Star-Crossed: Off the Record Part 2

[okamichan]

Star-Crossed:Off the Record Part 1


Prowl leapt to his feet and whirled to face the source of the sudden exclamation, his gun in his hand. He trembled with the power that surged through his frame; prepared to fight (though what he couldn't name), prepared to retreat (though where didn't compute at the moment), prepared to do one to accomplish the other.

Blue optics peeked out from behind cobalt arms. "Are you done with throwing things at me, sir?"

Prowl stared at the cobalt arms, unable to register the orange chassis and red hands that should have stood out even more clearly than the Autobot insignia. The room spun as Prowl suddenly had to convince his imagers not to replace his own quarters with the one in Halifax. The mech in front of him with the Decepticons who had held him. His battle computer threatened to lock under the onslaught of conflicting emotions spurred by those cobalt arms.

A red hand suddenly grasped Prowl's shoulder plate. "Sir, are you okay?"

Prowl jerked away from the touch, smacking the hand away with his gun before turning the weapon on the mech in his office. "Who the frag are you?" Just as he said it, he realized that he didn't recognize this mech. He didn't match any personnel on base. Protocol demanded that Prowl contact security for any unidentified individuals.

"I'm Punch, sir."

The gun didn't waver from the mech. The name didn't register on Prowl's personnel database. However…

What if Optimus had acquired new personnel during Prowl's absence? Did he have the most up-to-date personnel list? He couldn't immediately recall if he'd updated his database since coming online.

But no, because he would have required access to his workspace.

"What is your unit?"

"Er…"

"Answer me or I will contact security."

The mech flinched. "Ah, wait before you do that…"

Prowl activated his comm. 'Prowl to security…'

Static.

Alarm jolted through Prowl's frame, the connection between dilemma and reason made in an astroseconds of processing power, and he lunged for the mech who was still standing in arm's reach.

Punch not only dodged the blow, but he knocked Prowl off his feet and pinned him to the floor.

Prowl lost track of what exactly happened within the following breem. The next thing he was aware of he had his back to the wall farthest from his intruder, and the mech was crouched on the floor with his hands held out like he was placating some feral drone. Prowl's gun lay some distance away from either of them, tossed to the side in the scuffle that Prowl didn't recall.

He just remembered…

A weight on his frame…

Hands on his plates…

Laughing (red) optics above a mask….

No… no. That was wrong. This was not Vertigo. This was not Halifax.

"My apologies, sir. I… react badly to being attacked. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Prowl stared at the other mech, incredulous, the words processing over and over again in his CPU. He knew there was something else he should be focused on, but he couldn't bring it forward into his active processes. "You react badly…?"

"Ah… well, yeah. Sorry. I guess you would, too?"

"Who are you?" And there it was, that thing that Prowl needed to act upon; this stranger in a base where he should know every name and face and energy signature. "How did you get in here?"

The stranger didn't stand from his crouch and slid closer to Prowl. "I'm an Autobot. Why wouldn't I be here?" He then stood and offered his red hand to Prowl.

Prowl eyed the hand, gauging the mech's stance and alertness. He hadn't been able to lay a finger on the other mech. He narrowed his optics at Punch. "An Autobot? Why aren't you in my database?"

Punch grinned, his optics narrowed above his mask with his amusement. "I may not be in the database you can access, sir, but I assure you, I'm in someone's database."

Prowl stared at the mech's face, every gear and tensor in his body winding up. Words could be spoken by anyone, and anyone could hit different tones in their speech. But just like the coded words in the cell, the way Punch said that caught Prowl's attention, activating a subroutine that undeniably identified the one speaking as an Autobot undercover agent.

The same subroutine that had clued Prowl into the red mech that Prowl could now place as one of Jazz's disguises. Primus, that was Jazz? Getting one of his agents out of Halifax… but who…?

Prowl's optics snapped up to the orange and blue Autobot. "Counterpunch."

The blue optics narrowed, but the head tilted in acknowledgement. "I'm Punch here. Let's not mention that name again, 'kay?"

A deep cover agent here? In his office? Prowl couldn't even compute what the mech could want from him. The idiot!

