Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An alarm went off in the apartment, startling Prowl in the midst of putting a contact lens in. It was three in the morning, him preparing for his shift with the forensics division, and something was making a weird noise in his home. Contact lens carefully slid into place, he blinked as he began to creep down the hall, fists raised. He could drop someone if they turned the corner with a left uppercut, daze them with a right hook if he turned the corner first. If they walked straight into each other he could sidestep a knee into them, crack them under the chin with an elbow, shoulder them against the wall in a hold-

He slowed when he realised the light was on in the dining room, the smell of stale coffee reaching him. The sound was an automated chiming, functional, loud, but musical. It was enough to disrupt his hearing, leaving him unable to discern whether he was hearing someone breathe or imagining it. Passing the kitchen revealed it had been used within the past few hours, the coffee maker only having semi-recently switched off it's heat function. The mug cabinet wasn't fully closed, the curtains over the window were wrinkled at the centre division.

Bracing, he switched his back to the opposite wall as he passed the kitchen entrance, peering around the remainder of the wall into the dining room. The living room was quiet, if someone was in there, he would have heard them through the central air vent above his head. The dining room was sweep priority.

As soon as he took note of the figure slumped across the dining room table, he lowered his fists. Between the dim blue light peeking out above the hem of Max's shirt and the ambient glow up the cybernetic arm prosthesis, it was obvious Cerebros fell asleep somewhere inconvenient.

Right. His roommate. He was still getting used to that.

With less caution, Prowl approached, trying to get a view of what Cerebros had been doing. Sketching something, obviously - When Prowl leaned over him to check his pulse, his hands smelled of graphite, a book barely visible under his mass of hair, head, and arms. Art supplies and rulers lay scattered. He shook his head and withdrew, giving the back of the chair Cerebros sat in a sharp tug. His head slid off his rustic sketchbook - Made from actual synthetic paper - and thudded against the table edge. He surged upright with a groan, holding his forehead with one hand, pencil still laced between his fingers. Before he looked around he snatched up his mobile, silenced the notification, and scrambled past Prowl, muttering obscenities over how late he was. At a loss, he examined the detailed blueprints and cramped notes before him, carefully closing the book.

Prowl left almost immediately after Cerebros sprinted out of the apartment with his hair unruly, sweatshirt half zipped over a backwards t-shirt, still stunned the surgeon completely missed his presence.

Chapter Text

He woke up to his living partner climbing into bed and collapsing beside him. It was exceptionally unusual, stranger still to be home at the same time, but Prowl was asleep before Cerebros finished wiggling under his arm.

He woke up to his living partner fidgeting in his bed. Somehow, he'd turned over, an arm draped around Cerebros's waist and his torso cupping the curve of his back. Yawning, Prowl attempted to slide off his bed, wincing when he realised how numb the arm trapped under and between them had fallen. When he tried to rub it, he noticed his other arm was trapped in Cerebros's grasp, both of his hands over Prowl's own as it cradled his diaphragm.

This was inconvenient.

Rather than wasting his time pulling, he swung a leg over Cere's knees and climbed across, kneeling on his other side, trapped arm twisted across his front. Huffing, he forced his tingling appendage to poke and prod uselessly as he attempted breaking the hold.

"How are you this strong..." Prowl muttered under his breath. To his relief, his captor was stirring; Cerebros rolled onto his back, elbow-prop causing one hand to clutch Prowl's tighter and shove it down by his own waist as he braced himself. He fell back into the twisted sheets, huffed, and seemingly fell back asleep.

Exasperated, Prowl leaned over and jabbed him repeatedly between his floating ribs. It took a few tries before Cerebros moved, but, unfortunately, all he did at first was stretch - The arch brushing his stomach against Prowl's arm, hand stuck under his back when he flopped back down. "Cerebros. I have work, Cerebros."

