Mission - Hugs
May. 2nd, 2010 01:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Mission - Hugs
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffs.
Jazz looked up from his datapad when Prowl entered their room, taking in the way the tactician trainee moved, slow and drained, doors were slightly lower than usual. A bot who wasn’t familiar with Prowl might not notice, but Jazz had been his roommate for a while, and he definitely knew that the mech was feeling down.
“Hey Prowl.” There was concern in his expression when he got up to meet the other black and white halfway.
“Jazz.” Prowl even sounded down (Jazz told himself not to panic. Yet).
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I can do anything about.”
Jazz sighed, knowing that it was best to leave it at that for now. He would work the details out of the mech later, when Prowl’s defences weren’t at their highest. Instead, the Ops trainee smiled and wrapped his arms about the chevroned mech.
“Jazz?”
“It’s called a hug, Prowl. You give them to folks who need to feel better. Is it working?”
The doorwinged mech actually blinked at him, then appeared to be considering his current circumstances. Jazz snickered and Prowl smiled faintly.
“Contrary to what you seem to think, I do know what a hug is.” He leant into the embrace, optics dimming. “Thank you.”
= = =
The door slid open with no more force than usual, though the mech opening it looked like he wished he could slam the thing open before he entered and stalked to his berth. Prowl looked into a blazing visor, put his bookfile down on his own recharge platform and crossed over to Jazz’s. A hand to the Ops trainee’s shoulder was abruptly shrugged away, though Jazz’s expression briefly flashed apologetic before settling straight back into ‘stormy’. He turned his back to his roommate, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his helm in them.
Prowl regarded the other mech for a moment, then settled behind Jazz with a quiet cycle of air. Jazz started, then growled.
“Prowl.”
“Yes Jazz?”
“Why are you on my berth?”
“Because my own is presently cluttered with my belongings.”
Jazz lifted his head to look at the other black and white, glanced at Prowl’s berth, ‘cluttered’ with its sole bookfile lying atop it, then back at Prowl. The tactician trainee smiled faintly, turning away to look at another datapad, and Jazz felt the mech lean back, Prowl’s doorwings moving to surround him. He blinked, and the sensitive panels folded, pressing against the visored mech's sides gently, almost like a… hug. Jazz chuckled, tilting his helm back so that it lay against Prowl’s.
“Doorwing hugs. Y’always have to do things differently.”
“I apologise. They’re not quite as good as proper ones.” Prowl murmured, tapping on his datapad with a stylus. Jazz chuckled again.
“No. They’re better.”
= = =
“Have you seen Jazz?”
“No. He’s probably with Prowl, going over the reports for that last battle.”
“Already? He just got out of medical!”
“Well, it was a pretty bad fight. Bluestreak, Bumblebee and Mirage are still down, Optimus is making do with one arm, and even though we got most of the humans to safety, most isn’t the same as all.”
“Frag. They’re probably running themselves into the ground right now with a tactics and strategy discussion.”
“Yeah. I don’t recommend interrupting until tomorrow, when they’ve had time to work off their moods.”
“I’ll spread the word.”
= = =
Anyone who might have dared peek in on the two officers would have probably frozen in their tracks. Prowl stood holding a report, a pair of black arms about his middle, just under his bumper. If one looked carefully, they might spot a dark helm resting against the back of the SIC’s.
If one stayed long enough to notice, they might also observe a pair of black and white doorwings flicking back to fold themselves against Jazz, almost like a hug.
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffs.
Jazz looked up from his datapad when Prowl entered their room, taking in the way the tactician trainee moved, slow and drained, doors were slightly lower than usual. A bot who wasn’t familiar with Prowl might not notice, but Jazz had been his roommate for a while, and he definitely knew that the mech was feeling down.
“Hey Prowl.” There was concern in his expression when he got up to meet the other black and white halfway.
“Jazz.” Prowl even sounded down (Jazz told himself not to panic. Yet).
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I can do anything about.”
Jazz sighed, knowing that it was best to leave it at that for now. He would work the details out of the mech later, when Prowl’s defences weren’t at their highest. Instead, the Ops trainee smiled and wrapped his arms about the chevroned mech.
“Jazz?”
“It’s called a hug, Prowl. You give them to folks who need to feel better. Is it working?”
The doorwinged mech actually blinked at him, then appeared to be considering his current circumstances. Jazz snickered and Prowl smiled faintly.
“Contrary to what you seem to think, I do know what a hug is.” He leant into the embrace, optics dimming. “Thank you.”
= = =
The door slid open with no more force than usual, though the mech opening it looked like he wished he could slam the thing open before he entered and stalked to his berth. Prowl looked into a blazing visor, put his bookfile down on his own recharge platform and crossed over to Jazz’s. A hand to the Ops trainee’s shoulder was abruptly shrugged away, though Jazz’s expression briefly flashed apologetic before settling straight back into ‘stormy’. He turned his back to his roommate, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his helm in them.
Prowl regarded the other mech for a moment, then settled behind Jazz with a quiet cycle of air. Jazz started, then growled.
“Prowl.”
“Yes Jazz?”
“Why are you on my berth?”
“Because my own is presently cluttered with my belongings.”
Jazz lifted his head to look at the other black and white, glanced at Prowl’s berth, ‘cluttered’ with its sole bookfile lying atop it, then back at Prowl. The tactician trainee smiled faintly, turning away to look at another datapad, and Jazz felt the mech lean back, Prowl’s doorwings moving to surround him. He blinked, and the sensitive panels folded, pressing against the visored mech's sides gently, almost like a… hug. Jazz chuckled, tilting his helm back so that it lay against Prowl’s.
“Doorwing hugs. Y’always have to do things differently.”
“I apologise. They’re not quite as good as proper ones.” Prowl murmured, tapping on his datapad with a stylus. Jazz chuckled again.
“No. They’re better.”
= = =
“Have you seen Jazz?”
“No. He’s probably with Prowl, going over the reports for that last battle.”
“Already? He just got out of medical!”
“Well, it was a pretty bad fight. Bluestreak, Bumblebee and Mirage are still down, Optimus is making do with one arm, and even though we got most of the humans to safety, most isn’t the same as all.”
“Frag. They’re probably running themselves into the ground right now with a tactics and strategy discussion.”
“Yeah. I don’t recommend interrupting until tomorrow, when they’ve had time to work off their moods.”
“I’ll spread the word.”
= = =
Anyone who might have dared peek in on the two officers would have probably frozen in their tracks. Prowl stood holding a report, a pair of black arms about his middle, just under his bumper. If one looked carefully, they might spot a dark helm resting against the back of the SIC’s.
If one stayed long enough to notice, they might also observe a pair of black and white doorwings flicking back to fold themselves against Jazz, almost like a hug.