Blood Ties -- Territoriality

[lobaeclipse]

Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro et al.
Title: Blood Ties - Territoriality   
Rating: T for the intro and the usual K+ for the rest
Word Count: ~4,000
Warnings:  Alternate Universe; Transformers as organic animal shapeshifters; kid!fic (no mpreg) with said kid being an OC; brief gore/violence; slashy subtext
Timeframe/Setting: G1 pre-war AU.  So very, very AU.  Set in a world of human/animal shapeshifters where magic and technology live side by side. 
Summary: Prowl’s been thinking and Jazz is sulking.

A/N: I’m kinda ‘meh’ about this chapter.  It’s fluff.  I usually like fluff.  Once you get past the first section, it’s all fluff with a little bit of character development and worldbuilding.  Without a major conflict if feels sort of incomplete to me.  But it is fluffy.  This has also been up on FF.net for a while and I forgot to post it here.  I'm still poking the next chapter/story/installment/whatever because the middle is being stupid.

Jazz hated the gladiatorial rings.  He hated the stench - the sweaty crowd pressed around him and the bloody, filthy pit below him.  He hated the spectators who shouted encouragement as transformers tore each other to pieces.  He hated the bookies and the big bosses who earned their living by forcing others to kill.  He hated the rings themselves, how they just wouldn’t die and how it seemed two more appeared as soon as one was shut down.  He hated the shifty, greedy persona he adopted to make himself fit it.

A shift in the cheering drew his attention back to the pit.  It was the last fight of the night, the winners’ showdown.  A grizzled ’possum was facing off against a young hyena.  Had they been in natural forms it wouldn’t have been mush of a fight but in beast form the ’possum was at least as big at the hyena, maybe even a bit larger.  He had been using his size and mouthful of razor sharp teeth to his advantage amid shouts of “Grinner!  Sic ’im, Grinner!” but the tables had turned.  The hyena had ducked down and clamped his jaws on the ’possum’s belly.  He held on while his ears were torn into bloody ribbons and the crowd roared its approval.  The ’possum twisted away and stumbled back but the hyena pressed his advantage.  He tore at the same spot again and again, until the ’possum was reduced to kicking feebly at his own guts.  The catchers didn’t interfere.  Only one winner would walk away from the last fight.  When the ’possum was finally still and the spectators were cheering or booing as the hyena was led away on trembling legs, Jazz shoved his way to the window to collect his winnings and tamped down the urge to vomit.

The pits were well named.  They held noting but torment and damnation.

ooo
When he finally got home, Jazz slept for most of a day.  Late afternoon sun was sneaking through the curtains as he ate his breakfast and checked the messages on his phone.  The first one had been sent five days ago and was from Stormy, who had apparently stolen Prowl’s phone.  He snickered through that one and the next, which was of Prowl apologizing.  The next two were from two of his brothers.  He’d talk to them when he was in a better mood.  The last was from Prowl and had only been sent a few hours earlier.

“If you need to detox when you get up, Stormy and I will be at the park for most of the afternoon.  You are welcome to join us,” he said.

Primus bless him.  Weekend afternoons at a little park down the street was father-daughter time.  Jazz might spend half his time with them, love Prowl in a way that wasn’t strictly platonic, teach Stormy every child-appropriate song he knew, and generally treat them like they were his own pack, but he didn’t intrude on park time.  It was something between Prowl and Stormy; Jazz was happy to let them have it.

But missions in the rings made him lose all faith in society.  Being around scum and forcing himself to pretend to be one put him in a foul mood for days.  Pretty much the only thing that could pull him out of it was Stormy’s carefree cheerfulness and Prowl’s unquestioning support.

He mulled it over while he finished eating.  He didn’t want to intrude if he wasn’t wanted.  But he knew that Prowl never said anything he didn’t mean.

ooo
The park was an acre of grass bordered by small trees in a public lot amongst the apartment buildings on Prowl’s street.  It had slides and whirligigs and sandboxes at one end with benches in the shade.  The rest was a mowed field where the older kids - and some adults, too - liked to play ball or tag.  It was surprisingly empty for a warm afternoon when Jazz got there.  There were some teenagers playing ball in the field and a handful of younger kids in the sandbox with a man and a woman looking over them.  Jazz recognized Prowl’s crest from behind and sauntered over.

“Hey, Prowler,” he said, sliding onto the bench beside him and feeling only a little guilty when Prowl jumped.

“Good evening, Jazz,” said Prowl, somehow managing to sound both pleased and scolding at the same time.

The woman peered at him skeptically.

