[FIC] True Celebration
Title: True Celebrations (2763 words) by renegadewriter
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Bluestreak, Ratchet, Optimus Prime
Additional Tags: Prompt Response
Series: Part 5 of Masked
Author's Note:
- Prompt given by foghornleghorn3, thanks hun! Hope you like this!! ; )
- Prompt: Birthday
Summary:
Jazz doesn't understand why Prowl hates his spark-joor so much.
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Jazz was puzzled.
It would be Prowl's spark-joor soon, and he'd been thrilled to be able and spend that special joor with the youngling, specially since more of that cursed frame would soon be removed so Prowl could continue to grow naturally.
The saboteur had been so excited about it, he had bombarded Prowl with plans on a party to celebrate his spark-joor. The youngling’s reaction had surprised him.
Prowl had been angry at him, and prohibited him from planning any sort of gathering on that joor, or of holding any kind of event ‘honoring’ his spark-joor. The vehemence Prowl had showed had shocked Jazz, the hatred toward that special joor unsettling; and something that had worried him deeply was the flash of hurt he had seen in the youngling’s optics.
It was not a reaction the saboteur had expected, or even considered. He had never met anyone that could hate the joor they came into the world as much as Prowl seemed to do.
After that, Prowl had been ignoring him, and any mention of his spark-joor would earn the saboteur a glare and the sight of the youngling leaving. Jazz’s mood had gone down after that, feeling like he was missing something. He hated being the source of Prowl’s distress, even if he didn’t know what it was. He doubted this was something like the insecurities Prowl’d had almost a vorn ago. They had come a long way since then and Jazz knew that whatever this was had nothing to do with the youngling doubting them.
Whatever it was, he was sure would pass.
Or at least, he hoped it did.
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"Ah don't get it." Jazz said, half sprawled on one of the rec. room's tables, head supported in one servo. An orn had passed since the saboteur had pestered Prowl about his spark-joor and the youngling was still mad at him.
"Huh? Get what?" Bluestreak asked from beside him, taking a sip out of his energon cube.
"Prowl."
"Prowl? What did he do now? Is he overworking himself again?" The gunner asked suddenly concerned. But, Jazz waved him off.
"Naah, Ah just don't get why he's so mad at meh, and why he hates his spark-joor so much."
It was small, but the saboteur felt the slight shift in Bluestreak's demeanor. Sitting up straight, he turned to look at the younger mech. His frame was tense, optics locked on the energon cube in his servo, his gaze dark and distant.
"Blue?"
Shaking himself out of his stupor, the gunner sighed.
"He’s not mad at you. Not really. It's just that.. well you see, the date set on his file isn't the joor he was sparked." He started softly. Looking up, he locked his gaze with Jazz's, optics full of sadness and anger. "It's the joor he was put into that frame."
Jazz's visor flashed white with shock, realization hitting him full force.
"Wait, ya mean. The reason he hates that date is because..." He trailed off, the meaning behind the date suddenly too clear.
Bluestreak nodded. "It's like celebrating what was done to him, approving of it. It's a reminder of the fear and pain he suffered that joor. Scheme noted that date down as if the second frame Prowl was put in were a new mech just extracted." He sighed. "To Prowl, it felt like the real him was being erased, forgotten, and replaced. He doesn't like being reminded of that."
"Frag. Ah screwed up didn't Ah?" The saboteur sighed, running his servo over his faceplates.
Both mech sat in silence, a million thoughts running through their processor, sparks screaming out in a silent protective rage for the youngest member in their strange family.
Suddenly, Jazz was angry.
"Damn it! Will that fragger never leave Prowl alone!?" He demanded, voice barely raised, the OPs mech still too aware of the mechs around him to give his anger true reign. "Will he take everything away from him!? Every joy in life!?"
Servos clenching tightly, Jazz added a few more forms of torture to the growing list of 'ways to make Shockwave wish he was never sparked' for when he managed to bring down the slagger.
Bluestreak nodded absentmindedly, finishing his cube in one gulp.
“It always hurt Prowl seeing others celebrate their spark-joor with such joy.” He sighed. “What will you do now? Prowl will probably be mad at me for even telling you this.”
