best-head - Tumblr blog

[best-head]

Prowl, already well into a meeting that should've been an email, sneezed, sirens whooping loudly and startling the people unfortunate to be next to him.

[best-head]

Wiggles.

Optimus wiggled in his peripheral sight, and he turned his good optic towards him, optic flickering a little as he watched him, bemused.

...Optimus likely wanted something.

He turned his attention back to his work, considering, and decided that it could be finished at a later date. It was mostly busy work for him, anyway. "Did you need something, Optimus?"

[best-head]

Tarantulas and her counterpart, Tarantulus, as they'd taken to calling him, had gifted him a table that righted itself when he flipped it.

There had been the excuse of replacing his old desk, and he'd allowed it with a measure of patient grace, only because Tarantulas wouldn't let Tarantulus put a bomb in his desk, he was sure.

And then he'd gotten frustrated and flipped the entire thing onto its side.

When it automatically righted itself, any anger he'd had fizzled out, and he puzzled over the entire thing before, servo on the edge, flipped it again. The second time it righted itself, with no small amount of amusement, Prowl realized that perhaps they were both attempting to nip having to buy another desk replacement in the future.

He doesn't think any of them, including Prowl, anticipated how much he would enjoy the damn thing.

At first, it went about the way it usually went- Prowl got upset, he flipped the table. A typical Tuesday. But gradually, Prowl went from flipping it when he was frustrated to flipping it when he was thinking.

Which was always.

He flipped it when he was reading a case, he flipped it when he was reading a datapad, he flipped it when he was doing a puzzle or playing a game.

He flipped it when he was bored.

Which led to now, which was Prowl, datapad in one servo and other servo flipping the table repeatedly, leading to a dull thud with each flip.

[best-head]

"We also would've left far more evidence," Prowl said, with every ounce of patience he could muster, optic winking absently.

"Do you truly not understand the benefits of cutting off all frayed ends instead of leaving behind a trail? I thought you might, of all people." It was as much admonishment as it was astonishment. Of course, Tarn was very good at what he did, Prowl would not downplay that, but there is a time, and a place.

It was not Tarn's time.

{ best-head} "See how much nicer it is when we do things my way?"

{ @best-head }

“Nicer? Hardly. It took twice as long as it should have, and we have precious little to show for it,” Tarn grumbles, absently worrying the loose end of a tread in his claws. “Gathering evidence indirectly like this may be more covert, but if you had allowed me to blockade the mech in his place of residence and persuade him personally, you would have had direct results far faster.”

[best-head]

Prowl was not a mech to be... outwardly toward, in this manner. But for a moment, he can't quite vent properly, struck by the flash of green around Tarantulas' waist, pulled tight, and-

He was on her before he realized he'd moved, servos grabbing her waist and helm moving to bite her. Not one of those soft, gentle bites, either, but a bite with those little Praxian fangs of his right into her shoulder, growling his engines.

Granted, to most, his growls weren't very intimidating, but Prowl wasn't, for once, thinking about that, not when Tarantulas was wrapped like a present for him.

{ @best-head } HEAVY VENTING

{ @best-head }

She’s never heard him made that kind of wheezy, half-strangled noise before, and Tarantulas has spent a LOT of time listening to Prowl in every state imaginable, whether he was aware she was there or not.

It would be cause for concern but the stiff posture of his doorwings, held in a quivering, needy flare, does wonders to convey just what Prowl isn’t saying.

“No need to be shy, sweet thing,” Tarantulas goads, a servo smoothing over her green and black corset to end on a hip. “Why don’t you, hyehhhehhehhh, come give mommy a kiss, hm…?”

[best-head]

{ @symphonicdemise }

Prowl's expression takes on a sort of neutrality. Tarn- here?

Of course, Tarn, he is told, only bothers with traitors to the Decepticon cause, but then, Prowl doesn't like to take his chances on unseen variables.

Best to keep his optic on him at all times.

"Tarn," he greets, almost softly, single blue optic narrowing in suspicion.

[best-head]

Squint. Prowl's whole face scrunches a little, like he's scrutinizing what she might be scheming.

"A matching set of what?"

"Do you have any color preferences?"

"...Green, I suppose. Why?"

[best-head]

"Do you have any color preferences?"

"...Green, I suppose. Why?"

