whitefirebird: (Default)
[personal profile] whitefirebird

Title: (Unknown)
'Verse: Transformers G1 (all human AU)
Characters: Ensemble {story}; Jazz, (Surprise), Hoist, Cassette(s), Soundwave (mentioned) {chapter}
Pairing(s): Prowl x Jazz, to be determined
Warnings: Violence, offensive language. Will contain het and slash in later chapters. Further warnings posted as needed.
Summary: When you are part of the law, and your heart is at risk, what do you do?

AN: In this chapter I make use of apparently misspelled pronouns. This is deliberate. I will explain the reason at the end of this chapter. Unless you work it out during the chapter *shrugs*.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 Chapter 2

 ... He noticed immediately that the chair he’d slept on had been turned to face towards the kitchen, and after settling himself in it, looked up.

Jaw dropping, Jazz could only stare.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

He couldn’t really help himself. At a breakfast-bar-style kitchen counter stood a figure he presumed to be his rescuer. And the reason for his staring? He couldn’t tell which gender his saviour was!
The person gave a miniscule half-smile. “Wondering whether I’m male or female?” se asked, hir voice a smooth glide in a range that was neither definitively male nor definitively female.
Jazz hid a wince. “Tha’ was rude of meh.” He looked firmly at his host. “But yeh can’t really blame meh.”

He observed his host more closely, taking note of the fine features, the tall, wiry-muscled build, the amber eyes. And that single apparent vanity, a long fall of glimmeringly night-dark hair, kept back from hir face in a high ponytail.
Se shrugged, dislodging hir hair from its fall across hir shoulder. “My colleagues at work had a similar problem when I first transferred.” Hir diction was crisp and unsullied by accent, despite angular eyes hinting at Asian ancestry.

“So, who are yeh anyway?”
“Do you really think I’d give you my name as things stand? With Soundwave and his crew searching for you, anything that gives me more anonymity is a good thing.”
Jazz reluctantly nodded agreement. “Can Ah at least call yeh a nickname? Ah can’t just beh sayin’ ‘hey yeh’ all the time. Ah won’t beh able t’ fend fer at least a week ‘cordin’ t’ yeh Doctor frien’”
Se nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s reasonable."

Jazz grinned at hir agreement. Then tried to think of an appropriate nickname. His memory was drawn back to how quietly se had moved last night, while rescuing him. He looked back up at hir. “How ‘bout ‘Prowl’?".
Se looked thoughtful; moving hir lips, as though tasting the word and sound. Se looked back at him. “Very well. I find it acceptable.”
“Great!” Jazz grinned wickedly. “Yeh know, havin’ a nickname makes yeh one o’ mahn, right?”
His host paused a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll be in close association for the next few weeks at least, while your ribs heal and I attempt to clear that lot from your trail. I doubt you’d like to enter Witness Protection at all.”

Jazz sobered. “Yeh got that right. Ah’ve got people here Ah don’t wanna leave, an’ a job Ah love – WP cuts those ties t’ remove possible reassociations by the people yeh tried t’ lose, don’t it?”
The newly-named Prowl gaze fixed on him somewhat sympathetically. “You're right, it does.”
They both fell silent for a time.

Jazz stirred himself when his stomach growled. Prowl shook hirself from hir thoughts also, and moved to a pot on the bench. Opening the lid, se pulled a plate from the cupboard high on the wall directly above it, ladling a serving into the bowl. The smell was enticing as se brought it to him, settling him with a tray on his lap.
Jazz took a spoonful. Then had to hold back a moan. “This is really good. What is this?”
Prowl gave a small, pleased smile. “It’s Oden – Japanese hot-pot.”
He perked up. “’Zat where yeh’re from?”
Prowl raised an eyebrow. “You know I can’t answer that. What you don’t know, you can’t tell, even accidentally.”

For an instant Jazz hated the situation he was in with his entire being. Here he was in the home of a very good Samaritan (who had connections, man!); who was letting him heal up in hir home; was going to help him with his mob-boss problem; who was fast becoming a maybe-friend; and he couldn’t even know basic info about who se was! It was quickly pissing him off.
Prowl quirked hir brow in enquiry.
“Ah’m just annoyed. Here yeh are, yeh helping meh behyond what anehbody else would do, an’ Ah can’ even know yehr name!” He looked away. “Ah hate this whole situation; it’s making a screw up of a possibly wonderful friendship.” A thought came to him. “Why did yeh help anehway?”

 Prowl kept hir gaze on Jazz. “I heard the fight in the alleyway, and couldn’t in good conscience leave it alone. Then I met you, and…”
Jazz looked back at hir. ”Yeah, ‘and’?”
“Have you ever met someone and known what they would be to you?”
Jazz quirked his brow at hir. “What, yeh mean like love-at-first-sight-type stuff?”
Se shook hir head at him. “I mean the feeling like ‘I’ve met this person before’ or ‘this person will be important’.”
Jazz looked about to shake his head, but a strange look crossed his face, and he transitioned the movement into a slow nod. “Yeah. Ah have had that feeling before.”
“Where I was raised, we believe that such a feeling should be acknowledged, and followed. Depending on what circumstances dictate, and the type of bond itself, all aid should be given or all effort made to sever it.”
Jazz eyed hir suspiciously. “Just to beh sure, where do Ah fall?”
Prowl’s breathing hitched minutely in a smothered snort. “Where do you think? I took one look at your face after stepping in, and knew. I had to help you.”

Silence fell again for a time. Jazz finished his Oden, and Prowl collected his plate, placing it in the sink to be washed later. Jazz found his eyes starting to fall shut again, so quickly swallowed the painkillers handed to him by Prowl.
Prowl eyed the body in the chair, Jazz already falling into a sleeping breath-pattern. “Sleep well, Mr Freeman.”
“Dun call meh that.” Jazz protested sleepily, quickly being drawn under.
“What should I call you then?”
“Call meh…*yawn*…Jazz.”
“Very well. Jazz, sleep well.”

Jazz said nothing. He was already asleep.

Chapter end

Right, so, promised explanation. The English language is severely limited in terms of pronouns. It has just three; he, she, and it. Also 'it' implies an object in most instances of use. There are no current gender neutral pronouns in use, and I don't know whatever ones we might have had. Thus my mashing together of 'he' and 'she' as 'se', and a similar process for 'hir'. In this story, Prowl is supremely androgenous. To the point of total gender confusion on the part of everyone who sees hir. Is se male? Is se female?  Is se an it? Anyone observing can't tell. The only way is through medical examination (or for Prowl to strip), which hasn't happened. And no, I'm not going to spoil which gender Prowl is. That's next chapter. Maybe.
I will say this: Prowl's androgeny, and people's reactions to it, is a major plot point. This is going to get fun. And complicated. But mostly fun.

Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


whitefirebird: (Default)

September 2013

89 1011121314

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 03:50 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios