More Imperium Cibertronium. Enter ze Wheeljack.
Title: We Chased Our Pleasures Here.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Other than Wheeljack taking off his mask, none I can think of.
Pairings: Implied Ironhide x Ratchet.
Characters: Prowl, Ironhide, Wheeljack. Mention of Chromia, Jazz, Ratchet, Red Alert and his suitor.
Summary: AU - Partly using Dreamwave's comics as basis. A re imagination of Cybertron's society where the line dividing slaves from nobles is so thin.
Notes: This one was supposed to be part of We Dug Our Treasures There, but I decided to put it separately. Prowl has a talk with Ironhide but is interrupted by the arrival of a family friend.
Not beta'ed, so feel free to correct me.
Ironhide groaned to himself, sorting through several data pads and other things laid out on his desk. He disliked to meddle with this kind of work, but he had promised Ratchet to give them a look, and it was in his best interest to keep up his promises with Ratchet, lest he wanted the medic to punish him.
"Uncle Ironhide? Are you busy?"
Prowl's voice in the small screen of the intercom on his desk was a welcomed distraction and Ironhide smiled to his nephew. "Nothin' that can't wait a little. Come on in."
Ironhide picked several pads to arrange them in a pile and clear his desktop a little when Prowl strode into the room, visibly disturbed. "What's wrong, boy?" Ironhide asked and motioned for his nephew to take a seat across the desk.
Prowl took a seat and fidgeted a little in the seat to make himself comfortable, unconsciously gripping the ends of the seat's arm rests. After a couple of kliks trying to put his thoughts in order, the younger mech finally dared to face Ironhide. "Uncle Ironhide, I... You know what happened a few orns ago?"
Ironhide raised an optic ridge and pushed the pile of pads aside carelessly. "Ya mean that stunt Chromia pulled askin' Jazz to interface with ya?"
Prowl nodded.
"What about it?"
"Uncle Ironhide, how did you know you wanted to be with uncle Ratchet as mates?"
The large red mech's optic ridge quirked as high as it was possible and stared at the black and white mech before him. "You want to know about me and Ratchet? Why?"
"I'm just curious."
Ironhide chuckled softly and shook his head, leaning back into the plush seat. "Curious my aft," Ironhide replied with evident amusement. "Are you ever goin' to tell that mech what you feel?"
Prowl frowned and shook his head. "He's a performer --one of the best in Cybertron. Why would he want to settle down with me of all mechs when he could have anyone he wanted?"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Prowl," the older mech replied and laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on the arm rests of his own seat. "Besides, why would you ask me about me and Ratchet if you have no intention of talking with Jazz?"
"I just want to know how you knew uncle Ratchet was the right mech for you. Perhaps this is just some phase for me." Prowl shrugged.
"Phase? Slag, Prowl. If this is a phase it's been goin' on for quite a few vorns now." Ironhide grinned when his nephew had the decency of looking embarrassed. "It's hard to tell. One orn we were introduced and few orns later I didn't want the mech to ever leave my side."
"You're so helpful, Ironhide."
Both Prowl and Ironhide turned to look at the door where a mech wearing a white sash was leaning casually against the frame.
"Well, well, if isn't mister blow-slag-and-himself-up, Wheeljack." the red mech smiled and motioned for his friend to come close. Wheeljack thanked the red mech and greeted Prowl before he made himself comfortable in the seat next to the younger mech.
"What brings you here? It's been a while, 'Jack," Ironhide asked while he pushed his seat back and stood up, heading for the nearby energon dispenser.
"It has. I've been pretty busy at the Tower, I'm the new head of the engineering department and I'm hating every moment of it." Wheeljack side glanced to Prowl who remained quiet, seemingly unwilling to bring up the discussion again with him there.
"Really? Why is that?" Ironhide came back with a couple of cans of energon, offering one to his nephew and one to his friend. "I would have thought you would be happy with such promotion."
The primarily silver and white mech thanked Ironhide and accepted the can, though, didn't open it just yet. "It's not so much the promotion as it's the mountain of data and reports I have to deal with. You know me, 'Hide, I'd much rather have my arms elbow deep into the guts of something than messing with the reports of other mechs' developments."
Ironhide couldn't help but chuckle at that. "So, what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"Drop the formalities, 'Hide, it doesn't suit you," the engineer chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "Red Alert wanted me to tell Ratchet to send back those reports about the evaluation of the medical bay at the Academy, and remind him about the reunion in six orns."
"Ah, yes. Ratchet handed that report to me, I was supposed to send it back but I'm currently kind of drowning in data pads here," the red mech muttered in annoyance, flipping through the perfect mess of unorganized pads in his desk.
Prowl couldn't help but wince and reached for the pads. "May I?"
"Please." the red mech handed the piles of pads to his nephew and watched the young mech quickly beginning to organize the pads appropriately.
Wheeljack didn't bother to hold back a good natured laugh at both his friend and the younger mech. "You should ask Prowl to organize your office, 'Hide."
