Author's Note: Thus comes the weirdest addition to the 'Falling' series yet. This is entirely and totally the fault of mmouse15 on LJ and NineCrow from this site, for inspiring fanfic and an intriguing request, respectively. This isn't exactly what NineCrow requested, but it's close, and I think the heart of it is still there. XD Enjoy!
This is set a little while after the other parts. We'll say a week? Maybe two.
- Wings -
Jazz woke with a groan, feeling as if every circuit in his back hurt. It made him glad that he was laying on his side instead, even if he normally found such a position to be oddly uncomfortable.
"Oh good, you're awake. Don't try to sit up." Ratchet said from behind Jazz, and there was a sharp searing pain through some part of Jazz's back that he couldn't quite place, causing him to yelp.
"'Oh good, I'm awake'?" Jazz asked with a whimper.
"Yes, I was having trouble accessing your sensory network, as usual, so I needed you awake to tell me if I did this right. I assume from that scream of pain that I did." Ratchet said grouchily.
"It wasn't a scream, it was a yelp." Jazz protested. "An' if by 'doin' this right', y'mean my entire back hurts, then yes."
"Hmm, it does?" Ratchet pondered, then there was a brief touch on the dataport on Jazz's neck, and Ratchet pinged off his firewalls. Obligingly, Jazz dropped the firewalls, and the medic downloaded some data. Once Ratchet withdrew, the data unfolded into a new subroutine, and Jazz blinked as he recognized the distinct coding style of Prowl.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Something that should help." Ratchet said.
"Why's it called 'Ha!'?" Jazz asked with mild concern.
"You'll have to ask Prowl." Ratchet said, sounding suspiciously like he was smirking. There was a light tap on something on Jazz's back, which his new subroutine noted as being a new appendage, and - waitjustaslaggingminute - Jazz bolted upright on the berth, causing a noise of protest from Ratchet, and glanced frantically around the med bay until he spotted the mirror Sunny had insisted be put there so he could make sure his paint job was done correctly before leaving. As Tracks had agreed on the necessity of it, the mirror had actually been installed. For which Jazz was now grateful, as he darted over to it, stumbling as he realized his center of balance was different. He ended up having to stick out a hand to catch himself on the wall next to the mirror, but he barely noticed, as his gaze was caught on the mirror. Or more importantly, on the two pristine white door wings sweeping up behind his back.
He couldn't decide whether to be delighted, horrified, stunned, confused, pleased, irritated, surprised, or what. Jazz could only stare at the two appendages as they twitched back and forth with his rapidly changing emotions. Eventually, Ratchet appeared behind him in the mirror and arched an optic ridge, then tweaked the end of one of the door wings. The suddenly rush of sensation made Jazz yelp and jump away, backing himself against the wall and staring at the medic in surprise. Then his door wings hit the wall, and ooh, that was painful. Jazz jumped away with another yelp, this time to the nearest corner. Ratchet watched calmly.
"Are you done jumping around like an earth jack rabbit?" the medic asked as Jazz attempted to calm his systems after the sensory rush.
"Why do I have door wings?" Jazz asked in reply, doing his best to keep his voice level but ending up sounding a little wobbly.
"You remember the battle?" Ratchet asked, and Jazz nodded, then frowned slightly.
"Well, up until Bruticus kicked me." he said.
"Good. That's where the problem came from." Ratchet said patiently, much more patiently than Jazz had ever seen him, save perhaps when Bluestreak had once freaked out after a battle. "You were mid-transformation when Bruticus kicked you, if you remember. His kick managed to damage your transformation cog, so you didn't finish transforming. It's taken me and Wheeljack hours to get you back into your mechanoid form, but there were some...problems. Pieces that don't go where they should. I don't know what alternations you've done to your transformation process, Jazz, but you're telling me every single one of them as soon as possible. I should have known a transformation that 'stylish' was not what you were coded with."
"Eh-heh, uh, sorry." Jazz said sheepishly.
