Spur of the moment ficcing!
To clear it out of my head.
There's a butt-load of fics honoring the friendship (sometimes more) between various Autobots and the canon humans. One however, seems to regularly slip through the cracks (inasmuch as I can only recall one fic with them off the top of my head).
Not exactly my normal style, I think, but it's the way the narrator told it to me.
Title Look a Little Closer
Characters Chip, Prowl, smidgeon of Sideswipe, also some Prowl/Sideswipe implied
Summary You can't judge your friendship based upon another's.
I wish I could say that I knew how difficult it was to have a giant alien robot as a close friend. Spike knows, and Sparkplug. Carly seems to get on well with Hound. Heck, Raoul and Tracks go out on a weekly basis to hang or go to a concert. And, I mean, there’s Wheeljack, who’s a great guy and all, if you don’t mind that his lab is constantly smoky from how often he blows it up. (He claims there’s something about our planet that is throwing off his calculations, but everyone always laughs at him about it.) The one I want to talk to more often, however, seems to avoid me like the plague. Or a computer virus. Or something.
I saved the guy’s life for Christ’s sake! He thanked me, yeah, but that’s it. He acts like nothing happened, and barely speaks to me beyond the normal pleasantries. Make matters even better, his bondmate, Sideswipe (and that was a trip and a half, I tell you) goes out of his way to play pranks on me. He never hurts me (which is more than can be said for some of what he’s done to Carly and Spike), but it’s annoying being soaked by water, or having a door refuse to open, among other things. I’ve seen them talking and the way Sideswipe acts so possessive whenever I appear, and glares at me, makes me wonder if I might be annoying the one I’m trying to befriend.
He seems like the type who’d never say anything, or complain if you were annoying, though Lord knows that he snaps at some of the ‘delinquents’ often enough when they’re pestering him (including his own bondmate). So it makes me think that Sideswipe’s just trying to tell me what his bondmate’s too polite to.
Then came the day that I managed to get caught on the battlefield.
The Decepticons were trying to hold onto a powerplant they’d ‘procured’ until they could drain it into a nuclear meltdown. I’m not entirely clear how it happened, but I found myself out in the open, with explosions going off all around me. I remember flinching. Even though I really couldn’t hear anything at that point, my ears were ringing too much. I couldn’t see anyone. And that’s a scary feeling right there, knowing that there’s Decepticons out there and not knowing where they are. Worrying that your big friends would miss you and step on you, or run you over. I kept turning my wheelchair, my grip slippery on the metal bars with sweat, trying to find the Autobots’ line.
I think I was in a near panic then, because the next thing I remember I’m face first on the ground, my wheelchair nowhere in sight, and there’s one of the Seekers standing only a hundred feet away (nothing when you’re thirty feet tall).
He lifted his arm, his voice a distant, unintelligible rumble as he sneered his contempt at me. My face was wet, and my arms were moving of their own volition, trying to drag my hapless body away.
I don’t think I heard the shot, so much as felt it. The electric charge in the air, the heat.
I thought I was going to die.
I remember the ground trembling, like a herd of elephants stampeding by.
The shot never hit.
I looked up from where I’d covered my head and, like some guardian angel, his optics blazing, sunlight shining on his flared wings, teeth gritted and bared, crouched Prowl. One of his hands braced his upper torso as the other held his gun and took aim at the Seeker. The air rippled with the power behind his shots, vibrating through my chest and I stared speechless as another Autobot pounded by. He ripped into the black wings, his shouts coming through my ringing ears as senseless roars.
Prowl gathered me into his hands, rising to his feet in a graceful move I thought only Jazz could pull off. He cradled me, fingers curling protectively around me as he backed away from the Decepticon and his red attacker.
I could only stare stupidly at the Autobot, even though he didn’t look at me even after he’d paused to scoop up my wheelchair. When he moved his arm, I finally noticed the burn mark scorched on the upper strut. He’d taken the shot for me. Wiring lay exposed and sparking, his shoulder tire was blown to smithereens. He wouldn’t be able to transform and drive like that.
I realized he was talking to me when he gently jostled his hands. I looked back up, and he spoke again, but I shook my head, pointing at my still-ringing ears. He contemplated me for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin frown. I wondered if he was mad it me for being so stupid as to get caught out in the open like that. Then he moved, heading toward where I saw the other Autobots and striding up to Ratchet.
Ratchet looked at me, and I could almost feel the scans he ran over my body. They spoke for a little bit, Prowl’s voice rumbling through his hands in an irritated maner, before he set me down on a nearby workbench. I still hadn’t said anything when he turned and strode away, gesturing at the soldiers on the field.
My ears rang until the fighting finally stopped. I found I couldn’t do more than sit there, watching everything from my numb haze. I know Ratchet kept looking at me, and I’m pretty sure he was worried. He’d helped me into my wheelchair, his voice rolling through his hands, reassuring.
Prowl came back, sitting down to allow Ratchet to look at his shoulder. He looked at me, his optics bright with his waning battlemode, something akin to adrenaline. “Chip? Are your audio receptors functioning yet?”
