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ante_luceTitle: Of Bindings – A Recovery and a Reconciliation
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Ratchet. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Unconsciousness faded like an ebbing tide, one that Prowl had to struggle against to keep from falling back into its depths. It was difficult, he kept reaching out for something to hold on to, to steady himself and his drifting mind, but found nothing. The stillness of the med bay didn’t help, and neither did its uniform décor. It looked like some things were universal, or else their CMO had rather decided ideas about the colour scheme of his workspace. He’d been in countless med bays before, and by and large they were all relatively similar in colouration.
At least it made it easy to spot the mech, no matter how foggy Prowl’s processors were. An unintended effect, or an intentional one? Either way, he wasn’t about to ask. The splash of bright colour moved towards him as the tactician tried to rise, only to be pushed back down by the medic. Ratchet harrumphed, running a quick diagnostic scan before letting the chevroned mech up and glowering at him.
“I put you in stasis for a reason. Programming in an override to allow yourself to online early and then not telling me about it is something I’d expect from one of the trigger happy idiots I have to keep patching up, except they wouldn’t know how to code that if you gave them a cheat sheet. But not you.”
The chartreuse mech fired off more scans, and Prowl sat through them without protest as the medic clicked irritably and grumbled about the slagging war and paranoid tacticians making things worse for themselves, before standing back and crossing his arms
“Well. Looks like your self repair’s finally gotten everything sorted. But until I’m a hundred percent sure that you won’t be having another episode, you’re staying here where I can keep an optic on you.”
His injuries. Right. Apparently whatever Ratchet had given him on the battlefield had been very potent. The fluctuations then had been nowhere near as painful as the ones he’d last gone through. Prowl nodded, then looked about the room again, briefly wondering if the med bay’s environment was purposely kept as bland as possible to discourage actions which would land a bot an extended (and boring) stay. If that was the case, then it was currently fulfilling its intended function most admirably.
He frowned at the expanse of grey, white and dull steel, wondering why the last colour would bother him so when his thought processes ground to a halt. Jazz had been there, looking so very tired but happy when Prowl had woken previously. But then the pain took over and all he’d known after that was the silver mech shouting for Ratchet and clutching his hand and more sedatives and Jazz asking…
Prowl sought out Ratchet again. The CMO hadn’t gone far. In fact, it looked as if he’d been expecting the chevroned mech’s yet unvoiced query and instead of waiting for Prowl to make it, Ratchet just patted him on the shoulder.
“Stay put. I’ll go get him.”
= = =
//He’s asking for you.//
Jazz paced outside the med bay, replaying the last occasion he’d been in there. Ratchet had been taking a break, refuelling in the rec room when both the alarms from the systems monitoring Prowl and the saboteur’s panicked comm. sent him racing back to his usual domain.
Time had seemed to slow for Jazz then as he struggled to stay close enough for his proximity to help Prowl, just like before. The medic’s reply took forever to get back to him, and it had taken even longer for the mech himself to make an appearance, even though rationally it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes between Prowl’s first cry of pain and Ratchet bursting through the doors to flood the tactician’s systems with painkillers once more.
But it was what happened after that stuck in his memory banks on an endless loop.
The chevroned mech had fallen against him, frame trembling slightly as he recovered. Jazz had stroked Prowl’s helm, comforting the both of them with the gentle action. Then he’d laid a hand on the mech’s chestplates and asked to bond to the tactician. It would help Prowl, and they already knew they’d be bonding again anyway, so why not do so right then and there? It was perfectly logical, Prowl should have agreed in a sparkbeat.
But the doorwinged mech had shaken his head, weakly refusing before going offline again. Jazz had fled the med bay after that, and had stayed away up until Ratchet’s gruff comm. sounded through his CPU.
He'd stood on its threshold, peering in like the room held some unpredictable beast. Which, to be fair, it sometimes did. But Ratchet had swept past the saboteur with a stern look that was somehow still understanding, very unsubtly nudging him inside and then locking the doors behind him to give them privacy.
And now Jazz was alone with Prowl.
