#its not really an au but i like the odea that maube humans can exchange frequencies w bots too

[ikkosu]

quick angsty little drabble

mouse-verse YOU don't like how they stare at Prowl.

Like he's fire, that every touch his pede lands, broils a warmth too strong, it flourishes into a malevolent ire.

"He's unstable, mouse." Ratchet said, not sparing you a look as he scribbles away on his datapad. He termed it so simply, so casually, it was as though he's lecturing you on the basics of Cybertronian anatomy, all over again.

"He's not unstable. He's different."

You're roosted by his desk, fists clamping, unclamping, easing up the temper pressurized in your chest.

"Look." He swivels around to face you, arms crossed. "I know you like standing up for the guy. You're the closest person he's got. I get it. I understand. But please, next time when a pede's about to connect to someone's skull — don't, don't try to go in for the save, alright?"

"I wasn't protecting him." You can't help but bite back.

He kneads his face. "Then what were you trying to do kid, if you're not desperate for a one-way trip to Primus with a broken skull. "

"Making a point. Stating my case. That those bots who punch him as they please get nothing out of that."

Ratchet regards you for a moment. His optics were gentle and firm as a silent understanding passes over his face. He wants to say something but can't.

"It's nothing big. in a few week's time, he'll be the same again."

"But he's not the same. He's never the same, Ratchet."

Why does everyone think he won't be affected?

—

He's got his back to you, kneeling on the ground, helm in his servos. You stood at the doorway, sympathy pulling your features taut as you observe the way his doorwings fall to the side. A broken bird. No wings to fly.

He seemed so alone in his habsuite. So small. He could curl up into a ball, if he could. Lights, close to darkness. Space, empty. The middle is Prowl. Just Prowl and only Prowl.

"Control." Was all he said. Almost like a breath of a whisper. "I've got no control. Not even with my subordinates. Not even with myself. Nobody believes me."

His helm lifts up until it falls back, optics to the ceiling. His digits are curled out like he's trying to grasp something that's not there.

"I do." You said.

"You don't."

"I do."

Surprised pulled his features when you're close, fingers a gentle mould around his cheek. . He's not surprised by your touch or by your close proximity — he's used to them

No, what he's surprised is how contorted your expression was, how his spark twists much as how despair twists your face.

Prowl maintains the rigidity of his expression. His servos falls to his lap though and finds himself leaning a little into your touch.

In a fit of boldness, you lean up and pressed your forehead against his. Electricity crackles at the touch and colors burst into your vision.

At first it was sickly black. A storm, broiling in the depths of his mind. Tendrils curl out and nip in an attempt to deter you away. But you won't be. When you eased in your own thoughts of verdant foliage, rustic charms of sceneries and anything that's warm —he loosens visibly and let's his helm fall into your shoulder.

"You're good to keep around." He murmers, drawling against your uniform before becoming still in your hold.

You hug him tight. The thick lump on your throat is hidden by your smile.

"Yeah..."

It was better not to tell him how charred his mind was.

#i know i promised uh unholy but i want to hug him so much #its not really an au but i like the odea that maube humans can exchange frequencies w bots too #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #prowl x reader #idw prowl #ikkoasks #idw prowl x reader