You walk away from me tonight-not knowing the real me
'Cause you believe in all the hype-I just took down the magazine
Take away the glamour, the world, let it show
And forget everything you know
Take away the mirrors, the limos, the lights
'Cause I don't wanna' dress up tonight

I'm gonna' put on my old blue jeans
I'm gonna' walk out here into the street
Would you put up resistance-would it make a difference
Would you know the real me
Me an' my old, blue jeans

You think I'm unapproachable-bet I don't feel enough
Should read a book cover to cover and not be so quick to judge
Take away the glamour, the make up, the clothes
And forget everything you know
Take away the ego, the trick of the light
'Cause I don't wanna' dress up tonight

I'm gonna' put on my old blue jeans
I'm gonna' walk out here into the street
Would you put up resistance-would it make a difference
Would you know the real me
Me an' my old, blue jeans

The last timbers of the chords died away, and the room of content Autobots gave a cheerful applause. Kayla brushed her dangling, red hair out of her face and bowed; her black and white guitar hovering near her body thanks to the strap around her neck. After that, the rec. room pretty much quieted down, and the mechs went back to drinking their energon.

The young musician sat down, stretched, and stiffened a yawn; it may have been almost ten in the morning, but she and Jazz arrived at the Ark much earlier. Speaking of whom, the saboteur, who was seated next to her, gave his commendations, " 'Nother smash hit by da' musical Matthews."

"Awww, come on…" the girl said; resting her chin in her hands. But it was true; Decepticon activity decided to lay low for the day, much to everyone's immense relief. With this in mind, many of the 'Bots saw to it to overlap their duty shifts so they'd all receive their downtime together. However, when that downtime did arrive, the group found themselves a bit bored. But the teen sought to remedy the situation with a few melodies, courtesy of her guitar. Thanks to her intervention on the cabin fever, she had been spirited from one spot in the rec. room to another by various mechs who wanted front row seats to the show. Kayla was happy as well, not only to cheer up her friends, but more so to get a feel for everything in the room. The passing weeks had her through many places about the Ark, and the red head now had about a quarter of the ship committed to memory.

Presently, she was seated atop a table, around which many of the 'Bots were gathered. Along with Jazz, there was Bumblebee, Wheeljack, Prowl, Cliffjumper, and Sideswipe. Everyone held a grin as they swapped stories and sipped their energon in peace. It was always a nice treat for Kayla to decide to play her instrument for them with a practiced grace. In fact, it was starting to become evident that she seemed to have this innate ability to lift a foul mood. At least the tactician was quick to notice; ever the quiet, but sharp one he was. As for the girl, the treat for her was to have the chance to listen to the mechs' various stories and ramblings, giving her the opportunity to learn more about her interesting array of friends. Perhaps her father would be willing to share some of his own war stories when he came home on shore leave. That is, if the towering robots didn't freak him out first.

Just then, there came the swish of automatic doors, and everyone turned their heads to face the newcomer. Cliffjumper was the first to speak, and what he said was with a snicker, "Speakin' of ego…"

Sunstreaker came prancing into the room; a hint of pride in his step…or was it cockiness? His yellow paint job seemed extra bright, like it was just painted on, and Jazz, with his heightened senses, thought he picked up a pine-fresh smell wafting off the mech. No doubt that was due in part to a recent washing and waxing, seeing as how the door he entered through led to the car wash/showers down the hall. In fact, judging by the way the lights gleamed off the chrome, and the way he sparkled, the 'Bot might have called for extra wax on this one. All n' all, the Lambo twin glistened like the sun; living up to his name in the fullest. Reaching the table, he struck his best pose and drawled, "Hey guys; take a load off your optics." Yep; definitely cockiness.

A chorus of sighs and "Hi, Sunny", went around the group. Clearly, no one was particularly impressed, at least not in his delivery.

The yellow mech crossed his arms in a huff, "Come on, I worked half the morning on this." He gestured to his body for emphasis, "Thought you'd like it."