Tapping his finger on the table, Jazz offlined his visor and wrecked his processor for a solution. Many breems passed before the saboteur's visor lit up, faceplates going from somber and pensive to an excited expression.
"Ah've got an idea."
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Prowl shut off the last datapad of the cycle with a tired sigh. It was late, and everyone except those on monitor duty were deep in recharge. Leaning back on his chair, Prowl offlined his optics, thinking.
Three orns had passed since Jazz had brought up his spark-joor and Prowl felt bad for giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn't fair to the saboteur, not after all the times Jazz had been there for him. But even if the saboteur hand't known about the significance his spark-joor held, Prowl had felt… betrayed, and hurt. For one illogical moment, he had felt like Jazz approved what had been done to him, approved of his pain.
He had kept his promise though, and not allowed such dark thoughts to fester and lay their seed of doubt in his spark. Still, he would have to apologize to Jazz for his behavior.
:: Optimus to Prowl. ::
The sudden summon startled the doorwinged mech, absently noticing he had fallen into a light recharge for a few breams.
:: Prowl here. Is everything alright sir? :: He answered professionally, worried about the unusual late comm.
There was a chuckle on the other side of the comm. link- :: No need for formalities youngling. :: The gentle voice of who had served as a sire figure always did wonders to relax him, the affectionate designation bringing back warm memories of peaceful times.
:: Yes, Opt. :: He sent back, half-part teasing, half-part fondly.
:: Would you come to my quarters? I know it is late but there is something I want to show you. ::
:: Certainly, I'm on my way. :: He answered before cutting the comm. link, already up from his desk and heading for his office's door.
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On his way down the hallway leading to Optimus' quarters, Prowl tried to figure out what the Prime wanted to show him so late. He didn't mind, but a late comm. like that was usually followed by an order to stop working and recharge.
Arriving at the door, he pinged for entrance and shrugged that thought off; he'd learn soon enough.
The door opened to a dark room, startling the youngling.
"Optimus?" Prowl called out, taking careful steps inside, doorwings twitching in unease as his sensors reached out in search of the Prime, or any danger, servos slowly reaching for his blaster.
Suddenly, the lights turned on.
"SURPRISE!" Four voice said together.
"Wh- what is going on!?" He demanded, never liking being startled like that.
Optimus, Ratchet, Bluestreak, and Jazz were all standing in the middle of Prime's room, Jazz and Blue with their arms spread out wide in the air, grins on their face-plates. Ratchet was to the side, arms crossed but smiling at him. In the center of the small group stood Optimus, his face mask retracted and giving him a loving smile.
"Happy spark-joor Prowl." He said softly.
"What?" Prowl asked confused. "Today isn't my spark-joor." He said.
Jazz stepped out of the group toward him. "Blue told meh why ya hate yer spark-joor so much."
The sudden statement made Prowl whip his head to glare at his older brother. Bluestreak lowered his optics to the floor, looking very much like a kicked turbo-puppy, earning a chuckle from the present before Jazz continued.
"Ya hate it cause it's the joor this started." The saboteur softly placed a servo on his chest-plates right over where his true frame laid attached to thousands of cables. Prowl looked away, denta clenched. "So, Ah did some diggin-"
"You mean I did some digging." Interrupted grumpily Ratchet.
"- and found out yer real spark-joor."
Prowl's optics widened, head snapping up to stare at him.
"You- what? You found my-"
"Yup!" Jazz said gleefully. "It wasn't easy, we had to search a long time fer yer old records."
“I don’t know why we never thought of this." Ratchet said suddenly. "It would have saved you a lot of pain." He added feeling a little guilty.
“Your records were buried deep.” Optimus continued. “But we finally found them, and just in time may I add, for today is your spark-joor.”
Prowl stared with wide optics at his family, spark warm and full of love for the four mechs that had made it possible for him to live a decent, near-normal life. He also had not thought about having a real spark-joor, it had never occurred and now, it seemed like such a logical and simple thing. He didn't know what to say, too many emotions assaulting him. His optics met each one, receiving a smile in return.
