Meme: Bathtime

Universe: G1

Warnings: Elita experiences culture shock.

Summary: The twins show Elita what they insist is the single most redeeming feature of the human culture. Elita is inclined to disagree.

"What a surprisingly nice day. I could be using it for a private cruise in the city, check out the races, see the auto show, something nice and big outside. Sure, the ground is still a little muddy from the rain last night, but that's easy enough to avoid in the city. But gosh darn it, too bad it's not my day off, today would have been a great day for one. Oh wait, hold on, today was supposed to be my day off. I wonder what happened? Hm, maybe it had SOMETHING to do with a certain idiotic red Lamborghini who will remain nameless for getting ME wrapped up in HIS punishment for HIS stupidity!"

"I said I was sorry! How what I supposed to know Prowl would find me out so fast?"

"Maybe because he ALWAYS finds you out? Maybe because EVERYONE can always figure you out?! Maybe because it's getting to a point where when anything goes wrong, you practically get a neon sign hanging over your head screaming 'I did it, punish me with mind numbing menial labor, and be sure to send my brother along for the ride'?!"

"Oh come on, that's not fair. It's not like I'm the only prankster in the whole Ark. I had nothing to do with the water balloon catapult in Optimus' quarters, need I remind you!"

"No, but he was stupid enough to actually paint 'Air Raid was here!' on the wall. YOU can't even cover your tracks right even when you try."

"Hey, I wiped away all evidence I had anything to do with it. I left the scene spotless of incriminating evidence!"

"Obviously not, because we're on wide patrol for three weeks straight now. And why am I here too?? I didn't DO anything!"

"Well, you pointed and laughed. That might've had something to do with it."

"Shut up you General Motors reject."

"Hah! Make me, Suuunshiiiine!"

"Don't call me that you pitslagger!"

"You are my sunshiiine, my only sunshiiiine, you make me haaaappy, when skies are grey-"

"Shut up or I'll personally reformat you into a toaster!"

"Your momma's a toaster!"

The yellow sports car swerved and none too gently bumped against the red one, not hard enough to force him off the road, but enough for an unpleasant shove. The red Lamborghini was quick to retaliate with a harder shove.

"Watch it! You dent me, you won't make it back to base."

"Oh please, like you'd do anything to risk your precious paintjob – Suuunshiiiiine!"

With an inarticulate roar Sunstreaker rammed harder into his twin, both of their speeds picking up as they bumped back and forth at high speeds down the mercifully empty street.

"Children, behave, before I make you sit in the corner." A dry voice intervened.

Well, almost empty.

Both twins stopped as they suddenly remembered the light pink 1984 Chevrolet Corvette shadow behind them.

"He started it." Sideswipe said sulkily.

"ME? This is all YOUR fault to begin with, remember?"

"My fault? You're the one who started needling me in the first place!"

"You're the one who might as well have begged for extra duties from Prowl for the both of us, AND ON MY DAY OFF!!"

Elita sighed as the 'conversation' degenerated back to arguing and childish name calling that made absolutely no sense (what was with all the 'your momma' comments? Didn't they have the same creators?). She briefly considered breaking them up, but they seemed pretty familiar with this sort of interaction, so unless it got especially bad or distracting, she might as well let them get it out of their systems. Besides, they were fun to watch sometimes, and the entertainment value was almost the entire point of her being here.

Several weeks ago, she had come to Earth with a small team to assist in the initial construction and ground work of what would become Autobot city. This was especially important, because it would allow for the safe transportation of personnel, engergon, materials, and supplies back and forth between the armies. Elita's main job was to help set up a system to make it all run smoothly. Such a system would require dozens of individuals working together, needing a system that would allow for communication and easy transition. To set up such a vital system required much careful planning. Careful planning, in turn, required meetings.

Lots…

…and lots…

…and LOT'S of meetings.

By the time Optimus casually suggested Elita join in on a patrol and get out of the base for a few hours as a break, she had been about ready to lose her famous self-control and blast her own head off during the next meeting just to break up the processor-killing monotony.

