And yes, this is military jargon Epps style!
Title: Bring the Rain
Rating: R - for implied situations.
Pairings: Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe.
Summary: Sequel to Prove Me Wrong. The twins decide is time to 'Drop the Bomb'.
Notes: This is my take on yet another plot bunny courtesy of cheysulinight. Again, the twins weren't the most cooperative of beings but I tried my best. Dedicated to vericus because I can and I say so.
Not beta'ed so, feel free to correct me.
"There goes your brilliant theory, oh, dear brother of mine," Sideswipe grumbled heavily while he scrubbed yet another tile of the floor in the wash racks with what, for Transformers standards was as small as a toothbrush.
"It was worth a shot." Sunstreaker mumbled and thanked the fates at least he didn't have to scrub the floor, like his brother. Even if scrubbing the tiles of the walls wasn't precisely a more glamorous duty, at least he wasn't on his knees.
"Should of known Prowl wouldn't let his personal conflicts mess with his duty." The red twin grumbled and continued his job, who would have thought the floor of the wash racks would be this dirty?!
"Speaking of personal conflicts, I think we should start thinking how we're going to go about letting him know." Sunstreaker felt a mischievous smile grow on his lip components, imagining already the expression of their superior and co-creator.
"We could just go for the direct route, drop by his office, tell him we know he's our creator and count down until his battle computer crashes." The red Lamborghini replied matter-of-fact, ignoring the snort his brother rewarded him with.
"Or we can start calling him 'daddy' at random and start cracking said battle computer."
"Oh, Sunny. I love it when you're being mean and scheming." Sideswipe looked over his brother with his hands to his face and his classic 'pucker up' of lip components. If he had the eyelashes for it, he would be batting them about right now.
"Shut up, moron." The golden twin chuckled and tossed a rag to his brother, hitting squarely on his face. "Let's hurry with this and begin the phase one of this little plot."
"Yessir!"
--------------------
There were days Prowl was certain his CPU was, in Jazz's own words, channeling Red Alert's vibes. Today happened to be one of those days.
Everything began two earth days ago after he punished the twins for a rather distasteful prank on Huffer. Needless to say, Prowl had to endure a good four hours of complaining, whining and other unpleasant courtesies from Huffer while Ratchet was repairing him and plucking some sticky substances of dubious origin from every little crevice within his chassis. Those were the longest four hours in Prowl's -- and Ratchet's lives.
He punished the 'dynamic duo' accordingly, entrusting the cleaning of the wash racks to the pair of troublemakers. But when they were done and reported to him to be relieved of their cleaning duties, Sideswipe saw fit to say 'Thanks, dad.' before leaving.
That almost crashed his battle computer right there, and since that day the twins began to call him 'dad', 'father', and 'daddy', randomly, and thus began his paranoia. He began to wonder if the twins knew, and how, and wondered if Jazz told them, or if they eavesdropped when he and Jazz talked about it. The tactician calculated over and over the possibilities and all his results assured him the Lamborghini twins didn't know about his secret. And Prowl knew very well Jazz wouldn't tell them. He trusted his mate.
But that did little to alleviate his concerns, and growing paranoia. What if they did know?
Over the course of several days, Prowl did all within his power to reduce his meetings with the twins to a minimum. His avoidance didn't go unnoticed, however, and when Jazz made his way into his office, Prowl knew the saboteur was going to ask what the deal was.
But before either could utter a word, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe entered the room. "Hey, dad, Ratchet wants to know if you signed those requisition forms already." Sideswipe's voice matched the wide smile on his face plates.
Jazz was visibly stunned and turned quickly to look at his mate. "Did ya tell them?"
"Tell us what?" Sunstreaker asked, managing to keep a neutral expression while he approached the Porsche and Datsun with his happy twin on tow.
"Uhh, nothin'."
"Nothing? 'Nothing' my skid plate, you two are hiding something." Sunstreaker was thankful for whatever histrionic talents he possessed to keep a grin from forming on his lip components. Too bad Sideswipe wasn't even trying to hide his own grin.
"That is none of your concern, Sunstreaker." Prowl cleared his exhaust and fumbled around with several data pads on his desk, looking for the forms Ratchet wanted him to sign.
"I'd say it concerns me and my brother. I mean, it's not like we don't know you are our creator, Prowl, Sir." Sunstreaker's still serious expression contrasted heavily with Sideswipe's muffled giggling behind him. One day he was going to ask Ratchet or Wheeljack to make a muzzle for his younger twin.
"Excuse me?" Prowl asked with no little surprise, feeling his primary fuel pump skip a beat.
"We already know you're our 'daddy', Prowl! Where else could we get these handsome features of ours?" Sideswipe forced his twin's face to turn to one side to present his attractive profile to their co-creator and his mate. "I mean, our mom was a fine femme, but our adoptive dad wasn't exactly the finest model."
"I think he just complimented ya, Prowler." Jazz chuckled softly and watched Sunstreaker jab his twin on his middle to show his 'appreciation' for the recent maneuver.
Prowl, however was at a loss of words and merely stared at the twins with a dumbfounded expression. Jazz made sure to copy that image to his personal data banks.
