Fanfiction: Five Firsts (Optimus/Prowl)
Title: “A First Time for Everything"
Status: One-Shot; Complete
Fandom: G1
Characters/Pairing: Optimus Prime/Prowl; Jazz
Disclaimer: I would love to own Transformers, but that honor belongs to Hasbro and some others, poor me.
Rating: PG-13
Beta: The great snare-chan! I changed two sentences after her beta work, so those mistakes are mine *hugs tight* ^-^
Summary: First meetings tend to lead to more over time, even if you start out with resentment and prejudices...
Warning: hint at slash
A First Time For Everything: 5 Firsts for Optimus and Prowl
Their first meeting had not been a favorable one. Prowl had felt illogical disappointment over the fact that the newly risen Prime was as prejudiced as Sentinel had been, at least where pre-programmed mechs were concerned.
This new Prime was... inadequate. Since he had been a dock worker, he didn't have any military background or political knowledge, and struggled to settle into his new role. He was hardly the leader in times of war that the Autobots had hoped for. While he was truly inspirational at times and driven by good intentions, Optimus Prime lacked the required abilities to back those up.
Prowl did not approve of the Council's choice, but he accepted it. All of the shortcomings he registered in the new Prime were logical. They were to be expected and could have been easily alleviated, had Optimus more faith in the right 'bots to compensate.
Prowl could not stand by idly while their troops were risked in foolhardy missions that lacked an optic for the whole of the war. His protest was therefore sharp and insistent because he feared what would happen were he to be ignored.
He had only the best intentions in regards to his fellow Autobots. He did not expect perfection from Optimus, only an open processor to learn, before running interference would cease to be enough to prevent a devastating loss for their cause.
XXX
Optimus' initial opinion of Prowl was not a favorable one; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
Although he had hoped that the rumors about pre-programmed mechs were untrue, Prowl had all but confirmed them. Nothing even hinting at emotional subroutines crossed the faceplate of the Praxian mech, no matter the situation.
Even the destruction of the Free Cities of Praxus had not provoked a reaction. Optimus had searched for signs, such as the loss the mech must have felt, but to no avail. Jazz, who had to work closer together with Prowl, being special ops and TIC, argued in favor of the bot often enough. How those two could be friends was beyond Optimus' understanding.
His SIC, by decree of the Council, was a stickler for the rules and ceremony, regardless of the situation. Optimus would not have chosen him; Prowl was overall cold sparked. A genius as a tactical advisor, perhaps, but how could he trust a mech that considered the soldiers as tools to be used?
That question was always present, and thus Optimus was wary of Prowl's counsel and turned to other mechs instead. But of course, such things changed over time.
XXX
Their situation seemed hopeless as they were surrounded on all sides. Everywhere Optimus looked there were red optics gleaming in the darkness, their numbers second only to the flare of laser fire.
He felt the heavy weight of a fate accepted settle into his spark. It struggled with the mute terror brought on by the knowledge of what would befall his Autobots should he perish here.
A shot grazed his frame and the acid pellets sizzled where they ate through his plating. Optimus ducked behind a beam and felt it heat up under the onslaught of concentrated fire. His audio fins were both torn and the eerie stillness of what should have been the chaos of a raging battle set his other sensors on edge.
To the Pit with Prowl for being right again, Optimus thought, but after all these vorns only fond exasperation and the knowledge that he should have known better remained.
Optimus didn't hear Jazz's shouted warning and neither did he see the white blur moving in to shield him, - he only felt the explosion's shockwave before everything went black.
When he came to, the whole HQ seemed to be abuzz with the heroic tale of his 'badaft SIC', as Jazz had dubbed it. Prowl lay on the medical berth next to Optimus' own. It was an interesting setting for conversations about more private matters - and many games of chess.
XXX
”I can't do it, Prowl, not any longer. You said it yourself, that I am not worthy to call myself Prime.”
”That was a long time ago. This will work, Orion.”
”Prowl -”
”I believe in you.”
That simple statement and Prowl's utter conviction startled Optimus into silence. Since he could no longer speak, he reached over and pulled his SIC into a tight hug. Prowl did not offer any resistance.
There was no need to rely on words, anyway. They had two bright sparks to commune with each other in the most intimate way that left nothing unsaid.
XXX
”Prowler's going to slag me,” Jazz said, and stared in a daze at the utter chaos that had been a pristinely kept room. ”Or maybe Optimus will do it for him.”
Pulling himself together, he bent down to get a better look.
”Okay, big mech, if you won't come out, then Uncle Jazz will come and get you.”
He didn't wait for an answer that would not come and dove under Optimus' desk to secure the wayward sparkling. His helm hit the metal with a resounding ring.
The little pitspawn hissed at him and kicked; its tiny doorwings fluttered in a desperate attempt to get free.
”Aw, you're just too cute.”
Jazz couldn't help himself. Whenever he saw the tiny mech - with its Praxian build and Optimus color scheme, as well as audio fins to top the cute-factor off - he could not resist getting all gooey inside. Never mind that those tiny pedes had just hit a sensitive circuit.
”Primus help us if you got Prowler's 'I'm pissed beyond reason' rage,” Jazz mused, watching the sparkling dangling upside down from his outstretched arm. It hissed louder, but he could hear it giggling.
”Jazz, would you kindly explain to me why this room is in such a state, although our sparkling was supposed to be under your supervision?”
Jazz felt a chill all the way down to his substructure.
Needless to say, that was the first and last time the Autobot TIC was ever allowed to sparkling-sit.
