Work Text:
Mixmaster was ignoring him. Or rather, he was pretending to ignore him. He couldn't fully disguise the mischievous little squint to his optics, clearly indicating the presence of a smile under his mask. He was scuttling back and forth between two different workbenches that were both cluttered with datapads, test tubes and beakers of liquid, carefully avoiding brushing against Prowl each time he passed the stool he was perched on.
There had been nothing on Prowl's schedule this morning so he'd let himself sleep in late, and he'd been the last to wake up in their shared habsuite, alone, hot and prickly with excess charge. That much wasn't surprising. It was a milder version of what they had experienced that first night together on Earth, and it had been happening to them all periodically but with gradually decreasing frequency ever since. Usually when he woke up there was at least one Constructicon nearby, so it was never an issue. As soon as they noticed what was going on they'd be on top of him before he even had time to ask.
Today he had paced restlessly around their berthroom for a while, then attempted to self service before giving up after a few minutes. When that hadn't worked he'd cleaned himself up and headed out to find the single member of their gestalt who he knew wouldn't be working in either a hospital or an active construction site this morning, and who therefore might have slightly more access to privacy.
He had been hoping for a quick frag before he needed to head over to his own office, but that had been over twenty minutes ago now.
Prowl suspected Mixmaster was waiting to see how long he could last before his resolve crumbled and he just pounced on him. Prowl's doorwings jittered in irritation. Part of him wanted to keep holding back all day out of pure obstinance, but another part of him was far too worked up to have that kind of patience. His TacNet unhelpfully presented him with a breakdown of how much time he actually had left before he couldn't shirk his own duties anymore.
He decided he'd put his dignity aside for now. Next time Mixmaster brushed past him —and wasn't carrying any potentially dangerous chemicals in fragile glass containers— Prowl grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. He still had his mask on, so Prowl kissed over and around it until it snapped away, wrapping his arms and legs as far as he could around Mixmaster's body to hold him in place.
"So unprofessional, Boss. Here I am trying to do my job, and you won't let me get anything done 'cause you wanna frag me so badly." His gestaltmate beamed at having won their silent battle of wills, nuzzling the side of his face fondly against Prowl's. The kibble over his head brushed over the tips of Prowl's chevron. "Not even being in a public building in broad daylight's gonna stop you, huh? Good thing it's only the two of us in here or you'd probably just start ravishing me in front of everyone."
"I locked the door when I came in. And we are on the third floor, nobody will see us through the windows." Prowl said. He glanced at the row of windows behind them to be sure there weren't any nearby buildings with views into this one.
It was generous to describe what was out there as 'daylight'. The red dwarf star that New Cybertron and Luna-1 had been nudged into orbiting a few years ago only ever gave off a warm, dim orange glow. The daylight hours were long, but it felt more like being inside a perpetual sunset. It was pleasant in some ways, odd to get used to in others.
He had already noticed it beginning to have an impact on New Cybertron's infrastructure; buildings were being repainted in brighter colours and designed with open-plan interiors and large, slanted windows to let in as much sunlight as they could. Nearly every restaurant and bar he'd driven past the last time he'd been planetside had been creeping its outdoor seating areas further and further onto the pavement. The Constructicons had all been fascinated by these architectural details when he'd told them, and had pleaded to come with him the next time he went. He'd been given permission to bring them along now, but he would only be allowed to take two of them at a time. Having to explain to the delegates from New Cybertron that his six-bot polycule was an uncommon situation and very much not the cultural norm on the Cybertron he'd come from, like they had first assumed, had been… well it had certainly been something.
A thought struck him and he pulled away from Mixmaster to look at him.
"Why are you working alone in here?" Prowl asked. Surely it would be more efficient for all the chemists to be working in the same lab. Unless it was a safety concern, but this room hadn't been marked off with any hazard symbols.
"The other chemists don't like me very much. I'm the only ex-'con in this department." Mixmaster said.
Prowl didn't understand why that should matter. This base was predominantly populated by former Autobots, but there were plenty of former Decepticons working here too, along with several NAILs and a handful of citizens from New Cybertron. There was even a Camien scientist working in the quantum physics department.
Mixmaster saw his questioning look and elaborated. "A lot of them are scared of me. And the ones who aren't scared of me don't think I'm qualified enough to work with them. They think I got my license in a back alley somewhere, or maybe in some kind of creepy torture dungeon." He said, chuckling without any real hostility in his voice.
