A/N: First of all, I want to say that all you readers are the best, even the ones that don't review! Thank you for reading the story!

so, unfortunately I'm starting my exams really soon, so it may be a few weeks before I update again. I will update when they are over!

meanwhile, I'm loving the reviews! Thank you so much, please keep them coming!

As Jazz stirred awake, he became aware of several things. The first was that the warm presence of Prowl was missing from beside him. The astrosecond he became fully awake, Jazz ran a swift spark signature diagnostic; Prowl was not present anywhere in the building.

The second thing was that his arm was handcuffed to the headboard of Prowl's berth. An angry snarl ripped out of Jazz's vocaliser as he tugged the cuffs experimentally, testing their strength. "Damn it!"

It was plain to see that Prowl had left, and that more than anything bothered Jazz. With a curious noise that sounded like a whimper mixed with a growl, he jerked his hand so hard the cuffs cut his wrist. The metal bent and warped, and the cuffs snapped under the pressure. Barely noticing his bleeding wrist, Jazz tumbled off the berth and stumbled to the door. "Slag it, slag it, slag it.."

Even as he wandered around the Autobot base, alone and Prowl-less, no one seemed to notice how out of place he was. Even with his visor coloured blue, his very presence didn't seem to quite fit with the Autobot spirit. After wandering down a few more corridors, desperately searching for his Prowl, Jazz came across a young looking flier headed the same way as him. "Hey! Wait!"

The winged mech turned around, blinking in surprise upon seeing Jazz racing towards him. "Ah- hello?" He squeaked uncertainly as Jazz skidded to a stop in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Where's Prowl?"

"I- what?"

"Prowl! Where is he?!" Jazz's unconsciously raised his voice in panic, having to forcefully prevent himself from lashing out at the small Autobot.

"He- didn't he go to the battle outside Simfur..? It's only a small battle, so Optimus said that minibots and the Aerialbots can hang back here in case they need backup. Um... We had a briefing on this.. Don't you remember?"

Jazz didn't deign to give an answer; he whirled on his heel and followed the schematics he had downloaded of the base to the main exit.

He would get to Prowl or die trying.

...

The battle was in full swing when Jazz arrived, and it was clear the Autobot he had encountered had been correct; the battle was not as large and devastating as most of the battles had been so far. The damage to the area was mostly superficial, and would be cleaned up easily.

But it wasn't the area Jazz cared about.

The saboteur raced and bounded through broken buildings and over the occasional injured or offlined frame as he searched for his Prowler. He could sense his spark signature; the only difficulty would be finding him in a sea of battling bodies.

As Jazz sprinted past a dilapidated old building, a hand shot out and snatched him by one of his shoulder vents. A startled snarl left his vocaliser as he was yanked into the building. "Get off!" He lashed out, and felt his claws find purchase on someone's faceplates. The building Jazz had been pulled into was dark, but he could still make out the features of the mech in front of him as the mech hissed in pain and took a step back. "Wait.. 'Tex?"

Vortex glared at him, holding a hand up to his bleeding cheek. "Damn, Jazz. Can't you recognise your allies anymore?"

"Ah- Ah'm undercover, 'Tex! What do ya think you're doin'?!" His voice hitched slightly in his stress, but his accent didn't falter.

"I can see that by the colour of your visor, but we haven't seen you for months! We thought you had gotten captured by the Autoscum!"

"Well, Ah'm fine!" Jazz hissed. "Ah'm gonna go now!"

"Jazz, wait!"

"Vortex, Ah told ya b'fore! Just 'cause we 'faced, don't mean there's any emotional attachment!"

The interrogator scowled, pulling his arm back from where he had been reaching for Jazz. "I never said nothing about an emotional attachment! You were a good frag, is all."

Shooting him a sharp smile, Jazz turned to the door. "That's what they all say."

"What you're doing is dangerous."

"O' course."

"Megatron wants you back again." Vortex sighed, ignoring Jazz's blasé attitude towards his own safety. "You're his best saboteur!"

"Ah'm one o' his on'y saboteurs." Jazz pointed out irritably. "An' right now, Ah have t' go."

"But why?!" The 'copter hissed. "You do realise that you're next in line to become Third in Command?"

