Why hullo thur intrepid starved g1 beexprowl lovers! This one is for all those people wondering why the hell there isn't more of these two in G1 when there's such a buttload of it for TFA 'verse.

I never meant to write this, it was just a fluffbunny in my head. But then it grew claws and latched onto my brain and i even started to do an illustration for it and i swore ide never draw G1 XD

That said, this is, imo, some of the best writing i have done. I did put quite a considerable amount of effort into it. It's taken me over a week of slow, finicky work, but it has been well worth it.

Possibly some of the most drawn out mechsmut you'll ever read. I had issues with repetitiveness, despite the fact im a fairly competent human thesaurus, but hopefully i managed to iron out the kinks and break up any twilightish over-used notions and words. However there is a dissapointing lack of words for both pleasure and pain. But this i have known for a long time.

Oh shakespeare, why oh why didn't more of your made up words catch on, i could totally use some of those right about now D:

ANYWHO, hope you enjoy this, cause i loved every minute of writing it, and what's more a second chapter is forming in my head, so you can expect more, but i'm not sure when, because i'm back at uni next week, and i totally begrudge how it eats into my free time. Chances are i'll spend the time i should be reading my texts on the train whipping out my laptop and writing fics though XD

dude. long commute is LOOOOOOOONG.

aigh't, we tight beetches, Death Out~


It was all the warning he received… a quick shout and a hearty shove that toppled him right over.


The furious tactician yelled back over the sounds of the battle raging around them. He had been an astrosecond from taking out Soundwave, and just as his sights lined up and his digit squeezed the trigger the mini bot had yelled and ran into him.

And now all slagging hell was reigning down on what HAD been his well concealed sniper location.

"Slag…" he let the rare expletive slip as he grabbed the smaller mech by the shoulder joint and dragged him back into the cover of the caves he had situated himself near for just such an occurrence. He was a tactician after all, and as there had been a 31.4% chance that he could be discovered, he had made sure he had somewhere to escape to.

However, if he had expected the 'cons to bring the fight to him in his hiding holes, he was sorely (and rarely) mistaken.

As the Decepticons ceased firing on him while he pulled further back into the expanding depth of the underground cave system, he felt a nagging buzz start to grow in the back of his processor.

His battle computer worked overtime, making new calculations as his comms stretched to assess how their defences and offences were currently holding up, and consequently he paid little heed to his own current situation or the sudden, slight hitches in his small comrade's intakes. Consequently, the nagging glitch in his processor only got worse, but by the time he gave it any thought… it was too late.

A massive boom echoed over his and Bumblebee's heads and he let out a grunt as rock debris began raining down on them. He had let Bumblebee's shoulder go before, but he took it up again as the mech stumbled (far more than he noticed ) after him, deeper and deeper down into the caves until they reached an area safe from cave-ins.

By the time they stopped again and both slumped against the wall of the dark, cool cavern, Prowl had lost his connection with the status comm-links feeding him info on the battle. In fact, all his communication links were now fuzzy if at all operational. Prowl swore softly again. Twice within a breem. Today was a bad day for him.

"…Prowl…" came an altogether too quiet voice from beside him. Prowl turned his chassis headlights on his small yellow companion… realising it was the first he'd spoken since ramming into him and throwing his carefully executed strategy into complete chaos…

When his lights hit the silver faceplate within the horned yellow helm, he immediately registered that something was very wrong (not that he shouldn't have gleaned that from Bumblebee's odd tone and behaviour already, but he was distracted and frustrated).

"It… they… were… going to…get you…" the small bot struggled to vocalise weakly. That's when Prowl noticed it… something large and ominously spiny and red was lodged in Bumblebee's neck where it met his chassis. Prowl reached forward and pulled it out immediately, but it was obvious the damage had been done. The little bot was now trembling uncontrollably, blue optics shinning with an obvious tinge of fear.

Prowl went from deeply irritated to desperately concerned in a spark-beat. He ran the deepest scan he was able and registered an extremely nasty line of virus code spreading slowly through Bumblebee's systems.

For the first time since his last battle-computer crash nearly a whole vorn ago, Prowl found his processor go blank… it was momentary, barely three nanokliks, before actions that needed taking began to crawl sluggishly through his CPU, but for Prowl, such a pause was un-heard of and downright alarming… if it was bad enough to give Prowl pause, then the seriousness of the situation didn't bear thinking about.

Prowl ramped as much of his power as he could spare into his communication units and hailed Ratchet's frequency.

He got a disconcerting wall of static in return. He knew it was Soundwave… he was still in the fight, and jamming long-range communications. Prowl would have to wait, keeping his sensors prodding at the comms firewall until he felt it shift, before he could contact the medic or any of the other autobots for that matter.

"What happened?" he asked Bumblebee, his urgency belying the anxiety for his companion he would not let creep into his voice.

"R-rumble… sneak attack…from behind…no time to do… anything but… take the hit." Bumblebee struggled to get out, optics flickering with the first tendrils of what promised to be pit-slagging agony creeping through him from whatever the Decepticon's weapon had fired into him. He was one of the autobots best spies, and yet he'd heard no whisper of the weapon Rumble had produced and aimed at Prowl as he hid behind the embankment, lining up his shot at the huge blue and white mech that was proving such a nuisance in their recent battles. He'd had no choice… he had lost his rifle in a scuffle with Ravage, and had just thrown the turbocat-cassetticon off when he'd noticed the ungodly large bazooka looking canon on Rumble's shoulder pointing right at Prowl's back. Bumblebee hadn't thought. He hadn't needed to. He had acted before his CPU even caught up with the motion command his processor had made. And if he hadn't taken that hit, the second-in-command may have been off-lined right then… in a way, he felt lucky, like he had somehow dodged a bullet even as he leapt in front of one. It was just a bug-shot… not an explosive round or missile… he was lucky his spark chamber was still intact… although that still remained to be seen, given the full effects of the hit were yet to come.

"What's your status?" Prowl asked calmly and evenly, trying his best not to alarm the yellow mech despite the worrying readings his last scan had produced.

Bumblebee ran a sluggish systems check. Whatever virus code had been in that smart-shot Rumble had hit him with, it was having one hell of a time as it began fragging with his heating systems and energon relays. Bumblebee gave an uncomfortable groan and let his helm fall back against the cavern wall with a soft clang. "It's hitting my… sensory relays… I'll lose a lot of… feeling in my extremities… within a cycle, then… in another cycle… my heating systems …will drop to critically… low operational levels… and my energon lines… will freeze over…"

"You will go into stasis lock before that happens" Prowl said quietly, emotionlessly.

"Yea… won't come out… though…" Bumblebee squeezed out of his fritzingly difficult vocaliser.

Prowl's mouth thinned into a tense line. He stared into Bumblebee's still bright, fluttering blue optics. "I will not allow that." He said very softly. The sincere smile he received for this simple statement made him dim his optics a little in a comforting gesture. "I'm afraid your pain will steadily increase. As your systems are affected I will try to assist you where I can, but there is nothing I can do for the pain. This may turn into some of the longest few cycles of your life…" a hint of sad pity crept into his voice as he informed Bumblebee of what was going to transpire. Bumblebee, still trembling uncontrollably as his systems came under attack, merely gave a short nod of understanding, before his optics flickered off for a moment and his head shuddered back with a short shock of pain.

Prowl felt a sudden stab of deep concern for the small bot, but as Bumblebee's optics powered back on he gave Prowl the faintest of smiles. "I'll… get through… with you…around" he stated simply, a little static creeping into his vocals as he tried to suppress the short waves of pain that had suddenly begun to radiate from his left side panels.

Prowl shuttered his optics at Bumblebee a few times before he let the smallest, sad smile grace his faceplate. "I am monitoring the communications lines. Soundwave is jamming our long-range frequencies again, but the moment he is gone I should be able to contact Ratchet and he can instruct me as to how I can treat you… and we can be located and retrieved. Given the last readings of the battle's progress I took there is a 78% chance that it will be over within the next cycle."

Prowl knew his statistic calculations usually irritated most mechs rather than comforted them, but in this case it did seem to calm the other bot down. If there was one thing an autobot could rely on, it was Prowl's calculations. Bumblebee relaxed a little with the knowledge he would likely not have to suffer too hard before some help was at servo.

As the two sat in silent trepidation, Bumblebee shifted and shuddered and jerked with uncomfortable and increasing waves of pain. It was a disturbing sensation, to feel the viral coding seeping through his circuits, slowly eating away his base programming protocols and frying a minor conductor or two. He began to get drowsy and irritable when the virus reached his heating systems and clogged the relays. He cooled at a very slow rate, but the pain only increased as the virus spread and got stronger, feeding off the energy that was no longer being fed directly to his heating systems.

Prowl did his best to try and distract the little bot by predicting what the likely outcome of the battle above them would be. Bumblebee tried to focus on the calculations and their positive outcomes, but in the end all he could concentrate on was Prowl's cool, melodic vocals, and when he did he felt oddly soothed, despite the increasing and worrying frequency of violent spikes in his pain, making him jerk and buck randomly with a grimace of pain, and yet he remained silent.

Prowl had never before spent a great deal of time in Bumblebee's company. Prowl on whole didn't spend a great deal of time with any other bot, save maybe Jazz and Optimus Prime when discussing battle plans and calculations (or recharging with Jazz, which was usually the longest time they could steal together). But this was different. He was seeing a depth of strength and control in the small mech he had not before envisioned in him. He knew Bumblebee's torture was beginning… knew his little twitches and shifts hid larger surges of pain than he let on. He was unable to hide it in the violent surges of his flickering blue optics as he stared straight at the black expanse of the opposite wall. Prowl realised that Bumblebee was not really listening to anything he was saying. He did not at all blame him. Prowl, in fact, felt a pang of guilt. He felt frivolous, droning on about the unseen battle above them and its likely outcome, when the bot next to him had selflessly saved him from what was proving to be a horribly painful fate. Prowl let his voice trail to static mid sentence with a heavy aspiration of his cooling fans.

