Fic: Inherited, Springer/Prowl
Title/Prompt: Inherited
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: M?
Characters: Springer and Prowl with Bluestreak, Roadbuster, and Rack‘n’Ruin in supporting roles.
Warning: Character death (Rack‘n’Ruin), suggestive content, and a scene involving a Praxian strip club? Besides that it’s Unbeta’d.
Word Count: 2462
Continuity: G1-ish, liberties were taken
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/whoever.
Autobot Headquarters, Springer was more familiar with the ‘Con base in Kaon than his own faction’s. The Wreckers weren’t made to stop in often and many times it was just to get repairs, fuel and supplies after a rough mission, but today that wasn’t the case. He’d been called back in an effort to keep him and his forces under control and available for deployment, which when one actually thought about it, were the exact opposite.
His nearly pertpetual smirk was plastered on is face as he turned into the doorway into the base’s rec area. He paused in mid-step, spotting angles that after he’d heard about the fall of Praxus that he’d feared he’d perhaps never see again. Laying his bravado on thick he crossed the space between himself and the gray mech. He fitted himself between the doorwings, as his hand glided around the other. His engine rumbled, sending vibrations to the sensory panels on the doorwings. The triplechanger’s helm lowered so that he could whisper closer to the mech’s audial. “Hey, Babe, where were they hiding you last time I was docked in Iacon?” One of his hands stealthily traveled lower caressing the other’s hip joint gently kneading the wires that lurked near to the surface.
A beautiful gasp was drawn from the Praxian. His optics flared and his helm rolled back slightly at the sensation. The gray lips remained parted and he tried to resist moving into the touched. The larger mech loomed behind him kissing the tine of his chevron, remarking how unique it was being affixed more solidly to the helm than most, before kissing it again making sure to lightly rake his dental plating across it.
The group the gray had been talking had frozen watching dumbly, all besides one that moved forward from behind another mech. It appeared he’d been at the energon dispenser seeing the cube in his hand. “I believe Bluestreak was in Medical, Commander Springer.” The voice was formal, and sharp. The glacial tone was mimicked by the newcomer’s optics.
Revving his dual engine louder this time, inciting another cry from the Praxian still in his clutches, the lithe form arched against the broad build of the green mech. Springer took notice of Prowl, before looking down at his catch. “Don’t see a speck of blue on him you sure I caught that one and there isn’t three of you Praxians lurking around? Nice to see you Prowl,” Keeping one arm around captured mech’s waist he moved around and swinging his arm caught the black and white mech in a similar fashion. “So hey, I’m good for three?”
Prowl frowned and shoved the Wrecker’s arm away from him. “You will refrain from your amorous greetings, Commander.” The officer moved away from the triplechanger, and toward the door.
Springer smirked and pulled the gray mech closer to his hip in a one armed hug, whispering he’d get back to him in a bit before leaving the stunned and weaken kneed youth behind him as he followed the other winged mech into the corridor. “You know I save those for you, Prowl, can’t help but get dazzled by your frame-type’s gorgeous angles.” The mech was clearly heading toward his office and the larger green mech was behind him all the way enjoying the view.
They reached the doorway of Prowl’s office and the Praxian turned suddenly optics narrowed. “You will refrain from molesting that Praxian youngling. He is in a far too fragile state to deal with the likes of you.”
Springer leaned in the doorway, his forearm braced on the frame barely above the other’s red chevron. “You make ‘the likes of me’ sound like a bad thing.” The black and white mech back stepped into his office, his palm hitting the door control panel and the door smoothly sliding shut on the triplechanger’s hand.
___________________
Nursing his hand Springer decided it was best to regroup his forces. By his forces he meant his roguish charm, wit, and cleverness. His right hand rubbed the sore and dented palm of his left. He walked back to his dock where the Xantium rested. Looking up at the vessel he smiled. Springer had inherited so much in Impactor’s death. It was something that the green triplechanger had not quite been comfortable with. He wasn’t the force that Impactor had been, and although he had served as First Officer on the Xantium under Impactor he would never be the leader that mech had been. He knew many leaders felt that way. When one had stood behind true bravery, and mettle, they knew it.
