Bumblebee/Prowl Request
Fandom: Transformers/Movie-‘verse
Title: Untitled
Author: ouronlyhunter
Pairing: Bee/Prowl
Rating: R
Notes: I’m using cycle as used in the G1 UK comics continuity - 2 hours exactly. From: http://transformers.wikia.com/wiki/Cycle
Requirments: Rain, reason why the pair is together, someone disapproving and Prowl’s reaction
Not to be included in the fic: Excessive fluff
Disclaimer: The author does not own Transformers, does not make any money off this story, and intends no ill will writing it.
A crackle of sound, a word, settling into that same static-hiss, and then the cycle repeated itself. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried to boost the signal enough to make out the dim voice through the internal comm channel, it was impossible to make who was sending out the call - much less what they were trying to say. Still, it was another Cybertronian, and the encryption indicated another Autobot. Either that, or... Decepticons had survived, somehow, or there were more of them. No matter what faction, this had to be investigated.
And although Bee knew that he had no real reason to complain about the fact that Tranquility - life on Earth, in fact - was calm for now, perhaps things had become... too routine. Because, anyway that this turned out, Bee found himself excited at the changed, relieved to be doing something different. He sent Prime a quick message, then focused on driving towards the source of the signal. He suspected distance was one of the reasons for how garbled it had come out - which meant that he was in for a long drive - although it couldn’t possibly be the only explanation.
************************************************************
Bee’s headlights cut through the dusk and the rain, and the accompanying fog. Not that he needed them, but it was less suspicious since everyone else had their headlights on. Safer, too, at least for the humans. Just because he could see them without their headlights, it didn’t mean they could see him. He’d spent the day weaving through the traffic, his edginess softening slightly with each mile. He slowed, taking the next exit, finding the quickest route and following it, speeding, not worrying about local law enforcement for now.
Night had fallen by the time he began creeping closer to his destination, wary, because if this were a trap, he would need to leave himself a good exit strategy. Finding the best way in, he kept moving slowly, trying to decipher the situation as best as possible before he made any definitive move.
This was getting him nowhere. He found the point of entry, and pulled up next to the crater, the ground cold, so dried out it had cracked, and he studied the landscape. He startled at the sudden movement, the angry growl of an engine, no lights. Bee made a wide circle, beams falling upon the other mech, the alt mode battered, dents, charred metal, one or two exposed wires...
Prow, who had already scanned an alt form, or more likely found detailed specs on the internet. Prime’s second in command, at least back on Cybertron, and there was a long moment of sharp silence, a flashback of pain, blinding, grating, and Bee’s chassis shuddered. He should have insisted on bringing someone, Ratchet maybe... He did the next best thing, comming Ratchet now, making sure the medical officer knew just how quickly he was needed. Neither he nor Prowl spoke. Even using the internal comms would be a waste of energy as Prowl was only sending out that static, although it stopped now.
Perhaps, though, Bee would get a reaction if he tried comming Prowl. Sending a brief welcome, he waited, watching Prowl, still, silent. Without any confirmation, Bee knew that Prowl was conserving energy, as he had been able to send a message so recently, and sustain it for so long. Unlikely that he had offlined, even briefly, although given the damage he’d sustained, Bee wouldn’t be surprised.
*****************************************************************
Ratchet was a little more conspicuous, the sound of the siren broken by another growl of Prowl’s engine, although what it meant... Since they’d spent the entire time watching each other, getting more and more wary the more time passed, Bee assumed that Prowl’s comms were still on the fritz, or more likely damaged. Bee pulled back as Ratchet made his way up, allowing the medical officer to park in front of Prowl, allowing for some space to shift into bipedal mode, Bee watching, Ratchet shooting him one sharp look, as if any of this could somehow be his fault. The most appropriate response seemed to be silence, and he let Ratchet get to work, scanning Prowl, fixing any of the damage that he could here. The rest would have to be done at the base, and Bee waited for Ratchet to make his call on if Prowl was able to move on his own.