"Th-thank you." He said finally, voice soft.
The present smiled, chuckling at the suddenly very shy and embarrassed youngling.
"So, now that we managed ta find the real date of your spark-jour-"
"You mean after I found it!"
"- We have ta celebrate it properly!" Jazz declared, completely ignoring the medic's snarling.
The four mechs moved to the side, allowing Prowl to see what they had planned as his spark-joor party.
There wasn't much in decoration, not the Prowl minded, the simple table with energon goodies and a few cubes of high-grade was enough. And even those he could do without, the only thing that mattered where the four mechs in the room.
His family.
"You didn't need to do all this." He said softly, ducking his helm.
"Aaahh but we did." Optimus said, taking a few steps closer, a large servo being placed on his shoulder supportingly. "We couldn't' bear seeing you hate a joor that is supposed to be treasured, that marks your growth, that reminds us of the blessing of life. And we were truly blessed by meeting you, having you by our side. It might not have been in the way we'd have liked, but we love you and thank Primus every joor for allowing our paths to cross."
Prowl didn't know what to say. Optimus' words always made him feel like he was special, unique even. It left him feeling self-conscious, wanting to raise up to those words, that vision Optimus always had of him.
Wings fluttering, Prowl raised his head, giving Optimus a warm, thankful smile.
"Caught the mushy stuff Prime. " Ratchet grumbled, walking forward and bringing Prowl to his chest, earning a squeak of surprise at the sudden move from the medic. "Happy spark-joor youngling." He said smirking down at the squirming Praxian, his doorwings twitching in embarrassment.
"Kindly let go!" Prowl protested in a manner that had them all laughing. They loved seeing Prowl act like the youngling he was, and not like the Second in Command of a powerful army in the midst of a cruel and painful war.
Finally freeing himself from the medic, he was pounced on by his brother, who hugged him tightly with a squeal of excitement.
"I don't know why we didn't think of this before! I never learn about your spark-joor cause it was hidden from me but now I can properly treat you to presents and energon goodies! Ah! But you still can't drink any high-grade!" He admonished, ignorant to the heated face-plates on the struggling youngling.
"Awww what do ya mean he can't have high-grade?" Jazz asked, earning three sets of glares from the older mechs, prompting the saboteur to raise his servos in surrender. "Hey now, Ah was just joking."
"Bluestreak let go!" Prowl yelled, flailing his arms and wings.
The gunner let him go only after he gave his brother a sloppy and noisy kiss on his cheek-plates, making Prowl hiss in disgust and frantically trying to wipe the oral fluids off. The scene made the others laugh heartily.
"Well now Ah think it's mah turn!" Jazz announced charging at the younging with his arms wide open.
"Don't you dare!" Prowl yelled back, trying to back-up.
"Nu-uh! I want cuddles too!"
Optimus and Ratchet had to sit down, grabbing their sides at the scene of the ever composed Prowl running around the small quarters with Jazz chasing after him. Bluestreak smiled at the scene, pretending he was still in Praxus, before the war, before his baby brother was put in that frame. He would often take a sparkling Prowl to the Crystal Gardens, and sit him with other sparkling where they would coo and chirp at everything they saw.
"Get. Off!" The snarled, yet amused yell tore him out of his memories, and he burst out laughing at the sight. Jazz was clinging on to Prowl, arms around his neck and legs holding onto him, leaving Prowl standing in an awkward position so as to not fall down; wings fanned out for extra balance.
"But Ah haven't given ya mah spark-joor hug yet!" Whined the saboteur.
"I believe you already have. Get. OFF!"
The rest of the night went by full of laughter, jokes, and memories. Optimus, Ratchet, and Bluestreak told stories of Prowl's time when he was out of his frame: the curiosity that had gotten him into so much trouble back at Iacon's palace and how he would drive his tutors crazy with all the questions he asked. Apparently, after being able to make his own decisions and not rely on the battle computer and logic center, his favorite word had been 'why'.
Jazz laughed at each story, nudging playfully at an embarrassed Prowl when he learned how 'adorable' he was and how Elita and her femmes would sometimes steal him away.
