MY BABY BUMBLEBEE

something familiar

Prowl sat werily on the end of his berth, gently drying his frame with a towel. Idly he scratched at his thigh where Ratchet had placed a small patch over the scratches Ravage had put there. It was a bitter skirmish, with Soundwave and the rest of his cassettes as the cyber cat's back up.

"Don't pick babe." Jazz admonished, gently taking Prowl's servo in his. The saboteur sat down next to his lover and gently began to rub the towel along his sensitive door wings. Prowl's engine purred idly as he relaxed under his bonded's touch. He looked around the room, battle computer running an endless stream of data back to his processor. The integrity of the walls, the probability of datapads falling off of their shelves, how the berth would shift if he were to lay back on it. Here in his quarters with Jazz, the readouts were familiar and comforting. Here he could let his mind wander to more civilian matters.

"Wactha thinking Prowler?" Jazz asked as he carefully rubbed at the joints where the doorwings connected to the frame.

"Nothing. Everything. Somewhere in between." Prowl replied ambiguously.

"Bullscrap," Jazz quietly chuckled. "I know there is something more than everything going on in there." he smiled kissing the side of Prowl's helm. Prowl sighed long and werry, letting all of his pistons relax. He leaned heavily against Jazz.

"That child. The Camian one. He's praxian." he mumbled. "There are so few of us left Jazz. I haven't seen another from my home city since before it fell." he relented. "His presence. It makes me feel things." he sneered, flopping back onto the berth. The material gave and dipped just the way it was supposed to, every crese showing up exactly where it was calculated to appear. Jazz followed him down, curling up against his side.

"Feeling things isn't so bad Prowler. And jus' cause he's from the same place don't mean that ya gotta feel responsible for him. You can work out how much to be involved slowly, and figure it out as you go." Jazz reassured his husband.

"It's just- he's the same age that Blue would be." he said rolling over, burying his helm in Jazz's bumper.

"Oh Prowler. I know." Jazz whispered as he stroked Prowl's helm.

"I should have been there for him." he choked out. For the first time in a long time, he wished he could cry. Then maybe the guilt would lessen.

"Its ok Prowl. You did what you thought was best. That's all anyone could have done. Its not your fault." Jazz affirmed as he pulled the berth covers over the both of them. Slowly he stroked along Prowl's doorwings, starting at the tip and working his servo along the paneling and down into the hinges. It took a while, but he was able to coax his partner to sleep.