Author notes: I'd never thought that I'd end up writing a fic taking place in the movieverse, but apparently, I somehow did. Seeing as how I have only watched the movie once, there might be some canonical flaws in here, but hopefully it's nothing too bad. One thing that does go against the movieverse is that I intentionally let Jazz be alive/resurrected for this fic though.

Also, I took the liberty of assuming that the Autobots named their Earth headquarters "the Ark" just like in G1, out of sheer convenience for me as a writer since I'm so used to it going under that name. Hopefully that shouldn't bother anyone.

Warnings: This is a crack story, so please don't take it seriously. There is a bit of slash in here as well, but nothing too explicitly graphic.

Acknowledgements: The inspiration for this fic comes from FanfictionWriter83729's "Smile for the Camera". If you've already read it, you will undoubtedly notice that some themes have been borrowed from that story, in particular the one dealing with the three human teenagers deciding to get back at Red Alert after having been offended by his paranoid behaviour one too many times. And if you haven't read it, well, you should, 'cause it's really funny!

Thanks also go to P.A.W.07 for doing a great job beta-reading this fic.

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me in any shape or way.

It had been quite an exhilarating experience, going for a ride with Jazz with music blaring loudly, tires screeching, and every traffic regulation in the book happily ignored. The three human teenagers were still bristling with excitement as they walked into the Autobot headquarters together with the Pontiac. Sam had to admit to himself – even though he would, of course, never dream of even breathing anything of the sort to his yellow Camaro – that this was indeed more exciting than riding with Bumblebee. Not that his little Autobot friend didn't do his best, but Jazz just managed to make the whole experience so much... cooler.

With the mood so cheerful and joyous it was hard to imagine that anyone could ever manage to bring it back down again, but that was exactly what the two greatest killjoys of the Ark would turn out to be fully capable of doing.

The first face that greeted them, as they walked into the base, was that of the Security Director, Red Alert, and what an unfriendly face that was. Optic ridges drawn together and mouth twitching slightly, the red mech scanned the humans critically as they entered, as if he were expecting some mischief to automatically unfold the very moment they stepped inside.

Jazz pretended not to notice the silent, unfriendly greeting; his easy-going nature prompting him to simply disregard it.

"Hey Red, how's it goin'? Anyone important been trying ta infiltrate the Ark while we were away?" the saboteur said rather flippantly. Sam couldn't help but wonder if Jazz was deliberately trying to antagonize the Security Director or not. If so, he was quite a brave 'Bot.

The optic ridges drew even closer together. Clearly their owner didn't find this to be a laughing matter at all.

"No obvious invasive attempts have been made so far. That doesn't mean that we can let our guard down though. And you racing away like that without even letting anyone know where you were going, isn't exactly helping increase safety protocols around here," came the stern reply, reminding Sam of how his parents would rebuke him when he came home way too late.

Jazz merely shrugged and smiled, still refusing to let his cheerfulness be dragged down by the other mech's dreary attitude. "Don't ya worry, Red. I've got the very guy who defeated Megatron ridin' with me. I've got nothing in the world ta worry about!" he countered.

Red Alert didn't seem convinced. Quite the opposite, the mere mention of the human's presence was enough to make what looked suspiciously like a scowl appear on his already tense face.

Mikaela seemed to press in a little closer to Sam as the now visibly agitated Security Director took a step forward. Well, sometimes even bad situations could have positive side effects, the boy supposed.

"And these ... humans, who have been riding inside of you, they were close enough to access your internal data banks, weren't they? And the information contained therein?" Red Alert asked pointedly, throwing even the most basic of tact out the window without missing a beat.

Sam felt himself fuming. As if they would ever consider doing such a thing! They'd never hack themselves into Jazz's processors and extract whatever data was stored in them. None of them even had anything resembling the type of technical capability needed to perform such a task anyway, should they want to. The very idea was preposterous, not to mention downright insulting.

Apparently, Jazz was sharing Sam's opinion. When he finally spoke, his voice had a somewhat less friendly quality to it.

"I can assure ya, I would have felt it had someone tried to access my processors. They're as untouched and intact as when I left this morning."

Red Alert merely snorted. "We are not yet fully familiar with the whole spectrum of human technology. It cannot be excluded that humans are in possession of techniques unknown to us, which could make it possible for such invasive procedures to be performed undetected. I recommend that you go see Ratchet and have him perform a scan to make sure everything is as it should be," he retorted, an unmistakable touch of anger creeping into his words. Jazz was a high-ranking officer; he, if anyone, should be able to see the dire need for keeping security tight around the base. In fact, this all-too-common flippant attitude among the Autobots towards security-related matters was exactly what was making it so darn difficult for him to do his job. But then again, he was used to this. One day, they would all thank him for his efforts.

