[G1] Apple a Day 19 - On the Hunt
a/n: No Ratchet/Twins in this one but one mystery is solved! Huzzah!
Title: On the Hunt
Universe: G1, Apple a Day
Characters: Jazz, Red Alert, Blaster
Rating: K+
Warnings: None really
Description: There's mystery afoot and Jazz is determined to get some answers.
Jazz plops down into the seat and plants his most winning smile on his face. “Hey, Red--”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Jazz cycles his optics. “Wow. That was kinda abrupt. You don't even know what I'm about to ask.”
Red Alert fixes him with a gimlet optic, just one however, because the other is fully focused on the array of security monitors. “I don't need to know. Unless you bring me an order issued by Prowl and Prime, my answer is no.”
Jazz arches an orbital ridge. “I rank you.”
Red Alert huffs a ventilation and returns his optic to the task at hand. He doesn't rebut Jazz's statement but neither does he acknowledge Jazz any further. His fingers are far too busy with the keyboard and the four cables he has connecting himself to the console are also responsible for stealing his focus.
Still. He should be able to carry on a conversation.
“Red?”
Nope. Shut down. Completely.
Well, Jazz supposes this is one argument he's not going to win. Red Alert's even more stubborn than Prowl and twice as ornery. He's really going to make Jazz get a proper order knowing good well Jazz's current business is off-the-record.
Grr.
Jazz hauls himself back to his pedes and slips into a long stretch. “Fine,” Jazz says, dragging out the glyphs just to watch Red Alert twitch. “But I'll be back.”
Red Alert makes a noncommittal noise without sparing Jazz another glance.
Jazz drags himself from the security room, a mech defeated. Unlucky that Red Alert had parsed this wasn't official business. Otherwise he wouldn't have given Jazz so much.
S'okay though. Because Jazz has a back up plan.
He hangs a sharp left and heads for communications. His main mech should be on duty, due to head off within the hour and Jazz better catch him before he switches out for someone a little less bribeable. Like Windcharger. Jazz still hasn't figured out what gets the mini's magnetics charged.
It's on his to do list though.
Down the hall, Jazz hears Blaster before he sees the carrier mech. Music is loud enough to be heard through the door, and it's a grooving beat, too. Jazz adds a shuffle and a twist to his walk as he keys the door open and dances into communications.
Here it's even louder and Jazz isn't surprised to find that Blaster's on-shift alone. Prime must be in recharge or out on one of his rare patrols if he hasn't commed in to demand that Blaster turn that nonsense off.
Sometimes, the Boss just doesn't have a sense of style.
Blaster is bobbing his helm to the music as he sits at the console, cabled like Red Alert only slightly less so.
“Blaster, my mech!” Jazz says, throwing himself over the back of an empty chair and landing asprawl in it next to his best musical buddy. “How’s it hummin’?”
Blaster tips his helm toward Jazz, a smile curving on his lips. “In tune and on beat, my main mech,” he says with a wink. “What’s shakin’?”
“Not the ground, I hope,” Jazz says and leans his chair back, propping his pedes up on the console.
Blaster, at least, won’t fuss at him like Red would.
“Nothin’ stirrin’ out there either.” Blaster’s left hand waves toward the monitors and then taps his audials.
No word from the Cons then. Or transmissions from out yonder. Cosmos must not have checked in yet either. And… Jazz checks… nope. Not time for the patrols to comm in either. All’s quiet on the front. For now.
“Good ta know.” Jazz bobs his helm to the beat, his pedes bouncing on the console. He might have to get this track from Blaster. He's rather keen on it. “Got a question for ya.”
“I'm all audials.”
“Ya remember the party last month, right?”
Blaster grins at him. “I remember. Hadn't had high grade like that in forever. And obviously, the crew hadn't either. There were a lot of overcharged mechs that night.” He pauses and the music lowers in volume. “I seem ta remember you leavin' with a quiet little microscope.”
“I did. I did.” Jazz smiles, the flush of warmth that flutters his spark as weird as it is exciting.
