Ficcy.
I swear, Barricade/Mikaela is my fix. Actually, Barricade/anybody is my fix, but especially when it's Mikaela.
This is a prompt cazcatharsis gave me some time ago, and I finally went and finished it, so here it is.
Title/Prompt: "Catfight"
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Disclaimer: Me no owny.
Pairing: Not-so-subtle hints of Barricade/Mikaela.
Rating: PG-13 or so.
Warnings: Crack, attempts at drama.
Setting: Sometime post Mission City.
Summary: Barricade is on sentry duty and bored. Mikaela gets in a fight, and suddenly Barricade is not bored.
Barricade was bored.
It was becoming a common problem. Blackout, in what Barricade suspected was a deliberate attempt to annoy him, had kept him on various bits of sentinel duty over the past few weeks. Today he was parked outside what was known as a "school," watching the Autobots' pet humans, Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes.
It was the fourth day he'd spent on this ridiculous chore, and like clockwork, doors opened and juvenile humans came out at the same times each day. This was one of three midday periods in which they did so, apparently after having eaten, and in particular it was the one in which the female human, Mikaela Banes, was present.
He was parked close today, in the visitor parking lot near the field in which the humans congregated. There had been a minor disturbance earlier in the day that had resulted in the police being called, and he had concluded that his presence on the grounds would be attributed to that by anyone who saw him parked there. He watched the female exit the building and come most of the way across the grass before suddenly whirling to confront someone who was obscured from Barricade by the crowd.
A small weight on his roof tore his attention away from the crowd of humans. Alert to a potential threat, he aimed scanners upwards.
It was a pigeon. And in the half-second it had taken to identify it, he felt a tiny blob of hot, vaguely gelatinous fluid spread out on his roof right under it.
The bird had excreted waste.
On him.
Fury at the bird rolled through him like lightning, and was just as quickly replaced by an image of Blackout laughing his rear rotor off---or worse, Bumblebee, who was sitting in the larger parking lot recharging. Over amongst the humans, loud words were being uttered, but Barricade paid no attention, concentrating instead on reaching a holographic hand up to wipe the offending excretion off his roof. The bird, wisely, took off, frightened away either by his holoform or the now-much-closer proximity of the humans.
"Oh you BITCH!" and the sound of a blow hitting soft flesh drew Barricade's attention back to the humans. A sizeable group of them were now standing only a few feet away from him, and the female who was reeling backwards from the blow was none other than Mikaela Banes. Now this was interesting.
The second female, a slightly shorter one with chemically altered hair and much artificial pigmentation on her face, sent another blow at Mikaela. The Autobots' friend, however, quickly blocked it and counterattacked, punching her antagonist in the face.
The second female, it seemed, did not know much about effective fighting, even by human standards. Her response was to reel back, shriek, and launch an open-palmed strike---a weak attack which would not do any real damage. Mikaela's response was to push her; she pushed back, still shrieking, and latched both long-fingernailed hands to Mikaela's hair. The move was returned by Barricade's target, who then struck the second female in the midsection with her knee.
Say what one must about these insignificant, fragile meat-things, they were certainly creative.
The fight continued. The other humans, rather than separate the two fighters, crowded around to watch, conveying varying levels of amusement. Barricade peripherally noticed currency being displayed by some humans among the audience.
The fight continued; Mikaela was the superior fighter, but the other female used her clawed fingers to good effect; while she was substantially bruised (and still shrieking), Mikaela was leaking blood from several scratches, and the shorter human was very angry, an emotion Barricade had noted tended to give humans more strength and determination than they otherwise possessed.
The second female attacked with another push; Mikaela transferred the momentum back to her, slinging her in the same direction as she'd pushed, and she copied the move; Mikaela pulled her assailant along with her, closer to Barricade; this repeated itself, and the smaller human gave another shove. Barricade, focused intently on the methodology of the fight rather than the proximity of the fighters, started in sheer surprise as Mikaela Banes landed on top of his hood.
The other female climbed on top of her and sent a punch downward; Mikaela moved her head to the side and a bejeweled set of human knuckles impacted with Barricade. She shrieked louder and recoiled, clutching her hand; Barricade smirked to himself; Mikaela took advantage and reversed their positions, straddling the second fighter, seizing her hair tightly, and banging the back of her head repeatedly into Barricade's hood.
