Title: Heavy in Your Arms- Invisible Lines
Author: pl2363
Series: Transformers AU/G1
Rating: M (overall for the fic), T (for this chapter)
Notes: Jazz falls in love with his best friend, which seems perfect until Prowl admits to a past mistake. Will they each come to terms with how they view love and overcome the obstacles in their path to a perfect union? Or is there even such a thing as 'perfect'?
AU setting, based in G1.
Title borrowed from "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence and the Machine, which is the main inspirational song for this fic.
"You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now, here he comes" – 'When you Were Young' by The Killers
Everything in the room was still, except for Jazz. He carefully disentangled himself from Smokescreen's grip, moving to sit on the edge of the berth. He glanced back at his interfacing partner, who was still deeply recharging. Everyone needed to blow off steam now and again. Last night it had been Smokescreen that comm'ed Jazz after a particularly rough field mission. Being trapped with Tracks for an orn-long spy mission in New York City had frayed the good-natured mood Smokescreen normally sported. After a couple intense rounds interfacing, Smokescreen was back to his usual happy-go-lucky self, though.
Jazz heaved a quiet sigh through his intakes.
As nice as good overload felt, it wasn't what Jazz truly wanted. He'd been searching for the mech that would be the love of his life. Sadly, his search had been fruitless. He liked Smokescreen, but he didn't love him.
Jazz's parents had been very much in love. Before their deaths they created five sparklings in all. Jazz grew up as the second youngest amongst his siblings. One parent had been Praxian, the other a dockworker from Iacon. They met when his Praxian father ran away from home to the large city state of Iacon, and his fathers described it, they had fallen in love the moment their gazes met. Stellar cycles later, his entire family was long gone, taken by the war that consumed everything around them. Despite the pain of loss and all he'd been through, Jazz still held fast to the notion that one day he'd fall in love at first sight, too.
Of course, Jazz's hope for finding that love was on hold now that they were on Earth. He saw the same mechs day in and day out, and so far he hadn't fallen for a single one of them. He'd have to wait until they returned to Cybertron before resuming his search.
Heaving yet another sigh, Jazz got to his feet and then silently slipped out of Smokescreen's room.
In a daze, he wandered down the corridor toward the command deck for his supervisory shift. He vaguely groaned at how stiff his joints felt. He'd only managed to get a little bit of recharge time thanks to the previous evening's activities.
Stepping onto the deck, he spotted his best friend, Prowl, standing in the center overseeing his small 3rd shift crew. Their friendship had been forged early in the war, and unlike most things in Jazz's life, which had been transitory in one way or another, Prowl had been a constant, stable influence that Jazz relied on to keep him grounded.
He directed a grin at Prowl. "'Sup, man?"
Prowl glanced over at Jazz. "Hello-" His gaze darted over Jazz's frame. "Um…"
Brawn and Red Alert, both turned in their seats to look over at Jazz, too.
"Nice paint transfer you got there," Brawn said with a laugh.
Jazz looked down, and saw scuffs of red and blue across his front. Frag. He'd been so out of it, he forgot to check to see if he should hit the washracks before his shift. He sheepishly smiled as he looked back up at his best friend. "Heh, not very professional, eh?"
Prowl's doorwings perked up on his back as he raised an optic ridge at Jazz. "I'll stay on for the shift change while you get yourself cleaned up."
"Thanks, man. I owe ya." Jazz glanced at Brawn and Red Alert. Both had already turned their attention back to the bank of monitors. Brawn was chuckling to himself and Red Alert kept shaking his head. Oh well, Jazz thought. Certainly could be worse… He smiled brightly at Prowl. "Be back in a jiff!"
Prowl frowned. "What is a 'jiff'?"
Jazz couldn't help but laugh a little. "Human expression that means I'll be right back, man."
"Ah. I see." Prowl then offered a small, reserved-looking smile to Jazz. "I will see you in a 'jiff' then."
Jazz snorted a laugh at Prowl's use of the word then left the command deck, quickly making a b-line for the washracks.
