Worst Case Scenario

Worst Case Scenario?

Summary: Sam wakes up the day after his 18th birthday to find himself in the last place he wants to be.

Rating: T for references to being drunk and (stateside) under-age drinking.

Pairings: none (yet)

A/N After a big (non-alcoholic) party with lots of sugary substances, a friend of mine put a friend's 4-inch 'Sam' figurine (a Mutt Williams Indiana Jones figure) riding on Megatron in his jet-mode. Then she challenged me to write the 'how it happens' story. This is my response. The title is a WIP: I will write a short oneshot if anyone suggests a better one and I choose it: if you win, I will contact you.

Worst Case Scenario?

Prologue.

"Nnnngggg!" groaned Sam as he woke up. His head was pounding, his body was all scrunched up, and he felt very ill. Add to that that his bed was incredibly lumpy and hard. As he brought his hands up to push himself up, he realised the texture and hardness of the surface he was lying on was totally wrong to be his bed. It was smooth, and harder than any mattress. As he tried to gather his scattered wits, Sam remembered why he felt so unwell: probably something to do with the case of beer his father had got in to help him celebrate turning eighteen.

Yes, he was still underage, but his father had said that eighteen was old enough, by his standards, for Sam to "become a man." He'd bought in a case of beer, and he and Sam had downed several cans before his Mom and Dad had gone to bed, leaving him downstairs to enjoy himself and come up quietly in his own time.

He'd downed a few more cans on his own, and after that, he could remember wanting to go and see Miles, even packing several cans to take with him, but beyond that…..the ache in his head was too much of a distraction, and he decided he's have to take some pain pills before assessing the damage. His Mom had some Tylenol in her bathroom cupboard, and Sam hoped he'd just dozed off on his living room floor before heading out to see Miles. A brief trip upstairs and he could think again.

He rolled over on the uncomfortable lumpy surface, and felt himself come to rest against another lumpy surface….funny, had he slept near the wall? Then a voice spoke.

"Have you finally revived?"

He froze, the blood in his veins feeling as if it was turning into ice. The voice was not his father's, or Miles', or Bumblebee's, for that matter. The last time he recalled hearing that voice, it had been threatening to kill him.

His eyes shot open, and he tried to push back into the unyielding surface beneath him as he found his view was composed of a huge, spiky silver head, with burning red optics and a mouth opening in a grin that was full of way too many sharp teeth. Sam felt his clothes grow damp as he began to sweat, and realised where he was.

He was lying on his back, on Megatron's thigh. The lumpy surface he had rolled against was a carefully-placed hand that has prevented him rolling off.

Sam found himself unable to speak, but his brain was going into overdrive with a dozen questions. 'But how….he's dead!...why….but I don't understand…what am I doing….' And a dozen other questions started and died in his mind, as the memories of the rest of last night snapped back into his brain with an awful clarity.