I RISE FROM THE DEAD mostly because i recently got my muse back from transformers... and also i saw that new trailer for the bumblebee movie coming out in 2018

i only have two things to say about that: one) it looks adorable but two) we all know it resembles any oc x (any autobot) fic incLUDING MINE I AM NOT SPARED FROM THE CHEESE and i just wonder how close they really are to discovering the deep dark secrets of our fandom

anyway! without further delay, here's the next chapter! thank you all for your support uvu an for your patience! i promise the plot will start picking up more from here~

Chapter Eleven

Saving money is more important than life itself.

With his hands gripping her shoulders, she thought they would break under his grip. Though it is painful, she knows he's only doing it out of concern, thus she refrains from taking defensive action. Rather, her smaller hands reaches up and covers his, fingers curling into his palm in an attempt to loosen his grip.

"Sides, I am okay." She repeats, despite the fact that she's letting out a hiss every time someone touches her knee. Meixing gives a sharp stare towards the paramedic, who asks for her to not talk or move around too much (again). Much to their chagrin, she continues to speak. "Well, pants not okay. Did anyone get license plate of car? I might sue them."

"That's not the point," he says in exasperation. "Someone tried to run you over!"

Meixing shrugs. "Happens in China all the time." A matter of fact statement, that anyone else would agree with if they were from the same area. Unfortunately, with America being a hub of safe driving and spacious areas, being run over is likely illegal. Of course, in China it is illegal to run someone over, but it happens so often that most of the people have grown indifferent to it.

Sideswipe purses his lips, staring off in the direction that the car drove in. "Alright, that's kinda concerning, but nonetheless..." He recognizes the signal of the car that had come by, and though first responders have come in lieu of the event, there really is nothing else that can be done. The car that had driven by was unable to be captured and all the property damages would have to be up to the city to take care of.

The only real injury of concern is the student in question, whose compliance battles her need to purchase the required textbook for her class. Persistent protest — "There is sale for book, if not get, blame only you!" — before her knees are wrapped with linen. That being done, she turns around and begins stomping off to the bookstore, determined to fight for the last book.

"Meixing, they need to question you!" Though unfamiliar with the customs of human law enforcement, the police officers' reaction to her stubbornness is enough for Sideswipe to gather the pieces.

She raises an arm, palm facing towards the crowd as she hisses through the pain. "Talk after! Sale now!"

Sideswipe lifts an eyebrow, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances from the officers towards the direction of the bookstore. Even he isn't one to give out apologies so easily, yet there's a compelling apologetic glance to be given on behalf of the girl. On the other hand, he also counts as a witness, though he isn't sure that this is a crime humans are equipped to solve. After answering questions from the officers, much to his chagrin, he turns his attention away from the dispersing crowd, pressing a hand to his ear and activating his communication links in his processor.

"Anyone in right now?" Lips remain unmoving, voice is channeled through the mind for the sake of secrecy, brows crease into a frown to reflect his mood. "I just had a run-in with a Decepticon."

Half an hour of arguing with international students about textbook prices, Meixing finally emerges victorious. Although it had been daunting for the police officers to follow in after her, something about time and wasting it, the young woman's face is nothing short of prideful. Abandoned by her group members and having her jeans ruined, she deserves this kind of victory for once, right?

Complete with those affairs, she waddles outside in search of Sideswipe. He hasn't taken initiative to look for her, to which she can only assume that he's preoccupied otherwise. Finding the brunet standing off to the side and staring blankly in the distance, Meixing can only snort in surprise.

A blank look suits him far more than whatever arrogance he usually plants on his face. Tilting her head to the side, the idea for another prank flutters into her mind. Should she scare him? But if she did, he would definitely find a way to retaliate, and Meixing isn't keen on living in mild paranoia for the rest of her days.

Afraid? As if! Lips curl into a scowl as she shakes the thought out of her head. Whatever, she'll be civil to him just this once. Marching up to him, mindful of her throbbing knees, she reaches up and places a firm pat on his back.

