I have a million other stories I should be working on. I could be typing up another chapter of my pride and joy, "Wonderwall", or working on one of its two companion fics: "Through Glass", the prequel involving Soundwave and Jazz; or the yet-untitled twin-centric fic. I also have two one-shots on the way: one involving a Decepticon (I'm not revealing who except to say that it ISN'T STARSCREAM!) and their unrequited crush on Perceptor. And the other centred on Wheelie, in attempt to get people to stop bashing him. I'm sure he's a reason he's so annoying, and he's just a little kid. Besides, why bash Wheelie when you could be much more productive and bash someone who deserves it? Like Shockwave, or Huffer?

ANYWAY, once this idea got into my head, it just wouldn't leave me alone. Flame if you want. It's just crack. It isn't meant to be taken seriously.

Notes on the semi-AU: This is movie-verse (I'm not a G1 purist! They scare me!), but with some other Autobots having arrived since the end of the movie. (No OCs). And as awesome as Camaros are, Bumblebee is a VW bug again, cos… I can… and I'm using the G1 Jazz, too. Eventually. C'mon, guys, Blaster is the one who should talk like a racial stereotype, not Jazz! And sadly, this is really how I would imagine the Junkions had they been in the new movie.

On another note, I like Hot Rod. I hate Rodimus Prime, but Hot Rod is cool. I'm portraying him as a flamed Corvette here, cos I saw one the other day, and it looked JUST LIKE HIM!

I don't own "Transformers", no. That honour falls to HasTak (Hasbro/Takara), yes. I also don't own the Asimo (Look it up; it's freaking adorable!) or a majority of Wreck-Gar's lines.


"What," was the first thing anyone said upon the girl's return, "Is that?" Said someone was a trigger-happy weapon specialist. Ironhide had seen a lot of things in his life, but never anything quite like the thing standing shyly behind Maggie Madsen, friend and ally to the Autobots and US government.

"Not the 'welcome home' I was expecting," Maggie scowled up at Ironhide. His cannons and rough disposition didn't faze her one bit. She was used to the Autobots and all their personality quirks, from the five that she had originally known, to the other nine that had since found their way to Earth: Prowl, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Hot Rod, Arcee, Blaster, Tracks, Blurr, and Wheeljack. "And to answer your question, that'd be my gift from the Japanese government. It's a robot."

Maggie, you see, had just gotten back from a business trip in Japan. Her helping the Japanese government out was supposed to secure the alliance between Japan and the US. Nobody seemed to care that she was Australian, of course. The Autobots and their human friends from the government, as well as Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes, were supposed to be welcoming her back to her temporary home at the Autobot HQ. (It was preferable to staying in hotels or renting a crappy apartment.)

"Robot?" Ironhide poked the small, white figure standing behind the young hacker. "That's no robot! It's not like any I've ever seen!"

"It's a Honda ASIMO," Maggie pushed the giant hand away, hugging her Asimo robot protectively. "Our technology may not be as advanced as yours, but at least be polite! The poor thing's scared! How is it s'posed to register your faces into its databank if you scare it?"

"What's it do?" another Autobot, the Volkswagen known as Bumblebee, stared at the Asimo curiously. He secretly was thrilled to no longer be the shortest robot in the base. (Besides, of course, Jazz's corpse, which Ratchet refused to get rid of, as it hadn't faded to the dull grey of most dead mechs.) He'd been a Camaro, once, but after a particularly gruesome fight with Thundercracker, the only parts available to Ratchet that fit his form were those of a Volkswagen beetle. Ah well. He was more comfortable this way, anyway.

"It's like a robotic assistant," Mikaela piped up. "I saw a demonstration of a prototype at Disneyland when I went with Trent. I thought it was for handicapped people or something."

"I thought you'd all appreciate its help around here," Maggie smiled brightly towards Mikaela. "Nobody likes cleaning up after the disaster duo, after all."

"Hey!" Sideswipe glared at the Asimo. "You're gonna give it the wrong idea about us!"

"Yeah! We haven't even done anything yet!" Sunstreaker added as he, too, glared. The Asimo beeped and buried its head in Maggie's skirt.

"Oh, leave the poor thing be, you two," Arcee, the female Autobot that had become fast friends with Mikaela and Maggie, walked over and scooped Asimo up. "Hi there! I'm Arcee. Are you liking America so far?"

As Arcee cooed and beeped at the tiny robot in her hands, Maggie sighed, looked around, and noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Glen?" she arched an eyebrow. "I thought he'd be here."


"Okay, Blurr, I get it!" the Aussie woman shook her head and smiled. "Figures… What'd I miss around here?"

"Nothing much," Bumblebee shrugged. "The Decepticons are still laying low. Optimus is still stressing out way too much than is good for him. The twins are still spending as much time as they can distracting Ratchet and Wheeljack from trying to fix Jazz. Ironhide still wants to blow shit up. Tracks is still vain. Oh, and we built another story to the base to accommodate all the Autobot arrivals!"

"Really? But I didn't see anything added onto the building when Optimus drove me up."