"Don't apologize to me, you were the one who was laying in an unconscious, and unflattering, mess on the berth for over a day while Jack and I tried to figure out where your pieces went." Ratchet said dryly. "Fortunately for you, Prowl eventually came up with the idea of moving around your parts to wherever they would fit, instead of trying to put you back together the right way. Your first transformation after we get your transformation cog fixed will likely be unpleasant, but I'm sure you can handle it." From the look Ratchet was giving Jazz, the saboteur assumed that by 'unpleasant', the medic meant 'excruciatingly painful', and by 'I'm sure you can handle it', he meant 'you deserve it'.
"Oh." Jazz said, then slowly moved away from the corner, walking carefully as he tried to find his new center of balance. The new subroutine was still feeding him large amounts of sensory data, and it was threatening to swamp his processors, so he made himself focus on something else. "So why aren't you yellin'?" he asked Ratchet.
"I've had millions of years worth of experience repairing mechs with door wings, and one thing I've learned is that you don't yell at them when they're startled. It has unpleasant consequences." Ratchet said irritably.
"Such as?" Jazz asked curiously.
"Did you know Prowl once held his rifle to my head?" Ratchet replied casually, and Jazz gaped at him.
"No way." the saboteur said.
"Bluestreak's done it half a dozen times. Smokescreen's knocked me out more times than I care to count anymore." Ratchet replied as he watched Jazz re-learn how to walk. "Did you never wonder why I always offline the twins, Dinobots, or any other loud patients before bringing any of the three of them back online after being injured?"
"Well, no..." Jazz said slowly as he made his way back to the berth. He tensed as Ratchet went behind his back, but forced himself to relax, knowing that the medic wouldn't harm him, even if whatever he did might hurt.
"Their paranoia over loud sounds and their door wings right after coming online is the reason." Ratchet said. "Especially since while so far they've been able to halt their reflexes before actually doing any lasting harm, I have no doubt that someday they won't be able to, and I'd much rather stay in one piece. I suppose for the next little while I'll have to worry about you, too, though Prowl has arranged it that you won't be on battle duty until after your transformation cog is replaced, so chances are I'll only see you in here pleading with me to get rid of the slagging things."
"Are y'kiddin'?" Jazz mused as his processor adjusted to the thought of having door wings. "I think I'm gonna enjoy havin' 'em."
"Then why is the sub-routine Prowl wrote for you called 'Ha!'?" Ratchet asked dryly. Jazz flashed a grin over his shoulder, moving his door wing out of the way so the medic could see it.
"Prowler underestimates my adaptability sometimes, Hatchet." the saboteur said, and Ratchet grunted, scowling up at him, then stepped away.
"Alright, I'm getting tired of looking at you. Time for you to go." the medic said.
"Y'sure? You don't have anything else to do?" Jazz asked.
"No. Shoo." Ratchet said, making a shooing motion with his hands. "You'll be back here soon anyways. Might as well get it over with."
"Oh ye of little faith." Jazz said with a broad grin, hopping down off the berth. He would have sauntered out of the med bay, but he was still a little unsteady, so he settled for a normal walk, taking careful note of where the edges of his new appendages were. Ratchet grunted as Jazz managed to clear the doorway without bumping them, but when the saboteur turned back to give the medic another grin, Ratchet had his back to the door, intently working on something at the back of the med bay that looked suspiciously like Jazz's transformation cog. Jazz left him to it, and debated where to go next.
He would have loved to go to the rec room and hear all the stories about the battle, and prove that having door wings wouldn't be that bad. However, Jazz suspected that this was one of those cases where showing off would just lead to problems - especially since, unlike Smokescreen, Bluestreak, and Prowl, Jazz wasn't entirely sure if he could stop himself in time if his reflexes kicked in. He hadn't, to his eternal regret, been able to stop himself once before, and while that had warranted a simple black mark on his record back on Cybertron (the punishment had been lessened because of circumstances, as well as because he'd been alone with the other mech and still fessed up even though no one would've known if he hadn't), here on Earth...well, Prime would probably have to lock him in the brig just so that the other mechs would feel safe walking around the corridors. Not to mention the bad image that would give to the humans.
So, instead, Jazz made his way carefully to his room, surprised that he didn't meet anyone on the way, and locked the door behind him. Then he sat down and tried to sort through the information the new subroutine was giving him.
