Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and places belong to HasTak, anything you don't recognise is probably mine.

Warning: more semi-graphic slash

Part 10: Win some, lose some
Chapter 3 of 6


Jazz had already locked the door, but he tested it absently as he checked the work schedules again, berating himself for the redundancy in his actions but needing to be sure.

Nothing had changed: the door was still safely locked and both of his roommates were on duty for the next joor. One joor of no interruptions. Time to rest.

He settled slowly onto his berth, facing the door, backplates flush to the wall, energy dagger concealed in his palm curled under his cheek as he lowered his helm. At the faintest sound, at the first hint of someone opening that door, he would be alert. If the intrusion were innocent he could feign recharge; if it were not, he would be ready to strike.

He knew full well that this was unhealthy, that he should be less stressed by now. Being here amongst other Autobots in this state was downright dangerous. For them. And if something went wrong, it would be messy to sort out.

Of course knowing that and being able to fix it were two completely different things. On the Ark he had had the security of a space all to himself where he was safe and so was everyone else. Here on the Escaphalion, there was no such protected space. The next best solution would be to move in with Hound and Mirage who would at least be aware of the threat but they already had two roommates and it would be awkward to explain why Jazz, the long absent storesmech recently discovered to have been hiding out in the Calyx sector, warranted special treatment. So he had to make do.

He adjusted his grip on the dagger just slightly so he could feel the cool metal of the handle against his cheek. He should really put it away; the likelihood of being attacked here was very low. Still, it was a comforting presence.

This last mission had been the longest by far of any he had ever undertaken other than his role as 'Jazz', but at least as 'Jazz' he knew who he truly was. On that mission, he had been oblivious to the truth. He had built a life in that role, a history that no telepath or hacker could disprove because it was all real to him. Such delusion, the messing about with his own processors, was the reason he was so effective in these roles when he was deployed that way, but it also had its price and this time the price felt too high.

He tilted his head back, gaze drifting up towards the ceiling. The problem was that he had not been unhappy in that role, there had been no reason to be. Being returned to full awareness was jarring and unpleasant, and this time was even worse than other times because this time he had something to miss. Or rather, someone. But he hadn't.

He shifted position irritably.

Of course he had not missed Prowl during his mission. How could he, when he did not even remember him? There was no point getting upset about it now. It was just that he had never considered that he might be gone nearly this long. Thirty vorns, sure; maybe fifty at the outside. Not the best part of two centuries. No, he had never considered anything nearly as long as that.

The moment he had come back to himself, turning to see Silencer watching him, the other agent having triggered the release code in spite of the agreement being for Mirage to do it, the very first thing that he had thought of was Prowl. Not his mission, not how he was going to extricate himself, not why things had changed from the original plan that should have recalled him well over a century earlier; just Prowl. And the desperate need to see him.

He scrubbed at his face with his free hand.

This was no-one's fault but his own. He had denied the attraction for so long because of what his job sometimes entailed, and he had tried to express it to Prowl when they had bonded, but none of that changed the fact that he had abandoned his bondmate. He had lived in blissful ignorance while Prowl suffered in his absence. It was precisely the opposite of what he had wanted for the sparkling.

Sparkling. Ha. Sparkling no longer, he was now fully an adult, and Jazz had no idea what he had experienced during that transition. Nor how he felt about his absentee bondmate. These were questions he dreaded the answers to.

All the way back to the flagship he had fretted over how he should approach Prowl. The mech was likely going to be furious with him, and that fury would only build when he finally understood that the worry had been one-sided. He had steeled himself for the argument that was sure to come, wondering all the while how he was going to ensure it happened privately; they could not do this publicly without giving away hints of their relationship, nor would Prowl be likely to want to wait until he was off duty after waiting for so very long already. But in the end it had been a moot point. Jazz had arrived to find that Prowl was in fact already off duty, and so instead of reporting in he had taken the opportunity given and slipped away from the agent assigned to see him to Curveball's office undetected. And then...

He sighed, offlining his optics.

There had been no argument, no questions, not any words at all of any real import. Prowl had opened the door and the rest had been instinctual, an irresistable compulsion to refresh the connection between them through physical contact. He wasn't about to complain about any of that, most definitely not, but it left him with this lingering guilt that he could not shed until they had actually discussed this. Which currently appeared to be impossible because Prowl had not come off duty since the briefing with Prime's senior staff.

Was Prowl avoiding him? It seemed likely. And to be fair, Prowl deserved to be the one to make the first move here, as the aggrieved party. But that assumed that he held Jazz responsible for the long absence, and the only way to even begin to explain that would be to talk to him. Which was not possible until they could meet again.

Growling at himself for wasting time thinking in circles, he tucked his head down again and told himself to charge. But first he checked his roommates' schedules one more time. Just to be sure.