Prowl had asked her, since she was going to be joining a patrol anyway, if she would be so kind as to keep an eye on the twins and make sure they finished their patrol before they beat each other up or got distracted by something bright and shiny.

Elita still wasn't entirely if the tactician was joking or not.

Much better than another meeting, Elita decided, amused as the insults became more colorful and anatomically improbable. Firestar would have approved.

Not to mention, it really was a nice day, as Sunstreaker had sarcastically observed earlier. The heavy rain last night had cleansed the air, making colors brighter and giving everything a clean, fresh smell that Elita had never experienced before, Cybertron utterly lacking the organic life and non-acidic showers to make such a phenomenon possible. The brand new sensation almost left her feeling giddy, and not even the twins arguing about Sideswipes accountability for Sunstreakers lost time could spoil her good mood.

Then the road blew up.

All three Autobots cried out in surprise as they swerved and fishtailed to avoid the sudden explosion and newly formed crater in the road, debris and bits of cement raining down on their roofs. Above, all three of them could hear jet engines flying past, as three familiar forms – red, blue, and purple – streaked past.

"Seekers!" Sideswipe exclaimed, sounding FAR too happy about it.

"The Command Trine," Elita identified, sounding far less enthused.

"And here I thought today was going to be a total waste." Sunstreaker added, sounding darkly pleased.

The three Autobots transformed as the jets circled back around.

"I'm calling base for back up," Elita said, her hand already going to her comm…

…only to be stopped by Sideswipes hand.

"What? No! That's no fun! I need my Jet Judo quota! We can handle these guys just fine on our own, trust me!"

"Jet…Judo…quota…?"

"Fight now, explain later." Sunstreaker said curtly.

The fight proved to be quick but intense. The twins had grabbed onto their targets (Thundercracker and Skywarp) with glee, holding on with incredible tenacity no matter how hard the Seekers tried to throw them off – which left Elita with Starscream.

Joy.

"Give it up Elita One! I've already bested you once, spare yourself the humiliation of another defeat and give up already!" Starscream called out in mocking glee, dropping a cluster bomb almost on top of her. She barely managed to dodge out of the way to avoid the main blast, though the explosions sent her flying. She shot at him a few times with her blaster, but he evaded her easily and was already coming back around for another pass.

This wasn't going to work, her shooting from the ground and him in the air. He had all the advantages, and she simply couldn't keep up with him. With the twins already occupied and the Ark so far away, she was completely on her own. Clearly, a drastic change in tactic was going to be needed very shortly.

She spared a glance at Sunstreaker, tearing at the blue Seekers wings even as the Decepticon went in a barrel roll in an attempt to dislodge his unwanted passenger.

Well, if it worked for them…

A high pitched, outraged screech pierced through the air, and out of the corner of his optic Sideswipe was just able to catch a glance of Starscream zipping by with something pink on his back.

The red twin laughed maniacally at the newest convert to Jet Judo. He was feeling ridiculously pleased with himself right about now.

The fight was quick to end after that, with Starscream calling for a 'Retreat! Retreat! Get this insane femme OFF OF ME!'

Taking their cue (because it's not like they particularly wanted to ride all the way back to the 'con base), the twins hopped off their Seekers as they turned tail and ran as best they could with damaged wings and some such. Sideswipe used his jetback to land safely just half way down a moderately steep hill, Sunstreaker hitting slick dirt closer to the top. Sideswipe looked around for their third member, never noticing his brothers difficulty in remaining upright on the wet mud uphill.

Elita tried to jump off the Air Commander, but she was still a Jet Judo novice and instead sent herself tumbling helplessly off Starscreams back, spiraling down to the unforgiving ground nearly a hundred feet below her, a potentially fatal fall depending how she landed. She immediately curled up the best she could to protect her head and braced for impact.

Instead of hitting tree branches, rocks, or ground, Elita landed in a pair of arms. She uncurled slightly to see Sideswipes grinning face.

