Of Bindings - A Sundering and an Aftermath
Title: Of Bindings - A Sundering and an Aftermath
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Actually dissolving the connection was a lot easier than it should have any right to be, once they worked up the resolve to do so. Prowl’s logic routines spat out a list of reasons why, ranging from inaccurate data on the nature of sparkbonds, furtively culled by he and Jazz from damaged, ancient or otherwise not absolutely reliable archival stores, to the consideration that it was because they were willing to separate themselves, unlike in all those apocryphal tales of parted bondmates, to the rather more likely factor that their bond was currently- no. Had been weak (why did past tense hurt?), and already atypical in that it was an unequal, partial link, rather than a full sparkbond.
But physical effortlessness did not make the staggering feeling of loss any easier to cope with. The tactician onlined his optics (when had he shut them off?), needing to see the mech clutching at him, shivering with the same sense of loss/desperation/gonegonegonegonegone that he was.
Illogical, his CPU tried to say. Jazz was right before him. He was right before Jazz. They were in the same galaxy, the same star system, on the same planet, the same landmass, sharing the same fragging room, pressed so close their intakes might as well be exchanging the same air.
Yet his vocaliser continued with that shrill, mournful sound, and the Solstice keened with him. Even with the sparkbond stretched to its thinnest, they’d always had the faintest inkling (even if sometimes his processors thought the sense was more wishful thinking on his part) that the other still functioned, but now that reassurance was no more and they reeled at its loss, clinging to each other, grasping for what seemed like the wholly inadequate physical confirmation of the other’s presence.
“Prowler. S’ok. I’m here.”
Somehow, he managed to nod in response to the saboteur’s whisper, wrapping his arms around the other mech, pressing his chevron to the silver bot’s helm as Jazz repeated the words. Quietly, he murmured his reply.
“I know.”
As the saboteur gently trailed a hesitant digit over the tactician’s faceplates, Prowl nuzzled into that light touch. The Ops mech turned his hand flat so he could cup the other’s cheek, then pulled him close, pressing lip plates against the Autobot SIC’s. Prowl kissed back with a ferocity that left them both running their cooling fans hard, and when they parted, Jazz grinned shakily at him.
“Primus. Do we go about things in the most aft-backwards way or what? Our first kiss, and it happens after we sever the most intimate connection of them all.”
The chevroned mech couldn’t help himself, the laugh escaped him, accompanied by a burst of static. Then he and Jazz were giggling like younglings, furtively trying to muffle their hysterical snickers and almost-not-quite succeeding. When their little fit subsided, Prowl slowly let go of the saboteur, as if reluctant to do so. The Solstice pulled away as well, his expression just as wistful.
“You up to facing the Doc?”
“I don’t think anyone is ever up to facing our beloved CMO.”
Jazz snickered again. “Point. But at least we told him what we were going to do first, and he cleared it, so he can’t really yell at us.”
“He might. We told him using a comm., with our signals muted, while on the other side of the base and behind blast doors locked with every means you and I know, barely an hour before we began the process, so he had little chance of stopping us.”
“Frag, Prowl. No longer bonded and you still got answers I can’t wiggle out of.” The silver mech shook his head, and the tactician smiled at him, holding out his hand to the other mech.
“Some things don’t just fade away, Jazz.”
Jazz sighed, then took hold of the proffered digits. “So you say, mech. But maybe you should withhold judgement until we know for sure, ‘kay?”
Prowl’s only response was another smile and a gentle squeeze as he opened the door, both of them warily peeking out of their hideaway before starting for Ratchet’s territory.
= = =
A silver mech chirred contemplatively, staring out at the desert from his perch. Things were… awkward. The rest of the base didn’t quite know how to act around him and Prowl, which was understandable. Both mechs didn’t quite know how to act around each other either.
How do you go about courting someone who already knows you in the most intimate manner possible?
How do you fall in love with someone you’re already in love with?
Jokes about first dates, romantic dinners (… what would that entail? Driving out to the nearest gas station?) and getting ‘the talk’ from Ratchet, Ironhide and Optimus felt flat. Familiar gestures, such as him dropping off a cube of energon when he knew Prowl was going to get buried in his work again, or the tactician ‘just happening’ to wander past and lingering wherever Jazz happened to be when the saboteur needed some quiet (but not alone) time, took on new (or maybe just previously unnoticed) meaning, especially when they caught each other’s optics and had to look away.
