[personal profile] ante_luce
Title: What's in a Frame? (Part 5)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Bluestreak.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.



The corridors of the Ark were quiet, which made the soft noise coming from one of the rooms as audible to the black and white mech walking through them as an explosion from the science labs. More so, because Prowl knew the voice behind that cry. The tactician was immediately at the correct door, overriding the lock when calling to the mech only brought more whimpers, and was through before the door slid fully open. Inside, Bluestreak thrashed on his berth as he fought an unseen opponent in his recharge.

The SIC called his name again, reaching for the mech’s shoulder, but was thrown back when he cried out, twisting away from the tactician with a moan. Prowl tried a second time, but froze in place when Bluestreak started awake, curling up and sobbing his name quietly.

The cycleformer sighed, sitting down on the berth next to the grey mech. The gunner must have seen him take that shot from Megatron, and when the then Datsun had to take an extended stay in the med bay, Bluestreak, already so close to him and traumatised by Praxus, had obviously not taken it well.

“Bluestreak.”

The grey Datsun looked up in shock, staring the now slender frame of the tactician as he gently rested a hand on Bluestreak’s helm.

“I apologise, I should have come to see you first.”

The lights in the room brightened, and the gunner sat up, rebooting his optics several times before hesitantly taking hold of a white hand. His next words sounded awed.

“How did you get in here?”

“As SIC, I have the override codes for every door in the Ark.” Prowl raised an optic ridge, wondering why the grey Praxian would be asking this.

“But you’re not- Prowl’s the SIC… Is he- No!” Optics flared white and Bluestreak tried to get off his berth as Prowl grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Please! I need to see Prowl!”

“I am Prowl.”

The grey mech blinked, and the tactician released him cautiously. Bluestreak looked at the tactician, clearly stunned.

“Prowl? How…?”

The black and white mech sighed, turning away from the doorwinged mech. “I modified myself and pretended to be a carformer. This is what I really am. I apologise for the deception.”

When nothing was said, Prowl glanced up to see Bluestreak grinning at him. Confused, the tactician said the gunner’s name quietly.

“Bluestreak?”

The mech shook his head, looking down in embarrassment, and Prowl lifted the grey Datsun’s chin so he could look him in the optic, a silent inquiry in the set of his sensor panels and expression. Bluestreak squirmed, then broke away, doors fluttering sheepishly.

“I…” The grey mech’s optics flicked up briefly to look at Prowl, then away again before laughing softly. “I should have realised it sooner.”

Prowl just frowned at him, puzzled, and Bluestreak tilted his helm back to look at the ceiling. “When I was a youngling, my friends and I would play in an old scrapyard that we’d sneak into. One cycle, we found out that the old minibot living there had glitched pretty badly because he attacked us. I ran at him to distract him while my friends escaped. Stupid, huh? He caught me of course, and dragged me through the yard and into the centre of one of the piles of scrap.”

The gunner shrugged. “He must have thought I was a piece of scrap too. There was no way an adult mech could get through. I was so scared that I couldn’t make a sound.” He paused briefly, then chuckled. “I think you remember what happened next. I had stars in my optics for nearly a decacycle after that. The mech who rescued me was all I could talk about.”

Prowl was sitting very still now, and Bluestreak smiled at him again. “I decided right then and there I wanted to be an enforcer too, so I could meet him again some cycle and thank him. But then Praxus fell.” The gunner laughed, a choked sort of sound.

“I thought he’d come for me again when the first mech I saw digging me out had black and white paint. Then I saw the mech was a car, not a hovercycle and I scolded myself for having such fanciful thoughts. But it was you and now you’ve saved me twice over. So I guess what I’m trying to say is… Thanks Prowl. For everything. And I’m glad you’re alright.”

The tactician found himself wrapped in a hug, and with a faint smile, he returned the gesture.

“You’re welcome, Bluestreak.”

= = =

The Autobots adapted easily to having a cycleformer as SIC instead of a car. It helped that Prowl was no less authoritative, regardless of his size, and general consensus was that the bots who’d been in the Autobot High Command before he’d taken on his mods were all malfunctioning. Even Grimlock subsided, apparently he’d been online long enough to realised he was getting taken down by the black and white mech and had no wish to repeat the experience.

Some amongst the crew, however, were concerned about what would happen in battle. Prowl could take care of himself, that much was certain, but the Decepticons would only see an easy target. For most part, this problem was easy to solve. Their SIC and head tactician served them best in battle when he was based in the Ark, where he was able to monitor and coordinate all their movements on the field, and the Ark was where he was most safe from attack.

But this was not always possible, and it was accepted that such an event would inevitably occur. And certainly, such an event would have to occur for the betting pool to be resolved satisfactorily (not that anyone was hoping for it, of course, because that would be just silly).

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ante_luce

May 2017

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