Ok, first off, IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY

THERE'S NO TWINSXBEE IN HERE YET except for a teenie hint.

i believe i promised it to you, but this plot is proving more drawn out than i anticipated. It's still coming of course, and i will certainly endeavour to have it in the next chapter!

HOWEVER to make up for it, Prowl and Jazz are both self stimulating for you ;D

Angsty prowl is Angsty.

And sulky Bee is sulky. well... he will be.

And then he'll do something awesome ;D

Also apologies to those here also reading my TFA fic, it hasn't stopped, i am writing the next chapter still, its just ive had more drive for this fic in the last day or so and it got out (of control) faster.

Also apologies for spelling errors in general and in names, i do all my spell checking last and my brain is never switched on. I tend to overlook a lot and hit the ignore all button compulsively for all of the Jazz-speak and the other non-dictionary TF words. Im ok with you pointing out mistakes i miss though, i need all the help i can get XD

And lastly, im quite sorry it gets very muddy/waffly near the end, all those stupid university readings i do have affected the way i write and it all seems to have gotten a bit roundabout and pretentious and hard to fathom, but then i figure Prowl usually thinks in ways that may seem convoluted in their protocol and properness so... heres' hoping you dont find it too confusing. The sentance structure still seems a little off to me near the end, but i WAS mostly drunk when i wrote it, so, terribly sorry XDXDXD

What... im not joking. i fell asleep in the middle of this last night at ten o clock cause i slagged myself on high grade and woke up at 2am. XDXDXDXDXD thats how i work, shutup.

I believe it necessary to start adding this to my foreword on this story:

blah'- emphasis, thought or recorded voice (context should be easy to figure out)

'blah'- comm. speak

nanoklik= 0.5 of an earth second

astrosecond= 1.5 earth seconds

klik= about a minute

breem= 8 minutes

cycle= about 1 earth hour

megacycle= about 12 hours

joor= about one earth day

orn= 8 earth days

vorn= 80 earth years

Stellar-cycle= fraggin' long time

k deathout~


There was a long, low groan from the other end of the ward.

"Morning sunshine." Ratchet called without looking up from the part he was repairing.

It was a few more kliks before he got any response other than muffled sounds of pain.

"Ratchet… why do I feel like Grimlock stepped on m- oh….oooh…"

Ratchet smiled widely to himself as Bumblebee's processor obviously caught up with the rest of him.

"…This is like the worst cheap high-grade hangover I've ever had." Bumblebee moaned quietly.

"YOU'VE slagged yourself on cheap high-grade? I wouldn't pick you for a bot who knew what THAT felt like." said Ratchet as he looked up to see the minibot had sat himself up against the raised back-rest of the berth, one servo on his head, optics dim, looking faintly like he wanted to purge his tanks.

"Yea… but that was the first time I tried the stuff, I didn't know the difference, and everyone else seemed to take it fine, so I just… went with it… Primus this is about what it felt like, I kinda hoped I'd never be stupid enough to feel this again." Bumblebee explained

"Don't worry, it's just the after-effects of that virus. Very nearly got into your CPU. It's taken my software quite a while to clear it out of your system, but your download should be complete by now- aah, there we go." Ratchet dropped the part he was fixing and walked over to the machine still hooked up to the minibot, which had just begun chiming.

"Lie back down for a nanoklik, just gotta disconnect you."

Bumblebee did what he was told, only just realising he had data feeds to both his neck and chassis. When he noticed the data feed to his spark chamber he seemed even closer to purging.

"Don't worry kid, it's not bad. Just faster and safer to include a chassis uplink. Your Processor was in more danger of being fried than your engine or spark." Ratchet said reassuringly as he began shutting off the machine and carefully detaching the cables hooked up to the yellow frame.

"I remember you calling in to Prowl to say you were getting closer to our location… but after that I… did I blackout or something? What happened?" Bumblebee asked quietly, faceplate pulling into a confused frown.

It became even more confused when he saw the CMO grinning.

"You fell into recharge kid. Must've felt pretty at ease to do that. Can't think why, with a dangerous virus in your systems…"

Bumblebee actually scowled, but it looked more like a pout than anything so Ratchet stiffled his sniggers as he stored away the disconnected cables.

"Thing is, that virus didn't get totally fragged when you did, and it pounced again the moment you offlined your meta. When I got to you, It was nearly done with your last firewall. Thankfully, I managed to get there just in time to bolster your defences and contain the rogue code. You were totally out of it by then though. You have been for about a day cycle and a half." Ratchet explained.

Bumblebee seemed appropriately irked by the information that he had come so close to his processor being badly corrupted… and all because he'd been as stupid as to let himself fall into recharge! If he hadn't been feeling so sluggish and sore right then, he would have kicked himself.

He realised with a jolt, as Ratchet put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, that it wasn't soreness he was feeling in his frame… his sensor net was on edge, he was hyper sensitive.

And of course, he realised why instantly, silver faceplate going a bright cherry colour.

Just as he had noticed all the nuances of the 2IC's expression, Ratchet missed none of the minibot's reactions as the first memory replays started. But he couldn't bring himself to tease Bumblebee as much as he had done to Prowl. Bumblebee didn't really deserve it anyway, after all, he had nearly lost his cognitive abilities taking that shot for the tactician. Ratchet felt he should be buying him a round of high-grade for it, but then he figured Prowl had given him quite a 'thankyou' already.

"So… how long until I can go back on duty?" Bumblebee asked tentatively, hoping not to provoke Ratchet's temper. It wasn't like he was especially eager to escape (he did still feel a little like he might purge his tanks if he got up and moved around), but it never really took much to rile 'the Hatchet' up.

Ratchet, who had just remembered to ping Prowl, gave Bumblebee a calculating look.

Deciding that the Beetle merely wanted to know out of interest rather than a wish to leave right then, Ratchet answered while running a scan to see that the virus protection software was installing properly.

"I'll keep you in for another two cycles at most, gotta let your systems settle and that software integrate, and by then you should start to feel a little less like purging. But you'll be on light duties until I'm sure you're well enough to do otherwise." he finished with a mild warning tone, But Bumblebee un-tensed, glad he had not incurred the medic's wrath.

Ratchet moved back over to the bench where he had been fixing the piece of equipment for Wheeljack and received an answer ping from Prowl that he was on duty.

Ratchet found this more fortuitous than anything. It meant he could question Bumblebee without the tactician interrupting and ruining his fun.