"Fine, if that's what it will take for ya ta drop the matter, I'll go have Ratchet perform that slaggin' scan." Jazz was definitely annoyed now. Sam raised an eyebrow; the Autobot saboteur was normally one of the last mechs who would let others rouse him.

But as it were, Jazz was clearly in love with humans and all things related to them. Not literally, of course, but he had an almost insatiable interest for even the quirkiest odds and ends of human culture, and he treasured every chance he got to hang out with the teenagers because it provided him with the chance to expand his already quite extensive collection of knowledge. Sometimes Sam couldn't help but wonder if Jazz wasn't perhaps a bit, well, jealous of the relationship he and Bumblebee shared.

And then again, maybe not. Jazz wasn't the kind of mech who would feel comfortable being defined as someone's car. It might be alright for Bumblebee, but most certainly not for Jazz. Even so, Jazz was quite protective of the Autobots' human charges, especially when Red Alert was involved.

"Hmmf," was the only reply the Security Director deigned fit to give Jazz as he stomped off. No doubt to once again check his security monitors for the umpteenth time that day.

Jazz and the three teenagers looked after the other mech, no one saying a word in the all-consuming silence that followed. There was a sort of sinking feeling as the good mood they had been in was now quickly disappearing, courtesy of the paranoid Security Director.

"Alrighty then," Jazz finally ventured in a brave attempt to salvage what precious little of the upbeat atmosphere was left, "who wants ta come with me and..."

"Jazz," another voice behind them interrupted Jazz before he was able to elaborate any further on what activities he had in mind. Turning towards the sound, Sam found himself face-to-knee with the Autobot Second in Command, Prowl. The look on his face was anything but happy.

Apparently, Jazz had noted the same thing, judging by the way his face fell.

Prowl didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I have received reports of you going on what could best be described as a rampage in a human city. Apparently you totally disregarded traffic regulations, putting the lives of both your charges as well as those of other humans in danger. I'd like an explanation for this irresponsible behaviour." Prowl's voice was harsh and his optics stern. Not that they usually weren't, but now more so than ever.

Jazz seemed to shrink a little. Clearly he hadn't been expecting word of their little adventure finding its way back to the Second in Command.

"Ah, but Prowl, it wasn't really in the city. It was more like in the outskirts of it," he tried, rather unconvincingly. "There was never any real danger to anyone, I swear. It's not like we were runnin' any red lights or anything... or not very many of them, at least," he finished weakly, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would help his cause.

Jazz's feeble explanation was, of course, utterly ineffective on Prowl, and a grumpy frown was all he got for his efforts. The saboteur merely hung his head and waited in silence for the verdict.

"As a disciplinary measure, you will be banned from going on any further rides with the humans for the next four weeks. I hope that in that time you will realize the irresponsibility of your actions today," the Second in Command said, his demeanour leaving no room for protest.

"Yes, Prowl."

What a tight-aft, Miles mouthed wordlessly to his friends, after having made sure that he was well hidden from Prowl's line of sight behind Jazz's back. Sam just barely managed to suppress what would have been a highly ill-timed snicker. Truth be told, going by the current look on Prowl's face, he wouldn't have been surprised if the Second in Command would have thrown him in the brig, had he accidentally laughed out loud.

"From now on I expect to see behaviour more appropriate for a mech of your rank, Jazz." With that, the Second in Command simply turned on his heel and left.

"Wow, that guy is such a total tight-aft!" Miles finally dared to give voice to the words he had earlier mouthed. The teenager turned toward the saboteur. "I mean, seriously, how do you guys even begin to put up with him? It's like he's having a stick the size of a telephone pole shoved up his exhaust pipe! Is he always like that?"

Miles' words echoed Sam's own thoughts almost perfectly. Prowl had indeed always seemed like someone who hated even the mere concept of fun and whose only joy in life was laying down the law while making sure no one else got to have any fun either. Man, he'd never met such a kill-joy before. Even his English teacher, an unmarried fifty-something year old hag with her hair tied into the tightest bun, came off like a stand-up comedian in comparison.

Jazz grinned. It was clear that he had found Miles' comment quite amusing, even if he probably would never have dared to use those precise words himself.

"Well, hard as it might be for you to imagine, Prowl's not always like that. Even our infamously stiff Second in Command has been known to make certain exceptions, sometimes," Jazz answered, somewhat cryptically.

"But yeah, most of the time he fits your description perfectly," he then added, blinking an optic towards Miles.

They all laughed, feeling a tiny shard of the previous mood returning.

