles me for protecting you."

"Noooo!"

"Out."

"He d-deserved it."

"Undoubtedly, but I will not suffer the consequences of your actions."

"B-b-but…"

Barricade forcibly ejected him from his interior and sped off. "Tell Soundwave I've gone to that town again for fuel."

"Traitor!"

The 'Chi' line was quite blatantly stolen from Swordfish, and you can tell I adore Koko Taylor… give her stuff a listen, find her Deluxe Edition albumy thing. She's dirty and she's got a whisky voice. Nuff said.

And I want a jazz massage now…