Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

A/N: Inspiration for this resulted from a prompt on a random writing site I came across. Of course, I modified it to fit my own twisted needs to torture Prowl and amuse myself. Enjoy!

Quirky Quota

Part One

Deep in recharge, the Autobot tactician felt his peacefully whirring systems begin to awaken. A nagging thought formed within his logic processor, making it difficult to concentrate. He ignored it, brushing it aside for the time being. Unfortunately, it was a persistent, nagging thought, and he was unable to block it as it was brought up during his diagnostics scan again. Realization and shock registered as Prowl discovered his own logic glitch had turned on him.

When he was a sparkling, Prowl's creators were told by a medic that his logic processor, while highly developed, had one glitch that was irreparable. The medic assured his creators that the glitch wouldn't hinder his development in any way, so it wasn't something to worry over. This glitch in his programming led Prowl to believe every mech is sparked with certain quotas. He believed their robotic forms are already programmed with the number of mechs they'll meet, the amount of energon they'll drink, the number of planets they'll travel to. The Datsun never realized his glitch would determine when he had depleted one of his quotas.

His logic glitch was telling his systems that he had exhausted his quota of speech.

For a mech who was normally one of few words, it was astonishing. Had he really spoken that much over so many millions of years? Shaking his head, Prowl deemed his own logic illogical. Opening his mouth, he went to say, "My name is Prowl." All that came out was, "Beep."

Narrowing his optics, Prowl glared down at himself. What was that? Determined to form words, he opened his mouth again. "Beep." An annoying, short, high-pitched beep was all Prowl could extract from his vocalizer. "Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep."

With a snarl, or imagining himself to snarl, the irritated tactician slammed his fists down onto the berth. This wasn't happening. What was he going to do?

His chronometer signaled it was time to get up from his berth to prepare for the day's shift. Fortunately, he wasn't scheduled for official duty for today, so the Datsun would have been able to enjoy a cube of energon. However, Prowl was much too frustrated with his current situation to think about refueling. Sitting up, despite feeling delightfully rested, he scowled and allowed his optics to sharpen his surroundings into focus and take in visuals. Prowl glanced to his right, noting his lover was absent. The tactician guessed Jazz must have left early that morning for his patrol shift, and he probably didn't want to wake him. Prowl didn't get enough recharge every cycle as it was.

The black and white police cruiser stood and walked nimbly to his desk to retrieve a data pad. He would solve this problem like any challenge or conundrum he normally faced--with his battle computer. His battle computer began running scenarios and ways to get around this glitch without letting anyone knowing. Prowl idly wondered what would happen if someone discovered his problem before he could figure it out. His logic center convinced his systems he could no longer speak because he used up his quota of speech? Frowning, Prowl knew he would be doomed with an explanation like that. The Twins alone would be able to find new ways to mock him for vorns to come.

Straightening his door wings (still a bit loose from a good night's rest), he exited his quarters and headed for the common room. Resolutely, he decided his day would continue as normal. On his way down the hallway, Prowl was greeted by various mechs. In response, he simply nodded, just as he would have normally done. Perhaps no one would be the wiser of his predicament. After all, Prowl often said very little. And he had no meetings scheduled that day, nor did he have any appointments to attend to. Yes, he could get through this.

Entering the room, he immediately made a path for the energon dispenser. Quickly grabbing a cube, Prowl made it a point not to glance up from reading his data pad. It would give the impression he was busy and wouldn't invite anyone to converse with the tactician. As so many times before, an unpredicted obstacle stared Prowl in the face.

"Hi, Prowl!" Bluestreak greeted warmly. The gunner's wings twitched, clearly conveying the younger Datsun's good mood that morning. "Did you recharge well?"

Deciding he couldn't be rude, Prowl simply nodded once and tried to continue on his way out of the common room. His office would provide sanctuary from chatty mechs!

"That's good. I just got off patrol duty with Jazz a few breems ago. Nothing exciting, but patrol is always fun with Jazz," Bluestreak continued.

Smiling gently, Prowl attempted to identify a way around the mech in front of him blocking his path. Looking to his left, he spotted Sunstreaker approaching. Yes! The yellow twin would come talk to Bluestreak so he could make a getaway.

Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest as he came to stand next to the two Datsuns. "Hey, Blue. Sides and I saved a seat for you. Go grab a cube and sit for a while."

Face beaming, Bluestreak said, "Great!" With that, he ambled off to get his own cube of energon.

Relieved, the second in command of the Autobots moved to make his triumphant exit, but Primus just hated him today. He felt a restraining hand on his shoulder and turned around with a look of confusion.

"Where you going, Prowl? Jazz is sitting over there, too. He told me to drag your aft over to be social for a little while," Sunny said with a smirk.

Whipping his head to look around the Lamborghini's form, he spotted his lover sitting next to Sideswipe. The Porsche noticed him watching and began to wave him over. Prowl's wings drooped a bit as his predicament became more complicated. He could still make a quick escape, right? His thoughts abruptly ended as he felt a not-so-gentle shove from Sunstreaker toward the table. "Go on, copper."

Dragging his feet after giving the golden warrior a stern glare, he made his way to join his lover and Sideswipe. Sunny sat himself back down in his chair, while gesturing to an open one for Bluestreak as he came over with his cube. Prowl collapsed into an unoccupied chair with little decorum.

"Jeez, Prowl. Didn't ya recharge well last night? You were knocked out when I left this morning," Jazz asked with concern as he took in the melancholic expression on the tactician's face.

Shaking his head, Prowl stared into his cube. "Do ya want ta talk about it?" the saboteur softly asked. He placed his hand on the Datsun's knee, stroking it gently.

Another shake of his head was Jazz's answer. "C'mon, Prowler. You can talk ta me about anythin'. Ya know that, right?"

Prowl nodded but did nothing else. "Fine, I won't push ya, but we're talkin' about this later." Jazz then turned his attention to the conversation between Sunny, Sides, and Blue, but he continued to glance worriedly at his lover.

His concerned glances went unnoticed, as Prowl furiously focused on finding a solution...this glitch had to go.