Disclaimer: Nope, just a fanfiction writer. I would be a man, if I owned it, wouldn't I? So nope.
Story: Fem!Sam Dylan Gould is her Lex Luthor, Bee's gotta be her Herbie, and the AllSpark claims her. Wait, what? Pairings undecided: main human Sam/Dylan, main mech Barricade/Sam/Starscream and Sam/Bee.
Set before first movie and an AU genderbender.
Spoilers: All movies.
Warnings: Cursing and violence for now…hm, just in case since I'm usually writing it, bit of crazy humor, perverted humor, morbid or sarcastic humor, and maybe some sexual situations…
Pairings: Not set. No canon pairings. Mainly centered around Sam. Main Sam human pairing: Sam/Dylan, Main Sam mech pairing: Sam/Starscream, Sam/Barricade, and Sam/Bee. Future Sam others very possible i.e. Sam/Optimus, etc. Minor side pairings: Mikaela/Arcee, Chromia/Elita-One, Trent/Flare-Up, Leo/OC…
Quantum Physics of the Female Anatomy
Chapter Two: Has the Bitterest Taste
Her eyes blinked widely, almost owlishly at him.
He rolled his eyes.
"You're entering high school as a freshman now, right? So you'll need something to do your work on. Hence, I'm getting you a computer."
"Really?" she asked excitedly, now that she was sure of what she'd heard from him.
"Really," Dylan Gould smiled fondly, recalling their meeting two years before. "And I'm getting you new glasses," he almost scrunched up his nose, seeing the glasses perched on hers.
Big, round, stocky horn-rimmed glasses that magnified Sam's hazel eyes and were just plain too big for her small face. They really just had to go…
"Why would you do that? These are perfectly fine and functional, and I only really just need them for reading," Sam grabbed her book again and sat against his chair, comfortably sitting on the floor by his feet.
"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Dylan murmured, reading the title of her book. "You're reading that again?"
She hummed happily. "It's my favorite book."
"Well, mark your place. We'll be going to get your computer and then glasses after. I'll go ahead and buy one for your parents too. Lord knows they wouldn't want to go to your room and have to use your computer all the time to look for things."
"I wonder how they're going to pay for the internet," Sam wondered aloud to herself, tapping her lips with a finger in thought.
"Don't worry, it's taken cared of," Dylan waved her off, and she looked at him suspiciously before choosing to dismiss it. "If you're good, I'll teach you to drive."
Sam postured and fluttered her eyes, immediately getting a laugh out of him as she mocked-obediently lowered her head demurely.
This was one of the many visits Sam had taken to visit Dylan over the last two years since meeting each other. Sam had drastically changed from the nearly apprehensive, lonely and apathetic girl she had been when she had first met him. Instead, trying to fit in or at least associate with her fellow peers more, she had chosen to be a rather dorky, odd, and quirky individual. Of course, her fellows still didn't like her new personality and thought she was weird, but she was quite taken and liked who she had chosen to be. It was what she'd chosen and what she was going to stick with.
She and Dylan had an understanding since then, which had resulted in her personality change. And it affected him too, as Dylan was less…lonely. Sad. Miserable. These things and more, and she didn't even know why –only that he'd trusted and connected with her enough to let her in on how he felt.
Despite the 16 year age difference, the two of them were more alike than anyone else could ever relate to them. It was why they exchanged emails every weekend, why she'd promised to email him every Friday and he would send an answering email back right away or by Saturday at least. Even though she had no computer and internet and had gone to the library faithfully each time, she hadn't minded as long as she got to send him a message. And he never skimped out on replying.
She even visited him on some weekends, like she was now. It was better than messaging.
"We can even vidchat now too," Dylan murmured, teasingly softly nudging her arm and breaking her out of her thoughts.
She smiled brightly at him.
"Dylan," a cold voice broke in and they both turned to see his father enter the study. He looked at her and frowned severely. "Girl, leave. I want to talk to my son."
She left without another word, rushing out and knowing not to disobey this man.
Dylan scowled at his father. "She has a name. Use it."