Prowl drew his doorwings up, gears tightening in his shoulders and side. "If you're not in our database, you shouldn't be wandering around the base on your own." Prowl flicked his wings, the image of red optics too prevalent in his processor. "Protocol dictates that you remain in your designated area, unless accompanied by your superior officer. You realize there is a reason I know nothing of you as either alias." For surely Punch was as fake a name as Counterpunch.

"Well, my superior officer leads by example; he's never been one for protocol."

"Your superior officer knows his responsibilities and only shirks those he can get away with. He would not have authorized this visit. What are you doing here?"

Punch stilled. "I had to see that you made it out okay. The boss said he would give you the information and you'd act on it. I just… wasn't sure I believed him. You spend enough time around the Decepticons and you start doubting everyone."

Prowl scowled, but his doorwings shifted in a brief moment of surprise. He regarded the mech in silent contemplation. "I stand before you, functioning and cognizant. That should satisfy you." Prowl turned his back on the mech.

"Are you?" The mech's gaze burned across Prowl's doorwings. "I'm sure that's why you're in here instead of your office, poring over old data pads instead of new reports. I'm sure that's why you're hiding in your quarters instead of finding time to be with those twins of yours."

Prowl glared at the mech from over his shoulder. Primus, he had actually forgotten that Counterpunch knew his secret. He should kill the mech before he had a chance to reveal it to anyone.

Punch laughed. "Oh? Was that murder I saw in your optics just now? And you say you are functional?"

Prowl had already frozen in shock at his own thoughts. Surely that would not be the first alternative he would think of to protect his secret.

Yet he recalled that Decepticon begging for mercy as he lay on the ground and how he'd just left him there to die in the explosion.

The door chimed then and Jazz's voice sang over the doorcomm. "Prowler~! You in there?"

Prowl's doorwings flitted back and he glanced at his unwanted visitor. "That will probably be for you."

Punch's optics lit up. "I wondered how long it would take him to track me down."

Prowl opened the door remotely from where he stood, permitting the saboteur entrance to his quarters.

Jazz waltzed in, grin on his face as always. He observed the tableau set out before him without his expression changing. "Punch, man, whatcha doing here? Ya ain't s'pposed ta be here."

"Just checking up on Prowl here. I've heard that he had a mission that went a little sour. I was actually about to leave." Punch waved as he walked out the door.

Prowl turned to Jazz, his doorwings still stiff behind him. "Your subordinate is going to get himself killed walking around here so blithely."

Jazz turned his hands palm up. "He got here no problem. I'm sure he can get back to his designated area without incident. Not like you'll have to worry about writing that report. Poor 'Breaker and 'Screen, they've done nothing but complain complain complain since ya left. They never realized how much data work ya have to go through. They wanted me to help, but I declined."

Prowl would have smiled another time. "I'm certain your reasons had nothing to do with your disdain for anything that resembles hard work."

"Hey now I don't mind hard work! Ya think I don't work hard on the field?"

Prowl didn't deign to answer that. He turned and bent to pick up the pieces of the game that had fallen off his desk in the earlier scuffle.

Fingers brushed the edge of Prowl's doorwings, and the tactician straightened, having not realized that Jazz had moved so much closer. The urge to take a step back built up, but Prowl refused to keep giving in to his emotions. Knowing, as he did, that allowing emotions to dominate him would eventually cause his battle computer to crash. The last he needed was to go back to Ratchet so soon. He allowed himself to deny that he didn't want to return to anywhere that reminded him of anywhere in Halifax.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Prowl tilted his wings. "I'm fine."

"Are ya sure? You've been-"

"I'm fine. Thank you for sending that message."

Jazz laughed, and yet despite the smile on his face, it came out as hollow as from a tube. "Yeah, well, there was no slagging way I was leaving you with the slagsucking 'Cons. Especially after what you'd been through! Not that I would have left you anyways, annnnd I'm rambling like Bluestreak."

Prowl gave Jazz a speaking look and went back to picking up his scattered game pieces. "I do not doubt that they could have been treating us like honored guests and you still would have made a point of getting us out anyways."