"How?" Was all Prowl managed to blurt after several failed attempts to even speak.
"Let's see," Sunstreaker didn't bother to keep with his serious expression anymore, looking as amused as his cackling twin. "We found out when we were younglings, we eavesdropped when our 'mother' was talking with some medics after a check up. She was asking them if there could be any way her mate could find out we weren't product of his samples."
"And then when tensions began to escalate, she told us to join the Autobots because she had a 'friend' there that would look out for us." Sideswipe explained, pushing his twin aside for a moment to center the attention on himself. "When we saw you, it didn't take us too long to put two and two together."
"An' the two of ya never thought 'bout talkin' to Prowl about this?" Jazz raised an optic ridge behind his visor, stroking his mate's hood gently to try to keep him from locking up. He just knew if he received no physical stimuli to relax him, his battle computer would crash.
"We thought he didn't know about us." Sunstreaker shrugged. "Our mother made it sound like he thought he was being a random donator. Like those things humans do here about donating genetic material without ever knowing about their offspring."
"And then heard you two talking a few days ago, and decided to have a little fun." Sideswipe grinned without shame.
"Uh... You know this--"
"This won't change a thing. You're not going to make any concessions for us, and we're not above anyone else on this ship. Yeah, yeah, we know." The red Lamborghini waved his hand dismissively.
"As long as you don't start treating us like sparklings and Jazz won't expect flowers on mother's day, we're cool." Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest plate and chuckled softly at the indignant look he got from the saboteur.
"What is that supposed ta mean?!" despite his mock offended look, Jazz was amused.
"Okay, so, those requisitions? Ratchet's going to hand our afts back to us if we delay any longer." the younger twin poked Prowl's crest to get his attention.
"Ah... r-right. Deliver these to Ratchet and since you're here, please, take these to Red Alert." The tactician handed the pads to Sideswipe and watched the twins skip, quite literally in Sideswipe's case, their merry way out of his office.
"Well," Jazz began and plopped himself on Prowl's desk, crossing a leg over the other and beamed a playful grin at his mate. "Now I know why they threatened ta rip me to pieces if I dare t'hurt ya."
"It would appear that way." Prowl regarded his lover with a wary expression, he knew that grin meant his mate was plotting to do something to him.
"So," the Porsche drawled in that predatory tone Prowl learned to both fear and look forward to. "It might just be me, but all this parenthood business made me realize... ya're one sexy daddy, Prowler."
"B-Buh?"
The loud clank of a chair falling against the office's floor brought a wide, cheesy smile to Sideswipe's lip components. "Here we go again~"
Rating: R - for implied situations.
Pairings: Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe.
Summary: Sequel to Prove Me Wrong. The twins decide is time to 'Drop the Bomb'.
Notes: This is my take on yet another plot bunny courtesy of cheysulinight. Again, the twins weren't the most cooperative of beings but I tried my best. Dedicated to vericus because I can and I say so.
Not beta'ed so, feel free to correct me.
"There goes your brilliant theory, oh, dear brother of mine," Sideswipe grumbled heavily while he scrubbed yet another tile of the floor in the wash racks with what, for Transformers standards was as small as a toothbrush.
"It was worth a shot." Sunstreaker mumbled and thanked the fates at least he didn't have to scrub the floor, like his brother. Even if scrubbing the tiles of the walls wasn't precisely a more glamorous duty, at least he wasn't on his knees.
"Should of known Prowl wouldn't let his personal conflicts mess with his duty." The red twin grumbled and continued his job, who would have thought the floor of the wash racks would be this dirty?!
"Speaking of personal conflicts, I think we should start thinking how we're going to go about letting him know." Sunstreaker felt a mischievous smile grow on his lip components, imagining already the expression of their superior and co-creator.
"We could just go for the direct route, drop by his office, tell him we know he's our creator and count down until his battle computer crashes." The red Lamborghini replied matter-of-fact, ignoring the snort his brother rewarded him with.
"Or we can start calling him 'daddy' at random and start cracking said battle computer."
"Oh, Sunny. I love it when you're being mean and scheming." Sideswipe looked over his brother with his hands to his face and his classic 'pucker up' of lip components. If he had the eyelashes for it, he would be batting them about right now.
"Shut up, moron." The golden twin chuckled and tossed a rag to his brother, hitting squarely on his face. "Let's hurry with this and begin the phase one of this little plot."
"Yessir!"
--------------------
There were days Prowl was certain his CPU was, in Jazz's own words, channeling Red Alert's vibes. Today happened to be one of those days.
Everything began two earth days ago after he punished the twins for a rather distasteful prank on Huffer. Needless to say, Prowl had to endure a good four hours of complaining, whining and other unpleasant courtesies from Huffer while Ratchet was repairing him and plucking some sticky substances of dubious origin from every little crevice within his chassis. Those were the longest four hours in Prowl's -- and Ratchet's lives.
He punished the 'dynamic duo' accordingly, entrusting the cleaning of the wash racks to the pair of troublemakers. But when they were done and reported to him to be relieved of their cleaning duties, Sideswipe saw fit to say 'Thanks, dad.' before leaving.