On the grassy field, just outside of an imposing school building, three teenagers were sitting chatting agitatedly among themselves. They were having a fifteen minute break, and they were using the precious minutes to enjoy the wonderful weather provided by the early May sun that was beaming down on them before their next class was about to start.

The conversation had first revolved around their annoyance towards Prowl and his berating of Jazz yesterday, but had soon moved on to focus on the paranoid Security Director. Now, that last visit to the Ark was certainly not the first time they had received similar treatment – quite the opposite, it was standard behaviour coming from Red Alert – but his paranoid behaviour was really starting to tread on their nerves. And frankly, it was quite insulting to hear his insinuations that they might be in league with the Decepticons, one way or the other. Or at least spying on behalf of the human government.

"Yeah, I agree that it would be really cool to get back at him somehow, but how do you get back at a twenty-five foot tall robot?" Mikaela asked ruefully, picking at the grass around her ankle.

Her words prompted a look of ill-disguised pride to settle on Miles' face. "Funny you should bring it up, 'cause as a matter of fact, I happen to have this brilliant idea of how we're gonna play out a little prank on our favourite Security Director," he said, face gleaming as he envisioned the plan in question successfully unfolding before his inner eye.

Sam was doubtful that he even wanted to hear what his friend had in mind; Miles' ideas had a tendency to be of the sort that shouldn't have left the drawing board in the first place. Like that time, in second grade, when he had had that supposedly ingenious idea that they should make good use of the classic trick of placing a container of water over a door. The victim was supposed to have been one of the most loathed school bullies, but unfortunately things hadn't played out exactly as anticipated, to say the least. Instead, it had been the school's principal, earning Sam and Miles more detention time than they had managed to pack under their belts for the rest of their entire school careers.

No, Miles' having an idea normally did not bode well for his immediate surroundings. Particularly not for his best friend, who somehow always seemed to get tangled up into the whole mess that resulted. He heaved a sigh as Miles' triumphantly reached into the torn and ragged piece of cloth that was his duffle bag.

"Now this is what we're gonna have some fun with," he stated as his hand emerged from the bag again, bringing with it some sort of grey badges. "Fresh from the school computer room printer!"

Sam looked inquisitively at the badges Miles was now proudly waving around; somehow the shape seemed strangely familiar. He took a closer look and his eyes widened in surprise. Indeed, his initial assessment had not been wrong. In Miles' hand was a symbol as well known to him as the American flag – the badge of the Decepticon faction, its behorned head cutting a highly distinctive presence. Now what on earth was Miles trying to accomplish with these?

Sam arched an eyebrow questioningly at this friend, wordlessly urging him to expand upon his idea.

Miles didn't need to be asked twice. "Well, don't you see? We're gonna break into Red Alert's office, pin a bunch of these to the wall and watch the hilariousness that unfolds. Man, can you even imagine how he's gonna freak out when he sees these things hanging around in his own office? He'll implode upon himself, thinking the whole Ark has been infiltrated by the enemy!"

Wow. Just wow. This was the "brilliant" idea that Miles had come up with? Of all the innumerable schemes one could devise with the purpose of pranking on such an easy target as the obsessively paranoid Red Alert, this was his best shot? But then again, it was typical of Miles; totally devoid of any semblance of grace, subtlety, or finesse. This sort of plan was embarrassing enough to be the brainchild of some little kid still in grade school. And quite likely, this was the stupidest idea Sam had ever heard his friend concoct so far.

Sam opened his mouth to tell the teenage boy in front of him just how much his idea sucked, but Mikaela beat him to the punch.

"Come on Miles, that's really stupid, even for you," she snorted disdainfully, echoing the thoughts that Sam had been on the verge of converting into words of his own.

Well, she isn't pulling any punches, Sam thought, glad she had taken on the thankless task of pulling Miles back to reality. It usually wasn't a pretty thing, which he knew from experience.

As expected, Miles wasn't about to willingly give up on his plan, and a little trademark frown had already manifested itself on his forehead.

"And would you mind telling me exactly what's wrong with it?" he inquired, voice rising almost half an octave. Sam could think of several things in response to this, but decided to let Miles continue to elaborate.

"Come on, can you think of anything that would make Red freak out as much as an office full of Decepticon badges?" Miles insisted, fully determined on convincing his friends of the sheer ingenuity of his little brainchild.

Mikaela's eyes made an impressive full roll. "Well, for one, the whole idea is really childish to start with. And two, I'm not really sure I want to see what Red Alert would do in such a situation, considering how he acts under "normal" circumstances." She raised her fingers pointedly in the air as she counted out just what was wrong with the plan. "Who knows, he might end up firing on the first thing that moves, thinking it's a Decepticon. And that could actually end up being you, Miles. Not to mention that it's hardly gonna make him any less paranoid and easier to deal with once he finds out the truth about the whole thing. And three-"

She was cut off by Miles, who quickly jumped in to defend himself.

