Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers…
Warnings: Unbetaed. Some brief mentions of death.
Pairing(s): None
Qwertzu: You have poked at the almighty poker-backer-person and now the BooLoo pokes back with to poke you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted so I went with the cute and fluffy theme, since that is just my default when writing things for other people unless requested to do otherwise, though it also has some sadness mixed in due to the setting. Here's some fluffy Bluestreak for you, though it never directly says the name.
AN: Thank you TsukiyomiNeko, Starfire201, Fianna9, TfJazz, renegadewriter8, and Qwertzu for reviewing, and an extra thanks to those who've been reviewing regularly on my oneshots and therefore giving me your support for the story bits I write. Thank you all so much! Please enjoy!
Prompt: Promise
The Autobot team searching the ruins of the once prosperous city of Praxus had finally called it quits after having been stationed amiss the rubble for over three cycles, having found naught a single survivor amongst the piles of dead and graying frames. It had been with heavy sparks and a few choice curses at the Decepticons that most of the soldiers had taken to their steel-mesh tents and fallen into fitful recharge. It had been Prowl who'd carried the heaviest spark of all.
That night, as it would be rumored for many a vorn to come that the tactician's quiet keens could be heard haunting the camp as profoundly as the silence of the once great city.
And many grieved right alongside him.
Prowl was startled from recharge by the faint sound of scratching in the far corner of his temporarily accommodations, the muffled sounds of soft metal brushing quietly, but no less desperately, at what he could only assume was his steel-mesh pack. He had maintain enough control over his functions to keep his optics dimmed and frame still despite the sudden shock to his sensory net this late in the cycle, but now that he had assessed the situation he slowly shuttered his optic to a dull setting to get a look at what could be making such noises.
The sight he received, nearly made him gasp in shock.
A pair of tiny, black hands were searching the edges of his pouch frantically for some sort of opening, those still too-clumsy fingers so characteristic to that of sparklings grasping and pulling at the bag futilely, managing only to roll it about the floor in small bouts of movements. The young one keened softly, coolant tears gathering at the corners of his optics as he struggled with the daunting obstacle, unable to move it due to its weight, and unable to open it from lack of experience. Those tiny praxian wings nubs flickered in distress, beams of light catching the surface of them a reflecting their gray coloring.
Prowl's own doorwings flicked gently behind him, his processor making quick work of the sight before him, running streams of calculations.
The little one was hungry, his color lacking all luster and his optics dimmed to below healthy levels for one so young. The side of his tent had been pushed aside at the seam; meaning the little one had managed to fit through the slight opening, also meaning that if he was startled he could escape the confines of the tent as well, and by the wide, feral gleam in the sparklings optics, it was safe to assume he would do just that if approached.
Prowl had to act quickly before the young one discovered he couldn't get the mesh bag open without a coded command and fled back into the ruins of his crumbling home. A sparkling that age and size would not survive more than a few cycles without adequate warmth and regular refueling. Prowl could not afford any mistakes in this.
Sending a silent command for the pack to open just enough for the sparkling to fit part of its body into the bag but not to pull the energon cube within out, he waited for the tiny thing to notice the soft whoosh of the protective seal cracking open just the smallest bit. Had the poor young one been just a bit older, it may have been suspicious of the unusual occurrence, but he was starving and so, so young. He did not hesitate in wiggling his tiny hands into the pouch, seeking out the energon he could smell within the folds of mesh covering, softly cooing in happiness when his fingers curled around the edges of the small ration.
He pulled, but the cube didn't budge.
The sparkling panicked again, yanking and tugging frantically at the glowing container, wing nubs fluttering wildly as he took to chewing uselessly at the bag opening, desperate to refuel and stop the sharp pain in his empty tanks. The sparkling had forgotten that there was another in the room, so intent on getting to the energon as he was. Soon he had flopped down on his little bottom and begun to use his peds as leverage to work the cube out, causing more auditable clanks to be heard throughout the tent. It failed, and the sparkling whimpered, tears flowing down his cheeks, dripping down his chassis and revealing the caked grime smeared over the tiny frame.
It broke Prowl's spark to watch such a sight, to see this level of determination for survival from such a young sparkling amounting to nothing, but he remained firm in his intentions. If he gave in and failed now, the young one could very well die, and he would live out the rest of his functioning knowing that it was he who'd left the sparkling to die a slow, lonely death under the remains of his felled home. He would not allow such a thing to pass. So he waited.
