This story is a gift for Israel42, a friend of mine on deviantArt. She draws wonderful Transformers pictures. We were chatting about one of her pictures (http:/ /israel42 .deviantart .com /art/TFA-Decepticon-days-162119899) and she suggested this idea. Inspired, I turned it into a story. D-Cal is my OC. Scarce is Israel42's OC. Cargobox and Doomspray belong to my older brother, Jphyper.

In a bar on some remote asteroid, a black, blue, and grey femme sat consuming high-grade energon. She had taken in a considerable amount: enough to affect her speech synthesizer, as evidenced by her slurred words to her fellow Decepticon, Scarce. "I'm not as over-think as you energized I am!"
The yellow and black medic put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm serious, D-Cal. You've had enough."
D-Cal pulled away and stood up. "Oh so serious!" She declared teasingly.
She broke out into song and started to do a silly little dance. "I've got some lovely cubes of energon, there they are all standing in a row! Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head!"
Amid her borderline-spastic dancing, she accidentally bumped into a large, boxy Decepticon. He turned around. "Watch where you're going!"
D-Cal put her hands on his chest and gave him a shove, which had little effect due to his larger size. "You watch where YOU'RE going, numb-nodes!" she slurred
The larger Decepticon, who had also consumed a considerable amount of high-grade, did what a lot of people would do in that situation. He shoved her back. She landed flat on her skidplate. Glaring up at him, she bared her dentals, showing a pair of fang-like things where canines would be in a human. She flew to her feet to face off with the smug-faced 'Con. She slapped him. Hard.
Several 'ooh's and 'oh!'s were heard from others in the bar. One spastic-looking flyer shouted, "Git 'er, Cargobox!"
The large Cybertronian turned and yelled at the flier. "Mute yer vocals, Doomspray!"
The large Cybertronian charged. Scarce, who had remained in his seat the whole time, facepalmed. D-Cal ducked down and slid between his legs, springing up and giving him a kick to the back. He stumbled forward a little bit and then turned around and backhanded her. She yelped in pain and surprise as the blow caught one of the well-armored, but still very sensitive 'horns' on her head. It didn't do any serious damage, but it left her disoriented. The 'horns' on her head were not for decoration. They actually contained a sophisticated system of electroreceptors. That one second of confusion was all Cargobox needed to lift her up and throw her into some of the other patrons. She tucked her body so she would land with minimal damage. She quickly pulled herself up and charged at him again. He swung at her and at the last second, she feinted to the left. Using her clawed hands, she climbed up onto the boxy 'Con's back, where he couldn't reach her. She kicked and clawed and hit at his face and neck, avoiding his attempts to grab her. Unfortunately, due to her over-energized state, her motions were considerably sluggish compared to her usual speed and finesse. He was able to grab her by the neck and yank her off him. As he was moving his arm forward to throw her into the wall, D-Cal twisted around and kicked him hard, right in the face. His head tilted back, the blow hard enough to knock him completely out. He fell to the floor with a crash. D-Cal turned to face an annoyed Scarce. She raised her arms and shouted, "WHOOHOO!"
And then, THUD. She had fallen to the floor, out like a light.
Scarce sighed in annoyance and picked her up, carrying her bridal-style back to the ship.

Scarce frowned as he set her down on an examination table. He gave her a quick but thorough scan. Good. She wasn't in too bad of shape. One of the blows had knocked her equilibrium a little out of whack, but that was easy enough to fix.
He quickly repared the worst of the damage. Her self-repair systems would take care of the rest in no time. He turned around to fetch a spanner when suddenly, something hit him from behind, knocking him down onto his face with an "Ungh!"
His attacker grabbed him by the back of his head, lifted, and smashed his forehead against the ground. He was then flipped over. He took the opportunity to grab his attacker by the arm and pull him down. The two of them grappled and wrestled on the floor, Scarce barely fending off his attacker. The attacker straddled his waist and his shoulders were siezed and slammed down, jarring his wings painfully. Suddenly, the offender froze. Scarce took the chance to look up at his attacker to identify him. Or rather her. It was D-Cal. Coming out of stasis not entirely sure where she was, she had acted on instinct and attacked Scarce.
For several minutes, they stayed motionless, D-Cal straddling Scarce with her hands on his chest until the silence was suddenly torn apart by a maniacal cackle and a shout of, "ZHAY ENERGON, LOVERBOTS!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!" and then there was a flash of light.
Both of them jerked their heads towards the direction of the voice and the flash of light. Standing right in the doorway was Blitzwing, his 'Random' personality clearly manifesting. In his hands was an image-recorder.

Oh slag.

Blitzwing dashed out of the med bay, his insane cackles echoing through the corridors.

Scarce had never been one to care about rumors, but this one took the energon goodies. Several of the bots he had passed had given him the thumbs-up sign. Some of them had even made comments. Blitzwing had posted the image of Scarce and D-Cal in an apparently precarious position on nearly every screen onboard the ship.
He sighed as he leaned aganst the wall in the refueling station. D-Cal pulled up next to him and grabbed a cube for herself. She leaned against the counter and glanced through her visor at his face. She chuckled and looked away. She smiled and commented, "Cool your intakes, Grumpy Gears. You look like you're about to blow a diode or something!"
The yellow seeker just continued to frown in annoyance. D-Cal shook her head and gave another chuckle. "Hey Scarce, did you see that image Blitzwing posted?"
Scarce didn't respond. He just brought a servo to his face with a loud groan.