Chapter 10

(*word* indicate emotion :word: indicate internal conversations or bond conversations)

-0-In a staff room waiting for a meeting

Prime felt like slag. The unbelievable euphoria that he'd felt besting Ironhide so completely that he could see belief in the madness on Ironhide's face had crashed into the concrete reality of Prowl. He turned at the sound of Prowl's face plant and it dawned on him immediately that the way things looked had caused him to glitch.

That infernal design error, it had shaken Prime to his peds. Prowl had seen it all and interpreted it the way he thought it looked, falling on his face in a system wide crash. He felt terrible and had called the group together after he'd secured from Ratchet that Prowl was okay. They'd felt that not only was the prank stellar, it would be a shame to stop now. The deciding factor had been Ratchet.

*Ratchet*.

Ratchet had entered into the conspiracy figuring out that there actually was one even as Ironhide warily circled around the truth. From the top of his spiky head to the broad peds that transported his bulk and bore the brunt of his firepower, they knew Ironhide wasn't fooled. But what it had shown them to be true is that he hadn't figured out how so many disparate mechs had pulled it all together including mechs that had only been on Earth for joors when it was unfurled. When that was cracked so would be the prank so the majority vote of the Committee to Frag Ironhide's Aft wanted to push on. Ratchet had been the deciding factor in the end.

A guilty part of him was also glad they were continuing even if Prowl was a factor he hadn't thought to consider. The idea of usurping Ironhide's crown as the one prankster that never seemed to be defeated at his own game was too much on his mind.

He felt terrible.

But happy.

But awful.

But satisfied.

He'd waited until Prowl was re-initializing, hoping to talk to him when he was called away for a call from France. Decepticon activity was reported and they had to dispatch Cosmos to scan the countryside outside of Nice to see if there was anything to worry about. It appeared that there wasn't but by the time he had hurried back to the Med Bay, Prowl was gone. Teletraan II had located him in the lab with Wheeljack and Ironhide.

He wasn't able to go there, Ironhide alone would have made that impossible, so he sat in his quarters trying to recharge. It was a long night and even now he was nervous and anxious about the meeting. Prowl would have to come for that and he would see what he could do when he saw the quiet, thoughtful, beautiful, wonderful ... he mentally sighed as only he could. He could go on and on but it was almost time for the door to open and the morning meeting to begin.

-0-In another place and another mind

Ironhide stood by the door, his knee assemblies knocking together. The intensity of the interface energy that was cartwheeling across his circuits was reminiscent of his bonding 'audition' with Ratchet. He had managed to overload Ratchet to the point of no re and when he was laying there, Ratchet plastered all over his body in well-earned recharge he felt like a master of the universe. Ironhide, all around dominator of tall gangling medical personnel was more than sure he had filled the bill.

He and Ratchet had sparred a long time, the love deep from the beginning. The medic already intimate with Ironhide's insides having put him together from charred remains on more than a few occasions played pretty hard to get but it was only a matter of time and they were that good that fast. But the 'audition' was amusing and different. That was the first time he'd unlocked his most intimate panels and shared the contents with Ratchet.

It had been spectacular.

Now as he leaned against the door wondering if he dared, *dared* move one powerful leg past the other in fear that it would trigger an avalanche straight into overload, he cursed that wild-eyed Autobot. He moved his ped a little and his optics surged from the intensity of pleasure that radiated out of his codpiece to end in his limbs. His servos were actually heating up. "What the frag did he *do* to me?" Ironhide wondered. :Ratchet!:

There was a short pause, then a smile attached to a voice could be heard over the bond link. :What? I'm busy with another drunk:

:What the frag did you do to me? I can't move a toe without wanting to hump something! *GET BACK HERE*! *I CAN'T GO TO THE STAFF MEETING LIKE THIS*!:

:What do you want *me* to do about it?:

Ironhide cursing his libidinous programming heard the hilarity in Ratchet's voice. Then he cursed Ratchet's voice. :Come here and do something, slag you! Come here and make it go away!:

:How?: Ratchet's voice was now calm and filled with a quiet amusement, the kind he always got when he knew he had the upper hand in a frag-off.

:*You* know how. You either come here and 'face the *hell* out of me or you *fix this*!:

There was a pause.

:Ironhide, I'm up to my canisters in drunks. I have Wheeljack and Prowl. I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you and Wheeljack for corrupting Prowl. You better get to the meeting or I'm going to have to be forced to tell Prime why you aren't there:

Ironhide listened in horror. :You wouldn't *dare*!:

There was static on the line for a moment, then it went dead.

Ironhide stared in horror at the door, then down at his own treacherous codpiece. "Oh slag," he said quietly.