Bumblebee had remained lying down on the berth, waiting for his systems to re-sync and his tank to stop churning unpleasantly. His processor was buzzing, and he tried his hardest not to move, because every small scrape against the berth seemed to set off his sensory relays, and he would get a lurching feeling from the over-sensitised sensations that were somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"So, how was it?"

Ratchet's voice cut the air and made Bumblebee jump. And then his faceplate burned again.

"I…uh…what?" Bumblebee could only manage to stutter incoherently.

"C'mon, I'm about the only person you could tell who is bound legally never to breath a word. So, how was he?" Ratchet said conversationally.

"What, Prowl?" Bumblebee blurted, quite aghast that the CMO was just coming right out and asking rather than taking his usual tactic of hinting and jibing.

Ratchet rolled his optics in a mannerism he had picked up from Sparkplug. "No, Cosmos. OF COURSE PROWL, I mean who else could you have fragged lately that I'd know about?"

Bumblebee let out a small exclamation before muting his vocaliser for a moment.

When he eventually got it online again, he said prudishly "I'm not really sure that's any of your business."

Ratchet actually guffawed at this.

"Aw, don't tell me you aren't itching to tell someone. Must've been slagging awesome if you're that embarrassed to talk about it." Ratchet said slyly.

Bumblebee mouthed at thin air for a moment before clearing his vocaliser with a small burst of static.

"I'm not Sideswipe you know, I don't exactly make a habit of talking openly about my… experiences."

Ratchet snorted through his vents, "That's because you don't have any frequent experiences with anyone on the Ark to talk about."

Bumblebee gave him a pointed, dignified frown. "And how would you know?"

"I'm CMO. It's my job to keep personal tabs on the function and well being of the bots assigned to this ship. And anyone could tell from a light-year away that you don't have any regular interface partners." Ratchet replied coolly as he picked up the part he was working on and raised it to optic level to inspect his work, pointedly ignoring Bumblebee's frown.

Bumblebee remained silent… why would he want to tell Ratchet anything about what had happened between him and Prowl?

Well, started a little voice in his CPU, a second opinion might help you determine whether it really was a one off, or whether this could be the start of something else. Don't forget, things were said down there… things not normally shared between bots who are merely acquaintances bordering on friendship.

Bumblebee could barely believe his own processor… was he seriously thinking of discussing this with Ratchet?

But then… he knew well enough the CMO was not an uptight mech… certainly he was more laid back than Cliffjumper for spark's sake… it's not like he probably didn't discuss 'experiences' among a few of his closer friends in the higher ranks. They were probably ALL curious as to what Prowl was 'like' in respect to intimate situations. So closed off was the 2IC that he was almost a coveted curiosity.

Although… Ratchet had said he was legally bound not to discuss this information with anyone else.

Bumblebee suddenly realised part of him was already wondering where to begin telling him.

"It's alright kid. I just figured you might want to get some stuff off your chest plate. You did just go straight from professional relationship to straight out intimacy with him, if you feel uneasy, talking through it can help." Ratchet said calmly, back to his more professional self.

Bumblebee stared at the ceiling for few more nanokliks, not really seeing it.

"Well… yea. It is weird…"

Bumblebee shifted just a little, trying to get a bit more comfortable but only succeeding to set off his sensors again. The one in his side where Prowl had started pinged particularly strongly… a few memories flitted across his meta and he felt his core temperature rise a little.

"…the thing is, it was… well it was slagging awesome." Bumblebee admitted a little breathlessly.

He glanced over at Ratchet, who was now ignoring the part in his hand and looking at Bumblebee with a mix of surprise and intense curiosity.

"Knows what he's doing then?" Ratchet commented with unhidden amusement.

"A little too well by my accounts." Bumblebee admitted, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his faceplate. "Not that I don't, thanks very much." He added, his coy side now teased out as he relaxed a little more.

"Oh really?" said Ratchet offhandedly, reading the new tone to Bumblebee's voice and playing on it to elicit deeper answers from the small yellow mech.

"Yes really. Just because I don't have a harem of frag buddies, doesn't mean I haven't had my share of practice. I'm not against… casual relations, but I prefer to keep something that intimate to relationships with more time and trust in them."

"So, are you going to work backwards with this one? Put the time and trust in after the interface?" Ratchet asked, more serious this time.

Bumblebee was silent for a moment.

"I… it… well, it depends on how Prowl feels…"

"mmmmm." Ratchet replied non-commitaly. He honestly couldn't judge on the minibot's behalf what Prowl was feeling towards him. Certainly he didn't seem cold towards Bumblebee, but Ratchet couldn't tell if the Tacticians' grateful demeanour had been just that, or the surface of deeper, true affection bourne from this incident.

"He doesn't… did he… say anything? Was he here?" Bumblebee asked, looking back over at the Medic with an apprehensive air.

"Yea, I had to treat him too. He came online half a day cycle before you, I sent him off for some energon and recharge. He's on light duties at the moment, doing inventory I think… he DID ask me to ping him when you came around though, I have the feeling he wanted to talk to you." Ratchet replied with meaning.

Bumblebee was silent again. Even with the memories replaying in his meta… thinking of how comfortable they had both become with each other in such a short time… Bumblebee had truly enjoyed it, Primus it had frankly blown his processor… just thinking about it made him want to seek out the Datsun's company… just to be around the mech who had made him feel that good.

And yet… there was something nagging him… what if Prowl didn't feel the same way? What if he'd just been caught up in the heat of the moment… it was possible, he'd said it had been a while since he and Jazz had interfaced, and Bumblebee knew things could be felt and said and done in the heat of intimacy when you hadn't gotten any in a while that seemed very real… but once the heat died down the processor could clear and things could turn out very differently.

Bumblebee felt a small pang in his spark to think that perhaps Prowl didn't feel the same way. What if they went back to normal? Bumblebee personally didn't feel he could, but he was a very different mech to Prowl, and he had to remember this. He'd had a hard time understanding just how Prowl worked in the first place, let alone predict his reaction to an incident like this.

"For what it's worth, I think he cares about you. I'm not sure if it's more than friendly, but I don't think he'll shirk you off." Ratchet said soothingly, reading the minibot's expression as he processed what looked like worrying thoughts. He decided taking Bumblebee's CPU off the thoughts of what would be said and putting them back onto memories would be better for him.

"So when you say amazing…"

The minibot gave him a quizzical, almost pained sideways glance, as though wondering if he really was going to bring the conversation back to that.

"… amazing how?"