Bumblebee glanced over at him, a puzzled look on his tense face.

"I am sincerely sorry, Bumblebee." he said, a true and rare regret lacing his tone as he softly spoke the words, bowing his red chevron. Bumblebee merely gave him a quizzical stare. He raised his optics to Bumblebee's once more. "I have not even yet thanked you for the risk you took… for saving me from the Decepticon's lechery. Instead here I am talking endlessly about something that is really quite pointless."

"It's not… I like to… hear you talk…" Bumblebee replied, his vocaliser weak but tone sincere… and then he added swiftly "about the… battle, that is…"

Prowl wasn't sure if he imagined the cherry hue that came to Bumblebee's faceplate in the dark or not, but chose to ignore it as he attempted to stop his own faceplate from heating up at Bumblebees words.

"I think perhaps the Decepticons have become aggravated that my battle plans have thwarted their last few attempts to attack the Ark… this seems to have been more than just an exercise in attempted assassination. They wanted revenge. I am only sorry you have taken the brunt of an attack that seems intended for me. How are you feeling?" Prowl asked, level voice much calmer than he felt.

"That would… explain why… I heard nothing… about that weapon… while on missions. 'Cons concocted… it just for you." Bumblebee's optics dimmed as he ran another systems check, face flinching as another stab of pain rent his lower chassis circuit boards.

"My servos… are starting to… feel kinda sluggish… core temperature… is 12 degrees below … average… and my circuits… feel like… a turborat… has been chewing on them." he stated dryly with another violent wince, his optics off lining for a few seconds.

Prowl gave a nod and stared at the ground guiltily, knowing it should have been him in Bumblebee's position… he would gladly swap places if he could… why had Bumblebee jumped in front of the shot rather than tried to misdirect it? He knew Bumblebee didn't have a logic chip as highly calibrated as his own, but he also knew it was not like the accomplished little spy to do something that reckless unless he had no choice. Prowl was about to ask for the exact reasoning behind his move when he felt his underlying probe programme push past the static wall that had been cutting off his long-range communications. Prowl's door wings twitched as he diverted most of his power to his comms and hailed Ratchet again through the now cleared if not feint signal line.

Prowl to Ratchet. Are you receiving my signal? Please respond with current co-ordinates and situation report.

There were a few clicks of soft static before the line crackled and the medics familiar voice sent a wave of relief through Prowl, who hadn't realised his own nervous tension.

This is Ratchet, hearing you not so loud but clear. Where the heck are you kid? The 'Cons just called a retreat, our position is 70 Kliks north-west of your signal, but by the interference on the line I'd say you're in a steel box, what's your status?

Prowl turned to Bumblebee with a reassuring look, having put his communication line on open air. Bumblebee was looking up at him with very pained but quite relieved optics. Prowl noticed with a slight pang of concern that Bumblebee's shuddering had gotten worse.

There was an incident during the battle, I was positioned to take down Soundwave, but I myself was targeted with a specialised weapon. Bumblebee is with me, he took the hit and we retreated into a cavern system I had placed myself near for cover. The 'Cons blew the pit out of the entrance and the resulting cave-ins forced us pretty deep down.

Prowl explained calmly, but his tense edge told the medic there was more to it than them simply being trapped underground for a cycle.

You said Bumblebee took a hit? What's his status? And tell me your location, we can head to your position while you explain. Ratchet replied as he motioned over Hound, Braun and Inferno, who were nearest and had been listening to the open comm. that Ratchet had been broadcasting aloud. Cliffjumper had heard Prowl's incoming hail as well and had gone to inform Optimus Prime that his second-in-command was confirmed online and apparently alright.

He's not good Ratchet. The shot he took was a viral-coded smart-barb. Downloaded something nasty into his systems. Currently it is limiting use of his servo extremities and vocaliser, it has compromised his heating systems and he is now 13 degrees below average normal core temperature. His cognitive functions are fine, but his pain is increasing and I have no means of relief for him. He is in need of urgent aid. Our position is 22 clicks east, 65 north of the tactical assault base co-ordinates established at 1109 cycles.

Prowl's tone barely changed as he reported Bumblebee's condition to the medic, but ratchet had known him long enough to pick up on the slight nuances in his vocals as he spoke, even as feint as the transmission was given their distance and depth. Ratchet knew Prowl was worried. And if Prowl was worried, it meant something serious. Ratchet gave the other three mechs who had been listening a meaningful look before he transformed and started in the direction of the co-ordinates Prowl had given, the other three following suit.

Ratchet texted a short report on what they were doing to Prime before closing his open comm. link with Prowl down to a private line.

OK kid, listen carefully. That virus code they've hit Bumblebee with is a nasty one. We aren't going to make it to your position before his Energon lines freeze and he goes into a likely irreversible stasis-lock…

Prowl's optics shot to Bumblebees with a terse and anxious look as Ratchet, still being broadcast out-loud by Prowl, confirmed Prowl's worst fears. Bumblebee too seemed rather alarmed and a lot more afraid given the news. Prowl wished badly that he had privatised the line before Ratchet had blurted out his dire calculations. But Ratchet, oblivious to Prowl's annoyance that he had just as good as told Bumblebee he was dead, continued on, voice echoing off the black tunnel walls.

However, you may be able to stave that off. Do you have any energon rations on you?

Prowl's optics shuttered for a moment as he tried to recall what he had and hadn't deemed necessary to subspace before the battle.

Yes, I have a small ration I locked in re-enforced sub-space in case I needed to retreat to these caves and was sealed in. The chance was only 23.7%, but it is only a half ration and only useful for one mech.

That's fine Ratchet replied, sounding a little more positive, He's going to need a small refuel, and you should last alright until we get you out of there anyway. Don't give it to him yet, you've got something else to do before he'll need it.

Ratchet paused, seemingly to choose his next words carefully, as though unsure exactly how to phrase his instructions. Prowl waited patiently, still not closing the broadcast of the line as Bumblebee watched him hopefully, still twitching in pain.

His systems will start to cool more rapidly soon. You're going to need to prevent them from dropping below 75% under average. You will also need to send a current-surge through his systems to stave off the spread of the code, or it'll eat through his processor's firewalls and then we'll have some serious problems before he even hits stasis-lock.

A small frown graced the edges of Prowl's mouth as he ran all this information through his logic chip.

I don't have the necessary means to send a proper discharge surge through his systems Ratchet, I have no such equipment with me that I can appropriate for the use, my rifle was lost in the cave-in, so I cannot re-calibrate it to use…

The medic cut across him, his voice now flustered, which confused Prowl into silence as the medic continued.

You don't need any equipment Prowl. This virus has been seen and treated in the field before. There's one means of creating a power surge without the use of tools or re-calibrations of field tech. This has been done before and saved many a bot until the medics could reach them. Now don't argue with me Prowl, if you want Bumblebee to stay online you have to take my orders as CMO without question. I'm pulling field protocol necessarily here, understood?

Prowl sat in stunned silence for a moment as he realised Ratchet was making him swear to follow orders no matter what they were. Prowl suddenly felt a chill of nervousness seep through his circuits. What procedure without equipment or tools would be so abhorrent that Ratchet thought it necessary to enforce his authority override as chief medical officer?

I will do whatever is necessary to keep Bumblebee online. He replied with a sidelong glance at the small yellow bot, who smiled weekly and let out a small hiss of static as he arched his back at a fresh wave of pain from slow circuit damage.

Good. Prowl, I need you to overload Bumblebee.

Absolute, stunned, static silence was the response to Ratchet's command.

It was at least ten astroseconds before Prowl replied.

Sorry Ratchet… what?

If the situation were not so serious, ratchet would have been rolling around on his aft laughing hysterically at the second-in-command's very out of character response. As it was, he ventilated a sigh which went through to Prowl as a burst of static before he confirmed the poor tactician's worst fears.

I need you to get Bumblebee to overload. It's the best way to keep his temperature up and fritz the virus coding to stave off it's effects until we can get there. And work it up slowly, the longer you can keep his temperature up, the better.

More stunned silence met Ratchet's instructions. Much as he tried, he couldn't help the small amused stuttering of his engine as he trundled on over the rubble of the battlefield towards their buried position.

Primus… You're serious… aren't you… Ratchet?

The voice that eventually responded was soft and weak and was obviously having trouble given the amount of static creeping into it.

I'm dead serious Bumblebee. But don't worry. I don't think Prowl is the kiss and tell type…

Ratchet could almost feel the Datsun's death-glare. He was actually glad Prowl had had him on speaker, it probably made the situation easier with Bumblebee hearing his prescribed treatment outright rather than Prowl having to convey it to the poor infected bot.

When is the best time to do this, exactly? Prowl's curt and very deliberately controlled voice came through to him after another short pause.

Well, if his core temperature drops another three degrees within the next breem, there's no reason not to start revving him up then. We'll be at least another cycle just getting to you, and probably another half a cycle to dig you out. Hound's with me, so I'm sure he, Inferno and Braun will make short work of clearing a path down to you. In the meantime, you can acquaint yourself a little better with minibot structures and their sensory array layout.

Ratchet, you realise I will not have to pull rank at all if this gets out amoung the rest of the Ark residents? As chief tactician I have an inordinate amount of strategies at my disposal to exact a fitting revenge. Prowl's ice cold vocals broke Ratchet's professional façade and his engine sputtered with uncontained laughter that somewhat alarmed the other three mechs travelling with him.

