Small Drabbles I've Been Working On
I can't seem t' work on anythin' I SHOULD be doin' here lately... As all writers know, little drabbles come t'gether here an' there, so I strung mine up an' put them in sequential order.
-------------Written By: Reality Obscured-------------
TITLE: Together With You
RATING: K+...except for Part V, which is rated T for mild mech language.
PAIRINGS: My OCs and Prowl/Jazz as twins...
CHARACTERS: Prowl, Jazz, a few OCs.
My OCs:
Meister: Jazz and Prowl's "daddy", you could say. You could say Jazz grows up to take after him closely. I call him Meister in honor of Jazz.
Sync: Jazz and Prowl's "father", who they never and will never know. Prowl pretty much is the spitting image of him.
Welder: Yup. Ya guessed it. Ratchet's creator-to-be. He doesn't know it yet.
WARNINGS: None
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kinda pulled this outta nowhere. This is a total AU. I kinda liked the idea of Prowl and Jazz bein' twins, an' I dabbled around with it for a little while on the side with little personal stories for myself. Then, I put 'em all together an' this is what I got. It's...not much, but I haven't been able t' work on anythin' else of mine recently...
nano-klick : 1/10th second
astro-second : 1/2 second
klick : second
cycle : minute
breem (1000 astroseconds) : 8.3 minutes
megacycle : hour
groon: 1 hour...roughly
joor (5 cycles or 50 breems) : 7 hours
quartec : 1/4 day
decacycle : 30 days
solar cycle/Orn (1 Cybertronian Day) : 20 Hours
stellar cycle (1 Cybertronian Year) : 400 Days
Vorn : 83 Years
------------- ------------- -------------
Part I - Emergence
Prowl was small and frail, his black and white body not much more than the bare protoform. Technically a youngling, he was barely out of his sparkling stage, even if it looked like he should still be attached to his creator. His Spark separated too early from his parent creator, and his meek energy could only support thus far what he currently bore.
Being small, however, had its distinct advantages, however. He could sneak around unnoticed whereas others could not. Sneaking into the medbay was only one way he used the advantage often. The CMO and his three assistants had yet to notice or pay attention to the wayward youngling stashing himself away in a corner, so involved were they in their work. So Prowl tucked himself away and watched, his bright blue optics focused intently on the machine’s connecting his co-creator to monitoring systems.
Meister, the Security Forces’ Head of Special Operations, had the chief medic elbow deep in his chassis, the soft glow illuminating the mech’s white chest plate giving the untold story. When Prowl’s creators Spark-bonded, a sparkling was formed. The new Spark, however, split during the bonding experience, creating twins. Half embedded itself in Meister, half in Sync. Prowl was close enough to fully matured as a sparkling when Sync had been deactivated to survive until they got him to a spark chamber and a protoform body. Now, nearly a vorn later, his twin was emerging.
Because of the twins’ early split from each other, this “younger” twin was weak and couldn’t sustain himself just yet. The young Spark was lifted from Meister’s chamber and placed into a temporary, self-sustaining Spark chamber of it’s own.
Once again, Prowl’s size served him well as he approached the machine holding and monitoring the Spark chamber, and nobody noticed him as he lifted a hand to brush small digits against the chamber’s outer shell. The Spark inside pulsed weakly at the feeling, and Prowl reached out through the bond of energy he’d always felt between him and his other half. The bond was so much clearer now, the energy unhampered by Meister’s own. The sparkling grabbed hold of the questing consciousness and held onto it like a lifeline. Prowl let him. After all, he suddenly felt more complete than he had in many a stellar cycle.
Part II - Bonding
The new sparkling was growing fast in strength, but it would still be a few orns before it would be ready to be housed in it’s new protoform body.
Twice a day, Meister had to come to the medbay and feed the sparkling a mixture of energon and energy he’d finely processed through his own systems. Prowl almost always found a way to follow his co-creator, whether he was wanted to or not. Eventually, Meister found himself giving in, and he allowed the youngling to be there during the feedings. It was evident from the way Prowl reacted around his twin that they had already begun communicating through their bond on some rudimentary level, and who was Meister to deny them that? Welder, the white and blue box of a CMO, preferred having Prowl around as well. It made the sparkling’s energy more stable, which probably had an indirect hand in his growing strength.
