Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Groove, I understand that you feel like you have to do everything you're told--even if it isn't a direct order. But sometimes those things will be detrimental to your mental or physical health."

"I know." The Protectobot shrunk in on himself.

"The fact that you're aware of that is a good thing, you know." Prowl gave the younger mech a gentle smile. "I have met many mechs, submissive and not, who didn't understand that."

"Knowing why I'm miserable doesn't make me less miserable."

"Yes, I know." The tactician reached out and patted Groove's knee comfortingly. "That's why I want you to start practicing standing up for your own needs."

"What?" Groove looked back up at him sharply.

"Practice saying no when you need to." Prowl smiled softly. "You may practice on me, if it helps."

"Um. Okay."

"Just not on duty. Having Sunstreaker and Sideswipe disobey my orders is bad enough."

"Why do they do that, anyway?"

The Praxian laughed. "Sunstreaker does it so that I'll discipline him afterward. I think his brother just wants the attention."

Chapter Text

"Aid, we need to talk."

The younger medic looked up at the elder. "Is something wrong, Ratchet?"

Ratchet sighed deeply. "Yeah, there is. I'd rather talk about it in my office, though."

"Oh. Um." The Protectobot tapped his fingers together briefly. "But Gears will be in for his checkup in five minutes."

"Hoist and Swoop can handle Gears. This is more important."

"All right." First Aid stepped away from his workbench and followed the older mech into his office. "What's going on?"

"I've heard that you've been saying some ...questionable things about the dominant and submissive partnerships in the crew." Ratchet closed the door behind them, then moved to his desk and sat down on one corner of it. He was angry at the younger medic still, but looming and attacking wasn't going to help the situation. "I want to hear them directly from you."

"I don't understand." the younger medic's shoulders slumped.

"I think you do." Ratchet gestured for the Protectobot to sit down on one of the spare chairs. "I want you to tell me what you've been saying to your brothers about mechs like Prowl and Sunstreaker."

"Oh." If possible, First Aid's shoulders slumped further.

"Aid, what did you say?" He'd been trying to be gentle, but the older medic knew his voice had turned hard.

In response, the young mech slumped down onto the couch that Ratchet kept in his office in case he needed to rest in the Medbay for any reason. "Groove asked me if... if it was normal for mechs to want the kind of things that Sunstreaker asks Prowl to do to him. I told him that no normal mech wants those kinds of things and that Sunstreaker had to be glitched."

Ratched clenched a fist and slammed it into the side of his desk. "Why would you say something like that, Aid? You know better! You don't get to judge people like that!"

The Protectobot jumped at Ratchet's shout and looked up at the other medic, anger clear in his posture. "What was I supposed to think, when I see Sunstreaker coming in here more damaged from what Prowl has done to him than he comes back with after some of his battles?!"

"You still don't get to judge!" The elder medic stood up and paced across the room. "Especially when you're making assumptions based on incomplete data."

"...What?"

"You think Prowl does that--that he tears apart the person he loves most in the entire universe--because one of them enjoys it. You don't have any idea what it's really about, or what Sunstreaker did to himself before Prowl caught him." Ratchet drew in a deep, shuddering vent of air. "Prowl hurts him like that, because it's the only way Sunstreaker can cope with the things the war makes him do. And before Prowl did it to him, Sunstreaker did it to himself."

"I don't understand."

"Prowl punishes Sunstreaker, because Sunstreaker does it to himself otherwise. And when he's hurting himself, Sunny doesn't care about his limits." The elder medic turned to face his intern. "And you are judging an entire group of people based on this one dynamic--one that doesn't even sum up their entire relationship."

"I... I'm sorry." First Aid shrunk in on himself again. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Aid, I'm so furious with you that I can't even think of a suitable punishment." Ratchet forced himself to cycle a few more steading vents. "For now, you're relieved of duty and you're required to re-read the medical texts on processor and personality functions. We'll talk again after you've done that."

"Yes, sir."

"And apologize to Groove for making him think he's glitched."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter Text

"So, what the frag was that about last night?" Smokescreen asked without preamble. "You've never pulled rank on me like that at a party before."

"That was about keeping Groove from panicking, running away and possibly convincing himself that he cannot safely socialize outside of his brothers." Prowl looked up and met his second's gaze calmly. "I hadn't intended to embarrass you, but it was imperative that we calm Groove down before he bolted."

"I was working on that!"

"From where Sunstreaker and I were standing, it was not working." The tactician sighed. "Smokescreen, I'm sorry that I embarrassed you and treated you so rudely. Groove is most comfortable with myself, and apparently Bluestreak, and I was focused on using that to soothe whatever was wrong."

Smokescreen sighed and flopped down in one of Prowl’s chairs. "You could have commed me, at least. I spent the whole night thinking I'd fragged you off."

"I'm sorry." Prowl reached into his desk and pulled out a box of energon treats. "Peace offering?"

"Yeah, sure." The blue and yellow mech replied up and picked up the box. "So you're taking our little Protectobot under your wing then?"

"Well, someone had to. And they had to be someone who understands his lack of social interaction."

"So you're saying I should treat Groove the way I treated you when we met?"

Prowl nodded.

Smokescreen took a treat and popped it in his mouth before nodding. "I can do that."

Chapter Text

“Hey, Groove.” Smokescreen grinned as he flopped down next to the Protectobot on the sofa. “We've got the new pc edition of Risk installing on the tactical computers right now. You wanna come up and play?”

The white and gold mech blinked at the Praxian. “Huh?”

“You know, Risk. That human board game that I've seen you play with Streetwise sometimes. We've got it running on the tactical computer now.” The blue and yellow mech made a show of looking at an imaginary watch on his left wrist. “Well, we will in about ten minutes anyway. Teletraan has to convert some of the code. So what do you say?”

“I, um.” Groove scrunched down into the cushions and stared at his knees. “I don't know.”

“I promise not to bite.” Smokescreen's voice lost its playful tone and the grin fell off his face. “And Streets will be there, and Trailbreaker.”

“I don't know.”

“Hey, I know we got off on the wrong foot at the party. Maybe even the whole leg. I'm just… over the top sometimes and I didn't realize how shy you were. I'm really sorry that I made you uncomfortable.” The tactician sat up a little straighter, focusing his attention on the younger mech. “I'd like a do-over, if you're willing to give me a chance.”

“I, um.” The Protectobot didn't look up for several seconds. “You said Streetwise would be there?”

“Yeah.” Smokescreen smiled encouragingly.

“I guess I could come. I'm not on duty til tomorrow morning. And I've never played with more than one other player.”

“Kid, you haven't played then! It's so much better in a group!” the Praxian's playful grin returned to his face and he extended a hand to the younger mech. “Come on. Let's go raid the kitchen for snacks and head up there. I know for a fact that Cosmos just finished a batch of those bonbons that you couldn't keep your hands off of at the party.”

“Really?” Groove forgot his nervousness at the other mech's words and let Smokescreen pull him off the sofa.