Of Bindings - A Confrontation and a Landing
Title: Of Bindings - A Confrontation and a Landing
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Twins. Smokescreen. Jazz. Prowl. Bluestreak.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you will stop.”
Smokescreen paused, looking over his shoulder at the glowering frontliner leaning against the wall, arms folded across his front.
“Well, I haven’t the faintest inkling as to what you might mean, Sideswipe.”
A low growl had him turning quickly in the direction it had come from, only to take a step back as Sunstreaker loomed over him. “Then let me clarify. Prowl’s already taken, in case you haven’t noticed, so quit dropping all your little hints and comments.”
The shorter mech recovered quickly, matching the twins glare for glare. “No, he’s not.”
“Then you’re glitched in the CPU as well as blind.”
“Really. Could you give up your brother, Sunstreaker? Break the bond that holds your sparks together? Jazz had his chance. He was fragging bonded to Prowl, and he gave that up. I’m free to express my interest.” Smokescreen challenged, and immediately regretted it when both twins growled dangerously at him. Sideswipe spoke again.
“There’s a difference between us and those two. We are one spark. Have been since we first onlined. There’s never been any doubt that we’re meant to be together. Those two aren’t spark twinned; what joined them was a bastardised connection formed out of desperation. I don’t blame Jazz for wanting Prowl to have this chance to decide, free of any influence a bond might have on him, if he really wants something more.”
The tactical mech wasn’t giving up so easily. “And if Prowl decides otherwise?”
“Then fine. We’ll stay out of the way while you try and turn Prowl’s head.” Sunstreaker took hold of his arm, the grip just a shade too tight and as immovable as an energon restraint. “But it will be his choice, and until he makes it, you’re not going to do anything to influence him. And that includes any and all flirting. Got it?”
Smokescreen glared once more, but nodded. Sunstreaker smirked, then let him go, the gesture making the mech stumble slightly. Job done, both twins stalked away, leaving the other mech to frown at their backs.
= = =
They were in the room that served as Prowl’s office, going over the plans for the trip to the nation’s capitol when Jazz paused, holding up one particular list.
“Prowl?”
“Yes?”
“… Why’s Smokescreen going in Sunstreaker’s place?” The silver mech turned to look at the SIC, expression puzzled, and Prowl shrugged, smiling at him wryly.
“Because having Sideswipe remain here was the greater of two evils.”
Jazz snorted, miming throwing the datapad he held at the other mech’s helm as the tactician chuckled. “So you’re offloading him on us instead? Gee, thanks. Now answer the question, for real this time.”
“Smokescreen’s attentions to me were making you uncomfortable.” The doorwinged mech’s gaze was as frank as his tone, and the saboteur sighed, crossing his arms before him and shifted his focus to the floor.
“What Smokescreen’s doing… It’s exactly what I wanted you to have. It’s a good thing. A necessary thing. The whole fragging reason I agreed to go with Prime on this trip, and to break our bond in the first place.”
“And at the same time it’s causing you to mentally sharpen those energon blades I know you carry.”
Jazz shook his head ruefully, a wan little smile on his faceplates, still avoiding the chevroned mech’s optics. “… You must think I’m the most irrational mech in existence right now.”
Prowl had started to smile, ever so slightly. “On Earth, maybe, and only at the moment.”
Reaching out to take the Ops mech’s hand, he brought it up to his chest and pressed it to where his spark lay hidden. “This is yours, Jazz. This separation isn’t going to change that. Your ‘irrationality’ gives me hope that you will still want it when you return.”
Jazz was silent, but his fingers curled against the SIC’s chestplates briefly before he slipped his hand free, cleared his vocaliser and picked up another datapad. Prowl had just reached for another file of his own when the door suddenly opened, and they looked up at the mech in the doorway, frozen in mid step, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Um…” Bluestreak blinked at them, then backed out again, edging for the doorframe, then peeking back in as if to check if the two mechs had suddenly vanished into thin air.
“Bluestreak?”