Atmospheric conditions, he discovered, were incredibly easy to determine now - the door wings evidently increased sensitivity to the air around him, which made the Autobot's three resident Datsun's dislike of extreme temperatures or elevations make sense. Furthermore, the door wings seemed to be more sensitive to radiation and various waves - including, as Jazz had already suspected from his 'experiences' with Prowl, sonic and magnetic waves. Curious, Jazz activated his stereo system, and was forced to quickly turn the volume down as the music was almost painful thanks to his wings. Now he knew why Prowl didn't like listening to music with him - it wasn't the music itself, but the volume Jazz listened to it at.
That got Jazz curious as to whether or not his hearing had been increased - which would be just what he needed, to have even more sensitive hearing after already having the most sensitive in the Ark (and yet he listened to his music the loudest out of all save Blaster - go figure). So he ran a few tests with his stereo system, trying to see how low he could turn the volume and still be able to hear it. There seemed to be a slight increase in sensitivity, but mostly his wings just registered the sound waves, and not the actual sounds. So he could tell something was making noise, but not what the sound was. Even more interestingly, if he twitched his door wings this way and that while listening, he could come up with an approximate location.
"I may jus' wanna keep these." Jazz said, looking over his shoulder at the door wings with appreciation. If Ratchet let him, of course, which Jazz doubted - from the way the medic had been talking, probably the last thing he wanted was another mech with door wings ready to try and kill him by accident when repaired. Ah well, Jazz would just have to enjoy them while he had them. And that certainly couldn't be done in his quarters, Jazz decided, standing and heading for the door.
The saboteur still decided not to brave the rec room quite yet, instead heading for the command center. He found Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on duty, chatting away amiably with Bluestreak, who had apparently come to keep them - or at least Sunstreaker - company. They stopped the moment they realized someone was approaching, but relaxed again when they recognized Jazz...only to stare in surprise at his new appendages.
"I've heard of mechs taking on some of the traits of their lovers, but don't you think that's a bit extreme, Jazz?" Sideswipe finally asked with a wide grin. Jazz snorted lightly.
"Hey, I had no say in it. I jus' woke up with 'em on my back." he said, amused, then experimentally flexed them. "I kinda like them, though."
"Yeah, try saying that after someone grabs you by one of them." Bluestreak said with a wide grin, surprisingly not elaborating on the statement.
"Depends on who does the grabbing." Jazz drawled smugly, and Bluestreak shook his head.
"No, it really doesn't." the gunner said with a giggle. "Trust me, I know - no matter how many times it happens, or who does it, or what their intention is, your response will always be to get themaway, by any means necessary, including - "
"Holding a gun to the medic that just finished repairing you?" Jazz couldn't help but interject, and Bluestreak looked startled, then sheepish.
"Or actually shooting them." he said.
"What's this now? Did our Blue actually shoot a fellow Autobot?" Sideswipe piped up, his tone teasing, though his expression was curious.
"It wasn't my fault, you think with how long he's lived and all the experience in the Matrix he'd know better, but apparently he doesn't, and it was in the middle of a battle, so I was already tense and my gun was in my hand, so it wasn't that hard to suddenly turn and shoot -" Bluestreak was babbling somewhat nervously, only to stop when Sunstreaker held up a quieting hand.
"Do you mean to tell us, Blue, that you shot Prime? In battle?" the yellow twin asked, frowning faintly.
"Uh...yeah." Bluestreak said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "It was only in the hand though, and it didn't really hurt that much according to him. Ratchet fixed him up in like five minutes after the battle." The twins exchanged a look, then glanced at Jazz. Then, as one, they began laughing. Even Sunstreaker was laughing loudly, a sign of how at ease he felt around the mechs currently in the control room. He stopped abruptly, however, when Prowl entered, looking around with an arched optic ridge.
"I didn't know communications duty was so entertaining." the tactician said pointedly, and Sideswipe quickly calmed himself as well. Jazz calmed his laughter to a low chuckle, flashing Prowl a grin.
"So, you ever shot Prime by accident Prowler?" he asked. Prowl gave him a blank look.