"Eh, relax. Red's a Security Director, not one of those gun-wielding mechs like Ironhide. Surely you must have noticed that he normally doesn't walk around the Ark armed in the first place? Of course he'll freak out, that's the point, but he's hardly gonna end up shooting anyone or anything."

Sam fervently hoped that this little argument wouldn't escalate into a full-blown fight between the two. The result didn't tend to be pretty, and he was normally the one who would be left to pick up the pieces after his best friend and girlfriend had torn into each other. Not physically, of course, but their verbal sparring matches were bad enough.

Mikaela drew a breath as if to say something, but Miles' tireless tirade continued as if he hadn't noticed, which he probably hadn't.

"And no, it's not gonna make him any less paranoid, but so what? A guy like him, Mikaela, just isn't gonna change. So if he's gonna insist on pestering us while we're visiting the Ark we might as well have some fun with it," he said heatedly, gesturing wildly as if his moving hands would help drive his point across more firmly.

"But it's still a stupid..." Mikaela tried, but yet again Miles interrupted her before she had been given a fair chance to make her point.

"Not to mention, I don't see you guys coming up with anything." Now there was a scathing tone to his voice. "From what I remember from our last visit to the Ark, you were complaining just as loudly as me about how annoying and downright insulting Red was being with his constant accusations. Plus, I do recall you saying something about how you'd love it if there was a way to get back at him somehow. But, so far, I haven't heard a suggestion coming from your general direction!" he finished his speech pointedly, giving Mikaela a high-and-mighty smirk.

"Maybe that's because we're not as childish as you are, Miles," Mikaela retorted angrily. "It's one thing to fantasize about doing something in revenge, and another thing entirely to really do it, you know."

Miles let her words sink in for a full two seconds. Then, "So what you're saying is that you prefer to back off once things start to get interesting? I'm surprised, I'd never thought of you as the quitting kind!" An annoyingly victorious look was spreading across the teenager's face.

Sam wondered if Miles was being deliberate in issuing this little challenge. Knowing Mikaela, it was probably the most effective thing he could have done in order to persuade the girl to see the light of his cause. If there was one thing she hated, it was being thought of as a quitter. Perhaps Miles was aware of this too.

There was a noticeable shift in the girl's face at Miles' words. It was hard to say exactly what it consisted of; perhaps it was her head being tilted a bit upwards, or her eyes growing harder, or her mouth curling itself slightly; but the words had hit a sore spot, that much was obvious.

"Actually, daft as your plan might be, I really don't have a problem carrying it out. But as it is, I see one crucial piece of the puzzle missing here." She made a pause for dramatic effect before continuing. "Explain to me just how the heck we're supposed to get inside of Red Alert's office? I'd say that we would probably have an easier time breaking into Fort Knox!"

Indeed. Sam felt himself relax. There was no way they were gonna get inside of there, that was for certain, which meant that he did not have to worry about getting mixed up into Miles' harebrained schemes yet again. Perhaps Miles would find another use for all those badges he had printed; maybe he could decorate the walls of his room in his parents' basement with them, or...

But to Sam's surprise and concern, Miles was still smiling instead of, as expected, deflating in defeat once his plan's fatal, but obvious, flaw had been exposed.

"Oh, I've got it all figured out. Here's the deal..."

There was an uncomfortable, sinking feeling in Sam's stomach as he listened to his friend's explanation. He couldn't believe that he had once again, unwittingly, been drawn into the whole mess that was Miles' plan.

"Alright, you go first, Sam."

"No way, it was your idea," came the hissed reply.

"Yeah, Miles, this whole thing was your idea, so you go first."

"Fine then, you cowards. Follow me!"

The blond teenager took lead of their little troupe, striding with as much confidence as he could possibly muster towards Red Alert's office. They had seen the Security Director walk that way not long ago, so chances were he was still in the room, carefully scanning the monitors connected to his precious security cameras for anything that was even slightly suspicious or out of the ordinary.

Yes, he was there. The back of the red mech could be seen through the open door as they came to a halt outside. Sam felt a lurch in his stomach, and he probably would have made an effort to persuade the other two to simply drop the whole idea had Miles not already made their presence known with a pointed cough and a timid knock on the door.

Red Alert wheeled around, as had a laser gun been cocked behind him. The sight that greeted him made his optics widen in surprise and alarm.

The human younglings. All three of them, no less.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Red." Miles said as amicably as he could. "Could we come inside for a while?" Without waiting for an answer, which would most likely have been negative anyway, he stepped through the door and into the monitor-ridden office. The look on Red Alert's face made Sam desperately thank all deities that the mech was, to the best of their knowledge, unarmed.