“You can’t call it Sparkling forever.” Welder said from where he leaned against a repair berth a few meters away.
Meister’s grin was unrepentant. “Wanna make a bet on that?”
Welder just shook his head and chuckled, all too used to the operative’s ways…and wasn’t about to bet on them, either! “Prowl’s probably got a name for him, anyway. Ever tried asking him?”
Meister took a moment to inspect a small scuff on Prowl’s back as he answered. The youngling sat in his lap while he was on the berth, white parts sticking out as contrast to his own mostly black and dark blue body. “Nah. He still won’t speak, y’know? At least not in somethin’ I can understand.”
It was true, and unusual, for most younglings had already managed to start a development of their language database. Later they would be modified and downloaded with complete literacy and language software as needed. Prowl had not. He spoke using the clicks and other sounds all sparklings could make, and only other sparklings and the creators they sparked from could understand. Some believed that the way sparklings communicated was the most ancient and primitive language known to Cybertron, and was likely the original way all Transformers used to communicate. Meister was Prowl’s co-creator, to be sure, and he held some of the mech’s Spark energy within him, but Sync had been the one to carry Prowl’s Spark all that time. There was still a small bond that Meister was glad he had with Prowl, and when Prowl didn’t get his point across in the usual way, he went for emotion through said means.
“Process it this way. He’ll have to eventually.” Welder offered. “Protoforms do lose their ability to make those sounds as they grow. He’ll have to speak if he wants to communicate.”
They were talking about him. That much was obvious. It was also obvious that they were going to keep on talking about him like he wasn’t even in the same room. Used to it by now, Prowl turned his attention back to the Spark chamber still hooked up to the monitoring machines, optics following the feeding lines that connected Meister to the Spark chamber itself. There was the wordless sensation of a question felt in his Spark, and Prowl answered with a pulse of his own, assuring his other half that he was still here.
“’Sides, when it is mandatory for sparklings to have designations, anyway?” Meister asked as he picked Prowl up off of his lap, setting him down on the berth so he could stand and unplug the cables from his transfer jacks. “Don’t they usually name themselves?”
Prowl took the moment to slip off of the berth. Neither the medic nor Meister knew he was gone until they heard his soft clicking near the base of the machine, Prowl once again holding his small hands against the Spark chamber.
“You named Prowl.” Welder reminded him as he picked the youngling up. Prowl squeaked in surprise.
Meister chuckled as he was handed his creation. “The sneaky lil’ glitch that he his, what else would he be called?” Besides, he thought to himself, Prowl had been the one to sneak up on them all. While he had felt his own sparkling since the beginning, nobody had felt Prowl until close to the end. Sync had felt it and began affectionately calling him Prowler. “Sync named him. Not me, Welder. Wouldn’t be right for me t’change it now.”
Part III - I Know You
He couldn't understand why Meister had locked him inside their quarters. He wanted to go to the medbay with him. He wanted to see his other half, that other Spark that pulsed just like his own. His...twin, the medic called him? Did he have a twin?
Prowl rechecked his options. The grate over the ventilation shaft he had used before -multiple times before, he'd admit- had been locked shut. His co-creator had become wise to that faster than Prowl had suspected he would. There was only one other way and that was out the front door. However, there was one problem with that plan. The front door was locked, and the previous password he'd used to open it wasn't working.
Prowl positioned himself next to the door and waited. Eventually, Meister would be back.
-------------
A Few Breems Later...
Meister had expected a very aggravated and put-off sparkling when he returned to his quarters. He'd remembered to lock the ventilation shaft that Prowl had used last time as well as the door this time around. Somehow he knew he had Sync's coding to blame this on. Prowl wasn't just good at prowling around. He was conniving!
The Special Operations head opened the door and looked into the room, sure that he'd see Prowl sulking on the berth or in a corner, as he'd done before. But...no Prowl...and the quarters were relatively spartan when it came to belongings. Sync never had believed in personal effects, and Meister traveled too much to be bogged down by such nonsense. It was something the two bond-mates had agreed upon.