[best-head]

A thin hand slips into Prowl’s as Rung comes to stand beside to him, a cube of warmed energon in his other hand. “You should take a break.”

Prowl doesn't jerk, but only just by a little bit, tipping his helm away from the bright screen to look over at Rung, optic squinted.

He'd been staring at that screen for a while, now.

"..." A glance at the datapad in his servo, to the warm energon, and then back at Rung. "I suppose a break wouldn't hurt."

[best-head]

Optimus comes a-wanderin over to do nothing but kiss Prowl on the top of the helm before shuffling off again.

Smek- Optimus kisses Prowl directly on his helm, and Prowl just sort of..

Freezes. Not necessarily in a bad way, more like the way a cat will freeze when something has touched its head. He is Experiencing... Something.

[best-head]

Tarantulas nudges her head into him, curling down over Prowl but not saying much of anything. Just her warm weight and soft, ragged breathing, arms protectively curled around his middle under his bumper.

Without skipping so much as a beat, Prowl reached up and behind him to cup her helm, other servo still fiddling away on his datapad.

After a few moments of curious silence, however, Prowl turned his helm towards hers, optics fixed on the screen. "What's wrong, Tarantulas?"

[best-head]

"Yes." It's a flat answer, too, as he squinted to stare at her middle section.

"Much rounder."

"Do I look a little pudgier to you?"

[best-head]

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Instead of answering, Prowl patted the seat next to him on the couch.

He seemed to be watching some sort of murder mystery movie, though he's alright to pause it.

He's already figured out who did what. "Tarantulas. ..how are you?"

[best-head]

Tarn is a large, purple mech- not a normal purple, though. Prowl's optic zoomed in and then out, again to get a better look. Did he do something to himself to make the paint bleed all the way through? As though he would drip purple if the armor was so much as cut or dented.

Prowl stared for a little while longer, and then, doorwings hiking up high, made his way over to look at Tarn up close, circling around him before nodding to himself.

"If Optimus wanted something from you, he'd of come, himself. I came to sit in on drills. Purely for speculation." His tone offered no room for arguments, however, and his optic, bright blue, peers at Tarn with all the intensity of the sun shining off an iceberg.

{ @best-head } Staaaaaaaare. He has been standing there for a very long time.

{ @best-head }

And Prowl can very much continue to stand right there, as far as Tarn is concerned, as Megatron ceded this courtyard and the surrounding wing of the Dormitory to the Justice Division as their new planetside base of operations.

He flexes his arm, dual fusion cannons shifting on their mounting before settling in place again. Tarn does not bother to muffle the irritated pitch of his engine— the former Enforcer is interrupting drills. “Tell your Prime we’re not interested in whatever pitch you’ve come to make for him.”

Behind him, Tesarus shoves a servo over Helex’s face as the two of them try to eavesdrop instead of continuing to wrestle.

[best-head]

Prowl sighs- and he is always sighing, but he seems to have a different sigh for every occasion. In this instance, he seems to sigh good-naturedly, just for Rung.

"Springer is doing well, as always. He's bigger than me, he eats more than his weight's worth. ...he's smart. Of course I wouldn't think anything differently, considering Tarantulas and I." Is he... bragging about Springer?

"Soup?"

“You got me! You have figured it out. Everything I have said and done in the last decade has been an elaborate plan to make you eat some soup and go to bed at a reasonable time. Come, put the cuffs on me.”

He’s even holding his wrists up to make it easier, the imp.

[best-head]

Prowl's nose scrunches in that way it does when he doesn't quite approve of something, and he does reach out, but only to grab Rung up, because he is big enough to be the one doing the holding, now, and not being held.

"Carrier. Be reasonable."

“You got me! You have figured it out. Everything I have said and done in the last decade has been an elaborate plan to make you eat some soup and go to bed at a reasonable time. Come, put the cuffs on me.”

He’s even holding his wrists up to make it easier, the imp.

[best-head]

You better watch out, Prowl, it’s the weekend and Sleepymus Prime is gonna getcha. He’s coming over there. He’s reaching. BE PREPARED.

Luckily for Optimus, Prowl is also sleepy, though his wings hike high as the proximity sensors alert him to Optimus' approach.

Is Optimus prepared for the sleepy scrunch Prowl gives him in response?