Oh boy. Second Transformers fic posted, it's also a oneshot (possibly a twoshot if I get enough inspiration), and also mildly cracky… What is wrong in the universe?

Standard 'TF is SO not mine' disclaimer has been claimed, 'if you find typos my Mom/friends/I missed, I'd be much obliged if you pointed them out' message now said, reviews make my and any other authors' days, etc. etc.

If you don't figure it out on your own (and I have a feeling you will), the line breaks are just flashbacks things... they're all I could think of.

And if you don't like sex-related talk, (a) I don't know why you clicked the link to this fic, and (b) you should probably not read it. Although – in my opinion – nothing is graphic and actual sex doesn't ever really occur, it is only mentioned. If you have issues, though, with it being rated T, just tell me. I'll change it... it's not like it matters. :)

Enough was enough.

Sam and Mikaela sat firmly in a pair of black, official rolly-chairs. Both their sets of arms were crossed unwaveringly over their chests as they stared at the gathering of mechs in front of them.

Ratchet rested against a wall, his arms also folded over his chassis as he matched the humans' firm stares. Optimus stood straight and powerful with Ironhide looking gruffer than normal and standing next to him on the right. Prowl mirrored Ironhide's stance on Optimus's left. Wheeljack was crouched, arms resting on his bent legs and staring intently at the humans, waiting for them to start. Bumblebee sat almost cross-legged, looking a bit too interested about the impending conversation.

Off to the side, Miles was seated with his back against the wall, one leg bent up and one stretched. The young man had thoroughly insisted he be there for this, even though he wasn't offended by the getting-out-of-hand situation whatsoever. He already had a comical grin on his face, his eyes continuously moving from his best friend and best friend's girlfriend, to the five assorted aliens, to the ceiling…

"Why, precisely, are we gathered here, Sam? Your earlier explanation does not suffice, and logic behind it escapes me," Ratchet announced dryly.

It was Mikaela who answered. For all accounts, she looked like a stern schoolteacher. It was somewhat unbefitting of the twenty-one year-old.

"You five are the biggest repeat offenders, or in the highest positions of power to spread the word, or both. Even if you didn't mean it to, this has really gone too far. You've known us for four years now, almost five, and I have no idea how many times any human – not even just us, because I know you all bother Mr. and Mrs. Lennox, too – has attempted to explain to you cultural boundary lines regarding sex!

" 'What are you doing, Sam and Mikaela?' 'Sam, your female's hormone levels are peaking. If you wish to reproduce, now would be the time to mate!' 'Mikaela, why do you and Sam not breed?' 'Why should we leave you alone for the next forty minutes?' I swear to god, you guys, it is really, really hard to ignore anymore."

It was Prowl who came back with, "They are legitimate questions and comments. I do not comprehend the reasoning of your species to mate without intent to procreate. It makes very little sense."

"Which is exactly why we need to lay down some guidelines and then give you a condensed version of The Talk, and then you can go around and tell everyone else about said guidelines. And even the wonders of sex if you want, we really don't care, as long as it's behind closed doors," Sam sighed, stare weakening slightly. "I'm not sure Mikaela and I can survive another month of periodic sex-questions." He paused, and it became apparent that someone was laughing, and doing a horrible job of covering it up. "Shut up, Miles!"

Saving the world was exhausting, but at the end of the week, it was worth it to relax with one's new set of extraterrestrial friends and newly gained partner.

It was inevitable. Lying down on top of Bumblebee's hood, side by side, Mikaela and Sam couldn't really hope to stay focused on the sunset for too long. Mikaela, admittedly, made the first move, coyly sliding up directly against Sam and slowly turning to press her front against him, but Sam certainly wasn't going to attempt to stop the advances. To his credit, he had given thought to Bumblebee's presence and feelings, and even tensed for a moment, but his robot car seemed to give him the okay with a light beep and gentle rumbling under his hood.

Mikaela slowly draped herself over him, smiling, pressing their foreheads together before pressing their lips together.

It took only moments until they were caught up in each other, arms wrapped around and entangled in the other's, legs a wonderful mess, bodies melded against each other, hair an absolute loss.