The sniper’s doorwings twitched erratically at the sound of Prowl’s voice, and he shuffled back into full view.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you two… I thought Prowl was alone in here.”
“We’re just sorting some of the finer details before Prime heads for D.C. Did you need something?” Jazz reassured him, only to raise an optic ridge when the mech’s sensor panels flickered even more.
“It can wait. Really. I’ll just come back when Prowl’s free-”
“Blue’, c’mere.” The silver bot sighed, beckoning to the gunner. The mech reluctantly made his way over, doors drooping a little, only to flare them in surprise when Jazz pulled him into a hug, chuckling slightly.
“I’m sorry.” Bluestreak’s voice was small, and muffled as he pressed his face into the Ops head’s shoulder, wrapping his arms about the smaller mech, clicking and chirring in contrition. Jazz rubbed the back of his helm, tone soothing.
“It’s okay.”
“I just wanted to help you because the both of you have been so good to me and kept an optic on me even when I was a rookie and making all sorts of mistakes and causing you all sorts of trouble and-” The Solstice smiled as Bluestreak babbled on (still muffled by his shoulder), looking up to catch Prowl’s fond optics on them.
::Figures, when we do things backwards, we go all the… way…::
Jazz’s smile faded once he realised what he’d done. Or had tried to do. A private comm. line opened up between them, the SIC’s tone quiet and understanding.
//I do it too. What did you want to say?//
//… Just musing that we seemed to have picked up a sparkling of our own along the way somehow. In the same aft backwards manner we seem to do everything.//
Prowl’s quiet laugh had the gunner looking up at him, expression concerned. The Ops head suppressed his own mirth, petting the confused mech’s helm again.
“Don’t fry a circuit, Blue’. Prowl explained. You meant well. And it did help us.”
“Not in the right way. You were supposed to complete the bond, not break it!”
“You know me and Prowl. We make our credits by not doing what everybody expects. S’helped keep our plating intact more than once.”
At the gunner’s aggravated grumble, Jazz did laugh out loud, and the tactician stepped into the conversation, his smile evident in his tone.
“Bluestreak, clearly, Jazz has forgiven you. Now that the more important matter has been dealt with, what prompted you to come looking for me in the first place?”
“Ah… We have a new arrival. Well. Sorta new. He actually landed before me. And before Prowl even. Can you guess who it is?” Bluestreak’s expression clearly stated that he was eagerly anticipating their reactions. The Solstice tilted his helm to one side, pondering the gunner’s announcement.
“But we haven’t picked up anything, and no one’s hailed us but those who’ve… Oh.”
Prowl had come to the same conclusion. “Red Alert?”
Bluestreak nodded, grinning widely. Jazz chirred in amusement. “Figures. He’s exactly the sort to sneak planetside, then spend ages verifying that we’re who we say we are and that no one’s controlling our CPUs in the case that we actually are who we say we are before announcing his presence.”
“Well… About that.” The gunner fidgeted, and the Ops head poked a doorwing, making him shy away with a squeak.
“Alright. Spill. You want to, I know.”
Bluestreak actually bounced. Just a little. “The humans found him first. Glen and Maggie. Ratchet’s got Red in the med bay being un-fritzed, and the twins are giving them a… they called it a victory lap? About the base.”
“Well now. That does deserve some sort of commemoration. Why don’t you go join them, Blue’? We’ll wrap up and then go give Maggie and Glen our congrats.”
“M’kay.” Beaming now, the gunner left the room, just in time to join the triumphant procession speeding through the corridors. Once the sound of car horns and revving engines had faded, Jazz glanced at Prowl, still smiling.
“Not gonna tell them to stop?”
“… I’ll give them five minutes.” The SIC glanced at his door again, expression somewhat bemused.
“Credit for your thoughts, Prowler.”
“… It occurs to me, Jazz, that you are now no longer the most irrational mech on Earth.”
“Can’t say I’m sad to have my reign ended.” The visored mech shrugged, then his smile turned into a smirk as he grabbed hold of the tactician’s hand, pulling him out of the room. “Now c’mon. Not every day someone gets one over Red, and I intend to savour the moment.”
