Sorry I haven't updated in a while, and sorry that I am again doing something new instead of adding to an existing. I'm simply awful about that.

But his bunny bit me in the aft and wouldn't let go.

Warnings: Cuteness. Fluffy, adorable cuteness. I hate it and I love it.

Note: Volt energon is coffee. I noticed that no one else really had a good Cybertronian version of it that I've seen, so I made my own. It's not actually addictive, not like drugs are, but it's as good as human coffee. I really don't need to explain any more.

Also there are twenty four joors in a cycle, and they use military time because I'm by far too lazy to come up with proper Cybertronian time equivalents. Don't hate me for it, plz.

Tempo is Jazz's sire, if that's not obvious. The first time Prowl visited them, Tempo thought Prowl was there to arrest someone or was there with a warrant, since Jazz didn't bother to describe Prowl.

It was the start of the cycle, 0745 joors to be exact, and he still wasn't there. Prowl had been waiting for at least thirty breems already, and even though Jazz wasn't known for his punctuality, he'd never been this late.

Time to comm. him.

::Jazz, this is Prowl.::

No answer. Prowl flicked his doorwings in irritation.

::Jazz, respond.::

Again, nothing.

::Jazz, if this is some sort of prank you've planned with Sideswipe, I have no doubt that you will regret it.::

Still nothing.

::Jazz.::

It was worth one more try, right?

::Jazz.::

That fragger. Prowl sighed and lowered his wings a bit before dialing the frequency he'd acquired only as a precaution.

::Hey, Prowl. What's up?::

::At least you answer. Tell me Tempo, has your Pit-spawned creation left for the Academy yet?::

Tempo chuckled over the line. ::Jazz? Nah, he said he wasn't feelin' well, so he's still in berth.::

::And you honestly believed him?::

Tempo laughed again, before responding. ::Of course not. But he's still havin' a hard time with the transfer. I know you've had a good affect on 'im, but it was just a matter of time before he started this.::

'This?' What was Tempo talking about? ::What exactly is 'this?'::

::Why don't you stop by and I'll tell ya. Or better yet, Jazz can.::

Prowl thought for a moment. Classes started in less than half a joor, and Jazz's home was fifteen breems the opposite way. He was going to be late anyway, but he didn't want to miss any more of his classes than he had to. But if something was wrong with Jazz...

::I'm on my way. I'd appreciate not getting shot at again.::

This time Tempo outright roared with laughter, and it was only a few breems after Prowl had started walking—as alt. modes were illegal until they received their final frames—that the bot had calmed down enough to speak again. ::Ah told ya' tha' was a one-time thing, Prowl! Not mah faul' ya look like an Enforcer, and Jazz didn't bothe' ta tell me nothin' 'bout ya.::

::Regardless, I still feel compelled to make the request.::

::Of course. No shootin', Ah promise.:: A small chuckle could still be heard in his voice.

::Thank you.::

Roughly ten breems later, Prowl arrived at Jazz's home and cautiously looked around the premises. No matter what Tempo promised, being shot at was not something he wanted to experience again. Seeing nothing alarming, Prowl stepped around the piled-up junk that somehow remained on the lawn even after Jazz and Tempo had moved in.

Upon reaching the door, he only rang the buzzer once before it opened. Tempo was standing in the frame, looking every bit as full of swagger as usual.

"'Bout time you showed up." In direct contrast to the cold tone, Tempo's smile held a welcoming warmth.

"You are aware of the estimated transit length." And Prowl's voice held a—to anyone else, uncharacteristic—teasing that had become expected at this particular household while his expression remained as stoic as ever. Perhaps Jazz was rubbing off on him after all.

Speaking of. "Where's Jazz?"

"Straight ta the point as always, eh Prowl?" Tempo shifted to allow Prowl to pass through. "Told ya, he's in berth still."

Prowl took in the closed door at the end of the small corridor, and the lack of light from under said closed door.

"Can Ah get ya anythin'? Energon? Rust stick?" Tempo's voice came from the dining room, which was actually just more of an area than a room, where he was preparing his midday's energon to take to work with him.

Instead of saying anything though, Prowl held up a cylinder of Volt energon, which was known for giving the consumer a small, temporary burst of energy before their systems ran even slower than before. That is, unless the consumer had any regular grade to help absorb it, which Prowl didn't.

