Raiding enemy supply lines is NOT a date!
Title: The Nine Rings of Vos: Oppression
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Jazz is a bit protective of Prowl. This is why.
Timeline: More Fic is Here
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(In which Jazz finds out about Prowl’s glitch.)
Jazz watched Prowl, and the Praxian mech just watched him back. No fidgeting, no signs of impatience. Just calm acceptance of whatever Jazz was about to do. The other black and white did not know what to think. Since that first joint class, Prowl and Jazz had found themselves partnering together on other exercises and projects. They worked together with the kind of seamless ease that you usually only saw in long-time partners. Not in a pair of students who had only met less than an orn before. Prowl with his stunted interpersonal skills and Jazz with his trust issues should never have found it so easy to work together. Their diametrically opposed coping mechanisms should have seen to it that they never interacted willingly. Instead, Jazz was willing to name Prowl as his best friend. It was an improbable, unlikely pairing, but it worked for them. It worked really, really well, and they had the grades to prove it.
Though Jazz had noticed that Prowl was always available to work with him, he had never bothered to wonder why the top ranked student never seemed to have any other offers. In fact, most if not all of the students who were closer to Prowl’s social station - the students Jazz would have expected a well brought up mech like Prowl to associate with - seemed to go out of their way to avoid the Praxian student. Sure, Prowl was kind of quiet and a little weird, but Jazz liked how calm Prowl was. Just being around Prowl was often enough to sooth Jazz when his emotions got wound up to high. Prowl was never really demonstrative with his feelings, but Jazz figured that was just Prowl’s way. There was nothing wrong with being private.
Stupid, stupid Jazz, blind Jazz, too busy mooning over graceful doorwings and deft hands and pale optics that glowed so pretty when he managed to coax out the rare, shy smile that made his pumps thump alarmingly in his chest to pay attention to the signs.
He had a glitch. Prowl - calm, logical Prowl, gorgeous Prowl. Prowl who was his perfect foil, who matched him so well, that Prowl, his Prowl - had a glitch. Jazz wanted to scream until his vocalizer burned out, wanted to take his confused, twisted, frustrated feelings out on someone, anyone, until mech fluid flowed and energon spilled and his stupid, stupid spark stopped aching. It was unfair for someone as selfless and kind as Prowl to have to suffer from a processor glitch. Prowl did not deserve that sort of stigma. The shame and ridicule and isolation that were part and parcel of living with a glitch - it was just unfair!
The pack of jealous classmates, the creations of well-off, well connected members of society who did not take kindly to being outdone by anyone, were laughing. They had no respect for a mechs private business; having cornered the two of them while Jazz was hanging out with Prowl while the other worked on yet another extra credit assignment. Jazz fought to keep his expression still as the jeering stream of vitriol continued unabated.
“He’s got no emotions, you know. That’s what his glitch is. It’s impossible for him to be your friend because he can’t see the logic in making friends.” The leader of the pack laughed nastily, “You’re nothing more than another resource. I wonder what’ll happen to your cozy little friendship once you aren’t useful anymore, huh?
Jazz is good, but still young, and that comment strikes right at his doubts, right at where he is the most vulnerable, so Jazz cannot help but flinch and look at Prowl, who just stands there, just stands there, saying nothing, quiet and silent and still and just taking every nasty comment without so much as a denial.
Prowl had not denied any of it.
“Frag off, all of you!” Angry, hurt, Jazz shouldered their oh-so-helpful classmates aside, and wilfully ignored the hooting jeers as he dragged Prowl off to the dorms so that they could speak in private. The confusing whirl of hurt and anger kept Jazz from saying anything until the door was shut and locked, keeping the world at bay. Jazz dropped Prowl’s wrist, uneasy in the ringing silence.
“Is it true?” Jazz demanded, unable to bear the uncertainty, “Is what that afthead said true, Prowl?”
“Yes.” Prowl dipped his head, voice quiet and truthful, “I am glitched. I am sorry, Jazz.”