"Prob'ly. I'da done it no matter what, though." Jazz paused, and Prowl glanced up at his sudden silence.

"Do ya wanna talk about it?"

Prowl's optics brightened. "No." Not with you. Not with anyone. No one would understand. No one except…

"Alright. But'cha know, I'm here, if you do wanna talk, right?

"Yes, thank you." But I'll never talk to you. There are things involved that you simply cannot find out.

Jazz stood for a spattering of astroseconds, inscrutable expression on his face.

Prowl didn't know how to answer; he didn't know what kind of answer Jazz was expecting.

"Guess I should make sure my mech don't cause anymore problems." Jazz strode out of the room in Prowl's silence. "Oh hey! Here to see Prowl? Yeah, he's sulking."

Prowl straightened, ostensibly to deposit the gathered pieces into the gamebox, but also to see who Jazz had greeted at the door.

Sideswipe slipped past Jazz, who strode away from the room without a second glance back. The Toughline, however, paused to watch the mech disappear behind the doors. Contemplative optics turned on Prowl. "Sulking? I don't think I'd ever heard of you sulking before."

Prowl frowned, his systems tracking Jazz's signal away from his quarters. "I don't sulk."

Sideswipe's optics coursed over Prowl from where he stood by the door. "If you say so. Primus, it's good to see you shining again."

Prowl swept his optics over the all new, and shiny paint job. "The same."

Sideswipe moved closer to Prowl. "What was Jazz doing here?"

"He was looking in on me, to make sure I couldn't sulk in peace. The same as you."

Sideswipe grinned. "But you don't sulk."

Prowl narrowed his optics, but nodded. "That is correct, and so both you and Jazz have unnecessarily wasted your time on my account. Should I apologize for your bad judgment?"

Sideswipe's grin didn't fade. "Not to me. I don't have bad judgment. You're just in denial. Maybe Jazz will need an apology, later."

Black and white doorwings snapped up. "Denial? Denial? Sideswipe, you may wish to see Ratchet about having your optics checked. I am not in denial. I do not sulk."

Sideswipe stood in front of Prowl, and rubbed his thumb over the edge of Prowl's cheek guard. "No? Prowl you left an energon cube in the rec room without even touching it. Your desk is a mess, and don't think I can't see that datapad on the floor over there." His horned head tilted. "If you're not sulking, than what's bothering you?"

Prowl pressed his lips together, focused on a shiny spot on the red chestplate. "There is nothing bothering me. We made it out safely, and are back with the Autobots. Why should I be bothered?"

Sideswipe tilted his head, his fingertips lifting to Prowl's (broken sparking painful) chevron. "Yeah, well. Why shouldn't you be bothered? You've just been held captive by the Cons and…" He broke off, his lips pulled back from his dental plates, and vents whirring on suddenly.

Prowl's doorwings shivered, and he turned away from (hands that dug into his doorwings and tore strip after strip off the panels) Sideswipe. "I am fine, 'Smokescreen.' If anything my recent visitor has disturbed me more than any mere memories can."

Sideswipe laughed. "Jazz?"

Prowl disregarded the image of the orange and cobalt double agent, as Sideswipe did not need to know that mech was in this base. Not that knowing about Jazz would be any better for security purposes.

Motion caught the periphery of Prowl's optic sensors and he lurched away from the hand that reached for him.

Sideswipe lowered his hand to his side, optics narrowed. "What is it?"

Prowl straightened, "I told you I'm fine. I just…" Don't want to be touched.

No.

He couldn't tell Sideswipe that. Because it was a lie. He wanted contact, he wanted to assure himself that Sideswipe wasn't a processor phantom, and that he hadn't trapped himself into a fantasy of his non-existent creative processors. "I expected to go back to work…"

"But Ratchet stuck you on medical leave anyways. Yeah I'd heard." Sideswipe reached out again.

Prowl frowned, watching the approaching hand. "Everyone has heard, I'd assume. Stop that." He batted the hand away.

Sideswipe lifted his brow ridges, and reangled his arm. "They sure have. Am I bothering you?"

