Secrets of the Groundbound Kind [Part 13]
Mar. 27th, 2009 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: Secrets of the Groundbound Kind [Part 13]
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
“Jazz.”
The Porsche unshuttered his optics at the sound of his name. Smokescreen was still beside him (though he’d moved back a step or two), a sympathetic look on his faceplates. The Datsun hummed softly, apology in the notes, and the Ops mech cycled air resignedly.
“What’re you apologising for, Smokey? You didn’t do anything.”
“I’ve added on to what must already have been a very trying day for you.”
“Mech, Primus just got up on the wrong side of the recharge berth this morning and decided to take it out on me. S’alright.”
The blue mech just watched Jazz for a moment, then sighed. “I’m going to tell Ratchet you need time to adjust to your new situation before we work on your coding, and arrange things so that you and your team get what time off they need as well. You’ve had one processor scan today, and I’m not sure if you’d be able to let anyone into your CPU again so soon after, much less me.”
The Porsche chuckled wearily. “I think you’re right. I’ve got subroutines buzzing like crazy in here. Even if I let you jack in, they’d toss you out on your aft so fast, we’d both feel it.”
“All the more reason to give you time to calm down. C’mon, I’ll help you to your room.” Smokescreen smiled, offering Jazz a hand. The black and white accepted the support as he rose from his seat, and both slowly made their way out of Smokescreen's office and towards the Ark's living area.
= = =
Bumblebee joined them as they neared their destination and Smokescreen, making a quick amendment of plans, handed the Ops Head over to his subordinate. Bumblebee’s room was nearer, and the presence of Jazz’s new trine would help to relax the Ops mech. After a quick exchange of words (both Autobots reassuring the Volkswagen that Jazz was fine and just needed time away from everyone else), left them as the yellow mech herded Jazz into the scout’s quarters.
Jazz was nudged onto the berth, and he beckoned to Bumblebee to join him when the minibot paused awkwardly in the middle of the room, newly activated subroutines clashing with what he considered ‘proper’ (he wasn’t a sparkling any more, to want cuddles, for Primus’s sake). Giving in to the impulse, the scout moved to sit next to the Porsche, carefully leaning against the visored mech, mindful of the bot’s fresh repairs.
A knock sounded on the door, coupled with a sheepish brush over the bond. Both directed mock-irritated looks at Mirage when Bumblebee let the spy in, and the Ligier ducked in apology before joining the Ops pile.
“Hound had to go?” Queried the scout with a smirk, and Mirage had the grace to look away in embarrassment before replying in the affirmative. “There was a request for his help, some humans lost their way in the wilderness, and Hound’s the best tracker we have. My apologies for the… um…”
“Next time, a warning would be appreciated.” Jazz murmured dryly, and the blue mech hummed in agreement, still a little mortified. Hound had practically fallen over laughing when Mirage haltingly explained why he’d frozen on the Jeep in the middle of a rather heated kiss.
“Hound says sorry as well.”
The other Ops mechs broke out into snickers and Mirage gave in, laughing along with them.
= = =
In the quiet of Bumblebee’s room, after they’d spent some time just relaxing and letting the day’s events process, Mirage wondered out loud. “You think they do this too?”
“What, huddle together?” The scout asked, guessing that the blue mech meant the Ark's resident Datsuns, and the Ligier nodded. Bumblebee shrugged. “Dunno. I just can’t see Prowl agreeing to… snuggle.”
“Bet the other two just jump him.” The spy’s grin was wicked, and Jazz chuckled. “I don’t think they’d have to. Did you see, back in the med bay?”
Mirage thought back to the incident the Porsche mentioned. “The puppy optics? Yes. I suppose if they can get Prowl to do that, snuggles would be easy.” The scout laughed in agreement, then nudged the black and white.
“Which reminds me. Jazz, you gotta teach us to speak doorwing.”
“Mech, I don’t know doorwing. M’not seekerkin.”
Bumblebee persisted. “You’ve got to know some of it.”
