*Subject goes here*
Feb. 25th, 2009 03:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceLate night bunny ambush. Let the weird ficcing begin.
Title: Untitled ((I’ll find something when bunny isn’t being unhelpful))
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Implied smut. Unpleasant things happening off camera. Possible need for Kleenex.
“Sorry, haven’t seen him today.”
“Came in for energon, then left. Probably buried under a pile of datapads by now.”
“Fraggit, Prime! I’m doing my best to get the parts and materials we need! I’m worried about him too, but I can’t clap my hands and make miracles happen!”
“Optimus.”
He looked up at the last to see a visored mech watching him, grim expression on his faceplates. Jazz inclined his helm in the direction of one corridor, and the Prime turned to follow the Ops mech down it.
“I’m at my wit’s end, Optimus. I don’t know how to help him.”
“He won’t talk to any of us about it.”
“Can’t say I blame him.”
“… Today was bad, wasn’t it.”
“… Yeah. One of the newbies ran his vocaliser when he saw our mech. He didn’t say anything back, but frag.” Jazz sighed. “The sooner we return him to his normal appearance, the better. He doesn’t need this.”
“I fear for him, Jazz.”
A dark hand came up to grasp him by the shoulder.
“I know. Me too.”
= = =
The battle had been difficult, with neither side gaining or losing ground. Skyfire had started back with the injured and Ratchet, the Aerialbots flying escort, when a panicked comm. came in to the others.
//Taking heavy fire! Skyfire’s going down! Backup!//
They’d gotten to the coordinates to see the ‘Cons towing the shuttle away, with several of the injured (with their damage ‘helped along’ in terms of severity) abandoned on the ground and the Aerialbots frantically trying to keep them alive.
A quick headcount soon confirmed their worst fears.
= = =
They walked to the entrance of the washracks in silence, both at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. Their mech had helped bring all the captives back to the Autobots, but…
The physical damage had healed, all the others had refused treatment until Ratchet proclaimed the mech as repaired as he could get him, but not all injuries were so easily treated, not even by the CMO.
= = =
The first vid they received had made all who watched it cry out in horror. Their friends and comrades were enslaved, forced into doing the ‘Cons’ bidding with programming tricks and torture. Subsequent vids were locked away, viewable only by the Prime and Jazz. The pain and degradation in those optics had been enough to spur Optimus into a full blown rage, held back from storming the space bridge and going to Cybertron to retrieve his mechs by Jazz’s desperate intervention.
“The ‘Cons want you there. If you lose your cool and run off to Cybertron with the Autobots, leaving the Ark and Earth vulnerable, you make everything you swore to defend an easy target.”
“Those mechs are under my protection too!”
“And they’re better served with you and the others here. We’ll rescue them, Optimus. I promise.”
The dangerous gleam of that visor had been the only reason he agreed. Jazz kept his promises, and in this case, Optimus found he didn’t really care if the Ops mech stuck to regulations to do so.
= = =
Hound watched the pair walk by, nodding at Jazz when the mech directed a querying glance at him. Their mech was in the wash racks again, where he’d spent nearly every minute that didn’t involve him locking himself in his quarters or working himself into oblivion.
Guilt flashed through his spark. The jeep had been one of the mechs taken that day, and every time he saw the mech that had been instrumental in bringing them back, he wanted to beg forgiveness for not being stronger, for not fighting back harder to prevent their capture in the first place, never mind that he’d been near offlining from energon loss by the time the ‘Cons had got him.
= = =
The captives were worked hard, most were kept separate at all times, except when they were injured enough to be brought to Ratchet. The medic was considered too valuable to leave behind, or make into a servant like the others, and so the ‘Cons had pressed him into service, threatening him with his comrades’ suffering if he didn’t comply.
He was lucky. And so were they, compared to the mech who’d become Shockwave’s personal slave.
They died a little each time they saw him. The ‘Cons had deemed him too dangerous to leave his mind intact and under the restraint programs that controlled the others. Shockwave had reprogrammed him completely, and to add further insult to injury, reformatted the mech.
He was still recognisable; Shockwave had made sure of it. Plating once capable of weathering weapons fire and moderate damage was now more ornamental than anything else. His transformation sequence had been disabled, and all the armour that made up his vehicle form had been stripped or remoulded, leaving him vulnerable looking, slender, delicate and fragile.
And he adored Shockwave with every last atom of his being.
