Ya'll can thank Goldendreams257 for this piece of blatant insanity. This was actually my idea but it would have gone nowhere if not for her (her?) encouragement.

And this will probably slow down a little (lot) as my poor laptop goes in tomorrow for repairs again, but at least it's nice and long. Mainly this is due to the fact that Ratchet insisted on telling stories.

And if you wanna make a Flame happy, go read and review her other story Clementia. Iz Jazzy-centric, and -gasp!- it has an actual plot. Not like the mess below.

Disclaimer: Me no own.

--

"You did what?!"

Ratchet peered down at him, his expression a cross between bemusement and his natural state of extreme irritation. Briefly Simmons spared a querying thought as to when exactly he had learned to read the facial expressions of a race so different from his own. Then he put that aside as Ratchet answered his question.

"I installed the devices. I told them I would," he added sourly as Simmons gaped at him. "I believe they're called 'shock collars'."

"Yeah… for barking dogs! Not for speeding robots!" The human turned away, burying his face in his hands as he gave a hysterical little half-laugh. Ratchet had indeed threatened the twins with this idea, but Simmons had been under the impression that an idea was all it was and how it would remain.

"It was Prowl's idea," the medic continued evenly. He held up a collar similar to the ones both twins were now wearing. "He and Prime seemed a little… upset after your call. Wheeljack and I were asked to start working on it immediately after that."

While he'd been in DC Simmons had called Prime every night, updating him as to the progress in the conference- or lack thereof. The night after his car disappeared he'd explained the scenario to Prime as realistically as possible. After all, he'd been a victim of harassment that time, having done nothing to deserve such treatment.

That was his story and he was sticking to it.

"So it never occurred to any of you that this might, I dunno, annoy them a little?"

Ratchet barked out a laugh at that. "I hope it annoys them a little. I hope it annoys them a lot. The more it annoys them the less I see of them." This made no sense, but Ratchet had a couple million years' worth of experience, so Simmons took his word on it. "Besides, if they decide they want revenge on someone it'll be Prowl."

There was an evilly amused tone to his voice and for a moment Simmons humored the image of Crazy Scientist Ratchet complete with Igor-style Wheeljack. Then he returned to Earth and gave a 'huh?'

"The last time they pulled a prank on me I welded their sorry skid plates to each other and left them that way." The evil scientist grin was most definitely showing now. "And last time they tried something with Prime he took them down to the training bay and challenged them to a two-on-one free-for-all."

Somehow Simmons knew how this story was going to end. Mild-mannered as Prime normally was, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could turn any one of his soldiers inside out with no difficulty whatsoever. For his own part the agent clearly remembered sitting in a car that was lifted ten, fifteen feet into the air before dropping, and looking up to see no roof and one very unhappy robot staring back down at him.

Ever since then Simmons had made a point of not angering the big guy. Irritate sure, annoy and exasperate- but not anger. If he never saw Optimus Prime angry again it would be far too soon.

Still, he had to ask. "And how did that work out for them?"

"Suffice to say they haven't tried anything like that again," Ratchet answered. "And they stayed out of trouble for about…" here he paused, no doubt translating Cybertronian time units into Earthen. "Six weeks, give or take."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Kind of hard to get into trouble if you're offline in the med bay and missing a few limbs." He saw the look on Simmons' face and snorted. "No, Prime didn't want to go that far, but those two are idiots. Thought they could handle him and were too proud to give up once it became obvious they couldn't."

"And how did Prime fare in this?" This story was amusing Simmons greatly for some reason. Maybe it was imaging the overly-arrogant Sunstreaker being handed his aft on a silver platter.

"Mostly cosmetic damage. Couple of decent hits here and there. He let Sideswipe get in a good hit with one of his pile drivers."

"Let him? That's an insult." Simmons grinned

"Not to mention stupid. Do you have any idea how much force Sideswipe can put behind one of those?" Ratchet was back to grumpy now, and as he turned his attention to the shock collar Simmons heard him mutter several unkind things about suicidal warriors. The human frowned at that; he'd always had a hard time picturing Prime as a true warrior. A politician forced into the role due to necessity, sure, but not a dyed-in-the-wool-lives-for-the-fight warrior like Sideswipe.

"What about Prowl?" Simmons interrupted his recital. He received the Autobot version of the evil eye in return. "Does he just not care if the twins pull something on him?"

"Oh, he cares. In fact, he's their favorite victim. Unfortunately Prowl has neither the physical resources to pound some sense into them nor the temper to scare it into them. The best he can do is assign a punishment so boring their CPUs rust."

"And does this work?" The human was curious now. Prowl had all the personality of a turnip, with zero sense of humor and no temper to speak of. At least, that was the impression he gave, and Simmons had a feeling the tactician had worked very hard to perfect this image.

"Not as well as Prowl would want it to. The problem with the warrior types like the twins is that they don't learn anything unless the lesson includes pain." The medic finished his last word with an irritated grunt. He held the shock collar up and squinted at it. Sensing story time was over, Simmons quietly made his way to the door.

Jazz was waiting in the hallway beyond, arms folded over his chest and classic Cheshire grin firmly in place.

"So I hear th' twins have been givin' ya a hard time," he said without preamble. Simmons blinked at him.

"Uhh… yeah?" At his hesitant confirmation the grin only broadened. The 'bot transformed and swung his driver's door open.

"Then you're gonna want to see this."

