Just Burned and Healed Things

Party Rock

Disclaimer: I do not endorse underage drinking, drunk driving, or getting smashed in general. This is just a work that was inspired by a long, boring car ride. Do not drink unless you are of age, with a parent/guardian in your own home ("acceptable" in some states, mine included), or have a designated driver.

For those who may worry about what appears to be a continuity error, this is assuming Dana and all affiliates are "halfway through college," i.e. finished sophomore year. This would put them at about nineteen to twenty, if not almost twenty-one years old (the legal drinking age in the United States). Therefore, they are not technically of age to drink just yet.

This is a Dana x Megatron sort-of fluff. Will reference adult themes but not go into any sort of implications or explicit details.

"Do you really think Fowler will not somehow find out about this?" Megatron grumbled, ignoring Dana's protest as he tilted his rear-view mirror to look at her.

"Who's gonna tell him? You?" She replied, readjusting his mirror as she applied her lipstick. "Besides, you agreed to be my designated driver. Be glad I trusted you and not some other human to do it."

She felt him shift slightly as he unhappily rolled up to the house; much to his distaste, she was right. Though it troubled him - as this behavior was somewhat unlike her - that Dana decided to participate in a possibly illegal excursion, it was at least comforting to know she trusted him enough to confide in him. A friend of hers from school had invited her to a party; Dana explained that they typically involved loud music, underage drinking, dancing, unintentional procreation, and police officers.

He failed to see what was so exciting about such an endeavor.

"I suppose I can agree with that," he eyed the house suspiciously. His audio receptors could easily pick up the unnecessarily loud music that shook the walls of the house, and the joyous screaming of the human younglings inside. Though his scanners did not pick up any potential threat, he was worried. On the list of stupid things the human in his cab had done, this was up there. If she was arrested, or hurt, not only would he be angry, but her guardian, the medic . . .

Megatron, lord of the Decepticons, did not want to know what kind of twisted things the enraged Autobot could possibly come up with to make him pay for his sneaking around with his charge.

Dana took out yet another tube from her bag, opening it up and applying some black tar to the hairs lining her eyes.

"Now that you've stopped moving, I can put on some mascara without worrying about stabbing my eye out," she hummed softly as she worked quickly. Blinking a few times, she sat back and flashed her driver a smile. "How do I look?"

Megatron did his best not to sigh. He was most certainly not the best judge when it came to organic beauty. And it was unfair to compare her to Cybertronian standards; humans were rarely born with a pre-determined function. Though he supposed her status as a nurse - a medical assistant - would put her in relatively high regard in cities such as Iacon. In Kaon, her spitfire words and reckless manner would seem promising, but her organic nature would bring her down a few pegs. And physically, well, it was hard to imagine how she would look with a metallic body. Average, probably. And speaking of body . . .

"Is it really necessary to show so much of your protoform?" He could not help the disapproving tone.

She rolled her eyes. "Really? You're going to slut-shame me right now?" Her hands subconsciously adjusted her top, which exposed most of her shoulders and collar bone, offering a teasing look at her mammary glands before hugging her sides and front. The back was cleverly altered to be a bit lose, hiding the alien device in her spine. He could feel parts of her exposed legs in his seat, her heels occasionally digging into his soft floor mats painfully. Just a prick, nothing terribly bothersome.