"Oh yeah. Yo' Volt addiction. Can't say Ah blame ya, stuff's the best." With that, Tempo went back to prepping his energon and Prowl started down the corridor.

Before outright barging in, Prowl rapped the back of his servo lightly against the surface of the door. When he received no response, again, Prowl opened the door and stepped in.

Jazz was laying there on his berth, back struts facing the door (and consequently Prowl), wide awake.

How did Prowl know?

1.) Jazz wasn't snoring like a dam-buildier cutting through metal trees.

2.) Jazz wasn't attempting to cover every single centimeter of the metal berth with his frame.

3.) Jazz wasn't twisted up in the thermo-blanket. He was laying under a neatly tucked edge with barely any wrinkles present.

The sight had a couple of different effects on Prowl.

1.) Prowl was pissed that Jazz was awake, had been awake, and hadn't answered his comms.

2.) Prowl was confused, because Jazz did every single thing that Prowl had previously noticed when he was in recharge. Prowl knew. He knew. But he didn't know why Jazz wasn't doing those things now.

3.) Prowl was a little bit sad, because Jazz was his friend, and he was obviously hurting.

Prowl's doorwings sank low in sympathy. "Jazz." It came out soft, warm, and reassuring. Whatever it was that was bugging Jazz, Prowl would listen and do everything he could to make it better, because wasn't that what friends did for each other?

"No." Was the only response he received. It was muffled and groggy-sounding, but Prowl still heard. And any sympathy he'd previously held vanished. Jazz hadn't even let him speak! He didn't even know what Prowl was going to say!

Prowl's wings snapped up into a sharp angle, and he lifted his helm in indignation. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Exactly what Ah said. No." Less groggy, but it somehow managed to sound even more exhausted than before.

Prowl knew it truly was pointless, but narrowing his optics had become a habit at this point, and if the twitch of Jazz's audial horn was any indication, he'd still felt the difference. Physically it was impossible and illogical, but it was probably one of those weird Jazz things that Prowl had become accustomed to.

Before saying anything else, Prowl turned to close the door behind him. He gave Tempo a Look as well, as the mech was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor, just watching. A wide grin was his response.

With the door closed, Prowl somehow felt his sympathy return. Even though he'd never show it, and deactivate before he admitted it to anyone else, he'd had his own share of days where he didn't feel like trying. Didn't feel like going to the Academy. Didn't feel like energizing. Didn't feel like getting out of berth. Didn't even feel like ventilating, except that was an involuntary part of the Cybertronian functioning and to stop ventilating would've required effort.

His doorwings had lowered to a sympathetic stance again. Still holding his Volt, Prowl crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the berth. Jazz didn't even bother adjusting so he wouldn't be in the uncomfortable position caused by Prowl's added presence.

"I have cycles like this too you know. Where I can't seem to find the will to exist anymore."

A small hmm met his words. Somehow, that encouraged Prowl to go on, to keep talking. Maybe something he said would cause Jazz to open up. "But I can't find the effort to not exist anymore, so I have no choice."

Feeling awkward and self-conscious, Prowl laid a hand on Jazz's shoulder strut. Physical effort did more for Jazz than it did for Prowl, so maybe it would help.

At the new contact, Jazz curled his servos and arms around his torso even tighter than before, but Prowl's hand wasn't shaken off. "I know you don't want to talk about..." Prowl paused, figuring out how to say this without actually saying it. "...before, but I want you to know that you're not the only one who knows what it's like to lose a family member."

Jazz ducked his helm closer to himself and ex-vented sharply and suddenly. But it wasn't an angry gesture. It was a pained one. "You've asked before why I don't live in Praxus with the rest of my kin, but still visit them regularly. I used to live there. My Sire was the chief of the Praxus Enforcer department. He was well-respected, nearly had command of the Praxian Emperor himself, and had made the city a better place many times over. He's one of the reasons Praxus is so safe and peaceful compared to other places. Everyone loved him." Prowl stopped. His vocalizer was lagging, making it difficult to speak or vent. Dammit. He'd thought he'd gotten over this already. Guess not.

Jazz turned his helm slightly, showing that he was listening. From this new angle, part of his visor was visible. Prowl looked at the radiant color, so lovely even when dimmed before looking back down at his other servo. "His...um," Prowl swallowed, hoping that the oral lubricants and cleaners would help his vocalizer. "His Deputy found evidence of his involvement with the Decepticons. Evidence that couldn't be explained away, or bribed or threatened away either. He was arrested, and condemned to be executed. He escaped, and I haven't seen him since."

