#prowlcoswave

Soundwave stood quite confidently, arms at his sides, a familiar tilt to his head that could have meant he was thinking or listening. He nodded easily, field sparkling with confidence, which could have been entirely for Prowl’s benefit, whose own field was sodden with an excited dread. He was trying to stand with poise, but next to Soundwave it was all too obvious the way his doorwings quivered and his biolights flickered. Cosmos felt his spark sink.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, stepping as close as he felt Prowl’s anxiety would allow. “It’s just supposed to be fun, but I don’t know if it will work if you’re…” Was there a way to say ‘terrified’ that wouldn’t offend Prowl’s pride?

Cosmos spent too long thinking about it. Prowl’s doorwings hitched up, his gaze sharpening though his biolights continued to waver.

“I want to do this,” Prowl said. “Faulty risk analysis, that’s all. Not worth a delay.”

Cosmos doubted Prowl’s programs were at fault: he was the only mech Cosmos knew who made algorithm tuning a part of his regular maintenance, and what they were doing was potentially very dangerous. Before he could make a mistake of trying to reason Prowl into fear, though, Soundwave put a hand on Prowl’s shoulder, the ring of hand meeting plating indicating that Prowl had been shivering.

“Cosmos: accomplished in interspacial rescue,” he said. “Soundwave: can locate Prowl at any distance. Prowl will be found, if you want to be.”

“Of course I would want to be,” Prowl snapped, but it seemed like Soundwave’s words had done the trick. Prowl had calmed under his touch, not trying to flick the hand away, and after taking a moment to cycle a ventilation he looked back to Cosmos.

“You’re ready?” Cosmos asked again, and this time Prowl nodded, grim but certain.

“Ready,” Soundwave said, his light tone an intentional contrast to Prowl. He stepped closer to Cosmos, his hand dropping down to Prowl’s to gently encourage him forward. He surveyed them, not searching for anything specific now but just as a general final check. And to steal an opportunity to look at them.

“Okay,” Cosmos said. “You know the drill. I can hover for a few seconds, but the sooner you grab on the better. Then, just… hang on.” He’d done this in the past, but usually it had been an officer delivering the instructions while he and a crewmate or two waited for the signal to go. He knew the process well enough, but instructing someone else (and perhaps instructing these mechs specifically) was a different feeling.

They both nodded, though, betraying their confidence in him, so he stopped himself before he could start overthinking it. He did a short hop up into his alt mode, the last panels only just sliding into place when he felt two hands wrap around his grab bars. He almost hesitated, but the reassuring brush of Soundwave’s field propelled him forward and up, launching out and away from Sanctuary.

There was only a moment of conscious drag before his systems recalibrated to accommodate the additions to his undercarriage. Prowl and Soundwave were doing exactly as instructed, holding on tight to him with their free arms wrapped around each other. For his part, Cosmos tried to keep his acceleration even, adjusting his velocity by hundredths of a degree to avoid jarring his passengers. He didn’t talk for a full minute, focused on escaping Sanctuary’s artificial gravity bubble, but as the pull finally dwindled to a negligible enough force it stopped factoring into his propulsion algorithms, he allowed the iron grip of self control to relax.

“And that’s all there is to it!” he said, maybe a little pridefully. He was, after all, pretty good at his job. “How are you both doing?”

“Status: impressed,” Soundwave said.

“And Prowl?”

His answer was not so forthcoming, and without being able to see his expression Cosmos wasn’t sure whether it was because he was thinking or too frightened to get any words out.

“I’m okay,” Prowl said at last. “It went… exactly as you described.”

“Well, good,” Cosmos said, even if that didn’t tell him much about how Prowl actually felt about the experience. “You want to go back any time, just let me know and I’ll get us straight back home.” He felt a bloom of warmth in Soundwave’s field, the same he always did when one of them called Sanctuary home, and even Prowl released a couple gentle blossoms at the word. “Otherwise, we’re going nice and easy: a quick tour over Jupiter, maybe do a couple passes over an upper atmospheric storm, and then back. Sound good?”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave said. Prowl didn’t say anything, which would have worried Cosmos had Soundwave not been there, monitoring the things Prowl wasn’t ready to say out loud. He pushed confidence at Cosmos, who returned it with his own, swooping over Jupiter’s orbit.