Barricade smiled. Served her right; one of her rings had scratched his paint.
He activated his holoform behind one-way-tinted windows to get a better view. Mikaela was slamming the other female's head down with an impressive amount of force, and Barricade, enjoying the rhythmic pounding over his intake manifold, cheerfully contemplated the thought of her crushing her opponent's skull against him.
One of the other humans interfered in the fight, grabbing Mikaela by an arm and pulling her away to the side; the second female took advantage of the distraction to attack, and Mikaela responded violently to the intruder at the same time; the result was that the interfering human was kicked in his primary reproductive organs and the two fighters landed on the pavement next to his fender. More blows were traded and Mikaela's head hit the backside treads of his front tire.
Barricade froze, intimately aware of the situation and its potential.
The sensors in his tires, used to the road, exploded into a frenzy at the sensation of her warm, soft human skin resting against them. Barricade switched his holoform to a replica of his recent avian pest, standing under his body and watching. Mikaela was not, unfortunately, paying any attention to the tire tread; rather, she was struggling madly with the human on top of her.
It would be so easy . . .
It would be so . . . unsatisfying.
Gone just like that---humans were so fragile---and then . . . and then the Autobots would have one fewer human friend; they'd be upset and grieved . . . he wouldn't be seeing her around town, or trying to capture her, or seeing his allies (or himself) surprisingly given a good, determined, respectable fight by a tiny, fierce, determined, inventive little human. And the human in question herself . . . damn it, he wasn't caring what she felt about her life, he just wasn’t---he didn't need to. She was as much a warrior as any mech; she risked death by choice because what she fought for was worth it. Barricade wondered, for a nanosecond, if he was truly willing to die for his cause. He fought . . . ferociously . . . but that was different. Death happened and it sucked, and it was the fault of whomever killed you . . . but he'd never thought about the prospect of it being a sacrifice for the Decepticons' goals. Was that worth it?
For him to die and leave Blackout or Megatron or Bonecrusher or Soundwave or, Primus forbid, Starscream to reap the rewards? He'd always planned on being one of the survivors . . . Mikaela Banes didn't have that assurance . . . only the courage to try anyway.
He liked it.
And to see her gone, erased, destroyed . . . he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. For some reason it reminded him of thinking of his own death.
That made no sense. Why would there be such a correlation?
He’d examine the mental oddity later. Right now, he focused his attention on the two fighting humans beneath him, just in time to see Mikaela punch the other female in the midsection, knocking her off-balance, and use the reprieve to get to her feet. She was poised to pounce again when shouts of warning from the crowd made her think better of it. A policeman was coming through the crowd---no, cancel that---a holoform of one. Not Barricade’s hologram. Blonde hair, blue eyes, young and sort of open and friendly. Bumblebee in human form, “to a T,” as the humans said.
Barricade idly watched Mikaela as the Autobot made use of his assumed status to defuse the situation. Her heartbeat, respiration and temperature were elevated; she was lightly coated with water expressed from her skin, and she was bleeding from multiple scratches. She looked pleased with herself, and somewhat . . . satiated. Barricade wondered if she looked like that after fights with the Decepticons. Then Bumblebee took a closer look at Barricade and recognized him immediately. A few brusque words to the students sent them all back towards the building, except for Mikaela, whose arm was caught by the holographic Autobot. The other female, significantly more injured than Mikaela, smirked viciously at this, likely expecting Mikaela to be in trouble; Mikaela turned away from her before smirking herself at the knowledge that such wasn’t the case.
“Mikaela . . .” Bumblebee sounded worried. Barricade didn’t blame him.
Mikaela interrupted with “What?! She attacked me, I defended myself, end of story!”
Bumblebee looked half understanding, half pained. He nodded, eyeing Barricade again. “Not end of story. You need to be more aware of your surroundings.” He gestured to the car on which much of the fight had taken place, and continued, making use of the human speech pattern known as “sarcastic understatement,” “For example, when they include Decepticons?”
Mikaela looked at Barricade, seeing him for the first time, and Barricade felt a thrill of delighted amusement as her expression slid from defensiveness to recognition and shock.
Yes, he was glad he hadn’t killed her.
