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tfic_contestTitle: Go Gentle into the Night
Rating: T
Universe: G-1
Pairing: Prowl x Jazz
Word Count: 969
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.
Warnings: Undoubtedly OOC, G1 continuity (if you turn your head and squint)
In the end, their relationship wasn’t all that much of a surprise. Prowl was Prime’s right-hand mech and Jazz the left. Both were lieutenants. Both respected and held in no small amount of awe.
Opposites and compliments. One serious where the other was playful. One friendly where the other was taciturn. A balance that seemed to work so well. Loud to quiet. Logical to emotional.
Easy. Simple. Obvious.
The betting pool had been going on for vorns. Since just after of their first meeting. Had outlasted countless allies and Autobots. And Bluestreak won no small amount of credits.
- - -
It started simply enough.
An odd but fulfilling friendship. The occasional cube of energon together.
But it eventually grew.
Hands lingering. Optics finding each other across the room. Excuses to go to Prowl’s office. To search Jazz out. To visit each other’s quarters.
And culminated in an overcharged confession and a great deal of embarrassment. Yet, the things said then couldn’t be unsaid nor the knowledge erased.
Prowl thought and thought about it. Had the memory ambush him while he was doing paperwork. Sneak up on his processor as he sat through meetings. Waylay him just as he was slipping into recharge. Give him enough courage to sit next to Jazz in front of everyone and find his hand underneath the table.
Jazz grinned then, dazzling and beautiful. And Prowl smiled back.
- - -
Passion. Kissing and hands running down the seams of his armor. Stroking. Caressing. Interfacing and overloading with abandoned. Putting most of the younger mechs to shame.
In Jazz’s office. Or Prowl’s. In their newly shared quarters. After every shift. Sometimes even during them.
Wheeljack joked that they’d wear themselves out. Ratchet banged on their wall and demanded that they be quiet. Ironhide seemed vaguely embarrassed whenever he saw them together. And Optimus merely smiled.
Everyone else just laughed.
- - -
Jazz begged and pleaded. Made sad optics. Did everything in his power. But no matter how great the party, Prowl frequently left early and returned to their room. He only hung around long enough to greet everyone.
“I just don’t like that sort of thing,” he always answered before turning back to his bookfile. “Perhaps we can find something that we both like.”
- - -
Prowl came back to their quarters. Only to discover an invasion. Mechs everywhere. On every available surface, doing Primus only knew what.
The twins. Bluestreak. Blaster. And was that Bumblebee and Mirage?
“I thought that it would be just us,” Prowl said with a hitch in his voice.
Jazz shrugged and returned back to his game. “Guess not this time, Prowler.”
- - -
They walked down the hallway, brushing with every step. Jazz swooped for a kiss just before the intersection. But Prowl pushed him away, shooting him a furious look. He gave a firm reprimand about public affection and strode off without a backwards glance.
Jazz didn’t try to kiss him again. Not in the corridor. And not anywhere else for a long time.
- - -
“Um… aren’t you still supposed to be on shift?” Bee questioned as Jazz plopped down at their table.
The older mech just gave a winning grin and downed his high grade.
“Yeah,” Sideswipe added. “Don’t you have paperwork or something?”
Jazz leaned back and put his hands behind his head nonchalantly. “Prowler’ll do it for me.”
- - -
Bit by bit, the interfacing tapered off. The interaction tapered off. Dwindled until it was all but nonexistent.
“We’ll do something together soon,” Prowl promised, going on his third straight orn of work.
“Yeah, soon. After I get back from my mission,” Jazz all too quickly agreed, processor elsewhere. “I’ll see ya in a little while.”
Prowl glanced up for only a second. “Hm… yes. Be careful.” And then, he went back to his planning.
His partner didn’t reply. He was already out the door.
- - -
Jazz barely even noticed when they slipped into an easy routine. Prowl did but was too busy to worry.
Both onlined. Went on shift. Prowl worked even after his was over, while Jazz went to hang out with his hoards of friends. Came back to their room. Kissed once or twice or not at all. And then recharged. Only to do the very same the next time. Orn after orn.
No shared cubes of energon. Or sitting just to talk. Barely interacting at all. The most time they spent together was when they were both offline or in meetings with other officers.
- - -
A relationship of convenience and comfort. Where there had once been love and passion. Together but not together.
Jazz was bored. Prowl was unhappy. Drifting further apart with each passing breem. Or perhaps they had been too far from each other even in the beginning. Unable to truly bridge the gap.
They both knew it was over. Knew that whatever they’d had was gone and would never return. The break both clean and mutual. Quick if not painless.
Jazz simply moved all his possessions back to his old room and waited after a meeting to get Prowl alone.
“So…” he began, “I suppose this’s it then.” His voice held a note of absolute certainty.
Prowl rubbed a hand across his tired face. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Jazz hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Well… g’bye, Prowler. I’ll see ya around.” He walked away then, not even looking back once.
Prowl just watched him go. “Goodbye, Jazz,” he murmured before he turned and went the other direction.
Rating: T
Universe: G-1
Pairing: Prowl x Jazz
Word Count: 969
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.
Warnings: Undoubtedly OOC, G1 continuity (if you turn your head and squint)
In the end, their relationship wasn’t all that much of a surprise. Prowl was Prime’s right-hand mech and Jazz the left. Both were lieutenants. Both respected and held in no small amount of awe.
