Earthborn (Part 2)
Dec. 26th, 2008 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceThe bunny continued biting. Hope everyone had a good Christmas ^_^
Title: Earthborn (Part 2)
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Ratchet had insisted on giving both Prowl and the police officer a complete check up, which, understandably, had Officer Stevens fretting, both about the mech who’d up to now been his car, and reporting back from patrol. The matter of reporting back had been easily settled with a number of quick phone calls, and Blake (along with Prowl) was now ensconced in the makeshift med bay, being poked and prodded and scanned to the very last inch.
Sam, Mikeala and Bumblebee had offered to stay with them, and the man had been grateful for the presence of their (relatively) familiar faces, especially in the presence of the intimidating mech they passed off as a medic.
Not that he said so out loud.
Particularly since said medic was currently examining him.
To distract him from his Ratchet-induced nerves, the teenagers gave him a quick briefing on the situation, describing the Autobots, Decepticons and what they knew of the war between the two factions. Blake also saw the black and white mech smile faintly at him in commiseration (Prowl had just escaped Ratchet’s clutches), before the police car’s attention was drawn to an offline form lying on a raised platform (Sam had called it a ‘berth’) nearby. Bumblebee went over to stand beside the Charger as Prowl contemplated the silver chassis.
“That’s Jazz. We just got him welded together again.”
“Welded together?” Blake couldn’t help but ask, and the yellow mech paused, staring at the ground before answering.
“… He got torn in two.”
The officer winced, and the teenagers smiled weakly.
“Is he…?”
Ratchet made a sighing noise, half exasperated, half relieved. “Fortunately, Jazz is stubborn. It was touch and go for a good while, but he’s out of danger now. We’re just waiting for him to wake up.”
Prowl leant a little closer to Jazz, then started backwards as a visor started to glow and the silver mech jerked upright, optics unseeing, desperately pulling air into his intakes and thrashing about wildly.
Attempting to calm the mech down, the police car spread his hands in a non-threatening manner and called Jazz’s name quietly. At the sound of his designation, the Solstice’s head swivelled to stare at the form in front of him, taking in the red chevron, the black and white paint and the pair of doorwings displayed high and sweeping behind the mech’s shoulders. Jazz’s vocaliser spat out static, before he rebooted it and tried again, optics never leaving Prowl’s.
“Didn’t know the Well of Allsparks had angels too.”
= = =
After the excitement of finding another Earth-born and Jazz waking up, things once more settled into non-eventfulness. Prowl and Blake quickly adapted to their new circumstances, with the mech dividing his time between the Autobots and his duties with the police force (he’d chosen to remain with the constabulary, something that the force took much pride in. They’d even worked out a patrol route for the pair to fit with the needs of both the police and the Autobots), driving over to Blake’s home to pick him up for work whenever the officer elected not to stay on base with him.
“Prowl?”
“Yes, Samuel?”
The teen made a face at the use of his full name. “Please, just call me Sam. Why did you choose to stay with the police?”
“I am a police car. To do otherwise would be irresponsible.” Sam rolled his eyes at the placid response, and the Charger smiled briefly.
“You could scan a new alt. mode.”
“I know.”
“So, why don’t you? I know the cops told you that you were free to choose.”
The chevroned mech paused in his perusal of the documents on the mech sized table (Prowl had also taken up duties with the Autobots, demonstrating an efficiency with paperwork and administrative tasks), considering his answer.
“And I chose to remain with them, in addition to joining the Autobots. These mechs are my kin now, but my origins lie with law enforcement. Leaving the force felt like abandoning my responsibilities.”
“Once a police car, always a police car?”
“Quite so.”
“I’m guessing that’s why you have such an objection to Barricade.”
The mech’s doorwings flicked sharply back, in the manner Sam had learned from watching Bumblebee indicated a negative mood.
“Ack! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Sam was cut of by a reassuring wave from the chevroned mech. “It’s alright. I would suppose that would be the reason for my enmity towards Barricade. Or rather, the idea of him. That an individual would take on the form of a keeper of the law and use it for his own unsavoury purposes sits ill with me.”
Prowl fell silent once more, before adding, “I find it disgraceful. A sullying of the uniform and all it stands for.”
“You and everyone else on the beat, or so I hear.”
Sam grinned at the mech who’d just walked into the room.
“Hey Jazz.”
“Good evening, Jazz. Did you want something?”