They could only thank Primus that this beautiful, empty processored mech could no longer comprehend the cruelty of what had been done to him.
= = =
The sound of running water came to their audios. The heat hit them next, boiling in its intensity (not that it could ever get hot enough to hurt them). As steam wafted about the room, Optimus and Jazz looked for their mech and found him, hunched over and trembling under the spray of liquid.
They exchanged worried looks. Patches of the mech’s paint job looked like it’d been scrubbed off, and he was still rubbing at it mechanically, optics distant. Black hands reached out to stop the motion, and the mech jerked in surprise, turning momentarily haunted optics onto the pair before the expression blanked and he straightened.
“… Did you want something, Prime, Jazz?”
“Only to help you.” Optimus answered, spark aching as the mech looked away, briskly reaching out to shut off the flow of water.
“I am not in need of help.”
“Don’t do this, please.” Jazz caught his hands again, begging for the mech to look at him.
“You need to talk about… what happened to you.” The Prime said, stumbling over the words when he found he couldn’t bear to describe the mech’s captivity.
“You can say it, Optimus. I was Shockwave’s whore. I won’t break from hearing it.” The mech broke away from them, stalking towards the exit of the washracks. “Can’t break what’s already broken.”
Jazz darted forward to stop the mech in his tracks, turning him around to grip his shoulders fiercely.
“You never broke. You hear me?”
The mech only snorted and turned from him again.
“You helped get everyone out of there. What else could you have done differently?!”
Silence, and Optimus moved forward to rest a hand on the mech’s shoulder.
“It hurts us to see you like this, Prowl.”
= = =
Ratchet shuffled around into the med bay where he was kept, recharging in a corner when he could. As a medic, he was treated slightly better than the others, and he got to see all of them at some point or other, though he was forbidden from speaking to any of them.
Actually, he couldn’t speak to any of them. The ‘Cons had removed his vocaliser to make sure of that.
The doors slid open and he dropped to his knees immediately, not looking up until commanded to by an emotionless voice.
Shockwave.
And that meant… Yes. Clinging to the single opticked mech was a black and white, winged figure. Shockwave had liked the look of the doorwings, and had kept them. Ratchet would have cried for Prowl if he could, the brilliant mech reduced to a plaything like this.
“Full check up. I had him entertain a few of the other slaves earlier.”
Nodding obediently, the medic gestured to the berth, and Prowl sat down once Shockwave motioned for him to do so. Checking the black and white mech over, he found nothing amiss physically, and turned to Shockwave with a datajack in hand. The Decepticon nodded impatiently and Ratchet jacked into Prowl, cringing internally at the brutally empty mindscape he encountered.
All the checks and scans complete, he disengaged and looked at Shockwave again, shaking his head to indicate that Prowl was clean. The Decepticon nodded, beckoning to the winged mech, who ran eagerly to his master’s side. Petting the white helm as Prowl made a contented noise, Shockwave left, and Ratchet turned away, clenching his denta in sickened fury.
= = =
“It hurts you?” He almost missed the low murmur, but Jazz didn’t, stiffening abruptly at the words. Prowl turned to them, a strange look in his optics.
“I can fix that. I’m good at making mechs forget their troubles.” The winged form slipped closer in an almost sinuous movement. “I’ll show you, shan’t I?”
Then the tactician was pressing close to Optimus, tracing his hands over the Autobot commander’s chestplates. When Jazz reached out to stop him, he whirled around, pressing his back against the frozen Prime, yanking the Ops mech so that he fell against the chevroned mech, pushing Prowl against Optimus again. A soft, mocking laugh. “Perhaps I’ll show the both of you. It won’t be the first time I’ve had two mechs at once. Shockwave liked watching me please the others.”
= = =
Ratchet onlined with a start. Something was different. Scanning himself, he could find nothing amiss, but his diagnosis programs were interrupted when the door to the med bay opened and a mech was shoved in. Kneeling and then rising when bid, he saw that Thundercracker and Skywarp were in the room, with a battered looking pair of twins picking themselves up from the ground. Mutely, he went through the motions of scanning and repairing what damage had been dealt to them.
“Processor scans too. Don’t know what that little slut of Shockwave’s might be carrying.”
Gritting his denta again, Ratchet jacked in to the pair. There was something different about them too. It took a while, but he suddenly realised that the suppressive programming installed to keep them from doing anything to fight back against the Decepticons was… gone. The realisation flashed across to Sideswipe, who, though his expression didn’t change, sent back a triumphant pulse.