A drop of coolant landed on Prowl's thigh. He hadn't realized he was crying. He swallowed again, before taking a shuddering in-vent. He'd never told anyone of his Sire before, and the only ones who knew were his carrier and those he'd left in Praxus.

Prowl's vision blurred with more coolant, and his field wavered a bit from the calmness he usually radiated. He didn't even notice Jazz's field enveloping his own, not until Jazz's arms followed suit.

Prowl blinked to clear his optics and looked at Jazz, who had finally moved. Jazz gave a small smile before pulling Prowl closer and laying his helm on Prowl's shoulder strut. "At least he could still be alive." Jazz's voice was still weak, still tired, but had a bit more life in it than before.

::But at least you know she cared about you.:: At this point, Prowl didn't trust his vocalizer.

Prowl felt a servo rub between his doorwing hinges. That always felt good, in a soothing way of course. He choked back a sob and buried his helm in Jazz's neck cables. In a few tiks, coolant was streaming freely down Jazz's plating, with a few drops on Prowl's shoulder from Jazz.

"Mmm." Prowl felt more than heard Jazz's hum, but didn't give a response of his own. It just wasn't worth it.

Jazz shifted before pulling Prowl down to lay on the berth next to him. It wasn't meant as a romantic gesture, nor was it taken as such. It was meant to let Prowl know that he could cry, that it was okay.

"Ah'm sorry 'bout your Sire, and Ah'm glad ya told me." Jazz's voice was finally sounding almost normal. "An' Ah hate to tell ya, but this ain't about mah carrier."

Well then. Prowl had just gone through this big emotional breakthrough trying to get Jazz to open up to him and tell him what was going on, and it wasn't even about the right thing?

Prowl's doorwings would have flared out, except he was lying on his side pressed up against Jazz, who miraculously enough still called himself Prowl's best friend. "Then what the frag is it about?"

A soft laugh came through Jazz's vocalizer. "Since when do you talk like tha'?"

Prowl huffed and shoved away from where he'd been against Jazz and just Looked at hi, which usually worked regardless of who he was using his Look on.

However, Jazz seemed to be immune, if his grin was anything to go by. It wasn't nearly as full as his usual smiles, but at least Jazz seemed to have some life back in him. Which meant that Prowl wouldn't feel guilty being mad at him.

Still grinning, Jazz sat up and held out a servo to where Prowl had moved to the foot of the berth with servos crossed over his chestplates. "Come on, Prowler. Don' be like tha'."

Prowl scrutinized the servo before looking away.

"Please, Prowler?"

Prowl sighed. He wanted to say no, He really did. But Jazz's pitiful sounding whine wouldn't let him. "I just went through all of that, hoping that maybe you'd feel some sympathy and open up to tell me what was going on. You knew the entire time that it wasn't relevant, and yet you said absolutely nothing."

Jazz let his servo drop to rest on top of the thermal blanket. For a breem he was silent, and when he did speak his voice was quiet. "You wen' through that jus' ta get me ta open up to ya?"

Prowl looked up from where he'd been glaring a hole in the floor. "What was I supposed to do? The very first thing you said to me today was 'no.'"

That got a small chuckle in response. What could Jazz say? His best friend was adorable when he was pouting. Even more so when he was pouting and angry. "Come on. Ya needed ta deal wit' your Sire eventually, and lettin' somebot else know wha's eatin' ya helps a lot."

As per the norm when faced with a very Jazz-y response like that, Prowl opted to stare at Jazz impassively instead of voicing any response. Although in truth Prowl didn't even have a response to voice.

And as per the norm when faced with such a Prowl-y response, Jazz immediately felt guilty. Even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling guilty about. Sure, he'd somehow coerced Prowl into dealing with the pain his Sire had left him, but that was a good thing, right?

Apparently it didn't matter to Prowl though. Jazz found himself looking down at his servos, therefore breaking optic-visor contact. Prowl had won this, whatever 'this' was, and Jazz wasn't getting any more cuddles out of him.

Or maybe he was. Suddenly the strange, brightly colored cylinder that Jazz had just now realized was by his ped made sense to him. It was Prowl's Volt.