Oh don't get your diodes in a bunch Prowl, you should know full well about medic-patient confidentiality protocols, and unlike some of the more unscrupulous members of the Autobot force, I am not one to carelessly bandy about information as sensitive as this, no matter how… morale lifting some bots might find such information. Anyway, as a medic I am of the opinion that this treatment may benefit you as well, it's about time you got a good 'face.

Prowl baulked openly at the dark cave wall before him. Bumblebee was torn between great amusement, horrified embarrassment and the pain still raking through his chassis. At any other time seeing that expression on the normally straight-faced 2IC would have Bumblebee in fits of laughter, but given the implications this had for him, his burning red faceplate showed just how he felt about Ratchet's prescribed treatment.

His faceplate was not red because he felt exceptionally awkward about it being Prowl that had to administer the 'treatment', but because a part of him had actually felt a bit excited at the prospect of the Datsun's nimble white fingers stroking over his sensors…

Bumblebee was shaken from his guilty musings by a particularly violent surge of pain that caused him to throw back his helm and emit an agonised crackle of static.

Prowl turned his optics to the yellow beetle with both great concern and shameful anticipation.

This had better be the only way to help Bumblebee Ratchet, because so help me if this is a joke it is in the poorest of tastes. Prowl said quietly to Ratchet over his finally privatised line.

Trust me Prowl, I don't joke about stuff like this. And I wasn't joking about you either. You haven't had any decent stress relief in far too long, and what's more, I need you to do as much as you possibly can. Only a hard overload will do the most damage possible to that viral code. I don't care if you like the implications or not, you've got to do a hardline interface for this to work properly. And I know you aren't worried about possible infection, and it won't matter anyway because we'll be able to get to you in plenty of time to treat you safely. I'm guessing Bumblebee's condition just worsened if that burst of static I heard was anything to go by. When I close this line I'm going to set a block on your frequency that only I can go through for emergency contact, other than that you should remain uninterrupted, and I want you to get to it. Understood?

Prowl focused on Bumblebee with almost fearful optics as the small mech began to writhe weakly with the increase in his pain.


There was a click and the line disconnected, a small blue light in his H.U.D telling him his incoming frequency had been blocked with a temporary password override firewall.

Prowl let out a long ventilated sigh and moved closer to Bumblebee's side. The small yellow mech had slumped further down the rocky wall, shaking uncontrollably, curled up slightly around his chassis, faceplate screwed up in obvious agony. A quick scan told Prowl his companion's core temperature had dropped an alarming 5 more degrees. Prowl placed his servo on Bumblebee's quaking shoulder and the minibot flickered his optics online to look up apologetically at Prowl.

"s-sorry… this… is a …t-total… mood killer… I bet" he ground out weakly with an apologetic smile.

Prowl felt his spark throb painfully at the mech's words. Even as he was consumed with a pain meant for someone else, facing an exceptionally awkward situation, he managed to lighten the mood with a few well phrased, light-hearted words.

Prowl's faceplate heated beyond his control as he realised the overwhelming rush of affection he felt for the small yellow bot. The digits resting on Bumblebee's shoulder twitched along with his wings. Even through his haze of pain, Bumblebee noticed the twitches of the other mech and read his expression and cherry red faceplate like an open book as Prowl stared at Bumblebee's pedes.

"It's o-ok… Prowl… I really… don't m-mind… I'm not… the type to… k-kiss and tell… either."

Prowl's optics snapped back to his with a slightly shocked if not grateful look. Bumblebee smiled weakly again as he tried to hide another stab of pain that rent his upper chassis.

"If…it makes you…nnnnngh… feel better… I could do… with som-…something to… distract me… from the… pain"

Bumblebee hadn't meant the statement to sound pleading… but he didn't have much control over his vocaliser as yet more surges caused him to screw up his faceplate and offline his optics.

After a moment, Bumblebee gasped. Amoung the signals of pain had come a new sensation. It started out on his right side as a soft, warming tingle… but as it reached the wires just on the inside of a seam in his side armour, it increased into an intense stab of pleasure that cut through his agony and made him shudder, arching at the soft touches setting off the sensory network that was connected with the wires being stimulated. Bumblebee didn't dare online his optics. He merely pressed into the pleasurable sensations as they moved slowly along the gap in his side plating, gently pinging more wires and sending warming signals that fought with the pain shocks. This conflict of sensory information made his base programming fight the virus shutting off power to his heating systems, and sluggishly his system began to heat in response to the pleasure sensations. He didn't even register the soft whimper that escaped him.

Prowl felt Bumblebee relax a little under his touches, even as he squirmed and pressed himself into Prowl's servo. Prowl's wings twitched as Bumblebee made a soft whimper against his conflicting sensory signals. Prowl's optics softened. He knew it would likely start out rather uncomfortably for the minibot. Pleasure and pain signals clashing and jarring to a processor under systems stress like he was enduring. Prowl had moved his fingers up the seam in Bumblebee's side until he was level with the spark chamber. He then began to move his digits back down again, slowly, gently stroking the bunches of wires he felt under the tips of his fingers. He hit what felt like a sensory node when he reached Bumblebee's waist and something suddenly clamped around the wrist of the hand in Bumblebee's side. Prowl flickered his optics in a blink. Bumblebee had his servo gripped weakly around Prowl's wrist as his fingers lingered over the sensory node. Bumblebee's arm was trembling and he was respirating rather rapidly. But then Bumblebee's hand weakly pushed Prowl's a little harder into his own side. Prowl got the message with a flick of his door wings. Don't stop.

Bumblebee's servo dropped from his wrist as he pressed harder against the sensory node. The smaller bot writhed weakly and emitted a quiet, broken hum. The servo that had released Prowl reached out blindly until it contacted the tactician's upper arm near his shoulder joint. Bumblebee curled his twitching digits over it and weakly kneaded them into the plating. Prowl couldn't help the tiniest smile creep onto his faceplate. It had been rather a long time since he initiated any action like this with another… he didn't think it would come to him so easily. He lifted his other servo and ran it over the hood of Bumblebee's chassis. This seemed to soothe his pain again as his violent shaking dulled a little more. But then Prowl made him buck weakly and gasp by brushing his fingertips over the sensory node in his side again.

Prowl, doing another quick scan, realised Ratchet had been quite right… the sensory stimulation was kicking Bumblebee's heating components back into action, and his core temp had risen two degrees.

Prowl suddenly found himself frustrated… he had to draw this out as long as possible, but with a steadily heating faceplate he realised he didn't want to. He was too impatient. Yet for Bumblebee's sake he had no choice. And yet… as he watched the minibot's faceplate twitch with his touches and felt his digits paw his arm so needily… he realised that all traces of embarrassment had left him.

Could he possibly… have wanted this more than he would even admit to himself? Was it just that it had been too long since he had done this, or was it specifically who he was doing this to that was suddenly causing his engine to purr needily?

Regardless, as Prowl let the servo on Bumblebee's chest plate wander aimlessly over the seams and down the glass sides of his hood, Bumblebee arched and whimpered.

Bumblebee couldn't tell anymore when he twitched whether it was from pleasure or pain. For some reason the two were mingling and ended up confused in his buzzing processor. He gasped as the virus tried to assert itself painfully over his re-booting heating system, but then he whimpered as the pain sensitised his chest plate and Prowl's servo sent a shiver of ecstasy through his glass windows and the sensors connected to them. He wanted so badly for Prowl to find his hotspots. There was no room in his CPU to feel embarrassed about the impulsive desire. Prowl had already moved on from the sensor node in his side and seemed to be looking for another.

Prowl realised as he slid the digits of the hand he'd had in Bumblebee's side further down the hip, that Bumblebee's grip on his arm would tighten when he brushed over certain plates.

Prowl did not stop to investigate the areas Bumblebee seemed to react most to, but continued to brush his fingertips down the side of the minibot's leg. His other servo continued to trace random patterns on the glass of Bumblebee's chassis.

Another violent stab of pain was followed by the consistent buzz of tantalising touches… he was aware he whined aloud again as Prowl brushed over a hyper-sensitive panel at the top of his leg, but his squeeze on the tacticians arm was seemingly ignored.

"F-fragging… tease… nnnnngh" Bumblebee managed to gasp through more mixed signals.

"Medic's orders. You heard Ratchet. The longer you stay warm, the better." Prowl responded coolly, but Bumblebee did not fail to notice the purr in his vocals. Much as he couldn't process any embarrassment, the implications of Prowl's tone was also lost on him. If he had any inkling that the tactician was reciprocating his earlier unspoken feelings of excited anticipation, he did not himself recognise it. However, he was not a patient little bot, as much as he knew Prowl was quite right… but he was not the kind to take and not give.

Prowl gasped as the hand that had been clamping at his arm sending pleasant tingles through him, suddenly traced shakily up to his shoulder and then down his side. Bumblebee onlined his optics at last, head tilted to see what he was doing. Finding a seam under the Datsun's bumper, he slipped his weakly shaking little digits in and played with the wires under Prowl's chest plate.

Bumblebee let a sly smile play on his faceplate as he felt the tactician shudder with pleasure under his touch and the white servos faltered on the yellow and black plating beneath them.

"Ah… B-Bumblebee… that isn't… necessary…" Prowl whispered, but the obvious ecstasy in his voice as his optics shuttered only made the minibot's smile widen.

"C-come on… I can't… leave you… out. I…took y-your… bullet… you owe me." Bumblebee panted out playfully.