It seemed to be decided silently - through the comm, maybe - because Ratchet said nothing before returning to his alt mode, stubborn in his refusal to move until Prowl did. The growl this was a low rumble of displeasure, smoother than the previous sounds he had made. Bee chuckled softly, letting Prowl lead, comming him. Prowl’s response proved that his comm had been repaired, no crackle invading the words, choking them until they were incomprehensible. They both easily fell into the silence again, although Bee would have preferred to ask Prowl so much... Anything, really. Just to be able to speak to him, although it would be nice if he knew how any of the other Autobots had fared.
Why? The question refused to be shaken away, as Bee considered why exactly Prowl had seen fit to communicate with Ratchet, and not Bee; the scout might have been younger, less experienced, than the other two, but he saw no reason for Prowl to look down on him. In fact, he would have assumed that after Tyger Pax- He forced himself not to finish that thought.
He slowed slightly, sending Prowl the directions to the base, although he probably already had them...
***************************************************************
It was Ironhide who noticed the change first, the way Prowl was quicker than before to dismiss Bumblebee. Prowl had come to make sure they were rarely, if ever, if the same room, and it wasn’t like him to avoid anything. That must have been what had given it away, Prowl decided, not abundantly happy with himself for slipping so badly. Still, he had work, although most of it was paperwork today. On the plus side, it gave him something to study while he dismissed Ironhide. “I don’t see your point.” Which, honestly, had been that he wanted to talk about Bumblebee - so in Prowl’s defense, there had been no real point yet.
“Haven’t made it.”
And Ironhide sounded smug enough that Prowl focused on him, look sharp. “All right. I don’t see the point in coming to me to talk about Bumblebee.”
The whole scenario shifted then, both mechs getting more alert, aware that a battle was beginning, although it would be on any level other than physical. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Or maybe not.” Prowl paused. “You said you hadn’t made your point. Make it.” A little more curt than usual, and again, Prowl was grateful for the paperwork - it was solid proof that he was far too busy for this conversation, even if he had wanted to have it instead of desperately wishing that Ironhide would leave his office. When Ironhide failed to come up with anything, Prowl sighed softly, shoving aside the datapad he’d been working on, knowing that from here on out it would be useless even trying to work until Ironhide had decided he’s accomplished something.
Slag it, he really did have work-
“Y’know...” Ironhide started slowly, a slight drawl to his words, as he considered. The pause was lengthy enough for Prowl to get the idea that Ironhide was messing with him, trying to make him more tense so that Ironhide had the upper hand. Prowl’s hands clenched, and again, he wished Ironhide would make his point, and then leave.
“What?”
“You’re a little tense lately.” Ironhide shrugged. “None of my business, I guess.”
Not funny, given that if that wasn’t his business, then what he’d come here to talk about... Prowl couldn’t help shaking his head.
Ironhide, thankfully, continued. “You even talk to him about it?”
Prowl prickled, taking in Ironhide’s casual posture. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He paused briefly. “It would only be a... distraction.”
“When did it start?”
Another sigh, and Prowl leaned back in his chair, grimacing. “Again, nothing ever started. If it had, there might be something to talk about.” Obviously, though, Ironhide wasn’t going to take that for an answer, so Prowl did what he could, deflecting. “Why exactly do you care enough to get involved?”
Ironhide considered again, his silence saying more than his shrug, or the noncommittal, “Don’t like it,” his tone even as if it didn’t matter what happened.
Prowl’s optics narrowed, and he went cold, voice quiet, a thin edge of danger to it. “It’s none of your business.”
Ironhide raised his hands, surrendered, muttering, “Just saying...” He shrugged. “You’re right. None of my business.”
Prowl watched him leave, bothered more by how easily Ironhide had seen through any pretense. Not that he had time to think about it further, not now. He turned back to his work, until he felt like he was drowning in it, and then pushed further, past the point of exhaustion when he was finished, sending everything to Prime. Doubtful that he would read everything quite as carefully as Prowl had done, but what would be the point in spending the same amount of time going over everything again? Prowl very rarely made mistakes.