Not wanting to keep Prowl waiting, Jazz hopped into the first stall and turned on the sprayer. The warm water washing over his frame felt good, helping to loosen his stiff joints. He put some solvent in his hands and busily worked to remove the smudges of paint.
"Jiff…" Jazz said to himself, chuckling. Prowl was so funny sometimes, often unintentionally so.
His mind wandered to their first encounter with one another. Circumstances that he had no idea would lead him to the close friendship they shared or even his alignment with the Autobots…
._._._.
It had been almost an entire orn since Jazz had his last real serving of energon. His systems were straining and he was tired of rummaging through garbage receptacles only to find barely a sip's worth in discarded energon containers.
He needed to steal some unsuspecting mech or femme's card and use the credits to get a few cubes to tide him over. Unfortunately, recharging in the back alleys of Iacon meant no washracks. He glanced down at his frame and frowned at the greasy smudges.
"Hmmm…" Jazz murmured as he glanced around the alley he'd called 'home' for the last orn. A small cloth poked out from under an empty, discarded container. He knelt down and pulled it out. It was dirty, but he'd make due. He carefully used the cleanest parts of the cloth to remove what he could of the dirt on his frame. When he was done, he strolled out into the busy street and made his way toward the shopping district.
Iacon had become the central area for the new military force, the Autobots. Officers and soldiers that made modest incomes would come to the shopping district to pick up special grades of energon, or mods. Many were not originally from Iacon like Jazz. That made most of them easy pickings.
Having grown up here, Jazz knew the city better than most. His parents had passed away just before the war, and Jazz watched his two eldest siblings join the Autobots only to attend each of their funeral services shortly after. His other two brothers died when the Decepticons made a push into Iacon, destroying the southern area of city where they had grown up in. Jazz had narrowly escaped, and lost not only the remainder of his family, but also his home and what few belongings he had as a result. Already of meager means, Jazz refused to join the Autobots or Decepticons after watching all his siblings die. Instead, he chose to scrape by, living on the streets.
Just then, his thoughts ground to a halt as his visual scanning netted him a Praxian mech that he watched walk into one of the energon bars. Praxians almost always had plenty of credits in their accounts and tended to be friendly to strangers.
Jazz wandered in, hoping he'd cleaned up enough to not draw attention to himself from the staff. He spotted the black and white Praxian just inside at the bar and walked up to him.
Jazz sported a visor not only for the 'look' but in order to hide his optics and their wandering focus. With a quick glance around, he noticed the mech had his card laid out on the bar top to pay for his energon. "Hey there," Jazz said after lightly tapping his target's shoulder and half sitting in the seat beside him.
The mech turned in his seat and stared at Jazz for a long moment before answering. Jazz was instantly struck by the deep red chevron and lovely light blue optics that were so intently focused on him. This Praxian was rather handsome…"Yes?" the Praxian finally replied.
"I was wonderin' if ya knew where the local messagin' office is?" Jazz asked. "Waitin' to hear from my brother. He's an Autobot." Jazz glanced at the mech's upper arm, and nodded to it. "Like you are, I see." Maybe it was macabre, but Jazz liked referencing his brothers in his scams. In a way, it made him feel like he was still connected to them.
The Praxian turned in his seat and pointed as he spoke. "Two blocks on the left side from here."
"Ah, cool, thanks!" Jazz replied cheerily.
His target hadn't even noticed him swipe the card off the bar top when he turned to point out the door. Jazz internally smirked as he quickly palmed the card and slipped it into his subspace pocket while he strode out of the bar. Once on the street, he immediately turned down a side alley and made his way toward his favorite energon bar across town to finally get himself a few cubes of much needed fuel. Maybe once his fuel tank was full, he'd stop by the public wash and get a good scrub down, too.
After making a clean get away, Jazz sat down at one of the outdoor tables next to the energon bar. He'd bought 5 cubes and subspaced all but one. Lifting the fresh cube of fuel up, he leaned his head back and greedily drank it down. As he lowered the nearly empty cube, his gaze landed on a mech who'd apparently sat down across from him at the small outdoor table.
