CHAPTER NINETEEN

XXX

Jack looked in the mirror, huffing in displeasure as his fingers touched the cut on his lip. The ensuing hiss was the result of realizing how sore it was, though he believed the second day would be much worse.

It looked like Megatron had nipped him, the gash wide enough he could easily get a stitch or two for it. Still, that involved an ER visit, and he was not about to make up an elaborate excuse for it.

Work accident.

That was what he had going for him at the moment. He had twelve hours to come up with some story about how he somehow managed to cut his lip, not sure what lame reason would pop into his head. He would have to insist Megatron refrained from marking him in obvious places, already peeved about the bite mark on his shoulder, and now this.

The warlord's impatience was showing, and it honestly scared Jack to think about what was simmering below that armor. As much as he was willing to trust him - an irony which did not surpass him - it frightened the young man to imagine how effortlessly the mech could just easily throw him onto the bed and have his way with him. One would think that with Amicus the tyrant was sensitive to such a notion, however he was selfish.

Jack cringed. Megatron could easily be lying to him about Amicus. He could have lied that it was the human who approached first, concealing the fact he was just as malevolent and sick as the Prime which preceded him.

Yet if that was the truth, why would he relentlessly pursue Jack? Why not choose any other human, especially one which looked more like Amicus, if that was his only fantasy? Not to mention if Megatron had wanted to use the young man however he wished, he would have just done so, not bothering with any pleasantries or wasting his time with their silly deal.

The Decepticon really, truly wanted to try. The only issue was Jack - he was going too slow for him. Though what did he expect? Jack was friends with Autobots, those who wanted to protect his planet from the tyrant. He was not exactly willing to throw himself into those strong arms.

Huffing, Jack looked at his lip one more time, grateful to see the bleeding had officially stopped. It was still fresh and not yet scabbed, but that was much better than dripping crimson all over the place.

Cleaning up and double-checking his body for any sort of insect or new sore, he found he was unchanged. Thank the Allspark.

Stepping out of the bathroom he checked the time, picking up his phone now that it had finished booting back up. A couple notifications: the expected text from his mother - and a single missed call from Arcee, with no voicemail left behind.

He frowned; Arcee never called him during work, especially now since she was scouting incessantly for Optimus and energon. What was perhaps more terrifying was that it was just one phone call, and not the barrage of messages he received last time she freaked out. He had been sure she was scouting during the few hours he was "working"; so what was this about?

Answering his mother first, he then dialed his guardian's number, finding his hands were shaking. He was nervous.

"Hello?" Her voice crackled over the line.

"Arcee?" He frowned. "Is everything okay? You called."

There was a pause. "Yeah, everything's fine. I was just checking in . . . how was work?"

She never just checked in, Jack swallowing his panic. "It was great, erm, well, fine, thanks for asking. How goes the search?"

"Still looking," her voice was bitter, laced with frustration. "Planning on being at the base tomorrow?"

"Of course," he tried to play it off casually, still unable to figure out the point of this conversation . . . and why she sounded so strange. "See you in the morning?"

"I'll see you then," that sounded way too much like a threat, the two-wheeler hanging up on him and leaving Jack in silence.

Jack stood there, dumbfounded by the entire conversation. Somehow, despite her not being there, he felt as if Arcee was scrutinizing him through a microscope, analyzing every answer he gave her. She asked about work, so she clearly thought he was there . . . otherwise, why not confront him about it?

Shaking his head, Jack took a deep breath. Too much had happened today; there was little energy in him left to stress about the inner workings of his partner's thought process.

Right now, he had to worry about what was to come.

One step at a time.

Having a couple of hours before nightfall, the young man elected to turn on the television while also throwing a TV dinner in the microwave, wanting to mentally prepare himself for what was certainly going to be a stressful night ahead.

