Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Original publish date: 9/27/10

Prompt: "I didn't think you'd take it literally!"
Verse: G1
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: TF swearin'
Summary: A strange look into how Prowl and Jazz keep their relationship...fresh.

Lovers' Quarrel

"You are being unreasonable," Prowl said stiffly, crossing his arms.

Jazz scoffed. "I'm bein' unreasonable? Oh, that's jus' a load of slag!"

"Jazz, please keep your voice down. May we continue this conversation in my office?" Prowl implored, glaring at the smaller black and white mech.

The saboteur waved his arms around. "You wish, mech. I want there ta be plenty of witnesses fer this spat."

Trying to remain inconspicuous, but failing to do so, the crew of the Ark watched in morbid fascination as the fight between their SIC and TIC escalated. Just a few breems prior, everyone gathered in the rec room had been enjoying an amiable break. Jazz had been among them, sitting at a table with Bluestreak, the Twins, Bumblebee, Mirage, and Hound. They laughed and chatted while relaxing with a cube of energon. The last few orns had been filled with tiresome cleanup work after the latest Decepticon fiasco.

The serenity was interrupted by the resident tactician appearing in the doorway of the rec room. His cobalt optics searched diligently among the crowded tables. Focusing on the jovial saboteur, Prowl strode over to the table with purpose, doorwings flaring widely. Bluestreak caught sight of the mech first and visibly flinched at his stoic, tense appearance. The police cruiser came to a stop in front of the table, waiting for Jazz to acknowledge his presence. Mirage gulped as he saw his doorwings visibly tremble with a carefully contained rage.

Still laughing at some forgotten joke, Jazz only looked up at the SIC when Bumblebee gave him a nervous poke with his servo.

"What's wrong, 'Bee? You look like you saw a ghost," Jazz chuckled.

Sideswipe pointed. "Uh, Jazz…I think Prowl wants to talk to you."

Glancing up beneath his visor, Jazz crossed his arms behind his head and kicked up his feet on to the table with a smirk. "Is that right, Prowler? Ya got somethin' ya wanna say?"

Denta clenched tightly, Prowl gestured toward the doorway. "Perhaps we can talk in private, Jazz?"

The Porsche pretended to think about it a moment, tapping his chin in thought before replying, "Nah, I don't think so. Whatever ya gotta say ta me, you can do it front of everybody."

Jazz's silent dare hung in the air, an apprehensive silence surrounded them. The entire rec room seemed to have stopped buzzing to take witness of the events unfolding. The TIC had a feeling he knew what had Prowl's wiring in a twist, and he was almost certain the mech before him didn't have the bearings to do anything about it.

Prowl's fists coiled tightly at his sides. He resisted the urge to rip the plating right off Jazz's face forming that annoying grin. "Very well, if you insist. Jazz, effective immediately, you are hereby removed from active duty until further notice."

Stunned, Jazz lost his balance and slid in an ungraceful heap to the floor. Immediately, he leapt up to slam his palms on the surface of the table. The vibrations to the table caused the resting energon cubes to teeter and spill.

"That's completely fraggin' ridiculous!"

Prowl huffed. "You cannot say it's unexpected."

"'Course it is! Ya got no right! Does Prime know yer spoutin' crazy, unfounded declarations?" Jazz shouted in challenge as he rounded the table to step in front of the unyielding SIC.

Allowing himself his own smirk, Prowl placed his hands on his hips. "Of course, he knows. Prime is the one that approved my motion."

The visored mech fiercely scowled, the malignant expression marring his face. "Yeah? On what grounds?"

Black and white doorwings twitched in agitation. "On what grounds? On reckless, disobedient, won't listen to anyone because he has a Primus-complex grounds!"

Jazz opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again in disbelief. He let out a low growl deep from his vocalizer.

Bluestreak whispered to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker behind his hand. "I can't believe they're fighting like this!"

"I know. It's like they've been possessed by unruly versions of themselves…I'm kinda freaked out," Sideswipe admitted. "What do you think, Sunny?"

The golden Lamborghini made a shushing motion. "Quiet, I'm trying to listen!"

The two black and whites whipped their heads to identify the disturbance. In unison they scolded, "Shut up!"

Surprised by their simultaneous speech, their glaring contest resumed and we return to the present moment of a scrupulous exchange of insults.

"Ya pit-spawn! Ya can't do this ta me!"

"I most certainly can. During the last encounter with the Decepticons, you disobeyed my direct orders to disengage from Starscream's trine."

"It was the wrong call ta make, slagger. I took 'em down, didn't I?"

"That's not the point! You knowingly endangered yourself and your comrades with your needless heroics and rash actions!"

"Why do ya always have to be so 'by the book,' Prowl? Ya gotta take chances! Ya got take risks if ya want results."

"You're such a self-centered pain in the aft! I have to think about so many other factors. Things have to be planned out, or there would be utter bedlam."