"I tend to avoid those mechs that might grab my door wings unexpectedly." the tactician replied, evidently realizing what they'd been discussing.
"So why are you with Jazz again?" Sideswipe inquired, not turning from his console.
"I said 'unexpectedly'." Prowl replied blandly.
"I have a feeling I should resent that somehow." Jazz pondered.
"You can decide whether or not you will in the rec room. Ratchet sent me to make sure you have some energon." Prowl said, motioning out the door towards the rec room. Feeling braver now about his new door wings, Jazz didn't hesitate before taking the lead, smirking slightly to himself at Prowl's parting shot to the twins and Bluestreak and the resultant laughter and embarrassed babbling - 'I expect you two to give your full attention to completing your shifts personally, and Bluestreak to walk out of here when you're done.' The saboteur really was influencing his lover in some very entertaining ways. Then Prowl was following Jazz, and the saboteur got to play with the sensory information his door wings could send him about Prowl. He suspected the constant twitching of his wings was entertaining to watch, and swore he even heard Prowl chuckle once or twice, but he didn't really care - being able to sense things like the heat coming off Prowl's body, the way the air flowed around him, and to feel the sound waves caused by the gentle hum of his systems, was...extremely pleasant. Jazz ended up pausing just outside the rec room and turning to give Prowl his most charming grin.
"What say we grab some energon t'go an' head back to my quarters?" he asked.
"Ratchet wanted you to have some energon so that your energy levels didn't get too low. Not so that you could expend extra energy in recreational activities." Prowl replied stoically, though Jazz could just see the corner of the tactician's mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.
"I'm sure the general intention was for me t'relax, an' I can't think of a better way t'relax than in my quarters with you." Jazz said, but didn't bother pushing further, instead turning around and sauntering into the rec room. He was only aware that his new door wings fluttered slightly in Prowl's face when the tactician let out a low growl behind him, and Jazz almost turned right there and hauled Prowl off to his quarters, but the tactician was having none of it.
"Get in there you insatiable miscreant." he said in a low voice, then gave Jazz's aft a shove, pushing him all the way into the rec room with a yelp, and suddenly Jazz was the center of attention. He recovered quickly from his sudden entrance, flashing everyone a wide grin, and sauntered over to the energon dispenser, Prowl just behind. A low murmuring started up before he was halfway there, and when he turned to look for a place to sit, Smokescreen, Hound, and Mirage had made room at their table for the both of them.
"You'll want that seat." Prowl said, motioning to the one with its back to the wall as they neared the table.
"I will?" Jazz asked with amusement.
"You will." Smokescreen agreed with Prowl, and Jazz decided not to argue, taking the seat as offered, with Prowl taking the one across from him.
"So. This is why Ratchet and Wheeljack wouldn't let anyone in the med bay this afternoon." Hound said consideringly.
"Evidently." Jazz replied with a grin and a shrug, then started sipping on his energon.
"Also why Prowl has been unbearably smug the past few days, I suppose." Mirage added. Jazz glanced at his lover with amusement, but Prowl sat there serenely.
"I don't know what you're talking about Mirage." the tactician said blandly.
"Of course not." Mirage replied just as blandly. The two engaged in a mild staring contest until Mirage's lips twitched slightly, and then Hound started chuckling, ruining the tableau.
"You know, in Jazz's defense, Prowl, I did offer up some friendly advice." Smokescreen said with his own chuckle. "Granted, I didn't exactly tell him to go act on it right away, but..."
"Why does everyone assume that door wings are somethin' bad?" Jazz interrupted before Prowl could reply, the question almost rhetoric. "I'm kinda likin' them."
"You won't be." Prowl and Smokescreen said in unison, causing the other three mechs at the table to pause in surprise.
"Well, actually, he might be liking them for awhile. After all, he won't have to grow up with them." Smokescreen said suddenly, turning to Prowl.
"True, but this is a war we're in. I'm fairly sure that's worse than any youngling scuffle." the tactician replied.
"Ah, but you've taken him off battle duty until he can be fixed properly." Smokescreen countered.
"Recharge." Prowl said, enunciating carefully.
"Ooooh, point." Smokescreen said, nodding sagely, and the two of them turned back to Jazz. "You'll be begging Ratchet to take them off by the end of the week."
