[FIC] Morning Tea, 4/? (Transformers, Jazz/Maggie, PG-13)
Title: "Morning Tea" - Chapter 4
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: Flamingmarsh
Pairing: Jazz/Maggie
Rating: PG-13 (just in case, nothing even remotely serious though... for now :))
Summary: Jazz asked Maggie a question over a cup of tea. What will be her answer?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their copyright owners. No money gained, only fun.
A/N: Check out an awesome comic/fanart Wax On, Wax Off drawn specially for this fic by TK-Productionz! :)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“Morning Tea” - Chapter 4
Definitely, Pontiac Solstice was a gorgeous freaking car.
That was the thought that refused to leave Maggie’s mind as the aforementioned car raced her along the highway to the unknown destination.
And that thought, coupled with the luxurious feeling of soft, warm leather against her back and under her palms, made the girl embarrassingly aware of her own shabby appearance.
Maggie’s eyes dropped down to the torn-up knees of her wane blue jeans that were still wet from kneeling in the evening grass; then to the pink blouse with long sleeves that was cozy and adorable of course, but so old it could have successfully belonged to, say, her grandma; and, lastly, to the sneakers that she’d chosen specifically for the intricate task of digging Kitty from under the porch and that used to be white some four or five years ago… The girl combed her wild and disheveled hair carefully with her fingers, but suspected that it didn’t help much and that she still looked like she’d just emerged from the slums or something.
Yeah, she fit just fine behind the wheel of a Pontiac Solstice (even though the roof was up, and there was no big chance of somebody seeing the details of her outfit). Not to mention that it was supposedly a date - oh, God - and girls are supposed to look pretty while on a date, and everything in her life obviously went the opposite way from the right one, and her escort was a robot, and she didn’t look pretty at all, and-
“Hey Maggie,” Jazz’s low and deep voice interrupted her self-pitying party. It felt like it sounded from everywhere at once, surrounding the girl and enveloping her like a soft warm blanket. “Have I told ya pink is yer color?”
Geez, did he just read her thoughts about her lame looks or what? The idea was giving her the creeps.
“Um… Nope, I believe you haven’t,” she gave a small one-shouldered shrug, a little uncomfortable. Not only because of his perfect timing, but also because she wasn’t yet used to talking to a- radio. Well, she needed to look somewhere while speaking with Jazz, so she chose to look at the radio.
“Ah, ma’ bad. ‘Cuz it is, an’ ya look… delicious in it,” the intonation gave an impression that Jazz was smiling, and those last silky words were said so sincerely she almost believed him. Almost.
The girl sighed with a smile of her own. “Well, it’s nice of you Jazz, thanks,” she said, all the while wondering how the hell she had allowed herself to be talked into something like this- whatever it was…
“…Ya got any plans for tonight?” the question came out of the blue, derailing Maggie’s cogitations about strange twists of her outstanding life.
The girl was so surprised, she didn’t even have enough brain capacity to process the possible lies like “yeah, I gotta clean my house,” or “sorry, too much work,” or to just flat out play dumb blond and change the subject.
“…No?” she said with pathetic honesty, staring dumbstruck at the mech that was sitting on the ground in front of her. That very second her brain tardily grasped the implications of such an indiscretion on her part; she knew she was in for some serious trouble.
As if to confirm her thoughts, Jazz gave her a thorough once over, making the girl blush again. How he managed that not only being a non-organic creature, but also with his optics shielded from the world, was beyond her mental grasp. Maggie more sensed than saw his gaze linger appreciatively in several particular places of her figure. That gaze was observant, lazy, and felt almost like a physical caress, and the girl wondered if it was a real interest or just an act born from his wish to mimic human signals of attraction. But when a slow fond smile appeared on Jazz’s lips, there could be no doubt it was genuine.
Maggie snapped out of her stupor.
Alright, now life got really crazy. In fact, it had reached the level of craziness when she wasn’t sure she could deal with it without breaking at least some part of her poor brain.
She buried her hand in her hair and opened her mouth, meaning to say that she was sorry, but she wasn’t in the mood (and in any clothes) for anything tonight… But a soft buzz of Jazz’s joints stopped her speech and movement. She froze in confusion, watching the saboteur as he reached his hand towards her slowly.