"Ah'm undercover! Ah ain't gonna repeat mahself again! Ah'm leavin' now." Jazz shot him another glare, and loped out the door before Vortex could say another word. He had no doubt that the combiner had informed his entire gestalt of his encounter with Jazz already, so saboteur sped up his search for his Prowl.

As he ran past suburban houses that had been more or less destroyed by gunfire, Jazz found himself subconsciously searching for survivors. Even though the battle was reportedly a small one, the death rate seemed to be climbing higher and higher. There seemed to be no sign of life.

As if to correct Jazz's thoughts, a blur of colour streaked towards him and Jazz found himself being tackled onto the sidewalk by a youngling painted an offensive yellow colour. "Agh!" The Decepticon had to forcefully offline his battle protocols as they fought to surface. "What the frag!"

"Help me, please!" The youngling wailed. "My creators- I don't know where they are! They said they'd come back but-"

"Shush!" Jazz hissed, sitting up and looking around sharply. "Primus, are ya tryin' t' attract attention?"

The youngling's optics welled up with coolant tears and he shook his head fearfully. "I'm sorry." He whispered, climbing off Jazz's frame so that the adult mech could sit up fully. "B-but you're an Autobot, right? C-can you help me?"

For a split second, Jazz forgot he was projecting an Autobot spark signature and sporting a blue visor. "Wh- oh! Yeah, sure Ah am. Er... When did you last see your parents?"

With a little sniffle, the youngling blinked back his tears before they could spill down his face. "Earlier on. Th-they said they were j-just going out to f-f-find a safe place to hide, b-but they didn't come back."

Dead, Jazz's pessimistic side sang. "Ah see.. Look, it's gonna be just fine. Ya c'n come wit' me." Naturally, Jazz was only doing this because appearing in front of the Autobots with a rescued youngling would surely impress Prowl, as well as gaining the trust and admiration of several other mechs. And if anyone were to claim he was actually softening up enough to help an orphaned youngling, he would kill them. Messily and painfully.

"Thank you." Another sniff, and the youngling held out his arms to Jazz expectantly.

"Wha'?" Jazz asked suspiciously.

"A-aren't you going to carry me?"

"Why on Cybertron would Ah do that? Ya got two perfectly good leg struts, don't ya?" The minute the words were out, the youngling's lower lip started to quiver. "Oh Primus, don't cry.. Hey, c'mon bud! No need t' cry.. Oh, fine!"

With a squeal, the youngling clasped onto Jazz's neck as the silver mech picked him up. Small legs wrapped around his waist, and the youngling snuggled into Jazz's frame as he started walking. Not for the first time, Jazz wondered how 'bots would react if they knew who he really was; psychopathic, sadistic, homicidal, remorseless. He wondered how they would look at him - probably the same as they had looked at him when he had first emerged from the Crypt.

They were both silent as Jazz carried the youngling through the streets; the little yellow 'bot seemed to be observing the damage to the streets around him, and Jazz simply allowed him to do so in silence. "Are my creators dead?" His small voice asked suddenly, loud in the silence.

The saboteur stiffened. "... Ah don't know, kid. They could have made it out." Jazz didn't know why he was lying, only that he didn't want to upset the youngling.

There was no sound as the youngling buried his face into Jazz's neck. "I think they're dead." He whispered.

Without thinking, Jazz began rubbing the youngling's back comfortingly. "Ya don't know that, kiddo. But don't worry - Ah'm bringin' ya t' the Autobots. Th- we'll keep ya safe."

"Thank you" was the last thing the youngling whimpered before offlining his optics and taking a light stasis nap in Jazz's arms.

It was some time before Jazz heard the sound of fighting again and though he was tired from carrying the youngling all this way, he ran the rest of the way to the battlefield. Putting all his saboteur skills into edging around the sidelines of the battle, Jazz ran to where Prowl's sparkbeat was emanating from.

The tactician was standing away from the battle, surveying the troops and every individual soldier, his battle computer almost visibly spitting out plans and formations. Even as one soldier got injured, Prowl instructed another mech to take their place over the comm. links, all the while watching for any way to prevent any casualties.

With barely a moments hesitation, Jazz began to stride towards him. Clearly, a lot of mechs were watching out for the tactician, because Jazz barely got within twenty metres of him before a huge, tank-like red mech blocked his way. "Hold it. Who're ya?"

