Loose Inspiration Prompts:
1) you're the person in the apartment next door who VERY LOUDLY blasts holiday music starting in NOVEMBER and I hate Christmas ~ pynchs on Tumblr
2) You wake up to the sweet sound of an elf ~ imagineforest
Author's Note: This fic is also inspired by my mom who has annually blasted me out of be on November 1st with the loudest Christmas music ever. I do have a plan for where I am going with this, so please let me know what you think!
Sounds of the Season
Chapter 1: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
November 1 - 05:00
Prowl jolted awake at the thunderous onslaught of sonorous sound. Spark pounding and half of his processor still caught in the fog of recharge, he reflexively leaped up from the berth before full awareness caught up, tumbling and crashing to the floor in an uncoordinated, graceless twist of black and white limbs, doorwings, and warming blanket with a startled shout.
Groaning in irritation and pain, Prowl laid in his sprawl a moment staring at the cracked ceiling of his quarters, slowly gathering his senses as his higher processing finally booted up. His frame and helm ached, his doorwings were pinched, and that startling clamor…
Wait, that is music, he recognized. Running a search query, he identified it as a particularly iconic, 1963 Earth song associated with one of the planet's most popular winter holidays with a myriad of religious and secular implications depending on one's culture and beliefs. Christmas music.
It's the most wonderful time of the year! With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer,
it's the most wonderful time of the year...
As he lay there with the blaring sound he now recognized as music, he heard the building shouts and cursing cascading throughout the Ark.
"What. The. FRAG!"
"Primus, damn it. NO!"
Insert a certain medic's tirade of epic proportions with explicatives in various languages here. Also insert varying amounts of yelling, despairing cries, and pleas for it to stop.
"Primus, why?" he mumbled to himself while clenching his optics shut, confused and annoyed, as he untangled himself from his undignified heap on the floor.
It's the hap-happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call,
it's the hap-happiest season of all…
What glitched moron would be listening to such insufferably cheery music at decibels above that of a Seeker armada at such an ungodly hour? It was inconsiderate, insipid, insane. To some extent, he did enjoy this particular human holiday, at least its sentiments. But, he enjoyed it in the correct month, at more acceptable volumes and in limited doses.
Only one name came to mind, confirmed by the choice, as well as his pinpointing of and the visible vibration of the datapads on his desk from the overwhelming volume of sound.
…There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of the Christmases long, long ago…
Staggering to his peds with a huff and a stretch of aching doorwings (thank Primus he had not landed on them), Prowl stumbled through his still dark room and to the door leading to the hallway.
A small, suppressed portion of his processor appreciated the irony of his current mood with the joyous lyrics, but he was way too slagged off and exhausted from pulling an unscheduled, triple shift to be pleasant. He wanted his recharge, glitched neighbor be damned.
The picture of one thousand and one degrees of indignation and radiating fury as his door slid open, the Praxian just barely avoided colliding with the black and white, visored mech donning a Cybertronian sized Santa hat from Primus-knew-where standing just outside his door with a broad grin and arm raised to knock on Prowl's door.
Startled, it only took the saboteur a nanoklik to recover. "Mornin', Prowler!" Jazz exclaimed, dancing in place as he spoke.
Before Prowl could reply and inquire as to what the mech's malfunction was, and with a roguish grin, Jazz tossed handfuls of red, green, and silver glitter over the stunned SIC before prancing off down the hall.
"Up and at 'em, it's Christmastime!" Jazz proclaimed.
Glitter-coated and bewildered, Prowl stood frozen as he watched with an odd mixture of annoyance and fondness as his infuriatingly endearing neighbor and friend reached the end of the hallway. He could only think of one response, which he shouted indignantly after the disappearing mech.
"It's barely November, Jazz!"
Jazz just grinned cheekily and belted out the chorus as he rounded the corner and bounded out of sight.
It's the most wonderful time of the year!
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year ~ Andy Williams