"Hey there. What's a nice dame like you doing in a place like this?" he said, as if they had bumped into each other at a bar.

Elita relaxed and started to smile, about to thank Sideswipe for his catch.

Until Sunstreaker lost his battle against gravity and slid down the hill, crashing straight into Sideswipes legs.

With a yelp Sideswipe fell backwards, his feet going clear into the air as his legs were literally knocked out from under him, Elita getting tossed over his head in the process.

Together, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Elita all slid and tumbled the rest of the way down the steep, muddy hill in an inelegant tangle of limbs.

"This is an outrage! This is insult to injury! I blame you completely!"

"How is it my fault THIS time??"

"It's your fault I'm out here in the first place. Ergo, by default every bad thing that happens to me is completely your fault."

"YOU'RE the one who knocked ME down!"

"It's still YOUR fault I'm here at all!!"

"Would the both of you please desist in this pointless bickering before I lose what is left of my patience?" Elita said sharply, her optics off lined as she pinched the bridge of her nasal ridge. Their arguing had been entertaining before, but in light of recent events, her patience and tolerance for stupidity had taken a nose dive. Thankfully, the twins caught on that the femme was Not Amused, and quickly shut up.

All three of them had just spent the better part of an hour climbing back up the slick, slippery, muddy hill that kept getting muddier and slicker the more they dug into the dirt and tore away the grass for hand hold and foot holds that kept crumbling under their weight. Sideswipes jetpack had suffered damage on the way down during the roll and tumble, and they were all stuck trying to get back the old fashioned way – on their hands and knees.

Turns out, sports cars, even highly advanced alien ones, weren't well designed for driving uphill on wet muddy slopes with zero traction.

Now, back at the top again, they were all tired, muddy, covered in vegetation and in increasingly sour moods.

Elita pinched her nasal bridge for another second before letting it go and on-lining her optics again.

"I believe it is safe to say that cutting our patrol short would be acceptable," she noted in a tired voice. "Let's just…head back to base to make a report, and so we can rest, repair, and clean up. Not necessarily in that order."

Sunstreaker looked at her in abject horror. "I'm not going back to base looking like this!" He gestured wildly at his dripping, muddy frame. "Everyone is going to SEE me!"

Elita shot him a withering glare. "If you want to jump in a river to clean off first, that's your prerogative. I honestly can't be bothered to care."

"Actually…" Sideswipe ventured, "I have an idea that'll make everyone happy."

Sunstreaker brightened, knowing what his brother was thinking. Elita lacked that luxury, and she quirked an optic ridge.

"And that would be…?"

"…'Andy's Awesome Autobot Autowash?'" the femme read flattly.

"Ye-ep. The carwash: quite possibly the single greatest invention in human history. It used to be just 'Andy's Awesome Autowash,' but he added the Autobot part after we set up a deal with him: we pay the guy a monthly fee, in return for almost exclusive service and special treatment. Heck, Sunstreaker and Tracks alone are probably putting Andy's kids through college."

"Autobot…Autowash…?"

"Okay, the names a little tacky, but you can't deny good service." If he hadn't been in car mode, Sideswipe would have been giving Elita his puppy eye look. "C'mon, you'll like it, trust me. These guys are actually pretty cool. Even Sunny likes them, and THAT'S saying something."

Sunstreaker 'humphed', but otherwise ignored his two companions and drove right up. He went over a long bump on the driveway, sounding off a little bell inside the shop itself and alerting the staff (mostly teens and young adults) to their newest customers. Immediately a middle aged man with curly red hair (Andy?) came out. He brightened upon seeing his most frequent customers.

"Sunstreaker! Sideswipe! Long time no see. It's been, what, almost a week now?"

"Hardy har, very funny," Sideswipe said in good humor, driving up to meet him. "You're killing me, you know that?"

"I'm still trying," the human answered back. He gave both twins and quick look and the unholy mess they brought with them. "Do I want to know?"