It was the Praxian he'd stolen the card from.
Dumbfounded, all Jazz could do was stare at the black and white mech. In all the time he'd been stealing, no one had ever caught him. No one. He'd woven through back alleys and lesser-used roadways, so how in the name of Primus did this mech find him?
"If you are done with my card, I'd like to have it back now," the Praxian said in a matter of fact tone.
"Uh…" Jazz set the energon cube down on the table. "How did ya find me?"
"I followed you. Now if you don't mind, I'd like my card back."
"Followed me? I took High Guard overpass… No one uses that thing! It's old and nearly fallin' apart. B'sides, I didn't see no one behind me," Jazz replied, still in shock this mech had found him.
"I know. I took alternative roads while tailing you." The Praxian's doorwings perked up as he extended his white hand out at Jazz. "I really don't want to ask again…"
Jazz huffed air from his intakes. "All right, one sec." He fished around in his sub-space pocket and pulled out a stack of cards he'd stolen from various mechs and femmes, riffling through them looking for the one he'd just used.
The Praxian withdrew his hand as his gaze dropped down to the pile of cards. "You stole all of those?"
"Yeah. I only buy a few cubes of energon and sometimes get a wash. After that I don't use 'em. I only steal what I need." Jazz located the correct card and placed it on the table next to the nearly emptied energon cube. "There it is, and, uh, sorry."
"May I ask why you haven't simply joined the Autobots? You do realize that you'd have credits and no need to worry about a life on the streets, right? Since your brother is already a member, I could see about having you placed in his unit—"
"My brothers are all dead. The two that joined up with you Autobots were killed in the line of duty." Jazz frowned deeply.
"I see." The Praxian's doorwings lowered as a small frown pulled at his lips. "I'm sorry for your loss."
It was odd, but hearing a stranger convey condolences felt good and terrible all at once. Jazz had spent a lot of time in denial, and those simple words brought the reality of his loss into painful focus. "Thanks. I miss 'em," he managed to choke out as a response.
The Praxian pulled an identification card from his subspace pocket and carefully placed it over top of the card with his credits. He then slid them toward Jazz. "Take my card and buy what you need. When you are done, return it to me at the base."
"What?" Jazz replied with a chuckle. "Ya got a set of circuits scrambled?"
The Praxian faintly canted his head at Jazz. "No. But I do I believe someone like you would make an excellent addition to the special ops core. Even with my training, I had a hard time following you. All I ask in return for use of my card is that you to take some time to consider joining the Autobot cause. While I understand you may carry anger about your siblings' deaths, no mech, especially one with your potential, should be left wasting away on the streets. You deserve more than the type of life you've carved out for yourself."
Jazz pushed his sadness inside down and then offered the Praxian a lopsided smile as he plucked the cards off the table. "Whatever." He glanced at the name on the identification card. "Prowl." He glanced up and grinned. "Fittin' name ya got there."
"Hm, I suppose so," Prowl replied. "And your name is?"
"Jazz."
"Well, Jazz, come and see me when you are ready," Prowl replied as he stood up. "I do hope to see you sooner rather than later, though." With that, he turned and walked away.
Jazz stared at his retreating form. "What a weird mech."
._._._._.
Smiling at his memory of first meeting Prowl, Jazz finished drying himself off. Prowl was an oddball in some ways but he was also a good mech, and Jazz would be forever grateful for meeting him that day. They had quickly become close friends once Jazz finally joined the Autobots. The war had torn away his entire spark-related family, but over time Jazz felt that mechs he'd met like Prowl, Bumblebee and Blaster had become his new family.
Now if only he could find his true love, then things would finally feel complete.
…
Stellar cycles of practice made it easy to hide the emotional turmoil that Prowl often faced. To everyone around him he was a mech in control, a mech that had it together all the time. But inside he fought against constant self-doubt, worry and his often spark-crushing loneliness.