Hook had been working alongside Autobot medics since they'd first arrived, and there were plenty of Autobots working on the construction sites with the others. Perhaps it was different when the job involved less urgency. Or perhaps it was the non-combatant scientists who were having a harder time letting go of their apprehensions. Prowl could understand being unable to shake off feelings of anxiety and suspicion around former Decepticons, but viewing their professional skills as inherently inferior was simply foolish.
He huffed in displeasure. “They are stereotyping based on their own emotional reactions rather than thinking about it logically. If Decepticon science had been subpar to ours, the war would never have carried on for as long as it did.”
Mixmaster didn't reply, he was mumbling something to himself while he rummaged through a set of nearby cabinets. He stood up holding a blocky machine and carried it back to one of the workbenches.
Prowl watched him wash his hands and then measure out and transfer perfectly equal amounts of clear fluid from one of the larger beakers into a row of small vials, which he then capped, sterilised, and put through the machine he'd carried over. It packaged them in individual disposable sleeves, using a heat press to seal them off. Mixmaster then stacked those packets into a box in neat rows. Prowl guessed this must be quite a boring task from the concrete mixer's disinterested expression, the others probably had him doing their equivalent of drudge work.
After a silence Prowl said, “You most certainly are qualified enough to be working in the main lab. In fact, I believe you are one of the best scientists on this entire base."
He would have said the best if Perceptor and Brainstorm hadn't both been living here as well. He wondered briefly if it would be worth putting a word in with Perceptor, and decided against it. It would probably be misconstrued as him trying to get preferential treatment for his gestalt. It had only been a few months since they'd arrived, he would wait a bit longer to see if the behaviour continued before taking any action.
Mixmaster giggled and hopped from one foot to the other, clearly delighted at the compliment.
There was something a little unsettling about the giggling, to be fair. Prowl was so used to it now that he'd started finding it endearing, but at first it had always brought back a very specific and vivid memory of a battle he'd fought on a frozen asteroid near Gamma Crucis a few centuries back, where he'd watched Mixmaster giggling in the exact same way while gleefully lifting an Autobot lieutenant over his head by the waist and shoving him head-first inside his drum. Prowl distinctly remembered seeing a fluorescent yellow liquid slosh out of it and splatter onto the ground while the other bot had struggled, where it had then burned through at least five feet of solid rock.
Hmm. It might be a little harder to convince his coworkers not to be scared of him than it would be to convince them of the validity of his qualifications. It didn't help that he was about twice the size of most of the other scientists here, too. But Mixmaster also had an amiable nature and was outgoing and easy to talk to when he wasn't fixated on a project, Prowl was fairly sure that he'd be able to make friends once the tensions settled.
Finally done with whatever he'd been working on, Mixmaster slotted himself between Prowl's open legs and ran his hands up the sides of his thighs to settle on his hips. He leaned in and left a few soft kisses on the side of his neck and helm.
“You’re so pretty, Prowl,” Mixmaster murmured into his neck cables. Prowl sighed happily, glad to finally be receiving the kind of attention he'd wanted all along. His arousal wasted no time in resurfacing and he felt his charge beginning to stir.
"So pretty. You look so good in our colours."
"I've been told." Prowl smiled. He was still getting used to it himself, it was a little jarring at times catching sight of his reflection or seeing the purple on his own hands.
His paint leaned far more heavily into the blacks and dark greys than the Constructicons' did, and only used their trademark green and purple as accent colours. He'd had to workshop it for a while, but by basing the design on the stealth paint he'd used for infiltration missions during the war he'd been able to come up with something that made him look distinctly 'Constructicon' without also making him stand out too much. He was still a pursuit vehicle after all, despite his current occupation, and it was often useful to him to be able to disappear into shadowy corners or fade into the background of crowded rooms when he needed to.
To say the Constructicons had been delighted when they saw the result would be an understatement. They had been worked into such a frenzy of affection that they'd barely allowed him out of their berth for nearly an entire day and night, and by the end of it they had scuffed his paint up so much that he'd immediately needed to have it retouched anyway.
Shortly after arriving on Luna-1 they had ushered him into their habsuite excitedly one afternoon to show him 'a surprise', which had turned out to be all of their Decepticon badges permanently removed, the empty spaces where they had once been now polished and repainted.
