Prowl/Mirage
Title: Nobility Comes with Obligations
Author: sunny_and_sides
Rating: Pg13
Disclaimer: Not mine because if they were, well, the next movie would have a higher rating
Summary: “Just because you come from nobility does not mean you operate above the law…”
A/N: Written for rare pairings fic a thon:
Pairing wanted: Prowl/Mirage
Rating wanted: PG-13 to R or NC-17
Scenario wanted: “What if” Mirage thought he could get away with something as a noble mech from the Towers, but Prowl isn't about to let him.
Three things you’d like to see in your story: 1) Mirage as young/arrogant/spoiled; 2) Prowl as a member of some type of security/patrol unit; 3) takes place on Cybertron
Three things you don’t want to see in your story: 1) OCs; 2) uh, pretty much just the first thing
Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to comment. Thanks.
*******************************************************************************************
Prowl watched the young mech that was finally sleeping in his recharge berth and sighed heavily to himself. He didn’t know what more he could do with Mirage. Ever since the young aristocrat had come to them he’d been nothing but trouble. Some of it, Prowl could understand. Mirage came from the closest thing to royalty Cybertron had; he shouldn’t have to fight in a war that he didn’t believe in. Then too, Prowl saw the other side of the coin as well; Mirage was spoiled and had been catered to his entire life. It couldn’t go on and Prowl had no desire to lose Mirage but how could he make the younger mech see the error of his ways without losing him all together?
This time had been the last straw though as far as Optimus Prime was concerned. Prowl, as head of security, patrols, and training, had been given the equivalent of one solar cycle to set Mirage straight or they would have no choice but to leave him behind. Prowl hated the thought of leaving anyone behind but he also knew Prime was right. If Mirage couldn’t get with the program, they’d have no choice and the aristocrat would be in worse trouble if he fell into the Decepticon’s hands.
With nothing else to do at the moment, Prowl sat down at his desk and pulled up the most recent mission reports and read through any of the ones in which Mirage had been involved. The young aristocrat showed promise when he would apply himself and even Jazz had commented that Mirage might even be well suited for special ops. Prowl would definitely have to think on that one.
Mirage came out of recharge, his optics dim as he looked around and found Prowl sitting at his desk nearby. At first, Mirage said nothing because, really, what was there to say? He knew he’d been in the wrong but he honestly never thought anyone would call him down. He was, after all, royalty… at least he had been before this damnable war had taken everything away from him. The Towers… his friends, his social circles, his family… he hated the war and everything it stood for and sometimes, more than that, he hated the soldiers and officers he’d been taken in by and wanted nothing to do with any of them.
Prowl was different, though. Mirage wasn’t sure how or why, just that he was. He moved on the berth and Prowl’s gaze caught Mirage’s as the younger mech pushed himself up into a sitting position but still said nothing. Prowl kept watching him in silence for several more nano-clicks until the silence began to wear on Mirage’s nerves.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Mirage finally asked.
“What would you like me to say?” Prowl asked, the calm, cool tones bothering Mirage even more.
“I don’t know but just get it over with already and send me back to my quarters or wherever it is you plan to send me.” Prowl nodded slowly and stood from behind his desk, moving around to perch on the end of it instead.
“I was beginning to think a lunar cycle in the brig might be conducive to your attitude of late,” the sub commander replied quietly. Mirage bristled at that comment.
“You are not throwing me in that small cage of yours and leaving me there,” he growled out, the tone of aristocracy bleeding through his voice. “You have no authority…”
“Actually, I do,” Prowl interrupted, still calm and cool as ever. “Your aristocracy means nothing to me, Mirage, and even less to our leader. What you were before this war began is meaningless and you need to get that through your processors before you are left behind.”
“Left… what do you mean left behind?” Mirage asked softly, a hint of worry in his voice now.
