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ante_luceTitle: Of Bindings – An Intermission and a Prelude
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Sam. Mikaela. Epps. Lennox. Bumblebee. Ironhide. Ratchet. Prowl.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Jazz cycled air slowly, expression pensive as he scanned the channels and monitors. Beside him, Sideswipe was staring at the ceiling, looking bored. Probably exploring the internet. The Ops mech let him be. Covering monitor duty all on his own distracted his processors from possible hazardous thoughts, and Jazz was not about to tempt fate by insisting the other mech take up his share of the work load.
Something on the screen caught his attention, and he leant forward, breaking Sideswipe from his reverie at the same time.
= = =
Jazz practically bounced into the room, humming with glee. Sam and Mikeala looked up, as did one Technical Sergeant Epps and one Army Captain Lennox (both soldiers were teaching the teens to play poker, and so far Mikaela was beating the pants off all three of them). The mechs in the room didn’t bother, accustomed to the Solstice’s manner. Jazz would explain in his own time, if at all (and if he didn’t, then it was usually time to find cover and/or an excuse to be out of the immediate vicinity, possible radius: 10 miles, ASAP).
Thankfully, this time the Ops mech saw fit to share what had him so overjoyed.
“We got ID on an incoming. S’friendly.”
Ironhide raised an optic ridge. “Who is it?”
Jazz sang out a series of chirps and electronic trills before adding, for the benefit of the non alien robots in the room, “He’s gonna call himself Bluestreak.”
As Bumblebee played a cheery burst of music, the black mech chuckled, with Ratchet murmuring thoughtfully behind the Topkick. “I remember him. One of your Ops team, before we left Cybertron.”
“The youngling with the issues.” Ironhide added, and the medic cycled air exasperatedly in response.
“Are there any bots in Special Ops who don’t have them?”
The visored mech smirked at Ratchet. “Heh. Okay, we’re a bunch of messed up fraggers, I’ll give you that, but most of us don’t have issues like Blue’ has ‘em. His were pre-Ops training. ‘Cons annihilated his city, with him still inside it. Enough to mess anyone up.”
At the concerned looks from their human friends, the chartreuse mech moved to reassure them. “He was doing well when I examined him, overcoming the trauma with counselling.”
“Hold up. You had time for counselling?” This came from Sergeant Epps, who’d given in to the inevitable and folded his hand, leaving Sam and Will to duke it out with Mikaela. Quietly, so as not to strain his still mending vocaliser (especially not in front of a certain temperamental CMO), Bumblebee explained.
“What we could scrape together to function as such, yes. We had periods of relative quiet early in the war, and most of the refugees set up camp about Headquarters in Iacon. Some of them joined the Autobots, others tried to remain neutral as long as they could.”
“How did that work out for them?”
Ratchet looked away, and Ironhide cycled air for a long moment before replying.
“… There were no more neutrals on Cybertron when we left.”
“… Oh.”
“Anyway. Blue’ joined up to avenge his friends, and to honour their memory, or so he said. ‘parently they were going to sign up together. He’s a slagging good shot, probably why he got assigned to Ops.”
“Feh. Had to be, or Ops would’ve dumped him on his aft. Noisy critter.” The weapons master said gruffly, and the humans looked curiously at him. Ratchet sighed and explained.
“Bluestreak, as his name suggests, is quite chatty when the mood takes him.”
The Solstice grinned. “And boy does it take him, often. He could drive a bot up the wall with sheer non-stop chatter. We got a lot of information just by putting him on brig duty. The ‘Cons would talk back; just to keep from hearing his voice for a breem. Little things, trivial details would slip out from the fraggers we managed to keep in the brig. The average bot might think it useless info, but no data is ever completely useless. Isn’t that right, Prowl?”
All in the room started when they realised another mech had joined them. The Autobot SIC drew nearer, a longsuffering look on his faceplates.
“If I say yes, you’ll just take that as permission to bombard me with more of those ridiculous songs you’re so fond of.”
“But you can’t deny it either, mech.”
“Thusly, I will do neither and simply change the subject. Bluestreak’s trajectory has been mapped. Calculations indicate that he will land in about a month’s time.”
“It’ll be good to see him again. He’ll be happy you’re here as well, Prowler.”
Sam had folded too by now, and was looking up curiously at the saboteur. “Why’s that?”
