Title: On the Brink of Dawn
Author: Lune Nightingale
Series: Transformers G1
Rating: PG
Notes: This is a side story from Prowl's POV for the series I'm writing called Light of the Sun. It takes place during the events of chapter seven. It would help to read that first. It isn't necessary to read this, but it will give insight into what drives Prowl to act as he does in chapter eight.
Warning: Seriousness lost in a sea of waff, crack, and abuse of 80s songs along with the use of songs as communication. Thank you 2007 Movie. XD
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the songs used in this fic. I'll give them due credit at the end with song name and artist. I also, sadly don't own Transformers. They belong to Has/Tak.
What good is the dawn
That grows into day
The sunset at night
Or living this way
For I have the warmth of the sun
Within me at night…
-Warmth of the Sun by The Beach Boys-
The room was silent as the mech leaned over his desk a datapad in hand. He'd been going over them for the last few earth hours nonstop. There was a deadline to meet and he had to get it done soon. Not long from now he was due for scheduled duty in the main control room to monitor activity and communications. It wasn't much of a task to him; he was used to deadlines and pressure. He worked best under those circumstances. But it seemed lately the more he tried to work on something, the more his processors would wander.
Shifting to rest an elbow on his desk, one doorwing twitched in irritation. He'd done it again. His optics had slowly slid away from the readouts in his hand to the wall straight in front of his desk close to the door. Hanging there primly was the painted canvas he'd received from the yellow mech not even the day before. It was really the only personal thing in the office other than a magnetic chess set that sat on the edge of his desk next to his stapler. That had been a gift from Cliffjumper eons ago back on Cybertron. It had been no surprise really. He'd fouled up a mission with his gung-ho behavior and had been trying to get back into the good graces of the tactician. Now the gift sat there because he really did enjoy it.
Though, the painting earned its place for an entirely different reason. He mused the he wasn't all that sure he wanted to delve into it that much. Giving a light sigh, he let the datapad go slack in his hand but didn't let it fall. At this rate he wasn't going to finish his task. Unacceptable.
Clearing his exhaust, he forced his optics from the sunset painting in order to focus on the duty assigned to him. He'd taken on at least twice the responsibility since Sunstreaker had been taken off the roster. No one questioned him though because it was like him to take other mech's shifts if only to stay busy. This time, it wasn't simply a way to kill time. He genuinely wanted to help the warrior out. For the last four years he'd watched the mech walk around like one of those creatures… what were they? Zombies. Yes, Sunstreaker had been a perfect rendition of a zombie to the Datsun.
Everyday he'd been there after shift to make sure Sunstreaker was still alive and in one piece. Most days it had been like talking to a brick wall. Prowl didn't like talking. More often than not, he preferred to listen. This gave him the ability to know what to say. He wasn't the best choice to start a conversation… but he'd tried. Primus he did try.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he went back to reading the schedules and attempted to balance the assignments appropriately with the loss of two of his best front liners. It had been hard with one gone, it was near impossible with two. But he'd made it work. He'd continue to make it work so that the Lamborghini had the time necessary to get it together.
That had been another task he'd added onto his already overloaded schedule. It hadn't been his wisest decision. He now rarely had time to recharge, but he always made sure to fit Sunstreaker's sessions in. In his opinion, the warrior was progressing and slowly opening up. Those moments… for some reason… made all the effort and charge less nights worth it.
"PROWLER!" The door flew open and he internally groaned. It seemed that even in his nonstop schedule, Jazz always knew where he was. "My man! Did you think you could bury yourself in work and forget about your best buddy!"
"I don't try, Jazz. It would be a lost cause. Probability of avoiding you is less than five percent."
"Glad you know me so well!" Waltzing into the room, the door slid shut behind him. Stretching he looked about. "Somethin's different." That's when his optics fell on the painting on the wall. "Oh? Getting into art, Prowler?"
"I've always appreciated art." It was hard to ignore that tone in Jazz's vocalizer. It was wholly intending to tease him. Teasing wasn't his favorite thing in life. But the longer one was 'best friends' with the Porsche, the more one became accustom to the abuse.
