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Perhaps it’s his imagination, but Soundwave thinks Prowl act less cold toward him these days. He stresses out the ‘perhaps’, though, because to the casual observer and to most of his Cassettes, the Praxian is still the same regal, cold looking mech that have been living them for vorns. The former SIC of the Autobots never say much, sometimes barely saying three words a day, especially when he’s alone in Soundwave’s company. He doesn’t like Soundwave, something the Cassettes Holder can hardly hold back against him.
Prowl is little more than a slave to him, after all, someone he claimed for his own as an additional reward from Megatron after their total victory. And given the awful treatment he and all of his kind went through, what else but hatred or cold numbness can be expected of former Autobots?
But Prowl is starting to speak more to him, nowadays -- at least, that’s the impression Soundwave has. And he thinks Domino’s presence and the way he treats the little Sparkling are no innocent to this subtle shift in their… relationship.
Domino, and the fact Soundwave has make no effort to convince neither Jazz nor Prowl to grace his berth in almost a full vorn.
What would have been the point, though? Interfacing, to Soundwave’s mind, means trying to create a Sparkling, and given all he has uncovered about the new generation and the Spark Deep Rejection syndrome…
Soundwave knows most see him as cold and cruel, but he’s not monstrous enough to condemn a newspark sharing his codes to such a life of misery.
It hurts, though, to realize that to avoid making a dangerous mistake, he must renounces to touch either Prowl and Jazz. Jazz especially; it has always been the Special OPs officer he had been lusting after. Prowl had just been a bonus. Not as attractive as the Autobot TIC, but very fine looking himself, and with an inquisitive mind and a professionalism Soundwave could only find attracting.
Berthing the two… had been both a dream and a nightmare, if he was honest. Yes, they were his to do as he wished, his to hold and interface with whenever he wanted. But Jazz was only a shell of himself, face carefully blank and optics shuttered whenever Soundwave took him in his arms, lacking any and all of the spirit, the liveness that had once drew the telepath to him. And Prowl was no better, unresponsive and staring at the ceiling until Soundwave was finished, running simulations and calculations in his CPU to occupy his time. Soundwave knew, he had tried to read his thoughts during those times.
To say it had been like a slap to the face was an understatement. However, he had let it all slide, thinking that with time, both mechs would see the Cassettes Holder wasn’t a cruel mech as he treated them fine and asked little for them in return, aside of obedience and companionship.
He should have noticed sooner. Just because he wasn’t cruel to them didn’t meant they didn’t watch around them and saw how others were treated. And just because he didn’t mistreat them, it didn’t meant they didn’t feel for their fellow former Autobots and resented all Decepticons for what was happening to them. Such wounds, when they fester… they can only bring more suffering, even to the innocents.
Had he realized it subconsciously, long before he really started to take notice of, well, everything?
Most likely. Which was probably why, despite having them vorns trying to woo them separately and forbidding them to have much contact, especially contacts of an ‘intimate’ nature, he had finally relented and allowed them to comfort each other and try to produce a Sparkling together.
His own attempts at sparking up one or the others had all ended in failures. Thrice Jazz had been with Spark. Thrice he had lost the developing newspark shortly after they had realized its presence. And Prowl had been no luckier, to Soundwave’s dismay. It was a well-kept secret that Soundwave liked Sparklings. Most Cassettes Holders did, actually, due to their handling of their own Cassettes, and Soundwave was no different. Although, unlike some of his fellows, he wouldn’t have berthed just anyone to produce them; he was far more pragmatic, far less romantic, and if he ever Created mechlings, then he wanted their Carrier or Sire to have certain traits that would be inherited by his future offsprings, thus bettering his line.
Jazz’s adaptability and creativity, Prowl’s tactical genius,... those were traits he wished the Creations he’d produce would inherit from.
However, as time went and as he uncovered just how… ill their society was, it was with an heavy Spark he realized that what he dearly wished for would probably never come. To force the issue, to force a Sparkling of his on either of his slaves… it’d meant a too cruel fate for said Sparkling, especially if he or she was a telepath like Soundwave was.
If there wasn’t any love between the Creators… No. It was too painful to contemplate. Which was why, if there was any Sparkling ever gracing his house, they wouldn’t be his. They’d be Prowl and Jazz alone, case in point.
But how he wished that Domino was his! The mechling is not, though, and Soundwave must acknowledge it. Domino isn’t blue or blocky, like he’d expect a Sparkling of his to look like. Instead he is the spitting image of the pair that conceived him, lithe, more black than white, with cute little doorwings and big, curious blue optics, a beautiful mix between his Sire and Carrier, created out of love and care.
Love and care… and hope that Soundwave dared not to break. Hopes for them. Hope for himself, too. So he watched, and he listened as Domino laughed, as Jazz cooed, as Prowl tickled the little being when he thought no one was here. They weren’t happy… but they weren’t as sad as before. Soundwave kept out of the way for the most part, just gently petting the little helm when he was allowed to, providing toys and entertainment for the newspark. That wasn’t much -- certainly not enough to make up for vorns of misery. But perhaps, just perhaps both Prowl and Jazz weren’t looking at him so coldly anymore.
And that thought alone helped sooth something deep within his Spark.