Gaslight_Dreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wyntir_knight) wrote2018-01-19 04:25 pm
wyntir_knight) wrote2018-01-19 04:25 pm
Entry tags:
Fic - You Remind Me of Someone I Used To Know - Chapter 3, part 1
Title: You remind me of someone I used to know
Chapters: 3 part 1
Fandom: Transformers Generation One (pre-Earth)
Rating: T (though might change later)
Warnings: none
Relationships: "Cortano", Powerglide, Jazz, mentions of Moonracer
Summary: Cortano offers some relationship advice to Powerglide
---
“I just don’t get it,” Powerglide moaned into his arms. “I did everything right and she’s still not noticing me. At all!”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Cortano replied, nothing but sympathy in his carefully modulated voice. “You are friends, right?”
“Not the point, Cort! Not the fraggin’ point!”
Cortano sat back and looked at the red minibot. Powerglide was slumped over the commissary table, his fuel cube held loosely in twitching fingers, everything about him radiating dispondance.
“Okay, so then what is the point, PG?” Cortano asked.
Powerglide looked up at Cortano, an incredulous look passing over his faceplates. His battle mask moved as he formed words that were refusing to come.
“Seriously, mech, if it’s taking you this long to answer me then it’s because you don’t like the answer,” Cortano said in a calm near drone. “Moonracer is her own mech and she doesn’t owe you anything in return for your friendship.”
“I know that!” Powerglide replied, completely indignant. “I know that she doesn’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t change anything! I want more out of this relationship and she just can’t see that!”
Cortano’s chevron arched slightly at that and he shifted forward to look Powerglide in in the optics.
“Have you told her how you feel or has she been transformed into a Communicator when we weren’t looking?”
“What does that have anything to do with it?” Powerglide asked, misery radiating off of him.
Cortano vented hard. “She cannot hear your processor, Powerglide. Go. Speak. With. Her! Primus, mech! Tell her how you feel!”
Powerglide wilted visibly in his chair.
“But she might say no!” he whined. “That would ruin everything!”
Cortano’s doors fluttered in a shrug as he leaned back in his chair. “You roll your dice and you take your chances. Yeah, she might turn you down, and yeah, it might ruin things. But this,” Cortano motioned vaguely to Powerglide, “whatever this is is definitely going to ruin things. Either she’s going to figure you out for the scraplets you’re acting like or you’re going to do something really stupid and prove to her that you belong at the bottom of the rust sea.”
Powerglide’s optics narrowed as he pulled back.
“Excuse me?” he growled. He placed his hands firmly on the table and stood, sending his chair skittering out from under him. “You’re a real slagging poor counsellor, you know that?”
Again, Cortano shrugged his doors. It was the only outward sign of a reaction to the outburst.
“A - I’m not a counsellor, B - you came to me for advice, and C - I call it like I see it. If you want coddling, go find someone else to tell you what you want to hear. You’re acting like an aft and Moonracer sure as the Pit deserves better than a slag heap who’s clearly expecting her to roll over and spread just because he was nice to her. Don’t like the image, then change it.” Cortano’s voice never rose above a low, bored drone.
The two stayed in a near tableau, neither moving as the silence stretched out between them.
Powerglide’s fingers twitched toward his weapons pocket.
The silence was suddenly ended as Jazz’s hands came down hard on Cortano’s shoulders with a clang of metal on metal.
“Hey, Cort, you gotta moment?” Jazz asked. “You an’ I need t’ talk. You were done with, ‘im, right, ‘Glide?”
Powerglide glared at Cortano a moment longer before turning on his heel.
“Fine. Have fun,” he snapped as he stormed out of the commissary.
“You know everything would have been fine,” Cortano said casually. “The chances of him shooting me in the middle of the commissary were pretty low.”
“Yeah, but there always is that chance. An’ I would really prefer ya in one piece for what’s comin’ next,” Jazz said, and there was an edge to his tone that was normally reserved for enemy agents.
Cortano’s vents slowed minutely before speeding up again to a more normal level.
“You got it, Boss,” he said with a smile.
As he tried to get up he felt Jazz’s hands tighten on his shoulders almost painfully before releasing a moment later.
