Title: Delayed Insanity

Summary: After Mission City, Sam can't stand the thought of keeping such a large secret from his best friend. Miles knows everything about him anyway, and what's a species of giant alien robots between friends? Sam forgot to factor Miles' common sense into the equation. Will Miles be able to accept the Autobots or will this become the rift that permanently tears them apart? Pre ROTF

AN: The prologue and chapter one kinda suck and are slightly emo-ish cuz i need to get all the messy feeling stuff out the way. The other chapters should be longer and better and should not be all 'pity me i hate my life'. Please give it a chance anyway, it'll get better!

Prologue: Rejection

"…And so that's what happened." Samuel James Witwicky explained, hands fiddling nervously, not meeting the other's eyes.

Not even a second later, he was embraced by a warm body and soft lips covered his own. Sam didn't have a chance to respond before he was let go. He was then pushed out of the house and the door slammed in his face. Sam stared at the smooth wood for a moment before what happened truly registered. Eyes widening, Sam used his hand to wipe his lips. "Miles?" He whispered to the wood. It remained silent.

In all honesty, Sam was in shock. Things like that simply didn't happen. Not the kiss- Sam had known for years that Miles wasn't… straight. Hell, Sam had had the honor of being Miles' first crush. Yes, Miles had freaked out and kissed him before, usually right after he scared the hell out of the other boy by doing something really stupid. It only took a gentle reminder that Sam didn't like him like that to resume their normal, platonic, relationship.

Miles had never shut him out before. Had slapped him, punched him, and tried to throttle him, depending on how stupid whatever Sam's latest offence was, but he had never shut him out. Never.

A car horn beeped, reclaiming his attention. Sam would recognize that particular sound anywhere. He sighed and walked back, with a final look at the closed door, to Bumblebee.

The Camaro's door opened and Sam slinked inside. He heard the click of the Autobot's radio as Bumblebee searched for a song that could comfort the human. "Not right now Bee… I just need to think." Sam interrupted, his hand absently caressing the inside of the door. The radio audibly clicked off as Bee pulled out and drove over to the Witwicky home. Sam remained silent, pondering if that closed door would permanently remain shut.

Milton Christopher Lancaster watched through the living room window as Sam retreated from his doorstep. Each step that the brunette made Mile's heart sink further. He was just pissed and a little worried. He would get over it eventually! Was Sam really just gonna give up on their friendship like that?

He saw the yellow car (the apparently living yellow car) pull off. 'Of course he's just gonna blow off you and your hissy fits. He has something- someone, rather, much cooler to be his best friend now.' Miles' inner pessimist snarled, pulling him further into depression. Secretly, he knew it was true. He was a possessive, overly emotional, dorky gay guy. He didn't know why Sam put up with him for so long. Of course, he wouldn't admit that. Not even to himself.

'No! It's just…. A lot to take in. He's an understanding guy. He's just giving me time to absorb what he said.' He reasoned back, taking solace in the words.

'Yeah, right. He's just given you the rest of you're life to absorb it. Without him.' Miles could nearly hear the disbelieving snort from the darker side of his personality.

In any case, he was right about one thing; it was a lot to take in. Now that his brain had accepted the fact that Sam was going to be okay, despite the various cuts, bruises, cracked ribs, and sprained joints, Miles found himself doubting the cause of those injuries.

Seriously, giant alien robots named things like Optic Prime and Bumblebee (what self respecting car would admit to being called Bumblebee???) saving Earth from other giant alien robots called things like Mega Pron and Starring Screams (who conveniently all transform into highly destructive ARMY equipment). And Sam was in the middle of it because of his grandfather's glasses? Seriously? It was a bit hard to believe.

Now, Miles didn't trust the United States government at all. He knew that they were hiding things from people: big important things. But he couldn't believe that the government could keep that particular story under wraps. Mission City was a wreck, and if that happened, someone would have said something. A lot of someones, in fact. But what would Sam gain from lying to him? Nothing. Hell, even if he just wanted to never speak to Miles again, there were easier ways. All he had to do was call Miles a fairy (something he despised more than xenophobia and sitcoms) and he'd never have to hear from the blond again.

This was a pretty extreme way of getting people to ignore you, if that's what Sam was trying to do. And if he was lying, what was he covering up? Those injuries were not fake- Miles had enough experience bandaging up people to tell. But… robots? That was stretching even Miles' open-mindedness and love for sci-fi a tad bit too far.

Shaking his head, Miles headed upstairs to his room. An hour or so of mindlessly running over people in Grand Theft Auto should clear his head. Maybe, after that, he could figure out what he actually thought about Sam's… situation. Maybe.