Shivering at the mere idea of Megatron's wandering servos he took deep breaths, trying to remember why he was doing this. It certainly was not for fun, and if he had not been so terrified of the tyrant he would have resisted much more. Yet almost every single night had been an infuriatingly pleasant experience, drinking in the attention and affection he received from the mech.

The shivers just thinking of where those sharp talons could wander, and caress, were far from chills of disquietude.

He had nothing to blame for that; his "sickness" excuse was long gone, and though he could admit it was possible Megatron was intentionally manipulating him, he did agree to this madness. It was even he who suggested the three-month deadline - no one was to outright blame, and Jack could not even consider himself a victim in this situation.

The microwave beeped, a welcome distraction from the swirl of thoughts in his head. Taking it to the couch he curled up and carefully ate his meal, knowing his mother would kill him if there was a single food stain on it.

Eventually he could no longer deny his time was running out, electing to shower and scrub away the grime from the desert he might have accumulated. It was a shame he had not thought to snag a souvenir of some kind, though the idea of taking an actual piece from the pyramid mortified him. Maybe, like, some sand or something. Nothing that could potentially bring a curse back with him.

Cleaning himself up swiftly he dressed accordingly, not wanting Megatron to get any ideas, even if he did briefly consider shedding the sweater.

He was not ready, and he was certain he would never be. Kissing was bad enough - the mere thought of it advancing to anything more scared him, because he was not quite sure if he would be genuine when - if - he said "no."

Just as before he kept the Key to Vector Sigma tucked away in his jeans pocket, the poor thing having been stuffed in the bottom of his backpack throughout his entire trip to Egypt. It certainly had seen more regal days as an important relic, as he was pretty sure Optimus did not store it in his pockets. Still, better than it randomly teleporting to him in Egypt, potentially revealing itself to Megatron.

Predictably, the tyrant in question was waiting for him, however he seemed more calm than what Jack had expected. His optics were a bit dimmer, muscle cables relaxed and certainly not ready to throw him on the bed like a ragdoll. It was almost strange, to see him so relaxed, almost as if he was . . . physically exhausted.

Banish that thought, right now. Banish it.

The human tossed his clothes on the floor, trying to distract himself. "I'm glad to see you've calmed down."

"Believe me, it was far from easy."

Jack did not know what to make of that. He supposed he could look at it like a compliment, and in a way it was amusing at how crazy he could drive the mech. Yet at the same time, he was uncomfortable with the notion. He did not like to think about how Megatron possibly fantasized about him while they were together, or apart.

He took a breath. "Kissing is okay," he said, finally, "but not too hard, and not too fast. And definitely no biting . . . not where someone can see."

As much as his shoulder ached and how he hated the idea, there had to be compromise, and he knew it. Megatron wanted control just as much as he did, and though the mech would acquiesce to most of his wishes in order to keep him happy, he had his own lines to draw - or erase - in the sand.

Red optics flared briefly.

"And here I thought you despised the idea of being bitten. You protested before."

He gave him a glare. "I still do. But I figured you would appreciate a little bit of freedom."

The tyrant's engines rumbled, his version of a purr. "It is very appreciated." A clawed servo reached out, gesturing for him to come.

Jack's cheeks flushed at the thought. Wording.

His body moved even when his mind disliked it, this time sitting sideways on the warlord's lap, his legs draped off his knees and dangling above the floor.

The familiar touch on the back of his head let him know what was going to happen next, lips connecting with his for the third time that day. His lower lip flared in pain as the unforgiving metal applied pressure to the sensitive cut, however he suppressed the groan and did not attempt to pull away. It was otherwise not an unpleasant experience, and he did not want to accidentally give the dictator the wrong idea.

Fortunately they did not linger long as Megatron dipped low, nipping skin and selfishly enjoying the small allowance Jack had given him. Jack opened his eyes as the metal left his lips, gazing at his ceiling. Ventilations sent chills against the skin they caressed, and small darts of tingles erupted from where lip plates connected.

"This is more of a human thing, isn't it?" He asked, wanting Megatron to talk and occasionally not eat at his sanity.