Prowl stared at the raw data collected during Tracks' and Smokescreen's latest mission. After handing over the command deck to Jazz, Prowl really should have returned to his quarters to get some rest. Unfortunately, the mental images he drew of Jazz and Smokescreen after seeing those paint transfer marks wouldn't leave his processor, so he had returned to his office to seek out a distraction.
It wasn't even the interfacing part that bothered him. It was the 'who' that had been involved. Prowl held many secrets that he never voiced to a single mech. One of the largest he held very close to his spark was the fact he was in love with Jazz.
Every time Jazz would share about his personal life, like his recent arrangement with Smokescreen, Prowl's spark would burn in his chest with jealousy and hurt. He knew Jazz was on personal mission to find a bondmate, and due to a youthful mistake, Prowl could never offer his spark in that way. Sadly, his spark was already locked in a bond to a mech he didn't love, so instead of ever voicing his growing affection for Jazz, he remained mute on the subject. No matter how much it hurt, he refused to let on how he truly felt, settling for the close friendship they shared.
"Prowl?"
He looked up to see his leader standing in the doorway of his office. The tone of Optimus' query indicated worry.
"Yes, sir?" Prowl replied.
"I thought you took the 3rd shift. Shouldn't you be in your quarters recharging?" Optimus asked.
Prowl nodded. "Yes, but I wanted to quickly check over the intell from Tracks' and Smokescreen's mission."
Optimus' helm tilted to one side. "They returned yesterday evening. Why not just wait until you have their full reports?"
"I suppose that's logical," Prowl replied. He hoped Optimus wouldn't press too much more, despite knowing that the probability was low.
"Personally, I prefer my tactician to be rested and in a clear state of mind," Optimus replied, with an edge of teasing in his voice.
Prowl's doorwings lowered against his back as resigned himself to the fact that Optimus wasn't leaving until he did. "Of course." He stood up and picked up the datapad with the raw intell and walked to the door.
Optimus blocked the door and held out his hand. "I'll take the intell report and look it over for you, all right?"
Prowl looked at the datapad in his hands and internally sighed as he handed it over to Optimus. "Thank you, sir."
Defeated, Prowl walked back to his quarters. Once inside, he heaved a heavy sigh of air through his intakes as he sat down on his berth. Without the datapad of intell as a distraction, more unwanted mental images filtered through his processor and he winced. Having silently suffered in this lovesick state for so long he'd hoped it would fade or go away with time, but it seemed to only get worse.
Often, Prowl would try and reason his way out of his feelings. Remind himself that Jazz was his opposite in so many ways. Jazz always followed his spark and personal convictions, often times without a single consideration for the outcome. That sort of impulsive nature often landed him in trouble. Prowl wondered how a mech that was so different than he was could also be so attractive to him. Prowl came to same conclusion he always did: Emotions weren't logical. Especially love.
Prowl curled up on his berth, and dimmed his optics. His only choice to escape his circling thoughts would be to recharge.
._._._.
"Sir?"
Prowl glanced up from his desk to see a young mech standing in the doorway to his office. From the mark he bore on his shoulder, Prowl knew he was one of the security officers for the base. "Yes?"
"We currently have a non-military mech down in the holding area. He had your ID card and said he was supposed to meet with you," the young security mech explained. "Are you aware of such a mech possessing your ID card?"
"Is he black and white with a visor?" Prowl asked.
"Yes, sir. That's him."
"I'll be right down to retrieve him," Prowl replied.
The young mech nodded, then left.
Prowl was surprised, but also pleased that the mech who'd stolen his card had finally come to the base. It had been almost six orns since their encounter. The mech's talent for both misdirection and his out-of-the-way escape route impressed Prowl. He hadn't noticed the missing card until Jazz was long out of sight. He only picked up his trail by accessing the city's security footage. Such a mech would be extremely dangerous in the hands of the Decepticons.
As he stood up, Prowl wondered why he was here now, though. Six orns was just long enough to make Prowl think this mech had no intention of returning the card or seeing him again. Prowl closed his office door and headed toward the elevator, intent on finding out.