“We can talk in my office,” Jazz said, a large smile plastered on his face. It was more than a little disconcerting.
Chapters: 3 part 1
Fandom: Transformers Generation One (pre-Earth)
Rating: T (though might change later)
Warnings: none
Relationships: "Cortano", Powerglide, Jazz, mentions of Moonracer
Summary: Cortano offers some relationship advice to Powerglide
---
“I just don’t get it,” Powerglide moaned into his arms. “I did everything right and she’s still not noticing me. At all!”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Cortano replied, nothing but sympathy in his carefully modulated voice. “You are friends, right?”
“Not the point, Cort! Not the fraggin’ point!”
Cortano sat back and looked at the red minibot. Powerglide was slumped over the commissary table, his fuel cube held loosely in twitching fingers, everything about him radiating dispondance.
“Okay, so then what is the point, PG?” Cortano asked.
Powerglide looked up at Cortano, an incredulous look passing over his faceplates. His battle mask moved as he formed words that were refusing to come.
“Seriously, mech, if it’s taking you this long to answer me then it’s because you don’t like the answer,” Cortano said in a calm near drone. “Moonracer is her own mech and she doesn’t owe you anything in return for your friendship.”
“I know that!” Powerglide replied, completely indignant. “I know that she doesn’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t change anything! I want more out of this relationship and she just can’t see that!”
Cortano’s chevron arched slightly at that and he shifted forward to look Powerglide in in the optics.
“Have you told her how you feel or has she been transformed into a Communicator when we weren’t looking?”
“What does that have anything to do with it?” Powerglide asked, misery radiating off of him.
Cortano vented hard. “She cannot hear your processor, Powerglide. Go. Speak. With. Her! Primus, mech! Tell her how you feel!”
Powerglide wilted visibly in his chair.
“But she might say no!” he whined. “That would ruin everything!”
Cortano’s doors fluttered in a shrug as he leaned back in his chair. “You roll your dice and you take your chances. Yeah, she might turn you down, and yeah, it might ruin things. But this,” Cortano motioned vaguely to Powerglide, “whatever this is is definitely going to ruin things. Either she’s going to figure you out for the scraplets you’re acting like or you’re going to do something really stupid and prove to her that you belong at the bottom of the rust sea.”
Powerglide’s optics narrowed as he pulled back.
“Excuse me?” he growled. He placed his hands firmly on the table and stood, sending his chair skittering out from under him. “You’re a real slagging poor counsellor, you know that?”
Again, Cortano shrugged his doors. It was the only outward sign of a reaction to the outburst.
“A - I’m not a counsellor, B - you came to me for advice, and C - I call it like I see it. If you want coddling, go find someone else to tell you what you want to hear. You’re acting like an aft and Moonracer sure as the Pit deserves better than a slag heap who’s clearly expecting her to roll over and spread just because he was nice to her. Don’t like the image, then change it.” Cortano’s voice never rose above a low, bored drone.
The two stayed in a near tableau, neither moving as the silence stretched out between them.
Powerglide’s fingers twitched toward his weapons pocket.
The silence was suddenly ended as Jazz’s hands came down hard on Cortano’s shoulders with a clang of metal on metal.
“Hey, Cort, you gotta moment?” Jazz asked. “You an’ I need t’ talk. You were done with, ‘im, right, ‘Glide?”
Powerglide glared at Cortano a moment longer before turning on his heel.
“Fine. Have fun,” he snapped as he stormed out of the commissary.
“You know everything would have been fine,” Cortano said casually. “The chances of him shooting me in the middle of the commissary were pretty low.”
“Yeah, but there always is that chance. An’ I would really prefer ya in one piece for what’s comin’ next,” Jazz said, and there was an edge to his tone that was normally reserved for enemy agents.
Cortano’s vents slowed minutely before speeding up again to a more normal level.
“You got it, Boss,” he said with a smile.
As he tried to get up he felt Jazz’s hands tighten on his shoulders almost painfully before releasing a moment later.
“We can talk in my office,” Jazz said, a large smile plastered on his face. It was more than a little disconcerting.