The Little Things Ch.2
Summary:When you rarely see your love it's the few moments you steal away that matter the most.
Warnings: References to mechpreg and sparkling deaths
I'm thinking just one, maybe two more chapters after this, but I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen in them :/
I also kind of want to write some Blades after this
Prowl’s doorwings stretched slightly against the warmth of Chase’s chasis behind him as he continued writing on the datapad in his hand. Chase’s arms tightened briefly where they were wrapped around Prowl’s stomach plating, his legs spread to make room for Prowl between them. The rough hard rock behind and below him pressed harshly into his plating as the ceiling arched overhead. The yellow light of Prowl’s headlights cast a dim cone of light around them. They were once again in the musty volcano tunnel. It was the only place Chase felt comfortable with such affection, away from suspicious optics and judgmental whispers.
On the pad Prowl was methodically listing his orders and suggestions for the Rescue Bots in detail. He and Heatwave had already discussed most of them, and Chase occasionally gave a suggestion as he read over his shoulder. At first he had been concerned about the classification level of the data being listed, but Prowl had assured him that his position as the Rescue Bots second in command gave him clearance, and that his more extensive knowledge of the area would be invaluable.
Tomorrow at 0900 Prowl would hand this report to Heatwave and bridge back to the main Autobot base. He would likely not meet Chase again for some time. Despite this he thoroughly and exhaustively went through each paragraph and footnote. Eventually he came to the end and quietly turned off the pad and set it down on the cold hard rock with a quiet click.
Chase’s hands smoothed over his stomach plating, lightly stroking. Prowl laid his hands on top of his and leaned back into his hold. His doorwings protested a little at the increased pressure, but the sensors calmed with just a little grumbling.
No spoken word or high pitched radio frequency disturbed the tunnel’s damp air, although small creatures rustled in the shadows and under the ground, while cool breezes hissed and whistled by stone and holes. For hours they simply sat, hands rasping over seams and armor as they mapped changes and scars new and old. Gentle kisses slowly deepened and with quiet clicks panels opened to allow access deeper inside each other’s bodies. The tunnel echoed with moans and groans, but any who might have heard attributed the noise to the eerie wind.
.
Chief Charlie Burns had 4 children and had been in charge of a small town police force for many years. New recruits, the few there had been over the years, always gave him mixed feelings. They were young, and under his tutelage and protection, but they were also adults and made their own decisions and mistakes and sometimes he had to let them make those mistakes. His own children were now almost grown and sometimes it felt like he had to treat them more and more like recruits, rather than the children they once were. Since the arrival of the Rescue Bots it felt like he was constantly surrounded by children who needed his teaching and protection, but only to a certain extent before he over stepped his bounds. Even though he knew that they were far older and more powerful than him the Cybertronians seemed so young sometimes.
He had always made an effort to judge people by their deeds, good or otherwise. The Autobots, and the Rescue Bots in particular had done more good than harm in their stay and partnership on the island. He had yet to see a Decepticon, but he trusted the Autobots, particularly his Autobots. Except for the occasional hang up they worked well together. In fact, sometimes he almost forgot that they weren’t human. They had such humanlike personalities and emotions it almost made it even more alien when they did or said something un-human.
On the surface it might appear that Chase was the most alien and machine-like Cybertronian on the team, but truth was he reminded Burns of some of the officers and new recruits that he had worked with before. He hadn’t worked with Chase for very long but he already he felt that he knew most of his personality and quirks. When he gained a few new quirks with Prowl’s arrival and introduction into their daily routines he hadn’t thought much of it at first- until he started noticing some patterns.
Every morning at exactly 0800 the Rescue Bots contacted the main Autobot base. Almost every morning Chase was at the Rescue Bots Headquarters to make the call, even if it meant handing off a partrol to someone else or even if he could only stay for the few minutes it took to initialize the call and greet Commander Prowl. Any other member of the team was capable of making the daily call and report, even if Blades got nervous and stammered, but Chase made great efforts to be the one to do it, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.
Prowl and Chase exchanged no small talk during these brief contacts, always stayed on script, but Burns had noticed that sometimes when the others were gone or distracted that as they came to the end of their daily exchange, instead of immediately closing the connection they simply stood in silence, watching the other’s image on the screen for several quiet, motionless minutes before one or the other quietly, almost reluctantly, shut it off.
The few times that Chase was not present for any of the call, or the call was received by an Autobot other than Prowl, Chase didn’t visibly react, but he was taciturn and quiet until the next day, the next call at 0800. Chase was not a particularly talkative or emotive person at the best of times, but he and Chief Burns had settled into a comfortable and familiar relationship, and it wasn’t unusual for them to exchange lengthy conversations and questions during long and uneventful patrols. On the days that Chase did not speak to Prowl, however briefly it may have been, he didn’t ask after the rest of their unit or family, made no polite small talk, did not question or complain about Earth customs or eccentricities, and he was unforthcoming when Burns questioned him or attempted to start a conversation.
