So I've been thinking.. Cave-in either early IDW where Scrapper still lives or G1 with cute little police bot Prowl. Not sure where–maybe cybertron or some random planet the Autobots and 'cons are fighting on.

Premise is, the constructicons were mining or something down underground and Prowl, Streetwise and whoever were sent to investigate what the ever loving hell the 'cons were doing digging that deep.

Cut forward there's a cave in after a few solar-cycles of ground tremors and shakes, after a few joors turns out Bonecrusher put his detonations down without calculating proper geographical components and the place goes down. Just so happens at the same time Prowl was in the deeper section where they were all congested and was now trapped with the huffy gestalt because of course one of the times 'Crusher blows himself a grave it's dragging all the gestalt under.

Transmissions couldn't get through due to the absolute ground mass, so Prowl was stuck and the gestalt was too busy digging themselves out of the mess they were dragged into and by time they all got their bearings in the tight section. They were barely low on energon but thankfully they were mining for energon, as little as there was.. Mixmaster would be able to stabilize the raw material to consume.

But Prowl had already seized their energon supply with the time he'd had to get his own bearings from having to drag himself out of a pile of rubble. Paint scratched and not looking his best, wing polish scratched down into the sensitive now bare metal of his doorwings that were quivering and needed a new coat soon before his overstimulated, achy frame got worse.

Already huffy when the constructicons came stumbling for their energon that–somehow–survived the demolitists' playtime. Holding his blaster up to the 6 heavy framed gestalt who were equally as beat from cycles of dragging eachother around under tons of rubble. Bonecrusher who took the hit the worse.

They didn't care about the investigative questions spewing from the weakened cop, barely stable himself as his pathetic show of using the energon against the 'cons was found amusing.

After all they were devestator, why should they be scared of some praxian who looked a whole lot worse than them? Whose wings were cut and sensitive to the slightest draft and leaking energon behind from where he had trailed from.

Their main priority wasn't the cop but energon, pushing past and eating down the last of their rations (the only stable energon as Mix couldn't mix until they rested)

Scrapper questioned the dazed cop who was on his aft in the same spot, the most inquisitive of the bunch wondering how the little frame survived.

Prowl was of course pressed that they hadn't even been a tad threatened, did he really look that bad? Sat off to the side, once realizing the dirty gestalt were more focused on downing energon and fixing their own wounds for now. Prowl found himself looking over his own damage in depth, completely seeing how much more of a wreck he was. And how cold he felt now that the adrenaline died down.

Only brought back to a hazy moment when he realized they were looking at him and Scrapper and Hook were speaking to the dizzy cop. The sheer ache in his doorwings hurt so bad he couldn't even feel it, distracting him from the potential danger of 6 'con frames of destruction lazing about.

Pulled out of his processor when a grounding servo prodded a dent in his arm, pulling away from the foreign touch. The medic, simply trying to check the damages when Prowl pulled back as best he could from their stares. Visors all on him.

Scrapper didn't seemed to notice though, kneeling infront of Prowl to get some information from him as Hook was almost force feeding the little amount of energon left over into his intake, grumbling about the mess of energon and how filthy every mech was.

After a few joors of half assed answers and being prodded by a crazy 'con medic that was definitely touching everything that hurt purposely, Scrapper having to drag the conversation back to how they just need to relax and they'll all make it out.. but why did they care about Prowl? Why were they helping him, if not for some gain? To keep as a prisoner of war? He'll have to bolt the second they get out.

After some time Prowl was being cleaned up by the grumbling medic whenever he'd need to restart a repair, Mixmaster and Scavenger who were sorting out their raw energon that they'd mined, along with Longhaul who was groveling about getting out of this pit. Bonecrusher was forced in recharge, having taken the worst of it all. Already patched up by Hook.

It was obvious there was another conversation going on, it was loud with how they hummed and verbally responded as they spoke through their gestalt bond.

When Hook got to Prowl's doorwings he'd seemed to pause, testing the raw metal that got him a scowl and doorwings quivering. The touch would've felt good if his wings weren't already cut through and bloody.

Scrapper helped Prowl for some reason.. Leaning the cop against his heavy chassis as Hook insisted albit harshly that Prowls doorwings needed to be patched up or risk infection or a medical procedure he didn't have the tools to do. So, forced to indluge the medic Prowl found his faceplate against the cold dirty metal of Scrapper, Hook on his backside organizing the little amount of equipment he'd had.

It hurt, the pain was excruciating to have his wings touched with no sort of covering or relaxant. Only straight onto the barest they could be, he didn't know when coolant spilled down his optics onto Scrappers chassis. All he could think about was escaping the pain, digits indenting into Scrappers hip.

Hook only paused when he'd finished wrapping a wound or Scrapper when had to shift the silent panting praxian. It had gone on for what felt like cycles, doorwings fluttering and quivering in thick servos. Occasionally soothing up and down his backstrut because they must've known Barricade was from Praxus aswell, probably had struggled with his own fair share of wounds with Hook who seemed experienced in the more sensitive spots.

After one wing was finished he was given a break, coolant still oozing against Scrapper. Laid almost limp across the larger mech who was speaking with Mix, Scrapper and Longhaul who came along to watch. It's not like they had anything better to do, and watching an autobot stifling sobs in the arms of one of their own? It was amusing to say the least.

After an entire solar-cycle of being tossed in and out of consciousness, numb pain and the excruciating frustration whenever Hook had gone to redo a spot because it wasn't perfect enough.

By the end of it Mixmaster had gotten enough energon processed to feed the half dead cop, oral lubricants and energon leaking from Prowl's intake from the attempted feeding. They had all gotten their own mounts of fuel in no time. Doorwings patched up but still need time to heal through. Leaving Prowl unable to transform until he was better, trapped in a hole with maniacs.. Great.

After passing out in a puddle of his own tears, thankfully they just left him off to recharge.. against Scrapper.. because of course, he couldn't exactly sleep on his backside without irritating freshly cleaned wounds, very very sensitive wounds.