They were completely ignorant to the world around them until they were winding down from their first, true, heavy make-out session fueled by past adrenaline and remaining threads of incredulity at what had happened the week prior. Breaths ragged, eyes only on each other, Sam and Mikaela both smiled warmly, enjoying each other's company.

Or, that was, until Mikaela pulled a befuddled face, getting the feeling that something was amiss. Sam noticed out of his peripheral vision that it seemed too dark for the current time of day… He glanced over, and almost threw Mikaela off from shock. Luckily he didn't, and only jolted her – and, since she was already feeling uncomfortable, she happily rolled off of him and jumped in place herself.

Ironhide and Ratchet were crowding them with strange looks to their faceplates. Sam could feel the medical scans running over him and he wondered just how many Ratchet was taking. Ironhide looked almost disgusted, but clearly unable to turn away at the same time.

Mikaela, now wondering idly what had happened to Optimus, glanced backwards up Bee's windshield and roof and found the charismatic leader standing there, also staring at her and Sam curiously.

"Uh…uh… what is it?" Sam mumbled after a few seconds, shifting closer to Bumblebee's windshield as if the glass might protect him. "Why are you…?"

Ratchet grunted. "Hormone levels spiking in the both of you, core temperature and temperature radiation elevated, advanced shortness of breath with minimal physical activity to cause such; suggested sexual stimulation and arousal, and yet you do not fornicate?"

What little remnants of smiles were left on the humans' faces vanished. Sam stared, Mikaela gaped and her eyebrows raised.

"You are inefficient," Ironhide grumbled, taking a single step back.

Sam was given the impression that they had been staring at him and Mikaela like someone watching animals breed on a nature documentary.

"It…it…isn't like that!" Sam sputtered, sitting straight up and looking somewhat frantically between all three Cybertronians. The first real passionate moment spent with Mikaela was destined to wind up like this? He did not want to feel like he had been caught in the act, but it was far too late for that.

Ratchet eyed him, then Mikaela. The both of them cringed slightly under his gaze.

"Then please proceed."

Mikaela made a funny moaning sort of noise and buried her face in her hands. Sam continued to stare, mouth starting to look very similar to a fish pantomime and he looked straight into the clearly serious face of Ratchet, who saw nothing wrong with his observations or request. Beyond the numerous strange pictures depicting variations on the human procreative act, there was limited data of true scientific or medical value available on the internet, so far as real life imaging went.

Needless to say, Sam and Mikaela tried to stop making out in public around a gathering of autobots – Ratchet in particular – whenever they could avoid it. However, it took several more similar incidents over the years (all caused by a slip of the mind) before they made sure never to allow it to happen again.

"We just think you should know a human's take on this subject, and how you can be a little more subtle in your… observations."

"Miles!" Sam nearly hissed after Mikaela finished her reasoning. Miles had yet to silence himself, and Sam was beginning to regret not locking the doors fast enough once they had gotten into the warehouse. "It's not funny! I want to see you try and put up with giant alien robots asking you what you're doing every time you try and kiss someone! Or call anything you do mating!"

"But that is what you are doing, isn't it?" Optimus asked, suddenly wondering where they had gone wrong. If they had misunderstood this basic, fundamental part of human nature, where else could they have gone wrong?

All autobots accepted that every time a human came in contact with one another they were not engaging in the act of mating; that would make no sense. No, they understood that real mating was its own special entity of an activity, but what they had assumed was that the loving touches between two beings who were clearly attracted sexually to one another were part of a courting ritual that would, doubtlessly, lead to the activity in question. Therefore, the autobots considered the actions linked and generally one in the same. How could this assumption not be valid?

Miles answered quickly, "Not always, man. We fragile humans find things like touching each other and making out and all that stuff extremely pleasurable. I mean, it feels good to us, you know? And so does… mating," Miles grinned, "but kissing does not equal sex, man. It just doesn't."

The sun was high in the sky, shining beautifully down on the earth. The temperature would have been unbearable by itself, but a classically flawless breeze kept everything cool and wonderful.

It was the most perfect summer day in the history of summer days.

And, at least for Sam Witwicky, it was being spent with the most perfect girl in the history of girls.

