The base had long since entered night mode. Most systems were muted, the corridors were lit with a soft, dim light, and the silence seemed almost tangible—as if the base itself knew better than to disturb them.

The break room was almost completely dark. Only a few panels cast a faint bluish glow, outlining silhouettes.

You stayed here longer than you'd planned. He did, too.

Prowl sat on the edge of the couch, leaning slightly forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His optics were dimmed, but you could still feel his gaze on you—calm, focused... and too attentive to be simply friendly.

You paused in front of him for just a second.

That second stretched.

You leaned forward slightly, your voice quieter, almost a whisper—as if the base itself could hear.

"We should have been going by now..."

But you didn't take a step.

He looked up. Slowly. His hand tightened slightly on the edge of the sofa, as if he were holding back an impulse he didn't want to voice.

"Yes," — he answered calmly. — "We should have."

The silence between you grew thicker.

You smiled—not broadly, but almost imperceptibly. That same smile he knew all too well. The one that meant you had already made your choice.

You stepped closer.

Prowl didn't stand. You found yourself between his knees, so close that distance ceased to matter. You felt the warmth of his hull, the smooth operation of his systems, the almost imperceptible low hum of his stabilizers.

He raised his hand—slowly, as if giving you room to retreat.

You didn't retreat.

Your hand landed on his shoulder. Then the other. You leaned closer, your faces centimeters apart.

He exhaled quietly.

"Are you sure?" — almost inaudibly.

Instead of answering, you leaned even closer. And he didn't wait any longer.

His hand settled on your waist—confidently yet carefully, as if you were something fragile and at the same time infinitely important. He pulled you closer, and you found yourself in his lap, feeling him tense slightly at the movement.

Your foreheads touched for a second. You felt his breath. Warm. Restrained. Too close.

And then he leaned in, and your lips met.

At first, cautiously. Almost a question. Then, more confidently.

You responded.

The kiss deepened. Unhurried. Not harsh. One that held too many pent-up feelings and too few words. His hand tightened around your waist, holding you, as if he feared you'd disappear if he loosened his grip even for a second.

The quiet sounds of the systems, the barely audible breathing, the movement of the armor—all of it merged into a single moment in which only the two of you existed.

You moved a little closer, almost unconsciously, and Prowl held you, keeping you from losing your balance—and perhaps keeping you both from becoming completely lost in this.

And suddenly—

The light came on.

Harsh, white, too bright.

The door to the break room hissed open.

"Uh..." — a voice said.

You froze abruptly. So did Prowl.

Bumblebee stood in the doorway. Some kind of tool in one hand. A datapad in the other. He clearly just came in for something. And clearly not this.

He blinked.

Then slowly, his gaze shifted from you... to Prowl... then back to you.

His optics widened.

"...Oh."

The silence after that word was louder than any siren.