Title: Firsts: Optimus Prime and Prowl
Author: Mirage Shinkiro
Rating: T
Warnings: mech/mech kissing, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: G1. Prowl is badly hurt on the battlefield, and Optimus can no longer hide his feelings.
A/N, explanation: This is the gift I promised to the reviewers of "Loveless." Enjoy!
Orn=day. The reboot inhibitor is from Crimson Starlight.
Thank you to pl2363 for beta reading and to everyone who reads and reviews!
Firsts: Optimus and Prowl
Optimus stared across the battlefield, horrified. These were the orns he hated most. They had driven the Decepticons away from a nuclear power plant, Prowl leading a team in from the right, Prime from the left, and Jazz's sneaking in behind, surrounding the 'Cons on all sides. The battle had gone well until halfway through the 'Cons' retreat, when Prowl had noticed a strange round device hidden by the facility's fence. Sideswipe had spotted one under the car in the employee's parking lot, and then reports of further sightings had suddenly poured in. Prowl, Optimus, and Jazz had all ordered their teams to fall back, but not before the bombs had exploded. Each one seemed to have been designed to do something slightly different, some hurling shrapnel, some releasing liquid nitrogen, and others, of course, simply exploding.
Even though Jazz had disarmed the one closest to the power plant, saving them from a potential nuclear explosion, many mechs had not gotten clear. Ratchet, Ironhide, and Hoist had hauled Tracks, Bumblebee, and Hound back to medbay. Wheeljack was conducting field repairs on Mirage, and several mechs with lesser injuries, like Sideswipe, had been ordered back to base. But what worried Optimus was that Prowl was missing. He led the search and rescue operation himself, with Jazz and Bluestreak also frantically searching through the wreckage of humans' cars, decimated out-buildings, and chunks of concrete. Prime lifted toppled car after toppled car and threw aside slabs of concrete trying to find Prowl, who despite their repeated vocal and comm. link calls had not answered.
Although he could pretend otherwise in public, Optimus knew he was motivated by more than professional concern. In fact, he was motivated by more than friendly concern. Ever since the intensity of his grief over Elita's death had slowly begun to settle into morose acceptance, Prime had found himself noticing his longtime friend and SIC in ways he hadn't before: the way his crimson chevron adorned his smooth face, the way his doorwings arched gracefully on his back. His barely-there smiles, quiet humor, and subtle care. When Optimus was overworked, Prowl would lay a gentle hand on his arm or shoulder, murmur encouraging words, and give him unwavering support. Faith, friendship, help, affection . . .
And now, on Prime's side, love. He had to find Prowl immediately. He hoped Prowl wasn't as badly hurt as he feared, but if he were, Optimus wanted to hold him close, take care of him, or rush him back to medbay himself if need be. "Prowl!" he yelled as he moved further away from the plant and into the lower reaches of the employees' parking lot.
A faint, static-filled groan met his call. Prime whipped around to see a pile of two cars and a truck with one white foot sticking out below them. His spark jumped as terror surged through his lines, and he ran over, lifting away the ruined vehicles to reveal Prowl underneath. The sight that greeted him kicked him in the tank with horror. Prowl was covered in dents and scratches, shrapnel embedded in his right leg, side, arm, and shoulder. Purple processed energon leaked from the wounds, running in rivulets down Prowl's white paint.
"Prowl!" Optimus knelt at his side, checking him over to be sure it was safe to move him.
"Op . . . ti . . . mus . . ." Prowl reached a shaky, white hand toward him.
Prime clutched the offered hand gently. "You'll be okay." He threw open his comm. link to a wideband one so the entire search team could hear. ::Prime to Wheeljack. I've found Prowl in the lower parking lot. He's hurt. Come immediately.::
::Yes, sir!:: came the abrupt reply.
Seeing Wheeljack, Jazz, and Bluestreak head his way, Prime hesitated then decided he didn't care what others thought. He wanted too — no, needed to — hold Prowl, and he hoped he could offer him comfort that way. "Prowl? May I pick you up?"
Prowl nodded faintly, and Optimus sat down fully on the ground, carefully pulling Prowl onto his lap. He kept Prowl's uninjured side tucked into his body and made sure his arms and hands didn't press on the shrapnel. Prowl's plating was cool to the touch, and Optimus could hear the faint wheeze as Prowl drew air through his intakes. An oxygen line must have been cut or perhaps a vent dented. "Wheeljack's on his way," he whispered, hiding his worry. "You're going to be fine."
Resting his helm on Prime's shoulder, Prowl gazed up at him, optics surging overly-bright and clearly in pain. Still, the look at passed between them was one of trust. "Please . . . can you stay by me?"
That simple request, so very personal and so divorced from Prowl's professional demeanor, told Optimus what he needed to know: Prowl didn't just see him as a CO. "Of course." If Prowl needed it, Optimus would have moved the moon out of its orbit.