"Day." Prowl corrected.
"No, I'm pretty sure he'll enjoy that." Smokescreen said dryly, and Prowl gave the other mech a slightly irritated look, but Smokescreen made no apologies. Fortunately, Hound decided a change of topic was needed, and so Jazz got to hear all the battle stories, including how they'd inevitably won after he'd been knocked out of commission. Other mechs came and joined them for awhile, then left, and Jazz almost forgot about his new appendages, until he became aware of an ache on his back, and realized that he'd been holding his door wings quite stiffly for most of the evening.
He'd also been back-logging sensory information from them, and as Jazz let it a small portion of it loose to flow through his processor, he winced. There was so much it was painful - evidently door wings were so sensitive because they never stopped picking up sensory information, even if you didn't want to hear it. Jazz wondered how Smokescreen and Prowl managed it, with their backs to the room at large, and looking back, realized that both of the mechs had become quieter over the course of the evening. It was an explanation for why none of the mechs with door wings ever stayed very long at parties, at least in one stretch - Prowl had yet to show his faceplate at a party, but Bluestreak and Smokescreen attended them frequently, but were known to wander in and out repeatedly over the course of the night. They were probably going off to unwind and sort through the data from their door wings before going back in to the excess sensory information.
Which was what Jazz really needed to do now, though since there wasn't an actual party going on, he didn't particularly want to return, so with a playful leer and a grin, he suggested to Prowl that they call it quits for the night, since both of them had early shifts the next day.
"I expect payment tomorrow afternoon, Prowl." Smokescreen called after them as they left.
"I expect the same." Prowl replied calmly, but refused to elaborate when Jazz pestered him about it as they walked towards the section of the Ark that held the officer's quarters.
"Your place or mine?" Jazz finally asked, giving up on his line of questioning, as he motioned between the two doors on opposite sides of the hall.
"You don't have a functioning alarm clock. Mine." Prowl replied pleasantly.
"This have to do with Smokey's parting shot?" Jazz couldn't help asking curiously, but Prowl said nothing as he tapped in his security code and the doors to his quarters slid open. Jazz followed without asking for permission - he'd stopped asking long before they'd become lovers - and immediately began fondling Prowl's door wings, even before the door was shut. The tactician groaned under the touch, then turned to Jazz with a positively evil look on his face.
"You are very lucky that I know you will need to sort through excess sensory data, Jazz." Prowl practically growled, stalking forward until he was inches from Jazz's face, almost casually hitting the button to lock the door as he went.
"Gotta do something to entertain myself while I do that." Jazz said, grinning. In response, Prowl reached out and ran a finger down the top of Jazz's right door wing in a delicate caress. The sudden rush of feeling made Jazz gasp, his processor momentarily blanking out, and when it came back to life, he was hit with the backlog of data that he'd been pushing back. He had time for the thought that Prowl had planned this before he could think of nothing other than sorting through the slagging mountainof data.
When he finished, Jazz looked up to find himself sitting on Prowl's berth, with no idea how he'd gotten there. Prowl was not in the room in front of him, but data from his door wings quickly informed him that the tactician was behind him. He didn't have time to turn around, however, before Prowl's hands were on his door wings, and ooooh, that felt good. Jazz lost himself to the touch on his new appendages, his systems revving happily ever-higher, while his cooling system struggled to keep up, but still left him radiating heat.
Jazz wanted to return the favour, and tried to turn, but Prowl had apparently decided to have his fun with Jazz's door wings for now. He pushed Jazz firmly back down, and then one hand began caressing one of Jazz's horns, and the other one of his new door wings. Jazz shuddered, still a little wobbly from all that excess data and a little overwhelmed by the new sensations, and before he knew it, he had overloaded. His hands gripped the side of the berth tightly and his optics off-lined as the surge of energy swept through him, and through it all, Prowl didn't stop touching his wings. It somehow, amazingly, wonderfully, managed to stretch out the overload just a tiny bit longer, and at the end of it, Jazz could only slump backwards, not sure his limbs would move if he told them to, and grin goofily up at Prowl, who smirked down at him.
