Ending scene Chapter 1: morning routine of partner, or "partner"? by spektir
(amazing fic seriously go read it if you haven't already)
Regarding the illustration i was set on a sketch initially but i really got inspired and wanted to show the atmosphere (i tried to make lit in morning kind of light on Death's head) with their drinks behind them.
The piece is weakly connected to the original prompt.
---
Years later, Lockdown encountered Prowl. This motorcycle had a trick: disguising himself as part of the environment, using holographic projections to divert his opponent's attention.
It was a frustrating evasive tactic, very indirect, but terribly effective against Lockdown.
Back then, Lockdown couldn't tell Prowl apart from his projections. The two were too similar; it made it difficult for him to decide where to strike. Stabbing might just be a waste of energy. All he could do was stop and observe.
And be toyed with.
Watching him panting, his saw-blade struggling to turn, Prowl would often smile. That enigmatic smile. And Lockdown, dizzy and disoriented, was already starting to get angry, a little mesmerized in spite of himself.
He saw a crowd of Prowls grinning at him, like a hallucination. He could only retract his saw, brace his hands on his knees, and watch that row of shadows circling him.
Prowl even threw in a comment. "Brute force is so... limiting."
Slag. No one needed to teach Lockdown about limitations. He knew "finite" better than anyone. But he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he quietly studied the differences among that crowd of Prowls.
You could imagine the look on the real Prowl's face when Lockdown finally pounced. It was a thousand times more refreshing than that enigmatic smile.
"Finesse isn't so elusive either," Lockdown said, looming over the motorcycle, having picked up that very tone.
A fist flew toward him. He caught it mid-air, wrenched it, and pinned the arm above Prowl's head. Looking at that flustered, elongated face, those slightly parted lips, he felt something. Curiosity, perhaps.
Curious if, when the hunter's net vanished, the prey would simply disappear.
He leaned in. Close enough to feel warm breath. And gently, he kissed him. Not on the cheek, not on the neck. Right on the mouth. Bullseye. And that meant Prowl hadn't pulled away.
Then he let go. So Prowl could hold him.
It brought a kind of ecstasy he couldn't contain. He stifled it, only to steal several more kisses.
A lot of things just happened like that, inexplicably. No one wanted to go back to a room, to a berth. There wasn't time. So they'd often end up rolling in the grass, or leaning against trees sturdy enough to hold them.
…
Later, Prowl asked him how he'd finally figured it out that first time. How he'd known which one was real.
Lockdown said it was because of Prowl's smile. That little movement was delayed on all the other projections.
He really liked that expression. That quiet smile. So he'd watched it for a long time.
Gift For @supacyberninja for their fic Habits are hard to break
This is a scene i drew based on the amazing fic, i rendered my favorite moment
(and ONLY NOW can you put this as your desktop or phone wallpaper. Choose which res you need, i didnt know where to crop it so you get both versions :D)
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
amandla
dailybridgerton
titsay
areudirty
gracieabrams
snowghoul