"When will you stop this nonsense?" Howard Gould hissed at his son. "This is embarrassing. People will start to talk, if they haven't already! What does it look like when a grown 30 year old man is hanging around a 14 year old? I insist you stop associating with the girl immediately before you embarrass yourself and dishonor our family name."
"What are you worried about? There's nothing going on; there's nothing wrong. I haven't touched her," Dylan snapped back.
"Yet," Howard sneered, making Dylan reel back and look at him wide-eyed. "You haven't touched her yet."
Then his father promptly turned on his heel and marched out, leaving his son to sit frozen on his chair.
"I haven't touched her…I haven't touched her," he started to mutter to himself, hunching over as he clutched his head.
His head snapped up with a jolt, and he saw Sam solemn (he hadn't seen her like that in so long and now it was because of him) and frowning at him.
"So are you going to teach me to drive with your Ferrari?" she asked slyly, thankfully avoiding his father's lecture. And he knew she'd heard; the look in her eyes said it all and that flash of isolation and pain that appeared in her eyes briefly, something he hadn't seen since they'd first met.
So he ignored it and the lecture as well, pushing it away for the moment.
"We'll see," he eyed her cautiously, thinking of his precious baby.
Therefore, it was some time after buying the computers and accessories, her new glasses, and the disastrous driving lesson, that they were back in his study and he was sitting comfortably on his couch and she was lying down on it, with her head cushioned on his lap. He was reading her favorite book while she sketched.
"Can you really sketch like that?" he asked in amusement.
"Yes, now be quiet. You're ruining my concentration," she said shortly, eying him quickly before focusing again. "Say, Dylan? Are you going to stop talking to me?"
He looked at her and winced; definitely now knowing she'd heard his argument with his father. He gave a wan smile, hoping it reassured her when he wasn't feeling too reassured himself. She frowned and just continued her sketching, leaving him to deal with a heavy heart and a thought that she probably wasn't all that reassured.
Abruptly, she tore away from him and tossed her sketchpad to the side, letting it clatter to the ground near him as she rushed away and hunched down under the window, curling into a ball as she buried her face into her knees.
He stood unsteadily, slowly going to make his way over to her. He caught a glimpse of what she'd been sketching before she'd rushed off, and his face turned slightly red as he realized it had been his face. Stopping by her, he tentatively sat on his haunches as he hugged her, making any kind of soothing noises and words to calm her down. She peeked at him from under her arms, remembering some past memories that made her frown.
"You usually pick me up from the airport yourself, though I don't mind the spacey limo," she quipped, looking inside the limousine.
He gave her a lop-sided grin.
"S'drunk. Sorry," he surprised her, slurring out his words.
Then he turned his face to the leather seats and began crying in them. She crawled closer and held him, watching with wide eyes that didn't blink as often as they should.
Presently, her eyes shuttered and she held onto herself a little tighter.
Dylan looked strangely at the kids playing nearby them as they ate ice cream on the park bench.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Huh? Oh, nothing," he replied distractedly.
He looked back at the kids and smiled softly, watching them with visibly fond eyes. One of the kids' ball flew over and Dylan caught it with one hand. One kid came over, asking for it and Dylan twirled it around a finger expertly before tossing it over.
"Thanks, Mister! Hey, wanna play with us for a sec?"
Dylan looked at her and she just grabbed his ice cream, continuing to watch as her older friend joined the group of kids and humoring them in a game. After it, he was smiling softly as he ruffled some hair and chuckled lowly at their enthusiasm, bending slightly to sort of be at eye level. Then he was walking over to her and was escorting her back, glancing back wistfully at the kids.
"You know, I think you're a family guy. I think you'd make a great family man," she declared, finishing off her ice cream.
"Really?" and there was only a hint of hope in his voice.
But then they were at his home and his father was there and suddenly Dylan's eyes were cold and he was frowning as his grip on her arm tightened.
"No, I don't think I would."
And she knew he'd been referring to what she told him earlier.
That night she'd caught him by his window and staring miserably out it and at the pouring rain, on his knees and vulnerable and resigned and looking about ready to give up…
And even though he was comforting her, he'd still moved to be on his knees, and she never wanted to see him like that ever again. So she'd rushed up, dragging him up along with her, and continued her surprise assault on him as she threw him against his bookcase, books flying out and falling to the ground.