Just like a week ago.
Except this time his palm stopped mid-air, open and facing up, about half a yard from her.
Maggie glared at the metallic limb in front of her; then up at Jazz. It took her some time to realize with astonishment that he was- offering her a hand and waiting for her to accept and take it.
‘Come ma’ lady, come, come ma’ lady…’ the song sounded softly from the Autobot’s speakers, just as he bent his head to the side with a mysterious smile, emphasizing the lyrics silently. The rich amber-golden light of the setting sun made Jazz’s armor shine like a quicksilver; his usually black visor was glowing luminescent blue, casting an eerie cloud of neon to the lower half of his face and softening his strong features. And right now, casually relaxed and half covered by the twilight shadows, Jazz looked like a very large and athletic human male in some kind of a strange hi-tech exo-suit.
Maggie tore her eyes from Jazz’s face and looked at the offered palm again. It moved forward an inch with a soft ‘zzz’ sound, as if nudging her conscience towards making a decision. A silent ‘come on, do it.’
She couldn’t believe it. He had just asked her out. And she somehow couldn’t possibly say “no” at this point, not with the way he was looking and smiling at her…
Still in half-hearted denial, Maggie hesitantly reached out and touched that silver-golden palm, for the first time, by her own will. The girl’s small fingers wrapped around one of the mech’s much larger digits, feeling the shiny surface of the Autobot’s metallic skin with tentative curiosity. Maggie’s heart sped up a bit when that huge palm closed around her delicate hand slowly and carefully, warming and caressing it with tenderness that was both unexpected and natural at the same time. She knew how much strength this very palm possessed; it could tear metal apart like paper, it could crush stones into sand. So much power - but absolutely no threat whenever he touched her, only the feeling of safety and something else…
“I take that smile as a ‘yes’ then?” Jazz asked quietly with a playful smirk, and, indeed, she found herself smiling for some unknown reason.
So crazy.
Maggie chuckled disbelievingly instead of an answer. It looked like she really did say “yes” without as much as making a sound…
…So, between Jazz’s enthusiasm and her confusion, she hadn’t had enough time to change into something more fitting the occasion (though she still didn’t know if it could be called a date). Which was an equivalent of a local apocalypse for a girl who preferred wearing high heels on a daily basis. Thus the fumbling with her hair and constant straightening of clothes now.
“What, ya don’ believe me?” Jazz asked, picking up on her mood. Maggie just smiled and sighed again. Even though she did think he was only being nice and she didn’t really deserve his compliments in regards to her “delicious” looks, she still had a woman’s dignity, and wouldn’t admit any of it aloud. No way. Robot or not, a male shouldn’t know such things.
“I do believe you, Jazz, thanks,” Maggie nodded. “Hey, is that Rihanna?” She tried to change the topic of the conversation, drawing the Autobot’s attention to the song on the radio. ‘Baby you got the key, Now shut up and drive, drive, drive…’ A grin curved the girls’ lips at the lyrics that fit the situation.
“Rihanna, a’ight,” Jazz laughed, catching the cue and increasing the volume. His engine growled like an enraged animal, and the girl’s gasp of surprise turned into a light laughter of amused joy as they raced even faster than before.
It wasn’t long before Jazz slowed down and took a turn, heading to the fenced territory that Maggie instantly recognized as…
“…A drive-in?” She spoke incredulously. And it suddenly made perfect sense; where else would a robotic car take a girl?
“Yep, that’s right!” Jazz replied enthusiastically. “I got a special spot for us, the best there is.”
He headed towards one of the rows and parked in the middle of it.
“What’s the movie?” Maggie asked with impatient interest, glancing around at other cars and at the large screen ahead where she could see ads running. It’s been quite some time since she last visited a drive-in…
‘Arlette’ - the screen shined with beautiful letters, and Maggie chuckled. She hadn’t seen this movie (to her absolute shame), but she’d heard more than enough about it to know it was about love.
“Hope ya don’t mind my choice,” Jazz rumbled.
“It’s good, I don’t mind at all.” She gave a kind smile to the radio, feeling a little bit foolish for doing so, but dismissing it.