"We didn't build up; we dug down! Our second story is underground!" the Volkswagen grinned happily.

"Yeah, wanna see? I'll give you a tour," Arcee offered, placing a much calmer-Asimo back on the ground. The tiny robot chirped happily.

"In that case, I'd better come along too," Hot Rod jumped up. "Optimus, permission to give Maggie a tour?"

"Permission granted," the unusually-silent leader nodded slightly, and the four of them – Hot Rod, Arcee, Asimo, and Maggie – were off before anyone could say anything.


It really was incredible, the "second story". Rather than traditional building, Wheeljack had merely "enhanced" the natural caverns underneath the base – caverns that no one else had even known were there. But the most amazing thing was the evidence that someone had been here before.

Arcee and Hot Rod had dismissed it, but Maggie was sure that the Autobots weren't the first to use the caverns. The scratches on the walls were too organized, too mechanical, to not be hieroglyphs. She noticed Asimo cocking its head, as if trying to comprehend.

"Don't bother, Asimo," she laughed. In the short time since getting the four-foot-tall robot, she'd grown rather attached to it. "You won't be able to read it. I'm a hacker, remember? I've already tried and I can't."

"Well," Hot Rod shrugged and exchanged glances with the pretty femme Arcee, "We should really get back to the others soon. Maggie?"

Maggie opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a strange rumbling, and the cave started to tremble.

"An earthquake?!" she exclaimed, pulling the Asimo towards her protectively. It was delicate, after all. "But we aren't near any major fault lines!"

"Arcee! Get behind me! I'll cover you!" Hot Rod insisted, to which the pink femme retorted:

"No, you get behind me and I'll cover you!"

However, no one had time to get behind or cover each other as just then one of the walls burst and in came a quartet robots unlike any Maggie had ever seen. They were definitely Transformers, but they weren't Autobot or Decepticon! Two were in alt-modes, as odd, motorbike things, and two were riding their companions in bipedal mode.

Maggie shrieked as one of them grabbed her. "Lemme go!"

"I'll never let go, Jack," the mech grinned down at her and she shuddered. It's optics were red, but that wasn't even the worst part – it had facial hair. That went against everything her logical mind had ever known.

"Arcee! Hot Rod!" The Aussie shrieked as the mechs rode away, kidnapping her. "Take Asimo and get help!"


Maggie glared at the leader of the strange mechs that had captured her. He had longer facial hair, though, upon closer inspection, she was a little relieved to find that they were wires rather than hair. She wished she could talk to them and determine if they really wanted to hurt her, but at the moment she was tied up. Literally. Now, Maggie was a fairly open girl, but she had rather hoped that the first time she was bound and gagged would be consensual.

However, she could hear a voice. Very faint, but it was there. Autobots. Her rescuers!

"I'm telling you, Optimus, one blast from my cannons and these things'll be sorry they –"

"Ironhide, we can't. At least wait to see if they mean us any harm before mindlessly blowing anything up."

"Of course they mean us harm! You heard Hot Rod and Arcee!"

"Ironhide," the stern voice sounded much louder, and Maggie turned to see two of her captors – with the exception of the leader, they all looked the same – forcefully pushing Ironhide, Wheeljack, and Optimus Prime into the messy chamber.

"You're gonna need a bigger boat," the leader smirked down at them from his throne, which appeared to be made of litter, and placed the bewildered Aussie on his lap.

"We mean you know harm," Optimus held his hands up, as if to show he had no weapons. As if he weren't a giant robot killing machine. "We just want Maggie back, then we'll leave your kind be."

"Keh," Ironhide grunted. Wheeljack elbowed the weapons specialist in the side. The leader of Maggie's captors leered down at them, as if trying to decide whether to ignore them or kill them.

"Wait," Optimus opened a little door in his arm that Maggie had never noticed before. Holding out a small, glowing object, he turned to his companions. "I have an idea… Bah weep granna weep ninny bong."

The guards – for what else could they be called – looked at the Autobot leader incredulously. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for who knew what. What the hell was Optimus doing?

Wheeljack and Ironhide exchanged looks, and the engineer repeated, unsure, "Bah weep granna… weep ninny bong?"

Her captor, however, grinned jovially. Placing Maggie down gently, he jumped up and landed at the feet of Optimus Prime. He was about the same height as Hot Rod. "Bah weep granna weep ninny bong!" he exclaimed, gladly taking the glowing object that the Autobot leader offered him.

"Bah weep granna weep ninny bong!" his guards cheered.

Maggie couldn't believe it. What the hell was going on?


Universal greeting aside, it had taken a few minutes to coax the Junkions – that was what they were called – out of their cave dwelling home. Though the gag and rope were gone, Maggie was still constantly held by the Junkion leader, who would not let her go, and so Optimus had instead decided it best to introduce the Junkions to the Autobots.

