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ante_luceTitle: Tattoo
'Verse: 2007/09 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
Notes: ... So I picked up a TF figure to look at the bios (I'll read anything, even the backs of soup cans) while out one day. And lo and behold, there was a bunny underneath the toy, and the bunny got me.
On Cybertron, tattoos are more than mere decoration. They can be packed with super conductive materials and symbiotic nano machines to enhance a robot's sensors and strengthen his weapons. Starscream designed his tattoos to help him locate the fragments of all spark, as well as extend his range and power in the air. When his new sensor net detects any ancient artefact from Cybertron, they glow softly, charging his weapons and boosting his engine output. - Nebular Starscream (2009 RotF line) toy bios
“Well, it’s about time, you lazy aft.”
With Ratchet’s unmistakable dulcet tones ringing in his audios, Jazz onlined, mentally preparing for the wrench that- whoops - smacked into the berth he’d just rolled off in one smooth movement.
“Eesh, Ratchet. Can’t a bot sleep in for once?”
The quip was instinctive. Quick wit (and faster reflexes) was his trademark, after all. Jazz stood, getting back onto the berth obediently at the medic’s glower. Ratchet crossed his arms, still holding onto his wrench.
“Pah! Sleep in, he says. At least your physical reactions are in working order.”
Jazz tilted his helm at the chartreuse mech curiously as Ratchet nodded, scribbling on a datapad while clicking to himself. He kept his vocaliser muted. One did not interrupt the CMO while he was writing unless one had a death wish.
“Last memories?”
“Landing on Earth, finding the All Spark’s coordinates, going to rescue ‘Bee from the angry human in need of a personality program recalibration.” The Solstice rattled off as he dug through his databanks, then stopped. There was a block set up.
“Uh, Ratch’? Why are my memory banks sealed off?”
“Precaution. Didn’t want you coming online ready to take out the first thing unfortunate enough to be in your way.”
“Why would I-” The saboteur ‘eep’ed when the medic poked him in the helm with his datastyler.
“You. Have been in stasis for the past five years. Planetary cycles.”
Jazz sighed impatiently. “I taught you English, I know what the local terminology means. Now, about my memories?”
“Mute it before I deactivate it, Jazz. First, for three of those years, I was patching you together with whatever materials we could acquire.”
“And the next two?”
“You were ‘sleeping in’. And driving us all to the brink with worry that you would never wake up, I might add.”
“If I say I’m sorry, will you lift the blocks right now?” The visored mech tried not to fidget. While he trusted Ratchet had a valid reason for the blocks, he was an Ops mech through and through and having a recent chunk of memory kept back from him was the worst kind of torture.
“After I’m done with the scans and temporarily deactivate your motor systems.”
The saboteur’s plating tingled and he heard a low hum, then Ratchet was doing something to the back of his helm.
“Hold still! Do you want your memories back or not?!”
“Why do I have to be paralysed for that?” Jazz exclaimed as he tried to avoid the medic, but with the efficiency of one who’d spent an untold number of eons dealing with an untold number of recalcitrant patients, Ratchet quickly had him snagged and his motor systems offlined.
“… You’ll see.”
And with that foreboding comment, the medic jacked in and Jazz remembered.
= = =
Afterwards, when he could move again, the Solstice shuddered, then exhaled slowly.
“Okay. I see your point.”
Ratchet ‘hmph’ed, then scanned him again. Jazz squirmed under the full strength pulse with a chirr of protest. Hadn’t the medic scanned every last atom of his frame already?
“So, are you gonna fill me in on what happened while I was offline?”
“Not my job.” The chartreuse mech smirked, about to continue when alarms rang out and he growled in aggravation. “Dammit! Not again! Jazz. Stay inside the base. You are not cleared for combat yet, nor have you been briefed on our current situation. Stick one molecule outside and I will weld you to the berth, I promise.”
“Got it.”
Ratchet left and Jazz sighed, wandering out of the med bay to find somewhere secure to sort through his head while everyone was outside being useful.
