Thank you everyone for your interest in this story! I'm glad you like it so far. I think I will continue and see where the storyline takes me :3

Jazz sipped slowly at the nanite-rich energon in his hand, unwilling to drink it any faster lest he purge everywhere. Again. The rec. room was busy, and Autobots sat in groups together, laughing and chatting. The atmosphere was infectious and happy, and it was almost possible to forget there was a war going on.

"You look deep in thought."

Jazz glanced up to see Mirage delicately sitting down next to him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, guess Ah am." The noblemech nodded, and didn't press any further. That was what Jazz liked about Mirage; he minded his own business. "So, how're ya doin'?"

"I am well." Mirage nodded, taking a sip of refined highgrade. "And yourself?"

"Ah'm.. fine."

If the spy noticed the hesitation, he didn't let on. "Good. I imagine you have been busy lately."

"No, actually." Jazz sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Um.. Ah got a virus, an' Ratchet took meh off duty f'r a while."

"Oh." Mirage tilted his head and frowned slightly. "Get well soon."

"Thanks." The saboteur muttered. He knew it wouldn't simply be so easy as 'getting well', but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. "By the way, Hound's starin' at ya."

The noble stiffened almost imperceptibly. "What?"

"Yep. Has been since ya sat down." Jazz couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Why don't ya talk to him?"

Mirage shot him a look. "No, thank you."

"As your superior and Head of Special Ops, I order ya to go talk to Hound."

A shocked silence followed as Mirage stared. "You have to be joking."

"Ah'm not." Jazz said calmly. "Off ya pop. You'll thank meh later."

"I am not interested in him."

"Why? 'Cause he ain't nobility?" Jazz demanded. "Ah ain't nobility, but ya get along well enough wit' meh."

"You are my superior!" Mirage hissed like an angry cybercat. "I have to get along with you!"

"Hound's a great mech, y'know. Just give him a chance!"

"This is blackmail."

"Ah know. Ah just don' care. Go talk to him." For a brief moment, Jazz actually thought the blue and white spy was going to punch him. Instead, Mirage stood and stalked towards Hound, who watched his approach with an expression of mixed surprise and trepidation.

The saboteur grinned and swung his legs up comfortably on the couch, taking another sip of his energon. He shifted slightly, the armour around his abdomen feeling awkwardly tight. Glancing around, he searched for someone to talk to.

And spotted Prowl in the corner, sipping a cube of low-grade and reading a datapad.

Feeling unexpectedly bold, Jazz swung himself back off the couch and made his way over to the tactician. He stopped right in front of the table Prowl was sitting at, but the Praxian didn't even notice him standing there. "Hi."

"Hm?" Prowl glanced up, and froze when he saw who was standing there. "Can I help you?"

"Ah wanna sit down."

There was a long silence as Prowl stared blankly at the saboteur. "What?"

"Ah. Want. To. Sit."

Finally, the tactician's processor caught up to him and he pulled the chair next to him. He watched blankly as Jazz plopped himself down in the chair and scowled at him. "Do you want something?" Prowl asked warily, clearly expecting the saboteur to start insulting him.

"Ah wanna sit here."

"Very well." Prowl returned to his datapad, but not before shooting him another curious look.

Several moments went past before Jazz got bored and spoke up again. "Whatcha doin'?"

Prowl paused. "I am looking over battle tactics and plans." His uncertainty was understandable; The last time he had spoken to Jazz, the saboteur had kicked him out after interfacing with him, and had been avoiding him since.

The blue of Jazz's visor dimmed as his optics narrowed. "Let meh see 'em."

"What?"

"Ah wanna look over 'em. Make sure they ain't incredibly stupid "

A scowl formed on Prowl's face. "That is not your job."

"Shut up and give me a datapad." Jazz ordered. He took the offered datapad with a nod and began examining it without hesitation. Prowl watched him as he nodded and hummed with an occasional frown. After he had finished reading over the plan, he set the datapad down. "It's a'ight, but it'd be better if the mechs in the back spread out more to defend the rear."