However, the one belonging that SHOULD have been inside his quarters was not. More to the fact, a sparkling.
There was only one place he could think of that Prowl could be as he activated his comm. {"Meister to Welder. Yeah. Guess who got out?"}
-------------
The medical berths were still too tall for Prowl to see over them just yet. His protoform hadn't grown tall enough. There was something on the berth, though. Running it through his small memory banks, he verified that this was indeed the berth that him and his co-creator used when his co-creator was feeding his other half. Just when he'd decided to climb up and find out exactly what, a pair of strong and familiar white hands closed around his sides and lifted him up, setting him down on the edge of the berth. Prowl couldn't help but squeak slightly in surprise at the sudden motion, but he thought nothing of it when he came optic to optic with his previous interest.
There was...a sparkling up here. It was black and white, just like him! Only...the black and white was reversed, he noticed. Where he had black, the other had white. Where he had white, the other had black. The other sparkling looked at him with genuine interest, clicking softly a few times. Prowl chanced clicking back...and smiled. His Spark told him everything he needed to know. He could feel him... This was his twin...
Moments later, when Meister strolled easily and unhurriedly into the room, the first sight that greeted him made him smile to no end. The twins -his and Sync's twins- were curled up on the berth, together, and recharging. Prowl had his twin wrapped up in his embrace protectively.
"It's about time." Welder sighed from where he stood watching over the two. Meister could only agree.
Part IV -- What Is My Name
Half a vorn had already passed. Forty-one stellar cycles and “Sparkling” still hadn’t bee named. It highly amused everybot to no end that Meister still hadn't designated him. As Welder had said, sparklings did indeed name themselves, more or less. It could be based upon anything. Habit, coloration, specialty, etc. Prowl and Meister were both good examples. Prowl...well, he prowled around and had the uncanny ability to go unnoticed despite his black and white coloration. Meister was good at practically everything, and if he wasn't then give him an orn or so. He'd eventually be good at whatever that was, too.
One thing was for sure. While Prowl was still small and suffering from a weak Spark, Jazz had no such problems. Meister soon discovered he had his hands full with the sparkling. And Prowl had yet to speak with a vocabulary that he could understand. Sparkling seemed to understand it, though, and would frequently join in with his twin in conversation. Welder assured Meister time and time again that Prowl wouldn't cause this to become a habit and that he would eventually HAVE to overcome the habit despite himself. Spark energy was what formatted and shaped the protoforms of young Cybertronians. Eventually, the Spark would reformat the vocalizer as well. Usually this happened by the third vorn. In Prowl's case, the fact that such a thing hadn't happened yet was probably due to his frail size and Spark strength.
With the way Sparkling was clicking and growing, there was the change that he'd start vocalizing actual words by his second vorn in the least!
But then...
Welder looked over the sparklings shoulder armor, unsure as to what he was supposed to do with it. He was the CMO of the Black Ops division, a position that earned him high regards in many a manner of medical techniques. He’d learned to try things that others wouldn’t even dream of. Within the memory banks of his CPU were skills that the mechanical world would perhaps kill to find out. But...he had no idea what to do to repair the shoulder wiring of a sparkling. Everything was practically miniaturized! He already had to use the fine tools located in his fingertips to even get a grasp upon the small pieces, but a squirming sparkling wasn’t helping at all!
“Keep yourself still, Sparkling!” He groused, thumping Sparkling in the head lightly. Sparkling looked at him, amused, knowing full well even by now exactly how to press the medic’s buttons...so to speak. He wiggled again, and was promptly thumped one more time. “Do it again and I’m welding you to the berth, and don’t think that I won’t.”
Sparkling wiggled again, this time with no other intent on anything other than relieving the strange itchiness he was feeling along his back.
“Sparkling!”
“Jazz.”
Welder stopped, the new voice catching him off guard. Besides himself, an aid working on repairing tools in the back, and the twins, there weren’t any others in the medbay. The voice HADN’T belonged to his aid, either. He looked down at Prowl. “Say that again?”