Mikaela stared, stunned, at the Autobot's holoform. "I just had a fight with Trent's new bitch . . . on Barricade?!" She stared over at the police cruiser, where the decal phrase "To Punish and Enslave" stared back at her. Then Barricade winked at her, lighting up his headlights and turning one of them briefly off.
The Decepticon practically purred. "Yes, you did. Enjoy yourself, human? I much delighted in having your blood spill onto me---"
Bumblebee said, "Shut it, 'Con."
Barricade ignored him. "No, Autobot, credit where credit is due." He spoke to Mikaela again, voice low and purring and sensuous. "You perhaps recall, fleshling, that you spent eighteen point four seconds of that fight with your head resting behind my front wheel? I could easily have crushed you, destroyed you."
Mikaela matched that assertion up with the corresponding memory, and blanched, almost staggering. It was vaguely comical. Bumblebee reflexively moved closer to Mikaela, wrapping his arms around her and steadying her. Comforting her. She found her voice, and said quietly, "Why didn't you?" A mix of curiosity and challenge and . . . something else.
Bumblebee said, "Either he didn't dare cause that much attention, or he's planning something worse."
"Shut up, Butterfly," grated the 'Con. Bumblebee's human face contorted at the name; Mikaela's twitched as though she was suppressing a smirk. "Stealth is preferable at the moment, but not required. I could have pretended a mechanical malfunction, causing an accident." He looked vaguely gleeful at the thought. "Then again, I may indeed be planning something worse;" he leered at Mikaela here. "Or maybe she is sufficiently interesting, for a human, that I do not wish to destroy her at the moment.
"Point is, Mikaela Banes," he continued in the same low purr, "that you were at my mercy, and for whatever reason I might have, I was merciful. I think you owe me."
On this note, he started his engine and drove away, leaving the confused Autobot and the shell-shocked human staring after him. Let her wonder about what he had in mind for repayment. He ought to speculate on that himself, for that matter; it would remove some of the boredom from these observation duties.
He headed in the direction of the nearest car wash to get the blood off his hood, and contemplated the notion of the female washing and waxing him. It would be nice to get a good wax coating without having to scrape it off his windows---blasted human car wash systems---and the thought of the female human attentively caressing him with a sponge or a spray of water was oddly attractive.
The humans did have a saying, after all. "No good deed ever goes unrewarded." Well, perhaps . . . perhaps.
This is a prompt cazcatharsis gave me some time ago, and I finally went and finished it, so here it is.
Title/Prompt: "Catfight"
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Disclaimer: Me no owny.
Pairing: Not-so-subtle hints of Barricade/Mikaela.
Rating: PG-13 or so.
Warnings: Crack, attempts at drama.
Setting: Sometime post Mission City.
Summary: Barricade is on sentry duty and bored. Mikaela gets in a fight, and suddenly Barricade is not bored.
Barricade was bored.
It was becoming a common problem. Blackout, in what Barricade suspected was a deliberate attempt to annoy him, had kept him on various bits of sentinel duty over the past few weeks. Today he was parked outside what was known as a "school," watching the Autobots' pet humans, Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes.
It was the fourth day he'd spent on this ridiculous chore, and like clockwork, doors opened and juvenile humans came out at the same times each day. This was one of three midday periods in which they did so, apparently after having eaten, and in particular it was the one in which the female human, Mikaela Banes, was present.
He was parked close today, in the visitor parking lot near the field in which the humans congregated. There had been a minor disturbance earlier in the day that had resulted in the police being called, and he had concluded that his presence on the grounds would be attributed to that by anyone who saw him parked there. He watched the female exit the building and come most of the way across the grass before suddenly whirling to confront someone who was obscured from Barricade by the crowd.
A small weight on his roof tore his attention away from the crowd of humans. Alert to a potential threat, he aimed scanners upwards.
It was a pigeon. And in the half-second it had taken to identify it, he felt a tiny blob of hot, vaguely gelatinous fluid spread out on his roof right under it.
The bird had excreted waste.
On him.
Fury at the bird rolled through him like lightning, and was just as quickly replaced by an image of Blackout laughing his rear rotor off---or worse, Bumblebee, who was sitting in the larger parking lot recharging. Over amongst the humans, loud words were being uttered, but Barricade paid no attention, concentrating instead on reaching a holographic hand up to wipe the offending excretion off his roof. The bird, wisely, took off, frightened away either by his holoform or the now-much-closer proximity of the humans.