"And what would you do about the left defence?" Prowl asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Ah dunno. Ah'm a saboteur, not a tactician. Use yo' fancy battle computer."

The tactician rolled his optics and turned back to his datapads. He hadn't expected anything more from the smaller mech. They both remained silent, looking over their respective datapads. After a while, Prowl raised his head and noticed Jazz staring down at his own stomachplates. "Are you well?"

The saboteur startled, his head shooting up. "Wha'? Yeah, 'course." He continued before Prowl could speak again. "Don't start actin' all concerned."

"I am concerned about all my comrades." Prowl said coolly, lowering his battle plans.

Jazz snorted. "Ya don't act like it."

"Just because I am concerned for them, does not been I need to form unnecessary emotional connections with them. We are in the middle of a war, and relationships will simply get in the way of efficient work."

"So ya have no emotional connections to anyone?"

"No, I do not believe so."

"Ratchet said otherwise." Jazz said calmly, lacing his hands over his abdomen. "He said ya can't help formin' an emotional connection t' people ya frag."

"Did he now?" The words were softly spoken, almost inaudible.

"Yeah. And besides tha', what 'bout Smokescreen? He's yo' brother, ain't he?"

"I cannot help the family bond." Prowl frowned slightly. "But I can close it enough so that if one of us is captured or injured, it will not cause the other pain."

"Tha's messed up." Jazz frowned.

"That is war." The tactician countered with a cool shrug. "There is no place for anything else."

"Do ya think so?" Jazz pondered thoughtfully. He briefly considered telling Prowl about the sparkling just to spite the mech, but decided against it; he wasn't that cruel. But still, he wondered... "So.. Ya never even considered havin' a family?"

Prowl frowned and leaned back in his chair, regarding Jazz cautiously. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Jazz..."

"Humour meh."

"Why?"

"'Cause Ah'm sick?" Jazz tried. He noticed Prowl's dubious look and added, "Virus. Look it up, Ah'm on Ratchet's sick list." There was silence, and Prowl's optics dimmed as he looked up the sick list. "See? So humour meh."

"Very well." Prowl sighed, glancing around the room as if to check if anyone was listening. "Family was never something I had truly thought about, but something I had nevertheless hoped for eventually."

"Hm." Jazz glanced down at his abdomen and shrugged. "So ya ain't a cold sparked fragger like everyone says?

The tactician gazed coolly at his company. "I am sure that is for individuals to decide."

"Hm." Jazz hummed again, staring back at him. "So... Whattaya think 'bout sparklin's?" The question spilled from his lips before he could stop it.

"What?" Prowl shot him a curious look.

Cursing himself, the saboteur tried for a casual shrug. "Just a question."

"I... do not know. I have never been around one."

"What 'bout Smokescreen?" Jazz frowned.

That caused a teeny, almost imperceptible smile to tilt up the corners of Prowl's lips. "Ah yes, a common misconception. Smokescreen is my older brother."

Jazz froze, staring blankly at the SIC. "Yo' kiddin'. But ya seem... Ah mean.. What?"

A genuine laugh escaped Prowl before he could stop himself; it was short and quiet, but it caused the tactician's face to light up. "Yes, I know. It shocks everybody."

It was Jazz's turn to laugh, but his laugh was loud and animated. "Ya ain't as bad as Ah thought." He observed out loud.

A small snort came from Prowl. "Thank you, I suppose."

"Well, ya'd be better if ya stopped-"

"-killing your mechs, yes I know." Prowl interrupted, looking exhausted all of a sudden. "You have told me before, if I recall correctly."

Jazz fought the energon-blush that threatened to surface. "Yeah, Ah vaguely remember that. But that's not what Ah was gonna say."

"Oh?" Prowl raised an optic ridge, looking slightly amused.

"Yeah. Ah was gonna say ya'd be better if ya stopped bein' a rule obsessed stick-up-the-aft."