= = =
“Jazz? Jazz!”
He turned, spotting the two humans running up to him with excited looks on their faces. The Ops mech smiled.
“Hey there. Sam and Mikeala, right? Boy you’ve grown; I remember when you two came just up to here.” He held out his hand somewhere along the vicinity of his midsection, where their heads were, chuckling when Mikaela rolled her eyes at him. “So, what are you both doing here? I heard the alarms. That usually means ‘Cons coming down on our heads. Not exactly the best of times to be around.”
“Well, I’m studying under Ratchet, and Sam usually works at this base.” The young woman answered, and Sam nodded sheepishly.
“Official Human Liaison to the Autobots. But I’m still learning the ropes; most of the official stuff gets handled by Simmons.”
Jazz clicked in surprise. “The same one ‘Bee went and soaked in lubricant?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Must be interesting, working with him.”
“He’s… okay. Sorta. You get used to it.” The young man shrugged, and the saboteur looked at the pair appraisingly, taking in the way both had aged far beyond the five years that had passed since he last saw them.
“Well now. Looks like a lot’s happened since I got slagged by Megatron.”
Mikaela picked up on the hint and smiled. “We’ll fill you in on what we can.”
A loud crash rocked the humans off their feet and Jazz quickly steadied them.
“Sounds like quite a party going on out there.” He joked, but the two humans just looked at each other anxiously. The Solstice prompted them gently. “Let me guess. Worried about Bumblebee?”
Two nods, and he queried. “So why don’t you take a peek outside?”
“Are you crazy? We’d be mush in seconds!”
The mech held up his hands, tone placating. “Not outside outside. Doesn’t the base have cameras and such?”
Sam and Mikaela shared a considering look.
“We could…”
“Worth a shot. But you remember who’s…”
“Slag, yeah. It’ll be pretty hard to sneak in, and… well, you know how he is.”
Curious, Jazz nudged them. “Who’s manning the cameras?”
“We’ve had quite a few new arrivals since you fought Megatron.” Mikaela looked up with a wry smile, and Sam beckoned as he started down the corridor.
“We’ll give you a quick update while we move. Sideswipe, Mudflap and Skids, Jolt and Arcee arrived first. Then…”
= = =
“… And Bluestreak landed about a year and a half back. Wheeljack and Sunstreaker followed a few months later, together with-”
The door to the monitor room slid open, revealing a dark room lit by a bank of screens. Sam talked on, entering with Mikaela, not realising that Jazz had stopped in the doorway to stare at the room’s occupants.
“… Prowl. Who’s in here right now. With Red Alert, who arrived just last month. Eheh. Hi?”
One mech glared at them, opening his mouth to chase them away when the other stopped him, optics never leaving the monitors as he rattled off orders to the Autobots fighting on the outside.
“Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, focus on the left flank. Mudflap, back up your brother. Ironhide, Prime’s right is exposed. Cliffjumper, Arcee, get to these coordinates, Ratchet needs cover. Trailbreaker, Wheeljack is down.”
Jazz caught up with the humans, optics never leaving the mech directing the battle. Doors set on the mech’s shoulders flicked, and a quick glance was directed his way. The visored mech grinned, before nodding to Sam and Mikaela. The doorwinged mech nodded back, then spoke to his companion.
“Red Alert, please call up the section Bumblebee is in.”
Red Alert clicked irritably, but acquiesced. The two young people scrambled over to the mech to glue their eyes to the image, and Jazz ambled to Prowl’s side. The mech turned to him and smiled, the expression cast into a fetching chiaroscuro by the light of the monitors.
“Good to see you up and about, Jazz.”
“Good to be seen, Prowl. ‘Specially by you.”
“Prowl.”
The mech looked back to the monitors when Red Alert spoke, sounding grimly alarmed. Prowl looked concerned, but kept his voice even as he called to their comrades.
“Autobots, seekers incoming. They’re flying a strafing pattern. Bluestreak, Jolt, Ironhide, try and take them down. The rest of you, cover fire or take cover.”