Bumblebee scowled, but his coy side was stirred again.

"Well, what do YOU think? You wanted him to drag it out, he's a Tactician, he managed the task very tactfully." Bumblebee replied shortly, but with a more teasing tone. If Ratchet wanted details, he'd have to play Bumblebee's way to get them.

Ratchet put his servos on his hips, the project on the bench completely forgotten about a breem ago.

"What'd he do? Plan a course across your chassis that would logically make your core temperature rise one degree per klik?" Ratchet asked snidely, well aware that the minibot was going to play him along, and if he wanted to know anything, he had no choice but to go with it.

Bumblebee buzzed through his vents in his version of a snort. "No, I don't think he was even measuring my core temperature. He was a little too busy inside my plating… and then of course, he didn't get much room to plan anything when I stuck my servo under his bumper." Bumblebee admitted, sly smile plastered on his faceplate.

Ratchet's optics widened, but then a knowing smile crossed his features. "So you just couldn't let him go for it without reciprocating hmm? Well, if he didn't enjoy that, he'd probably have used his stasis-cuffs on you, so that's probably a good sign." Ratchet sniggered.

"Hmmm… that could have been fun too, didn't think of that…" Bumblebee muttered, seemingly to himself.

It was a moment before Ratchet realised he was gaping at the minibot after that statement.

"Wouldn't have picked you for that kind of thing… that's more Jazz's forte."

"What?" Bumblebee looked over at him with wide optics.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't hear about that. He's your superior officer, I thought for sure you knew about Smokescreen finding him cuffed to his berth and out like light. I don't need to uphold patient confidentiality about that, cause technically he wasn't in here for that, although I did have to repair some minor dents and wire wear on his servo joints not long ago. Which probably means he and Prowl like that game quite a bit." Ratchet winked an optic, and Bumblebee couldn't help but laugh. His laughter was cut short with a small queasy noise, as he found the action upset his still delicate sensors and holding tank.

"Oh Primus… I wonder how Jazz is going to take this…" Bumblebee said suddenly, voice thin with anxiety.

"Aaaah, Jazz is a big mech, he'll get over it. If Prowl makes a fuss of ya, you might find he wants to see what Prowl's talking about, if you get my drift…" Ratchet said slyly with a grin.

Bumblebee did not seem to find that prospect as interesting as Ratchet however.

"But… you said it yourself, he's my superior officer-"

"So is Prowl." Ratchet cut across him shortly.

"Yes, but not the one I report to directly. I answer to Jazz on pretty much a daily basis… and he's my friend. I know he won't mind that Prowl had to do it to save me, but he'd probably mind how I feel about the mech he's in a relationship with."

"And how DO you feel about Prowl?" Ratchet asked calmly.

Bumblebee was rendered silent for a moment, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt question, not having really realised he'd pretty much just admitted he had some feelings on the matter.

"I… I don't know if it was just the heat of the moment or… something. But I… I want to be around him. I LIKE him, I do… I-" Bumblebee had to make a concerted effort to force the revelation out of his vocaliser for his own sake as much as to answer Ratchet. But it suddenly felt like he had an awful lot he needed to get off his processor on the matter…

"I think I have feelings for him… how can that be when it was one interface? ONE! And it's not like I ever even thought about him like that before, he was just another mech I didn't really know but, you know, we'd talk if we were around one another long enough, but usually just stuff about missions. And I don't know if he feels like that, or if it was just the circumstances down there that made him… I don't know, he really seemed to feel the same way down there, but what if that was just the heat of the moment? What if he just acted like that to help me because I took that shot for him?"

"Whoa, calm down there Bee, you're going all Bluestreak on me… one thing at a time, OK? It's not that unusual to discover feelings through your first intimate contact with a certain mech. Don't go worrying over whether the feelings are real." Ratchet tried to soothe some of the Minibot's worries, but he had, it seemed, finally tapped the well of anxiety he had suspected the incident might create.

"I know the feelings are real, Ratchet… that's not what I'm worried about, I'm worried that HE doesn't have the same feelings… and then there's Jazz, what's he going to think? They're already together, I'm about the last third cog they could possibly want!" Bumblebee exclaimed.

"Now don't say that. You know perfectly well what kind of a mech Jazz is. He's above jealousy, and he's not about to go and mouth off at you for feelings you can't help, even if they are for his partner. Frankly, I think he'd enjoy the idea of an addition to the relationship, but that's just my opinion. And what's more, I won't have you degrade yourself like that, you're not some third cog, if you were do you think Prowl would have been so attentive in saving your life?" Ratchet stated firmly, having walked back to the berth in which the yellow bot lay, faceplate displaying his obvious internal turmoil.

Bumblebee considered Ratchet's words for a moment. His expression seemed to ease a little.

"Yea… you're right, Jazz wouldn't hate me, but… I like how we are, I don't want to wreck that. I just… I'm so used to not being seen as anything other than everyone's friend and never anything more, I have trouble with the idea that anyone would actually want me like that… and Jazz's never seemed to see me like that before, he never made any indication like he did…" Bumblebee trailed off uncertainly

"Yea, well bots might SEE you as more of a prospect if you didn't keep hiding that little devious streak of yours that Prowl seems to have uncovered so well under that innocent faceplate of yours." Ratchet grumbled good-naturedly.

"Hey, that's not something I feel comfortable acting out in public… I used to, and it tended to attract all the wrong kinds of mechs…" Bumblebee mumbled with a small shudder.

Ratchet made a noise of understanding. "That's a fair point. Plus, I suppose Prowl appreciates it remaining hidden… sounds like you two are a better match than anyone might've guessed actually…"

Bumblebee gave him another pained quizzical look, so Ratchet explained his statement further.

"From what you've hinted, it sounds to me like Prowl's got his own hidden devious streak… not that a stasis-cuffed Jazz wasn't enough of a clue for me already."

"Yea, well… maybe Prowl just found it a nice change to have a bot who wasn't so extroverted to play with…" Bumblebee muttered before he failed to stifle the tiniest giggle.

"I really hope it wasn't just a one off… and I wish he wasn't on duty, I really want to know for sure, sooner rather than later."

"Yea, well that's something Jazz has too much experience with, and something you'll have to get used to if anything comes of this. If there's one thing you can be sure of with Prowl, its that duty comes first. Sometimes that duty is to his relationships, but a lot of the time I'm afraid it's his work." Ratchet said, sighing through his vents.

Ratchet suddenly stood up straight, distracted. Someone was pinging him, Bumblebee realised.