"Seekers."

"Ah. The usual, or you gonna be wanting extra?"

"Actually, think you can hook us up with something special? We've got a newbie."

The human glanced back to the corvette behind them. "So we do."

He approached Elita and smiled politely. "Don't think I've seen you here before, but it's always a pleasure meeting a new Autobot. Name's Andy."

"The pleasure is mine. I am Elita One," the femme greeted, already finding herself rather liking the congenial human.

The redhead's – Andy – brows shot up at the feminine voice. "A lady? Well, that DOES warrant special treatment. Wash, wax, the works. Just give me two minutes to set up."

It actually took closer to seven, but Elita wasn't going to correct him on his inaccurate time estimate. The carwash had four automatic carwash lanes, so the three of them were able to be cleaned at the same time.

Admittedly, Elita was a tad nervous going in. Cybertron had no equivalent for this type of service, and going someplace that made a business of washing you…the concept was almost a little bit creepy, at least at first.

She tensed as the water turned on, but was pleasantly surprised. As promised, the wash was fully automated, and Elita's entire frame was caressed with soapy water and soft brushes that washed away almost all the caked on mud. Elita felt herself relaxing, almost lulled by the rhythmic motions and soft brushes that were part wash, part massage over the next five minutes. She was actually slightly disappointed when it ended so soon. It was no wonder the twins liked this place so much, blatantly tacky names aside. She made a mental note to come back here again, if the situation presented itself.

Then things got weird.

Exiting the wash, still dripping wet, she was surprised to be greeted by six human teens and young adults, armed with buckets, sponges, and an assortment of towels.

"Hello?" Elita said, a tad uncertainly. To her alarm, the young humans surrounded her and – to her shock – were rubbing her all over with sponges and towels and warm soapy water, getting into seams and curves with embarrassing meticulousness.

"W-what are you doing?" Elita asked, not quite able to stop the high pitch at the last word.

A brown haired female beamed brightly at her grill. "Part of the special treatment ma'am. The regular wash isn't going to get all the grit out. We're doing the fine detail, so to speak. Just relax, and we'll get you so polished up, you're going to practically shine by the time you roll out of here."

"That…that is very…kind of you, but not necessary," Elita forced out as a dozen little hands rubbed and scrubbed every part of her, determined not to leave a single speck of mud trapped anywhere, their touches, rubs, and caresses bordering almost on intimate.

The girl, ignorant of Elita's distress, waved off the protest. "Don't worry, we're happy to do it. You know Tracks? I think this is his favorite part, he just loves to be pampered."

'Pampered' was not the word Elita would have picked, as she felt a sponge being squeezed between the hubcaps of her tires. 'Molested' probably would have been closer.

She stole a look at the Lamborghini's on either side of her. Sunstreaker to her left was silent, the humans covering, cleansing, and polishing him with practiced ease, but his comfort was made abundantly clear when he willingly opened his door so one of the young males could dust off his interior with a cloth. And this was a mech who could barely stand organics on a regular basis! Sideswipe to her right, on the other hand, was more talkative, chatting and joking with the humans as they cleaned him with equal ease and thoroughness. Neither of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable with the treatment and to all appearances they were enjoying it thoroughly.

Of course they were enjoying it. It they didn't like it, they wouldn't have been so eager to come in the first place.

O-okay, they consider this normal, Elita told herself, trying her hardest not to squirm as small hands and smaller fingers forced their way into every seam and crevice she didn't even know she HAD. They are trying to give the best service possible, and this is how they're used to treating Autobots. They mean well, they're trying so hard. It would be rude to throw their kindness back into their faces, and it's not like they mean for it to feel so…uncomfortable. I'm just not used to this sort of treatment, but the other Autobots get it all the time. Just wait it out, wait it out, and I can go home and not embarrass these poor humans, it's not like they know any better, just wait it out, wait it out, wait it –

One of the workers, deciding to go the extra mile, decided to lie down on his stomach and wipe down a part of her undercarriage.