They, unlike the Autobots, had learned Earth languages by watching television and listening to the radio. Because of this, many of them quickly grew fond of Blaster. Their home planet of "Junk" had crashed into the Earth long ago – killing the last dinosaurs – and they'd dwelled underground since then. It was Asimo's signal as it tried understanding their writings that had set off this whole chain of events. But to be fair, it wasn't the little Japanese robot's fault.

Messy things by nature, they kept the Asimo busy for the next few days. But, aside from Ironhide and Ratchet, they quickly earned the trust of the Autobots when they were able to fix Jazz, rebuilding him as a Porsche. However, Maggie didn't have much of a chance to get reacquainted with her old friend, as Prowl didn't let the Porsche out of his sight. And, well, the Junkion leader didn't let her out of his sight. And it soon became obvious why:

"Why me?" she asked him one night. He – Wreck-Gar, he was called – recharged in her room along with Asimo, both refusing to leave her. It delighted Wreck-Gar how flustered she'd get when she caught him peering at her in the bathroom.

"To have and to hold!" was his jolly reply. Maggie blushed.

"Wh-what?" she sputtered, blushing even more when he pushed his face closer to hers.

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart? I'm after a prize tonight! Be my lover and I'll cover you! Second star to the right and straight on til morning!"

Maggie was unsure how to reply. Wreck-Gar would never hurt her, but he never made any sense, either. She really really hoped she was misunderstanding him right now, because to her it looked like the Junkion king wanted her as his queen.

"I'm not sure I understand…" She knew one thing from hanging with the Autobots, and it was that kissing was not something any of them found romantic in any way. Most mechs were disgusted by the primitive display, and though it fascinated both Hot Rod and Ratchet, no mech had ever actually tried, despite Mikaela and Sam's teasing.

"I'm so sure you do," Wreck-Gar retorted. "You're the cheese to my macaroni!"

Oh, that was just great. She was understanding correctly.

"Look, Wreck-Gar, I'm flattered. Ridgy didge, I am. But I just don't think it'll work out between us. And, I mean, why would you pursue me? You're a mech! Why not someone like Arcee!"

"Gentleman prefer blondes. It's not the years, honey. It's the mileage."

"You're hardly a gentleman! And I'm not robosexual!"

"Baby, you look like you could use a stiff one!"

"Definitely not a gentleman!" now she was getting flustered, while he, as usual, just seemed amused.

"I'm not bad," his optics flashed, giving her room a faint red glow. "I'm just drawn that way! And frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!"

She could feel his surprisingly warm metallic fingers gently and slowly trailing up her leg, towards her skirt. "Wr-Wreck-Gar! Are you listening? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Do I make you horny, baby? Do I make you randy? There's a lot of things about me you don't know anything about. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand."

"Wreck-Gar, please be serious! I don't understand you and your random quotes! This isn't a movie – aah!" She gasped as one of his elegant fingers slipped up her skirt. "St-stop!" Oh, god, it felt so weird, so wrong, so out-of-place, so…


"Wreck-Gar!" she gasped again, surprised at herself. "The others are trying to sleep – don't make me do that…"

"Don't let the neighbours stop you from having fun. They'll have peace and quiet when you're good and done. You can be as loud as the hell you want when you're making love!"

"Making what?" she squeaked indignantly as his hands continued to roam her body. It wasn't fair – how was she supposed to argue with her captor if he kept touching her like that?

"A kiss, a kiss! My kingdom for a kiss!"

"Th-that's not how that one goes…"

"Mm," Wreck-Gar smirked. "I know. But I don't care. We all go a little mad sometimes."

"Wreck-Gar, I really don't want…"

"Maggie… you complete me," He stopped moving his hands and stared at her, red optics into aquamarine eyes. And in the red, Maggie saw something that almost looked sincere. He continued, "You need to be kissed. And often. And by someone who knows how."

She placed her hand on the part of his that wasn't in her skirt and looked away. In the few days since she'd met him, she'd come to think of the Junkion leader as a friend, albeit an odd one. And he was making her feel damn good right now. But was she really prepared to begin a real romantic relationship?

The answer that her heart gave her was that she'd waited too damn long.

"Alright," she whispered. "I'll be your girlfriend, if that's really what you want…"


The twins smirked at each other as they snuck around that night. Since Jazz had woken up, Prowl had been too busy to catch Sunstreaker or Sideswipe, especially at night, like now. Phase 1 of their latest prank on Ratchet was complete. Now, if they could just get down the corrider to finish phase 2…

'Sunny…' Sideswipe communicated mentally with his brother, as they usually did when they were alone. 'Sunny, did you hear that?'

'It's just Maggie. You know how humans are when they get those urges. Or maybe you don't. We can't all be as attractive as me, you know.'

'Shut up. We're twins, stupid!'

Before Sunstreaker could retort, they heard another voice coming from the direction of Maggie's room, as full of desire as the female's had been:

"I'm the king of the woooorld!" this more masculine voice that was definitely not Maggie's wailed. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged looks of disgust, both thinking the same thing:

'Primus, what the slag are they doing!?'


Don't ask how it'd be possible. I have no idea. My god, Wreck-Gar is a huge challenge to write!