Some of the autobots (Optimus, Bumblebee, Wheeljack and Ratchet) were having a mini-meeting behind the pair of human adolescents of nineteen years each at the time, going over something in Cybertronian that Sam and Mikaela were pretty sure had something to do with Starscream in particular. Whatever it was, though, they were not willing to dwell on. They would be filled in when necessary later.

After a few minutes of sitting and watching the scenery side by side, Mikaela moved over to sit in Sam's lap and rest against him. Unsurprisingly, he didn't protest in any way, and they continued to watch the wind play with the grass and trees while four aliens held war talks behind them. Eventually, they closed their eyes and just snuggled.

They should have realized that if they came in contact with one another and kept that contact for more than a minute, inevitably someone was going to say something…

The two had only been cuddling for about three minutes total before Wheeljack's enthused voice announced – fairly quietly, as far as Wheeljack was known for – "Bumblebee, I think your human companions are trying to mate."

Sam and Mikaela opened their eyes instantly, but said nothing, and didn't move. In a weird way, they were afraid to…

"Mate? Really?" Bumblebee asked in a far too innocent voice for Bumblebee to have. "…Well, perhaps. They don't seem to be getting very far…"

"Maybe they need help?" They heard Ratchet suggest. Even though the medic and Bumblebee were speaking even quieter than Wheeljack, it wasn't particularly hard for the humans to hear.

They had stopped discussions of a millennia old war and opposing forces that stood as serious threats to the functioning of the planet and survival of the human race just to comment on falsely identified human intercourse!

Mikaela twitched.


It was when Bumblebee decided to turn on some classic 'mood music' that the teens reacted. Sam sighed exasperatedly; Mikaela shifted away from him with a sigh of her own. Neither missed the childish "Nice going!" Wheeljack submitted one of his comrades to (was it directed at Ratchet for suggesting help or Bumblebee for playing 80s love songs?). Sam and Mikaela both turned around.

"Can we ever just sit with each other? Does it always have to be procreation with you guys? Seriously?" Sam heatedly asked.

Bumblebee's stereo shut off, and all four autobots – bystander Optimus Prime included – regarded him.

The stereo came right back on after a moment's consideration, even louder than before. Even though Bumblebee laughed, suggesting that he recognized that Sam and Mikaela had a point, it didn't soothe either teen very much. Instead, they turned back around, groaned, and dropped down on their backs, staring at the sky while maintaining a good three feet distance from one another.

Mikaela lifted a hand, raising it towards the tree above. Without bothering to look at them she exclaimed, "By all means! Carry on with your conversation! Don't mind us sex-crazed little heathens and our cootie-infested cuddling which, by the way, apparently is also a sure sign that we're going to start doing each other within the next ten seconds."

For the briefest of moments there was silence.

"…Okay, then," responded Wheeljack.

Sam groaned loudly. Neither him nor Mikaela spoke a word for the remainder of the meeting.

Wheeljack fidgeted just a bit. "Well… maybe we were in the wrong that time. It would certainly explain why you two weren't getting anywhere, and that's a weight off my processors."

The humans exchanged glances, partially horrified, partially amused. Wheeljack had been worrying over their ability to… well…?

"Wheeljack," Sam interrupted in disbelief, "You should have known that back then. And you definitely shouldn't be worrying about us! It's like…" Sam sighed. "Please tell me you didn't forget that time in the base? You know, with Prowl? It was, like, a couple months before that cuddling incident, I think?"

Processors whirred. A sudden increase in the strength of the lights in Bumblebee and Wheeljack's optics turned up. From where he was, Prowl narrowed his own optics and tilted his head just slightly.

It was a public room in the base, so Sam and Mikaela supposed it wasn't the best place to get amorous, in retrospect. Yet, as far as they knew and had been told, the base was altogether empty at the moment and would be for several hours. Well, that was if one didn't count Prowl – who had several hours of 'paper work' to do that he had been griping about for some time – or Wheeljack, who was enamored with a new experiment of his. Everyone knew that it would be a long time before Wheeljack came out of his room or Prowl from his office, so the place was as good as deserted.

Boredom eventually set in, so the earthly couple became involved in themselves once again. Watching television, seated next to each other, they moved steadily onto cuddling. Cuddling moved steadily onto kissing. Kissing turned steadily into a makeout, and the makeout moved slowly but surely into a full on fondling, kissing, oh-my-god-this-could-actually-end-in-sex-for-once pile of passionate human flesh.

