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moonbeamsfanfic) wrote2010-03-23 05:14 pm
moonbeamsfanfic) wrote2010-03-23 05:14 pm
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WIP Fic: Transformers Fandom! (Prowl/Jazz) Part 6/7
The bonus chapter that wasn't supposed to exist, but which the story just doesn't work without!
Title: Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248
Author: Moonbeam's Predilections
Fandom: Transformers G1
Genre: Humour, Romance, Borderline Crack and Getting Crackier!
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,394 words this part, 6,821 words total
Part 1: In which Jazz learns what the Decepticons are getting up to when they're not causing trouble.
Part 2: In which Jazz learns that Seekers ain't the only ones with quirky programming.
Part 3: In which the time has come.
Part 4: In which lucky!Jazz *gets* lucky.
Part 5: In which fun times are had by all.
~*~*~*~
Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248: Part 6/7
By Moonbeam
The time leading up to the arrival of the sparklings was a tumultuous one for everyone. Everywhere, mechs were scrambling to get everything done in time.
Teams were assembled to scour in, around, and all over the base to make sure everything was as clean and safe as possible before tiny mechlings would soon be crawling around investigating anything they could get into. Access tunnels had to blocked, and sensitive wiring sealed away from curious little fingers. Walls, floors, and even ceilings had to be scrubbed and polished until they shone. Weapons, explosives, chemicals, and any tool or project that could be construed the least bit dangerous had to be locked away in secure, impervious containers. All in all it took almost four whole orns to thoroughly sparkling-proof the entire premises to even Red Alert’s exacting standards.
But that was only a small part of what had to be done.
While Red Alert coordinated the safety clean-up, Prowl and Jazz were busily reorganizing the duty rosters and procedure protocols to account for the upcoming changes. Personnel had to be shifted to allow for parenting time, schedules rearranged to accommodate the new needs that would soon be taking priority for a lot of the mechs on board. Thankfully, it appeared as if the entire base was in agreement and worked willingly to keep everything running smoothly.
Bumblebee and a few volunteers had begun preparations for creating communal sparkling recreation rooms, filled with games and teaching supplies appropriate for every stage of development. A list was already forming of mechs willing and eager for babysitting duties as well.
Perhaps the biggest change of all, however, was the ever-increasing amount of communication with the Decepticons. Not only was Optimus Prime working hard to iron out the details of the truce with Megatron, but even some of the others had opened friendly – or at least cordial – relations with their Decepticon compatriots.
Ratchet, Hoist, and Wheeljack had the most to do. Even with the cooperation of the Constructicons, they were working round the clock to design and build a bunch of basic protoform shells for both factions. Scrapper and Wheeljack had turned out to have many similar ideas, and were quickly wearing out the rest of the team’s patience. Ratchet had actually progressed beyond throwing wrenches and begun just taking potshots at them. Hook and Hoist seemed far too amused by it all and heckled mercilessly even as they forged, welded, and shaped the tiny protoforms.
Another project begun in conjunction with their former enemies was an outdoor playground set equidistant between both bases. Conceived by Cliffjumper of all mechs, the Seekers had latched onto the idea with enthusiasm and chosen a small protected valley surrounded by low mountains with large caves and interspersed with smooth canyons as the location. Wanting to give their future winglets a safe and fun place to practice their aerial manoeuvres, they were remodelling the area to more closely resemble the familiar terrain of Vos’ primary crèche.
Cliffjumper, Beachcomber, Hound, Mirage, and Trailbreaker worked around the excited Seekers to also make the area safe and enjoyable for ground-based sparklings. Wards and sensor nets and holographic fences were laid all around the playground valley to protect the sparklings from wandering predators or human encroachment. And taking a cue from their human allies, they also built a series of sparkling-sized toys and exercise equipment similar to human swingsets and monkeybars to give the sparklings something to climb and play around in within the meadowy glen.
The Seekers’ reaction to being sparked up had been something that no one, not even the Praxians, had been prepared to deal with. Seekers, apparently, went completely fragging crazy when they had sparklings on the way!
