Fic: Passion
Title: Passion
Characters: Kup/Prowl, Prowl/Jazz/Sideswipe/Bluestreak (hinted)
Rating: PGish. Nothing explicit.
Summary: Prowl is odd.
AN: I...have no idea. I don't remember -why- I wrote this (and it hurts my brain too hard to think on it) and it's sort of 'meh'. Found this scratched down on a sheet of paper in my office upstairs.
Prowl always was a mech of morals. Of principles. Of self-surety. And of discretion. He had chosen Kup based on these aspects of himself. Kup was a responsible, if moderately aggressive, and respected veteran who knew when to keep his vocoder off. And that, Prowl had told him, was why he was here. Here, as it were, was sparking probably the most stoic mechanism on base; second only to that cleaning drone on level 4A. Prowl never had been especially vocal unless he was laying out a strategy in one of the tactical meetings and even then his voice was monotone enough to remind Kup of Shockwave. The mech lacked -passion-. Real passion, the kind that makes you alive.
Prowl shuddered against him, his intakes skipping for only a moment. Not a sound emitted from his vocoder. Any other mech might be discouraged by such a reaction to interfacing but then Prowl would remind him again of his selection criteria. Kup, he reasoned, would not feel this discouragement. He knew why Prowl did this, knew what drove him to this. It all boiled down to bio-mechanics. A natural release of overloading one's processors. It was functional, purely mechanical and about as emotionless as that same drone on 4A.
Prowl didn't do this for the fun of it, he did it because he -had- to. It was a tasking, a low-level priority that needed to be accomplished to keep himself in optimal condition. And was the mech -ever- in top form. The excess energy surged through Kup's own processors, shorting out two circuit boards and tripping his motor function relay.
You could measure the health of a mech by the power behind their overload. A weak overload usually meant weak spark, injured, or was a clear indication of too frequent self-servicing. A strong overload, like the one he'd just caught the backwash of, told of a mech in -superb- physical condition and astounding power reserves. Contrary to oh-so-popular belief, Prowl did not go around working himself in to energy-deprived stasis. Usually, if you found the mech angry and seemingly depleted, he was coming due "servicing", as Prowl so eloquently put it, at which point he would call one of the very few mechs he trusted enough to keep their traps shut. Kup didn't know of -all- of these individuals but he had managed to learn a few. Jazz had been totally unsurprising. Bluestreak nearly blew a circuit card in Kup's forward processor but the biggest shock was that Sideswipe had made the list. Kup had required a mild medical reboot after that one.
Finally, Kup's circuit cards cleared the excess overload energies and his motor function relay reset. As he was enjoying his own post-overload haze, Prowl had already moved from atop him and was sitting back down in his chair. Kup sat up stiffly, his much older frame groaning with each movement. Prowl waited until the older mech was composed before keying the unlock code to his office door.
"I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Commander Kup."
Again. The monotone. Might almost thing he was that blasted droid.
"No problem. Comm me one of these days and I'll show you something I picked up on Centuai IV." And what a wonderful toy it is, too.
"I doubt that will be necessary. I do not predict to have this type of conundrum again for quite some time." Prowl-ese Translation: "I got off, you got off. Will call eventually."
"Well, you know where to find me."
"Indeed. If you will exscuse me, I have a situation in the brig which requires my attention."
Just nod, salute, leave. Same routine every time.
Prowl followed behind him, securing the door upon exiting before turning and heading towards the lower levels with a pace that said he was off to "better things".
Kup, ever questioning the motives of mechs, set out a ping to Teletran on just what was going on in the brig.
Sideswipe was in solitary, Bluestreak on watch detail, and look! Jazz just left medical headed that direction. And...wait for it...Prowl's access code was just used to gain access to Sideswipe's solitary cell. Wait a klik more and all four heat signatures were in the room. About the time the door reseals, Teletran promptly boots Kup from the log and deletes all evidence of his spying.
"Ah, Teletran, my friend. In on the action are we? Good mech." Kup states, giving the near by control panel a fond pat before headed back to his own duty cycle. As he left, he thought that perhaps an amendment needed to be made to his perception of Prowl. Maybe it isn't passion the mech lacks, it's safety in numbers he wants.
And perhaps a quick appetizer served A-La-Kup.
