Part 3

Even the high ceilings of the House Harmonic's formal hall stifled Prowl's sensors, surrounded as he was by the upper echelons of his elders. Their judging optics fell on him and—as always—found him lacking, a disappointment even in this misfit match making. Could they tell he had not forced Jazz into a slave function? Perhaps their displeasure was more rooted in Jazz's absence at his side, and in Prowl's willingness to let the smaller bot continue to run wild.

He knew he'd guessed right when his creator Retentis seized the back of Prowl's neck and led him away from the corner he'd hidden in, leading him with a polite smile to the kitchen. Prowl braced himself, keeping his helm high as his creator shut the door. As soon as they were out of sight, Retentis wheeled back on him with a snarl.

"And how long do you plan to stand there like a fried cortex without your peripheral?" Retentis hissed. "Tell me you at least know where that little waste of a mainframe is?"

"He did not feel capable of attending the reception," Prowl said calmly. "The interface and link-up was more draining than he let on."

"Jazz fought it, you mean," Retentis said, nodding and staring at the door as if the party were visible. "I'll take this up with Metronome. They swore they'd get Jazz to behave long enough to avoid embarassment. Chamber Harmonics is badly mistaken if they think we'll allow this kind of slight."

Prowl winced. "In their defense, Jazz seems to be quite high strung—"

"'High strung'?" Retentis snorted without humor. "If you weren't running around playing Enforcerer, I would never have allowed this union. We could've bargained up to Symphonic, maybe even Stradivus. But—" Retentis cut themself off with a a hard gesture. "Irrelevant. I can use this. They won't get half of what we promised, and we still get their clout."

"Is that wise?" Prowl said, his optics widening as his HUD filled with calculations of probability in neat rows. "We're just confectioners. They're the reigning—"

"Negative." Retentis stood straight, dismissing Prowl without a glance. "We are confectioners. You are an Enforcer. We already have security hired for this event. Go find your peripheral."

Brushing aside a bit of imaginary dust and grime, Retentis took a deep vent, hands clasped politely, and returned to the reception.

A full cycle passed. Another. Prowl pressed his hand to his face, squeezing his optics shut. When his hand fell again, his expression was blank again.

Jazz could take care of himself. Prowl needed his desk, his office, Bluestreak chattering in his audio. He escaped the main chambers through the caterer's entrance, careful not to jostle the rows of his tower's best wares. The high grade energon had been served cycles earlier, but an array of treats had yet to be paraded before the party. Trays of tar taffies, rust sticks drizzled with mercury, silica wafers spotted with sapphire flakes... Prowl scooped a handful into his subspace and headed for the door, a wave of relief washing over him as he grabbed the handle.

Mufled keens and shallow vents brought him to a halt.

"–can't hide here forever."

"Sure I can. Ain't no one come looking for me, huh?"

Prowl frowned, leaning to see around to see around the tall racks of trays. Jazz sat, helm bowed, leaning against a mech that Prowl recognized from the catering staff. Despite the unfashionable lack of a faceplate and an older model of vocal processor, Wheeljack served intoxicants like isopropyl and synthoils professionally enough that they overlooked the occasional kitchen explosion from his experimental drinks.

"Do you want them to come looking?" Wheeljack nudged Jazz, jostling the smaller bot leaning against him. "Here, eat another silicate."

"Mm." Jazz bit the wafer from the mech's hand and tossed it back, crunching it into tiny pieces to savor before swallowing. He rubbed his optics, resetting them over and over. "S'funny, y'know?"

"What is?"

"When they didn't zap me again." Jazz scooped up anoother wafer and licked off the sapphires first, staring at the empty silicate for several kliks. "It was like they didn't have to care what I did no more. Like I was someone else's problem now."

"Jazz..." The other mech's vocals and audios flashed in concern. "You haven't told anyone else?"

"'Course not!" Jazz said. "I thought for sure I wasn't getting out of that spot. Don't even know why Prowl let me go, really."

The other mech murmured faint agreement, lost in thought.

In the lull that followed, Prowl watched them for a moment. Jazz clearly knew Wheeljack better than Prowl did, but with a little thought, he felt that it made sense. Jazz, infamous defect of the House Harmonics, still performed with the elite at most of the senatorial and noble functions, but rarely did he rub wings with the glittering attendees. Most of his notoriety came from the bot's habit of skimming from the kitchens, breaking the spark of the cleaning mechs with his numerous rendezvous and drunkenly racing streetmechs on his way back to his House's towers. Of course Jazz would prefer the bartender over his own family.

More assured of himself, Prowl cleared his filter and came out from behind the rack. Both Jazz and the older mech startled upright. When they saw who it was, and more specifically that it was not one of the elders, they both vented and relaxed.

"Guess it's true," Wheeljack said, flashing his audios disapprovingly. "Enforcerer's really do like to eavesdrop."

"A habit of work," Prowl said, nodding politely only at Jazz. "I didn't slave your protocols to mine because you clearly didn't want it."

When Jazz didn't answer, Prowl glanced aside at the trays of waiting confections, running a finger along the edge as if looking for dust. "I dislike seeing mechs treated poorly."

Reassured a little Prowl's mild tone, Jazz licked his lips. "That why you're an Enforcer 'stead of a proper candy merchant?"

Prowl stiffened, his low wings snapping straight.

Jazz reached back and grabbed Wheeljack's hand. His helm lowered though he did not apologize, and his optics never dipped, watching Prowl for a swinging hand or threat.

With some effort, Prowl dropped his wings again.

"I...yes." Prowl coughed again. "My creators were pleased with my cortex for numbers, but..." He glanced over his shoulder at the door. Elders could enter rooms so silently. "I was not as flexible with the numbers as they would have liked."

"You wouldn't cook the books," Wheeljack nodded, shrugging at Prowl's dark look. "Hey, mechs talk. You think it was an accident us suppliers preferred dealing with you? You're kinda missed on your tower's loading docks, y'know."

Jazz glanced from Prowl to Wheeljack, from Wheeljack to Prowl. A slow smile graced his lips, but the canny glint to his optics set the Enforcer on edge.

"So he ain't all that bad?" Jazz murmured, now taking the time to look his new mate up and down. "Huh. I didn't think I'd get anything but the short end of this deal, but now maybe this ain't the end of me after all."

"Told ya so, runt." Wheeljack nudged Jazz again, then turned back to Prowl. "So where are you running off to? I haven't even mixed the mineral oils and quicksilver yet."

"I never liked formal functions," Prowl said. "And I have work I need to finish before I recharge. I only came back here because I thought I heard Jazz in distress."

Now Jazz coughed and forced a smile, standing straighter. "Ain't feelin' so bad now. And work? That sounds a hell of a lot more fun than back inside. Where we off to?"

Prowl blinked. He had not considered it before, loathe to think about this day before, but now he was faced with the consequences of the arranged marriage. Saddled with a glorified peripheral mech, he suddenly wondered where to put Jazz. Prowl kept an apartment only for infrequent recharges, hardly suitable even for a misfit of the Chamber Harmonic. His elders must have considered it, but he'd rather peel his armor than go back and ask. His electronic messages would likely hold any information his elders had sent him, but he had no desire to look at them right now.

"Enforcer station nineteen," he said, then tried to calm Jazz's revving engines. "I'll only take a cycle or so, but it'll be boring. There's nothing to see there."

"No prob!" Jazz said, giving Wheeljack a wave and heading past Prowl, holding the door for him. "I make friends easy. You do your thing and I'll keep busy somehow."

TBC...

Next Chapter: a song for a few familiar faces