Bumblebee was merciless. His fingers twitched against Prowl's wires and circuits as alternate stabs of pain or pleasure washed through the small bot's frame. Bumblebee found one of Prowl's own sensory nodes and stroked it hard with trembling digits. Prowl ventilated hard, arching over the other bot, the hand on Bumblebee's chassis leaving to rest next to the minibot's head, supporting Prowl as he arched at the sensations, door wings shuddering and flying back.

Bumblebee let out a true moan as Prowl's other hand stopped stroking and slipped into the joint between his leg and pelvis.

Bumblebee's leg twitched and he squirmed as the white fingers nimbly teased the hyper sensitive connective wires running through the joint.

The only way Bumblebee now knew he was still in pain under all the pleasure sensations was the tender, over-sensitiveness in his hotspots. The pain was putting his sensory array on edge, and pain signals only heightened the pleasure ones until they became confused in Bumblebee's processor.

The small yellow bot had interfaced before… but normally he was not one for much foreplay. And what was more, it had been quite a while… the last bot he'd gotten with had been when he was new to the ark and had been to a new recruits welcoming party. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he couldn't refuse the fine high-grade offered out of politeness and wanting to be liked. As it was, he and his new roommate ( a certain red minibot of similar build to him) had helped each other, both quite overcharged, to their quarters. They had then (giggling madly) fallen over one another and gotten a little frisky with their elation at both having integrated into the prestigious Ark team.

Neither had exactly regretted their rather personal getting-to-know-each-other, but nor had they felt the need to repeat it. What was more, as the other members of the Ark got to know him better, none of them seemed to want a relationship of that sort with him. They all just saw him as too innocent, and truthfully, Bumblebee was too shy and comfortable with his friends to correct them.

As it was, Bumblebee was impatient with most things that weren't job related operations. And consequently the whole extended foreplay thing was a completely new experience… he wondered for a moment what was more torturous… the virus, or Prowl's exquisitely drawn out ministrations.

He decided with a shudder of pleasure that it was in fact something between the two as another soft, shuddering moan was drawn out of him.

Prowl was finding it harder and harder to hold back, with Bumblebee's touches, and now the sounds he was making, both driving his processor mad with lust. It had been rather a long time since any bot had been able to do this to him.

Back when Jazz had first made advances, Prowl had been driven to feelings much like this. Not at first. It had taken quite a lot of work on Jazz's part to get to him. But he had managed it. In the end, Jazz had somehow made Prowl the pursuer, even though Prowl knew full well Jazz had been interested in him long before he had realised he felt anything for Jazz.

They were still very much involved… but the past few months had seen both high-ranking mechs workloads increase threefold, and neither had had much time or energy to do much more than spare a few words together during off-time.

The idea of what Jazz would say if he knew what was going on right now made Prowl's spark flutter hotly. Jazz would be so disappointed if he knew he was missing this… seeing Prowl get worked up by a minibot, and the saboteur's best spy no less. Oh yes, Prowl thought, gasping as Bumblebee's nimble little digits found a sweet-spot above his spark chamber, Jazz would be exceptionally disappointed if Prowl decided to tell him about what he'd missed out on later. Just thinking of Jazz, Prowl found that he was shifting his weight back to his knees, freeing the hand near Bumblebee's head, which moved to the minibot's helm. He had just remembered something that he was curious to test…

Prowl was well acquainted with his Porsche lover's sweet spots… but did they translate over to other frames such as Bumblebee's? Prowl ran a thumb along one of the horns on the yellow helm.

Bumblebee let out the loudest moan yet and off-lined his optics. Prowl smirked. It seemed horns on any bot where a hotspot.

Prowl didn't need to run another systems scan to tell him Bumblebee was sufficiently heated by now. He was beginning to feel it beneath his fingers. He himself was running a little hotter than usual.

Prowl had not been on the top of Bumblebee's 'who I wouldn't mind 'facing' list, but as soon as those white nimble digits had closed around his horn he'd made a mental note to put him in the top 5. Bumblebee couldn't hold back his moans and gasps if he tried. His processor buzzed with relish at the sensory onslaught and suddenly refused to acknowledge any of the pain signals the virus had been spreading through his body. Freed temporarily from pain, Bumblebee squirmed and his other servo reached up to join his first on Prowl's chassis, brushing over the Datsun's headlights, tracing his bumper and sliding quiveringly down his sides, tugging needily at Prowl's armour as he mewled with delight.

Prowl could tell immediately that stimulating Bumblebee's horns was working exceptionally effectively against the viral codes. He twirled his fingers around one horn and then the other, his caresses responding to the trembling touches Bumblebee made against his sides as they feverishly sought seams to grasp at.

As Bumblebee mastered himself through the sensations to think straight, he realised this sneaky means of taking all control away from him was working… but Bumblebee wasn't having any of it.

"mmmnh…two can… play a-at… that game!" he gasped hoarsely through his still fritzing vocaliser.

Optics onlined again, he glanced up at Prowl, who was still leaning over him, and noticed with distant interest that the tacticians optics were deep blue with a lust Bumblebee had never seen in them before… despite the absurdness of the situation already Bumblebee found his faceplate flushed with colour again. However, his bright blue optics shone with an impish glint that Prowl did not fail to notice. One of the black servos on Prowl's side was gone. It flashed before his face… but before Prowl could process what Bumblebee's actions meant, the small black digits closed around the red chevron on his helm and began to stroke and fondle it.

It was Prowl's turn to moan before he could stop himself. Bumblebee felt a warm tingle run down his back at the sound. He had never imagined a sound so beautiful coming from the normally straight-faced, emotionless seeming 2IC. He knew he wasn't actually emotionless… but seeing his face melt into an expression of bliss under his black digits gave Bumblebee an all too pleasurable feeling that he'd never even thought possible in connection with this mech.

As Bumblebee continued to apply greater pressure to his strokes on the red helm appendage, Prowl's motor functions slipped from his control. He slowly slid down until he half lay over the small yellow bot (who had by now pretty much writhed his way down onto the tunnel floor). His optics flickered on and off erratically, but what he glimpsed of the mini-bots features told him Bumblebee was thoroughly enjoying bringing Prowl down to his level.

"This had… better be getting you… warmed up… don't want ratchet- Aah!…on my nnnnnn… case because you froze up while… ngggggggh … revving ME up"

"trust me… Prowl, no bot… could stay cool… watching you… like this" Bumblebee coughed out a laugh before whimpering as Prowl resumed stroking his horns and the inside of his leg joint at the same time.

Neither Prowl nor Bumblebee felt it necessary to question the motivations of their newfound confidence while touching one another. Prowl's logic circuits accepted that given Bumblebee's personality, it would be foolish to assume he would not feel the need to reciprocate this kind of treatment, intimate though it was. And Bumblebee was too caught up in the sensations and too clouded by the buzzing of the fighting viral code to process the reality of how out of character Prowl was towards him. Normally all these things would give the two mechs pause for some very awkward thought, but within the moment it all seemed so… unimportant. Irrelevant.

Prowl did a quick chronometer check. It had been half a cycle since Ratchet had cut communications. He hadn't realised the time had gone so quickly. He figured it was safe to take his ministrations to the next level. But before he could even collect his thoughts properly against the black fingers still caressing his chevron and fuzzing his processor, Bumblebee's other servo had slid around his back and now reached his door wing joints.

Prowl's head flew back with a gasp and a high pitched moan as the tiny digits dug into the armour creases where his door wings connected to his frame. Bumblebee gave a triumphant smirk. Oh yes… he new there had to be another spot better than the chevron… and hadn't he once seen Sunstreaker teasing Bluestreak's door wings when he thought no-one was watching?

Prowl melted into the touch, letting the servo at Bumblebee's hip travel into the seam on the inside of the minibot's thigh. His other hand stroked the little yellow horns harder, making Bumblebee shudder with more mewls of delight and dig his fingers deeper into the door wing hinges.

Prowl's cooling fans finally kicked in as his temperature exceeded ordinary operational levels. Bumblebee's didn't kick in, but they weren't supposed to, because he was only at normal temperature now, and was feeling a slight lag in energy given the effort his body was going to fighting against the virus code. He ignored his slightly sluggish hydraulics as Prowl became lost in the waves of pleasure Bumblebee was sending through him, and feeling the need to kick it up a notch, Prowl dove his mouth into Bumblebee's exposed neck.

Bumblebee whimpered and gasped as Prowl mouthed and nipped his neck cables, sliding his glossa slowly up the area where the barb-shot had penetrated with a USB spike and downloaded the virus. The spot was tender and sparked with a small, severed and arcing wire. Prowl almost enjoyed the sting of the electricity that zapped him from the tiny live wire as he ran his glossa over it.

Bumblebee let out a hiss of static and then a weak moan as Prowl pressed a kiss to the tiny wound. It was not a very painful wound, but the sensors around it were highly receptive from the damage, and every Brush of Prowl's metallic lips across the area sent tingling waves of ecstasy down Bumblebee's spine.

Because Prowl had come closer to dip his faceplate to Bumblebee's neck, Bumblebee was able to reach both his hands around the tactician's sides and stroke the quivering door wings.

Prowl had them pressed as far forward as possible for easy access, and Bumblebee ran his flat palms over the surface of the highly sensitive appendages. He felt Prowl's engine rumble with heated pleasure against his own chassis as he stroked his finger along the edges of the doors.