Flying over objects as large as planets was never without risks. Cosmos’ fuel tanks, though standard for interstellar class shuttles, were still finite, and dip too far into a large gravity field could result in overtaxing his systems trying to break free again. He had spent enough time near Jupiter to be familiar with its unique quirks, though, and as he’d said, the flyby came easy to him now: he could put one part of his processor to handling the flight while another gave voice to an ongoing commentary about the gas giant and its role in the solar system. Prowl and Soundwave listened obligingly as they passed over orange clouds marbled with white and ribbons of charcoal shadow. Soundwave was a rapt listener, asking indulgent questions that allowed Cosmos to spin off on tangents about the chemical makeup of the clouds and the gravitational interplay of the planet’s many moons.

This, though, they could see easily from almost any window on Sanctuary, so Cosmos angled south, taking them to the planet’s underbelly. There, cumulonimbus whirlpools roiled in shades of blue, spitting lightning just visible to Cosmos’ specialized sensors. He took pictures and sent them across the link to Soundwave and Prowl, explaining as he did so the unique makeup of Jupiter’s clouds and the forces behind its raging storms.

“It reminds me of the electron storms that started after the Gatterus Assaults,” Prowl said, the first time he’d spoken beyond the occasional hum to indicate he was listening.

“Precisely!” Cosmos said. They were still well within the safety zone, so he angled them slightly closer, searching the clouds for a better example of the phenomenon Prowl was referring to. “I haven’t had time to read all their literature, but some human researchers have proposed—”

He was cut off as he was startled by a particularly explosive burst from the planet, bright enough even his companions could have seen it. Whether it was the lightning itself or the electrical feedback or Cosmos’ sudden movement, he didn’t know, but Soundwave’s grip loosed and he slipped away, sinking rapidly into the void.

“Whoops!” Cosmos reacted instantly, transforming and pulling Prowl to his side with one arm while he activated the jet propulsors in his pedes. Prowl was rigid against him, his field a mess of jagged fear, but Cosmos projected back all the calm certainty he truly felt as he held Prowl tight.

Though the tether kept Soundwave from drifting far, uncontrolled drift was disorienting and unpleasant; Cosmos caught up to him rapidly and snagged him with his other arm. He pulled Soundwave into his side and shut off his jets. Soundwave, in turn, made a grab for Cosmos, clinging to him tightly in a way that was nonetheless not unpleasant. Though his motors were buzzing with activity, his field wasn’t projecting high stress, which was a huge relief.

“Alright, Soundwave?” Cosmos asked, old training keeping his tone lighter than he felt.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave responded. He loosened his grip momentarily, though clung on again almost instantly. Cosmos, for his part, kept his grip firm. “Soundwave: flight capable.”

“I know.” Cosmos wouldn’t push the issue though. For the moment, Soundwave appeared calm. There would be time to delve more into things once they were all back on the station. Cosmos gave Soundwave a quick squeeze before turning his attention to Prowl, who had not released his hold on Cosmos and was perhaps clinging even tighter now. “What about you?”

“I was enjoying it,” Prowl said, tone clipped, “up until that.”

Not unexpected. Cosmos kept his disappointment to himself (as much as one could in Soundwave’s company).

“Prowl: not reassured by Cosmos’ demonstrated retrieval proficiency,” Soundwave said.

“I was already well aware of it,” Prowl said. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was his commanding officer. I’ve seen his records.” Prowl shuffled, freeing one hand to reach across the short space and grab Soundwave’s elbow. “I’d just… never seen it happen before. I wasn’t ready to see you… floating.”

Soundwave took Prowl’s arm in turn, perfecting the trio’s huddle.

“Soundwave: unharmed,” he said. Their voices were getting quieter, the buzz of motors dampening as they calmed down from the brief fright. Cosmos angled his propulsors to keep them on a safe trajectory, but otherwise didn’t interrupt, focusing on holding them close to himself and each other.

“I know,” Prowl said. “Don’t coddle me.” He was, though, still holding tightly to both of them.

They drifted in silence for some time, in no rush to get back to the station. Cosmos could have flown them back in his root form, but it would have been an uncomfortable ride for all of them, possibly more off-putting than what had already happened. Instead, he waited, and eventually Prowl spoke up again.

“Next time, we’ll add an additional tether,” he said, “between Soundwave and myself. That way, if one lets go, the other has a better chance of holding on.” He looked at Cosmos, intentionally keeping his gaze off Soundwave. “He slipped away from me.”

Ah. The pieces fell into place, and Cosmos held Prowl a little closer.

