Mostly submerged in one of the baths onboard the Ark Jazz drifted in and out of recharge. The surprise attack had been long and brutal for both sides and the soothing cool water eased his tender wounds and made his dry achy plates feel better. His spark still thudded too fast in his chest, like it wasn't sure there wasn't still a sniper hiding somewhere in the empty room. He wasn't expecting anyone else to come in the wash racks, he'd been one of the last to leave the med bay and those still there wouldn't be getting up for a while yet.
So when the door opened he flinched and lifted his head enough to crack one optic over the side of the bath and see who the latecomer was. Prowl walked in limping on one side, wings held low like they were too heavy to carry. His heavy battle armor retracted a piece at a time revealing his scarred mercurial frame. A fresh weld on his left thigh made Jazz wince in sympathy.
The loud rush of cleanser made Jazz submerge his head again until he felt like his audios could handle the staccato echo in the empty room. The noise reduced when Prowl stepped under the spray. He didn't start scrubbing the organic gunk and dried energon immediately but closed his optics and let his head hang while the hot cleanser ran over his exoform. Jazz lifted his head a bit more and thought about asking the Praxian what he was doing in the wash racks when he had his own in his quarters. Jazz did too, but he didn't have a bath, which was why he frequented the racks. There really was nothing like a few joors soaking in cool water. But Prowl looked like he was half in recharge on his feet and the rhythmic fall of water was relaxing in its own way.
The door opened again and with supreme effort Prowl lifted his head but didn't move anything else. Red Alert came in to view. "What are you doing here?" he murmured. He didn't remove his armor, but since he'd been onboard coordinating defenses he wasn't filthy. Prowl dropped his head again but extended his right wing. Hidden by the fold of his wing a nasty gash tore through the delicate silver and white feathers.
"Not enough room in my quarters," Prowl whispered. Red Alert stepped further into the spray and slid his arms around Prowl's waist. Jazz was certain Prowl was about to tell him he was an adult mech who could take care of himself, but all he did was lift his head and rest it on Red Alert's shoulder. His optics closed again.
Red Alert's long fingers stroked Prowl's back until the Praxian melted against him. Red Alert dipped his head to Prowl's bare shoulder and kissed his scarred silver frame. Prowl lifted his head again and caught his lips in a soft kiss. He lowered his head to Red Alert's shoulder and closed his optics. His wing tips almost brushed the floor from where they hung limp on his back. Red Alert retracted his armor a piece at a time until his black frame was flush against Prowl's silver. Gentle fingers combed through Prowl's waterlogged wings dislodging dirt and energon. "You will feel better when you are clean," Red Alert said softly.
Prowl kept his head on Red Alert's shoulder while Red Alert cleaned his wings with gentle slow strokes, careful of the obvious wound and of others that might be hidden. Prowl didn't move, he looked like he was deep in recharge. Red Alert pressed intermittent kisses to his neck, occasionally murmuring things the water drowned out. Jazz sank back into his water and closed his optics.
He'd thought the wash rack was peaceful before Prowl entered, but it had just been quiet. Now, there was peace. The fight was over and his spark believed it, it started to slow a little at a time until it no longer thudded against his chest but pulsed in gentle waves.
oOo
A/N: I completely understand the love for Jazz/Prowl, but really, the Prowl/Red Alert pairing needs more love.