“ ‘Bee’s hit! Bumblebee!” Jazz hurried over to where Mikaela was trying to calm Sam down, watching as three seekers flew past on the screens, then grimaced theatrically.
“Ouch. You forgot to mention that Starscream apparently lost all sense of good taste during your little info dump.”
“Wha?” The young man stared at him, bewildered.
“Jet’s got tattoos now. As if being ugly weren’t enough already, he had to go for tacky as well.”
“Cybertronians can get tattoos? I thought they were just painted on.” Mikaela looked intrigued, and Jazz nodded.
“Yeah. They’re more than about looks for us. Tattoos’ve got super conductors and nanobots to boost a bot’s systems and stuff, and like Earth tattoos it hurts like the Pit to get them. They run on your own energy like any other system or upgrade. That means they gotta be inlaid into your plating. You could go offline while the engraving is being done, but then you still gotta synchronise with them and that’s usually done with the engravings still fresh. No one’s gonna sit about while their tattoos heal up before syncing them.”
The humans winced.
“Ow.”
“Yeah. And they light up when active. You’ll never catch a stylish mech like me sporting that look. On the bright side, you’ll probably be able to spot ‘Screamer from miles away now. Starscream, the Amazing Glow in the Dark Jet.”
Even Red Alert stifled a laugh at that, and no one noticed doorwings going unnaturally still.
= = =
Jazz was getting annoyed with Prowl. They’d been close, living and working cheek by jowl as they often did, and privately the Ops mech had harboured hopes of coaxing the chevroned mech into something more, had thought Prowl was starting to have those same hopes before they parted ways to hunt down the All Spark. But after that first expression of genuine pleasure at seeing him, the mech had developed an aversion to being in close quarters with the saboteur and the Solstice couldn’t understand why.
Spotting the tactician inside one of the many briefing rooms in the base, Jazz entered, hiding his flinch when the chevroned mech’s doorwings flicked back apprehensively. What reason would Prowl have to be wary of him?
“Hey Prowl.”
“Jazz. Good evening. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll-”
Jazz grabbed Prowl’s arm as the tactician tried to pass him. “I don’t know why you’re running from me, but I want to fix whatever’s wrong between us.”
“There is nothing wrong.”
“Like slag there isn’t! What happened out there to make you no longer want to have anything to do with me?”
“It’s not like that.” The other mech tried to pull free, but the Solstice held on doggedly.
“It’s what it looks like to me.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it? ‘Cos I’m fritzing my CPU trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
Prowl sighed. “It’s nothing you did. Sunstreaker, Wheeljack and I, we were out on our own for a long time. I… We… There was a development. I was unsure as to how best to broach the subject with you.”
Jazz’s spark dimmed at the thought that Prowl had fallen for one or both of his companions over their long journey together. So he’d lost his chance, but as long as Prowl was happy, Jazz could be content with that.
“Prowl, you’re important to me.” The tactician looked startled at Jazz’s declaration, and the silver mech smiled. “Whatever it is, as long as you’re-”
//Prowl! We need your help, Ravage’s in the base and it’s managed to hide from Red Alert’s scanners!//
The comm. startled them both, not that anyone could tell from the chevroned mech’s calm reply.
//Understood. Where was Ravage last sighted?//
//Near the base’s data centre, headed in the direction of the storehouses.//
//I’m on my way.//
Prowl glanced at Jazz, who mouthed that they would continue this later, then made for the door, the saboteur in tow.
= = =
Both mechs stood in front of the warehouse that the Decepticon symbiont was hiding in. The area was dark, courtesy of the felinoid bot taking out the electricity in an attempt to improve its chances of escape.
With a quiet cycle of air, Prowl stepped into the building, doors flared to pick up the slightest trace left by Ravage. Jazz followed, audios and sensor nets similarly set to their highest sensitivity. They’d already covered the warehouse once before Jazz commed the tactician.
//Prowl, I’m picking up slag all.//
//I’m not detecting anything like this either.//
The chevroned bot paused, then looked at the silver mech beside him. Jazz chirped a softly querying note, and the tactician looked away.