“Nah, just thought I’d wander by and remind Sam he’s expected home sometime today, preferably before his curfew, and he ought to get a move on especially with ‘Bee out of commission with that virus and all.”
The teen glanced at his watch and paled. “Frag, there’s no way I’m going to make it on time.”
The Solstice grinned, interrupting Sam’s spazz fit with the offer of a lift, which was gratefully accepted. As the pair left, Blake entered the room.
“Is he gone?”
“Your dislike of Jazz is not logical, Blake.”
The man ignored Prowl’s mild comment. “I hope Sam makes it in time, ‘cos y’know, not looking forward to another lecture from Mrs Witwicky. The last one was kinda scary and intimidating and I do not want to overhear another one when standing a good two feet away from Sammy and his cellphone. Seriously. The woman can shout. And guilt trip like a pro. God help us if she and Ratchet ever team up.”
“Jazz will get Sam home on time. And yes, he will be responsible and law abiding while doing so.”
Sometimes, Blake wondered how Cybertronian optics, so much like simple panels of backlit glass, could convey the range of expressions he found he could read. Prowl’s pointed look caused him to sigh.
“Look, the mech’s nice, I suppose. But I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“What way?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You see everything.” They’d found that the newest mech was very detail oriented, hence his ability at handling the duties he’d taken on for the Autobots.
“I haven’t detected anything amiss with how Jazz interacts with me.”
“He smiles at you! And he spends way too much time hanging around you! He makes all these flirty comments to you! And… and…”
“Blake, you’re reading too much into this.”
“Prowl, he’s sniffing after you!”
“Cybertronians do not sniff.”
“You know what I mean!” The officer’s half exasperated smile told the black and white mech he’d succeeded in distracting the man from his, in Prowl’s opinion, unfounded concerns (Prowl was also exhibiting a budding ability in tactics).
They continued in this vein for a while, Blake insisting the ‘the silver one’ (honestly, the man could be so childish about some things) had less than honourable intentions, and Prowl calmly refuting his allegations, and occasionally tossing in some overly literal comment to derail the man’s train of thought. Blake caught on eventually, and after a mock upset grumble at ungrateful kids who thought they knew better than their elders, pretended to stalk off in a huff, followed by a smile he just knew Prowl was wearing.
On his way out, he ran into the very mech he’d been talking about.
= = =
Jazz tensed. Slightly. Very slightly. But the whole base knew that Officer Blake Stevens did not particularly like him, and they were mostly (with the exception of Will, Mikeala and Ironhide, who were more amused than anything else) rather mystified by the fact. Everyone liked Jazz. Blake Stevens glared up at him (it was rather comical, considering that Jazz was the one who could turn him into squishy paste with an ‘accidental’ misstep).
… Was that a growl?
“Blake? You alright?” The Solstice didn’t really mind the man’s ire, but occasionally attempted to smooth things over between them because, well, Prowl liked Blake, and Jazz found that he was developing an interest in the chevroned mech (and who would blame him? Prowl was fragging easy on the optics).
“No. No I’m not. And you know why? It’s because of you. I see what you’re doing, and I won’t let you take advantage of him like that!”
Jazz backed off, hands spread in a placating manner. “Whoa now. I’m not taking advantage of anybody.”
“Oh?” The man’s tone was challenging, and the Spec Ops mech whirred his intakes in a sigh.
“Look, if I’m bothering Prowl, he’d tell me himself. He has no problems with doing that to Dewey.”
“Dewey doesn’t flirt with him. Prowl’s barely a year old, for crying out loud!”
“Ah, so that’s your issue. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I think I do!”
“You don’t.” Jazz crouched to be visor to eye with the policeman. “Prowl chose, all by himself, to stay with the police force, didn’t he?”
Blake made as if to snap out an angry reply that of course the Charger had, and the Ops mech held up a hand to hold him off.
“I know he did. And I know you and your colleagues wouldn’t have tried to coerce him. Wouldn’t have worked if you did. He makes his own choices. He’s young, yes, but he was sparked with a properly functional processor, and a fully developed mind. You wanna look out for him, and that’s great, but he isn’t a sparkling, and he’s hardly naïve about relationships. Mech has access to the internet, y’know, and some things are pretty much universal.”
“I’d prefer it if you left him alone.” The police officer’s stance was unmoved, and Jazz sighed again.
“That’s going to be impossible. I do have to work with the mech.”
“Then stop flirting with him!”