"Oh you BITCH!" and the sound of a blow hitting soft flesh drew Barricade's attention back to the humans. A sizeable group of them were now standing only a few feet away from him, and the female who was reeling backwards from the blow was none other than Mikaela Banes. Now this was interesting.
The second female, a slightly shorter one with chemically altered hair and much artificial pigmentation on her face, sent another blow at Mikaela. The Autobots' friend, however, quickly blocked it and counterattacked, punching her antagonist in the face.
The second female, it seemed, did not know much about effective fighting, even by human standards. Her response was to reel back, shriek, and launch an open-palmed strike---a weak attack which would not do any real damage. Mikaela's response was to push her; she pushed back, still shrieking, and latched both long-fingernailed hands to Mikaela's hair. The move was returned by Barricade's target, who then struck the second female in the midsection with her knee.
Say what one must about these insignificant, fragile meat-things, they were certainly creative.
The fight continued. The other humans, rather than separate the two fighters, crowded around to watch, conveying varying levels of amusement. Barricade peripherally noticed currency being displayed by some humans among the audience.
The fight continued; Mikaela was the superior fighter, but the other female used her clawed fingers to good effect; while she was substantially bruised (and still shrieking), Mikaela was leaking blood from several scratches, and the shorter human was very angry, an emotion Barricade had noted tended to give humans more strength and determination than they otherwise possessed.
The second female attacked with another push; Mikaela transferred the momentum back to her, slinging her in the same direction as she'd pushed, and she copied the move; Mikaela pulled her assailant along with her, closer to Barricade; this repeated itself, and the smaller human gave another shove. Barricade, focused intently on the methodology of the fight rather than the proximity of the fighters, started in sheer surprise as Mikaela Banes landed on top of his hood.
The other female climbed on top of her and sent a punch downward; Mikaela moved her head to the side and a bejeweled set of human knuckles impacted with Barricade. She shrieked louder and recoiled, clutching her hand; Barricade smirked to himself; Mikaela took advantage and reversed their positions, straddling the second fighter, seizing her hair tightly, and banging the back of her head repeatedly into Barricade's hood.
Barricade smiled. Served her right; one of her rings had scratched his paint.
He activated his holoform behind one-way-tinted windows to get a better view. Mikaela was slamming the other female's head down with an impressive amount of force, and Barricade, enjoying the rhythmic pounding over his intake manifold, cheerfully contemplated the thought of her crushing her opponent's skull against him.
One of the other humans interfered in the fight, grabbing Mikaela by an arm and pulling her away to the side; the second female took advantage of the distraction to attack, and Mikaela responded violently to the intruder at the same time; the result was that the interfering human was kicked in his primary reproductive organs and the two fighters landed on the pavement next to his fender. More blows were traded and Mikaela's head hit the backside treads of his front tire.
Barricade froze, intimately aware of the situation and its potential.
The sensors in his tires, used to the road, exploded into a frenzy at the sensation of her warm, soft human skin resting against them. Barricade switched his holoform to a replica of his recent avian pest, standing under his body and watching. Mikaela was not, unfortunately, paying any attention to the tire tread; rather, she was struggling madly with the human on top of her.
It would be so easy . . .
It would be so . . . unsatisfying.
Gone just like that---humans were so fragile---and then . . . and then the Autobots would have one fewer human friend; they'd be upset and grieved . . . he wouldn't be seeing her around town, or trying to capture her, or seeing his allies (or himself) surprisingly given a good, determined, respectable fight by a tiny, fierce, determined, inventive little human. And the human in question herself . . . damn it, he wasn't caring what she felt about her life, he just wasn’t---he didn't need to. She was as much a warrior as any mech; she risked death by choice because what she fought for was worth it. Barricade wondered, for a nanosecond, if he was truly willing to die for his cause. He fought . . . ferociously . . . but that was different. Death happened and it sucked, and it was the fault of whomever killed you . . . but he'd never thought about the prospect of it being a sacrifice for the Decepticons' goals. Was that worth it?
For him to die and leave Blackout or Megatron or Bonecrusher or Soundwave or, Primus forbid, Starscream to reap the rewards? He'd always planned on being one of the survivors . . . Mikaela Banes didn't have that assurance . . . only the courage to try anyway.
He liked it.
And to see her gone, erased, destroyed . . . he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. For some reason it reminded him of thinking of his own death.