“Some, but seeker wings don’t move like our Datsuns’ do. I can give you moods and a couple of concepts and such, but actual communication will have to wait until you ask one of them.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?” Jazz prompted gently, and the scout sighed. “Just… It’s funny, I never noticed how watching them talk with their doors made me feel better until now. Smokescreen calmed me, back when Mirage and I first saw Ratchet about this… bond, and…”
“You were wondering why it worked so well when we’re Ops.” Mirage finished, and Bumblebee nodded.
“Ratch’ did say you’re Praxian sparked. And Praxian bots tend to have sensor panels like Bluestreak and company. Only natural you’d respond on some level to doorwing speak, even if you don’t understand it completely.”
The yellow mech frowned at Jazz’s explanation. “It’s not fair. I can’t even remember my creators.”
“Hey, you reacted to what Smokey’s doors were saying. Some part of you remembers. I’m sure they’d be happy to teach you doorwing speak.” The Porsche murmured, and the spy tendered his agreement over their bond, before speaking as well.
“At least your current frame was imposed on you due to circumstance. My creators chose to ground me.”
Jazz spoke, tone reasonable. “I’m sure they meant well. You were sparked after the war had begun. It would have protected you. Seekers were anathema at that point in time. Then… They were no longer able to tell you.”
“They could have told me before… I was of age. It’s not too far a stretch to suppose that one or both of them hid seeker lineage before the war to avoid bringing shame to their House. And that they’d have done the same to their sparkling even if hostilities hadn’t broken out between the factions.”
The Porsche set his engine to a soft purr (relishing the fact that he no longer had to restrain his seeker's inclination to offer comfort in that manner), and his trinemates settled once more under the calming influence of the sound. “I think we all know just what fear does to the average bot’s logic circuits.”
Both scout and spy sent amusement Jazz’s way through their connection, and he smiled. “In any case, you know now, and against all odds, landed a trine of your own.”
“I’ve yet to decide if I should thank Primus for his benevolence or despair over his sense of humour.” Muttered the Ligier lowly, and the other Ops mechs snickered, agreeing with the sentiment.
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
“Jazz.”
The Porsche unshuttered his optics at the sound of his name. Smokescreen was still beside him (though he’d moved back a step or two), a sympathetic look on his faceplates. The Datsun hummed softly, apology in the notes, and the Ops mech cycled air resignedly.
“What’re you apologising for, Smokey? You didn’t do anything.”
“I’ve added on to what must already have been a very trying day for you.”
“Mech, Primus just got up on the wrong side of the recharge berth this morning and decided to take it out on me. S’alright.”
The blue mech just watched Jazz for a moment, then sighed. “I’m going to tell Ratchet you need time to adjust to your new situation before we work on your coding, and arrange things so that you and your team get what time off they need as well. You’ve had one processor scan today, and I’m not sure if you’d be able to let anyone into your CPU again so soon after, much less me.”
The Porsche chuckled wearily. “I think you’re right. I’ve got subroutines buzzing like crazy in here. Even if I let you jack in, they’d toss you out on your aft so fast, we’d both feel it.”
“All the more reason to give you time to calm down. C’mon, I’ll help you to your room.” Smokescreen smiled, offering Jazz a hand. The black and white accepted the support as he rose from his seat, and both slowly made their way out of Smokescreen's office and towards the Ark's living area.
= = =
Bumblebee joined them as they neared their destination and Smokescreen, making a quick amendment of plans, handed the Ops Head over to his subordinate. Bumblebee’s room was nearer, and the presence of Jazz’s new trine would help to relax the Ops mech. After a quick exchange of words (both Autobots reassuring the Volkswagen that Jazz was fine and just needed time away from everyone else), left them as the yellow mech herded Jazz into the scout’s quarters.
Jazz was nudged onto the berth, and he beckoned to Bumblebee to join him when the minibot paused awkwardly in the middle of the room, newly activated subroutines clashing with what he considered ‘proper’ (he wasn’t a sparkling any more, to want cuddles, for Primus’s sake). Giving in to the impulse, the scout moved to sit next to the Porsche, carefully leaning against the visored mech, mindful of the bot’s fresh repairs.