Prowl glared at the finger attempting to touch his cheek. "Wonderful. You're not bothering me." He grabbed the offending hand, before the digit could reach him. "You're just not catching any hints."

Sideswipe drew the white hand to his lips. "I'm catching them. I'm just ignoring the ones I don't like."

Systems reacted as though three dozen hydraulipedes skittered over his plating. His engine shivered. "You shouldn't do that." His vocal register dropped a few octaves, and the jitter of his engine forced a purr out of him he hadn't intended.

Sideswipe's optics brightened. His dental plates scraped at Prowl's knuckles, insufferable grin on his face. His thumb stroked over Prowl's fingers, and he pressed a kiss on the spot he'd just caressed. "Why not?" he purred back.

Prowl tugged his hand free of Sideswipe's grasp, grateful the mech hadn't tried to hold his hand. He caressed Sideswipe's cheek seam, splaying his finger across the repaired expanse of Sideswipe's cheek.

Sideswipe turned his face toward Prowl's touch, venting a contented sigh. Blue optics met Prowl's gaze, soft light glowing onto the black helm.

Prowl dropped his hand, and narrowed his optics. He took the last step into Sideswipe's space. His doorwings lifted and he pressed his nasal ridge toward Sideswipe's own face.

Sideswipe waited, not even leaning toward Prowl's lips.

Prowl could see the temptation and the effort that restraint took.

"There. See you can behave."

Sideswipe grinned. "Only for you, sparkles." His arm slid around Prowl's waist.

Prowl shoved Sideswipe away, metal clanking as Sideswipe stumbled against the desk. "That was not behaving, Sideswipe." Prowl closed the space between them again, his optics flaring. "I did not give you permission to touch me."

Sideswipe's optics dimmed, and he leaned away from Prowl.

Prowl almost snapped at him over the motion, but something in the mech's expression gave him pause. Made him back just a few centimeters from his lover.

Sideswipe turned his face away. "Prowl…" His hand fell over Prowl's on the desk. "You're avoiding the question about Jazz."

Prowl looked down at their hands on the table, black over white. Black fingers clenched onto the white hand. He registered the dentations left by the grip. Why did Sideswipe press so hard? "Well, yes. I am actually. It's a security matter."

Blue optics regarded Prowl with an intensity not normally found off the battlefield. Then comprehension lit the mech actions. "Primus! You're kidding me." A growl rumbled out of the mech's engine and he slid away from Prowl. "That fragger. Acting like he actually gives a damn about what happened."

Prowl tilted his chevron at his soldier and lover. "Why do you say that?"

Black fist clenched at his thigh, Sideswipe glared at the door. "Because he didn't do a slagging thing to stop Starscream."

Prowl's engine revved, disturbed at the mention of that name. He hadn't expected Sideswipe to bring it up. "He was on a mission, Sideswipe. He did what he could."

"Did he?" Sideswipe spat.

Prowl vented a sigh. He didn't exactly want to talk about what happened in Halifax. It was too painful, too close still for him to even think about. He had lost control; he had nearly lost Sideswipe. How close had his lover been to death. It was a fact of their relationship that often went unspoken. Prowl realized that Sideswipe would most likely die before him. But in battle. Not chained up in a Decepticon base, suffering the slow death of torture.

Light flashed across Sideswipe's chestplate as he moved closer to rest a hand against Prowl's bumper.

Prowl frowned, once again discomfited of his lover's touch of all things. He shook off Sideswipe's hands , and swung about forcing Sideswipe to stumble a step back before he could be struck by an errant doorwing.

Sideswipe reached for Prowl.

Prowl stopped his lover's hand with a tight grip. His systems jittered with the feel of hands on him. (Blue hands and red optics. Claws scraping over once pristine paint. The deep chuckle, the screeching cackle of enemies.)

Prowl suddenly realized that the two stood alone in the same room for the first time since before the Neutrals had captured them in the safehouse. He took in Sideswipe's painted and polished frame, and couldn't help but recall that beautiful paint job scored and scratched, the metal plating filled with dents and holes. Just a she couldn't help but to recall the phantom sensations of hands across his plating at Sideswipe's idlest touch.

