Fic- Say it, Jazz/Ratchet, Weekly Response Fic
Title: Say it
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: MA
Characters: Jazz, Ratchet and mention of Prime
Prompt: Jazz/Ratchet - after-revival action
Warning: Spark sex, tactile, and energy fields, and it’s Unbeta’d, again.
Word Count: 926
Continuity: Bayverse, with the mention of Titan Comics situations
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/Dreamworks/whoever.
*****
They had all made mistakes. That is what Prime had said to him as their leader’s gentle hand patted his shoulder armor. None of them had wanted to lose Jazz. After everything had settle and the resurrected Autobot had fled the scene after the attempt on Prime’s life, Ratchet alone in his makeshift infirmary looked at the now empty containment vessel that once housed a shard of the Allspark. It had been entrusted in his care, under his care because of his believed unwavering ethics. He worked at the mechanics of one hand with the other, a nervous habit he couldn’t break. What had he done?
He was so desperate to have the silver mech back. To have an ally that wasn’t Prime that remembered to hate the war that destroyed their home. His optics were shuttered as he thought about the situation, almost appearing as if practicing meditation. He slowly stretched and bent each finger in nearly a ritualized way. They had needed him. He had needed Jazz, but it had been foolish to think that with the Allspark fragment he was able to control life and death. Jazz was not the mech they had known… or if he was, death had changed him.
It was all quiet. Night had long past, and few mechs were out of recharge, and few humans were even awake. Ratchet still sat in his sat in his brooding. The metal door to the hanger made an angry sound as it was moved along its track and closed again. The hummer didn’t turn to look at the mech who entered, but let his hand drop from his hold, his optics unshuttered. “Prime, no, I don’t wish to discuss the matter anymore.”
Light pedefalls was the only sound after that. The intruder made his way to the medic and a four clawed hand wrapped around the back of the larger mech’s neck. “He was always one fo’ buttin’ in wasn’ e.”
Ratchet straightened up at the touch on his neck but didn’t dare move any further. He booted up his comm ready to call for aid, but he didn’t. “Jazz.” He didn’t wish to fight the other, or risk having the others fight him. “Just leave.”
“Why, Ratch?” The claws around the green mech’s neck components tightened. The silver mech locked his arm in place to prevent his hand from quivering, “Why me? Why’d it haveta be me?” His voice was tight, and held an unsettled air. The shaking no longer visible in his arm was audible in Jazz’s voice.
The medic’s shoulders sagged in a resigned way. Ratchet knew the answer. They both did. He shuttered his optics briefly. He didn’t say a thing but looked unfocused toward the wall in front of him, waiting for the silver mech to move.
“Why?” The smaller mech didn’t tighten his hold but Ratchet could hear the actuators in the other’s neck fire as Jazz shook his helm. “Why now? Why did I have to die for you to admit it even to yerself?” The hand uncurled from the medic’s neck, closing in a fist the mech lightly pounded Ratchet’s shoulder. A moment later the light frame rested against the back plating of the larger mech. Helm knocking against the apex of the larger mech’s shoulders. The side of the fist knocked into Ratchet’s plating again, and again, slowly growing weaker. “Why?” Emotion driven static clouded the word.
“I wish I knew.” He brought the other back from nothingness, from whatever afterlife awaited them and he’d yet to say it. He was the definition of coward. Gently he expanded his spark field allowing it to brush the saboteur’s, a silent request for affirmation.
“Say it.” Jazz pressed against the medic’s back his hand clenching on the other’s shoulder armor, while the other found and hold on Ratchet’s side. Silence lingered after the command. The silver mech’s field withdrew, densely surrounding his very alive spark. “Say it, or you’ll never ‘ave me.”
“I love you.”
It was amazing how quickly after those three words they tumbled to the floor. The lighter build straddling the larger, and sharp fingers finding gaps in plating. Their fields brushed coaxing their pleasure higher. Soon, too quickly, their chest plates parted, and their chamber shielding retracted. They had denied themselves of this and only this, everything less was something they’d shared, claiming pure need to simply be the reason, not allowing themselves to dream it any further.
Their sparks met as Jazz pressed his frame to Ratchet’s. The doubled light shone through the cracks between them. Their essences meshed till they could no longer tell one from another; they laid in a state freedom, no ties to the war they loathed, no duties to be done or responsibilities to uphold, as memories and feelings were exchanged without barrier. They knew nothing but themselves till all went to black.
Ratchet’s boot up protocols initiated and he groaned from the floor. His spark felt heavy, and a resounding feeling of forced singularity caused it to ache. He slowly lifted a hand, placing it on the plating of his now closed chassis. He didn’t need to move, or look around to know. Jazz had left, taking with him a mark on his soul. The silver mech now held his freedom above all else, including his love.
The digits of Ratchet’s hand curled into the guard of his grill. He would say it a thousand times if he could get the mech to stay, but saying it that once was enough for now.