“He was the one that found Bluestreak. You might say Blue’ looks up to our SIC, and Prowl watches out for him. S’kinda sweet.”
“I need to get back to work.”
As the doorwinged mech made his escape, Jazz turned back to his audience with an even brighter smile. “Welp. Looks like Prowler’s gone all shy on us. That said, I gotta get going too, before Sideswipe starts wearing out my audios with his whinging about how boring monitor duty is.”
The silver mech left to the sound of laughter as Captain Lennox managed to beat Mikaela’s hand. Chuckling as he collected his winnings (mostly candy), he consoled the girl, saying, “Age and trickery, Mikaela. You’ve got a good game, but I’ve conned enemy soldiers into running with nothing to back me up but a busted jeep and half a squad of walking wounded. But you’re getting there, ‘specially with that poker face of yours.”
= = =
Sitting in the monitor room once more, Jazz found himself struck by a notion. Further contemplation had him reaching out to the mech on the other side of his spark (well, he wasn’t about to raise something like this over the comms with Sideswipe right next to him, and even if the Ops mech was trying to avoid certain trains of thought he did need to know the answer right now. Really).
::Gotta ask Prowler, did’ja make sure Blue’ was assigned to my team?::
The reply was almost hesitant, embarrassment that he’d let a personal matter colour his decisions mixed with a steady sense that Prowl was not the least bit sorry for it at all.
:: … Perhaps.::
Jazz sent back a flicker of assurance (it wasn’t like he had any room to judge), coupled with cheeky delight that Prowl had applied some creative interpretation of regulations.
::Sneaky. Why?::
There was another pause, and then the other mech answered.
::I knew you would keep an optic on him.::
The Solstice’s only response was an overflow of the warmth that filled his spark at the tactician’s quiet admission of faith. Prowl brushed back, a brief pulse of affection before he withdrew to concentrate on his work. As the link between them grew muted again, Jazz suppressed a sigh (Primus, he was hopeless) and wondered if their CMO had any remedy for a CPU that didn’t want to follow orders.
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Sam. Mikaela. Epps. Lennox. Bumblebee. Ironhide. Ratchet. Prowl.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Jazz cycled air slowly, expression pensive as he scanned the channels and monitors. Beside him, Sideswipe was staring at the ceiling, looking bored. Probably exploring the internet. The Ops mech let him be. Covering monitor duty all on his own distracted his processors from possible hazardous thoughts, and Jazz was not about to tempt fate by insisting the other mech take up his share of the work load.
Something on the screen caught his attention, and he leant forward, breaking Sideswipe from his reverie at the same time.
= = =
Jazz practically bounced into the room, humming with glee. Sam and Mikeala looked up, as did one Technical Sergeant Epps and one Army Captain Lennox (both soldiers were teaching the teens to play poker, and so far Mikaela was beating the pants off all three of them). The mechs in the room didn’t bother, accustomed to the Solstice’s manner. Jazz would explain in his own time, if at all (and if he didn’t, then it was usually time to find cover and/or an excuse to be out of the immediate vicinity, possible radius: 10 miles, ASAP).
Thankfully, this time the Ops mech saw fit to share what had him so overjoyed.
“We got ID on an incoming. S’friendly.”
Ironhide raised an optic ridge. “Who is it?”
Jazz sang out a series of chirps and electronic trills before adding, for the benefit of the non alien robots in the room, “He’s gonna call himself Bluestreak.”
As Bumblebee played a cheery burst of music, the black mech chuckled, with Ratchet murmuring thoughtfully behind the Topkick. “I remember him. One of your Ops team, before we left Cybertron.”
“The youngling with the issues.” Ironhide added, and the medic cycled air exasperatedly in response.
“Are there any bots in Special Ops who don’t have them?”
The visored mech smirked at Ratchet. “Heh. Okay, we’re a bunch of messed up fraggers, I’ll give you that, but most of us don’t have issues like Blue’ has ‘em. His were pre-Ops training. ‘Cons annihilated his city, with him still inside it. Enough to mess anyone up.”
At the concerned looks from their human friends, the chartreuse mech moved to reassure them. “He was doing well when I examined him, overcoming the trauma with counselling.”
“Hold up. You had time for counselling?” This came from Sergeant Epps, who’d given in to the inevitable and folded his hand, leaving Sam and Will to duke it out with Mikaela. Quietly, so as not to strain his still mending vocaliser (especially not in front of a certain temperamental CMO), Bumblebee explained.