"Don't look at me like that, Prowl. Frag, I don't want your pity."

Surprised, Prowl took in Sideswipe's own expression. "The same should apply to you. I don't want your pity."

Sideswipe straightened, as though surprised Prowl had noticed his stare. He relaxed, and met Prowl's gaze. "They really took you off duty?"

Prowl scowled and broke his lover's gaze. It wasn't Sideswipe's fault. "Yes."

A brief grin flashed across the red mech's face. "You torqued?"

Prowl glared at the warrior from under his chevron.

Sideswipe suddenly chuckled and reached out, beckoning Prowl closer. "Right, stupid question."

Prowl sighed and stepped into Sideswipe's reach. "They didn't exactly ask my opinion on the matter."

Sideswipe laughed and took Prowl's elbow, trailing his fingers down Prowl's wrist to grasp the white hand. "You know, most sane mechs actually want some time off after they've been through the Pit and back. Sunny and me are still on light duty."

Prowl stared at the black hand tweaking his fingers, his optics narrow. "Well, I must admit that there should be some question of my sanity, considering I do maintain a relationship with you."

Sideswipe laughed and pulled the tactician into his embrace, black hands clenched on the white canopy. The black helm came to rest on Prowl's chest, and Sideswipe's arms tightened around the officer. Sideswipe continued to laugh, until finally he looked up with bright optics. "Sunny would definitely agree with that, sparkles."

Prowl stared down at the black helm on his protrusive hood, disturbed in ways that he could not parse with this normal situation. He forced himself to rest a hand against Sideswipe's helm. "Don't call me sparkles."

The laughter disappeared and Sideswipe tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against Prowl's nasal ridge. "Make me."

Prowl drew away, some of his systems snapping into high gear while the others continued to slog around at a normal pace. He stared down at Sideswipe who peered back up at him.

The warrior's blue optics widened when Prowl leaned back down and grabbed his chin. "Believe me, I can."

Sideswipe's ventilators cycled a little faster, and Prowl's ramped up to match. "You haven't been able to, so far."

Prowl increased the strength of his grip, until the metal squealed under his fingers. "You don't think I can make you stop for the span of a joor? I have that much free time on my hands."

The hands on Prowl's waist tightened, but he had detected the small rattle against his hip plates.

Prowl tilted his head, but it was an effort to open his fingers even a few increments. His other hand came to rest on the desk next to Sideswipe's aft. "Am I frightening you?"

A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of the warrior's mouth. "I... uh... wasn't expecting... You sure you're okay with this?"

The white hand gripping Sideswipe's chin slid up to stroke the warrior's cheek seam. "If I wasn't, would I be doing this?" The hand traveled up to snag Sideswipe's audio horn, and yanked his head back.

A soft whine escaped Sideswipe's lips. Prowl caught it before it ended, vibrations that pattered against his mouth, their lips mashed together in the rough semblance of a passionate kiss.

Sideswipe broke away first, his optics wide, but his expression otherwise unreadable. "Well, no you wouldn't. But I thought that after… I mean… I always thought… It just seems too soon, you know. I don't wanna… don't wanna hurt you."

Suddenly Sideswipe's babbling made sense, and Prowl couldn't help the soft smile that grew on his face. "I'm okay, really." To prove it, he released Sideswipe's audio horn and pressed their lips together in a far gentler kiss.

Sideswipe responded, his hands inching back to Prowl's doorwings, where his fingers played over the hinges and wires that lay within the joint. He kissed Prowl's cheek, and his chin. His dental plates scraped over Prowl's cheekguard.

Prowl turned his head into his lover's attention, but he couldn't account for the apprehension that churned his fuel tanks. He took hold of Sideswipe's audio horn and turned the mech's mouth back to his own.

This slow passion wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He needed it. His systems surged at the feel of Sideswipe's tender caresses, the gentle strokes of hinges and wires. He allowed Sideswipe the touches, determined that the mech would not be able to touch for much longer. He could indulge Sideswipe in this. Prowl knew how his lover enjoyed being able to touch his body, and he could endure it for that alone.