They hadn't disposed of the badges though, they were stacked neatly inside a padded case in the same storage closet that housed most of Scavenger's hoard. That was alright, Prowl didn't think something made of a bot's spark casing could ever simply be thrown out. His own spark had ached a little when he'd discovered there were actually six badges in that box. One of them must have taken Scrapper's from his body and held onto it all this time. Prowl had placed his own badge in the same case, a single red face next to six identical purple ones, and locked it back up.
Life had felt a little lighter ever since.
Prowl had wanted to offer his gestalt a similar display of loyalty in return, and well… they'd teased him about 'being Constructicon green underneath all that black and white' often enough that the possibility had always been at the back of his processor, he'd just never considered it seriously before. Once the thought had occurred to him it had been an easy decision. They belonged to him now, so it was only fair that he belonged to them too.
Prowl petted Mixmaster's arms and sides appreciatively, leaning in to kiss his chest too. He felt Mixmaster's hands wandering over his back and fluttered his wings when the pointed tips of his claws scraped against their hinges. Touching and kissing was nice, and in any other moment he would have indulged it for longer, but he needed things to be moving more quickly right now.
"Get your spike out." Prowl demanded, impatience slipping back into his tone.
"You're obsessed."
Prowl bit down hard on Mixmaster's chest plating and the other mech let out a tiny yelp of surprise. He looked down at him, optics bright with excitement. "Do that again."
"Get your spike out and I'll do it again."
Mixmaster's engine purred. "Yes, Boss." He grinned.
He took a step backwards and let Prowl hop off the stool and push him up against another empty workbench. Mixmaster leaned back onto it, not fully sitting but using it to keep himself steady. Prowl dropped to his knees in front of him as soon as he heard the click of a panel opening. Mixmaster's spike emerged from its housing already fully pressurised and twitching eagerly, glistening from the prefluid that had been leaking out of it while it had still been retracted. Intriguing. So he had been aroused for a while already. Maybe even since that first kiss.
"D-do it again now." Mixmaster panted excitedly.
It took Prowl a second to remember what he was talking about but he obliged, turning his head and biting down on the inside of Mixmaster's thigh hard enough to make him squeak again. He saw Mixmaster's spike jump in response to the bite and he didn't waste any more time, sucking the head into his mouth and running his tongue over it, savouring the mild taste of prefluid and Mixmaster's shaky moan from above him. A large, clawed hand settled gently on the back of his helm but didn't apply any pressure.
Prowl opened his mouth wider to take in the entire length. It wasn't easy, Mixmaster's spike might be small for a mech his size but it was still much thicker than average for Prowl. He had to stretch his jaw and the head bumped up against the back of his throat when it was fully hilted. But it did fit, and like always he felt a tingling rush of arousal course through him as soon as his nose bumped up against Mixmaster's codpiece. He loved being able to feel the entire thing inside his mouth, and feel every slight pulse and twitch against his tongue. He settled his hands on Mixmaster's thighs and started bobbing his head while keeping up the same gentle suction. Every movement was drawing more whimpers and moans out of Mixmaster, whose hips bucked involuntarily a few times, the claws that weren't on Prowl's head digging into the edge of the workbench.
Prowl reached between his legs to rub over his own panels, just enough to apply pressure but keeping them closed for now. Getting to do this always excited him, there was something about Mixmaster's spike that was so… cute wasn't exactly the right word, but he could never think of a better one. It was the only thing about him that was so little, but it's plumpness suited the rest of his frame perfectly. Prowl knew it was also more sensitive than those of the other Constructicons, since it had the same number of sensors any bot in their frame-class would have only packed into a smaller surface area. He loved how quickly touching or sucking it would reduce Mixmaster to a trembling mess, the downside was how quickly he became oversensitive too.
"W-wait. Frag, I'm gonna come too fast if you keep doing that." Mixmaster whined, nudging Prowl's head away until his spike slid out of his mouth. A thin string of oral lubricant connected them for a split second longer before it broke and dripped on the floor between them. "Let me grind on you." He panted.
Prowl's doorwings flicked a few times as disappointment mingled with his arousal. He wanted to feel Mixmaster overload into his mouth, but he also understood why trying to get them both to finish at the same time would be more practical when they were trying to get this whole thing done as fast as possible.
"Okay." Prowl acquiesced, getting shakily to his feet while Mixmaster looked around for a suitable surface.