She kissed him because isn't that what people really close to each other do to comfort each other?
It burned like fire though.
For him, his mind shut down the moment her lips touched his and then he started to panic when he started thinking again. No, she shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be doing this.
But then he realized he actually felt alive and for once he believed. And that she cared. She cared about him.
He didn't know why he wasn't freaking out more about this, and that it was wrong – not right-horribly-bad-illegal-stupid –but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was like that night they met and they just connected.
He doesn't know why about anything.
So he just took her more into his arms and held her tighter, pressing his lips firmer against hers and moving his hands to cradle the back of her head and to support her lower back. It was only a kiss and it was only going to be a kiss. He'd allow himself just this much.
Her tongue innocently touched against his lips and he started in surprise, letting her take the opportunity to hesitantly slip in slightly. She was about to pull back when his own tongue brushed up against hers and slightly caressed it. He angled his mouth more and continued to kiss her, taking control of it.
Afterwards, he pulled away with both of them breathing hard, though he still held on tightly to her.
"S-Sam, we can't do that again…We…we just can't, okay?" he told her, voice weak.
After a moment, she nodded against his chest.
But he still didn't let go.
It was what she'd told him to do all those years ago, didn't she?
It was all too soon when he'd had to drive her back to the airport so she could go all the way back home, and get ready to start her new school with a new year. Her new stuff was being flown with her and they'd said their temporary goodbyes. He wished he could have had her flown in his private jet, but she insisted…Or even go with her, but he had work to do.
He kept remembering the kiss and his lips burned.
"So how was your visit to Dylan?" Judy asked, preparing breakfast for the day.
"It was fine. He got me a new computer. He got one for you too," Sam started humming, kicking her feet up and down as she waited on the stool.
"Yeah, we know," Ron said, dodging a warning elbow from Judy.
Sam inwardly sighed, somehow knowing that was the case. How else were they going to pay for internet if not Dylan paying for it? Her parents didn't make a lot of money to be able to afford to pay 'Net bills all the time.
"School today. You're going to be in high school now~!" Judy nearly sing-songed happily.
"Yep, you're now officially a freshman," Ron said proudly. "Good thing Dylan got you new glasses. You would've really been made fun of with those clunky things."
"Dad!" Sam huffed. "I don't even wear them all the time! They're just reading glasses."
"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and eat, then it's off with you," Judy winked, putting a nice helping of eggs and bacon on her plate.
Soon, Sam was on her bike, carefully gathering up the voluminous bustle skirt of her black dress. If she wasn't careful, the black and white lace and the black frill would probably get caught as she was riding to school, and ruin her nice dress, especially as it was a gift from Dylan (who had embarrassingly learned about her stubborn preference from her parents). She started to peddle her way to school, excited at what should be a new year and a new start.
It was rather boring though. In class, she took notes (or pretended to at times) and either idly sketched things at the side of her papers or traced a finger on the diamond pattern of her dress. When it was lunch, she hesitantly got her food and sat alone at a table in the corner of the lunch room, feeling miserable.
She hadn't really made any friends or talked sociably to anyone. It was kind of depressing and she was tempted to find the nearest computer and message Dylan. But then, she remembered he was probably busy working and she shouldn't bother him.
So she started finishing her food, not even noticing when there was a group approaching her until they were right in front of her, and a dark shadow was around her space.
"Really, who wears a dress to school? I get it for picture days and shit, but damn –no one freakin' dresses up just for a bunch of useless days at prison for kids," a wavy blond hair, blue-eyed, and leanly muscled –Sam could swear he was definitely going to be a future jock, just looking at him and his looks –male said.
"Trent, it's not even dressing up. That dress is so childish," the girl who spoke was really, really pretty, Sam could admit. Pretty blue eyes, tan skin and dark hair, Sam felt even more inferior than with just their words.
The others in the group shot meaningless other insults, but it was the first two that really cut deep. She could only clench her hands and bow her head, hiding the tears welling up in her eyes.
And then suddenly, she felt cold on her head and something trickled first down her neck and then her face.