He stood, almost shaking, a reserve of mental physical energy. He had spent the past couple of cycles - a little more to be exact, although the additional time was minimal - sitting. His processors were sluggish, while his body demanded movement, anything to burn off the extra energy, until he was able to rest, dimly aware that it could be a mistake, that he could simply be exposing himself to matters he had little desire to deal with, which was why he had simply been ignoring them. They were personal matters, and if he kept them to himself, they would only affect him. If Ironhide felt otherwise...
Why was he so obsessed with what Ironhide - or anyone else - might think? It made no sense, although that icy anger confused him even more. He believed that it was his business, and his alone, so what reason was there for him to get so defensive about the matter? Especially if, as he kept reminding himself, he had no plans to act on his own feelings.
The more he thought about any of it, the more it spun him out of control. Prowl was used to events being directly related to cause and effect, being able to see events unfold like... dominos. He could relate to that form of entertainment, the sense of control in watching one block fall and push over another, so controlled, no variables at all. He felt he acted the same way, watching, acting according to what he saw. Not that he felt nothing, but normally he reigned it in, trying to be unbiased as possible. Facts were what mattered.
He found he hated being so out of control, bitterly. He must have been this way, once, when he was much, much younger. When he’d started out, when he’d just started to learn to control himself, and yet the memories were flat, lacking the same sense of panic and dread, like this one emotion might swallow him whole. He remembered himself act irrationally, but it was, or it so strongly felt, different - less sharp, edges blurred. It had been too long, perhaps, since he had let any of this loose, and, unaccustomed to it, he was unprepared...
He caught himself just in time, stopping short of plowing right into another mech. Bumblebee in fact, who was looking up at Prowl, expression shifting slightly, curious concern turning more studious. “Are you feeling well?” There was already doubt in his voice, and Prowl stiffened at the unspoken accusation.
“Fine.” Prowl forced himself to relax, choking on the urge to add that he was simply heading towards his quarters. He owed Bumblebee - he owed no one - an explanation after his shift, so long as he wasn’t harming anyone. Again, the defensiveness, anger flaring up for no real reason.
“Right.”
Did Bumblebee sound amused? They both fell silent again, and although Prowl would have preferred to move, he resisted; he would have little patience to deal with this situation later, and less resolve as well. The issue now was what to say, and that decision was made for him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Bumblebee tipped his head slightly, that curiosity slipping back in, optics dimming slightly. “I think I deserve to know why.”
A lie - that he had simply been busy catching up, learning all these new Earth customs - would have been easier on them both. The truth was the second best choice as far as ease, but would fare better in the long run should Bumblebee learn the truth later. Prowl was silent a while more. Ironhide had figured it out, and he gave Bumblebee a moment to put the pieces together, feeling as if simply coming out and proclaiming his admittedly contradicting thoughts on the whole situation.
Slightly movement caught his attention, and he watched Bumblebee straighten, tense now. Otpics dimmed furthered, and it was clear he was thinking, probably wondering what, if anything, he had done.
“No good reason.” Prowl’s voice was lower, more hoarse, than he wanted, giving him away, far too easily. Bumblebee caught on, the tension still there, but a subtle shift showed how he reconsidered.
“That’s not a good reason, not for avoiding someone.” Bumblebee was no longer amused, not by any of this, radiating that soft crackling anger that was more easily pried from him, and often times more easily diffused. Hopefully so in this situation. Hopefully he simply wanted a better answer.
Prowl’s first instinct was to point out that he had been the first to say, to admit, that but it would get him nowhere. “I know.” The silence was unspeakable this time, and Prowl could feel that quick descent, spiraling, that loss of control that made him feel so constrained... Claustrophobic, even. “But what else was I supposed to do?” He was showing it, now, same growl in his voice as in his engine the night he’d landed. He hated others seeing him weak, damaged, out of control...
The silence was just as unbearable, but at least it wasn’t as bad as letting his own faults be seen.
Not that he had time to think, not if he wanted to make this right. “Not here.”
