"Hi." Haunted baby blue optics looked fearfully into Prowl's own as the gunner stood fidgeting in front of the tactician's quarters.
"Bluestreak." Prowl's normal cold and distant expression melted into a warm smile. "Come in."
Grey doorwings perked up slightly as their owner followed the elder Praxian into the small yet comfortable living area. "Energon?"
"Mmhmm. Please." Bluestreak sighed as he settled on the large, plush sofa, leaning into the pillows arranged to cushion doorwings. Prowl returned and handed a cube to the young mech, who accepted it gratefully. He sat down, a doorwing brushing against the smaller Praxian as he did.
"To be honest, Blue, I was expecting you earlier. It was a bad battle today."
"Yeah," he said softly. "I didn't want to impose. I just couldn't stay in my room anymore, not alone." He shivered, old memories resurfacing.
The tactician gave Bluestreak a look and frowned slightly. "Never think you are imposing, Bluestreak. Especially after a battle."
The gunner nodded, draining his cube. He shifted position, pulling his feet up onto the cushions and leaning on Prowl. The black and white put his arm around the other, nestling him snugly against the side of his frame.
"I hate it, Prowl," Blue whispered after a while. "I hate fighting, I hate this war. I just want it to be over. I don't ever want to have to shoot anyone ever again. I don't want to watch my friends get hurt or... or die. I hate it."
The elder brushed the side of the mech's helm comfortingly and sighed heavily. "I know. I know..." He rested his white helm upon the grey of the gunner's and pressed a small kiss to his chevron. A tiny whimper escaped Bluestreak's vocaliser and he buried his face in Prowl's armour, clutching at the tactician as if his life depended on it.
With a narrow-band signal, Prowl started up some music, a quiet, soothing piece that somehow reminded him of Praxus, even though it was a human composition. He stroked the younger mech's armour, comforting him. The sobs died down eventually, the quaking form gradually relaxing against him.
Arms still wrapped around Prowl's midsection, Bluestreak said in a small voice, "Thanks, Prowl. No one else understands. They all expect me to be upbeat and talkative all the time, but you don't."
"I only expect you to be who you are. I love you-the real you. This person you don't show to anyone else." He hugged the gunner tightly to him, feeling it returned. A soft smile graced his lips, extending to his cobalt optics as Blue lifted his head. Warmth spread through his spark when the young Datsun smiled back brightly.
"I love you, too, Prowl."
Feedback is love. Critique welcome; I'm always wanting to improve.