"Where's my Volt?"

Jazz looked up at Prowl and saw that he was looking everywhere around the room, around the berth, the floor under the berth, doorwings twitching the entire time. But he wasn't looking by Jazz's ped. It dawned on him that from where Prowl was situated, he couldn't see that particular section of the berth.

Perfect.

"Ya mean this?" Jazz held up the unopened cylinder. Prowl immediately stopped looking around. The militik he saw the cylinder he froze, and Jazz knew he had massive leverage.

"Give." Prowl held his servo out, demanding the glowing goodness.

Jazz arched an optic ridge under his visor, even though Prowl couldn't see it. His accompanying grin got the message through though. He carefully broke the seal at one end of the short rod and took a measured sip. "Mmm. You've got exquisite taste, Prowler."

For show, Jazz ran his glossa over his lip, just to exaggerate. Prowl's expression hadn't changed except to become somehow darker, and he'd pulled his digits in a bit. He knew he wasn't getting his Volt back, not without bargaining.

Just how strong was his addiction?

Jazz took another sip, being even more obviously smug about it. Prowl crouched there, resting his weight on his knees and one servo, with the other still partially outstretched. He was motionless, save for the indecisive fluttering of his doorwings.

Feigning courtesy, Jazz pretended to suddenly notice Prowl's current position, gesturing to the dwindling liquid inside. "Oh, Ah'm sorry. Did ya wan' this?"

Prowl's doorwings fluttered more erratically and a strange sound came from his engine. This continued for several breems, during which Jazz had to fight very hard not to smile, laugh, or take any vid captures of Prowl like that. He did take a few image captures, though. Who knew when such material would come in handy?

Finally, Prowl sighed and let his hand drop before relaxing to sit back on the berth instead of his knees. "I hate you."

Knowing he'd won, Jazz allowed his signature faceplate-splitting grin take hold, and patted the soft material of the berth next to him.

Knowing he'd lost, Prowl nodded and moved to return to his previous position. But wait, he could still get something out of this. "You're telling me what this is all about though."

As Prowl returned to curl against Jazz's frame once more, Jazz nodded. "Seems fair. Here." Jazz handed the cylinder to its rightful owner, which was less-than-gratefully accepted. The two took a moment to get settled, and Jazz even managed to sneak an arm around Prowl without it being torn off.

A breem of silence, before Prowl prompted "Well?"

Jazz ex-vented softly and adjusted himself again. "Sometimes Ah jus' can't put on a happy face all cycle. Ah try mah hardest, Ah try bein' happy, bein' friendly. But some cycles it jus' ain't gonna work. Ah guess ya could say mah carrier's a part of it, but it was like this before, too. Ah ain't gonna claim Ah've had a bad functioning so far, but Ah sure as Pit ain't had an easy one. Some cycles Ah jus' can't pretend anymore." He was quiet for a little while, and Prowl began to think that was all he had to say, before he spoke up again. "We moved ta Iacon 'cause Polyhex ain't a kind city if you're scrapin' the bottom, financially speaking. Mah carrier was the one who earned most of the credits, an' mah Sire'd been outta work too long to go back to his old job. Even in Polyhex, no one wanted ta be 'round some low-class youngling with a penchant f'r trouble. Iacon was s'posed ta be a fresh start f'r us, but it's not like we're new bots. We've just got new lives, an' there's only so much a new life can do."

Prowl sat listening to Jazz's explanation, not interrupting, not criticizing. Just listening, for which Jazz was undeniably grateful. When he finished speaking, Prowl let his helm rest on Jazz's shoulder strut. "All of that talk about me letting my emotions show once in a while, and you're even worse about it. Figures."

A surprised laugh escaped Jazz's vocalizer, quickly bleeding into more spark-felt laughter. Eventually Prowl gave in and smiled as well, for which Jazz was absolutely thrilled.

It was good to have a friend willing to miss something important to him in order to help Jazz through his troubles, good to know that he meant that much to Prowl. And it was especially good and comforting to have a nice, warm frame curled up next to his, at least until the Volt rant out. Even when it did, Prowl wasn't going anywhere; Jazz wouldn't let him.

Dam-builders are beavers.

Jazz has always wanted Prowl cuddles. Always. There is no argument.

There is another part of this, but it was getting really long so I split it. Reviews are appreciated.