That made no sense. Why would there be such a correlation?
He’d examine the mental oddity later. Right now, he focused his attention on the two fighting humans beneath him, just in time to see Mikaela punch the other female in the midsection, knocking her off-balance, and use the reprieve to get to her feet. She was poised to pounce again when shouts of warning from the crowd made her think better of it. A policeman was coming through the crowd---no, cancel that---a holoform of one. Not Barricade’s hologram. Blonde hair, blue eyes, young and sort of open and friendly. Bumblebee in human form, “to a T,” as the humans said.
Barricade idly watched Mikaela as the Autobot made use of his assumed status to defuse the situation. Her heartbeat, respiration and temperature were elevated; she was lightly coated with water expressed from her skin, and she was bleeding from multiple scratches. She looked pleased with herself, and somewhat . . . satiated. Barricade wondered if she looked like that after fights with the Decepticons. Then Bumblebee took a closer look at Barricade and recognized him immediately. A few brusque words to the students sent them all back towards the building, except for Mikaela, whose arm was caught by the holographic Autobot. The other female, significantly more injured than Mikaela, smirked viciously at this, likely expecting Mikaela to be in trouble; Mikaela turned away from her before smirking herself at the knowledge that such wasn’t the case.
“Mikaela . . .” Bumblebee sounded worried. Barricade didn’t blame him.
Mikaela interrupted with “What?! She attacked me, I defended myself, end of story!”
Bumblebee looked half understanding, half pained. He nodded, eyeing Barricade again. “Not end of story. You need to be more aware of your surroundings.” He gestured to the car on which much of the fight had taken place, and continued, making use of the human speech pattern known as “sarcastic understatement,” “For example, when they include Decepticons?”
Mikaela looked at Barricade, seeing him for the first time, and Barricade felt a thrill of delighted amusement as her expression slid from defensiveness to recognition and shock.
Yes, he was glad he hadn’t killed her.
Mikaela stared, stunned, at the Autobot's holoform. "I just had a fight with Trent's new bitch . . . on Barricade?!" She stared over at the police cruiser, where the decal phrase "To Punish and Enslave" stared back at her. Then Barricade winked at her, lighting up his headlights and turning one of them briefly off.
The Decepticon practically purred. "Yes, you did. Enjoy yourself, human? I much delighted in having your blood spill onto me---"
Bumblebee said, "Shut it, 'Con."
Barricade ignored him. "No, Autobot, credit where credit is due." He spoke to Mikaela again, voice low and purring and sensuous. "You perhaps recall, fleshling, that you spent eighteen point four seconds of that fight with your head resting behind my front wheel? I could easily have crushed you, destroyed you."
Mikaela matched that assertion up with the corresponding memory, and blanched, almost staggering. It was vaguely comical. Bumblebee reflexively moved closer to Mikaela, wrapping his arms around her and steadying her. Comforting her. She found her voice, and said quietly, "Why didn't you?" A mix of curiosity and challenge and . . . something else.
Bumblebee said, "Either he didn't dare cause that much attention, or he's planning something worse."
"Shut up, Butterfly," grated the 'Con. Bumblebee's human face contorted at the name; Mikaela's twitched as though she was suppressing a smirk. "Stealth is preferable at the moment, but not required. I could have pretended a mechanical malfunction, causing an accident." He looked vaguely gleeful at the thought. "Then again, I may indeed be planning something worse;" he leered at Mikaela here. "Or maybe she is sufficiently interesting, for a human, that I do not wish to destroy her at the moment.
"Point is, Mikaela Banes," he continued in the same low purr, "that you were at my mercy, and for whatever reason I might have, I was merciful. I think you owe me."
On this note, he started his engine and drove away, leaving the confused Autobot and the shell-shocked human staring after him. Let her wonder about what he had in mind for repayment. He ought to speculate on that himself, for that matter; it would remove some of the boredom from these observation duties.
He headed in the direction of the nearest car wash to get the blood off his hood, and contemplated the notion of the female washing and waxing him. It would be nice to get a good wax coating without having to scrape it off his windows---blasted human car wash systems---and the thought of the female human attentively caressing him with a sponge or a spray of water was oddly attractive.
The humans did have a saying, after all. "No good deed ever goes unrewarded." Well, perhaps . . . perhaps.