"Now you know how it feels." the tactician said with dry humour.
"Ooooh yeah..." Jazz said happily, then as he got more coherence back, he added, "I suddenly respect your willpower for even being able to get out of the berth in the morning." Prowl shook his head slightly, looking amused, then pushed Jazz upright.
"You'll want to lay on your side - you'll never be able to go into recharge if you're laying on your door wings." the tactician said.
"Who said I was going into recharge just yet?" Jazz inquired innocently, turning so he was sitting sideways on the berth.
"Jazz, you've just been repaired. I have strict orders from Ratchet not to...let you tire yourself out." Prowl replied firmly, a clear hesitation in his voice, and Jazz smirked as he guessed the reason.
"You mean Ratchet told you not to tire me out. But I betcha he didn't say a thing about tiring you out." the saboteur purred, and Prowl gave him a mild glare. The glare quickly disappeared when Jazz pounced on him, sending him onto his back on the berth, though the saboteur was mindful of his lover's door wings. The fierce kiss that followed seemed to daze Prowl suitably, and Jazz used the opportunity to attack the afore-mentioned door wings with sonic and magnetic pulses and waves from his hands. At first he just ran his hands over them as if smoothing them out, but then he began to explore the areas he'd learned from personal experience were especially sensitive. He became so concentrated on what he was doing that he almost forgot what this was likely doing to Prowl.
Well, at least until Prowl suddenly surged upright, and Jazz found his hands held against the wall, his new door wings crushed almost painfully behind him, partially pinned under his arms, as a very, very predatory Prowl smirked down at him. Jazz had the time to think that this was new before Prowl kissed him with searing intensity, then began nibbling and biting along Jazz's neck, giving special care to particularly sensitive cables that stuck out here and there, before he transferred his attention to the accessible parts of Jazz's door wings. The saboteur shuddered, off-lining his optics, as Prowl paid his wings the same attention his own had just received, seeking out the most sensitive spots and using that very talented mouth of his on them. Prowl had evidently figured out a few of Jazz's favourite tricks, as well, as cold air, likely re-routed from Prowl's cooling system, washed over the edge of one door wing, only to be following by the burning warmth of Prowl's lips.
"Primus,Prowl..." Jazz whimpered, then tugged against the hands holding his wrists. Prowl let up, even pulling Jazz forward slightly so the saboteur was in his lap, and freeing Jazz's trapped door wings. It made said door wings impossible for Prowl to reach with his mouth, but that was perfectly fine, since Prowl's mouth was currently occupied kissing Jazz hungrily, anyways. Both their hands were busy, though not on each other's door wings for once. For now they were exploring the seams in each other's armor, exploring all the other sensitive spots. They were almost frantic in their wanderings, hands flitting from place to place, only to return to pay more attention to a previously visited spot.
Prowl was the first one to bring his hands back to Jazz's door wings, and the sudden touch on the sensitive appendages when his systems were already so close almost sent Jazz into another overload, but he was determined to make Prowl go first, so he slid his hands up Prowl's back to the door wing joints and sent alternating pulses of sonic and magnetic waves into them, as strong as he could make them. His response was a deep, shuddering moan from Prowl, but no overload - Prowl evidently had his own plans as well, as Jazz realized when the panel on Prowl's chest slid open, revealing his spark casing. Jazz stared in surprise for a moment, then looked up into the surprisingly serious - and slightly nervous? - expression on Prowl's face.
"Hey, even Beachcomber could see us comin'. Y'really think I'm about to shy away from a little commitment?" Jazz asked softly, teasingly, running a hand along Prowl's jaw in a gentle caress. Prowl hadn't really asked Jazz to bond with him with that simple act, but it was close. Spark sharing was serious business, as it usually forged preliminary bonds that were strengthened later when the couple actually did bond. It was somewhat similar to a human engagement, in that rarely was it not followed by bonding (save in multi-partner relationships and those were just too complicated to think about while Jazz's processor was running along the lines of 'Prowl, spark, guh!') but yet completely different.
"I've yet to see you make a commitment of any type to any particular mech or femme, save for Prime when you joined the Autobots." Prowl said in reply, managing to sound sheepish and reprimanding at the same time.
