The room was immersed in a soft semi-darkness. The main lighting was dimmed, only a few indicators on the walls and the control panel cast a calm, diffused glow. Somewhere deep within the base, generators hummed softly—a steady, almost soothing background.

You and Prowl sat next to each other. Not right next to each other, but close enough to feel each other's warmth. You settled sideways on the soft platform, supporting yourself with one hand while lazily scrolling through data on a small tablet with the other—more out of habit than necessity.

Prowl sat next to you, a little more relaxed than usual. His shoulders were less tense, his visor less stern. He looked not at the screen, but at you—furtively, as if thinking you wouldn't notice.

"A tough day," — he finally said quietly. — "But... somehow, everything seems easier now."

You tore yourself away from the tablet and raised yourself a little higher, resting your knees on the platform so you were level with him.

"Because you're not alone," — you replied softly. — "You always carry everything, Prowl. Even when you don't have to."

He chuckled slightly, almost embarrassed.

"An officer's habit."

You smiled and moved closer. Just a little—so your shoulders touched. The simple contact was surprisingly warm.

"And also a hero's habit," — you added. — "But you have the right to just... be yourself."

Prowl paused for a moment. His visor flickered slightly—a barely perceptible reaction, but you knew him well enough to understand that his words had struck a chord.

Slowly, almost without thinking, you raised your hands and carefully cupped his face in your palms—the large, stern faceplates now seemed surprisingly alive and warm.

"Do you know what you're really like?" — you asked quietly.

He clearly hadn't expected it. His shoulders tensed slightly, then relaxed.

"What like?" — he asked cautiously.

You looked straight into his optics.

"Smart. Reliable. Strong not only physically, but also inside. And... very handsome, when you stop hiding behind your seriousness."

Prowl froze.

He was silent for a few seconds. But his reaction spoke for itself—the facial plates of his cheeks warmed, and a small, crooked smile appeared on his labial plates, and he looked away for a split second, like a schoolboy who'd just been caught doing something embarrassing.

"You're... exaggerating," — he muttered, clearly unsure what to do with his hands.

You laughed softly.

"Not a bit."

You were still holding his face, your thumbs barely touching the edges of his visor—the gesture was very gentle, almost weightless.

"You can't even imagine what it looks like when you allow yourself to be anything but a ninja. Just... Prowl."

He finally looked at you again. And in that moment, there was something very warm in his gaze. Not an officer's. Not reserved. Personal.

"With you..." — he said quietly, — "it's easier for me to do this."