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Twins. Smokescreen. Jazz. Prowl. Bluestreak.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you will stop.”
Smokescreen paused, looking over his shoulder at the glowering frontliner leaning against the wall, arms folded across his front.
“Well, I haven’t the faintest inkling as to what you might mean, Sideswipe.”
A low growl had him turning quickly in the direction it had come from, only to take a step back as Sunstreaker loomed over him. “Then let me clarify. Prowl’s already taken, in case you haven’t noticed, so quit dropping all your little hints and comments.”
The shorter mech recovered quickly, matching the twins glare for glare. “No, he’s not.”
“Then you’re glitched in the CPU as well as blind.”
“Really. Could you give up your brother, Sunstreaker? Break the bond that holds your sparks together? Jazz had his chance. He was fragging bonded to Prowl, and he gave that up. I’m free to express my interest.” Smokescreen challenged, and immediately regretted it when both twins growled dangerously at him. Sideswipe spoke again.
“There’s a difference between us and those two. We are one spark. Have been since we first onlined. There’s never been any doubt that we’re meant to be together. Those two aren’t spark twinned; what joined them was a bastardised connection formed out of desperation. I don’t blame Jazz for wanting Prowl to have this chance to decide, free of any influence a bond might have on him, if he really wants something more.”
The tactical mech wasn’t giving up so easily. “And if Prowl decides otherwise?”
“Then fine. We’ll stay out of the way while you try and turn Prowl’s head.” Sunstreaker took hold of his arm, the grip just a shade too tight and as immovable as an energon restraint. “But it will be his choice, and until he makes it, you’re not going to do anything to influence him. And that includes any and all flirting. Got it?”
Smokescreen glared once more, but nodded. Sunstreaker smirked, then let him go, the gesture making the mech stumble slightly. Job done, both twins stalked away, leaving the other mech to frown at their backs.
= = =
They were in the room that served as Prowl’s office, going over the plans for the trip to the nation’s capitol when Jazz paused, holding up one particular list.
“Prowl?”
“Yes?”
“… Why’s Smokescreen going in Sunstreaker’s place?” The silver mech turned to look at the SIC, expression puzzled, and Prowl shrugged, smiling at him wryly.
“Because having Sideswipe remain here was the greater of two evils.”
Jazz snorted, miming throwing the datapad he held at the other mech’s helm as the tactician chuckled. “So you’re offloading him on us instead? Gee, thanks. Now answer the question, for real this time.”
“Smokescreen’s attentions to me were making you uncomfortable.” The doorwinged mech’s gaze was as frank as his tone, and the saboteur sighed, crossing his arms before him and shifted his focus to the floor.
“What Smokescreen’s doing… It’s exactly what I wanted you to have. It’s a good thing. A necessary thing. The whole fragging reason I agreed to go with Prime on this trip, and to break our bond in the first place.”
“And at the same time it’s causing you to mentally sharpen those energon blades I know you carry.”
Jazz shook his head ruefully, a wan little smile on his faceplates, still avoiding the chevroned mech’s optics. “… You must think I’m the most irrational mech in existence right now.”
Prowl had started to smile, ever so slightly. “On Earth, maybe, and only at the moment.”
Reaching out to take the Ops mech’s hand, he brought it up to his chest and pressed it to where his spark lay hidden. “This is yours, Jazz. This separation isn’t going to change that. Your ‘irrationality’ gives me hope that you will still want it when you return.”
Jazz was silent, but his fingers curled against the SIC’s chestplates briefly before he slipped his hand free, cleared his vocaliser and picked up another datapad. Prowl had just reached for another file of his own when the door suddenly opened, and they looked up at the mech in the doorway, frozen in mid step, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Um…” Bluestreak blinked at them, then backed out again, edging for the doorframe, then peeking back in as if to check if the two mechs had suddenly vanished into thin air.
“Bluestreak?”
The sniper’s doorwings twitched erratically at the sound of Prowl’s voice, and he shuffled back into full view.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you two… I thought Prowl was alone in here.”