"Hey, Sides, gotta breem?"

Sideswipe was slightly surprised to see Jazz coming down a side corridor towards him, warm smile on his face. He had seen the other mech around in the last few orns but not to speak to, just across the training room, or in a corridor. Jazz had not seemed particularly interested in talking to him so what had changed now?

"Sure, I just got off-shift. You wanna get some fuel?"

Jazz snorted.

"If you're talkin' that rubbish they're servin' in the rec room, forget it. I'd rather starve. Nah, I just wanted t'talk. Your room?"

"Fair enough."

Sideswipe led the way to his quarters, suspecting that Jazz did not want to share this conversation with anyone else and that meant avoiding the space he had been assigned since his return: he was currently sharing a room with three others.

Almost everyone was sharing quarters with at least two others but so far he and Sunny had managed to retain their own space. He suspected it was partly Prowl's doing, in gratitude for their help and friendship, but he had never asked directly. With the pressure on at the moment it may have to change soon anyway. The Escaphalion was really a little small to be acting as the flagship in the long term.

Stepping through the doorway he wondered if he and Sunny could voluntarily take in Jazz rather than wait to be assigned someone else. The mech would probably be spending most of his time in Prowl's berth anyway, so it was not like he would be much of a burden; besides, rumour had it that Jazz could be a lot of fun and was a real player in the ever-important prank war. He would raise it with Sunny later and then get it done: it would be far better than waiting to be given someone they didn't get to pick.

"Just shove all that stuff on the floor." Sideswipe suggested, gesturing to a chair covered in cleaning materials. "Sunny's kinda obsessive about his finish these days."

Jazz picked up a pile to do so, froze, then walked over to a wall. Clearing a second chair for himself, Sideswipe looked up to see what he was looking at just as Jazz turned to stare piercingly at him.

"Why," he asked slowly, "do you have pictures of Prowl on your wall?"

Sideswipe had answered that question many times, usually claiming it was blackmail material. For Jazz, though, he would be honest.

"He's a good looking mech." he shrugged. "And it irritates Sunny no end that he can get his finish to shine like that without spending groons waxing and buffing himself."

Jazz turned back to examine the images for a long moment and Sideswipe finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a forced laugh.

"Aw come on - they're not even dirty pics. What I should've done was get one of you two up against his door the other orn. Now that was erotic. Coulda made a fortune flogging them off."

Jazz stirred and finally returned to the chair, although his gaze was still on the images.

"What?" Sideswipe asked, exasperated by the weird behaviour.

"I don't have any pictures of him." Jazz confessed slowly. "Can't risk it in my line of work. Last time I left I even deleted the visual feed on memories of him before I went in case I got hacked."

Sideswipe shuddered at the casual mention of that hideous torture, but also at the idea of what Jazz was suggesting.

"Not everything though, right?"

"Everything." Jazz said distantly. "While I was away, I didn't even know what he looked like. And now I'm here there's never any time to just... look."

"Well for the love of Primus, have them." Sideswipe insisted. "If anyone should be spinning his cogs over him, it's you."

Jazz shook his head, looking away at last, and lips spreading in a slow smile.

"Nah. Can't get caught. Might come in occasionally to spin, though."

"So long as it's just spinning and not jacking off I've got no problems." Sideswipe shrugged. "When you start coming in here to self-service to a static image of your own lover, that's when I'll worry."

Jazz's smile faded and he slumped into the chair.

"Way it is at the moment, I'm just about there. I can't get near him; he's avoidin' me."

"Avoiding you?" Sideswipe asked blankly.

"I guess he's angry at me. I know I was gone a whole lot longer'n I'd planned, but I thought he'd understand that. Wouldn't blame him if he's upset, really, but he's not givin' me a chance t'make it up to him."

Sideswipe thought back through the events of the past few orns since Jazz had returned.

"He's missed you too much to be petty like that. And he sure was happy enough to see you when you got back - no doubt there!"

Jazz shrugged.

"I took him by surprise, is all. I didn't even talk to him, just grabbed him. Shouldn'ta done that."

"Well from what I saw he wasn't complaining." Sideswipe told him. "If you hadn't jumped him first, he wouldn't've let you get far before doing it himself. He's really missed you. Most of the time he doesn't let it show, and only Sunny'n'I know what he's thinking about when he does, but he's been desperate for you to come back. Trust me."

"So why's he avoiding me, then?"

"I'm not sure he is." Sideswipe ventured. "He's just been going through his normal routine, far as I can see."

"Normal routine?" Jazz frowned. "He hasn't been to his quarters to charge since I got back!"

Sideswipe shook his head.

