Younglings and Mechs (Part 2)
Jan. 3rd, 2010 03:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: Younglings and Mechs (Part 2)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Bluestreak. Prowl. Bumblebee. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
Bluestreak swung his pedes back and forth, staring at the far wall, bored out of his CPU. He’d finished the bookfile Prowl had lent him, and the gamechips the tactician said to be careful with because they were borrowed from someone else had long lost their shine.
He snuck a peek at the black and white mech seated behind a desk, datapads (the flat objects he’d seen before) stacked on either side of him, working away, and muffled a sigh. While he understood that the older mech needed to do his work, he felt it wasn’t fair to Prowl that his job was so stifling.
And he hadn’t seen Jazz at all since he’d onlined. Bluestreak grimaced. He couldn’t help them make up if they stayed away from each other!
“Is everything alright, Bluestreak?”
Startled, he looked up at the chevroned mech, then shook his head, scrambling for an excuse.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Prowl only looked at him, then at the game unit he held.
“Is something wrong with the games?”
“They’re boring.” He blurted out before he could stop himself, then cringed at how ungrateful he sounded. Just then, the door to Prowl’s office opened. Bluestreak bounced to his pedes hopefully, then hurried to Prowl’s side when the bot that came through wasn’t Jazz. The yellow mech, only slightly taller than he was, grinned at him, waving when Bluestreak peeked out to get a better look, then focused on the tactician.
“Morning Prowl, you needed me for something?”
“Yes. Bumblebee, this is Bluestreak. He will be staying with us for a while. I was wondering if you would keep him company today.”
Bluestreak barely heard Bumblebee’s cheerful ‘No problem’, tensing as he looked up at the black and white mech in alarm. Had he made Prowl angry by not liking the games? Was the tactician sending him away so he could work in peace? Prowl noticed his anxiety and rested a hand comfortingly between his doors.
“I know my office is a poor place to keep a youngling for any length of time. You won’t be as bored with Bumblebee.”
“I have the games!”
“But you don’t like them, Bluestreak.”
“It’s okay. I won’t bother you, really!”
“Bluestreak?” He turned to see that Bumblebee had picked up one of the gamechips and was turning it over in his hands. The yellow mech looked at him curiously. “Why don’t you like these?”
“They’re all the same, and it’s not very hard to shoot everything.” He mumbled, and Bumblebee nodded.
“They’re more fun when you play with other bots. On your own’s alright for the first few, but after that you need a couple of thinking CPUs to make things interesting again. What do you say we take these games to the rec room and play a few rounds together? We’ll use the big screen.”
The yellow mech offered, and tempted, he almost nodded in agreement, but glanced up at Prowl first to check that the mech was okay with the idea. Prowl nodded, giving him an encouraging push towards Bumblebee, and so Bluestreak went.
= = =
Bumblebee had been right. The games were more fun with the other bots playing, and by the time Prowl came by to collect him they’d stopped playing missions and were having a competition to see who could make the most creative shots at the targets, usually one of the other players. Having the others run around trying not to get shot just made it more interesting.
It was only when they’d reached the tactician’s quarters that he remembered his plan to help Prowl reconcile with his bondmate. But where was Jazz? Bluestreak had stayed in the rec room far longer than he originally wanted to (having planned on going back after a while to keep Prowl company in his office), hoping that the visored black and white mech would show up to join them. Except Jazz hadn’t appeared and now it was too late for him to properly search for the mech and get him to make up with Prowl.
Prowl set him down on the small cot set up for him in the tactician’s quarters, and a distracted Bluestreak shifted about mechanically as the black and white mech helped him arrange his doors so they wouldn’t get pinched during recharge. As Prowl stood to leave him to his rest, the grey youngling sat up, an idea suddenly occurring to him.
The black and white mech had turned back, looking concerned, and when Prowl knelt by his side once more, Bluestreak’s doors flicked nervously. Now, what was the phrase that Jazz had used?
“Um… Good night, Prowl.”
He tilted his helm up, optics wide, hoping the mech would pick up on the unspoken cue. Prowl did, wavering only briefly before kissing Bluestreak’s chevron.