"Come on in Wheeljack." Ratchet called, remotely unlocking and opening the medbay doors.

"Hey Ratch, what's with the Fortress-Maximus style security? Oh hey Bumblebee! how are you? Heard what you did, I gotta tell you, Cliffjumper is so jealous you out-gutsied him." Wheeljack said cheerily, audio panels flashing brightly as he strode up the ward to them.

"Sorry about that 'Jack, didn't want the Twins getting in while Bumblebee was resting up. You know what those fraggers are like, no respect for the injured." Ratchet said coolly, Bumblebee appreciating how good of a liar the Medic was. Bumblebee knew full well Ratchet had locked that door to keep their conversation private… not that he'd put it past the two Lamborghinis to try and eavesdrop, but they didn't usually bother or tease Bumblebee unless he was fighting fit.

"I bet he is. Tell him I'd be happy to swap places with him at the moment if he likes." Bumblebee replied to Wheeljack's comment with a weak smile.

Wheeljack chuckled, but his gaze on the yellow minibot was scrutinising and his concern was evident. Bumblebee was still laying down, waiting for his tank to stop churning (although he suspected that had less to do with the after-effects of the virus and more to do with anticipating his talk with a certain Datsun ), and he was sure he must have still looked like pit.

"Well I won't disturb you for long, I just came to see how that part was coming along Ratch'."

The two discussed the mechanism Ratchet had been putting together when Bumblebee had come online, and Bumblebee wasn't aware of whether Wheeljack stayed very long, because he soon fell back into recharge as his systems continued to slowly re-align.


When Bumblebee next came online, he found himself alone in the med-bay.

He sat up, glad to find he felt a lot better. He stretched his servos and arms out, rotating his joints a little to get the stiffness of stasis out of them.

Just as he was wondering how long he'd been out, someone pinged him.

It was Jazz, and Bumblebee automatically sent a greeting answer.

The blue, white and black head of special ops strode through the med-bay doors grinning from audio to audio and carrying two cubes of energon.

"Heeey Bee my man, how ya feelin'?"

Bumblebee smiled tentatively. He felt like he could just act as he normally would towards his commanding officer and friend, but he just couldn't ignore the nagging worries in the back of his processor over what Jazz would soon have to know… if of course, he didn't know already…

Bumblebee suddenly felt a whole lot more nervous.

"Well, better. At least I don't feel like purging my tanks anymore." Bumblebee said with a crooked smile as he moved his neck around a bit to loosen it up.

"That's good news, cause Ratchet wants ya ta fill 'em up." Jazz chimed, handing him the cube and plopping himself down on the end of the berth.

"Oh, where is he?" Bumblebee asked as he accepted the cube gratefully, only just realising how low on fuel he was and that he was quite famished.

"In Wheeljack's lab. I came to see how you were doin' and he met me on the way, told me to take you some energon while I was at it. He said I was gonna be waitin' for ya to online again, but looks like you're in sync again." The saboteur beamed at him.

"I only just came around again actually. But yea, I will be in sync after this, thanks." Bumblebee said, indicating to the cube before taking a generous swig. He never thought energon could taste so satisfying, but then he didn't often get into situations that caused his reserves to redline.

"An' here's a toast to ya, for taking that shot. You're a damn good mech Bee, n' ahm proud to have you on my team." Jazz said genially, raising his cube and taking a decent draft himself.

Bumblebee nearly backwashed a little of his energon. His faceplate went bright at the sudden unexpected praise.

"Aw Jazz, you really don't have to… I was just doing what anyone else would've…" he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Yea… but Prowl, he wasn't doin' what any other bot would…"

Bumblebee's optics widened a little in alarm, but Jazz didn't notice as he hid it behind another sip of his energon…

"that slag-head was a lot stupider than most other mechs woulda been, tryin ta siphon that virus outta ya… then again, most other bots wouldn't even have thought of that. An' ya did both come good in the end, so no harm done huh?"

"Oh… yea, I suppose so." Bumblebee said, somewhat surprised, but also a little relieved. Part of him had been hoping Jazz would confront him about it, so that it was out in the open and they could just deal with it then and there… but evidently jazz did not know the real story, and it sounded like Ratchet had made up a different one for everyone else to believe.

"I suppose he bored ya into stasis down there for two cycles?" Jazz mumbled, and to Bumblebee's surprise he sounded a little… embarrassed.

"No, not really." Bumblebee replied truthfully, and Jazz looked up at him curiously.

"He's really not as… uptight as everyone thinks he is… as I thought he was…I can see why you like him." Bumblebee went on softly, very careful in his choice of words. Slag he wished he could just talk about it openly with Jazz… profess why exactly he knew what the saboteur saw in the tactician… share with his friend what must be a mutual feeling of awe at the Datsun's interfacing methods…

Bumblebee hid his face with a long sip from his cube, draining it past halfway. He wondered what he would do once it was empty and couldn't hide his burning faceplate behind it.

Jazz was looking at him appreciatively, as though glad to finally find someone who understood his taste in mechs. "Ah, Prowler can be a softie when he wants ta. An I know he likes ya. Don't feel too bad if he seems a bit cold back on duty, that's just his way. I know he appreciates what ya did no end Bee, pretty much told me so 'imself."

"You've seen him since we got back?" Bumblebee said, sounding curious, but feeling a whole lot more confused than anything else.

"Yea, caught him when he grabbed some energon on Ratch's orders. couldn't talk ta me for long though, he had ta get some recharge. He was pretty much back on shift as soon as he was online again though. I came ta see ya soon as I finished my patrol. I think he wants to do the same. But he ain't gunna be finished for another two cycles." the Saboteur explained.

So Prowl had seen Jazz since… and he hadn't even hinted anything? Hadn't given him any sort of heads up on what had happened?

Bumblebee knew he still wasn't entirely familiar with the way Prowl worked, but from what he knew, he thought the usually very upfront and blunt mech would have said something to Jazz the first chance he got.

Evidently he didn't know the 'softie' Prowl that Jazz was talking about as well as he might like… it seemed he may well have the same apprehensions that Bumblebee did. He probably needed more time to think up how to approach it with his lover, he WAS a tactician after all, knowing how to approach this sort of thing was his forte… at least Bumblebee hoped it was, because he didn't think he could begin to know how to tell Jazz… what was more he didn't feel he really had the right to.

"Earth ta 'Bee, ya readin' me buddy?"