“Optimus has given me exactly one solar cycle to get you to behave or else he will have no choice but to exile you from the faction,” Prowl told him adamantly. “I have given much thought as to how I should do this and while any other soldier would find themselves in either the brig or solitary, I think I must find a more subtle way of dealing with you.”
“I don’t understand,” Mirage said, frowning slightly. Prowl nodded and Mirage saw a hint of weariness in the blue optics looking at him.
“I know that,” Prowl answered almost kindly. “I am hoping you will allow me to teach you what it is you must understand in order to survive this war and stay in this faction. I have no desire to see you left behind. You would be easy prey for the Decepticons and I daresay they would not treat you nearly as well as we have.” Mirage said nothing, only nodding in response to Prowl’s words and Prowl moved away from his desk to stand in front of the younger mech. Mirage looked up at him and Prowl squatted down to optic level.
“Nobility comes with obligations, Mirage. Just because you come from nobility does not mean you operate above the law. Surely your creators must have taught you this.”
“Not so much,” Mirage admitted quietly. “I had tutors and we had servants and no one ever questioned what I wanted or demanded. I caused trouble a few times but I was never called on it because of my family’s status. Prowl you have to understand. I was the only child, the only son of my creators. I was given everything whether I wanted it or not. I was a status symbol for them. I was educated beyond my age, trained to be proficient in the arts, in literature and physics. I knew Sunstreaker when I was studying arts and I had this irrational hatred of him. How dare he be so talented and yet a mere commoner…”
“And do you know he thought you to be so much more talented than him for many, many orns?” Mirage frowned.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I raised the twins,” Prowl admitted. “But that is not something that we share with anyone in this faction. Their creator’s origins and name have long been kept secret. I was merely the one appointed to raise them.” Mirage nodded, awed that Prowl trusted him with something like this. “But, back to you, young one. You were given every opportunity in life. You never had to work or fight for anything. And now comes this war and suddenly you are left stranded in a world you don’t understand with people you want to hate but can’t because, again, you don’t understand them.”
“Something like that,” Mirage answered with a single nod. “Prowl, I’m not a fighter. I never wanted to be a solider or an officer or anything like that. The Towers… they were my life. I had status, I had friends, and I had a family…”
“And while this is most assuredly not the Towers, you can still have friends and a family, Mirage. Your status has obviously changed. You must see that, in time, Cybertron will cease to exist and when she dies, we will either die with her or we must abandon her in search of a new world. Status means nothing now. You must adapt to your new life or you will die.” There was a hint of desperation in Prowl’s tone and Mirage reached out to rest his hand on the side of Prowl’s face.
“Why would my death trouble you so much?” he asked softly. Prowl quickly stood and turned his back on the younger mech. Inside, his systems were burning hotter than before and he fought to keep himself under control.
“The death of any soldier or officer under my command would trouble me greatly,” he replied, his voice harsh with emotion that he continued to try and rein in. Mirage watched him for a moment then stood slowly and reached out again, this time resting one hand on Prowl’s back.
“I will try to do better,” he said as sincerely as possible. “I can’t promise to change overnight. What I was - it is so engrained in me that it might take time. Can you be patient? Can you ask your leader to be patient?” Prowl bowed his head briefly before turning to face Mirage slowly.
“For nothing more than the sincerity in your voice at this very moment, I would beg Unicron himself for mercy and patience,” Prowl answered softly. “You shall have that which you ask and I will make sure Prime is made aware of your desire to try to change and adapt to the situation.” Mirage moved to step closer but Prowl stepped back and Mirage stopped. Prowl caught the hurt expression in blue optics before Mirage looked away.
“Thank you for listening to me,” Mirage finally said. “Maybe we can talk again?”
“I’d like that,” Prowl answered and before he could add anything more to it, Mirage turned and walked out of Prowl’s office. Prowl let him go, damning himself the entire time…
***********************************
One Stellar-cycle later (7.5 months)
Prime wandered through the vast hallways of the complex in search of his newly promoted sub commander. He had not seen Prowl now for several orbital cycles and he was growing concerned. The officer had done well in retraining Mirage into a formidable special ops officer and Prime had been meaning to talk with Prowl about what he’d done but every time the subject of Mirage came up Prowl would turn away. It bothered the leader a great deal and he’d noticed that Mirage was starting to suffer from the lack of attention as well.