Their mad efforts to reconstruct the cliffs and canyons around the valley were only one example of their crazy nesting behaviours. In a surprising twist, Megatron had taken to visiting the Autobot base almost every other orn to ‘discuss important matters with Prime’ in an attempt to escape their manic preparations in his own base. Prowl had been present the first time he’d come around, all but begging to be let in just so that Starscream would stop harassing him about the precise positioning of the berth-padding in the nursery room.
“He just doesn’t stop!” The mighty Decepticon warlord had almost whined. “Every astrosecond, there’s something ‘crucial’ he needs me to do, and it’s always some pointless task that I half think he’s making up on the spot just to see me squirm! Last cycle he had me repainting our quarters a light blue so the sparklings could feel like they were flying through the sky and not develop claustrophobia. Then a breem later he was screeching about how toxic the paint was and ‘what if the sparklings licked the walls? They’d be poisoned! What kind of father are you?! Fix it!’ So then I had to spend twice as long as it took in the first place scraping all the paint off and rewashing the walls!”
Prowl sympathized with him a great deal.
Jazz hadn’t asked him to redecorate anything yet (thank Primus!), but his mate had certainly been displaying a wide range of unpredictable mood swings.
”Nah, m’ not hungry right now. Just leave it on the table, I’ll get it later.”
“Hey, this energon’s old! How long's this been sitting out here? Ugh, disgusting! Prowler, sweetspark, will you get me a fresh one? Pretty please? Thanks, love!”
“Prowl, I’m cold! Can you turn up the heat for me please? I would do it myself, but I just got comfortable. Thanks, Prowler, you’re the best!”
“Man, it’s way too hot in here! Why’d you turn it up so high, Prowl? Don’t you know I’m expending a lot of energy supporting your sparkling here! Turn it down!”
“Prowl, where are you going? C’mon back to the berth, and let me show you just how sexy I find you when you’re being all dutiful and industrious. Makes me wanna distract ya somethin’ fierce, baby!”
“Unh, not tonight, Prowler. I’m tired and my chestplates hurt. I don’t wanna ‘face right now. Can’t we just cuddle?”
And that sometimes all in one day! Yes, Prowl sympathized a great deal indeed.
Thankfully, it could not last forever. Before they knew it, the first of the carriers were starting to get the pains in their sparkchambers that indicated the tiny newsparks were detaching. The medics rushed to ready the protoform shells for the transfer and the aching carriers were escorted by their frantic mates to the medbay.
Prowl waited anxiously with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker when it was their turn. Inferno and Red Alert were already in with Smokescreen, cooing over the little mechling as his colours slowly came in.
“Prowl?” First Aid called, startling him so bad he actually jumped. He turned to look at the medic’s apprentice hopefully.
First Aid smiled gently. “You can come on in now, sir. Ratchet is about to make the transfer.”
Prowl was at his mate’s side in a flash. Jazz looked exhausted, lying back on the medical berth with his chestplates peeled back and his sparkchamber throbbing with the need to release the precious life within. Standing on the other side from Ratchet and the protoform, he held Jazz’s hand and smiled proudly down at his mate.
“Whatever happens from now on, Jazz, I want you to know that I love you very much and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Our sparkling is going to be so perfect because it’ll made of the best of both of us.”
“Right back atcha, Prowler.” Jazz squeezed his hand as Ratchet carefully separated the newspark and moved it over to the shell.
As the newspark was absorbed into the tiny sparkchamber, Ratchet ran one last check before placing the newborn sparkling in Jazz’ arms. Its colours were already coming in, tiny swathes of black and white replacing the dull steel – except for a thin splash of bright pink slowly forming on her chest.
Her. Their sparkling was a femme.
“She’s beautiful, Jazz.”
Jazz was enraptured, lightly tickling over his sparkling’s chassis just to hear her giggle. “She’s a marvel, Prowl. We done good, we done real good.” He looked up at his mate. “What are we gonna name her?”
