wildernesstales: (TF)
[personal profile] wildernesstales

Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Series: G1
Summary: A series of drabbles set around Halloween related prompts.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten… The Great Pumpkin is owned by Charles Schultz and Linus.
Authors Notes: Inspiration for the Great Pumpkin from[info]ante_luce's wonderful drabbles .  This was written for the[info]prowlxjazz Halloween challenge.  These are a rather loose interpretation of the prompts…
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
 

  (Banner by[info]vejiraziel)

  

Darkness
“I can’t see, fraggit, I can’t see!” Jazz couldn’t help the note of hysteria that crept into his vocaliser.
“Jazz, it’s all right, calm down.” Prowl soothed.
“I can’t!” A calming hand on his shoulder did more to reassure him than Prowl’s words did.  He leant towards Prowl, seeking the comfort only his bondmate could offer.
“We’re caught under the building.” Prowl explained.  “I’ve already sent out a distress call and they will find us.  We just have to wait.”
“But I can’t see.” Jazz ground out, voice far less hysterical now.
“I know.  Your visor was damaged in the collapse.” Prowl reached up and traced his fingers across Jazz’s face.  “Besides, it’s so dark down here, I can barely see either.”
“Don’t like it.” Jazz’s voice was more fearful than Prowl had ever heard it in all his years of knowing the saboteur.  He could only presume that Jazz was used to relying on his optics for his work, so it would be daunting not being able to use them.
“Ratchet will be able to fix it when they find us.”
“Right…” Jazz curled a little closer to Prowl’s presence.  And they waited.

 

Black Cat
“I still don’t know what you expect to achieve by keeping Ravage locked up here.” Prowl stated, staring at the caged feline.  Jazz shrugged.
“It’ll keep him out of trouble, and it’ll mean that Soundwave has to think about something else.  Which means Megatron’ll be forced to think about something else.”
“Well, as long as the cell holds him this time.”
“It will.”

Prowl and Jazz wandered off, leaving Ravage alone again.  He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d been captured.  Or indeed how they’d managed to capture him in the first place!  It rankled that they’d captured him, especially as he hadn’t actually been planning anything.  Well, nothing more than watching the squishies.  It was Halloween and Rumble had found out some interesting things and all the cassettes had wanted to observe.  Looked like Ravage wouldn’t get his chance this year.  Especially as they’d managed to set up some sort of dampening field around the cell that stopped him from being able to contact Soundwave or his brothers.

Fed up, Ravage curled up in the corner of the cell, red optics glaring balefully at any mech who dared to walk past.

 

Ghost
It was unusual to see Prowl in the rec room.  It was especially unusual to see him sitting on the couch, ready to watch a video that Jazz was preparing.  Sideswipe cycled his optics as he entered.
“Hey…”
“Hey Sideswipe.” Jazz called over from the video machine.  It was an overly complicated device designed to take the output from the video cassette and convert it so it could be run on Cybertronian systems.
“Sideswipe.” Prowl looked up briefly at the Lamborghini’s entrance.
“You watching a video?  Cool.” Sideswipe leant over Jazz to read the title of the movie.  “Ghost?  Sounds interesting.” He immediately plonked himself down on the couch next to Prowl, ignoring the sigh he got from the tactician.
“You ain’t gonna like it Sideswipe.” Jazz murmured, sitting down the other side of Prowl, nestling against Prowl’s side, making sure not to pinch his doorwing.  Sideswipe shrugged off Jazz’s concern.
“If it’s got ghosts in it, I’ll like it.” He assured the saboteur.
“Just let him watch.” Prowl sighed, shifting as Sideswipe made himself comfortable.

Twenty minutes later, Sideswipe stormed off, muttering about trading standards, misrepresentation and slaggers who didn’t tell a mech the truth.  Prowl allowed himself a small smile.
“I did tell him he wouldn’t like it.” Jazz murmured, snuggling impossibly closer to Prowl.
“You did.  It is not your fault he chose not to listen.”  Alone at last, they watched the rest of the film in peace.

 

Pumpkins
“What is that?” Ultra Magnus’ voice echoed flatly around the entrance to the Autobot base on Cybertron.
“It’s a pumpkin Magnus.” Jazz grinned up at the Autobot commander.
“Why is it on my base?”
“Because it’s Halloween.”
“Halloween?”
“Earth tradition.  You’ll learn about it when ya get to Earth.”  The look Ultra Magnus gave him was somewhere between amused and exasperated.
“I’m sure I will.”
“Jazz, stop teasing Ultra Magnus.”
“I’m not.  I’m just tellin’ him about Halloween.”
“Ah.  If you say anything about the Great Pumpkin, I will throw you in the brig myself.” With that, Prowl abruptly turned around and stalked back in the direction he’d come in.
“Great Pumpkin?” Ultra Magnus echoed, looking thoroughly confused.
“Oh yeah…” With that, Jazz started to tell Ultra Magnus all about the legend of the Great Pumpkin.