The horrified face-plates of the youngling when they showed Jazz several jealously kept photos of him as a youngling had been priceless, and Jazz had even managed to get Optimus to gift him one.
They didn't have much in the way of gifts to offer the youngling, not that Prowl minded, their mere presence was enough.
Optimus' 'one-orn-with-no-shifts' present had earned a groan from the youngling, already thinking of all the datapads that were going to be left undone, and all the troublemakers and their chaos. But he still offered the Prime a warm smile in thanks.
Ratchet had grinned darkly as he presented his gift. It was, according to him, the end to all his problems, a.k.a: the twins.
The room erupted in laughter as the medic handed over a large, shiny wrench, with the inscription of 'to protect and to serve' written on it.
Prowl had swung it a few times in the air in demonstration and with the most serious expression he could muster asked Ratchet to become his mentor in the art of wrench throwing, prompting even more laughter.
Bluestreak had given his brother two crime-mystery book-files, which Prowl loved. He had glared at Optimus when he had cheerfully suggested Prowl could read them on his upcoming 'shift free orn'.
Jazz had given him a miniature crystal garden. The black metal pot held five crystals: one was a soft greyish blue crystal; a bigger one was white, a rare color that had surprised them all; the biggest one was red, the fourth was the same blue as Jazz's visor, and the fourth, the smallest was purple.
"Ta remind ya of us." Jazz had said, making Prowl's smile widen recognizing the trouble Jazz must have gone through to find the crystals closest to their paint-jobs in such a small period of time. It was touching, and he held the small pot to his chest-plates lovingly.
"Thank you." Prowl said warmly to all of them. "I wish, I could give you something in return. I understand a small gift of thanks is usually given."
"Naah don't worry about it!" Jazz said cheerfully.
"You can thank me by accepting my gift graciously." Optimus said smugly, at which Prowl nodded in resignation.
"Don't work yourself too hard! That's enough for me!" Blue added.
"And fragging come to your checkups on time!" Ratchet snapped, though a smile was plastered on his face-plates.
They really didn't need Prowl to give them anything in return, the true, happy and innocent smile he wore all night was enough.
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Like? =3
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Bluestreak, Ratchet, Optimus Prime
Additional Tags: Prompt Response
Series: Part 5 of Masked
Author's Note:
- Prompt given by foghornleghorn3, thanks hun! Hope you like this!! ; )
- Prompt: Birthday
Summary:
Jazz doesn't understand why Prowl hates his spark-joor so much.
000000000000000000
Jazz was puzzled.
It would be Prowl's spark-joor soon, and he'd been thrilled to be able and spend that special joor with the youngling, specially since more of that cursed frame would soon be removed so Prowl could continue to grow naturally.
The saboteur had been so excited about it, he had bombarded Prowl with plans on a party to celebrate his spark-joor. The youngling’s reaction had surprised him.
Prowl had been angry at him, and prohibited him from planning any sort of gathering on that joor, or of holding any kind of event ‘honoring’ his spark-joor. The vehemence Prowl had showed had shocked Jazz, the hatred toward that special joor unsettling; and something that had worried him deeply was the flash of hurt he had seen in the youngling’s optics.
It was not a reaction the saboteur had expected, or even considered. He had never met anyone that could hate the joor they came into the world as much as Prowl seemed to do.
After that, Prowl had been ignoring him, and any mention of his spark-joor would earn the saboteur a glare and the sight of the youngling leaving. Jazz’s mood had gone down after that, feeling like he was missing something. He hated being the source of Prowl’s distress, even if he didn’t know what it was. He doubted this was something like the insecurities Prowl’d had almost a vorn ago. They had come a long way since then and Jazz knew that whatever this was had nothing to do with the youngling doubting them.
Whatever it was, he was sure would pass.
Or at least, he hoped it did.
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"Ah don't get it." Jazz said, half sprawled on one of the rec. room's tables, head supported in one servo. An orn had passed since the saboteur had pestered Prowl about his spark-joor and the youngling was still mad at him.
"Huh? Get what?" Bluestreak asked from beside him, taking a sip out of his energon cube.
"Prowl."
