Archive of Our Own ^beta

                “Am I really so unemotional?” he wondered out loud as he sank into the chair across the desk from the medic.

                Ratchet sighed heavily. “You do come across that way usually. Sunny and I, we know why you’re that way, as I’m sure a few others have, but to the rest? Yeah, you do act that way and most just don’t care to look any further than that. There’s a mech out there for you, Prowl. It just may not be until after the war is over.”

                He buried his helm in his hands, optics shuttering to try and stem the flow of tears that threatened to roll down his face. It would not do to show so much emotion when he left the medic’s office to return to his own. “I do not understand.”

                “Oh, Prowl,” Ratchet murmured as he moved around his desk and pulled the doorwinger into a light embrace. “You will always have a place with me and Sunny, even if he would never tell you that himself. We can’t be everything you need, but we will be there for you.”

                Before he could properly release the tension and build up of emotions that had been threatening him for the past Earth week, he received a ping on his comm. line requesting his presence back at his office to take care of some disciplinary measures. Sideswipe had, apparently, pulled yet another prank this week. It was as if he was trying to make him snap, which might not be far from the truth. He had always expressed his disgust with the way that Prowl never showed emotion.

                The medic sighed again. “You come right back here after you’re done with that glitch, you hear? And if I can’t help you, find Sunstreaker. You aren’t getting away with bottling it all up any more. You’re stressing far too much.”

                “I will, Ratch,” he vowed before he was allowed to leave the med bay’s office and dart quickly up to his. Whatever the red hellion had done this time was wreaking havoc within his domain and had brought Ironhide up to escort him across the ship. That never bode well for his processors.

                As soon as he stepped into his own office, he was bombarded with the sound of cycling cannons and a cackling frontliner that he knew was going to give him problems.

                “Ironhide,” he called to get the larger mech’s attention. “You can leave him here with me.”

                The red mech grumbled below his breath for a few moments before he retracted his cannons and stalked out of the tactical offices. “Be careful, Prowl. He’s more slippery than usual.”

                “What do you have to say for yourself, Sideswipe?” he asked, his doorwings stiffer and twitchier than normal as he turned his attention to the red Lamborghini perched on one of the chairs placed before his desk.

                His laughter cut off quickly as he noticed the difference between this Prowl and the one he normally encountered – who was relatively easy-going and moved fluidly. It was a difference that he had not seen very often, but had come to recognize from the little comments his Carrier had dropped here and there when the black and white had come up in their conversations. He only knew of one way to really break through this mech’s carefully constructed shield, which he implemented.

                “Oh, not much,” he said, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up on the desk in front of him in a move designed to annoy the tactician. “Just that I need to request some supplies. I’ve got a list if you wanna look at it.”

                “That is not the reason that I was called away from a meeting, I am sure.”

                Sideswipe continued to annoy the black and white, watching as his doorwings stiffened further and any movement made became jerkier than the previous one until he saw the mech break. Prowl slumped down in his chair and covered his face with his hands as he began quietly sobbing. Having thought that the mech was only looking to shout at someone to release some stress, this came as a huge surprise and left him dumbfounded for a long moment before he was up and around the desk to cradle the tactician close to his plating.

                White hands reached around to hold him close as faceplates were buried in his neck, tears flooding from optics that he had thought never saw the like. His own came around to comfortingly rub across the black and white’s back between his doorwings. There was little he could do but what he already was, he knew, even as he carefully laid his helm across the top of the other’s and opened a comm. to Ratchet.

                Uh, Ratch?

                What did you do this time, Sideswipe?

                I don’t really know, but Prowl’s crying and I don’t really know what to do. Was just trying to get him to yell at me, honest!

                He could almost hear the medic’s exasperated sigh over the comm. line before he was given an answer. Just hold him. That’s all he really needs right now since he gets it from so few others.