//It was necessary.//
Jazz blinked, confused by the mech’s cryptic remark when suddenly, trails of light flared along Prowl’s frame. The saboteur just stood there, stunned as intricate designs etched their way over the tactician’s back and doors, and was just about to reach out to touch the faintly glowing lines when Prowl spoke.
//As unsubtle as it looks, I can track Ravage now. Watch my back while I’m lit up like a target at the training range?//
Jazz didn't even need to consider his answer. //Always.//
= = =
While the rest of the Autobots were dealing with their captured Decepticon, Jazz hauled Prowl outside the base to get some privacy. Caught in the light of the setting sun, the Solstice noted that there were more lines engraved into the other mech’s arms, chest and legs in addition to his doors. He traced the path one of the patterns took along Prowl’s arm, and the tactician murmured, as if ashamed of them, not meeting Jazz’s visor.
“It was necessary. They gave me an edge we badly needed out in deep space. Sunstreaker has them too. I know you don’t find them appealing, but-”
“Prowl, they’re beautiful.”
Prowl stopped at Jazz’s awestruck tone.
“But, Starscream…”
“Starscream’s tattoos look like they were painted on by a blind cleaning drone. Yours… Primus.”
The saboteur couldn’t stop himself from tracing another pattern, across Prowl’s torso this time. The faint lines were difficult to see while the tattoos were inactive, and Jazz wondered at what the doorwinged mech would look like with all his markings lit up.
“Sunstreaker insisted on doing them properly. You… like them?”
The Solstice frowned at the almost timid query. “Why wouldn’t I? For that matter, since when have you cared about another bot’s opinion over your appearance?”
“When that bot is you.”
Jazz stared at the tactician, took in the smile that he suddenly realised was just for him, spared a brief moment to laugh at himself for jumping to conclusions, then jumped Prowl, wrapping arms about the other mech’s neck to pull him close for a kiss.
'Verse: 2007/09 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
Notes: ... So I picked up a TF figure to look at the bios (I'll read anything, even the backs of soup cans) while out one day. And lo and behold, there was a bunny underneath the toy, and the bunny got me.
On Cybertron, tattoos are more than mere decoration. They can be packed with super conductive materials and symbiotic nano machines to enhance a robot's sensors and strengthen his weapons. Starscream designed his tattoos to help him locate the fragments of all spark, as well as extend his range and power in the air. When his new sensor net detects any ancient artefact from Cybertron, they glow softly, charging his weapons and boosting his engine output. - Nebular Starscream (2009 RotF line) toy bios
“Well, it’s about time, you lazy aft.”
With Ratchet’s unmistakable dulcet tones ringing in his audios, Jazz onlined, mentally preparing for the wrench that- whoops - smacked into the berth he’d just rolled off in one smooth movement.
“Eesh, Ratchet. Can’t a bot sleep in for once?”
The quip was instinctive. Quick wit (and faster reflexes) was his trademark, after all. Jazz stood, getting back onto the berth obediently at the medic’s glower. Ratchet crossed his arms, still holding onto his wrench.
“Pah! Sleep in, he says. At least your physical reactions are in working order.”
Jazz tilted his helm at the chartreuse mech curiously as Ratchet nodded, scribbling on a datapad while clicking to himself. He kept his vocaliser muted. One did not interrupt the CMO while he was writing unless one had a death wish.
“Last memories?”
“Landing on Earth, finding the All Spark’s coordinates, going to rescue ‘Bee from the angry human in need of a personality program recalibration.” The Solstice rattled off as he dug through his databanks, then stopped. There was a block set up.
“Uh, Ratch’? Why are my memory banks sealed off?”
“Precaution. Didn’t want you coming online ready to take out the first thing unfortunate enough to be in your way.”
“Why would I-” The saboteur ‘eep’ed when the medic poked him in the helm with his datastyler.
“You. Have been in stasis for the past five years. Planetary cycles.”