“We’re just sorting some of the finer details before Prime heads for D.C. Did you need something?” Jazz reassured him, only to raise an optic ridge when the mech’s sensor panels flickered even more.
“It can wait. Really. I’ll just come back when Prowl’s free-”
“Blue’, c’mere.” The silver bot sighed, beckoning to the gunner. The mech reluctantly made his way over, doors drooping a little, only to flare them in surprise when Jazz pulled him into a hug, chuckling slightly.
“I’m sorry.” Bluestreak’s voice was small, and muffled as he pressed his face into the Ops head’s shoulder, wrapping his arms about the smaller mech, clicking and chirring in contrition. Jazz rubbed the back of his helm, tone soothing.
“It’s okay.”
“I just wanted to help you because the both of you have been so good to me and kept an optic on me even when I was a rookie and making all sorts of mistakes and causing you all sorts of trouble and-” The Solstice smiled as Bluestreak babbled on (still muffled by his shoulder), looking up to catch Prowl’s fond optics on them.
::Figures, when we do things backwards, we go all the… way…::
Jazz’s smile faded once he realised what he’d done. Or had tried to do. A private comm. line opened up between them, the SIC’s tone quiet and understanding.
//I do it too. What did you want to say?//
//… Just musing that we seemed to have picked up a sparkling of our own along the way somehow. In the same aft backwards manner we seem to do everything.//
Prowl’s quiet laugh had the gunner looking up at him, expression concerned. The Ops head suppressed his own mirth, petting the confused mech’s helm again.
“Don’t fry a circuit, Blue’. Prowl explained. You meant well. And it did help us.”
“Not in the right way. You were supposed to complete the bond, not break it!”
“You know me and Prowl. We make our credits by not doing what everybody expects. S’helped keep our plating intact more than once.”
At the gunner’s aggravated grumble, Jazz did laugh out loud, and the tactician stepped into the conversation, his smile evident in his tone.
“Bluestreak, clearly, Jazz has forgiven you. Now that the more important matter has been dealt with, what prompted you to come looking for me in the first place?”
“Ah… We have a new arrival. Well. Sorta new. He actually landed before me. And before Prowl even. Can you guess who it is?” Bluestreak’s expression clearly stated that he was eagerly anticipating their reactions. The Solstice tilted his helm to one side, pondering the gunner’s announcement.
“But we haven’t picked up anything, and no one’s hailed us but those who’ve… Oh.”
Prowl had come to the same conclusion. “Red Alert?”
Bluestreak nodded, grinning widely. Jazz chirred in amusement. “Figures. He’s exactly the sort to sneak planetside, then spend ages verifying that we’re who we say we are and that no one’s controlling our CPUs in the case that we actually are who we say we are before announcing his presence.”
“Well… About that.” The gunner fidgeted, and the Ops head poked a doorwing, making him shy away with a squeak.
“Alright. Spill. You want to, I know.”
Bluestreak actually bounced. Just a little. “The humans found him first. Glen and Maggie. Ratchet’s got Red in the med bay being un-fritzed, and the twins are giving them a… they called it a victory lap? About the base.”
“Well now. That does deserve some sort of commemoration. Why don’t you go join them, Blue’? We’ll wrap up and then go give Maggie and Glen our congrats.”
“M’kay.” Beaming now, the gunner left the room, just in time to join the triumphant procession speeding through the corridors. Once the sound of car horns and revving engines had faded, Jazz glanced at Prowl, still smiling.
“Not gonna tell them to stop?”
“… I’ll give them five minutes.” The SIC glanced at his door again, expression somewhat bemused.
“Credit for your thoughts, Prowler.”
“… It occurs to me, Jazz, that you are now no longer the most irrational mech on Earth.”
“Can’t say I’m sad to have my reign ended.” The visored mech shrugged, then his smile turned into a smirk as he grabbed hold of the tactician’s hand, pulling him out of the room. “Now c’mon. Not every day someone gets one over Red, and I intend to savour the moment.”