(no subject)
Title: Neutral observations
T-Universe: Generation 1 (pre "The Movie"
Characters: Bluestreak,
Rating: K+
Summary: It's wildly known that when Jazz gets tired of Prowl's obliviousness, he'll ask his superiour out . . . and be turned down. That doesn't stop hope from trying again and again.
The Autobot rec room was filled with bots coming and going, when Jazz stopped by. To the amusement of many, the sabatour’s first stop was not the energon dispenser, but Prowl’s side.
It only took one innocent comment to open the floodgates. “I wonder how long Prowl will listen to Jazz before one of them storms out?”
“Hey, Smokescreen,” Inferno called out, “the usual wager, please,”
Wheeljack raised his half-filled cube. “Put me down for a breem,”
In seconds, the house-gambler was inundated with requests, and most of the attention alternated between tactician and moral officer, as mech after mech tried figuring out exactly when Prowl would reject Jazz’s latest offer/demand to do something outside of work.
“Wait a moment, fellas,” Smokescreen protested, “aren’t any of you going to bet on Jazz and Prowl getting together?”
Bluestreak, perhaps the only Autobot on the premises who had not joined in the chaotic shouting, snorted into his cube of energon. “Never going to happen.” Gray wings flicked with internal amusement. “Not while Prowl knows Jazz is actually an enemy infiltrator trying to hack his processor to get the codes that will lead to our slavery and ultimate demise.”
He meant it to be mumbled, spoken in a level that would not be heard over the loud side, conversations that were popping up all over the Recreational room. Sadly, the shouting had chosen just that moment to stop, as Jazz stood up and stormed towards the exit in frustration, milliseconds before the ill-fated remark left his mouth.
Dead silence.
Sideswipe was the first to laugh. “Blue, Jazz is gotta be one of the ONLY bots Red’s never identified as a Decepticon spy.”
“Where did you come up with THAT crazy observation, Bluey?” another Bot asked.
“Jazz is as pure Autobot as they come,” Perceptor defended their sneak against what he saw as slander and libel against the third-in-command’s character.
To anyone who’d been watching and cataloging reactions (as Jazz had been, from just outside the doors), the officers, like Ironhide and Ratchet who’d seen everything going down, said nothing to defend Jazz - not that the hordes of protesting Bots would remember who spoke up, and who didn’t; especially not with the innocent comment being drowned out by a shouting match as mechs like Cliffjumper and Blaster did their best to respond to the obviously-false accusation in a way that would allow every living being on The Ark (and, perhaps even some on The Nemesis) to hear them.
.
..
...
....
.....
Before Optimus Prime - running from the command center - could restore order, Jazz slipped into his office and turned on his emergency one-time-use comlink. “Need evac now. They know.”
T-Universe: Generation 1 (pre "The Movie"
Characters: Bluestreak,
Rating: K+
Summary: It's wildly known that when Jazz gets tired of Prowl's obliviousness, he'll ask his superiour out . . . and be turned down. That doesn't stop hope from trying again and again.
The Autobot rec room was filled with bots coming and going, when Jazz stopped by. To the amusement of many, the sabatour’s first stop was not the energon dispenser, but Prowl’s side.
It only took one innocent comment to open the floodgates. “I wonder how long Prowl will listen to Jazz before one of them storms out?”
“Hey, Smokescreen,” Inferno called out, “the usual wager, please,”
Wheeljack raised his half-filled cube. “Put me down for a breem,”
In seconds, the house-gambler was inundated with requests, and most of the attention alternated between tactician and moral officer, as mech after mech tried figuring out exactly when Prowl would reject Jazz’s latest offer/demand to do something outside of work.
“Wait a moment, fellas,” Smokescreen protested, “aren’t any of you going to bet on Jazz and Prowl getting together?”
Bluestreak, perhaps the only Autobot on the premises who had not joined in the chaotic shouting, snorted into his cube of energon. “Never going to happen.” Gray wings flicked with internal amusement. “Not while Prowl knows Jazz is actually an enemy infiltrator trying to hack his processor to get the codes that will lead to our slavery and ultimate demise.”
He meant it to be mumbled, spoken in a level that would not be heard over the loud side, conversations that were popping up all over the Recreational room. Sadly, the shouting had chosen just that moment to stop, as Jazz stood up and stormed towards the exit in frustration, milliseconds before the ill-fated remark left his mouth.
Dead silence.
Sideswipe was the first to laugh. “Blue, Jazz is gotta be one of the ONLY bots Red’s never identified as a Decepticon spy.”
“Where did you come up with THAT crazy observation, Bluey?” another Bot asked.
“Jazz is as pure Autobot as they come,” Perceptor defended their sneak against what he saw as slander and libel against the third-in-command’s character.
To anyone who’d been watching and cataloging reactions (as Jazz had been, from just outside the doors), the officers, like Ironhide and Ratchet who’d seen everything going down, said nothing to defend Jazz - not that the hordes of protesting Bots would remember who spoke up, and who didn’t; especially not with the innocent comment being drowned out by a shouting match as mechs like Cliffjumper and Blaster did their best to respond to the obviously-false accusation in a way that would allow every living being on The Ark (and, perhaps even some on The Nemesis) to hear them.
.
..
...
....
.....
Before Optimus Prime - running from the command center - could restore order, Jazz slipped into his office and turned on his emergency one-time-use comlink. “Need evac now. They know.”