And now to lighten the mood a little. I think this is the last P/J ficlet I already have polished and up on LiveJournal, so posting will become more erratic from here on in. How much so depends entirely on how uncooperative my current works in progress are feeling!

Thanks for reading - reviews, no matter how brief or critical, are always very welcome!

Title: Inspiration

Verse: G1

Rating: PG

Warnings: slight crack, somewhat obscure comic book references

Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Sunny, Sides, Thundercracker, Soundwave

Originally written for the prowlxjazz 2011 anniversary challenge, week 3, prompt #5 – 'Cartoon Heroes'

Summary: When Jazz encourages his mate to give human cartoons a second chance, he has cause to regret that decision.

Disclaimer: The Transformers universe and characters belong to Hasbro and are used here without permission. Well-known phrases referenced here originated variously with DC, Marvel and 2000AD comics.

"I'm telling you, Jazz: it's simply not logical." Prowl's optics were bright and there was a snap in his tone. His doorwings flared out behind him, every inch of his frame vibrating with frustrated irritation. "Even if you accept the highly implausible premises, their logical consequences…"

"It's not about logic." Jazz sauntered along the corridor, pausing to grin at his mate when he realised Prowl had stopped. Smile still firmly in place, he eyed Prowl's folded arms and scowling face, as confused by the strength of the tactician's reaction as he was amused by the cause of it. "It's about makin' the best of yer opportunities. Doin' what yer able t'do. Bein' the best ya can be." He waved one hand in an expansive gesture, forcing Bumblebee to duck as the mini-bot passed them. "About truth, justice an' the American way."

Prowl's doorwings flicked disdainfully, and Jazz didn't even try to suppress the snigger that rose in his vocalisor. He couldn't really blame Bee for throwing a second look over his shoulder, or for speeding up a little to get clear. Catching Prowl and Jazz in an argument was rare, outside of the strategy sessions both approached with equal gravity. While they had their disagreements, they were usually private affairs, kept quiet to avoid disrupting the Ark crew. For Prowl to show such strong emotion in a public corridor was unusual to say the least, and Jazz knew his amusement must look badly out of place.

Not that he would usually laugh at his mate's frustration. It was just that, of all the topics that could have got Prowl so badly riled…

"Jazz, you can't possibly believe abstract concepts capable of violating fundamental physical laws! I cannot see any possible benefit to encouraging human children to believe otherwise and nor do I understand why allowing Spike – or some of our younger Autobots! – to watch them is not only acceptable, but looked on with indulgent amusement."

"It's just a bit of fun, Prowler."

"Fun? Fun? Violence is commonplace and considered unremarkable. The strategies of the 'heroes' are inevitably flawed, and the scenarios presented in these… fantasies are idealistic at best. At worst they suggest activities that present significant danger. They don't just fail to prepare the younglings for the realities of this world, they actually encourage…"

And that was it. The real fear underlying this outburst, and the anger Jazz felt simmering in his mate.

Jazz's amusement drained away, replaced by a gnawing sadness. Prowl sensed the change in him, and deflated, the bubble of his rage burst by Jazz's reaction to it. The tactician panted, his vents uneven and strained after his rant. He evened them out with a visible effort, not breaking contact between his regret-filled optics and Jazz's dimmed visor.

Silence returned to the corridor, the two mechs aching with knowledge. Neither was conscious of moving, but they found themselves in one another's arms nonetheless, each holding the other tight.

This – the feel of another in their arms and the bond throbbing between them – this was real. Abstracts like 'truth', 'mercy', 'justice'… 'peace'…. Even the few with some foothold in reality were only good for getting people killed.

Jazz and Prowl had stopped believing in the triumph of justice long before. They fought for freedom, but not to make some kind of moral point or to indulge some righteous fantasy. When the Autobots' second and third in command confronted the 'bad guys' they didn't expect a last minute miracle, or for the Universe to hand them a happy ending. They couldn't walk through a battle without acquiring a scratch, or repair damage with a wave of their hands. It was enough for them simply to survive.