Another laugh burst from Prowl's vocaliser, louder this time. Loud enough, in fact, to cause several other 'bots in the rec. room to turn and stare in surprise. "I see. I jumped to the wrong conclusion, then."

"Yup." Jazz answered comfortably; he had forgotten completely about how he was meant to hate his colleague. "Ya never answered meh, by the way."

"About what?"

"Sparklin's."

"I believe I did."

"No. Ya said ya didn't know, but that ain't a proper answer."

Prowl sighed and shrugged. "I never particularly wanted any."

A sinking feeling originated in Jazz's spark, and he chided himself for being so ridiculous. After all, it wasn't like he was keeping the damn thing. "They say ya always change yo' mind after ya have one." He blinked. Why was he trying to convince Prowl about this?

"Who is 'they'?" Prowl asked wryly.

"People wit' sparklin's, Ah presume."

"Hm." The tactician shrugged. "Perhaps. Anyway, I believe I must get back to work."

Jazz frowned. "What've ya just been doin' f'r the past half an hour?" He asked, gesturing at the datapads.

"That was not real work."

"Real w-" Jazz broke off, shaking his head. "Yo' insane." He watched as Prowl gave another tiny smile as he collected the datapads off the table. Surprised, he realised he didn't want the tactician to leave. "So.. Where ya goin'?"

"To my office." Prowl raised an optic ridge. "The third shift is beginning now."

To Jazz's dismay, he saw that the tactician was right; the rec. room was slowly emptying of 'bots. "Oh." He frowned. He turned back to Prowl, only to see that the tactician had already started towards the door. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and walking beside the TIC. "Can Ah come?"

"What?" Blue optics flickered in surprise, and it became clear that Prowl's processor was stalling.

"Just because Ah'm bored!" Jazz said hurriedly, praying to Primus that the tactician wouldn't glitch. "Ah don't have anythin' else t' do."

The stalling seemed to vanish at the semi-logical argument. "What about your friend Blaster?"

"Ah was wit' him durin' his shift this mornin'. Ah don't wanna distract him from this shift or he'll never get any work done."

"And yet it is perfectly okay to 'distract' me from my own shift?"

Jazz shifted on his feet, offering a grin. "Um.. Yeah?"

"As long as 'distracting' has nothing to do with what happened last time you were in my office, you may come."

That caused Jazz to scowl as he followed the tactician down the corridors. "Excuse meh, but ya enjoyed that."

The sigh was almost audible, even though Prowl was several steps ahead. "As far as I can recall, you spent most of the time telling me how much you hated me for killing your comrades."

"I don't remember actually sayin' 'hate'." Jazz grumbled as they reached Prowl's office. He ignored the indecipherable stare directed at him and bounced into the room.

"You did not have to, it was implied quite strongly." Prowl said calmly, taking his seat behind his desk.

The saboteur snorted and took the other chair in front of Prowl's desk. "Fraggin' ya implied Ah hated ya?"

"No, calling me a 'jumped-up glitchy aft-hole' and a 'fragging glitch' did."

"Huh." Jazz glanced down at the desk, running his fingers over some of the deeper scratches there. He raised his gaze to meet Prowl's optics. "Ya never got the scratches out."

"I got the smaller ones out." The tactician murmured, picking up a datapad and turning it on. "The deeper ones are, apparently, much harder to get rid of."

"Maybe ya shouldn't get rid of 'em then." Jazz said coolly, swinging his feet up on the desk. "'Cause now whenever yo' makin' a plan, ya just need t' look at yo' desk and think 'would Jazz approve?'"

A long moment went past where Prowl simply stared at the mech in front of him blankly. "You are ridiculous." He said at last.

The saboteur shrugged. "Yeah, Ah know."

Prowl shook his helm and checked his chronometer. "The twins should be here any astrosecond."

"Why?"

"One of their so-called 'pranks'." Prowl sighed, looking exhausted.

"Ya look tired, mech." Jazz observed, frowning slightly. "When's the last time ya recharged?" Prowl's shrug was NOT the answer he had been looking for. Swinging his legs down off the desk, he got to his feet and sauntered around the desk to Prowl. "That ain't good f'r ya."