Looking down he rubbed his hand, and although it was the wrong side he had to chuckle at the thought the maybe Impactor had lost his hand in a similar situation. Fraggin’ Praxians too hard to woo. He leaned against one of the tall moorings. He’d first been introduced to their builds on one of his early missions with the Wreckers. He was relatively new off the assembly, hard to control, with a taste for violence and adventure, and a specialized transformation cog gifted to him by Old Vector Sigma. After a short time with the normal forces, and few missions he almost didn’t come back from he found himself reassigned to the commandos. To welcome their new member while on a trip to from Point A to B they stopped over at the neutral City-State, and much to the young triplechanger’s initial embarrassment took in what the city had to offer.
Plopped down in a seat in a dark dive in a sleazy part of town his new team crowded around him. Shouts and catcalls erupted as Praxus’ finest pleasure drones took to the stage. They were built for the enjoyment of foreigners. It was obvious from the almost exaggerated features. Their waists were thinned to make their chassis look larger, the doorwings were always flared high, and the tines of their chevrons were elongated to what Springer would now considered almost comical. Rack and Ruin, separate at the time, were the biggest corrupters one could imagine. His shuttered his optics, he remembered the slide of the drone’s frame on his, and its programmed fingers artfully hunting with precision the seams that made him howl. Guess it was true what his batch mentor Kup has warned him; Ya never forgot your first overload. The green mech shook his helm. Impactor had a thing for Praxian builds. As he always knew, the ship wasn’t the only thing he inherited.
___________________
Before an officers’ meeting Springer’s fingers playfully ran the edge of Prowl’s doorwing, making the Praxian’s already perfect posture straighten.
___________________
With as much grace as the bulky Wrecker could muster, he’d caught the mech in the corridor, and caressed the join of the black and white Officer’s leg and pelvic panel and with equal grace let him go.
___________________
In turning in a lengthy mission report that was requested he strolled beside the Praxian who was sitting at his desk. One hand slipped the report on the desk the encircled the mech coyly teasing the line of sensors that ran along where the smaller mech’s chassis met his abdominal plating.
___________________
Springer reached again for the doorwings meaning to tease Prowl once again. He’d been meaning to do it in stealthy way, sneaking the feel as he passed behind the mech that was sitting at one of the communal benches in the rec room, but then a white hand firm caught his wrist stopping the motion. The triplechanger coughed on the energon he had be in the process of imbibing. In turning to look who had his wrist the green mech’s optics locked with those of the black and white mech.
“I admire your gall with these attempts.” The Praxian’s tone was stiff, and had a bite to it.
“You can admire more than just my gall, Babe.” Springer couldn’t help the huge grin that formed after those words left his vocalizer.
___________________
Nursing a dented cheek plate was not how the Wrecker’s commander had expected to come back to the Xantium with. His fingers needed the plate, heating in gently and allowing for it to return to its natural form. “Damn, He’s got one pit-spawned right hook.” He vented air as he took his seat on the bridge.
Rack‘n’Ruin who was working at the forward console, looking at each other turning their helms toward their joined center, then looked back at their commander. They looked as though they were brewing a fine comment on the green and yellow mech’s actions but Springer took that chance away from them by speaking first.
“You know, If I wasn’t a nice guy, I’d blame you two for this.”
The combined mech’s chuckled and decided to just continue with their work on the ship’s systems with Rack shaking his helm, and Ruin taking up the responsibility of replying. “Good thing you’re a nice guy.”
___________________
Prowl wasn’t kidding about that Blue-kid being fragile, with Prowl under one of the other Praxian’s arms and Springer ducking under the other to assist they helped the mech to the medbay. The young mech hadn’t stopped talking since the incident happened. It initially had been a happy accident the two Praxians and Springer and Roadbuster deciding to use the simulation room at the same time.
One event led to another and somehow the youngest mech in the room had jostled a large energon line, causing it to come free from its dock. It was a mess. The gray mech hadn’t even noticed initially. It wasn’t until sometime later in the exercise Springer had felt an attention-getting knock on his shoulder plating. The triplechanger dumbly looked to the fist that was still near his shoulder than to Roadbuster’s outstretched arm pointing to a trail of glowing processed energon and effectively bringing an end to the simulation run.