“Frag Prowl, no, don’t apologize, please don’t apologize.” And oh Primus, Jazz had never felt so awkward, fumbling for words that had always come so easy in Prowl’s presence, this was wrong, so wrong, “It ain’t your fault. I just want to know what…”
“It was done to save my life.” Prowl answered, stiff and unreadable. Unreadable that is, to anyone but Jazz, who had made a habit of studying Prowl’s moods and telltales. Shame, defeat, resignation - Prowl was clearly shutting down even the small hints of emotion Jazz had managed to coax out of the mech, bracing himself for Jazz’ reaction and Jazz had never been so tempted to put his schooling to practical use before in his entire life. Jazz wanted to go find his charming schoolmates and shred them into itty-bitty pieces, but Prowl was still talking and would probably take Jazz leaving in the worst possible way. Prowl was still not looking at Jazz, addressing the floor instead, “Until I can understand and control my emotions the medical program keeps them muted to manageable levels.”
“Then I’m really not…” Jazz felt horrible, asking this question, but he had to know and Prowl was not even looking at him, “I’m really not yer friend?”
“I…” At last a sign that Prowl had not completely shut down his emotions, as Prowl’s optics dimmed and his back panels shifted slightly in unease. Prowl’s voice when he spoke next was so very, very quiet that Jazz would never have heard it without his special audio sensors, “I had assumed that we fulfilled all the criteria for friendship. However, I understand why you would decide otherwise. It is logical to consider the effects of a known association with a… with a glitched mech upon ones own reputation.”
“No!” Jazz shouted, lunged, grabbing Prowl and forcing the startled mech to look at him, looking so surprised by Jazz’ reaction that he felt sick. How many times must Prowl have gone through this? It was no wonder the mech had kept the program, never even tried to function without it, anything had to be better than being rejected over and over for something you had no control over. At least with the program running Prowl could control himself. All this flashed through Jazz’ processor as he finally started thinking again, putting the clues and signs he had overlooked together with Prowl’s terse explanation and extrapolating from there. Jazz could feel the faint flickers of confusion and apprehension and resignation in the Praxian’s muted field. Forcing himself to calm down, Jazz gentled his hold and tugged on Prowl’s hand, speaking in a far less panicked tone, “No. It’s not like that at all, Prowler. You never stopped hangin’ out with me when ya found out ‘bout me. If ya stuck with me even after findin’ out that I was an accident that got foisted off on the care centers, you gotta feel somethin’. Mech from a good family like ya hangin’ out with a street scraplet like me? It don’t happen much. Ain’t logical at all. I don’t care that ya gotta glitch, Prowler. I ain’t leavin’ ya alone over somthin’ stupid as that. I just wanna know why ya never told me ‘bout it.”
“… I assumed that you were previously informed. My glitch is common knowledge here, as you are now aware.” Prowl’s backpanels twitched as the Praxian shrugged, “It did not occur to me to inform you of my glitch. It was preferable to leave things be rather than risk destabilizing our relationship.”
“Aw, Prowler.” Jazz murmured in sympathy, reading between the lines and hearing what Prowl was unable to say - I was scared I would lose you - and Jazz slid his arms around Prowl’s waist, leaning forward to rest his helm against Prowl’s, “Don’t worry. Ya can tell me anythin’, an’ I swear on m’spark that I’ll never let whatcha tell me break our friendship. S’long as yer honest with me, I’ll always be yer friend.”
“Thank you, Jazz.” Prowl slowly relaxed, cautious, hesitant, but willing to try as he ever so slightly leaned into Jazz’ embrace. Jazz treasured the feeling of his friend’s trust, revelling in the moment as a happy warmth bloomed in his spark.
(Word Count: 1450)
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Haha, and now we all know why Jazz is so uptight about defending Prowl's honour. XP
In other news, I only have one gift left to buy, and the mass mailing of cards/gifts is happening this Monday due to a snowstorm popping up and ruining my previous mailing schedual. XP
Dragon! Yay, my Ice dragon gave me an egg on the first try. ^_^
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A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Jazz is a bit protective of Prowl. This is why.