A knock sounded on the door, coupled with a sheepish brush over the bond. Both directed mock-irritated looks at Mirage when Bumblebee let the spy in, and the Ligier ducked in apology before joining the Ops pile.
“Hound had to go?” Queried the scout with a smirk, and Mirage had the grace to look away in embarrassment before replying in the affirmative. “There was a request for his help, some humans lost their way in the wilderness, and Hound’s the best tracker we have. My apologies for the… um…”
“Next time, a warning would be appreciated.” Jazz murmured dryly, and the blue mech hummed in agreement, still a little mortified. Hound had practically fallen over laughing when Mirage haltingly explained why he’d frozen on the Jeep in the middle of a rather heated kiss.
“Hound says sorry as well.”
The other Ops mechs broke out into snickers and Mirage gave in, laughing along with them.
= = =
In the quiet of Bumblebee’s room, after they’d spent some time just relaxing and letting the day’s events process, Mirage wondered out loud. “You think they do this too?”
“What, huddle together?” The scout asked, guessing that the blue mech meant the Ark's resident Datsuns, and the Ligier nodded. Bumblebee shrugged. “Dunno. I just can’t see Prowl agreeing to… snuggle.”
“Bet the other two just jump him.” The spy’s grin was wicked, and Jazz chuckled. “I don’t think they’d have to. Did you see, back in the med bay?”
Mirage thought back to the incident the Porsche mentioned. “The puppy optics? Yes. I suppose if they can get Prowl to do that, snuggles would be easy.” The scout laughed in agreement, then nudged the black and white.
“Which reminds me. Jazz, you gotta teach us to speak doorwing.”
“Mech, I don’t know doorwing. M’not seekerkin.”
Bumblebee persisted. “You’ve got to know some of it.”
“Some, but seeker wings don’t move like our Datsuns’ do. I can give you moods and a couple of concepts and such, but actual communication will have to wait until you ask one of them.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?” Jazz prompted gently, and the scout sighed. “Just… It’s funny, I never noticed how watching them talk with their doors made me feel better until now. Smokescreen calmed me, back when Mirage and I first saw Ratchet about this… bond, and…”
“You were wondering why it worked so well when we’re Ops.” Mirage finished, and Bumblebee nodded.
“Ratch’ did say you’re Praxian sparked. And Praxian bots tend to have sensor panels like Bluestreak and company. Only natural you’d respond on some level to doorwing speak, even if you don’t understand it completely.”
The yellow mech frowned at Jazz’s explanation. “It’s not fair. I can’t even remember my creators.”
“Hey, you reacted to what Smokey’s doors were saying. Some part of you remembers. I’m sure they’d be happy to teach you doorwing speak.” The Porsche murmured, and the spy tendered his agreement over their bond, before speaking as well.
“At least your current frame was imposed on you due to circumstance. My creators chose to ground me.”
Jazz spoke, tone reasonable. “I’m sure they meant well. You were sparked after the war had begun. It would have protected you. Seekers were anathema at that point in time. Then… They were no longer able to tell you.”
“They could have told me before… I was of age. It’s not too far a stretch to suppose that one or both of them hid seeker lineage before the war to avoid bringing shame to their House. And that they’d have done the same to their sparkling even if hostilities hadn’t broken out between the factions.”
The Porsche set his engine to a soft purr (relishing the fact that he no longer had to restrain his seeker's inclination to offer comfort in that manner), and his trinemates settled once more under the calming influence of the sound. “I think we all know just what fear does to the average bot’s logic circuits.”
Both scout and spy sent amusement Jazz’s way through their connection, and he smiled. “In any case, you know now, and against all odds, landed a trine of your own.”
“I’ve yet to decide if I should thank Primus for his benevolence or despair over his sense of humour.” Muttered the Ligier lowly, and the other Ops mechs snickered, agreeing with the sentiment.