Vibrations wracked his body as Megatron chuckled.

"Not entirely," he replied, second servo tugging at Jack's hip so he would be pressed tighter against the his frame. "Though Cybertronians do not do it with as much frequency. A shame, as so much can be derived with the simple use of one's intake - their mouth."

Jack cursed himself as his breath seemed to hitch in agreement, Megatron having nipped right at his artery.

"For us, it was about the modifications, and all of the possibilities . . . we never thought to consider what we already had."

The human resisted the urge to ask how they achieved climax, not wanting to rise to what was likely bait. Besides, it was far too early into this new development for an advancement and such questions.

Being intimate with the lord of Decepticons sounded synonymous with a bad time.

Megatron was oblivious to his thoughts and the way they made his heart beat, having taken the liberty of Jack's silence to continue his advances, slowly and steadily covering every inch of bare skin he was allotted. Jack was no idiot - he was asserting his possession of him, ensuring it was only his touch that would linger by the end of night.

As if Jack was stupid enough to think he could be anyone else's. Or believe he could attempt to pursue someone else whilst with Megatron - though he wondered if the mech would attempt to sabotage any potential competition if they did not work out.

If this failed . . . would he allow for a second time?

Something about the tingles which burst from his skin with every caress told him he would seriously consider it.

"Mhm," he said, acknowledging the statement that had long come to pass. There was another extended period of hesitation as he tried to find something else to ask, taking enough time that Megatron elected to readjust him so he could access the other side of his neck, leaving more nips and -

He jumped, not having expected to feel something slide along his neck.

"Y-you have a tongue?!"

Megatron pulled back slightly, Jack catching a glimpse of the protuberance as it slid past his sharp denta. "A glossa, but yes," he flashed him a shark's grin, "it assists in enunciating your primitive language, in addition to allowing better ease of consuming energon and solid substances."

The human furrowed his brow. "You can eat stuff other than energon?"

The amused look did not waver. "Why do you think we are also equipped with denta? We have enjoyed the occasional treat outside of energon - they are typically the equivalent of your candies."

Candies was funny enough to come from his raspy mouth that Jack almost asked him to say it again. Yet he was bewildered by this revelation - of course, he never thought to ask, and not once had he seen the Autobots stick out their tongues - or glossa. They had no reason to, as they were far from a teasing bunch that stuck their tongues out.

"O-oh," he said, acknowledging the new information while simultaneously making it clear he was processing it. "That . . . makes sense."

Megatron chuckled, amused by his naivety. "The Autobots have not shared much of our anatomy with you, have they?"

Jack swallowed, not liking the implications that this could lead to a thorough tour. "Not much . . . but I never really thought to ask."

Another rumble, the servo which was wrapped around his waist pressing him tighter against Megatron's warm metal frame. He felt breaths against his cheek, then the light nips on his pinna, involving only the metallic, scarred lip plates.

"It will be my pleasure to acquaint you . . . when the time is right."

Shivers raced down his spine and shot through his torso, Jack both simultaneously revolted and yet . . .

Don't even go there. Just because he makes you feel this way doesn't make it okay.

"That will be a long while," he said, re-drawing the lines which he still struggled to maintain. "Right now, I'm adjusting to . . . this."

The servo at his hip circled the bony prominence there, the other still in his hair, playing with it in almost calculated motions. Jack suppressed the feeling of needing to physically shiver at the touches.

"I will be patient," Megatron promised, though they both knew his patience would only hold out for so long. Especially with this progression, Jack knew he would expect more. More in the form of some demonstration of his commitment to this - and though Jack was reluctant to give over his body, he had little knowledge of what else he could offer up to satisfy the tyrant.

Words were only worth so much, and no one was more aware of that than the Decepticon leader.

But maybe they could work, if Jack could be clever about it.

"What if I never feel ready to take this further?" He asked, praying he did not shatter the mech's good mood. "What if I . . . we keep this going, but I can never . . . be with you, like him?"