                The line closed before he could ask what that was all about, leaving him with a sobbing doorwinger that he had absolutely no idea what to do with besides, possibly, take him back to his berthroom and lay him down on the couch every room what equipped with so that he was comfortable when recharge finally claimed him. He moved to do so, arms coming down to lift the black and white into his arms before he straightened and walked over to the connecting door, which surprisingly opened at his approach and was a gift that he was not going to turn down. Prowl, he was sure, did not want a lot of mecha to see him like this. However, when he tried to leave after laying him down on the couch, he was unable to move away as the doorwinger’s arms stayed clasped around him. After several attempts to extract himself, he shrugged and gave up, shifting the smaller mech so that he was sprawled across his chest and they could both fit on the relatively small piece of furniture. He drifted off into recharge not long after Prowl finally did.

-

                He did not want to open his optics, sure that he had embarrassed himself before one of the few mechs that he respected several joors before. Perhaps comming the mech would help settle him enough that he felt he would be able to face him again.

                Ratchet?

                What do you need, Prowl?

                I am aware that I cried all over you and am currently lying on you. I am very sorry for any discomfort I have caused you.

                Hands came up and rubbed between his doorwings in a comforting motion he often associated with the medic, which always prompted him to arch his back into it. This time was no exception except that the hands paused for a long moment before resuming their previous motion.

                Um, Prowl. You aren’t with me. Are you sure that you really want to tell me that you’re with some mech?

                He slammed the link closed, utterly mortified that he had lost control of himself around someone other than one of the few mechs that he trusted that was there on Earth with him. Who else could it be? The answer that hit him was even worse than what he had first considered. Sideswipe. He…. was screwed….

                “You okay now, Prowl?” the frontliner asked, voice still thick with recharge as he slowly cycled up, hand still massaging the area it rested on as the other moved to rub his optics, careful to steer his arm around the doorwing in his way as to not injure the smaller mech. “You scared me. Was expecting to get yelled at, like normal, and then you broke down on me. It was slaggin’ scary.” He peered down at the stiff doorwings. “Well, guess you aren’t out of recharge yet. You’d already be chewin’ me out if ya were.” He smoothed a hand over the edge of the sensor panel closest to his free hand before wriggling out from under the black and white, making sure to not jostle the tactician too much. Ratchet would have his helm if he pulled the mech out of much needed recharge.

                Muttering incomprehensively to himself, he tripped over to the energon dispenser and drew a cube that he set on the low table in front of the couch. He remembered his step-Sire always fussing about how Prowl never consumed enough and hoped that this caught his attention before he went back to his work. Then again, he may disregard it in favor of tracking him down to give him some kind of punishment.

                “Data pad, data pad,” he muttered, looking blearily around the surprisingly decorated room to try and find what he was looking for. Spotting one, his expression lit up with a sort of glee. “Now, how to tell him that he don’t need to look for me.”

                Several minutes later, he looked down at his handiwork with a bright grin before setting it down on top of the cube and slipping over to the door back to the tactician’s office and out into the hallway, making his way down to the brig. Punishment would be decided upon later, he was sure, but being in the brig already would save them all the effort of tracking him down, dragging him back to Prowl’s office, and then down to the brig.

                Prowl laid there for several minutes before he sat up and reached to pull the data pad to him to see what the frontliner had written for him to read.

Prowl,

I’m not sure when you’re gonna wake up, but I hope you recharge well after everything. It’s not somethin’ ya should be ashamed about. Everyone needs to let everything out sometimes, this was just yours. It was nice to see that I’m trusted enough for you to show me that, but I’m sure you’d rather have been around someone else. In any case, I’ll be down in the brig while you come up with whatever I’m gonna have to do in recompense.

Sideswipe

                That brought a short smile to his faceplates before he sobered, contemplating his next move. It was probably punishment enough to have sobbed all over the frontliner, but everyone needed to see something being done to believe that it was. He sighed deeply and opened the comm. line to Ratchet again.

                I do not believe that you will need to have me sob all over you today, Ratchet. Sideswipe served that need rather admirably.

                He could almost hear the laugh that came with the reply. I bet he loved that! You know you’re welcome to stop by whenever you want to. And if he’s still got some kind of punishment coming up for that prank he pulled, send him down to help me clean the med bay. Everyone thinks it’s the worst thing a mech can get assigned to.

                I will do that, though you may see me there a bit more often during that time. I think that I would like to understand why he allowed me to do such.