That almost crashed his battle computer right there, and since that day the twins began to call him 'dad', 'father', and 'daddy', randomly, and thus began his paranoia. He began to wonder if the twins knew, and how, and wondered if Jazz told them, or if they eavesdropped when he and Jazz talked about it. The tactician calculated over and over the possibilities and all his results assured him the Lamborghini twins didn't know about his secret. And Prowl knew very well Jazz wouldn't tell them. He trusted his mate.
But that did little to alleviate his concerns, and growing paranoia. What if they did know?
Over the course of several days, Prowl did all within his power to reduce his meetings with the twins to a minimum. His avoidance didn't go unnoticed, however, and when Jazz made his way into his office, Prowl knew the saboteur was going to ask what the deal was.
But before either could utter a word, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe entered the room. "Hey, dad, Ratchet wants to know if you signed those requisition forms already." Sideswipe's voice matched the wide smile on his face plates.
Jazz was visibly stunned and turned quickly to look at his mate. "Did ya tell them?"
"Tell us what?" Sunstreaker asked, managing to keep a neutral expression while he approached the Porsche and Datsun with his happy twin on tow.
"Uhh, nothin'."
"Nothing? 'Nothing' my skid plate, you two are hiding something." Sunstreaker was thankful for whatever histrionic talents he possessed to keep a grin from forming on his lip components. Too bad Sideswipe wasn't even trying to hide his own grin.
"That is none of your concern, Sunstreaker." Prowl cleared his exhaust and fumbled around with several data pads on his desk, looking for the forms Ratchet wanted him to sign.
"I'd say it concerns me and my brother. I mean, it's not like we don't know you are our creator, Prowl, Sir." Sunstreaker's still serious expression contrasted heavily with Sideswipe's muffled giggling behind him. One day he was going to ask Ratchet or Wheeljack to make a muzzle for his younger twin.
"Excuse me?" Prowl asked with no little surprise, feeling his primary fuel pump skip a beat.
"We already know you're our 'daddy', Prowl! Where else could we get these handsome features of ours?" Sideswipe forced his twin's face to turn to one side to present his attractive profile to their co-creator and his mate. "I mean, our mom was a fine femme, but our adoptive dad wasn't exactly the finest model."
"I think he just complimented ya, Prowler." Jazz chuckled softly and watched Sunstreaker jab his twin on his middle to show his 'appreciation' for the recent maneuver.
Prowl, however was at a loss of words and merely stared at the twins with a dumbfounded expression. Jazz made sure to copy that image to his personal data banks.
"How?" Was all Prowl managed to blurt after several failed attempts to even speak.
"Let's see," Sunstreaker didn't bother to keep with his serious expression anymore, looking as amused as his cackling twin. "We found out when we were younglings, we eavesdropped when our 'mother' was talking with some medics after a check up. She was asking them if there could be any way her mate could find out we weren't product of his samples."
"And then when tensions began to escalate, she told us to join the Autobots because she had a 'friend' there that would look out for us." Sideswipe explained, pushing his twin aside for a moment to center the attention on himself. "When we saw you, it didn't take us too long to put two and two together."
"An' the two of ya never thought 'bout talkin' to Prowl about this?" Jazz raised an optic ridge behind his visor, stroking his mate's hood gently to try to keep him from locking up. He just knew if he received no physical stimuli to relax him, his battle computer would crash.
"We thought he didn't know about us." Sunstreaker shrugged. "Our mother made it sound like he thought he was being a random donator. Like those things humans do here about donating genetic material without ever knowing about their offspring."
"And then heard you two talking a few days ago, and decided to have a little fun." Sideswipe grinned without shame.
"Uh... You know this--"
"This won't change a thing. You're not going to make any concessions for us, and we're not above anyone else on this ship. Yeah, yeah, we know." The red Lamborghini waved his hand dismissively.
"As long as you don't start treating us like sparklings and Jazz won't expect flowers on mother's day, we're cool." Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest plate and chuckled softly at the indignant look he got from the saboteur.
"What is that supposed ta mean?!" despite his mock offended look, Jazz was amused.
"Okay, so, those requisitions? Ratchet's going to hand our afts back to us if we delay any longer." the younger twin poked Prowl's crest to get his attention.
"Ah... r-right. Deliver these to Ratchet and since you're here, please, take these to Red Alert." The tactician handed the pads to Sideswipe and watched the twins skip, quite literally in Sideswipe's case, their merry way out of his office.
"Well," Jazz began and plopped himself on Prowl's desk, crossing a leg over the other and beamed a playful grin at his mate. "Now I know why they threatened ta rip me to pieces if I dare t'hurt ya."
"It would appear that way." Prowl regarded his lover with a wary expression, he knew that grin meant his mate was plotting to do something to him.
"So," the Porsche drawled in that predatory tone Prowl learned to both fear and look forward to. "It might just be me, but all this parenthood business made me realize... ya're one sexy daddy, Prowler."
"B-Buh?"
The loud clank of a chair falling against the office's floor brought a wide, cheesy smile to Sideswipe's lip components. "Here we go again~"