He would have his turn soon enough.

Sideswipe kissed and fondled Prowl as though he would never again. Prowl could count the revolutions as his engine picked up speed, knowing the excitement that his lover felt, even if it was not something he shared at that particular moment.

Prowl decided he'd waited long enough and he shoved Sideswipe down on the desk. He shook the black fingers out of his door hinges and broke their kiss. He straddled Sideswipe's waist, his doorwings flared out to their fullest extent, a pleasing pull on his servomotors.

A black hand landed on Prowl's hood. "What the frag are you-"

He would not lose control again.

"Kneel."

Blue optics blinked at him, uncomprehending.

Prowl's fingers tightened, and his optics brightened. "Get down on your knees, Sides."

Sideswipe frowned, but obediently lowered himself, until his head came level with Prowl's torso.

Prowl regarded Sideswipe, who looked back up at him pensively. White fingers stroked down his lover's cheeks, an attempt to soothe. He doubted it worked, however, as Sideswipe tilted his head away from Prowl's fingers. Sideswipe's optics widened, and the gears throughout his body hummed tensely.

Frowning, Prowl grabbed Sideswipe's chin with his other hand and stroked his cheek again. Sideswipe jerked away, his optics bright and lips pressed together.

Prowl didn't want Sideswipe so tense; he wanted his lover to relax. He wanted Sideswipe to trust him, and he wasn't if he was so tense. Prowl kissed him, a tender press of lips. Sideswipe's optics finally dimmed, and the hum of tensor cables faded as he relaxed. The black hands reached up and stroked Prowl's magplates.

Prowl allowed this for only two breem, opening his mouth to stroke Sideswipe's lips with his dental plates. Warm air rushed over Prowl's face as Sideswipe met his kiss with an eagerness that Prowl could not stir within himself.

Finally, he couldn't take any more and he shoved the hands off his shoulders, and pushed Sideswipe away. "Don't touch me, again."

Sideswipe's brow furrowed in confusion, and then understanding widened his optics.

Prowl pressed a finger to his lips before a sound could escape. "Don't speak, until I give you permission."

Sideswipe shuddered, but nodded. Wide optics brightened and never left Prowl.

Air hissed out of his vents, and he flicked his doorwings once. Like a cyberwolf with an injured titanium moosebot, Prowl circled Sideswipe, aware of the sensors that tracked his every move.

Engine running hot already, and Prowl hadn't even touched him yet, Sideswipe crouched into himself, optics far brighter than normal. "Prowl..."

Prowl frowned, and stopped his circling. He stepped forward, and seized the back of Sideswipe's neck. "I told you not to speak." A manipulation of the flow of energy through his hands and Sideswipe's vocalizer screeched with feedback.

Prowl brought his other hand up, and traced his fingers down the seam in his cheek. He smiled, though not in humor, or even joy, and gazed into the wide optics that stared up at him. "What do I need to do to make you listen?"

Sideswipe shuddered, and his hands suddenly clamped onto Prowl's wrists. His dental plates ground together, and a whine built in his screeching vocalizer.

Prowl yanked his arms out of the warrior's hands. "I told you not to touch me!"

Sideswipe held his hands up, vocalizer glitching, mouth working to form words.

Prowl pressed his fingers down Sideswipe's back, metal squealing as paint scraped off his plates. He knelt down, his lips hovering next to the warrior's audio horn. "What is your problem? You are not usually this disobedient so early on? Do I need to start your lessons over?"

As he spoke, he kept up a current running through his hands, sending it through Sideswipe's frame, and mingling it with the warrior's own energy field.

Sideswipe twitched under his hands. Black fingers dug into Sideswipe's thighs, and the garbled whine suddenly spat like words. "Staahhhhhhhp."

Prowl narrowed his optics, and leaned around the mech to see his face. "Sides?"

Terror, and his jaw still moved in words he couldn't seem to utter.

Prowl cut the energy he had flowing through his hands, and smoothed his fingers over the plating he touched. His lover's name passed whispered past his lips again.