He felt when Megatron tilted his helm, they were so close. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he imagined the infuriated look, waiting for claws to sink into his flesh and tell him he would, whether he liked it or not. In the few heartbeats it took for Megatron to respond he braced, waiting for the tyrant to reveal his true colors.

"I believe I have made it quite clear: I will take whatever you are willing to give," Megatron responded smoothly. "Whenever you are willing. Be it right now, tomorrow, months, or never at all. I crave only your heart. What comes with it is merely delectable collateral."

A lump formed in Jack's throat, yet he refused to swallow it. He was not happy, or sad, but afraid.

He can't ever have that. My heart. My loyalty.

"Okay," he took a breath, trying to calm the anxiety in his chest, "okay. But . . . that may still be a while yet. I'm . . . I'm still not sure about this."

Megatron chuckled, the sound dark and sadistically amused. "Despite allowing me the pleasure of such intimate ministrations?" As if to prove a point, lip plates caressed the side of his face. "I appreciate the effort."

Jack closed his eyes. "I'm not sure if that was sarcasm or not."

"It was genuine," he was assured, the servo at his hip moving to his thigh, gripping it near his knee. An electric shock - not painful, nor undesirable, but something much worse - sent bolts of lightning from the point of contact straight to his middle, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

His hand instinctively shot out and rested on the servo, a silent request to not advance any further. The endgame of this touch was a mystery to him, however he was not about to sit idly and find out. Things almost took a turn for the way worse as Megatron kissed his neck, denta and glossa combined briefly chasing away any coherent thoughts from his mind.

"Easy," he could barely breathe, feeling suffocated from the overwhelming mixed messages he battled. Megatron took that as his cue to back off, pulling away briefly and giving Jack more breathing space, though he did begin to nuzzle along his jawline, his engine purring softly. He more than likely knew what kind of effect he was having on the organic, his delight evident in the noises he made.

As he caught his breath Jack was beginning to feel just how tired his muscles were, having tensed them up as things started to become a little too intense for his liking. He was not sure if it was out of habit or just pure coincidence, but his eyes settled on the clock at his bedside, which indicated it was well past the time he should have been asleep.

"I should get to bed. Today was pretty eventful," he said, daring to meet burning red optics. He was unsure if Megatron would try to steal one last bit of affection from him, or press forward for more than what the human had bargained for that night.

Yet without protest the servos slid from his frame, allowing Jack to slip out of his lap and properly settle into bed. As he rose, he realized Megatron had once again become quite warm; though arguably not as much as out in the desert.

Oh Allspark.

He slid under his covers, watching as his unlikely bedfellow gracefully helped himself to the other half of the mattress, having waited for Jack to get comfortable before taking his place at his side.

Once they were both settled in he shimmied into the warlord, face pressed against his chest plates as claws ran down his back, a soothing motion despite their owner.

Jack closed his eyes. This was going to be a long week, he could feel it. Perhaps even longer than last week - that in itself had been agonizing enough. Coupled with the kisses which would now pepper his skin . . .

It isn't illegal to like it. But what isn't okay is to like him.

XXX

The first thing Arcee did when he greeted her Monday morning was give Jack a heart attack.

"I know you weren't at work yesterday."

He choked on his next words, smile falling while he simultaneously scrambled to hide the utter fear in his expression. Stopping at her side, any plans about what they might have spoken about skittered from his mind. All he could do was stare, trying to imagine what he had screwed up to let her know.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" He said, hating how the words which came out of his mouth only sounded further incriminating. "What makes you think that?"

Allspark, as if he could not at least try to cover it up.

"I went through the KO drive-thru," she said casually. "Your coworker was there - when I asked for you, he said you weren't scheduled to work that day. So, where were you?"

The feeling in his throat was hard to describe - all Jack could imagine was that his entire larynx had just swollen shut, not allowing a single word to get past his vocal cords.