As much fun as Spike's cartoon super-heroes could be, their idealised optimism was light years away from Jazz and Prowl's experience. It hurt to realise that such dreams still had power, to remember the innocence they'd once shared.

"They're so young," Prowl whispered. "They have so much to learn."

"They'll do that without us draggin' them down." Jazz let a sigh escape his vents, slipping an arm around his mate's waist and guiding them on towards their quarters. "Let them have their fun while they can." He glanced sideways at Prowl. "An' maybe we should be tryin' t' learn from them too. Givin' the cartoons another go, an' tryin' t' remember what this is all meant t' be about. Ya never know, Prowler, even ya might pick up an idea or two."

Prowl scoffed, his weak smile showing more clearly than words how unlikely he found that prospect. Jazz rewarded the attempted smile with one of his own, leaning into Prowl's side as they slowed in front of their door. He reached up to run a finger down one of Prowl's doorwings, determined to distract his lover from a topic that was depressing them both.

For once, Prowl was more than willing to be distracted.

"I've created a monster."

Jazz deadpanned the words. He leaned back against a handy wall with his arms folded over his chest-plate and a wry expression on his face. A flick of one doorwing was the only indication he had that his mate had even heard him. The tactician was entirely focussed on the human librarian in front of him, crouching to thank the woman for a stack of graphic novels tall enough she could barely lift it into the palm of his hand.

It wasn't that there was any particular reason Prowl shouldn't develop an interest in human cartoons. Jazz would be the first to admit that some of them were rather fun, and he had, after all, spent most of the last year prompting Prowl to widen his exploration of human culture. And if Prowl was unnerving half the Ark with his quiet attendance of the afternoon cartoon hour… not to mention challenging the human library system to meet his sudden demand for both local and imported comics as he went back to the source material… well, only Primus knew better than Jazz how obsessive his mate could be when he set his processor to a task.

It was just that the saboteur was starting to worry that he'd been wrong to encourage Prowl to give this a second chance. He couldn't help fearing that the answers he'd suggested the tactician look for simply weren't there to be found.

He eyed the stack of comic compilations Prowl was tucking into his subspace with a sour expression, and had to suppress a groan when his mate launched into a discussion of when his next set of requests were likely to arrive.

"Don'tcha think we ought to be gettin' on? Twins're getting tetchy."

This time Prowl took the time to look over his shoulder, faceplates impassive as he surveyed the Lamborghinis sulking on the road behind them. The pair made for a sorry sight. Their wheel-wells were scuffed from human parking boots, their vibrant colours dulled by dirt thrown up in the race that got them impounded in the first place.

They'd been pouting since the two senior officers arrived to escort them home and, if the enforcement officers were to be believed, for half the night before. 'Tetchy' didn't really begin to cover it. Of course, Jazz mused, Prowl hadn't been in the best of moods since the early morning call interrupted his recharge either. Jazz knew his mate well enough to suspect that forcing Sunstreaker to endure the filth – and Sideswipe to endure his twin's inevitable griping – for a little longer was very much a deliberate part of the twins' punishment.

The tactician raised a brow-ridge, doorwings spreading in an unimpressed dismissal.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were well aware that they were breaking the law when they decided to speed. Given such lack of consideration for the safety and comfort of others, they are hardly in a position to begrudge a few minutes delay in returning to the Ark."

Sunstreaker's engine growled, not quite loudly enough for Prowl to take him to task, but with enough volume to earn a look that had both twins sinking lower on their tires. Prowl held them with a steady gaze for several klicks before glancing back at Jazz.

"Nevertheless…" Prowl vented a sigh, and folded down into his police car alt-mode with a final word of thanks for the woman Jazz had mentally labelled as his supplier.

The Porsche followed suit, his farewell to the librarian rather more abrupt. He shrugged his plating into place with less than his accustomed grace, revving his engine as he tried to shed his sense of chagrin and growing guilt. It was too much to hope Prowl wouldn't notice.

