- I was expecting it ages ago. Jazz, is it really so difficult bring all the reports ON TIME?
Jazz sighted. Of course Prowl was right. Like he always was, but on the other hand Jazz was very well aware, that his delay was in "acceptable range" of time, so Tactician had no real reason in giving him a lecture.
- Prowler, relax. It's not THAT late. Just…
- NOT THAT LATE? Jazz, I only want to be prepared for the battle! And I can't be "a little bit late". So please, don't make my job more difficult then it is already!
Saboteur looked at his friend with a surprised optics. Prowl was moody. Prowl was never moody. Annoyed, tired, but not moody. Jazz sighted, and seeing no point in reasoning with Tactician right now, he decided to keep conflict to the minimum.
- 'K, Prowler, I'm sorry. See ya around.
Jazz clapped Tactician lightly on a doorwing and headed to the door, when Prowl gasped.
- Prowler?
Jazz eyed his friend carefully.
- Prowler, what's wrong? Prowl?
Very slowly Tactician relaxed, grimace leaving his face.
- I'm fine. Please, let me do my work; it's not a lot to ask, is it?
Slowly, Jazz walked to the door, worry not leaving his spark.
-May I ask, why are you asking?
Jazz thought for a second, then, gathering himself together answered.
- Well, it started shortly before our last battle. Prowl was extremely moody, and as I clapped him "good bye" he winced, as if I actually punched him. Ratchet, we know each other for centuries, I know exactly how sensitive doorwing are, but even they are not THAT sensitive. Anyway, the last battle, I don't know if your noticed, Prowl was not on the frontline. He was behind us, giving directions, keeping our back save, but he was behind, as if trying to keep himself safe. Don't know why. Then – he started to get moodier and moodier. And tired. And sensitive around wings. I kinda of used to clap him on the wing or stroke it as a hello or bye. He winced a few times, and last few actually turned around, being very carful, to keep his wings as save as possible. So, I would like to know, if he was injured or something?
Ratchet was quiet for the moment, considering possible reasons for this kind of behavior scanning data on Praxicans. Then Medic sighted.
- Jazz, I will use my right to force Prowl for an exam. I hope you are aware, that in case you made it up for any reason, I will be forced to let Prowl know, who is to blame.
- That's fine with me. You know, I'm kinda worried. Prowl does have a lot of on his shoulders.
- I will let you know, if there is anything to worry about.
- Thanks dok.
Hit, hit, jump, strike, jump, strike, hit, dug.
Practice was nice. Very nice indeed. And Jazz was more or less disappointed when Ratchet commed him. "Doctor's order" was simple: "get hier". And Jazz did.
Medbay was quiet, no patience, no annoying minibots… Just Ratchet walking around with a datapad in his servos and Tactician, sitting on the berth, head low, wings handing. As Jazz entered the room Ratchet walked to the door and sealed it.
- So?
Jazz was more then just confused.
Prowl looked up, his optics dull and tired. After studying Saboteur for a clic or so, he let his helm drop down again. Jazz felt even more confused.
- Sit down Jazz, and don't be worried, Prowl is overreacting.
Ratchet was businesslike and direct.
- Before I start I would like to state, that mater discussed here are personal and in case of your refusal to provide your help, Jazz, you have to give your oath to hold the discussed subject to yourself.
Jazz noble. Ratchet looked at tactician, who tiredly nodded.
- Well, long story in short, Prowl have a problem with his wings, and need a proper therapy. Part of it includes ultra wave treatment, which involves hours on the stationary here, or, less painful and faster version, with a hand pistol. As far as I know, this is not a medical instrument, and only mech on the ship with proper training is you.
Jazz considered his options for a second: either he have to put up with annoyed Prowl twice a day… or the whole base have to put up with annoyed Prowl all the time. Saboteur sighted.
- What do I have to do?
Tab on the door to his quarters pulled Jazz from light recharge. Day was long, and he nearly slipped into proper restfase as he waited for the Tactician for his first treatment. He let Prowl in, directing him to take a sit on his berth.