They moaned into the kisses as their intensity increased. With disheveled appearances, the pair moved abruptly from couch to floor. The floor, while cool, was more comfortable than the worn and scratchy couch they had been sitting on. Mikaela let out soft sighs and Sam felt his way up her sides slowly, moving from her waist to her breasts. She took it upon herself to remove his shirt, reveling in the heat from his chest. She didn't dwell on it long, but all of the practically forced running and exercising she and Sam had been subjected too had been generous to the both of them.

"Damnit," Mikaela rasped out. Sam had her down to a see-through, skin-tight tank top (the vibrant purple of her current bra showed through wonderfully), with her jean-skirt folded up and revealing equally purple panties (surely an immature laugh would have been inserted there if not for the serious mood). Mikaela was, unfortunately, having trouble with Sam's pants. She was sitting atop him, trying to figure out a very stubborn button and zipper. "They won't come off!"

The predatory, underlying growl in her tone was all the more arousing.

"You should let me help you cut them, then," came a way-too-perky voice.

Arousal gone.

Ice cold water seemed to drench over them like a hose over a pair of dogs in the spring.

Mikaela looked to her side, almost unwilling to tear her eyes and hands away from Sam – who looked equally terrified underneath her – and froze up completely. There was not even a startled jump to be had this time.

Wheeljack had a small rotary saw extended from his wrist. It reminded the humans of Ratchet. He was bent down, watching them with a frightening sort of hunger in his optics, scanning over them wantonly.

Plus, over his shoulder, Prowl stood with head cocked to the side in bafflement, arms on his waist joint.

"Prowl… Wheeljack… what are you doing?" Mikaela asked quietly, not yet removing herself from her boyfriend due to her trance-like stupor.

Wheeljack shrugged, leaning in a little closer. "You were making funny noises, and we heard them over the communications system. We came to investigate." He glanced back at Prowl, then fixed Sam and Mikaela another look. He showed them his blade. "Do you require assistance? I'd be happy to help you achieve conception."

She couldn't help it. Mikaela tried to repress the very unladylike snort, but she really couldn't help it. She snorted once, then looked as if she might start crying from both amusement and distress. Sam cleared his throat.

"Do you guys, you know, mind?" Sam asked, working the irritation out of his voice as he pulled his clothes back on. Mikaela moved off of him so he could more easily accomplish this task, and she did the same.

"Mind what?" Questioned Prowl.

"Just… nothing. We're gonna go die now," muttered Sam, straightening his shirt, coughing as he stood up and headed off. Mikaela followed after him, a slight bounce in her steps as she hastened to get as far away from that place as possible.

Wheeljack, confused and disappointed, called out, "Hey, wait! We didn't mean to make you stop mating! I was only trying to help, honest!" Feeling guilty after receiving no response, he added, "I'm sorry! Don't go offline… I mean die! Bumblebee will kill me if you do," his cries became more desperate.

Sam and Mikaela promptly went in opposite directions after they left the room.

Bumblebee pestered them for days afterwards, asking why he ended up finding Mikaela listening neurotically to her MP3 player in a distant corner of the base, and Sam sleeping in a broom closet.

"Oh yes! I recall!" Wheeljack announced happily, his panels flickering brightly. "You had me concerned… I thought that interrupting your mating session might actually kill you, like you suggested."

Miles laughed all the louder. He started coughing and quickly smacked his chest. "Oh, man, you guys are just too frickin' hilarious, did you know that?"

A grumbling noise came from Ironhide, who eyed Miles dangerously. Optimus noticed the gentle spinning of several gun components, and he sent the weapons specialist a communiqué to settle down.

Sam spun around in his chair, completing six rotations before stopping. "That's the first major lesson we want you to walk away with today, though. Just because two humans of opposite genders – or hell, any gender combination as long as they like each other, if you happen to find them… Just because they are in close proximity or whatever, it doesn't mean they are about to suddenly tear each other's clothes off and start baby making or whatever on the spot. You get it?"