'It would seem the twins are not the only mechs getting impatient.' Prowl's observation was offered with a tentative air, a private com-line opening between the two mechs as Jazz led them out into the early morning traffic.

Jazz hesitated. He sped up, Prowl sticking to his tail, but pulling out a gap in front of the dawdling twins and letting a couple of human vehicles slip between them. There was small chance of Prowl dropping the enquiry when he was in this kind of mood. That didn't mean the saboteur wanted Sunny and Sides to see him squirming and hear every hiccup in his engine note as he answered his mate's implied question. 'Just wonderin' if maybe ah've been leadin' ya astray.'

'It wouldn't be the first time.' Prowl's amused assurance fell flat and the Datsun's engine revved, picking up on his mate's anxiety. 'Jazz, I really don't know… Oh.' The tactician's voice became softer as realisation dawned. 'You fear my current interest is driven by an emotional need that will not be met.'

'Isn't it?'

'On the contrary, I'm finding the study of human psychology rather fascinating, and of significant utility in our dealings with the authorities here. Not to mention that these 'superhero adventures' have suggested several promising new strategies.'

Jazz wasn't sure whether to be more bemused by the idea of using comic book strategies against the Decepticons, or insights drawn from children's cartoons on human politicians. Neither, though, mattered as much to him as Prowl's relaxed tone. He took a moment to scan his mate, searching for any sign that Prowl might be lying. The Datsun appeared calm, his engine note even and his speed constant. There was no hint of anxiety or the desolation Jazz had heard in the mech's voice just a few weeks before.

'You were perfectly correct in your assertion that these cartoon heroes are encouraged to utilise every skill to maximum effect. That is an admirable aim and I should not have allowed my cynicism to blind me to it. The dedication and commitment of these characters to their causes is fascinating… and somewhat familiar.' Prowl paused, a quiet regret entering his tone. 'I fear the realities of our war are still beyond these young humans, but I cannot and will not resent them for that.'

'Yer okay with it?'

'I'm more than simply 'okay'. I find myself increasingly protective of the innocent optimism that we ourselves have lost. And I am looking forward to finding the appropriate opportunity to make use of what I've learnt.'

'Now that ah gotta see!'

Jazz allowed a shiver of relief to pass through his frame and Prowl closed the space between them until their bumpers were near touching, reassuring his lover more important in that moment than human concepts of safe gaps and stopping distances. Jazz nudged back, keeping the impulse gentle even at the leisurely speeds they were restricted to until they escaped the city limits.

"Breakin' the rules o' the road, Prowler?" He managed to make his voice cheerful despite the niggling concern that Prowl was fooling himself. "Good thing the twins ain't seeing this."

With a mental shrug he forced himself to set his fears aside, shifting his attention back to his medium-range sensors and scanning for Sunny and Sides – now a block and a half behind and mired in the rapidly swelling traffic. Picking a single human vehicle out of a city rush hour would have been a nightmare even for Jazz's sensitive systems, or perhaps particularly for Jazz, given the number of conflicting signals. Fortunately Cybertronian life-signs…

"Decepticons!" Jazz shouted the warning both aloud and over his com for the twins to hear.

He resisted the urge to stand on his brakes – not because he thought Prowl would have trouble stopping behind him, but for fear of human drivers back-ending the pair of them. Instead he slowed gradually, trying to drag out a large enough gap from the vehicle in front to transform, while dividing his attention between his sensors and Prowl's orders for Sunny and Sides to hang back.

That wasn't an option for Prowl and Jazz. Already the flow of traffic was driving them around the corner into a wide plaza, and into full view of the Decepticon signals half way along its near side.

Humans ran past Jazz and Prowl as they braked to a halt, pedestrians joined by drivers abandoning their cars and fleeing the indifferent intruders. The plaza's approaches had become parking lots, vehicles scattered across the roads and sidewalks as their owners tried to avoid being pushed further into an open space that could devolve into a battle ground at any moment.