//Keep it quiet. You’ve got it too, right? You can change every one of us now.//
//How?//
Sideswipe hesitated. //… I think it’s Prowl.//
His shock transmitted across the connection.
//Yeah. Frag, Ratch’, work fast. Prowl… If he’s… We have to get him out of there.//
//Of course.//
A scan of Sunstreaker confirmed the same, and when the med bay was empty again, Ratchet sank to the ground with a quiet sob of relief and sorrow.
= = =
Optimus grabbed Prowl’s arms, immobilising them as Jazz backed away slightly, grief and dismay on his faceplates.
“Prowl, stop this.”
The tactician writhed sensuously against the Prime, hissing his next words as the larger mech bit back a moan at the pleasurable sensations the movements generated. “Stop? But I can make you feel good, Optimus. He taught me well.”
“Please, don’t do this.” Jazz had shuttered his optics, leaning against both Prowl and Optimus, his additional weight keeping the winged mech from moving. Quietly, he sobbed into a pale shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Prowl, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you any faster.”
= = =
They were ready. It had taken a long time, time that ate at the mechs as they prepared to leave. But it was necessary, and none of them argued over the timeframe Jazz had set. The space bridge was infiltrated and the team had slipped through, leaving no trace behind. They reached the Decepticon stronghold on Cybertron in moments, then got to work.
Chaos erupted all over the base. Explosions shattered the quiet, and Decepticon guards ran about, trying to track down the source of the attacks. Deep in the compound, the enslaved mechs heard the noise, and their sparks lifted in hope. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were the first to attack their ‘masters’, tearing into the two seekers and sending them offline in moments.
“C’mon, killing them will just waste more time.”
A nod from his twin, and both were out the door and running to where they knew the next Autobot was in moments. Across the base, Decepticons was taken by surprise as the slaves turned on them. The crowd of freed Autobots swelled, and soon the twins were running for Shockwave’s chambers. Throwing open the door, they stopped dead at the sight. The mech was lying prone on the floor, energon pooling around him. But beneath him was the badly damaged form of Prowl.
They cried out, leaping into the room and flinging the chassis of the mono opticked mech away, gathering the unresponsive black and white mech up and holding him close. When the tactician stirred feebly, Sideswipe could have wept in relief. When his optics onlined, their light faint and flickering, they told him to save his strength and bolted out, but not before making sure Shockwave was truly dead.
Jazz’s team met them with surprise, they hadn’t expected the captive mechs to have broken free, or for so many of them to be able to fight back. Glancing at the group, the team decided that explanations could come later. With Prowl directing them, they made short work of the ‘Cons standing between them and freedom.
“We have everyone?”
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here!”
“What about Skyfire?!”
Hound laughed, giddy with happiness. “He’s the getaway car! He’ll find us when we get out of here. Now move!”
= = =
Prowl had gone limp against him, and cautiously, Optimus let the tactician’s arms go. Pale hands immediately went up to stroke a dark helm as Prowl shuttered his optics as well. “I apologise. My behaviour was uncalled for.”
Jazz shook his head insistently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We shouldn’t have taken so long to rescue the mechs on Cybertron.”
“You couldn’t have done anything else.”
“You should listen to yourself.”
“I know.”
Both fell silent, and the Prime gently wrapped his arms about the pair. Hesitant optics met his, and the tactician looked away again, expression unreadable. Jazz cupped the other black and white’s faceplates, turning it so that he could see Prowl’s optics once more.
“How can we help you, Prowl?” The chevroned mech was quiet. The Prime was about to ask him again when he spoke.
“Kiss me.” Jazz rebooted his optics in shock, and Optimus clicked in surprise. Prowl shuttered his optics.
“Shockwave… forbade me from sharing what he couldn’t experience.”
Nodding in understanding, Jazz glanced up at Optimus, then leant forward to tenderly brush his mouth against the tactician’s. Prowl parted his lips, allowing Jazz to deepen the kiss. As the pair pressed close (and against him), the Prime made to leave them alone when his hand was grabbed by the winged mech.
“Don’t go.”
“You and Jazz-”
Prowl shook his head. “Stay, help me forget.”
He hesitated, and the tactician tugged on his arm again. “Please, Optimus.”