“Good night, Bluestreak.”
“Prowl?”
“Yes?”
“Is Jazz okay? I haven’t seen him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Can you check?” When the mech looked like he was going to refuse, Bluestreak pressed on, insistent. “Please? I didn’t get to say good night to him, so you have to.”
A soft sigh, and Prowl nodded.
“And you have to do it properly too, okay? Promise.”
“I promise, Bluestreak. Now, please recharge.”
Bluestreak smiled and lay down again as the black and white mech exited the room. He did feel a little bad about manipulating the tactician, but he was doing a good thing, he was sure of it
= = =
Bluestreak hummed cheerfully. Jazz had shown up at Prowl’s door today, greeting both the older doorwinged mech and himself with a smile, then apologised for not being able to spend any time with Bluestreak the day before. And from the way he glanced at Prowl when he thought Bluestreak wasn’t looking, Prowl must have kissed Jazz good night too. Even though Bluestreak hadn’t actually specifically asked him to do it.
He hid his grin. His plan was working marvellously.
= = =
A short while later, Bluestreak’s good mood had gotten a lot dimmer. He’d spent about half of Prowl’s duty shift in the mech’s office, since Bumblebee wasn’t free to watch him, and he’d seen no sign of the other black and white since Jazz had dropped in on them before Prowl went to work.
At least it wasn’t as boring as before, Bumblebee had left him some other types of gamechips, as well as a puzzle which he was fiddling with, sliding the coloured blocks about halfsparkedly, CPU occupied with a different sort of problem.
Jazz had kissed Prowl, and Prowl had kissed Jazz. So why were they still fighting?
Even the door opening didn’t distract him from his thoughts, and so he shot a good foot into the air when a visored helm popped into his field of view. Jazz chuckled at his reaction, and indicated the puzzle he held.
“That’s got your processors in a twist, huh Blue’?”
He grinned weakly and nodded, willing his racing systems to calm down. The black and white mech turned to the tactician watching them intently.
“I’m stealing Bluestreak for the rest of the day. Gonna show him the outside of the Ark.”
He perked in interest. Outside? Prowl had said they were not on Cybertron, but so far all Bluestreak had seen was the inside of the Ark. There had been no windows in the few places he’d been to, and the promise of seeing what another world was like was awfully exciting. He turned pleading optics to the tactician, and Prowl smiled faintly at him.
“Be careful.”
Jazz grinned, then motioned for him to get up. Still holding onto the puzzle with one hand, Bluestreak took the visored mech’s arm with the other, and then the grey youngling looked back at Prowl expectantly. Beside him, he felt Jazz’s arm go slack, and he saw the chevroned mech glance at the other black and white briefly before shaking his head, gesturing to his desk and the datapads on it.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to sit this one out, Bluestreak.”
He’d been ready to beg, maybe even bring out the bumblepuppy optics that had always worked on his creators, but Jazz had tugged him out of Prowl’s office before he could even open his mouth.
“C’mon Blue’, let’s get going.”
Kisses hadn’t worked. It must be a really bad fight.
= = =
Outside was amazing. The sky above them was blue, and there was something bright that Jazz said was the sun, and it was a star that was really up close to the planet they were on. Cybertron had never had that.
Cybertron didn’t have the green stuff on the ground either. It felt strange to touch, not rough or smooth but something like a mix of the two, and there were different types of green stuff everywhere (the visored mech called it grass, and bigger green stuff was called bushes, and an even bigger green and brown thing was called a tree).
Jazz hadn’t laughed when Bluestreak handed him his puzzle and then dashed about, gawking at everything like a sparkling, and had instead brought him to a small open space, where at one end of the clearing the grass was mixed with something white and yellow. He dropped to his knees to get a better look, and Jazz crouched down beside him.
“Those are flowers, Bluestreak.”
“They’re pretty.”
“They are, aren’t they? Watch your hands, Blue’. Organic life ain’t like we are. You could crush them if you’re not careful.”
Bluestreak gently touched the tiny plants, thinking hard. Sometimes, his creators gave each other things. That always made them happy. Maybe that would work now.