--

They were speeding down a country road, going about eighty- Jazz had explained that mechs could produce an electrical current that prevented radar guns from reading their real speed, which no one had bothered telling the twins because it was 'more fun that way'- when Simmons saw what the this in question was. It was hard not to.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Simmons muttered.

On the road in front of them was a small parade of three cars- two Lamborghinis and one Camaro. The Camaro was in front, all windows rolled down and stereo blasting so loud Simmons could feel the bass. Behind it the two Lamborghinis drove side-by-side at a hair below their new limit of thirty miles per hour, their sullen resentment all but tangible.

Jazz slid in seamlessly behind Sunstreaker and began to honk his horn.

"This doesn't seem like the smartest plan," Simmons informed the 'bot when he managed to stop laughing.

"Technically it's not, but what're they gonna do? They can't transform outside th' base unless there's a 'con attacking 'em, and it's not like Bee and I can't outrun 'em. An' if Sunny tries to slam on his brakes th' crash'll scratch his precious paintjob."

The twins seemed to realize their lack of options as well and drove along in silence, mostly managing to ignore their harassers. Sunstreaker did lunge at Bumblebee once, when the scout managed to find a particularly annoying song to play. Simmons watched as the golden car's entire frame twitched, like a horse trying to shed itself of flies, and his engine momentarily sputtered. He dropped back so fast Jazz had to swerve wildly to avoid hitting him.

"Damn, Ratch," the saboteur said to the absent medic. "That's kinda strong, isn't it?"

"What happened?" Simmons leaned forward and studied the yellow twin. Sunstreaker was back to his visible pout next to his twin.

"Th' shock knocked him offline for a second there," Jazz murmured. Then he verbally shrugged it off and crept a little closer to the twins' bumpers.

This game continued for almost ten minutes before Simmons suddenly noticed a dark shape looming up in the rear-view mirror. Jazz must have noticed it as well, for he sped up and swerved in front of the twins, steadying himself next to Bumblebee. After a few more minutes the shape solidified into a familiar-looking black truck.

"Ironhide," Jazz explained simply, probably noticing Simmons' confusion. The human had only seen Ironhide a scant handful of times before, and for most of them he was in robot mode. The weapons specialist had teamed up with Captain Lennox, who made a hobby of avoiding the former agent. Thus Simmons knew even less about Ironhide than he did about Prowl.

"What is going on here?" the newcomer asked thunderously. Jazz's answer was nearly drowned out by Sideswipe's shrieking declaration of eternal loyalty if the black 'bot would only make the other two go away.

"Ratchet installed that speed device he was threatenin' them with an' Prowl kicked 'em out on patrol," the saboteur announced cheerfully. There was a brief silence wherein Ironhide considered the situation. Then he slowed down and took up Jazz's abandoned place just beyond the twins' spoilers. And while he may not be a semi, he towered over all the cars around him, especially with his front grill almost touching the Lamborghinis' rear bumpers.

This new provocation turned out to be too much for Sunstreaker. With an inarticulate roar of rage he transformed, a brilliant explosion of flashing and fast-moving machinery.

"Yup, time to go," Jazz chirped. He gunned his engine and both he and Bumblebee shot off down the road, easily outstripping anything the twins could manage. Simmons twisted around to watch the fight-in-the-making. The last thing he saw was Sideswipe swinging onto the side of the road as Sunstreaker tackled a now-transformed Ironhide.

"Will he be alright?"

"Who, 'Hide? Ha, don't insult him. He'll slap those two sparklings down with no problems, then rub their faces in th' dirt to make sure they don't try that again."

And with that they continued on, eventually turning to head back to base.

--

He was not going to laugh. He was not going to laugh. Jazz had tried to make him feel better by annoying the twins so really, this was all his fault. The least he could do was not make fun of them for it.

Jazz's prediction of how the fight would go proved correct. Half an hour after he and Simmons had returned to the base Ironhide had showed up, bringing with him two very dented and muddy Lamborghinis. Ratchet had done a few scans and pronounced nothing seriously wrong with them, leaving the twins to stew in all their filthy glory. Sunstreaker had verged on an apoplectic fit when Prowl told him he wasn't going to a car wash until after he'd been lectured, at which point all the washes would be closed.

And the lecture had been a grand one, with Prowl obviously barely holding onto his patience and Prime sitting in the corner looking as though he couldn't decide whether this was funny or pathetic. The twins and Ironhide received a litany on how they were not supposed to transform unless they had absolutely no choice. Then Jazz, Bumblebee, and Ironhide were informed that when the twins were punished it wasn't meant to be interpreted as open season. And as a closing note Prime added that he was very disappointed that two senior officers had decided to act in such an immature fashion.

At this point there were two options: a.) nod and agree and pretend to be contrite or b.) open your big mouth and ask if that was all Prime was gonna do.

Jazz, in perhaps one of his least intelligent and thought-out moments ever, went for option b.

So now Simmons stood in front of the saboteur, with Bumblebee off to one side looking positively furious, and he really was trying not to laugh. They had to give him points for difficulty. The look on Jazz's face as he tugged at the shock collar he now sported was simply priceless. Bumblebee wasn't too happy about his new accessory either, and the only reason Ironhide had escaped that fate was because Ratchet had run out of the collars.

"So…" Simmons began, since there was no way he could let this go without at least some comment. "I suppose I shouldn't be asking for a ride home, then?"

And then he had to laugh as Bumblebee gave a very human response to such a question, displaying a mobility in his fingers that Simmons hadn't realized he was capable of.

After this, the trip to DC that had accomplished absolutely nothing was almost worth it.