Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, I make no profit from this, I'm just having fun.
A/N: As a personal challenge to myself to write shorter pieces, some time ago I put a request up on my LJ for characters/pairings for a set of drabbles. These nine are the result of those requests. Most are Prowl/Jazz-centric. Thanks to kittona, 1readervb, lady_katana4454, crimsonseastorm, mirage_shinkiro, kyme and kaitou_pandora for their prompts.
Drabble 1: Ambiguity
Characters: Prowl/Jazz
It seemed unusally formal for something as trivial as this, but they both left the maintenance bay and went straight to Prime's office as ordered.
"You haven't asked for my permission to do this." Optimus growled at them as they entered.
"Quite honestly, sir, we did not believe we needed it."
"You believed wrong. So. Which of you is planning to do this?"
"Both of us." Jazz told him.
"You've discussed this with Ratchet?"
"Hoist seemed a more appropriate choice."
"You were intending to hide it, then?"
"Woulda been pretty hard to hide, Prime."
"Hoist offered to help, otherwise we would have been happy to do it all ourselves." Prowl assured him.
"Proving that all three of you have taken leave of your senses. "
"Come on, boss, lighten up." Jazz frowned at him. "It ain't like we're askin' for much."
"I'd have thought asking permission to create a sparkling - *two* sparklings! - was asking a great deal. Now stay here until I can find Ratchet to do a full processor scan and find out what started all of this insanity."
They looked at each other in open startlement, then back at him in time to watch the Prime stride out of the office and leave them there.
"Who said anything about sparklings?" Prowl demanded.
"Beats me." Jazz shrugged. "But do you think that counts as a yes or a no for our request for matching paint jobs?"
"It seems safer for now to assume it is a 'no'."
"That's what I figured too. Oh well. Another time, eh?"
"Indeed. "
Drabble 2: The cost of superiority (in public, anyway)
Characters: Starscream/Skywarp/Thundercracker
Starscream onlined and found himself pinned down by two other frames. His trinemates, both in recharge and showing no signs of rousing.
The other trines muttered where they thought he could not hear. Why did he have quarters separate from his trine? Did it not hurt him? Was he not a proper Seeker at all?
It made them wary around him, and that was always a good thing. Better if they thought he could resist the demands of the trine link. Better if everyone thought that.
The fact was that the Seekers in general were not liked by the other Decepticons. Their dependence on each other was seen as a weakness by many others. Some mecha enjoyed playing on that, abducting and hiding one of the trine until the other two were reduced to begging and promising all kinds of things just to ensure a safe return.
It had never happened to Starscream's trine, and never would.
From the moment they decided to join the Decepticons, and Starscream had set his sights on becoming Air Commander, they had cultivated a studied disinterest in each other. Skywarp and Thundercracker shared quarters, certainly, but the former spent most of his off-duty time with non-Seekers, and the latter brooded, and neither willingly spent any time with their trine leader.
In public.
What mecha forgot was that Skywarp could jump to wherever he liked, and could take Thundercracker with him. The length of a corridor was no trouble at all.
Drabble 3: It's the thought that counts
Characters: Hound/Mirage
Looking at the gift, Hound struggled not to laugh. That really would not do; Mirage would be offended.
In fact, his stunned silence had already made the former noble start to fret.
"You don't like it? Carly said plants make good gifts. Particularly ones with flowers."
"You asked Carly for advice?"
He was surprised. Mirage liked to keep their relationship private, always discreet even though the entire crew acknowledged them as a well-established couple.
"She was advising Powerglide on an appropriate organic gift for Astoria, but given your interest in organic things I thought the advice might be sound for you as well. You did comment that you liked the flowers, when we saw the picture of this one in Spike's book."
He faltered.
"It was inappropriate, I suppose. I'll have it removed."
Hound pulled him into a hug, kissing him soundly.
"I love it." he assured him.
And he did. It was such a wonderfully sweet - if somewhat extravagant - thought.
He did wonder how Mirage had gotten it delivered from so far away, and just what he was going to do with it, and what the human authorities would say about it, and whether it would even survive here, but all of that was for later.
After all, it was not every day he got a fully grown and blooming metrosideros excelsa of his very own (in a pot! where had Mirage found one so large?) and he intended to make his gratitude quite plain.
(A/N: see the entry for this drabble on my LJ for some pictures of what Mirage got for him)
Drabble 4: The things we do for love
Characters: Ratchet/Lambo twins
The procedure was a delicate one. The circuitry was live, and a misplaced wire or clumsy movement could short out vital connections. Difficult, because everything was so small: visual magnification was essential.
The last connection was finally made and Ratchet sighed softly in relief that nothing had gone wrong.
