Prove it
Title: Prove it
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1238
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Characters: Drift, Jazz
Notes: Set when the Wreckers arrive to find the rest of the Autobots stranded on Cybertron
Written for tf_rare_pairing prompt: Drift/Jazz - Show me your best trick
A reunion of old comrades, welcoming their lost members back into the fold. Drift watched from the side. During his time with the Wrecker crew he had eventually earned their trust, but these Autobots? They had no reason to trust him, and he didn’t blame them. He’d killed more than his fair share of their friends, and to stand here among them now felt awkward at best.
Scanning the small crowd of damaged and disheveled mechs, he spotted a yellow one he recognized. He’d once led a fierce battle against him when he’d been Deadlock. Softly sighing air from his intakes, he decided staying here was probably a bad idea. With soundless steps, he slipped from the main area of the make shift base.
After some roaming around, he found a stairwell and ascended to the roof. At the top he wandered toward the edge, and gazed out over the destroyed landscape. Toppled buildings, rubble, and a seemingly never-ending pile of wreckage that had once been a city stretched out before him. Drift vaguely frowned. Places like this held no good pre-war memories for him. His already straining systems sent an echo though him, reminding him that this state of being barely fueled was not a new one. It was a sadly a very familiar pang that ached in his fuel tank now, just as it had back then.
Then, like an itch in his audios, he heard a faint sound that seemed out of place.
What was that? Drawn away from his bitter memories, he let his honed skills take over, listening hard to identify what he heard. After a moment he recognized what it truly was: another mech. This mech’s pedes were probably designed to be silent. While they could mute sounds of each step took, they didn’t mask the soft thrum of systems trying to compensate for low fuel levels, or the swish of shifting gears in his ankles, knees, and hips.
“What do you want?” Drift asked, half turning toward the mech that was trying to silently approach.
A blue visor brightened. “You… heard me?” Jazz asked, as he stilled.
Drift nodded.
Jazz cocked his head to one side. “Wow. Neat trick. I’m impressed. Kup should’ve sent you ahead to scout instead of barging in. Though, Wreckers aren’t known for being subtle.”
“Wouldn’t have worked. You have an invisible mech.” Drift narrowed his optics.
“True. Trained him myself.” Jazz let a small thread of pride enter his voice. “Why are you up here alone, Decepticon?”
“Not a Decepticon anymore,” Drift replied. “But I felt my presence might cause… unnecessary problems, so I left.”
“I can’t say it surprises me that Kup would pick up a stray. When he told me who you once were, though. Let’s just say, I have some doubts about your intentions.” Jazz crossed his arms over his chest, with a frown set across his lips.
Drift internally sighed. His intentions were noble, but that hardly mattered. Only through actions was he able to prove his true desire for change and find his place among the Wreckers. It would be no different with this new-to-him set of Autobots. “I intend to uphold the ideals of a classless society and make amends for my past actions.”
“Amends.” Jazz grunted. “Like saving Perceptor?”
Drift slowly nodded.
With a small, sharp nod of his chin, Jazz unfolded one arm and pointed to Drift’s hip swords. “And those? Tell me how useless relics like that make you any sort of asset?”
Drift narrowed his optics. “Come at me and find out.”
Jazz scoffed. “You saw me lay down Springer and Blurr without any effort. You honestly think you could do better?”
“I do.” Drift turned to face Jazz.
Jazz’s hardened frown faded to an amused smile. “All right. But you come at me. No weapons, just fists.”
“Fine,” Drift replied, coolly. If this mech wanted him to prove himself through some stupid wrestling match, he was certainly up for the challenge.
Jazz was smaller than him, but not by much. When Springer moved in head first, Jazz had flipped his larger frame easily. For a smaller mech that meant he knew how to leverage what he had. He’d also knocked Blurr on his aft as fast as the racer had approached. His reflexes were also finely tuned. Drift needed to remain one step ahead of Jazz if he wanted to win. Just like fighting Wing, he thought.
Drift dropped into a defensive stance, and Jazz half-smiled as he did the same.
“Gettin’ lonely over here. You coming at me or what?” Jazz asked.