Jazz's bemused, crookedly grinning faceplate swam before Bumblebee's optics and he focused, realising he had become lost in his own line of code.

"Oh, sorry Jazz… just wondering about some stuff…"

"Anythin' botherin ya? Ya look a little lost." Jazz said gently with a hint of concern.

Bumblebee shook his head, off lining his optics to concentrate on thinking up an appropriate excuse for his distracted moment.

"Just thinking about that weapon the Decepticons were using. They didn't just want to take Prowl out… they wanted to really make him suffer. I'm worried they may still have it in for him if they find out he's alright and still thwarting their plans."

It wasn't so much a lie as merely a misdirection of the truth. The fear Bumblebee voiced WAS true however, and it had nagged him even down in the hole they had been trapped in, except he had been rather distracted from the thought for a while.

Jazz's expression was serious, which only told Bumblebee that he had the same concern.

"Wouldn't put it past the dirty slaggers. Ahm gonna be speakin' ta Prime about keeping' Prowl off the field for a while, just until the 'cons stop seein' him as a threat to target. He can still do his job behind tha scenes. He won't like it, but I don't think he'll argue. Not if ya help me convince him anyway." Jazz grinned suddenly, flickering the light of his visor on one side in a wink.

Bumblebee smiled nervously.

Despite the fact he was trying to keep his feelings towards Jazz as normal as before, his processor wouldn't stop throwing up the implications of the saboteurs innocent statements in context with what they hadn't revealed to the head of special ops.

Having finished his energon, and feeling much refreshed by the energy coursing into his still repairing but re-aligned systems, Bumblebee decided it was time to escape the possibility of anymore awkward moments. Plus he didn't think it was wise to dwell on the image of him helping Jazz convince Prowl to stay on the Ark, as it was twisting into something a lot less innocent in his meta than the spy was used to thinking of when it involved the saboteur.

"I kinda feel like I should be making myself useful… is there a shift I should be starting anytime soon? Ratchet said I could go back to light duties after two cycles, and it feels like it's been that long."

Jazz chuckled.

"No holding ya down is there? No wonder ya got on so well with Prowl, you two are veritable workaholics." Jazz said teasingly, not noticing Bumblebee's feint blush at being told by Jazz he was like his lover. He jumped off the edge of the berth where he had perched and comm.'d Ratchet.

Hey Ratchet? Got a minibot here who's just itchin' ta get back ta work. You OK with me lettin' him loose?

Yea, if he's done refuelling and feels up to it, he's fine to go. But light duties only, got it? Something where he isn't moving around a lot, his self-repairs have still got some work to do.

Ratchet replied with his usual gruff warning tone.

Thanks Ratch-man, don't worry, I'll make sure Bee keeps it cool.

Jazz chuckled slightly as he heard the answering growl and the comm. Link was cut. Jazz knew Ratchet only really let the shortening of his name slide with Wheeljack, and maybe Ironhide when he was in a good mood, but it never stopped Jazz using it. Especially over comm. Links, where the medic wasn't near enough to throw a wrench at him for it. In which case he liked to add to the nickname just for fun. He knew 'Ratch-man' was one of Sparkplug's favourites, and one of the Medic's most despised.

"Alright 'Bee, we got the green light from our cheery CMO, let's find you something' ta do."

Bumblebee nodded, grinning, and slid of the berth to follow his superior officer. He Didn't usually get such a sense of relief at the thought of heading to the main ops room to find out what his shift was, but the prospect of something to keep his processor distracted was a welcome one at the moment.

"Well, this is where I leave ya Bumblebee. I gotta get some recharge in before mah next shift. Remember yer doctors orders, no straining yourself lookin' at those monitors for the next few cycles, or the Hatchet'll have my aft." Jazz said with a wink and pat on the minibot's shoulder plate as he sat down at the surveillance console.

"I'll try my best Jazz, but I can't promise anything." Bumblebee said with mock sigh of his vents and a grin.

Jazz chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder properly this time.

"Don't go doin' anything stupid Bumblebee, ya never know when Prowl might show up and catch ya out. He gets off his inventory duty in the next cycle, he'll prob'ly wanna come and see how you're doin'. I'll let him know you're up here."

"Oh! T-thanks Jazz, I'll be looking out for him." Bumblebee said with a grateful smile as the saboteur waved him a cheery goodbye and left.

As soon as he left, Bumblebee's smile turned into a weak look of trepidation.

He sat staring at the monitors, wondering what on earth he and Prowl were going to be able to talk about up here in the security office…

It wasn't as if it wasn't private, Red Alert was off fixing some of his surveillance cameras that the twins had been messing with, and most mechs stayed away from there in case Red wasn't out because they didn't want to be under his suspicious and scrutinizing gaze for long.

Bumblebee was one of the few mechs who honestly didn't mind Red's glares. He was a good mech off duty, and he could be positively hilarious if Inferno managed to get him overcharged. But Bumblebee being a spy, Red tended to be over-paranoid around him and whatever conversation they had was flippant and inconsequential. But again, Bumblebee didn't mind. At least if he felt like escaping talk of this never-ending war, he could always count on Red's random topics.

Monitor duty was exceptionally dull work, and after the first half a cycle, Bumblebee found it wasn't nearly as effective at distracting him as he'd hoped.

Whatever mechs walked through the screens before him were going about their normal duties… if you could call Ratchet throwing a wrench at Sideswipe as he passed Wheeljack's lab normal. He was helping the inventor install whatever he'd been working on in whatever invention it was the chief engineer had created (that would probably blow up later anyway ). Bumblebee noted Red in a camera a fair way from 'Jacks lab punching the air in victory. Bumblebee worked out the head of security had comm.'d Ratchet to hit Sideswipe if he saw him, and the Medic had just reported his success.

Sideswipe had stalked off down the hall cursing fluently.

Bluestreak was in the rec room, animatedly talking Hound's audios off, and Bumblebee would have gone to save him if Red had been there to stay on the monitors. As it was, the green mech was very good at putting on his patient face with Blue, who was of course oblivious to the somewhat exasperated slump of the tracker's shoulders.

In the weight room next door, Sunstreaker was having one of his silent weight lifting contests with the other mini bots. Gears didn't really seem that involved, but Brawn was going all out.

Bumblebee was happy to watch that screen for a while.