Maggie called them cute. Sideswipe had made retching sounds in the background and ended up begging the hacker for mercy (note to self, Miss Madsen is a scary, scary lady when she wants to be) while his twin cackled at his misfortune from a safe distance.
Jazz didn’t stir as another mech drew close, then settled down beside him without a sound. He glanced down at the hand that placed itself between them, near enough to be an invitation, far enough to remain on its own. A sparkbeat, and then his hand overlaid Prowl’s, their fingertips curling around each other.
The tactician didn’t speak, and the Ops mech remained silent as well, sliding a hesitant glance over to the other mech, only to realise the chevroned mech was doing the same. As startled gazes met, Jazz chuckled and Prowl’s lips twitched in amusement. The Solstice eyed the tactician for a moment, then smirked and leant in to kiss the little smile still playing on the mech’s faceplates.
Prowl’s other hand went to the back of the saboteur’s helm as the kiss deepened and Jazz shifted closer, tugged along by the tactician when the doorwinged mech leant backwards, supporting himself on the arm still holding onto a four fingered hand. Jazz’s free arm slipped across to brace against the ground, and Prowl let his hand drift down from the mech’s helm and along his shoulder, coming to a stop at the saboteur’s elbow.
The brush of an energy field across his plating caused the tactician to moan into the kiss, then whisper Jazz’s name. The sound shot through the Solstice’s audios, making his intakes skip and his servos stiffen, processors rapidly clearing as he pulled away, looking horrified. Confused and looking a little dazed, the chevroned mech said his name again, this time with a questioning lilt.
“Jazz?”
The saboteur shook his head, apologies spilling from his vocaliser. Only the tactician’s grip on Jazz kept the silver mech from scrambling backwards like the SIC burned him.
“Jazz, what’s wrong?”
“I shouldn’t. S’taking advantage of you.”
“I have no objection to being taken advantage of.”
“It’s not right. I’m sorry, I-” A firm touch to his mouth stopped the flow of contrition, and Prowl tilted his helm up to look through his visor and into his optics.
“How can I convince you that I love you, and quite frankly welcome whatever liberties you wish to take with me?”
The Solstice groaned, dropping his head forward. “Prowler, you’re making it really difficult for me to be good.”
“Such was my intention, yes.”
The tactician’s innocent tone and candid answer drew a weak snicker from the Ops mech, and Jazz willingly obeyed the chevroned mech’s gentle prompting to lie down with him. Once comfortably draped over the SIC, the saboteur vented a long, slow cycle of air. Prowl made a contented sound, then ended the peaceful moment with a quiet statement.
“Prime will be going to Washington in a few days time.”
“I heard. The government types are getting a little jumpy after all those ‘Con strikes. He’s leaving you in charge while he’s gone, and taking the twins with him for backup. Heard the lecture you gave them about good behaviour too.”
“Yes.” The doorwinged mech hesitated, and the Solstice felt a chill run down his back struts. “Jazz, I want you to go with Optimus.”
The silver mech bolted upright, staring down at the tactician’s pleading expression. Static issued from his vocaliser, before he shook himself and tried again, pulling on a nearly believable smile.
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
The doorwinged mech scoffed, sitting up as well. “Hardly. I chased you across half the known universe and most of the unknown one. You aren’t getting away that easily.”
“Then why?”
“Apart from the obvious? Because you need the time away from me to sort through that processor of yours. And when you come back and realise that my feelings haven’t changed, maybe you’ll believe me then.”
Jazz was silent, contemplating the mech’s explanation. Then he sighed, his smile a little rueful. “I was right, all those vorns ago.” At Prowl’s puzzled expression, he smirked.
“I’m never going to win an argument with you. Ever. So. You want any souvenirs from DC? I’m sure I can wheedle Optimus into making a pit stop.”
The tactician chuckled, chastely brushing the saboteur’s cheek with a kiss, his reply causing the Solstice to break into full out laughter.