Miles didn't lose a beat though. Talking had always been his strong forte.

"We wouldn't normally bother you like this, but we thought it was our duty to draw your attention to a security flaw that we've discovered inside of the Ark," he said, honest concern manifesting itself on his face.

If the mech had been a cat, his ears would have perked up. Nothing could catch his attention as quickly as a security-related issue.

"See, when we were in the human area the other day, we noticed that a cable to one of the security cameras was almost cut off and its wires were showing," Miles bravely continued.

"The human area" was the section of the Ark where human facilities had been installed. Originally, the Autobots' intentions had been to find a more pretentious name for it, but the sort of slang-ish denomination had stuck and had now become standard. The cable that Miles was referring to was something that had been noticed by Mikaela a fairly long time ago, and the "damage" to it wasn't really much more than a scratch. The only reason Miles had even remembered the incident was because of the jokes following the discovery about how Red Alert would probably have interpreted the minor damage as part of a far-reaching Decepticon plot.

The red mech listened with growing apprehension. He found the whole issue highly disturbing. How had the humans noticed this security flaw in the first place? Well, the answer was quite clear– certainly they must have been snooping around the Ark, no doubt looking for a breach they could utilize for their own nefarious ends.

Why they came to him letting him know about the problem was less obvious though, but it was probably with the intention of trying to draw suspicion away from themselves. Probably so they could get into the good graces of the resident Security Director so he would lax his almost continuous monitoring of their activities within the Ark.

But he wasn't so easy to fool, regardless of what these humans might think! Indeed, he hadn't gotten the position as Security Director for nothing. No, his ever-questioning attitude towards issues that others just blindly accepted as truth was exactly what had made him come as far as he had. True, it was the sort of attitude that his fellow Autobots would usually dismiss as nothing more than paranoia, but luckily he knew better.

Red Alert's optics were fixed on Miles, who had started to look a bit uncomfortable under the unwavering gaze. Weaponless or not, Red Alert was, when it all came down to it, a huge robot who could easily crush any of them with his metal hands should he be inclined to do so. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget about such things when a person was used to the benevolence of friendly 'Bots such as Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, or Jazz.

A quick glance from Miles told Sam that now was the time for him to perform his part. Damn Miles, he thought nervously, assigning the most dangerous task of this plan to me.

But he was in too deep to back out now. Slowly, making himself as inconspicuous as he could, Sam edged his way towards the end of Red Alert's desk, while ensuring that the 'Bot's full attention was focused on the talkative teenager. There, placed on top of the gigantic piece of furniture, lay the object that they had come here for.

Red Alert's access card.

Every 'Bot within the Ark had one, and they all looked exactly the same as far as Sam could tell. A white, plastic-like card, probably made of some Cybertronian material unknown to Earth, but otherwise not entirely unlike the credit cards humans used, only a much larger version.

But, while the cards were visually identical, they all gave their owners access to different parts of the Ark, depending on the function and rank of the 'Bot in question. And knowing Red Alert, his card was most likely the only one – well, and maybe Optimus Prime's card too – that could open the door to the security office. And Miles hadn't failed to notice during all those times they had walked past the open door that Red would always keep his card next to him on his desk.

Even the three humans had been given access cards as they had befriended the Autobots. Of course, theirs were fairly restricted and only let them enter the more general areas, but that wasn't going to stop them now. Not if Miles had his way, at least.

Sam fumbled beneath his shirt, bringing out one of the cards they had been given by Optimus himself. It felt slippery in his hands since he was sweating so profusely, and for one horrifying second he was sure he was going to drop the thing on the floor. Luckily, he managed to regain his desperate hold of it before he ruined the whole plan by turning Red's full attention towards his activities. He was grateful that the Security Director's back was half turned or there was no way he would have managed to go through with this.

Sam's breathing was speeding up as trembling finger reached for their goal, fervently closing around the alien material. Under the deafening sound of his pounding heart he distantly heard Mikaela explaining in laborious detail to Red the circumstances under which they had discovered the security glitch. And quickly, with a lightning speed that surprised even himself, the teenager made the switch. He half expected some alarm to go off, waited for Red to turn around and madly howl at him, possibly even bending down to painfully close his fingers around Sam's midsection in anger, but nothing happened. Amazed at his surprisingly good fortune, Sam slipped the card under his shirt, feeling himself relax a little bit. This was almost like that old Indiana Jones movie, minus that huge rock tumbling towards him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miles smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up – carefully concealed from the Security Director, of course. Sam smiled back weakly. One thing was certain; Miles owed him big time for this!