***********************************************************
They had come to a silent agreement, going to Prowl’s quarters, Bumblebee following Prime’s sub commander. Prowl had chosen to come to his quarters because it would be less suspicious, as Bumblebee would have more reason to track down Prowl than the other way around. It was quiet, but not that awful silence. A peaceful quiet, and he knew in that moment that the only reason this was possible was that he had had very little interaction with Bumblebee up until now. Those who he had fought beside... It was impossible to see them without seeing a fight, the wounds sustained, again and again.
Of course, this line of thought led to another. Bumblebee had been too young to fight until more recently, which was the reason they had spent such a small amount of time in the same room up until now. It could explain Ironhide’s disapproval; he had seen more of Bumblebee when he had been younger, and considering this, the weapon’s specialist’s reaction made sense. He would have to speak to Ironhide later.
If he had been around Bumblebee more often, pushing him onto the bunk would have been awkward, instead of this right that made no sense at all. That was the one thing Prowl missed, the loose ends tied together. Emotions lacked that rigid sense he was so fond of, but for this he could forgo it easily - or relatively easily for him.
He straddled the younger mech, some sense of control slipping back, evening out that sense of vertigo that came when he found no explanation for his own actions. Under him, Bumblebee whined softly, impatient already, and Prowl took his time, as much to see how much he would be allowed to get away with as to drag this out as long as possible.
Bumblebee’s hands slid along his sides, fingertips against the plates there, Prowl shuddering slightly at the touch. His hand went to Bumblebee’s shoulder, pushing down softly, an unspoken order to take this slowly. Bumblebee made a wordless protest, but his hands stopped, fingers clenching, fingers pressing Prowl’s sides, demanding more attention.
Prowl still took his time, free hand moving along Bumblebee’s side, barely touching him, watching his reactions. Shifting slightly, Bumblebee tried to push up against Prowl’s hand, Prowl stilling for the moments. Up until now, his movements had been lazy, sprawling across the seconds, giving him the sensation that he was distracted even while focusing completely on the present.
“Prowl!” There was something bordering on desperate in that cry that Prowl gave in, snapping to attention completely, fingers slipping between plates, running along wires, the sensitivity there heightened because they were usually unexposed. Bumblebee cried out again, wordless, fingers clenching involuntarily at Prowl’s sides, pulling him even closer, and Prowl gave into that, scooting forward, leaning down slightly, still studying Bumblebee’s reactions. When the yellow mech’s hand twitched, moving so that his fingers ran along the edges of one of his plates, Prowl’s hand moved from Bumblebee’s shoulder, to swat away his hand.
The confusion was brief, Prowl distracting Bumblebee too quickly to let that settle. He toyed with the wires, running his fingers along the side again, tugging softly, until Bumblebee was writhing with frustration, optics so dim it almost appeared that he was offline. This would be over with quickly, but Prowl believed that to be best this time, and perhaps until they had figured this out - or he had. Bumblebee seemed to have less of a hard time adjusting to change, or to accepting anything not based on logic. Then again, most people had an easier time of the latter...
He stopped that thought before it turned sour, focusing only on this, hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder again, other hand moving to the switch that would open Bumblebee’s chest plates. Prowl’s finger lingered, running along the switch. Without warning, he flipped it, doing the same for himself, more quickly, until both their sparks were exposed, heat and light spilling from them both.
And again, Prowl thought this would be best if done with quickly, and he leaned down, not hesitating as he pressed up against Bumblebee, that warmth trapped between the two, a pleasurable buzzing starting, the build up immediate, steep, and he could feel Bumblebee settle beneath him, although his fingers clenched again, harder, and would most likely leave slight imprints in Prowl’s sides. He’d have to see Ratchet, and there would be questions...
Another reason not to drag this out now.
But as he’d suspected, Bumblebee succumbed rapidly, before Prowl was too close to offlining. Then again, he’d set it up that way, and couldn’t help but feel as if he’d taken advantage of Bumblebee’s inexperience. The guilt was minimal, as Bumblebee had wanted this just as much as Prowl had, it seemed. And it had been for the best...
Prowl sighed softly as he flipped the switch again, waiting until Bumblebee’s chest plates had closed until he closed his own. That done, he pushed himself up, laying next to Bumblebee, wrapping one arm around the younger mech.