I winced, but nodded, only then realizing that I was no longer hearing ringing, but the clanks and screeches and fizzles of repair.
“Are you damaged?”
That surprised me. I rarely heard him even ask Sideswipe like that (though it might be because it’s an obvious question). I laughed softly, weakly to my own ears. “Just shaken up, I think.”
He tilted his head, then nodded sharply. “Good.” Then he stretched out his free hand toward me, and I rolled myself forward to be easier in his reach. I was flinching in expectation of his berating lecture, as I’d seen him give the others. He touched my shoulder with his finger tips. “I was worried.”
“You were?” I couldn’t help but ask, and I couldn’t stop the other words that tumbled from my mouth. “I thought you hated me.”
A snorted laugh from Ratchet earned a sour look from Prowl.
“What made you think that? I never said I hated you.” His optics flashed, and an amused smile tilted his mouth. “And if it is Sideswipe that concerns you, he is merely being … a ‘jealous twat,’ I believe is the phrase. He has never liked it when my attention is on someone else.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it again and thought back. He’d never dismissed me when I spoke to him, certainly he would continue doing whatever it was he was doing. While he was always polite to me, I did recall hearing him snap at Spike and Bumblebee if they were doing something disagreeable to him. Even Sparkplug had been on the receiving end of his harsh tongue.
Sometimes, it seems he would initiate a greeting and wind up blockingwhatever Autobot was rushing around a corner from striking (and probably crushing) me. Thinking about it after the fact, it just seemed too coincidental.
I looked up at the Autobot patiently waiting for a response. And I realized that we wouldn’t have the same friendship as Spike and Bumblebee, or Sparkplug and Ratchet, or any of the others, because Prowl was none of those Autobots. He had been friendly, it was simply in his own way.
“So we’re friends?” I couldn’t help but wonder aloud.
“Of course.” Even though I’m sure he was surprised by that question, he kept his neutral tone.
By this time, Ratchet was bent over Prowl’s shoulder sniggering rather loudly. “We keep telling Prowl,” Ratchet chuckled glancing toward me, “that no one can tell when he’s being friendly, and when he’s simply being polite.”
To my surprise, Prowl’s doorwings dipped and his head bent in what I recognized as dim-opticked embarrassment.
“I will strive to do better for you, Chip, if it left you wondering so. I never intended to make you think I hated you.”
I grinned, realizing that I simply had to adjust my own attitudes toward friendship. “That’s not necessary Prowl. And thank you, also, for saving me out there.”
Prowl shrugged a doorwing as though it were any normal occurrence. “What are friends for?”
There's a butt-load of fics honoring the friendship (sometimes more) between various Autobots and the canon humans. One however, seems to regularly slip through the cracks (inasmuch as I can only recall one fic with them off the top of my head).
Not exactly my normal style, I think, but it's the way the narrator told it to me.
Title Look a Little Closer
Characters Chip, Prowl, smidgeon of Sideswipe, also some Prowl/Sideswipe implied
Summary You can't judge your friendship based upon another's.
I wish I could say that I knew how difficult it was to have a giant alien robot as a close friend. Spike knows, and Sparkplug. Carly seems to get on well with Hound. Heck, Raoul and Tracks go out on a weekly basis to hang or go to a concert. And, I mean, there’s Wheeljack, who’s a great guy and all, if you don’t mind that his lab is constantly smoky from how often he blows it up. (He claims there’s something about our planet that is throwing off his calculations, but everyone always laughs at him about it.) The one I want to talk to more often, however, seems to avoid me like the plague. Or a computer virus. Or something.
I saved the guy’s life for Christ’s sake! He thanked me, yeah, but that’s it. He acts like nothing happened, and barely speaks to me beyond the normal pleasantries. Make matters even better, his bondmate, Sideswipe (and that was a trip and a half, I tell you) goes out of his way to play pranks on me. He never hurts me (which is more than can be said for some of what he’s done to Carly and Spike), but it’s annoying being soaked by water, or having a door refuse to open, among other things. I’ve seen them talking and the way Sideswipe acts so possessive whenever I appear, and glares at me, makes me wonder if I might be annoying the one I’m trying to befriend.
He seems like the type who’d never say anything, or complain if you were annoying, though Lord knows that he snaps at some of the ‘delinquents’ often enough when they’re pestering him (including his own bondmate). So it makes me think that Sideswipe’s just trying to tell me what his bondmate’s too polite to.
Then came the day that I managed to get caught on the battlefield.
The Decepticons were trying to hold onto a powerplant they’d ‘procured’ until they could drain it into a nuclear meltdown. I’m not entirely clear how it happened, but I found myself out in the open, with explosions going off all around me. I remember flinching. Even though I really couldn’t hear anything at that point, my ears were ringing too much. I couldn’t see anyone. And that’s a scary feeling right there, knowing that there’s Decepticons out there and not knowing where they are. Worrying that your big friends would miss you and step on you, or run you over. I kept turning my wheelchair, my grip slippery on the metal bars with sweat, trying to find the Autobots’ line.
