Skating
Title: Skating
Word Count: 1460
Summary: There is a frozen lake outside the Arc; the bots try their hand at ice-skating. Jazz flops, Prowl glides and Optimus is unsure whether the Ice will even hold his weight.
Rating: K+
The lake was about a mile away from the Arc. In the summer, it was a common place for meeting, relaxing, and, on occasion, parties.
Now, in the winter, full of snow and ice, it was often abandoned. Until Spike came visiting, a wide grin on his face, a pair of very odd shoes slung over his shoulder.
Wheeljack met him, a very large box tucked under his arm. “Hey, Spike. I’ve got the stuff you asked for.”
“Great!” the human shouted, grin widening. “Now, can you tell me where Optimus is? I’ve got... ah... a request.”
A deep chuckle came from behind Spike, and the human whirled around. “Hello, Spike.”
“Optimus! Hah. Um. Don't do that. You just about gave me a heart-attack - ah! That's an expression. I wasn't really going to have a heart-attack. It just means you startled me,” Spike said quickly, knowing that the two Autobots would easily panic.
The Prime nodded. “I see. What can I do for you, Spike.”
The human gave a wicked grin. “Well, there's something that I like to do in the winter...”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Prowl stared at the frozen lake, optics as pale as the ice at which he was looking. “'Ice skating'?” he asked, looking skeptically down at the human sitting next to his left pede.
“Yup! It's really fun!” Spike grunted as he yanked on his ice skate.
“Is it... safe?”
“Yup. As long as you're careful. Come on! Give it a shot!”
Prowl vented and lowered himself to the ground, pulling the “skates” Wheeljack had handed him out of subspace. “I suppose attempting would not be harmful.”
“Nope!”
After a minute of fiddling, he managed to pull the metal skates on as Jazz settled next to him and set about pulling his own skates on.
“Ain't this cool, Prowler?”
“... It is very cold, yes, Jazz.”
Jazz rolled his optics. “Prowler...”
Prowl simply smiled and finished latching the skates to his pedes. Spike, still at Prowl's side, stood and wobbled to the ice. Once on the frozen lake, he pushed off and... he was gliding, swooping and sliding. He was... graceful, a trait not usually assigned to the human.
Until his feet flew out from under him and his aft met ice. Jazz snickered. Prowl rolled his optics.
“Come on, Spike! Show us how it's done!” Sideswipe called from where he was working with his own set of skates.
Spike shook his head, laughing as he pushed himself back to his feet. “I've been skating my whole life! You come out here and we'll see how easy it is!”
Sideswipe did just that, accepting the challenge. He stood on wobbly pedes and slowly stepped forward. His skate touched the ice, and the red frontliner was immediately on his back.
It was Spike's turn to giggle. Prowl's mouth twitched into a smile. Jazz gave into the full-out bellows of laughter he had been trying to hold back at Sideswipe's stunned expression.
“Alright, Jazz, you think it's so funny, you get out here and do it!”
“Alright, my mech.” And Jazz, too, found himself on his aft in the snow. A very quiet snicker from behind him caught his attention, and he turned around. “What, ya think ya can do better, Prowler?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Show me.”
“With pleasure.”
Prowl stood. Unlike his comrades, he did not immediately move. Instead, he stood for a moment, shifting his weight and testing his balance. Then, with a flick of his doorwings, he stepped onto the ice and pushed off.
He wobbled for a moment as he slid, then he steadied. Another push, more gliding. Prowl made one graceful loop around the lake before sliding to a stop in front of Jazz, showering his bondmate with ice shavings.
Jazz blinked. “Wha-?”
“It's really actually very easy.”
Jazz just blinked again. Then he struggled to his pedes, arms wide, legs bent. He pushed off gently, then flopped again. A heavy gust of air rushed from his vents. “Ah jus' don' get it.”
Prowl grinned and pushed off again, moving backwards, away from his bondmate. “Come now, Jazz. It's simple. You push off with one foot, glide for a moment, then push off again with the other. Simple.”
Sideswipe, where he was watching on the sidelines with an open mouth and wide optics, made a sort of “Bwah?” sound, and Prowl looked his way.
“Sideswipe,” he nodded, then spun and took off again, careful to avoid stepping on Spike. He whirled and spun and jumped like a professional, to the amusement and amazement of all watching.
Others gathered their courage and clipped on the skates Wheeljack was cheerily handing out. Mirage skated easily, making it look like he was floating. Hound followed, a little more clumsily, but still having fun. Sunstreaker was pushed without skates onto the ice by his brother, then challenged by said brother to a race around the lake, once he got his skates. Sunstreaker accepted, and the two were off, racing around the perimiter of the lake, shoving at each other, with no clear finish line in sight. The minibots all turned out to be surprisingly good skaters. Nowhere near as good as Prowl, but about on par with Spike. Jazz continued to stumble around, spending more time on his aft, chassis, and face than on his pedes.