His reaction is immediate and maybe she put too much force than intended, but the moment the impact between her palm and his back happened, Sideswipe swivels around and swings a fist at her. In response, Meixing takes a step back and grabs a hold of his forearm, pulling it downwards in a last-ditch attempt to refrain from her instinct of flipping him over.

"Meixing?" His shock channels through his voice and he immediately relaxes. "Primus — don't sneak up on me!"

Right, military training. Still, his skillset is impressive and her mouth forms a small 'o' in admiration. "This is how Americans train soldiers? Un, very efficient." She even squeezes his arm, as if she could tell all the techniques he learned in that single arm. Of course she can't, but imagining it gets her more enthusiastic to learn more about that.

Accordingly, it brushes up Sideswipe's boastfulness. "Actually, it's how I trained myself. Of course I had help from my superior officers and all, but this technique is alll me." Posing for effect with his free arm, he gives a playful wink to the smaller woman. "How's that? You admire me more now?"

Her nose crinkles at the thought. "Eh, I admire your skill. Not same."

"It is the same," he counters. "You're even feeling up my, uh, muscles!"

"Am not!"

Indignantly, he vehemently waves his free hand at the arm continuously grasped by Meixing's hands. She lets go immediately, rubbing her palms on her shirt.

"That was for experiment." She huffs. "Fair enough. Though believe that military skill can be unpolished compare to my martial arts."

He arches a brow, placing both hands on his hips before leaning forward, smirk spread on his countenance as he eyes Meixing's challenging expression. "Really now? You wanna test out that theory?"

The black-haired student crosses her arms across her torso, lifting her chin up and ignoring the tumble of the plastic bag containing her textbooks. "If not out to kill, maybe. I learn self-defense, and though it not compare to military lethal offense, I can defend myself against you." For emphasis, despite the obvious difference in their frames, she reaches out and provocatively pokes his chest. She would dare to challenge him to a fight, though she's crossing her fingers internally that he knows it's meant to be a friendly bout. The years she's spent in wushu have not been for competitive purposes, merely self-defense. Putting it into action had never been necessary until recently, but she's eager to see what kind of fighting techniques Sideswipe usually employed in his fights.

Then he laughs and reaches up, grasping the finger that poked him and shifting his grip so that his fingers can wrap around her smaller hand easily. "Feisty, but I don't fight outside of combat." Lowering her hand so that she can be less imposing, he simply grins at her.

"Are you or not a warrior?"

"Hmm, 'course I am. And don't get me wrong, Xiao xing — " Her begrudging expression doesn't go unnoticed. " — I'm not underestimating you just because you're small. It's a rule of ours. We don't fight outside of a battle. Training is a different matter, but... you aren't a warrior. So leave the fighting to the people who will protect you."

She arches an eyebrow, pulling her hand from his grasp. Not that she particularly minded it, she just has to get more used to how these Americans were so openly expressive in their body language and personal space. "I know you military are strong, but sometimes citizens must protect themselves too."

"I'm very certain you can hold your own too." He shakes his head. "But that's not what I mean. I guess it's a long story and a lesson I learned the hard way, but anyway." He looks around. "You got your books, right? Let's get you back to campus."

"Don't want," she mutters. "Means have to start on project." Blasted group members that still haven't responded yet. She'll be sure to give them an earful later. She's sure her eye twitching is because of her annoyance, so she can't wait to vent it out.

"You running away from your responsibilities~?" Sideswipe holds up the bags of various supplies she bought before their little incident at the crosswalk. Now, she has to wonder where exactly he pulled them from, when she had just about to begin wondering where he put them after that fiasco. God, thinking too much about this strange man isn't good for her health.

"Nevermind, will do work." Sighing, she veers away from his smile and begins to make her way back to where he parked.

"If you don't mind..." Keeping in stride with her, he glances around them again. "I'll accompany you the entire day. For safety."

