(no subject)
Title: The Silence of Our Friends
Rating: PG
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: I'd say slash, excpet that there is none in this part. But angst though, there is that.
Disclaimer: If they only were mine, but sadly they are not.
Author's note: Takes place soon after Be quiet, still and solitary. I've fiddled with this for hours now, changed one word, then changed it back... that sort of thing. I decided that it's not going to get any better and it's already given me a headache.
Every time he walks into a room everyone goes quiet. Conversations resume in whispers if at all and every mech in the room even moves more carefully. They try not drop anything, to run or to do much of anything that might make some unnecessary sound.
Arguing stops. Laughter stops.
Gears doesn’t complain.
Bluestreak doesn’t talk.
Sideswipe doesn’t joke.
Even Wheeljack’s experiments seem to have gotten quieter when he’s around.
They don’t seem to know what to say to him and when they have to talk to him they do so softly, quietly, carefully. When he needs them to do something they never protest. They follow any orders he gives quietly and to the letter. In that at least he’s better at Prowl’s job than Prowl. The Datsun always wished everyone would follow orders better.
They all act like a loud noise might shatter him and any controversy at all would overload his processor.
He thinks they would even make the alarms sound more softly if they could.
Wherever he goes silence seems to follow in his wake. He spreads it like some incurable disease, infecting everyone around him.
When he’s in recharge there are only nightmares. Dreams with no sound. It’s easier to stay occupied, to see to it that there is always something to do and never quite enough time for recharge.
Carefully Prime tells him that he should take some time off. Quietly Ratchet suggests that he should get some recharge.
He ignores them all, because he knows that Prowl wouldn’t like falling behind on his work.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: I'd say slash, excpet that there is none in this part. But angst though, there is that.
Disclaimer: If they only were mine, but sadly they are not.
Author's note: Takes place soon after Be quiet, still and solitary. I've fiddled with this for hours now, changed one word, then changed it back... that sort of thing. I decided that it's not going to get any better and it's already given me a headache.
Every time he walks into a room everyone goes quiet. Conversations resume in whispers if at all and every mech in the room even moves more carefully. They try not drop anything, to run or to do much of anything that might make some unnecessary sound.
Arguing stops. Laughter stops.
Gears doesn’t complain.
Bluestreak doesn’t talk.
Sideswipe doesn’t joke.
Even Wheeljack’s experiments seem to have gotten quieter when he’s around.
They don’t seem to know what to say to him and when they have to talk to him they do so softly, quietly, carefully. When he needs them to do something they never protest. They follow any orders he gives quietly and to the letter. In that at least he’s better at Prowl’s job than Prowl. The Datsun always wished everyone would follow orders better.
They all act like a loud noise might shatter him and any controversy at all would overload his processor.
He thinks they would even make the alarms sound more softly if they could.
Wherever he goes silence seems to follow in his wake. He spreads it like some incurable disease, infecting everyone around him.
When he’s in recharge there are only nightmares. Dreams with no sound. It’s easier to stay occupied, to see to it that there is always something to do and never quite enough time for recharge.
Carefully Prime tells him that he should take some time off. Quietly Ratchet suggests that he should get some recharge.
He ignores them all, because he knows that Prowl wouldn’t like falling behind on his work.