He liked to see Sunstreaker putting his immense strength to work. Even with the minimal movements of weight lifting on a bench, there was grace in his movements. The lights caught his freshly waxed paint and it gleamed gold. Bumblebee's shade of yellow was no where near as stunning as the melee warrior's, but he doubted he could ever pull off that bright sunray colour with the same effect that the Hardliner did. He remembered every time he saw it why Sunstreaker was one of the top names on his list of who he wouldn't mind fragging… but knowing the twin's distaste for minibots he highly doubted the possibility of that ever happening…

Although, watching him reminded Bumblebee of another mech with graceful movements, except the other was much more subtle…

No! he wasn't going to think about that here, he wasn't going to go anywhere near those thoughts until he'd worked out where he stood with Prowl. There was no point getting his hopes up.

Bumblebee concentrated on the screen again.

Sunstreaker got up and flexed his joints, seemingly satisfied that having lifted Five tonnes to Brawn's four made him the winner. He sauntered out in his usual, carelessly stunning manner. Brawn ignored him and waited until he was out of the room, before he went and got onto the bench the golden twin had just left, to try and lift the Five tonnes.

As Sunstreaker walked out past Bluestreak and Hound, he made no indication of acknowledgement whatsoever.

However, he did, without pause, reach out a black servo, grasp one of the Gunner's door wings, and continue walking towards the door with absolutely no change in his expression.

"-and then we… oh, Ah! Er, s-sun streaker…er… I guess I'll… talk to you later Hound!" The gunner's startled voice filtered quietly through the camera's audio as Bumblebee turned it up a little.

Bumblebee was not really a voyeur outside of his missions… but being a spy sort of made eavesdropping second nature. He'd always walk away or turn a deaf audio and blind optic if what he was witnessing undetected became too personal… and yet knowing exactly what was coming Bluestreak's way from the Golden Lamborghini, he found he couldn't just ignore the two as the twin dragged the grey and red Datsun through the hallways by his door wing without a word.

Bumblebee had seen this before, both on and off monitor duty. Sunstreaker usually sought out his usual casual interface partner after a hard workout.

The only mech they passed was Sideswipe. The yellow twin acknowledged his brother with a nod, and Sideswipe smirked in response.

"Oh, hey Sides! Bye Sides!" Bluestreak said weakly, still walking sort of sideways-backwards.

Sunstreaker eventually pulled them both into the corridor where the Twin's quarters were, but he couldn't seem to wait until they were in. He pushed Bluestreak against the wall and pressed his lips to the Gunner's, ravishing the twitching, quivering grey door-wings with his black servos.

Even when he was passionately molesting, Sunstreaker was nothing but graceful.

Bluestreak was no stranger to his treatment though, and quickly his steady servos flew to the black and gold audio crests on either side of the Lamborghini's helm.

Bumblebee muted the camera in that corridor before what he was sure was a very loud moan escaped Sunstreaker.

If only the paintjob was different Bumblebee thought, looking over Bluestreak with a sigh of his vents, watching the two entwining in the corridor before Sunstreaker finally dragged them into the warrior's shared quarters.

Bumblebee shuttered his optics in quick succession. DID I SERIOUSLY JUST THINK THAT???

Shaking himself mentally, Bumblebee checked his internal chronometer. In another quarter cycle, Prowl's shift would be over, and then Jazz had said he'd probably come up to see him.

Bumblebee's spark quivered. What am I going to say? What is HE going to say?

Bumblebee was no good at rehearsing conversations, so he decided to try and distract himself again.

He brought up the camera feed to the store-room in which Prowl was working.

The Black and White mech moved slower than usual, but other than that he made no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened to him within the last few day cycles.

Bumblebee remembered again how he had super-imposed the black and white frame over Bluestreaks when he saw his impassioned encounter with Sunstreaker and shivered, heat coming into his faceplate. He was very glad no one else was there to witness his embarrassing reactions at the moment.

Bumblebee pointedly looked at all the empty camera feeds he could. It wasn't hard, most mechs were either on patrol, in their quarters, or at their work stations doing whatever it was they did best.

When Bumblebee finally checked the monitor in Prowl's work area again, he was startled to find it empty. Then he realised the Tactician had completed his shift (and likely the inventory, given he was prone to doing over-time just to finish jobs he'd started if he didn't get them done within the allotted timeframe).

Bumblebee physically jumped when he heard the door to the surveillance room whoosh open behind him.

He span around in his chair, but the mech that strode through it wasn't black and white, or even a Datsun.

"Fragging Sideswipe, one of these days I swear I'm going to USE some of the blackmail material I have against him, and THEN he'll be sorry he ever messed with my cameras… are you alright Bumblebee?"

Bumblebee cycled an almost relieved sigh through his vents.

"Yea… sorry Red, you just startled me. I saw you guys get Sides, that should stop him messing with them for a while." Bumblebee said, plastering on a smile and turning back to the screens before Red Alert could see the flush of embarrassed colour in his faceplate.

"Too right he's not going to, or I'll cover HIS optic lenses in red paint and see how HE likes it!"

Bumblebee continued to sit in an edgy silence with an oblivious Red Alert, searching the screens for any sign of Prowl heading his way. But it appeared the Tactician had simply disappeared. The only places he could be where there weren't any cameras to see him were his own quarters, someone else's, Wheeljack's fireproof lab (where he tested the more explodable of his inventions), the wash racks, or off the ark and away from it's perimeters.

Bumblebee highly doubted the last option. He also ruled out Wheeljack's other lab. He may have gone to visit Jazz in the Saboteur's quarters, but then Bumblebee thought Jazz would probably push Prowl to come and see him, and what was more Prowl probably wouldn't disturb Jazz since he would be recharging by now.

This left his own Quarters or the wash racks. It was a no CPU'er that private living areas were unmonitored, but the case had not always been so with the wash racks.

The thing was that steam always messed with the lenses, and the internal wiring perished quickly in the high humidity. Red Alert had pestered Wheeljack into designing waterproofing for the cameras, but it was little surprise that almost every mech that was tall enough had sabotaged the waterproof casings until Prowl had gotten fed up with Red Alert's complaints and simply refused to let him bother putting cameras in there.

It wasn't that mechs had embarrassment issues with washing like humans did. They washed in each other's company frequently… it was when some certain mechs wanted to use the casual time together in there that surveillance became a cog of contention… Bumblebee had lost count of the number of times he'd walked into the washroom only to turn straight on his stabilisers and leave until whatever couple was in there having a 'moment' was done and left.

Bumblebee went back to glancing at the rest of the monitors, but always kept an optic on the washroom doors and Prowl's quarters to see if he could catch a glimpse of the Tactician.

