So I'm not all about Star-crossed all the time
Here's a scene from a yet-to-be-named fic set in the Nowhere to Turn-verse, but far before even For the Love of BOOM!!. Matter of fact, the characters involved aren't even praticipating in the war at the time.
Untitled
Pairings/Characters Prowl/Ratchet, Springer, OCs
Summary Prowl gets a call he's been waiting for.
Warnings There will be warnings to come but none apply here yet.
Logic determined most of his actions.
It dictated his day-to-day routines, and the course of his existence. It told him that any intimate relationship should be built upon friendship first, and that it would be good to have someone like-minded in their sense of duty. Someone who would understand the long cycles, and poring over work long after it's been completed in search of ways to improve. His relationship with Ratchet had been logical, he thought, satisfactory in a physical sense and mutually fulfilling in camaraderie. The first time they had initiated a full interface, he found that Ratchet had come to the same conclusion. It closed a circuit between them, and they pursued what Prowl determined as the next logical step: they bonded.
Of course, hearing it as Prowl told it, one might think that he had not a spark of true emotion in him. That was the farthest thing from the truth.
He loved Ratchet. He enjoyed his career. He felt happiness and sadness, fear and courage.
And, Prowl decided glaring at the mech sitting on the other side of his desk, he hated Springer.
“Fraggit Prowl, if I had waited for backup, like you want me to, they would have gotten away.”
“It is not I that wants you to wait for backup Springer. It is protocol for a single officer no matter their rank to wait for backup before stepping into a dangerous situation. There were civilians on that street, and several of them were damaged by your reckless behavior.”
Green hands slammed down on Prowl’s desk, but the black and white Lieutenant didn’t jump as his effects bounced from the impact. “And how many more did I save by getting those thugs off the streets?”
His desk communicator chimed for his attention. He opened the channel, never relenting his glare from Springer. “Yes?” he snapped out.
Springer smirked.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a Priority 1 call coming in for you.” Even over the channel Rain sounded leery of contacting him while Springer sat in his office.
“Patch it through to my personal comm., Rain.” He closed the channel and pinched his lips together as he regarded the mech in front of him. “I expect that you follow the protocols, more than just five could have been caught in that shoot out. Did you even stop to think of your own safety?” His internal communicator registered an incoming transmission.
“Oh shove off, Prowl. You don’t care about me! No more than you care about those damned civvies that got caught in the fire exchange.” Springer snarled back.
Prowl opened the channel, devoting a fraction of his processing power to the second task. “Prowl here.” He leaned forward, wing panels squeezing the back of his office chair. “Don’t you dare assume to know what I do and do not care about. You certainly don’t care about those ‘damned civvies’ any more than how they can bolster your record. And let me tell you Springer, your record is not looking very pristine at this moment.”
“Prowl this is Surgeon Tourniquet, your presence is required at the facility immediately. We cannot raise Ratchet…”
Prowl stiffened, optics jerking away from Springer in surprise. A quick ping through his comm. verified what Prowl already knew through his bond. “Ratchet is in a silent room at the moment. He cannot be reached over the communication lines.”
Springer narrowed his optics at Prowl’s sudden distraction.
“I’m on my way.” Prowl braced his arms against his desk, meaning to leave. Springer buzzing vocalizer reminded him that he had not finished yet. “You are suspended until Internal Affairs can evaluate your case. Dismissed.” Prowl pushed himself to his feet, unsteady with excitement.
Springer growled, dental plates glinting in the office lights. “Just one slagging tic! That’s it! I don’t even get a chance to defend myself-“
Prowl glared down at the mech still seated in the chair. “You had your chance. I have made my decision.” Prowl rounded his desk, his hand sliding “If you have a problem with it you may take it up with Driveline.” He paused just before passing the other officer. His wing panels swept back, counterbalancing his cumbersome chestplate as he leaned toward the green patrol officer. “I am certain that he would have much more to say in regards to your ill-considered actions. Dismissed.”
Springers shoved himself out of the chair, face set in a snarl, and stormed out.
“Prowl to Driveline.” Prowl followed him at a subdued pace, pausing to key his office door locked.
“Driveline here. What can I do for you, Prowl?” The Chief of Iacon’s police force rumbled lightly over the communication line, belying the audio-blasting power held in his vocalizer.
“Will there be any difficulty in activating my leave at this moment?” Even as he asked he strode down the hallway, nodding pleasantly at his coworkers.
“The call finally came through? Just wonderful. Here I had all these reports that needed to be read and filed...”
Prowl froze midstride, his joints locking in alarm that there was still work he needed to do.
“Prowl,” Driveline mock growled, “I’m pinging your location. If you don’t get your shiny aft back in gear this astrosecond, I’ll send one of the bailiffs to haul you out the door. You know they’ve been wanting to...”
Prowl immediately started forward, reaching the lift just as the doors opened to let out a handful of mechs. None of them stopped for even a pleasant hello, simply passing Prowl with a nod. Not that he minded. Such pleasantries wasted time better spent on tasks at hand, most of his coworkers respected this attitude of his. Though he would admit that might have something to do with the dressing down he’d given in the past when he caught mechs dallying. “I will leave on my own, thank you. I will see you in a metacycle.”
Driveline sent an amused whistle over the line. “Sooner, I hope. I do want to see it.”
Prowl flicked his wing panels. “Affirmative. Prowl out.”
As soon as the doors opened to let him out of the lift, Prowl tilted his wing panels back and made for the exit at a quick clip.
When Tourniquet had requested his immediate presence, Prowl knew that it had not been an idle phrasing. As soon as he hit the road he dropped into his Enforcer mode and took off.
*goes back to writing Star-crossed* I'M ALMOST CAUGHT UP! WOOHOO!! *this has been your random Star-crossed update. Had this been a real update, your monitor would have imploded at the implausibility of teh occurrence*
....