“Jazz.” Prowl looked at his brother, who clicked back in reply. In response of his own, Prowl touched his hand to his own shoulder. “Itches.”
That made about as much sense as when Meister decided to try and see what would happen if he put high-grade in Sync’s normal energon. That night had resulted in the two present and accounted for now. Welder knew for a fact that he had disconnected the sparklings sensory network from his CPU. There was no way he was feeling anything, much less itchy.
“He doesn’t feel anything, Prowl. He’s ok.” Welder assured the youngling.
Prowl’s normally neutral expression changed to a frown. He turned around, letting the medic see his back, insisting, “Itches!”
Now he got it. Prowl was saying that HE itched. The CMO sighed and looked at the younglings back. Apparently Sync’s Spark energy was flowing stronger through the youngling than they had thought. His protoform was starting to develop small sensory panels of its own. More than likely they were going to grow larger as Prowl himself grew. That was why the metal itched back there. It was expanding.
And, apparently, Jazz was feeling it across their bond.
“Yes, Prowl. He feels your itch.” Welder smiled, rubbing the new metal softly with the tip of his thumb. Prowl relaxed lightly into the touch. Sparkling’s relief was obvious as well from the soft, contented clicks he started vocalizing. “You called him Jazz. Is that his name?”
Prowl nodded, clicking softly now. “Jazz.”
He chuckled. Prowl’s first word had been his brother’s name. How fitting. “Why do you call him Jazz?”
Clicks and small vibrating sounds continued the conversation. Prowl was telling him, just not in a way the medic could understand. He smiled softly, continuing his ministrations. If he got Prowl relaxed and calm enough, Jazz would sit through the rest of the procedure without a problem.
“Makes sense, ya know?” Meister said while he and Welder shared an energon ration in the Common Room a few joors later. “He got into m’ music collection a couple o’ orns ago. Was totally groovin’ to the Jazz ensembles.” He took another sip of his small cube. “Guess he liked it more than I thought.”
“He’s like you. Prowl’s like Sync.” Welder pointed out. “Even in the way they look. I’m wondering now if Prowl’s panels are going to be as big as Sync’s were. The best anti-Seeker tactical model there ever was. The best I’ve ever seen, anyway.”
Meister’s smile softened as he let his memories take him away. “Yeah...”
Part V --
It was an odd but hardly difficult sight to become accustomed to inside the Black Ops base of operations. Two younglings running through the halls, one only a vorn old with the other exactly twice that--Welder had thought the math too coincidental to be simple fate--, and the sight of the two diving in and out of random ventilation shafts had become commonplace. The shafts were the perfect size for the younglings to get around the base quickly. Oddly enough, while Prowl had utilized many a shaft in his ventures before, it had been Jazz who had all but adopted full use of them.
Meister knew he didn’t have anything to worry about where his creations were concerned. The Black Ops trusted each other explicitly; they had to in their line of work. They were a family, and as such Prowl and Jazz had a family of five mechs and one femme, and each watched after the younglings well-being as though everyone had taken part in their creation.
Much to Meister’s dismay and practically everyone else’s amusement, Prowl had not yet said another single word of Cybertronian other than his brother’s designation. Jazz, however, proved that his main source of verbal inspiration was most definitely his still living creator. The Lower Polyhexian accent was thick on the young black and white’s vocalizer. Jazz acted as a dutiful translator for his twin, and the two were rarely, if ever, apart. The twins communicated almost solely across their bond link, though, leaving a lot of mechs in the dark about the silent black and white pair.
-------------
Welder wasn’t known for the most decent of language, especially when it came to communication between him and his patients when he was in a temper. words that could make the hardest of bar-bots heat up would routinely spill from his vocalizer. Knowing all of this, Meister still found himself stunned into silence when his older, well-behaved, and usually quieter co-creation let out a sudden wave of expletives.
“Sorry fragger! I’ll turn you’re slaggin’ aft into scrap for that!”
His legs were nearly taken right out from under him as two familiar younglings sped out of the Common Room and rushed by. Jazz laughed with glee as Prowl--a purple and green Prowl--chased with the apparent intent to maim. Meister watched them disappear down the hall before continuing on into the Common Room to get himself a ration of energon. He’d have to remember to “thank” Welder for Prowl’s new dictionary later...