“I think you just did, Jazz." He smiled happily. “Marvel. We’ll call her Marvel.”
~*~*~*~
The End.
Except for the Epilogue, of course! ;)
Title: Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248
Author: Moonbeam's Predilections
Fandom: Transformers G1
Genre: Humour, Romance, Borderline Crack and Getting Crackier!
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,394 words this part, 6,821 words total
Part 1: In which Jazz learns what the Decepticons are getting up to when they're not causing trouble.
Part 2: In which Jazz learns that Seekers ain't the only ones with quirky programming.
Part 3: In which the time has come.
Part 4: In which lucky!Jazz *gets* lucky.
Part 5: In which fun times are had by all.
~*~*~*~
Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248: Part 6/7
By Moonbeam
The time leading up to the arrival of the sparklings was a tumultuous one for everyone. Everywhere, mechs were scrambling to get everything done in time.
Teams were assembled to scour in, around, and all over the base to make sure everything was as clean and safe as possible before tiny mechlings would soon be crawling around investigating anything they could get into. Access tunnels had to blocked, and sensitive wiring sealed away from curious little fingers. Walls, floors, and even ceilings had to be scrubbed and polished until they shone. Weapons, explosives, chemicals, and any tool or project that could be construed the least bit dangerous had to be locked away in secure, impervious containers. All in all it took almost four whole orns to thoroughly sparkling-proof the entire premises to even Red Alert’s exacting standards.
But that was only a small part of what had to be done.
While Red Alert coordinated the safety clean-up, Prowl and Jazz were busily reorganizing the duty rosters and procedure protocols to account for the upcoming changes. Personnel had to be shifted to allow for parenting time, schedules rearranged to accommodate the new needs that would soon be taking priority for a lot of the mechs on board. Thankfully, it appeared as if the entire base was in agreement and worked willingly to keep everything running smoothly.
Bumblebee and a few volunteers had begun preparations for creating communal sparkling recreation rooms, filled with games and teaching supplies appropriate for every stage of development. A list was already forming of mechs willing and eager for babysitting duties as well.
Perhaps the biggest change of all, however, was the ever-increasing amount of communication with the Decepticons. Not only was Optimus Prime working hard to iron out the details of the truce with Megatron, but even some of the others had opened friendly – or at least cordial – relations with their Decepticon compatriots.
Ratchet, Hoist, and Wheeljack had the most to do. Even with the cooperation of the Constructicons, they were working round the clock to design and build a bunch of basic protoform shells for both factions. Scrapper and Wheeljack had turned out to have many similar ideas, and were quickly wearing out the rest of the team’s patience. Ratchet had actually progressed beyond throwing wrenches and begun just taking potshots at them. Hook and Hoist seemed far too amused by it all and heckled mercilessly even as they forged, welded, and shaped the tiny protoforms.
Another project begun in conjunction with their former enemies was an outdoor playground set equidistant between both bases. Conceived by Cliffjumper of all mechs, the Seekers had latched onto the idea with enthusiasm and chosen a small protected valley surrounded by low mountains with large caves and interspersed with smooth canyons as the location. Wanting to give their future winglets a safe and fun place to practice their aerial manoeuvres, they were remodelling the area to more closely resemble the familiar terrain of Vos’ primary crèche.
Cliffjumper, Beachcomber, Hound, Mirage, and Trailbreaker worked around the excited Seekers to also make the area safe and enjoyable for ground-based sparklings. Wards and sensor nets and holographic fences were laid all around the playground valley to protect the sparklings from wandering predators or human encroachment. And taking a cue from their human allies, they also built a series of sparkling-sized toys and exercise equipment similar to human swingsets and monkeybars to give the sparklings something to climb and play around in within the meadowy glen.
The Seekers’ reaction to being sparked up had been something that no one, not even the Praxians, had been prepared to deal with. Seekers, apparently, went completely fragging crazy when they had sparklings on the way!