The card had only been used once more for a wash. Prowl found this mech quite unconventional, having the decency to only steal what he needed. Most thieves stole all they could, which made him all the more curious to Prowl.
Stepping off the elevator, he spied his visitor. Jazz sat on the bench next to the security office surrounded by three armed officers. He was leaned back against the wall in a very casual posture with his legs extended and arms crossed over his middle.
"This mech will need a temporary pass," Prowl said in a commanding tone as he approached.
"Of course, sir," one of the officers replied as he ducked into the nearby office.
Jazz didn't move from his seated position. Instead, he offered Prowl a lopsided grin and waved. "Heya, Prowl."
"Hello," Prowl replied.
The security officer emerged with a temporary badge and handed it to Jazz. "What's this thing do?" Jazz asked as he sat forward and fingered the square item etched with symbols.
"Allows you access. It's magnetic. Place it on your chest, and please follow me," Prowl replied.
"Sure thing," Jazz replied as he stood up and stuck the badge to his chest. He waved at the security officers. "Later fellas!"
They looked less than amused. Prowl could see the judgment in their optics regarding the somewhat grungy appearance of his visitor, but Prowl could care less what they thought.
Prowl turned and walked Jazz to the elevator. Once inside, Prowl focused his gaze on his visitor. "I had assumed you were not—" Prowl stopped speaking when he noticed Jazz's fingers were twitching in an erratic manner, which was a side effect from not properly fueling. Prowl hit the elevator controls to change their destination to the commissary.
"Weren't what?" Jazz asked.
"Coming by to see me," Prowl finished.
The door to the elevator opened to the commissary. He watched Jazz's visor briefly flash brighter. "Gonna fuel me up, eh?"
"Yes," Prowl said as he walked off the elevator with Jazz in tow. After they each had a container of energon they sat at one of the tables.
Jazz didn't hesitate, quickly gulping down the energon. He set the empty container down and grinned at Prowl. "Thanks. Got some good energon here."
Prowl nodded, and then noticed Jazz's hands were still twitching. He slid his serving toward his visitor. "Have mine if you like."
The grin faded as Jazz stared at the offered cube. "I'm okay."
"Your hands would argue otherwise." Prowl pushed the cube closer to Jazz.
Jazz then pulled back, hiding both hands in his lap under the table. "Actually, uh, I'm here not just to return yer card, but ah, see if there'd be anyway ya could help me out."
"Help you out?" Prowl asked.
"Yeah. Ah… I haven't been upgraded by a medic in, like, I dunno, forever. And my hands are acting weird, plus I can't seem properly transform anymore. I get stuck in sequences, but it ain't like I got access to a medic." Jazz frowned as he spoke. "Yer the only mech I know that might be able to help me out. But if ya don't want to, I totally get that. It's cool."
Prowl stared at Jazz for a long moment. This mech was in need and had come to a virtual stranger for help. One he had robbed from, in fact. Still, that strange lack of logic aside, Prowl would never turn away a mech in need. Perhaps Jazz realized that, which would be he asked. "Sub-space that cube, and come with me." Prowl pushed to stand.
Jazz's visor flashed brighter. "Yer gonna help me out?"
"Yes."
"Do I gotta join the Autobots or something?" Jazz asked.
"No. You have asked me for help, and I will do what I can to assist you," Prowl replied.
"Oh, wow. Yer too nice, ya know that?" Jazz said as he stood up, his grin returning to his lips.
Everything about Jazz seemed to scream contradiction. He stole from Prowl, but only to tend his barest needs. He asked for help, but expected to have to pay for it. It was actually starting to make Prowl's processor ache a bit. "And you are very odd."
Jazz laughed.
Prowl realized at that moment Jazz might not ever make sense to him. "Let's go to medbay, shall we?"
"Sounds good. And, ah, thank you." Jazz lightly patted Prowl's arm. Taken off guard by the friendly touch, Prowl's doorwings tensed and perked up. Jazz glanced at the doorwings. "Sorry to startle ya."