-------------Written By: Reality Obscured-------------
TITLE: Together With You
RATING: K+...except for Part V, which is rated T for mild mech language.
PAIRINGS: My OCs and Prowl/Jazz as twins...
CHARACTERS: Prowl, Jazz, a few OCs.
My OCs:
Meister: Jazz and Prowl's "daddy", you could say. You could say Jazz grows up to take after him closely. I call him Meister in honor of Jazz.
Sync: Jazz and Prowl's "father", who they never and will never know. Prowl pretty much is the spitting image of him.
Welder: Yup. Ya guessed it. Ratchet's creator-to-be. He doesn't know it yet.
WARNINGS: None
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kinda pulled this outta nowhere. This is a total AU. I kinda liked the idea of Prowl and Jazz bein' twins, an' I dabbled around with it for a little while on the side with little personal stories for myself. Then, I put 'em all together an' this is what I got. It's...not much, but I haven't been able t' work on anythin' else of mine recently...
nano-klick : 1/10th second
astro-second : 1/2 second
klick : second
cycle : minute
breem (1000 astroseconds) : 8.3 minutes
megacycle : hour
groon: 1 hour...roughly
joor (5 cycles or 50 breems) : 7 hours
quartec : 1/4 day
decacycle : 30 days
solar cycle/Orn (1 Cybertronian Day) : 20 Hours
stellar cycle (1 Cybertronian Year) : 400 Days
Vorn : 83 Years
------------- ------------- -------------
Part I - Emergence
Prowl was small and frail, his black and white body not much more than the bare protoform. Technically a youngling, he was barely out of his sparkling stage, even if it looked like he should still be attached to his creator. His Spark separated too early from his parent creator, and his meek energy could only support thus far what he currently bore.
Being small, however, had its distinct advantages, however. He could sneak around unnoticed whereas others could not. Sneaking into the medbay was only one way he used the advantage often. The CMO and his three assistants had yet to notice or pay attention to the wayward youngling stashing himself away in a corner, so involved were they in their work. So Prowl tucked himself away and watched, his bright blue optics focused intently on the machine’s connecting his co-creator to monitoring systems.
Meister, the Security Forces’ Head of Special Operations, had the chief medic elbow deep in his chassis, the soft glow illuminating the mech’s white chest plate giving the untold story. When Prowl’s creators Spark-bonded, a sparkling was formed. The new Spark, however, split during the bonding experience, creating twins. Half embedded itself in Meister, half in Sync. Prowl was close enough to fully matured as a sparkling when Sync had been deactivated to survive until they got him to a spark chamber and a protoform body. Now, nearly a vorn later, his twin was emerging.
Because of the twins’ early split from each other, this “younger” twin was weak and couldn’t sustain himself just yet. The young Spark was lifted from Meister’s chamber and placed into a temporary, self-sustaining Spark chamber of it’s own.
Once again, Prowl’s size served him well as he approached the machine holding and monitoring the Spark chamber, and nobody noticed him as he lifted a hand to brush small digits against the chamber’s outer shell. The Spark inside pulsed weakly at the feeling, and Prowl reached out through the bond of energy he’d always felt between him and his other half. The bond was so much clearer now, the energy unhampered by Meister’s own. The sparkling grabbed hold of the questing consciousness and held onto it like a lifeline. Prowl let him. After all, he suddenly felt more complete than he had in many a stellar cycle.
Part II - Bonding
The new sparkling was growing fast in strength, but it would still be a few orns before it would be ready to be housed in it’s new protoform body.
Twice a day, Meister had to come to the medbay and feed the sparkling a mixture of energon and energy he’d finely processed through his own systems. Prowl almost always found a way to follow his co-creator, whether he was wanted to or not. Eventually, Meister found himself giving in, and he allowed the youngling to be there during the feedings. It was evident from the way Prowl reacted around his twin that they had already begun communicating through their bond on some rudimentary level, and who was Meister to deny them that? Welder, the white and blue box of a CMO, preferred having Prowl around as well. It made the sparkling’s energy more stable, which probably had an indirect hand in his growing strength.