Prowl could feel Bumblebee's engine working much harder than it should have, knowing the virus was still affecting his system relays. He hesitated a moment with his movements, anxious that perhaps Ratchet was wrong about the type of Virus. What if he was doing Bumblebee more harm than good? What if he overworked him and he stalled? Prowl shuddered at the thought. Beneath him Bumblebee gave a weak whine, clearly wondering why Prowl had stopped, his little engine giving off a needy rev. Prowl pressed the fingers on the inside of Bumblebee's thigh a little harder into the crease in his plating. Well, even if it was a different virus (and really, running it through his logic chip he concluded that Ratchet was very rarely wrong with his diagnosis and felt almost ashamed that he was doubting the CMO's judgement when he had already come this far ), at least even if this wasn't helping… it may well be one of the best ways to offline. Failing the option of going bravely on the battlefield fighting all the way, Prowl thought that getting a good interface before going was still preferable to lying in agony waiting to fall into irreversible stasis lock, and so he continued to do all he could for Bumblebee… who it seemed was determined to do all he could for Prowl as well. Despite the fact he had no obligation to do so given his weaker, compromised state.

The small delicate servos on Prowl's door wings managed to set off his sensory array like no other mech had done before. Prowl had not had many interface partners, but he had never had experience with a mini-bot. He had to admit, he couldn't recall a mech who had managed to find so many hotspots on him in such a short time.

Prowl panted into Bumblebee's neck as the minibot ran a hand over the small glass-covered lights that sat between his wing joints, the other hand sliding up the back of his neck, pulling him… drawing him upwards.

All of a sudden, Prowl felt cool lips pressing against his own. He did not resist. This was beyond what was necessary… but both mechs had realised by now that something deeper than necessity was now driving their actions. They hadn't needed to say anything. They could discuss the ins and outs of their newly discovered feelings later. For the moment, they spoke with touches, strokes and soft meaningless sounds. Bumblebee's glossa teased him, flitting across his lips playfully. Prowl responded by sliding his own glossa into Bumblebee's mouth to caress his dental plating. Bumblebee let him in gladly, only half conscious of his legs parting and hitching up as Prowl's hand continued to knead the plating of his inner thighs, dipping into the seams and twiddling with the wires within, causing the metal plating at the front of Bumblebee's crotch to heat up dramatically.

Prowl deepened the kiss with a fervour that surprised Bumblebee, but a nanoklik later he realised what the Datsun was up to. Bumblebee let out a muffled, quivering mewl as the nimble white fingers still pressed into the seems of his inner thighs suddenly started moving up towards his crotch, Bumblebee shuddered violently with pleasure and anticipation, his engine whining from the excitement. Prowl pressed his lips hard to Bumblebee's as he slid his digits up the over-heated yellow codpiece, drawing another delicious mewl from the beetle as Bumblebee's lips reciprocated feverishly and his hands flew back to the hinges of Prowl's door wings. The Datsun bucked against Bumblebee's chassis, scraping white and black streaks on him, but his hands remained steady and determined.

Their kiss broke apart as Prowl let out a gasp and short moan before setting two fingers on the seams either side of the plate that covered Bumblebee's interfacing hardware. He dragged the fingers hard along the seams and the mini-bot whimpered and whined, digging his digits hard into the hinge joints on Prowl's back so that they moaned together in sympathetic frequencies.

Finally, Prowl pressed a particular spot on the armour plating and slid back the interface circuit cover, Bumblebee letting out a throaty moan as he did so.

Prowl took a moment to play a finger teasingly around Bumblebee's equipment, not quite touching the tip of his cord or the rim of his port. He traced a figure eight over the exposed circuitry and wires until Bumblebee made him whimper as he mercilessly attacked his door hinges and added his mouth to his onslaught by copying Prowls kissing and nipping technique on Prowl's own exposed neck.

Prowl hummed with a smug grin as he slowly placed a digit (now well lubricated by Bumblebee's leaking port) and then dove it into the bunched wires below Bumblebee's interface cord.

Bumblebee let out a sensational moan as Prowl buried his finger in his Port, stroking all the hyper sensitive wires slowly and carefully. The minibot now gave the Datsun some yellow streaks on his chassis as he writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

Prowl knew Bumblebee was not a virgin, but the tight little port could have fooled him if he hadn't seen the blackmail footage Red Alert had of two rather overcharged, under-'faced minibot roommates.

"Bumblebee… may I ask you something personal?" Prowl whispered into the yellow audio somewhere under his chin. His voice sounded like nothing more unusual was happening between them than a chat in the rec. room. Bumblebee, for some reason, found himself completely turned on by this nonchalance.

And Prowl's humour was not lost on him either. With a short laugh and a high pitched moan, he replied, "Ask away."

"When was the last time you interfaced with anyone?"

The question was emphasised with a few quicker pumps from Prowl's finger, making Bumblebee hum in pleasure so that he nearly missed Prowl's quietly spoken question somewhere just above his helm.

"ah…nnnnn… ages… too long…" he panted. "Not quite… as lucky as… you. You and Jazz… 'faced lately?"

But for his gasping, mewling pauses, Bumblebee could almost be asking so innocently as though they were having an ordinary, casual conversation over refuel. Prowl was not taken aback by the question. For some reason he found his answer coming as easily as if Bumblebee had been his trusted personal confidante for vorns.

"Unfortunately not. We've both been rather busy of late. What do you mean by lucky?… Jazz is the lucky one, I was nearly too blind to realise his odd behaviour was flirting, I was going to transfer off the ark before I realised he wasn't trying to drive me away." Prowl explained. Prowl had never voiced his opinions on his relationship with Jazz in such a way with any other mech before, but something about Bumblebee made him open up and talk with a frankness he did not usually employ in such personal matters.

Bumblebee slid his hands down Prowl's back as he got used to the overwhelming signals and sensations radiating from his lubricant slicked port and could think straight again.

"Hey… someone saw you… as a viable… partner. I don't… nnnnn get that… kind of attention… I'm everyone's- mmmmmmmmmm… friend, but no ones… lover. If I… didn't need to… overload to survive… you'd never have… seen me that… way either."

Prowl felt a stab of guilt he did not expect. Bumblebee was right. And he'd never even thought on it… how very frustrating it would be, to be desirous yet know you were not desired in the same way by any other mech.

"So… Cliffjumper never requested a repeat performance? I think perhaps you were either not giving him what you are giving me, or he has a serious glitch in his processor." Prowl murmured in Bumblebee's audio smoothly with a sly smile.

"nnh!…h-how do-"

"I am one of the only mechs on the Ark that Red Alert enjoys sharing his blackmail material with." Prowl said simply before deciding Bumblebee's port was now ready for another finger to join the first.

The little yellow mech cried out in earnest as he was stretched gently. But he couldn't let this bliss go unpunished. He left one hand on the small of Prowl's back, keeping him close, while the other trailed down the black hip, dipping into a seam along the way, and stroking wires all the way down to Prowl's own very heated Codpiece.

Bumblebee's impatience got the better of him. He did not bother teasing the way Prowl had (and really, he thought, he didn't have to, because Prowl was already warm enough for both of them) but simply fumbled for the right spot on the circuit cover, and pressing it, slid the metal plate out of the way.

Bumblebee's little black digits went straight for Prowl's interface cable. Prowl bucked with an exclamation of bliss as Bumblebee fingered the end of his cord. Bumblebee let out a similar noise as Prowl's fingers pumped into his well lubricated port a little faster.

Both mechs arched into one another and the deeply intimate touches, moans of ecstasy and what seemed like relief shuddering out of them with their ventilations. Prowl felt his cord begin to extend from it's recessed position as energy and electricity diverted to his interfacing units. As it extended, Bumblebee coaxed it out to its full length with soft strokes along the hyper-sensitive sheathing of the cables. Once it was fully extended however, it was pulled away as Prowl pushed himself down the Minibot's chassis, as though to retreat. His fingers withdrew from Bumblebee's hot, leaking port and the minibot whined in protest. Had he done something wrong? Was Prowl having second thoughts? Perhaps this had all been enough to stave the virus off long enough for Ratchet to reach them? But Prowl would never defy the CMO's orders, and Bumblebee had sworn there was something happening here, something more than-

Bumblebee's franticly fretting processor stalled as cool, pliable metal touched the opening of his port and he cried out in surprised delight as something smooth and hot entered him. Bumblebee's engine stuttered and revved even higher as Prowl's glossa dove into him, the white fingers once again at his inner thighs and digging into the wires between black armour plates. Bumblebee felt the Datsun laugh into him in a way he may have expected Bluestreak to… though perhaps not in the same position that Prowl was in… the sound rippled through his already very sensitive interface circuits. Bumblebee could feel a tingle of the imminent sensations overload would bring. "hhnnn… what's so… funny… officer?" Bumblebee gasped as his vocaliser hitched against both the virus damage and his near inebriation from the pleasure sensations swamping his processor and wildly fluttering spark.

"I just enjoy your reactions… for a moment… you thought I was going to stop… and I don't think… I've ever seen you… so disappointed."

Prowl hummed his answers in that cool, melodic tone that was starting to send tingles up Bumblebee's spine… and as he murmured them against Bumblebee's tight port he emphasised his pauses with laps at the bunched cables, making Bumblebee spasm at the intense mix of pleasurable stimuli.

Bumblebee let a small pout grace his features (though it was very hard to keep that face given Prowl's ministrations). "I'm still-ahh! …Disappointed… I was- unh- h-having… fun with your ha-aah-ardware!"

Bumblebee gasped, shuddered and moaned, reaching down to grasp the red chevron beneath his chassis, stroking both sides firmly, relishing the moan Prowl released into him, shuddering as the tacticians glossa lapped the hot wires on the inside of his port.

Bumblebee looked down at the black and white mech between his legs, continuing to run his thumbs hard along Prowl's chevron, making him shudder and drive his glossa deeper. Bumblebee noticed that only one of Prowl's servos was digging into his thigh plates… the other had been removed (not that he'd noticed, as Prowl's glossa was very distracting) to somewhere beneath Prowl's chassis. Bumblebee realised, as he watched Prowl's awkward, stiff shoulders and shuddering door-wings, that he was self stimulating.

