DISCLAIMER: No own no sue all right?
Notes and Warnings: Mech/Mech, though of a tame variety. Weird pairing ahead and this just proves me packing at ungodly hours of the night/morn somehow creates plot bunnies that must be written or else.
Silence and Jazz were not two words one ever thought about in the same sentence. It just didn't seem possible unless a situation was dire or the mission called for secrecy (He was head of special operations for a reason.) for such a cheerful, culture loving, music freak to ever be silent on his own violations. Even when in recharge, unless something was seriously wrong repair wise, music would still be playing from the inert mech. (Ratchet and several others who had to stay in the med bay over night a few times could vouch for this.) Even those on the other side of the battlefield had acknowledged this, even if it didn't help them aim better at the cheerful TIC.
So many would either offline from spark failure or be lining up to see Smokescreen if any had witnessed the now almost ritual that happened when both Red Alert and Jazz had monitor duty during the shift when sane mechs were asleep and the sun wasn't due for several more hours.
Jazz himself had been surprised the first time he had ended up in that shift with the twitchy security director and found himself listening to the almost quiet request to either keep the music on an internal channel or shut it off completely. For a while he had done the former and in boredom had watched the red and white Lamborghini more then the monitors of empty corridors. Making a game in how loud he could turn the music up before those overly sharp audios of Red Alert picked it up, causing blue optics to 'stare out of the corner of the eye', as much as their optics could do such a human movement, and an almost adorable look of petulant irritation to flash over faceplate. It had kept him amused for the sporadic month of sharing that particular shift with the other bot. Until he had finally asked in some part curiosity and some part exasperation due to frazzled nerves and tired crankiness, (There had been a battle that day and still both had to do this Primus damned shift with sore injuries and jittery post battle nerves) only to be shocked into a contemplative silence at the answer.
It makes it hard to hear the rhythm of the Ark.
That had been the first night he had sat through the shift completely silent. Straining his audios in an attempt to figure out what the red and white one meant. Not really getting an idea until near the end of the shift when he had fallen into an almost trance and thus relaxed enough to notice a definite beat and melody in all of the white noise he never really heard before. The sounds of the machine the many little sounds of earth and its organic life moving about, filtered through the speakers into the little room, even the soft steady sound of intakes of both mechs adding. It made Jazz decide to listen to the silence a bit more during that particular shift. Which he did two earth months later, when Prowl finally placed the two of them in that shift again, and this time Jazz picked up the rhythm much quicker. Though, he would sheepishly admit that he managed that due to Red Alert absently fixing a camera during that shift. His optics never once actually looking at the piece of equipment as fingers almost delicately fixed things by touch alone adding soft clinks to the peaceful melody the rest of the world through the monitors made.
That was when Jazz also actually looked at the Lamborghini and thought. Even though barely armored, when compared to the other two mechs who shared the same altmode as Red Alert, there were similarities that he could now pick out as he sat and thought. The little quirks becoming obvious to him as he put the same skills he had used when finding and verifying how alike another trio of like model mechs were. (That had been one of the more amusing times he had accidently locked up Prowl's logic processor when he had listed every little thing he and the other two Datsun altmodes had unconsciously in common) It help build the other mech for him outside of the flimsy image he had previously held, using only bare facts that everyone on board knew about. It helped greatly that despite the Pit damned hours the shift was in, it was actually one of the few times Jazz had ever seen this mech truly relaxed and not wound up so tight one could practically hear his frame creak from the pressure.
It made Red Alert look more like his age (That bit of hacking had been a shocker since he had figured the other officer to be as old as him and Prowl, not barely a vorn older then Bluestreak) and in Jazz's humble opinion was a look that suited the little Lamborghini nicely. Even that slight tense line around the optics, which everyone used as a gauge in how badly the glitch was acting up, was barely a twitch as Red Alert kept his attention shifting from one monitor to the next. Seeming to hardly mind that the one suppose to be helping him watch the monitors wasn't doing so, and only occasionally shifting when the stare behind the visor got to heavy for his comfort.
Jazz was starting to enjoy this musical silence, and didn't seem to find it all that odd when his gaze started following the Security Director more and more when the red and white mech left the safety of his security office or fleeing the med bay once again. It was just an added bonus that he was starting to like hearing the voice as well during officer meetings, and hey he had time to figure out things.
For now he'd just enjoy things as they were.