Drift nodded, then moved. His stride forward was fluid, and at the last moment before reaching the special ops mech he dropped down, sliding along the rooftop and hooking his foot around Jazz’s ankle. He kicked his opponent’s leg out from under him and Jazz stumbled back, but didn’t fall. As fast as Drift had seen Blurr run, Jazz regained his composure and swung his arm in a sharp jab at him. Drift dropped flat to the roof and rolled out of Jazz’s range. He popped back up to his feet and solidly landed his pede in Jazz’s side. The visor flashed, as Jazz grabbed for Drift’s leg, shoving it in a downward angle. Drift didn’t resist, going along with the motion and force Jazz exerted, thus defeating his attempt to drop Drift to the rooftop. Jazz made a small grunt of frustration as he was forced to let go when Drift pulled back. Drift didn’t give him time to recover and pivoted on his other foot, slamming hard into Jazz.
Plating collided hard, the sound sharp in his audios. Drift pressed his full weight and strength into Jazz, causing his opponent to fall backward to the rooftop, but not without dragging Drift down with him. The lay in a heap on the roof, each one’s systems straining and whirring as they both finally conceded the fight.
“Not bad,” Jazz said as he allowed free arm to flop against the rooftop. “I can see why Kup liked ya.”
Drift shrugged a shoulder and started to push himself off Jazz. His arm was then caught with black fingers that curled around his white forearm’s plating. He stared into the visor that gave nothing away. With a huff of air, he finally decided to just ask. “What?”
“In a hurry? I was gettin’ cozy myself.” Jazz pulled on Drift.
Unsure, Drift hesitated, desire prickling inside him at the undertone to Jazz’s words.
“Not forcing you, or anything. Just offering. Not often I find someone as… limber as I am.” Jazz’s visor dimmed.
Shifting, Drift slid off Jazz. He could feel the disappointment as black fingers let go of his arm. He then pushed up to a crouched position beside his conquered foe; sword sheathes flaring to his sides. Jazz started to sit up, and Drift suddenly changed his mind, moving to straddle the span of Jazz’s lap and pushing him to lay back.
Jazz quirked a smile. “This a yes?”
Drift smiled back. “Only if you manage to pin me to the roof.”
Jazz laughed. A sound that was completely unexpected after seeing his dour and cold expression earlier.
“Something amusing?” Drift asked, canting his head.
“You. And by the way-” Jazz hooked his legs around Drift’s hips and rolled. “-Consider it game on.”
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1238
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Characters: Drift, Jazz
Notes: Set when the Wreckers arrive to find the rest of the Autobots stranded on Cybertron
Written for tf_rare_pairing prompt: Drift/Jazz - Show me your best trick
A reunion of old comrades, welcoming their lost members back into the fold. Drift watched from the side. During his time with the Wrecker crew he had eventually earned their trust, but these Autobots? They had no reason to trust him, and he didn’t blame them. He’d killed more than his fair share of their friends, and to stand here among them now felt awkward at best.
Scanning the small crowd of damaged and disheveled mechs, he spotted a yellow one he recognized. He’d once led a fierce battle against him when he’d been Deadlock. Softly sighing air from his intakes, he decided staying here was probably a bad idea. With soundless steps, he slipped from the main area of the make shift base.
After some roaming around, he found a stairwell and ascended to the roof. At the top he wandered toward the edge, and gazed out over the destroyed landscape. Toppled buildings, rubble, and a seemingly never-ending pile of wreckage that had once been a city stretched out before him. Drift vaguely frowned. Places like this held no good pre-war memories for him. His already straining systems sent an echo though him, reminding him that this state of being barely fueled was not a new one. It was a sadly a very familiar pang that ached in his fuel tank now, just as it had back then.
Then, like an itch in his audios, he heard a faint sound that seemed out of place.
What was that? Drawn away from his bitter memories, he let his honed skills take over, listening hard to identify what he heard. After a moment he recognized what it truly was: another mech. This mech’s pedes were probably designed to be silent. While they could mute sounds of each step took, they didn’t mask the soft thrum of systems trying to compensate for low fuel levels, or the swish of shifting gears in his ankles, knees, and hips.
“What do you want?” Drift asked, half turning toward the mech that was trying to silently approach.
A blue visor brightened. “You… heard me?” Jazz asked, as he stilled.
Drift nodded.
Jazz cocked his head to one side. “Wow. Neat trick. I’m impressed. Kup should’ve sent you ahead to scout instead of barging in. Though, Wreckers aren’t known for being subtle.”
“Wouldn’t have worked. You have an invisible mech.” Drift narrowed his optics.
