I'm not reposting all the warnings. If you didn't read them in Pt. 1, then on your head be it.

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Pt. 3

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So there was a meeting.

A historic ending of millions of years of civil war? Entire geological eras had passed while the Decepticons and Autobots fought. Planets had formed. Life forms had crawled out of the primordial ooze and fought over who got the sprinkled donut, all in the time Cybertron had been at war. Of course there was a meeting. Whole species would probably evolve (if they didn't kill each other over the meeting refreshment platter) before the peace process fully completed, and nobody was taking a step without first having a meeting about how high they'd lift the foot, how fast they'd walk, and - for Primus' sake - what direction they'd be walking in.

It'd be that one idiot who charged off without first consulting anyone who'd restart the war, and nobody wanted to be that idiot. They had enough trouble tethering their bands of armed yahoos already. They were having pre-meeting meetings about their meetings at this point, because paranoia wasn't a strong enough word for how badly both factions wanted this peace thing to work.

Red Alert was having the time of his life. It wasn't often everybody checked twice with him before going anywhere or doing anything.

So, yes, there was a meeting.

Well, more of a flummoxed scrambling as half of the Autobot command cadre got pummeled by urgent communication pings from Jazz the moment he recovered from Starscream's departure. Mirage kindly didn't mention to anyone that it'd taken Jazz at least a breem to recover, but Mirage also didn't bring up the fact that he hadn't prodded his commander into recovery any faster because his own fans had been busy whirring away for at least that long. Starscream was an attractive mech. Jazz could melt steel when he set his mind to it. Both of them in one room was enough to set the grunts in either faction to twittering, and whatever that last exchange had been between the two hotties…

Mirage had been sent as backup. He'd been looking for danger, but somehow he'd ended up watching live action pornography.

A spy in peace time was better known as a voyeur. And, oh, did Mirage love his job.

Anyway, meeting. Yes. Not porn. Porn wasn't a serious topic for a meeting, no matter what Mirage mumbled on his way to his bunk. This por - courtship thing was a potential tripwire if Jazz had ever fallen over one, and it needed to be dealt with right now. Which, coincidentally, was what Mirage was doing. But Jazz was stuck in a Meeting of Awkward, which was only slightly less interminable than a Meeting From the Pit, which usually involved arguing whether to use 'if' or 'when' in Clause H, Sub-Clause 42.3 of the treaty draft. Meetings of Awkward typically highlighted things nobody wanted to talk about but had to be brought up in excruciating detail for commentary by the entire officer cadre.

This particular emergency meeting involved a metric aftload of embarrassment on Jazz's part, but it had its high points. Watching his commanding officer dither and fall over himself verbally always entertained.

"You did not see fit to mention this any time prior to tonight?" Prowl's tone could cut ice. The Autobot Second-in-Command had pinned Optimus Prime to his seat by sheer, frigid indignation, and he had no mercy when it came to proper procedure. Finding out that the leader of the opposing faction had been molesting the Prime in the name of 'peace' was neither proper nor procedure. If the perfectly squared organization of his datapad and stylus on the table were anything to go by, Prowl was livid.

Their Prime squirmed in his seat like Bluestreak trying to hold onto a juicy secret. Bluestreak couldn't keep a secret to save his life. He was the best broadcast system the gossip network had. "I…didn't know it was…" The excuse trailed off into mumbles, because it wasn't holding water under Prowl's glacial stare. "Megatron insisted my permission was the only way the peace process could begin?" Prime offered meekly. "And he's not hurting me, which is an improvement, so I didn't think it was important?" 'Not as important as peace!' was implied in big, bold subtext, with added petro-rabbit bunny-optics underscoring the words. Optimus' face was startlingly expressive despite the mask.

"For the purpose of ending our Great War."

There was a beat of silence, and then the assembled officers groaned as one. Prowl's look morphed into one of long-suffering resignation, and his hands rose in a half-clenching gesture like he wanted to strangle something. It was questionable what, since Prowl would never commit violence against a superior officer and trying to strangle aspects of a mech's personality really didn't work.

"What did we tell you about this self-sacrificing attitude you got?" Ironhide demanded.

Optimus Prime tucked himself down, cringing under their reproving glares. "'There's only one Prime, and he is indispensible,'" he recited obediently, but ruined it by straightening up and adding, "I will never agree with that, no matter how many times you make me say it. I am of no more value than any other Autobot, and I will gladly sacrifice my body for - "

"Shut up, Prime," Ratchet, Ironhide, and Prowl said at the same time. Jazz was snickering too hard to join in.