“Ya comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.” She folded her arms across her chest awkwardly. The pose might have seemed unconfident, but she was merely not sure where to put them. After all, she was sitting in a living robot folded into the form of a car…
One of Jazz’s panels opened all of a sudden, and a little tray emerged from its depths, a paper cup with ice-cream on it.
Maggie’s brain stopped as she glared at the cup.
Ice-cream, for God’s sake.
Strange thoughts began swarming in her head, like where exactly he had been keeping food inside his body, and where he’d gotten it from in the first place… It would also mean that he’d been prepared for this evening even before he came to her place and asked her out…
“I didn’t know how ya like yer ice cream, but I’ve seen ya eatin’ chocolate a coupl’a times, so I went for the chocolate syrup,” Jazz explained softly. He must have interpreted her silence as reluctance to eat what he had offered her.
Maggie couldn’t contain a smile of endearment at that. “You are a good observer then, Jazz, because I do like my ice cream with chocolate syrup,” she chose to go with the flow, and took the cup carefully. Her mood was getting better and better with every second. That is, until… “Uhh, Jazz…? You got a spoon anywhere for me?”
The car went unusually silent. Then, “A spoon?”
“Well, yeah. I need something to eat the ice cream with.”
Jazz’s engine gave a groaning sound. “Ah, slag,” he quietly cursed.
Maggie decided to spare him the confusion, and laughed. “You brought me ice cream, but forgot the spoon. What a blast.”
Jazz was now laughing along with her. “I’m sorry, Maggie! We Cybertronians consume energon, and we don’t use any auxiliary facilities. It just got completely wiped from my memory-banks that ya’d need a spoon… Oh, Primus…”
“It’s alright, I- guess I can manage without it,” she mused eyeing the cup in her hands, picturing herself sticking her fingers into the cold sweet substance and licking them afterwards… Not the most comfortable - and the most modest - way to eat, but it’ll have to do.
“Ya sure?”
“Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me,” she shrugged.
“Not even my nasty remarks?” He elaborated in a sultry voice, making her smile again and relax against the seat.
“Not even that,” she stated with determination, then caught a little of white-and-brown frozen cream on her finger, and delivered it to her mouth, rolling the sweetness on her tongue and swallowing with bliss. “Mmm, this is good.”
“I’m glad yer enjoying it,” Jazz purred. “As much as I am.”
She knew he was joking, but her cheeks tinted red nevertheless.
Jazz laughed joyfully and tuned in on the needed radio-frequency so that they could listen to the audio-stream of the show.
-----
The movie turned out to be a really good one, not to mention that Christopher Lambert made a really good womanizer. Jazz kept making curious remarks and asking questions throughout the first half of it.
“So… he’s with her for money?” He mused.
“Well… Yeah, in a way,” Maggie nodded watching as Frank tried to win Arlette’s heart by way of deception.
“Is that- normal for humans?”
“What? No!” She was horrified that he might get such an impression. “I mean…” She couldn’t believe she was discussing this with him. “Well, such things are happening all over the world, yes, but… It’s not right, if you meant that.”
“Not right? Why?” He asked.
Maggie refrained from mentally comparing him to an innocent child, because even though he was sincerely curious, he was anything but innocent; he just was from another planet.
“Because, love is not about money,” she stated at the lack of a better explanation.
“But, what about…” he paused, and a small chirp was probably an indication that he was looking something up on the internet, “…prostitution?” he finished his question.
“That’s not love, it’s just sex. For money. Most of the times it’s dirty and low… Does your kind have an analogue?”
Another quiet chirp, then, “Ain’t an analogue, but yeah, we have somethin’ like that. Though, it’s more like… companionship.”
“Oh…” She could only say to that. She’d thought that the Cybertronians, being a higher race and all, wouldn’t have - wouldn’t need - something like that.
“Ya sound like it’s bad,” Jazz noted carefully, his statement partially a question.
“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t like it if someone was with me for a reason other than myself,” she said. “I don’t understand how people can use such… services. They’ve got to have no respect for themselves and for the ones who offer such services,” she mumbled shaking her head.