No complaints. No complaints at all.
Characters: Kup/Prowl, Prowl/Jazz/Sideswipe/Bluestreak (hinted)
Rating: PGish. Nothing explicit.
Summary: Prowl is odd.
AN: I...have no idea. I don't remember -why- I wrote this (and it hurts my brain too hard to think on it) and it's sort of 'meh'. Found this scratched down on a sheet of paper in my office upstairs.
Prowl always was a mech of morals. Of principles. Of self-surety. And of discretion. He had chosen Kup based on these aspects of himself. Kup was a responsible, if moderately aggressive, and respected veteran who knew when to keep his vocoder off. And that, Prowl had told him, was why he was here. Here, as it were, was sparking probably the most stoic mechanism on base; second only to that cleaning drone on level 4A. Prowl never had been especially vocal unless he was laying out a strategy in one of the tactical meetings and even then his voice was monotone enough to remind Kup of Shockwave. The mech lacked -passion-. Real passion, the kind that makes you alive.
Prowl shuddered against him, his intakes skipping for only a moment. Not a sound emitted from his vocoder. Any other mech might be discouraged by such a reaction to interfacing but then Prowl would remind him again of his selection criteria. Kup, he reasoned, would not feel this discouragement. He knew why Prowl did this, knew what drove him to this. It all boiled down to bio-mechanics. A natural release of overloading one's processors. It was functional, purely mechanical and about as emotionless as that same drone on 4A.
Prowl didn't do this for the fun of it, he did it because he -had- to. It was a tasking, a low-level priority that needed to be accomplished to keep himself in optimal condition. And was the mech -ever- in top form. The excess energy surged through Kup's own processors, shorting out two circuit boards and tripping his motor function relay.
You could measure the health of a mech by the power behind their overload. A weak overload usually meant weak spark, injured, or was a clear indication of too frequent self-servicing. A strong overload, like the one he'd just caught the backwash of, told of a mech in -superb- physical condition and astounding power reserves. Contrary to oh-so-popular belief, Prowl did not go around working himself in to energy-deprived stasis. Usually, if you found the mech angry and seemingly depleted, he was coming due "servicing", as Prowl so eloquently put it, at which point he would call one of the very few mechs he trusted enough to keep their traps shut. Kup didn't know of -all- of these individuals but he had managed to learn a few. Jazz had been totally unsurprising. Bluestreak nearly blew a circuit card in Kup's forward processor but the biggest shock was that Sideswipe had made the list. Kup had required a mild medical reboot after that one.
Finally, Kup's circuit cards cleared the excess overload energies and his motor function relay reset. As he was enjoying his own post-overload haze, Prowl had already moved from atop him and was sitting back down in his chair. Kup sat up stiffly, his much older frame groaning with each movement. Prowl waited until the older mech was composed before keying the unlock code to his office door.
"I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Commander Kup."
Again. The monotone. Might almost thing he was that blasted droid.
"No problem. Comm me one of these days and I'll show you something I picked up on Centuai IV." And what a wonderful toy it is, too.
"I doubt that will be necessary. I do not predict to have this type of conundrum again for quite some time." Prowl-ese Translation: "I got off, you got off. Will call eventually."
"Well, you know where to find me."
"Indeed. If you will exscuse me, I have a situation in the brig which requires my attention."
Just nod, salute, leave. Same routine every time.
Prowl followed behind him, securing the door upon exiting before turning and heading towards the lower levels with a pace that said he was off to "better things".
Kup, ever questioning the motives of mechs, set out a ping to Teletran on just what was going on in the brig.
Sideswipe was in solitary, Bluestreak on watch detail, and look! Jazz just left medical headed that direction. And...wait for it...Prowl's access code was just used to gain access to Sideswipe's solitary cell. Wait a klik more and all four heat signatures were in the room. About the time the door reseals, Teletran promptly boots Kup from the log and deletes all evidence of his spying.
"Ah, Teletran, my friend. In on the action are we? Good mech." Kup states, giving the near by control panel a fond pat before headed back to his own duty cycle. As he left, he thought that perhaps an amendment needed to be made to his perception of Prowl. Maybe it isn't passion the mech lacks, it's safety in numbers he wants.
And perhaps a quick appetizer served A-La-Kup.
No complaints. No complaints at all.