- So… - Jazz felt quiet out of his element, standing behind SIC and setting his pistol on the lowest energy level – I'll start, if it's became to uncomfortable, tell.
- Just let get over it.
Prowl's voice was as usual controlled and quiet. Jazz started. Carefully following given pattern he worked his way on the wing's joins, carefully avoiding sensitive sensors. Doorwing stiffened, after few clicks Prowl quietly groaned. Jazz stopped, remembering his orders.
- Prowler, you okey?
Tactician wasn't moving.
- Prowler, I can't carry on if it is hurting you. You need at least try to relax. And it will be easier, if you'll say, what's wrong. You know, Ratchet just gave very rough information.
Tactician sighted.
- I believe I don't really have a choice. Just… can you get me some energon please? I… I am on my reserves already. It won't be right to collapse in your quarters. At any means.
- You know, you do need to energize more often – Jazz handled Prowl a cube – so what's it all about?
- Wings. They are the greatest help… and biggest problem. In short: it's not good to overstress them. It starts with a pain, stiffness. I don't get a chance to sit properly, like a winged mech have to, I don't get a chance to lay down properly, to stretch them like it should be. I am the only winged mech with a high rank, so I do have a lot to take care of and way to little chance to take care of myself. Jazz, I hate to ask you to spend your free time on something like that, but I do need this treatment. Alternative is to take them completely away.
Jazz very carefully, barely touching warm metal stroked along the top part of the wing.
- Basically you need to get them relaxed.
- Basically – yes. – Prowl nodded.
- What about the whole "right sitting and right lying down stuff?
- Well have to see. If this base will became a long-term, I will get a proper berth and chair, but…
- I get it. The whole story about being on the move for too long, and not getting a proper recharge caught up with you.
- More or less… - Prowl's voice became quieter, and filled up with statics.
Saboteur checked SIC faceplate. Prowl looked about to fall in a deep recharge. Jazz carefully squeezed him on the shoulder.
- Prowl, we need to find a solution. The therapy Ratchet suggested is definitely way to hard for you, and you are falling in recharge in my quarters, meaning, you hardly get any. Prow…
- Can you stop talking? And just carry on with stroking? Feels nice.
Jazz looked confused on his own servo, which lightly traced patterns on the right wing. Carefully applying second servo he worked the left wing, being as light and carefully as possible. Few clicks later he carefully helped nearly recharging SIC to lye down properly.
Prowl slowly let his system power up. His internal timer informing him, that he spent about a joor in recharge, what was already more then he usually managed. Next second he felt familiar dull ache in his wings, instinctively he tried to stretch them, and got a sharp pain as an answer.
- Easy there Prowler, we still need to get a lot of work on them, before you'll be able to use them fully.
Prowl looked surprised at TIC, who smiled brightly and offered him a cube. Slowly, unwillingly his memories powered up. Falling in recharge in Jazz quarters, how embarrassing.
- Come on Prowler, get energized, and let us try to work some more on you wings.
- Jazz, you don't have to do it, it will be enough…
- Relax. Prowler, think, what good will a sore tactician be? And I kinda like a nice SIC and kinda hate moody SIC. So let see, if you'll be able to take some of ultrasound this time, and you will explain what are other part of the treatment.
Prowl sipped his energon, way to unsure what to do now, and if he to do anything at all. At last he made a decision:
- Jazz, I am sorry to bother you, there will be another way to get my treatment, without taking your time.
Jazz didn't get any chance to say something, when Prowl left his room.