She jumped up and shrieked, looking down at herself. She could only thank God when she realized it was just water, which meant her pretty dress from Dylan wouldn't get ruined. But she was totally soaked now, at least her top was.
Sam looked to see the pretty girl holding an empty water bottle casually with her fingers, looking down at her with cold, blue eyes and a sneer on her face.
What had she ever done to her, this girl she didn't even know?
"Nice one, Mikaela!" random members of the group cheered on, though it was strange to see the first boy who'd insulted her look surprise and uncertain.
But then he sneered as well and took her tray and flipped it to the side. She was glad none of it got on her at least.
"Tch, let's go and leave this loser alone," he said, leading the way.
She waited until they'd all left and people stopped staring before she grabbed her backpack and ran out of the school, heading straight for her bike and refusing to cry. It didn't help any, as she started crying anyway, but it helped her not think about it.
Instead of skipping school to rush home (where her parents probably were), she headed straight to the library, where she headed to a computer in the back and logged on. Even if he was busy, even if he was working, she really wished –no wanted him to answer her back and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Hesitating only for a moment, she logged onto their private chatroom and hailed him, hoping he'd get a message that she was. She blinked in surprise, tears starting to dry, when Dylan almost immediately answered.
She paused, thinking if she really wanted to blurt out everything that had happened. She didn't want to bother him when he might be busy or burden him with teenage angst or something…
'Well, it's too late now,' she thought, starting to type out what had happened and that she wished she could be there instead right now. For awhile, that's all they did was text back and forth, after he'd comforted her and now was trying to take her mind off of it. They talked idly about all sorts of stuff, from meaningless things to how her family was doing.
Hey, Dylan? Did I interrupt something?
Hm? No. I was just in a very dry meeting (still am) and having my ears yakked off, so I'm glad to be talking to you at the same time. Saves me from dying of boredom :).
She smiled widely and wrapped her arms around herself happily, closing her eyes wistfully.
She sat up, startled, and saw Dutch coming near with a worried look on his face. She looked at the time and saw it was nearly two hours after school had ended. She hadn't realized she'd spent so long online with Dylan.
"Guten Tag, Herr Dutch," she greeted with a small smile.
"Tag," he greeted back. "And you know you're welcome to just call me Dutch or Klaus, shatz."
She nodded and he took a chair and sat near her. She briefly took a second to type out that she'd message Dylan later before turning her attention to her long-time German friend.
It's been years since he's called her fräulein, and she kind of missed it. But he'd told her it was less appropriate for her now that she was getting older and bigger, and he'd taken to calling her 'shatz' or 'schätzchen', which was a more…cuter form of the German endearment. She twitched inwardly. He also, when he was just plain being all silly, would resort to the even cuter form 'shatzi' and she would just be embarrassed as all hell about it.
"Your parents just got a call from the school. They said you'd skipped the last two classes of the day, but they got a tip from someone at the cafeteria about…what happened. They called Judy and Ron, who called me. I had a feeling you'd be here."
Reminded of earlier, Sam frowned and looked away.
"Ah, it's okay, schätzchen! Let's get some ice cream, alright?"
She smiled tentatively and agreed.
She ended up staying up all night messaging Dylan, on a full stomach of rocky road ice cream.
For the rest of the week, she refused to dress up in her usual dresses for school, choosing instead to wear boyish clothing. She wore baggy jeans and whatever t-shirt she had, putting on a huge hooded sweater over to complete the look. When she got home, though, she dressed herself in her dresses and curled herself in front of her computer or hung out/had lessons with Dutch.
School itself continued to be boring. She kept to herself and did alright for the most part, though she admitted she had some trouble with math. And it was because of this that she found herself on a less than ideal path, sitting side by side with Trent DeMarco, one of the first of her harassers.
"Miss Witwicky," the mathematics teacher hesitantly sounded her name. "I know you do well in your other classes, but I have to admit you are doing less than is savory in this class. Not that you don't try, only you don't seem to be getting it as well or it takes a bit more."
Then Mr. Walker turned to Trent.