“You can’t call it Sparkling forever.” Welder said from where he leaned against a repair berth a few meters away.
Meister’s grin was unrepentant. “Wanna make a bet on that?”
Welder just shook his head and chuckled, all too used to the operative’s ways…and wasn’t about to bet on them, either! “Prowl’s probably got a name for him, anyway. Ever tried asking him?”
Meister took a moment to inspect a small scuff on Prowl’s back as he answered. The youngling sat in his lap while he was on the berth, white parts sticking out as contrast to his own mostly black and dark blue body. “Nah. He still won’t speak, y’know? At least not in somethin’ I can understand.”
It was true, and unusual, for most younglings had already managed to start a development of their language database. Later they would be modified and downloaded with complete literacy and language software as needed. Prowl had not. He spoke using the clicks and other sounds all sparklings could make, and only other sparklings and the creators they sparked from could understand. Some believed that the way sparklings communicated was the most ancient and primitive language known to Cybertron, and was likely the original way all Transformers used to communicate. Meister was Prowl’s co-creator, to be sure, and he held some of the mech’s Spark energy within him, but Sync had been the one to carry Prowl’s Spark all that time. There was still a small bond that Meister was glad he had with Prowl, and when Prowl didn’t get his point across in the usual way, he went for emotion through said means.
“Process it this way. He’ll have to eventually.” Welder offered. “Protoforms do lose their ability to make those sounds as they grow. He’ll have to speak if he wants to communicate.”
They were talking about him. That much was obvious. It was also obvious that they were going to keep on talking about him like he wasn’t even in the same room. Used to it by now, Prowl turned his attention back to the Spark chamber still hooked up to the monitoring machines, optics following the feeding lines that connected Meister to the Spark chamber itself. There was the wordless sensation of a question felt in his Spark, and Prowl answered with a pulse of his own, assuring his other half that he was still here.
“’Sides, when it is mandatory for sparklings to have designations, anyway?” Meister asked as he picked Prowl up off of his lap, setting him down on the berth so he could stand and unplug the cables from his transfer jacks. “Don’t they usually name themselves?”
Prowl took the moment to slip off of the berth. Neither the medic nor Meister knew he was gone until they heard his soft clicking near the base of the machine, Prowl once again holding his small hands against the Spark chamber.
“You named Prowl.” Welder reminded him as he picked the youngling up. Prowl squeaked in surprise.
Meister chuckled as he was handed his creation. “The sneaky lil’ glitch that he his, what else would he be called?” Besides, he thought to himself, Prowl had been the one to sneak up on them all. While he had felt his own sparkling since the beginning, nobody had felt Prowl until close to the end. Sync had felt it and began affectionately calling him Prowler. “Sync named him. Not me, Welder. Wouldn’t be right for me t’change it now.”
Part III - I Know You
He couldn't understand why Meister had locked him inside their quarters. He wanted to go to the medbay with him. He wanted to see his other half, that other Spark that pulsed just like his own. His...twin, the medic called him? Did he have a twin?
Prowl rechecked his options. The grate over the ventilation shaft he had used before -multiple times before, he'd admit- had been locked shut. His co-creator had become wise to that faster than Prowl had suspected he would. There was only one other way and that was out the front door. However, there was one problem with that plan. The front door was locked, and the previous password he'd used to open it wasn't working.
Prowl positioned himself next to the door and waited. Eventually, Meister would be back.
-------------
A Few Breems Later...
Meister had expected a very aggravated and put-off sparkling when he returned to his quarters. He'd remembered to lock the ventilation shaft that Prowl had used last time as well as the door this time around. Somehow he knew he had Sync's coding to blame this on. Prowl wasn't just good at prowling around. He was conniving!
The Special Operations head opened the door and looked into the room, sure that he'd see Prowl sulking on the berth or in a corner, as he'd done before. But...no Prowl...and the quarters were relatively spartan when it came to belongings. Sync never had believed in personal effects, and Meister traveled too much to be bogged down by such nonsense. It was something the two bond-mates had agreed upon.