Bluestreak’s gait faltered bringing Springer back to the present. Doing what came naturally to the larger mech, the Wrecker bent and slid an arm behind the injured mech’s knees. In one smooth motion he transferred the talkative gunner from a standing position to being carried. Prowl thanked the triplechanger, his doorwings dropping slightly from a stressed tensed position as they continued to the medbay. On their way the mech on Springer’s arm had managed to regale the larger mech with his to life story to current, and explain that the score of the injury was probably the sever damages he’d taken during what he simply, with optics dimming a slipping to the floor, referred to as ‘The Fall,’ and mention how exceeding awesome he thought the Wreckers were.
Once they were at the medical unit, the older Praxian stood beside the worktable that Springer was directed to set the gray mech on, looking with a slightly less frosty at the commando leader. “Thank you, Commander Springer… You can be quite tolerable when you are not being uncouth.”
Springer raised an optical ridge at the black and white mech. “Guess that’s progress from a right hook.”
___________________
Prowl was the last thing on the triplechanger’s mind that day. He had been forced to leave the medbay. It had been some time after they’d been redeployed and the mission was successful in the way missions with the Wreckers went. Everyone was back on the ship, the objective had been accomplish, with style he would add if he was in a better mode, and they’d returned to base, only one thing wrong. Springer’s optics looked up at the overhead panels as he sat on a bench along the wall outside the medical ward, the doors before him a silent barrier. His fingers nearly dented the plating near his knees where his hands clenched.
Rack‘n’Ruin’s ticket was up. The surgery that had saved them had a limited warranty. The clever mad scientist of a surgeon that had sutured them together had warned them of that fact. He warned them all. If the twin flyers could survive not being able to fly, not take their own life in grief from their separation from the sky, then they would die later when one of their shared vital components gave out. It had, whatever it was. The vital failed, and according to Topspin’s limits medical knowledge, a cascade failure of other systems and parts wasn’t far behind it.
The combined mechs hadn’t even been fighting. Springer drew air into his systems slowly, and held it there. They’d been at the forward console. They’d been docking the Primus thrice damaged ship! Sitting behind them he’d watched it happen. It shouldn’t have happened. He knew it would someday, but it shouldn’t have. The mech’s form jerked sharply, curling over the command board. The dark green hands grabbed at the edge of the console before gravity pulled the dual form down. It was so terribly silent. Topspin had managed to do something to keep their sparks there. They’d finished docking and had managed to haul the mech to medical. They’d gotten there alive, but with a pained expression on his face the Wrecker leader leaned forward, admitting to himself his buddies wweren’t coming out of those doors with color.
“You’re right I can admire you for more than your gall.” The black and white mech had somehow gotten close enough to be standing beside Springer, making the larger mech jump slightly. Prowl took a seat beside him on the bench, his pedes apart, leaning forward, placing his upper body’s weight on his forearms on his thighs, his fingers threaded together.
“Now’s not the time, Prowl.” The triplechanger could only look forward at the door. Something seemed wrong about sitting and doing nothing while his crewman was going grey. He should at least be in there with him. “If one of them goes, the other will.”
“I know a set like that.” The Praxian looked at the gray doors as well. “Were they welded at the hip strut figuratively before literally?”
“Yeah,” A small strain of static was starting to break into his voice, he recycled his vocalizer to eliminate that. “Yeah, they were.”
“The medics commed me. They wanted me to have you hauled to the brig for acting up like you did when they asked you to leave, but in light of the situation… I’m going to ask you to return to the Xantium and await further orders.” Prowl’s voice was amazingly flat.
“Anything else?” Springer questioned, and shuttered his optics.
“They’re gone. I’m sorry for your losses.” The officer’s hands parted and the one closest to Springer moved to rest on the green and yellow mech’s shoulder.
Springer turned, his optics unshuttering and he looked at Prowl with a small sad smile. “Thanks for realizing there were two of them.”
___________________
___________________
Sorry the bunny that had been running the show on this died abruptly. Hope you enjoy what was created while the bunny lasted. Also I'm not finding a Springer tag?