Timeline: More Fic is Here
=/=
(In which Jazz finds out about Prowl’s glitch.)
Jazz watched Prowl, and the Praxian mech just watched him back. No fidgeting, no signs of impatience. Just calm acceptance of whatever Jazz was about to do. The other black and white did not know what to think. Since that first joint class, Prowl and Jazz had found themselves partnering together on other exercises and projects. They worked together with the kind of seamless ease that you usually only saw in long-time partners. Not in a pair of students who had only met less than an orn before. Prowl with his stunted interpersonal skills and Jazz with his trust issues should never have found it so easy to work together. Their diametrically opposed coping mechanisms should have seen to it that they never interacted willingly. Instead, Jazz was willing to name Prowl as his best friend. It was an improbable, unlikely pairing, but it worked for them. It worked really, really well, and they had the grades to prove it.
Though Jazz had noticed that Prowl was always available to work with him, he had never bothered to wonder why the top ranked student never seemed to have any other offers. In fact, most if not all of the students who were closer to Prowl’s social station - the students Jazz would have expected a well brought up mech like Prowl to associate with - seemed to go out of their way to avoid the Praxian student. Sure, Prowl was kind of quiet and a little weird, but Jazz liked how calm Prowl was. Just being around Prowl was often enough to sooth Jazz when his emotions got wound up to high. Prowl was never really demonstrative with his feelings, but Jazz figured that was just Prowl’s way. There was nothing wrong with being private.
Stupid, stupid Jazz, blind Jazz, too busy mooning over graceful doorwings and deft hands and pale optics that glowed so pretty when he managed to coax out the rare, shy smile that made his pumps thump alarmingly in his chest to pay attention to the signs.
He had a glitch. Prowl - calm, logical Prowl, gorgeous Prowl. Prowl who was his perfect foil, who matched him so well, that Prowl, his Prowl - had a glitch. Jazz wanted to scream until his vocalizer burned out, wanted to take his confused, twisted, frustrated feelings out on someone, anyone, until mech fluid flowed and energon spilled and his stupid, stupid spark stopped aching. It was unfair for someone as selfless and kind as Prowl to have to suffer from a processor glitch. Prowl did not deserve that sort of stigma. The shame and ridicule and isolation that were part and parcel of living with a glitch - it was just unfair!
The pack of jealous classmates, the creations of well-off, well connected members of society who did not take kindly to being outdone by anyone, were laughing. They had no respect for a mechs private business; having cornered the two of them while Jazz was hanging out with Prowl while the other worked on yet another extra credit assignment. Jazz fought to keep his expression still as the jeering stream of vitriol continued unabated.
“He’s got no emotions, you know. That’s what his glitch is. It’s impossible for him to be your friend because he can’t see the logic in making friends.” The leader of the pack laughed nastily, “You’re nothing more than another resource. I wonder what’ll happen to your cozy little friendship once you aren’t useful anymore, huh?
Jazz is good, but still young, and that comment strikes right at his doubts, right at where he is the most vulnerable, so Jazz cannot help but flinch and look at Prowl, who just stands there, just stands there, saying nothing, quiet and silent and still and just taking every nasty comment without so much as a denial.
Prowl had not denied any of it.
“Frag off, all of you!” Angry, hurt, Jazz shouldered their oh-so-helpful classmates aside, and wilfully ignored the hooting jeers as he dragged Prowl off to the dorms so that they could speak in private. The confusing whirl of hurt and anger kept Jazz from saying anything until the door was shut and locked, keeping the world at bay. Jazz dropped Prowl’s wrist, uneasy in the ringing silence.
“Is it true?” Jazz demanded, unable to bear the uncertainty, “Is what that afthead said true, Prowl?”
“Yes.” Prowl dipped his head, voice quiet and truthful, “I am glitched. I am sorry, Jazz.”
