Title: Siberia (with inspiration from the song by LIGHTS.)

Author: iron valkyrie

Rated: G

Fandom: G1 Transformers

Characters/Pairings: Jazz/Smokescreen

Summary: Jazz and Smokescreen are stranded while on a mission, but Smokescreen has more on his mind than Decepticons or the cold.

Warnings: None.

Note: For Arts, who requested Jazz/Smokescreen with "snow" as a prompt. :)

Smokescreen felt silly. He always felt a little silly in matters concerning Jazz, but now he felt really silly.

They were on a mission; he shouldn't be preoccupied with anything other than the mission. And perhaps the fact that the snowstorm raging around them was slowly freezing their systems and grinding them to a halt. The same snowstorm which had fritzed their communications a cycle ago. The same snowstorm which had them looking for the nearest possible cover, rather than the energon mine the Decepticons were reportedly trying to run.

In fact, the relationship between himself and Jazz was purely casual. They'd both known that, that's what they had gotten into it for, more or less. So he shouldn't be as worried about the fact that they'd been in this casual relationship for a year now.

Or that Jazz hadn't seemed to notice that it was today that it was a year exactly. Sure, he probably hadn't paid any mind since it was equally as silly to measure by human standards. But as they were stuck on Earth...

Soon enough, they found an area big enough, and deep enough, to sheild them from the winds at the very least. The few rocks nearby they gathered together and heated up with their blasters, before they huddled next to each other in front of the small, glowing warmth. Smokescreen vented a huge sigh, his doors flicking miserably on his back. "Why did it have to be the frozen wasteland?" he muttered.

Jazz chuckled. "Didn't y'know all spies gotta go to Russia at some point in their careers?"

The Datsun stared at him. "Is that so?" he said. His doorwings flicked again.

"Yep!" the saboteur replied, a grin on his face. Smokescreen just shook his head, snorting. Jazz regarded him for a moment, head tilted. "Y'okay there, Smokes?"

Smokescreen lifted his head, blinking in a look that would have rivaled Bluestreak's. "Me? I'm fine. Aside from the obvious," he added, brushing snow from his shoulders and knees.

Jazz chortled. "I'm not buyin' it, mech," he said. "Ya been thinkin awful hard about somethin, and it weren't snow or 'cons."

"Oh really?" Smokescreen said. "You the new psychic around these parts?"

"Nah," Jazz said. "I just know you."

A curious warm sensation came over Smokescreen's spark. It was honestly hard not to talk to Jazz about whatever plagued his processors, but... all his own kept returning to him was what if Jazz wasn't into this the way he was? What if this was all he wanted? He looked back over at the Porsche when the smaller bot scratched at the back of his helm.

"Ehh, this isn't anything about..."

Smokescreen watched him, optic ridges raised. "About?"

"Well, it's been a year since we started our lil shindig," he said, shrugging. Though he looked casual, Smokescreen would have bet anything that Jazz was watching him very closely from under that visor.

Well then, he could have a great sight of the grin that spread across the Datsun's lips. "Why Jazz, I didn't think you cared!" he said, teasing now that he'd heard those words.

Jazz snorted. "Yer the one who was broodin about it," he retorted. He smiled at Smokescreen, though. "I thought I was bein silly, y'know... just a human year, and..."

"If you're going to tease me about brooding, then I might as well add that I was also concerned about if I took our 'shindig' as you put it more seriously than I should have," he added softly.

It was Jazz's turn to beam at him. "No mech," he replied softly, leaning against the larger frame. "Not at all."