He came upon Prowl’s apartments and knocked, waiting an appropriate amount of time before pushing the door open and walking inside.
“Prowl?” Prime closed the door behind him and moved further into the main room. He didn’t see the younger mech and moved into the next room which appeared to be Prowl’s private training room. Prowl was on the mats, back to Prime, staff in hand. Prime made no other sound as he watched the dark blue mech swing and balance the staff in his hand as he went through a series of movements that Prime recognized as a form of meditative training. It explained Prowl’s ability to seem so emotionless and calm when duty demanded he be so.
Prowl knew the precise moment Prime had entered his apartments. He would not have made a good right hand to the leader if he hadn’t known. Still, he finished the exercise before finally turning to greet Optimus.
“I trust it was nothing serious or else you would have intruded upon my training,” Prowl said decisively cold in tone but respectful none the less.
“Not at all,” Prime answered, watching Prowl put away the staff and other mats in the room. “I’ve been meaning to come by and talk with you about Mirage but it seems as if every time I try to talk with you about him in the office, something comes up.” Prowl had his back to Prime again and he willed himself to remain calm.
“Bad timing I suppose,” he finally said, turning back to face Prime. “I trust he is still performing well and behaving himself?”
“He is. I wanted to congratulate you on your success with him. I wasn’t too sure it could be done but not only did you get him to try harder for us, you gave him focus, something to work towards, a reason to work for it and you’ve given us another highly skilled special ops officer. Jazz can’t say enough good things about him these days.” Prowl nodded slowly and moved past Prime back into the living area of the apartments.
“Then I’ve done my job,” Prowl said not unkindly. “What more would you have of me where he is concerned?”
“Perhaps the problem, Prowl, is that he feels he was only a job to you,” Prime said gently. Prowl stopped and turned to face his leader. “What I mean to say is, he’s beginning to notice your lack of attention and your noticeable absence from training sessions and briefings. I think, perhaps, he feels as if you no longer wish to continue tracking his performance.” Prowl sighed heavily and sat down on a nearby stool.
“He’s a child, Prime. Young, passionate, bold, reckless, and now he’s dangerous. I have nothing more to offer him. I’ve given him what I had to give. I gave him encouragement when he needed it. I called him to the floor when it was applicable and he listened to me. His creators never held him responsible for anything or anyone. I taught him what that meant. He misses having the mentor. That is what he has Jazz for now. He no longer needs me.” Prime stepped closer and regarded the sub commander carefully.
“My friend, I have known you for more vorns than I can count. I know when you are not telling me the entire truth on something. You came to care for him as he worked with you and now you feel as if you must let go of whatever there was forming between you both.”
“And again, I tell you, Prime. He is a child.”
“And you, Prowl, are a fool if you let that stop you from taking what is so obviously offered. Mirage would give his life for you if he could. He would follow you to the Cybertron Pits and back if it meant he could be at your side. Give him a chance, Prowl. Give yourself a chance. It may prove to be the best thing that ever happens to you in this life… in this war.” Prowl looked up slowly, studying Prime for a moment before nodding once.
“I will give thought to what you have said. Will there be anything more?” Prime sighed softly. It was the best he could hope for; for now.
“Just a reminder that we have council meetings in the morning. You’d do well to arrive early so we can go over the agendas.”
“Very well. I shall see you at first light.” Prime nodded and moved to the front door. “Prime.” The leader stopped and turned back to look at his second in command. “I do appreciate what you have said.” Prime nodded then turned and left the apartments. Prowl watched him go then dragged himself to the wash rack and thought through what he should do next.
