You know that fic you come up with in a dream, and in your dream, it's completely epic? It's long, and has a rich vocabulary and great dialog; it's well written, and everyone is in character, and it's so great you almost can't bring yourself to type it out, for fear of not doing it justice?

This is not that fic.

*Incorrect spelling and errors are the result of my own asshattery. You aren't crazy, the ending was edited. Just roll with it. :)

It was a typical day at the Ark. Bumblebee and Spike were lounging in front of a large monitor, both paying rapt attention to a program while Spike vividly explained slang and cultural references that made no sense to his alien friend. They were alone, and things were relatively quiet; something both nice and surprising.

Watching television—an activity Bumblebee understood to be entertaining and sometimes mindless—was a favorite past time among the Autobots, although it had potential to be very stressful, and even a little dangerous; mostly because no one could agree on what to watch.

Every now and then a fight would break out and evolve into shoving and name-calling, but Bumblebee simply couldn't react as seriously as some of the other bots (Cliffjumper and Mirage.), it was just TV.

"You really didn't have TV back on Cybertron?" Spike asked. He and Bumblebee were sitting on the floor; Spike cross-legged, Bumblebee straight-legged and leaning back on his hands.

"Not like you this," he explained. "Things broadcasted on some of the monitors we didn't use, but were similar to your News channels. We just didn't have any use for TV. I like it, but I guess you can't miss what you never had." he shrugged.

"Yeah, it's okay. My dad doesn't really let me watch a whole lot of it."

They both looked away from the monitor when they heard a soft hiss; in stepped Prowl, his usual, stoic self; maybe a little flustered.

"Hey Prowl," Spike greeted, waving.

Prowl's shoulders wavered somewhat, as though he couldn't make up his mind whether to enter or leave. He stayed put, and greeted them both with a slight nod. "Spike, Bumblebee." He walked across the room, paying interest to a random console. Not unusual for him. What was unusual, however, was the way he leaned into the console with his hands, his shoulders hunched. Prowl never deviated from prim and proper, not even in private, probably, but then again, Prowl hadn't been acting himself lately.

Spike seemed to take notice, as well. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Prowl replied with a question of his own. "Why are you sitting on the ground?"

"This is how everyone on Earth watches TV," Bumblebee said offhandedly. He smiled. Spike was smiling, too, as though he and Bumblebee were privy to some secret he was not; something grand and exciting. "Everyone Spike's age, anyway."

Spike nodded. "Just teaching Bumblebee more about Earth. Next is chewing gum."

"I see," said Prowl.

Bumblebee shared a concerned look with one another. Aside from the mild physical-freedom, Prowl seemed to be all right. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

It took Bumblebee every ounce of strength he had not to hang his head and groan. He recognised that tone, soft and naive, nothing like what Prowl was supposed to sound like—brutal, curt; an undertone of constant confidence.

"Except...Jazz and I are fighting again."

Ever since those two had gotten together, Prowl had changed. Actually, the whole Ark seemed to be taking a rapid descent into madness ever since they had gone public. It was subtle, at first, but growing worrisome. Bumblebee didn't understand it, and brought it to Optimus' attention, who simply waved it off.

Spike joined his two friends. "Again? What about?"

Prowls lower lip wobbled pathetically. "He wants to conceive."

"What?" Bumbebee exclaimed. "You've got to be kidding!" he was far from a prude, and had witnessed several mechs pair off and court one another before, Prowl and Jazz, however...their approach was different, awkward to watch; sort of like a ship on a head-on collision with the ground—terrifying, and yet at the same time strangely captivating. "You two have only been courting for a few orbital cycles!"

Spike suddenly looked very thoughtful. "Guys? How exactly-?"

This time, Bumblebee did groan. "Oh, no. No, no. Hold it, Spike. We tell you that, and Sparkplug might take us apart. Bolt by bolt."

Spike waved his hand. "Aw, you know he wouldn't. Besides, you guys aren't even human. What's the big deal?"

"What about Ratchet? No thanks! I like my dental plates where they are."

Prowl agreed quietly, a brief lapse into normality that was over before it began. "I'm just so torn. I love Jazz, and he wants a sparking so much. He says it would be the ultimate demonstration of our love—"

"Please," Bumblebee said beneath his breath. Clearly, Prowl wasn't the only one who needed a tune up.

"Wouldn't it be kind of dumb to have a little kid around, considering all the fighting you guys do?" Spike asked with all the subtly of a brick. "They'd probably be really distracting, right? And get kidnapped all the time, too."

Bumblebee, unable to articulate a reply, just stared at the teenager.

"No!" Prowl snapped, having no issue finding his voice. "It would be magical!"

Spike held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, sorry! I didn't even think you'd want a—uh, sparkling."

As if this conversation wasn't already weird enough, Prowl shamelessly draped himself across the console. "That's just it: I'm not sure if I do or not."

Bumblebee, who wasn't sure how to react, was a little irritated that Spike was paying less attention to Prowl, and more attention to his shoes.

"...So does that mean you guys are...?"

"Spike!" Bumblebee's voice held a warning tone.

"Sorry!"

"If I'm not completely willing to devote myself to Jazz, to do everything in my power to make him happy...then perhaps..." Prowl's head shot up. He lifted himself off the console and asked, "do you think Jazz and I were meant to be together?"

Bumblebee blurted out, "I didn't think you two even had much in common?"

"How dare you?"

Quicker than Bumblebee could even register, Prowl was towering over him like a deadly tidal wave ready to smash him into the rocks.

He's going to hit me, was Bumblebee's first thought, followed by: well, that's kind of a step in the right direction.

Spike waved his arms in alarm, as there wasn't much else he could do. "Whoa, calm down! You were meant to be! You were meant to be!"

Prowl frowned, his demeanor suddenly less intimidating than it had been. He looked confused, and genuinely sorry. It was like a switch had been flipped. He began backing away. "I don't know what came over me. Please, excuse me."

He rushed out the door and down the hall, leaving Bumblebee and Spike staring after him; the low murmur of the television in the background.

"Wow, he's pretty upset, huh?"

"More like completely insane."

"Why, because he doesn't know what he wants?"

"No, because he's acting completely insane."

Spike gazed at him for a long moment. He slapped Bumblebee on the side of the leg in a friendly gesture, smiling. "Don't worry, Bumblebee. I'm sure it's nothing."

Bumblebee stared at his human friend. "Have you met Prowl?" he asked, just as the door slid open again. This time, it was Red Alert who poked his head in.

"Inferno?" he called, and then spotted them. "Hey, have either of you seen Inferno?"

Spike shook his head. "Sorry."

Red Alert, looking dismal, and a little confused, frowned. "Really? I've been looking for him all day."

"He might be out with Optimus?" Bumblebee suggested. "Or Wheeljack? Did you check with him?"

"No, I was on my way there right now and decided to check in here. Well, thanks."

"Hey, Spike," Bumblebee said when they were alone again. "I'm gonna go find Ratchet. Wanna come?"

The boy nodded. "Sure."

"Great, let's go."

The two of them stepped out into the hall.

He needed to find Ratchet before he blew a gasket. Something was wrong, even if no one realised it, and he wras going to get down to the bottom of it, even if it killed him.