“Just come back to me in one piece. And don’t blow up anything while you’re there.”
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Actually dissolving the connection was a lot easier than it should have any right to be, once they worked up the resolve to do so. Prowl’s logic routines spat out a list of reasons why, ranging from inaccurate data on the nature of sparkbonds, furtively culled by he and Jazz from damaged, ancient or otherwise not absolutely reliable archival stores, to the consideration that it was because they were willing to separate themselves, unlike in all those apocryphal tales of parted bondmates, to the rather more likely factor that their bond was currently- no. Had been weak (why did past tense hurt?), and already atypical in that it was an unequal, partial link, rather than a full sparkbond.
But physical effortlessness did not make the staggering feeling of loss any easier to cope with. The tactician onlined his optics (when had he shut them off?), needing to see the mech clutching at him, shivering with the same sense of loss/desperation/gonegonegonegonegone that he was.
Illogical, his CPU tried to say. Jazz was right before him. He was right before Jazz. They were in the same galaxy, the same star system, on the same planet, the same landmass, sharing the same fragging room, pressed so close their intakes might as well be exchanging the same air.
Yet his vocaliser continued with that shrill, mournful sound, and the Solstice keened with him. Even with the sparkbond stretched to its thinnest, they’d always had the faintest inkling (even if sometimes his processors thought the sense was more wishful thinking on his part) that the other still functioned, but now that reassurance was no more and they reeled at its loss, clinging to each other, grasping for what seemed like the wholly inadequate physical confirmation of the other’s presence.
“Prowler. S’ok. I’m here.”
Somehow, he managed to nod in response to the saboteur’s whisper, wrapping his arms around the other mech, pressing his chevron to the silver bot’s helm as Jazz repeated the words. Quietly, he murmured his reply.
“I know.”
As the saboteur gently trailed a hesitant digit over the tactician’s faceplates, Prowl nuzzled into that light touch. The Ops mech turned his hand flat so he could cup the other’s cheek, then pulled him close, pressing lip plates against the Autobot SIC’s. Prowl kissed back with a ferocity that left them both running their cooling fans hard, and when they parted, Jazz grinned shakily at him.
“Primus. Do we go about things in the most aft-backwards way or what? Our first kiss, and it happens after we sever the most intimate connection of them all.”
The chevroned mech couldn’t help himself, the laugh escaped him, accompanied by a burst of static. Then he and Jazz were giggling like younglings, furtively trying to muffle their hysterical snickers and almost-not-quite succeeding. When their little fit subsided, Prowl slowly let go of the saboteur, as if reluctant to do so. The Solstice pulled away as well, his expression just as wistful.
“You up to facing the Doc?”
“I don’t think anyone is ever up to facing our beloved CMO.”
Jazz snickered again. “Point. But at least we told him what we were going to do first, and he cleared it, so he can’t really yell at us.”
“He might. We told him using a comm., with our signals muted, while on the other side of the base and behind blast doors locked with every means you and I know, barely an hour before we began the process, so he had little chance of stopping us.”
“Frag, Prowl. No longer bonded and you still got answers I can’t wiggle out of.” The silver mech shook his head, and the tactician smiled at him, holding out his hand to the other mech.
“Some things don’t just fade away, Jazz.”
Jazz sighed, then took hold of the proffered digits. “So you say, mech. But maybe you should withhold judgement until we know for sure, ‘kay?”
Prowl’s only response was another smile and a gentle squeeze as he opened the door, both of them warily peeking out of their hideaway before starting for Ratchet’s territory.
= = =
A silver mech chirred contemplatively, staring out at the desert from his perch. Things were… awkward. The rest of the base didn’t quite know how to act around him and Prowl, which was understandable. Both mechs didn’t quite know how to act around each other either.
How do you go about courting someone who already knows you in the most intimate manner possible?
How do you fall in love with someone you’re already in love with?
Jokes about first dates, romantic dinners (… what would that entail? Driving out to the nearest gas station?) and getting ‘the talk’ from Ratchet, Ironhide and Optimus felt flat. Familiar gestures, such as him dropping off a cube of energon when he knew Prowl was going to get buried in his work again, or the tactician ‘just happening’ to wander past and lingering wherever Jazz happened to be when the saboteur needed some quiet (but not alone) time, took on new (or maybe just previously unnoticed) meaning, especially when they caught each other’s optics and had to look away.