“Frag Prowl, no, don’t apologize, please don’t apologize.” And oh Primus, Jazz had never felt so awkward, fumbling for words that had always come so easy in Prowl’s presence, this was wrong, so wrong, “It ain’t your fault. I just want to know what…”
“It was done to save my life.” Prowl answered, stiff and unreadable. Unreadable that is, to anyone but Jazz, who had made a habit of studying Prowl’s moods and telltales. Shame, defeat, resignation - Prowl was clearly shutting down even the small hints of emotion Jazz had managed to coax out of the mech, bracing himself for Jazz’ reaction and Jazz had never been so tempted to put his schooling to practical use before in his entire life. Jazz wanted to go find his charming schoolmates and shred them into itty-bitty pieces, but Prowl was still talking and would probably take Jazz leaving in the worst possible way. Prowl was still not looking at Jazz, addressing the floor instead, “Until I can understand and control my emotions the medical program keeps them muted to manageable levels.”
“Then I’m really not…” Jazz felt horrible, asking this question, but he had to know and Prowl was not even looking at him, “I’m really not yer friend?”
“I…” At last a sign that Prowl had not completely shut down his emotions, as Prowl’s optics dimmed and his back panels shifted slightly in unease. Prowl’s voice when he spoke next was so very, very quiet that Jazz would never have heard it without his special audio sensors, “I had assumed that we fulfilled all the criteria for friendship. However, I understand why you would decide otherwise. It is logical to consider the effects of a known association with a… with a glitched mech upon ones own reputation.”
“No!” Jazz shouted, lunged, grabbing Prowl and forcing the startled mech to look at him, looking so surprised by Jazz’ reaction that he felt sick. How many times must Prowl have gone through this? It was no wonder the mech had kept the program, never even tried to function without it, anything had to be better than being rejected over and over for something you had no control over. At least with the program running Prowl could control himself. All this flashed through Jazz’ processor as he finally started thinking again, putting the clues and signs he had overlooked together with Prowl’s terse explanation and extrapolating from there. Jazz could feel the faint flickers of confusion and apprehension and resignation in the Praxian’s muted field. Forcing himself to calm down, Jazz gentled his hold and tugged on Prowl’s hand, speaking in a far less panicked tone, “No. It’s not like that at all, Prowler. You never stopped hangin’ out with me when ya found out ‘bout me. If ya stuck with me even after findin’ out that I was an accident that got foisted off on the care centers, you gotta feel somethin’. Mech from a good family like ya hangin’ out with a street scraplet like me? It don’t happen much. Ain’t logical at all. I don’t care that ya gotta glitch, Prowler. I ain’t leavin’ ya alone over somthin’ stupid as that. I just wanna know why ya never told me ‘bout it.”
“… I assumed that you were previously informed. My glitch is common knowledge here, as you are now aware.” Prowl’s backpanels twitched as the Praxian shrugged, “It did not occur to me to inform you of my glitch. It was preferable to leave things be rather than risk destabilizing our relationship.”
“Aw, Prowler.” Jazz murmured in sympathy, reading between the lines and hearing what Prowl was unable to say - I was scared I would lose you - and Jazz slid his arms around Prowl’s waist, leaning forward to rest his helm against Prowl’s, “Don’t worry. Ya can tell me anythin’, an’ I swear on m’spark that I’ll never let whatcha tell me break our friendship. S’long as yer honest with me, I’ll always be yer friend.”
“Thank you, Jazz.” Prowl slowly relaxed, cautious, hesitant, but willing to try as he ever so slightly leaned into Jazz’ embrace. Jazz treasured the feeling of his friend’s trust, revelling in the moment as a happy warmth bloomed in his spark.
(Word Count: 1450)
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Haha, and now we all know why Jazz is so uptight about defending Prowl's honour. XP
In other news, I only have one gift left to buy, and the mass mailing of cards/gifts is happening this Monday due to a snowstorm popping up and ruining my previous mailing schedual. XP
Dragon! Yay, my Ice dragon gave me an egg on the first try. ^_^
♠
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