“Phantom, this is Jazz.  Jazz, this is my cousin Phantom,” Prowl added.

She greeted him with a small smile.  “It’s good to meet you, Jazz,” she said.  “Prowl and Stormhunter have nothing but praise for you.”

“Nice to meet ya, too,” he replied with an easy grin.  He had heard that name before and he was pretty sure Prowl had mentioned her in a positive light.

He was spared fumbling for polite small talk when she turned back to the children.  Jazz settled leaning against Prowl’s shoulder and followed her gaze.

Stormy was happily digging a hole with a slightly older boy.  He had yellow eyes and a scruffy head of hair that would probably be replaced with a crest when he was older.  A raptor chick still in grey nestling down was perched on the edge of the box chirring at them.

“Well, the boys and I should get going if we want to be home before dark,” Phantom said after a few minutes of quiet.  “We’ll see you later.  Streetwise!  Bluestreak!” she called.

Streetwise and Bluestreak weren’t interested.  They gave her piteous looks when Phantom went to the box to gather up her reluctant children.  She took the boy by the hand and picked up the youngster, who sat in the crook of her elbow and cooed.

Jazz propped his chin on Prowl’s shoulder.  “Did I scare her off?” he asked softly.

“Not directly,” said Prowl in kind.  “She is not . . . entirely comfortable with my sexuality.  She is willing to tolerate it, if only for Stormy’s sake.”  ‘Which is more than can be said for nearly everyone else in the family’ was unspoken but well understood.

“I’m sorry,” Jazz muttered.

Prowl shrugged the shoulder Jazz wasn’t leaning on.

Phantom passed them on the way to the gate holding one child and leading the other, who had turned back to wave at Stormy.

“See you next week?” she said with a little smile that might have been apologetic.

Prowl nodded.  “Stormy and I will be here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Jazz,” she said, and the nestling chirped at him brightly.

“Y’all, too,” he said and added a smile for the nestling, who immediately turned bashful and hid his face.

Jazz leaned a little closer to Prowl when they had gone.

Stormy looked disappointed to lose her playmates until -

“Uncle Jazz!” she crowed.

He caught her before she ran into his knee and let her wrap her arms around his neck.

“Missed you,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“I missed you, too, Stormy.”

“We goin’ home now?” she said.

“We can stay a bit longer,” said Prowl.

“But Street an’ Blue go.”

“They are headed home, yes.  But we don’t have as far to go.”

“’Kay,” she said.  “You play with me, Papa?” she asked and slithered out of Jazz’s lap to the ground.

Prowl shot her a look that Jazz could only describe as coy.  “I suppose,” he drawled.

She transformed and spun around in a circle, quivering all over with delight.

Prowl let his head fall against the backrest.  “One,” he said to the cloud-streaked sky.

She whooped impatiently and stomped her front feet.

“Two,” said Prowl.  “I know you’re still there,” he added without looking at her.

She huffed and backed up a few steps.  Jazz settled in to watch the show.

“Three.  You’d better run.”  Prowl was smirking openly.  “Four,” he said slowly.

She backed up a little more and fidgeted.

Prowl was quiet for a long moment, then, “Five!” he shot off the bench and transformed before he hit the ground. 
Stormy squealed in mock terror and bolted for the field as fast as her stubby legs would carry her.  He could have caught her in half a heartbeat, of course, but Prowl jogged behind her at a fraction his usual pace.  He nudged her with his snout and pretended to bite.  She ran circles around him and tried to dodge his false bites.  When they got bored of that, he gently pushed her over and retreated a few steps to let her chase him around the field.  Getting knocked down seemed to be the signal to switch roles, because every now and then Prowl would just flop down and let her crawl all over him before she ran away again and he got up to chase her.  Jazz grinned while he watched them and wondered if he dared take a few image captures when Prowl wasn’t looking.

Stormy scampered away from Prowl and reared up to paw at Jazz’s knee.  She was bright-eyed and panting, and he couldn’t help but to smile back at her.

“Go on, then,” he said, shooing her away.  “He’s gonna catch you.”

But Prowl was just standing a few yards away watching them.

Stormy pounced on his leg again, then skittered back to play-bow and wag her tail like a dog.

“Weirdo,” Jazz muttered.  “What?  Ya wan’ me to play, too?”

Stormy whooped.  Prowl smirked.  Even his blandest expression in beast form showed lots of teeth, but Jazz knew he was smirking.  Somehow.

“Alright, alright.”  Jazz transformed and pounced.