Perceptor is cute and quiet and almost meek, except when you get him going, and he's one of the last mechs Jazz thought he would have fallen for. But here he is, chasing after Perceptor like a lost puppy, spark aflutter at every shy smile he coaxes free.
“Wow.” Blaster spins his chair, giving Jazz a long look. “Hadn't seen that look on you before. It suits you.”
Jazz folds his arms under his bumper, tapping his fingers over his grill. “Thanks. But enough about me. I got a mystery that needs solving and Red's already told me--”
“--to get lost?”
“He was very polite about it. Sorta.” Jazz gives Blaster a rueful grin. “He doesn't understand the importance of this investigation.”
Blaster chuckles. “Well then. What's needin' investigating?”
Jazz listens to the last strains of the song and waits for the next to start up before he answers. “A certain pal of 'Ceptor's is unhappy and I'm aimin' to find out why. Seems to me things didn't go so well for him the night of the party. I'm a mite bit curious as to who the dance partner was.”
“Ah.” Blaster pauses, something in his expression shifting downward. “I'm guessing you're talking about Skyfire.”
“Knew I could count on you, my main mech.” Jazz twirls his chair, spinning it to face Blaster and allowing him to prop his pedes on the arm of Blaster's chair. “What have those amazin' audials of yours picked up?”
Blaster cycles a ventilation and then the music cuts off. “I, uh, actually know the answer to your question.”
Jazz lifts his orbital ridges. “Oh? Spill.”
“That, uh, was me.” Blaster scratches at his chin and gives Jazz a lopsided smile. “... Surprise?”
Jazz cycles his optics. Whoa. He had not expected that at all.
Blaster spread his hands. “See. Here's the thing. I thought he wanted somethin' casual. Y'know? All in good fun? But then it turns out, no, he actually kind of... likes me? And 'Fire's a cool mech. He's hot as frag. But me? I'm not looking for commitment. Got the little mechs to think of, y'know? And this war...?” He rubs the back of his helm, his field pulsing with apology. “I just don't want to get attached to someone who might not come back, ya dig?”
Oh, dear. This is a pretty pickle.
“Ah,” Jazz says and no, it's not the most suave response he could have come up with but Blaster had spoken all that in a rush. “I take it, then, you've noticed how less than chirrupy our shuttle friend has become?”
Blaster's shoulders slump and he twists his fingers together. “Yeah. I tried talkin' to him, but he's avoidin' me. Not that I blame him.”
Ah. And this would be the reason romantic entanglements are occasionally frowned upon. It doesn't help that it's poor Skyfire, whose struggles to find his place have been well-noted by Jazz.
He sighs. Well, at least he's got an answer to give Perceptor even if it's not a pretty one.
“I'll take care o' it,” Jazz promises. He sits up with a snap of the chair and pats Blaster on the shoulder. “These things happen sometime.”
He leaves a less than cheery Blaster behind, whose tunes have shifted from a jamming beat to something with a lot less pep, and ventures back into the Ark. This is a delicate situation, Jazz ponders. One that must be handled with the utmost care. Jazz suspects there had been some miscommunication involved, no doubt attributed in part to the copiously flowing high grade.
It's always the high grade.
Still.
That's going to be an awkward situation for a while. Luckily, they don't really travel the same social circles but if Skyfire's on long-range patrol and Blaster's on the comms? Awk-ward. Oh, they'll be professional, but Jazz doesn't want to be nearby. He cringes just thinking about it.
How to solve this without hurting either of them? Getting them to talk to each other would be a good start. Make sure there's no hard feelings, et cetera.
Because if Optimus has noticed that Skyfire's sulking more than usual, that means it's a Problem To Be Solved and he'd looked at Jazz as the Problem-Solver. So. Jazz flexes his fingers and cracks his knuckles, a nice mannerism Sparkplug taught him.
Time to get to work.
He just has to find Skyfire first.