"An' now you." Jazz replied promptly, leaning in to kiss the tactician as he opened his own panel, and as their chassis touched, Jazz felt the world slip away, leaving only himself and Prowl. Their sparks touched briefly, hesitantly, at first, but the contact sent shivers through both of them, and they both gasped into the kiss, before their sparks touched once again, this time more forcefully, more sure, and they didn't separate right away. Prowl's awareness nudged into Jazz's, and Jazz was sure the feeling was mutually, then suddenly he could feel - feel everything, from both of them, and it was so overwhelming that he couldn't even try to process it, only accept it.
As he became used to the extra data, Jazz became aware of something else, under it all, and reached out. He found himself wrapped up in Prowl - not just the tactician's mind, but his spark, and all the feelings inside. He could feel Prowl's dedication to the Autobot cause, mirroring his own, could feel Prowl's fondness for his fellow Autobots - even for the twins - hidden carefully away so as not to cause problems with his duties. And yes, there was the logical part of Prowl, but it wasn't cold, it was warm, warm with the love Prowl had for his logic, with the joy he got from solving a particularly tricky problem or figuring out a fool-proof battle-plan. But most of all, there was Prowl's love for Jazz, and it was truly beautiful. It was older than Jazz had expected, and a voice whispered in the back of Jazz's mind that Prowl had been in love with him long before he'd ever realized it, on that bogus mission Prime had set them up on. It was...overwhelming, and Jazz almost thought he'd drown - and happily so - in the depth of Prowl's love, when there was a gentle tug, pulling him back, and he found himself leaving Prowl's spark, until he was mind-to-mind with Prowl, thoughts of love flowing between them.
Jazz would have been content to stay that way forever, floating in a happy sea of bliss, but common sense, and Prowl, said that they couldn't. Realistically speaking, they'd run out of energy at some point if nothing else, but Jazz still couldn't bring himself to move. Fortunately, one of his hands was still on the joints for Prowl's door wings - he could feel it through Prowl - and he sent a gentle sonic pulse through it. The reaction was instantaneous, the pleasure being shared between both of them, then echoed back and forth, until they built themselves up to an overload, and this time the entire world, including Prowl, disappeared as Jazz off-lined.
---
Smokescreen stood smirking in the control room early the next morning, leaning against the console and ignoring Hound's curious questions about his presence, when Prowl staggered in to report for his shift. The tactician was looking half-dead, and Smokescreen would have bet anything that there was a cube of energon stashed away in Prowl's subspace, waiting for a time when nobody was looking to be downed in one gulp.
"I believe you officially lost, Prowl." the blue and red mech said, still smirking, as Prowl visibly steadied himself and forced himself to concentrate. It took the tactician a few moments to focus on Smokescreen, and then he arched an optic ridge.
"I believe I, officially, won, Smokescreen." he replied.
"You're an hour late. You lost." Smokescreen countered.
"I suggest you check the schedule again. I am, in fact, right on time." Prowl replied calmly, then gave Hound a prompting look.
"He's right, Smokey." Hound said with amusement. "His shift doesn't start until - well, now."
"That's - let me see!" Smokescreen said with a scowl, leaning over the console, and Hound leaned back and let him, amused. Smokescreen made a noise of annoyance.
"And why did Prime just happen to decide to change your shift, in the middle of the night last night, to an hour later this morning?" he asked, turning to give Prowl a mild glare. "I told you it didn't count if you changed it or asked for it to be changed."
"I said nothing. I woke up this morning on time, however, to find Jazz's and my schedules both changed." Prowl said innocently, then came to stand on the other side of Hound. Smokescreen stood there and fumed as the tactician asked Hound about the events of his shift - none - and anything he should watch in particular - nothing - before officially relieving Hound. As the scout got up, he rested a hand on Smokescreen's shoulder sympathetically.
"Smokey, y'gotta remember - you can't win against Prowl." he said soothingly, then with a glance back at Prowl, added with amusement, "Especially about being late for duty when Prime's quarters are right next to his."
Prowl refused to comment as Hound led an indignantly sputtering Smokescreen out of the control room.
- END -