"Bumblebee, your shift finished nearly a quarter cycle ago." Red Alert suddenly piped up with some surprise.

"Oh… did it? Huh… I guess I lost track." Bumblebee muttered, giving the monitors one last sweep with his optics before getting up and stretching.

"Guess I'll see you later Red." Bumblebee waved him a distracted goodbye, the chief of security giving him a nod and one last curious, if not slightly suspicious look.


Prowl had been very sorry that he'd opened that data-file Red Alert had sent him. How could he have forgotten? HOW could he not have thought of this?

Prowl shuttered his optics again, biting his lower lip component as he tried to suppress the unbidden images that wanted to occupy his meta.

He wished Bluestreak was there to drown out his audios so he didn't keep hearing the memories of the sounds on that vid-file.

He hadn't even watched the whole thing. Oh, Primus if he had he wouldn't have been able to obey Ratchet's orders, even if he wanted to.

As it was, the moment he realised what it was he was watching and where it was going, he had shut the file down and stashed it away. But the damage had been done the moment he had seen the image of his lover in the very store-room he was now taking inventory in.

Prowl focused on his data pad, slowly and deliberately counting out ammunition stocks twice and ticking them off on his list.

What was he thinking, doing that in here??? Prowl fumed, the heat rising in his faceplate as he failed to stop the images running through his CPU again.

But knowing his beautiful Porsche had sprawled himself across the crates directly in front of where he stood, Prowl could not stop the clear, vivid image of Jazz self-interfacing from springing to the fore of his meta.

Prowl's door-wings quivered as he remembered his name moaned into the empty room by the saboteur. He had stopped the vid-file right there… but Primus knew how he had hated to do so.

Prowl knew it would outright frag up the anti-viral software integrating into his systems if he allowed himself to view that footage and let it affect him.

And effect him it would…

He had completely forgotten, in the suddenness and unusualness of having to interface with Bumblebee, why it was that he hadn't actually done so with Jazz in so long.

Prowl knew his body's rhythms very well. He could generally work around them without a problem. But he had a curious affectation to his interfacing methods.

He would have to deliberately clear his schedule for several day cycles if he wanted to be intimate with Jazz… because once he interfaced, he would not stop feeling the desire to do so for at least an Orn or longer.

Which was no problem when he made it so he and Jazz had plenty of off-time together between shifts, but he hadn't even considered the possibility of an unprepared for interface with a bot who WASN'T Jazz…

Consequently, it had not crossed his processor that his usual Rhythms would apply…

Unfortunately, he had been quite wrong.

While the afterglow of his experience with Bumblebee had faded, the vid-file from Red Alert had kicked off his burning heat… and it had not gone away when he had forced himself to recharge for a few cycles.

It was only getting worse. Prowl couldn't even remember the last time he had been subjected to his own maddening desires without having arranged a means to relieve them.

He had been so close to jumping Jazz when he'd shown up to tell him Bumblebee was on monitor duty… but knew that he was in plain sight of Red Alert's surveillance camera.

Jazz had smirked at the camera in a knowing fashion from the doorway.

Prowl had raised an optic ridge at him to acknowledge the silent message.

Slag it all, Jazz had been well aware Red Alert would capture his little heated self-stimulation session… and somehow he knew of the security officer's running habit of sending Prowl his best cuts.

Prowl would have to ask Jazz later how he had found out about it… but right now, all he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to thank his lover for the exceptional token.

And he couldn't.

And it wasn't just because he was on duty.

Prowl cycled a long draught of air through his vents. Before he even thought of 'facing with Jazz he had to come clean about the incident with him and Bumblebee.

Oh, and that was another thing.

His smouldering desire was stretching beyond uncontrollable fantasies involving his Porsche lover… and he was finding visions of the yellow minibot invading his mind, usually involving his servos somewhere in that small frame, eliciting his name from those shining little silver lips…

Prowl shook himself mentally, richly cherry coloured faceplate turned quite deliberately away from the camera at his back. He shifted a few crates and counted a box he realised after a moment he had already counted.

Trying to concentrate against the warm tingling starting under his codpiece, Prowl counted a large box of missiles rather loudly in his head.

Prowl dreaded the end of that shift as much as he longed for it. He Didn't mind taking inventory, but he was growing desperate to relieve the restless, incessant burning in his spark. However, according to Jazz, Bumblebee was probably expecting him to go up and talk to him.

Shame flooded his processor… how could he even face Bumblebee? Surely the spy had worked out that he was yet to inform Jazz of their incident together… and what was more, he was probably unaware that much of his widespread surface circuit damage was Prowl's fault.

Even his guilt over causing Bumblebee injury without him even knowing did not stop the wave of heat that washed his frame, unbidden memories of the yellow mech squirming beneath him flashing across his CPU.

I cannot go on like this… I need a clear processor if I'm going to face Bumblebee.

His logic chip seemed to confer with this line of thinking. But that did nothing to ease Prowl's discomfort with his decision, as he was all too aware that his logic chip always managed to side with whatever part of him was insanely craving a decent interface.

Prowl had a plan of action clear in his processor within the breem. As soon as his shift finished (he had completed the inventory a quarter cycle ago and already sent it to the main log) he slipped out of the storage room and along a carefully chosen path.

He new every one of Red Alerts cameras and their scope. He was one of the very few mechs on the Ark capable of completely avoiding detection when he wanted to.

It did not take him long to reach the wash racks.

He ascertained that no one else was in there before slipping into one of the cubicled showering stalls. There were only a few of these and they were only really big enough for one mech. They were merely there for those who had managed to get dirt lodged under their armour and had to remove parts of it to wash properly. While normal surface washes were an almost sociable affair, exposing ones' more intimate circuitry in public was not particularly desirable, and so there were a few covered stalls for more detailed cleaning requirements.

Prowl felt wrong… using the stalls when you only needed a surface cleaning was not against protocol, but all the same, Prowl wasn't exactly there for a quick surface wash. He felt a lot dirtier than he physically was though as he turned on the stream of hot water.

At first he let the water just run over his chassis, warming his plating, drowning out the burning within him. But after a few kliks the patter of the water against his door wings sent anticipative tingles through his frame, and suddenly the heat within him was even greater than that of the water streaming down his form.

With a sigh of his vents, Prowl tried to ignore his processor's nagging thoughts about how unlike him this was, and he un-subspaced the data-pad he had stashed away before he recharged.

All the data-pads he used were water-proof… but not because he was prone to having them anywhere near water, it was merely one of his many usually unnecessary precautions… it was coming in handy at the moment however.