The Rescue bots seemed happy to let Chase write and send in the weekly reports, delighted when he accompanied Prowl on the occasional inspection of the base island’s defenses, but Burns couldn’t help but think it odd that Prowl often didn’t insist that Heatwave, the nominal unit leader, accompany them as well. The Rescue Bots didn’t seem to think anything of it. In fact, Blades thought it was good for Chase to be around someone with a similar demeanor, even if it was all work. There was something there. A close friendship or… something else?
He had wondered if that was even possible. For all their humanlike qualities they were, after all, robots. Heatwave and Chase had been off on an inspection with Prowl, the children busy with their own lives on a Friday night and he had asked Boulder. The green robot had spoken of close friendships, families and… love. Somewhat embarrassed Charlie Burns had asked if they had marriage. Boulder had replied that they had something similar, a ceremonial declaration of love, fidelity, and unification between two bots, sometimes more than two! But was it the same thing, or…? Despite his uneasiness he had had to ask the question, feeling like a unscrupulous paparazzi, asking overly personal questions. Where did they come from? How were they created?
It was like receiving The Talk from one of his children. A Cybertronian could be made asexually or… sexually. Blades had piped up after the explanation. Apparently he would like to… carry, someday. He spoke of little robot children with longing. Discomfited, Charlie had retreated to a restless night of tossing and turning.
The next morning Prowl left through the shimmering and awesome ground bridge and routine duties and patrols continued. Prowl and Chase had exchanged a wordless, unreadable look before he had turned and stepped through in his calm and steady way.
When he sat down inside him and shifted uncomfortably Chase noticed right away and asked if something was wrong. Uncertain how to reply, Charlie brushed the question aside with platitudes. At the end of their patrol the police car had, in his own awkward way, reassured Charlie that he would keep any of their conversations confidential if he wished to speak with him about what was bothering him. Touched by the gesture, and abruptly ashamed of himself he realized that he had been wondering how he should treat the Rescue Bots, especially Chase, after the revelation when Chase was still the loyal, if reserved, good natured, if awkward, person he had already come to know.
A few days later Blades shyly approached him. He had a few pictures of his younger brother when he was a baby. The little robot in the pictures was frozen in small acts of play, laughter, and sometimes contrariness. Like his brother the child didn’t look quite human or quite machine, but- it was a person. And it was beautiful, and so like his children when they had been young. He asked if he was grown now and with other Autobots. Blades spoke, with the matter of fact flatness of time and survival, of the missiles which had leveled half a city and his family home. The Autobots and his Rescue Bots had lost more than he could comprehend. He reassured Blades that his children, when he had them, would be as beautiful as his younger brother had been, and that he would be a good parent.
The next morning at exactly 0800 he watched Prowl and Chase repeat the standard script with eyes that never left each other. Yes, there was something there, and that was… good.
Warnings: References to mechpreg and sparkling deaths
I'm thinking just one, maybe two more chapters after this, but I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen in them :/
I also kind of want to write some Blades after this
Prowl’s doorwings stretched slightly against the warmth of Chase’s chasis behind him as he continued writing on the datapad in his hand. Chase’s arms tightened briefly where they were wrapped around Prowl’s stomach plating, his legs spread to make room for Prowl between them. The rough hard rock behind and below him pressed harshly into his plating as the ceiling arched overhead. The yellow light of Prowl’s headlights cast a dim cone of light around them. They were once again in the musty volcano tunnel. It was the only place Chase felt comfortable with such affection, away from suspicious optics and judgmental whispers.
On the pad Prowl was methodically listing his orders and suggestions for the Rescue Bots in detail. He and Heatwave had already discussed most of them, and Chase occasionally gave a suggestion as he read over his shoulder. At first he had been concerned about the classification level of the data being listed, but Prowl had assured him that his position as the Rescue Bots second in command gave him clearance, and that his more extensive knowledge of the area would be invaluable.
Tomorrow at 0900 Prowl would hand this report to Heatwave and bridge back to the main Autobot base. He would likely not meet Chase again for some time. Despite this he thoroughly and exhaustively went through each paragraph and footnote. Eventually he came to the end and quietly turned off the pad and set it down on the cold hard rock with a quiet click.
Chase’s hands smoothed over his stomach plating, lightly stroking. Prowl laid his hands on top of his and leaned back into his hold. His doorwings protested a little at the increased pressure, but the sensors calmed with just a little grumbling.
No spoken word or high pitched radio frequency disturbed the tunnel’s damp air, although small creatures rustled in the shadows and under the ground, while cool breezes hissed and whistled by stone and holes. For hours they simply sat, hands rasping over seams and armor as they mapped changes and scars new and old. Gentle kisses slowly deepened and with quiet clicks panels opened to allow access deeper inside each other’s bodies. The tunnel echoed with moans and groans, but any who might have heard attributed the noise to the eerie wind.
.
Chief Charlie Burns had 4 children and had been in charge of a small town police force for many years. New recruits, the few there had been over the years, always gave him mixed feelings. They were young, and under his tutelage and protection, but they were also adults and made their own decisions and mistakes and sometimes he had to let them make those mistakes. His own children were now almost grown and sometimes it felt like he had to treat them more and more like recruits, rather than the children they once were. Since the arrival of the Rescue Bots it felt like he was constantly surrounded by children who needed his teaching and protection, but only to a certain extent before he over stepped his bounds. Even though he knew that they were far older and more powerful than him the Cybertronians seemed so young sometimes.