"Should we get on the floor?"
"The floor?" Prowl repeated, horrified. Just touching the floor of a public building with his knees had been bad enough, let alone the rest of his body. "Why don't we just get on the workbench?"
"Sweetspark. There's no way you genuinely think a table with legs that fragile could hold my fat aft." Mixmaster laughed. Prowl opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak Mixmaster perked up, noticing something on the other side of the room. "Ah!" He exclaimed, picking Prowl up and hurriedly shuffling towards it.
It was an ordeal and a half trying to get the Constructicons to stop picking him up all the time. Truthfully he enjoyed it when they were in private; he thought it was a flattering display of their strength how effortlessly they were all able to do so, especially now that Prowl seemed to be receiving more comments than ever about how much bulkier he had become. But it was still embarrassing whenever they did it in public. He did need to maintain some semblance of respectability around here, after all. Having five very large boyfriends, who -with the sole exception of Hook, the only one even more reserved than Prowl himself- were all very boisterous and very fond of public displays of affection did make that difficult sometimes.
Mixmaster had carried him to some kind of storage closet, and set him down on a pile of unmarked crates.
"Kinda nice in here actually! Feels a bit more private."
There did appear to be a bare LED bulb fixed to the ceiling but Mixmaster didn't switch it on, only leaving the closet door open to let the light in from the rest of the room.
"This is absurd. Let's just go back to our hab."
"No no no!" Mixmaster insisted. "That's like a ten minute drive I can't wait that long. I'll be quick I promise. I'll be so quick."
He leaned down to kiss Prowl on the lips then a few times on his cheeks and face, taking the opportunity to grope his bumper while he climbed halfway over the crates to sit in his lap. Their height difference made it unfortunately impossible to both kiss him and straddle him at the same time.
"Do you want my spike or my valve?" Prowl asked.
"Your spike." Mixmaster replied, excited. He had both of his own panels open, and Prowl could just make out the tip of his own fat little spike visible under the curve of his belly, still as hard as before. He wanted to stroke it but held himself back, not wanting to give Mixmaster another reason to tease him for being obsessed. He would prove he could leave Mixmaster's spike alone for at least a few minutes. Prowl's spike extended as soon as he let his panel snap open, and he groaned when Mixmaster shifted his weight so he was sitting with his valve pressed over its underside. It covered him entirely and Prowl moaned at the feeling of being squeezed up against warm, plump valve lips already slippery with lubricant. Mixmaster started off with a slow rocking motion, grinding their arrays together.
"Fuck, yeah." Mixmaster moaned softly. "Does... does that feel good for you too?"
"Perfect." Prowl said.
It was perfect, and his charge was building steadily now. A few times when the angle was just right he could feel Mixmaster's swollen exterior node throbbing against him. The pressure from the grinding felt similar to being inside a valve; different, but still stimulating the same sensors, at least along the bottom of his spike, which was more than enough.
He stroked Mixmaster's thighs then settled his hands on his thick waist. Mixmaster leaned down a little, getting a grip on one of the shelves behind Prowl's head to steady himself and picking up the pace, grinding down both faster and harder now. Mixmaster was much stronger than he looked, his drum was incredibly heavy even when it was empty, and when it was full he carried it around like he didn't even feel it. Like with all of the Constructicons, it was fascinating being able to feel the workings of such heavy duty machinery so closely. Even their engines were so much louder and rumbled at a much deeper vibration than his own. He loved it, and he loved how it felt to be almost completely buried under them. Prowl let his optics dim as he focused on the sensation of their arrays sliding against each other, letting the continuous waves of pleasure wash over him.
"Oh f-fuck I'm close, I-I think I'm gonna-" Mixmaster started stammering after only a few minutes. "Should-should I-?" The urgency in his voice and sudden alarm on his face was all the explanation Prowl needed.
"Yes, Yes. Don't worry, dear. Let it happen." Prowl urged, squeezing his hip plating reassuringly. "Just let it out."
Mixmaster keened and then whimpered out a final, "Y-yes, Boss," before Prowl felt him shudder as his overload hit him. A gush of lubricant followed by one, then two, much more powerful spurts of hot liquid drenching his spike and the rest of his lap. Prowl could feel it run down the seams between his codpiece and inner thighs and pool on the crate under his aft. His own climax hit him a few seconds later and he let his transfluid join the rest of the mess between them. His cooling fans clicked on straight after, bringing his body back down to its resting temperature. It had been exactly the kind of overload he'd been hoping for; strut-deep and satisfying.