Wheeljack rested his head in one hand; head fins flashing as he spoke, "Eh, don't worry. You look-good." He made sure the last word was dripping with sarcasm.

Sideswipe was quick to notice his brother flaring up, so he attempted to douse the flames, "Well, you're definitely shiny; what made you go all day spa?"

A smile crept back into Sunny's features; at least someone was on his side, and no surprise it was his twin. He flicked his head in an almost challenging way, " 'Cause I felt like it. A mech's gotta' keep up his good looks. In fact, with this bling-bling, don't I look royal?"

Without missing a beat, Cliffjumper shot him an evil grin, "Yeah, like King Kong." He burst out laughing; adding insult to injury.

However, the other mechs knew this wouldn't be a joke for long. Sunny and Cliff had a history of knocking each other's heads off, usually stemming from the Minibot's brash attitude and the Lamborghini's short temper. And usually, the confrontations ended the same. Cliff would be howling away in med bay; Ratchet's "caring" bed-side manner in tow, and Sunny would be sulking down in the brig. Despite all incidents, the two ceased to find themselves at each other's throats. As if on cue, the yellow mech started for the smaller, red one with a low growl, "Why you little…"

"Enough", came Prowl's even, but firm tone. The tactician had no desire to babysit the quarreling 'Bots down in the brig; again. He glared at the two, as if trying to subconsciously send them that very message, and they wisely backed off. But both sides held a scowl and the others breathed a sigh of relief.

By that time, Kayla had placed her guitar back in the nearby case, and was using it as a makeshift chair. Crossing her legs and reclining back on her hands, the teenager listened to the conversation with interest. She had spoken to the twins plenty of times before, but the subject matter of which they were famous for hadn't really come up until now. The girl was told of Sideswipe's endless list of practical jokes, and thanked the Lord she didn't meet the business end of them…not yet at least. And she hadn't seen (no pun intended) Sunstreaker's supposed vanity in action; now she could mark that off her "to do" list. But unfortunately for him and his said vanity, while the others were forced to gawk at the display, she had an ace up her sleeve; dead eyes. To voice the point, she replied in a sarcastically sincere tone, "I think you look great."

The yellow Lambo twin turned to her with a smile, "Thank you, I-" But his optics went wide as realization hit. The teenager's eyes continued staring at the table; wry smile clearly showing. Crossing his arms, the mech spat, "You're a real comedian…" But that was all the further he'd ever take any anger out on the red head. After everything the 'Cons put her through and how she faced up to it all, she silently earned Sunny's respect. "The girl with guts" as he would sometimes refer to her as.

A soft ripple of chuckles went up and down the table at Kayla's attempt at comedy. It was nice that she was beginning to loosen up a bit and not use formalities as much when dealing with the other mechs besides Jazz. They also found it interesting, Prowl especially, how the teen seemed so insensitive to the subject of her eyes, as if blindness was nothing.

Just then, there came another swish of automatic doors, but this time, everyone had to look downwards to see who it was. The human mechanic, known as Sparkplug, casually strolled in, with his son, Spike, following close behind. As they approached the group, the boy did a once over of a sheet of paper held in his hand, "Ok, are you sure everything we need is on the list?"

The father heaved a small sigh; clearly this wasn't the first time his son asked the question, "Yes, I'm positive. Everything from electrical tape to jumper cables; it's on there."

Bumblebee leaned over the table to address his friends, "What's goin' on, guys?"

"We're runnin' low on supplies in the lab", Sparkplug explained, "We're gonna' head into town to get some stuff. Anyone wanna' provide the transportation?" His head surveyed the group for volunteers.
The Volkswagen started to rise up from his seat, when a voice said, "I'll do it."

All eyes and optics turned to Sunstreaker in shock. What did he just say? He hardly offered anyone a ride. Spike, who was so used to Bee being the taxi, blinked in surprise, "You…you will?"

"Sure", the Lambo twin answered; stepping forward, "I've been cooped up in the Ark for so long, it'll be nice to get out for a while." Although, the others knew there had to be another motive for the generous occasion. The mech had just come out of a fresh wash and wax; no doubt the real reason for the endeavor was to show off his new glam to the many passerby…and they were right.