More jabbing. Just as his fingers were starting to regain feeling, his other ones were losing it. He was on the verge of tearing his arm away, calculating the necessary trajectory and force to avoid having his wrist sprained, when a hand landed against his jaw. Startled, he froze, staring at Cerebros as he clumsily ran the hand down his neck, over his shoulder, clavicle, chest. It idled over his heart, the static shock down the middle of his abdomen reminding him of last night.

Oh. That's right. He kissed him.

"Cerebros," he tried again. He hadn't even opened his eyes, this was getting ridiculous. Even if he looked relaxed without Max for once in his life, mostly unconscious in a comfortable bed, warm, Prowl-

What about Prowl? He couldn't factor himself in as a cause of that much comfort.

Somewhere between the mounting anxiety regarding the kiss and realising he didn't know how Cerebros could be so comfortable touching him in bed like this, Prowl started holding his face, the pins and needles' sudden electrocution jolting him out of his thoughts. He was hovering, bent at the middle, leaning far closer than was necessary.

He stared. For a while, that was all he did, breath returning belatedly. He could just- It wouldn't be anything much- It's- He'd be fine if-

He kissed him back, lips brushing Cerebros' own before more assertively pressing. With a deep inhale, Cerebros bumped his other hand against Prowl's side, both sliding across his abdomen momentarily.

By the time Cerebros was awake enough to look around, Prowl had already escaped, the shower running and his electric toothbrush buzzing loudly.

Chapter Text

A quiet bang from the living room dredged Prowl's attention away from the case files strewn about his desk, head lifting as he listened intently. No further noise came and, assuming Cerebros dropped or knocked something over, he returned to puzzling over the latest missing persons report Jazz snuck onto his docket. Another, closer thud made him jump - Cerebros was clutching the door frame to his office, shaking, eyes wide and breathing stuttered. In front of him before he registered his own movements, Prowl carefully took his elbows, trying to support his roommate.

"Prowl." His name was spoken so quietly he hardly heard it. The more he tried to touch Cerebros the more distraught he grew, the detective reluctantly backing off. "Prowl- Hospital. Now."

"What- what's wrong?" Pulling the radio from his belt clip, he made to call in, frustration mounting when Cerebros grabbed his shirt sleeve.

"Nonono- The- Max."

Off-duty lights glaring in puddles zipping by, Prowl was struggling to remain focused on the road. Cerebros had been so unsteady on his legs he'd needed to be carried to the car and buckled in, fingers slipping uselessly off the seat belt. He was huddled on his side in the seat, curled into one of Max's sweatshirts, gaze drifting between worryingly distant and intently focused on Prowl. It was beyond uncomfortable.

"The PRAT system," he muttered into the mobile pressed against his cheek. The call from Brainstorm came in as Prowl scooped up his living partner and ran. His shoulder still throbbed dimly from how hard Cerebros had slumped against him, hands tingling under his driving gloves. Whatever was going on, it was making his prosthesis painful to touch. Out of the corner of his eye, Prowl saw him nod, hanging up with a quiet statement he couldn't catch. "Crosshairs was calling."

Prowl nodded. The drive was quiet for a long time.

Cerebros was hyperventilating. The neurotransmitters in part of his spine weren't responding properly; his muscles were spasming minutely, jaw clenched, fists balled. He was terrified.

So was Prowl.

"Cerebros," his voice came out quieter than he anticipated, hands gripping the wheel harder as he eased on the gas. "Cerebros. We're almost there. You'll be alright."

A quiet whine was the only response. He winced. "He'll be fine, too. You said Ambulon and Arcana are already there. Everything's under control."

Another whine; they exited off the interstate.

Stopped outside the hospital, Prowl had to hold Cerebros' jaw to keep him from practically breaking his teeth. He'd been trying to do it himself and failing. Twisted in his seat, both hands applying bruising force to the surgeon's face as he tried to sit still through the targeted convulsions, Prowl was starting to panic.

"It's okay. It's okay," he was trying to keep his voice calmer than he felt, repeating the mantra more for himself than Cerebros. He forced himself not to look away when they made eye contact, breath catching at the pain he found there.