Red Alert was listening apprehensively to the ramblings of the human female. He didn't really believe a word of what she was saying, and now that he had been made aware of the unacceptable lapse in security – whatever the reason the humans had for letting him know about it – he was eager to go fix it.

His optics darted back to the two males. On the surface they looked innocent enough, but he wasn't buying into their act. And that was another reason why the mere presence of the humans was enough to make him nervous. A mech could be read quite easily, but with humans, things were more difficult. Their facial expressions and mannerism were not entirely similar to those of his kind, making much of his treasured and useful people reading skills quite moot.

And was there no end to their talking! He fervently wished for one of his fellow Autobots, preferably Bumblebee or Jazz, to come along and take these organic midgets off his hands and sight.

"So," Mikaela eventually, and much to the Security Director's relief, ended her little exposé, "naturally we decided to come here and let you know about it."

Finally, was Sam's only thought. Now they could leave the office and the atmosphere that seemed to be turning more uncomfortable every minute. He just hoped that Red wouldn't decide to search or scan them before they exited or anything like that.

"Thank you for the information," came the curt reply as the Security Director did his best to express the gratitude that the humans surely expected. "I will tend to these matters immediately."

With that, the mech walked over and quickly grabbed the card on his desk – Sam noted, with relief, that Red didn't bother taking a closer look at it – and exited the office, impatiently ushering the three teenagers before him. As soon as the door had closed, the Security Director stomped off, leaving the humans alone to exchange triumphant glances among themselves.

In fact, it had almost gone too smoothly. Sam could not believe the ease with which they had managed to fool Red Alert. The plan had been so simple, almost ridiculously so, and yet everything had fallen into place without eliciting as much as a hiccup in the process.

"We made it," Miles quite ubiquitously informed his two friends in a hushed voice, seeing as how there were a couple of mechs standing around not very far from them, engaging in what appeared to be a private discussion in Cybertronian.

Mikaela smiled, brushing some strands of hair away from her cheeks which were sticking to the sweat on her face. Good thing Red wasn't a human or he would have probably grown suspicious of the profuse amount of sudden sweating the three of them had exhibited during their little conversation in the office.

"I knew it would work out!" the girl happily exclaimed as if she had been in favour of the idea from the very start.

"I was so nervous switching that card! I thought Red would turn around any second. Good thing you two motor-mouths managed to keep him occupied," Sam grinned, a very pleasurable feeling of utter relaxation spreading inside of him. Whew.

Mikaela just grinned back at him, clearly pleased with herself.

Well then, all they had to do now was wait around until those two mechs finished their conversation and left, giving the teenagers ample opportunity to sneak inside the office and carefully arrange their little surprise for the Security Director.

Jazz was leisurely strolling down a corridor of the Ark, humming a currently very popular human tune to himself. It never ceased to amaze him just how catchy those songs could be. In contrast, Cybertronian music tended to be sweeping and bombastic – and in Jazz's opinion, quite dull –most certainly not anything like what would usually be playing on the humans' radio stations. And unlike most other Autobots, who would dismiss the musical efforts of Earth's dominant species' as simple and primitive, Jazz had taken an immediate liking to it, much to the befuddlement of some of his comrades.

Presently, his internal chronometer was telling him that Prowl would be getting off his shift any minute now, and he intended to corner the other mech before he made it to his office, most likely with the intention of wrapping up the evening with some additional paperwork. But Jazz wasn't about to let that happen, seeing as how he had business with Prowl.

The sound of quick footsteps suddenly echoed through the corridor; someone was in quite a hurry. Jazz looked up. Was Prowl coming off his shift already? No, probably not. Not even that mech would exhibit such a feverish pace to be reunited with his paperwork.

Jazz's question quickly got its answer when Red Alert suddenly came sweeping around the corner, almost bumping into the saboteur in the process.

"Hey, what's up with the sudden hurry, Red? Something's burnin' somewhere?" Jazz asked amiably, despite having just narrowly avoided being knocked flat onto the ground.

Red Alert barely spared a glance for the mech in front of him, his attention and thoughts apparently focused on something else entirely. Probably on whatever imagined threat that was currently hanging over the Ark and its inhabitants, Jazz assumed.

"It has been brought to my attention that there is a security problem in the human area," came the distracted, but to-the-point reply. "The entire area needs to be re-wired to the main security system, just to be sure."

With that, he strode off, leaving Jazz wondering if the Security Director's paranoia wouldn't be the end of him someday. Ah well, at least re-wiring all those security cameras in the human area would keep Red busy for quite a while; perhaps giving his processors something else to occupy themselves with other than the constant, unhealthy mulling over who was currently plotting to gain unjust access to the Ark.

A couple of minutes ticked by in a silence which was broken only by Jazz's humming, and then once again footsteps could be heard approaching. Yes, this time it was definitely Prowl.