The boy gave a sideways glance at his Minibot friend. The Beetle, in turn, looked towards Sunny for a moment, then back at the human and gave a reluctant nod of approval. The Lambo twin may have liked to speed, but even he knew to be careful, especially with people riding inside him. Spike scratched his head at the weirdness of it all, "Um…o-kay."

With that, Sunstreaker transformed, and father and son got in the front seats. However, just as he was about to peel out the door, another voice caught everyone's attention. This time, the group turned toward Kayla, who replied, "Mind if I come with? I haven't been in the city for a while. If anything, it's for the ride."

This time, it was Jazz who was a bit worried; she was his best friend after all; he'd hate to see her get hurt. His gaze then went from her, to the yellow Lamborghini idling near the exit, and he gave the twin a look. Looking up at the saboteur, and sensing the tension, the mech reassured him, "Don't worry, Jazz. I'll take care of 'em. They're in good hands."

A few more seconds passed, and the Porsche finally gave in. As gently as he could, he lifted Kayla off the table and set her down near the car so she could easily climb into the backseat, and she proceeded to do just that. Finally, with no arguments left, Sunstreaker burned rubber to leave the Ark; his three passengers safely secure.

It was of good fortune that Autobot Headquarters wasn't far from the city limits, ensuring short, safe trips for their human associates, as well as quick arrival times should the Decepticons attempt to attack the city. On this particular day, the buildings gleamed with an extra brilliance, due in part to a light rainfall the previous night. The same could be said for the Lamborghini, who's yellow paint job glistened and sparkled; attracting the many onlookers parading the sidewalks. As he cruised the streets, Sunny smiled inwardly; enjoying all the attention his new looks were getting. Adding an engine rev every now and then, he picked up the pace, knowing he'd have ample time to show off in a parking lot he was sure he'd have to wait in.

Sure enough, one last turn off made Sanford's Hardware come into view. The place was sort of a "Home Depot" meets "Pep Boys", in that everything and anything outdoors or mechanical could be found there. So, not only could one fix their fence, but their car as well. The father and son duo had been there too many times to count, usually having to fetch spare parts after another one of Wheeljack's laboratory mishaps. Sunstreaker made sure to grab the first parking spot in the lot; ensuring the ultimate display of his grandeur. Once that was taken care of, he proceeded to let his three passengers out. Spike took Kayla by the hand and started to lead her, when she pulled away. Curious, he asked, "You're not coming with us?"

The teen pretended to rub her chin in thought, "Well, I thought about it, but then I realized my Ferrari doesn't need a tune up today."

The boy laughed at her sarcastic remark, but also mentally kicked himself for not considering it; what would a blind girl need at an auto shop? But everything she said afterwards was with sincerity, "I just wanted some fresh air is all. I'll wait for you guys right here." She then leaned in and whispered, "Besides, someone's gotta' keep Mr. Long, Tan, and Handsome company."

"I heard that", came the mech's disembodied voice.

The human trio let out another laugh before Sparkplug replied, "Suit yourself." With that, the two mechanics entered the store, leaving the girl and the dazzling car to bask in the sun.

Despite his best efforts, Sunstreaker couldn't help but giggle as his waxed brilliance made the coming and going shoppers stare in awe at the vehicle; a similar effect to the people lining the city streets. Kayla, meanwhile, stiffened a groan; blind certainly didn't mean deaf. She could hear every one of the "ooohs" and "aaahs" coming from the spectators, and the muffled laughs coming from a car that normally shouldn't be sentient. Physical beauty was something she couldn't understand, and wouldn't, and she often wondered if that was a good thing or not. It sounded like it was nice to look at, but it served no other purpose. Sadly, and apparently, very few had learned by now that beauty was only skin deep, or in Sunny's case, metal deep. With a sigh, the red head used her cane to find the nearby curb; Spike and Sparkplug were probably going to be awhile; no sense in just standing there and blocking the "glamorous" Autobot from the viewing public.