"What?" Sideswipe asked, put out. "You thought I'd muck it up? I've done it before, you know."
Sunstreaker pushed his way between them through the now opened door.
"How did I let you talk me into being part of this?" Ratchet groaned. "When Prowl finds out about this he's going to glitch and I'm going to have to fix him, and then he'll throw us all in the brig."
"Doesn't sound too bad." Sunstreaker called, rifling through something in a crate. "Means some quality time with you for once."
"Besides," Sideswipe coaxed him, slinging an arm around his waist and pulling him close, "it'll be worth it."
"Unless he turns up before we even get started."
Sideswipe grinned lasciviously.
"Didn't you hear? Jazz got back tonight. Prowl's busy, trust me."
"Got it." Sunstreaker announced triumphantly, reappearing in the doorway brandishing the contraband item. "Now we'll have some fun."
"Where to start?" Sideswipe mused, locking the storeroom door again.
Ratchet looked at each of the twins, then at the custom-made mech-sized can of silly string, and finally smiled. If he was going to be in trouble for this, it might as well be for something worthwhile.
"How about Prime's office?"
Drabble 5: Time management skills
Characters: Prowl/Jazz (hey, I never said I wouldn't take the same pairing twice *shrug*)
It was another long orn in what seemed an endless series of long orns.
There was always too much to be done, too few mecha to do it, and too little time to do it in. He knew that better than anyone, being in charge of duty rostering as well as battle planning and all the other duties that came with simply being the SIC. It had been so busy recently he had not even had to reprimand anyone for unsuitable behaviour: they had not had time to misbehave.
In fact, it had been so busy recently that he could not actually recall the last time he had seen Jazz outside of meetings or finding him already deep in recharge.
Considering for a moment, he then rose from his desk and strode out into the corridor. He passed scores of mechs, but none of them stopped him or asked why he had left his office in the middle of a shift: they simply trusted that he was where he was supposed to be.
Finding Jazz running a battle simulation with a group of potential new ops recruits, he curtly ordered Mirage to take over and instructed Jazz to follow him.
Jazz matched him stride for stride, accepting without question that there was good reason for this disruption until he walked into a particular small, empty room. His partner frowned, slowing, but Prowl grabbed his arm and hauled him in then shut the door.
It automatically locked the moment it was closed.
"What's goin' on?"
"Hush, I need to concentrate."
"Concentrate?"
"Indeed. I'm filing a report for dereliction of duty, and assigning the appropriate punishment for abandoning a duty post. Specifically, one joor in the brig."
Jazz blinked at him, then grinned and tugged him over towards the berth.
"Wanna add some more misdemeanours to that?"
"Such as?"
Jazz smirked, glancing up to where the security camera covered the cell and splaying his hands deliberately over Prowl's back as he pulled him closer.
"Well to start with, how about physical assault on a superior officer?"
Drabble 6: Share the love
Characters: Prowl/Jazz/Optimus
Jazz resettled himself on the uneven surface as Prowl's optics flickered, internal fans whirring loudly in the now quiet room. As the flickering settled down, he reached across and kissed the Praxian passionately, trailing one hand teasingly over the wheel on his shoulder and spinning it idly.
Prowl broke the kiss, letting his head flop back.
"Give me a moment to recover." he complained.
"Why should I?" Jazz asked lightly, moving his hand to caress Prowl's waist. "I like you all dazed and sexy like this."
"I'll remember to return the favour the next time an overload offlines you, then."
"Go ahead an' try."
There was a rumble from the third mech present, trembling through both of them since they were both draped over him.
"That sounds like a challenge. Shall we take him up on it, Prowl?"
"Yes, I believe we should."
Jazz started to protest, but his arguments devolved into exclamations of pleasure as Prowl and Optimus began landing kisses all over his frame.
He might lose this round - and probably would - but there would always be another. And he was confident he could give as good as he got.
Later.
Drabble 7: Does that mean I'm crazy? (probably)
Characters: Skyfire/Starscream
In the other room a door slammed and there was a spate of angry cursing.
"What was all that about?" Skyfire asked as a scowling Starscream returned to their berthroom and flung himself down dramatically.
"Just another delegation trying to get me to join the military. Not going to happen."
Skyfire pulled his mercurial mate close and stroked the airvents by his head, knowing the Seeker found it soothing.
It was not so much the military connection Starscream resented, it was the fact that they wanted to connect him to two others in a trine arrangement.
"What if they're right?" he asked softly. "What if...?"
"They're not." Starscream huffed. "I've never been trined and I'm fine - I'm not wasting away pining for it. And why should I let two strangers into my programming? I've got you, and you're all I want."