However, the one belonging that SHOULD have been inside his quarters was not. More to the fact, a sparkling.
There was only one place he could think of that Prowl could be as he activated his comm. {"Meister to Welder. Yeah. Guess who got out?"}
-------------
The medical berths were still too tall for Prowl to see over them just yet. His protoform hadn't grown tall enough. There was something on the berth, though. Running it through his small memory banks, he verified that this was indeed the berth that him and his co-creator used when his co-creator was feeding his other half. Just when he'd decided to climb up and find out exactly what, a pair of strong and familiar white hands closed around his sides and lifted him up, setting him down on the edge of the berth. Prowl couldn't help but squeak slightly in surprise at the sudden motion, but he thought nothing of it when he came optic to optic with his previous interest.
There was...a sparkling up here. It was black and white, just like him! Only...the black and white was reversed, he noticed. Where he had black, the other had white. Where he had white, the other had black. The other sparkling looked at him with genuine interest, clicking softly a few times. Prowl chanced clicking back...and smiled. His Spark told him everything he needed to know. He could feel him... This was his twin...
Moments later, when Meister strolled easily and unhurriedly into the room, the first sight that greeted him made him smile to no end. The twins -his and Sync's twins- were curled up on the berth, together, and recharging. Prowl had his twin wrapped up in his embrace protectively.
"It's about time." Welder sighed from where he stood watching over the two. Meister could only agree.
Part IV -- What Is My Name
Half a vorn had already passed. Forty-one stellar cycles and “Sparkling” still hadn’t bee named. It highly amused everybot to no end that Meister still hadn't designated him. As Welder had said, sparklings did indeed name themselves, more or less. It could be based upon anything. Habit, coloration, specialty, etc. Prowl and Meister were both good examples. Prowl...well, he prowled around and had the uncanny ability to go unnoticed despite his black and white coloration. Meister was good at practically everything, and if he wasn't then give him an orn or so. He'd eventually be good at whatever that was, too.
One thing was for sure. While Prowl was still small and suffering from a weak Spark, Jazz had no such problems. Meister soon discovered he had his hands full with the sparkling. And Prowl had yet to speak with a vocabulary that he could understand. Sparkling seemed to understand it, though, and would frequently join in with his twin in conversation. Welder assured Meister time and time again that Prowl wouldn't cause this to become a habit and that he would eventually HAVE to overcome the habit despite himself. Spark energy was what formatted and shaped the protoforms of young Cybertronians. Eventually, the Spark would reformat the vocalizer as well. Usually this happened by the third vorn. In Prowl's case, the fact that such a thing hadn't happened yet was probably due to his frail size and Spark strength.
With the way Sparkling was clicking and growing, there was the change that he'd start vocalizing actual words by his second vorn in the least!
But then...
Welder looked over the sparklings shoulder armor, unsure as to what he was supposed to do with it. He was the CMO of the Black Ops division, a position that earned him high regards in many a manner of medical techniques. He’d learned to try things that others wouldn’t even dream of. Within the memory banks of his CPU were skills that the mechanical world would perhaps kill to find out. But...he had no idea what to do to repair the shoulder wiring of a sparkling. Everything was practically miniaturized! He already had to use the fine tools located in his fingertips to even get a grasp upon the small pieces, but a squirming sparkling wasn’t helping at all!
“Keep yourself still, Sparkling!” He groused, thumping Sparkling in the head lightly. Sparkling looked at him, amused, knowing full well even by now exactly how to press the medic’s buttons...so to speak. He wiggled again, and was promptly thumped one more time. “Do it again and I’m welding you to the berth, and don’t think that I won’t.”
Sparkling wiggled again, this time with no other intent on anything other than relieving the strange itchiness he was feeling along his back.
“Sparkling!”
“Jazz.”
Welder stopped, the new voice catching him off guard. Besides himself, an aid working on repairing tools in the back, and the twins, there weren’t any others in the medbay. The voice HADN’T belonged to his aid, either. He looked down at Prowl. “Say that again?”
“Jazz.” Prowl looked at his brother, who clicked back in reply. In response of his own, Prowl touched his hand to his own shoulder. “Itches.”