But just as she was about to sit down, her sensitive hearing picked up a noise, causing her to freeze. She pulled her hair behind her ears, and tilted her head slightly; trying to determine the source of the disturbance. A yell is what caught her attention, and now it sounded like a group of people; teenagers specifically, were having an argument of sorts. It also sounded close, like it was only an isle or two down from where she was standing in the lot. But what really caused Kayla to be alarmed was that the yell came from a girl…who sounded frantic…and oddly familiar.

"Why can't you guys just leave me alone?!" cried the aforementioned teen. Her long, brown hair covered the pained look on her face as she stormed across the road toward a red car.

Not too far behind her, three other teenagers; one girl and two guys, held scowls as they followed the distressed young woman. The girl had blonde hair and sported a crop top and shorts; a combination that would find her highly attractive to most. The two boys flanked either side of her, wearing the latest trends in T-shirts and baggy pants. One of them had a jean jacket; the other, a backwards hat. The guy in the jacket spat back, "Because we don't want comic geek, librarian-dressed, losers in our territory!"

The girl fiddled with the edge of her sweater to try and block out the yells, deciding this time to not answer back. Instead, she attempted to wipe away a tear as she began to fish for her car keys. But before she could reach in her pocket, someone roughly grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing her to turn around. The guy with the backwards hat snapped, "Hey! We're talkin' to you!"

The pained teen grimaced, but stared at the ground, not wanting to meet her tormentors' gazes. The blond girl eyed the long hair she pulled and replied in a mocking tone, "Is Cher your aunt or something? I don't remember the hippie look ever being in style."

The girl adjusted her glasses, which were beginning to slide down her nose, and crossed her arms, waiting for the insults to stop. Backwards Hat put on a pitiful expression and pretended to cry, "Awww, I think we hurt 4-eyes' feelings."

Before the girl could react, Jean Jacket lifted his foot and pushed her, sending her to land on her rear in a large puddle right behind her. With her pants now soaked to the bone, she could only put her head down even more; forced to listen to the roars of laughter coming at her from seemingly all directions.

Just then, the girl felt someone take hold of her shoulder, but very softly. Curious to the change in tenderness, she slowly turned her head skyward to gaze into a red head's dark sunglasses; a stark white cane in hand. With a look of concern, the sudden savior quickly found her hand and pulled her up, asking, "Casey, are you okay?"

Before the answer came, the blond girl quipped, "She'll be fine once she buries her pizza face, and –"

Kayla swung her cane in the voice's general direction; anger flaring up, "Hey, you back off!"

But the blonde didn't, turning to address her cronies instead, "Looks like 4-eyes is gettin' Helen Keller to fight her battles for her."

The red head paid no heed to the insults, at least not yet. Instead, she gently pushed the Casey girl back, and stood protectively in front of her, whispering, "Get outta' here."

The girl stared at the teenager trying to help her; not wanting to ditch her with the Three Stooges, "But…"

Kayla turned her head slightly, and muttered, "I got friends in high places; literally. They won't do anything. I'll be okay, now go." The girl continued to stare at the showdown of sorts, as she fished for her keys; hoping she was making the right decision. After one, final glance, she very reluctantly got in her car and drove off.

That left Kayla all alone with the peanut gallery. But she, quite frankly, wasn't worried; mainly because she had dealt with these three goons before. They, and the Casey girl included, all lived in the red head's neighborhood, making their voices easily recognizable, and the reason she responded to the fight so quickly. These three hooligans lived for glam, so it was no surprise they chose a quiet, bookworm as their target. It was also no surprise they'd be here. No doubt the guys came to get some car parts to pimp out their rides and show them off like they usually did. They thought they were all that, but now they were dealing with someone who was captured by Decepticons and lived to tell the tale. In fact, they sort of reminded her of those three Seekers who she so graciously dubbed "Jet Screamer", "Thunderhead", and "Skyjerk"…and she knew how to handle them.