For some reason, the sight of the 2IC engaging in such out of character actions aroused Bumblebee to the point where he let out a delighted moan and threw his helm back, bucking against the even more overwhelming sensations he felt as his sensory array threshold opened up a little more.

Bumblebee couldn't process how wonderfully absurd the situation was… but even through the haze of a slow, hot, stimulation charge, he couldn't help but feel privileged to have witnessed Prowl acting the way he was. He felt a newfound warmth flood through him at the thought of the reserved, cool headed, black and white Datsun doing something so out-of-character quite unashamedly in his presence.

"Pro-owl…" Bumblebee rasped out needily, vocaliser glitching, digits curling tightly around the red chevron still in his grasp.

At the strange tone of Bumblebee's voice uttering his name, Prowl finally surfaced from where he had been teasing the end of Bumblebee's interface cord with his glossa. Bumblebee realised he had spoken out-loud when he felt Prowl stop and look up at him quizzically. He onlined his optics again and let out a little static-hitched giggle as he saw the tactician wiping lubricant off his faceplate with a completely innocent expression. He pulled weakly at Prowl's helm and Prowl obligingly slid back up Bumblebee's chassis, except this time he was directly above the minibot. He let Bumblebee take his mouth in another passionate kiss, the slight, sweet taste of Bumblebee's lubricant still coating his glossa.

One of Bumblebee's servos trailed down the side of his helm where the other still stroked his chevron sensuously. It trailed over his audio, down his neck, and eventually embedded itself in his door-wing hinges again. Prowl felt a quiver of electricity through his interfacing hardware, excitement he rarely felt lighting up his processor and spark.

Bumblebee could feel Prowl's cord against the inside of his thigh, but he made no move to touch it again… he was relinquishing control to Prowl… it felt right, it felt so slagging good to feel the soft pressure of Prowl on him, ready to finish what had started out as reluctantly necessary in a more than willing fashion. Digging his fingers into the hinges and the transformation cogs they were attached to, Bumblebee broke the kiss (in which he'd tasted himself) with the gasping Datsun, and buried his faceplate into Prowl's neck.

Prowl gasped and panted, cooling fans and vents cycling overtime as he felt the sensory relay charge building dangerously high with Bumblebee's ministrations deep in his wing joints where no other mech had been able to reach before. He was getting desperate now, unsure of how much longer he could hold back.

"P-prowl… n-now, please… take me now…" Bumblebee's urgent and desperate whisper sent a thrilling tingle through his right audio receiver. It was all the prompting he needed.

Prowl took his own cord in a slightly shaking servo and gently guided it towards Bumblebee's dripping port. He found the interface opening and gently inserted the end of his cable, his connecter spike magnetising slightly to guide the cable in the right direction through the tightly bunched wires. The wires tautened and Bumblebee whimpered softly as he felt himself close a little around Prowl's plug. It had been quite a while since he'd felt another inside him… and he had forgotten how big average sized mechs were compared to him. Prowl had done a good job preparing his port, but it still felt tight around the other's cable… however, it was more thrilling than painful.

Prowl bit his bottom lip and let out a humming moan as he pressed his cord into the tight but slick port.

He shuddered in ecstasy as Bumblebee's fingers tightened on his chevron and in his door-hinges. He drew back again a little, ramped up the magnetic strength of his spike, and pushed forward a little more forcefully, trying to get his cable through the contracted wires to reach the socket buried within Bumblebee's port. Bumblebee let out a cry of bliss, bucking into Prowl's thrust… he wasn't sure he'd be able to stave off overload for long once Prowl actually connected.

With a blissful groan, Prowl had to pull back again and thrust again. Bumblebee pressed himself tighter to the black and white mech and they both cried out as they felt Prowl's spike connect to Bumblebee's interface socket.

After a moment of intense pleasure, Bumblebee was hit with a sharp and persistent shock of pain. He off-lined his optics as the fire of the virus sprang back up in his systems.

Underneath the heat and the stimulation, the virus had continued to spread, unable to do much more than slow his energon circulations. But with Prowl's connection it sprang to life, ripping through Bumblebee's systems to reach the open link.

Prowl's optics flashed in alarm as he felt the virus infect him through the connection and he arched back against the pain of a few frazzling circuit relays. However, after the initial shock of infection, he settled, shaking, back down onto Bumblebee's tense frame.

Bumblebee whimpered, but this time it was in pain. The virus sweeping through him to cross the connection had set his highly tender sensory-array afire… but with his sensory charge built so high, the pain was forced to co-exist with the pleasure once more and Bumblebee thought the overwhelming sensations would offline him. But he was brought back to bearable levels of pain with a few gentle strokes from Prowl over his horns.

Prowl had, even through his haze of pleasure, expected the invasion to his systems, and had set up some basic firewalls. Unlike Bumblebee, he had saved his vocal processor any damage ( but then the virus hadn't entered near it so that wasn't hard ), and his precautionary defences would keep the virus from spreading too fast or causing him too much pain for a while… especially given that he was about to initiate the systems-surge of overload, which would hopefully cripple the virus considerably before it could do either of them further serious damage. Prowl noted Bumblebee had however taken the infectious surge badly. He felt a surge of emotion much stronger than he was used to seeing Bumblebee wince and whimper in pain beneath him. He stroked the little yellow horns soothingly and dipped his helm, pressing his lips softly to Bumblebee's, who accepted the comforting gesture almost desperately.

As Prowl managed to calm Bumblebee's frazzled sensory array, the pressure of their charges pressed heavily on them once more. Their kiss deepened passionately, glossa pressing and stroking one another in imitation of the servos that were gliding up and down each other's armour, pressing hot metal plates and stroking wires to elicits moans and bucks from the other.

Prowl sent a small surge of energy through the interface link and Bumblebee gasped loudly, arching and shuddering hard against him. Prowl heard the little stressed engine rev as high as it was able before Bumblebee sent him feedback, making his door-wings twitch and shudder as he pressed himself closer to the minibot.

Prowl had not noticed Bumblebee's other servo trail from his chevron all the way down to his aft.

Prowl sent another, slightly stronger current through the link, and as Bumblebee reciprocated with more feedback, he felt a shock of bliss from beneath his interface cord. Prowl let out a loud cry of utter ecstasy. It was a moment before he realised the sensation was Bumblebee's fingers in his port. He felt his own lubricant dripping out of the opening and down the underside of his cable to mix with Bumblebee's. Prowl whimpered as three of Bumblebee's small, nimble digits dove into him, making his legs shudder as waves of pleasure emanated from his hot, over-sensitised port. Prowl now sent surges involuntarily through the connection, both of them gasping as the electricity surged between them.

Bumblebee held Prowl as close to him as he could, even though he knew he was so weak now that the other probably barely felt any pressure from his hold. He stroked the cogs in Prowl's door-wing hinges hard while he concentrated on pumping his other fingers into the tactician's very slick port in time with the surges. He would liked to have connected his own cable into Prowl's socket, making a feedback loop, but he knew he couldn't afford to risk off-lining and crashing in his weakened state, which was so much more likely in a complete connection overload.

As the two felt that they could take no more, they began to send energy through their systems directly from their sparks. Neither bothered to stifle their loud cries. Bumblebee let out cries of both pleasure and pain, as the surges from his spark highlighted the damaged circuits to his sensors… but as it had before, the pain tendered sensors buzzed with increased pleasure receptiveness.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Prowl gave himself completely to the physical sensations coursing through him, and sensitised himself to the energy coming from the other spark.

Bumblebee's fingers dug deeper into Prowl's port and door-wing joints, and Prowl found one of his servos was stroking Bumblebee's extended interface cable while the other rubbed hard at one of the little yellow horns. And then their sparks-fluctuations synchronised and both released their sensory charges.

Processor-blowing Overload took them both. They pressed hard into one another, engines whining at highest rev, chassis vibrating as their sparks blazed within them, their sensors firing with nothing but the most intense pleasure either had ever experienced. Prowl was the only one to make any sound, as Bumblebee's virus-fritzed vocaliser had seized up completely as he let out a silent cry of bliss. He was acutely aware of the frequency of Prowl's cry ringing through his audio receivers, only making the overload more intense, much in the same way the feel of Bumblebee's servos buried in his back and port was sparking further surges of ecstasy within Prowl.

It seemed an age before the blinding white of bliss through their processors relinquished.

Even as Prowl collapsed onto Bumblebee, shaking hard, the buzz of pleasure continued, ringing through every circuit in his being and singing in his spark. Bumblebee was exactly the same, but the rumble of the Datsun's engine through his chassis helped to prolong the soft wash of pleasure through his over-warm circuits and ecstatically fluttering spark.

Both cycled air hard, not moving from the position in which they had overloaded.

As Bumblebee felt the blissful buzz start to diminish, his exhaustion grew. His Optics dimmed a little.

He felt the helm that had come to rest by his move slowly, and deep azure optics shone into his for a moment before warm pliable metal met his lips and he felt a warm thrill light his lagging processor.

Overload had come and gone, but it seemed the feelings around bringing it about had not vanished from between them.

Prowl shifted a little to take the bulk of his weight off of Bumblebee (who was tougher than most bots gave him credit for and could easily handle the weight of a normal sized mech on him) and Bumblebee slowly withdrew the digits that were still buried in the tactician's port, earning a mewl and a twinge of residual pleasure feedback from Prowl through their still connected interfaces.