"I had a lot of work to do." The tactician glanced up at Jazz as the smaller mech perched on his desk. "What are you doing?"

"Ya need t' relax and recharge."

"Perhaps, but I have no time to-" Prowl was cut off sharply as Jazz bent down and kissed him. He froze, optics wide and surprised.

After a moment of no response, Jazz sighed and pulled back. "Really? Nothin'?"

"I- you- what?" Prowl looked bewildered. "You hate me..?" It came out as a question.

Jazz shrugged. "Do ya wanna change mah mind?"

Slowly, Prowl stood so he loomed over Jazz, who was still perched on the desk. "Will you kick me out again?"

"No. Ah-" this time, it was Prowl who cut Jazz off by leaning in and kissing him. The saboteur responded eagerly, wrapping his legs around the taller black and white's waist. Prowl's logic centre calmly noted that this was the first kiss where Jazz was not biting him painfully.

Wrapping his arms around the SIC's neck, Jazz lay back onto the desk, pulling Prowl with him. The tactician paused over Jazz, gazing down at him. "Perhaps this is not a good idea." He breathed. His logic centre had begun screaming at him about how illogical this whole ordeal was, but his spark was screaming at him about how right this whole ordeal was. After mere moments, Prowl muted his logic centre.

"It is." Jazz murmured, running his hands over the sweeping doorwings that had caught his attention, gaining a little moan.

"You have regretted our actions both times we have interfaced." Prowl whispered in Jazz's audio horn, eliciting a shiver from the smaller mech. "Perhaps you should- ahhoh..."

A grin spread across Jazz's face like quickfire at Prowl's reaction to the magnetic pulses over his doorwings. "Wha' was tha'?"

"Frag.." The tactician's optics flickered in pleasure and his doorwings flared sharply.

A surprised laugh fell from the TIC's mouth. "Huh. Ah've never heard ya swear like tha' before."

Instead of answering, Prowl bent down and captured Jazz's lips again with his. Abandoning the doorwings, black hands flew up to cup the tactician's face, pulling him even closer. He moaned softly as Prowl's hands began to wander down his body, and he arched into the touch.

And then, there was a knock on the door.

Both mechs on the desk froze, and turned to stare at the door simultaneously. "Frag." Jazz hissed.

Quick as lightning, Prowl was off the desk and headed towards the door. He glanced behind him before he opened it and gestured at Jazz to get off the desk. Scowling sulkily, the saboteur slipped off the table and plopped himself down in the chair in front of Prowl's desk. He glared at the opposite wall as Prowl opened the door, and the sound of the twins offering sullen greetings could be heard. Then Prowl spoke, "You will both have to stand, I'm afraid, as you broke my second chair last time you were."

"That was Sunny." Sideswipe protested quickly. "And what about the other chair?"

"Occupied." Jazz snapped from where he was sitting, refusing to turn his head. "Ah ain't movin'."

"Jazz?" Sideswipe raised an optic ridge upon seeing his friend in Prowl's office. "What're you doing here?"

"Myself and Jazz were discussing his timetable for the rest of the month, as he currently has a virus." Prowl lied calmly, sitting down in his own seat. "Now, you know what you are here for."

Sunstreaker shot a glare at his brother, but remained silent: Sideswipe was the one who spoke up. "Okay, so we know that exchanging medical tools for rubber ones was totally not cool, but it was a joke! It was just a prank, and Wheeljack found it funny!"

"No, he did not. Wheeljack had to stay in the medbay for an extra two days simply because there were no tools to fix him! He was in a substantial amount of pain, because of your idiotic 'joke'."

Unbidden, the thought of what would have happened if something had gone wrong with the sparkling and the only tools available were rubber ones surfaced in Jazz's processor. His hands fell over his abdomen and he blurted out "How could ya have been so stupid?!"

Everyone turned to stare at him in surprise.