He fumbled with Cerebros' seatbelt and tried to exit the vehicle before unbuckling his own when he pitched forward suddenly, unconscious.

Prowl, fairly agnostic, would thank any deity laying claim to the feat for Cerebros blacking out when they were already at the hospital.

And any other, should they be responsible for him waking up by the time Prowl slid across the hood of the car and tore the passenger side door open.

The first to greet them was Brainstorm, jogging over and kneeling in front of Cerebros. He fussed at his hair, mumbling quietly as Cerebros nodded, one of the blinking lights along Cere's cervical spine remaining illuminated whenever Brainstorm sustained contact. Prowl still couldn't figure out how the cybernetics communicated between the individual -master classmen. Stylor was there next, Gort and Hardhead not far behind; with a shoulder squeeze in passing, Duros approached Prowl, frowning deeply.

"Arcana's with Max," he stated, glancing back at Cerebros again. Prowl didn't know why he was being told this. " Chromedome, Arcee, and H.B. are talkin' to the coats. Targetmasters are en route." Duros nodded up to him before taking his place at Hardhead's side - The encounter did nothing to quell his mounting anxiety. He felt like an outsider privy to something he shouldn't be, a sensation only compounded when Chromedome came pacing down the hall. Stylor was the only one who didn't back off, Brainstorm shouldering him gently on his way by. He exchanged words with Cerebros before gently leading him away to sit, holding out a stack of papers Cerebros refused to take.

"I know what's wrong," he insisted, collapsing against Chromedome's side when seated. "I just- Just, want it fixed."

Chapter Text

Prowl hated family dinners.

There was never any obligation with Bluestreak, who he could not remember when he last saw, yet he was always stuck with his boyfriend's. Cerebros was sitting cross-legged on Max's coffee table, absorbed in a handheld video game console, tilting and fidgeting, chewing his tongue. Gasket and Grommet were bickering on the couch to his right, sitting back-to-back and tinkering with a joint project. Still unable to tell them apart, Prowl tuned them out, focus split between the retro shooter's audio, the quiet-but-upbeat playlist someone put on earlier, and the sounds of Max cooking.

Having insisted this was a special family dinner and that Max's brother alongside his own others, Emissary, and both Cogs were the only additional guests, Cerebros somehow convinced Prowl to agree. He didn't know how he was going to keep track of both Cog pairs, or if he'd ever understand the significance of them being Cog, and he wasn't excited to meet the actual twins.

As if to exemplify why, Cerebros padded in from the kitchen, a small plate in hand. Frowning, Prowl almost sluggishly looked over at the other Cerebros, belatedly recalling Emissary's existence. Great. Given how much Max cleaned them up, Prowl had an even harder time taking stock. He blinked when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up at Cerebros questioningly. The Headmaster looked worried.

"Wanna taste test? Max is makin' your favourite," he murmured, petting some of his hair back. Frowning deeper, Prowl realised he didn't know how long it'd been, surprised Max was far enough along for taste test. Overhearing, Gasket or Grommet tossed their project over the shoulder to the other one, getting up to help Max as he finished up. "Feeling okay...? We can eat outside, get some air?"

Impartial, Prowl nodded and stood, ignoring Emissary's small wave. Uncertain how to respond, he didn't, shuffling close to Cerebros and following him out the sliding glass door. Currently, the patio's animal enclosure was up, a handful of cats Max fostered lounging about, and one darted for Prowl, scaling him, as soon as the door shut behind him. The purring was comforting and he scratched at her ear as she nuzzled under his chin, curled around his shoulders; Cerebros led him to a shaded table and set down the plate before sitting.

"If it's too overwhelming, we can leave," was the first thing Cerebros said. It made it difficult for Prowl to not fall and slump into the chair, head shaking. This was important. This was special. "Okay... Do you want to try some?"