"I am not used to anyone being friendly with me." Prowl composed himself, steadying his doorwings. "This way."
"No one's friendly with ya? Why not?" Jazz sounded genuinely surprised.
"Many find me to be detached and cold," Prowl replied.
Jazz frowned. "Really?"
"We can discuss irrelevant topics in medbay while you are being tended to," Prowl said as he gestured to the elevator.
Jazz burst out laughing. "All righty then."
'What a truly odd mech,' Prowl thought.
…
Sitting in the lounge with his friends, Jazz was having a great time. Off shift, Jazz always went to the lounge to hang out with whoever was there. Tonight Blaster, Smokescreen and the twins were making good company while they flipped through human television signals and chatted.
"So Jazz, I heard from Red you showed up to the command deck with a new paint job this morning," Blaster said with a huge grin.
"You didn't go the washracks?" Smokescreen asked as he directed a frown at Jazz.
"I was kinda tired, man. Forgot to even check," Jazz replied.
Sideswipe burst out laughing. "I bet the look on Prowl's face was priceless!"
"Aww, leave Prowl alone," Jazz replied.
"Unlike you two idiots, Jazz can get away with things like that when it comes to Prowl," Blaster said.
"That's not fair." Sideswipe directed a pouted frown at Jazz. "How the frag did you manage to become friends with Prowl of all mechs, anyway?," Sideswipe asked.
"Just happened," Jazz said with a grin.
Both twins gave Jazz a look of disbelief.
Smokescreen shook his head. "Only you would be able to charm Prowl into being your friend," Smokescreen said with a small smile.
"Prowl's bossy and annoying. Plus, he's boring. All he does is work all the time," Sideswipe said, shaking his head. "You are way too cool to be friends with him, Jazz."
They really had no idea what Prowl was truly like, assuming his demeanor on duty was the same as off. He also knew for the twins, Prowl had been their main disciplinarian, which colored their view of him. From the moment he first spoke to Prowl, he knew that he was a good mech. And when Jazz had been in need, Prowl had been there for him, despite the fact they didn't know one another at all.
"If ya gave him half a chance, I bet you'd be surprised," Jazz replied.
Smokescreen raised an optic ridge at Jazz. "I don't know about that."
Blaster shifted his gaze to Jazz and smiled. "I think it's nice you're friends with him. Otherwise, no one would be."
As much as Jazz didn't want to admit it, Blaster was right. Prowl's detached and distant behavior kept everyone away. Even those that attempted to get closer to him were kept at a healthy distance. Jazz wasn't really sure how he'd manage to scale the walls around Prowl, but he had. Maybe they were just fated to be friends by the circumstances that led them to meet one another?
._._._._.
Slowly, Jazz onlined. He dimly lit his optics and glanced around the small room he'd been placed in after being repaired by the medic. Whatever was wrong with him required the CMO, Ratchet, to knock him out. A quick check told him all his systems were back in tip-top shape. He felt better than he had in stellar cycles.
Jazz fingered the berth, realizing he'd not recharged in one in a very, very long time. It was nice not to have that awful stiffness that came with recharging on the ground. The door to the room was open and he heard the faint sound of footsteps just outside. From the angle the berth was set in the room, he couldn't see who was there. Frowning, he sat up in the berth and leaned to the side trying to see, but to no avail.
Then he heard another mech walk up with much heavier steps.
"He was in bad shape. Too much longer and some of the system malfunctions would have been impossible to repair," the medic who had treated him said.
"I appreciate your diligent care," Prowl's disembodied voice replied.
"Another thing, Prowl. He matches the description of a thief the city guards have been searching for. Ironhide said his security staff only let you take him 'cause…Well, 'cause you're you." Intense disapproval laced Ratchet's voice. "I really don't like harboring unsavory mechs in my medbay."
"Once discharged, I will remove him from your medbay," Prowl replied.
"Look, Prowl, he could be a spy for the 'Cons for all you know. You gonna show him the door once I release him?" Ratchet asked.