Prowl swung in beside him and together they chased Stormy around the field.  Then Jazz pushed Stormy down and they ran away from her for a while.  She couldn’t decide which one of them to chase and ended up zigzagging around trying to herd them together.  When Prowl flopped, Jazz followed his lead.  Stormy pounced on him and Jazz wrapped his forelegs around her and hugged her to his chest.  He licked her ears until she transformed and giggled in his fur.  Pleased that he was keeping her occupied, Prowl rolled over on his belly and began putting his feathers in order.

The teenagers left the park, talking and laughing amongst themselves.  Jazz took a long, deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh.  They were uncommonly polite for teens - or, Jazz figured, they simply weren’t interested in a couple of adults and a little kid - and he couldn’t really begrudge them for using a public park, but Jazz wasn’t really in the mood to tolerate anyone’s company besides his odd little adopted pack.

Jazz transformed into human form and leaned back against Prowl’s flank.  Stormy settled on his chest and filled him in on all the important things he’d missed over the past week.  Part of her monologue slipped into avian and he had to interrupt her periodically to request that she switch to the common language.  She didn’t seem to understand why he wasn’t following her, and Jazz felt Prowl chuckle when he got scolded for not paying attention.

“What new things did you learn this week, sugar?” he asked.

He successfully derailed her into a naming game that mostly involved Stormy getting tickles and Jazz getting kicks in the ribs.  Prowl finished preening, transformed, and scooted a safe distance away.  He folded his legs and watched them with a fond half-smile.

“Toes, toes, toes!” Stormy managed to shriek between giggles.

He backed off and let her catch her breath.

“Ear!” she said, batting his hand away.  “Ehwl-bow . . . nose . . . knee,” she added as he poked each in turn.

“Eyes,” Jazz turned the tables on her.

She pointed to her own.

“Fingers.”

She wiggled them in his face.

“Alright, smartypants, where’s your spark?”

After a questioning glance at her papa, she patted her chest.  “Inside.  Can’s see it,” she said.

“Clever girl,” said Jazz.  “And what does it do?”

“It’s . . . it’s so I can change,” she said, tugging on the transformation charm on her collar.  The only other charm she had was a tracker keyed to the one on Prowl’s collar.  “You have one?”

“’Course.  Everybody’s got a spark.”

“I knowed that.”  She rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion that would be sure to drive Prowl completely up the wall once she hit puberty.  She pointed at the charms on his collar.

“Transformation charm?” said Jazz.

She nodded and mouthed the long word.  He sounded it out for her until she could parrot it back to him.

“I’ve got two, actually,” he said and let her examine both of them.

“Why?”

“One is for beast form and one for natural form,” he said.

She cocked her head like a puzzled bird.

“Now you get to explain advanced physics and alchemy to a three-year-old,” said Prowl.

“Three an’ a half!”

“Begging your pardon, three-and-a-half,” said Prowl.

“Why two?  Uncle Jazz?” she whined and poked his chest when he didn’t respond.

“Hang on a sec, I’m ponderin’,” he said.  Prowl was right.  It was a pretty complicated subject for a toddler. 
Nevertheless, it all boiled down to size.  “Alright,” he said after a bit.  “Ya see that squirrel over there?”

She looked where he was pointing and nodded.  The squirrels and birds in the park were half-tame from handouts and a grey squirrel was foraging in the grass not too far away, completely ignoring them.

“It’s a natural animal, right?”

She sniffed the air and nodded again as she stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Ya think a think a transformer as big as me could scrunch down as little as that?”

She giggled.  “No,” she said around her thumb.

“What about a squirrel transformer?”

She looked between him and the squirrel.  “Big,” she said thoughtfully.

“A big human form makes a big beast form, that’s right,” he said, feeling a little smug.

“So why two?” she said.

“I’m gettin’ there.  Beast form is however big the human form is,” he said, tugging on one charm.  “That’s this one.”

She examined it carefully.

“The other one,” he proffered it, “is for natural form.  It’s however big the natural animal is.”

“How does squish?” she said, wrinkling her nose.

He tapped her chest.  “It uses spark energy,” he said.  “That’s why people usually use beast form.  It doesn’t make you as tired because it uses less energy.”

She digested that information for a bit.  “And beast form bigger.”

“Depends on the animal,” he said.  “A squirrel’s beast form is bigger.  Mine is, too.  Prowl, of course, is backwards.  His natural form is bigger.”

She gave him a curious look and Prowl nodded.  She examined his charms, too, comparing them to Jazz’s.

“But I has one,” she said slowly.

“Your natural form is same size as your beast form, so you don’t have to worry about it,” Jazz said.  At her skeptical look, he grinned and ruffled her hair.  “You’re special, kiddo.  Not many people are like that.”

