Acknowledgements: Lots of thanks to hydraling110 for betaing.
Warnings: Just some crackiness.
Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me in any shape or way.
Prowl looked up and nodded his acknowledgement as the weapons specialist entered the rec room and sat down opposite of the tactician.
The red mech returned the greeting. Humming quietly to himself, he then brought out a gun from his subspace pocket and started cleaning it with a flimsy rag.
The tactician turned his attention back to his data pad, continuing to tirelessly plow his way through block after block of finely printed text.
After a few kliks, Ironhide spoke up.
"Oh, by the way, ya talked with the female Autobots, didn't ya? How was Chromia doin'?"
Prowl froze, his optics stopping right in the middle of a sentence. He had fiercely hoped that Ironhide wouldn't bring the subject up. Up until now, he had done his best to try and forget all about that embarrassing little spectacle.
He hesitated a bit before answering, trying to find as neutral a reply as possible. "I did. Everything was alright with her," he managed.
Ironhide looked at him with slightly raised optic ridges, clearly expecting him to elaborate.
"She did mention that she missed you, but otherwise she seemed to be... in a good mood," he finished rather weakly.
"Yeah, I kinda miss her too, ya know."
The admittance surprised Prowl. The gruff weapons specialist wasn't a mech to normally say such things openly, rather dismissing anything involving feelings or emotions with a disdainful snort. But perhaps the long absence from his bondmate had finally softened his spark.
Ironhide sighed. "It feels really empty sometimes, being away from each other like that..." His voice trailed off somewhere far into the distance as if he were reminiscing about better times long gone.
"I... can imagine," Prowl said hesitatingly, overcome by a sudden awkwardness. Primus knew he wasn't used to talking openly about these things either.
The red mech gave a lopsided smile. "I usually don't talk about all this with other mechs. See, they don't understand these things."
Prowl couldn't argue with that. After all, very few of the mechs in the Ark had bondmates and knew first-hand the emotional effects of a long separation.
"So that's why I'm glad there's someone like you around," Ironhide said, leaning in a bit closer to the other. "It's nice to have someone in the Ark that you can talk to about... feelings and stuff."
Well, that was different.
A fleeting, although strong, impression that he was missing a pivotal part of the puzzle suddenly floated by in Prowl's processor. But perhaps it was simply the mention of Chromia that had brought this unusual intimacy. Gruff as the red mech was, he had always had a soft spot for femmes.
The weapons specialist seemed to have sensed some of Prowl's awkwardness. "Sorry, didn't mean to get all mushy on ya..."
"Don't worry about it."
There was silence for a while. Ironhide looked down on the gun that he had been cleaning, fiddling around with it somewhat nervously.
"Oh, by the way… she-she didn't say anything about, uh... something I sent her, did she?" he then asked, sounding both hopeful and expectant.
The data pad in Prowl's hands fell to the floor with a resounding clang, as the tactician drew a sharp breath, unable to hide his embarrassed discomfort at the mentioning of the pictures the two bondmates had been trading. That was about the last subject he wanted the other to bring up. To think that Chromia, Ironhide's own bondmate, had actually flaunted those photos of herself right in front of his optics…
The red mech just stared at the tactician, uncomprehending at his reaction at first, but then, as he saw Prowl's face tense and jaws clench tightly at the question, horrified realization suddenly dawned upon him.
"No way, don't tell me... she actually showed ya the pictures?" He seemed to be having trouble getting the words out, as if they had been coated in glue and stuck to his vocalizer.
Silence followed as Ironhide looked at the tactician in utter mortification.
Prowl didn't know what to say, but he still tried. "Look, Chromia appeared to be heavily over-energized when we spoke. I can't imagine that she would have done such a thing in a sober condition. It was just the high-grade that…"
"Oh Primus, ya actually saw those… I can't believe she showed them to ya... I thought they were supposed to be private," Ironhide mumbled to himself as if he hadn't heard the tactician. He buried his face in his hands, unable to meet with Prowl's optics.
The tenseness in the room could have been cut with a knife, and Prowl was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Ironhide was known to be a rather jealous and protective mech. Of course he was upset, and understandably so. Having a bondmate showing such pictures of herself to another mech would have that effect on anyone.
Prowl made another effort to calm his visibly disturbed comrade. The last thing he wanted was for Ironhide to believe that the tactician had enjoyed the little show, and that this unfortunate incident would ruin their hitherto good comradeship.
"I would never voluntarily have even as much as glanced at them, not under any circumstances," he said with emphasis. "Trust me. I had no desire whatsoever to see those pictures, and, frankly, I wish I hadn't. If I could somehow unsee them, I would."
His words were met with a deadly silence, as Ironhide just stared at him with optics wide in shock, mouth moving silently as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the appropriate words. Clearly, Prowl's reassurance had, for whatever reason, not had the intended effect.
When Ironhide finally spoke up, his words were uncharacteristically soft and demure.
"Tell me, Prowl, am I really that unattractive a mech?"
The black and white mech cocked an optic ridge. It was an odd question, one he had never expected to hear from the weapons specialist. But he supposed he could understand what had prompted it. If his own bondmate was shamelessly flaunting such risqué photos of herself to other mechs, no wonder Ironhide was starting to worry that he was losing his appeal to the blue femme.
The tactician sighed. He didn't want to see his comrade in such a gloomy mood over something that was clearly no more than a high-grade-caused faux pas.
"Ironhide," Prowl said sternly, fixing the red mech's optics with his own. "Please leave it be. Chromia is your bondmate. Everyone knows that the two of you are made for each other, and that's all there is to it. No other 'Bots belong in that equation. You know that. Just like she does." He emphasized each word, hoping he could make the other see reason.
The dejected look on Ironhide's face quickly turned into one of acute embarrassment. "O-of course. I'm sorry, Prowl. I didn't mean ta imply anything. Sorry if it came off that way. Of course I know ya're not interested in a 'Bot like…"
"It's alright," Prowl interrupted the red mech, gracefully accepting the apology. "Let's just forget about this."
Desperate to move away from this discussion, he searched around for another conversation topic that would let them leave this sorry ordeal behind once and for all. He quickly found one, right in Ironhide's own hands.
The weapons specialist's favourite subject. Perfect.
"By the way, is that a new rifle? It looks very impressive." The tactician leaned forward to stroke his hand down the barrel and then up again, trying to gauge its firepower. "I find this kind of model a bit too big for me personally, but if a mech knows how to use it properly, I can imagine it works wonders."
He was probably imagining it, but for a second, Ironhide looked distinctively ill.