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: M?
Characters: Springer and Prowl with Bluestreak, Roadbuster, and Rack‘n’Ruin in supporting roles.
Warning: Character death (Rack‘n’Ruin), suggestive content, and a scene involving a Praxian strip club? Besides that it’s Unbeta’d.
Word Count: 2462
Continuity: G1-ish, liberties were taken
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/whoever.
Autobot Headquarters, Springer was more familiar with the ‘Con base in Kaon than his own faction’s. The Wreckers weren’t made to stop in often and many times it was just to get repairs, fuel and supplies after a rough mission, but today that wasn’t the case. He’d been called back in an effort to keep him and his forces under control and available for deployment, which when one actually thought about it, were the exact opposite.
His nearly pertpetual smirk was plastered on is face as he turned into the doorway into the base’s rec area. He paused in mid-step, spotting angles that after he’d heard about the fall of Praxus that he’d feared he’d perhaps never see again. Laying his bravado on thick he crossed the space between himself and the gray mech. He fitted himself between the doorwings, as his hand glided around the other. His engine rumbled, sending vibrations to the sensory panels on the doorwings. The triplechanger’s helm lowered so that he could whisper closer to the mech’s audial. “Hey, Babe, where were they hiding you last time I was docked in Iacon?” One of his hands stealthily traveled lower caressing the other’s hip joint gently kneading the wires that lurked near to the surface.
A beautiful gasp was drawn from the Praxian. His optics flared and his helm rolled back slightly at the sensation. The gray lips remained parted and he tried to resist moving into the touched. The larger mech loomed behind him kissing the tine of his chevron, remarking how unique it was being affixed more solidly to the helm than most, before kissing it again making sure to lightly rake his dental plating across it.
The group the gray had been talking had frozen watching dumbly, all besides one that moved forward from behind another mech. It appeared he’d been at the energon dispenser seeing the cube in his hand. “I believe Bluestreak was in Medical, Commander Springer.” The voice was formal, and sharp. The glacial tone was mimicked by the newcomer’s optics.
Revving his dual engine louder this time, inciting another cry from the Praxian still in his clutches, the lithe form arched against the broad build of the green mech. Springer took notice of Prowl, before looking down at his catch. “Don’t see a speck of blue on him you sure I caught that one and there isn’t three of you Praxians lurking around? Nice to see you Prowl,” Keeping one arm around captured mech’s waist he moved around and swinging his arm caught the black and white mech in a similar fashion. “So hey, I’m good for three?”
Prowl frowned and shoved the Wrecker’s arm away from him. “You will refrain from your amorous greetings, Commander.” The officer moved away from the triplechanger, and toward the door.
Springer smirked and pulled the gray mech closer to his hip in a one armed hug, whispering he’d get back to him in a bit before leaving the stunned and weaken kneed youth behind him as he followed the other winged mech into the corridor. “You know I save those for you, Prowl, can’t help but get dazzled by your frame-type’s gorgeous angles.” The mech was clearly heading toward his office and the larger green mech was behind him all the way enjoying the view.
They reached the doorway of Prowl’s office and the Praxian turned suddenly optics narrowed. “You will refrain from molesting that Praxian youngling. He is in a far too fragile state to deal with the likes of you.”
Springer leaned in the doorway, his forearm braced on the frame barely above the other’s red chevron. “You make ‘the likes of me’ sound like a bad thing.” The black and white mech back stepped into his office, his palm hitting the door control panel and the door smoothly sliding shut on the triplechanger’s hand.
___________________
Nursing his hand Springer decided it was best to regroup his forces. By his forces he meant his roguish charm, wit, and cleverness. His right hand rubbed the sore and dented palm of his left. He walked back to his dock where the Xantium rested. Looking up at the vessel he smiled. Springer had inherited so much in Impactor’s death. It was something that the green triplechanger had not quite been comfortable with. He wasn’t the force that Impactor had been, and although he had served as First Officer on the Xantium under Impactor he would never be the leader that mech had been. He knew many leaders felt that way. When one had stood behind true bravery, and mettle, they knew it.