That made about as much sense as when Meister decided to try and see what would happen if he put high-grade in Sync’s normal energon. That night had resulted in the two present and accounted for now. Welder knew for a fact that he had disconnected the sparklings sensory network from his CPU. There was no way he was feeling anything, much less itchy.
“He doesn’t feel anything, Prowl. He’s ok.” Welder assured the youngling.
Prowl’s normally neutral expression changed to a frown. He turned around, letting the medic see his back, insisting, “Itches!”
Now he got it. Prowl was saying that HE itched. The CMO sighed and looked at the younglings back. Apparently Sync’s Spark energy was flowing stronger through the youngling than they had thought. His protoform was starting to develop small sensory panels of its own. More than likely they were going to grow larger as Prowl himself grew. That was why the metal itched back there. It was expanding.
And, apparently, Jazz was feeling it across their bond.
“Yes, Prowl. He feels your itch.” Welder smiled, rubbing the new metal softly with the tip of his thumb. Prowl relaxed lightly into the touch. Sparkling’s relief was obvious as well from the soft, contented clicks he started vocalizing. “You called him Jazz. Is that his name?”
Prowl nodded, clicking softly now. “Jazz.”
He chuckled. Prowl’s first word had been his brother’s name. How fitting. “Why do you call him Jazz?”
Clicks and small vibrating sounds continued the conversation. Prowl was telling him, just not in a way the medic could understand. He smiled softly, continuing his ministrations. If he got Prowl relaxed and calm enough, Jazz would sit through the rest of the procedure without a problem.
“Makes sense, ya know?” Meister said while he and Welder shared an energon ration in the Common Room a few joors later. “He got into m’ music collection a couple o’ orns ago. Was totally groovin’ to the Jazz ensembles.” He took another sip of his small cube. “Guess he liked it more than I thought.”
“He’s like you. Prowl’s like Sync.” Welder pointed out. “Even in the way they look. I’m wondering now if Prowl’s panels are going to be as big as Sync’s were. The best anti-Seeker tactical model there ever was. The best I’ve ever seen, anyway.”
Meister’s smile softened as he let his memories take him away. “Yeah...”
Part V --
It was an odd but hardly difficult sight to become accustomed to inside the Black Ops base of operations. Two younglings running through the halls, one only a vorn old with the other exactly twice that--Welder had thought the math too coincidental to be simple fate--, and the sight of the two diving in and out of random ventilation shafts had become commonplace. The shafts were the perfect size for the younglings to get around the base quickly. Oddly enough, while Prowl had utilized many a shaft in his ventures before, it had been Jazz who had all but adopted full use of them.
Meister knew he didn’t have anything to worry about where his creations were concerned. The Black Ops trusted each other explicitly; they had to in their line of work. They were a family, and as such Prowl and Jazz had a family of five mechs and one femme, and each watched after the younglings well-being as though everyone had taken part in their creation.
Much to Meister’s dismay and practically everyone else’s amusement, Prowl had not yet said another single word of Cybertronian other than his brother’s designation. Jazz, however, proved that his main source of verbal inspiration was most definitely his still living creator. The Lower Polyhexian accent was thick on the young black and white’s vocalizer. Jazz acted as a dutiful translator for his twin, and the two were rarely, if ever, apart. The twins communicated almost solely across their bond link, though, leaving a lot of mechs in the dark about the silent black and white pair.
-------------
Welder wasn’t known for the most decent of language, especially when it came to communication between him and his patients when he was in a temper. words that could make the hardest of bar-bots heat up would routinely spill from his vocalizer. Knowing all of this, Meister still found himself stunned into silence when his older, well-behaved, and usually quieter co-creation let out a sudden wave of expletives.
“Sorry fragger! I’ll turn you’re slaggin’ aft into scrap for that!”
His legs were nearly taken right out from under him as two familiar younglings sped out of the Common Room and rushed by. Jazz laughed with glee as Prowl--a purple and green Prowl--chased with the apparent intent to maim. Meister watched them disappear down the hall before continuing on into the Common Room to get himself a ration of energon. He’d have to remember to “thank” Welder for Prowl’s new dictionary later...