I think I was in a near panic then, because the next thing I remember I’m face first on the ground, my wheelchair nowhere in sight, and there’s one of the Seekers standing only a hundred feet away (nothing when you’re thirty feet tall).
He lifted his arm, his voice a distant, unintelligible rumble as he sneered his contempt at me. My face was wet, and my arms were moving of their own volition, trying to drag my hapless body away.
I don’t think I heard the shot, so much as felt it. The electric charge in the air, the heat.
I thought I was going to die.
I remember the ground trembling, like a herd of elephants stampeding by.
The shot never hit.
I looked up from where I’d covered my head and, like some guardian angel, his optics blazing, sunlight shining on his flared wings, teeth gritted and bared, crouched Prowl. One of his hands braced his upper torso as the other held his gun and took aim at the Seeker. The air rippled with the power behind his shots, vibrating through my chest and I stared speechless as another Autobot pounded by. He ripped into the black wings, his shouts coming through my ringing ears as senseless roars.
Prowl gathered me into his hands, rising to his feet in a graceful move I thought only Jazz could pull off. He cradled me, fingers curling protectively around me as he backed away from the Decepticon and his red attacker.
I could only stare stupidly at the Autobot, even though he didn’t look at me even after he’d paused to scoop up my wheelchair. When he moved his arm, I finally noticed the burn mark scorched on the upper strut. He’d taken the shot for me. Wiring lay exposed and sparking, his shoulder tire was blown to smithereens. He wouldn’t be able to transform and drive like that.
I realized he was talking to me when he gently jostled his hands. I looked back up, and he spoke again, but I shook my head, pointing at my still-ringing ears. He contemplated me for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin frown. I wondered if he was mad it me for being so stupid as to get caught out in the open like that. Then he moved, heading toward where I saw the other Autobots and striding up to Ratchet.
Ratchet looked at me, and I could almost feel the scans he ran over my body. They spoke for a little bit, Prowl’s voice rumbling through his hands in an irritated maner, before he set me down on a nearby workbench. I still hadn’t said anything when he turned and strode away, gesturing at the soldiers on the field.
My ears rang until the fighting finally stopped. I found I couldn’t do more than sit there, watching everything from my numb haze. I know Ratchet kept looking at me, and I’m pretty sure he was worried. He’d helped me into my wheelchair, his voice rolling through his hands, reassuring.
Prowl came back, sitting down to allow Ratchet to look at his shoulder. He looked at me, his optics bright with his waning battlemode, something akin to adrenaline. “Chip? Are your audio receptors functioning yet?”
I winced, but nodded, only then realizing that I was no longer hearing ringing, but the clanks and screeches and fizzles of repair.
“Are you damaged?”
That surprised me. I rarely heard him even ask Sideswipe like that (though it might be because it’s an obvious question). I laughed softly, weakly to my own ears. “Just shaken up, I think.”
He tilted his head, then nodded sharply. “Good.” Then he stretched out his free hand toward me, and I rolled myself forward to be easier in his reach. I was flinching in expectation of his berating lecture, as I’d seen him give the others. He touched my shoulder with his finger tips. “I was worried.”
“You were?” I couldn’t help but ask, and I couldn’t stop the other words that tumbled from my mouth. “I thought you hated me.”
A snorted laugh from Ratchet earned a sour look from Prowl.
“What made you think that? I never said I hated you.” His optics flashed, and an amused smile tilted his mouth. “And if it is Sideswipe that concerns you, he is merely being … a ‘jealous twat,’ I believe is the phrase. He has never liked it when my attention is on someone else.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it again and thought back. He’d never dismissed me when I spoke to him, certainly he would continue doing whatever it was he was doing. While he was always polite to me, I did recall hearing him snap at Spike and Bumblebee if they were doing something disagreeable to him. Even Sparkplug had been on the receiving end of his harsh tongue.
Sometimes, it seems he would initiate a greeting and wind up blockingwhatever Autobot was rushing around a corner from striking (and probably crushing) me. Thinking about it after the fact, it just seemed too coincidental.
I looked up at the Autobot patiently waiting for a response. And I realized that we wouldn’t have the same friendship as Spike and Bumblebee, or Sparkplug and Ratchet, or any of the others, because Prowl was none of those Autobots. He had been friendly, it was simply in his own way.
“So we’re friends?” I couldn’t help but wonder aloud.
“Of course.” Even though I’m sure he was surprised by that question, he kept his neutral tone.
By this time, Ratchet was bent over Prowl’s shoulder sniggering rather loudly. “We keep telling Prowl,” Ratchet chuckled glancing toward me, “that no one can tell when he’s being friendly, and when he’s simply being polite.”
To my surprise, Prowl’s doorwings dipped and his head bent in what I recognized as dim-opticked embarrassment.
“I will strive to do better for you, Chip, if it left you wondering so. I never intended to make you think I hated you.”
I grinned, realizing that I simply had to adjust my own attitudes toward friendship. “That’s not necessary Prowl. And thank you, also, for saving me out there.”
Prowl shrugged a doorwing as though it were any normal occurrence. “What are friends for?”