Looking down he rubbed his hand, and although it was the wrong side he had to chuckle at the thought the maybe Impactor had lost his hand in a similar situation. Fraggin’ Praxians too hard to woo. He leaned against one of the tall moorings. He’d first been introduced to their builds on one of his early missions with the Wreckers. He was relatively new off the assembly, hard to control, with a taste for violence and adventure, and a specialized transformation cog gifted to him by Old Vector Sigma. After a short time with the normal forces, and few missions he almost didn’t come back from he found himself reassigned to the commandos. To welcome their new member while on a trip to from Point A to B they stopped over at the neutral City-State, and much to the young triplechanger’s initial embarrassment took in what the city had to offer.
Plopped down in a seat in a dark dive in a sleazy part of town his new team crowded around him. Shouts and catcalls erupted as Praxus’ finest pleasure drones took to the stage. They were built for the enjoyment of foreigners. It was obvious from the almost exaggerated features. Their waists were thinned to make their chassis look larger, the doorwings were always flared high, and the tines of their chevrons were elongated to what Springer would now considered almost comical. Rack and Ruin, separate at the time, were the biggest corrupters one could imagine. His shuttered his optics, he remembered the slide of the drone’s frame on his, and its programmed fingers artfully hunting with precision the seams that made him howl. Guess it was true what his batch mentor Kup has warned him; Ya never forgot your first overload. The green mech shook his helm. Impactor had a thing for Praxian builds. As he always knew, the ship wasn’t the only thing he inherited.
___________________
Before an officers’ meeting Springer’s fingers playfully ran the edge of Prowl’s doorwing, making the Praxian’s already perfect posture straighten.
___________________
With as much grace as the bulky Wrecker could muster, he’d caught the mech in the corridor, and caressed the join of the black and white Officer’s leg and pelvic panel and with equal grace let him go.
___________________
In turning in a lengthy mission report that was requested he strolled beside the Praxian who was sitting at his desk. One hand slipped the report on the desk the encircled the mech coyly teasing the line of sensors that ran along where the smaller mech’s chassis met his abdominal plating.
___________________
Springer reached again for the doorwings meaning to tease Prowl once again. He’d been meaning to do it in stealthy way, sneaking the feel as he passed behind the mech that was sitting at one of the communal benches in the rec room, but then a white hand firm caught his wrist stopping the motion. The triplechanger coughed on the energon he had be in the process of imbibing. In turning to look who had his wrist the green mech’s optics locked with those of the black and white mech.
“I admire your gall with these attempts.” The Praxian’s tone was stiff, and had a bite to it.
“You can admire more than just my gall, Babe.” Springer couldn’t help the huge grin that formed after those words left his vocalizer.
___________________
Nursing a dented cheek plate was not how the Wrecker’s commander had expected to come back to the Xantium with. His fingers needed the plate, heating in gently and allowing for it to return to its natural form. “Damn, He’s got one pit-spawned right hook.” He vented air as he took his seat on the bridge.
Rack‘n’Ruin who was working at the forward console, looking at each other turning their helms toward their joined center, then looked back at their commander. They looked as though they were brewing a fine comment on the green and yellow mech’s actions but Springer took that chance away from them by speaking first.
“You know, If I wasn’t a nice guy, I’d blame you two for this.”
The combined mech’s chuckled and decided to just continue with their work on the ship’s systems with Rack shaking his helm, and Ruin taking up the responsibility of replying. “Good thing you’re a nice guy.”
___________________
Prowl wasn’t kidding about that Blue-kid being fragile, with Prowl under one of the other Praxian’s arms and Springer ducking under the other to assist they helped the mech to the medbay. The young mech hadn’t stopped talking since the incident happened. It initially had been a happy accident the two Praxians and Springer and Roadbuster deciding to use the simulation room at the same time.
One event led to another and somehow the youngest mech in the room had jostled a large energon line, causing it to come free from its dock. It was a mess. The gray mech hadn’t even noticed initially. It wasn’t until sometime later in the exercise Springer had felt an attention-getting knock on his shoulder plating. The triplechanger dumbly looked to the fist that was still near his shoulder than to Roadbuster’s outstretched arm pointing to a trail of glowing processed energon and effectively bringing an end to the simulation run.