"Prowl? What did he do now? Is he overworking himself again?" The gunner asked suddenly concerned. But, Jazz waved him off.
"Naah, Ah just don't get why he's so mad at meh, and why he hates his spark-joor so much."
It was small, but the saboteur felt the slight shift in Bluestreak's demeanor. Sitting up straight, he turned to look at the younger mech. His frame was tense, optics locked on the energon cube in his servo, his gaze dark and distant.
"Blue?"
Shaking himself out of his stupor, the gunner sighed.
"He’s not mad at you. Not really. It's just that.. well you see, the date set on his file isn't the joor he was sparked." He started softly. Looking up, he locked his gaze with Jazz's, optics full of sadness and anger. "It's the joor he was put into that frame."
Jazz's visor flashed white with shock, realization hitting him full force.
"Wait, ya mean. The reason he hates that date is because..." He trailed off, the meaning behind the date suddenly too clear.
Bluestreak nodded. "It's like celebrating what was done to him, approving of it. It's a reminder of the fear and pain he suffered that joor. Scheme noted that date down as if the second frame Prowl was put in were a new mech just extracted." He sighed. "To Prowl, it felt like the real him was being erased, forgotten, and replaced. He doesn't like being reminded of that."
"Frag. Ah screwed up didn't Ah?" The saboteur sighed, running his servo over his faceplates.
Both mech sat in silence, a million thoughts running through their processor, sparks screaming out in a silent protective rage for the youngest member in their strange family.
Suddenly, Jazz was angry.
"Damn it! Will that fragger never leave Prowl alone!?" He demanded, voice barely raised, the OPs mech still too aware of the mechs around him to give his anger true reign. "Will he take everything away from him!? Every joy in life!?"
Servos clenching tightly, Jazz added a few more forms of torture to the growing list of 'ways to make Shockwave wish he was never sparked' for when he managed to bring down the slagger.
Bluestreak nodded absentmindedly, finishing his cube in one gulp.
“It always hurt Prowl seeing others celebrate their spark-joor with such joy.” He sighed. “What will you do now? Prowl will probably be mad at me for even telling you this.”
Tapping his finger on the table, Jazz offlined his visor and wrecked his processor for a solution. Many breems passed before the saboteur's visor lit up, faceplates going from somber and pensive to an excited expression.
"Ah've got an idea."
0000000000000000
Prowl shut off the last datapad of the cycle with a tired sigh. It was late, and everyone except those on monitor duty were deep in recharge. Leaning back on his chair, Prowl offlined his optics, thinking.
Three orns had passed since Jazz had brought up his spark-joor and Prowl felt bad for giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn't fair to the saboteur, not after all the times Jazz had been there for him. But even if the saboteur hand't known about the significance his spark-joor held, Prowl had felt… betrayed, and hurt. For one illogical moment, he had felt like Jazz approved what had been done to him, approved of his pain.
He had kept his promise though, and not allowed such dark thoughts to fester and lay their seed of doubt in his spark. Still, he would have to apologize to Jazz for his behavior.
:: Optimus to Prowl. ::
The sudden summon startled the doorwinged mech, absently noticing he had fallen into a light recharge for a few breams.
:: Prowl here. Is everything alright sir? :: He answered professionally, worried about the unusual late comm.
There was a chuckle on the other side of the comm. link- :: No need for formalities youngling. :: The gentle voice of who had served as a sire figure always did wonders to relax him, the affectionate designation bringing back warm memories of peaceful times.
:: Yes, Opt. :: He sent back, half-part teasing, half-part fondly.
:: Would you come to my quarters? I know it is late but there is something I want to show you. ::
:: Certainly, I'm on my way. :: He answered before cutting the comm. link, already up from his desk and heading for his office's door.
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On his way down the hallway leading to Optimus' quarters, Prowl tried to figure out what the Prime wanted to show him so late. He didn't mind, but a late comm. like that was usually followed by an order to stop working and recharge.
Arriving at the door, he pinged for entrance and shrugged that thought off; he'd learn soon enough.
The door opened to a dark room, startling the youngling.