Not that these Decepticons appeared to care what the squishy organics chose to do, or even to be scanning the roads. That made sense, Jazz realised. With the Ark a full hour's drive away and the city's roads snarled in peak-use traffic, there'd be little risk of Autobot interference in a quick smash-and-grab raid. It was pure chance that put two Autobot officers on the ground, with back-up behind them and a few klicks to observe and assess the situation without being noticed. Jazz and Prowl didn't need discussion to know they needed to make the most of it.

Thundercracker leant against a half-tumbled wall, kicking the unstable remains idly with one heel thruster. A loose brick fell from the rough opening and clattered from Soundwave's armour. The telepath's expression didn't change, but Thundercracker held up his hands nonetheless, backing off a step and away from the wall before Soundwave turned away. Rumble and Frenzy stood nearby, apparently indifferent to the Seeker's apology and busy arguing about which of them could have knocked a hole through the wall more quickly. The fifth 'con on Jazz's sensors wasn't in sight, but from the power signature, it couldn't be anyone but Ravage. From the way the others were hanging around, Jazz guessed the panther cassette had been sent ahead into the telephone exchange building. After all, he was the logical choice to scout out a path heavier mechs could take without finding themselves in the basement amidst a pile of shattered floor joists.

'Ravage's inside.' There was no sign of Jazz's usual humour in his voice as he spoke across the heavily encrypted channel Prowl had opened to update the Ark and the nearby twins. Using their radios this close to Soundwave was risky, but the Decepticons had yet to notice them and a speaking vehicle would be a dead giveaway. 'No sign of th' other cassettes. Looks like Soundwave's tryin' to tap the human comms. Ah think this is an intel raid, not anythin' large scale.'

'Large enough to endanger innocents.'

The tense note in Prowl's voice dragged Jazz's attention back to their wider surroundings. He swore, a sinking sensation in his spark. The road was clearing now, no more vehicles making it past the approaches to the plaza, and the pedestrians had largely scattered to the shelter of nearby buildings.

It was typical of their luck since crashing on this planet that one of those just had to be an elementary school.

'We should let them go.' Jazz didn't hesitate. Even without Prowl's words about preserving innocence still echoing in his processor, he'd have decided the same. Soundwave and Thundercracker might be two of the more thoughtful, and least indiscriminately violent, Decepticons, but that wouldn't stay their fire if attacked, and the cassettes were unpredictable to say the least. The potential for collateral damage... 'Whatever info they're after, it's not worth draggin' sparklin's into this.'

'Agreed…' Prowl's voice trailed off, and the Datsun's engine revved in sudden warning. 'Too late.'

Soundwave's head snapped in their direction, the cassette twins dropping their argument and drawing their weapons as scarlet optics picked the two Autobots out of the snarled traffic. Jazz and Prowl transformed in unison, Prowl reaching into subspace even as Thundercracker jerked upright and brought his arm-mounted cannon to bear. Jazz dropped into a crouch, drawing his blaster and trying to tune out the screams of fleeing humans. He wracked his processor, searching for a plan, knowing that this situation could go south far faster than even he and Prowl could deal with.

A flash of light and heat surprised him, and he frowned as he realised Prowl had opted to use his blaster rather than the more familiar acid rifle. Soundwave cocked his head and Thundercracker hesitated. It was oddly comforting that the Decepticons were just as confused – and not least because the famously sharp-shooting tactician had just fired into a tall office building on the north side of the plaza, a full hundred yards from the telephone exchange on the east.

For a moment, Autobots and Decepticons alike froze, listening to the tinkle of falling glass and the wail of fire alarms that protested the seemingly-wanton abuse.

'Jazz. The building has a steel frame. Your hand- and pede-magnets will adhere to it without difficulty.' Prowl's clipped tones rattled over the encrypted coms almost faster than Jazz could follow. 'Occupants scan below the fifth floor and evacuating. Go.'