Jazz nodded as well, and the Prime relented. Withdrawing his battlemask, he bent down to claim a kiss of his own.
Title: Untitled ((I’ll find something when bunny isn’t being unhelpful))
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Implied smut. Unpleasant things happening off camera. Possible need for Kleenex.
“Sorry, haven’t seen him today.”
“Came in for energon, then left. Probably buried under a pile of datapads by now.”
“Fraggit, Prime! I’m doing my best to get the parts and materials we need! I’m worried about him too, but I can’t clap my hands and make miracles happen!”
“Optimus.”
He looked up at the last to see a visored mech watching him, grim expression on his faceplates. Jazz inclined his helm in the direction of one corridor, and the Prime turned to follow the Ops mech down it.
“I’m at my wit’s end, Optimus. I don’t know how to help him.”
“He won’t talk to any of us about it.”
“Can’t say I blame him.”
“… Today was bad, wasn’t it.”
“… Yeah. One of the newbies ran his vocaliser when he saw our mech. He didn’t say anything back, but frag.” Jazz sighed. “The sooner we return him to his normal appearance, the better. He doesn’t need this.”
“I fear for him, Jazz.”
A dark hand came up to grasp him by the shoulder.
“I know. Me too.”
= = =
The battle had been difficult, with neither side gaining or losing ground. Skyfire had started back with the injured and Ratchet, the Aerialbots flying escort, when a panicked comm. came in to the others.
//Taking heavy fire! Skyfire’s going down! Backup!//
They’d gotten to the coordinates to see the ‘Cons towing the shuttle away, with several of the injured (with their damage ‘helped along’ in terms of severity) abandoned on the ground and the Aerialbots frantically trying to keep them alive.
A quick headcount soon confirmed their worst fears.
= = =
They walked to the entrance of the washracks in silence, both at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. Their mech had helped bring all the captives back to the Autobots, but…
The physical damage had healed, all the others had refused treatment until Ratchet proclaimed the mech as repaired as he could get him, but not all injuries were so easily treated, not even by the CMO.
= = =
The first vid they received had made all who watched it cry out in horror. Their friends and comrades were enslaved, forced into doing the ‘Cons’ bidding with programming tricks and torture. Subsequent vids were locked away, viewable only by the Prime and Jazz. The pain and degradation in those optics had been enough to spur Optimus into a full blown rage, held back from storming the space bridge and going to Cybertron to retrieve his mechs by Jazz’s desperate intervention.
“The ‘Cons want you there. If you lose your cool and run off to Cybertron with the Autobots, leaving the Ark and Earth vulnerable, you make everything you swore to defend an easy target.”
“Those mechs are under my protection too!”
“And they’re better served with you and the others here. We’ll rescue them, Optimus. I promise.”
The dangerous gleam of that visor had been the only reason he agreed. Jazz kept his promises, and in this case, Optimus found he didn’t really care if the Ops mech stuck to regulations to do so.
= = =
Hound watched the pair walk by, nodding at Jazz when the mech directed a querying glance at him. Their mech was in the wash racks again, where he’d spent nearly every minute that didn’t involve him locking himself in his quarters or working himself into oblivion.
Guilt flashed through his spark. The jeep had been one of the mechs taken that day, and every time he saw the mech that had been instrumental in bringing them back, he wanted to beg forgiveness for not being stronger, for not fighting back harder to prevent their capture in the first place, never mind that he’d been near offlining from energon loss by the time the ‘Cons had got him.
= = =
The captives were worked hard, most were kept separate at all times, except when they were injured enough to be brought to Ratchet. The medic was considered too valuable to leave behind, or make into a servant like the others, and so the ‘Cons had pressed him into service, threatening him with his comrades’ suffering if he didn’t comply.
He was lucky. And so were they, compared to the mech who’d become Shockwave’s personal slave.
They died a little each time they saw him. The ‘Cons had deemed him too dangerous to leave his mind intact and under the restraint programs that controlled the others. Shockwave had reprogrammed him completely, and to add further insult to injury, reformatted the mech.
He was still recognisable; Shockwave had made sure of it. Plating once capable of weathering weapons fire and moderate damage was now more ornamental than anything else. His transformation sequence had been disabled, and all the armour that made up his vehicle form had been stripped or remoulded, leaving him vulnerable looking, slender, delicate and fragile.
And he adored Shockwave with every last atom of his being.
They could only thank Primus that this beautiful, empty processored mech could no longer comprehend the cruelty of what had been done to him.
