Prowl was bristling.

The minor tempter tantrum the black and gold mech seemed to be experiencing had been...amusing at first, if nothing else. Upon on-lining, he had taken up glaring at Optimus, who had settled down near the foot of his berth and currently busied himself with filling out one of the many datapads he had carried in. So far, Prime had managed to remain oblivious to the leveled glare, despite the fact it just radiated a pure intent of violence. Be it soon, or later one. Ratchet was just waiting for him to snap at someone, pounce them, rip them limb from limb, then curl on his berth and snarl at any unfortunate passerby's.

Optimus glance up, and for a second Ratchet almost believed his young former-Commander had taken notice of the glare. However, that hope was shattered as a smile crossed his face, and he turned to look at the door. Before Ratchet could even think to inquire why he was smiling at the ugly, discolored, warped hunk of metal, it shifted aside and revealed a brightly colored gold and black mech, grinning like an idiot.

"Welcome back, Bumblebee." Optimus provided, before swiftly returning to his datapads. Offering the mech a somewhat bewildered look as he entered, grin never fading, Bumblebee fluttered his doorwings. "I brought giiiifts!" He crooned, waving a torn and tattered "duffel bag" in the air. The very same bag he had hefted in upon his return, and carried off on his departure. Ratchet raised an optic ridge at him, an expression of questioning that went completely ignored as Bumblebee hopped up and down on the spot, looking around the room. Frowning for a second after failing to spot the mech he was deemed worthy of his first gift - who all could assume would be Bulkhead - he flicked a left doorwing and skipped over to Optimus.

Now, while oblivious to glaring, Optimus actually payed attention when one spoke to him. Which Bumblebee did, loudly. "Ooooooptimusssssss!" He sing-songed along as he hovered over the seated mech, digging through his bag at the same time. He was given an hummed reply and a brief glance upward in his direction. Deciding he'd have none of that, 'Bee snatched the datapad from his former-Commander's hand, and shoved a poorly wrapped object in the startled, opened hands.

Taking a moment to process what had just happened, Optimus tilted his head downward to look at said object. He blinked at the thing, prodded it slightly, then looked up the give the grinning mech a curious look. "Don't just look at it! Open it! OPEN IT!" Hopping slightly higher to add emphases to the last command, he shoved the gift closer. Optimus poked at it, and the wrapped suddenly unraveled at the prodding. He took a moment to stare at the kit in his lap, before looking back up and into golden optics.

Bumblebee immediately went into an explanation; "Well, I remember how you used to mention how you needed a kit to better care for your...axe-thingy." He waved his hand in the air upon mention of said 'axe-thingy'. And continued. "So while I was out and about I came across this one, and picked it up for ya! I didn' know I was gonna come back to find you some High-Commanding Officer or whatever, you probably don't need it now but...hey! Thought that counts!" He pursed his lips in concentration, tilting his head to the right in thought. "Come to think of it, I really should have known that was gonna happen..."

"Anyway!" He threw his hands into the air, slinging his back up with them and nearly whacking both himself and Optimus with it. With a spin on his heel, and sped across the room, skidding to a stop before an unflinching, unamused Ratchet. Rustling through his bag, he shoved a small, round object into his hands. "I suggest opening it later." Bumblebee grinned, earning a suspicious look from the older mech. Ignoring said look, Bumblebee bolted across the room.

He stopped before Prowl, who scowled at him. Bumblebee offered him a grin. Rummaging through, he politely offered the seething cycle-former his gift, a small, rectangular shape. Taking it, Prowl glanced it over, before inclining his head towards Bumblebee. "Opeeeeen iiiiit!" Bumblebee urged, practically bouncing again. Expressionless for that moment, Prowl turned to his gift and gently, cleanly pulled the wrapping paper off. It slid off to reveal a vibrant, forest green datapad. A moment, and Prowl looked at him again. The golden yellow mech waved his hands at him. "Turn it on!" The grin on his face was so enthusiastic it almost hurt. So without farther prodding, Prowl turned on the datapad.

Everyone watched as he scrolled through the datapad, expression gradually changing from more-or-less emotionless, to a small smile. Which slowly got just a little bigger, before he powered down his optics, visor dimming, and turned the datapad off. Venting a slow, even sigh, he glanced up to the younger mech. Hyper-ness subsiding, Bumblebee stood calmly beside him, watching carefully as he chewed somewhat nervously on his bottom lip. He had, at some point, sat down on a small berth-side stool. And was now only a hear taller than Prowl.

Prowl tilted his head towards him, smiling kindly, however small that smile may be. "First of all; stop that. You're going to bite through your lip." Unexpectedly, Bumblebee did as he was told almost immediately, running his glossa over the bite mark, still awaiting Prowl's response to his gift. "And thank you." His smile softened. "This is, quite honestly, the best gift I've ever gotten. I really appreciate your consideration." Bumblebee brightened, smiling happily as doorwings fluttered.

Prowl's smile faded as he sat the datapad aside. "Also, I apologize for what I'm about to do." Blinking bright golden optics in confusion, Bumblebee opened his mouth to inquire what he meant. His question cut into a loud, indignant squawk, however, as Prowl tackled him off his stool, both landing on the floor with a sickening clack. Bumblebee proceeded to flail hopelessly as Prowl strangled him. Lack of actual need for air aside, it not only hurt, but cut off proper flow from the body to the helm. And was quite distressing when you're attacker, despite usually being reformed and stoic, was snarling in your face.

Bumblebee let out a strangled cry for help as Ratchet crossed his arms, and watched. Finally prying himself from his datapad for more than a few moments, Optimus glanced over at the squabble. He gave Ratchet a questioning glance. He got a shrug; "He's been dead for a while. Got to give him time to adapt to having emotions again. Not to mention, being stuck in there to constantly be poked, prodded, and question by either Wheeljack or Perceptor? Of course he's grouchy." The medic huffed. "Who wouldn't be?" Giving the pair a lingering glance, Ratchet vented a sigh. Optimus opened his mouth to worriedly offer his opinion on letting Prowl 'work it out of his systems' or something, but Ratchet intervened.

"If you want him off, you do it. I'm not getting anywhere near him."

Before Optimus could reply, Bumblebee managed to struggle away enough to cry out a somewhat garbled; "HELP ME!" As he flailed his arms uselessly in-front of him, trying to pull and crawl away from the currently very vicious bike.

In all honesty, this made no sense to Optimus. But, deciding he wasn't a Medic, nor a Scientist, he left it alone. And just put faith in Ratchet's judgement.

Despite the choked, garbled pleas from the group's youngest.

Authors Notes:: Sorry this took so long! I couldn't really think of how to write out this chapter out. I'm sure some of you are wondering where Bulkhead is, that will likely be answered in the next chapter. I'm sure Bumblebee will start missing his friend once someone manages to get Prowl to stop trying to rip his face off.

Or, if all else fails, at least manages to pry him off. ;D

Disclaimer:: Transformers does not belong to me, nor do any of it's Characters.