Prowl was getting worse. Jazz, carefully eyed him at the rest area. It was past late, and tactician was looking exhausted. After Prowl left his quarters, Jazz tried few times to talk and reason with SIC, but with no success. On outside it was more or less normal, Lambo-twins got their punishment, Prime got his reports, all on time, the possible outcome and advisable way for fight in any possible situation were there, even patrol times ware handled on time. On outside. But Jazz was actually looking a bit dipper. He always was, when it was Prowl. Somehow Jazz was fascinated, how much that particular mech can do. Quiet, up to the point, always concentrated, always getting a job done. As they met for the first time Jazz saw what nearly everyone saw: cold and calculating mech. After one particular hard battle, Jazz walked to Prowls office, with report in the hand, hating the request: reports as fast as possible. After opening the door, he saw Tactician. Helm on his servos, wing nearly touching the floor, shoulder a bit shaking. He backed up, but noticed, how long there was still drained and exhausted look on Prowl's face. After that he started to watch SIC more closely. Prowl was taking every battle personal, taking care never to split mates and friend on patrols and working few shifts in a row way to often. At some point Jazz actually noticed, that Prowl was a nice looking mech. Just way too coordinated for Jazz' taste. They never became close friends, possibly because close friends and Prowl just can't work together, but Jazz kept an eye on him. Just in case. Brought him now and then an extra cube, insisted on taking Prowls patrols, when there was way to much work, inviting him now and then for a play.
Right now Prowl was nursing his cube for breems, wings hanging, optic unhealthy pale blue, servos unsteady. It was enough. Prowl was not supposed to be like that. Walking to SIC and staying behind him Jazz very carefully, barely touching stroke the doorwing. Prowl moaned, very quietly.
- Come, let get you some recharge. You are overworking yourself and you really need to take care of your wings. Mech, you can't even hold a cube properly.
Prowl tried to rise, but way to unsteady on his peds, started to fall. Jazz caught him, holding upright.
- Good. Now step at the time… And to the med bay…
- Please, not med…
Prowl's voice was full with statics.
- Oh, no Prowler. You are nothing but healthy. So let's…
With a quiet vets Prowl's system started to power down.
"Ratchet, get med bay ready!" Jazz commed, getting unconscious SIC in his arms and hopping, that Ratchet will know what to do.
The first thing he felt was a sharp pain in his left wing. Prowl lay there quietly, accessing his memory data. He was in reck room, Jazz wanted something… Then it went dark. Now… He needed to power up his optics, but that was exactly he didn't wanted to do.
- So, can you please explain your actions?
Energy level… more or less fine. Even better then most of the evenings. Voice… Ratchet. Well, that was to expect.
- So, Prowl, I am waiting. You refuse Jazz help, but never come to me for the alternative, till Jazz actually caries you in, underenergised and underregarched as if you ware in cons hands for orns. How can someone with your processor get himself in this situation? And I know that you are online.
- May I sit?
- No. You will stay like that till you are fully functional. And I mean end of the therapy.
Prowl lay quietly, hopping, Ratchet will forget his question. He was wrong.
- So, there is more then enough time for us to chat. You won't be recharging till I stop treating your wings. So, why?
Prowl tried to consider other possibilities, but his processor ached, and he actually was very tired of hiding.
- I love Jazz.
It was quiet for a very long time.
- You just sad…
- I love Jazz. I don't think I can control myself with him around. And even if he will accept me, there is no way for the officers to have some kind of a relationship other then…
- Prowl, no more.
With a light click the machinery around prowl gone quiet, and pain on his wing eased.
- Now get out of here. And you are on the medical leave till further notice. So, go, sort everything out.
Prowl carefully sat up, Ratchet left the room already, and SIC was thankful: He was still disorientated, and simple act of standing up was a bit complicated already. It actually took him some time to reach his quarters, walking slowly, wings not helping to establish his balance. Falling on berth and trying to get most practical position he tried to find a way out of the situation. He needed to get himself sorted. Constant pain was not getting him anyway; treatment was both taking way too long time and nearly unbearably painful or involving Jazz. Both options ware not extremely attractive, and right now… Prowl run a fast calculation… Probability that Ratchet will allow him to get the long and painful way was about 14%. Not that much. Chances, that he'll lose self-control with Jazz caressing and working on his wing… about 84%. Chances, that he won't be able to control himself throw the whole treatment with Jazz… 98%. Prowl sighted, and commed Ratchet, asking for an appointment for the next session. Answer was to be expected: "Either you'll be proff and let Jazz do it, or you'll be a mech and frag him, or I get Optimus know." Sad Ratchet "the way it is now is no way good for the ship". Prowl sighted again. Ratchet was right. Emotions, ware allowed, Primus there was even partners between them, dramas were not allowed. And he was making a drama right now. Prowl considered his options once again. There were not a lot of other possibilities.