"Jazz? You're taking Prowl's side?!" The red twin said in shock.

"O' course! He's right! What if somethin' serious had happened, and the only fraggin' things the medics had were fraggin' rubber tools?!" Jazz was yelling now, and his arms were crossed protectively over his abdomen.

Sunstreaker visibly flinched, but Sideswipe kept talking, "No, that wouldn't have happened! We planned it really carefully-"

"Ya can't control accidents!" Jazz roared, "Ya have no idea what's goin' on wit' other 'bots! They could have had serious need f'r a medic, and yo' went and did somethin' as stupid as that!"

Both twins were silent, staring at Jazz in quiet shock as their friend roared at them about their stupidity. Prowl decided to remain silent also; Jazz's rant was actually better than the lecture he had planned.

It was only when Jazz had jumped to his feet and actually tried to hit them that Prowl had intervened. "Okay, you may leave now." The tactician had to shout over Jazz as he held the smaller mech by the waist to prevent him from attacking the twins. "Report to Ironhide for brig time!"

The twins darted out the door so fast the only things visible were two streaks of yellow and red. "Let meh go!" Jazz shrieked, pushing at Prowl's chassis, "They're idiots! What the frag were they thinkin'?!"

"They never think. Jazz, calm down please." Prowl pleaded in the saboteur's audio horn. "They are gone, and they will be punished."

Jazz stopped struggling, panting air through his vents harshly. "How?"

"Other than brig time?" Prowl thought for a moment, before a devilish half-smile appeared on his face. "How about you decide?"

"Meh?" Jazz grinned. "Excellent. Somethin' that involves mud and dirt. Lots of mud and dirt."

...

"So?"

Ratchet glanced up from the scan results. "Everything looks to be in order... You have the makings of a perfectly healthy sparkling on the way."

"Yeah? Good." Jazz muttered, glancing away.

Clearly noticing the saboteur's attitude, Ratchet sighed. "Are you still thinking of giving it up?"

"Yes." Jazz said stiffly. "There's nothin' else Ah can do."

"You could keep it."

That earned a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, raisin' a sparklin' by mahself in the middle of a war. Good idea, Ratch."

"Do you really think you would be on your own?" The medic demanded sharply. "Don't be so ridiculous. Prowl, for one, would help you. And other than Prowl, all your friends in the Autobot force would help you." He sighed when he saw that Jazz was simply glaring at the floor. "You know, Wheeljack tells me that yourself and Prowl were talking civilly in the rec. room last week."

"And?" Jazz snorted. "We've fragged, so Ah think we'd be able ta have a civil conversation."

"Not necessarily." The medic said calmly. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that the first time you interfaced was anything but civil." Ratchet laughed at the way his patient tensed up. "So you see, being able to interface AND hold a civil conversation is actually a fantastic start to a relationship."

"Rela-?" Jazz choked, staring at the medic in horror. "Wh- no! There ain't no relationship! He don't believe in relationships, haven't ya heard?" His last sentence was tinged with bitterness.

"Hm." Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. "And yet you still interfaced recently. Very recently, in fact. Last night, perhaps?"

Another layer of tension seemed to be added to the saboteur's frame. "Wha'?"

"The transfluid reservoir for the sparkling is full." A smile graced the medic's face, and not a nice one. "Very full."

"Ya have no proof that's from Prowl."

"I took an educated guess." Ratchet rolled his optics. "Why don't you just fragging ask him about what he thinks of a relationship between the two of you?"

"Because I don't like him." The saboteur said weakly.

THAT made Ratchet burst into gales of laughter. "Ohhh, I see. You don't like him. Of course." His chuckles quietened, and he shook his helm. "Don't be ridiculous, Jazz."

"He don't like meh either." Jazz snapped, glaring at the medic. "And if everthin's alright, Ah'll be goin' now."

"Come back next orn." Ratchet said, watching the saboteur walk towards the door. Before the small mech disappeared out of the room, the medic called "Talk to Prowl!"

The only answer he got was an extremely rude hand gesture.