“It’s a matter of perception, Maggie,” he said pensively. “And respect, actually. Ya see, my kind has a very long life span, and no means of natural procreation, so, unlike human sex, interfacing has only a recreational meaning. It ain’t somethin’ low, or forbidden, or shameful. Some even consider it a form of art, and some strive ta get to the very heights of it. And that, in its turn, brings up a natural chain of reactions, like others wantin’ ta get a taste of it, or spendin’ time with skillful professionals regularly due ta havin’ no permanent partner… But the companions have a right ta choose for themselves, or ta decline offers. It’s always ‘bout respect and never ‘bout money.”
“Oh…” Maggie said again. That was a lot of information to process, and it gave an entirely different angle to things. If anything, it was an entirely different world Jazz was speaking about, with different system of values and standards of behavior. “I guess, it makes sense, then…”
“But he’s a jerk,” Jazz stated suddenly, startling Maggie.
“What?” She asked.
“That guy on the screen, Frank. He’s lyin’ ta her.”
“Well, the movie wouldn’t exist if it didn’t teach the viewer something,” the girl smiled. “Now be quiet, and let’s watch.”
-----
By the time the ending titles appeared on the screen, Maggie’s ice-cream has long since completely melted. She drank the rest of it, experiencing that feeling of satisfaction she always had after eating something sweet.
“Ya know, I think I like that guy after all,” Jazz decided.
“You thought he was a jerk an hour ago,” she smiled, folding the paper cup neatly and putting it into another panel Jazz had moved towards her.
“Well, he got the guts ta do what was right, and made ‘er happy, ya gotta give ‘em that,” he chuckled.
“Oh yeah, I guess it somewhat makes up for his fraud,” she lifted her brow slightly, trying to look skeptical.
Jazz laughed. “Anyways, he’d suffered enough before endin’ up bein’ together with Arlette, don’tcha think?”
Maggie grinned. “Okay, okay, he did deserve his happiness!”
“That’s more like it!” The saboteur switched on his radio, catching a hip-hop tune, and the car started swaying in place on its springs to the rhythm, making Maggie’s smile slip off her face.
“Um, Jazz…” She carefully began. “You do realize how it looks from the outside, right?”
As if echoing her question, the guy in the driver’s seat of a nearby car leaned out of his window and watched the swaying silver Pontiac. His angular face with heavy glasses on his nose held a disgusted expression.
Maggie could only be grateful that Jazz’s windows were toned, and therefore the guy couldn’t see her face.
The swaying stopped. But what happened next possibly scarred Maggie’s psyche for the rest of her life.
A handsome black-skinned male appeared on the passenger seat beside her, startling the shit out of her and making her grab the door handle and prepare to flee at a moment’s notice. He pushed his shades down his nose slightly; one sky-blue eye gave her a playful wink. The next moment the window on his side rolled down, and he grinned mischievously at the guy who was now glaring at the two of them, obviously taking special notice of Maggie’s flaming cheeks and probably confirming his worst suspicions in his mind.
The girl lost the ability to speak, and was staring dumbly at the hologram beside her and at the guy in the other car. She knew all the Cybertronians had a hologram and used it on occasion, but it was the first time she actually witnessed one of them activating it.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or to die in place. She didn’t know whether to berate Jazz for such a prank or to let herself marvel in the scientific genialness of this invention.
Before she could react in any way, the Pontiac’s window rolled back up securely, and the hologram dissolved without a sound. The car’s engine growled self-complacently, and Jazz started moving back from their parking spot.
As they were leaving the drive-in, she was still trying to get over her bewilderment and shock.
“Ya okay, babe?” Jazz asked with concern in his voice.
“That was… a strange event,” she replied, finding that she was finally able to talk.
“A bad kind of strange or a good kind of strange?”
She smiled broadly. “A crazy kind of strange, that’s for sure.” The girl giggled, hearing his answering laugh. She suddenly noticed that they were in fact moving in the opposite direction from her house. “Um… Isn’t my place that way?” She inquired pointing her thumb back over her shoulder.
“Nah. Th’ party’s not over yet, if that’s what ya mean,” Jazz cryptically replied.
“Oh? So what else do you have in store?”
“Jus’ wait and see, baby,” he laughed, speeding up.