Title: Untitled
Author: ouronlyhunter
Pairing: Bee/Prowl
Rating: R
Notes: I’m using cycle as used in the G1 UK comics continuity - 2 hours exactly. From: http://transformers.wikia.com/wiki/Cycle
Requirments: Rain, reason why the pair is together, someone disapproving and Prowl’s reaction
Not to be included in the fic: Excessive fluff
Disclaimer: The author does not own Transformers, does not make any money off this story, and intends no ill will writing it.
A crackle of sound, a word, settling into that same static-hiss, and then the cycle repeated itself. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried to boost the signal enough to make out the dim voice through the internal comm channel, it was impossible to make who was sending out the call - much less what they were trying to say. Still, it was another Cybertronian, and the encryption indicated another Autobot. Either that, or... Decepticons had survived, somehow, or there were more of them. No matter what faction, this had to be investigated.
And although Bee knew that he had no real reason to complain about the fact that Tranquility - life on Earth, in fact - was calm for now, perhaps things had become... too routine. Because, anyway that this turned out, Bee found himself excited at the changed, relieved to be doing something different. He sent Prime a quick message, then focused on driving towards the source of the signal. He suspected distance was one of the reasons for how garbled it had come out - which meant that he was in for a long drive - although it couldn’t possibly be the only explanation.
************************************************************
Bee’s headlights cut through the dusk and the rain, and the accompanying fog. Not that he needed them, but it was less suspicious since everyone else had their headlights on. Safer, too, at least for the humans. Just because he could see them without their headlights, it didn’t mean they could see him. He’d spent the day weaving through the traffic, his edginess softening slightly with each mile. He slowed, taking the next exit, finding the quickest route and following it, speeding, not worrying about local law enforcement for now.
Night had fallen by the time he began creeping closer to his destination, wary, because if this were a trap, he would need to leave himself a good exit strategy. Finding the best way in, he kept moving slowly, trying to decipher the situation as best as possible before he made any definitive move.
This was getting him nowhere. He found the point of entry, and pulled up next to the crater, the ground cold, so dried out it had cracked, and he studied the landscape. He startled at the sudden movement, the angry growl of an engine, no lights. Bee made a wide circle, beams falling upon the other mech, the alt mode battered, dents, charred metal, one or two exposed wires...
Prow, who had already scanned an alt form, or more likely found detailed specs on the internet. Prime’s second in command, at least back on Cybertron, and there was a long moment of sharp silence, a flashback of pain, blinding, grating, and Bee’s chassis shuddered. He should have insisted on bringing someone, Ratchet maybe... He did the next best thing, comming Ratchet now, making sure the medical officer knew just how quickly he was needed. Neither he nor Prowl spoke. Even using the internal comms would be a waste of energy as Prowl was only sending out that static, although it stopped now.
Perhaps, though, Bee would get a reaction if he tried comming Prowl. Sending a brief welcome, he waited, watching Prowl, still, silent. Without any confirmation, Bee knew that Prowl was conserving energy, as he had been able to send a message so recently, and sustain it for so long. Unlikely that he had offlined, even briefly, although given the damage he’d sustained, Bee wouldn’t be surprised.
*****************************************************************
Ratchet was a little more conspicuous, the sound of the siren broken by another growl of Prowl’s engine, although what it meant... Since they’d spent the entire time watching each other, getting more and more wary the more time passed, Bee assumed that Prowl’s comms were still on the fritz, or more likely damaged. Bee pulled back as Ratchet made his way up, allowing the medical officer to park in front of Prowl, allowing for some space to shift into bipedal mode, Bee watching, Ratchet shooting him one sharp look, as if any of this could somehow be his fault. The most appropriate response seemed to be silence, and he let Ratchet get to work, scanning Prowl, fixing any of the damage that he could here. The rest would have to be done at the base, and Bee waited for Ratchet to make his call on if Prowl was able to move on his own.