Prowl gave him the tiniest smile and relaxed against him, slipping offline. Reaching up with one hand, Optimus traced his fingertips over Prowl's lax face, across his bumper, then down one leg. So precious. Optimus wanted to love him and protect him forever, take away all his pain. It wasn't a realistic desire, perhaps, but it was what his spark cried out for. "I love you," he whispered to the unconscious form, pressing a kiss to his chevron.
Wheeljack arrived first, and after administering first aid, he helped Jazz and Bluestreak load Prowl into Prime's trailer. Prowl's request was granted: Optimus stayed with him.
oOoOo
Three orns passed before Ratchet commed Optimus. Of course, Prime had stopped by to visit Prowl each evening, checking on his progress, but Ratchet had left Prowl offline since his battle computer had taken damage. He'd checked on everyone else in medbay as well, but his extra concern for Prowl had been noted by Ratchet, who'd promised to tell him when he was going to bring Prowl online.
::It's time, sir,:: Ratchet said simply, and Optimus immediately headed for medbay.
When Optimus entered the room, he found Ratchet standing on one side of Prowl's medberth, a small smirk playing about his lips. "I don't need to reformat you into a microwave, do I?"
Prime stood opposite of Ratchet, one hand reaching out to rest on Prowl's shoulder of its own freewill. "What do you mean?"
"A little friendly medical advice: stop dancing around each other." Ratchet shook his head and removed the reboot inhibitor from Prowl's forehead.
Swallowing the urge to demand an explanation from Ratchet, Optimus gazed at Prowl, listening to the electronic hum as his systems brought him back online. With a surge, blue optics suddenly met his own.
"Optimus?" Prowl's voice was a whisper.
Taking Prowl's smaller white hand into his own, Optimus patted it. "You're fully repaired now."
"But still off-duty for another orn," Ratchet snapped. "Refuel repeatedly and take it easy." He glanced between them, then retreated.
Optimus helped Prowl sit up slowly. "How do you feel?"
"Stiff and a bit dazed." Prowl let Optimus assist him to his feet as well. "How are the others?"
"Fine. You're the last one to be released other than Tracks, who needs both his winglets replaced." Optimus nodded toward the door. "May I take you to your quarters?"
That barely-there smile quirked up the corners of Prowl's lips, and Optimus had a sudden urge to kiss him. "Certainly."
Gently leading Prowl out of the medbay, Prime tucked Prowl's hand into the crook of his elbow, supporting him faintly. Prowl didn't say anything, his head bowed and the small smile still teasing his mouth. Optimus felt as though his spark were bursting with unexpressed feelings, and given Ratchet's jab, he was trying to decide whether to mention them or not. After all, Ratchet had said 'quit dancing around each other.'
When they reached Prowl's quarters, Prowl punched in the keycode and gestured for Optimus to accompany him inside. "Thank you," he murmured as they entered the cabin and the door closed. He lifted his face, gazing up at Optimus and full smile blooming over his lips. "And thank you for staying with me on the battlefield."
"You're welcome." Unable to quell his impulses, Optimus reached up with his free hand and repeated his actions of three orns earlier: he ran his fingertips over Prowl's beautiful face until he cupped his cheek. "I was very worried about you. I — " How did he say it? How did he admit his feelings had launched far past friendship? He caressed Prowl's cheekseam with his thumb.
Prowl leaned into Prime's touch, his optics dimming slightly. "I know," he said simply.
Ostensibly, Prowl was referring to Optimus' comment about being worried, but Optimus realized that wasn't what Prowl was saying at all. He released Prowl's hand from the crook of his elbow and instead wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Prowl's doorwings fluttered behind him, and he wrapped his arms around Prime's waist.
"I care for you," Optimus whispered, caught between his confidence and a very normal fear of rejection. "Slowly, you've become a staple in my life, and I don't just mean professionally. I would like to be more than friends."
Prowl's doorwings fluttered again, and Optimus had to fight the urge to caress them. The more open Prowl had become around him, the more expressive his doorwings were. "I have wished for that longer than you can imagine."
Warm armor pressed against his as Prowl leaned into their embrace, eliciting tingling along Prime's chest. Retracting his battle mask, Optimus tilted up Prowl's face, leaning down to brush their lips together. They were soft, molding to his as they gently mouthed each other. Prowl caught Prime's lower lip, sucking it and then brushing his glossa along it, and Prime responded with a moan, caressing the glossa that met his own. They pulled each other close, their plating rubbing together and generating friction as their feelings poured out.
When they finally pulled away, they were faintly breathless, panting air through their vents. Wordlessly, Optimus led Prowl to his couch, and they settled side-by-side, embracing one another and leaning into each other's sides. Optimus sneaked a kiss onto Prowl's chevron, and he smiled up at him.
"Stay by me?" Prowl whispered.
Realizing he didn't just mean physically, Optimus returned the smile. "Always."