End of Chapter 4
Songs used:
Crazy Town - “Butterfly”
Rihanna - “Shut Up And Drive”
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: Flamingmarsh
Pairing: Jazz/Maggie
Rating: PG-13 (just in case, nothing even remotely serious though... for now :))
Summary: Jazz asked Maggie a question over a cup of tea. What will be her answer?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their copyright owners. No money gained, only fun.
A/N: Check out an awesome comic/fanart Wax On, Wax Off drawn specially for this fic by TK-Productionz! :)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“Morning Tea” - Chapter 4
Definitely, Pontiac Solstice was a gorgeous freaking car.
That was the thought that refused to leave Maggie’s mind as the aforementioned car raced her along the highway to the unknown destination.
And that thought, coupled with the luxurious feeling of soft, warm leather against her back and under her palms, made the girl embarrassingly aware of her own shabby appearance.
Maggie’s eyes dropped down to the torn-up knees of her wane blue jeans that were still wet from kneeling in the evening grass; then to the pink blouse with long sleeves that was cozy and adorable of course, but so old it could have successfully belonged to, say, her grandma; and, lastly, to the sneakers that she’d chosen specifically for the intricate task of digging Kitty from under the porch and that used to be white some four or five years ago… The girl combed her wild and disheveled hair carefully with her fingers, but suspected that it didn’t help much and that she still looked like she’d just emerged from the slums or something.
Yeah, she fit just fine behind the wheel of a Pontiac Solstice (even though the roof was up, and there was no big chance of somebody seeing the details of her outfit). Not to mention that it was supposedly a date - oh, God - and girls are supposed to look pretty while on a date, and everything in her life obviously went the opposite way from the right one, and her escort was a robot, and she didn’t look pretty at all, and-
“Hey Maggie,” Jazz’s low and deep voice interrupted her self-pitying party. It felt like it sounded from everywhere at once, surrounding the girl and enveloping her like a soft warm blanket. “Have I told ya pink is yer color?”
Geez, did he just read her thoughts about her lame looks or what? The idea was giving her the creeps.
“Um… Nope, I believe you haven’t,” she gave a small one-shouldered shrug, a little uncomfortable. Not only because of his perfect timing, but also because she wasn’t yet used to talking to a- radio. Well, she needed to look somewhere while speaking with Jazz, so she chose to look at the radio.
“Ah, ma’ bad. ‘Cuz it is, an’ ya look… delicious in it,” the intonation gave an impression that Jazz was smiling, and those last silky words were said so sincerely she almost believed him. Almost.
The girl sighed with a smile of her own. “Well, it’s nice of you Jazz, thanks,” she said, all the while wondering how the hell she had allowed herself to be talked into something like this- whatever it was…
“…Ya got any plans for tonight?” the question came out of the blue, derailing Maggie’s cogitations about strange twists of her outstanding life.
The girl was so surprised, she didn’t even have enough brain capacity to process the possible lies like “yeah, I gotta clean my house,” or “sorry, too much work,” or to just flat out play dumb blond and change the subject.
“…No?” she said with pathetic honesty, staring dumbstruck at the mech that was sitting on the ground in front of her. That very second her brain tardily grasped the implications of such an indiscretion on her part; she knew she was in for some serious trouble.
As if to confirm her thoughts, Jazz gave her a thorough once over, making the girl blush again. How he managed that not only being a non-organic creature, but also with his optics shielded from the world, was beyond her mental grasp. Maggie more sensed than saw his gaze linger appreciatively in several particular places of her figure. That gaze was observant, lazy, and felt almost like a physical caress, and the girl wondered if it was a real interest or just an act born from his wish to mimic human signals of attraction. But when a slow fond smile appeared on Jazz’s lips, there could be no doubt it was genuine.
Maggie snapped out of her stupor.
Alright, now life got really crazy. In fact, it had reached the level of craziness when she wasn’t sure she could deal with it without breaking at least some part of her poor brain.
She buried her hand in her hair and opened her mouth, meaning to say that she was sorry, but she wasn’t in the mood (and in any clothes) for anything tonight… But a soft buzz of Jazz’s joints stopped her speech and movement. She froze in confusion, watching the saboteur as he reached his hand towards her slowly.
