AU August Fic 1

AU August Fic 1

I posted this on AO3 too!  Same fic

Underwater

Prowl bent down and unhooked his submersible from the thin, rarely used dock.  He looked over his shoulder.  It was mostly deserted.  Good.  He coiled the rope and laid it down.

His family was, even now, petitioning the courts to have him placed under their control care.  He had been put on leave by the Enforcers for “mental health” because they couldn’t write “the stress has finally broken our best detective.”  The papers had taken the story and run with it.

It wasn’t that Prowl thought what he was doing was smart.  He knew it was stupid.  He knew he sounded like a bot on stims.  It was just that he also couldn’t not do it.

He slipped inside the sub.  It was tiny - a secondhand purchase from a local university that studied sea life.  They hadn’t asked any questions and, to his relief, there had been no recognition in their optics.  

Polyhex was a long way from landlocked Iacon.

Prowl typed in the location and the sub cruised along the surface faster than he’d anticipated.  His spark spun faster.  Was it hope or fear?

It should have been fear.  He remembered the sight of the sea below him as the shuttle spiraled down, out of control, one wing gone.

It had been their last attempt to stop him before he made it back to Iacon with the information.  Prowl had known they would try and had requested an empty, unsparked transport shuttle.  He had been careful and secretive, filing his flight plan under another designation, choosing a small, out of the way station to depart from.

He just hadn’t expected his creators to resort to shooting him out of the sky.  That had been a surprise.

Surviving the crash had been another surprise.  Not necessarily a more pleasant, as he immediately began to sink beneath the crushing, suffocating waves, trapped inside the shattered shuttle.

His processor had encoded the memory of the moments after the crash oddly.  He had flashes of intense detail - the chill of the sea, the beeping of the console as it was flooded, and the smell of energon mixing with the frothing sea - but none of them were connected.

The next thing he could properly remember was being towed on his back by someone.  He had bits and pieces of that journey and then - nothing.  A single, crystal clear picture of a face above his own haunted his recharge.  Then the sounds of the rescue team.

He had stumbled back into his life and, wide-opticked, he’d told them about his savior.  A handsome mech with wings on his sides - as thin as wire and as flexible as gold - and his legs fused into a single, powerful tail with another flexible wing twice as large as him.  Prowl remembered it curling over them, diffusing the light, as a curious face smiled down at him.

Everyone told him it had been a hallucination.  The crash, the results of his mission for the Prime, the near drowning - it had made sense.  For a while, Prowl had wanted to believe that he’d imagined it too.  There was no sentient life in the seas - no wheels spinning up sand on the bottom, no bots walking amongst the foil seagrass, no strange bots with tails.

But he remembered…

Clever webbed servos…

A voice humming a soothing lullaby as Prowl struggled to stay above the surface…

The gentle press of a helm against his shoulder before the warmth withdrew…

The sub beeped.  Arrived at destination.  

He was over the trench now.  Directly above the spot where his shuttle, broken and betrayed, had settled on the bottom.

It was his last chance to change his mind.

“Gotcha, mech, I gotcha.  Don’ worry.”

Prowl pressed the button and the sub began to sink.

The mech had been real.  He’d saved Prowl’s life.

He was real and Prowl was going to find him.

AU August Fic 7

Fantasy Science

Jazz tucked the charm into Prowl’s box of datapads.  A whispered word and the charm sealed itself to the pads.  There, now they wouldn’t fall and break even if Prowl dropped the box.  Again.

He had always planned to tell Prowl.  Eventually.  Maybe.  If the war ended.

Except, now the war had ended and he was running out of excuses.  He was sure that Optimus had known since the start of the war - either his eerily good people-reading skills or the Matrix.  He was worried that some of his team had started to suspect towards the middle of the war when they were still centralized, running missions together.

Prowl, bless him, was so straightforward and rational that the idea of spells and magic had never crossed his mind in all the vorns they’d been together.

How did he think Jazz kept sneaking into Decepticon bases?  How did he think their own bases were protected?

0-0-0

“Hold all my appointments for the next hour.”

Prowl carefully closed his office door.  Having a glitch was painful, embarrassing, and inconvenient.  It did, however, give him a perfect excuse to turn off the lights and sit in his office for hours every week.