*******************************************************
Mirage had been sent on a mission and was gone for several weeks. Prowl had been antsy and almost unbearable during that time and Prime had finally told him to go home and work this out on his own before he got his own time in their brig for insubordinance. Prowl had stormed out of the conference room and had left the offices and headed back to his own apartments. He slammed open the door ahead of him, vaguely aware that it should have been locked.
Moving through the darkened rooms, he was just about to his own bedroom when a small glint of light caught the edges of a white and blue frame. Prowl stopped his rampage and turned slowly to find dimly lit blue optics watching him carefully.
“When did you get back?” the sub commander asked quietly, his voice shaking from emotion. Mirage stepped away from the wall towards Prowl, concern on his face.
“A few breems ago. I came straight here. Heard you’d been somewhat difficult to handle lately. I was worried.” He stopped and looked at his mentor carefully. “What’s got you so troubled, Prowl? I heard Prime threatened to throw you in your own brig more than once while I was gone…”
“Have you been checked out by Ratchet? I mean, you’re safe and in one piece then?”
“Yes…” Anything more Mirage might have said was cut off as Prowl shoved him back to the wall and kissed him. Caught off guard at first, Mirage quickly returned the kiss, hands sliding up Prowl’s sides to pull him closer. Prowl’s own hands slid along Mirage’s back as he gentled his movements slowly and finally pulled back just enough to meet Mirage’s gaze. Mirage reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against Prowl’s face.
“Prowl?” he said softly. Prowl leaned into the touch and gave Mirage a quick smile.
“I’m glad you came back in one piece,” Prowl whispered softly. “And I want this to be the first place you come to when you return no matter what time of day or night it is. I won’t be foolish enough to let this war take the best thing that’s ever happened away from me just because I am too afraid to take what is freely offered…” Mirage leaned in and kissed him gently.
“I only ever come back because of you,” he said quietly. “Since that first night in your office, you have been my reason for coming back in one piece. I won’t leave you behind…”
And Prowl understood… and at that moment, it was all that mattered…
~finis~
Author: sunny_and_sides
Rating: Pg13
Disclaimer: Not mine because if they were, well, the next movie would have a higher rating
Summary: “Just because you come from nobility does not mean you operate above the law…”
A/N: Written for rare pairings fic a thon:
Pairing wanted: Prowl/Mirage
Rating wanted: PG-13 to R or NC-17
Scenario wanted: “What if” Mirage thought he could get away with something as a noble mech from the Towers, but Prowl isn't about to let him.
Three things you’d like to see in your story: 1) Mirage as young/arrogant/spoiled; 2) Prowl as a member of some type of security/patrol unit; 3) takes place on Cybertron
Three things you don’t want to see in your story: 1) OCs; 2) uh, pretty much just the first thing
Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to comment. Thanks.
*******************************************************************************************
Prowl watched the young mech that was finally sleeping in his recharge berth and sighed heavily to himself. He didn’t know what more he could do with Mirage. Ever since the young aristocrat had come to them he’d been nothing but trouble. Some of it, Prowl could understand. Mirage came from the closest thing to royalty Cybertron had; he shouldn’t have to fight in a war that he didn’t believe in. Then too, Prowl saw the other side of the coin as well; Mirage was spoiled and had been catered to his entire life. It couldn’t go on and Prowl had no desire to lose Mirage but how could he make the younger mech see the error of his ways without losing him all together?
This time had been the last straw though as far as Optimus Prime was concerned. Prowl, as head of security, patrols, and training, had been given the equivalent of one solar cycle to set Mirage straight or they would have no choice but to leave him behind. Prowl hated the thought of leaving anyone behind but he also knew Prime was right. If Mirage couldn’t get with the program, they’d have no choice and the aristocrat would be in worse trouble if he fell into the Decepticon’s hands.
With nothing else to do at the moment, Prowl sat down at his desk and pulled up the most recent mission reports and read through any of the ones in which Mirage had been involved. The young aristocrat showed promise when he would apply himself and even Jazz had commented that Mirage might even be well suited for special ops. Prowl would definitely have to think on that one.