Just like a week ago.
Except this time his palm stopped mid-air, open and facing up, about half a yard from her.
Maggie glared at the metallic limb in front of her; then up at Jazz. It took her some time to realize with astonishment that he was- offering her a hand and waiting for her to accept and take it.
‘Come ma’ lady, come, come ma’ lady…’ the song sounded softly from the Autobot’s speakers, just as he bent his head to the side with a mysterious smile, emphasizing the lyrics silently. The rich amber-golden light of the setting sun made Jazz’s armor shine like a quicksilver; his usually black visor was glowing luminescent blue, casting an eerie cloud of neon to the lower half of his face and softening his strong features. And right now, casually relaxed and half covered by the twilight shadows, Jazz looked like a very large and athletic human male in some kind of a strange hi-tech exo-suit.
Maggie tore her eyes from Jazz’s face and looked at the offered palm again. It moved forward an inch with a soft ‘zzz’ sound, as if nudging her conscience towards making a decision. A silent ‘come on, do it.’
She couldn’t believe it. He had just asked her out. And she somehow couldn’t possibly say “no” at this point, not with the way he was looking and smiling at her…
Still in half-hearted denial, Maggie hesitantly reached out and touched that silver-golden palm, for the first time, by her own will. The girl’s small fingers wrapped around one of the mech’s much larger digits, feeling the shiny surface of the Autobot’s metallic skin with tentative curiosity. Maggie’s heart sped up a bit when that huge palm closed around her delicate hand slowly and carefully, warming and caressing it with tenderness that was both unexpected and natural at the same time. She knew how much strength this very palm possessed; it could tear metal apart like paper, it could crush stones into sand. So much power - but absolutely no threat whenever he touched her, only the feeling of safety and something else…
“I take that smile as a ‘yes’ then?” Jazz asked quietly with a playful smirk, and, indeed, she found herself smiling for some unknown reason.
So crazy.
Maggie chuckled disbelievingly instead of an answer. It looked like she really did say “yes” without as much as making a sound…
…So, between Jazz’s enthusiasm and her confusion, she hadn’t had enough time to change into something more fitting the occasion (though she still didn’t know if it could be called a date). Which was an equivalent of a local apocalypse for a girl who preferred wearing high heels on a daily basis. Thus the fumbling with her hair and constant straightening of clothes now.
“What, ya don’ believe me?” Jazz asked, picking up on her mood. Maggie just smiled and sighed again. Even though she did think he was only being nice and she didn’t really deserve his compliments in regards to her “delicious” looks, she still had a woman’s dignity, and wouldn’t admit any of it aloud. No way. Robot or not, a male shouldn’t know such things.
“I do believe you, Jazz, thanks,” Maggie nodded. “Hey, is that Rihanna?” She tried to change the topic of the conversation, drawing the Autobot’s attention to the song on the radio. ‘Baby you got the key, Now shut up and drive, drive, drive…’ A grin curved the girls’ lips at the lyrics that fit the situation.
“Rihanna, a’ight,” Jazz laughed, catching the cue and increasing the volume. His engine growled like an enraged animal, and the girl’s gasp of surprise turned into a light laughter of amused joy as they raced even faster than before.
It wasn’t long before Jazz slowed down and took a turn, heading to the fenced territory that Maggie instantly recognized as…
“…A drive-in?” She spoke incredulously. And it suddenly made perfect sense; where else would a robotic car take a girl?
“Yep, that’s right!” Jazz replied enthusiastically. “I got a special spot for us, the best there is.”
He headed towards one of the rows and parked in the middle of it.
“What’s the movie?” Maggie asked with impatient interest, glancing around at other cars and at the large screen ahead where she could see ads running. It’s been quite some time since she last visited a drive-in…
‘Arlette’ - the screen shined with beautiful letters, and Maggie chuckled. She hadn’t seen this movie (to her absolute shame), but she’d heard more than enough about it to know it was about love.
“Hope ya don’t mind my choice,” Jazz rumbled.
“It’s good, I don’t mind at all.” She gave a kind smile to the radio, feeling a little bit foolish for doing so, but dismissing it.