Angered at losing their prey, the three ruffians began circling the red head much like sharks. Backwards Hat spoke first, "Well, long time, no see". He made sure the irony of the statement was clear.

Kayla sighed and did her best Prowl imitation, "Say what you want, but I'm not stooping to your level…at least not your grade school level of insults."

"Ooooh, I'm shaking", Jean Jacket spat, "So, who gave you your fashion tips? Ray Charles?"

"Nah, it must have been Dracula", the blonde added with a snicker, "He can't see his reflection, remember? It'd also explain the sunglasses, since getting a decent tan isn't on his 'to do' list, or hers."

The red head rolled her eyes, "Phft. Is that the best you got? Seriously, is this all you do? Just pick on people who actually have a conscience?" She added in with disgust, "Or are you just miffed because your monthly issue of Glamour Magazine didn't come in yet?"

The blonde flared up in rage and got in Kayla's face, "News flash, Helen; I got two, hot guys hitting on me, a sense of fashion, and a sweet ride. I definitely don't need a preaching on it from an 'eagle-eyed', Ugly Betty like you."

The two guys grinned wickedly at the insult. Kayla stood her ground and said nothing; making it clear in her facial features that the torment wasn't going to bring her down easily. However, a gasp emerged, but not from any of the teenagers or passerby. Two isles down, Sunstreaker held his breath in utter shock. He was so busy basking in the limelight earlier, that he almost didn't notice the yelling. But his attention was quickly brought to it, when he watched his blind charge walk away, using the commotion as a guide. From his parked spot, the mech easily witnessed the entire confrontation, and what he saw, as well as heard, stunned him into submission. He couldn't believe how blatantly cruel these three slaggers were being. Even more shocking was how Kayla was taking it. She didn't seem too put off by the whole ordeal…how come? he wondered.

The three creeps started advancing on the teenager, when a strict voice was heard from behind, making them freeze, "Is there a problem here?" They all turned around to see a man in his early 40s, sporting short, brown hair, and a spare tire, glaring at them. The red head, meanwhile, relaxed; relief had come in the form of Sparkplug, and not a moment too soon. His son stood behind him, carrying bags in both hands, and he looked none too pleased either.

The hooligans stared at the man before them, wondering who he was. But seeing the scowl on his face let them know he wasn't one to be messed with. With a nervous chorus of "no, no, no", the three leaved off to the side, so Kayla would be in plain view. Spike transferred all the bags to one hand, and took the teenager's hand in the other, replying, "Come on; let's get back to the others."

After one more angry glance at the ruffians, the mechanic strode off to join his son, and the trio made their way back towards the disguised Sunstreaker. As soon as everyone was safely secure, the Lamborghini's voice drawled out of the speakers, "You alright?"

The girl sighed as she retracted her cane, "Fine".

As the yellow mech began backing out of the spot, Spike peered out the window to stare at the three bullies, who were now clustered together, chatting away. The boy broke the tense silence, "Who were those guys?"

Kayla slumped in her seat a bit, and growled, "No one important."

The oil inside the Autobot was practically boiling in anger; how dare those creeps insult the kid like that! Just as he was nearing the exit, he was struck with an idea, and instead of merging into traffic, he took a sharp left turn and circled the lot. Coming around the last isle of cars, he stopped at the turn and scoped out his target. The hooligans were still standing in the spot they were left in; oblivious to what was about to happen. The pool of water they had dumped their first victim in was right next to them…if he could just hit it at the right angle…

Giggling madly, Sunstreaker floored the gas pedal; the force throwing his passengers back in their seats. By the time anyone realized what happened, it was already over. The bullies turned just in time to see a yellow blur zip past them, jet-black tires careening into the giant puddle, and a wall of dirty, ice-cold water hit them like a ton of bricks. Their bodies soaked to the marrow, the three dingbats did nothing but curse.