“Does Prowl like flowers?”
Jazz looked at him curiously. “Well, he doesn’t hate them, that much I know. You want to bring him some?”
“Well… He’s stuck inside while we’re out here. But I want to get him something he’d like.”
Jazz chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s real thoughtful of you, Blue’. I’m sure he’ll like it if you’re the one doing the giving. Go on, just don’t pull up too many, we need to leave some for the butterflies, ‘kay?”
“M’kay.”
He set to work, picking a small handful that Jazz helped him tie together with a long blade of grass. Then the mech looked up at the sky, and directed him out of the clearing.
“S’getting late, we need to start heading back or we won’t make it in time.”
“In time for what?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” Curiosity piqued, Bluestreak followed him all too willingly.
= = =
Jazz’s surprise was called a sunset, the moving of this world’s star behind the planet’s horizon. It had just started when they got back to the Ark, and Bluestreak watched in awe as the blue sky he’d seen earlier changed colour.
Jazz had picked him up so he could see better, and as the bright sun moved down towards the horizon, tinting the scattered puffs of cloud pink, he tapped the visored mech’s shoulder to get his attention. Jazz looked at him, then chuckled again.
“Lemme guess. Prowl too?”
Bluestreak nodded violently, trying his best to communicate the urgency of his request. Bondmates also looked at nice things together. The sunset didn’t seem like it would last very long, and Prowl needed to be out here watching it with Jazz.
“Heh, alright. I’ll call him, but you do the talking.”
Bluestreak nodded, and when Jazz shifted him closer so he could call into the mech’s comm. to Prowl, he didn’t let the tactician get a word in edgewise until Jazz stopped him, amusement clear in his tone.
“Blue’, let the mech say yes already.”
“Oops.”
A laugh from behind them had the visored mech turning around, and Bluestreak, still in his arms, turned with him. Prowl stood in the entrance to the Ark, smiling at them, a fond light in his optics. Bluestreak fluttered his doors sheepishly, then remembered the bunch of flowers he and Jazz had gotten for the tactician.
“For you, ‘cos you couldn’t come with us today.”
“Thank you, Bluestreak.”
“They’re from Jazz too.” It was important that Prowl knew that. The chevroned mech looked at the flowers he now held, then turned to look at Jazz solemnly.
“Thank you too, Jazz.”
Jazz shrugged lightly, then drew Bluestreak’s attention back to the sky again.
“Bluestreak, look.”
He looked, and gasped. The sky was lit on fire, turning it from the blue and pink he’d seen earlier to a blaze of reds and oranges. The sunset progressed, and when the sun had finally gone from the sky, he drooped, suddenly very tired.
“Looks like it’s someone’s bedtime.”
Jazz murmured quietly, and Prowl agreed. The visored mech transferred him over to the other black and white mech, and stroked his helm gently. Bluestreak directed a querying look at Jazz, and the mech answered his unasked question.
“I’ve got a patrol shift in a bit. So I won’t be heading inside with you two. See you tomorrow, ‘kay Blue’?”
Jazz turned away, only to stop and look back with a cheeky smile.
“Hmm… Seems like I forgot something.”
Bluestreak lifted his helm, only to blink when Jazz plonked the puzzle into his arms. As he stared at the object, processors wavering between confusion and disappointment, the visored mech snickered and kissed his chevron, taking him by surprise.
“Good night, Bluestreak.”
He giggled, and Jazz turned to smile at Prowl.
“C’mon Prowler. Don’t want you to feel left out.”
“Very well.”
Prowl’s smile widened slightly, and Bluestreak giggled again at Jazz’s expression when the tactician kissed the grey youngling’s chevron too. Then Prowl quickly sidestepped the visored mech to plant another kiss on one of Jazz’s sensor horns.
“Good night, Jazz.”
Then they were leaving the stunned mech behind as Prowl strode into the Ark. Bluestreak cheered inwardly. The present and the sunset had worked. His plan was back on track.
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Bluestreak. Prowl. Bumblebee. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
Bluestreak swung his pedes back and forth, staring at the far wall, bored out of his CPU. He’d finished the bookfile Prowl had lent him, and the gamechips the tactician said to be careful with because they were borrowed from someone else had long lost their shine.