Maggie called them cute. Sideswipe had made retching sounds in the background and ended up begging the hacker for mercy (note to self, Miss Madsen is a scary, scary lady when she wants to be) while his twin cackled at his misfortune from a safe distance.
Jazz didn’t stir as another mech drew close, then settled down beside him without a sound. He glanced down at the hand that placed itself between them, near enough to be an invitation, far enough to remain on its own. A sparkbeat, and then his hand overlaid Prowl’s, their fingertips curling around each other.
The tactician didn’t speak, and the Ops mech remained silent as well, sliding a hesitant glance over to the other mech, only to realise the chevroned mech was doing the same. As startled gazes met, Jazz chuckled and Prowl’s lips twitched in amusement. The Solstice eyed the tactician for a moment, then smirked and leant in to kiss the little smile still playing on the mech’s faceplates.
Prowl’s other hand went to the back of the saboteur’s helm as the kiss deepened and Jazz shifted closer, tugged along by the tactician when the doorwinged mech leant backwards, supporting himself on the arm still holding onto a four fingered hand. Jazz’s free arm slipped across to brace against the ground, and Prowl let his hand drift down from the mech’s helm and along his shoulder, coming to a stop at the saboteur’s elbow.
The brush of an energy field across his plating caused the tactician to moan into the kiss, then whisper Jazz’s name. The sound shot through the Solstice’s audios, making his intakes skip and his servos stiffen, processors rapidly clearing as he pulled away, looking horrified. Confused and looking a little dazed, the chevroned mech said his name again, this time with a questioning lilt.
“Jazz?”
The saboteur shook his head, apologies spilling from his vocaliser. Only the tactician’s grip on Jazz kept the silver mech from scrambling backwards like the SIC burned him.
“Jazz, what’s wrong?”
“I shouldn’t. S’taking advantage of you.”
“I have no objection to being taken advantage of.”
“It’s not right. I’m sorry, I-” A firm touch to his mouth stopped the flow of contrition, and Prowl tilted his helm up to look through his visor and into his optics.
“How can I convince you that I love you, and quite frankly welcome whatever liberties you wish to take with me?”
The Solstice groaned, dropping his head forward. “Prowler, you’re making it really difficult for me to be good.”
“Such was my intention, yes.”
The tactician’s innocent tone and candid answer drew a weak snicker from the Ops mech, and Jazz willingly obeyed the chevroned mech’s gentle prompting to lie down with him. Once comfortably draped over the SIC, the saboteur vented a long, slow cycle of air. Prowl made a contented sound, then ended the peaceful moment with a quiet statement.
“Prime will be going to Washington in a few days time.”
“I heard. The government types are getting a little jumpy after all those ‘Con strikes. He’s leaving you in charge while he’s gone, and taking the twins with him for backup. Heard the lecture you gave them about good behaviour too.”
“Yes.” The doorwinged mech hesitated, and the Solstice felt a chill run down his back struts. “Jazz, I want you to go with Optimus.”
The silver mech bolted upright, staring down at the tactician’s pleading expression. Static issued from his vocaliser, before he shook himself and tried again, pulling on a nearly believable smile.
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
The doorwinged mech scoffed, sitting up as well. “Hardly. I chased you across half the known universe and most of the unknown one. You aren’t getting away that easily.”
“Then why?”
“Apart from the obvious? Because you need the time away from me to sort through that processor of yours. And when you come back and realise that my feelings haven’t changed, maybe you’ll believe me then.”
Jazz was silent, contemplating the mech’s explanation. Then he sighed, his smile a little rueful. “I was right, all those vorns ago.” At Prowl’s puzzled expression, he smirked.
“I’m never going to win an argument with you. Ever. So. You want any souvenirs from DC? I’m sure I can wheedle Optimus into making a pit stop.”
The tactician chuckled, chastely brushing the saboteur’s cheek with a kiss, his reply causing the Solstice to break into full out laughter.
“Just come back to me in one piece. And don’t blow up anything while you’re there.”