The two mechanics gaped in both amusement and shock, while the Lambo twin grinned inwardly, "Now that was funny…" But a quick check in his rear view mirrors made him lose the chuckle instantly. Apparently, when he was giving the Stooges a taste of their own medicine, he hadn't calculated the angle exactly right. He had planned the splash would douse the trio, but spare his glossy finish; so not the case. His whole left side was all wet, and the wind blowing the liquid back made the dirt in the rain water spread and dry like that. So now, he had a light brown splotch on one side, making the yellow paint cease to shine. "Great", he grumbled, "and I just got this finish perfect…"

Choosing to ignore his ramblings, Kayla spoke up, "Thanks for helping me out, Mr. Witwicky. It's people like them that give everyone else a bad name."

Sparkplug was about to respond when Sunstreaker interrupted, "Those guys are jerks; you're beautiful, kid."

The teenager smiled; apparently the two mechanics weren't the only ones watching the stand off. After a few muffled coughs, she said, "Well…thanks, but, it's okay."

The car was silent for a moment as the 'Bot tried to make sense of what he just heard, "But, those guys insulted you…how can you say that?"

The girl's smile faded slightly; a more serious tone seeping in. Her eyes and head turning upwards just a tad, she replied matter-of-factly, "It's one of the pros about being blind; I never have to worry about appearances". A short pause, and then, "I don't care what I look like, and I don't need anyone's approval…it's the inside that counts…"

The rest of the drive was silent as everyone in the cab contemplated her words; the Lambo twin especially. Now the teen's reactions made sense…and he suddenly found that he didn't. Personal grooming was always one of his top priorities…but…coming from someone who couldn't see…it cast the whole business in a new light…and now he couldn't help but feel the twinge of being a bit of a jerk himself. Granted, he wasn't prone to much change, but…after what he saw and her little speech…it was something to consider…

The group soon found themselves back at the Ark, and the human trio bailed out, allowing Sunstreaker to transform. The splash from earlier now caked most of his left leg, and a bit of his chest section; he'd have to hit the showers. While Spike and Sparkplug headed towards Wheeljack's lab with their mechanical, pirate booty, a nearby Jazz scooped up Kayla and placed her on his shoulder. When the saboteur inquired about the splotch, the Lamborghini mumbled, "Eh…just hit a puddle is all; a quick wash'll get it off." And the twin left it at that. That girl and the Porsche were close; if he got wind of what happened in the lot…the twin had no clue what the Special Ops. Officer would do. Thankfully, the teen caught Sunny's covert signal and merely laughed, saying that her best friend didn't miss anything.

Satisfied with the answer, the two musicians trotted away.

With that over and done with, the Lambo twin moseyed down an adjoining hallway, headed for the carwash. He was passed by many of his comrades along the way, all of whom didn't seem to mind his appearance. But one mech in particular made sure to rub it in his face. Reaching an intersection, the yellow 'Bot was sidelined by Cliffjumper, who's optics immediately went to the dirt and grime plastering his rival. The Minibot let out a laugh, "Hey Sunny; looks like mother nature didn't approve of your "perfect" paint job."

The twin gave the little, red demon a death stare, and flared up, "Well ya' know what?!" There was a long pause between them; Cliff projecting a defying sneer; his opponent trying to come up with a retort. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the twin heaved a sigh, and stated matter-of-factly, "…looks aren't everything."

Proud at himself for upstaging the Minibot, Sunstreaker marched past, leaving Cliffjumper to gape in confusion. However, instead of heading for the showers, the Lamborghini decided to find his brother first and see what he was up to…the thin layer of dirt could wait…

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AN: A segment of the various types of bullying taken right out of my own life, unfortunately. Too bad I didn't have a giant robot to rescue me.
This was actually one of the first ideas I had for the book. If you have a character (Sunstreaker) who cares about his looks, it seemed only natural to pair him with the blind girl, and see what happens.
The trickiest part was coming up with the ending; I didn't want Sunny to have a complete and sudden attitude change, 'cause it'd be out of character, but something just enough to show he's at least giving it some thought. Hopefully, it turned out alright; I think it did, anyway.