I need me a Prowl/Ratchet icon. O_o
Untitled
Pairings/Characters Prowl/Ratchet, Springer, OCs
Summary Prowl gets a call he's been waiting for.
Warnings There will be warnings to come but none apply here yet.
Logic determined most of his actions.
It dictated his day-to-day routines, and the course of his existence. It told him that any intimate relationship should be built upon friendship first, and that it would be good to have someone like-minded in their sense of duty. Someone who would understand the long cycles, and poring over work long after it's been completed in search of ways to improve. His relationship with Ratchet had been logical, he thought, satisfactory in a physical sense and mutually fulfilling in camaraderie. The first time they had initiated a full interface, he found that Ratchet had come to the same conclusion. It closed a circuit between them, and they pursued what Prowl determined as the next logical step: they bonded.
Of course, hearing it as Prowl told it, one might think that he had not a spark of true emotion in him. That was the farthest thing from the truth.
He loved Ratchet. He enjoyed his career. He felt happiness and sadness, fear and courage.
And, Prowl decided glaring at the mech sitting on the other side of his desk, he hated Springer.
“Fraggit Prowl, if I had waited for backup, like you want me to, they would have gotten away.”
“It is not I that wants you to wait for backup Springer. It is protocol for a single officer no matter their rank to wait for backup before stepping into a dangerous situation. There were civilians on that street, and several of them were damaged by your reckless behavior.”
Green hands slammed down on Prowl’s desk, but the black and white Lieutenant didn’t jump as his effects bounced from the impact. “And how many more did I save by getting those thugs off the streets?”
His desk communicator chimed for his attention. He opened the channel, never relenting his glare from Springer. “Yes?” he snapped out.
Springer smirked.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a Priority 1 call coming in for you.” Even over the channel Rain sounded leery of contacting him while Springer sat in his office.
“Patch it through to my personal comm., Rain.” He closed the channel and pinched his lips together as he regarded the mech in front of him. “I expect that you follow the protocols, more than just five could have been caught in that shoot out. Did you even stop to think of your own safety?” His internal communicator registered an incoming transmission.
“Oh shove off, Prowl. You don’t care about me! No more than you care about those damned civvies that got caught in the fire exchange.” Springer snarled back.
Prowl opened the channel, devoting a fraction of his processing power to the second task. “Prowl here.” He leaned forward, wing panels squeezing the back of his office chair. “Don’t you dare assume to know what I do and do not care about. You certainly don’t care about those ‘damned civvies’ any more than how they can bolster your record. And let me tell you Springer, your record is not looking very pristine at this moment.”
“Prowl this is Surgeon Tourniquet, your presence is required at the facility immediately. We cannot raise Ratchet…”
Prowl stiffened, optics jerking away from Springer in surprise. A quick ping through his comm. verified what Prowl already knew through his bond. “Ratchet is in a silent room at the moment. He cannot be reached over the communication lines.”
Springer narrowed his optics at Prowl’s sudden distraction.
“I’m on my way.” Prowl braced his arms against his desk, meaning to leave. Springer buzzing vocalizer reminded him that he had not finished yet. “You are suspended until Internal Affairs can evaluate your case. Dismissed.” Prowl pushed himself to his feet, unsteady with excitement.
Springer growled, dental plates glinting in the office lights. “Just one slagging tic! That’s it! I don’t even get a chance to defend myself-“
Prowl glared down at the mech still seated in the chair. “You had your chance. I have made my decision.” Prowl rounded his desk, his hand sliding “If you have a problem with it you may take it up with Driveline.” He paused just before passing the other officer. His wing panels swept back, counterbalancing his cumbersome chestplate as he leaned toward the green patrol officer. “I am certain that he would have much more to say in regards to your ill-considered actions. Dismissed.”
Springers shoved himself out of the chair, face set in a snarl, and stormed out.
“Prowl to Driveline.” Prowl followed him at a subdued pace, pausing to key his office door locked.
“Driveline here. What can I do for you, Prowl?” The Chief of Iacon’s police force rumbled lightly over the communication line, belying the audio-blasting power held in his vocalizer.
“Will there be any difficulty in activating my leave at this moment?” Even as he asked he strode down the hallway, nodding pleasantly at his coworkers.
“The call finally came through? Just wonderful. Here I had all these reports that needed to be read and filed...”
Prowl froze midstride, his joints locking in alarm that there was still work he needed to do.
“Prowl,” Driveline mock growled, “I’m pinging your location. If you don’t get your shiny aft back in gear this astrosecond, I’ll send one of the bailiffs to haul you out the door. You know they’ve been wanting to...”
Prowl immediately started forward, reaching the lift just as the doors opened to let out a handful of mechs. None of them stopped for even a pleasant hello, simply passing Prowl with a nod. Not that he minded. Such pleasantries wasted time better spent on tasks at hand, most of his coworkers respected this attitude of his. Though he would admit that might have something to do with the dressing down he’d given in the past when he caught mechs dallying. “I will leave on my own, thank you. I will see you in a metacycle.”
Driveline sent an amused whistle over the line. “Sooner, I hope. I do want to see it.”
Prowl flicked his wing panels. “Affirmative. Prowl out.”
As soon as the doors opened to let him out of the lift, Prowl tilted his wing panels back and made for the exit at a quick clip.
When Tourniquet had requested his immediate presence, Prowl knew that it had not been an idle phrasing. As soon as he hit the road he dropped into his Enforcer mode and took off.
*goes back to writing Star-crossed* I'M ALMOST CAUGHT UP! WOOHOO!! *this has been your random Star-crossed update. Had this been a real update, your monitor would have imploded at the implausibility of teh occurrence*
....
I need me a Prowl/Ratchet icon. O_o