Title: My Show's On
Pairings/Characters: Hinted 'Hide/Ratchet, Prowl/Jazz
Continuity: Le Movie!verse
Notes: Born from me noticing that, in a cutscene in the RotF video game, Ironhide is standing on the top of a building and strikes a pose reminiscent of a certain caped crusader. Also look who's not dead and look who's finally got his booty down to Earth.
"Ironhide!"
"Slag, man, so busted," Jazz said to the burly mech on his left, voice distracted and distant. To his right, Prowl snorted softly in agreement. The Topkick just grunted and shifted slightly on the couch, gears clicking, attention focused on the large vidscreen in front of them. Another moment, the quiet before the storm, then a flurry of chartreuse and black burst into the rec room, clawed fingers flexing, optics blazing icy blue. The medic tromped over to the couch, crossed his arms, and scowled down at the Weapons Specialist.
"It can wait, Ratch'," Ironhide said to his enraged lover, optics still on the screen.
"It cannot wait, you're holding up my entire fragging schedule—"
"It can wait."
"It's just a routine systems check, why are you being so difficult?"
Ironhide opened his mouth but didn't respond, falling silent as an explosion bloomed on the screen. Jazz lifted his head up from its spot on Prowl's shoulder to crane around and look at the fuming medic.
"Doc," he said, explanatory tone just shy of duh, "Batman's on."