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: MA
Characters: Jazz, Ratchet and mention of Prime
Prompt: Jazz/Ratchet - after-revival action
Warning: Spark sex, tactile, and energy fields, and it’s Unbeta’d, again.
Word Count: 926
Continuity: Bayverse, with the mention of Titan Comics situations
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/Dreamworks/whoever.
*****
They had all made mistakes. That is what Prime had said to him as their leader’s gentle hand patted his shoulder armor. None of them had wanted to lose Jazz. After everything had settle and the resurrected Autobot had fled the scene after the attempt on Prime’s life, Ratchet alone in his makeshift infirmary looked at the now empty containment vessel that once housed a shard of the Allspark. It had been entrusted in his care, under his care because of his believed unwavering ethics. He worked at the mechanics of one hand with the other, a nervous habit he couldn’t break. What had he done?
He was so desperate to have the silver mech back. To have an ally that wasn’t Prime that remembered to hate the war that destroyed their home. His optics were shuttered as he thought about the situation, almost appearing as if practicing meditation. He slowly stretched and bent each finger in nearly a ritualized way. They had needed him. He had needed Jazz, but it had been foolish to think that with the Allspark fragment he was able to control life and death. Jazz was not the mech they had known… or if he was, death had changed him.
It was all quiet. Night had long past, and few mechs were out of recharge, and few humans were even awake. Ratchet still sat in his sat in his brooding. The metal door to the hanger made an angry sound as it was moved along its track and closed again. The hummer didn’t turn to look at the mech who entered, but let his hand drop from his hold, his optics unshuttered. “Prime, no, I don’t wish to discuss the matter anymore.”
Light pedefalls was the only sound after that. The intruder made his way to the medic and a four clawed hand wrapped around the back of the larger mech’s neck. “He was always one fo’ buttin’ in wasn’ e.”
Ratchet straightened up at the touch on his neck but didn’t dare move any further. He booted up his comm ready to call for aid, but he didn’t. “Jazz.” He didn’t wish to fight the other, or risk having the others fight him. “Just leave.”
“Why, Ratch?” The claws around the green mech’s neck components tightened. The silver mech locked his arm in place to prevent his hand from quivering, “Why me? Why’d it haveta be me?” His voice was tight, and held an unsettled air. The shaking no longer visible in his arm was audible in Jazz’s voice.
The medic’s shoulders sagged in a resigned way. Ratchet knew the answer. They both did. He shuttered his optics briefly. He didn’t say a thing but looked unfocused toward the wall in front of him, waiting for the silver mech to move.
“Why?” The smaller mech didn’t tighten his hold but Ratchet could hear the actuators in the other’s neck fire as Jazz shook his helm. “Why now? Why did I have to die for you to admit it even to yerself?” The hand uncurled from the medic’s neck, closing in a fist the mech lightly pounded Ratchet’s shoulder. A moment later the light frame rested against the back plating of the larger mech. Helm knocking against the apex of the larger mech’s shoulders. The side of the fist knocked into Ratchet’s plating again, and again, slowly growing weaker. “Why?” Emotion driven static clouded the word.
“I wish I knew.” He brought the other back from nothingness, from whatever afterlife awaited them and he’d yet to say it. He was the definition of coward. Gently he expanded his spark field allowing it to brush the saboteur’s, a silent request for affirmation.
“Say it.” Jazz pressed against the medic’s back his hand clenching on the other’s shoulder armor, while the other found and hold on Ratchet’s side. Silence lingered after the command. The silver mech’s field withdrew, densely surrounding his very alive spark. “Say it, or you’ll never ‘ave me.”
“I love you.”
It was amazing how quickly after those three words they tumbled to the floor. The lighter build straddling the larger, and sharp fingers finding gaps in plating. Their fields brushed coaxing their pleasure higher. Soon, too quickly, their chest plates parted, and their chamber shielding retracted. They had denied themselves of this and only this, everything less was something they’d shared, claiming pure need to simply be the reason, not allowing themselves to dream it any further.
Their sparks met as Jazz pressed his frame to Ratchet’s. The doubled light shone through the cracks between them. Their essences meshed till they could no longer tell one from another; they laid in a state freedom, no ties to the war they loathed, no duties to be done or responsibilities to uphold, as memories and feelings were exchanged without barrier. They knew nothing but themselves till all went to black.
Ratchet’s boot up protocols initiated and he groaned from the floor. His spark felt heavy, and a resounding feeling of forced singularity caused it to ache. He slowly lifted a hand, placing it on the plating of his now closed chassis. He didn’t need to move, or look around to know. Jazz had left, taking with him a mark on his soul. The silver mech now held his freedom above all else, including his love.
The digits of Ratchet’s hand curled into the guard of his grill. He would say it a thousand times if he could get the mech to stay, but saying it that once was enough for now.