“Sure,” he said. “I can also look into changing the angle of the grips to make it harder to let go.” It would take some time to find the tools for a mod, but Cosmos wasn’t in a rush to bring them out here again. Not until they were both ready.

“Soundwave: ready.”

Cosmos’ field brightened and he extended it to blanket them both. Despite the fact that he wasn’t ready yet, he was glad to hear Soundwave say that. He might have loved the universe, but space itself felt at times too big and too lonely, its many curiosities interesting but not as fulfilling when there was no one to share them with. Even just pointing out clouds from above, Cosmos felt at peace with his work in a way he hadn’t known in years.

Sanctuary Station is somehow… less than Prowl expected, smaller than he’d thought it would be. The walls no longer have the vague purple glow that every Decepticon ship seemed to have and the lights are bright, no longer condemned to wartime regulations.

“I expected something bigger,” Prowl says, instead of everything else.

Cosmos nods—more acknowledgement than anything—and says, “This, uh, this is it for now, I think? But Soundwave said that modules could be added in the future.”

He looks awkward—sounds awkward—as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s fair, all things considered, given who they both are. A comm call won’t fix everything and neither will a single visit. But Prowl can hope it’s a start.

“Where’s—” Prowl starts. As if on cue, the door slides open. Soundwave steps into the room. “—Soundwave? Nevermind.”

“Prowl,” Soundwave greets with a subtle nod.

“Soundwave. It’s nice to see you’re still in good health,” Prowl says, though not entirely good-naturedly. Soundwave might have had his respect, but certainly none of his affection.

“As well as one can be, in this universe,” Soundwave replies, offering his servo. Prowl takes it.

Cosmos watches them concerned optics as they sift through formalities, as if afraid they’ll end up at each other’s throats. It’s not an unprecedented concern, considering who Prowl and Soundwave are, but when they release each other’s servos he seems to relax, as if the danger has passed. Perhaps it has, Cosmos knows them both better than most.

“How have you been, Prowl?” Cosmos asks as he sits down at the table tucked in the corner of the room. Soundwave himself turns to the energon dispenser. Prowl can admire that they seemed to have planned this out, even as casual of a meeting as it is supposed to be. “I heard a lot of things.”

“They’re probably all true,” Prowl admits after a moment, taking the seat across from Cosmos. “I was not… in the best of minds.”

It’s hard to admit, even in pleasant company, partially because of Soundwave and partially because of the weight of it. Even if Soundwave’s sins did outnumber his own, Soundwave had still been an enemy for a long time.

“Are you…?” Cosmos makes a vague gesture than Prowl has never been able to interpret. “You’re not going to go crazy on us, right?”

Prowl huffs out a laugh, “I’m not, Cosmos. I’d like to think I’m better now.”

“I’m glad you’re okay then. You might be a jerk, but you don’t deserve to be hurt,” Cosmos says, reaching across the table to rest his servo atop Prowl’s. Two of his digits end up framing his wrist. An old emotion flares in Prowl’s spark, one he’d thought he’d gotten rid of forever and a lifetime ago.

If Prowl were a fool—a romantic fool, young and naïve—he would claim it a perfect fit, the space between he and Cosmos. But it’s not. It’s nowhere near perfect, because Cosmos is so much larger than Prowl. He always has been. Pretending they fit together perfectly would be a fallacy.

Prowl stares for a moment before looking up at Cosmos again, meeting his optics, “It’s good to know you’re okay, too.”

He can see Cosmos’ optics crinkle in fondness, but he removes his servo in the next moment as Soundwave sits down beside them. Dutifully, Soundwave hands each of them an energon cube. He looks between him as if trying to figure something out. Prowl tries to ignore the phantom feeling of Cosmos’ servo on his.

“You’re not having any?” Cosmos asks, gesturing to Soundwave’s empty servos.

“I’ve already refueled,” Soundwave informs. “I do not feel comfort in taking off my mask in front of company.”

Cosmos’ squints suspiciously, “You take your mask off in front of me all the time.”

“That’s different,” Soundwave assures.

And Prowl gets it suddenly, this thing between Cosmos and Soundwave. He has to hold back a snort. The Autobots and Decepticons were subtle, in their own ways, but Prowl had thought the Decepticons less so. Prowl forgets they’re different too.