 

Costumes
“No.”
“Come on Prowler, please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“The answer is no Jazz.”
“Pretty please?”
“No!”
“Pretty pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top?”
“… what?”
“Human expression.”
“The answer is still no Jazz.  I am not ‘dressing up’ tomorrow.”
“Even if I promise to stop the Twins tee-peeing your office?”
“… I don’t want to know, do I?” A resigned sigh.
“Nope.  But if you wear this…” Jazz held up the costume.  “I’ll stop them from doing it.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Think of it as a compromise Prowler.” Jazz grinned charmingly and Prowl sighed again.
“Fine, I will wear this costume tomorrow.” Reluctantly, he took the outfit Jazz was holding up.  “But you are not allowed to take any photographs.”
“You’re on.”
“And nor is Hound.”
“Fine… if it’ll get you to wear it.”
“And you will stop the Twins from… tee-peeing… my office.”
“Already said I would.”

 

Crescent Moon
The silence of the battle aftermath was always deafening.  Even the noise made as they gathered together to head back to the Ark and get repairs Prowl didn’t seem to register.  He was gazing up at the sky.
“Prowler?” He barely heard Jazz step up beside him.  “Come on Prowler, let’s get you back to the Ark.”
“It’s so peaceful.” Prowl murmured.
“What?  Yeah, always is when the ‘Cons retreat.” Jazz tugged on Prowl’s arm, but his attention was fixed on the sky.  “Whatcha looking at?” He asked, looking up at the sky.  It was pitch black, or so it seemed.  Jazz’s visor could detect the minute color differences that played through the galaxies human eyes couldn’t see.  The stars provided a twinkling backdrop, all set off by the large crescent moon.  It was then that Jazz understood exactly what Prowl meant.  It was peaceful looking up at the sky, unmarred by the events of the battle.
“Peaceful or not Prowler, still need to get you back to the Ark so Ratch’ can have a look at those wings a yours.” Tugging gently, Jazz led Prowl to Prime’s trailer, helping the tactician inside before gazing back up at the sky.

 

Orange
As soon as he onlined his optics, he registered the color of the ceiling, vents huffing out a sigh.  Orange.  After all this time, they were orange.  But it could be a trick!  Attempting to sit up, Jazz found himself quickly pushed back down to the berth by a red hand.
“Stay still.” Ratchet’s voice filtered in through his audios.  “I’ve done a lot of repairs and I am not having you rushing off and fragging them all up.”  Relaxing back on to the berth, Jazz waited while Ratchet performed a few more checks.
“Prowl?” He rasped out, needing to know.
“He’s fine.  Got you out with minimal fuss thankfully.” Jazz nodded as best he could, relieved that Prowl was all right.  Prowl had rescued him, that much he remembered.  That and the purple color of the walls in the Decepticon brig.
“Glad it’s orange.” He murmured before he slipped back into recharge.  Ratchet just stared at him for a moment, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of Jazz’s words.

 

Trick
It was understandable that the gamblers amongst the mechs on the Ark were most interested.  They formed the first row as Prowl performed.  Jazz lounged against the wall, perfectly able to see exactly how Prowl was performing each trick, whether it was sleight of hand or card tricks.  Those were the ones Smokescreen was definitely interested in.  Jazz watched as Prowl shuffled the deck and then proceeded to deal the four aces that Smokescreen had inserted randomly into the pack, face up on the table.  And then dealing four royal flushes onto the table.  Smokescreen’s face was a picture as the Datsun sat back in disbelief.  Prowl merely gave his fellow tactician a small smile before moving on to his next trick.

 

Spider webs
Prowl stared at the security monitor, unable to understand exactly what Beachcomber was doing.
“He’s been like that for hours.” Red Alert grumbled.  “Just sits there and stares at the ground.  Doesn’t even twitch a servo.”
“So ya called us because?” Jazz chipped in.  He’d been with Prowl when Prowl had got the near-hysterical comm. from Red Alert.
“Check that he’s all right, obviously!”
“Did ya try comming him?”
“Of course I did.” Red Alert replied dryly, turning to pin Jazz with a look.
“We shall check to see that he is all right Red Alert.” Prowl turned from the monitor.  “I am sure it is nothing to worry about.”
“That’s what you say.” Red Alert muttered as they left the security office.