He petted Mixmaster's hips gratefully, feeling one final twinge in his interface array when it really hit him that Mixmaster had been worked up enough to actually squirt on him. Twice, and in a storage closet no less.
It was interesting, Prowl thought. The liquid itself was the base compound lubricant was made of before it was combined with the additives that made it thick and slippery. Only a relatively small percentage of Cybertronians had their lines arranged in such a way that allowed them to expel significant quantities of it. The only downside seemed to be that Mixmaster had no control over when it happened, though it usually only occurred after two or three overloads. A lot of mechs found it a little gross, Prowl knew, but he himself had always been turned on by the idea. It was a shame that they hadn't been in their berthroom so he could have put a little more space between their bodies and actually watched it come out.
Mixmaster stood up shakily and sat down on a different crate, pulling Prowl up and into his arms. Hot air was pouring out of his vents and his engine was purring. He leaned down and started licking and biting around Prowl's neck and bumper, small and quick nips but a little frantic, like he was making up for not having been able to reach him until now. The points of his canines pierced into the plating around Prowl's headlight on one particularly hard bite and he felt Mixmaster tremble again and then moan softly while he licked the bruised area. It was very possible he'd just had a second small overload entirely from that, Prowl had seen him do it before.
They both groaned at the unmistakable sound of someone knocking on the lab door a few minutes later. Mixmaster had been in the middle of gnawing on one of the two pointed tips of Prowl's push bar like a chew toy, optics dim with pleasure and afterglow from his overloads. It was a piece of detachable kibble Prowl didn't actually have any sensation in, but he'd been enjoying passively watching Mixmaster anyway.
"Gimme a second!" Mixmaster yelled in the direction of the door, echoing Prowl's irritation at the interruption. It had been inevitable though, Prowl knew he should probably just be glad it hadn't happened while they were still mid-interface.
Mixmaster grumbled and cursed under his breath while he stood up and pushed his half-depressurised spike back into it's housing, closing both his panels. He took a cleaning rag out of a storage compartment on his leg and wiped himself down hastily before handing it to Prowl and heading for the door, his movements still a little shaky.
Prowl wrinkled his nose at the dirty cloth, holding it at arms length between two fingers before tucking it it into one of his own compartments, taking some solvent wipes of his own out of another. He looked over to watch Mixmaster open the door and talk to whoever was on the other side, grateful that he was out of their line of sight from this angle.
The crates they'd been fragging on top of weren't as soaked as he'd expected and they cleaned up easily. He'd been prepared to take full responsibility and just pay out of pocket to replace whatever was inside them if it had been contaminated, but when he opened them up they were all empty. He finished wiping them and then himself down while he listened to their conversation.
"Is this all? I mean- Sorry. That sounded rude. But we do kind of need…" The mech at the door mumbled. Prowl didn't recognise his voice.
"Give me two hours then you can come get the rest. I got a little distracted." Mixmaster replied.
The other bot sighed. "Okay. Well, when you're done with that you can go out to the Northeast wing, they need some cement laid into that new foundation."
"I don't take orders from you." Mixmaster said. His tone of voice was light and friendly, but he clearly wasn't joking either.
"Come on, mech…" The stranger groaned. When Mixmaster stayed silent he relented, sighing again like he was being asked to do an unimaginably tedious chore. "Okay, fine. I'll run it by Prowl first. I did knock on his office door on the way over here but there was nobody there."
"Good!" Mixmaster said cheerily. "Give him a kiss for me when you do."
"Uh… I'm not going to do that." The other bot replied awkwardly. Mixmaster burst into a peal of giggles and Prowl thought he heard the stranger mumbling again.
"Okay well- I'll be back later then I guess. And uh, don't lock this door by the way. Not that I'm telling you what to do, it's just, you know. Safety regulations and all."
"Sorry, force of habit." Mixmaster chuckled, and a moment later Prowl heard footsteps retreating.
The building Prowl worked in was much busier, and he had to squeeze past entirely too many bots in the corridor on his way to his office. When he finally reached his door he found a familiar but unwelcome mech loitering outside it.
