Personnel Duty

Ha Hee Prime:

Prime/Prowl

(Going way, way back in this one)

In the grander knowing scale of the universe their war was still in its infancy, but to the Autobots it felt that it had gone on far too long. Thousands were already dead and Cybertron was beginning to come apart at the seams, both unexpected when the first instances of violence flared up as little more than terrorist attacks. Decades later, their race had split into two clear factions and embraced their own ideologies and beliefs about what constituted the rules of war. The fighting was escalating away from Cybertron, and though this had been a secondary concern, as Megatron took over more and more bases through which to supply his troops around their homeworld, it rapidly became an urgent matter.

The Ark had initially been designed and fitted for battles in space, unable to land and with weapons that lost their effectiveness within the chemical concoctions of a planet's atmosphere. After deliberation, it was refitted for a long mission of purging the outlaying colonies of Decepticons so that Cybertron wouldn't end up completely surrounded as well as torn apart from the inside. Two high orbits of the planet were deemed to be enough for a shake-down flight and to teethe out any glitches, necessitating a skeleton crew and two small escorts.

It was a boring task. In command of a warship that could only fly over the battlegrounds in search of its own internal problems, Optimus was becoming increasingly frustrated and tense on the bridge. To have all these weapons at his disposal and to be under orders not to use them, whatever happened, was maddening. But things could literally explode if something went wrong. The modifications had been made in such a rush, and this shakedown was barely enough time to get out the worst of the inevitable bugs. Prowl seemed to mirror his feelings, pacing a short line some feet away and roaming his optics across ever console.

With so few systems running only the two of them were up here on the command deck. Wheeljack was with a group of technicians in the bowels of the Ark turning processes on and off without warning and measuring the readouts. The ship itself was being piloted by the two escorts, so there was literally nothing to do. And it was driving them both mad.

"Prowl, you're wearing a trench," Optimus announced with soft amusement, scrolling through the Ark's new stats in the background as he tempered his own frustration.

The tactician stopped at the far left of his track, his features cool beneath the visor though there was a shadow of a smile playing on his mouth. "At least then there'd be something to buff."

There hadn't been as much humour in those words as there should have been, even for Prowl, and it made Optimus regard the mech again. They were bots of similar patience and thus the perfect pair to be stationed on the bridge for the shakedown flight. Ratchet had also had a hand in their assignment, seeing this as an opportunity to rest that neither of the overworked and tightly-strung mechs could afford to waste.

Though perhaps, Optimus considered again as he took in the slim mech's posture and stiff movements, Ratchet had something else in mind. Prowl had been at the forefront of co-ordinating many of the coming attacks on their own colonies, assaults made from the Ark without any optical contact to keep casualties to a minimum. It wasn't a style of combat that Optimus liked the idea of, but he appreciated that it was a style they should perhaps learn to embrace when suited.

Optimus left his own console to approach Prowl, optics brightening and the Matrix warming with subtle, intimate scans. "Is it just boredom that's bothering you?" He could be comfortably frank with Prowl more than any other mech, and he held a fondness for him for it. That, and it was childishly satisfying to manage to make Prowl sag.

"It's the uselessness more than anything. After Flox…" Prowl trailed off shaking his helm, only looking up now that he realised that the larger mech was approaching him. He sensed well-meaning intent and waited.

"Flox is precisely why we need this shakedown. If a cause for the Ark's weaponry arises, I want to be certain that the engines won't cut out because we're using the laser cannons," Optimus replied dryly, coming to stand in front of him as if inspecting at parade, touching panels in probing exploration and granting time.

Prowl fidgeted when the edge of one doorwing was stroked, optical coverings fluttering briefly. "I don't see how Jazz could find that so funny," came the arch reply as he willed his systems to relax, permitting the touches to become bolder and heavier. Like many, he was tentative to ever impose on this quality of the Prime, though by all laws and traditions it was his right. Optimus had never seemed anything but reciprocally interested, however, and he sensed in the more personal merges that underlined the cleanse that the other sometimes needed the functionality of the act as it was between them. With some bots, he knew, cajoling and reassurance, even gestures of intimacy were required before they could open their sparks enough to be cleansed as they needed. There was no such struggle with Prowl, who knew exactly what these merges were and enjoyed them for just that.