"Optimus Prime, you're going to be needed at the Ark entrance."

The Prime glanced up upon hearing his Security Director's voice on his comm. In spite of his occasional spats of almost extreme paranoia, Red Alert could be depended on to remain calm and rational in a real emergency, hence why he was able to become Security Director in the first place.

"What is it?" Optimus asked, getting up anyway and heading towards the entrance.

"It's Elita."

The Prime felt a stab of panic quickened his pace. "Is she damaged? Were they attacked?"

"No, I don't think so. She seems fine, but we won't know for sure until she gets here."

"So she's contacted you to say she's on her way? Did she say why?"

"She hasn't contacted me at all, and she won't respond to anything I say. All I know is, I'm looking at her on the security feed coming in faster than I have ever seen her drive, but she's not being pursued, she's not saying anything, and if she can drive that fast and that straight, she's probably not damaged, not seriously anyway. It's also most assuredly her, I ran every scan I have and there's no way it's a Decepticon decoy or trick. Honestly, I was hoping you might know what's going on."

"I'll have to admit to ignorance then," Optimus said. "But I will let you know as soon as I do. Open the doors and let her in."

"Very well. Opening doors now."

Optimus arrived to the front entry of the Ark a few seconds later, to find a handful of mechs and a couple of Elita's femmes milling around. Slowly, a roaring engine sound faded in, growing louder and louder as it came closer, and all conversation slowly died as everyone stopped and looked around for the source, all wondering 'who is that?'

With a screech of tires the pink corvette appeared as if out of thin air, speeding through the door as fast as if she had the entire Decepticon fleet after, driving and twisting through the fast room and barely missing crashing into legs half a dozen times over, though it was more due to their quick reflexes than any attempts of hers.

Prime stood his ground as Elita made a beeline for him at 90 mph. Not even slowing down, she went from a mad car *transform* to an angrily stomping femme with only the slightest hitch in movement, marching right past Prime and getting right up into the stunned and confused Prowls face.

"The next time you suggest I go anywhere with the twins, I may very well have no choice but to shoot you." She hissed.

Prowl blinked.

With a growl, Elita continued past him, heedless of the small crowed she left stunned silent. The door opened to reveal Tracks, who startled at the fuming femme, took note of her dust covered frame, caught a few words she was muttering venomously under her breath, and drew his own conclusions as to the source of her foul mood.

"If you need to clean up, the wash racks are usually empty around now, you can clean up in private," he mentioned helpfully.

Elita whipped around and killed him dead with her GLARE of DEATH.

While Tracks trembled in a trembling fit of mechly terror behind Irohnide, Elita stalked on, radiating dark anger in palpable waves and sending lesser mechs into hiding. Somehow or other, she managed to slam the automatic door behind her.

Everyone stood silently for several seconds.

"Prime?"

"Yes Red Alert?"

"I just contacted Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. I asked them what's going on, and they claim ignorance of what just happen, citing only that they were getting cleaned up at the local wash when Elita 'freaked out' and sped off in the middle of the service for no discernable reason."

"…Prowl?"

"Yes Prime?"

"As soon as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker get back, send them to my office, immediately."

"Yes Prime."

Important! I need femmes to populate the Femme Division, since I can't just keep working with the same four all the time. Rather than come up with a whole bunch myself, I thought it might be more fun to have guest appearences of my readers OC's (you know you have one).

If you want your OC to make a guest appearance, drop me a message with a name, bio, and short history. Please try to keep the history to one paragraph, and include any special skills or ranks – demolitions, codebreaker, communications, medic, frontline fighter – as well as any points you think are important to the characterization. Like, say, they were originally Decepticon built but defected, or have no memory past a certain time, or whatever. There are a LOT of positions to fill in an army, and I need variety!

Due credit will be given, as will links if they appear in a fan story or art, naturally. Anyone who drops a review as well will be given special consideration. *Is so completely shameless.*