The silver mech refrained from pointing out that he was quite sure Prowl flirted back (at least, he thought the black and white was flirting back. Mech could be frustratingly inscrutable at times. It only piqued Jazz’s interest more), and gave in. “Fine, fine, I’ll lay off for a bit, if it’ll make you feel better. Eesh.”
= = =
“Jazz?”
“Hm- Whoa!”
Jazz found himself backed up against the wall by a black and white mech. Silently, his CPU commented that it was rather unfair that while he’d kept his word to Blake, Prowl seemed to have not gotten the memo. Shuttering optics briefly at his current situation, he voiced a hesitant query.
“Prowl? Something the matter?”
“Nothing. Just wondering if I could enlist your help in something.”
An innocent enough request. Too innocent. Dryly, the Solstive replied. “There are easier ways to get my attention, you didn’t have to pin me to the wall.” Jazz industriously ignored the gleeful disagreement of his processors with that statement. And it seemed Prowl disagreed the same way.
“My research seems to indicate that the task I wanted your assistance in requires this kind of proximity.”
“And what, pray tell, would this task be?”
“Do you agree to help me?”
Staring up into the mech’s optics, Jazz found (to his bemused alarm) that he couldn’t say no. Prowl smirked lightly at the silver mech’s resigned agreement, then leant forward, just enough to press their lip plating together. When he drew back, Jazz had a matching smirk. Sotto voce, the silver mech murmured.
“He’s right behind you, isn’t he?”
“I appreciate Blake’s concern, but you were right. I’m perfectly capable of making my own choices.”
“Mm. So, what does this mean?”
“I like you. Enough to want to see where this goes, and I think you like me enough to want to do the same.”
“Sounds about right. Y’sure though?” Contrary to what Jazz had told Blake, the silver mech knew that the internet wasn’t necessarily the best of resources for relationship advice.
“I spoke to Ironhide, Ratchet and Prime. They’ve more than covered any uncertainties I might have had.”
“Frag. What I would have given to see you start that conversation.”
“I have a vid recording. And if you’re a good mech…” Prowl let the sentence dangle, and leant in once more to kiss Jazz. And when he pulled away this time, the silver mech shot him a grin.
“You kiss human-style pretty well."
"Do Cybertronians kiss another way?"
"Yeah. See, not all bots have lip plating."
"Ah." They shared a conspiratorial look, Jazz carefully refraining from peeking over Prowl's shoulder to see a certain human's reaction.
"C'mon, lemme show you how the Cybertronians do it.”
With that, the Solstice pulled the Charger out of the room, leaving a frozen Officer Stevens behind them. Sam, wandering in late, poked the man cautiously, and when he got no response, turned to the mech who’d just walked in, query written all over his face. Ironhide rumbled softly in amusement.
“Saw the whole thing on the security monitors. Seems like Prowl’s growing up too fast for Stevens here to process.”
Will Lennox, who’d accompanied the black mech, smirked and added. “Bet you anything he’s thinking, ‘Prowl’s the one doing the kissing How do I make it Jazz’s fault?’ ”
All three cracked up, finally snapping Blake out of his stupor. The policeman blinked at them, then, as his brain caught up with him, let out a distressed whimper, which only made them laugh all the harder.
= = =
“Blake.”
“Mrph.”
Prowl sighed. It had been a long hour, driving about with an unresponsive Blake. But Jazz had asked him to talk things over with the police officer, and their daily patrol had seemed the perfect opportunity. Apparently the man had ranted a blue streak once he’d gotten over being traumatised, throwing in a couple of… promises, in as well. The Solstice liked his paint job the way it was (and so did the Charger), thank you very much. “You do have to talk to me eventually.”
“Grmbh.”
“I can lock the doors and keep you in here until you do. And please sit up and pretend to steer, people are starting to stare.”
The man muttered, but sat up from his slouch and placed both hands on the steering wheel.
“Thank you.”
There was silence in Prowl’s interior once more, until Blake spoke. “You’re sure about this thing between you and the silver one.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Prowl did not bother to remind his partner of Jazz’s name.
“He hurts you, and I’m… I made ‘Hide promise to melt him with his cannons. Slowly.”
“Jazz is not the malicious sort, and I’m possessed of more than sufficient common sense.”
“He’d better not be.” Blake paused, and patted the dashboard lightly. “I just worry, ‘kay?”
“I will be fine, Blake.”
“… Alright.” The man sighed as well, sounding resigned. Just then, two blurs, one red, the other yellow, sped past them.
“That them, you think?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then what are we waiting for? They’re breaking the speed limit!”