"Arcee . . ." what could he say? "I don't want to talk about it."

Though the femme could not necessarily "see," she could tell his eyes were looking away from her, unable to even pretend to make eye contact with his partner. Perhaps even worse was the obvious cut on his lip, which Arcee could only suspect was from whatever activity he had been doing that wasn't work. Several beats passed between them, in which Jack looked immensely guilty about being caught.

Arcee let a cycle of air pass through her vents. "Come on. You're gonna be late for school if we don't get a move on."

Surprised, Jack took a hold of her handlebars and walked her out of the garage, sliding into her saddle and placing his helmet on before they took off, heading to the dreaded facility. Jack took several deep breaths, taking this time to calm down.

The ride was done in silence, the young man no longer having the will or urge to converse with her. Part of him wanted to be angry, but even he knew that was ridiculous - they had plenty of scares with the Decepticons in Jasper; Arcee was being protective because her spark could not afford to lose him. If anything were to happen to him . . .

Things are. But I can't tell her.

He gripped her handlebars tighter, remembering warm caresses against his skin.

"Jack, we're not done talking about this," she said once the school was in sight. "But we'll do it somewhere more private. For now, have a good day at school."

"I'll try, now that that's hanging over my head," he muttered, pulling into the school's small driveway. "See you later, 'cee."

She revved her engine before he slid off, putting his helmet away before readjusting the backpack on his shoulders, heading to class.

"Dude, long time no see!" Miko greeted him at his locker, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look. "Where were you yesterday? What's up with the cut?"

"Work," he said for both, though one look at her face told him the pathetic excuse was wasted on her.

"That's not what Arcee said."

"Where did she say I was?" He asked her, trying to remain casual despite also internally freaking out. The last thing he needed was for this information to somehow reach his mom.

To his relief, Miko shrugged. "Dunno. But when she tried calling you and you didn't answer, she didn't seem happy."

"I called back," Jack defended himself.

"Yeah, hours later," Miko crossed her arms. "What are you trying to hide? You've been acting weird ever since Optimus went missing - and when the 'cons showed."

"You'd be freaking out too, if you had the Key to Vector Sigma in your back pocket when Knock Out tries to kidnap you," Jack was a little proud of himself for pulling that out of thin air. "If the 'cons get this key, it's game over, Miko. So, yeah, I'm a little stressed out."

Frustratingly, she barely seemed convinced, eventually giving him an eye-roll as the warning bell rang.

"Choosing Sierra over the 'bots? Lame." She said, pushing off of the lockers and sulking away. Her bitter retort made Jack pause, realizing what she had just said and a blush making his cheeks burn.

"Miko!" He called, however she had already turned the corner and disappeared, leaving him scrambling to finish grabbing his books and get to class before the bell rang. Jack would have to try and explain everything at lunch time. While the accusation was better than the story Arcee already had going in her head, his mom would kill him if she thought he was running around with a girl behind her back. The ensuing lecture would be worse than any punishment even Megatron could come up with.

The day already on a sour start he moved from class to class with an increasingly imbittering mood, heading to the cafeteria and wondering what kind of a scene Miko might make. He wondered if Raf suspected the same thing, deciding this mess was more than he could handle. He would have to somehow set the record straight, or someone else would.

"Hey," Rafael greeted him as he sat across from the boy, Miko having yet to join them while she got her lunch from the line, the two of them having packed lunch bags. "Glad to see you're alright. Arcee was pretty worried about you."

"Yeah," he wished they stopped bringing that up. "But I promise I'm okay. Nothing to worry about."

The young man looked at him, but accepted his answer much better than the previous two individuals who sought to interrogate him. "If you say so."

When Miko joined them she was still sulky, the table filled with awkward talk and silence as they ate. Jack hid his cringe at every under-handed remark Miko made, all the while wanting to scream at her it's more complicated than you think.