Prowl ran his thumb down the minibot's extended cord, still in his servo, before gently coaxing it back into it's recess in the interface circuits. Bumblebee managed to get out one or two high pitched whimpers at Prowl's parting strokes on his hyper-sensitive cord sheathing, but his vocaliser now crackled when he tried to use it. The overload had unfortunately not done the raw circuit damage much good. But still riding the haze of the blissful shared discharge, Bumblebee was not really bothered by the tiny twinges of dull pain. He and Prowl gave low, soft sympathetic moans as he finally disconnected and withdrew from Bumblebee. Prowl did not bother cleaning Bumblebee's copious amounts of excess lubricant from his cable as he recessed it and replaced his interface's cover plating. When he closed Bumblebee's, he did un-subspace a small shammy and cleaned away any lubricant that was visible on the outside of his and Bumblebee's armour.

When he was done, he looked back up at Bumblebee, and realised with a pang of concern the dim light of the minibot's optics and the hard, slow cycling through his vents.

He remembered, as he shoved the dirty shammy back into one of his sub-space pockets, that Ratchet had asked him if he had any energon rations on him, and he realised now why it was relevant. He found the small cube in his re-enforced sub-space compartment ( where he put it so no stray shots during battle could hit it and do him a nasty injury with the resulting explosion) and carefully settled himself next to Bumblebee.

"Come on… no off-lining on me now." He said gently, pulling the obviously much-weakened minibot up into his arms. Bumblebee shook slightly, but it was evident that the violent pain had subsided, which meant the virus had been weakened to the point where it's threat level had been lessened. Prowl ran a quick scan to confirm this before drawing Bumblebee a little closer. The minibot nuzzled weakly into his side, struggling to brighten his optics and keep his sluggish processor from slipping into stasis. He could feel his systems cooling again, the metal of his armour making soft cracks and pings as it contracted. "Here… you've got to keep your energy levels up until Ratchet and the others reach us. It's been one and a quarter cycles, they should reach us soon, they may have started digging already." Prowl said evenly in that smooth, melodious tone Bumblebee now craved to hear.

Prowl proffered the half-full cube of energy to him, and Bumblebee attempted to lift a servo to take it gratefully… but his servos responded so sluggishly and weakly… the full effects of the overload on his taxed systems were only just weighing on him. He was so low on energy now he had to divert all power to just staying online.

Bumblebee leaned into Prowl gratefully as he helped him drink the energon, putting it to his lips and carefully and slowly letting him process the sustaining liquid fuel. Bumblebee felt like a sparkling, and in any other situation would have felt embarrassed about it. But he had the sense that Prowl was almost enjoying himself. His nimble white fingers gently played along a seam on Bumblebee's arm where it was wrapped around him, holding him up against the Datsun's side. It sent warm tingles through Bumblebee, and he wondered if Prowl knew this and was doing it to make sure his systems remained warm.

"Any better?" Prowl asked quietly as Bumblebee finished off the small ration of fine-grade energon.

Bumblebee nodded weakly, letting his head fall onto the tactician's shoulder, keeping his optics bright and trying to pick a question out of his slightly less hazy processor to ask to keep himself engaged and online.

"S-so…how do I…ra-ate?" Bumblebee crackled out softly, the light humour evident even in his damaged vocals.

Prowl looked down at him curiously. "What do you mean exactly?" he said lightly.

"-gainst… Jazz…" Bumblebee ground out with what was unmistakeably a small snicker.

Prowl seemed to consider seriously for a moment.

"Different." he said finally.

"Diff-rent I-in… a good-d way, or… a bad wa-ay?" Bumblebee pressed mischievously, pressing a little deeper into Prowl's side to get comfortable and to hear the feint spark pulse in the chassis under his audio receiver.

Prowl's mouth curved up at one corner and his optics deepened in colour again slightly. "Oh, in the best way."

Bumblebee poked him with one of his horns. "com-me on… t-hats not… answe-ering me… properl-ly".

Prowl's door-wings, though they were pressed back up against the tunnel wall, twitched slightly as he chuckled very softly.

"Well… you are kind, extremely likeable and very considerate. You seem to interface in the same manner, with the exception that you let your selfish streak come out just enough to make things interesting while interfacing. Jazz… Jazz is the extroverted version of you, except he doesn't exactly keep his devious streak a secret, although its never more prevalent than when he's in a berth. The difference is, you are much more surprising, and he is much more… fiery, is perhaps the word… what?"

Bumblebee by this point was only hearing half of Prowl's assessment as he doubled over with crackling laughter, engine sputtering and revving.

"f…f-firey?… Jazz… YOU-U think… he's… " Bumblebee dissolved into staticy giggles as Prowl frowned a little at him, faceplate warming a little.

"Well, what would YOU call ME?" Prowl countered deflectively.

Bumblebee's engine stopped sputtering as he calmed himself to consider his answer.

"Hmmm… I bel-ieve the… human-n word… Is something-ing like… 'sex-kitten-n'."

Prowl took a brief pause as he accessed the internet and queried the phrase.

Bumblebee dissolved into strangled laughter again as Prowl baulked the same way he had when Ratchet had been jibing him about his lack of interfacing.

"I don't believe that's a highly accurate assessment personally." Prowl grumbled at him, faceplate a rich cherry colour.

Bumblebee leaned back into him, giving him another jab in the chassis with one of his horns again.

"O-ok… maybe n-not… but if s-someone… told ME-e… about you 'faci-ing someone… the way yo-ou just did m-me… I wouldn't be-lieve them… you're a LOT m-more suprising-g… than any o-ther bot… I've been wi-ith… by f-far that… was the-e biggest… over-rload… I've ever had-d." Bumblebee admitted, shifting down into Prowl's side as the tactician's arm tightened affectionately around the little yellow bot's shoulders again.

"By-y the way… yell-ow suits you."

Prowl's optics shuttered in a blink and he looked down into the feint glow his headlights shed over his chassis, noticing even in the dim lighting the bright yellow scuffs all over him.

"Not that I disagree with you, but perhaps it's best I erased the evidence. I'm not adverse to those with Ratchet knowing what we have done (had to do, Prowl thought, but then it hadn't exactly been some protocol chore ) but I doubt you want any more than I do for this to get back to some members of the Ark… at least for the time being."

"N-no no, I'm wi-ith you the-ere… I don-on't think the… twins would-d leave me… or you, al-lone about it for-r… vorns."

Prowl shuddered physically at the thought of the twins finding out as he un-subspaced a polishing rag. He cleaned Bumblebee of the black and white stripes smattering the minibot (after commenting that they did suit his name-sake rather well though, at which he laughed) before he managed to get the scuff marks off of himself.

Prowl? You two alright down there?

Prowl jumped as Ratchet's voice suddenly burst through his comm.-link.

Yes. The… treatment seems to have worked. The virus has been subdued for now. I was infected as well, but I managed to set up a few basic firewalls, it is not progressing as fast through my systems as it did through Bumblebee's. How far away are you now? Prowl responded, his usual cool, calm voice firmly back in place, although the link was private and not broadcast either way this time.

Good. We're halfway down to you now. Hound hit some fairly solid rock deposits before, but it looks like we'll be through to you in no more than a quarter of a cycle, tops.

Prowl, while relieved to know they would soon be free of their dark confines, found an unexpected stab of disappointment at the news. Once the others arrived, he would have to relinquish his hold on Bumblebee… would have to let Ratchet take him off to the Ark while he followed behind. The prospect of their small intimate moment ending made his Spark give a small sad quiver.

That's good. If you hit any more snags getting to us, don't be too worried, I don't think the virus is much of a threat to either of us for a considerable time yet. I'll relay your E.T.A to Bumblebee, he should be relieved at least.

Shouldn't he be relieved already? Ratchet's sly reply came through with a snigger.

Prowl didn't reply.

He hadn't noticed the minibot slowly go slack in his grip. Hadn't realised he hadn't said a word or moved since the CMO contacted him, hadn't picked up that when he physically jumped at the beginning of their conversation that Bumblebee hadn't reacted.

Prowl felt the cold tendrils of panic grip his spark.

"Bumblebee???" He said sharply, gripping the yellow shoulders a little tighter.

No response.

SLAG. How could he be so careless???

"BUMBLEBEE?" Prowl said his name so loudly it echoed off the dark walls. He felt the tiniest flicker of movement… barely a twitch…


The tactician got to his knees and dragged the beetle with him, turning Bumblebee to face him, but the other bot was slack in his grip. Prowl quickly lay him down and did another scan.


Ratchet we have a problem. Bumblebee has slipped into recharge. I gave him the half ration of energon I had on me but I did not anticipate such a great loss of energy… His core temperature is safe but what's left of the virus still corrupting his systems is hitting his firewalls, I missed it in my last scan, it was… slag it was sitting in his vocal units, I HEARD them glitching, I didn't even… Ratchet, it's going for his CPU…

Primus Prowl, he's that fatigued? How hard did you Frag him??? Actually, don't answer that, I'll deal with that later. Try and wake him up, he needs to be online to refresh the firewalls, don't uplink and do it yourself or your infection will only make it worse, I'll see if I can't get Hound to go any faster. Sit tight Prowl, we're doing everything we can.

Ratchet's terse voice cut off abruptly and Prowl was left with the silent darkness and the ever slowing cycles from the minibot's ventilations.

Prowl racked his processor… he had to try and wake Bumblebee up without uplinking. Obviously sound wasn't an option, if his yell hadn't woken him before no amount of shouting would. Prowl decided that sensory stimulation was the only option, and the better option for awaking on that scale was pain rather than pleasure.

Prowl found the wound on Bumblebee's neck, with it's little arcing broken wire, and pressed a digit into it, hard.

