To Woo a Datsun

Transformers (G1) Verse
Rating: PG
Characters: Jazz, Prowl

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and they should probably be thankful for that.

A/N – Thanks to everyone who did an alert and/or fave. It really made me one smiley person today. Super thanks to Jzeylyn, Peacewish, DitzyMusicLover, Jessie07, Saberfrost, and Marinelife37 for your reviews. Hopefully this chapter is a wee bit longer and still enjoyable. :D

Attempt 2 – Check and Mate…or is that just check, please?

"Hey, Prowler," Jazz called, sauntering into Prowl's office. A Cheerful grin was already firmly planted on his faceplates.

"Hello, Jazz." The other black and white did not bat a door wing at the other mech's intrusion. More than used to his subordinate's disregard for such things as protocol and rank. "What is it that you need of me?"

Thankfully Prowl was still engrossed in his datapad, or Jazz's rather deviant smirk in response to his question would have had him on the furthest side of the room from Jazz—preferably by the door.

Jazz hummed slightly before answering, "Oh, nothin' much. I was just wonderin' if ya were busy after ya shift tonight."

The tactician paused momentarily in his work to level an assessing gaze at the saboteur. "I was planning to retire to my room at the completion of my shift." His expression shifted from its usual casual aloofness to allow a small frown. "Why? What are you plotting to do tonight?"

Jazz's servos immediately shot up, "Hold up, my mech. I was just hopin' that ya would be up for a round o' two of tech chess. I haven't had the chance to play in a while." He tried to give the now thoroughly frowning mech across the desk from him his most innocent and hopeful look.

Prowl sighed once before quirking a small smile, "I assume that you will not leave me alone until I agree, will you?"

"Yup." The visored mech confirmed unabashedly.

The other black and white's faceplates took on a look of contemplation – absently tapping the end of his stylus against a pale lower lip component. Jazz thanked Primus that he wore a visor because his optics were now firmly riveted to the oblivious second's tempting mouth.

"Why not? It has been some time since I have been able to play and you may just prove to be a worthy opponent." Even though this was said as dryly as ever, Jazz thought he detected a slightly playful twitch to Prowl's mouth that could have been an aborted smile. Ah well. The world will never know.

A full grin broke across Jazz's face at his reponse, "Now that sounds like a challenge, mech." At that he winked his visor and chuckled when Prowl merely sighed again and rolled his optics skyward.

"Primus help me, what have I agreed to?" Prowl muttered lowly before turning back to his work.

Jazz took that as his cue to exit, stage left.

---- : | ----

The evening went very well by Jazz's estimation. Prowl had met him after shift at his room where the chess set was already set up and waiting, along with a couple of cubes of mid grade. The atmosphere had been slightly awkward initially, but by halfway through their first game the usual banter between the two mechs filled Jazz's quarters pleasantly. The visored mech was more than able to give Prowl that challenge that had been alluded to as his strategy was based upon sidestepping the usual course of action (what the tactician would logically take and assume). The end result was still as expected – Prowl whomped Jazz, but he seemed to have a good time doing so.

As Jazz went through the process of resetting the board for their next game he casually asked, "So Prowler, what exactly does a mech like ya do outside o' work?"

"Besides reading or giving in to one of your whims, you mean?" Prowl inclined his head towards Jazz, expression as bland as ever.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that. Don't you ever, ya know…spend time with any of the other mechs here?" He hedged.

Prowl gave a small, rueful smile and Jazz felt his spark pulse skip a beat, "Yes, of course. Bluestreak comes by often to speak about his day and Ironhide and I speak of battle strategies in the mess hall at times..." The chevroned mech trailed off and looked toward Jazz expectantly.

"That's it, though? No, uhm, "relations" on the side or anythin'?" The saboteur stumbled slightly over the phrasing of his question, wondering if he had just been a tad too blunt.

Prowl's optics flashed brightly before narrowing skeptically at the now sheepish-looking mech across from him, "Jazz, I do not believe that -"

Bluestreak to Prowl!

Prowl put a servo up to his fellow black and white while pressing his other servo to his audio. Prowl here. What do you need, Bluestreak?

There was a pause before Bluestreak's voice frantically burst through Prowl's comline, loud enough for Jazz to hear.

It's the twins. I know you are off shift and you are probably getting ready to recharge and I am sorry to bother you, but I thought you would want to know because I think they are up to no good, at least Sideswipe seemed really happy and was sneaking around and-

Bluestreak. Prowl interrupted calmly, with practiced ease. Where are the twins currently?

On the other end of the comline, Bluestreak audibly inhaled before speaking It looked like they were heading towards the Security Room and I don't think Red Alert is expecting them and like I said, Sideswipe seemed awfully pleased with himself, which is never a good thing-

Very well, Bluestreak. Prowl said, cutting off Bluestreak's next monologue. Please inform Red Alert what the twins are up to and I will meet you at the Security Room. Prowl out.

The connection cut off after a quick confirmation from the gunner and Prowl was already pushing back from the smaller table with an apologetic look towards Jazz.

"I apologize, Jazz, but it appears that there is a situation that needs my attention. Another time, perhaps?"

He offered in his usual cool, low voice, although the saboteur detected a hint of something in his tone. Disappointment?

"Of course, Prowler. Don't worry 'bout me. We can pick this up later, mech." Jazz tried in earnest to assure the object of his affection that no, he did not mind him picking up and leaving in the middle of their quasi (but mostly unbeknown to Prowl) date. He must have done a good job with his acting because Prowl seemed to relax and gave one last nod before vacating his room and hurrying down the hall to Red Alert's domain.

Once his door had slid shut behind the tactician's retreating form (and delicious aft), Jazz slumped lowly in his seat. Things had been going so well, too! With a frame-deep sigh, he slid the game board and its pieces a safe distance away from him…and proceeded to bang his helm against the table.

Repeatedly.

It wouldn't do for him to mess up their game, after all.