"That's not all that unusual. He naps in his office between meetings when he gets tired, but when there's something on he often goes a deca-orn or more between full chargings. It drives
Ratchet up the wall, but it doesn't seem to do him any damage and we really do need the plans he comes out with so it just carries on. And your timing's just awful: they're working on something big again. Started about a joor after you got in - you're lucky it didn't start earlier or you wouldn't've seen him yet."

Sideswipe privately had his suspicions that Prowl's current preoccupation was actually due to whatever Jazz had been up to all this time, but the other mech gave nothing away.

"The Cons don't even drive their slaves that hard." Jazz complained. "When does he get to rest? He'll burn himself out if he keeps that up for too long."

"He's been doing it for the best part of a century without any trouble." Sideswipe pointed out. "He lets the others handle the fleet stuff, but he does all Prime's planning personally."

"What about the aides and assistants and juniors? What do they do, if he's doing all the work?"

"He keeps them busy." Sideswipe shrugged. "He just doesn't trust them with the really sensitive stuff, that's all. We had such a mess after Quickquadrant that in the end Prowl told Prime he'd rather just do it himself than deal with more incompetents and potential spies."

Jazz looked so distressed by all this that Sideswipe tried to find some more positive news for him.

"He does take a bit of time for himself when he can. When things aren't so frantic he takes proper breaks and schedules in a joor off-duty every three or four orns. He likes to wash himself down - that's one of his favourite things, I swear he could spend a whole orn in there if he didn't have other things to do - and then... well it depends.

"Sometimes he goes to the gym to keep up his hand to hand skills, or the target range, or the rec room. Other times he just likes to laze around. That's what was happening when you got back - he'd taken some time off, and we were playing Overlord. He always wins, no matter how much I cheat or how much of an advantage he gives me, but it relaxes him."

Jazz had gone pensive, staring at the photos again.

"He's not sharing with anyone." Sideswipe added, suddenly realising what might be upsetting the spy. "I've stayed the odd rest cycle with him sometimes, sure, but it's just been company. He gets lonely sometimes. He missed you."

"I missed him too." Jazz murmured, then sat up straight, turning his back on the images. "Right. That's more than enough maudlin slag for one orn. So what's a mech gotta do t'get some edible energon around here?"


Prowl opened the door to his quarters, tired but satisfied.

Pushing himself even harder than he usually did he had managed to contrive a whole joor of time for himself in the middle of what were some of the biggest planning sessions since Luciana. Prime wanted the breeding factories targetted and the victims either rescued or euthanised with a minimum of contact with the Autobot troops, and he wanted it done now.

He had gone through scenario after scenario and time after time the potential casualty rate had been too high, but he had finally gotten together something workable. Prime was now calling in the commanders who would undertake the various missions. When they arrived Prowl would have to brief them and their staff, but since he had been so efficient in producing the final reports - and in delegating the rest of his duties - he was free until they all arrived at Ovacalix.

Ultra Pluron had the furthest to travel, and Prowl had his ETA counting down in a subroutine in his processor.

Hurrying inside he did not even bother to key on the lights, just going straight through to the wash racks. A full joor. So he would have a quick wash and then find Jazz. He had a feeling his lover would not care if he washed first or not, but he wanted to be clean for him.

Standing under the spray, he reached up to the shelf to find the long handled brush Sideswipe had given him as a gift several vorns ago that was just the perfect size and shape to help him wash his own back and doorwings without needing assistance, then froze as someone touched him from behind.

His mind flashed straight back to Nolan, particularly when the hands slid possessively over his hips, but then he saw the black paint and belatedly realised he was getting strong feedback through the bond to accompany the physical contact.

"Jazz?" he yelped.

Jazz nuzzled him the side of his neck.

"Been waitin' for ya."

"But I didn't call you yet!" Prowl protested.

"Heard a rumour you've been a bit busy." Jazz murmured, moving flush against his back, heedless of the fluid pouring down over them both. "Heard another that this was where you'd go first, when you had time."

Prowl gasped as Jazz's hands slid up his sides and over his headlights, but then forced himself to calm down enough to remove those wandering hands and twist in his arms to face him.

"You've been waiting in here for orns?" he demanded, incredulous.

"Well not the whole time." Jazz smiled at him. "Just when y'didn' have meetings scheduled."

"My schedule is encrypted."

"Like that'd stop me seein' it." Jazz retorted, then seemed to lose some of his confidence. "So. We should pro'ly talk for a bit, catch up on..."

Prowl cut him off by kissing him hard, slamming him up against the back wall of the cubicle.

"Talk later." he declared. "I want everything and I don't even care if someone walks in on us. I'm legal now, and I'm not stopping for anything until I've had your spark merging with mine. Several times."

Jazz's visor darkened to indigo with desire at that stated goal.

"Then lets stop wastin' time an' get started."