"You sure it not because you just wish to bother me?" Rolling her eyes, the excuse is hardly passable; if she knows Sideswipe, the only reason he'll trouble himself is if because it entertains him.

"Well, that too." He hums, deciding that her disbelief is better than her figuring out the real reason. After all, she would probably insist otherwise, that she can take care of herself and she didn't want to keep him from his duties.

Stopping at the corner, Meixing sighs and bends over to rub her knees. "Have to throw pants away now, lamentable."

"Does it hurt?" He peers curiously at her, only looking up once to check on the light.

"It does. It really does." Her reply is said without hesitance and there's grief laced with her words.

"I see." Without a second thought, Sideswipe readjusts his grip on the bags' handles in order to pull them higher. Then he reaches over and sweeps Meixing into his arms with ease, to which she lets out a screech.

"I meant wallet hurts! Bank account hurts!" Flailing her legs and arms around, she realizes that doing so aggravates her wound, thus making them hurt more than they actually didn't before. Well, too late to take it back now. Though she is a stubborn person, she knows that if she tries to push herself off, it'll just impede both of them.

Settling down with a pout, she casts her gaze away from Sideswipe.

"You are shameless."

"I get that a lot."

"I no have any face left," she mumbles, bringing the bags she's carrying up to cover her expression.

"Your face is still here?"

"It a metaphor, a metaphor." Or is it really the correct way to translate the word she's thinking of? Eh, close enough.

By the time she's done lamenting her pants (and her reputation), she's being placed into the passenger seat of Sideswipe's car. Glad that the obstacle is taken care of, she relaxes and decides to start reading the novel she bought, leaving the textbook aside for now. Sideswipe had told her that he needed a few more minutes to talk to someone, so he was going to wait outside. Meixing glances up occasionally to see Sideswipe staring off in nothing in particular, only holding a hand to his ear occasionally. Was it a wireless headphone? Squinting, she does notice a small black device nestled in his ear.

"Huh. Was that there before?" Must have pulled that out when she wasn't looking. Shrugging, she shifts her gaze back to the novel. Nonchalance can only go so far though; her thoughts are preoccupied with her near-encounter with death today.

Meixing didn't believe in coincidence. Superstition has been something that guided her beliefs up to this day, and she believes everything happens according to fate or reason. Still, she cannot fathom why or how a car would attempt to aim for her. Could it be that in her previous life, she angered a motor spirit, which is why she's been a magnet for roadkill? Karmic retribution is a scary thing. It's a wonder she had been able to hold herself together... though in truth, she really is worried about the cost of replacing the jeans.

Sighing heavily, she plunks her back against the seat. "How tiring. If get into another motor accident here, might not hear end of it." It's already expensive enough to pay for her living expenses here, as well as international student fees that were taxing on her family's income. Though they did have enough money to support it, she didn't want to rely any more on her parents than she already has. Though they insist that the focus on her education would be worth the payoff from the assets of their restaurant business, it's still a bit troubling... and if she added hospital bills on top of that, it would truly be a loss of her face.

The driver door opens, startling Meixing from her thoughts as Sideswipe slides into his seat. His expression looks rather grim, veiled with a bated curiosity, and she wonders if he has something he wants to say.

"Sides, you okay...?" She frowns, reaching out and lightly patting his shoulder. He turns his head, gives her a thin smile and lightly pats the back of her hand.

"I'm fine. Let's get going."

When he said he was going to accompany her the entire day, he was surely not joking. And Meixing somewhat expected that he wouldn't go back on his words, but still, she can never fathom how he can never be sick of bothering her or seeing what she did.

Her days on campus were always the same. Study, do homework, get food, maybe go to the library for research, and study some more. The days he wasn't there were the days where she sometimes attended study groups, but other than that, it really is quite... embarrassing? To have him see almost every aspect of her life.

"Why aren't you in any clubs?" He asks curiously, leaning back on his chair as he watches Meixing plan out the research method for that aforementioned, yet foreboding, group project. "I hear Sam complaining that he has to join as many clubs as he can so he can do this thing called networking."