For the Decepticons, vulnerability and protection were love. It was the kind of connection forged in fire. Prowl had always admired them for it, as much as he loathed to admit it. For the Autobots, there were far too many mixed signals. Too many subtleties to misinterpret and get wrong.

“Fine,” Cosmos concedes. He picks up his energon, straw already in the cube. His faceplate retracts, revealing his intake port. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually though.”

“I’m aware,” Soundwave says. “Now, I believe you wanted to catch up with Prowl, correct?”

“Yeah,” Cosmos nods, taking a sip of his energon. “Did anything interesting happen, Prowl? Anything you want to talk about, I mean—I know you’re a private guy and I won’t pry this time. I’ll wait until it’s just us.”

“I’ll have to thank you later, then,” Prowl says. “But nothing you’d want to know. I didn’t see anything all that exciting.”

He doesn’t mention a lot of things in that single statement. Like Optimus Maximus or Optimus Prime. It’s vulnerability that Soundwave does not deserve. But Cosmos will get it, when they’re alone.

“Private?” Cosmos asks, tone knowing, as if to make sure.

“Yes,” Prowl says, “but tell me how you’ve been? I know we didn’t part on the best of terms and I’d like to make sure we’re still…”

He makes a wordless gesture, sipping at his energon. Words are difficult sometimes, but especially in the face of this. Beside Cosmos, Soundwave looks as if he’s reached some great realization.

“Are you courting?” Soundwave asks before either of them can say more.

Prowl chokes. The energon burns as some gets into his internal vents. The rest ends up coating his arm when he coughs.

“What?” he asks, disbelieving.

Cosmos looks just as surprised at the question, “Prowl and I are definitely not courting. He’s Prowl and I’m—What made you think that?”

Prowl ignores the flare of self-loathing that comes with the statement, the cut off. There’s a part of him that agrees far to vehemently with the thoughts it brings. He merely turns to look at Soundwave instead.

Soundwave looks helpless for a moment, as if unsure what to say. Then, decisively, he says, “You want to be.”

“Again. What?” Prowl demands, not even making his way toward denial. The warm emotion in his chest can’t really be ignored when it’s shoved in front of him.

“Cosmos was flirting with you,” Soundwave says patiently.

“No?” Prowl knows he sounds unsure but he can’t quite wrap his processor around the idea.

“Yes,” Soundwave insists, looking over at Cosmos. “Cosmos.”

Cosmos looks uncomfortable under the weight of Soundwave’s stare. Prowl can understand. He thinks he would be uncomfortable if he were Cosmos too. Not many ever paid him much attention, but that’s what made him good for Ops work.

“I might have been,” Cosmos admits after a long moment. “But I can stop if you want me to. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

“I—” Prowl stops. He thinks of what he could say. Affection is a weakness. Prowl has learned that, but Cosmos is—he’s Cosmos. Prowl can’t explain what he feels for him or why. “You don’t have to stop,” he says softly.

Cosmos gets that surprised look again, as if he didn’t expect Prowl to return a hint of his affections. But he looks happy too. But Prowl, for all he is, refuses to be trapped, even by this. He refuses to let Cosmos be trapped by it either.

“On that note, please inform Soundwave you’re flirting with him too,” Prowl says, all faux politeness, because blunt force has always worked for him in situations such as these. He ignores the whispers of Optimus.

If this doesn’t come to head now, it likely never will. And Prowl doesn’t have to like Soundwave to  acknowledge that Cosmos and Soundwave will be unhappy without each other, even if Prowl is by Cosmos’ side. Love is a multifaceted thing and Prowl himself is a time bomb waiting to go off. These are the things that Prowl understands.

It’s Soundwave’s turn to be surprised and Cosmos sinks back into embarrassment. Prowl would be amused if this were any less of a charged situation. But he knows how it will end. It was obvious from the start.

“Yeah,” Cosmos says shortly.

Soundwave’s optics fill with affection, “You are in luck, little Autobot.”

He takes Cosmos’ servo in his own and he is all soft lines and adoration. For a moment, Prowl feels like an interloper here in this place, where Soundwave and Cosmos have filled their lives with affection.

The feeling is not entirely gone even when Cosmos says, “Come here, Prowl.”

He holds out his servo and his optics are just as soft as Soundwave’s. Prowl does not know how to love—not yet, but it is close enough when Cosmos grabs his servo and Prowl’s digits curl over Cosmos’. That warm feeling settles in his chest again. He lets himself be pulled to Cosmos’ side, tucked under his arm as if a lover.