"Believe me, I'm actually considerin' it, Wheeljack." Ironhide grinned and watched his nephew arrange the pads, apparently undisturbed by the fact they were talking about him.
Prowl pulled a couple of pads out of the pile he was organizing and handed them to the silver and white mech. "These are uncle Ratchet's reports, and this is the list of improvements he suggested. I didn't find anything regarding a meeting with Red Alert."
Wheeljack accepted the pads, and thanked Prowl, giving each one a passing glance before he subspaced the items. "Oh, the meeting is a family matter, you won't find anything about that in those pads."
"Oh, all right."
"Yeah, about that, tell Red we'll be there about a joor early. Ratchet thinks it'll take him that long to calm Red Alert down without resorting to sedating him or embedding Ratchet's fist on his helm." Ironhide smiled at the thought of his mate knocking his own father unconscious with his bare first. "It's hard to believe Red Alert's courtin' after all the slag he put me through with Ratchet."
"Being courted. Red's the one being courted," Wheeljack corrected and allowed himself a chuckle, remembering quite a few of Red Alert's antics when Ironhide was courting Ratchet. "And that's just because Inferno's a tenacious glitch."
Prowl shifted a little in his seat, feeling like he was intruding in something too personal about someone he only knew from passing glances. His obvious discomfort didn't go unnoticed by Wheeljack, who turned around in his seat to give the younger mech a better look. "So, you want to know how your uncle Ironhide hooked with Ratchet?"
Prowl nodded.
"Well, you know your uncle used to be slave, right? Well, I assume you also know I used to be one. I belonged to Ratchet's family, actually." Wheeljack moved in his seat a little to get more comfortable, reaching for the clasps of his mask, though, he stopped before he actually unlatched it. "You're not easily impressionable, are you?"
"No, sir." Prowl shook his head and watched Wheeljack nod and remove the mask that covered half of his face. The oldest of the Defensor brothers raised an optic ridge in surprise upon discovering Wheeljack's face ended at his upper lip. No lower jaw was attached to the bottom of his skull.
Wheeljack opened the can and inserted a tube through the small opening, guiding the tube straight into the conduit in his throat. It was a bizarre sight, but hardly anything that bothered Prowl.
"You know Ratchet offered to get you a fraggin' jaw already, Jack," Ironhide muttered but smiled.
"And part with my mask? No way!"
Prowl resisted the urge to shake his head and instead opened his own can, taking a small sip of its contents while Wheeljack and Ironhide bickered playfully, waiting patiently for the engineer to begin his tale.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Other than Wheeljack taking off his mask, none I can think of.
Pairings: Implied Ironhide x Ratchet.
Characters: Prowl, Ironhide, Wheeljack. Mention of Chromia, Jazz, Ratchet, Red Alert and his suitor.
Summary: AU - Partly using Dreamwave's comics as basis. A re imagination of Cybertron's society where the line dividing slaves from nobles is so thin.
Notes: This one was supposed to be part of We Dug Our Treasures There, but I decided to put it separately. Prowl has a talk with Ironhide but is interrupted by the arrival of a family friend.
Not beta'ed, so feel free to correct me.
Ironhide groaned to himself, sorting through several data pads and other things laid out on his desk. He disliked to meddle with this kind of work, but he had promised Ratchet to give them a look, and it was in his best interest to keep up his promises with Ratchet, lest he wanted the medic to punish him.
"Uncle Ironhide? Are you busy?"
Prowl's voice in the small screen of the intercom on his desk was a welcomed distraction and Ironhide smiled to his nephew. "Nothin' that can't wait a little. Come on in."
Ironhide picked several pads to arrange them in a pile and clear his desktop a little when Prowl strode into the room, visibly disturbed. "What's wrong, boy?" Ironhide asked and motioned for his nephew to take a seat across the desk.
Prowl took a seat and fidgeted a little in the seat to make himself comfortable, unconsciously gripping the ends of the seat's arm rests. After a couple of kliks trying to put his thoughts in order, the younger mech finally dared to face Ironhide. "Uncle Ironhide, I... You know what happened a few orns ago?"
Ironhide raised an optic ridge and pushed the pile of pads aside carelessly. "Ya mean that stunt Chromia pulled askin' Jazz to interface with ya?"
Prowl nodded.
"What about it?"
"Uncle Ironhide, how did you know you wanted to be with uncle Ratchet as mates?"
The large red mech's optic ridge quirked as high as it was possible and stared at the black and white mech before him. "You want to know about me and Ratchet? Why?"
"I'm just curious."
Ironhide chuckled softly and shook his head, leaning back into the plush seat. "Curious my aft," Ironhide replied with evident amusement. "Are you ever goin' to tell that mech what you feel?"
Prowl frowned and shook his head. "He's a performer --one of the best in Cybertron. Why would he want to settle down with me of all mechs when he could have anyone he wanted?"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Prowl," the older mech replied and laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on the arm rests of his own seat. "Besides, why would you ask me about me and Ratchet if you have no intention of talking with Jazz?"