“What we could scrape together to function as such, yes. We had periods of relative quiet early in the war, and most of the refugees set up camp about Headquarters in Iacon. Some of them joined the Autobots, others tried to remain neutral as long as they could.”
“How did that work out for them?”
Ratchet looked away, and Ironhide cycled air for a long moment before replying.
“… There were no more neutrals on Cybertron when we left.”
“… Oh.”
“Anyway. Blue’ joined up to avenge his friends, and to honour their memory, or so he said. ‘parently they were going to sign up together. He’s a slagging good shot, probably why he got assigned to Ops.”
“Feh. Had to be, or Ops would’ve dumped him on his aft. Noisy critter.” The weapons master said gruffly, and the humans looked curiously at him. Ratchet sighed and explained.
“Bluestreak, as his name suggests, is quite chatty when the mood takes him.”
The Solstice grinned. “And boy does it take him, often. He could drive a bot up the wall with sheer non-stop chatter. We got a lot of information just by putting him on brig duty. The ‘Cons would talk back; just to keep from hearing his voice for a breem. Little things, trivial details would slip out from the fraggers we managed to keep in the brig. The average bot might think it useless info, but no data is ever completely useless. Isn’t that right, Prowl?”
All in the room started when they realised another mech had joined them. The Autobot SIC drew nearer, a longsuffering look on his faceplates.
“If I say yes, you’ll just take that as permission to bombard me with more of those ridiculous songs you’re so fond of.”
“But you can’t deny it either, mech.”
“Thusly, I will do neither and simply change the subject. Bluestreak’s trajectory has been mapped. Calculations indicate that he will land in about a month’s time.”
“It’ll be good to see him again. He’ll be happy you’re here as well, Prowler.”
Sam had folded too by now, and was looking up curiously at the saboteur. “Why’s that?”
“He was the one that found Bluestreak. You might say Blue’ looks up to our SIC, and Prowl watches out for him. S’kinda sweet.”
“I need to get back to work.”
As the doorwinged mech made his escape, Jazz turned back to his audience with an even brighter smile. “Welp. Looks like Prowler’s gone all shy on us. That said, I gotta get going too, before Sideswipe starts wearing out my audios with his whinging about how boring monitor duty is.”
The silver mech left to the sound of laughter as Captain Lennox managed to beat Mikaela’s hand. Chuckling as he collected his winnings (mostly candy), he consoled the girl, saying, “Age and trickery, Mikaela. You’ve got a good game, but I’ve conned enemy soldiers into running with nothing to back me up but a busted jeep and half a squad of walking wounded. But you’re getting there, ‘specially with that poker face of yours.”
= = =
Sitting in the monitor room once more, Jazz found himself struck by a notion. Further contemplation had him reaching out to the mech on the other side of his spark (well, he wasn’t about to raise something like this over the comms with Sideswipe right next to him, and even if the Ops mech was trying to avoid certain trains of thought he did need to know the answer right now. Really).
::Gotta ask Prowler, did’ja make sure Blue’ was assigned to my team?::
The reply was almost hesitant, embarrassment that he’d let a personal matter colour his decisions mixed with a steady sense that Prowl was not the least bit sorry for it at all.
:: … Perhaps.::
Jazz sent back a flicker of assurance (it wasn’t like he had any room to judge), coupled with cheeky delight that Prowl had applied some creative interpretation of regulations.
::Sneaky. Why?::
There was another pause, and then the other mech answered.
::I knew you would keep an optic on him.::
The Solstice’s only response was an overflow of the warmth that filled his spark at the tactician’s quiet admission of faith. Prowl brushed back, a brief pulse of affection before he withdrew to concentrate on his work. As the link between them grew muted again, Jazz suppressed a sigh (Primus, he was hopeless) and wondered if their CMO had any remedy for a CPU that didn’t want to follow orders.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-28 12:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-28 02:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-07-28 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 06:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-28 02:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-07-28 08:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 06:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-28 09:01 pm (UTC)Prowl and Jazz are so cute in this - both tiptoeing around their emotions.
Love it!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-28 11:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 01:04 am (UTC)I love how you write. This is sweet, detailled and enchating. Waiting for more hun!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-29 06:05 am (UTC)