"Sure," he replied, more focused on the cat than the food. Whatever Max made him would be fine, and he didn't hear Cerebros say that it actually was before he accepted the offered bite. Not that it mattered - It was tasteless to him, graciously easy to chew, and nausea-educing. Blinking when Cerebros waved at him, and so like Emissary it was momentarily concerning, he tugged on the cat's ear gently. "What?"

"How is it? You don't have to eat if you're not hungry." Watching him closely, he didn't look pleased, and Prowl felt his stomach twist. Cerebros should be happy. He was ruining it. He wanted to see him smile while he actually had his visor and mask off. "Prowl...?"

"It's fine," he said, staring firmly at Cere's shoulder. "It's- Max's food is always good."

"You're spacing. It's okay, G's really nice, he won't mind, and we can always invite him over or-"

"We can't," Prowl interrupted, frustrated. "You told them they're all meeting me today, you work, I work, they work and travel all the time. I can't just leave."

Avoiding looking at his face, Prowl took another forkful of food, mouth dry and resistant to chewing. "I'm fine."

"I-" Cutting himself off, Cerebros fidgeted around, at a loss for words. Great, now he was making him annoyed on top of everything. "There's no obligation, just like with everybody else. It's not like we never see them, and I care more about you feeling comfortable..."

Pointedly nudging the small, final bit of food at Cerebros, Prowl shook his head, sitting back and petting the cat with both hands when she slithered into his lap. It was quieter outside, at least, and Cerebros let the topic drop. As the detective opened his mouth to suggest they maybe should come back after dinner, his better eye caught Max's front door open, and he cut himself off before he even began speaking.

It was hard not to notice how giddy Cerebros became. Practically vibrating, he was leaning, half standing, trying to see through windows, and he beamed at Prowl after a few moments. He was so pretty, Cerebros only smiled like that rarely - Or around his family, or when Prowl was half asleep or being especially endearing. Cerebros rarely removed his mask enough for Prowl to see his face during the day, even. Busy wishing he'd do it more, he almost jumped when two small hands held his, fingers rubbing against his palms and the bends of his finger joints. The contact shocked him, but he hardly felt it. Cerebros wasn't smiling as widely anymore. Maybe he was trying to look concerned. "We can still sneak out, Max can-"

"Introduce me to his brother," he sighed, standing, squeezing his partner's hands hard. Might as well get it over with. The cat slinked away and Cerebros insisted upon leaving the plate, knowing they would be eating outside regardless and it could be brought in later, and opened the sliding glass door.

Almost instantly, he was swarmed. A set of twins alongside a pair that may as well have been identical crowded them, the tallest lifting Cerebros in a hug briefly. It was easier to watch blankly than to look directly at the other Max across the room, not listening to the sudden burst of conversation until he noticed Cerebros wasn't finishing anything he said. Trying to follow, Prowl furrowed his brow, concerned. Cerebros was over-excited, almost frantic in trying to be equally touchy at them, juggling four conversations and failing miserably. In the way Headmasters always did, they understood, and Prowl was left with only half the plot. He couldn't tell if Cerebros was working himself up too much, but he didn't want to intrude long enough to find out.

"You must be Prowl," a quiet voice said beside him. Still watching Cerebros, he nodded, registering the act belatedly. Looking down, he was surprised to find the slightly shorter twin. They were both slightly taller than Cerebros and Emissary, and different heights from each other. How common were twins in the Headmasters? "I'm Gran, that's Grand; you can just call me the short one."

Smiling, they pointed at their sibling when they spoke, and Prowl was relieved when they didn't try to shake his hand. The members of the Grands' Cog [another set of twins, their names escaping Prowl] were clutching Cerebros in a group hug. "It's nice to meet you."

Nodding again, he stared at the surgeon, uncertain where to look. He didn't want to start any conversations. He didn't want Grand Maximus to say hello to him first. He hated the Maximus family naming conventions. Gran seemed content to idle next to him and observe, Grand eventually flashing Prowl a lopsided smile that froze him on the spot, but nothing came of it, not once Cerebros started nudging them aside and reaching out for Prowl. He took his outstretched arm and clutched it, allowing himself to be lead past the other others. Cog had come to talk to Cog, and Emissary entered the fray without Prowl having taken note.