Prowl activated the data-pad, setting the audio to feed directly to his comm. frequency, so no one who might enter would hear the device or what was being played on it.

Prowl's optics deepened in colour as he watched the vid-file play out, intent on witnessing the full content and utilising it for his needs.

Jazz was sprawled across the crates Prowl had just finished stocktaking… the Porsche let out a soft, satisfied hum as he traced his digits down his own chassis, stroking with feather light touches across the seams of his thighs before travelling up to finger the glass of his own headlights.

Prowl copied the motions in real time, gasping and muting his vocaliser against the moans that wanted to escape him. His door wings twitched hard as his white digits brushed the inside seam of his thigh.

His Optics never left the screen, but they widened with a shiver of pleasure as Jazz moaned his name to the empty room. Primus it had sounded so close it was like the saboteur had been right behind him, moaning it into his helm.

Jazz had removed his codpiece by now and was stroking his interfacing components languidly, humming and mewling in delight at his own touch.

He was doing all that KNOWING I would see… he's teasing me on purpose, that little-

Prowl gasped as Jazz suddenly pressed two of his own digits into his slightly dripping port entrance, whimpering out Prowl's name as he did so.

Prowl was exceptionally glad he had already muted his vocaliser as he copied Jazz's motions.

He matched the pumping of his own fingers in time with the Porsche's on screen.

Prowl bit his lip hard, his whole frame vibrating with sweet sensations in response to his self-stimulation.

Jazz was writhing on screen, Prowl could even hear his cooling fans whirring away faintly on the audio feed. He wished so desperately to have that white chassis beneath his fingers… to have those black digits in him rather than just his own.

Prowl let out a silent moan of longing as Jazz popped out his own interfacing cable and stroked it leisurely.

Slag the fingers, Prowl wanted THAT inside him at the moment…

The fact that he couldn't have it made him grit his dental plates as a wave of fresh heat surged through him, setting his sensors on edge, making his own ministrations feel twice as good.

Prowl un-recessed his interfacing cable, not realising that as he ran his servo slowly over the sheathing he was washing away the dried remnants of Bumblebee's lubricant from himself. He hadn't washed since the incident after all. He only noticed when he felt the slick substance coating him as the water made it slimy again.

Prowl stopped stroking himself and simply watched the rest of the data-file. He was going to want both servos free if he was going to do this properly.

His optics burned a deep blue as he witnessed his lonely lover stroke his own cable while pumping into that port now streaming with lubricant.

Prowl shivered, wishing he could have helped Jazz, his glossa running along the back of his denta slowly as he thought of how good it would feel when he finally got to slip the appendage into that sweet port again, tasting it, tasting Jazz…

Jazz moaned and gasped out his lover's name over and over, each time it made the Datsun shiver and whine silently with desperate need.

Eventually, Jazz had prepared himself, and slowly he slid his own extended cable into the port situated beneath it. This was an exceptionally intense method of self-interfacing, and one which only well seasoned mechs dared employ in such a vulnerable placement such as a storage room.

A mech could easily offline themselves overloading with a self-charge feedback. It was best done in secure privacy, but obviously Jazz was more interested in entertaining his 'audience' than avoiding being found offline in an exceptionally embarrassing position.

Prowl's optics flickered between the strangely arousing sight of Jazz's cable buried within his own port and the Saboteurs faceplate, which seemed overwhelmed with bliss. His mouth was agape and he let out little sighs and grunts as he pulsed his own magnetic field, the direct feed-back loop building an exceptionally strong charge within him.

The black servos suddenly buried themselves into the joints between his legs and hips, and after a few more gasps and wild bucks, Jazz moaned out Prowl's name long and loud as overload hit him.

Prowl felt his processor reeling with a heady sensation as he witnessed his lover's overload.

He realised his knee joints felt exceptionally weak. As Jazz rode out the overload expertly, milking it for all it was worth, he collapsed back against the crates he had been arching on top of. His vents cycled furiously and he grinned in a deviously satisfied way.

The video cut out, and Prowl re-subspaced the data-pad.

He was practically quivering with anticipation. It was his turn now.

One of his idle servos drifted down his chassis and began to stroke his still extended interface cable.

The other returned to his port and he slid three digits in, stretching himself and gasping.

Quite out of nowhere, he imagined that it was two different sets of black servos touching him, rather than his own.

Two…

Prowl offlined his optics and raised his faceplate into the stream of water still tumbling down his plating.

The fantasy did not stop. He stroked his cable with only two digits, as if to make it easier to imagine the smaller servos stroking him gently…

While the three fingers stretching him were thrust a little more roughly, playfully trying to elicit loud noises from him, a game he was used to his lover playing with him.

I'm not, am I?… together… both of them, together… oooh Primus…

Prowl moaned internally, both in confusion and delight.

The thought made a shiver of fear pass through him… but also a stronger shiver of excitement.

Just the idea of both the objects of his desire coming together in that way…

Prowl's cooling fans whirred loudly as he bucked against his own roughly thrusting digits.

The touch on his cable remained light to maintain his own little illusion.

Jazz might not accept Prowl's new feelings…

Bumblebee might not even reciprocate now he was cured and had had time to think over the event…

And yet, Prowl's processor refused to let the little fantasy go.

And Pit it felt twice as good to imagine the touches were those of the other two mechs.

Prowl wasn't sure he could take the same risk as Jazz and not go offline… so he merely quickened his pace on his cable and in his port. He bent forwards, panting silently, and angled his door-wings so the jet of water pounded into the hinges and joints of the appendages on his back.

He jerked with the sharp waves of pleasure that stabbed through his chassis from various directions.

He grit his denta and offlined his optics again, pressing his chevron against the tiled wall before simulating himself as hard as he could both on his cable and in his port (which was streaming lubricant into the water running down his widely spread legs ).

As overload hit, his mouth gaped in a silent cry of ecstasy, servos jerking against his own hardware frantically as he pressed his helm into the wall.

As the overload gradually passed and the red warnings in his H.U.D slowly disappeared one after the other as his systems re-set, Prowl straightened slightly and slumped against the wall under the stream of water.

He sighed through his vents as his cooling fans continued to try and stabilise his core temperature.

He had been correct. The overload had cleared his CPU of the nagging desire… for now, at least.

Onlining his vocal unit again, he gave a soft groan. Even with his Processor clear and free to review his situation critically… the prospect was worryingly difficult.