Bad Hair Day
by K. Stonham
first released 30th July 2012

Sideswipe hated Decepticons.

He particularly hated them after battles that lasted endless hours. Battles that landed his brother and friends in pieces. Battles when the 'Cons got the better end of things. Why Megatron wanted black opals, Sideswipe did not know. He did not want to know. Knowing would involve asking Perceptor, which would result in an hours-long lecture, which Sideswipe was in no mood for, having just gotten off a triple shift due to the sheer number of mecha in the med bay.

His last thought, as Sideswipe collapsed on his berth and fell into exhausted recharge, was that he really, really hated Decepticons.

So deep was his recharge that he did not wake when the door to his and Sunny's quarters slid open a few hours later. Did not, in fact, stir as someone crept up to his berth. Didn't even twitch as something cool and wet was dribbled onto his helm.

Groggy from an all-nighter piecing aliens back together, Carly stumbled into the empty Rec Room, heading directly toward the coffee machine in the human corner. Black restorative nirvana called her name. She would have some. Woe betide any man or mecha who stood in her way.

She was seriously contemplating taking Prowl up on his offer of quarters in the Ark. There was no way she was fit to drive back to her parents' place right now.

Her path crossed with Sideswipe as the red warrior headed for his own dispenser of energizing brew. They greeted one another with the barest of mumbles.

Oh, God, coffee. Thank you, God, for coffee.

Slumped at the table, it took Carly until her second refill to actually look at Sideswipe and focus. She blinked.

"New... hairdo?" she tried out, not sure if she was imagining things or not.


"Um. Your helm," Carly managed, with a gesture at her own head. "Bad hair day?"

Sideswipe just looked at her, with the air of one who wasn't sure if he was being put on or not, then slowly lifted his hand to his head.

"Gyaah!" He jerked his hand away, optics now wide. A lone floppy strand of pasta clung wetly to his hand.

"Oh," said Carly. "Not just my imagination then."

"What- what-?"

Carly sipped at her coffee again. "So who'd you piss off this time?"

Sideswipe clawed at his helm. "No one!" Spaghetti flew everywhere.

The click of a camera from one of the ventilation ducts froze both of them.

Sideswipe moved first, lunging for the grill and tearing it aside. Carly caught a flash of red eyes and gray-black metal skin as the cybercat evaded Sideswipe's grab and took off running. "Red Alert!" She pressed her comm button. "Ravage is in the vents!"

With a roar of rage, Sideswipe pulled his blaster from subspace and tore out of the room, following the sound of metal feet against metal ducts.

Glue-coated spaghetti littered his trail. Carly eyed it, then decided that her best bet was to report the incident to Prowl. He could find whoever had done it and assign them cleanup.

And while that was going on, she was going to find Sparkplug and take him up on his offer of the use of the Witwicky's guest bed.

Author's Note: So, the Flesh_and_Steel community on LiveJournal is doing a prompt party. Tiamat1972 posted this:

Carly/Sideswipe/Bad Hair Day

*bonus points if Sideswipe is the one having the bad hair day*

And I just couldn't resist.