Meixing pauses. Puts down her pencil, biting her lip, and then glancing at the trash can a few feet away. "English not good enough, afraid cannot communicate well."

"Your English is fine?" Now that has him sitting up, giving Meixing a look that told her he thought she's merely jesting. On that same note though, she would think he's also jesting.

"Not serious," she snorts. "Maybe is fine around people I comfortable with." Pressing a hand to her chest, she hits it softly. "It gets worse when put on the spot. Sometimes I cannot think of right words. Many times I feel like mistake is made." She shakes her head. "I do my best, I think I made a few acquaintances while here. But am most comfortable with other Chinese students." It's the same across the board for all international students. They did their best to learn the language here, but even then, they know it isn't perfect.

Afraid of getting judged, knowing their accent and grammar is far inferior to the natives here, she wonders if he's ever experienced that kind of anxiety. "You speak both perfectly. No accent, clear pronunciation." She notes, a smooth effort to change the topic. "Why did you learn?"

For someone like him, how could he answer that question? Knowing every language on the web, every resource at hand; though human machines are far from perfect, it's the machine that he is which makes up for the flaws that would otherwise appear in the linguistics.

"For fun," he says. "And to talk with... more people." Not that he actively sought out everybody to talk to in a different language, but the options were there. He presses his lips together though, troubled, uncertain what to say next.

Meixing gives a small smile, closing the notebook and shaking her head. "Did not tell you that for your sympathy. Worry not, I know you have your own struggles." Exhaling, she slides her belongings into her backpack. "But I guess, told you to show my gratefulness. In all the time you spend with me, however excessive... you never made fun of me."

He blinks owlishly, the thought having never occurred to him. He, the one notorious for his easygoing attitude, had actually never messed up once on that kind of thing? Though Sideswipe knows of his personality traits, and if anything malicious were to be said, it (probably) wouldn't be on purpose, but... it is a surreal thing to realize, that he didn't joke about that. Vaguely, he does recall one comment, back to their first textual conversation.

When he had asked why her English was suddenly better over words. Didn't that count as making fun of her though? Or at least, something on that wavelength.

"Ah, well, that's how perfect I am." If she isn't holding a grudge for that, he supposes it's best to not bring it up. Thus, he stretches and gives his trademark grin.

Meixing rolls her eyes. "Un, yes, what would you be without perfection?"

"Not me," he affirms.

"Quiet yourself," she retorts, lifting her bottom from the seat in order to take a swing at his stupidly perfect face —

"Make me," he taunts. To present that challenge even more, he decidedly grabs her wrist long before its collision — as if he would let it hit, of course — and tugs her from her seat even farther. Upper body leaning uncomfortable on the metal table, Meixing stops functioning for a hot second; isn't he much more closer than he originally was? Personal space may have been a concept long lost to Sideswipe, but she is sure that he at least knew that a little distance is their customary interaction?

Oh boy, was this one of those moments in those corny Chinese dramas she sometimes binge-watched in high school? Absolutely not, she refused to partake in that! If only she could slap that stupid grin off his face and if his blue eyes could stop brightening so dramatically like that! Though Meixing cannot argue with that kind of aesthetic, it's very tempting to stare at longer.

"Uhh," an unfamiliar voice, though simultaneously familiar, pierces the silence. "Are we interrupting something?"

Meixing tears her arm from Sideswipe's grip, launching herself from her seat and turning to face whoever came with much fervor. "Not at all!" Heart palpitations imitating that of a chainsaw, she inhales and exhales, attempting to focus on who it was that was so bold to speak in that strange moment.

"Oh, you Sam." She realizes. "Not know the other two faces."

"I'm Mikaela." The unfamiliar female face moves forward, a very cunning smile on her lips as she reaches forward to shake Meixing's hand. "Very nice to finally meet you." Though her gaze isn't quite focused on Meixing; she notices that there's a very strange look from all three people directed towards the man sitting at the table behind her, who has been oddly silent.