Sirens wailing, the pair gave chase.
Title: Earthborn (Part 2)
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Ratchet had insisted on giving both Prowl and the police officer a complete check up, which, understandably, had Officer Stevens fretting, both about the mech who’d up to now been his car, and reporting back from patrol. The matter of reporting back had been easily settled with a number of quick phone calls, and Blake (along with Prowl) was now ensconced in the makeshift med bay, being poked and prodded and scanned to the very last inch.
Sam, Mikeala and Bumblebee had offered to stay with them, and the man had been grateful for the presence of their (relatively) familiar faces, especially in the presence of the intimidating mech they passed off as a medic.
Not that he said so out loud.
Particularly since said medic was currently examining him.
To distract him from his Ratchet-induced nerves, the teenagers gave him a quick briefing on the situation, describing the Autobots, Decepticons and what they knew of the war between the two factions. Blake also saw the black and white mech smile faintly at him in commiseration (Prowl had just escaped Ratchet’s clutches), before the police car’s attention was drawn to an offline form lying on a raised platform (Sam had called it a ‘berth’) nearby. Bumblebee went over to stand beside the Charger as Prowl contemplated the silver chassis.
“That’s Jazz. We just got him welded together again.”
“Welded together?” Blake couldn’t help but ask, and the yellow mech paused, staring at the ground before answering.
“… He got torn in two.”
The officer winced, and the teenagers smiled weakly.
“Is he…?”
Ratchet made a sighing noise, half exasperated, half relieved. “Fortunately, Jazz is stubborn. It was touch and go for a good while, but he’s out of danger now. We’re just waiting for him to wake up.”
Prowl leant a little closer to Jazz, then started backwards as a visor started to glow and the silver mech jerked upright, optics unseeing, desperately pulling air into his intakes and thrashing about wildly.
Attempting to calm the mech down, the police car spread his hands in a non-threatening manner and called Jazz’s name quietly. At the sound of his designation, the Solstice’s head swivelled to stare at the form in front of him, taking in the red chevron, the black and white paint and the pair of doorwings displayed high and sweeping behind the mech’s shoulders. Jazz’s vocaliser spat out static, before he rebooted it and tried again, optics never leaving Prowl’s.
“Didn’t know the Well of Allsparks had angels too.”
= = =
After the excitement of finding another Earth-born and Jazz waking up, things once more settled into non-eventfulness. Prowl and Blake quickly adapted to their new circumstances, with the mech dividing his time between the Autobots and his duties with the police force (he’d chosen to remain with the constabulary, something that the force took much pride in. They’d even worked out a patrol route for the pair to fit with the needs of both the police and the Autobots), driving over to Blake’s home to pick him up for work whenever the officer elected not to stay on base with him.
“Prowl?”
“Yes, Samuel?”
The teen made a face at the use of his full name. “Please, just call me Sam. Why did you choose to stay with the police?”
“I am a police car. To do otherwise would be irresponsible.” Sam rolled his eyes at the placid response, and the Charger smiled briefly.
“You could scan a new alt. mode.”
“I know.”
“So, why don’t you? I know the cops told you that you were free to choose.”
The chevroned mech paused in his perusal of the documents on the mech sized table (Prowl had also taken up duties with the Autobots, demonstrating an efficiency with paperwork and administrative tasks), considering his answer.
“And I chose to remain with them, in addition to joining the Autobots. These mechs are my kin now, but my origins lie with law enforcement. Leaving the force felt like abandoning my responsibilities.”
“Once a police car, always a police car?”
“Quite so.”
“I’m guessing that’s why you have such an objection to Barricade.”
The mech’s doorwings flicked sharply back, in the manner Sam had learned from watching Bumblebee indicated a negative mood.
“Ack! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Sam was cut of by a reassuring wave from the chevroned mech. “It’s alright. I would suppose that would be the reason for my enmity towards Barricade. Or rather, the idea of him. That an individual would take on the form of a keeper of the law and use it for his own unsavoury purposes sits ill with me.”
Prowl fell silent once more, before adding, “I find it disgraceful. A sullying of the uniform and all it stands for.”
“You and everyone else on the beat, or so I hear.”
Sam grinned at the mech who’d just walked into the room.
“Hey Jazz.”
“Good evening, Jazz. Did you want something?”
“Nah, just thought I’d wander by and remind Sam he’s expected home sometime today, preferably before his curfew, and he ought to get a move on especially with ‘Bee out of commission with that virus and all.”