The tactician was heading towards his office; the thoughts of the duties awaiting him there occupying his processors. There were several things he needed to take care of tonight; first there was that rather ubiquitous security report from Red Alert that, as usual, would probably tell him nothing of importance, and then there was...

Suddenly a mech stepped out in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere.

Jazz.

Prowl came to a halt, somewhat startled.

"Goin' somewhere?" the mech standing in his way asked off-handedly, optics silently echoing the verbal question.

The tactician quickly and efficiently regained his composure. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have several reports in my office waiting to be filed," he answered curtly as if Jazz's unexpected appearance hadn't fazed him at all. "Now if you'll excuse me." He took a step forward in order to press past the other mech.

"Not so quickly, there..." An arm had suddenly shot out, effectively blocking Prowl's intended path. "Ya know, all that talk about 'irresponsible behaviour' yesterday has made me quite inclined to show ya some right here and now..."

The Second in Command merely looked inquisitively at the other mech, one optic ridge raised. Jazz grinned mischievously as he met Prowl's gaze.

"I love it when ya play hard to get, but ya're not foolin' me, Prowl," Jazz teased, optics greedily devouring the stout form of his bondmate. The arm that had only a second ago been preventing the tactician from continuing on his way was now wrapped around his waist, fingers caressing the lower part of his back. To top it all off, metallic lips were suddenly grazing Prowl's cheek – gently, softly. Oh so softly.

Prowl felt a shiver running down the support structure of his back, and apparently Jazz felt it too as a husky voice suddenly purred into his audio sensors. "No indeed, ya're not foolin' me. Ya couldn't walk away from me even if ya wanted to."

It was all too true. Once Jazz had gotten started, there was no way he could resist; Prowl had learned that much through the years. Letting go off all pretences of intending to dismiss his bondmate, Prowl leaned into Jazz's embrace, hands caressing the other's chassis.

Jazz answered by resolutely dragging Prowl with him inside the room he had just stepped out of – the staff meeting room, Prowl noticed somewhere in the very far back part of his processors. The processors which now seemed to register little else than Jazz's presence and what his bondmate was now doing to him.

The clang as the door closed and the metallic scrape as Jazz locked it, did however manage to jolt the tactician out of his world of bliss enough to let reason take over once again.

"Jazz, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," he protested as Jazz had taken to nibbling away at his highly sensitive neck, "Red Alert-"

"Is currently busy re-wirin' the entire human area to the main security system," Jazz helpfully filled in. "He'll be occupied for quite a while, so don't worry about him." Sure there was always the possibility of going to either his or Prowl's private quarters to continue their amorous activities, but those quarters unfortunately happened to be situated in the other end of the Ark and Jazz really didn't feel like doing anything that could ruin the current mood.

Instead, he slid his hand over his bondmate's body and down towards his inner thigh, the reward being a muffled moan of pleasure. Not long after, Prowl's legs seemed to give way and the two mechs collapsed on the floor in an ungraceful heap, limbs intertwined, eager hands exploring each other's armour and the wires beneath.

Jazz hissed softly as wonderful electric currents were sent down his wirings, heating up his receptors until he wasn't sure he could take anymore. He pulled Prowl close for a deep kiss and felt the other mech melt into his hands as easily and certainly as snow in the sun. He managed one last thought before he shut off the thinking function of his main processor; surrendering fully to the pleasure relentlessly surging through him:

Yes, this would be a most memorable evening indeed.

In Red Alert's office, three human teenagers stood frozen into immobility, staring in utter shock and disbelief. Miles' chin had fallen, if not to the floor, then at the very least not far from it, and his eyes were almost as wide as his gaping mouth.

Mikaela's hand was tightly clasped over her mouth; high-pitched, hysterical giggles escaping every now and then from between her almost cramping fingers.

And Sam. Sam could feel his poor face heating up from the deep red blush which was now spreading all the way down to his neck and up towards his hairline as he watched the unbelievable spectacle unfolding on one of the enormous security monitors. Were those two mechs actually... having sex?

But as hideously disturbing as the idea was, there was no doubt in his mind that this was the correct explanation for the sight which had so viciously assaulted their poor eyes upon entering Red Alert's office. There was just no way that that grotesque grinding of armour plates and metal scraping against metal could ever be anything else.

Not to mention the disturbing squeaks and groans emanating from the two mechs' vocal processors that came eerily close to being distorted metallic versions of the overacting moans one would be likely to hear in those cheap porn movies; the ones that he and Miles would sometimes watch together in secrecy whenever his or his friend's parents were away for the evening. Now Sam doubted that he would ever be able to watch such movies again without having this scene haunt his inner eye.