Jazz moved on the word, back-flipping across the plaza – partly to avoid crushing abandoned vehicles, but mostly to draw Thundercracker's fire. He succeeded. Laser fire splashed behind and around him as he reached the office block, activating his magnetic fields and scaling the vertical wall in a spider-like semi-crawl.

'Sideswipe, activate your jet-pack. Ascend vertically and enter the plaza over the third building on the west side. Sunstreaker, approach to within two hundred metres of the north-west corner and wait.'

Dodging Decepticon fire, snapping the occasional shot back down to make sure the mechs didn't get bored, all the while navigating the web-like network of girders beneath the building's skin, took a fair amount of concentration. Even so, Jazz spared a moment to appreciate the smooth ark Sideswipe traced out as the scarlet twin rose, glinting and with booster rockets roaring, into the sunlight. The front-liner cut his jet-pack at the apex of his flight, dropping into the plaza with weapon already drawn and landing in a crouch with a dangerously exhilarated grin on his face.

The hail of laser fire directed towards Jazz and Prowl subsided for a moment. Even Jazz would think twice before confronting a Sideswipe that hyped, and that was without the added distraction of his showy entrance. Grinning a little himself, Jazz snapped off another shot, making the most of his high ground and grazing Soundwave's shoulder buttons. Judging by the cries of outrage from the cassette twins, that was more than enough to drag attention back upwards and towards himself. Sideswipe joined in, placing his shots carefully, and just as eager to draw Decepticon fire away from the school and into the human-free areas Prowl had identified.

'Prowl…'

'Sunstreaker, wait!'

'But Prowl…!'

Soundwave hesitated, obviously hearing the command Prowl transmitted in the clear, and as confused by it as Sunstreaker was. Jazz kept the grin on his face. Even so, he was starting to wonder about Prowl's strategy here himself. The tactician had taken advantage of the double distractions offered by Jazz and Sideswipe to herd a few stray humans into more secure cover and to relocate himself to the shelter of an abandoned bus. Now he fired a pinpoint shot through the gaping hole in the telephone exchange, and a yelp from Ravage preceded the panther's sudden retreat to his master's side. The shot was enough to alert the Decepticons that Prowl now had them covered. Thundercracker tensed, arm cannon rising towards the sniper's post and then swinging back to Jazz when the saboteur clipped him with a snapped-off shot.

'Sunstreaker, full speed to the north-west corner. Stop. Transform. Do not draw your weapon.'

Again in the clear. And to leave Sunny in the open like that…. It made no sense! Jazz fired another shot, his processor working at top speed as he tried to figure out what was going through his mate's helm. There was no logic to that order – or at least none Jazz could see.

Soundwave knew it too. His usually monotone voice held a distinctly uneasy edge.

"Ravage. Rumble. Frenzy. Return."

The cassette player reached for his damaged shoulder as he spoke, pressing down hard on a switch that must pain him, in order to gather his creations to safety. Frenzy was still completing his transformation when Sunstreaker accelerated into the plaza, transforming in a squealing slide that sent a spray of sparks across the concrete pavement. The yellow twin was visibly furious, angry with his orders and with the long delay before he could join the battle. His optics glowed bright, their indigo-blue tinted with a deep scarlet.

For a moment, Jazz thought the frontliner would ignore Prowl completely and dive at the enemy. But then Sunstreaker stopped, fully exposed and vibrating with range, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as if they itched to close on Decepticon plating.

No one moved. It was several long seconds before Thundercracker slowly raised his cannon, aiming at the twin with an expression of deep mistrust.

"I wouldn't." Prowl's clear voice rang across the plaza, its calm tone shocking after the thunder of weapons fire. Prowl stepped out of cover, rifle held ready in his hands but optics fixed on the two Decepticons in front of him. "Don't make him angry."

The voice dropped to a whisper, and Jazz would swear that every mech in the plaza – Autobot and Decepticon alike – leaned forward to listen as Prowl flung out a dramatic hand and went on as if confiding a great secret.