He snuck a peek at the black and white mech seated behind a desk, datapads (the flat objects he’d seen before) stacked on either side of him, working away, and muffled a sigh. While he understood that the older mech needed to do his work, he felt it wasn’t fair to Prowl that his job was so stifling.
And he hadn’t seen Jazz at all since he’d onlined. Bluestreak grimaced. He couldn’t help them make up if they stayed away from each other!
“Is everything alright, Bluestreak?”
Startled, he looked up at the chevroned mech, then shook his head, scrambling for an excuse.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Prowl only looked at him, then at the game unit he held.
“Is something wrong with the games?”
“They’re boring.” He blurted out before he could stop himself, then cringed at how ungrateful he sounded. Just then, the door to Prowl’s office opened. Bluestreak bounced to his pedes hopefully, then hurried to Prowl’s side when the bot that came through wasn’t Jazz. The yellow mech, only slightly taller than he was, grinned at him, waving when Bluestreak peeked out to get a better look, then focused on the tactician.
“Morning Prowl, you needed me for something?”
“Yes. Bumblebee, this is Bluestreak. He will be staying with us for a while. I was wondering if you would keep him company today.”
Bluestreak barely heard Bumblebee’s cheerful ‘No problem’, tensing as he looked up at the black and white mech in alarm. Had he made Prowl angry by not liking the games? Was the tactician sending him away so he could work in peace? Prowl noticed his anxiety and rested a hand comfortingly between his doors.
“I know my office is a poor place to keep a youngling for any length of time. You won’t be as bored with Bumblebee.”
“I have the games!”
“But you don’t like them, Bluestreak.”
“It’s okay. I won’t bother you, really!”
“Bluestreak?” He turned to see that Bumblebee had picked up one of the gamechips and was turning it over in his hands. The yellow mech looked at him curiously. “Why don’t you like these?”
“They’re all the same, and it’s not very hard to shoot everything.” He mumbled, and Bumblebee nodded.
“They’re more fun when you play with other bots. On your own’s alright for the first few, but after that you need a couple of thinking CPUs to make things interesting again. What do you say we take these games to the rec room and play a few rounds together? We’ll use the big screen.”
The yellow mech offered, and tempted, he almost nodded in agreement, but glanced up at Prowl first to check that the mech was okay with the idea. Prowl nodded, giving him an encouraging push towards Bumblebee, and so Bluestreak went.
= = =
Bumblebee had been right. The games were more fun with the other bots playing, and by the time Prowl came by to collect him they’d stopped playing missions and were having a competition to see who could make the most creative shots at the targets, usually one of the other players. Having the others run around trying not to get shot just made it more interesting.
It was only when they’d reached the tactician’s quarters that he remembered his plan to help Prowl reconcile with his bondmate. But where was Jazz? Bluestreak had stayed in the rec room far longer than he originally wanted to (having planned on going back after a while to keep Prowl company in his office), hoping that the visored black and white mech would show up to join them. Except Jazz hadn’t appeared and now it was too late for him to properly search for the mech and get him to make up with Prowl.
Prowl set him down on the small cot set up for him in the tactician’s quarters, and a distracted Bluestreak shifted about mechanically as the black and white mech helped him arrange his doors so they wouldn’t get pinched during recharge. As Prowl stood to leave him to his rest, the grey youngling sat up, an idea suddenly occurring to him.
The black and white mech had turned back, looking concerned, and when Prowl knelt by his side once more, Bluestreak’s doors flicked nervously. Now, what was the phrase that Jazz had used?
“Um… Good night, Prowl.”
He tilted his helm up, optics wide, hoping the mech would pick up on the unspoken cue. Prowl did, wavering only briefly before kissing Bluestreak’s chevron.
“Good night, Bluestreak.”
“Prowl?”
“Yes?”
“Is Jazz okay? I haven’t seen him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Can you check?” When the mech looked like he was going to refuse, Bluestreak pressed on, insistent. “Please? I didn’t get to say good night to him, so you have to.”
