#Was bored and wrote this between writing notes for my studies ehehe

[ikkosu]

—IT was certainly a sight to see, especially so when it’s not so often that you’d witness the Autobot SIC waddle into your office just as he did now, cutting their discussion short — panting and chagrined as though he’d a run a mile from wherever he left.

“Apologies for being so late.” Prowl straightens up. He tries to ignore the heat of warmth crawling up his neck at the sight of two optics boring into his helm. A question unasked, and one not willing for an answer.

The worn medic and the Prime exchanged discreet glances. The former sported a questioning look, curious at the uncustomary tardiness.While, the Prime is more drawn to the peculiar state of his second in command. Who often was — almost always — impervious to unkempt grooming. There, the obvious scratches along the ridges of his doorwings glinted under the light. And, the unpolished metal plating on his chassis is seemingly chafed. Looking at him now, he’s all but kempt.

He made a mental note to ask him about that later. When he’s calmed down enough to be compliant, of course. If Prowl was rooked into some kind of mental turmoil with no means of expressing it — Optimus would consider his leadership to be a blunder. He’d never forgive himself if his Chief Strategist were to befall an ill kind of omen. One, from the malicious intent of his own servos because nobody else was there to help him out of it.

“Traffic?” Ratchet mused. 

Prime shoots him a look, but it was clear the medic wasn’t backing down.

“The shuttle was congested.” Prowl replies back coolly, locking his gaze.

Optimus nods in agreement. “I can imagine it must be hard to navigate through the halls with so many autobots. Wheeljack proposed we widen the hallways for easy transport. So your tardiness is as understandable as it is forgiven, right old friend?”

“Right.” Was all Ratchet said.

Prowl bristles slightly at his tone. Internally, Optimus sighs. “You don’t seem convinced.”

“He’s not often late to a debriefing so it is something unusual…”

“We all make mistakes once in a while, Ratchet.”

“Sure. I guess we all do.” He smiles. “Even the prim and proper enforcer does. Had a good rest last night? Heard you clocked out early.”

Prowl opens his intake. Then, shuts it. He became warm. Immediately reminded of a place he’d rather be — this morning, in his habsuite and your soft body on top. The noises he had wrung out of your lips. Above, below and behind, his hip against yours. Your grin, your hands, on his—

Prowl groans internally. You’re left unsatisfied and the thought of what’s to come later instinctively made his panel clamp up. Foolish little human testing his patience. At the face of Ratchet’s interrogation, if the medic is in his ruthless mood, his secret on the downlow is now privy to be heard on full display. Along with the many more ‘severe’ ramifications following if the knowledge of him managing to bed the human liaison is divulged. Especially, the younger mechs who had been so intent on courting the liaison.

“Yes,” He says, an edge to his tone. “ I made adjustments to my berth and it was adequately comfortable.”