There was a general nod of agreement amongst the autobots. In a weird way that made both Sam and Mikaela study him, Ratchet seemed somehow disappointed to have this 'fear' of his confirmed.

"Second," Mikaela continued, "Even if people are kissing or hugging or something, you really don't need to comment on it. Or offer to help. For the love of God, don't offer to help. We probably don't mean to be doing it around you on purpose anyway; we just get carried away sometimes."

Bumblebee, Wheeljack, and Ironhide shrugged. Optimus and Prowl blinked. Ratchet tilted his head.

"Oh!" Exclaimed Bumblebee softly, twisting his head some. His human charges looked at him expectantly and patiently. "But what if two humans are actually mating?"

"I don't fragging understand it!" Ironhide announced one evening at base. Having just returned from the Lennox household and transformed back into his regular configuration, the outburst was classifiably uncalled for.

Optimus Prime and Bumblebee (who until that very second had been chatting with Sam, Mikaela, Miles, and a visiting Maggie) stopped what they were doing. They studied the room, like an explanation for Ironhide's words would jump out at them.

"Understand what, 'Hide?" Asked Bumblebee before too long.

Ironhide marched around. The mostly-metal room was subjected to being traced by his optics. "William and Sarah Lennox."

Stillness fell, if one didn't count Maggie coughing a little on the drink she had on account of not expecting to hear those words. Something about human nature, maybe, or Earth, but not the Lennoxes specifically. The three teenagers (eighteen at the time) rose or furrowed their eyebrows. Ironhide could have answered with "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" for all they cared, and they would have responded with the same amount of comprehension.

"What about them?" Sam ventured hesitantly. Somehow, he doubted he'd be of much help for whatever it was Ironhide was going to tell them this time.

The weapons specialist stopped his maniacal pacing. Arms lowered a fraction, optics dimmed, and gears hissed as they ceased spinning.

"They have a sparkling, which means nothing's wrong with them, and they still mate with one another, but…?" He trailed off momentarily, since Maggie was again choking on her glass of water. This time, though, the choking was from laughter. All eyebrows were raised instantly. Sam stared open-mouthed. Mikaela started to smile from her amusement. Miles had a large grin working its way onto his face. "… but the mating does not result in conception any of the times! They have 'bred' four times this week alone, and Sarah is still not being impregnated…And I am fairly certain they are not using 'the pill' or condoms."

In a burst of action, Maggie started really choking. She pushed her glass away, smacked her upper chest and rubbed her throat for a moment before the attack calmed down. Miles erupted into a fit of laughter. He actually found it so funny to hear those words coming from a big, gun-toting robot that he fell over onto the floor, where he writhed, rolled and teared up, and tried to calm down (and failed). In the end, he only managed to make the phrase 'ROFL' proud. Mikaela grabbed onto Sam's arm, also laughing, and Sam did the same to her. They held onto each other tightly, giggling and sighing and taking deep breaths to steady themselves.

Being mechs themselves, and summarily stumped by the problem their comrade presented, Optimus and Bumblebee could not understand what had come over the humans.

Ignoring them, Optimus agreed, "That does sound quite troubling, and potentially problematic." Then he glanced down at Miles. The boy's face was in the floor, but he kept irrefutably repeating the phrase 'potentially problematic!' and started laughing harder.

"He says troubling," Maggie said curtly, standing, straightening out her drink-spattered clothes before sitting back down. Sam and Mikaela were pretty much recovered now, but Miles was still laughing away in his own mini-seizure.

"Whoooo!" Miles breathed out dramatically, coming to an abrupt halt. He looked up at Sam, then glanced over at Ironhide – who, given his position, was now upside down to his perspective, and very much taller than normal – and then back at Sam. "Dude, I had no idea these guys were this awesome! You have freaking robots from space talking about sex. What more could you possibly ask for in life?" He then fixed Bumblebee with a look. "Can you say 'sex' for me?"

Sam slapped his head when Bumblebee hesitantly responded, "… Sex?" Promptly, Miles began laughing again. He wheezed out a request for Optimus to repeat the phrase 'pimpin.'

"Why would one wish to be described with such an adjective? Is not that profession a degrading representation of the human field of prostitution?"