- What the hell is wrong with Prowl?! I am not going patrolling with a minicon!
- Sunny, relax, there is a mistake.
- No there is not! And I am…
- Look!
Sides pointed a figure of a winged mech in the end of the corridor.
- Go and ask!
- And I will! Prowl!
SIC stopped, waiting for the Sunstrike to approach with a normal, calm expression on his faceplates.
- Prowl, is it some kind of punishment? Then I would like to know, what I actually done wrong!
- What are you talking about?
For a second Sunny was taken aback, but gathered his thought and explained:
- You know, I hate to do patrol with minicons! They can't keep up with me and…
- I will find out who is taking the planning and arrangement for patrolling and give him my recommendation. Meanwhile you will have to stick up with a plan.
- What do you…
- I am of duty due medical reason. So today afternoon was not my planning. Can I pass please?
Sunny made a step to the side letting SIC to pass and looked at his brother:
- That is not normal.
- Nope. But do you really what to investigate?
- Definitely. Later on.
Like expected, Jazz was found in the rec room, surrounded by a group of mechs, chatting and joking about something from today's morning. Prowl felt, how his courage to speak with TIC disappeared. He was going to speak openly. Not ask, just explain the whole mess and if… no, when Jazz will say something typical, like "you are a great friend, but …" then Prowl will ask Prime for the transfer. Only right now there was still just a bit of hope, just a tiny bit of possibility to hear something like " …
- Prowler, how r' ya?
Primus! He backed up a bit, collecting his thought again. He really wasn't expecting Jazz to notice him, nor speak to him, especially in this manner.
- I am fine, Jazz, can I talk with you? Privately?
Jazz smiled, visor actually lighting up more.
- O'Couse! Whan't to grab some to fuel?
Prowl shock his head, he was way to nervous right now. And feeling about to collapse. That won't end in a good way.
The door to his quarter closed behind him, and Prowl tried again to gather what was left of his will. Having Jazz standing just beside him was not helping. Primus, how often Prowl dreamed of the same moment, only in his dreams he was able to wrap his arms around TIC and whisper to him something like "I missed you" and hear something like "missed ya too, Prowler". In reality he was about to smash all this dreams (which hat only about 2% possibility to became a reality) and… No more!
- Jazz, I love you.
Prowl off lined his optics, his processor calculating, that with this abrupt statement he reduced his chance from 2% to about… 1.35%. It was quiet. Then he felt a hand on his arm.
- Prowl, I'll guide you to the berth, okey?
- I am not glitching.
- I know, Prowler. Ya just shaking like mad. And I need ya to listen. And don't you dare freeze on me.
Prowl lowered himself on the berth in sitting position, Jazz… Jazz settled himself right beside him, stroking his arm.
- Prowler, I care for you. And I admit, you are good-looking. And I know, that there is more, then cold, calculated mech, we all usually see. But I don't know, what exactly for mech is there.
Jazz was quiet for a second, Prowl on lined his optics, looking at the visored mech beside him.
- It is fine. I will let Prime to know, that I need a transfer…
Prowl gasped, when Jazz pulled him in a hug.
- Prowl, you are such an idiot! And don't even try to analyze this statement. I was telling you, that I need to know you. Look, Prowler, I like ya, I find ya attractive, I already care for ya, so, there is not a lot left for me to say "love ya back".
Jazz smiled at even more confused Tactician.
- Look, what about we meet today after my patrol, we'll get you wings sorted, and get something to look at, holofilm, or something. We'll talk, and take everything slow…
Prowl pulled a bit away from saboteur, smiled lightly, visibly relaxed.
- Jazz…. I…. Thank you.
TIC lightly kissed tactician on cheeckplate and stroke a top of a doorwing on the way out. From the door looking at Prowl
- I believe that be our first date, Prowler.
so, I have no idea, if I'll continue this, or let it be the way it is...