A soft sigh, and Prowl nodded.
“And you have to do it properly too, okay? Promise.”
“I promise, Bluestreak. Now, please recharge.”
Bluestreak smiled and lay down again as the black and white mech exited the room. He did feel a little bad about manipulating the tactician, but he was doing a good thing, he was sure of it
= = =
Bluestreak hummed cheerfully. Jazz had shown up at Prowl’s door today, greeting both the older doorwinged mech and himself with a smile, then apologised for not being able to spend any time with Bluestreak the day before. And from the way he glanced at Prowl when he thought Bluestreak wasn’t looking, Prowl must have kissed Jazz good night too. Even though Bluestreak hadn’t actually specifically asked him to do it.
He hid his grin. His plan was working marvellously.
= = =
A short while later, Bluestreak’s good mood had gotten a lot dimmer. He’d spent about half of Prowl’s duty shift in the mech’s office, since Bumblebee wasn’t free to watch him, and he’d seen no sign of the other black and white since Jazz had dropped in on them before Prowl went to work.
At least it wasn’t as boring as before, Bumblebee had left him some other types of gamechips, as well as a puzzle which he was fiddling with, sliding the coloured blocks about halfsparkedly, CPU occupied with a different sort of problem.
Jazz had kissed Prowl, and Prowl had kissed Jazz. So why were they still fighting?
Even the door opening didn’t distract him from his thoughts, and so he shot a good foot into the air when a visored helm popped into his field of view. Jazz chuckled at his reaction, and indicated the puzzle he held.
“That’s got your processors in a twist, huh Blue’?”
He grinned weakly and nodded, willing his racing systems to calm down. The black and white mech turned to the tactician watching them intently.
“I’m stealing Bluestreak for the rest of the day. Gonna show him the outside of the Ark.”
He perked in interest. Outside? Prowl had said they were not on Cybertron, but so far all Bluestreak had seen was the inside of the Ark. There had been no windows in the few places he’d been to, and the promise of seeing what another world was like was awfully exciting. He turned pleading optics to the tactician, and Prowl smiled faintly at him.
“Be careful.”
Jazz grinned, then motioned for him to get up. Still holding onto the puzzle with one hand, Bluestreak took the visored mech’s arm with the other, and then the grey youngling looked back at Prowl expectantly. Beside him, he felt Jazz’s arm go slack, and he saw the chevroned mech glance at the other black and white briefly before shaking his head, gesturing to his desk and the datapads on it.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to sit this one out, Bluestreak.”
He’d been ready to beg, maybe even bring out the bumblepuppy optics that had always worked on his creators, but Jazz had tugged him out of Prowl’s office before he could even open his mouth.
“C’mon Blue’, let’s get going.”
Kisses hadn’t worked. It must be a really bad fight.
= = =
Outside was amazing. The sky above them was blue, and there was something bright that Jazz said was the sun, and it was a star that was really up close to the planet they were on. Cybertron had never had that.
Cybertron didn’t have the green stuff on the ground either. It felt strange to touch, not rough or smooth but something like a mix of the two, and there were different types of green stuff everywhere (the visored mech called it grass, and bigger green stuff was called bushes, and an even bigger green and brown thing was called a tree).
Jazz hadn’t laughed when Bluestreak handed him his puzzle and then dashed about, gawking at everything like a sparkling, and had instead brought him to a small open space, where at one end of the clearing the grass was mixed with something white and yellow. He dropped to his knees to get a better look, and Jazz crouched down beside him.
“Those are flowers, Bluestreak.”
“They’re pretty.”
“They are, aren’t they? Watch your hands, Blue’. Organic life ain’t like we are. You could crush them if you’re not careful.”
Bluestreak gently touched the tiny plants, thinking hard. Sometimes, his creators gave each other things. That always made them happy. Maybe that would work now.
“Does Prowl like flowers?”
Jazz looked at him curiously. “Well, he doesn’t hate them, that much I know. You want to bring him some?”
“Well… He’s stuck inside while we’re out here. But I want to get him something he’d like.”