Mirage came out of recharge, his optics dim as he looked around and found Prowl sitting at his desk nearby. At first, Mirage said nothing because, really, what was there to say? He knew he’d been in the wrong but he honestly never thought anyone would call him down. He was, after all, royalty… at least he had been before this damnable war had taken everything away from him. The Towers… his friends, his social circles, his family… he hated the war and everything it stood for and sometimes, more than that, he hated the soldiers and officers he’d been taken in by and wanted nothing to do with any of them.
Prowl was different, though. Mirage wasn’t sure how or why, just that he was. He moved on the berth and Prowl’s gaze caught Mirage’s as the younger mech pushed himself up into a sitting position but still said nothing. Prowl kept watching him in silence for several more nano-clicks until the silence began to wear on Mirage’s nerves.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Mirage finally asked.
“What would you like me to say?” Prowl asked, the calm, cool tones bothering Mirage even more.
“I don’t know but just get it over with already and send me back to my quarters or wherever it is you plan to send me.” Prowl nodded slowly and stood from behind his desk, moving around to perch on the end of it instead.
“I was beginning to think a lunar cycle in the brig might be conducive to your attitude of late,” the sub commander replied quietly. Mirage bristled at that comment.
“You are not throwing me in that small cage of yours and leaving me there,” he growled out, the tone of aristocracy bleeding through his voice. “You have no authority…”
“Actually, I do,” Prowl interrupted, still calm and cool as ever. “Your aristocracy means nothing to me, Mirage, and even less to our leader. What you were before this war began is meaningless and you need to get that through your processors before you are left behind.”
“Left… what do you mean left behind?” Mirage asked softly, a hint of worry in his voice now.
“Optimus has given me exactly one solar cycle to get you to behave or else he will have no choice but to exile you from the faction,” Prowl told him adamantly. “I have given much thought as to how I should do this and while any other soldier would find themselves in either the brig or solitary, I think I must find a more subtle way of dealing with you.”
“I don’t understand,” Mirage said, frowning slightly. Prowl nodded and Mirage saw a hint of weariness in the blue optics looking at him.
“I know that,” Prowl answered almost kindly. “I am hoping you will allow me to teach you what it is you must understand in order to survive this war and stay in this faction. I have no desire to see you left behind. You would be easy prey for the Decepticons and I daresay they would not treat you nearly as well as we have.” Mirage said nothing, only nodding in response to Prowl’s words and Prowl moved away from his desk to stand in front of the younger mech. Mirage looked up at him and Prowl squatted down to optic level.
“Nobility comes with obligations, Mirage. Just because you come from nobility does not mean you operate above the law. Surely your creators must have taught you this.”
“Not so much,” Mirage admitted quietly. “I had tutors and we had servants and no one ever questioned what I wanted or demanded. I caused trouble a few times but I was never called on it because of my family’s status. Prowl you have to understand. I was the only child, the only son of my creators. I was given everything whether I wanted it or not. I was a status symbol for them. I was educated beyond my age, trained to be proficient in the arts, in literature and physics. I knew Sunstreaker when I was studying arts and I had this irrational hatred of him. How dare he be so talented and yet a mere commoner…”
“And do you know he thought you to be so much more talented than him for many, many orns?” Mirage frowned.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I raised the twins,” Prowl admitted. “But that is not something that we share with anyone in this faction. Their creator’s origins and name have long been kept secret. I was merely the one appointed to raise them.” Mirage nodded, awed that Prowl trusted him with something like this. “But, back to you, young one. You were given every opportunity in life. You never had to work or fight for anything. And now comes this war and suddenly you are left stranded in a world you don’t understand with people you want to hate but can’t because, again, you don’t understand them.”