“True. Trained him myself.” Jazz let a small thread of pride enter his voice. “Why are you up here alone, Decepticon?”
“Not a Decepticon anymore,” Drift replied. “But I felt my presence might cause… unnecessary problems, so I left.”
“I can’t say it surprises me that Kup would pick up a stray. When he told me who you once were, though. Let’s just say, I have some doubts about your intentions.” Jazz crossed his arms over his chest, with a frown set across his lips.
Drift internally sighed. His intentions were noble, but that hardly mattered. Only through actions was he able to prove his true desire for change and find his place among the Wreckers. It would be no different with this new-to-him set of Autobots. “I intend to uphold the ideals of a classless society and make amends for my past actions.”
“Amends.” Jazz grunted. “Like saving Perceptor?”
Drift slowly nodded.
With a small, sharp nod of his chin, Jazz unfolded one arm and pointed to Drift’s hip swords. “And those? Tell me how useless relics like that make you any sort of asset?”
Drift narrowed his optics. “Come at me and find out.”
Jazz scoffed. “You saw me lay down Springer and Blurr without any effort. You honestly think you could do better?”
“I do.” Drift turned to face Jazz.
Jazz’s hardened frown faded to an amused smile. “All right. But you come at me. No weapons, just fists.”
“Fine,” Drift replied, coolly. If this mech wanted him to prove himself through some stupid wrestling match, he was certainly up for the challenge.
Jazz was smaller than him, but not by much. When Springer moved in head first, Jazz had flipped his larger frame easily. For a smaller mech that meant he knew how to leverage what he had. He’d also knocked Blurr on his aft as fast as the racer had approached. His reflexes were also finely tuned. Drift needed to remain one step ahead of Jazz if he wanted to win. Just like fighting Wing, he thought.
Drift dropped into a defensive stance, and Jazz half-smiled as he did the same.
“Gettin’ lonely over here. You coming at me or what?” Jazz asked.
Drift nodded, then moved. His stride forward was fluid, and at the last moment before reaching the special ops mech he dropped down, sliding along the rooftop and hooking his foot around Jazz’s ankle. He kicked his opponent’s leg out from under him and Jazz stumbled back, but didn’t fall. As fast as Drift had seen Blurr run, Jazz regained his composure and swung his arm in a sharp jab at him. Drift dropped flat to the roof and rolled out of Jazz’s range. He popped back up to his feet and solidly landed his pede in Jazz’s side. The visor flashed, as Jazz grabbed for Drift’s leg, shoving it in a downward angle. Drift didn’t resist, going along with the motion and force Jazz exerted, thus defeating his attempt to drop Drift to the rooftop. Jazz made a small grunt of frustration as he was forced to let go when Drift pulled back. Drift didn’t give him time to recover and pivoted on his other foot, slamming hard into Jazz.
Plating collided hard, the sound sharp in his audios. Drift pressed his full weight and strength into Jazz, causing his opponent to fall backward to the rooftop, but not without dragging Drift down with him. The lay in a heap on the roof, each one’s systems straining and whirring as they both finally conceded the fight.
“Not bad,” Jazz said as he allowed free arm to flop against the rooftop. “I can see why Kup liked ya.”
Drift shrugged a shoulder and started to push himself off Jazz. His arm was then caught with black fingers that curled around his white forearm’s plating. He stared into the visor that gave nothing away. With a huff of air, he finally decided to just ask. “What?”
“In a hurry? I was gettin’ cozy myself.” Jazz pulled on Drift.
Unsure, Drift hesitated, desire prickling inside him at the undertone to Jazz’s words.
“Not forcing you, or anything. Just offering. Not often I find someone as… limber as I am.” Jazz’s visor dimmed.
Shifting, Drift slid off Jazz. He could feel the disappointment as black fingers let go of his arm. He then pushed up to a crouched position beside his conquered foe; sword sheathes flaring to his sides. Jazz started to sit up, and Drift suddenly changed his mind, moving to straddle the span of Jazz’s lap and pushing him to lay back.
Jazz quirked a smile. “This a yes?”
Drift smiled back. “Only if you manage to pin me to the roof.”
Jazz laughed. A sound that was completely unexpected after seeing his dour and cold expression earlier.
“Something amusing?” Drift asked, canting his head.
“You. And by the way-” Jazz hooked his legs around Drift’s hips and rolled. “-Consider it game on.”