A Bazaar accident.
A Heroic attempt.
Now he was Stranded.
That's the current demise of the Autobot Battle strategist.
Trying to mislead the Decepticons from his fellow Autobots, Prowl led a group of cons to the coldest region on the planet, and fle...
A/N Daaaaaaaag, this book is addicting to write. I think something's wrong with me...I'm drawing my own fanart. Here...have some
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( the chibi art above also belongs to me...anyhow on w/ the story!)
After she had locked Prowl in his quarter's, Airstike returned to her own in deep thought. What Prowl had said to her kept replying in her memory chips, over and over again.
Retreating to her own room, the airel bot sat down on her own berth, where Steelclamp nuzzled her, asking for attention. To his surprise, she scooped him into her arms, and snuggled him tightly, her current sitting position allowing her to rock back and forth.
" Clamp...." and whispered. " A old mech once told me something.
" There are only three known reason to how the truth is truthfully given. One, As a sparkling. 2. When their so slagging mad they could kill ya, and three, when their drunk."
" Prowl called me Luv and beautiful Steelclamp....w-what does that mean?"
The cyber dog obviously didn't answer, and only yawend in her face. Sighing, the femme laid down, welcoming recharge, the question still lingering.
~ Own solar cycle later
When Prowl awoke from recharge, he was deeply disturbed at the fact that he couldn't remember how he got to his room or what happened, and not to mention the lingering pain in his helm.
Groaning painfully, the t.i.c sat up and dragged his servos across his face plate, one of his digital catching in his empty optic socket. Sighing forcefully, the mech stood to his peds and slowly trugged out of his quarters, and to the control room, seeing that was normally where he and Airstrike meet up.
As the battle strategist passed through the halls of the crashed ship, he was slightly bothered to in that a few of his internal systems weren't functioning properly, such as; His energon light was flashing, although he didn't feel like re-fueling, and his mental calendar was off by an entire solar cycle. Mildly concerned, he decided he would look into later, after he questioned Airstrike on several things.
When he arrived to the control room, he found his spark mart under a panel ( not surprisingly) and her cyber dog close by her side. Silently walking into the room, he grabbed the canine's attention, who just watched him as he halted next to this disected panel. Having yet to notice her bond mate, the mech decided to make himself known.
" Ehhhemmm." He coughed, clearing his voice box.
That must have caught her off guard, because airel bot yelped softly and slammed her helm against the panel, causing a ghost smile to tug at Prowl's derma, but dismissed it as she mumbled several cytrobian curses to herself. With a servo on the back of her helm, the femme crawled from underneath the panel and stood up facing Prowl and shot him a question before he could say anything.
" On a scale to one to ten, how does your helm feel?! And what did you call me last night?!"
Appalled by her question, the third in command shot her a puzzled look.
" I called you Commander Airstrike....as always..." he answered, still confused. " And, how did you know my helm was hurting? Was it because of the bond?"
The flyer shook her helm.
" No, the pain was extreme enough, its called a hang over sir."
" I know what a hang over is commander. But why am I having one? I've never touched high-grade." He informed, with his normal superior tone. Airstirke only sighed and handed him a familiar sight.
A data pad.
" Correction Sir, you have never touched high-grade....until last night." The femme imformed, causing the battle strategist's features to show intense confusion as he slowly received the data pad.
" It seems." The airel bot continued. " That we are not alone, someone else is here, and they have it out for you Sir."
" Yes....I can see by file labeled for my assassination." The mech mumbled while reading the plans of his own demise. After a groon or two, Prowl let out a sharp laugh, made obviously out of spit. Handing the data pad back to the femme, the mech shook his still in pain helm.
" Whoever planned this Commander, isn't every good at his job. There are way to many inconsistencies with his plan. I highly doubt we have to worry much, although it is slightly un-nerving that another bot is on this planet, even more so that he wants to kill me. "
" Well." The femme piped up with a small smirk. " You have a tendency to cheat the odds when it comes to death."
The t.i.c only scoffed and rolled his optic, before giving the femme a more serious look.
" Did I say anything....humiliating?"he asked, causing the airel bot to glance down, bitting her lower derma, refusing to answered.
" Commander...that's not a request." He said through their bond in a darker tone then normal. She didn't know why, but the way he said that caused chills to travel down her spinal.struts.
" Well....Sir, to be truthful yes. And to further specify, you told me classified information, which you said you couldn't tell me and also...you...uh...."
Prowl frowned at the femme's pause and crossed his arms across his scarred chassis.
" And I also said what commander?" The mech demanded.
The orange and white femme said something under her breath, inaudible for his audio receptors.
" What was that?" He said, towering over her slightly. He was Third in Command, and that ment many mechs didn't like him, so he was NOT going to let her know something he did that he wasn't aware of doing.
Blushing, the femme looked down, and mumbled the same thing. Growing impatient, the white and black mech grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
" I-I said you called me luv....and beautiful....well to be exact sir, you asked me if anyone ever told me I'm beautiful." She answered quickly, face plating heating once more.
Now, Airstrike would have offlined her optics from embarrassment, but she noticed that Prowl just stared, gaping at her, it was a rare moment seeing Prowl flustered, a small tint of blue appearing on his face plating.
" Oh....well...I...apologize for any uncomfortable situation I may have put you in...." he rasped? Averting his optic from hers, appalled by his own actions in his a drunken state.
He had called her beautiful?! Groaning mentally, he felt like face servoing. Not just because of having a lose glossa, but because inwardly....he knew he ment it, even if he didn't remember it....