-0-In a room just down from Wheeljack's lab

Prowl stood at the door shivering, his optics off lined and the rest of him teetering on the brink. He was as wretched as he ever had been in his life. He abstractly wondered how Bumblebee could stand to be yellow because he was sure, he was *convinced* that his own blue optics were now the same color.

As he stood there, his systems fritzing and pummeling him with error and 'Look the frag out! You're going to die!' messages he was sure he was. And if he did, he considered he would never be able to find out what kind of kisser Prime was. Or what kind of lover. Or what kind of an explanation he had for leading him on when he was *BONDED* to *SPRINGER*! His precious Optimus, the love of his life was *KUP*'s great grandson-in-law something or other. It was almost too much. So was the door opening when Ratchet arrived.

Prowl fell forward and face planted for the second time in less than a stellar cycle.

Ratchet standing over him with the doorknob in his hand shook his head. "Well, well, D'Artagnan. You look like slag."

-0-Around the base, up, down and all around on the grapevine

"Prowler got *drunk*? *No way*."

"*What*?"

"Do robots drink? What do they drink? Can we get some, too?"

"Wheeljack, Prowl and Ironhide. That's what I heard. I know. Kick ass isn't it?"

"*Prowl*?"

"How did Prowl manage to get drunk with that stick up his ass?"

"Wonder what Optimus will think. You know, I heard another rumor."

"I hear that Prowl and Optimus got drunk together. I hear that his bond, Springer? Or is it Kup? Who cares? What's the difference? I hear that he and Prowl are having hot robot sex together. Uh-huh, uh-huh. You heard it *too*?"

"General Morshower gave Prime an ultimatum. Either stay with the Missus or there'd be problems. Cheating with another robot is against the rules."

"*PROWLER*? *THAT PROWLER*? *OUR PROWLER*?"

"Which one is this Prowl? Is he that big black mech that blows things up? That's Ironhide? How about that sweet ride, the yellow Camaro? No? I don't know what the hell I'm talking about do I?"

"Why don't they have chicks? They do? A *motorcycle*? Sweet!"

"So Bumblebee is Prime's kid. That green and yellow guy, he's the mother. How do they have them? I can't imagine. Do they make them in a shop or do they squirt them out like us? Don't yell at me! I'm just asking!"

"Ewwwwwww."

"Oh, sweet Jesus! You're telling me they *fuck*?!"

-0-The staff meeting

Prowl walked in with an air of normalcy about him. One didn't know that he'd spent most of the night offline on Wheeljack's floor unaware that a nest of mice had come out to forage and had stood on his face and back as they looked around. He didn't have that look about him, one of mousy-ness and despair. He sat where he was supposed to sit and he even smiled and made small talk.

Wheeljack on the other hand sat with his helm in his servos and his eyes half shuttered as the fiasco in the lab had taken its toll.

Prime surveyed the troops, Ratchet's face calm and smiling, engaged as he was with First Aid. Jazz sat beside Prowl and joked quietly with him. Prime felt a frisson of jealousy but pushed it away because he was Prime and he wasn't petty.

Oh no, he wasn't.

Much.

Wheeljack looked like he had spent the night in the Pit and apparently he had. Ironhide was still missing. Hmm. What could that mean, he thought, glancing at Ratchet. Ratchet showed nothing wrong so he continued around the table checking them all out until he reached Prowl.

The mech was spectacular this morning, refreshed and sparkling, his optics clear and that lovely shade of blue that made Prime's peds curl. He looked wonderful and he wondered again about the dozen or so individuals who had told him on the way to this meeting was it true that Prowl had gotten slag faced and off lined on Wheeljack's floor? He could see no sign of it and as he sat waiting to start he was a bit put out over the slanderous gossip going around. "Ratchet."

Innocent attentive optics looked at him.

"Do you know what's keeping Ironhide?"

Ratchet smiled slightly. "Probably. He had a date with Wheeljack's floor. I would think it might be a good idea to start. He might not be here he's so fraggin' slag faced."

Everyone snorted, Prowl smiled and Prime fixated on the curve of those sweet lips forgetting for a moment that he was the much loved bond of a mech he hadn't seen for a long time and the father of the Allspark's chauffeur. He quashed a smile along with his treacherous libidinous programming as the meeting began.

By the time it was finished, Prime felt like a heel, Wheeljack was well on his way to being sober, Ratchet was smug and satisfied, Jazz had a lunch date with Prowl, frag him, Perceptor was clueless to the undertones and curious in his own way about something if he even could figure out what it was and the rest were ready to move including the luminous, much desired desirable Prowl.

In short, it was another morning in Diego Garcia.