Apologies for the delay. Updates include adding in another scene for length. Mostly filler.

Edited September 27, 2015

-;-

::Comm-link::

"Cybertronian"

"YELLING"

"English"

-;-

After a very long and arduous lecture from Ratchet, most of which she ignored, Crosswire spent the next several hours hiding in her new nook on Jazz. Because it was near his spark-chamber, the femme was quite content to fall into recharge. It was warm, and the sound of a spark near her audial was enough to make her purr. Plus, Jazz was running his servo down her spinal strut, and it felt like heaven.

Now, Saberline, on the other hand, was not one to actually listen to these sorts of lectures, and because Ironhide was in the Med Bay to finally get his repairs done from Mission City, Saberline decided that it was her mission to frag off Crosswire.

"Hey. Crosswire. Get up. I'm bored." The femme drawled, climbing onto Jazz's chassis and poking the oddly colored grey armor where she knew the other cassette was sleeping.

"No."

"Get up."

"No."

Jazz onlined his optics, wondering why there was suddenly more weight on his chest plates than he remembered. As he took note of Saberline, however, he simply shook his helm and shuttered his optics again. The cassette could do what she wanted as long as she didn't start prying at him. Then he would have to make an effort and do something. Until then, he was content to doze.

"OW! THAT SLAGGING HURT!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't making such a fuss about it we could get this over with." Ratchet snapped as he yanked on another wire in the mechs shoulder. Ironhide hissed and swatted at the medic, only to receive a quick smack to the helm from a wrench.

"Crossswirrreeee."

"Frag off, Saberline. I'm trying to recharge."

"Come onnnn…there's nothing to do!" Saberline whined, sitting on her haunches and looking pitiful. "Hatchet's fixing up my host and I don't want to go anywhere near him while he's in a funk."

"I don't care. Frag off."

"No."

Saberline frowned, narrowing her optics as she tried to think of something that would get Crosswire off of her host. Other than actually trying to pry the femme out of her Carrier, which she knew had low survival rates in her favor, she couldn't actually really think of anything that could help her.

"Meecchhhhh.."

Jazz onlined one optic, staring at the bulkier cassette sitting on his chest plates.

"Is there somethin' Ah can help ya with, femme?" he drawled.

"Yeah. Make Crosswire get up." Saberline deadpanned. "I'm bored."

"Uh huh. Sorry, not gonna happen. We're rechargin'." Jazz replied calmly before reshuttering his optic. The femme could suck it up, for all he cared. He wasn't really in the mood to be giving orders to anybot, and besides, Crosswire's purring was really creating a pleasant pulse that soothed his spark.

"Ugh. I hate you all." Saberline muttered, throwing her servos up in the air before leaping off of Jazz to sulk in the nearest corner. It sure beat having to slink back over to the two bellowing mechs who were two of the Autobots 'finest'. Yeah, right. If the finest the Autobots had now consisted of a cranky old medic who'd had it out for Saberline the moment she'd been sparked and an even crankier old Weapons Specialist, this planet was well and truly slagged.

"Mhm." Crosswire hummed, not even bothering to disconnect from her host. It was good to see- well, hear at the moment, that Saberline was beginning to show signs of who she'd been before their mission. Now herself, on the other servo…she knew she was going to be having the human term 'nightmares' for a great number of orns. But at least she had a new host to get to know in order to keep her well distracted for a while at least.

A small brush against the back of her mind brought a brief moment of curiosity before retreating, and the small femme internally vented lightly.

::Ya holdin' up there, 'Wire?:: Jazz's distinct tone asked softly.

::I could ask you the same thing, host.:: Crosswire replied with just a little humor in her tone. ::After all, you're the one who lost one half of his frame.::

::This is nothin'. Ya should've seen the other mech.:: he replied with an air of haughty amusement. ::Tha' partner of yours is a little hellion on the battlefield.::

::She is a warrior build.:: Crosswire pointed out. ::And that's just the way she is.::

::You mean she's always like that?:: Jazz asked in disbelief. Crosswire snorted, the sound causing her to shudder.

::Maybe not always so violent, but yes.::

::Sweet Primus, where's she been all these vorns? Coulda used her on the frontlines back on Cybertron.:: Jazz whistled. Crosswire gave the equivalent of a shrug over the bond.

::Being my back-up on missions?:: she offered. It was true; back when they had initially been partnered, there hadn't been much for the cassette to do to help the Autobot cause. So, she had been sent on missions as back-up for her partner when Crosswire was sent out to gather intelligence.

::And what, exactly, is your function, little lady?::

The femme had to disconnect from Jazz at that one. Careful of the fresh welds, she raised herself above the mechs faceplates.

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet?" she teased, tapping the tinted visor over her optics with a delicate claw. "I'm an espionage femme. With the occasional explosion, of course."

Jazz tilted his helm vaguely to one side, visor glinting lightly from the dull lighting above. A small smirk tugged at his lip-plates, and his servo came up to trap her against his chassis.

"Consider yoursel' caught, then."

With a sarcastic snort, Crosswire wriggled against the servo that was only lightly holding her down before settling in comfortably. She couldn't say that she minded all that much; it was necessary for her and her new host to establish a bond with one another, and on the plus side, Jazz was proving to be an easy mech to be around.