He approached the berth holding the tactician slowly. Perhaps he should come back another time. Prowl probably needed the rest. But the doorwinged mech’s optics locked onto him the instant he came into view, and Jazz felt his attempt to stay calm falter.
Still, he tried, smiling at his… what? Ex-bondmate? Soon to be bonded(again)? Only now he wasn’t too confident of that happening any more. Ratchet had hunted him down after the first day of his self imposed exile from the med bay to disabuse the Solstice of his ‘foolish lack of confidence’ in the chartreuse mech’s abilities with a systematic thoroughness that felt kinda personal (and thank you to Sideswipe for opening his big mouth there), even if his tone throughout said disabusing could never even with the wildest sort of exaggeration be called unkind.
So why had Prowl changed his mind? In any case, standing and staring wasn’t going to help, so he settled onto Prowl’s berth and took the doorwinged mech’s hand.
“Hey.”
His voice was hushed, but still sounded too loud in the empty med bay. Prowl’s brow creased at him, and Jazz thought his spark would stop. But there was only concern on the Autobot SIC’s face as the mech reached for him, cupping his cheek and running his thumb over silver plating.
“You haven’t been recharging.”
Jazz shrugged, putting aside his confusion for now. “Been kinda worried about you, mech.”
“You shouldn’t neglect yourself.”
“Says the king of ignoring his own needs in favour of everyone else’s.” The saboteur’s grin was weak, but Prowl chuckled in sheepish acknowledgement.
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’d say admitting the problem exists is the first step towards fixing it, but we both know that’s not going to happen.”
He could do this. Easy banter, trading lightsparked quips that had previously been exchanged solely over their now dissolved connection. But clearly, even with that gone Prowl could still read him like an unencrypted datapad because the tactician sighed, pulling him closer until their helms touched. The Ops mech dimmed his optics and whispered. “I thought you’d given up. I thought you were gonna die until Ratchet came and told me otherwise.”
“I have a bonding to get to, Jazz. Primus himself couldn’t stop me.”
The Solstice’s chuckle was weak, and he cycled air slowly before asking the question sitting between them like a primed explosive.
“So, why’d you say no?”
“The fluctuations were severe, and I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”
The silver mech paused, then looked up, visor blazing with sudden fury. “You glitch. Maybe it’s my fault for dragging my heels this long, but don’t you know that I love you?”
“What? Of course I do!” The tactician made his protest immediately, and Jazz’s grip on his hand tightened.
“So why won’t you let me help?!”
Prowl replied, tone insistent. “You were already helping by being there, you didn’t need to suffer with me. It was only pain, and I-”
The saboteur interrupted him. “I don’t care what it was only. Good or bad, whether you’re hurting or overjoyed, whatever you’re going through I want to be there sharing it with you. I don’t just love you only when you’re feeling fine, y’know.”
The visored mech’s gaze dropped to the berth and the tactician wrapped his arms about him, whispering apologies. Jazz leant into the embrace with a sigh. “What were you going to say, ‘fore I cut in to set you straight?”
“… It was only pain, and I bore it alone because I wanted our second bonding to be unlike our first.” The saboteur pulled away to look at him, stunned, and Prowl continued, doors fluttering anxiously. “We both gave up what expectations we had then, so I wanted this to be as perfect for you as possible, instead of a desperate joining on a battlefield or in a med bay. I’m sorry that I fell unconscious before I could explain.”
“Yeah, well, Ratch’ can be a little heavy handed with the sedatives when he’s worried.” His anger fading, Jazz couldn’t keep from hugging his tactician if he tried. “Prowler, I’m bonding to you. That’s all I need for it to be perfect.”
“I’m sorry Jazz. We can do so now, if you still want to.” The chevroned mech held him tight, and the Solstice found himself laughing quietly.
“Silly mech, of course I still want to. But depriving the others of the chance to throw a party? You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
“Like I once told Prime, you’re a bad influence.”
He traced Prowl’s smile and kissed it before countering. “The best kind.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Oh no you don’t, I’m getting the last word on this one!”
“As you wish.”
“Dammit Prowl!”
The tactician chuckled and Jazz did the same before kissing him again, all previous tension dissipating like a bad dream.