Eventually, the lake was full of colorful, skating mechs. Prowl, who was still all but dancing across the ice, spun to a halt in front of his commander, who, beside Ratchet and Ironhide, and the Dinobots (who were out training on their own), was the only one still off the ice. “Prime. You ordered us out here. So get out here.”
Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “I do not know if the ice will hold my weight.”
“It will.”
“Prowl...”
With a helm shake and a quiet vent, Prowl went back to spinning between his comrades, and eventually took pity on his stumbling bondmate.
“Jazz,” he said as he slid to a stop. Jazz huffed angrily, though there was a smirk playing about his lips.
“Figures it'd be you who's best at this,” the black and white saboteur said, smirking slightly.
“To tell you the truth, Jazz, it's the doorwings.”
“Huh?”
“They're good for balance,” the tactician elaborated, flicking one of said appendages. “This whole activity is about balance. If you'd like, Jazz, I could help you.”
“Love, it'd be wonderful if you could.”
Smiling, Prowl took his bondmate's hand in his and tugged gently. Jazz wobbled, but clung to his bondmate and managed to stay vertical. The two black and whites skated slowly around the lake, hand in hand. Prowl wore a tiny smile, genuine and warm. Jazz was grinning like a lunatic, happy he was finally off his aft.
The two skated together, lost to the world. The other Autobots around them grinned and skated along, allowing the two black and whites to pass through without having to worry about bumping into someone else. Not that they would have worried. They would have simply run into someone, apologized absently, and moved on. It was how they were when they got like this. The other Autobots had plenty of experience with the Prime's left and right hands when they stared at each other this way.
They day passed quickly. It snowed for a time, and Optimus never did actually get onto the ice, but he did watch his happy troops as they cavorted about like younglings. Many image captures were made by the Autobot commander. They would later find their way to the Rec Room, much the the embarrassment of certain mechs.
That day was relived over and over in the passing vorns. Most of the mechs kept their skates, knowing it was possible that they would never skate again once they left and returned to Cybertron, but still feeling that they were something worth keeping.
But, a millenia later, after the war had long since ended, in a little corner of New Iacon, a building was open. A simple sign in English sat above the door.
“Ice Rink,” was all the sign said. Most Cybertronians ignored it. Others, older mechs from way back during the war, though... They saw it and laughed. Then they went home, pulled out some ancient pieces of metal, and went back to the unobtrusive building. Even the Prime came down from the palace to the plain building. There, the Autobots of the Arc pulled on their skates and remembered times past.
Word Count: 1460
Summary: There is a frozen lake outside the Arc; the bots try their hand at ice-skating. Jazz flops, Prowl glides and Optimus is unsure whether the Ice will even hold his weight.
Rating: K+
The lake was about a mile away from the Arc. In the summer, it was a common place for meeting, relaxing, and, on occasion, parties.
Now, in the winter, full of snow and ice, it was often abandoned. Until Spike came visiting, a wide grin on his face, a pair of very odd shoes slung over his shoulder.
Wheeljack met him, a very large box tucked under his arm. “Hey, Spike. I’ve got the stuff you asked for.”
“Great!” the human shouted, grin widening. “Now, can you tell me where Optimus is? I’ve got... ah... a request.”
A deep chuckle came from behind Spike, and the human whirled around. “Hello, Spike.”
“Optimus! Hah. Um. Don't do that. You just about gave me a heart-attack - ah! That's an expression. I wasn't really going to have a heart-attack. It just means you startled me,” Spike said quickly, knowing that the two Autobots would easily panic.
The Prime nodded. “I see. What can I do for you, Spike.”
The human gave a wicked grin. “Well, there's something that I like to do in the winter...”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Prowl stared at the frozen lake, optics as pale as the ice at which he was looking. “'Ice skating'?” he asked, looking skeptically down at the human sitting next to his left pede.
“Yup! It's really fun!” Spike grunted as he yanked on his ice skate.
“Is it... safe?”
“Yup. As long as you're careful. Come on! Give it a shot!”
Prowl vented and lowered himself to the ground, pulling the “skates” Wheeljack had handed him out of subspace. “I suppose attempting would not be harmful.”
“Nope!”
After a minute of fiddling, he managed to pull the metal skates on as Jazz settled next to him and set about pulling his own skates on.
“Ain't this cool, Prowler?”
“... It is very cold, yes, Jazz.”
Jazz rolled his optics. “Prowler...”
Prowl simply smiled and finished latching the skates to his pedes. Spike, still at Prowl's side, stood and wobbled to the ice. Once on the frozen lake, he pushed off and... he was gliding, swooping and sliding. He was... graceful, a trait not usually assigned to the human.
Until his feet flew out from under him and his aft met ice. Jazz snickered. Prowl rolled his optics.
“Come on, Spike! Show us how it's done!” Sideswipe called from where he was working with his own set of skates.
Spike shook his head, laughing as he pushed himself back to his feet. “I've been skating my whole life! You come out here and we'll see how easy it is!”