It also made the visions easier to play off.  After bots saw a real crash - complete with his limbs locking and his processor overheating - they tended to see everything as a crash.

Prowl settled himself in his desk chair and propped his pedes up.  He offlined his optics and waited for the vision to come - 

Energon on the ground - spilled cubes and loud music - a club

A small servo slipping in and out of subspaces -

An argument, a punch, a bouncer pulling them apart - 

Scrap.  Prowl sat up.  Petty theft?  Had the planet become so safe that his visions thought petty theft and a single punch in a bar were worth the helmache?

He rubbed the back of his helm where the pressure was the worst.  He wished Jazz were here to -

Jazz.  He would have to tell him eventually.  The war was over.  He wasn’t dealing with vision after vision, hitting him in the middle of meetings, in the middle of conversations, in the middle of…other activities.  He should tell Jazz.

Soft-sparked Jazz who had accepted Prowl’s glitch so completely that he’d never paused to ask questions like - why sometimes he had a full frame crash and why sometimes he only got a helmache.

How did Jazz think Prowl was managing to outmaneuver tactical teams with ten times his experience and double his staff?  His confidence in Prowl’s abilities was sweet, even if it exposed his blind spot.  He would have to tell him.

0-0-0

Three weeks later, Optimus Prime gave them both an opening by officially recognizing magic users and then casting a very strong spell of peace on the assembly so they could “process these changes without harming each other.”

It all worked out.

Warring Houses Chapter 2!

Red Alert knew his family wasn't like others - he had no aunts, no uncles, not even grandcreators.  They didn't go to the enforcers when things went wrong, even though Carrier had been an enforcer.   Criminals were more scared of his Creator than a sparkeater.  Both his creators had secret names he wasn't supposed to tell anyone.

It wasn't until his creators were attacked and kidnaped that he learned that his creator's families had been sworn enemies since before Praxus and Polyhex had been built.  They had been forbidden to bond and when they hadn't listened, they'd been disowned.

Now, the families have no choice, but to join together to protect their newly discovered creation and rescue his creators.

State of the Bingo Card.  Blue is finished, green is in progress.  Note, I STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN BINGO.

Wait...wait...I can do all of them.  Yes, that will work.

Playing catch-up

Yesterday was Fairies and I’m STRUGGLING.

Do I want Prowl going to a fairy circle to make a deal?  If anyone could make an air-tight deal, it would be him.

Do I want Jazz, changling child, music lover who never loses a game of chance?

Do I want Prowl, always accused of being a changling, meeting Jazz (actual fae) at the market?

I don’t know!

AU August Fic 9

Coffee Shop

 A tall, dark, handsome mech walked into his shop late one night.

 Well, to be fair, he walked into the door and bounced off.  Then he smacked his helm on the menu board hanging over the self-serve counter.  But      eventually    he made it in.

 He shuffled up to the register and stared at Jazz with fuzzy, static filled optics.

 “What’ll you have?” Jazz said, quiet and gentle ‘cause the poor thing probably had a massive helmache.

 “Straight energon, one turbo shot, and your report on the Antigen case, that’ll be all Wheellock.”

 Jazz blinked.  The mech blinked.

 “I can do the energon, but I’m afraid I’m still writing that report, Sergeant.”

 “Captain,” the mech correctly absentmindedly, staring at Jazz.  “Did I - did I order energon?”

 Jazz nodded.  “Yep, but what I think you really need is recharge.”  The mech frowned.

 “I don’t have time for that.  I have to finish the Sparse Case and call Superintendent Bribery about the new hires.”

 “Do ya mean Superintendent Brakeline?”  Jazz kept his face very calm.  He’d been a bartender before he’d scraped up enough for his own energon cafe.  He’d heard everything.

 Still funny, though.

 “Yes, her.”  The Captain was starting to tilt slightly to one side.

 “Mech, I don’t think ya wanna be callin’ any important bots t’night.  Not until ya’ve got some recharge and two turbo shots.  Who can I call for ya?”

 The Captain just stared at him, still tilting slightly.  Jazz leaned across the counter and gently titled him back.