"Riiiiight!" Grinning, he looked at Prowl and rocked on his heels.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm hurt, Prowlie! You've been working so hard that I felt the need to say hello. You've been such a work-aholic lately that I was almost certain ya'd forget what my handsome face looked like!" Snickering, the special ops officer didn't seem to even notice that Prowl chose to ignore him and keep reading. In fact, Prowl hoped frequently that if he ignored the other that he would go away. It always had the opposite effect. "Prowlie! Ya need t'relax!Take a vacation to like…" That's when his radio switched on and started playing a song. "Aruba, Jamaica, oooh I wanna take ya, Bermuda, Bahama…"
Prowl lifted his optics to glare at Jazz and the music stopped. "I can't take a vacation because I have to keep you slaggers in line." It was part in joking, part in serious aggravation. But he knew more than anything else, that Jazz wouldn't stop once he was in one of those moods. "And you know I don't like that nickname."
"Aw! Lighten up, Prowler." The tone was upset, but the expression was undaunted and still upbeat. Jazz never seemed to take anything he said seriously. What surprised him was that he never acted in anyway that would deem him not serious. "Sooo!" The singsong voice made him stop in his tracks. Oh… that wasn't a good sign. "I've been noticin' that you've been makin' alotta progress with the Sunshine Bot."
"What gave you that idea?" He grimaced. Never ask that question of Jazz.
"Oh… It's rather obvious! He seems to be gettin' really attached." Jazz snickered and like clockwork music left his radio again. "I'm picking up good vibrations…" The song didn't get far before Prowl's hand found the first object and chucked it at Jazz's head. It happened to be his stapler. The smaller mech yelped and smoothly dropped out of its path in what seemed to be a break-dance move. Or that was what he'd heard Jazz call it. "Gees, Prowlie! That coulda put an optic out!"
"Then stop being insufferable." But the idea made him fall into thought. Prowl frequently over thought everything. It was in his nature. So, the mere suggestion of the warrior being 'fond' of him made him give pause. "What are you trying to get at with this?"
"Oh… just that I think that the pool the others have going is gonna finally end."
"Pool?"
"Ya know! Gambling! They all have bets on what mech or femme will finally chip away that cold hard exterior of yours and make you fall for 'em. They've had it going on for vorns! Since you made it into the SIC slot really." Prowl twitched as the Porsche did elaborate hand gestures to make his explanation that much more animated.
"They have a pool… on me….?"
"Oh definitely! Most of them had their money on me." There was a mock pout on his face as he went on. "But it's becoming obvious that the majority will be wrong on this assumption." The officer gave the smallest impression of a human sniffle he could muster.
An optic ridge rose. "Jazz… I know I'll regret this… but what are you talking about?" He never should have asked.
"Oh I'm sorry but it's true, you're bringing on the heartbreak, takin' all the best of me, oh can't you see?"
This time the datapad in his hand was the next object to be thrown and it made a loud clank as it hit the wall perfectly behind where Jazz's head had been. The Porsche had narrowly missed dodging that one.
"Primus, Prowler! You're a cold one!" Mock pouting again, he straightened and cleared his exhaust as though he were planning to finally get serious. It never worked that way though, so Prowl remained on his guard when he continued. "Anyway! All I'm tryin' to say is that I don't have the spark to tell the guys that you and I are like brothers and it won't be me wooin' ya. But!"
"Stop right there, Jazz. Think hard before you finish that statement. I have no intentions of any sort of romantic involvement with any mech or femme for that matter. I have too many responsibilities and…"
"You're just sad cause you don't understand what love is, Prowlie!" He should have known that Jazz wouldn't let him finish his logical answer. Frowning, he waited to see what further torture his 'best friend' had in store for him. "It's simply that you're askin' your self…" Primus… did he have to use the radio for everything? "What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more!"
That was when the magnetic chess set was thrown and the pieces landed with soft clanks all over the floor, wall, and surprisingly, Jazz. The mech was pressed back against the wall between the door and the painting with the white king stuck to his forehead and one black and one white bishop stuck just above each headlight. Other pieces seemed to be stuck at random in a frame about the Porsche while others were on the floor. He mused from the way Jazz's mouth was open, he'd actually surprised him that time.
"Ya know, Prowler… I didn't think you'd ever throw that. Have you been takin' lessons from Ratchet or somethin'?" Even through his shock, Prowl could tell that his friend was probably cracking up internally over his own predicament.
"I make allowances for you."
"Aw! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside!" One hand worked to pull the pieces off of him, while he went on. Prowl allowed him to keep going, because he refused to dignify that with a response. "Didn't think I'd hit such a sore spot!"