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Ratchet. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Unconsciousness faded like an ebbing tide, one that Prowl had to struggle against to keep from falling back into its depths. It was difficult, he kept reaching out for something to hold on to, to steady himself and his drifting mind, but found nothing. The stillness of the med bay didn’t help, and neither did its uniform décor. It looked like some things were universal, or else their CMO had rather decided ideas about the colour scheme of his workspace. He’d been in countless med bays before, and by and large they were all relatively similar in colouration.
At least it made it easy to spot the mech, no matter how foggy Prowl’s processors were. An unintended effect, or an intentional one? Either way, he wasn’t about to ask. The splash of bright colour moved towards him as the tactician tried to rise, only to be pushed back down by the medic. Ratchet harrumphed, running a quick diagnostic scan before letting the chevroned mech up and glowering at him.
“I put you in stasis for a reason. Programming in an override to allow yourself to online early and then not telling me about it is something I’d expect from one of the trigger happy idiots I have to keep patching up, except they wouldn’t know how to code that if you gave them a cheat sheet. But not you.”
The chartreuse mech fired off more scans, and Prowl sat through them without protest as the medic clicked irritably and grumbled about the slagging war and paranoid tacticians making things worse for themselves, before standing back and crossing his arms
“Well. Looks like your self repair’s finally gotten everything sorted. But until I’m a hundred percent sure that you won’t be having another episode, you’re staying here where I can keep an optic on you.”
His injuries. Right. Apparently whatever Ratchet had given him on the battlefield had been very potent. The fluctuations then had been nowhere near as painful as the ones he’d last gone through. Prowl nodded, then looked about the room again, briefly wondering if the med bay’s environment was purposely kept as bland as possible to discourage actions which would land a bot an extended (and boring) stay. If that was the case, then it was currently fulfilling its intended function most admirably.
He frowned at the expanse of grey, white and dull steel, wondering why the last colour would bother him so when his thought processes ground to a halt. Jazz had been there, looking so very tired but happy when Prowl had woken previously. But then the pain took over and all he’d known after that was the silver mech shouting for Ratchet and clutching his hand and more sedatives and Jazz asking…
Prowl sought out Ratchet again. The CMO hadn’t gone far. In fact, it looked as if he’d been expecting the chevroned mech’s yet unvoiced query and instead of waiting for Prowl to make it, Ratchet just patted him on the shoulder.
“Stay put. I’ll go get him.”
= = =
//He’s asking for you.//
Jazz paced outside the med bay, replaying the last occasion he’d been in there. Ratchet had been taking a break, refuelling in the rec room when both the alarms from the systems monitoring Prowl and the saboteur’s panicked comm. sent him racing back to his usual domain.
Time had seemed to slow for Jazz then as he struggled to stay close enough for his proximity to help Prowl, just like before. The medic’s reply took forever to get back to him, and it had taken even longer for the mech himself to make an appearance, even though rationally it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes between Prowl’s first cry of pain and Ratchet bursting through the doors to flood the tactician’s systems with painkillers once more.
But it was what happened after that stuck in his memory banks on an endless loop.
The chevroned mech had fallen against him, frame trembling slightly as he recovered. Jazz had stroked Prowl’s helm, comforting the both of them with the gentle action. Then he’d laid a hand on the mech’s chestplates and asked to bond to the tactician. It would help Prowl, and they already knew they’d be bonding again anyway, so why not do so right then and there? It was perfectly logical, Prowl should have agreed in a sparkbeat.
But the doorwinged mech had shaken his head, weakly refusing before going offline again. Jazz had fled the med bay after that, and had stayed away up until Ratchet’s gruff comm. sounded through his CPU.
He'd stood on its threshold, peering in like the room held some unpredictable beast. Which, to be fair, it sometimes did. But Ratchet had swept past the saboteur with a stern look that was somehow still understanding, very unsubtly nudging him inside and then locking the doors behind him to give them privacy.
And now Jazz was alone with Prowl.
