Stranded

Twenty Four

After he turned and walked away, Prowl could somewhat feel through their bond the shock she was feeling from just kissing her wrist. And no, he wasn't a creepy bot that invaded her privacy, he could only sense it because a wave of different emotions hit her like a tsunami. But as the third in command made his way to the storage room below deck, he felt a strange smugness internally fill him as the the airel bot followed him silently, no doubt Considering to rip out his spark for his....uncalled for actions. But still he couldn't help but a strange satisfaction that made him internally smile, not outwardly of course, he had too much self control to reveal those types of emotions.

The two remained in silence as they traveled through the dark, fallen ship, the few lights that were on were dimly lit, due to the low supply on energon to power the ship. But that wasn't much of a problem, both femme and mech's optical sensors had adjusted to the darkness, and the headlights from Prowl's alt provided the needed light from some of the hindered vision, aka Prowl, because he lacked an optic, lost because of that cursed Decepticon Starscream.

After a breem or two, the silence started to become....uncomfortable, something Prowl experienced many a times, just by walking into a room. With fellow autobots that wasn't a problem, he knew he wasn't liked by many, and that was fine. They were in a time of war and everything wasn't sunshine and cyber blossoms, so someone had to be the stern one, but oddly, it was different with Airstrike. He didn't like the fact that she wasn't communicating with him, at all, just a wall of silence that was thickening by the nano click.

Never having been in a serious relationship before ( much to many shippers disbelief, there was never a " Thing " between him a Cromedome ) he wasn't sure how to start up a conversation, so he let the silence hang between them, the only sound was the light " clink " of both their peds, and he was certain that the airel bot's cooling fans hitched on to their lowest setting, but turned off as quickly as they came on.

Climbing over a growing pile of scraped metal, the battle strategist offered his servo to help Airstrike up, which she surprisingly accepted, but when their optics met, she seemed to.freeze all over again, why? All is did was help her up. Putting aside his question, the two turned a bend that led to the energon supply room, which from far away had a worn and torn look. The aged mechanical arm, groaned as it moved, the writing on the walls were faded beyond recognition, the five cornered room's wall's were cracking and the roof caving in. But there was nothing really to be done about that, but the sight of it enerved him, knowing that Airstrike seemed to venture here a lot by herself and....

Why was he thinking that?! She was her own femme and could do as she pleased.....but still....

Ignoring that illogical thought, the t.i.c turned around and faced the orange and white femme, who still seemed to be pondering deeply on something.

" Commander....Airstrike?"

On hearing her name, the femme jumped back to reality, a small look of surprise in her optics.

" Uh....yes Pro-I mean sir?" The smaller bot answered, standing to attention. The white and black mech smiled inwardly, and pointed a digital at the information panel.

" Is everything still functioning properly? I would check it myself, but it seems you have your own system going here." .he continued, glancing down at the controls, that seemed to have no order. Seeming to have regained herself, Airstrike gave him a lopsided smile and then placed her servos on the controls, her slim digitals whizzing finance fro, as Prowl failed to keep up and understand how to operate it.

" My apologize's sir....I was very angry at the time, I-uh don't want to change it back....but I would be glad to teach you how to run it later..." she offered. The mech nodded at her offer and relaxed. Airstrike was having a normal conversation with him again, so what he asked next hopefully wouldn't....bother her?

" Slag it!" The t.i.c thought. " where's Jazz when you actually need him!"

Keeping himself dignified, The battle strategist cleared his voice box, grabbing her attention.

" Commander Airstrike." The mech said with his usual athoritive tone, which she found it strangely charming, then made a mental note to scold herself later.

" Yes sir?" The femme answered, acknowledging her bond mate.

" I hope I didn't step out of line earlier when I-"

" No it's fine!" The airel bot said in a louder tone, a little too loud.for her own comfort.

" I-I-uh didn't mind, well I did mind, but not in a bad way and-"

This time Prowl cut her off, taking her servo in his.

" I understand." He chuckled, in a low range, bringing her servo to his derma, and giving it a quick kiss. Once again Airstrike found herself at loss of words. Not only did he kiss her again, pity it was only her servo, but he also chuckled.

Prowl ACTUALLY laughed. That was only another thing that would reply in her memory child against her will....that low, right chuckle- and WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER!?

Ignoring her tingling servo, the femme glanced at the exit and began to back up.

" I-uh...have something to do..." she excused to save herself from doing something stupid. " I have to feed Clamp...." and added, just as she disappeared at the exit.

Prowl watched her go, a ghost smile tugging at his derma, but kept it at bay.

What was this femme doing to him? He was acting illogical. Acting without thinking like a newspark. But he didn't dwell on that for too long. He had another thought on his processors. In his praxian programing, when getting into a serious relationship, the mech is supposed to give the femme something special. And believe it or not, Prowl had a hobby which he hadn't done since his days at the academy.

Grabbing a energon cube the size of his servo, the battle strategist smiled himself as he made his way back to his quarters....

~

Steelclamp was running out of ideas, and once again HIS master was ignoring him, so taking it a step up, the cyber dog got off his lazy aft and left the ship, heading for the ruins of the space port that once boomed with life.

HIS master had always assumed that he survived the crash, but he actually came from the cytrobian section of the small port. When the vlags came, he was only a pupspark, and hid. Because of his young age he didn't give off enough energy for the gray sightless beasts to pick up.

Now returning to his original home, the bot trotted across the lonely and deserted wasteland, not even fazed by occasional frame off an offlined bot. He didn't have time to think on those things, the only thing he thought on was HIS master and getting rid of the mech, and he was pretty sure the solution was here, in the deserted space port of Thema.