Jazz sighed impatiently. “I taught you English, I know what the local terminology means. Now, about my memories?”
“Mute it before I deactivate it, Jazz. First, for three of those years, I was patching you together with whatever materials we could acquire.”
“And the next two?”
“You were ‘sleeping in’. And driving us all to the brink with worry that you would never wake up, I might add.”
“If I say I’m sorry, will you lift the blocks right now?” The visored mech tried not to fidget. While he trusted Ratchet had a valid reason for the blocks, he was an Ops mech through and through and having a recent chunk of memory kept back from him was the worst kind of torture.
“After I’m done with the scans and temporarily deactivate your motor systems.”
The saboteur’s plating tingled and he heard a low hum, then Ratchet was doing something to the back of his helm.
“Hold still! Do you want your memories back or not?!”
“Why do I have to be paralysed for that?” Jazz exclaimed as he tried to avoid the medic, but with the efficiency of one who’d spent an untold number of eons dealing with an untold number of recalcitrant patients, Ratchet quickly had him snagged and his motor systems offlined.
“… You’ll see.”
And with that foreboding comment, the medic jacked in and Jazz remembered.
= = =
Afterwards, when he could move again, the Solstice shuddered, then exhaled slowly.
“Okay. I see your point.”
Ratchet ‘hmph’ed, then scanned him again. Jazz squirmed under the full strength pulse with a chirr of protest. Hadn’t the medic scanned every last atom of his frame already?
“So, are you gonna fill me in on what happened while I was offline?”
“Not my job.” The chartreuse mech smirked, about to continue when alarms rang out and he growled in aggravation. “Dammit! Not again! Jazz. Stay inside the base. You are not cleared for combat yet, nor have you been briefed on our current situation. Stick one molecule outside and I will weld you to the berth, I promise.”
“Got it.”
Ratchet left and Jazz sighed, wandering out of the med bay to find somewhere secure to sort through his head while everyone was outside being useful.
= = =
“Jazz? Jazz!”
He turned, spotting the two humans running up to him with excited looks on their faces. The Ops mech smiled.
“Hey there. Sam and Mikeala, right? Boy you’ve grown; I remember when you two came just up to here.” He held out his hand somewhere along the vicinity of his midsection, where their heads were, chuckling when Mikaela rolled her eyes at him. “So, what are you both doing here? I heard the alarms. That usually means ‘Cons coming down on our heads. Not exactly the best of times to be around.”
“Well, I’m studying under Ratchet, and Sam usually works at this base.” The young woman answered, and Sam nodded sheepishly.
“Official Human Liaison to the Autobots. But I’m still learning the ropes; most of the official stuff gets handled by Simmons.”
Jazz clicked in surprise. “The same one ‘Bee went and soaked in lubricant?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Must be interesting, working with him.”
“He’s… okay. Sorta. You get used to it.” The young man shrugged, and the saboteur looked at the pair appraisingly, taking in the way both had aged far beyond the five years that had passed since he last saw them.
“Well now. Looks like a lot’s happened since I got slagged by Megatron.”
Mikaela picked up on the hint and smiled. “We’ll fill you in on what we can.”
A loud crash rocked the humans off their feet and Jazz quickly steadied them.
“Sounds like quite a party going on out there.” He joked, but the two humans just looked at each other anxiously. The Solstice prompted them gently. “Let me guess. Worried about Bumblebee?”
Two nods, and he queried. “So why don’t you take a peek outside?”
“Are you crazy? We’d be mush in seconds!”
The mech held up his hands, tone placating. “Not outside outside. Doesn’t the base have cameras and such?”
Sam and Mikaela shared a considering look.
“We could…”
“Worth a shot. But you remember who’s…”
“Slag, yeah. It’ll be pretty hard to sneak in, and… well, you know how he is.”
Curious, Jazz nudged them. “Who’s manning the cameras?”
“We’ve had quite a few new arrivals since you fought Megatron.” Mikaela looked up with a wry smile, and Sam beckoned as he started down the corridor.