“Beachcomber my mech, what’re you up to?” Jazz called out as they approached the geologist’s position.  He wasn’t expecting Beachcomber to turn around and press a finger to his lips, indicating for them to be silent.  Crouching down next to the Minibot, they found him watching a web strung across a hole.
“What?” Prowl could feel the beginnings of a processor ache.
“Funnel-web.  Just wait and watch.” Beachcomber explained in a whisper.  So they did.

Back at the Ark, a frantic Inferno commed Ratchet as he cradled Red Alert’s shaking form.

 

Fog
It should have been a routine journey.  A check on the power plant the Decepticons had raided the previous month.  Prime had them returning to make sure that everything was secure and the repairs had proceeded as planned.
And now they were on their way back, taking it slowly as they admired the scenery around them.

The fog descended seemingly without warning.  One moment they were driving into the valley with clear visibility, the next they were surrounded by thick fog which obscured their visual sensors.  They stopped, deeming it more prudent to stay off the roads and avoid any collisions.  Hunkering down at the side of the road, Prowl shivered, flexing his door wings.  The additional moisture in the air was settling on his wings, disrupting his sensors
“Ya okay there Prowler?” Jazz’s visor could barely be seen in the fog, even though they were standing close together.  If it weren’t for his sensor readings, Prowl could almost believe he was alone out here.
“Just a little disorientated.” Prowl replied quietly, stretching out to grasp Jazz’s hand.
“It’ll be over soon.” Jazz murmured.  “And then we can get back on the road and get outta here.”

 

Treat
“I’m not sure whether you deserve this.”
“Prowler, come on.  I said I was sorry, all right?”
“I still don’t believe you are sincere.”
“Prowler!” Jazz reached for the energon goodie.  “Stop teasing me and give me it.”
“Ah ah Jazz, say please.”
“Please.”
“Say pretty please.”
“Pretty please.”
“Say pretty pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top.”
“… mech, you serious?”
“Very.”
“Fine.  Pretty pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top.  May I have my energon goodie back now?” Jazz looked hopeful.
“All right.” Prowl favored Jazz with a small smile before nibbling the goodie.
“Prowler!  That was my treat!”

 

Graveyard
They stared out across row upon row of white headstones, the grave markers shining brightly in the sunlight, vivid against the green.
“The humans certainly hold their war dead in high honor.” Prowl noted, the order of the cemetery appealing to his logic centers.
“That they do Prowler.” Jazz nodded.  “Much like we used ta.  Before the war really started.” Prowl nodded, remembering a time on Cybertron where there were few deaths because of the war.  Few deaths and therefore few memorial ceremonies.  But when the war started in earnest, the count grew higher.

They watched as a family entered the cemetery, moving respectfully amongst the graves before they found the one they were looking for.  The young girl placed a small bouquet of flowers before the headstone while her mother watched.
“Sometimes wish we were able to do that.” Jazz nodded at the family.
“There were memorials on Cybertron.”
“Yeah, before the war kicked off.  Then they got destroyed.” Jazz agreed sadly.
“But the mechs we lost still live on in our archives.” Prowl pointed out.
“Yeah, I guess.” Prowl wrapped an arm around Jazz, tugging the saboteur closely, watching the family grieving at the graveside.

 

Thirteen
“Come on, you can do it, just one more.” Jazz encouraged him.
“I can’t.” Prowl ground out, pain overriding most of his sensors.
“You can.  And you will.  I know you better than that Prowler.   You don’t give up.”
“I can’t do it.” Prowl faltered, legs giving out underneath him.  Jazz knelt down next to him.
“You can do it Prowl.  I believe in you.” Nodding, Prowl let Jazz help him up, holding onto the saboteur as he tried to step forward again.
“One, two…” It had been a stray shot from one of the Seekers (Prowl was sure it had been Thundercracker, Jazz thought it was Skywarp) that had connected with his spinal relay.  Ratchet had repaired as much as he could, leaving the rest for Prowl’s repair systems to work on.
“Three, four, five!” A week later, the feeling returned to his legs, pain flaring up and down every single circuit.
“Six, seven… eight.” Ratchet had said that he needed to strengthen the cables that had tightened during his enforced bed rest.
“Nine, ten.” Ratchet hadn’t mentioned that Prowl would struggle to walk.
“Eleven, twelve…” Grimacing, Prowl took his arm off Jazz’s, determined to make it on his own.
“Thirteen!” Jazz cried out just before Prowl collapsed on the ground again.  “Ya did it Prowler.  Knew ya could.” It was the most steps he’d managed to take since he’d left his berth.  Slowly the cables were stretching and soon he’d be walking normally.  But for now, he would just have to be proud of the few steps he could take unaided.
 

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Tales from the Wilderness

May 2022

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