“Ya comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.” She folded her arms across her chest awkwardly. The pose might have seemed unconfident, but she was merely not sure where to put them. After all, she was sitting in a living robot folded into the form of a car…
One of Jazz’s panels opened all of a sudden, and a little tray emerged from its depths, a paper cup with ice-cream on it.
Maggie’s brain stopped as she glared at the cup.
Ice-cream, for God’s sake.
Strange thoughts began swarming in her head, like where exactly he had been keeping food inside his body, and where he’d gotten it from in the first place… It would also mean that he’d been prepared for this evening even before he came to her place and asked her out…
“I didn’t know how ya like yer ice cream, but I’ve seen ya eatin’ chocolate a coupl’a times, so I went for the chocolate syrup,” Jazz explained softly. He must have interpreted her silence as reluctance to eat what he had offered her.
Maggie couldn’t contain a smile of endearment at that. “You are a good observer then, Jazz, because I do like my ice cream with chocolate syrup,” she chose to go with the flow, and took the cup carefully. Her mood was getting better and better with every second. That is, until… “Uhh, Jazz…? You got a spoon anywhere for me?”
The car went unusually silent. Then, “A spoon?”
“Well, yeah. I need something to eat the ice cream with.”
Jazz’s engine gave a groaning sound. “Ah, slag,” he quietly cursed.
Maggie decided to spare him the confusion, and laughed. “You brought me ice cream, but forgot the spoon. What a blast.”
Jazz was now laughing along with her. “I’m sorry, Maggie! We Cybertronians consume energon, and we don’t use any auxiliary facilities. It just got completely wiped from my memory-banks that ya’d need a spoon… Oh, Primus…”
“It’s alright, I- guess I can manage without it,” she mused eyeing the cup in her hands, picturing herself sticking her fingers into the cold sweet substance and licking them afterwards… Not the most comfortable - and the most modest - way to eat, but it’ll have to do.
“Ya sure?”
“Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me,” she shrugged.
“Not even my nasty remarks?” He elaborated in a sultry voice, making her smile again and relax against the seat.
“Not even that,” she stated with determination, then caught a little of white-and-brown frozen cream on her finger, and delivered it to her mouth, rolling the sweetness on her tongue and swallowing with bliss. “Mmm, this is good.”
“I’m glad yer enjoying it,” Jazz purred. “As much as I am.”
She knew he was joking, but her cheeks tinted red nevertheless.
Jazz laughed joyfully and tuned in on the needed radio-frequency so that they could listen to the audio-stream of the show.
-----
The movie turned out to be a really good one, not to mention that Christopher Lambert made a really good womanizer. Jazz kept making curious remarks and asking questions throughout the first half of it.
“So… he’s with her for money?” He mused.
“Well… Yeah, in a way,” Maggie nodded watching as Frank tried to win Arlette’s heart by way of deception.
“Is that- normal for humans?”
“What? No!” She was horrified that he might get such an impression. “I mean…” She couldn’t believe she was discussing this with him. “Well, such things are happening all over the world, yes, but… It’s not right, if you meant that.”
“Not right? Why?” He asked.
Maggie refrained from mentally comparing him to an innocent child, because even though he was sincerely curious, he was anything but innocent; he just was from another planet.
“Because, love is not about money,” she stated at the lack of a better explanation.
“But, what about…” he paused, and a small chirp was probably an indication that he was looking something up on the internet, “…prostitution?” he finished his question.
“That’s not love, it’s just sex. For money. Most of the times it’s dirty and low… Does your kind have an analogue?”
Another quiet chirp, then, “Ain’t an analogue, but yeah, we have somethin’ like that. Though, it’s more like… companionship.”
“Oh…” She could only say to that. She’d thought that the Cybertronians, being a higher race and all, wouldn’t have - wouldn’t need - something like that.
“Ya sound like it’s bad,” Jazz noted carefully, his statement partially a question.
“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t like it if someone was with me for a reason other than myself,” she said. “I don’t understand how people can use such… services. They’ve got to have no respect for themselves and for the ones who offer such services,” she mumbled shaking her head.