Barely suppressing a snarl of rage at being prevented from reaching his Prowler, Jazz glared up at the mech. "Ah need t' see Prowl."

"He's busy, as Ah'm sure you can see." The huge mech returned the glare. "Return home and hide. You and your sparkling should be safe; the 'Cons are gonna turn tailpipe any minute now."

Blinking behind his visor at the fact that the youngling in his arms had been mistaken for his own creation, Jazz took a moment to respond. But when he did, it was with a sniff and a false tear running down his face. "B-but Ah need Prowl. He promised he wouldn't leave meh alone! What if he gets hurt? Ah can't have mah sparklin' growin' up without his sire!"

The red mech's azure optics flashed white with shock. "Wh- the sparklin' is Prowl's?!"

Jazz shifted the youngling in his arms. "O' course. Ah need t' see him. Please?"

With an uncertain glance at the youngling (who looked neither like Prowl nor Jazz), the red mech huffed. "Wait here until after the battle. Ah'll make sure you're the first person Prowl sees."

"Thanks, mech." Jazz murmured mock-gratefully, stepping back out of the red mech's way as he returned to battle. Clutching the youngling, Jazz took several steps backwards and placed himself strategically on a large chunk of rock in such a way that he and the youngling were hidden from view, but he could still see everything that happened.

The youngling stirred as a bomb exploded across the battlefield. Wide blue optics flew open and he sat up in a panic; once he saw Jazz he relaxed slightly, but kept clutching the saboteurs chest plating. "Where are we?"

"We're near the Autobots, don't worry little mech. Y'know, Ah never even got yo' name."

"I'm Bumblebee." He whispered, his little audio horns quivering as the harsh gunfire filled the air.

"Jazz." The saboteur smiled and began unconsciously rubbing the small Cybertronian's back again. "Ah'm gonna need ya t' pretend t' be mah creation, that okay?"

Bumblebee looked confused, but trust shone in his bright optics. "Okay. What's going to happen to me?" Suddenly, his small voice rose in pitch. "You're not going to send me to a youth sector, are you? Please don't!"

"Heeey, chill mini-mech. You're gonna be just fine wit' me. Ain't nobody gonna send ya anywhere you don't wanna go." Jazz assured as Bumblebee stuck his head in silver chest-plates.

No matter how much Jazz tried to coax him out, Bumblebee wouldn't raise his head from Jazz's torso. And no matter how irritating and stubborn the youngling was, Jazz couldn't bring himself to be angry - he had always had a soft spot for younglings.

"DECEPTICONS - RETREAT!"

Jazz couldn't stop himself from rolling his optics. Megatron needed to invest in a decent tactician, like Prowl. As soon as that thought had occurred to him he cast it away in disgust. "Looks like it's time f'r ya t' meet Prowler!" Jazz said cheerfully, standing up and pulling Bumblebee with him to his feet.

Clearly frightened, the youngling scrambled behind Jazz and clung onto the older mech's leg. "Who's P-Prowler?"

"Don' worry, Bee. Prowler's great. And Ah told that red mech tha' you're Prowler's sparklin', so pretend, alright?"

Bumblebee nodded, but didn't relax his grip on Jazz's leg. "I want my real creators."

"Ah know, li'l mech. Ah know." Jazz winced, laying his hand on the youngling's helm. "Ya have no idea how many time Ah've heard people say that."

Curious optics turned to stare at him. "Did you know a lot of mechs and femmes with no creators?"

"Too many. Maybe Ah'll tell ya about them sometime." He had no intention of doing so, of course, but the youngling didn't know that. Before Bumblebee could reply, Jazz saw the red mech he had been talking to earlier marching up to Prowl and saying something, before pointing towards the saboteur and Bumblebee. "Ready t' meet Prowl?"

The tactician's optics flashed white and his doorwings hitched high in shock upon seeing Jazz. It looked as though he were going to crash completely when he saw the youngling clinging onto his silver roommate's leg.

With a little whimper, Bumblebee reached up and whispered "Carry me?"

"Ya got leg struts, don't ya?"Jazz laughed, but scooped the youngling into his arms. Once again, short legs wrapped around the Decepticon's slim silver waist as he began to walk. "Comfy?"

"Mhmm." Bumblebee murmured, hiding his face in Jazz's neck as they approached Prowl and his red companion.