Though for some reason, it suddenly feels very cold. Sam looks mildly petrified while Mikaela looks wholeheartedly amused. The third person, a boy, looks curious.

"Bumblebee," Sideswipe finally greets, standing up. The screech from the metal chair causes Sam to wince and Meixing to cringe, and though they can all imagine Sideswipe smiling his usual friendly greeting, there seemed to be something stiff in his words. "You came back quickly."

The boy, though inaccurate to call him a boy as he seems to be just around Sam's age, gives a small shrug. Then he lifts up an aPad, to which Meixing curiously directs her attention to.

'I just came back, and with the report you sent Optimus, he decided I should be here, so here I am~ is this the girl you talked about?'

So, he cannot talk. This is Meixing's first time meeting someone like that, though tact would suggest for her to act as normal as possible. Just because it is unfamiliar does not mean she should act any different, for worry of accidentally offending him otherwise.

"I am called Meixing," she says, deciding to take the first step. "Nice to meet you, Mikaela." Returning the earlier greeting belatedly, she gives an apologetic look to the other, who merely smiles it off. "And you are a bumblebee...?"

"Bumblebee," Sideswipe corrects. "I think I mentioned it briefly before."

"Replacing the bee!" Meixing responds, with much more enthusiasm than expected. Sam snorts at that, patting Bumblebee's shoulder.

"'Bee, you hear that? Sides has been saying that he's replacing you."

Appalled, the blond youth furiously types on the aPad. 'That's rude, Sideswipe!'

"No one would want to take your place in guarding Sam, 'Bee, that's alright."

"Hey! Who wouldn't want to protect this handsome face?"

"Sam, please, you're only fooling yourself."

"I thought you were on my side..."

"In any case — " Sideswipe interrupts. "I don't recall asking for backup. I had things under control here." A side glance to Meixing told him that she absolutely did not understand what was going on, other than that it probably was related to military efforts.

Thus, with that look, the Asian woman took a step back. "Um, since you all have things to talk about, I will go back to dorm now."

"Wait, Xiao xing," he says. "I appreciate it, but I just need to talk with 'Bee for a moment. Wait for me." Placing a hand on Bumblebee's shoulder, he nudges the blond off in the other direction. "In the meanwhile, Sam and Mikaela will keep an eye on you."

A brow arches at that. "An eye on me...? Why would they need to do that?"

"It's an, uh, expression!" Sam quickly sputters out. "For us to get to know each other better, since we haven't really had the time to sit and talk."

Well, I guess chasing you around for information isn't the best way to have a conversation. Meixing muses to herself. Or that one time you were begging Sideswipe to take you to the airport.

Hah. She really has to interrogate more about their relationship, because she can imagine it can only be an amusing story.

Mikaela has remained silent for the majority of the exchange, head tilted thoughtfully to the side. Taking note of how nervous the smaller girl seems to be, wringing her fingers together and keeping her body language reserved, Mikaela decides to sit down first.

"Here, you should sit here, Meixing." She offers, gesturing towards the seat next to her. "I think they'll be a while and I'm sure you're positively tired of Sides' company."

Why did Meixing feel like there's a teasing undertone to that? She's never good around pretty people, they make her nervous.

"Sure," she replies, an edge to her tone. "And uh, sorry if I seem like I glaring. My eye is a bit sore lately. English hard for me too, so sorry if mistake made."

"Nah, you're fine." Mikaela reassures. "Besides, practice makes perfect, right?"

Sam cautiously sits down as well, taking the hint that Mikaela wanted to be the one to lead with the questions. He watches as Meixing's eloquence seems to disappear, or at least, lessen as compared to the last times he's heard he speak.

"Sure, okay, good," she mutters.

"Perfect. We'll help you, don't worry. Then, here's a great conversation starter." Mikaela is in no rush. Thus, with a playful wink, she leans forward on her arms. "Who's cuter, 'Bee or Sides?"