Optimus had busied his hands guiding the parts of the Datsun's chassis apart, applying no pressure himself but adding something like a ceremony to the act of Prowl exposing his spark to him. He was a guardian in these exposed moments of vulnerability and treated them with the appropriate respect. To Prowl's remark delivered in such dry and even tones, however, he couldn't help but smile. "At the time, no, but in retrospect I can see why he'd think it was."

"You're aware of it too though, Sir?" Prowl found himself going on even as Optimus knelt before him, bright optics flickering to meet his gaze before fixing on the glowing recesses of his chassis. "The fact that we're armed to capacity and ordered to be only a spectator to any attack until we are deemed battle-worthy?" A sigh as he felt the Prime's chassis open and the first ebbs of that pure spark wash through, though he couldn't relax into it. His own processor, and its habit of making single points persist despite however pleasurable the circumstances were, really grated him sometimes.

"I feel the same, but this is not something that can be resisted," Optimus murmured to a neural line, sending vibrations tingling out across the tactician's neural network. He opened his chassis wider and allowed the most peripheral of their energies to mingle with anticipation, relishing the sweet harmony of this particular spark. If their souls made sound, he was certain that they would be almost the same note. "It will take as long as it will take, and there's nothing to benefit by rattling over it." As he spoke, he thumbed the last latches over the spark casing with one hand whilst continuing his caresses with the other.

There was a very long pause, the only sounds above the ambient noise of the Ark's systems the crackle of building charge and the humming of warm vents. Optimus located the primary connection hub between spark casing and energon lines, wasting no time in caressing the joins with devastatingly experienced hands. Prowl brought both hands to the Prime's helm, very nearly grabbing the sensitive finials in his fists but restraining himself to just remaining upright. This degree of build-up was very unusual for them.

"That's very distracting, Sir," he announced at last, low and flat and very, very restrained.

A smile tucked behind the face mask, still in place and adding a spice of formality to this exchange. "It's supposed to be."

Prowl shifted his weight on his slim feet, fingers spasming and coming to caress the base and length of finials by their own accord. "As much as I appreciate it, I don't need a cleansing at present."

Optimus smirked and let the expression carry into his tone, optics shuttering at the prickling heat brewing within Prowl's fragile hands and surging down his backstrut. "I never implied that this was all about you."

"Ah," Prowl replied in a cross between realisation and a moan, his helm tipping back as he shuttered his optics and resigned himself wholly to the moment. "So Ratchet and I shouldn't be worrying about the strain that some of the bots have been putting on you recently?" he asked lightly as large hands manoeuvred to hold his back and aft, supporting him on his feet.

"It's no strain, and these are difficult times." The Prime's voice was shadowed by regret, making him hesitate in bringing their bodies together. He focussed on Prowl's spark, now nakedly exposed and throbbing with anticipation. "I'm only grateful that I can do more than to ask them to risk their lives under my orders."

It occurred to Prowl as a cold barb amidst a warm bath of sensation that Optimus perhaps felt obliged to do this out of more than ability and purpose. He'd always been certain in the knowledge that his commander would not allow, let alone initiate these cleansing merges if he did not enjoy it or at least want it. But then, he conceded, a sense of being duty-bound could go evenly with genuine want. It felt like some reassurance needed to be put out, though. "All of us would be willing and honoured to die for a Prime." He said it more quietly than he'd intended and it enhanced the words, spoken from the very spark now mere inches from the other.

Optimus did not cheapen the fervent sentiment with protests or disease, merely retracted the facemask to allow his gratitude to show fully. "Let's not test that theory if we can manage," he rumbled as he'd decided that that was enough talking, bringing their chassis together with one decisive pull.

Sorry for the short length and cut-off point, but I really struggled with this pairing.

Next time, Sideswipe with plug'n'play.