"I am calling Sludge," Prowl went on to inform their leader, and Optimus went from looking mutinous to looking for a quick exit, visibly afraid that Prowl was actually following up on that threat, "and he will be sitting on you until you agree to what we decide."

"But - !"

"No. I warned you after the last time you 'sacrificed' yourself for the 'greater good.' There is a reason you turn to me for tactics, and it is because your judgment is not sound in these situations."

Prime seemed slightly panicked. Also a little insulted, because just because it was true didn't mean Prowl had to be so condescending about it. "Ironhide!" he appealed.

"Shaddup, siddown, and take your punishment like a mech. Prowl warned ya." Ironhide didn't even look up. He was hunched over the latest meeting schedule with Red Alert on one side and Jazz on the other, and they were tearing it apart with a brutal efficiency that would do a shark feeding frenzy proud. "Alright, we've got rid of all the private meetings between you and that fragger - " Ratchet leaned over Red Alert and smacked Ironhide upside the head, but there wasn't much force to the blow. Relearning tolerance for peace or not, finding out Megatron had been all over Prime the second the doors closed behind them kind of justified the name-calling. Ironhide didn't even correct himself. "Wheeljack, you're gonna have to bolt from meeting with Shockwave to get all the way to the third floor meeting hall in time, but we're good after that. When he checks back in from patrol, Bumblebee's gettin' reassigned."

Jazz grinned at their ashamed, alarmed, and otherwise aft-headed leader. "You've got yourself a personal secretary, Prime! Think about how much less filework you'll have to do," he tacked on in backhanded comfort. That got him a sullen look, and he grinned back. Seriously, Optimus was cute when spited. "Unless you really want that private time..?"

The officers all turned to look in genuine interest when an immediate refusal wasn't forthcoming. Prime spluttered as he became the focus of far too many speculative gazes. "Wh-what? No! Of course not!"

"Mmhm." Ratchet gave him a shrewd once-over. "He's not hurting you, is he? I should take you in for a physical to make sure - "

"No! Well," Prime amended, "not anymore than sparring with Grimlock - for Primus' sake, I didn't mean it like that!"

The officers continued to grin at each other, absolutely glorying in the gush of gossip they'd just been handed. "Sparring matches have rules, and they're usually friendly. Grappling hand to hand would probably be a form of courtship among warbuilds," Ratchet said, all crisp efficiency until his optics twinkled with glee as Optimus continued chanting "No no no stop it no" in the background, ignored by all. "I'm going to be monitoring any inter-factional sparring matches from now on."

"Make sense," Ironhide put in, fighting a smile. "Negotiations between equally deadly warriors has to be taken outta context of real combat, or they'd be killing each other trying to get a contract. Why ask permission if the courtship involved force? I'd say no every time, and there goes the contract."

"Military contracts are probably set up between equal or complementary mechs," Wheeljack mused. "We need to find out more about this. Especially social contracts, if they're different. Jazz?"

Jazz sat back in his seat and shrugged, reaching for a casual It's All Good air and pulling off a sharp I'm Embarrassed To Exist instead. "Screamer seems to be open to talkin' about it. I'll see what I can find out from him." Which meant actively seeking the Seeker out. Oh, dear. "In the meantime, Skyfire's bringing half the Constructicons back from the solar collectors as soon as maintenance is finished. I'll pull some strings, ask some questions, and nab Skyfire soon as he gets back." Starscream had actually said to ask Skyfire about his past contracts, indicating that his old science partner might have some information. 'Some' was more than they had at the moment.

"It's imperative that the command staff know to inform me instantly if there are any more courtship proposals," Red Alert said, making a note to himself and covertly watching Optimus Prime over the top of his datapad. The Autobot leader was whining and had buried his face in his hands, defeated by their ability to make him regret sacrificing himself for their sakes. They could take care of themselves, thank you very much, if saving them came at the price of Megatron chasing him around the peace table. "Threat assessment?" the security director asked Jazz.

A fan kicked on, but it was stifled as soon as it started. "I didn't feel threatened," Jazz said truthfully, tipping back in his chair and training his visor on the ceiling to avoid their optics. He was apparently unaware that one hand was cradled to his bumper, and the other was trailing fingers, slow with memory, across his jawline and down the linkages of his throat. "He just…asked."

He came back to himself with a full-body shake and looked at them. "I'm more worried that even assigning Prime a secretary's not gonna be enough. Starscream, uh, well, I got the feeling that he was bein' discreet."

That sank into them. Starscream had shown up on their front doorstep and made a show of asking Jazz out in front of pretty much everyone. If that was discreet, then what were the other Decepticons going to do?

Prime looked mortified.

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End Pt. 3

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