 “You want to call the Superintendent?” he asked, brow furrowed. “She’s not very nice.  I won’t let her talk to any of my sergeants after she made Chase cry.  I’ll call her for you, if you want.”

 “Actually I need to call Sergent Chase first.  Do you remember his comm code?”  The Captain recited it automatically.  Some skills transferred quite well from a bar to a cafe apparently.

 “Thanks.”

 :Hello hello!  Is this Sergeant Chase?:

 :This is Chase, who is this?:

 :Name’s Jazz.  Think I got one a’ ya Captains here tryin’ ta order energon with only half his processor online.:

 :Oh thank Primus you found him!  He was supposed to go home, but he keeps tricking the night officers into thinking he’s just coming on shift- where are you?  I’ll be right there.:

 Jazz pinged him his cafe’s address, but he felt bad for the guy.

 :Ya sound a little frazzled ya self.  If ya tell me where he lives, I’ll walk him there myself.  It’s no trouble.:

 There was a pause.

 :I’m afraid that is against policy.  I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.  If you could make sure Captain Prowl stays there -:

 :I am not staying anywhere.:

 Jazz jumped.  Then snorted at the grumpy look on ‘Captain Prowl’s’ face.

 :Captain!: Sergeant Chase wailed.  :You’re not supposed to hack comms, remember?:

 :No.  I remember nothing of the sort.  I’m not staying here either.  I can take myself home.:

 :No you can’t.: Jazz and Chase said at the same time.  Jazz reached out and nudged Prowl upright again.

 “Mech,” Jazz said out loud, “Prowl, let me walk ya home.  It can’t be far.”

 Prowl frowned.

 “It’s that or you wait for your sergeant to come and walk you home,” he wheedled.  

 :Sergeant Chase, this mech is offering to walk me home.  This is a compromise.:

 :No, no no no, Prowl, we took a training on this!  Prowl -!:

 Prowl ended the comm and pushed himself away from the counter where he’d been slumping.

 :Sorry, mech,: Jazz told Chase.  :I’ll get him home and he’ll comm you there, alright?  Promise I’m not a serial killer.:

 :Oh, well if you      promise…    :  Chase was not happy about the situation, but he was 25 minutes away.  Jazz pinged him his ID code and ended the comm too.

 “Let’s go, Captain.  How far is your place?”

 “It is…that way.”  He pointed out the door.  “My address is…517 Carbon - no, no, that’s the station.  I live at 43 Whistle Street, 48th apartment.”

 “Awesome.”  Jazz slid over the counter and linked arms with Prowl.  “That’s not far.”  He steered him around the sign and through the open door without incident.

 “Lovely night,” Jazz said as they walked.  Prowl was mostly upright, only depending on Jazz for balance and directions.

 “Yes.  The stars are very bright without the clouds.”  Jazz looked up.  He was right.

 “Always loved the stars, myself.  Like music in the sky, little quarter notes scattering over it all.”  Ah, well, he was walking along a very quaint residential street with a cute mech on his arm, he could be a little sentimental.

 “They’ve always been guardians to me,” Prowl said, optics fixed on them.  Jazz navigated him around a pole.  “They watch from afar, making sure the planets have light even when it is dark.”

 He wasn’t the only one feeling poetic, apparently.  They walked in silence and then -

 “I want to be a star,” Prowl said.  “I want to give everyone the safety of a little light.”  He sounded so slagging sad.  A good enforcer, who would’ve thought.

 They arrived at his apartment building and Jazz was sad to see the walk ending.

 “This you, mech?” he asked, shaking him a little.  Prowl looked up.

 “This is my habsuite, yes.  Floor 48.”  He took an uneven step forwards and then turned around to face him again.  He put his servos on Jazz’s shoulders.

 “Thank you for walking me home.  I had a lovely time.”  Prowl leaned in and kissed Jazz sweetly.  “Comm me when you have another free evening.  Good night.”

 Prowl took five very unsteady steps and smacked into the door frame.  He cursed and put his servo on the pad and the door slid open.

 “Good night!” he called again, stumbling inside.

 Jazz waited on the sidewalk, staring up until he saw the lights on floor 48 come on.  He brushed his fingers over his lips.