"Optimus?" Prowl called out, taking careful steps inside, doorwings twitching in unease as his sensors reached out in search of the Prime, or any danger, servos slowly reaching for his blaster.
Suddenly, the lights turned on.
"SURPRISE!" Four voice said together.
"Wh- what is going on!?" He demanded, never liking being startled like that.
Optimus, Ratchet, Bluestreak, and Jazz were all standing in the middle of Prime's room, Jazz and Blue with their arms spread out wide in the air, grins on their face-plates. Ratchet was to the side, arms crossed but smiling at him. In the center of the small group stood Optimus, his face mask retracted and giving him a loving smile.
"Happy spark-joor Prowl." He said softly.
"What?" Prowl asked confused. "Today isn't my spark-joor." He said.
Jazz stepped out of the group toward him. "Blue told meh why ya hate yer spark-joor so much."
The sudden statement made Prowl whip his head to glare at his older brother. Bluestreak lowered his optics to the floor, looking very much like a kicked turbo-puppy, earning a chuckle from the present before Jazz continued.
"Ya hate it cause it's the joor this started." The saboteur softly placed a servo on his chest-plates right over where his true frame laid attached to thousands of cables. Prowl looked away, denta clenched. "So, Ah did some diggin-"
"You mean I did some digging." Interrupted grumpily Ratchet.
"- and found out yer real spark-joor."
Prowl's optics widened, head snapping up to stare at him.
"You- what? You found my-"
"Yup!" Jazz said gleefully. "It wasn't easy, we had to search a long time fer yer old records."
“I don’t know why we never thought of this." Ratchet said suddenly. "It would have saved you a lot of pain." He added feeling a little guilty.
“Your records were buried deep.” Optimus continued. “But we finally found them, and just in time may I add, for today is your spark-joor.”
Prowl stared with wide optics at his family, spark warm and full of love for the four mechs that had made it possible for him to live a decent, near-normal life. He also had not thought about having a real spark-joor, it had never occurred and now, it seemed like such a logical and simple thing. He didn't know what to say, too many emotions assaulting him. His optics met each one, receiving a smile in return.
"Th-thank you." He said finally, voice soft.
The present smiled, chuckling at the suddenly very shy and embarrassed youngling.
"So, now that we managed ta find the real date of your spark-jour-"
"You mean after I found it!"
"- We have ta celebrate it properly!" Jazz declared, completely ignoring the medic's snarling.
The four mechs moved to the side, allowing Prowl to see what they had planned as his spark-joor party.
There wasn't much in decoration, not the Prowl minded, the simple table with energon goodies and a few cubes of high-grade was enough. And even those he could do without, the only thing that mattered where the four mechs in the room.
His family.
"You didn't need to do all this." He said softly, ducking his helm.
"Aaahh but we did." Optimus said, taking a few steps closer, a large servo being placed on his shoulder supportingly. "We couldn't' bear seeing you hate a joor that is supposed to be treasured, that marks your growth, that reminds us of the blessing of life. And we were truly blessed by meeting you, having you by our side. It might not have been in the way we'd have liked, but we love you and thank Primus every joor for allowing our paths to cross."
Prowl didn't know what to say. Optimus' words always made him feel like he was special, unique even. It left him feeling self-conscious, wanting to raise up to those words, that vision Optimus always had of him.
Wings fluttering, Prowl raised his head, giving Optimus a warm, thankful smile.
"Caught the mushy stuff Prime. " Ratchet grumbled, walking forward and bringing Prowl to his chest, earning a squeak of surprise at the sudden move from the medic. "Happy spark-joor youngling." He said smirking down at the squirming Praxian, his doorwings twitching in embarrassment.
"Kindly let go!" Prowl protested in a manner that had them all laughing. They loved seeing Prowl act like the youngling he was, and not like the Second in Command of a powerful army in the midst of a cruel and painful war.
Finally freeing himself from the medic, he was pounced on by his brother, who hugged him tightly with a squeal of excitement.
"I don't know why we didn't think of this before! I never learn about your spark-joor cause it was hidden from me but now I can properly treat you to presents and energon goodies! Ah! But you still can't drink any high-grade!" He admonished, ignorant to the heated face-plates on the struggling youngling.