"You, Mr. DeMarco, on the other hand…are completely unmotivated and you also seem to have trouble with the tests. You also have problems with certain types of problems. If you want to make it to JV, Mr. DeMarco, you're going to have to try harder at your studies. In all of them," Mr. Walker gave him a stern glare.
Trent looked back unhappily while Sam hmmed and rocked a little on the tips of her feet, looking unaffected and generally cheerful. The other two glanced at her warily before the matter was back at hand.
"I propose a mutual tutoring meeting between you two, with both of you helping each other out with your individual problems. Mr. DeMarco, you can help Miss Witwicky work on her math better, while Miss Witwicky can help you focus on your studies and motivate you to do better, and help you adjust to tests and the problems you're having trouble learning. The two of you can do this sample test now, to gauge your strengths."
Sam airily walked over and grabbed one.
"You're the only teacher so formal, Mr. Walker. You don't have to call me by my weird last name. Just call me Sam."
Trent also grabbed one, but more huffily.
"Mr. DeMarco's my dad," he told him shortly. "So just Trent."
He'd much rather be with Mikaela or with his other friends right now.
Half hour later and they were done, handing it in and waiting for their results.
"Trent, as expected…Sam, did you use a book or something?" Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes, inwardly confused.
"Hm?" she tilted her head.
"The test ranges from questions Algebra I to Statistics. You've managed to answer the more complex questions correctly while being incorrect on many of the lower ones."
Sam shrugged. "No, I did the test myself."
Mr. Walker frowned and thought to himself, while Trent looked on curiously and yet also strangely. The teacher walked to the front, writing out two problems on the white board.
"The one on the left is a regular Algebra I problem like the ones we're learning. The other is a Calculus problem. Solve them, Sam," Mr. Walker instructed.
Sam walked over and glanced at the board, before heading to the Calculus problem and not taking too much time with it. Then she moved on to the Algebra I problem and her eyebrows furrowed. She took much longer on this one, and in the end still got the answer wrong.
Both teacher and Trent's eyebrows rose.
"What the hell? Are you some kind of genius or idiot savant?" Trent muttered. Then he glanced at the Algebra I problem and inwardly snorted. "Never mind. Definitely an idiot savant."
Sam hummed as a response, though she mentally pouted that he'd emphasized the 'idiot' part of that. It wasn't her fault she couldn't get the more simple stuff. Complex problems just seemed to be easier for her.
"I think complex problems are much more easier for you than lower-grade problems," Mr. Walker concluded in confusion, not sure how that could be.
Sam shrugged again and it was decided that she would definitely help Trent out with the more complicated problems, like ones he'd been having trouble with. The teacher set them to work now, to get started and begin the whole thing, and hopefully set up a schedule and arrangement suiting between the two.
While he disappeared off to grab some coffee from the teachers' lounge, the two quietly worked together. As much as Trent seemed to not want to be there at first, he gradually loosened up and soon seemed to be a bit more amiable.
"Thanks…y'know. For all this. It kind of really does help," he muttered, not looking at her.
"Oh…you're welcome," she really didn't know what else to say to that.
It was silent before Trent spoke again.
"I'm sorry about the other day," he said quietly. "I know I'm a mean person and I'm not going to lie about that or excuse it or anythin'. I know I am and I acknowledge that part of me…But you didn't deserve that and it went too far."
"I actually thought you looked rather cute in that dress," he admitted, turning red at the admission.
She blinked and turned red herself, but she gave a small smile in response.
Started 11/12/11 –Completed 11/13/11
A/n: Romance will be kind of slow-going, but I will be laying foundations/hints/moments here and there, of course. I didn't mention this last chapter, but I chose hazel eyes for Sam because I've heard both brown and green descriptions for Sam's eyes, hence hazel.
As for Mikaela, don't hate her just yet. This fic won't bash her and there's a reason why she's so cruel right now, but she'll get better. I actually liked her character in the first two films, though I don't care too much for Megan Fox herself.
I know there aren't any Cybertronians appearing yet, but they will next chapter. These first two are just set-ups and next chapter we'll have Starscream and Bumblebee make an appearance, though Starscream more so. Thanks for such a great response! Please keep reviewing!