"Prowl." Jazz greeted calmly, ignoring the sharp stab of frustration and anger upon remembering that the Praxian had actually HANDCUFFED him to the berth.

At the very least, Prowl had the decency to look slightly guilty. "Ah.." He clearly couldn't remember which alias Jazz was using, and the silver mech certainly wasn't going to help him out. "How are you?"

"Annoyed." Was the sharp answer.

"Ah. Yes. That reaction would be logical."

"Prowl, Ah swear ta Primus-" Jazz began, but at the same moment Bumblebee peeked up from where he was hiding his face in Jazz's throat cables.

Startled, Prowl blinked at the youngling in Jazz's arms as though he had only just remembered he was there. "Hello. Who are you?"

"Ya don' recognise him?"

Prowl knew the saboteur well enough to hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and knew that there was no way he would be getting out of this conversation with his dignity intact. "Should I?"

"Well, considerin' he's yo' sparkling, Ah would'a thought so."

A short scream from Bumblebee made Jazz wince as the tactician's logic centre froze and he keeled over. Demonstrating superior reflexes, Jazz caught Prowl with one hand while cooing and reassuring Bumblebee that the tactician was fine. "Ya should take him t' a medbay." He told the large red mech, who was staring at him in a mixture of anger and confusion.

"You knew he'd crash." The big mech accused, folding his arms across his chassis. "You must know him well."

"Well enough t' have his sparklin'." Jazz pointed out, struggling slightly to keep Prowl's heavy frame up and keep hold of the youngling all at once. "Ya should'a seen 'im whenever Ah tried somethin' kinky with him. He just crashed; he got used t' it eventually though. He quite likes it now-"

"Alright, enough." The red mech shuddered. "Give him to me."

Jazz tensed as the big mech took Prowl; he didn't like anyone touching what was his. The youngling clutched Jazz's neck even tighter, before whispering "Did I kill Prowl?"

The saboteur burst out laughing (sounding rather maniacal). "No, li'l mech. Ya didn't kill Prowl. That happens sometimes - it ain't yo' fault." He snickered again as he began to follow the red mech towards the large transport ship that was awaiting all Autobots - and Jazz, of course.

As they walked, the red mech turned back to look at Bumblebee again. "So, tell me 'bout this li'l younglin' o' yours."

"What d'ya wanna know?"

"Anything. I just can't believe it's Prowl's. I mean, I didn't think Prowl had ever interfaced before."

Jazz let out an explosive snort, which caused Bumblebee to jump. "Ah mech, he took lots o' convincin'. Sometimes, Ah still hafta work on him."

"Huh." The mech grunted as they neared the transport ship. "So.. The youngling looks a couple of vorns old. Prowl a couple o' vorns ago was very quiet.. He barely spoke to his own commanders."

"Like Ah said, lots o' convincin'." The saboteur said, internally squealing over the thought of shy Prowl. "Hey, there's gonna be appropriate safety f'r the li'l mech on this transport, right?"

The big mech paused. "I don' know, actually. You can go on a different ship if ya want-"

"No. Ah'm goin' wit' Prowl." Jazz insisted.

"Alright. Yer gonna have to hold onto your younglin' then."

Bumblebee gazed up at Jazz as he followed the red mech onto the transport and down the back of the holding bay. "Jazz? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, li'l Bee. The Autobot Headquarters in Iacon." Jazz murmured as he sat down on the bench next to where Prowl had been laid out. He found himself realising that he actually believed what he was saying; Iacon had become a safe place for him.

"My real creators are dead, aren't they?" Bumblebee asked again, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah... Yeah, Ah think they are. Ah'm sorry, Bee." Jazz winced as a single tear ran down the youngling's face, and he leaned forward and buried his face in Jazz's chassis before beginning to sob. "Hey... C'mon.. Everything'll be okay."

Beside him, Prowl stirred. Blinking slowly, he onlined his optics and stared at the roof of the holding bay for a long moment. Upon hearing Jazz's voice beside him, he turned his head to the side. "Jazz-?" He caught sight of the youngling again, but this time he didn't crash. "Is he alright?"

"Not really." Jazz muttered, rubbing the youngling's backplates in a way that had used to soothe even the most terrified younglings in the Crypt.

"M-my creators.." 'Bee whispered brokenly.

"Ah." Prowl realised, sitting up stiffly. "I.. see."