And why, oh why, had the Autobots decided to omit the information that there was indeed a Cybertronian version of intercourse? Sure Bumblebee and Jazz had seemed interested enough whenever the subject of human sexuality had been brought up in his and Miles' discussions – and often, the kinkier the practices discussed, the more the 'Bots' interest would perk up – but neither had ever made any mention of anything similar taking place among their own kind.

Sam had just assumed that there would be no need for big alien robots from outer space – robots who did not procreate sexually – to develop any form of sexual practices, so he had been happy not to dwell any further upon the subject.

But now his very eyes were almost burning from watching the horrible proof of the opposite. Watching two metallic heaps rolling around on the floor, watching their fingers prodding deep beneath each other's armour plates, eliciting muffled groans and rumbling engines in response.

This was just plain wrong. Even that obscure movie that Miles had downloaded once, which featured a chicken in a highly poignant scene, suddenly seemed almost normal in comparison to... this.

And the fact that it were these two particular 'Bots, who were still busy doing the horizontal mambo, didn't exactly help either. How the heck would he ever be able to look Jazz in the eye, well, optic again after seeing this? How would he ever be able to have a normal conversation with his Autobot friend without this scene pounding in his brain? He shuddered. Even seeing the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, engaging in this would probably have been less disturbing, if not pleasant.

Then there was the uptight tactician of theirs, Prowl. Even if Sam had been aware that transformers did indeed have their own version of sex, he would never, even for a second, have believed that this particular mech would actually participate in such activities. Ever. He was the sort of character that just didn't do those things. In a way, it was almost like catching your parents in the middle of the act – equally unthinkable and as brutally able to shatter the imaginary but mentally comfortable world a person had built up around themselves with beliefs that certain people – such as old people – just didn't have sex. And now that world was tumbling down around him as surely as had the walls of Jericho.

Sam's brain seemed to be almost frozen as he tried to make logical sense out of the bizarre scene that was playing itself out with all the clarity anyone could have possibly asked for, complete with sound effects and everything. But amidst all his swirling thoughts, there was one thing that stood out to him in all its mocking, evil truth.

Even Prowl, of all people, was actually getting some, while he, Sam, had so far not even been able to make Mikaela take off her...

Now if that didn't show that there was indeed not even an inkling of justice to be had in this world, nothing would. That a stuck-up, uncharismatic, tight-afted 'Bot like Prowl had managed to get a 'Bot like Jazz to put out for him just wasn't fair.

Well, perhaps "put out" wasn't a correct phrase to use for the circumstances, but whatever. The point was that Prowl, the very personification of the opposite of "erotic" or "sexy", was having more success than him in these endeavours. It was like being beaten by a three-year old in arm wrestling, equally demeaning and just as confidence-breaking.

He dared a glance towards Mikaela. The poor girl was still staring in transfixion, seemingly unable to avert her gaze. Well, wouldn't that be the first time he had ever seen her showing serious interest in any form of sexual activities, he thought, not entirely without bitterness. His musings were interrupted by a particularly loud, high-pitched screech emanating from one of the intertwined forms displayed on the security monitor.

Ugh. Enough already! He already knew that he was going to have nightmares about this. No need to make it any worse than it already was.

"Mikaela! Miles! Let's get out of here!" he managed to squeak, hoping his voice would have enough power to break the nefarious immobility spell the other two seemed to have been put under.

The others turned at the unexpected sound and looked at Sam in confusion, as if they had all but forgotten that he was in the room, or even that there was indeed a world outside of what the huge monitor was showing them in all its unholy glory.

Miles, looking as if he had gone on a roller-coaster ride after ingesting four happy meals washed down with half a pint of pure vodka, was the first to find his voice again.

"A-alright, let's beat it guys. I'd say we're done here."

The originally intended prank was now abandoned and forgotten; and the three beings meekly slunk out of the door, which closed behind them with a dull thud, mercifully shielding them from the visual images of the two mechs going at it. Of course, it didn't stop the inner mental video recorders in the three teenagers' heads from cheerfully and unrelentingly replaying every detail over and over again of what they had just witnessed.

They walked towards the Ark's exit in a suppressed silence which was only interrupted by the sound of their footsteps echoing down the hall. No one was willing to speak; even Miles was for once uncharacteristically quiet.

Finally, he did break the silence.

"So guys, uh... please be honest with me now. Do you think you will ever find it within yourself to be able to forgive me for coming up with this prank idea?"

End note: Well, I doubt that Sam would actually be able to reach up and grab something lying atop of a desk belonging to an Autobot, considering the obvious size differences and all. But seeing as how this is just a crackfic, I decided to ignore that little detail. Please bear with me.