(no subject)
Went out to write after work yesterday. Wound up drooling over the pen section in Office Max. Trying out a new brand called Tul. (Okami has a weird obsession about her pens.) Fought for everyone of the few hundred words I wrote. Sad to say, it wasn't Star Crossed. ^^;;
Really not much else to say right now. --;;
Title Nowhere to Turn
Characters eventual Jazz/Sideswipe
Warnings None that I can think of
Summary A wounded, cornered mechanimal would aptly describe the red rocketeer that stumbles his way into Jazz’s life. Withdrawn, moody, distrusting; all the earmarks of someone who has suffered some serious trauma, and hasn’t recovered. Now, if only Jazz could find out what the slag was going on with him.
Part 1
The mechs around the room seemed to ignore the lone warrior indolently sipping from his cube. Jazz didn’t hesitate to stride right up to Sideswipe and slam his own cube down on the table, shocking the warrior into looking at him.
His surprise quickly molded into a glare. “You aren’t here to blame me for what that idiot Sunstreaker did, are you? ‘Cause if you are, then you can walk right back over to your normal seat by the bar.”
“Nah, man, y’ ain’t responsible for what Sunny does, any more ‘n he is for what you do.” Jazz tugged the cube Sideswipe had lifted to his lips down. “But y’ are responsible fer yer own actions, an’ I’m actually a little steamed that y’ lied t’ me.” From the surprise on the mech’s face, Jazz knew he didn’t understand. “Yer roommate? He was in the med bay, when y’ told me he was in yer room.
Narrowed optics regarded Jazz and a frown creased Sideswipe’s face. “Suppose I didn't know?”
“It hadn't even been two joors since Ratchet released ya, an' Sunstreaker was still in intensive care. How could you not know?”
Sideswipe lifted the cube to his lips again, hiding whatever expression his face held, but his narrow optics gave some clue to what thoughts sparked along his pathways. He set the cube back down, his gaze still locked on Jazz. “I don’t need you coddling me. I’m not a sparkling,” he finally growled.
“Showin’ concern ain’t coddlin’. Concerns whatcha show a friend.” Jazz took a drink from his cube. “I’d like to think we’re friends.
Sideswipe peered at the black and white mech from under the edge of his helm. “You barely know me, how can you call me ‘friend?’”
“Well,” Jazz rapped his fingertips on the tabletop. “”We’re both Autobots, so that’s a start. I mean if y’ were really bad, y’d be a Decepticon, right?”
Sideswipe stared at him, unblinking for a whole breem. Then he suddenly burst out laughing, sliding down in his seat as he threw his head back with a hearty guffaw. Jazz frowned, trying to understand what was so amusing.
“’Swipe?”
“I’d be a Decepticon…” Sideswipe finally managed. “Oh, Jazz, that’s too funny. Decepticons! Ah, Primus! I need to tell- ahahahahahaha!”
The saboteur continued his dumbstruck regard for the red mech. “Am I missin’ somethin’?”
Sideswipe looked at Jazz, only to start another round of raucous laughter. At last he managed to calm down enough to be intelligible. “It’s just that everyone has always told us-me that w-I belong in the Decepticons. Just ask Prowl.” He chortled , taking a sip from his cube.
“Y’keep sayin’ ‘we’ an’ ‘us’, who else’re ya talkin’ about?”
“Uh… my-uh- roommate, Sunstreaker.”
Jazz tossed back the rest of his cube. “Ain’t that funny. Now, I haven’t met the mech, he keeps a lot to himself, but it seems to me that dear ole Sunshine’s a tad more Decepticon-inclined.” The black and white mech set his cube down. “What d’ ya think?”
A grin showed past the cube that hid Sideswipe’s lips. “I think if he hears you call him that, he’ll beat the circuits outta ya.”
“See? That’s exactly what I mean. No Autobot would do that.”
Sideswipe stood, his optics dim, his expression thunderous. “Shows what you know.” His long stride had almost carried him to the entrance before Jazz had realized what had happened.
Somehow he’d offended the red mech and Jazz didn’t quite know how, or why.
What the slag?
He stood, downing the last of his energon and disposed of the cube with a surge of energy. A quick check with Teletraan revealed that Sideswipe was in the training room (how’d he get there so fast?) and so it was in that direction Jazz headed.
There was something going on with that red mech, and Jazz was determined to find out what. He hadn’t seen such a tightly held secret since Mirage was first dragged in. It had taken the saboteur a good twenty orns to pry anything out of the mech. And a whole vorn to convince him that no one was gonna judge him for his past. The neutrals and pseudo-Autobots (groups that took the Autobot name and symbol, but none of the ideals) had done a number on any mech that used to hold any amount of status or wealth. It was usually a bit of a shock for any of that unlucky lot to then ally themselves with a real Autobot unit.
Mirage now played an active role in uncovering any of those pretenders and revealing them for the liars that they were and helping any who'd fallen into their snare back on their figurative feet.
Some of these pseudo-groups mutineed over their worthless leader(s) and officially joined the ranks of the Autobots. Still, there were unconfirmed reports that these units still practiced things not tolerated under Autobot law.
Doldrum had been one suspect commander.
Jazz approached the training room, pressing the controls to open the door. A flash of gold turned a corner down the hall, but it wasn't red so Jazz ignored it.
The door whooshed open, releasing a cacophony of metal striking metal and the screaming of laser fire. Jazz stepped through the doorway, letting them shut behind him. His gaze swept the room, pausing as he spotted red. No rocket packs, however.
Sideswipe wasn't here.
Odd.
Jazz patched into Teletraan again, requesting a locater beacon for Sideswipe.