"I just want to know how you knew uncle Ratchet was the right mech for you. Perhaps this is just some phase for me." Prowl shrugged.
"Phase? Slag, Prowl. If this is a phase it's been goin' on for quite a few vorns now." Ironhide grinned when his nephew had the decency of looking embarrassed. "It's hard to tell. One orn we were introduced and few orns later I didn't want the mech to ever leave my side."
"You're so helpful, Ironhide."
Both Prowl and Ironhide turned to look at the door where a mech wearing a white sash was leaning casually against the frame.
"Well, well, if isn't mister blow-slag-and-himself-up, Wheeljack." the red mech smiled and motioned for his friend to come close. Wheeljack thanked the red mech and greeted Prowl before he made himself comfortable in the seat next to the younger mech.
"What brings you here? It's been a while, 'Jack," Ironhide asked while he pushed his seat back and stood up, heading for the nearby energon dispenser.
"It has. I've been pretty busy at the Tower, I'm the new head of the engineering department and I'm hating every moment of it." Wheeljack side glanced to Prowl who remained quiet, seemingly unwilling to bring up the discussion again with him there.
"Really? Why is that?" Ironhide came back with a couple of cans of energon, offering one to his nephew and one to his friend. "I would have thought you would be happy with such promotion."
The primarily silver and white mech thanked Ironhide and accepted the can, though, didn't open it just yet. "It's not so much the promotion as it's the mountain of data and reports I have to deal with. You know me, 'Hide, I'd much rather have my arms elbow deep into the guts of something than messing with the reports of other mechs' developments."
Ironhide couldn't help but chuckle at that. "So, what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"Drop the formalities, 'Hide, it doesn't suit you," the engineer chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "Red Alert wanted me to tell Ratchet to send back those reports about the evaluation of the medical bay at the Academy, and remind him about the reunion in six orns."
"Ah, yes. Ratchet handed that report to me, I was supposed to send it back but I'm currently kind of drowning in data pads here," the red mech muttered in annoyance, flipping through the perfect mess of unorganized pads in his desk.
Prowl couldn't help but wince and reached for the pads. "May I?"
"Please." the red mech handed the piles of pads to his nephew and watched the young mech quickly beginning to organize the pads appropriately.
Wheeljack didn't bother to hold back a good natured laugh at both his friend and the younger mech. "You should ask Prowl to organize your office, 'Hide."
"Believe me, I'm actually considerin' it, Wheeljack." Ironhide grinned and watched his nephew arrange the pads, apparently undisturbed by the fact they were talking about him.
Prowl pulled a couple of pads out of the pile he was organizing and handed them to the silver and white mech. "These are uncle Ratchet's reports, and this is the list of improvements he suggested. I didn't find anything regarding a meeting with Red Alert."
Wheeljack accepted the pads, and thanked Prowl, giving each one a passing glance before he subspaced the items. "Oh, the meeting is a family matter, you won't find anything about that in those pads."
"Oh, all right."
"Yeah, about that, tell Red we'll be there about a joor early. Ratchet thinks it'll take him that long to calm Red Alert down without resorting to sedating him or embedding Ratchet's fist on his helm." Ironhide smiled at the thought of his mate knocking his own father unconscious with his bare first. "It's hard to believe Red Alert's courtin' after all the slag he put me through with Ratchet."
"Being courted. Red's the one being courted," Wheeljack corrected and allowed himself a chuckle, remembering quite a few of Red Alert's antics when Ironhide was courting Ratchet. "And that's just because Inferno's a tenacious glitch."
Prowl shifted a little in his seat, feeling like he was intruding in something too personal about someone he only knew from passing glances. His obvious discomfort didn't go unnoticed by Wheeljack, who turned around in his seat to give the younger mech a better look. "So, you want to know how your uncle Ironhide hooked with Ratchet?"
Prowl nodded.
"Well, you know your uncle used to be slave, right? Well, I assume you also know I used to be one. I belonged to Ratchet's family, actually." Wheeljack moved in his seat a little to get more comfortable, reaching for the clasps of his mask, though, he stopped before he actually unlatched it. "You're not easily impressionable, are you?"
"No, sir." Prowl shook his head and watched Wheeljack nod and remove the mask that covered half of his face. The oldest of the Defensor brothers raised an optic ridge in surprise upon discovering Wheeljack's face ended at his upper lip. No lower jaw was attached to the bottom of his skull.
Wheeljack opened the can and inserted a tube through the small opening, guiding the tube straight into the conduit in his throat. It was a bizarre sight, but hardly anything that bothered Prowl.
"You know Ratchet offered to get you a fraggin' jaw already, Jack," Ironhide muttered but smiled.
"And part with my mask? No way!"
Prowl resisted the urge to shake his head and instead opened his own can, taking a small sip of its contents while Wheeljack and Ironhide bickered playfully, waiting patiently for the engineer to begin his tale.