Seeing Grand Max for the first time properly, he almost locked up, but Cerebros was pressed against his side and walking him and he was so happy. Grand Max smiled like Max and, seeing them side by side, Prowl was surprised they weren't brothers. He was grateful when Cerebros tackled and climbed him, demanding a hug - Grand Max laughed louder than his brother, held Cerebros more tightly, smothered him with more force. Max touched everyone like they were made of glass, and he used a tone as gentle as his touch when he slightly leaned down to quietly address him.

"I said you're called into work often, non-negotiable. Blaster offered to drive you home early anytime," Max said quietly. Prowl felt some tension leave his shoulders as he nodded, thankful, but it returned when Grand Max put Cerebros down and smiled at him.

"D'you remember this? This was Rewind's jam for a hot minute and a half," Blaster said, flipping on his turn signal. The song was old and Prowl vaguely recognised the chorus, but couldn't recall from where exactly. Supposedly from Rewind. He nodded slowly and watched the traffic. "He had a mixtape with it twice, used to bring it when you were on Cassette duty."

"Oh," Prowl replied, feeling as if he remembered the song less. "Right."

Content to drum his fingers on the steering wheel, Blaster nodded along with the song. Grand Maximus and his bonds were nice, but he was glad Max caught him before he tried to hide in his bedroom, breathing uneven and hands trembling. Supposedly, he'd been on the verge of a panic attack, but the memory was already growing hazy. Cerebros took so long to say goodbye, Prowl thought he'd never let him leave. The song changed, and Prowl blinked, squinted, looked over at Blaster.

"This is one of Soundwave's."

"You recognise his music? For real?" Blaster grinned as they took the highway exit ramp. "This is an old one, too, man. I'm impressed."

"Rumble and Frenzy snuck this onto one of our mixer tapes," Prowl shook his head at the memory. "I almost destroyed my reputation to this song."

Eject had been furious. Prowl wasn't certain why their faction required casual-formal events, or why they weren't mandatory - He treated them as if they were, considering everyone tried to go. The only one he properly remembered was the first time he really drank, and that was due to ending up sobbing in Jazz's lap about how great he was, angry over his jokes being funny. Jazz brought him back to his place and was delighted to tell him about how clingy he was until he passed out, and Prowl decided there were reasons beyond merely disliking inebriation to hate drinking.

Blaster snorted. "C'mon, Prowl, nobody's reputation gets worse for kissing Jazz."

"What." What? "What?"

"You don't- Either you forgot, or I'm seriously misplacing the soundtrack," he glanced over at him, eyebrows raised behind his polarised sunglasses. Prowl was walking himself through the incident again.

"I was properly buzzed for the first time. I hadn't meant to be, but it was the first one Mirage hadn't attended, and Thunderclash surprised us all, and- Well. I almost laid into Bee-"

"Almost?"

"And then this song came on, and Eject was practically at my throat over security. I regret telling him to ask Red Alert in retrospect, but I did, and I remember wondering if you did this, because I was suspicous you and Soundwave were both counter-intelligence together. So I ran my mouth, and Jazz intervened before I could make anyone more upset with me, and that's how I ended up crying in his arms on Optimus' sofa."

"You kissed him before the crying," Blaster helpfully informed him, turning into Prowl's neighbourhood. "We all thought you were fakin' being drunk, because you were so unbelievably lucid sounding when you told him you'd never remember this if you were lucky. And not to remind you."

The song ended, Soundwave's signature six-note tone subtly playing over the closing fade. There was a moment of silence before the next song began, and Blaster parked in front of Prowl's apartment building.

"I had so much foresight," Prowl muttered, holding a hand up before Blaster could say anything. "Thank you for driving me home. Next time I give drunk advice, take it."