::Can't say I mind.:: she hummed, settling back down for recharge. As fun as all of her brief conversation had been, she was fully intent on returning back to recharge to rid herself of any lingering effects from her minor repairs.

"Neither can Ah." Jazz murmured before turning down his audials to avoid falling into recharge with the married couple bickering over by Saberline. Honestly. Ironhide should have sparkbonded with Ratchet instead of Chromia, the way they acted around one another.

-;-

"You're such a baby." Saberline taunted from Ironhide's shoulder, perched comfortably on her haunches as her servos lightly rested on his helm. "Honestly. It was a couple of wires and a few dents. Jazz is better behaved, and he's missing half his frame!"

A low rumble from her host had Saberline venting and shuttering her optics. Really? Of all the mechs she had to be compatible with, it had to be the least mature?

"Come on. It could have been worse, mech." Saberline muttered, patting Ironhide's audial. "Besides, Ratchet's the one who upgraded my frames. He's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say." The Weapons Specialist grumbled. "He wouldn't hurt a femme."

"Oh yes he would, and you know it. But I sat my aft down and got over the discomfort slagging quick, because otherwise I was stuck on back-up duty. And trust me, host. Back-up duty is all well and good when there's actually action, but it sucks exhaust pretty bad when all you're doing is waiting for your partner to come back from whatever hidey hole the 'Cons are holed up in." bit back the cassette. "Besides, Ratchet does the best he can. It's not his fault his patients are so rowdy and immature."

Ironhide wasn't entirely sure of what to process at the moment. He wasn't entirely sure because he could have sworn that he was just chewed out, and yet at the same time he was simply getting advised against taking measures against the warlord of the Med Bay in the future.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a nap. Wake me up if the world's ending."

Like Pit he would. The femme was a pain in his aft, and they both knew it. The difference between them was that she was purposefully beginning to frag him off now, sizing him up and learning the various triggers that would get the best reactions out of him for the future.

"I hate you."

"That's nice."

-;-

The rest of the day passed…mostly uneventfully, actually. Ratchet didn't know whether to be concerned or not about that small detail. Jazz and his new cassette were quite contentedly alternating between naps and small conversations that included very pointed questions about the other. The medic tried not to overhear those moments, instead busying himself with attempting to keep his temporary space clean and repairing his comm-systems. A couple of loose wires were grating on one another, caused by the entry into the atmosphere, and he'd rather deal with them before they became a real issue and made taking care of his other patients a chore.

Optimus came in at one point as well, citing several dents and tears in his armor that would do well to be repaired before rust could set in. During said repairs, the much larger mech couldn't help but look over his current Second in Command and the cassette curled up on his chassis.

"How is he, Ratchet?" the Prime inquired softly, his baritone a soothing rumble.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." The medic replied, glancing over to his patient for a brief moment. "Though the fact that the cassette bonded with him does prove to be swaying the odds to his favor."

"How so?"

"From what I've gathered so far, their sparks are feeding off of one another. Not quite like a spark-bond, but similar. It keeps them balanced. And for Jazz, that is the best case scenario that we could ask for."

The red and blue mech hummed in reply, gaze shifting to the cassette. He could remember her in his memories. How he had delegated the task of finding the Allspark to her and her partner, their carriers worried but knowing that it was a risk that was needed. She had not been like the femme he could see now. The paint that had coated her frame- he wanted to say that it had been a shade of dark blue- was gone, and there was a weariness about her that was visible even in recharge. Evidently, the war had taken its toll upon her as well. It was to be expected, really. The war had changed them all- hardened their sparks as more comrades continued to fall. If Jazz had been added to that list, so soon after losing Prowl…

Optimus didn't know what that would have done to the few Autobots still left.

But those were matters best left alone. They had not lost Jazz, and there were two new Autobots that had rejoined their ranks- femmes, too. It was a positive thing. Many femmes were either offline or in hiding far across the galaxies in order to protect themselves and their young.

Perhaps…

"Alright Prime, that should do it." Ratchet spoke, breaking the Prime from his thoughts. Tapping on his knee, the medic offered him a knowing smile and wiped his servos on a cloth he'd grabbed from subspace. "Just make sure to let me know if anything happens or if any rust does show up. The last thing we need is our Prime getting any injuries when we have so many things to address around here."

"Of course, Ratchet." Optimus nodded, standing and running a diagnostics scan on himself. Everything appeared to be in order for the moment, but he knew he would have to keep an eye on his repairs just in case. On this new planet, anything could happen, and it would do him no good to be getting some new disease because he had underestimated his surroundings. "Please, keep me posted on Jazz and Crosswire's condition."

"You know I will." The medic replied gruffly. "Now get."

Optimus did as he was told, lest he be on the receiving end of one of the mech's wrenches. He'd been rather notorious back on Cybertron for wielding them against unruly patients- namely Sunstreaker and Sideswipe- and getting himself into a right fit from time to time.

He couldn't help the chuckle that passed his lip-plates as he wandered out of the Med Bay and down the hall, the thought familiar and warm.

Perhaps all would be well after all.