Update: I have combined several of the "Firsts" stories here as "Ensemble." The number was getting big enough to overwhelm my story list. I apologize for making it harder to sort and find the stories from the search engines, but I feel this is best. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the stories I combined here, and I apologize for wiping out your comments in the process. I assure you that I greatly appreciate your feedback. (12/12/09)
Title: Firsts: Mirage and Jazz
Author: Mirage Shinkiro (with pl2363)
Rating: T
Warnings: mech/mech kissing, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: G1. After sabotaging the Nemesis and sending it into the sea, Mirage is depressed over being unable to return to Cybertron, and Jazz tries to comfort him.
A/N, explanation: This is another in a series of one shots about various couples, all of them surrounding a first kiss. Based on an RP with pl2363 and beta read by her as well. For … er, I can't remember who requested Mirage now. Oh, well. He's one of my original favorite characters, obviously, so he was going to show up no matter what.
oOoOo
Firsts: Mirage and Jazz
From a ledge etched into Mt. St. Hilary, Mirage relaxed in the cool evening air and stared into the twilight. Earth's sky had grown navy blue with the receding of the sun, and foreign constellations dotted the heavens, sparkling red, yellow, and white. In the distance, insects Hound had called 'crickets' chirped to one another, and a hawk dipped through the air in a lazy circle, looking for a meal. He knew Hound found the world beautiful, but when Mirage had sabotaged the Nemesis the day before, it'd underscored to him their inability to return to Cybertron. And Primus, how he missed home. He sighed through his intakes, saddened, only to pause at the sound of footsteps.
Glimpsing over his shoulder, Mirage saw Jazz walking along a path cut into the volcano by erosion, his radio playing human music. Humming quietly, he wandered along the upper ridge in the waning sunlight, but when his gaze fell on Mirage, he approached him and sat at his side. After turning off his radio, he smiled brightly. "Hey, there. What 'cha up to?"
Mirage gazed at his superior officer, unsurprised that he'd check on him. Jazz always looked after his Special Ops mechs. "Good evening, sir." He turned to stare at the flat stretch of desert that marred the otherwise densely forested landscape. Did he dare to be truthful? He smirked to himself. As if lying to Jazz would do any good. He made it his mission to understand soldiers' psychology. "I suppose it wouldn't surprise you if I said I was wondering where Cybertron is in comparison to here."
Glancing at the sky, Jazz seemed mesmerized by the stars. "'Sir,'" he repeated absently. "Do me a favor. When we're off duty, drop the 'sir' stuff, 'kay?"
Mirage pondered the request, studying Jazz's face as he did so. He'd never stopped to consider his crewmates, save Hound, who had ignored his aloof demeanor stubbornly until they'd become friends. However, despite his arrogant reputation, Mirage was too practical to judge anyone based on anything other than their abilities and actions. Even in the elite world of turbofox hunting, a pretty face and esteemed family heritage meant nothing if a 'bot was too stupid or careless to watch where he or she pointed the rifle. "As you wish, Jazz."
Jazz turned to give him a small smile. "I honestly have no clue which way Cybertron is." He returned to staring at their view. "But at least this planet is interesting to look at, don't ya think? I mean, if we're gonna be stuck someplace, this is way better than some other rocks we could've landed on, huh?"
Tilting his head, Mirage studied the profile. Of all his crewmates, Jazz was the most cultured, especially in regards to music. As Mirage gazed at him, he realized Jazz also had the coveted 'pretty face': his black helm framed his soft grey face nicely, and the electric blue of the specialty visor underscored his fine features, even though it hid his optics. "I suppose," he finally replied, "although I suspect you are far more adaptable than I. More than anyone I have ever met, you seem to find the good in everything." He glanced away and frowned, wondering at his openness with Jazz. "Perhaps I shouldn't admit it, but Towers' society practiced harsh critique instead."
"Sounds like ya didn't like living in the most prestigious sect of society." Jazz propped up his knees and rested his elbows on them. "I have to admit I always looked at those Towers and wondered what it was like inside. They were so pretty on the outside to rest of us."
Mirage paused, pondering whether he should elaborate, but in the end, no one except Hound ever asked him about it. Or cared. Mostly, they just seemed to hate him, and he knew his less-than-effusive personality didn't help. He decided to take Hound's repeated advice—"Open up and talk to people!"—and answer the implied question. "I loved it. I hated it." He sighed for the second time that night, pinning his gaze on the now-black sky with its multitude of twinkling lights. A cool breeze whipped over his plating, making him shiver. He propped up his knees as well and wrapped his arms around his legs. "I enjoyed traveling with friends, dancing at parties, and hunting. Seemingly endless credits kept me freshly painted and outfitted with the newest rifle. But there was a certain emptiness to it all, and snide gossips always stood in the corners at every social event, whispering and sneering."