He had always made an effort to judge people by their deeds, good or otherwise. The Autobots, and the Rescue Bots in particular had done more good than harm in their stay and partnership on the island. He had yet to see a Decepticon, but he trusted the Autobots, particularly his Autobots. Except for the occasional hang up they worked well together. In fact, sometimes he almost forgot that they weren’t human. They had such humanlike personalities and emotions it almost made it even more alien when they did or said something un-human.
On the surface it might appear that Chase was the most alien and machine-like Cybertronian on the team, but truth was he reminded Burns of some of the officers and new recruits that he had worked with before. He hadn’t worked with Chase for very long but he already he felt that he knew most of his personality and quirks. When he gained a few new quirks with Prowl’s arrival and introduction into their daily routines he hadn’t thought much of it at first- until he started noticing some patterns.
Every morning at exactly 0800 the Rescue Bots contacted the main Autobot base. Almost every morning Chase was at the Rescue Bots Headquarters to make the call, even if it meant handing off a partrol to someone else or even if he could only stay for the few minutes it took to initialize the call and greet Commander Prowl. Any other member of the team was capable of making the daily call and report, even if Blades got nervous and stammered, but Chase made great efforts to be the one to do it, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.
Prowl and Chase exchanged no small talk during these brief contacts, always stayed on script, but Burns had noticed that sometimes when the others were gone or distracted that as they came to the end of their daily exchange, instead of immediately closing the connection they simply stood in silence, watching the other’s image on the screen for several quiet, motionless minutes before one or the other quietly, almost reluctantly, shut it off.
The few times that Chase was not present for any of the call, or the call was received by an Autobot other than Prowl, Chase didn’t visibly react, but he was taciturn and quiet until the next day, the next call at 0800. Chase was not a particularly talkative or emotive person at the best of times, but he and Chief Burns had settled into a comfortable and familiar relationship, and it wasn’t unusual for them to exchange lengthy conversations and questions during long and uneventful patrols. On the days that Chase did not speak to Prowl, however briefly it may have been, he didn’t ask after the rest of their unit or family, made no polite small talk, did not question or complain about Earth customs or eccentricities, and he was unforthcoming when Burns questioned him or attempted to start a conversation.
The Rescue bots seemed happy to let Chase write and send in the weekly reports, delighted when he accompanied Prowl on the occasional inspection of the base island’s defenses, but Burns couldn’t help but think it odd that Prowl often didn’t insist that Heatwave, the nominal unit leader, accompany them as well. The Rescue Bots didn’t seem to think anything of it. In fact, Blades thought it was good for Chase to be around someone with a similar demeanor, even if it was all work. There was something there. A close friendship or… something else?
He had wondered if that was even possible. For all their humanlike qualities they were, after all, robots. Heatwave and Chase had been off on an inspection with Prowl, the children busy with their own lives on a Friday night and he had asked Boulder. The green robot had spoken of close friendships, families and… love. Somewhat embarrassed Charlie Burns had asked if they had marriage. Boulder had replied that they had something similar, a ceremonial declaration of love, fidelity, and unification between two bots, sometimes more than two! But was it the same thing, or…? Despite his uneasiness he had had to ask the question, feeling like a unscrupulous paparazzi, asking overly personal questions. Where did they come from? How were they created?
It was like receiving The Talk from one of his children. A Cybertronian could be made asexually or… sexually. Blades had piped up after the explanation. Apparently he would like to… carry, someday. He spoke of little robot children with longing. Discomfited, Charlie had retreated to a restless night of tossing and turning.
The next morning Prowl left through the shimmering and awesome ground bridge and routine duties and patrols continued. Prowl and Chase had exchanged a wordless, unreadable look before he had turned and stepped through in his calm and steady way.
When he sat down inside him and shifted uncomfortably Chase noticed right away and asked if something was wrong. Uncertain how to reply, Charlie brushed the question aside with platitudes. At the end of their patrol the police car had, in his own awkward way, reassured Charlie that he would keep any of their conversations confidential if he wished to speak with him about what was bothering him. Touched by the gesture, and abruptly ashamed of himself he realized that he had been wondering how he should treat the Rescue Bots, especially Chase, after the revelation when Chase was still the loyal, if reserved, good natured, if awkward, person he had already come to know.
A few days later Blades shyly approached him. He had a few pictures of his younger brother when he was a baby. The little robot in the pictures was frozen in small acts of play, laughter, and sometimes contrariness. Like his brother the child didn’t look quite human or quite machine, but- it was a person. And it was beautiful, and so like his children when they had been young. He asked if he was grown now and with other Autobots. Blades spoke, with the matter of fact flatness of time and survival, of the missiles which had leveled half a city and his family home. The Autobots and his Rescue Bots had lost more than he could comprehend. He reassured Blades that his children, when he had them, would be as beautiful as his younger brother had been, and that he would be a good parent.
The next morning at exactly 0800 he watched Prowl and Chase repeat the standard script with eyes that never left each other. Yes, there was something there, and that was… good.