The base's main hangar was almost empty. The lamplight reflected off the metal floor, systems hummed quietly, and the air was thick with the familiar atmosphere of work.

You were standing beneath the navigation module console—the casing half disassembled, the cables neatly tucked away. You stood leaning slightly forward, one hand braced against the panel and the other reaching for the internal unit.

Optimus and Ratchet were busy in another part of the hangar. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were arguing near the storage area. Only Prowl, walking past with a datapad, suddenly… stopped.

He froze mid-step.

His optics lingered on you longer than they should have.

"...What's with that pose—"

The sentence slipped out before he could stop it. Prowl abruptly cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual cool composure.

"What I meant," — he added quickly, stepping closer, — "is that you're not comfortable using the navigation unit from that angle..."

He cleared his throat. — "You are overstraining the stabilizers."

But from the way his voice had grown slightly lower and quieter, it was obvious he'd noticed more than just the equipment.

He stopped next to you, arms crossed over his chest, but his body was slightly tilted toward you. Too close for "just observing."

"Do you need help?" — Prowl asked evenly. — "Or are you planning on continuing... to work like this?"

There was an attempt at professionalism in his voice. But there was a warm, familiar glint in his optics that gave him away.