"What I chose to do if of no consequence to you," Prowl said.
"And what if I refuse for him to be released to you? Technically, he's my guest at the moment, and I don't want any part in letting some street hustler, or possibly a 'Con spy, inside what's supposed to be a secure facility. I should call Ironhide up here to haul him off the base," Ratchet replied in a loud, gruff tone.
Jazz realized his presence here would only cause trouble for Prowl. After how nice Prowl had been to him, he felt compelled to protect his new friend. But what could he do? The medic sounded pretty upset. Suddenly, Jazz had an idea to hopefully diffuse the situation.
He slid off the berth and sauntered to the doorway. "Hey there, you two," Jazz said, giving them a little wave.
The arguing mechs turned their attention in his direction. Prowl's face gave away nothing, but Ratchet was clearly perturbed.
"So, ah, Prowl. Wanna take me down to wherever I gotta go to become one of y'all? An Autobot? I'm sure you already checked into my background and all that, right?" Jazz said with a smile.
Prowl's expressionless face flashed a momentary look of surprise. "Of course. And yes."
"He's a recruit?" Ratchet said, also looking surprised.
"Yep! Ol' Prowl here's gonna put me in some special unit," Jazz replied, his smile widening.
Ratchet looked back at Prowl. "You were?"
Prowl met the medic's gaze and he nodded.
"Why the frag do you have to be such a pain my aft?" Ratchet asked. "Would it kill you to clue the officers around you in once in a while? Giving us a heads-up wouldn't kill you. In fact not telling me makes me want to kill you!" Ratchet plucked the datapad chart from the rack next to the doorway, clicked a few screens on it, then shoved it into Prowl's hands. "He's cleared." He then looked at Jazz. "Good luck." With that, Ratchet stormed off.
"Wow. He don't like you, eh?" Jazz asked as he watched the medic go into his office and close the door.
"As I already stated, most are not friendly with me." Prowl glanced at the datapad in his grasp.
"Well, I like ya." Jazz playfully punched Prowl's arm.
Prowl's doorwings perked up and he quickly shifted his gaze to Jazz.
Jazz laughed. "Not the touchy-feely type?"
"Not especially, no. In your particular case, I will make an exception, though," Prowl replied.
"Cool! So. How does it feel?" Jazz asked.
Prowl canted his head. "How does what feel?"
Grinning, Jazz placed his hand on Prowl's shoulder. "To be my first friend here?"
The lack of expression on Prowl's face gave way to a small, subtle smile. "Your friend, hm?"
"Hey, once I decide on somethin' there ain't anythin' that'll change my mind 'bout it. Whether you like it or not, yer my friend now." For the first time in a very long time, Jazz had found someone he felt he could trust. Someone that was generous without pretense, like his family had been.
"You are a very interesting mech, Jazz." Prowl's smile fractionally widened. "It feels like I've gained quite a burden, but at the same time I'm very happy to carry it."
Prowl's words struck deep for Jazz. Despite their short time together, he recognized that it was a compliment. "Does this mean yer gonna carry me on yer back down the recruit office?" Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't tease Prowl.
Shaking his head, Prowl turned and started to cross medbay toward the exit. "Follow me."
Jazz happily followed Prowl out the door. After enduring so much loss, Jazz realized he'd lost his hope, too. Prowl's kindness had started to restore his sense of faith in his fellow mechs. Hopefully, there were more good mechs like him around.
._._._._.
Turned out, there were lots of awesome friendships to be forged. Jazz let his gaze flit across the room at his friends once more before settling his gaze on the big screen.
Blaster had the remote was changing channels as they chatted. He stopped changing channels when he found a movie that seemed to pique his interest and suddenly the room grew quiet as they watched in silence for a few minutes.
"This movie is kinda cheesy," Sideswipe commented.
"I like it! It's cute," Blaster replied.
"What's it called?" Jazz asked.
"'When Harry met Sally', and I agree, it's cheesy," Sunstreaker said with a deep frown.