That mollified her.  Before too long she was asking questions about his other charms and he explained them all as simply as he could - a communicator charm that linked him to other members of his team when he was in the field; a trait charm that allowed him to keep his coyote tail in human form; a subspace charm that stored his clothing and paraphernalia when he transformed.

“So I don’t transform into a human in my birthday suit and traumatize everybody,” he said.  It gave her the giggles and Prowl made a soft noise in his throat.  “Almost everybody,” he amended softly with a smirk.

Prowl pinched his flank.  “Do not traumatize my child.”

“She didn’t hear me,” Jazz hissed.

“Hear what?” Stormy sat up.

“Hear my plot to count your ribs!”

The bruises he collected from her flailing feet were well worth the exasperated smile he earned from Prowl.      
They called a truce in the midst of the ticklefight to stop and watch the sunset.  It was quite pretty - bright, hot orange and smoky purple that faded into midnight blue and blackness.  Stormy named all the colors she recognized until she abruptly fell asleep.

“Are you ready to go home?” said Prowl.  Jazz made a face and Prowl laughed softly.  “Or go to my home?” he amended.

“I could stand that,” he said.  He rearranged Stormy in his arms and let Prowl haul him to his feet.

It was only a short walk to Prowl’s apartment and since Stormy was much easier to carry when one had opposable thumbs they didn’t bother to transform.  The gaslights cast a flickering orange glow over everything.  Jazz never thought the city smelled great - too many people, not enough trees - but the cool wind in his face was much better than what he’d been putting up with over the last few days.  Prowl walked beside him, close but not quite touching, all the way to the door.

They had to wake Stormhunter up to feed her, and for once she wasn’t very enthusiastic about snitching food off of their plates.  She was old enough to have her own chair and dishes but before the meal was over she was dozing in Prowl’s lap.  He stroked her messy curls while he talked to Jazz.  His comments on office drama at the station were sharp and dry, but they had Jazz snickering even when Prowl showed only the faintest spark of humor in his eyes.

Stormy woke up enough to demand a story before bed.  Prowl being Prowl, he didn’t tell her just the usual avian stories like the Ballad of Isla Nublar and Frightful’s Adventures in the Mountains.  No, Prowl’s bedtime stories were myths and folktales from all over the world - of Sham, the stallion born from the desert wind; of El-ahrairah, the trickster god of the rabbits; of the vagabonds Firekeeper, Blind Seer, and Elation and their adventures in strange lands; of the Great Lion and his defeat of the White Witch; of Kotick the seal, who lead his people to freedom; of Yeller and Kitty and countless other dogs who gave their all to protect their families.  But once Stormy was settled under her blanket, Prowl had barely begun the tale of how Tha the first elephant created the jungle, before his cub was asleep again.

ooo
Jazz awoke in a panic.  It was dark and he was trapped with memories of blood in his nose and screams in his ears.  He held himself perfectly still with every muscle as tense as a coiled spring.  After two deep breaths he recognized Prowl’s house and relaxed.  Prowl claimed that avians were not as keen on cuddling as mammals, but that was hard to believe when said avian was wrapped around him like a second skin.  The soft huff of breath on his neck reassured Jazz more than anything else.

He stayed still and quiet and hoped he could fall asleep again.  After nearly an hour had passed, he heard a snuffling whine from down the hall.  Prowl grumbled without fully waking up.

“Want me to get her?” said Jazz.

“Spoiling her,” Prowl muttered.

“Um, yeah.”

Prowl sighed.  “Yeah.”

“Yer gonna have to let go o’ me, then, Prowler.”

“Mmph.”  Prowl slowly unwound himself.

Stormy was sitting up in the middle of her bed with a tousled head and wide eyes.  Her bedroom had once been Prowl’s study, but she had decided that she liked it best during the daytime and preferred sleeping in her papa’s bed.  She reached for Jazz as soon as she saw him and he didn’t bother trying to deter her.

Jazz tucked himself back in his spot between Prowl and the wall.  They had put the mattress back in its frame and Stormy had spent a few nights enthralled at the closer ceiling.  But she was apparently used to it or too tired to care because as soon as Jazz was still, she was asleep.  They nestled together - Prowl curled around Jazz curled around Stormy - and Jazz was asleep again in moments.

ooo
“Heya, Prowler.”

“Afternoon,” said Prowl absently.

“Y’know, some people actually eat on their lunch breaks,” said Jazz.

“And some special operatives have mastered the fine art of subtle conversation.”

“Ouch.”