It seemed to be decided silently - through the comm, maybe - because Ratchet said nothing before returning to his alt mode, stubborn in his refusal to move until Prowl did. The growl this was a low rumble of displeasure, smoother than the previous sounds he had made. Bee chuckled softly, letting Prowl lead, comming him. Prowl’s response proved that his comm had been repaired, no crackle invading the words, choking them until they were incomprehensible. They both easily fell into the silence again, although Bee would have preferred to ask Prowl so much... Anything, really. Just to be able to speak to him, although it would be nice if he knew how any of the other Autobots had fared.
Why? The question refused to be shaken away, as Bee considered why exactly Prowl had seen fit to communicate with Ratchet, and not Bee; the scout might have been younger, less experienced, than the other two, but he saw no reason for Prowl to look down on him. In fact, he would have assumed that after Tyger Pax- He forced himself not to finish that thought.
He slowed slightly, sending Prowl the directions to the base, although he probably already had them...
***************************************************************
It was Ironhide who noticed the change first, the way Prowl was quicker than before to dismiss Bumblebee. Prowl had come to make sure they were rarely, if ever, if the same room, and it wasn’t like him to avoid anything. That must have been what had given it away, Prowl decided, not abundantly happy with himself for slipping so badly. Still, he had work, although most of it was paperwork today. On the plus side, it gave him something to study while he dismissed Ironhide. “I don’t see your point.” Which, honestly, had been that he wanted to talk about Bumblebee - so in Prowl’s defense, there had been no real point yet.
“Haven’t made it.”
And Ironhide sounded smug enough that Prowl focused on him, look sharp. “All right. I don’t see the point in coming to me to talk about Bumblebee.”
The whole scenario shifted then, both mechs getting more alert, aware that a battle was beginning, although it would be on any level other than physical. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Or maybe not.” Prowl paused. “You said you hadn’t made your point. Make it.” A little more curt than usual, and again, Prowl was grateful for the paperwork - it was solid proof that he was far too busy for this conversation, even if he had wanted to have it instead of desperately wishing that Ironhide would leave his office. When Ironhide failed to come up with anything, Prowl sighed softly, shoving aside the datapad he’d been working on, knowing that from here on out it would be useless even trying to work until Ironhide had decided he’s accomplished something.
Slag it, he really did have work-
“Y’know...” Ironhide started slowly, a slight drawl to his words, as he considered. The pause was lengthy enough for Prowl to get the idea that Ironhide was messing with him, trying to make him more tense so that Ironhide had the upper hand. Prowl’s hands clenched, and again, he wished Ironhide would make his point, and then leave.
“What?”
“You’re a little tense lately.” Ironhide shrugged. “None of my business, I guess.”
Not funny, given that if that wasn’t his business, then what he’d come here to talk about... Prowl couldn’t help shaking his head.
Ironhide, thankfully, continued. “You even talk to him about it?”
Prowl prickled, taking in Ironhide’s casual posture. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He paused briefly. “It would only be a... distraction.”
“When did it start?”
Another sigh, and Prowl leaned back in his chair, grimacing. “Again, nothing ever started. If it had, there might be something to talk about.” Obviously, though, Ironhide wasn’t going to take that for an answer, so Prowl did what he could, deflecting. “Why exactly do you care enough to get involved?”
Ironhide considered again, his silence saying more than his shrug, or the noncommittal, “Don’t like it,” his tone even as if it didn’t matter what happened.
Prowl’s optics narrowed, and he went cold, voice quiet, a thin edge of danger to it. “It’s none of your business.”
Ironhide raised his hands, surrendered, muttering, “Just saying...” He shrugged. “You’re right. None of my business.”
Prowl watched him leave, bothered more by how easily Ironhide had seen through any pretense. Not that he had time to think about it further, not now. He turned back to his work, until he felt like he was drowning in it, and then pushed further, past the point of exhaustion when he was finished, sending everything to Prime. Doubtful that he would read everything quite as carefully as Prowl had done, but what would be the point in spending the same amount of time going over everything again? Prowl very rarely made mistakes.