“We’ll give you a quick update while we move. Sideswipe, Mudflap and Skids, Jolt and Arcee arrived first. Then…”
= = =
“… And Bluestreak landed about a year and a half back. Wheeljack and Sunstreaker followed a few months later, together with-”
The door to the monitor room slid open, revealing a dark room lit by a bank of screens. Sam talked on, entering with Mikaela, not realising that Jazz had stopped in the doorway to stare at the room’s occupants.
“… Prowl. Who’s in here right now. With Red Alert, who arrived just last month. Eheh. Hi?”
One mech glared at them, opening his mouth to chase them away when the other stopped him, optics never leaving the monitors as he rattled off orders to the Autobots fighting on the outside.
“Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, focus on the left flank. Mudflap, back up your brother. Ironhide, Prime’s right is exposed. Cliffjumper, Arcee, get to these coordinates, Ratchet needs cover. Trailbreaker, Wheeljack is down.”
Jazz caught up with the humans, optics never leaving the mech directing the battle. Doors set on the mech’s shoulders flicked, and a quick glance was directed his way. The visored mech grinned, before nodding to Sam and Mikaela. The doorwinged mech nodded back, then spoke to his companion.
“Red Alert, please call up the section Bumblebee is in.”
Red Alert clicked irritably, but acquiesced. The two young people scrambled over to the mech to glue their eyes to the image, and Jazz ambled to Prowl’s side. The mech turned to him and smiled, the expression cast into a fetching chiaroscuro by the light of the monitors.
“Good to see you up and about, Jazz.”
“Good to be seen, Prowl. ‘Specially by you.”
“Prowl.”
The mech looked back to the monitors when Red Alert spoke, sounding grimly alarmed. Prowl looked concerned, but kept his voice even as he called to their comrades.
“Autobots, seekers incoming. They’re flying a strafing pattern. Bluestreak, Jolt, Ironhide, try and take them down. The rest of you, cover fire or take cover.”
“ ‘Bee’s hit! Bumblebee!” Jazz hurried over to where Mikaela was trying to calm Sam down, watching as three seekers flew past on the screens, then grimaced theatrically.
“Ouch. You forgot to mention that Starscream apparently lost all sense of good taste during your little info dump.”
“Wha?” The young man stared at him, bewildered.
“Jet’s got tattoos now. As if being ugly weren’t enough already, he had to go for tacky as well.”
“Cybertronians can get tattoos? I thought they were just painted on.” Mikaela looked intrigued, and Jazz nodded.
“Yeah. They’re more than about looks for us. Tattoos’ve got super conductors and nanobots to boost a bot’s systems and stuff, and like Earth tattoos it hurts like the Pit to get them. They run on your own energy like any other system or upgrade. That means they gotta be inlaid into your plating. You could go offline while the engraving is being done, but then you still gotta synchronise with them and that’s usually done with the engravings still fresh. No one’s gonna sit about while their tattoos heal up before syncing them.”
The humans winced.
“Ow.”
“Yeah. And they light up when active. You’ll never catch a stylish mech like me sporting that look. On the bright side, you’ll probably be able to spot ‘Screamer from miles away now. Starscream, the Amazing Glow in the Dark Jet.”
Even Red Alert stifled a laugh at that, and no one noticed doorwings going unnaturally still.
= = =
Jazz was getting annoyed with Prowl. They’d been close, living and working cheek by jowl as they often did, and privately the Ops mech had harboured hopes of coaxing the chevroned mech into something more, had thought Prowl was starting to have those same hopes before they parted ways to hunt down the All Spark. But after that first expression of genuine pleasure at seeing him, the mech had developed an aversion to being in close quarters with the saboteur and the Solstice couldn’t understand why.
Spotting the tactician inside one of the many briefing rooms in the base, Jazz entered, hiding his flinch when the chevroned mech’s doorwings flicked back apprehensively. What reason would Prowl have to be wary of him?
“Hey Prowl.”
“Jazz. Good evening. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll-”
Jazz grabbed Prowl’s arm as the tactician tried to pass him. “I don’t know why you’re running from me, but I want to fix whatever’s wrong between us.”