“And I ate already, mother hen,” Prowl smirked and patted the spot beside him invitingly.

Jazz, still feigning insult (“You’re the mother hen”), hefted himself up onto the chest-high retaining wall that surrounded one of the flowerbeds in an out-of-the-way courtyard in the enforcers’ headquarters.  It was rarely frequented, and Prowl was fond of slipping off there when the weather was nice.  At the moment, he was engrossed in a book with the remnants of his lunch forgotten beside him.  Jazz settled on his other side with his own food.  He ate it slowly, squinting in the sunshine and sniffing the occasional breeze that managed to reach them.

“So, what’s the new book?” he asked after a while.  “The usual obscure masterpiece?”

“Housing review.”

“Come again?”

“It’s the local housing review,” said Prowl.

“. . . Ah.”

“I’m thinking of buying a house, so I need to study the local market.”

Jazz had no intelligent response for this unexpected information.  Prowl took to change about as well as fish took to trees.

“I’ve only been thinking about it for a little while,” he added, still without looking up.

“Thought you liked your apartment,” Jazz said slowly.

“I do.  But I want Stormy to have a yard and . . . it’s been a bit cramped lately.”

Jazz winced.  “So is this your super-subtle way of telling me to bugger off?”

“No,” said Prowl.  “This is my non-subtle way of telling you that I’m looking for somewhere all three of us will be comfortable and very, very non-subtlely asking you to officially move in.”

Jazz thought about that for a while.  Prowl calmly flipped a few pages.

“I want - I, I mean -”

“You don’t have to answer me right now, you know,” Prowl said, still resolutely not looking at him.

“It - it’s not that.  I’d love to live with you, and you know it.”

Prowl glanced at him.  “But?”

“But . . . you know what I do for a living, Prowl.  The places I go, the people I deal with.  I don’t want to - I can’t bring that home to you and Stormy every night.”

“Well, if odd hours and nightmares are all we have to worry about -”

“That’s not it,” Jazz cut him off.  “It’s - what if someone found out who I was - or just followed me home, Prowl?”

“Then he would have two sets of teeth to worry about instead of just one,” Prowl said low in his throat.

“Exactly!  I couldn’t bear it if I put you and Stormy in danger!”

“You think that you are safer on your own, that I am a hindrance to you?” snapped Prowl.  “You think that I don’t worry for you when you’re alone?”

“Of course not,” said Jazz weakly.  “But your cub -”

“- is safer with her family than she is with me alone,” said Prowl.

Jazz couldn’t find an argument for that.  He stared at his hands clenched tightly in his lap.  They were silent for a long while before Prowl spoke.

“I’ve been looking through the records,” he said softly.  “Nothing in you file suggests that you have ever been compromised on a mission.  Of those who have, only one is still on the force and you have never worked with him.  He and nearly three-quarters of the others who were compromised did so within their first four years of service.  The remainder were in deep-cover, long-term missions that you are unlikely to be assigned,” Prowl said softly.

Jazz stared at him with a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a sort of longing emotion that he didn’t have a name for.  Prowl’s crest flicked while he continued to study the book in his lap.

“So what have you been looking at?” Jazz finally asked, leaning over to peer at the book.

The edges of Prowls lips curled up in the faintest of smiles.

ooo 
A/N:  I cannot claim credit for Prowl’s bedtime stories, of course.  That whole paragraph is basically a list of my favorite stories from childhood and today.

And I must sincerely apologize to the readers I inadvertently confused in previous chapters.  I hope Jazz explained the different forms well enough for you.  Here’s the cliffnotes version:

Human Form - The default form.  Transformers in this story are either alternate universe humans or suspiciously humanoid aliens.  Most adults have a retained trait, usually distinctive to their animal form species, which serves as an identifying feature and an aid in communication while in human form (like Jazz’s tail and Prowl’s crest).

Beast Form - Animal form that is the same mass/size as the human form.  For example, Jazz transforms into a rather large coyote and Prowl transforms into a very small raptor.  It is the second most commonly used form after human form, and is usually reserved for travel, playing, or specialized tasks that require animal senses or features (such as Hound and his trackers in the previous chapter).

Natural Form - Animal form that is the same mass/size as the natural animal.  Most Transformers do not use natural form often, as it requires more spark energy than beast form.  Transforming into something like an elephant would render said transformer too exhausted to do much without resting and eating a great deal, so it isn’t usually worth the bother.  The exceptions are those like Stormy, whose natural form has the same mass as her human form, and those who have jobs that require them to be a certain size, such as the horse enforcer in chapter two.

Also available on FF.net.