***
a/n: And that's the last of the chapters I had in stock for Apple a Day. Hopefully, I can get a few more written in the future. I have way too many projects on hand, lol.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I love to hear what you think! ^_^
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/299817.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: On the Hunt
Universe: G1, Apple a Day
Characters: Jazz, Red Alert, Blaster
Rating: K+
Warnings: None really
Description: There's mystery afoot and Jazz is determined to get some answers.
Jazz plops down into the seat and plants his most winning smile on his face. “Hey, Red--”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Jazz cycles his optics. “Wow. That was kinda abrupt. You don't even know what I'm about to ask.”
Red Alert fixes him with a gimlet optic, just one however, because the other is fully focused on the array of security monitors. “I don't need to know. Unless you bring me an order issued by Prowl and Prime, my answer is no.”
Jazz arches an orbital ridge. “I rank you.”
Red Alert huffs a ventilation and returns his optic to the task at hand. He doesn't rebut Jazz's statement but neither does he acknowledge Jazz any further. His fingers are far too busy with the keyboard and the four cables he has connecting himself to the console are also responsible for stealing his focus.
Still. He should be able to carry on a conversation.
“Red?”
Nope. Shut down. Completely.
Well, Jazz supposes this is one argument he's not going to win. Red Alert's even more stubborn than Prowl and twice as ornery. He's really going to make Jazz get a proper order knowing good well Jazz's current business is off-the-record.
Grr.
Jazz hauls himself back to his pedes and slips into a long stretch. “Fine,” Jazz says, dragging out the glyphs just to watch Red Alert twitch. “But I'll be back.”
Red Alert makes a noncommittal noise without sparing Jazz another glance.
Jazz drags himself from the security room, a mech defeated. Unlucky that Red Alert had parsed this wasn't official business. Otherwise he wouldn't have given Jazz so much.
S'okay though. Because Jazz has a back up plan.
He hangs a sharp left and heads for communications. His main mech should be on duty, due to head off within the hour and Jazz better catch him before he switches out for someone a little less bribeable. Like Windcharger. Jazz still hasn't figured out what gets the mini's magnetics charged.
It's on his to do list though.
Down the hall, Jazz hears Blaster before he sees the carrier mech. Music is loud enough to be heard through the door, and it's a grooving beat, too. Jazz adds a shuffle and a twist to his walk as he keys the door open and dances into communications.
Here it's even louder and Jazz isn't surprised to find that Blaster's on-shift alone. Prime must be in recharge or out on one of his rare patrols if he hasn't commed in to demand that Blaster turn that nonsense off.
Sometimes, the Boss just doesn't have a sense of style.
Blaster is bobbing his helm to the music as he sits at the console, cabled like Red Alert only slightly less so.
“Blaster, my mech!” Jazz says, throwing himself over the back of an empty chair and landing asprawl in it next to his best musical buddy. “How’s it hummin’?”
Blaster tips his helm toward Jazz, a smile curving on his lips. “In tune and on beat, my main mech,” he says with a wink. “What’s shakin’?”
“Not the ground, I hope,” Jazz says and leans his chair back, propping his pedes up on the console.
Blaster, at least, won’t fuss at him like Red would.
“Nothin’ stirrin’ out there either.” Blaster’s left hand waves toward the monitors and then taps his audials.
No word from the Cons then. Or transmissions from out yonder. Cosmos must not have checked in yet either. And… Jazz checks… nope. Not time for the patrols to comm in either. All’s quiet on the front. For now.
“Good ta know.” Jazz bobs his helm to the beat, his pedes bouncing on the console. He might have to get this track from Blaster. He's rather keen on it. “Got a question for ya.”
“I'm all audials.”
“Ya remember the party last month, right?”
Blaster grins at him. “I remember. Hadn't had high grade like that in forever. And obviously, the crew hadn't either. There were a lot of overcharged mechs that night.” He pauses and the music lowers in volume. “I seem ta remember you leavin' with a quiet little microscope.”
“I did. I did.” Jazz smiles, the flush of warmth that flutters his spark as weird as it is exciting.