He stood, almost shaking, a reserve of mental physical energy. He had spent the past couple of cycles - a little more to be exact, although the additional time was minimal - sitting. His processors were sluggish, while his body demanded movement, anything to burn off the extra energy, until he was able to rest, dimly aware that it could be a mistake, that he could simply be exposing himself to matters he had little desire to deal with, which was why he had simply been ignoring them. They were personal matters, and if he kept them to himself, they would only affect him. If Ironhide felt otherwise...
Why was he so obsessed with what Ironhide - or anyone else - might think? It made no sense, although that icy anger confused him even more. He believed that it was his business, and his alone, so what reason was there for him to get so defensive about the matter? Especially if, as he kept reminding himself, he had no plans to act on his own feelings.
The more he thought about any of it, the more it spun him out of control. Prowl was used to events being directly related to cause and effect, being able to see events unfold like... dominos. He could relate to that form of entertainment, the sense of control in watching one block fall and push over another, so controlled, no variables at all. He felt he acted the same way, watching, acting according to what he saw. Not that he felt nothing, but normally he reigned it in, trying to be unbiased as possible. Facts were what mattered.
He found he hated being so out of control, bitterly. He must have been this way, once, when he was much, much younger. When he’d started out, when he’d just started to learn to control himself, and yet the memories were flat, lacking the same sense of panic and dread, like this one emotion might swallow him whole. He remembered himself act irrationally, but it was, or it so strongly felt, different - less sharp, edges blurred. It had been too long, perhaps, since he had let any of this loose, and, unaccustomed to it, he was unprepared...
He caught himself just in time, stopping short of plowing right into another mech. Bumblebee in fact, who was looking up at Prowl, expression shifting slightly, curious concern turning more studious. “Are you feeling well?” There was already doubt in his voice, and Prowl stiffened at the unspoken accusation.
“Fine.” Prowl forced himself to relax, choking on the urge to add that he was simply heading towards his quarters. He owed Bumblebee - he owed no one - an explanation after his shift, so long as he wasn’t harming anyone. Again, the defensiveness, anger flaring up for no real reason.
“Right.”
Did Bumblebee sound amused? They both fell silent again, and although Prowl would have preferred to move, he resisted; he would have little patience to deal with this situation later, and less resolve as well. The issue now was what to say, and that decision was made for him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Bumblebee tipped his head slightly, that curiosity slipping back in, optics dimming slightly. “I think I deserve to know why.”
A lie - that he had simply been busy catching up, learning all these new Earth customs - would have been easier on them both. The truth was the second best choice as far as ease, but would fare better in the long run should Bumblebee learn the truth later. Prowl was silent a while more. Ironhide had figured it out, and he gave Bumblebee a moment to put the pieces together, feeling as if simply coming out and proclaiming his admittedly contradicting thoughts on the whole situation.
Slightly movement caught his attention, and he watched Bumblebee straighten, tense now. Otpics dimmed furthered, and it was clear he was thinking, probably wondering what, if anything, he had done.
“No good reason.” Prowl’s voice was lower, more hoarse, than he wanted, giving him away, far too easily. Bumblebee caught on, the tension still there, but a subtle shift showed how he reconsidered.
“That’s not a good reason, not for avoiding someone.” Bumblebee was no longer amused, not by any of this, radiating that soft crackling anger that was more easily pried from him, and often times more easily diffused. Hopefully so in this situation. Hopefully he simply wanted a better answer.
Prowl’s first instinct was to point out that he had been the first to say, to admit, that but it would get him nowhere. “I know.” The silence was unspeakable this time, and Prowl could feel that quick descent, spiraling, that loss of control that made him feel so constrained... Claustrophobic, even. “But what else was I supposed to do?” He was showing it, now, same growl in his voice as in his engine the night he’d landed. He hated others seeing him weak, damaged, out of control...
The silence was just as unbearable, but at least it wasn’t as bad as letting his own faults be seen.
Not that he had time to think, not if he wanted to make this right. “Not here.”