The teen glanced at his watch and paled. “Frag, there’s no way I’m going to make it on time.”
The Solstice grinned, interrupting Sam’s spazz fit with the offer of a lift, which was gratefully accepted. As the pair left, Blake entered the room.
“Is he gone?”
“Your dislike of Jazz is not logical, Blake.”
The man ignored Prowl’s mild comment. “I hope Sam makes it in time, ‘cos y’know, not looking forward to another lecture from Mrs Witwicky. The last one was kinda scary and intimidating and I do not want to overhear another one when standing a good two feet away from Sammy and his cellphone. Seriously. The woman can shout. And guilt trip like a pro. God help us if she and Ratchet ever team up.”
“Jazz will get Sam home on time. And yes, he will be responsible and law abiding while doing so.”
Sometimes, Blake wondered how Cybertronian optics, so much like simple panels of backlit glass, could convey the range of expressions he found he could read. Prowl’s pointed look caused him to sigh.
“Look, the mech’s nice, I suppose. But I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“What way?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You see everything.” They’d found that the newest mech was very detail oriented, hence his ability at handling the duties he’d taken on for the Autobots.
“I haven’t detected anything amiss with how Jazz interacts with me.”
“He smiles at you! And he spends way too much time hanging around you! He makes all these flirty comments to you! And… and…”
“Blake, you’re reading too much into this.”
“Prowl, he’s sniffing after you!”
“Cybertronians do not sniff.”
“You know what I mean!” The officer’s half exasperated smile told the black and white mech he’d succeeded in distracting the man from his, in Prowl’s opinion, unfounded concerns (Prowl was also exhibiting a budding ability in tactics).
They continued in this vein for a while, Blake insisting the ‘the silver one’ (honestly, the man could be so childish about some things) had less than honourable intentions, and Prowl calmly refuting his allegations, and occasionally tossing in some overly literal comment to derail the man’s train of thought. Blake caught on eventually, and after a mock upset grumble at ungrateful kids who thought they knew better than their elders, pretended to stalk off in a huff, followed by a smile he just knew Prowl was wearing.
On his way out, he ran into the very mech he’d been talking about.
= = =
Jazz tensed. Slightly. Very slightly. But the whole base knew that Officer Blake Stevens did not particularly like him, and they were mostly (with the exception of Will, Mikeala and Ironhide, who were more amused than anything else) rather mystified by the fact. Everyone liked Jazz. Blake Stevens glared up at him (it was rather comical, considering that Jazz was the one who could turn him into squishy paste with an ‘accidental’ misstep).
… Was that a growl?
“Blake? You alright?” The Solstice didn’t really mind the man’s ire, but occasionally attempted to smooth things over between them because, well, Prowl liked Blake, and Jazz found that he was developing an interest in the chevroned mech (and who would blame him? Prowl was fragging easy on the optics).
“No. No I’m not. And you know why? It’s because of you. I see what you’re doing, and I won’t let you take advantage of him like that!”
Jazz backed off, hands spread in a placating manner. “Whoa now. I’m not taking advantage of anybody.”
“Oh?” The man’s tone was challenging, and the Spec Ops mech whirred his intakes in a sigh.
“Look, if I’m bothering Prowl, he’d tell me himself. He has no problems with doing that to Dewey.”
“Dewey doesn’t flirt with him. Prowl’s barely a year old, for crying out loud!”
“Ah, so that’s your issue. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I think I do!”
“You don’t.” Jazz crouched to be visor to eye with the policeman. “Prowl chose, all by himself, to stay with the police force, didn’t he?”
Blake made as if to snap out an angry reply that of course the Charger had, and the Ops mech held up a hand to hold him off.
“I know he did. And I know you and your colleagues wouldn’t have tried to coerce him. Wouldn’t have worked if you did. He makes his own choices. He’s young, yes, but he was sparked with a properly functional processor, and a fully developed mind. You wanna look out for him, and that’s great, but he isn’t a sparkling, and he’s hardly naïve about relationships. Mech has access to the internet, y’know, and some things are pretty much universal.”
“I’d prefer it if you left him alone.” The police officer’s stance was unmoved, and Jazz sighed again.
“That’s going to be impossible. I do have to work with the mech.”
“Then stop flirting with him!”
The silver mech refrained from pointing out that he was quite sure Prowl flirted back (at least, he thought the black and white was flirting back. Mech could be frustratingly inscrutable at times. It only piqued Jazz’s interest more), and gave in. “Fine, fine, I’ll lay off for a bit, if it’ll make you feel better. Eesh.”