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion, Jack having to resist the urge to go out the back door and avoid the talk he was definitely going to get from Arcee, wishing he was better at coming up with excuses. But she had already trapped him yesterday, expecting him to go to the base today - and explain everything to her.

They rode in silence, Jack occasionally glancing back to see Vince was following them. Great. If this was going to be what he thought, things were going to get tense.

Passing through the Groundbridge, he slid off of Arcee and watched her transform, feeling like a kid who got caught by his parents doing something he was not supposed to. Ratchet spared the two-wheeler a glance when she silently gestured for her partner to follow her, however he did not say anything. Jack then wondered just how much about this whole thing the older medic knew, suspecting he was more aware of the situation than anyone gave him credit for.

Following Arcee into the bowels of the base, he took a breath when she turned around, crossing her arms.

"'Cee-"

"Jack, this secrecy is really starting to bother me," she said truthfully. "You have never not shared something with me, your partner, but now something has come up and you won't even trust me with it."

He swallowed, her words only reminding him of why. First, how could he tell her about the deal he made with Megatron? How could he tell her it was for her own good, that he wanted to protect her as much as he could - in any way he could?

How was he supposed to tell her that he liked it? As much as he wanted to say he hated the mech behind the touches, they still brought him sinful happiness - and him by proxy. A mech who destroyed her homeworld, and who intended to take over his own . . . how was he supposed to justify himself?

Eyes burning, he realized he was close to shedding tears, taking a deep breath and composing himself.

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it," he said, trying to conceal the crack in his voice.

Her optics narrowed. "But I do. Jack, I already told you, you have nothing to be ashamed of - except for the fact that you're sneaking around with Vince."

"This isn't about Vince!" He could not help the angry shout, already sick and tired of it. "This isn't about who I do and don't like, Arcee! I . . . I . . ."

It took several deep breaths, and he almost told her. He so badly wanted to tell her, to not be driven crazy by the warlord which plagued his thoughts and the touches which stained his skin. He wanted to trust her.

But he couldn't. Not with Megatron.

As his stomach shuddered he thought he was going to be sick.

"Then what is this about? Is it Optimus? The Key?" She knelt down, wanting to comfort her charge and yet not knowing what to do. She had hoped this conversation would go better now that he was not in public. Instead, he only seemed more distressed - and she did not buy his denial for one second, yet it would be cruel of her to continue pushing the subject. So, instead, she offered a way out.

"I don't know," he took deep breaths. "I don't know. I'm just . . . on edge about everything. Why would Optimus trust me with this? You all have known him for much longer, and you're all more capable than me."

Her gaze softened, optics dimming as her servo reached out and gently cupped around Jack's shuddering shoulders. "It's not my place to question Optimus' decision," she said, "maybe he did it because he thought the Decepticons wouldn't suspect a human to have the key. But I think he did because you are worthy, Jack. You demonstrated maturity and growth which impressed him . . . and I think because he saw himself in you."

Jack thought he was going to be sick - Optimus would never do what he was doing. He would find a way out of it, fight against Megatron. He would not sleep with the enemy.

Hanging his head, his fingers brushed against the pocket in which it resided. "Th . . . thank you Arcee."

She blinked slowly. "You're welcome." Pulling him close she hugged him gently, Jack feeling her spark thrum against her chassis. The comforting sound relaxed him, allowing his muscles to uncoil.

After a few beats they pulled away, her digit brushing his hair out of his face. "I'll give you a few minutes to catch your breath. Ratchet will want me back out in the field."

Nodding, he gently squeezed the end of her digit. "Be safe, partner."

That earned him a smile. "You know I always am," she said, standing and walking around him. As her pede steps became softer and softer he took a breath, pulling out the key and looking at his reflection in the bright metal.

How long can I keep this up? She seemed satisfied enough for now, but . . .

Hands grabbed him from behind, whipping him around and slamming him against the wall. He yelped, realizing with terror that Vince had gotten the drop on him.

