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“We’re home!” Long Haul called out as he entered the house, as though Prowl hadn’t heard them pull up three kliks ago.
“How was the site?” he called over his shoulder, wiping the last bit of Parallax’s sparkling-soft plating dry.
“Eh, nothing new.” Hook’s voice, while not as loud as Long Haul’s, carried just as well. Prowl lifted Parallax into his arms, nuzzled her pretty purple chevron, and headed out into the hall. His bondmates were still in the front room, unloading supplementary equipment from their subspaces into the little storage units Bonecrusher had installed specifically for that purpose, but they all stopped at Parallax’s excited babble.
“Aww.” Scavenger cooed, tossing the last of his gear into his storage unit and meeting Prowl in the middle of the room. “Did our bitty miss us?”
“Sai!” Parallax chirped, and the rest of his gestalt were clustered around him in a flash, all fawning over their daughter as she reached for them with chubby little hands. It would’ve been obnoxious if he couldn’t feel through their bond exactly how enamoured they were with their bitty, an adoration so intense there were no words for it, and Parallax wasn’t tapped into their sparks like he was, so they couldn’t just smother her in affection that way like they did Prowl.
“You all cleaned up already, right?” he asked, giving his bondmates a quick look over.
“Yeah, we knocked our dust off outside like you said.” Mixmaster assured him, and when he reached out Prowl placed Parallax in his big, strong hands. She looked comically tiny amongst her sires, especially so now that her colours were coming in and she’d clearly inherited their paintjobs. Mixmaster ducked his helm to boop her little nose with the center ridge of his mask, and her tiny face screwed up.
“Here, lemme hold her.” Hook said, and tucked Parallax in the crook of his arm, cradling her against his chassis. “Were you a good bit today?” he asked, bouncing her gently. Instead of her usual happy babbling though, Parallax’s vents hitched, her optics squinting shut and lower lip trembling as she lifted a soft hand to rub at her face. Prowl reached out for her, but it was too late. By the time he scooped his sparkling into his arms she was already wailing, her distress saturating their bond even as he pressed comfort love Carrier’s Here from his own end.
“What’d you do?” Long Haul smacked Hook, who swatted him right back.
“Nothing! I was just holding her!”
Prowl tuned out his gestalt’s argument, turning away from them to focus fully on Parallax. Normally eager to be held, now she squirmed and thrashed in his arms, unresponsive to his attempts to calm her, sobbing so hard her entire frame shook with it. His tacnet, usually disabled around his gestalt to avoid crashes, kicked on as he kept trying to calm her. Something was wrong, obviously, but what?
“Mixmaster, give me your hand.” he ordered, and Mixmaster did so without looking away from his argument with Scavenger. Prowl ran his fingers over his bondmate’s palm, and his doorwings went tight with anger. “You didn’t clean up, did you?” he accused, shouting over not only Parallax’s wailing but his gestalt’s argument. “You’re all still filthy!”
“What?” Bonecrusher exclaimed, releasing Scavenger from the helmlock he’d had the excavator in. “Prowl, look at us, we’re fine.”
“You look fine.” he snapped, holding Parallax tighter as her vocaliser shorted out under the strain of her sobs. “There’s a difference. Go wash up properly. Now.”
They didn’t argue, and as soon as his gestalt were in the master washrack Prowl returned to the second, smaller one where he’d been cleaning Parallax just kliks ago. Her favourite towel was still there, laid out over the edge of the tub, and Prowl wiped it gently over her face, rubbing circles out from where Mixmaster’s facemask had touched her until her hitching vents slowed.
“There you go.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the center of her chevron. “That’s better, isn’t it?” she sniffled, and Prowl brushed a fresh section of the towel down her sides before turning her onto her front. She hiccupped as he turned the solvent on and dampened the towel, but when he brought the cloth to her budding doorwings she went limp, the bond between them finally quieting enough for him to reach through it and wrap her up in as much comfort as he knew how to project. “Poor thing.” he cooed, wiping the grit from her soft-plated sensor panels. “All that input was just too much for you, wasn’t it?”
“Hurs.” she mumbled, and Prowl sat her up on his lap as he continued wiping down her back.
“I know, bitty.” he said, keeping his voice as soft as he could manage. He’d been onlined at his full size, and the constant input of the enforcer station had nearly knocked him out more than once before he worked out the order within the chaos. Parallax, he was fairly certain, hadn’t inherited the tacnet which had helped him through those early meta-cycles. But obviously, she had inherited his oversensitivity. “Your sires didn’t know it would hurt.” he said after another klik of slow, careful swipes of the towel down her back. “They’re not like you and me.”
“Ca-ee?” Parallax trilled softly, blinking those big blue optics up at him, curiosity flickering in her open, trusting field.
“Yes, you got this from Carrier.” he answered her unspoken question, and felt clearly the flare of curiosity and excitement in their bond. “We feel things differently.” he said, keeping it simple. He would explain it to his gestalt in full later, and to Parallax when she was old enough to understand. “Our sensors react very strongly to certain things, and you don’t have armour yet, so you feel it even more than I do.”
Parallax stared up at him, and he could tell she didn’t comprehend but that was okay, she didn’t have to. She had him to look out for her, to understand and anticipate what could send her into a meltdown and limit her exposure to those things until she understood how to keep herself safe. And after tonight, she would have her sires too, though Prowl didn’t expect them to truly understand.
“Clean.” Parallax chirped, shaking him from his thoughts. She flicked her doorwings, and Prowl nodded.
“Yes, you’re all clean now.” he agreed, turning the towel to run a dry part over her damp plating. “Do you want to see your sires again?”
She beeped happily, and Prowl chuckled, reaching out over the gestalt bond and tugging gently, urging his bondmates to come to him when they finished. “Let’s go wait for them on the couch.” he said, hanging Parallax’s towel on the edge of the tub again and lifting her up onto his hip. “Mixmaster can make dinner for us, and we’ll watch a movie.”
Parallax lit up, babbling happily, and Prowl let the last of the tension fall from his frame. It would be alright. The Constructicons loved Parallax with an intensity second only to his own, they would do whatever Prowl told them was necessary to keep their firstforged happy and healthy.