***********************************************************
They had come to a silent agreement, going to Prowl’s quarters, Bumblebee following Prime’s sub commander. Prowl had chosen to come to his quarters because it would be less suspicious, as Bumblebee would have more reason to track down Prowl than the other way around. It was quiet, but not that awful silence. A peaceful quiet, and he knew in that moment that the only reason this was possible was that he had had very little interaction with Bumblebee up until now. Those who he had fought beside... It was impossible to see them without seeing a fight, the wounds sustained, again and again.
Of course, this line of thought led to another. Bumblebee had been too young to fight until more recently, which was the reason they had spent such a small amount of time in the same room up until now. It could explain Ironhide’s disapproval; he had seen more of Bumblebee when he had been younger, and considering this, the weapon’s specialist’s reaction made sense. He would have to speak to Ironhide later.
If he had been around Bumblebee more often, pushing him onto the bunk would have been awkward, instead of this right that made no sense at all. That was the one thing Prowl missed, the loose ends tied together. Emotions lacked that rigid sense he was so fond of, but for this he could forgo it easily - or relatively easily for him.
He straddled the younger mech, some sense of control slipping back, evening out that sense of vertigo that came when he found no explanation for his own actions. Under him, Bumblebee whined softly, impatient already, and Prowl took his time, as much to see how much he would be allowed to get away with as to drag this out as long as possible.
Bumblebee’s hands slid along his sides, fingertips against the plates there, Prowl shuddering slightly at the touch. His hand went to Bumblebee’s shoulder, pushing down softly, an unspoken order to take this slowly. Bumblebee made a wordless protest, but his hands stopped, fingers clenching, fingers pressing Prowl’s sides, demanding more attention.
Prowl still took his time, free hand moving along Bumblebee’s side, barely touching him, watching his reactions. Shifting slightly, Bumblebee tried to push up against Prowl’s hand, Prowl stilling for the moments. Up until now, his movements had been lazy, sprawling across the seconds, giving him the sensation that he was distracted even while focusing completely on the present.
“Prowl!” There was something bordering on desperate in that cry that Prowl gave in, snapping to attention completely, fingers slipping between plates, running along wires, the sensitivity there heightened because they were usually unexposed. Bumblebee cried out again, wordless, fingers clenching involuntarily at Prowl’s sides, pulling him even closer, and Prowl gave into that, scooting forward, leaning down slightly, still studying Bumblebee’s reactions. When the yellow mech’s hand twitched, moving so that his fingers ran along the edges of one of his plates, Prowl’s hand moved from Bumblebee’s shoulder, to swat away his hand.
The confusion was brief, Prowl distracting Bumblebee too quickly to let that settle. He toyed with the wires, running his fingers along the side again, tugging softly, until Bumblebee was writhing with frustration, optics so dim it almost appeared that he was offline. This would be over with quickly, but Prowl believed that to be best this time, and perhaps until they had figured this out - or he had. Bumblebee seemed to have less of a hard time adjusting to change, or to accepting anything not based on logic. Then again, most people had an easier time of the latter...
He stopped that thought before it turned sour, focusing only on this, hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder again, other hand moving to the switch that would open Bumblebee’s chest plates. Prowl’s finger lingered, running along the switch. Without warning, he flipped it, doing the same for himself, more quickly, until both their sparks were exposed, heat and light spilling from them both.
And again, Prowl thought this would be best if done with quickly, and he leaned down, not hesitating as he pressed up against Bumblebee, that warmth trapped between the two, a pleasurable buzzing starting, the build up immediate, steep, and he could feel Bumblebee settle beneath him, although his fingers clenched again, harder, and would most likely leave slight imprints in Prowl’s sides. He’d have to see Ratchet, and there would be questions...
Another reason not to drag this out now.
But as he’d suspected, Bumblebee succumbed rapidly, before Prowl was too close to offlining. Then again, he’d set it up that way, and couldn’t help but feel as if he’d taken advantage of Bumblebee’s inexperience. The guilt was minimal, as Bumblebee had wanted this just as much as Prowl had, it seemed. And it had been for the best...
Prowl sighed softly as he flipped the switch again, waiting until Bumblebee’s chest plates had closed until he closed his own. That done, he pushed himself up, laying next to Bumblebee, wrapping one arm around the younger mech.