Expectedly, the laughter increased tenfold, and the autobots all stared at Miles, wondering if perhaps the human boy needed a doctor.

Maggie cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

"For the sake of ending this conversation as quickly as possible, I'm going to be frank and suggest that maybe Mrs. Lennox takes some other type of contraceptive, or morning-after pills, or maybe its only on some certain days of her cycle, okay? There's absolutely nothing to worry about there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy the rest of my break elsewhere."

The analyst stood and grabbed her glass of water and quickly walked away.

Finally, Miles had shut up.

"… But why mate if not to conceive? The noises those two make do not suggest the act would be very enjoyable." He looked concernedly to Optimus. "Sometimes I would wager all the credits to my name that Will was trying to kill her."

Now Mikaela broke down laughing, Sam hiding his face and trying to choke himself so as not to laugh. Miles, on the other hand, grinned widely.

"I think you and I should have man-to-mech talk sometime," the teen suggested.

While the conversation had really only lasted but a few sentences, no one present could look at the Lennoxes the same way again for the next month or so. To say Will had been confused the next time he visited base and Mikaela took one look at him, pressed her lips together to obviously hold back laughter with eyes sparkling in humor, and then turned around and rapidly walked away from him, would be an understatement.

"Bee, we still don't like people running around blabbing to everyone else. Intimacy is supposed to be mostly private," explained Mikaela patiently. She had had a sarcastically fun time trying to rationalize her response to Mr. Lennox later that night without speaking a word of truth to him. "I mean, I personally don't mind people making out around me, but the whole sex thing… that's for behind closed doors. If you're going to discuss humans 'getting it on,' you need to do it when humans aren't around, or wait until one of us brings up the topic. Otherwise, we're liable to choke or trip or something."

Actually, Sam and Mikaela were pretty sure they wouldn't have any issue whatsoever talking sex with their autobot friends, or even human friends for that matter. They were mature enough to approach the subject without instinctively jumping to laughter or awkwardness. Still, when it was almost twenty-four/seven and coming from intergalactic warring robots that were, on average, around twenty feet tall…

Prowl narrowed his eyes. "If it is to be private, why is your internet filled with countless pictures of the act? And beyond pictures! Multiple pornographic videos litter not only the internet, but video stores."

"Porn is something else entirely," insisted Sam. "That's humans enjoying watching other humans have sex, or something like it. The people that make those aren't the majority of the population."

Everyone heard Miles's sarcastic 'I wish' from the wall.

"So, uh, that's the other biggest point I personally have to offer here," Sam admitted. "Try and keep your comments to yourselves about that sort of thing, no matter what evokes them."

The processors of the autobots – unbidden – ran through a list of questions that could be formed that would certainly eat them alive if they went unspoken or unanswered like their human contacts seemed to be describing. Wheeljack inquired avidly if they were allowed to privately approach them if they had genuine and pressing questions, to which all three humans answered yes, to his delight.

He suspected he'd be spending a fair amount of time with the humans to put to rest his curiosity in the upcoming weeks.

"Oh, and menstruation," Mikaela piped up. Sam reclined back on the rolly chair for this one, as it was largely his girlfriend's problem. He himself was guilty of laughing at some of the comments the Cybertronians had made. "Menstruation cannot be brought up either, just like mating, okay? No more telling me or Maggie or Mrs. Lennox or anyone at all what stage of their cycle they're in or pinpointing when we'll be most likely able to get pregnant." Mikaela frowned when Ratchet made to protest, but she quickly shut him up with, "No. We know the cycle – we're the ones living it. If we're dying to get pregnant, we have ways of making sure we do. End of story."

The buzz of processors and gears working in the robotic bodies was a gentle constant made largely audible by the echoing of the room. Surely the autobots were sending numerous internal messages to one another.

Sam, Mikaela, and Miles shared looks again, then nodded as one.

"Okay," Sam began, drawing back everyone's attention. For all the world he sounded like he was about to embark on a journey that could possibly lead to his epic, tragic death. "Time for questions and answers."

For another moment only gears could be heard.

Then everyone – Optimus Prime and Prowl included – raised shameless hands only an astrosecond later.

With a resigned sigh, Mikaela nodded. "Okay then. Bee, you go first…"