"Ya must also see how Ah'm here." The saboteur said conversationally, shooting him a cheerful smile.

"Yes... Yes, I also see that." Prowl said uneasily. "Jazz, please do not make a scene here-"

"Ah don' intend on makin' a scene here." interrupted Jazz sharply, pulling the youngling in closer to him. "You're just gonna have ta wait 'till we get back to our quarters."

Prowl didn't even bother to correct the incorrect use of 'our quarters'. "Jazz, you must understand that I had to come to this battle. Protocol dictates-"

"Don't test meh, Prowl. We'll talk about this later." The saboteur ground out between his denta. Bumblebee's tear stained face gazed up at him, and Jazz wiped away his tears with a claw. "C'mon, cheer up. Everything'll get better."

"How do you know?" The youngling whispered.

"'Cause when everything feels this bad, it can't get any worse. So the only thing that's logical is things gettin' better." Jazz ignored the tactician's smile at his logic. "Ya should sleep now, mini mech. Ya must be tired."

"You are very good with younglings." Prowl said quietly as Bumblebee laid his head down on the Decepticon's chassis.

"Surprised?"

"Not really." Prowl admitted, earning himself a sharp look from the smaller mech. "It would be logical to assume that after your horrific experiences as a youngling, you would be protective of other younglings. Your personality also suggests that you would enjoy the company of those younger to you rather than those older."

"Stop psychoanalysin' meh, Prowl." The saboteur growled irritably.

"I am not. I am merely observing what I believe to be true about you."

The floor of the holding bay vibrated slightly as the transport ship finally began to take off. "Ah'm not talkin' t' ya 'till we get home."

Prowl silently stored away that memory file. He doubted Jazz had even realised he had just called Iacon his home.

...

"He's staying wit' meh!"

"Jazz, having a youngling stay in my quarters is highly illogical! They are barely large enough for the two of us!"

"Ah can take him somewhere else, if ya'd prefer!"

"Jazz!" Prowl snarled in frustration. "Don't do this. There is simply not enough space-"

"Bumblebee don't take up much room!"

"I don't. I'm quite small." Bumblebee called out quietly from where he was curled up on Prowl's couch.

With a sigh, the tactician turned to face him. "I apologise greatly, Bumblebee. The living arrangement would simply be unsuitable for a youngling. I-"

"Fine!" Jazz growled out, marching over and scooping Bumblebee up. "We'll go ask Bluestreak or Smokescreen if we can live wit' them!"

"Jazz-!"

The Praxian didn't get to finish his sentence as Jazz marched out the door with Bumblebee. The door slid shut behind them, and Jazz began stalking down the corridors. Fiddling slightly, the youngling whispered "I didn't mean to cause a fight."

"Don' worry, Bee. Prowler'll come around." Jazz assured as he made his way to Bluestreak's quarters. "But right now, we're gonna meet Blue. He's nice, you'll like him."

"Okay.." Bumblebee muttered as his new guardian knocked on Bluestreak's door.

Within moments it was opened, and Bumblebee stared at yet another Praxian. Bluestreak's optics widened when he saw Jazz, and again when he saw Bumblebee. "Oh! Come in!"

The youngling clutched Jazz tighter as they entered the room. "Who are they?" He whispered when he saw two red and yellow figures sitting on the couch watching some sports documentary on the screen mounted on the wall.

"That's Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." Bluestreak smiled, overhearing Bumblebee. "They're friendly."

"Does Prowler know yo' here?" Jazz set Bumblebee down on his little pedes, but the youngling only clung to his leg.

"Don't tell him! Please Rumble!" Bluestreak pleaded, completely missing the youngling's startled look at the name 'Rumble'. "Prowl would deactivate them!"

Sideswipe glanced over and snorted. "He could try."

"He would probably succeed." Jazz commented, patting Bumblebee's helm. "Are ya gonna say hello?"

The twins craned their necks to see the you going behind Jazz's legs. Bumblebee peeked out shyly, and gave a small wave. A grin spread across the red twin's face. "Hi there! Who're you?"