= = =
“Jazz?”
“Hm- Whoa!”
Jazz found himself backed up against the wall by a black and white mech. Silently, his CPU commented that it was rather unfair that while he’d kept his word to Blake, Prowl seemed to have not gotten the memo. Shuttering optics briefly at his current situation, he voiced a hesitant query.
“Prowl? Something the matter?”
“Nothing. Just wondering if I could enlist your help in something.”
An innocent enough request. Too innocent. Dryly, the Solstive replied. “There are easier ways to get my attention, you didn’t have to pin me to the wall.” Jazz industriously ignored the gleeful disagreement of his processors with that statement. And it seemed Prowl disagreed the same way.
“My research seems to indicate that the task I wanted your assistance in requires this kind of proximity.”
“And what, pray tell, would this task be?”
“Do you agree to help me?”
Staring up into the mech’s optics, Jazz found (to his bemused alarm) that he couldn’t say no. Prowl smirked lightly at the silver mech’s resigned agreement, then leant forward, just enough to press their lip plating together. When he drew back, Jazz had a matching smirk. Sotto voce, the silver mech murmured.
“He’s right behind you, isn’t he?”
“I appreciate Blake’s concern, but you were right. I’m perfectly capable of making my own choices.”
“Mm. So, what does this mean?”
“I like you. Enough to want to see where this goes, and I think you like me enough to want to do the same.”
“Sounds about right. Y’sure though?” Contrary to what Jazz had told Blake, the silver mech knew that the internet wasn’t necessarily the best of resources for relationship advice.
“I spoke to Ironhide, Ratchet and Prime. They’ve more than covered any uncertainties I might have had.”
“Frag. What I would have given to see you start that conversation.”
“I have a vid recording. And if you’re a good mech…” Prowl let the sentence dangle, and leant in once more to kiss Jazz. And when he pulled away this time, the silver mech shot him a grin.
“You kiss human-style pretty well."
"Do Cybertronians kiss another way?"
"Yeah. See, not all bots have lip plating."
"Ah." They shared a conspiratorial look, Jazz carefully refraining from peeking over Prowl's shoulder to see a certain human's reaction.
"C'mon, lemme show you how the Cybertronians do it.”
With that, the Solstice pulled the Charger out of the room, leaving a frozen Officer Stevens behind them. Sam, wandering in late, poked the man cautiously, and when he got no response, turned to the mech who’d just walked in, query written all over his face. Ironhide rumbled softly in amusement.
“Saw the whole thing on the security monitors. Seems like Prowl’s growing up too fast for Stevens here to process.”
Will Lennox, who’d accompanied the black mech, smirked and added. “Bet you anything he’s thinking, ‘Prowl’s the one doing the kissing How do I make it Jazz’s fault?’ ”
All three cracked up, finally snapping Blake out of his stupor. The policeman blinked at them, then, as his brain caught up with him, let out a distressed whimper, which only made them laugh all the harder.
= = =
“Blake.”
“Mrph.”
Prowl sighed. It had been a long hour, driving about with an unresponsive Blake. But Jazz had asked him to talk things over with the police officer, and their daily patrol had seemed the perfect opportunity. Apparently the man had ranted a blue streak once he’d gotten over being traumatised, throwing in a couple of… promises, in as well. The Solstice liked his paint job the way it was (and so did the Charger), thank you very much. “You do have to talk to me eventually.”
“Grmbh.”
“I can lock the doors and keep you in here until you do. And please sit up and pretend to steer, people are starting to stare.”
The man muttered, but sat up from his slouch and placed both hands on the steering wheel.
“Thank you.”
There was silence in Prowl’s interior once more, until Blake spoke. “You’re sure about this thing between you and the silver one.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Prowl did not bother to remind his partner of Jazz’s name.
“He hurts you, and I’m… I made ‘Hide promise to melt him with his cannons. Slowly.”
“Jazz is not the malicious sort, and I’m possessed of more than sufficient common sense.”
“He’d better not be.” Blake paused, and patted the dashboard lightly. “I just worry, ‘kay?”
“I will be fine, Blake.”
“… Alright.” The man sighed as well, sounding resigned. Just then, two blurs, one red, the other yellow, sped past them.
“That them, you think?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then what are we waiting for? They’re breaking the speed limit!”
Sirens wailing, the pair gave chase.