Sideswipe did just that, accepting the challenge. He stood on wobbly pedes and slowly stepped forward. His skate touched the ice, and the red frontliner was immediately on his back.
It was Spike's turn to giggle. Prowl's mouth twitched into a smile. Jazz gave into the full-out bellows of laughter he had been trying to hold back at Sideswipe's stunned expression.
“Alright, Jazz, you think it's so funny, you get out here and do it!”
“Alright, my mech.” And Jazz, too, found himself on his aft in the snow. A very quiet snicker from behind him caught his attention, and he turned around. “What, ya think ya can do better, Prowler?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Show me.”
“With pleasure.”
Prowl stood. Unlike his comrades, he did not immediately move. Instead, he stood for a moment, shifting his weight and testing his balance. Then, with a flick of his doorwings, he stepped onto the ice and pushed off.
He wobbled for a moment as he slid, then he steadied. Another push, more gliding. Prowl made one graceful loop around the lake before sliding to a stop in front of Jazz, showering his bondmate with ice shavings.
Jazz blinked. “Wha-?”
“It's really actually very easy.”
Jazz just blinked again. Then he struggled to his pedes, arms wide, legs bent. He pushed off gently, then flopped again. A heavy gust of air rushed from his vents. “Ah jus' don' get it.”
Prowl grinned and pushed off again, moving backwards, away from his bondmate. “Come now, Jazz. It's simple. You push off with one foot, glide for a moment, then push off again with the other. Simple.”
Sideswipe, where he was watching on the sidelines with an open mouth and wide optics, made a sort of “Bwah?” sound, and Prowl looked his way.
“Sideswipe,” he nodded, then spun and took off again, careful to avoid stepping on Spike. He whirled and spun and jumped like a professional, to the amusement and amazement of all watching.
Others gathered their courage and clipped on the skates Wheeljack was cheerily handing out. Mirage skated easily, making it look like he was floating. Hound followed, a little more clumsily, but still having fun. Sunstreaker was pushed without skates onto the ice by his brother, then challenged by said brother to a race around the lake, once he got his skates. Sunstreaker accepted, and the two were off, racing around the perimiter of the lake, shoving at each other, with no clear finish line in sight. The minibots all turned out to be surprisingly good skaters. Nowhere near as good as Prowl, but about on par with Spike. Jazz continued to stumble around, spending more time on his aft, chassis, and face than on his pedes.
Eventually, the lake was full of colorful, skating mechs. Prowl, who was still all but dancing across the ice, spun to a halt in front of his commander, who, beside Ratchet and Ironhide, and the Dinobots (who were out training on their own), was the only one still off the ice. “Prime. You ordered us out here. So get out here.”
Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “I do not know if the ice will hold my weight.”
“It will.”
“Prowl...”
With a helm shake and a quiet vent, Prowl went back to spinning between his comrades, and eventually took pity on his stumbling bondmate.
“Jazz,” he said as he slid to a stop. Jazz huffed angrily, though there was a smirk playing about his lips.
“Figures it'd be you who's best at this,” the black and white saboteur said, smirking slightly.
“To tell you the truth, Jazz, it's the doorwings.”
“Huh?”
“They're good for balance,” the tactician elaborated, flicking one of said appendages. “This whole activity is about balance. If you'd like, Jazz, I could help you.”
“Love, it'd be wonderful if you could.”
Smiling, Prowl took his bondmate's hand in his and tugged gently. Jazz wobbled, but clung to his bondmate and managed to stay vertical. The two black and whites skated slowly around the lake, hand in hand. Prowl wore a tiny smile, genuine and warm. Jazz was grinning like a lunatic, happy he was finally off his aft.
The two skated together, lost to the world. The other Autobots around them grinned and skated along, allowing the two black and whites to pass through without having to worry about bumping into someone else. Not that they would have worried. They would have simply run into someone, apologized absently, and moved on. It was how they were when they got like this. The other Autobots had plenty of experience with the Prime's left and right hands when they stared at each other this way.
They day passed quickly. It snowed for a time, and Optimus never did actually get onto the ice, but he did watch his happy troops as they cavorted about like younglings. Many image captures were made by the Autobot commander. They would later find their way to the Rec Room, much the the embarrassment of certain mechs.
That day was relived over and over in the passing vorns. Most of the mechs kept their skates, knowing it was possible that they would never skate again once they left and returned to Cybertron, but still feeling that they were something worth keeping.
But, a millenia later, after the war had long since ended, in a little corner of New Iacon, a building was open. A simple sign in English sat above the door.
“Ice Rink,” was all the sign said. Most Cybertronians ignored it. Others, older mechs from way back during the war, though... They saw it and laughed. Then they went home, pulled out some ancient pieces of metal, and went back to the unobtrusive building. Even the Prime came down from the palace to the plain building. There, the Autobots of the Arc pulled on their skates and remembered times past.