“There is nothing wrong.”
“Like slag there isn’t! What happened out there to make you no longer want to have anything to do with me?”
“It’s not like that.” The other mech tried to pull free, but the Solstice held on doggedly.
“It’s what it looks like to me.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it? ‘Cos I’m fritzing my CPU trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
Prowl sighed. “It’s nothing you did. Sunstreaker, Wheeljack and I, we were out on our own for a long time. I… We… There was a development. I was unsure as to how best to broach the subject with you.”
Jazz’s spark dimmed at the thought that Prowl had fallen for one or both of his companions over their long journey together. So he’d lost his chance, but as long as Prowl was happy, Jazz could be content with that.
“Prowl, you’re important to me.” The tactician looked startled at Jazz’s declaration, and the silver mech smiled. “Whatever it is, as long as you’re-”
//Prowl! We need your help, Ravage’s in the base and it’s managed to hide from Red Alert’s scanners!//
The comm. startled them both, not that anyone could tell from the chevroned mech’s calm reply.
//Understood. Where was Ravage last sighted?//
//Near the base’s data centre, headed in the direction of the storehouses.//
//I’m on my way.//
Prowl glanced at Jazz, who mouthed that they would continue this later, then made for the door, the saboteur in tow.
= = =
Both mechs stood in front of the warehouse that the Decepticon symbiont was hiding in. The area was dark, courtesy of the felinoid bot taking out the electricity in an attempt to improve its chances of escape.
With a quiet cycle of air, Prowl stepped into the building, doors flared to pick up the slightest trace left by Ravage. Jazz followed, audios and sensor nets similarly set to their highest sensitivity. They’d already covered the warehouse once before Jazz commed the tactician.
//Prowl, I’m picking up slag all.//
//I’m not detecting anything like this either.//
The chevroned bot paused, then looked at the silver mech beside him. Jazz chirped a softly querying note, and the tactician looked away.
//It was necessary.//
Jazz blinked, confused by the mech’s cryptic remark when suddenly, trails of light flared along Prowl’s frame. The saboteur just stood there, stunned as intricate designs etched their way over the tactician’s back and doors, and was just about to reach out to touch the faintly glowing lines when Prowl spoke.
//As unsubtle as it looks, I can track Ravage now. Watch my back while I’m lit up like a target at the training range?//
Jazz didn't even need to consider his answer. //Always.//
= = =
While the rest of the Autobots were dealing with their captured Decepticon, Jazz hauled Prowl outside the base to get some privacy. Caught in the light of the setting sun, the Solstice noted that there were more lines engraved into the other mech’s arms, chest and legs in addition to his doors. He traced the path one of the patterns took along Prowl’s arm, and the tactician murmured, as if ashamed of them, not meeting Jazz’s visor.
“It was necessary. They gave me an edge we badly needed out in deep space. Sunstreaker has them too. I know you don’t find them appealing, but-”
“Prowl, they’re beautiful.”
Prowl stopped at Jazz’s awestruck tone.
“But, Starscream…”
“Starscream’s tattoos look like they were painted on by a blind cleaning drone. Yours… Primus.”
The saboteur couldn’t stop himself from tracing another pattern, across Prowl’s torso this time. The faint lines were difficult to see while the tattoos were inactive, and Jazz wondered at what the doorwinged mech would look like with all his markings lit up.
“Sunstreaker insisted on doing them properly. You… like them?”
The Solstice frowned at the almost timid query. “Why wouldn’t I? For that matter, since when have you cared about another bot’s opinion over your appearance?”
“When that bot is you.”
Jazz stared at the tactician, took in the smile that he suddenly realised was just for him, spared a brief moment to laugh at himself for jumping to conclusions, then jumped Prowl, wrapping arms about the other mech’s neck to pull him close for a kiss.
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Date: 2010-02-13 10:03 am (UTC)I'm trying. It's gonna be a busy week coming, but the bunny is being quite understanding about it so I might cave.