He approached the berth holding the tactician slowly. Perhaps he should come back another time. Prowl probably needed the rest. But the doorwinged mech’s optics locked onto him the instant he came into view, and Jazz felt his attempt to stay calm falter.
Still, he tried, smiling at his… what? Ex-bondmate? Soon to be bonded(again)? Only now he wasn’t too confident of that happening any more. Ratchet had hunted him down after the first day of his self imposed exile from the med bay to disabuse the Solstice of his ‘foolish lack of confidence’ in the chartreuse mech’s abilities with a systematic thoroughness that felt kinda personal (and thank you to Sideswipe for opening his big mouth there), even if his tone throughout said disabusing could never even with the wildest sort of exaggeration be called unkind.
So why had Prowl changed his mind? In any case, standing and staring wasn’t going to help, so he settled onto Prowl’s berth and took the doorwinged mech’s hand.
“Hey.”
His voice was hushed, but still sounded too loud in the empty med bay. Prowl’s brow creased at him, and Jazz thought his spark would stop. But there was only concern on the Autobot SIC’s face as the mech reached for him, cupping his cheek and running his thumb over silver plating.
“You haven’t been recharging.”
Jazz shrugged, putting aside his confusion for now. “Been kinda worried about you, mech.”
“You shouldn’t neglect yourself.”
“Says the king of ignoring his own needs in favour of everyone else’s.” The saboteur’s grin was weak, but Prowl chuckled in sheepish acknowledgement.
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’d say admitting the problem exists is the first step towards fixing it, but we both know that’s not going to happen.”
He could do this. Easy banter, trading lightsparked quips that had previously been exchanged solely over their now dissolved connection. But clearly, even with that gone Prowl could still read him like an unencrypted datapad because the tactician sighed, pulling him closer until their helms touched. The Ops mech dimmed his optics and whispered. “I thought you’d given up. I thought you were gonna die until Ratchet came and told me otherwise.”
“I have a bonding to get to, Jazz. Primus himself couldn’t stop me.”
The Solstice’s chuckle was weak, and he cycled air slowly before asking the question sitting between them like a primed explosive.
“So, why’d you say no?”
“The fluctuations were severe, and I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”
The silver mech paused, then looked up, visor blazing with sudden fury. “You glitch. Maybe it’s my fault for dragging my heels this long, but don’t you know that I love you?”
“What? Of course I do!” The tactician made his protest immediately, and Jazz’s grip on his hand tightened.
“So why won’t you let me help?!”
Prowl replied, tone insistent. “You were already helping by being there, you didn’t need to suffer with me. It was only pain, and I-”
The saboteur interrupted him. “I don’t care what it was only. Good or bad, whether you’re hurting or overjoyed, whatever you’re going through I want to be there sharing it with you. I don’t just love you only when you’re feeling fine, y’know.”
The visored mech’s gaze dropped to the berth and the tactician wrapped his arms about him, whispering apologies. Jazz leant into the embrace with a sigh. “What were you going to say, ‘fore I cut in to set you straight?”
“… It was only pain, and I bore it alone because I wanted our second bonding to be unlike our first.” The saboteur pulled away to look at him, stunned, and Prowl continued, doors fluttering anxiously. “We both gave up what expectations we had then, so I wanted this to be as perfect for you as possible, instead of a desperate joining on a battlefield or in a med bay. I’m sorry that I fell unconscious before I could explain.”
“Yeah, well, Ratch’ can be a little heavy handed with the sedatives when he’s worried.” His anger fading, Jazz couldn’t keep from hugging his tactician if he tried. “Prowler, I’m bonding to you. That’s all I need for it to be perfect.”
“I’m sorry Jazz. We can do so now, if you still want to.” The chevroned mech held him tight, and the Solstice found himself laughing quietly.
“Silly mech, of course I still want to. But depriving the others of the chance to throw a party? You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
“Like I once told Prime, you’re a bad influence.”
He traced Prowl’s smile and kissed it before countering. “The best kind.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Oh no you don’t, I’m getting the last word on this one!”
“As you wish.”
“Dammit Prowl!”
The tactician chuckled and Jazz did the same before kissing him again, all previous tension dissipating like a bad dream.