He sighed, unlocking his door and letting Vortex follow him inside. The Combaticons had never left after they'd first shown up on Prowl's request, so he felt partially responsible for them in a roundabout sort of way. All of them had temporarily taken on random jobs helping out around the base and the observatory, apart from Swindle, who seemed to be perpetually coming and going. On the evenings that Swindle was around the group of them always wanted to spar with Devastator for at least an hour or two.
Bruticus had only managed to land four serious blows on Devastator this entire time, and he seemed to be becoming more crazed and emotionally volatile every time he lost a match. But he was still a challenging opponent, and it was good training for both of their gestalts, Prowl supposed. Devastator had only fallen apart three times in that same time period, and Prowl himself was now able to combine and de-combine with the Constructicons almost twice as quickly as before, so at least it was benefiting them in some way.
"I stopped by earlier this morning but you weren't here, Prowlie." Vortex said, theatrical lamentation in his voice.
"If you ever call me that again I will have you arrested. And yes, I am being serious." Prowl said, moving past him to get into his chair.
"Aw, you're never any fun." Vortex said. He sat on the corner of the desk and leaned in closer to him. Prowl stiffened and his doorwings lifted and flared in warning. Out of pure instinct his TacNet kicked into a defensive response and instantly gave him a rundown of the most efficient ways to incapacitate Vortex before he got any closer. The calculations told him his best option for a weapon was the stylus already next to his hand, the most ideal target was the other bot's neck cables, estimated 87.40% likelihood of success, followed by the vents on the side of his chassis, estimated 65.95% likelihood of success. Prowl was used to ignoring his TacNet in moments like this, but the fingers next to his stylus still twitched.
"Relax, I ain't gonna touch you. I don't want Bonecrusher to break my arm again, Primus." Vortex said.
Prowl lowered his doorwings back to their normal position. He was glad to hear it; friendly sparring was one thing but he had no desire to deal with another fight.
"What do you want?" Prowl asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"Tell me what you guys did to Devastator." He tried, not for the first time and undoubtedly not for the last. Prowl couldn't help a small smile. He didn't respond.
"It's you that's doing it, isn't it? Autobot Second in Command and Chief Tactician for nearly four million years, but your public file is only about three sentences long? You're hiding something. Because it's not just that he's strong, we're strong too. He reacts faster now, and he aims like an automated system." Vortex squinted at Prowl from behind his visor. "What are you?"
Not too bad. That last comment had hit closer to the mark than any of Vortex's previous lines of inquiry. Prowl didn't enjoy being spoken about like he was a different species to everyone else, but saying he was abnormal wasn't entirely inaccurate, and it was that same abnormality which had boosted Devastator's abilities after all. Of course, that wasn't the whole story though. His relationship with the Constructicons impacted Devastator just as much, if not more, but emotional factors like that were much less quantifiable.
"Get out of my office, Vortex." Prowl said, deciding to simply ignore other mech while he started sifting through the small pile of datapads that had been left on his desk. "Unless you want me to tell Onslaught that you're disobeying his direct orders again."
In truth Prowl admired Vortex for being, as far as he knew, the only one of their gestalt who was making any actual effort at digging for answers. He most certainly would not be letting Vortex know that, however. His attitude was bad enough already. The Combaticon stared at him for a minute longer before groaning and standing up.
"Close the door on your way out." Prowl said, not looking at him. He heard a set of helicopter blades rustling in irritation, not unlike the movements his own doorwings often made. Vortex finally turned and wandered off, deliberately leaving the door wide open behind him.
Prowl stared at the datapad in his hands for a minute, not bothering to actually read whatever was on it. He regretted not being able to spend a little longer in Mixmaster's company. He'd started missing all of the Constructicons to a rather foolish degree during the day. Maybe it was just because their relationship was still so new, or maybe he was just 'making up for centuries of touch starvation' as Long Haul had put it once, but he often wished he could spend all day just nestled comfortably in the center of one of their cuddle piles.
He was rubbing idly at the teeth marks on his push bar, attempting to buff them out just a tiny bit to make them less obvious, when he heard a soft knocking. He looked up to see Perceptor in the open doorway and motioned for him to come in. It ended up being a busy day after all, and Prowl spent the rest of it holed up in his office. He worked through his lunch break, barely noticing Scavenger when he came in with his energon cube and gave him a few happy kisses on the cheek before bounding back out. Mixmaster brought him a second cube when he and Bonecrusher showed up in the early evening to pick him up, both of them rambling on about their day while they walked him back to their habsuite.