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English
Series:
Part 7 of When Apathy Meets Empathy
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Published:
2024-01-30
Updated:
2024-10-17
Words:
17,086
Chapters:
8/?
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139
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217
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Test of Love

Summary:

While Jazz is away on an extended mission, Prowl develops a hidden problem. When Jazz returns will he figure out the secret before it’s too late?

Notes:

I don’t own Transformers.

This fic basically starts the next arc within this series, so expect changes. Hopefully delicious changes as Prowl kicks it off as the hurt one this time. I promise it isn’t all hurt, there’ll be plenty of comfort <3

I think it’s pretty common in this fandom, but since the passing of time is more important in this fic:
- Orn = Cybertronian day
- Deca-orn = Cybertronian week
- Mega-Orn = Cybertronian month
- Quartex = Yearly quarter (or quarter of a vorn)

Chapter 1: Chapter Zero / Prologue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

[Prologue]

 

Two mega-orns after Prowl’s promotion…

 

It started with an irate snap from a soldier when Prowl confiscated his high-grade. A battle ended with heavy casualties on their side, despite the Autobots winning, and Prowl was absolutely miserable. As the Head of Tactical he had to make some tough calls.

They eventually won the battle when Prowl pushed things in their favor by sending several Autobots ultimately to their doom, and he had known the high probability of it happening as he gave the orders. Then afterwards his superior ordered him to partake in rounds to make sure the troops were doing post-battle procedures correctly, and that was how he found the soldier hiding in the supplier closet, breaking rules with high-grade.

“You’re such a fragging aft, and a sparkless drone! I bet you’ve never had high-grade in your life, because you sure as slag don’t have any sense of joy. Only how to kill it – like how you kill us,” the soldier spat.

Prowl fought hard to keep his sensory panels from quivering at those words. At least his arms were full holding three full large high-grade bottles, so they weren’t able to shake, due to the weight. “Soldier, you are required to report the brig.” His tone was even, almost monotone. It was another thing that was his new default since being promoted, that his exterior demeanor was even less inviting. Perhaps it was a trait of self-preservation in his new role; it was hard to tell these orns.

There was a snarl and then the soldier was gone, leaving Prowl alone with the high-grade. He allowed the door to shut behind him so Prowl could stay and collect himself for a breem. For that breem he trembled as he tried processing his emotions about the battle and the soldier’s outburst.

However, by the end he was still shaking and nothing felt processed. He heard the clank of bottles in his arms. For a klik he wondered whether or not it was true that high-grade numbed mechs from their emotions. He certainly was tired and hurt from repeatedly feeling this way, after endless battles and making calls that damned a few to save many more – only to be met with visceral hatred back at base.

He vehemently shook his helm. He couldn’t; he was to lead by example. Yet who is he setting the example for right now, alone in this closet? Surely if he was to ever know the answer to his question, now was the time.

The taste was better than he anticipated. So fine and smooth, without any of the burning he expected. It was absolutely delightful, and the best thing he’d tasted in a very long time. Before he knew it, the bottle was a third empty and he felt immensely better. It was as if the heaviness of the battle and verbal attack had floated right off his shoulders.

Prowl looked at the bottles and a whimper escaped as he thought about turning in the high-grade to the appropriate authorities for disposal. He couldn’t do that, he reasoned; they would know what he’d done by just looking at him. No, better for him to hide the contraband in his private quarters.

That’s how the pattern formed; after he slowly finished the first two bottles over multiple orns, he started volunteering for inspecting quarters and other areas for unauthorized goods. He found plenty of high-grade bottles after every inspection and put half of them in his quarters. He had to turn over some to the disposal authorities since Command knew he was doing inspections. They just didn’t know how much he was really finding. No one did.

After a half vorn, his findings lessened as the soldiers realized there was no point in sneaking high-grade on base because Prowl usually found it. At that point Prowl had been secretly drinking a quarter to half a regular-sized bottle at least three times a deca-orn, and always after battle or sending others out on fatal missions. To the outside world he never drank.

During that half-vorn he felt completely alone while Jazz was on his extended mission. Even Mirage, who he barely knew, was out on a long mission as well. There were no other friends for him. He was just as much disliked the first time he started drinking high-grade as the orn when he finished inspections with no findings for once. The realization he didn’t have anything to take back to his quarters, leaving him with only a few precious bottles remaining, nearly prompted him to go into a tailspin. He had to find a backup source.

Meanwhile, also during that half-vorn, he was receiving extra praise from his superiors. Since he started drinking, he was even more meticulous in his work ethics so no one would suspect him due to sloppiness. Not only that, but he also genuinely wanted to reduce their number of losses. He still cared, even if he was regularly accused of the opposite.

As he got down to his last bottle with no more high-grade contraband replenishing his stash, he developed a solution to his plight. Since he was now the best at confiscating high-grade, he reasoned to his superiors he could go to other regional bases and show them how he was finding it. Obviously, he left out that with the right distractions, he might sneak a few bottles home each time.

That worked well enough for the next three mega-orns, as no one wanted to spend time with him beyond the bare minimum lessons on finding high-grade. Then the Decepticons started hitting them harder and his superiors suspended his training efforts, and he was back to where he started when he first formulated the plan.

How could he find more high-grade? For an irrational moment he had the urge to break into the main warehouse where they stored high-grade from the regional bases for destruction. His painful, wishful thinking gave him continuous anxiety.

On one orn the General was in his private office. He didn’t remember why he said it, only that it tumbled out before he knew it. “It seems that the high-grade disposal team has slowed their destruction of high-grade by nearly 23%, over the course of six mega-orns. If they continue at this rate, we’ll run out of storage space in less than a vorn.”

“Hmm,” his superior looked thoughtful and Prowl almost outwardly panicked. Before Prowl could figure out how to explain his comment, the General replied, “Such inefficiency could cause us problems. Do you think you could visit them at least once a quartex for review and make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“Yes, of course, sir.” His relief practically reverberated through his entire being. It certainly had his spark jumping. “I will arrange for that before the mega-orn is over.”

That’s how it grew. He visited the warehouse about every mega-orn, making sure that efficiency was increasing so it looked favorably to his superiors, but also growing slowly to justify his repeated visits. With each visit, he’d take home the equivalent of a crate of high-grade bottles. Sometimes it was five big bottles, and other times it was eight or ten regular bottles. Once in a while there were many small bottles. No one ever checked his subspace, and he learned tricks to make sure no one doing the disposal noticed the missing batches.

That’s how it was, with him drinking high-grade almost every orn, without anyone the wiser, when Jazz finally returned from his mission.

Notes:

This is the last of Prowl’s POV for a little while, but it’s not the only chapter from his perspective. If you’re wondering about his tac-net, that’ll get touched on later as well. I didn’t want to bog down the details of a prologue.