= = =
The sound of running water came to their audios. The heat hit them next, boiling in its intensity (not that it could ever get hot enough to hurt them). As steam wafted about the room, Optimus and Jazz looked for their mech and found him, hunched over and trembling under the spray of liquid.
They exchanged worried looks. Patches of the mech’s paint job looked like it’d been scrubbed off, and he was still rubbing at it mechanically, optics distant. Black hands reached out to stop the motion, and the mech jerked in surprise, turning momentarily haunted optics onto the pair before the expression blanked and he straightened.
“… Did you want something, Prime, Jazz?”
“Only to help you.” Optimus answered, spark aching as the mech looked away, briskly reaching out to shut off the flow of water.
“I am not in need of help.”
“Don’t do this, please.” Jazz caught his hands again, begging for the mech to look at him.
“You need to talk about… what happened to you.” The Prime said, stumbling over the words when he found he couldn’t bear to describe the mech’s captivity.
“You can say it, Optimus. I was Shockwave’s whore. I won’t break from hearing it.” The mech broke away from them, stalking towards the exit of the washracks. “Can’t break what’s already broken.”
Jazz darted forward to stop the mech in his tracks, turning him around to grip his shoulders fiercely.
“You never broke. You hear me?”
The mech only snorted and turned from him again.
“You helped get everyone out of there. What else could you have done differently?!”
Silence, and Optimus moved forward to rest a hand on the mech’s shoulder.
“It hurts us to see you like this, Prowl.”
= = =
Ratchet shuffled around into the med bay where he was kept, recharging in a corner when he could. As a medic, he was treated slightly better than the others, and he got to see all of them at some point or other, though he was forbidden from speaking to any of them.
Actually, he couldn’t speak to any of them. The ‘Cons had removed his vocaliser to make sure of that.
The doors slid open and he dropped to his knees immediately, not looking up until commanded to by an emotionless voice.
Shockwave.
And that meant… Yes. Clinging to the single opticked mech was a black and white, winged figure. Shockwave had liked the look of the doorwings, and had kept them. Ratchet would have cried for Prowl if he could, the brilliant mech reduced to a plaything like this.
“Full check up. I had him entertain a few of the other slaves earlier.”
Nodding obediently, the medic gestured to the berth, and Prowl sat down once Shockwave motioned for him to do so. Checking the black and white mech over, he found nothing amiss physically, and turned to Shockwave with a datajack in hand. The Decepticon nodded impatiently and Ratchet jacked into Prowl, cringing internally at the brutally empty mindscape he encountered.
All the checks and scans complete, he disengaged and looked at Shockwave again, shaking his head to indicate that Prowl was clean. The Decepticon nodded, beckoning to the winged mech, who ran eagerly to his master’s side. Petting the white helm as Prowl made a contented noise, Shockwave left, and Ratchet turned away, clenching his denta in sickened fury.
= = =
“It hurts you?” He almost missed the low murmur, but Jazz didn’t, stiffening abruptly at the words. Prowl turned to them, a strange look in his optics.
“I can fix that. I’m good at making mechs forget their troubles.” The winged form slipped closer in an almost sinuous movement. “I’ll show you, shan’t I?”
Then the tactician was pressing close to Optimus, tracing his hands over the Autobot commander’s chestplates. When Jazz reached out to stop him, he whirled around, pressing his back against the frozen Prime, yanking the Ops mech so that he fell against the chevroned mech, pushing Prowl against Optimus again. A soft, mocking laugh. “Perhaps I’ll show the both of you. It won’t be the first time I’ve had two mechs at once. Shockwave liked watching me please the others.”
= = =
Ratchet onlined with a start. Something was different. Scanning himself, he could find nothing amiss, but his diagnosis programs were interrupted when the door to the med bay opened and a mech was shoved in. Kneeling and then rising when bid, he saw that Thundercracker and Skywarp were in the room, with a battered looking pair of twins picking themselves up from the ground. Mutely, he went through the motions of scanning and repairing what damage had been dealt to them.
“Processor scans too. Don’t know what that little slut of Shockwave’s might be carrying.”
Gritting his denta again, Ratchet jacked in to the pair. There was something different about them too. It took a while, but he suddenly realised that the suppressive programming installed to keep them from doing anything to fight back against the Decepticons was… gone. The realisation flashed across to Sideswipe, who, though his expression didn’t change, sent back a triumphant pulse.