“It’s a matter of perception, Maggie,” he said pensively. “And respect, actually. Ya see, my kind has a very long life span, and no means of natural procreation, so, unlike human sex, interfacing has only a recreational meaning. It ain’t somethin’ low, or forbidden, or shameful. Some even consider it a form of art, and some strive ta get to the very heights of it. And that, in its turn, brings up a natural chain of reactions, like others wantin’ ta get a taste of it, or spendin’ time with skillful professionals regularly due ta havin’ no permanent partner… But the companions have a right ta choose for themselves, or ta decline offers. It’s always ‘bout respect and never ‘bout money.”
“Oh…” Maggie said again. That was a lot of information to process, and it gave an entirely different angle to things. If anything, it was an entirely different world Jazz was speaking about, with different system of values and standards of behavior. “I guess, it makes sense, then…”
“But he’s a jerk,” Jazz stated suddenly, startling Maggie.
“What?” She asked.
“That guy on the screen, Frank. He’s lyin’ ta her.”
“Well, the movie wouldn’t exist if it didn’t teach the viewer something,” the girl smiled. “Now be quiet, and let’s watch.”
-----
By the time the ending titles appeared on the screen, Maggie’s ice-cream has long since completely melted. She drank the rest of it, experiencing that feeling of satisfaction she always had after eating something sweet.
“Ya know, I think I like that guy after all,” Jazz decided.
“You thought he was a jerk an hour ago,” she smiled, folding the paper cup neatly and putting it into another panel Jazz had moved towards her.
“Well, he got the guts ta do what was right, and made ‘er happy, ya gotta give ‘em that,” he chuckled.
“Oh yeah, I guess it somewhat makes up for his fraud,” she lifted her brow slightly, trying to look skeptical.
Jazz laughed. “Anyways, he’d suffered enough before endin’ up bein’ together with Arlette, don’tcha think?”
Maggie grinned. “Okay, okay, he did deserve his happiness!”
“That’s more like it!” The saboteur switched on his radio, catching a hip-hop tune, and the car started swaying in place on its springs to the rhythm, making Maggie’s smile slip off her face.
“Um, Jazz…” She carefully began. “You do realize how it looks from the outside, right?”
As if echoing her question, the guy in the driver’s seat of a nearby car leaned out of his window and watched the swaying silver Pontiac. His angular face with heavy glasses on his nose held a disgusted expression.
Maggie could only be grateful that Jazz’s windows were toned, and therefore the guy couldn’t see her face.
The swaying stopped. But what happened next possibly scarred Maggie’s psyche for the rest of her life.
A handsome black-skinned male appeared on the passenger seat beside her, startling the shit out of her and making her grab the door handle and prepare to flee at a moment’s notice. He pushed his shades down his nose slightly; one sky-blue eye gave her a playful wink. The next moment the window on his side rolled down, and he grinned mischievously at the guy who was now glaring at the two of them, obviously taking special notice of Maggie’s flaming cheeks and probably confirming his worst suspicions in his mind.
The girl lost the ability to speak, and was staring dumbly at the hologram beside her and at the guy in the other car. She knew all the Cybertronians had a hologram and used it on occasion, but it was the first time she actually witnessed one of them activating it.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or to die in place. She didn’t know whether to berate Jazz for such a prank or to let herself marvel in the scientific genialness of this invention.
Before she could react in any way, the Pontiac’s window rolled back up securely, and the hologram dissolved without a sound. The car’s engine growled self-complacently, and Jazz started moving back from their parking spot.
As they were leaving the drive-in, she was still trying to get over her bewilderment and shock.
“Ya okay, babe?” Jazz asked with concern in his voice.
“That was… a strange event,” she replied, finding that she was finally able to talk.
“A bad kind of strange or a good kind of strange?”
She smiled broadly. “A crazy kind of strange, that’s for sure.” The girl giggled, hearing his answering laugh. She suddenly noticed that they were in fact moving in the opposite direction from her house. “Um… Isn’t my place that way?” She inquired pointing her thumb back over her shoulder.
“Nah. Th’ party’s not over yet, if that’s what ya mean,” Jazz cryptically replied.
“Oh? So what else do you have in store?”
“Jus’ wait and see, baby,” he laughed, speeding up.
End of Chapter 4
Songs used:
Crazy Town - “Butterfly”
Rihanna - “Shut Up And Drive”