He was like a summers breeze. Light and warm, gently brushing past you and caressing you as they went before leaving you with an icy cold chill made even colder by the harsh sun you were left to face on your own.
He also came just as quickly as he left. Prowl sat alone in his office, drawing up plans for the decepticons next attack on a power plant for energon that they desperately needed. He almost didn't hear the pedefalls behind him. Almost. When their owner was close enough for him to feel in precise detail with his doorwings, he cocked his gun. The chink of metal made the mystery mech behind him freeze on the spot, obviously surprised that they'd been caught.
Prowl slowly turned around to regard the mech. They sported an almost identical paint job to his own and a stunning blue visor. In his hand was an energon blade that hadn't yet been activated, however the mech's finger was hovering over the switch that would bring life to the dull handle.
"Frag"
Prowl didn't have any time to react before he felt a sharp pain in his neck and went limp.
He awoke again with a throbbing helm and a sore neck. He'd been drugged, excellent. Soundwave would never let him hear the end of it.
He gingerly stood, quickly taking in his office to ensure nothing was out of place before quickly leaving. He'd need to report the breech and complain about Soundwaves incompetence at keeping intruders out.
Before he got too far, he encountered a visored mech. He looked strikingly familiar. He had a lithe, silver frame that boasted speed and flexibility with a crimson visor and viciously clawed hands. Prowl liked what he saw, although he couldn't quite place his finger on why they looked familiar. Compared to the absolute dogs he was surrounded by, this mech was quite the find. The diamond in the rough, so to speak. He was about to inquire what their designation was so he knew who to sought out should he requite some 'company', only to be interrupted by Soundwave. What a tricksy fellow.
"Designation: Meister." Ah, he'd read his mind. How rude. "Assignment: Tactical Officers Personal Assistant."
Ooh, perfect. Prowl nodded, very pleased with this twist of fate. "Very well. Follow me." He twirled around on the spot, walking back the way he came at a brisk pace. The other mech – Meister – kept up well. Once at Prowls office, Prowl keyed in the pass codes and walked in.
He'd have to complain later. Now, he had a Personal Assistant to have fun with.
Now, what was it PA's did again?
Meister functioned well as a PA. Very well. Prowl didn't know how he functioned without him.
What Prowl especially liked was that Meister played along with his advances and that on numerous occasions they had shared a berth. Yes, that he most certainly enjoyed.
Now, with his systems rumbling, he indulged Meister with a few more moments of lazing around in berth, allowing the mech to place his helm on his own chest. Normally such intimacy with others was frowned upon – who had time for this autobot nonsense – but Prowl had long ago destroyed the surveillance cameras in his quarters and nobody would ask.
It was in this moment of weakness when suddenly Meister spun around and pinned Prowl and his arms to the berth. In his hand was an energon blade that was humming with life, glowing dangerously close to Prowls throat. Meisters visor turned to that same stunning blue as the mech in his office, and the silver gave way to a black and white paint job. Prowl snarled. That's where he recognised him. And now that he could get a better look, he could place a name to the face.
"Jazz" He hissed, optics narrowing in distate.
"Sorry 'bout this. Ah could yet ya live, but yah've seen meh."
Prowl barked out a laugh. "You were planning on letting me live? How rich."
"Yah not so bad. 'Sides, Ah got what Ah needed from ya."
"An autobot feeling sympathy for a decepticon? My my, you really are an odd one." Jazz's visor darkened and his mouth pulled down into a frown. The sound of an alarm startled them both. Neither were expecting it, and Jazz turned around to glare at the door before returning his attention to Prowl.
"Change a' plan. Ah'll let ya live – fer now." And with that he slunk away like a panther from Prowl towards the door, palming it open before sprinting away.
He'd got Prowl and he'd got Prowl good. Prowl would never admit to Meister being Jazz as they'd worked so closely together and yet he hadn't noticed. If he said anything – if anyone did – he wasruined. Prowl clenched his fists and ground his denta together. Giving an angered shout, he snatched his blaster from the shelf and stormed out of his quarters, intent on putting a few bullets through Jazz's helm.
Originally requested by Lair of the Twisted Muses!
Originally from 'Oneshots and Drabbles' but I've decided to do what I'm doing for everything else that has multiple chapters - lump them all together into one place.
Sorry it's taken so long for me to do this, I promised that I'd do it months ago.