Both of his doorwings twitched. "I assure you, it was simply out of annoyance."
"Annoyance or because you know I'm on the right track."
"Honestly Jazz, I don't know what track you're on. And I'm not sure if I want to find out." Not that Jazz would let him not find out at this point.
"What I'm sayin' is, I'm gonna win that pool and be rather rich off of 'em." Prowl simply stared at him. Sometimes he wondered if he really wanted to know what Jazz was thinking. Part of him was rather… worried about the path this was taking.
"You plan on getting rich… by betting on what mech or femme will make me fall in love?" Moving his hands, he rubbed at the center of his chevron in annoyance.
"Oh definitely. Cause I finally see which way the tide is turning."
"Dare I ask who you are putting your money on?"
There was a small silence and he looked up to see why Jazz wasn't talking. There was a soft rather broad smile on the mech's face. "I think it should be obvious to ya… but I'll let you figure it out. I think it works better that way."
Suddenly he felt confused. Replaying the conversation in his head, he felt his internals heating up as he suddenly saw the deranged message his friend was trying to get across. Optics flashed back up to Jazz in frustration, but the other mech merely held up a hand to stop his protest.
"You've been my friend for as long as I can remember, Prowl. I think I'd know by now when ya are or when ya aren't interested. You stay impersonal… in fact, you don't let any of ya shine through. S'like livin' in the dark. But ya know… I think you're standin' on the brink of dawn. And when you work it out… you'll see what I mean." Prowl felt his lips draw into a tight line. Normally he stayed impassive. It was easy to lock out his emotional reactions. He'd done it all his life. Why then, was this making his processors whirl in a manner that threatened to offset the balance of his logic center?
"Just think about it, man. But don't think to hard, yeah? Sometimes… the spark has reasons that reason doesn't understand. There's no logic, rhyme or reason. Don't miss out on somethin' that could change ya for the better." Setting the pieces of the chess set he'd pulled off of himself onto the desk top, he grinned at Prowl. "I'll let ya get back to work." With that, the datapad was dumped onto his desk and he wondered when Jazz had picked it up. His optics followed Jazz out of the room and caught the wave over his shoulder before the door closed.
Silence fell over the office and he felt he couldn't keep working. For some reason, he knew he should be used to the way Jazz came to him with his realizations. The mech knew that the best way to hit him was to throw him off in the beginning with ridiculous antics. But this time, this time Prowl was fighting with himself. Part of him said that Jazz had a point; the other part screamed that it was illogical.
Bright blue optics found the painting on the wall staring at the sun as it dipped below the desert horizon. Standing on the brink of the dawn… Funny that Jazz used that analogy. Because it seemed that Sunstreaker had been standing on the brink of the sunset after losing Sideswipe.
Shaking his head, he shuttered his optics and let out another sigh. He wouldn't dare ever say the word love… but he would admit that he'd never put so much attention into any one Cybertronian ever before. Sunstreaker had been a focal point to him and he'd found himself gravitating to the yellow mech whenever he could. Why?
Don't think too hard…
Yes, he shouldn't think too hard. Jazz knew he couldn't take the illogical in large doses. It was better to not dwell on it. That was probably why he hadn't seen the change in his own internal workings over the last few years as he desperately clung to the yellow mech to keep him alive. Why hadn't he realized that he was desperately making sure Sunstreaker didn't disappear? Why was he the one striving so hard to give him a reason to live?
Shaking his head, he tried to force it all away, but his processors seemed to be replaying all of their recent conversations. He was learning so much about the younger warrior. The tactician had put an unequal interest into knowing the Lamborghini. He'd not lied when he told Sunstreaker that he made it a point to know his soldiers, but he'd put far more effort into the warrior. And that was troubling him… It had been troubling him for longer than he wanted to admit.
Even further, he found he wanted to tell the warrior who he was… and that was something he never shared with anyone. So… now what would he do? How would he use this knowledge that Jazz had pointed out to him? Maybe, just maybe… Prowl would let someone see himself… then he could see if it was even worth crashing his logic center over it all.
I loved like the warmth of the sun
It won't ever die…
-Finé-
Songs in order of appearance (first one being the theme):
"Warmth of the Sun" by The Beach Boys
"Kokomo" by The Beach Boys
"Good Vibrations" by The Beach Boys
"Bringin' on the Heartbreak" by Def Leppard
"What is Love" by Haddaway