Opposites and compliments. One serious where the other was playful. One friendly where the other was taciturn. A balance that seemed to work so well. Loud to quiet. Logical to emotional.
Easy. Simple. Obvious.
The betting pool had been going on for vorns. Since just after of their first meeting. Had outlasted countless allies and Autobots. And Bluestreak won no small amount of credits.
- - -
It started simply enough.
An odd but fulfilling friendship. The occasional cube of energon together.
But it eventually grew.
Hands lingering. Optics finding each other across the room. Excuses to go to Prowl’s office. To search Jazz out. To visit each other’s quarters.
And culminated in an overcharged confession and a great deal of embarrassment. Yet, the things said then couldn’t be unsaid nor the knowledge erased.
Prowl thought and thought about it. Had the memory ambush him while he was doing paperwork. Sneak up on his processor as he sat through meetings. Waylay him just as he was slipping into recharge. Give him enough courage to sit next to Jazz in front of everyone and find his hand underneath the table.
Jazz grinned then, dazzling and beautiful. And Prowl smiled back.
- - -
Passion. Kissing and hands running down the seams of his armor. Stroking. Caressing. Interfacing and overloading with abandoned. Putting most of the younger mechs to shame.
In Jazz’s office. Or Prowl’s. In their newly shared quarters. After every shift. Sometimes even during them.
Wheeljack joked that they’d wear themselves out. Ratchet banged on their wall and demanded that they be quiet. Ironhide seemed vaguely embarrassed whenever he saw them together. And Optimus merely smiled.
Everyone else just laughed.
- - -
Jazz begged and pleaded. Made sad optics. Did everything in his power. But no matter how great the party, Prowl frequently left early and returned to their room. He only hung around long enough to greet everyone.
“I just don’t like that sort of thing,” he always answered before turning back to his bookfile. “Perhaps we can find something that we both like.”
- - -
Prowl came back to their quarters. Only to discover an invasion. Mechs everywhere. On every available surface, doing Primus only knew what.
The twins. Bluestreak. Blaster. And was that Bumblebee and Mirage?
“I thought that it would be just us,” Prowl said with a hitch in his voice.
Jazz shrugged and returned back to his game. “Guess not this time, Prowler.”
- - -
They walked down the hallway, brushing with every step. Jazz swooped for a kiss just before the intersection. But Prowl pushed him away, shooting him a furious look. He gave a firm reprimand about public affection and strode off without a backwards glance.
Jazz didn’t try to kiss him again. Not in the corridor. And not anywhere else for a long time.
- - -
“Um… aren’t you still supposed to be on shift?” Bee questioned as Jazz plopped down at their table.
The older mech just gave a winning grin and downed his high grade.
“Yeah,” Sideswipe added. “Don’t you have paperwork or something?”
Jazz leaned back and put his hands behind his head nonchalantly. “Prowler’ll do it for me.”
- - -
Bit by bit, the interfacing tapered off. The interaction tapered off. Dwindled until it was all but nonexistent.
“We’ll do something together soon,” Prowl promised, going on his third straight orn of work.
“Yeah, soon. After I get back from my mission,” Jazz all too quickly agreed, processor elsewhere. “I’ll see ya in a little while.”
Prowl glanced up for only a second. “Hm… yes. Be careful.” And then, he went back to his planning.
His partner didn’t reply. He was already out the door.
- - -
Jazz barely even noticed when they slipped into an easy routine. Prowl did but was too busy to worry.
Both onlined. Went on shift. Prowl worked even after his was over, while Jazz went to hang out with his hoards of friends. Came back to their room. Kissed once or twice or not at all. And then recharged. Only to do the very same the next time. Orn after orn.
No shared cubes of energon. Or sitting just to talk. Barely interacting at all. The most time they spent together was when they were both offline or in meetings with other officers.
- - -
A relationship of convenience and comfort. Where there had once been love and passion. Together but not together.
Jazz was bored. Prowl was unhappy. Drifting further apart with each passing breem. Or perhaps they had been too far from each other even in the beginning. Unable to truly bridge the gap.
They both knew it was over. Knew that whatever they’d had was gone and would never return. The break both clean and mutual. Quick if not painless.
Jazz simply moved all his possessions back to his old room and waited after a meeting to get Prowl alone.
“So…” he began, “I suppose this’s it then.” His voice held a note of absolute certainty.
Prowl rubbed a hand across his tired face. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Jazz hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Well… g’bye, Prowler. I’ll see ya around.” He walked away then, not even looking back once.
Prowl just watched him go. “Goodbye, Jazz,” he murmured before he turned and went the other direction.
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no subject
Date: 2008-07-04 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-08 07:07 am (UTC)This actually seems like a very natural progression of a Jazz/Prowl relationship. Either they're gonna be inseperable or they're gonna be at each other's throats without actually being at each other's throats. It's a gentle sort of 'I like you, but I can't stand living with you' sort of thing that you caught really well.
Prowl's last line was so sad and so in-character. It wouldn't hold the same meaning if, say, Prowl had gone after Jazz to try and win him back (or the other way around, really) (and I'm ignoring that the rules specifically stated 'Beginning and End' :P )
They're a good mix as opposites, true, but it's great to see a fic where the other alternative is shown without there being a huge pile of un-necessary angst and depression.
Thank you for writing this.