Bluestreak’s gait faltered bringing Springer back to the present. Doing what came naturally to the larger mech, the Wrecker bent and slid an arm behind the injured mech’s knees. In one smooth motion he transferred the talkative gunner from a standing position to being carried. Prowl thanked the triplechanger, his doorwings dropping slightly from a stressed tensed position as they continued to the medbay. On their way the mech on Springer’s arm had managed to regale the larger mech with his to life story to current, and explain that the score of the injury was probably the sever damages he’d taken during what he simply, with optics dimming a slipping to the floor, referred to as ‘The Fall,’ and mention how exceeding awesome he thought the Wreckers were.
Once they were at the medical unit, the older Praxian stood beside the worktable that Springer was directed to set the gray mech on, looking with a slightly less frosty at the commando leader. “Thank you, Commander Springer… You can be quite tolerable when you are not being uncouth.”
Springer raised an optical ridge at the black and white mech. “Guess that’s progress from a right hook.”
___________________
Prowl was the last thing on the triplechanger’s mind that day. He had been forced to leave the medbay. It had been some time after they’d been redeployed and the mission was successful in the way missions with the Wreckers went. Everyone was back on the ship, the objective had been accomplish, with style he would add if he was in a better mode, and they’d returned to base, only one thing wrong. Springer’s optics looked up at the overhead panels as he sat on a bench along the wall outside the medical ward, the doors before him a silent barrier. His fingers nearly dented the plating near his knees where his hands clenched.
Rack‘n’Ruin’s ticket was up. The surgery that had saved them had a limited warranty. The clever mad scientist of a surgeon that had sutured them together had warned them of that fact. He warned them all. If the twin flyers could survive not being able to fly, not take their own life in grief from their separation from the sky, then they would die later when one of their shared vital components gave out. It had, whatever it was. The vital failed, and according to Topspin’s limits medical knowledge, a cascade failure of other systems and parts wasn’t far behind it.
The combined mechs hadn’t even been fighting. Springer drew air into his systems slowly, and held it there. They’d been at the forward console. They’d been docking the Primus thrice damaged ship! Sitting behind them he’d watched it happen. It shouldn’t have happened. He knew it would someday, but it shouldn’t have. The mech’s form jerked sharply, curling over the command board. The dark green hands grabbed at the edge of the console before gravity pulled the dual form down. It was so terribly silent. Topspin had managed to do something to keep their sparks there. They’d finished docking and had managed to haul the mech to medical. They’d gotten there alive, but with a pained expression on his face the Wrecker leader leaned forward, admitting to himself his buddies wweren’t coming out of those doors with color.
“You’re right I can admire you for more than your gall.” The black and white mech had somehow gotten close enough to be standing beside Springer, making the larger mech jump slightly. Prowl took a seat beside him on the bench, his pedes apart, leaning forward, placing his upper body’s weight on his forearms on his thighs, his fingers threaded together.
“Now’s not the time, Prowl.” The triplechanger could only look forward at the door. Something seemed wrong about sitting and doing nothing while his crewman was going grey. He should at least be in there with him. “If one of them goes, the other will.”
“I know a set like that.” The Praxian looked at the gray doors as well. “Were they welded at the hip strut figuratively before literally?”
“Yeah,” A small strain of static was starting to break into his voice, he recycled his vocalizer to eliminate that. “Yeah, they were.”
“The medics commed me. They wanted me to have you hauled to the brig for acting up like you did when they asked you to leave, but in light of the situation… I’m going to ask you to return to the Xantium and await further orders.” Prowl’s voice was amazingly flat.
“Anything else?” Springer questioned, and shuttered his optics.
“They’re gone. I’m sorry for your losses.” The officer’s hands parted and the one closest to Springer moved to rest on the green and yellow mech’s shoulder.
Springer turned, his optics unshuttering and he looked at Prowl with a small sad smile. “Thanks for realizing there were two of them.”
___________________
___________________
Sorry the bunny that had been running the show on this died abruptly. Hope you enjoy what was created while the bunny lasted. Also I'm not finding a Springer tag?