"Ya know, gossips weren't confined to the Towers." Jazz gave him a small smile, then dropped his knees, stretching his legs out before him and leaning back on his palms. "Ya realize that, right?"
Watching him, Mirage wished that the visor didn't hide so much of his expression. "Indeed. But everyone always saw the world of the Towers as posh, with overflowing energon and ritzy parties. What they didn't see was the way so-called friends would backstab you, criticize you, and spread rumors about you." He paused, considering Jazz's laidback personality, and found himself envious of his easy charm. For a moment, he saw Jazz as unreal and untouchable as his own social world had been at times and reached out a hand, as though touching him would assure him Jazz was real. Coming back to himself, he dropped his hand abruptly and stared at the horizon. Weaving headlights in the distance announced the return of a patrol team, by the looks of it a racing set of twins.
"Our little hellions return," Jazz murmured. After watching the twins for a klik, he reached over and patted Mirage's shoulder. "I don't doubt the Towers 'bots could be ugly, but I bet they had some pretty nice bands play at those parties. I used to save up for dozens of orns to see the bands at the local clubs."
Mirage grimaced. "Well, sometimes. Depended on whose party it was." He gave Jazz a sideways glance and let himself smile. "Some of those old rod-up-the-aft mechs and femmes would only hire symphonies that played classical music." He snickered at his own crassness. "Not that I didn't like classical music, but I enjoyed variety. And some of those 'bots acted like hearing new music would break their audios." He shook his head, his gaze falling on the racing Twins, who were weaving around each other as they neared the Ark's entrance. They'd left a series of hourglass-shaped tracks in the dirt and sand that even his optics had trouble seeing. He was reminded of some of his more adventurous friends.
"I remember this mech named Sidewinder," Mirage continued. "He absolutely hated classical music, but his creators never allowed anything else be played in their home. So he let them hire a symphony for his coming-of-age party, but then paid them behind his creators' backs to play symphonic arrangements of his favorite songs." He laughed at the memory. "Oh, you should have seen the look on their faceplates when they began playing the first few notes of 'Kissing under the Stars'! I thought—" Mirage cut himself off abruptly as the memory slipped away from him, replaced instead by the image of Sidewinder's and his creators' charred remains, incinerated in a 'Con attack. He lowered his head and bit his bottom lip as the pain burned through his circuits.
To Mirage's surprise, Jazz moved close to him and tentatively wrapped an arm around his shoulders. After the initial touch, his hand drifted to the center of Mirage's back and began stroking his armor. "Ya know, it's okay to let it out. In fact, it's better to do it in little bursts. When ya hold it in it just festers, and then yer no good to anyone, especially yerself."
Mirage started to tense up, but the gentle touch and the kind voice made it impossible as Jazz continued the gentle massage along the center of his back. He had never been physically affectionate, and he'd never received much affection, either. The Towers had been a world of glass, as though everyone were off-limits except during interfacing. Irritated by the constraints placed on him by a society that no longer even existed, Mirage purposely turned into the touch, dipping his shoulder and lowering his head to Jazz's shoulder. The arm around him felt warm and comforting.
"Primus, Jazz," he whispered. "I don't even know where to begin." He stared forward listlessly, his gaze moving past the angled view of Jazz's front chassis and landing on clump of dirt beyond Jazz's thigh. Wilted, bug-eaten weeds lay flat on the clump's surface. "I see their faces when I recharge," he continued, unable to stop himself now that he'd started. "Optics darkened or cracked. Mouths hanging open. Chassis burned, limbs torn off. Twisted steel beams and bent doors among the rubble. I can even still hear the scream of Seeker engines zooming overhead and smell burnt wires and soured energon." He snorted, suddenly hating himself. "What the slag am I saying? Every one of us has seen the same thing, and usually they saw their homes destroyed like that, too." He shivered, caught somewhere between pain and disgust. "I'm no different on that count." His tone turned acidic. Bitter. "Sorry for whining."
Jazz wrapped his arm back over Mirage's shoulders and gave him another gentle hug. "Just 'cause we have all seen it doesn't mean it has any less impact on us each as individuals. Don't trivialize it like that." He pulled Mirage closer, as though he wished to infuse him with his peace or strength. As though the warmth of contact could chase away ghosts.