"You must be Bumblebee." The Praxian leaned down and smiled cheerfully at him. "I'm Bluestreak. It's nice to meet you, we don't normally get new recruits here, but I suppose you're not a new recruit because you're very young. But not that young, don't worry, I'm only five or six vorns older than you. Do you like it here so far? You're staying with Rumble, right?" The only answer was another shy nod, but Bumblebee at least looked more comfortable with being here. Bluestreak turned his smile on Jazz. "So, how come you're here? I mean, it's great to see you! But I thought you would have been with Prowl because you spend most of your time together and-"

"Ah'm waitin' f'r him t' come and tell meh Ah'm right and that he's gonna give in t' mah demands."

With a snort and a roll of his optics, Sunstreaker shook his head. "You'll be waiting a long time then."

"Not as long as ya might think." Jazz walked over and wedged himself on the couch in between the twins. Clearly unwilling to be without Jazz, Bumblebee ran after him. The saboteur grunted as the yellow youngling jumped into his lap. "Easy, Bee."

Bluestreak started to move towards the couch also, but another knock on the door drew him away. "Coming!" He called, opening the door.

Everyone but Jazz was surprised to see Prowl standing in the doorway. "Hello, Bluestreak. Is J- Rumble here?"

"Oh.. Uh.. Rumble?" The smaller Praxian glanced behind him to where Jazz was sitting with Bumblebee on his lap.

"Heya Prowler." The saboteur said casually. "How're ya doin'?"

"Please come with me. We need to talk."

Jazz rolled his head on his neck. "Ah'm comfy here. So's Bee."

With a sigh, Prowl stepped passed Bluestreak and into the room. "Will you stop being stubborn?"

"Why don't you stop bein' stubborn?"

A snarl crossed Prowl's face. "Come with me NOW."

Jazz giggled. Bluestreak fidgeted. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked enraptured. Bumblebee shrank back into Jazz's arms.

"If you do not comply, I will use force."

"Hey now, there's a younglin' present." Jazz chided. "Save the naughty stuff for later."

"Can we go with Prowl?" Bumblebee whispered.

With a bright smile, Jazz stood up and picked up the youngling. "Sure, buddy. If ya want ta."

With a wave of goodbye to Bluestreak and the twins, Jazz followed Prowl back to their quarters. It was clear the tactician was irritated; he didn't say a word until they were inside the room with the door shut behind them. "You are insufferable."

"Ask meh t' leave and Ah will."

Prowl remained silent.

"We'll set up a berth f'r ya tomorrow, 'kay li'l mech?" Jazz turned to Bumblebee.

The youngling nodded tiredly, scampering over to the couch and lying down. Once he had offlined his optics, Jazz stepped forwards and grabbed Prowl's hand. "Ya have some explainin' t' do." He said calmly, tugging the Praxian over to the berth.

"I am aware." Doorwings twitched agitatedly as they both sat on the berth. "You should understand why I left for battle. It is my duty to-"

"Ah get that, but ya handcuffed meh t' the berth. Ya seem t' have forgotten that." Jazz's voice remained surprisingly (and dangerously) calm.

Prowl shifted uneasily. "Ah. Yes. I knew you would escape with ease, I just wished to slow you down-"

"Why?" There was still no hint of anger; just cool curiosity.

"I did not wish you to be hurt in line of battle."

Normally, Jazz would snort at such a ridiculous statement. But his expression didn't so much as twitch. "Ah see."

So fast that Prowl almost didn't even catch the movement, Jazz was on top of him and hauling his arms over his head. "Jazz-!"

The Decepticon sat back on Prowl's abdomen, admiring the sight of the tactician with his arms tied to the berth over his head. "Yeah, Prowler? Ya look great."

"Untie me!"

"Nah. Ah think Ah'm gonna sleep."

"Jazz-!"

"Y'know," the silver mech leaned in close suddenly, "If Bee wasn' here, Ah'd ravish every inch of ya. Ah'd frag ya into the berth 'till ya begged f'r more. Until ya couldn't talk no more. 'Till ya forgot your own name. But, Ah can wait a li'l longer."

Prowl glared as the smaller mech sat back and grinned at him. "Untie me at once."

"Ya look cute like that. Well, have a nice recharge." Jazz kissed the Praxian's nasal ridge, before slipping off the bed and sashaying away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Prowl's wings twitched slightly in panic.

"Ah'm sleepin' on the couch wit' Bee t'night." He replied, sliding in beside the youngling and curling up to keep the smaller frame warm. "Ah'm sure ya don't mind."

Prowl was furious.