"You wouldn't like him when he's angry."

Dead silence.

Prowl stood rock still, his raised arm extended like a herald's, directing every optic towards a golden twin still too busy glaring around him to share the general sense of bewilderment.

On the west side of the plaza, Sideswipe's jet-pack whined in readiness.

On the east, tears and cries of excitement rose from the school in equal measure.

And high above the north-side sidewalk, Jazz found himself clinging to the building as laughter bubbled up from his spark, escaping him in ever-louder and more hysterical waves.

Thundercracker looked from the dramatically posed Autobot tactician to the giggling saboteur. His eyes swept across a fuming twin and a confused one, both quite ready to move on the command of their transparently glitched officers. There was a question in his eyes as he turned to his companion. Soundwave gazed back for a long moment before his optics dimmed, the telepath's helm visibly steaming as his logic centre shut down.

Thundercracker caught his superior officer before the cassette player could fall, growling out a profanity as he took to the air and fled, desperate to escape this insanity.

"Uh… Prowl? Jazz?"

The wariness in Sideswipe's voice renewed Jazz's fading laughter. The exasperated expression on Prowl's face when his mate glanced up in his direction only doubled it. He started to climb down the steel frame, the intensity of his giggles flooding his visor with static. He made it halfway down the building before he lost his grip and tumbled to the ground, rolling onto his back and still laughing hard enough to hurt.

Prowl was at his side in a moment, scanning him closely before standing over him with arms folded across his bumper. "Really, Jazz. It's not that…"

"'You wouldn't like him when he's angry'?" Jazz quoted between wheezes from his vocalisor, looking up at his mate.

The smile playing on Prowl's faceplates just seemed to confuse the twins more. The tactician leaned down, offering Jazz a hand to pull him to his feet. "There are times when a confrontation is necessary and logic a basic survival tool. And other times…"

"Other times?" Sunstreaker growled, irritation still winning out over his confusion.

"My recent studies have suggested that while a logical strategy has great advantages, there are times when bluster, display and simply confusing one's arch-enemy can be surprisingly effective tools."

The twins simply stared. Jazz sniggered, leaning into his mate, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Prowl threw an arm around him, looking down with a fond expression, before glancing around at the humans only now peering out from cover. Sirens sounded on the air, both the high-pitched wail of police cars and the deeper howl of fire engines, and Jazz's sensitive audio receptors picked out the distant roar of speeding Autobots on the morning breeze.

Prowl sighed, smile fading.

"Sideswipe, please check at the school. Reassure them as best you can, and ensure none of the children are unduly distressed or in need of medical attention. Sunstreaker, begin a survey of the structural damage. Contact Hoist or Grapple if you're uncertain as to its severity."

"But…"

Prowl's optics flashed. Jazz could still see the relief and good humour there, but it was deeply banked, hidden behind his mate's usual neutral façade. The tactician's tone gave the twins no room for hesitation. "Now, if you please."

Jazz couldn't help chuckling aloud as the twins scooted away. He eased back from Prowl, tapping his visor in a wry salute. "I'll go 'pologise t' the fire folks, if ya take the p'lice."

Prowl vented a sigh. "That would be very welcome."

Jazz waited until the tactician had turned away before raising his voice in a call that stopped not just Prowl but also Sunny and Sides in their tracks.

"Just one thing, Prowler," he drawled.

"Jazz?"

A broad grin spread across Jazz's face at his mate's wary tone.

"Ah get it, ah really do. Sides here can leap tall buildin's in a single bound. Me? Ah guess ah can do pretty much whatever a spider can. And Sunny… well…" He suppressed his snigger at the confused glare Sunstreaker shot his way. "So, ah gotta tell ya ah'm dyin' to know, Prowler: what does that make ya?"

"What does that make me? Why, Jazz, I thought you knew."

Prowl's doorwings flared wide and tall as he turned, meeting Jazz's smug smile with one of his own as he gave the only possible answer.

"I am the Law."

The End