"I suppose." Mirage paused, feeling a slow increase of warmth from Jazz's armor. Is he actually enjoying holding me? Surprised, he lifted his head and gazed at the face now so close to his own. A small frown downturned Jazz's lips, and Mirage knew enough about him to assume he wouldn't be taken advantage of. Still, in that moment, he was struck by how easily affectionate Jazz was, how kind, how handsome. And he wanted, more than anything, to have a connection to life, to have a reason to be alive. Mind made up, he slowly reached out, giving Jazz plenty of time to pull away, and ran his fingers across his cheek and jaw before capturing his chin. "Would you mind . . . ?" He let the question trail off and leaned in, brushing his lips over Jazz's.
Jazz captured his lips gracefully, molding them together. His energy field flared into Mirage's as he softly sucked his bottom lip, and he shifted his arm, pulling Mirage against him. Mirage obliged him, straddling his lap. He wasn't surprised to find Jazz was an excellent kisser, but he had underestimated the effect on himself. With the warm plating against his, the soft but insistent lips on his, Mirage had to swallow a moan. He ran his arms around Jazz's neck, his circuits tingling as the heat of arousal rushed through his circuits.
Gently nipping at Mirage's lower lip, Jazz swept his glossa teasingly against his, as though asking for permission to enter. Mirage gasped involuntarily, letting him in, and ran his own glossa against Jazz's. Unable to stop himself, Mirage moaned into the kiss, enchanted by the warmth invading his mouth, and pressed against Jazz's chassis. Arching into him, Jazz enveloped his mouth, their glossae entwining. Hands splayed over Mirage's back, and their frames rubbed against one another, sending a ripple over his sensory net. Pulling back, Jazz slid his glossa over Mirage's one last time before letting it retreat, and then he once again molded their lips together, sealing the end of the kiss.
Jazz didn't pull away, leaving their faces close together, and nuzzled Mirage's nose. "That was not what I expected ya to do, although it was very nice." He grinned.
Mirage paused until he was sure he'd regained control of himself. He'd gone so long without someone to date, someone to love, that he felt like a starving sparkling grasping for energon. "I'm sorry if it shocked you," he whispered, worried that Jazz was only humoring him. He pulled back and glanced away, although he didn't relinquish his seat. "I realize you probably have no interest in me and probably don't want to be involved with someone whom you'll be giving orders to." He paused, feeling as though his spark was slowly being extinguished. "I just . . ." He lost his wording, finding himself unable to explain. "You're intelligent. And your understanding of culture and the arts is so keen. And . . ." He bit his lip again. He'd never been good at communicating his feelings, and the game that surrounded dating mystified him with all its seemingly random and overcomplicated rules. He drew his arms back from Jazz's neck and rested his hands on his chest, wondering if he should just climb off his lap and act like nothing happened.
Sweeping the back of his fingers against Mirage's cheek, Jazz gave him a gentle smile. He tipped Mirage's chin up so their gazes could meet. "No interest? Ya have a glitch or somethin'?" He wrapped the other arm firmly around the spy's back and leaned forward to lightly nuzzle Mirage's nose. "If anyone should feel unworthy here, it's me. My upbringin' wasn't exactly posh." Stretching up, he placed a reverent kiss to the bridge of Mirage's nose. "Sometimes feelings can't be expressed with words, and that kiss spoke volumes. Unless I'm readin' too much into it, and I have to admit I hope not."
Mirage felt a flash of warmth through his circuits at the kind words. He smiled sadly, letting his gaze rest on the number 4 painted on Jazz's chest. "Let me tell you something about nobility. As much as I resented the 'Cons for destroying my home, I was only a half-hearted solider," he said quietly. "Killing turbofoxes was one thing. Fellow Cybertronians is quite another." He reached up and ran delicate fingertips over the four. "I hadn't been in Iacon long when I was sent on a mission with Topdog. Do you remember him? He was even more grizzly than Ironhide." He snorted. "I was a total glitch to him, disgusted to be on a mission with a low-life grunt. We were ambushed, and he saved my life despite being badly injured in the process. I tried to thank him, and he smacked me in the face." Mirage lifted his gaze to meet Jazz's. "He told me that nobility is defined by one's actions." He reached up, running soft fingers over Jazz's cheek and jaw. "I've realized since then that he was right." He brushed his thumb over Jazz's lips and offered him a small smile.
Jazz gently kissed his thumb before smiling. "I remember him. Sounds like something he'd say." His optics dimmed behind his visor. "Ya know, life is a funny ol' thing. I never once expected to be anyplace in particular—just went with the flow, tried to enjoy the ride. In the middle of a war it's not an easy thing to do, but I decided a long time ago that no matter what I'll fight for our freedom but not lose sight of why we're fightin'." He reached up and cupped Mirage's cheek, pulling him close. Brushing his lips over Mirage's lightly, he spoke in a hushed voice. "How 'bout goin' on the ride with me? Ya know, getting to know me off duty?" As though determined to not allow to Mirage to immediately answer, he kissed him again. The contact caused their energy fields to ripple in other each other.