"What was that all about, Darby?" He snarled, gripping the front of his shirt. "You think you can just talk about me and get away with it?"

"This isn't about you, Vince!" Jack hissed back, struggling but realizing he was far outclassed by the bully. "If you don't let go of me, Arcee is going to kill you."

"She's an Autobot," he sneered, "isn't that the opposite of her job? But I've got some questions, and you're going to give answers. You think I didn't hear you talking about me? Got something to say about it, Darby?"

There was a moment where he stared at the older boy, fully aware he was not a moron. Thick-headed, perhaps, but no numbskull.

"It's not like that, Vince," he winced. "I swear. I'm not-"

"Sneaking around with me?" The grip tightened. "Damn right you're not. What kind of stories are you telling your psycho 'partner' about us?"

"She made that up on her own!" Jack grabbed his hand, trying to pry it off of him. "I am promising you, Vince, I'm denying it over and over but she's convinced something's up."

"So, then, who are you sneaking around with?" Green eyes narrowed. "Sierra?"

The flustered junior was all sorts of fed up. "I'm not sneaking around with anybody!" A lie. "Besides, it's not like you two are dating."

He swore the grip got tighter. "We're cousins, you sick weirdo. Of course we're not dating!"

That elicited a pause. "Wait, what?"

Vince stared at him, trying to guess if Jack was actually dumb or just playing stupid. "We are the only two red-heads with green eyes in the entire school. Now, I'm no genetics genius, but if we weren't related, that would be one hell of a coincidence."

Jack sputtered. "But you keep challenging me to races!"

"Yeah, because you're a loser and I like to win," Vince rolled his eyes, dropping him. "You really are stupid. Also, a terrible liar. Quit sneaking off to see Sierra - if I found out you hurt her, Autobot or not I'm running you over with my car."

"I'm not-" Jack stopped, not sure what he wanted to do more - scream, or cry. "Vince, you have to believe me. It's not Sierra. It's just . . ."

There was a pause, Vince crossing his arms as he waited for an answer.

Jack stared back at him, not sure what to say. He had to weigh his options, figure out what was worse - having Arcee think he was seeing Vince, and disapprove, or have Vince think he was seeing Sierra, and probably cause some severe social repercussions. If he started spreading rumors that they were sleeping or hanging out together, and she denied it . . . Jack would be ostracized for sure. Over something that was not even true. He refused to take the fall for a lie.

Or even worse, she said yes . . . and Megatron found out.

"I can't talk about it. If I do, everyone is in danger," he said lamely, defeated. What was he supposed to say? Do?

"So, if it's not me, and it's not Sierra, it's somebody else," Vince guessed, not letting the topic slide even a single inch. "Someone the Autobots wouldn't approve of."

Jack thought he was going to pass out as he watched the puzzle pieces start to fall into place. "And the whole reason I'm here is because, allegedly, that Decepticon is after me. But even when he had the chance, he didn't take me - he took you. Because this was never about me; this was a cover-up made by you."

"Vince-"

"Let me guess, he dumped you back off because it would blow your cover," Vince scrutinized the younger man, Jack's horrified expression telling him everything he needed to know. "I'm right, aren't I?" He leered. "You're hanging out with a Decepticon."

Jack lunged forward, grabbing his jacket sleeve. "You can't tell anyone," he hissed, terrified and not even bothering to try and deny it. The fact that Vince could put the pieces together was alarming - and made him wonder just how easy it was for anyone else to figure out the truth. "Not a soul, Vince."

"And what's going to stop me?" The bully challenged. "What is going to stop me from revealing your dirty little secret to the Autobots? This makes you a traitor, doesn't it?"

"I'm not doing this to betray the Autobots, I'm doing it to protect them," Jack hissed, desperately trying to get Vince to see reason. "I made a deal, alright? And part of the agreement is the Decepticons won't use me to hunt down the 'bots. That factors a risk out of the equation. I'm doing it for as long as I can, at least until we get Optimus back."