“Something like that,” Mirage answered with a single nod. “Prowl, I’m not a fighter. I never wanted to be a solider or an officer or anything like that. The Towers… they were my life. I had status, I had friends, and I had a family…”
“And while this is most assuredly not the Towers, you can still have friends and a family, Mirage. Your status has obviously changed. You must see that, in time, Cybertron will cease to exist and when she dies, we will either die with her or we must abandon her in search of a new world. Status means nothing now. You must adapt to your new life or you will die.” There was a hint of desperation in Prowl’s tone and Mirage reached out to rest his hand on the side of Prowl’s face.
“Why would my death trouble you so much?” he asked softly. Prowl quickly stood and turned his back on the younger mech. Inside, his systems were burning hotter than before and he fought to keep himself under control.
“The death of any soldier or officer under my command would trouble me greatly,” he replied, his voice harsh with emotion that he continued to try and rein in. Mirage watched him for a moment then stood slowly and reached out again, this time resting one hand on Prowl’s back.
“I will try to do better,” he said as sincerely as possible. “I can’t promise to change overnight. What I was - it is so engrained in me that it might take time. Can you be patient? Can you ask your leader to be patient?” Prowl bowed his head briefly before turning to face Mirage slowly.
“For nothing more than the sincerity in your voice at this very moment, I would beg Unicron himself for mercy and patience,” Prowl answered softly. “You shall have that which you ask and I will make sure Prime is made aware of your desire to try to change and adapt to the situation.” Mirage moved to step closer but Prowl stepped back and Mirage stopped. Prowl caught the hurt expression in blue optics before Mirage looked away.
“Thank you for listening to me,” Mirage finally said. “Maybe we can talk again?”
“I’d like that,” Prowl answered and before he could add anything more to it, Mirage turned and walked out of Prowl’s office. Prowl let him go, damning himself the entire time…
***********************************
One Stellar-cycle later (7.5 months)
Prime wandered through the vast hallways of the complex in search of his newly promoted sub commander. He had not seen Prowl now for several orbital cycles and he was growing concerned. The officer had done well in retraining Mirage into a formidable special ops officer and Prime had been meaning to talk with Prowl about what he’d done but every time the subject of Mirage came up Prowl would turn away. It bothered the leader a great deal and he’d noticed that Mirage was starting to suffer from the lack of attention as well.
He came upon Prowl’s apartments and knocked, waiting an appropriate amount of time before pushing the door open and walking inside.
“Prowl?” Prime closed the door behind him and moved further into the main room. He didn’t see the younger mech and moved into the next room which appeared to be Prowl’s private training room. Prowl was on the mats, back to Prime, staff in hand. Prime made no other sound as he watched the dark blue mech swing and balance the staff in his hand as he went through a series of movements that Prime recognized as a form of meditative training. It explained Prowl’s ability to seem so emotionless and calm when duty demanded he be so.
Prowl knew the precise moment Prime had entered his apartments. He would not have made a good right hand to the leader if he hadn’t known. Still, he finished the exercise before finally turning to greet Optimus.
“I trust it was nothing serious or else you would have intruded upon my training,” Prowl said decisively cold in tone but respectful none the less.
“Not at all,” Prime answered, watching Prowl put away the staff and other mats in the room. “I’ve been meaning to come by and talk with you about Mirage but it seems as if every time I try to talk with you about him in the office, something comes up.” Prowl had his back to Prime again and he willed himself to remain calm.
“Bad timing I suppose,” he finally said, turning back to face Prime. “I trust he is still performing well and behaving himself?”
“He is. I wanted to congratulate you on your success with him. I wasn’t too sure it could be done but not only did you get him to try harder for us, you gave him focus, something to work towards, a reason to work for it and you’ve given us another highly skilled special ops officer. Jazz can’t say enough good things about him these days.” Prowl nodded slowly and moved past Prime back into the living area of the apartments.
“Then I’ve done my job,” Prowl said not unkindly. “What more would you have of me where he is concerned?”