Their mad efforts to reconstruct the cliffs and canyons around the valley were only one example of their crazy nesting behaviours. In a surprising twist, Megatron had taken to visiting the Autobot base almost every other orn to ‘discuss important matters with Prime’ in an attempt to escape their manic preparations in his own base. Prowl had been present the first time he’d come around, all but begging to be let in just so that Starscream would stop harassing him about the precise positioning of the berth-padding in the nursery room.
“He just doesn’t stop!” The mighty Decepticon warlord had almost whined. “Every astrosecond, there’s something ‘crucial’ he needs me to do, and it’s always some pointless task that I half think he’s making up on the spot just to see me squirm! Last cycle he had me repainting our quarters a light blue so the sparklings could feel like they were flying through the sky and not develop claustrophobia. Then a breem later he was screeching about how toxic the paint was and ‘what if the sparklings licked the walls? They’d be poisoned! What kind of father are you?! Fix it!’ So then I had to spend twice as long as it took in the first place scraping all the paint off and rewashing the walls!”
Prowl sympathized with him a great deal.
Jazz hadn’t asked him to redecorate anything yet (thank Primus!), but his mate had certainly been displaying a wide range of unpredictable mood swings.
”Nah, m’ not hungry right now. Just leave it on the table, I’ll get it later.”
“Hey, this energon’s old! How long's this been sitting out here? Ugh, disgusting! Prowler, sweetspark, will you get me a fresh one? Pretty please? Thanks, love!”
“Prowl, I’m cold! Can you turn up the heat for me please? I would do it myself, but I just got comfortable. Thanks, Prowler, you’re the best!”
“Man, it’s way too hot in here! Why’d you turn it up so high, Prowl? Don’t you know I’m expending a lot of energy supporting your sparkling here! Turn it down!”
“Prowl, where are you going? C’mon back to the berth, and let me show you just how sexy I find you when you’re being all dutiful and industrious. Makes me wanna distract ya somethin’ fierce, baby!”
“Unh, not tonight, Prowler. I’m tired and my chestplates hurt. I don’t wanna ‘face right now. Can’t we just cuddle?”
And that sometimes all in one day! Yes, Prowl sympathized a great deal indeed.
Thankfully, it could not last forever. Before they knew it, the first of the carriers were starting to get the pains in their sparkchambers that indicated the tiny newsparks were detaching. The medics rushed to ready the protoform shells for the transfer and the aching carriers were escorted by their frantic mates to the medbay.
Prowl waited anxiously with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker when it was their turn. Inferno and Red Alert were already in with Smokescreen, cooing over the little mechling as his colours slowly came in.
“Prowl?” First Aid called, startling him so bad he actually jumped. He turned to look at the medic’s apprentice hopefully.
First Aid smiled gently. “You can come on in now, sir. Ratchet is about to make the transfer.”
Prowl was at his mate’s side in a flash. Jazz looked exhausted, lying back on the medical berth with his chestplates peeled back and his sparkchamber throbbing with the need to release the precious life within. Standing on the other side from Ratchet and the protoform, he held Jazz’s hand and smiled proudly down at his mate.
“Whatever happens from now on, Jazz, I want you to know that I love you very much and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Our sparkling is going to be so perfect because it’ll made of the best of both of us.”
“Right back atcha, Prowler.” Jazz squeezed his hand as Ratchet carefully separated the newspark and moved it over to the shell.
As the newspark was absorbed into the tiny sparkchamber, Ratchet ran one last check before placing the newborn sparkling in Jazz’ arms. Its colours were already coming in, tiny swathes of black and white replacing the dull steel – except for a thin splash of bright pink slowly forming on her chest.
Her. Their sparkling was a femme.
“She’s beautiful, Jazz.”
Jazz was enraptured, lightly tickling over his sparkling’s chassis just to hear her giggle. “She’s a marvel, Prowl. We done good, we done real good.” He looked up at his mate. “What are we gonna name her?”
“I think you just did, Jazz." He smiled happily. “Marvel. We’ll call her Marvel.”
~*~*~*~
The End.
Except for the Epilogue, of course! ;)
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