"Ah-" Bright optics, too bright for even arousal, gears humming, engine droning and grinding. Sideswipe shivered in Prowl's grasp. "Optimus." Blue optics finally turned to meet Prowl's alarmed gaze. "I don't-" He curled into himself, plating clattering together.

Prowl pulled away, optics wide, and face slack.

Sideswipe's clutched his arms to his chest, fingers curled over the corners of his chestplate. "I don't want to do this, right now."

Prowl rocked back on his heels. His voice sounded so small. What had he almost done? He hadn't been the only one who had suffered in that Decepticon cell. He shouldn't have pushed Sideswipe so soon. Oh Primus, he should have known better!

A small sigh shivered out of the warrior's vents. "Sorry. "

Prowl shook his head, numbly. Both to clear his processor, and to dismiss his lover's apology. "Don't be." 'It's not your fault!' He had no reason to be sorry.

Prowl should be the one apologizing.

Tentatively, Prowl reached out, and pulled Sideswipe to him. He encased the warrior in his embrace. He had never meant to hurt his lover, his friend.

Sideswipe clung to him, engine stuttering and optics still far too, too bright.

Prowl's plating still crawled with the phantom of too much touch. Even though he knew it was Sideswipe in his arms...

He had no control here.

He couldn't stay. He couldn't risk hurting Sideswipe.

He didn't want that. Primus, he would never be able to live with himself.

Prowl stepped into Prime's office.

Optimus looked up from his desk, tilted his head and raised his optic ridges. "Prowl, what an unexpected surprise. Are you enjoying your leave?"

Prowl tilted his head, glaring at Optimus. "I don't believe I need to answer that question."

Prime's optics narrowed (red optics that narrowed, and smirked) and brightened. His mask lifted in a smile, and he propped his chin in the palm of his hand.

A moment was all it took for Prowl to analyze his commander's posture. Then irritation flashed through him. Hydraulics hissed as he leaned forward an infinitesimal amount.

Prime's optics brightened, but he didn't move away from the tactician at all.

Prowl flicked his doorwings and backed a step away from subtle tease. He would not let Optimus get a rise from him with this. "I was wondering if I could have the leave lifted-"

"No."

Frowning, Prowl pulled a datapad from subspace and handed it over to his commander. "I already have Ratchet's permission," he grated the word out with a rumble of gears and buzz in his vocalizer, how it irked him to have to ask in the first place, "I simply needed your approval."

Brow ridge lifted in surprise, Prime took the datapad from Prowl and turned it so that he could read it. A sigh vented out of his mouth, and he glanced up at Prowl. "You still want to do that?"

Prowl nodded once. "It is best for us to appear that nothing has changed despite the recent incident. It was a morale booster to begin with. Give them a visual, to see that I am functioning and still capable of my duty."

Optimus' mask lowered in a frown.

So, Prowl played another card. "It is only light duty, that I am asking for. I also would find it pleasing to have the opportunity to thank Ultra Magnus for his timely intervention."

The blue optics above the stern mask dimmed.

"He is a friend, and I do miss seeing him." Let Optimus take that how he wanted.

Prime apparently interpreted that exactly as Prowl predicted. "Ah, I see." His optics drifted down to the datapad, and he examined the information written on it silently for a breem. "If Ratchet has approved, then I suppose that I have no reason to refuse. However," and his suddenly fierce tone belied the dimness of his optics, "I just got you back from the Decepticons, and I do not wish a repeat of that. I expect you to keep a full escort with you at all times throughout your trip."

Prowl tilted his head in assent. "Of course." He expected nothing otherwise. Sideswipe would not be among them. He refused to lose control in front of Sideswipe like that again.

Ultra Magnus would understand, at least partially.

Prowl hated feeling so helpless. Even the very memory of it disturbed him to the point of stalling and even fritzing his battle computer. He would deal with it, and then delete the memories from his immediate harddrive.

He couldn't delete the memory from his spark though and it would live on in phantom touches and baseless fear that would arise again in times of helplessness. In the clutches of a former friend.

Author's Note: As a reminder, 'Optimus' is their safeword. Thus ends the Halifax arc. FINALLY.