"And I love you for it Star, you know that, but if they're right that won't be enough. What if we get all the way out there into uncharted space and then you go crazy?"
"Ha, no chance! I'm already crazy. Must be if I'm in love with you! Now shut up and lets get back to where we were before that interruption."
To that suggestion, Skyfire found he had no complaints at all.
Drabble 8: Don't know what you've got til it's gone
Characters: Prowl, Bluestreak, Smokescreen
He had been told they were there waiting for him, and the first thing he noticed as he entered the room was how quiet it was. Both of them were known to be gregarious, but both were unnaturally still.
Only joors had passed since the crew had been misbehaving and joking with each other, celebrating a recent minor victory and making outrageous claims that the war might soon end. Only joors but it felt like deca-orns. Vorns, even.
Neither Bluestreak nor Smokescreen had been physically harmed in the battle any more than he had: their roles and skills were supportive rather than directly combative, and there had been no reason to change that in this encounter any more than in any previous one. If they had found their comrades slightly more protective than normal, well the fighting had been fierce.
Neither showed any hint of accusation in their expression as they looked at him now, no anger, no blame, just exhaustion and grief.
He felt incapable of dealing with that. Perhaps he should have sent Jazz in his place? Yet Jazz had been insistent that he come personally.
"We could not have done more." he explained.
The words were inadequate. It was the truth, but sometimes the truth was not enough.
The truth was that the fledgling Neutral community had been underprotected. The truth was that he had deemed it an unlikely target and had relegated it to a low priority. The truth was that they had heard too late, reacted too late, arrived too late, and done too little.
The Neutrals had all been massacred, and the choice to throw their own forces in at the end had only resulted in unnecessary casualties and wounded. It had been the wrong choice. So why had he made it?
They moved towards him, Bluestreak cuddling close, Smokescreen putting a hand on his shoulder.
He froze in surprise. Were they trying to comfort him? They were the ones grieving friends lost. He had not known any of the civilians personally.
"Their deaths aren't your fault." Smokescreen told him hoarsely.
He was well aware of that - his responsibility was to the Autobots, not to Neutrals. He opened his mouth to say so, but all that emerged was a sob.
He muted his vocaliser, overcome, and they stood silently together trembling. The last of their model left alive.
Drabble 9: The sound of silence
Characters: Wheeljack, Bluestreak (relationship unclear)
The humans have a saying: Silence is golden. I'm not sure they even believe it, though. There's a song that uses that line, and it seems to me it's more sad than approving.
Many of us in this motley crew are forceful characters, strong within ourselves and well able to make ourselves heard when we need to. I think the war has made us that way; the quiet, the ineffectual, the peaceable all fell by the wayside as the violence got worse.
And me? Sure, I can be noisy. Get me excited and I can talk for groons. Others are much the same, even the quiet ones in the right situation: Red Alert and Prowl giving lectures, Gears and Huffer complaining, Perceptor and Beachcomber making a discovery.
There's one among us, though, that we verbally acknowlege as loquacious, and most of the time he accepts the assessment with a smile. Bluestreak.
Really it has nothing to do with how much he talks, or what he says or how he says it. In spite of our teasing we all know he doesn't talk constantly, and he does think before he speaks and he does have a lot of good things to say. I've spent time with him just staring at the stars or enjoying some music. And he's a terrific listener when I'm rambling on.
Today's silence isn't a companionable one, though. It's isolating and dark and emotional.
He thinks no-one notices when he gets depressed, and in that he's completely wrong. Everyone notices. Most steer clear, not wanting to trigger an even greater withdrawal, and seek out one of those he trusts. Recently that's me, more often than not.
Jazz was holding a furious mock-argument with several others when Bluestreak came in to slump at the table beside me, and skillfully modulated it away to a less controversial topic. Warpath had been telling a violent story about a Decepticon attack on a Neutral base he had been defending once but now claimed a forgotten errand and hurried away.
Whether it was Warpath's doing or someone else's, within moments Prowl entered for long enough to inform everyone that there had been a change of roster. He did not look at Bluestreak directly but held my gaze briefly, intently, before gesturing to Jazz who was now suddenly assigned on duty. Bluestreak roused out of his stupor long enough to make a half-sparked protest that Jazz had already done his shift, but the TIC simply grinned at him and assured him that it was no trouble at all.
Seeing my chance, I tapped Bluestreak's shoulder wheel, catching his attention.
"Looks like we've both got the shift free. Want to go for a drive through the city?"
He stares at me as though only now realising I'm there, then gives a troubled smile and assents softly.
I lead the way, chattering as much as he normally would, and gradually I start to get some responses. It's worth it. The humans are wrong: silence isn't golden, it's as black and cold as the depths of space. Gold is the spark of life.