"It's not that bad," Smokescreen said.
They watched the scene where the main male character confesses his love to the female one. Jazz might have liked it, if he thought 'best friends' could fall in love like that. "Seems pretty unrealistic to me."
"What do'ya mean?" Blaster asked as he looked over at Jazz.
"Best friends fallin' in love? Love should be like a sucker punch to the spark. You just know the moment ya see the one yer supposed to be with," Jazz replied.
Everyone in the room shot a disbelieving look in Jazz's direction.
"You're being serious?" Sideswipe asked.
"Yeah. That's how my creators fell fer each other," Jazz replied.
"Love happens when it happens, Jazz. First sight, after years of being friends… It totally depends on the circumstances," Blaster replied.
"Mirage and Hound were friends before they started seeing each other," Smokescreen pointed out.
"That's a pair I don't get," Jazz said, laughing. "They're sooo different."
"They're an odd couple, but I think sometimes that's what makes it fun. Someone different than ya to change the way you see things," Blaster replied.
"This whole conversation is stupid," Sunstreaker said as he snatched the remote controller from Blaster's grasp. "Let's find something cool to watch."
"You think that car show is on? The one that they do test runs on a track?" Sideswipe asked.
"I don't wanna watch some 'car show'," Blaster replied with a frown.
Their conversation then quickly veered to other topics and the rest of the evening was spent changing channels and joking around. When it finally got late, they all headed back to their respective quarters.
Hating the quiet of his room, Jazz dug through a container of datadiscs looking for a relaxing music mix to put on. Jazz's thoughts wandered back to their conversation about love. At first he'd dismissed his friend's opinions, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he had been looking at things one-sidedly.
Love happens when it happens…
Does love really 'just happen', like Blaster said? Jazz popped a mix into his computer console and sat down on his berth. In the movie, the best friends fell in love after several years. Best friends who were very different in personality. Much like his own friendship with Prowl. His thoughts then wandered, swirling around the idea of Prowl as more than just his best friend.
Prowl was actually very physically attractive. In fact, Jazz actually thought he was prettier than Smokescreen. His deep red chevron was very striking and his unusually light blue optics were gorgeous, but he was… Prowl. A quiet, reserved mech that didn't show any interest what-so-ever in anyone when it came to romance. Jazz frowned as he swung his legs up onto the berth and laid back. He realized that he'd never considered Prowl in that way, since his best friend never gave off those kinds of signals. In all the time he'd known Prowl, never once had he even mentioned dating anyone. That did strike Jazz as little odd.
Jazz then tried to imagine what seeing Prowl might be like. Taking him out to a concert, spending time talking late into the night, kissing him, what he might look like overloading—Jazz cut off his thoughts there, rubbing his face with one hand. "Am I that desperate? He's my best friend, for Primus' sake!" Prowl had been his friend for such a long time. Jazz's constant in an ever-changing world. The one mech that always accepted him as he was from the moment they'd met.
Nah, I'd never consider throwin' away a friendship that important for the chance at love, he thought to himself. Prowl's presence in his life often felt like the only truly stable thing he could rely on. He could tell his best friend anything and never worried about being judged. The only other mechs in his life he'd been that close to were his brothers. Jazz wondered if Prowl felt the same, though. For as much as Jazz confessed about his personal life, he realized that Prowl never told him anything about his own. They could talk at length about philosophy, the war they were caught up in or about the mental state of the crew, but never once had Prowl shared anything personal about himself. Jazz had no clue what his parents were like, or if he even had siblings.
Frowning, Jazz reached up and removed his visor, setting on the side table next to his berth. Prowl was an enigma is so many ways, but that didn't change how Jazz felt. He cared for Prowl as if he were family. Jazz rolled to his side, and offlined his optics. If love was something meant to happen, it would have happened long before now between them. They were best friends, end of story.
A/N- Well, this might take a year to complete like my last story, but I do have a handy-dandy outline and plans for this story to span about 10 chapters. I hope if you like this, you'll take the time to review, and thank you for taking the time to read.