"Awww what do ya mean he can't have high-grade?" Jazz asked, earning three sets of glares from the older mechs, prompting the saboteur to raise his servos in surrender. "Hey now, Ah was just joking."
"Bluestreak let go!" Prowl yelled, flailing his arms and wings.
The gunner let him go only after he gave his brother a sloppy and noisy kiss on his cheek-plates, making Prowl hiss in disgust and frantically trying to wipe the oral fluids off. The scene made the others laugh heartily.
"Well now Ah think it's mah turn!" Jazz announced charging at the younging with his arms wide open.
"Don't you dare!" Prowl yelled back, trying to back-up.
"Nu-uh! I want cuddles too!"
Optimus and Ratchet had to sit down, grabbing their sides at the scene of the ever composed Prowl running around the small quarters with Jazz chasing after him. Bluestreak smiled at the scene, pretending he was still in Praxus, before the war, before his baby brother was put in that frame. He would often take a sparkling Prowl to the Crystal Gardens, and sit him with other sparkling where they would coo and chirp at everything they saw.
"Get. Off!" The snarled, yet amused yell tore him out of his memories, and he burst out laughing at the sight. Jazz was clinging on to Prowl, arms around his neck and legs holding onto him, leaving Prowl standing in an awkward position so as to not fall down; wings fanned out for extra balance.
"But Ah haven't given ya mah spark-joor hug yet!" Whined the saboteur.
"I believe you already have. Get. OFF!"
The rest of the night went by full of laughter, jokes, and memories. Optimus, Ratchet, and Bluestreak told stories of Prowl's time when he was out of his frame: the curiosity that had gotten him into so much trouble back at Iacon's palace and how he would drive his tutors crazy with all the questions he asked. Apparently, after being able to make his own decisions and not rely on the battle computer and logic center, his favorite word had been 'why'.
Jazz laughed at each story, nudging playfully at an embarrassed Prowl when he learned how 'adorable' he was and how Elita and her femmes would sometimes steal him away.
The horrified face-plates of the youngling when they showed Jazz several jealously kept photos of him as a youngling had been priceless, and Jazz had even managed to get Optimus to gift him one.
They didn't have much in the way of gifts to offer the youngling, not that Prowl minded, their mere presence was enough.
Optimus' 'one-orn-with-no-shifts' present had earned a groan from the youngling, already thinking of all the datapads that were going to be left undone, and all the troublemakers and their chaos. But he still offered the Prime a warm smile in thanks.
Ratchet had grinned darkly as he presented his gift. It was, according to him, the end to all his problems, a.k.a: the twins.
The room erupted in laughter as the medic handed over a large, shiny wrench, with the inscription of 'to protect and to serve' written on it.
Prowl had swung it a few times in the air in demonstration and with the most serious expression he could muster asked Ratchet to become his mentor in the art of wrench throwing, prompting even more laughter.
Bluestreak had given his brother two crime-mystery book-files, which Prowl loved. He had glared at Optimus when he had cheerfully suggested Prowl could read them on his upcoming 'shift free orn'.
Jazz had given him a miniature crystal garden. The black metal pot held five crystals: one was a soft greyish blue crystal; a bigger one was white, a rare color that had surprised them all; the biggest one was red, the fourth was the same blue as Jazz's visor, and the fourth, the smallest was purple.
"Ta remind ya of us." Jazz had said, making Prowl's smile widen recognizing the trouble Jazz must have gone through to find the crystals closest to their paint-jobs in such a small period of time. It was touching, and he held the small pot to his chest-plates lovingly.
"Thank you." Prowl said warmly to all of them. "I wish, I could give you something in return. I understand a small gift of thanks is usually given."
"Naah don't worry about it!" Jazz said cheerfully.
"You can thank me by accepting my gift graciously." Optimus said smugly, at which Prowl nodded in resignation.
"Don't work yourself too hard! That's enough for me!" Blue added.
"And fragging come to your checkups on time!" Ratchet snapped, though a smile was plastered on his face-plates.
They really didn't need Prowl to give them anything in return, the true, happy and innocent smile he wore all night was enough.
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