//Keep it quiet. You’ve got it too, right? You can change every one of us now.//
//How?//
Sideswipe hesitated. //… I think it’s Prowl.//
His shock transmitted across the connection.
//Yeah. Frag, Ratch’, work fast. Prowl… If he’s… We have to get him out of there.//
//Of course.//
A scan of Sunstreaker confirmed the same, and when the med bay was empty again, Ratchet sank to the ground with a quiet sob of relief and sorrow.
= = =
Optimus grabbed Prowl’s arms, immobilising them as Jazz backed away slightly, grief and dismay on his faceplates.
“Prowl, stop this.”
The tactician writhed sensuously against the Prime, hissing his next words as the larger mech bit back a moan at the pleasurable sensations the movements generated. “Stop? But I can make you feel good, Optimus. He taught me well.”
“Please, don’t do this.” Jazz had shuttered his optics, leaning against both Prowl and Optimus, his additional weight keeping the winged mech from moving. Quietly, he sobbed into a pale shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Prowl, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you any faster.”
= = =
They were ready. It had taken a long time, time that ate at the mechs as they prepared to leave. But it was necessary, and none of them argued over the timeframe Jazz had set. The space bridge was infiltrated and the team had slipped through, leaving no trace behind. They reached the Decepticon stronghold on Cybertron in moments, then got to work.
Chaos erupted all over the base. Explosions shattered the quiet, and Decepticon guards ran about, trying to track down the source of the attacks. Deep in the compound, the enslaved mechs heard the noise, and their sparks lifted in hope. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were the first to attack their ‘masters’, tearing into the two seekers and sending them offline in moments.
“C’mon, killing them will just waste more time.”
A nod from his twin, and both were out the door and running to where they knew the next Autobot was in moments. Across the base, Decepticons was taken by surprise as the slaves turned on them. The crowd of freed Autobots swelled, and soon the twins were running for Shockwave’s chambers. Throwing open the door, they stopped dead at the sight. The mech was lying prone on the floor, energon pooling around him. But beneath him was the badly damaged form of Prowl.
They cried out, leaping into the room and flinging the chassis of the mono opticked mech away, gathering the unresponsive black and white mech up and holding him close. When the tactician stirred feebly, Sideswipe could have wept in relief. When his optics onlined, their light faint and flickering, they told him to save his strength and bolted out, but not before making sure Shockwave was truly dead.
Jazz’s team met them with surprise, they hadn’t expected the captive mechs to have broken free, or for so many of them to be able to fight back. Glancing at the group, the team decided that explanations could come later. With Prowl directing them, they made short work of the ‘Cons standing between them and freedom.
“We have everyone?”
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here!”
“What about Skyfire?!”
Hound laughed, giddy with happiness. “He’s the getaway car! He’ll find us when we get out of here. Now move!”
= = =
Prowl had gone limp against him, and cautiously, Optimus let the tactician’s arms go. Pale hands immediately went up to stroke a dark helm as Prowl shuttered his optics as well. “I apologise. My behaviour was uncalled for.”
Jazz shook his head insistently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We shouldn’t have taken so long to rescue the mechs on Cybertron.”
“You couldn’t have done anything else.”
“You should listen to yourself.”
“I know.”
Both fell silent, and the Prime gently wrapped his arms about the pair. Hesitant optics met his, and the tactician looked away again, expression unreadable. Jazz cupped the other black and white’s faceplates, turning it so that he could see Prowl’s optics once more.
“How can we help you, Prowl?” The chevroned mech was quiet. The Prime was about to ask him again when he spoke.
“Kiss me.” Jazz rebooted his optics in shock, and Optimus clicked in surprise. Prowl shuttered his optics.
“Shockwave… forbade me from sharing what he couldn’t experience.”
Nodding in understanding, Jazz glanced up at Optimus, then leant forward to tenderly brush his mouth against the tactician’s. Prowl parted his lips, allowing Jazz to deepen the kiss. As the pair pressed close (and against him), the Prime made to leave them alone when his hand was grabbed by the winged mech.
“Don’t go.”
“You and Jazz-”
Prowl shook his head. “Stay, help me forget.”
He hesitated, and the tactician tugged on his arm again. “Please, Optimus.”
Jazz nodded as well, and the Prime relented. Withdrawing his battlemask, he bent down to claim a kiss of his own.