Jazz chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s real thoughtful of you, Blue’. I’m sure he’ll like it if you’re the one doing the giving. Go on, just don’t pull up too many, we need to leave some for the butterflies, ‘kay?”
“M’kay.”
He set to work, picking a small handful that Jazz helped him tie together with a long blade of grass. Then the mech looked up at the sky, and directed him out of the clearing.
“S’getting late, we need to start heading back or we won’t make it in time.”
“In time for what?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” Curiosity piqued, Bluestreak followed him all too willingly.
= = =
Jazz’s surprise was called a sunset, the moving of this world’s star behind the planet’s horizon. It had just started when they got back to the Ark, and Bluestreak watched in awe as the blue sky he’d seen earlier changed colour.
Jazz had picked him up so he could see better, and as the bright sun moved down towards the horizon, tinting the scattered puffs of cloud pink, he tapped the visored mech’s shoulder to get his attention. Jazz looked at him, then chuckled again.
“Lemme guess. Prowl too?”
Bluestreak nodded violently, trying his best to communicate the urgency of his request. Bondmates also looked at nice things together. The sunset didn’t seem like it would last very long, and Prowl needed to be out here watching it with Jazz.
“Heh, alright. I’ll call him, but you do the talking.”
Bluestreak nodded, and when Jazz shifted him closer so he could call into the mech’s comm. to Prowl, he didn’t let the tactician get a word in edgewise until Jazz stopped him, amusement clear in his tone.
“Blue’, let the mech say yes already.”
“Oops.”
A laugh from behind them had the visored mech turning around, and Bluestreak, still in his arms, turned with him. Prowl stood in the entrance to the Ark, smiling at them, a fond light in his optics. Bluestreak fluttered his doors sheepishly, then remembered the bunch of flowers he and Jazz had gotten for the tactician.
“For you, ‘cos you couldn’t come with us today.”
“Thank you, Bluestreak.”
“They’re from Jazz too.” It was important that Prowl knew that. The chevroned mech looked at the flowers he now held, then turned to look at Jazz solemnly.
“Thank you too, Jazz.”
Jazz shrugged lightly, then drew Bluestreak’s attention back to the sky again.
“Bluestreak, look.”
He looked, and gasped. The sky was lit on fire, turning it from the blue and pink he’d seen earlier to a blaze of reds and oranges. The sunset progressed, and when the sun had finally gone from the sky, he drooped, suddenly very tired.
“Looks like it’s someone’s bedtime.”
Jazz murmured quietly, and Prowl agreed. The visored mech transferred him over to the other black and white mech, and stroked his helm gently. Bluestreak directed a querying look at Jazz, and the mech answered his unasked question.
“I’ve got a patrol shift in a bit. So I won’t be heading inside with you two. See you tomorrow, ‘kay Blue’?”
Jazz turned away, only to stop and look back with a cheeky smile.
“Hmm… Seems like I forgot something.”
Bluestreak lifted his helm, only to blink when Jazz plonked the puzzle into his arms. As he stared at the object, processors wavering between confusion and disappointment, the visored mech snickered and kissed his chevron, taking him by surprise.
“Good night, Bluestreak.”
He giggled, and Jazz turned to smile at Prowl.
“C’mon Prowler. Don’t want you to feel left out.”
“Very well.”
Prowl’s smile widened slightly, and Bluestreak giggled again at Jazz’s expression when the tactician kissed the grey youngling’s chevron too. Then Prowl quickly sidestepped the visored mech to plant another kiss on one of Jazz’s sensor horns.
“Good night, Jazz.”
Then they were leaving the stunned mech behind as Prowl strode into the Ark. Bluestreak cheered inwardly. The present and the sunset had worked. His plan was back on track.
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Date: 2010-01-03 08:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-03 04:28 pm (UTC)I can't wait for more! <3
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Date: 2010-01-04 03:49 am (UTC)And it's WORKING!!!
I don't even care why or how Blue got little. *head-desk* Darn my weakness for cute little Bluestreak.
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Date: 2010-01-04 09:48 am (UTC)Bluestreak: *innocence, complete innocence* *head tilt* *I-know-you-love-me grin*
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