“Perhaps the problem, Prowl, is that he feels he was only a job to you,” Prime said gently. Prowl stopped and turned to face his leader. “What I mean to say is, he’s beginning to notice your lack of attention and your noticeable absence from training sessions and briefings. I think, perhaps, he feels as if you no longer wish to continue tracking his performance.” Prowl sighed heavily and sat down on a nearby stool.
“He’s a child, Prime. Young, passionate, bold, reckless, and now he’s dangerous. I have nothing more to offer him. I’ve given him what I had to give. I gave him encouragement when he needed it. I called him to the floor when it was applicable and he listened to me. His creators never held him responsible for anything or anyone. I taught him what that meant. He misses having the mentor. That is what he has Jazz for now. He no longer needs me.” Prime stepped closer and regarded the sub commander carefully.
“My friend, I have known you for more vorns than I can count. I know when you are not telling me the entire truth on something. You came to care for him as he worked with you and now you feel as if you must let go of whatever there was forming between you both.”
“And again, I tell you, Prime. He is a child.”
“And you, Prowl, are a fool if you let that stop you from taking what is so obviously offered. Mirage would give his life for you if he could. He would follow you to the Cybertron Pits and back if it meant he could be at your side. Give him a chance, Prowl. Give yourself a chance. It may prove to be the best thing that ever happens to you in this life… in this war.” Prowl looked up slowly, studying Prime for a moment before nodding once.
“I will give thought to what you have said. Will there be anything more?” Prime sighed softly. It was the best he could hope for; for now.
“Just a reminder that we have council meetings in the morning. You’d do well to arrive early so we can go over the agendas.”
“Very well. I shall see you at first light.” Prime nodded and moved to the front door. “Prime.” The leader stopped and turned back to look at his second in command. “I do appreciate what you have said.” Prime nodded then turned and left the apartments. Prowl watched him go then dragged himself to the wash rack and thought through what he should do next.
*******************************************************
Mirage had been sent on a mission and was gone for several weeks. Prowl had been antsy and almost unbearable during that time and Prime had finally told him to go home and work this out on his own before he got his own time in their brig for insubordinance. Prowl had stormed out of the conference room and had left the offices and headed back to his own apartments. He slammed open the door ahead of him, vaguely aware that it should have been locked.
Moving through the darkened rooms, he was just about to his own bedroom when a small glint of light caught the edges of a white and blue frame. Prowl stopped his rampage and turned slowly to find dimly lit blue optics watching him carefully.
“When did you get back?” the sub commander asked quietly, his voice shaking from emotion. Mirage stepped away from the wall towards Prowl, concern on his face.
“A few breems ago. I came straight here. Heard you’d been somewhat difficult to handle lately. I was worried.” He stopped and looked at his mentor carefully. “What’s got you so troubled, Prowl? I heard Prime threatened to throw you in your own brig more than once while I was gone…”
“Have you been checked out by Ratchet? I mean, you’re safe and in one piece then?”
“Yes…” Anything more Mirage might have said was cut off as Prowl shoved him back to the wall and kissed him. Caught off guard at first, Mirage quickly returned the kiss, hands sliding up Prowl’s sides to pull him closer. Prowl’s own hands slid along Mirage’s back as he gentled his movements slowly and finally pulled back just enough to meet Mirage’s gaze. Mirage reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against Prowl’s face.
“Prowl?” he said softly. Prowl leaned into the touch and gave Mirage a quick smile.
“I’m glad you came back in one piece,” Prowl whispered softly. “And I want this to be the first place you come to when you return no matter what time of day or night it is. I won’t be foolish enough to let this war take the best thing that’s ever happened away from me just because I am too afraid to take what is freely offered…” Mirage leaned in and kissed him gently.
“I only ever come back because of you,” he said quietly. “Since that first night in your office, you have been my reason for coming back in one piece. I won’t leave you behind…”
And Prowl understood… and at that moment, it was all that mattered…
~finis~