Caught in the sensation of the warm lips, Mirage lost himself in the feeling of having Jazz hold him, care for him, show him attention. The question hung in his mind, ringing in his processor, inviting him to have hope. He pulled back and considered the beautiful mech before him. "If you can bear to pair yourself with such an 'antisocial' mech, then I'd love to." He leaned in, capturing the soft lips that hovered so close to his and sucking Jazz's bottom lip gently. Jazz returned kiss, parting his lips and inviting Mirage the opportunity to invade this time. Feeling Jazz's lips part, Mirage delved inside, running his glossa along Jazz's and moaning faintly at the feeling.
Jazz hugged Mirage's frame close. With one hand, he kneaded Mirage's lower back, and with the other he reached up, slipping fingertips into the wiring under Mirage's shoulder strut. Those graceful hands caressing his back and teasing his chassis made Mirage's circuits burn, and he pressed closer, rubbing their bodies together. He shifted on Jazz's lap and captured his helm with both hands, loving the feel of their glossae meeting. So long . . . it had been too long. He let his hands wander, delicately stroking Jazz's armor and moving upward to his sensory horns. Unsure what effect his actions would have, Mirage caressed the appendages, letting his fingertips trace their shape, and for a moment he wondered what would happen if he ran his glossa over them instead. As though acting on the hidden desire, Mirage found himself capturing Jazz's glossa with his lips, releasing it slowly as he pulled back and enjoying the feel of it passing between his lips.
Jazz's frame lightly shuddered beneath him, and his fingers curled deeper in between seams on Mirage's frame as he broke the kiss. "Mirage? Ah, I think yer reaching my point of no return here. What do ya want? 'Cause I want more than just a good time."
Dazed, Mirage offlined his optics, panting in an attempt to cool his systems. "S-sorry." He leaned his forehead against Jazz's shoulder, embarrassed. "I wasn't trying to . . . I want more than just a quick 'facing."
Jazz cradled him, pulling his knees up to trap him against his chassis. He wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly, and rested his cheek against Mirage's helm, his frame emitting popping sounds as his systems cooled. "As much as I would be happy to keep going, I don't wanna move too fast. Hope yer okay with that."
"Of course," he said, willing himself to accept the kind caresses and let go of the mortification that echoed through his processor with the memory of his creators' voices. "What are you doing? Kissing the first 'bot to look your way? You know better than to behave in such a fashion! How could you be so uncouth?" Mirage impatiently batted away the recriminations. He'd known Jazz for vorns now, so it wasn't as though he'd thrown himself at a stranger. "I don't want to move too fast, either."
"Good, I'm glad we agree," Jazz murmured. He glided his fingers in little circles against Mirage's plating. "If it's okay, I just wanna sit here and hold ya for a while." He turned his head and kissed Mirage's helm, then rested his cheek against his head again. "It feels not only good, but also right."
Onlining his optics, Mirage rested his chin on Jazz's shoulder. "That would be nice," he whispered. Almost as an afterthought, he braced his feet against the ground and pushed on Jazz, toppling them over.
"Whoa!" Jazz chuckled, but he didn't resist. "Warn a mech, would ya?" He settled on the ground and relaxed, holding Mirage close.
"Sorry," Mirage replied, then curled into Jazz's frame, tucking his face against his neck and resting one hand on his chest. The faint vibration of Jazz's spark under his armor tingled against his palm, and he smiled, relaxing as well. The night breeze wafted over their bodies, but in the circle of Jazz's arms, Mirage found he couldn't be chilled. From the corner of his optics, he could see the thousands of stars piercing Earth's atmosphere, their yellow and white light glittering. He exhaled slowly, having not realized he had been retaining air in his intakes, and realized he couldn't spend the night a better way that this: under the stars with Jazz.
Postscript: Pl2363 and I enjoyed writing this pairing so well we're considering writing a full-length story.
Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and/or faving my "Firsts" stories!
For those requesting MiragexHound, I've already written a full-length story for them that I'm editing now, so I may not be doing a "Firsts" for them. The list thus far:
"Firsts: Prowl and Sideswipe"—posted
"Firsts: Wheeljack and Ratchet"—posted
"Firsts: Prowl and Jazz"—posted
"Firsts: Hot Rod and Sunstreaker"—posted
"Firsts: Mirage and Jazz"—here
"Firsts: Prime and Elita—forthcoming
"Firsts: Skyfire and Perceptor—forthcoming
"Firsts: Thundercracker and Skywarp—forthcoming