"At least it would be more excitin'. At least then ya might be livin', ya sparkless fragger!"

"Jazz, that's enough. Let's discuss this in my office, unless you wish to quietly accept your temporary discharge civilly. Or…face the consequences."

"Pft. What are ya gonna do? Throw me in the brig?"

Prowl nodded. "Precisely, even if it means doing it by force. And perhaps extending your suspension."

"Fine! Do it! I don't care. Throw me in the brig! I'd like ta see ya try — gah!" Jazz stumbled backward and landed with a resounding clang as his armor struck the cold floor. His visor flickered for a moment, then faded as he fell into stasis.

Several jaws dropped as the crew stared speechless at Prowl, his fist still raised.

Mirage, normally quite an eloquent speaker, stuttered. "D-did Prowl just knock out, Jazz?"

From another table across the room, Cliffjumper answered, unsure of what he was seeing himself. "Um, yes?"

Turning his back on the prone mech, Prowl issued a gruff order. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Take Jazz to the brig."

The Twins cautiously shared a disbelieving glance. "Uh, now? Shouldn't Ratchet look at Jazz first?" Sideswipe ventured.

"No. Take him to the brig. Immediately. Don't make me tell you again."

Scrambling to comply with the order, Sides and Sunny grabbed Jazz's heavy limbs and lifted him between them. With a satisfied flick of his wings, Prowl motioned for them to follow him to the brig. As they left, the rec room erupted into gossiping chaos.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker idly let Jazz's pedes clink softly as they dragged him across the floor and to the brig. Prowl stopped in front of a cell and gestured to it. "Place him in there, please."

Doing as instructed, the Twins deposited the saboteur in the cell and looked expectantly at Prowl for further direction. "That will be all, thank you. You're both dismissed."

"Eh, Prowl...don't you think — " Sunstreaker began.

"I said, you're dismissed. I suggest you both leave and have your audios examined by Ratchet or First Aid. Clearly, you have the same hearing problem as Jazz. Unless you would like to try out my remedy…" Prowl trailed off with an incline of his head to Jazz's unconscious form.

Holding their hands out in front of them to placate the ire of the tactician, they backed away slowly. "That's okay! We heard you! Leaving — right away!" They turned and hightailed it out of the brig and away from moody officers.

As the echoes of their hasty retreat faded, Prowl allowed a small smile. With his back still turned to the now occupied cell, he gently clapped his hands together.

"A stirring performance, Jazz. If I hadn't already known you solely practiced music as a trade before the war, I would have guessed you could have been a dramatic arts performer."

Cool hands slid around his trim waist and reached up to caress Prowl's headlights. Releasing a soft groan at the attentions, Prowl twisted in the loose embrace and brought his own hands to Jazz's helm.

"I thought they would never leave…" Prowl pulled him close for kiss, only for Jazz to twist away a few steps.

"Jaaaazz," Prowl whined, making 'grabby' hands for his lover to come back. "You've got my circuits unbearably heated from our…passionate argument. And now you won't even allow me to touch you? That's cruel."

"Ah, ah," Jazz waggled his finger at him. "There's somethin' we gotta settle first."

Prowl's doorwings drooped. "Prime didn't really suspend you. Can't this wait until after we've interfaced two, three…or eight times?"

"That's not what I'm talkin' about." Jazz glared through his visor. "Ya punched me!"

"You're the one who gets riled up by arguing in front of everyone. I think it may be a type of sexual fetish," Prowl mused absentmindedly. He shook his head to focus. "Nonetheless, you were being insolent."

"Ya still punched me! And why'd ya have me thrown in the brig?"

"You told me to."

"I didn't think ya'd take it literally! Ya were supposed ta drag me back ta yer office and frag the livin' daylights outta me there."

"As I said, you suggested the brig. It was only logical to follow through on the threat. If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed I suggested we take things to my office — twice."

Jazz dragged his palm over his face. "It's a good thing I like yer cute aft so much. Damn yer logic!"

Prowl stepped forward and grasped Jazz's hips, pulling them snugly against his own. He bumped the Porsche suggestively. "Are we finished with this discussion now?"

Pretending to sigh exasperatedly, Jazz hummed. "I suppose. But next time we gotta plan out our lovers' quarrel roleplay more carefully, 'kay? No throwin' punches."

"You have my word, Jazz. No more punches. Now let me kiss you and make it all better," Prowl murmured against his lips.

Readily accepting the warm kiss, Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl's neck. "Though, next time, maybe we could start a fight while sparring. Gotta say, it really turned me on seein' ya lose yer cool like that."

Prowl released a deep chuckle. "Sparring is fighting, Jazz."

"Ya know what I mean."

"Indeed. I look forward to your future attempts to…ruffle my feathers," Prowl whispered in a sultry tone. "Oh, and one more thing. Prime requests we leave him out of any future endeavors. I believe it made him uncomfortable."

Jazz pulled Prowl in for another sparkfelt kiss. "Prime's jus' jealous."