Title: Voices of Cybertron

Author: AotA

Rating: K

Warnings: fluff, Prowl playing a not-quite-a-prank on Sideswipe

Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Sideswipe

Setting: Unspecified

Summary: "Ah want ta hear ya talk in that beautiful voice o' yours."

Notes: An exploration of how location and class affects spoken Cybertronian.

Jazz leaned up against Prowl, systems vibrating against each other with equal silence.

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked quietly in the silence of their rooms.

"I will be," was the equally quiet reply.

Jazz perked up at the way Prowl said those three words. "Was that… Upper class Praxus?"

Prowl remained silent.

Jazz edged up so that he was on top of the other mech and stared him in the optics. "It was, wasn't it?" Jazz demanded, incredulous and amused. The amusement to a few moments to bubble over. "My Prowl can talk like a high class Praxus model!" he teased, emphasizing his own very much lower Polyhex accent as he poked Prowl's chest plating with a clawed finger.

Prowl frowned and the next time he spoke it was in his typical Official Standard, "What of it?"

"Hey now," Jazz protested, "Don't mean nothin' by it." Jazz dropped his optics, running his claws gently over Prowl's armor, "Ah… Ah actually kinda like it."

Prowl was quiet for a long time, hands reaching to capture jazz's and still them in place, "…Jazz?"

Jazz's head snapped up at the shy, distinctively Praxus trill. Prowl's face was unsure, tentative… quiet. "Say somethin'?" he requested. Jazz was sure that if the both of them hadn't been as tired and wrung out as they were, Prowl wouldn't have ever let slip something like this, no matter how endearing Jazz found it.

"What do you want me to say?" Prowl was quiet but it was in that cultured voice.

Jazz smiled, humming happily at the unmasking of his love's accent, and curled up over Prowl's chest plates, "That's perfect. Whatever ya want ta say is fine, just as long as ya say it just like that."

Prowl didn't say anything else as they relaxed and Jazz didn't ask him to as they relished simply being in close proximity again.

-=/\=-

Sideswipe careened around the corner and slammed into Jazz, panic evident in his jerky attempts to scramble off of him, "Jazz! Help!"

Jazz steadied the frantic warrior, "What's goin' on, Sides'? There a fire Ah haven't heart 'bout or somethin'?"

"Prowl!" Sideswipe burst out, gesturing wildly, "Prowl's the one that's the problem!"

"Prowl?" Jazz parroted in confusion, "He glitch on ya this time?"

"Glitch?" Sideswipe repeated faintly, "No. No, not exactly…"

Jazz's comm. opened and Prowl's upper Praxus accent filled his audials, "Jazz, would you please send Sideswipe back to the monitor room? He ran out on me when I attempted to hand off duty."

Jazz laughed, "'S that it? Shoulda known. Come on, Sides' back ya to. I'm not gonna get ya outta monitor duty. This time."

"But…!" Sideswipe was nearly incoherent, "…but!"

"But nothin'," Jazz said firmly, shoving the red mech back the way he came, "Beat it."

When Sideswipe wandered off the direction Jazz had pushed him in he remained in a daze, muttering to himself as if brutally traumatized.

Jazz watched him go with amusement, "Whatcha do ta him, Prowler?" The still open comm. was a boon.

"What makes you think I have anything to do with Sideswipe's state?" Prowl sounded perfectly innocent.

"Ah dunno, Prowler," Jazz bantered back, "Could possibly be tha fact that ya are talkin' like that."

"Like what?" Prowl enquired but this time there was a hint of amusement finally leaking out.

"Ah think ya know tha answer ta that," Jazz drawled.

Prowl chuckled, "Indeed."

Jazz grinned up at a camera, "Havin' fun?"

"Immensely," Prowl assured.

"Good."