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.

If he could grit his denta, he would. "On Cybertron, to take off pieces of one's armor is to show an interest in physical intimacy. So, forgive me for believing this to be the case."

"Well, it's the same on Earth, but probably not as intense." She adjusted her shoes as well, grabbing her purse. "Besides, I have no plans to, ah, canoodle with anyone. So don't you worry."

"But you plan on being intoxicated - " he stopped himself, venting softly. "Just be safe."

"I will," she pat his steering wheel, giggling a little and hopping out of the car.

"Dana!" Sierra threw her arms around her, already a little tipsy, nearly sloshing her Solo cup of beer onto the newcomer. "I was worried you wouldn't make it!"

"Had a talk with the parents!" She lied, shouting over the music. "Had to come up with some excuse, ya know?"

"Totally! Come in, come in," Sierra sloppily grabbed her hand and dragged her into the kitchen, where a few sober souls were getting their first drinks, and some other, less-sober partygoers were grabbing their third, or fourth.

Megatron watched the door close behind the young woman, settling on his tires and keeping his scanners open - and his comlink closed.

"To halfway through college!" Sierra and her friend smashed their new drinks together, Dana doing the same before downing the beer. It was cheap, and it was nasty, but she figured she wouldn't care after a few more. Spotting some grape Jell-O shots she carefully slurped one down, eagerly chatting with Sierra and her friend group.

An hour and a half and two beers, three Jell-O shots later she was on the dance floor, screaming just as loud as everyone else, dancing amongst her girl friends. Occasionally she winked teasingly at an attractive boy, shamelessly dancing dirty with the rest of the crowd.

Though she was still somewhat lucid, she was not at all bothered when warm hands settled on her hips, her back against a boy she vaguely remembered from high school. Her hands stayed on his, letting their bodies grind together but maintaining some semblance of a boundary. Though that was tested when he put his lips on her neck, making her squeal and laugh.

The moment was broken, however, when another pair of hands roughly grabbed her, the ex-nurse yelping softly as she was pulled to a different person's body, strong arms wrapping around her.

"Hands off."

She looked up, dazed and drunk. "Megatron?" she peered at him.

The young woman frowned at the man she was looking at. He certainly looked like Megatron, if Megatron had been born an organic. His face still had its scars, though they were much thinner and less noticeable in the dark, under-lit room. His angry, startlingly blue eyes were glaring at the man she had been dancing with, and she swore he looked a bit younger than she thought he was.

"Sorry dude," the young man raised his hands. "Not my fault ya bitch was all up on me."

If Megatron knew what the word meant he did not seem to care, tugging Dana closer to him and waiting for the college kid to back off, looking down at her when he was gone.

"What was that for?" She whined. "I was having fun!!"

"I didn't like the way he was touching you," Megatron growled. "Nothing good comes from someone who does not respect personal space."

"Says the one tryin' to absorb me through osmosis," Dana retorted. He could smell the alcohol in her breath. "And now you're gonna draw attention to yourself. You gotta dance, Megatron!"

The young femme was, without a doubt, incredibly intoxicated. There was no way a sober individual would believe "dance" and "Megatron" could fit in the same sen-

His train of thought was broken when she kissed him, every fiber of his being resisting the reflexive urge to push her away. She broke it off quickly, laughing at his expression.

"You're always so serious," she frowned, mocking him. "No time for parties. Even Ratchet goes on a drive every once in a while! Can you drink alcohol? I bet you need to drink some alcohol first!"

"I don't-" His throat rumbled with a growl, glancing around to see that several humans were indeed beginning to stare, even whisper. The last thing he needed was confrontation, or even getting kicked out of the party. It was better to remain here with her than do guesswork from his position on the road. She was safer with him here. "Fine. What kind of dance?"

"Whatever you want!" Dana grabbed his shoulders, laughing again, uncharacteristically giddy. Her body was against his, his fingers able to feel the pulse of her back strut as his hands rested on her back. As a Decepticon, he should have found it easy to blend; but blending with drunken organics in the mood for "canoodling" was horrifically difficult. Even more so, she was not initiating any sort of cultural or popular dance, or even a partner dance. It was just . . . random movement he was expected to match.

The Cybertronian took another deep breath, and rested his head against hers. He just had to play the part until she was done for the night. A few more hours, at most. If she was not asleep by then.

He allowed her to disappear into the kitchen for another drink as long as he could see her, watching her down another cup of alcohol, laughing with a pair of organic femmes. He bristled when a male approached her and gave her a once-over, resisting the urge to use his fusion canon to straighten out the brat.

"Baack!" She sang, flinging her empty cup away. Grabbing his hands and putting them on her hips, she giggled. "Gonna be all possessive again? I saw you glaring at what's-his-face . . . he's from school."

"Human males have no respect," he looked at her, noticing how more intoxicated she was becoming by the every other minute. "Are you wanting to go home now?"

"Nooo! I want to be here with you!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he was certain she was going to kiss him again. "You're so much fun when you dance! You're all . . . strong and warrior-type."

He rolled his eyes. "I wonder why," he said under his breath, letting her do most of the dancing, cringing every time she - and everyone else - screamed. If she ever wanted to go to any of these again . . . she would have to ask Ratchet.

It was not until almost three in the morning before the party and its participants began to wind down. Megatron took the opportunity to pick up the wasted young woman and carry her out of the house, ignoring her slurred compliments and somewhat crude suggestions.

Putting her in the backseat he looked around before carefully disabling his holoform, driving away. He was not about to take her back home - that would require some elaborate story, and perhaps trouble. Base was the second-best, though he prayed to Primus and any other god that would listen that Ratchet had gone to recharge.

Someone must have been smiling down on the mech, because the base was empty - save for Soundwave, who only required the occasional power down - leaving him to quietly drive to his recharge-slab. Activating his holoform, he carefully dragged the sleeping femme from his backseat and laid her on the ground before transforming, his titan servo picking her up.

"No! I don't wanna see the dentist!" She cried out, nearly making him drop her. Bleary eyes opened to look up at him, an extremely slurred version of his name escaping her lips before she fell back asleep.

"Allspark, keep me sane," He muttered. Climbing into his recharge berth he set her over his pulsing spark, a servo over her prone form to keep her from slipping. Closing his optics, he allowed his processor to slip into recharge.

Aaaand you can imagine what it was like for Megsy to wake up in the morning to a hungover human.

This is kind of helping my writer's block, but I do apologize for not updating my "Healed" work. Gonna be completely honest, college has drained my motivation and inspiration. Higher education FTW!!