Bumblebee's faceplate twitched, and Prowl ran consistent scans. Bumblebee's CPU sped up and increased activity when he caused him pain, which slowed the Virus' progress given the interference of signals… but Bumblebee couldn't fight the recharge protocols his system had initiated… he was just too exhausted, and if he didn't recharge, he'd go into stasis lock, and that would seize up vital systems helping to keep that virus at bay a little longer.

As much as Prowl hated having to do it, he sought out more circuit damage under the plates of Bumblebee's armour, digging into them, breaking one or two minor circuit relays himself, just to keep Bumblebee's processor from slipping into a comfortable state of relaxation in which the virus would break that last barrier into his processor and frag up Primus only knew what… Prowl didn't like to think what would be left of the Bumblebee he had just come to really know if that happened… and he wasn't sure his spark could take that loss…

How had this minibot worked his way into his very spark in no more than two cycles?

After two tense breems of pinching and breaking the poor off-lined minibot's circuits, Prowl heard the rumble of Hound's drill cracking through the earth above them.

Prowl, how is he doing?

One firewall protocol away from serious file corruption. He needs you now Ratchet.

Ratchet did not miss the unusually strong emotional tone of Prowl's words, but decided to file the observation away for later queries. Clearly however, whatever had happened in the last cycle and a half had effected the tactician more than Ratchet was sure he would ever let on.

Whatever you're doing, don't stop, I'll be there in a few nanokliks.

It was indeed only about that long before a loud crunching of stone on stone was heard somewhere behind him and a moment later, a strong servo on his shoulder guided himback away from the prone yellow form as Ratchet appeared from no-where and up-linked directly to Bumblebee's processor to initiate a containment programme against the virus that had just been corrupting Bumblebee's last line of defence.

"You alright Prowl?" asked a very concerned Inferno as his face swam before the tactician's glazed, distracted optics.

Prowl could find no appropriate response and ended up giving a short nod in response. He looked over at Ratchet's back, most of the red and white medic's frame obscuring the still unmoving Bumblebee. Braun had also gone to his fellow Minibot's side.

Hound was somewhere behind Prowl, making sure the escape hole he had just made was stable and they weren't in danger of being caved in on again.

Prowl had been so concerned with keeping Bumblebee functional that he hadn't noticed his own problems. They were brought sharply to his attention as a sudden stab of pain alerted him that his own infection had broken through his self-structured containment lines. He let out a small gasp as the pain increased… he felt it seeping through his circuits like a slow burning fire, and all he could think of was how much he owed Bumblebee for taking that hit… for enduring a sensation as horrible as this without complaint… for him…

Prowl was beginning to wonder just how strong an impression he had made on the Beetle's spark… was this possibly a reciprocated feeling?

"Ratchet! There's something wrong with Prowl…"

"I know Inferno, he'll be fine for the moment, just let me finish here-"

Prowl tried to stand but found his servos suddenly heavy and sluggish. Apart from that, Inferno kept him down with a sympathetic look. "You should stay still, don't want you to damage anything, or Ratchet will have my aft…" he noted Prowl's almost fretful gaze on what he could see of Bumblebee through Ratchet and Braun. "Don't worry… Bumblebee's going to be ok, you did everything you could."

Prowl bit back a grunt of pain, grinding his dental plates, and merely gave another nod to Inferno. He knew the large red mech was right. Ratchet would do everything possible for Bumblebee…

And yet he couldn't shake the sickening anxiety making him want to purge his tanks… he supposed half of it was the virus, as it had just reached his fuel processor and was slowly frying a few capacitors, which was uncomfortable to say the least, but all the same he felt he could deal with that much better if he just knew Bumblebee would be alright…

It seemed like an agonisingly long time, but it was only about a breem and a half before Ratchet straightened from where he had been kneeling, hunched over the small yellow form, with a heavy sigh of his ventilations.

"There… he's safe from any serious damage now. Managed to get it before it hit his memory bank. Nasty fragger of a code though, sneaky too. Now, YOU-"

With the heavy emphasis on the last word Ratchet turned to the 2IC where he sat, braced by Inferno, who noted that rather than tense at the CMO's gruff address, he seemed to relax… but then he was shaking rather violently at the same time.

Ratchet's expression softened considerable as he came over to the black and white Datsun.

"I don't know WHAT you thought you were doing, trying to siphon that virus. Don't tell me your logic circuits got fritzed in that cave in…"

Ratchet rambled in a half-heartedly reprimanding tone as he uplinked to Prowl's systems through a port in the back of the Datsun's helm. Prowl said nothing, merely focussing a very pointed, grateful look at the CMO. The corner of Ratchet's mouth twitched, and Prowl off-lined his optics as he felt the medic get to work fire-walling and containing the rogue codes still making him twitch and jerk in pain.

Eventually, the pain receded as Ratchet cleared the viral code from each of his systems, containing it safely in a sacrificial unnecessary programme he uploaded into Prowl's drivers.

Ratchet gently disconnected from him and Prowl onlined his optics again, noting that Bumblebee and Braun were gone.

Ratchet made a staticy grunt as he got to his feet. "Right, well we gotta get you and 'Bee back to the Ark so I can use the equipment I have in the med-bay to wipe those VC's, I didn't detect any other damage while running that containment, other than minor stuff that your self-repairs should take care of once you get some recharge, so once I defrag you and you get a few cycles rest, you'll be free to get all that report filing done that's sure to be waiting for you when you get back." Ratchet spruiked him dryly. Prowl would normally have taken this with a terse, neutral air and maybe twitched his wings the tiniest bit failing to hide his annoyance at the CMO's jibes… but he felt too deflated and despondent to care much at the moment. "What will happen to Bumblebee?" he asked quietly and flatly as Inferno helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, realising he was much lower on energy than he had thought. Prowl was dimly aware of Hound sliding back down the hole he had dug and coming over to put a servo on Prowl's shoulder.

"He'll be fine, nothing a little rest and med-bay TLC won't fix." Ratchet said with a knowing grin before he moved off toward the hole and began climbing up and out. Inferno and Hound helped Prowl clamber his way up the rather long chute they had had to make to get down to them.

Prowl knew they were fairly deep, but they had been even further down than he had first estimated.

By the time they got to the surface, Prowl was utterly exhausted. Braun had already stowed the still offline Bumblebee in Ratchet's cabin as he sat in vehicle form, idling patiently. Prowl transformed, per Ratchet's orders, and Inferno hooked Hound's tow cable to Prowl's bumper to help him get back to the Ark.

Prowl felt much sorer and sorrier for himself than he would have expected as they trundled across the deserted battlefield under the setting sun. Every large rock or crater or tug from Hound's tow-hook under his bumper sent uncomfortable ripples through Prowl's chassis, his sensory array still rather tender and over-receptive, reminding him of just how hard an overload it had been… especially given it was only a one way connection.

The very thought of trying a feedback loop connection with Bumblebee made Prowl's spark flux excitedly.

Of course… that would only happen if Bumblebee wanted to explore their new and strange relationship… as well as that, he would have to inform Jazz of this whole… incident, and his feelings on the matter. And was it wise to get involved with one of his lover's underlings? There were no rules against it, but… would Jazz even want that? After all, if Prowl ended up feeling like he wanted to get closer to Bumblebee, that would invariably mean Jazz would be closer whether he wanted to be or not, given he was already in a serious relationship with Prowl.

Prowl tried to keep his logic chip at the fore of his processing, but his emotions kept asserting themselves over rational thought with anxieties about the 'what ifs' and all possible negatives… In the end Prowl knew his main worries stemmed from wanting to stop himself from getting his spark broken.

It had been hard enough for Jazz to convince him to truly let him in… one mech was one thing, and here he had already opened up to Bumblebee in ways he had never felt comfortable doing with anyone he hadn't known and trusted for vorns.

But Bumblebee wouldn't hurt a cyberfly. This thought reassured him to no end. And he was fairly sure the yellow bot had been reciprocating his feelings not half a cycle ago… but then… he had just hurt him. Whether Bumblebee was consciously aware of it or even remembered it, it did not change the fact he had been causing him pain, even if it was necessary to save him, Prowl felt sick with himself. He may have been cold and calculating in battle, against Decepticons, but the very thought of having to inflict pain upon any of his comrades (especially one he had just had one of the best frags of his life with) made him shudder with repulsion.

Perhaps it was best they keep their distance for a little while, just to let their sparks settle so they could properly and objectively analyse what had happened between them.

As the sight of the large orange ship embedded in the looming dormant volcano came closer, Prowl was struggling to stay online, let alone keep his engine running. He desperately needed some recharge to let his self repairs get to work.

I don't suppose you're going to be submitting a report on your 'emergency field repairs' are you?

Prowl vented air as the medics all too cheerful voice came through his comm. link.

No. I assume there is no records of any field repairs the likes of which I had to perform in any medic's files is there? Prowl queried flatly.

The medics laugh came clear over the line, making Prowl relax a little against his will as they drew nearer to the Ark doors.

We have a fairly well known and recognised supplementary… At least other medics know it, anyone else reading the files would think nothing of it.

I assume you will be filing a report with said supplementary reference? Prowl replied, his grateful tone hidden in the exhaustion in his voice.

Yes, you don't have to worry about anyone snooping through records. Consequently, seeing as I'm bound by patient-medic confidentiality, I don't suppose you're going to tell me how it was? Judging by how completely slagged you both looked I'm guessing it was pretty-

PLEASE Ratchet… not right now. I'm about to stall into stasis lock. All I will say is I am quite well versed in minibot sensory-arrays now, as you predicted.

Prowl heard the soft stutter of laughter from The ambulance's engine a little ways ahead of him as they drove into the warm orange glow of the Ark's entrance.