Finally, driven by desperation and base programming beyond his conscious control, the sparkling shoved his entire upper body into the pouch opening, seeking the object of his attentions, intending on drinking the contents of the cube from within the confines of the bag if he had to. He keened and chirped with the effort, his wing nubs scrapping the edges in, what Prowl could only guess, a painful display of his willpower to get the cube.
The moment all that could be seen of the little sparkling was his hips and legs poking out of the bag opening, Prowl made his move, slowly creeping off his low-set recharge pad and towards the sparklings still struggling form on all fours, careful not to make a sound, coming to a stop right behind the wiggling little thing. Gently, he nudged the tiny ped.
The reaction was immediate; the sparking lunged backwards to escape, but his wing nubs snatched on the edge of the mesh opening, halting his flight. Not that it mattered though, Prowl had already had his hands positioned to catch the sparkling around the waist the moment he moved back, and now those large, oh so tender hands were wrapped around the keening sparkling's middle, lifting the frightened young one from the confines of the bag and up to his optic level.
The little one's peds kicked and lashed out in freight, his tiny hands grabbing at the larger bot's fingers, tears shining steaks of silver own the soot covered face. He was so tiny Prowl's hands could fit around him with ease. The Sparkling cried out, wing nubs fluttering violently as he thrashed about, biting at the hands holding him high above the ground. It did not occurred to him the being dropped was not a favorable option at the moment, he was simply too sacred to make sense of it all.
"Hush little one." Prowl whispered softly, bringing the tiny, thrashing form to rest delicately, but firmly, against his spark chamber. "You are safe now. I will protect you. Shush, shush." Prowl fluttered his wings noisily as he spoke, intentionally drawing the sparkling's attention to them as he hoisted them high above his shoulders so that the sparkling could get a good view of them.
The moment the sparkling caught sight of those great expanses of metal fluttering above him, he keened loudly, instantly changing tactics from struggling away from the larger bot to forcing himself as close as physically possible to the warm frame, his tiny fingers searching urgently for grip upon the bot's chassis. He continued to wail, letting the pain and terror from his trauma spill out in a torrent of seemingly endless tears and static-laced chirps. He rubbed his stubby chevron against Prowl's warm metal to show his need for attention and comfort, hiding his face in the crook of the other's shoulder when he was shifted into a more comfortable position. His cried became silent after that, save for the hiccups that still raked his frame.
Prowl commed Ratchet, explaining his situation briefly, perhaps too briefly, because a moment later he was muting his receiver when the medic began bellowing about why the tactician didn't bring the little one to him immediately. Perhaps he should have given more details, but he was Prowl after all, and to the point was just his way of doing thing.
As he waited for the medic to arrive, Prowl managed to maneuver the sparkling into a snug position against the crook of his arm, beginning to gently wipe away some of the soot on the small frame with one of his softest polishing clothes, smiling tenderly as the little one grabbed hold of his finger and held it close, paying no mind to the cloth still soothing over whatever it could reach of the tiny frame with one of its holder's fingers otherwise preoccupied.
The young one cooed softly, before he suddenly went into a frenzy of clicking and keening, demanding to be fed, but not as panicked as he had once been, knowing instinctively that this mech would feed him the moment he was able if he just kept reminding him constantly, as sparklings tended to do. Besides, the warmth of the frame cradling him softly to the pulsing spark chamber made it more bearable to wait. He cooed his approval of the situation, hands curling for firmly around the finger in his hands.
Prowl leaned down, and rubbed his nose delicately against that of the little sparkling's, unable keep the smile on his face from growing to a noticeable curve when those tiny hands came up to pat his cheeks and mouth curiously, exploring their new caretaker with care. "Once Ratchet checks your tanks for any ruptures, I promise to feed you." He breathed lightly when the sparkling's optics began to dim when the warmth of the big bot's intakes lulled him into recharge. "I promise to take care of you."
The next cycle, Prowl left the ruins of the fallen city with a tiny, gray sparkling tucked within the warmth of his arms and his heavy spark just a little bit lighter.
AN: It is so adorable. I'd use the Japanese for adorable, but I don't now how to spell it and I don't speak Japanese. Oh well, hope you found this one at least a little heart warming. Baby Bluestreak has stolen my heart away.
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