:No Reading Within Sensor Limits:
Which meant Sideswipe had either picked up a cloaking device that rivalled Mirage's (unlikely) or he'd left the base.
How was this mech moving so fast?
Part 3
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Really not much else to say right now. --;;
Title Nowhere to Turn
Characters eventual Jazz/Sideswipe
Warnings None that I can think of
Summary A wounded, cornered mechanimal would aptly describe the red rocketeer that stumbles his way into Jazz’s life. Withdrawn, moody, distrusting; all the earmarks of someone who has suffered some serious trauma, and hasn’t recovered. Now, if only Jazz could find out what the slag was going on with him.
Part 1
The mechs around the room seemed to ignore the lone warrior indolently sipping from his cube. Jazz didn’t hesitate to stride right up to Sideswipe and slam his own cube down on the table, shocking the warrior into looking at him.
His surprise quickly molded into a glare. “You aren’t here to blame me for what that idiot Sunstreaker did, are you? ‘Cause if you are, then you can walk right back over to your normal seat by the bar.”
“Nah, man, y’ ain’t responsible for what Sunny does, any more ‘n he is for what you do.” Jazz tugged the cube Sideswipe had lifted to his lips down. “But y’ are responsible fer yer own actions, an’ I’m actually a little steamed that y’ lied t’ me.” From the surprise on the mech’s face, Jazz knew he didn’t understand. “Yer roommate? He was in the med bay, when y’ told me he was in yer room.
Narrowed optics regarded Jazz and a frown creased Sideswipe’s face. “Suppose I didn't know?”
“It hadn't even been two joors since Ratchet released ya, an' Sunstreaker was still in intensive care. How could you not know?”
Sideswipe lifted the cube to his lips again, hiding whatever expression his face held, but his narrow optics gave some clue to what thoughts sparked along his pathways. He set the cube back down, his gaze still locked on Jazz. “I don’t need you coddling me. I’m not a sparkling,” he finally growled.
“Showin’ concern ain’t coddlin’. Concerns whatcha show a friend.” Jazz took a drink from his cube. “I’d like to think we’re friends.
Sideswipe peered at the black and white mech from under the edge of his helm. “You barely know me, how can you call me ‘friend?’”
“Well,” Jazz rapped his fingertips on the tabletop. “”We’re both Autobots, so that’s a start. I mean if y’ were really bad, y’d be a Decepticon, right?”
Sideswipe stared at him, unblinking for a whole breem. Then he suddenly burst out laughing, sliding down in his seat as he threw his head back with a hearty guffaw. Jazz frowned, trying to understand what was so amusing.
“’Swipe?”
“I’d be a Decepticon…” Sideswipe finally managed. “Oh, Jazz, that’s too funny. Decepticons! Ah, Primus! I need to tell- ahahahahahaha!”
The saboteur continued his dumbstruck regard for the red mech. “Am I missin’ somethin’?”
Sideswipe looked at Jazz, only to start another round of raucous laughter. At last he managed to calm down enough to be intelligible. “It’s just that everyone has always told us-me that w-I belong in the Decepticons. Just ask Prowl.” He chortled , taking a sip from his cube.
“Y’keep sayin’ ‘we’ an’ ‘us’, who else’re ya talkin’ about?”
“Uh… my-uh- roommate, Sunstreaker.”
Jazz tossed back the rest of his cube. “Ain’t that funny. Now, I haven’t met the mech, he keeps a lot to himself, but it seems to me that dear ole Sunshine’s a tad more Decepticon-inclined.” The black and white mech set his cube down. “What d’ ya think?”
A grin showed past the cube that hid Sideswipe’s lips. “I think if he hears you call him that, he’ll beat the circuits outta ya.”
“See? That’s exactly what I mean. No Autobot would do that.”
Sideswipe stood, his optics dim, his expression thunderous. “Shows what you know.” His long stride had almost carried him to the entrance before Jazz had realized what had happened.
Somehow he’d offended the red mech and Jazz didn’t quite know how, or why.
What the slag?
He stood, downing the last of his energon and disposed of the cube with a surge of energy. A quick check with Teletraan revealed that Sideswipe was in the training room (how’d he get there so fast?) and so it was in that direction Jazz headed.
There was something going on with that red mech, and Jazz was determined to find out what. He hadn’t seen such a tightly held secret since Mirage was first dragged in. It had taken the saboteur a good twenty orns to pry anything out of the mech. And a whole vorn to convince him that no one was gonna judge him for his past. The neutrals and pseudo-Autobots (groups that took the Autobot name and symbol, but none of the ideals) had done a number on any mech that used to hold any amount of status or wealth. It was usually a bit of a shock for any of that unlucky lot to then ally themselves with a real Autobot unit.
Mirage now played an active role in uncovering any of those pretenders and revealing them for the liars that they were and helping any who'd fallen into their snare back on their figurative feet.
Some of these pseudo-groups mutineed over their worthless leader(s) and officially joined the ranks of the Autobots. Still, there were unconfirmed reports that these units still practiced things not tolerated under Autobot law.
Doldrum had been one suspect commander.
Jazz approached the training room, pressing the controls to open the door. A flash of gold turned a corner down the hall, but it wasn't red so Jazz ignored it.
The door whooshed open, releasing a cacophony of metal striking metal and the screaming of laser fire. Jazz stepped through the doorway, letting them shut behind him. His gaze swept the room, pausing as he spotted red. No rocket packs, however.
Sideswipe wasn't here.
Odd.
Jazz patched into Teletraan again, requesting a locater beacon for Sideswipe.
:No Reading Within Sensor Limits:
Which meant Sideswipe had either picked up a cloaking device that rivalled Mirage's (unlikely) or he'd left the base.
How was this mech moving so fast?
Part 3
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