Perceptor is cute and quiet and almost meek, except when you get him going, and he's one of the last mechs Jazz thought he would have fallen for. But here he is, chasing after Perceptor like a lost puppy, spark aflutter at every shy smile he coaxes free.
“Wow.” Blaster spins his chair, giving Jazz a long look. “Hadn't seen that look on you before. It suits you.”
Jazz folds his arms under his bumper, tapping his fingers over his grill. “Thanks. But enough about me. I got a mystery that needs solving and Red's already told me--”
“--to get lost?”
“He was very polite about it. Sorta.” Jazz gives Blaster a rueful grin. “He doesn't understand the importance of this investigation.”
Blaster chuckles. “Well then. What's needin' investigating?”
Jazz listens to the last strains of the song and waits for the next to start up before he answers. “A certain pal of 'Ceptor's is unhappy and I'm aimin' to find out why. Seems to me things didn't go so well for him the night of the party. I'm a mite bit curious as to who the dance partner was.”
“Ah.” Blaster pauses, something in his expression shifting downward. “I'm guessing you're talking about Skyfire.”
“Knew I could count on you, my main mech.” Jazz twirls his chair, spinning it to face Blaster and allowing him to prop his pedes on the arm of Blaster's chair. “What have those amazin' audials of yours picked up?”
Blaster cycles a ventilation and then the music cuts off. “I, uh, actually know the answer to your question.”
Jazz lifts his orbital ridges. “Oh? Spill.”
“That, uh, was me.” Blaster scratches at his chin and gives Jazz a lopsided smile. “... Surprise?”
Jazz cycles his optics. Whoa. He had not expected that at all.
Blaster spread his hands. “See. Here's the thing. I thought he wanted somethin' casual. Y'know? All in good fun? But then it turns out, no, he actually kind of... likes me? And 'Fire's a cool mech. He's hot as frag. But me? I'm not looking for commitment. Got the little mechs to think of, y'know? And this war...?” He rubs the back of his helm, his field pulsing with apology. “I just don't want to get attached to someone who might not come back, ya dig?”
Oh, dear. This is a pretty pickle.
“Ah,” Jazz says and no, it's not the most suave response he could have come up with but Blaster had spoken all that in a rush. “I take it, then, you've noticed how less than chirrupy our shuttle friend has become?”
Blaster's shoulders slump and he twists his fingers together. “Yeah. I tried talkin' to him, but he's avoidin' me. Not that I blame him.”
Ah. And this would be the reason romantic entanglements are occasionally frowned upon. It doesn't help that it's poor Skyfire, whose struggles to find his place have been well-noted by Jazz.
He sighs. Well, at least he's got an answer to give Perceptor even if it's not a pretty one.
“I'll take care o' it,” Jazz promises. He sits up with a snap of the chair and pats Blaster on the shoulder. “These things happen sometime.”
He leaves a less than cheery Blaster behind, whose tunes have shifted from a jamming beat to something with a lot less pep, and ventures back into the Ark. This is a delicate situation, Jazz ponders. One that must be handled with the utmost care. Jazz suspects there had been some miscommunication involved, no doubt attributed in part to the copiously flowing high grade.
It's always the high grade.
Still.
That's going to be an awkward situation for a while. Luckily, they don't really travel the same social circles but if Skyfire's on long-range patrol and Blaster's on the comms? Awk-ward. Oh, they'll be professional, but Jazz doesn't want to be nearby. He cringes just thinking about it.
How to solve this without hurting either of them? Getting them to talk to each other would be a good start. Make sure there's no hard feelings, et cetera.
Because if Optimus has noticed that Skyfire's sulking more than usual, that means it's a Problem To Be Solved and he'd looked at Jazz as the Problem-Solver. So. Jazz flexes his fingers and cracks his knuckles, a nice mannerism Sparkplug taught him.
Time to get to work.
He just has to find Skyfire first.
***
a/n: And that's the last of the chapters I had in stock for Apple a Day. Hopefully, I can get a few more written in the future. I have way too many projects on hand, lol.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I love to hear what you think! ^_^
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/299817.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.