End
Status: One-Shot; Complete
Fandom: G1
Characters/Pairing: Optimus Prime/Prowl; Jazz
Disclaimer: I would love to own Transformers, but that honor belongs to Hasbro and some others, poor me.
Rating: PG-13
Beta: The great snare-chan! I changed two sentences after her beta work, so those mistakes are mine *hugs tight* ^-^
Summary: First meetings tend to lead to more over time, even if you start out with resentment and prejudices...
Warning: hint at slash
A First Time For Everything: 5 Firsts for Optimus and Prowl
Their first meeting had not been a favorable one. Prowl had felt illogical disappointment over the fact that the newly risen Prime was as prejudiced as Sentinel had been, at least where pre-programmed mechs were concerned.
This new Prime was... inadequate. Since he had been a dock worker, he didn't have any military background or political knowledge, and struggled to settle into his new role. He was hardly the leader in times of war that the Autobots had hoped for. While he was truly inspirational at times and driven by good intentions, Optimus Prime lacked the required abilities to back those up.
Prowl did not approve of the Council's choice, but he accepted it. All of the shortcomings he registered in the new Prime were logical. They were to be expected and could have been easily alleviated, had Optimus more faith in the right 'bots to compensate.
Prowl could not stand by idly while their troops were risked in foolhardy missions that lacked an optic for the whole of the war. His protest was therefore sharp and insistent because he feared what would happen were he to be ignored.
He had only the best intentions in regards to his fellow Autobots. He did not expect perfection from Optimus, only an open processor to learn, before running interference would cease to be enough to prevent a devastating loss for their cause.
XXX
Optimus' initial opinion of Prowl was not a favorable one; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
Although he had hoped that the rumors about pre-programmed mechs were untrue, Prowl had all but confirmed them. Nothing even hinting at emotional subroutines crossed the faceplate of the Praxian mech, no matter the situation.
Even the destruction of the Free Cities of Praxus had not provoked a reaction. Optimus had searched for signs, such as the loss the mech must have felt, but to no avail. Jazz, who had to work closer together with Prowl, being special ops and TIC, argued in favor of the bot often enough. How those two could be friends was beyond Optimus' understanding.
His SIC, by decree of the Council, was a stickler for the rules and ceremony, regardless of the situation. Optimus would not have chosen him; Prowl was overall cold sparked. A genius as a tactical advisor, perhaps, but how could he trust a mech that considered the soldiers as tools to be used?
That question was always present, and thus Optimus was wary of Prowl's counsel and turned to other mechs instead. But of course, such things changed over time.
XXX
Their situation seemed hopeless as they were surrounded on all sides. Everywhere Optimus looked there were red optics gleaming in the darkness, their numbers second only to the flare of laser fire.
He felt the heavy weight of a fate accepted settle into his spark. It struggled with the mute terror brought on by the knowledge of what would befall his Autobots should he perish here.
A shot grazed his frame and the acid pellets sizzled where they ate through his plating. Optimus ducked behind a beam and felt it heat up under the onslaught of concentrated fire. His audio fins were both torn and the eerie stillness of what should have been the chaos of a raging battle set his other sensors on edge.
To the Pit with Prowl for being right again, Optimus thought, but after all these vorns only fond exasperation and the knowledge that he should have known better remained.
Optimus didn't hear Jazz's shouted warning and neither did he see the white blur moving in to shield him, - he only felt the explosion's shockwave before everything went black.
When he came to, the whole HQ seemed to be abuzz with the heroic tale of his 'badaft SIC', as Jazz had dubbed it. Prowl lay on the medical berth next to Optimus' own. It was an interesting setting for conversations about more private matters - and many games of chess.
XXX
”I can't do it, Prowl, not any longer. You said it yourself, that I am not worthy to call myself Prime.”
”That was a long time ago. This will work, Orion.”
”Prowl -”
”I believe in you.”
That simple statement and Prowl's utter conviction startled Optimus into silence. Since he could no longer speak, he reached over and pulled his SIC into a tight hug. Prowl did not offer any resistance.
There was no need to rely on words, anyway. They had two bright sparks to commune with each other in the most intimate way that left nothing unsaid.
XXX
”Prowler's going to slag me,” Jazz said, and stared in a daze at the utter chaos that had been a pristinely kept room. ”Or maybe Optimus will do it for him.”
Pulling himself together, he bent down to get a better look.
”Okay, big mech, if you won't come out, then Uncle Jazz will come and get you.”
He didn't wait for an answer that would not come and dove under Optimus' desk to secure the wayward sparkling. His helm hit the metal with a resounding ring.
The little pitspawn hissed at him and kicked; its tiny doorwings fluttered in a desperate attempt to get free.
”Aw, you're just too cute.”
Jazz couldn't help himself. Whenever he saw the tiny mech - with its Praxian build and Optimus color scheme, as well as audio fins to top the cute-factor off - he could not resist getting all gooey inside. Never mind that those tiny pedes had just hit a sensitive circuit.
”Primus help us if you got Prowler's 'I'm pissed beyond reason' rage,” Jazz mused, watching the sparkling dangling upside down from his outstretched arm. It hissed louder, but he could hear it giggling.
”Jazz, would you kindly explain to me why this room is in such a state, although our sparkling was supposed to be under your supervision?”
Jazz felt a chill all the way down to his substructure.
Needless to say, that was the first and last time the Autobot TIC was ever allowed to sparkling-sit.
End