If Seaspray had been more withdrawn or introspective the past couple weeks, no one but Bumblebee and maybe Cosmos noticed it. Not that this was particularly surprising. Though generally well liked, at least respected, by the other Autobots the little Naval Tactician had little in common with his landlubber comrades. Seaspray's abilities in the water, and deficits on land, meant he was almost constantly on ocean patrol alone. He had little time to socialize, and would probably not have confided in anyone if he'd had the opportunity. Deep down the brave little Autobot was insecure: about his size, about his clumsiness, about his feelings, about his voice. But he was also proud, so he kept his insecurities to himself and his friends at an amiable arm's length. Of all the Autobots he was probably closest to Bumblebee who was everyone's friend, and Cosmos who like Seaspray had a clumsy robot mode and abilities that forced him to patrol alone most of the time. He hadn't told either of them Alana's news.
He was still trying to wrap his processor around it himself. All the while wrestling with the feeling that he should tell someone what had happened; definitely that he should tell Optimus Prime what had happened. He had to tell Optimus Prime what had happened, what was happening. Private person though he was, keeping something like this a secret from the leader of the Autobots was wrong. And there was always the chance that news like this would bring more leave time. More than anything else in the universe right now Seaspray longed for more leave time.
The little Autobot rested his yellow chin in his fat blue hand, and kicked idly at the little red stones that littered the ground at his feet. From where he sat on a rotting tree stump he could see through the midnight darkness the yellowish glow of the entrance of Autobot Headquarters. Coming in from patrol earlier that evening the thought had suddenly struck him that if he was ever going to tell Prime his news, this would probably be the best time since he had to give his patrol report to the Autobot Leader anyway. He'd spent the last few hours sitting on this log, his mind wandering aimlessly, unable to come to a decision; mulling over Alana's news over and over again.
I'm going to be a father. Seaspray thought. That was really the only thought on his mind, and had been the only thought on his mind for two weeks. He hadn't been able to absorb that fact fully yet, and so he hadn't been able to move beyond it. It had just played over and over, each time bringing with it an entirely different set of emotions, from joy to sadness to fear and back to joy again, all tinged with a strong dose of confusion.
Okay, he knew how it had happened. He'd been there for it, and it had been quite memorable. Though he'd had to conduct some research later to discover how point A led to point B. What confused him was the why. Why him?
He wasn't mad of course. He wasn't angry or unhappy at all. Terrified, worried, and unsure, but not unhappy. He couldn't be, not when he remembered how Alana's face had glowed when she told him. She'd been positively radiant, and so excited. Seaspray couldn't understand though why he was going to be a father: why she'd chosen him instead of one of her own kind, why he felt such strong feelings for her, why they'd wanted to do what they had done, why they loved each other enough to think that despite the differences and the distance between them this might work. I'm going to be a father, he told himself again, and I'm the only one.
That was the real problem. It wasn't the fact that Alana was going to have a baby that Seaspray couldn't understand. Seaspray just couldn't see himself as a father. He was an Autobot. He didn't know any Autobots who were fathers. He hardly knew any fathers of any species at all. Maybe I should talk to Sparkplug? Seaspray pondered, he didn't actually know the human very well at all, but he knew the man was a father, and the man had most likely had a father too, so he probably knew all about fathers and what they were expected to do.
The Autobot rested his face plates in his hands, forcing himself not to look up at the stars. He missed Alana. He always missed Alana, but he really needed her right now. Just being around her made him feel better, less unsure, less…awkward, and he knew that she would tell him that he could do this, tell him that he would make a great father, whatever it was that fathers did. Seaspray kicked the ground nervously. He hoped that she was doing alright. She'd told him that she was fine, that he didn't have anything to worry about, but his research hadn't really put him at ease. He was glad that she had her family, her brother and sister and friends, to help her. Alana didn't hide their relationship from her people, who had welcomed Seaspray as if he were one of them. He admired her bravery, but didn't think that the Autobots would be able to understand as her people had.
I should still tell Optimus Prime though. This isn't something that I can keep from him. Seaspray reminded himself. Even if he doesn't understand, I have to let him know what's going on. But will they think less of me? Seaspray really didn't know what the other Autobots would think of his relationship with an organic alien, especially how far he'd let the relationship go. The only one who really had any inkling of the depth of Seaspray's relationship was Cosmos who was too eager for company and to be needed to be judgmental. What if they think it's wrong? He wondered, What if Prime thinks it's wrong?
Seaspray clenched his strong metal hands into fists and stood up, on the verge of finally continuing to headquarters. You have to tell him, he thought decisively. You have to tell him for the baby.
Seaspray sat down on the log again, heavily, staring straight ahead like a creature stunned and lost.
I'm going to be a father... he thought to himself.