"And what was your part of the deal, Darby?"

"That's not important," he tightened his grip on Vince, though it was obvious the motion tempted the bully to slug him in the jaw. "Vince, please, swear to me that you won't say anything. You can't. Because if Me- the Decepticons find out, we're all dead. Including you."

Vince squinted at him, however he did not appear to catch the slip-up.

"What do I have to gain out of this?" He questioned suspiciously. "What is going to stop me?"

Jack swallowed, not sure himself. What did he have to offer Vince? What would the bully even want?

He cringed. "Half of my paycheck. Every two weeks, in cash. I'll even show you the pay stub so you don't think you're getting jipped. But I need you to do something else for me."

The senior cocked a ginger eyebrow, not so much curious but instead annoyed. "And what would that be?"

"Keeping up appearances," Jack answered, straightening his back just a little.

You have backbone, good. I was becoming worried you were nothing short of complacent.

As much as the statement infuriated him, Jack had begun to realize that with Megatron, every other threat in his life started to pale in comparison. Vince did not scare him like he used to. Yes, he was threatening to oust Jack, but it made him realize that he could do this. He could bribe Vince, and twist him just a little to do what he wanted.

"Which means?"

"You figured this out rather easy, and you've been here, what, three times?" Jack replied, feeling a bit of confidence swell in his chest. "If Arcee starts to realize it's not you, and it's not Sierra, that's also her next logical conclusion. I need someone who's in on it, to keep appearances. And you're the perfect candidate."

"I am not dating you."

"And I'm not asking you to date me," Jack shot back, unbelieving of the words which left his tongue. "I'm telling you just to make it seem like we're sneaking around. When I'm not at base, you're not at base."

"And what, we hold hands while going down the hall?" Vince sneered at him. "Not in a million years, Darby."

"Vince," Jack resisted the urge to grit his teeth down into little nubs. "I just need you to do that one little thing. And maybe drop hints in front of Arcee on occasion - nothing explicit, but enough to make her suspicious. I would rather do this than her figuring it all out."

"So, let me get this straight," Vince brought forth his hand, beginning to count with his fingers, "you're hanging out with a Decepticon, the mortal enemies of your Autobot pals, and you want to pay me to pretend to be involved with you so your psych-bike partner doesn't screw things up."

"Do you want the money or not?" Jack asked, starting to get annoyed. The longer they lingered, the more suspicious someone else would get as to why both of the boys were missing.

At that thought he blanched just a bit. Allspark, if Ratchet caught them and thought they were up to something . . . he would never hear the end of it from the crass 'bot.

Vince took his time mulling it over. Then, a malevolent grin spread across his face. "No."

"No?"

"No," he said, eyes glittering. "Instead, I want you to race me again - and I want you to lose. Right in front of Sierra, and the entire school. But not just with anyone, or anything - Arcee."

Jack would have rather he demanded the whole paycheck over this. "Vince, what reason is it I could possibly give her that would convince her to do something like that?"

The older male shrugged. "Say I'll do it to stop giving you a hard time at school. Throw in Miko and Raf if she needs any more convincing. Not really my problem how you make it happen."

That was, perhaps, the first time Jack had ever heard the pair's names come from Vince's mouth - and he still called Jack "Darby."

And he still was not convinced. "You'll pretend to be my . . . um, pretend to be involved with me . . . for basically free?"

"At the cost of your declining social status at school? Of course," Vince's shark grin did not ease Jack's uncertainties. "Not to mention I'm guessing it will be more torture for you than me, baby. Since I don't have to worry about getting beat if it slips into the mainstream. So, we got a deal?"

He stuck out his hand. Jack stared at it, cringing internally as his thoughts swirled. So many deals, so many secrets, and they just kept piling on one another. One of these days it was all going to collapse right on top of him.

But hopefully that day did not come soon.

He gripped the senior's hand, suppressing the dread which threatened to seep into his bones. "Deal."