A/N: Here we are! Finally! This one was a long time in coming. I waited so long because I wanted to get Chapter 14 of 'Til All Are One out first. So, if you're just now joining me and haven't the faintest clue what I'm on about, this installment does contain minor spoiler-age for Chapter 14. Okay, maybe a bit more than minor, but if spoilers don't bother you, read on!

By the way, I am still taking music suggestions and I can do characters more than once. But a little note regarding music. I was in elementary school when boy bands were the new fad and Celine Dion had released the most popular song of the year that I hate with a passion because I heard it every, single, fragging morning. If you're recommending the less well-known bands of the 80s or maybe the 70s, I can guarantee that I will have no flipping clue what you're talking about. I was born two years AFTER the '86 Transformers movie, if that puts things into perspective. Music genres will work better, but no really specific band names, please.

Music for the Seekers?

And trust me, this one works somehow.

Disclaimer: Transformers is property of HasTak and some other companies whose names elude me.

Little Secret

Prowl didn't understand. He did his job to satisfaction, Optimus never complained about his work and he helped keep the Ark running at peak efficiency, even for its age. Honestly, one couldn't ask for anything more.

So why, why couldn't he get even five minutes alone with his favorite genre of Earth music?

It seemed that every time he sat down to enjoy a book-file that Optimus had recommended to him and the music simultaneously, Jazz came around seconds later, knocking around his door and asking if he had happened to have seen something lately; like the floor buffer, because the dust and cobwebs two levels down were practically declaring themselves their own country. Or Ratchet was buzzing on his comm to inform him that Sunstreaker had done something stupid to himself again and that he might want to rework the duty roster (or the duty rooster as he sometimes found it the next morning).

Something was always interrupting him.

This time, it was Wheeljack.

"See, the thing is, Jazz wants a new sound system but more half the wires are rusted through. Now, I think copper wiring will substitute pretty good, but I'd really like to get my hands on some insulated wiring for Teletraan -- did I mention that computer is so outdated, it's not even funny?-- and maybe some new piping for the wash-racks. The pipes are leaking pretty badly on all eight residence levels and we've got some water/solvent damage all over the place. Oh and Ironhide has started to complain that the ceiling in his quarters are dripping. The only wash-racks that are even functioning are in the medbay and Ratchet doesn't want anyone stomping through his territory 'cause of the Seekers, y'know. I don't think he really gives a slag about how bad we look, but seriously, if I rust an arm off 'cause I can't clean the gunk out of my joints, I am so sending Sunstreaker after him. Speaking of whom, could you give him something to do?"

Wheeljack finished his spiel and looked at Prowl expectantly.

"Do I look like a supply officer?" the SIC growled, feeling little bits of his rarely seen temper snap off. "What do you want from me!?"

"Do you-- do you have the inventory lists?" Wheeljack asked, sensing said temper rising.

"It's in my office! Now get out of my quarters!" Prowl just managed to refrain from shaking a fist. Wheeljack vacated the immediate premises and the SIC launched himself off his bunk and locked the door, cursing the fact that the ­Ark was so old that it didn't have access codes to officers' quarters. Just touch-pads. The only thing Prowl could do was lock the door.

Oh, that was going to change. And soon.

Prowl settled himself on his bunk and opened the book-file, reaching to turn on the music.

"Prowl!" Ratchet was banging on his door and the SIC shuddered. So close...

"What?!" he snapped back in a tone that normally didn't come from him.

"I need the medical supply lists! I'm missing a slag-load of stuff!"

"They're in my office!"

Silence reigned for a second or two and Prowl realized that Ratchet hadn't gone away yet.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Yes! Find something for Sunstreaker to do! And keep Ironhide away from the medbay! I practically trip over him every time I walk out!"

Prowl groaned. It didn't matter what tasks he assigned to the Weapons Specialist, Ironhide had appointed himself to sentry duty outside the medbay and nothing could be done to get him away.

Prowl didn't want to deal with this. It had been another long day and he wanted to unwind before slipping into recharge.

It was a full minute of sitting there and groaning before the tactician realized that Ratchet had gone away and Prowl pounced on the music before anyone could come and bother him. The music that filled the room was probably the last thing anyone would think the SIC would listen to, but Prowl had discovered that he had an instant liking for opera music.

The very next morning, Prowl found the entire track for The Phantom of the Opera and Madam Butterfly, among other classic operas, lying on his desk in disk-form. He subspaced them quietly and reminded himself to thank Jazz for the little gift.