Author's Note: ...ok, I don't do comfort or angst fic well. I do humour, romance, and more recently, smut. That is the reason this one took so long to get out. Also, the Job From Hell and a pirate costume sewn in a week's time (which is harder than it sounds) got in the way a bit. :P
- Absence -
Jazz was bored. More than bored, in fact, because not only did he have nothing to do, but he was alone. He wasn't entirely alone, of course - First Aid was in the med bay, readying it for the inevitable injuries, and Tracks was moping about somewhere, unable to go for vaguely the same reason as Jazz - he'd been injured in the last battle, a part of his leg wrecked beyond repair, and Wheeljack was still working on the replacement. This left Tracks with only one functioning leg, and thus now much movement, so even if the other bot had wanted Jazz's company - which was highly doubtful - he wouldn't have been able to get to the control room, and Jazz couldn't - wouldn't - leave while he was on duty.
So Jazz just sat in a chair in the command center, his door wings flicking about idly in evidence of his boredom, and watched the screen that showed Skyfire and the other Autobot's progress towards the nuclear power plant the Decepticons were attacking. Jazz couldn't even remember the last time he'd been left behind for a battle like this, and was glad for it, if this was what he got like while left behind. Already he could feel his boredom slipping into a mild form of depression, and absently wished that he dared contact Prowl and chat with his lover for a bit. Prowl was probably already focused on the battle, however, and Jazz didn't want to distract him, especially with something as minor as Jazz being bored and lonely. Both problems would be solved when the battle finished and everyone returned, anyways.
"Are they there yet?" the voice from behind him startled Jazz, and with a yelp, he fell out of the chair, and reflexively winced, knowing this was going to hurt with his new door wings. Fortunately, he never hit the ground, as hands caught his shoulders, stopping his fall and pushing him back into the chair.
"Primus,Aid, don't sneak up on a bot like that!" Jazz swore, giving the young medic a slightly irritated look as he settled himself more securely in the chair. First Aid gave him an amused look as he let his hands fall away from Jazz's shoulders and stepped up beside him.
"I thought it was impossible to sneak up on you, especially with your new door wings." he said, nodding to the named appendages before turning his attention to the screen.
"It's possible to sneak up on anyone, y'just hafta time it right." Jazz replied with a shake of his head. "No, they ain't there yet."
"They're close, though." First Aid mused, and Jazz nodded, though the medic was too focused on the screen to see. It occurred to Jazz then that this was the only time he could remember the other Protectobots going into battle without First Aid, and he couldn't help but wonder as to why, eventually voicing his curiosity aloud.
"Prime wants all of the gestalt teams to get used to having a piece missing every once and awhile, just in case we're needed in battle when one of us is injured. Ratchet also wants to see if I can prepare the med bay for incoming battle casualties without him, as well as handle everything once they come back." First Aid replied with a shrug.
"Huh. I wish Prime luck convincing the Aerialbots to leave one of their own behind." Jazz mused.
"I believe he was planning on waiting until one of them was actually injured to start trying it." First Aid replied dryly, and Jazz chuckled.
"Smart mech." he said.
"That would be why he's Prime." was the assured answer, and Jazz gave the young medic a sidelong look, wondering if he should burst his bubble. Glancing back at the screen, he discovered that the other Autobots had just arrived, and he decided not to, instead flipping the battle comm channel to the main speakers and turning it up. After a moment's hesitation, he sent an invitation to Tracks' quarters, so that the mech could listen to the events in there if he wanted. The invite was accepted, and so the three mechs remaining in the Ark sat and listened to the battle chatter, the chatter they were used to participating in, as the fight progressed.
It was an intense battle, especially considering the location. Both the Autobots and the Decepticons had to be careful not to cause too much damage to the power plant itself, or they might end up caught in an explosion that even Cybertronians couldn't survive. Really, why the humans persisted on messing with nuclear power was beyond Jazz, but then, they were still learning, and had a long ways to go before they could effectively use other, cleaner, less dangerous forms of power. It wasn't like they had lakes of energon just lying around.
"Slaggit, Prowl!" the mention of his lover brought Jazz's attention back to the chatter abruptly, and he focused intently.
"I'm fine Ironhide." the tactician's voice came next.
"Slag ya are. Ratchet, Prowl needs ya." the older mech said over Prowl's continued protests.
"If he's well enough to protest needing help, he can wait until I'm done with Cliffjumper." Ratchet snapped over the line.
"Fine, he ain't goin' anywhere, an' now neither am I." Ironhide replied grouchily. There were some snickers over the line, as this was typical battle chatter for two of the oldest mechs on Earth right now. Ironhide was always on the lookout for injured during a battle, and whenever he found one, he'd let Ratchet know - Ratchet would snap at him that he was busy and that whoever it was could wait, Ironhide would grouchily reply something to the effect of it being up to him to keep the bot safe until Ratchet deigned to make his appearance, and thus everybody would know that wherever Ironhide was, was where Ratchet was going next, and they'd best clear the way of Decepticons for the medic.
"Bluestreak, watch Skywarp." the instruction came from Prowl, and as Jazz listened, he realized whatever injury his lover had apparently put him out of the fight almost entirely, since he now had a lot more time to observe and make comments. Jazz was actually kind of grateful for it, since it meant he was almost constantly hearing Prowl's voice. Unfortunately, whatever good feelings Jazz had managed to summon at being able to hear Prowl's voice were abruptly dissolved by the cry every Autobot hated to hear -
"Ratchet, get down!" it came from a frantic-sounding Smokescreen, and was followed by dead silence over the comm channel.
"Prime, we need to end this fast. Ratchet's hit, and it ain't pretty." Sideswipe's voice was surprisingly calm as he reported.
"Understood." Optimus replied. "Wheeljack, pull back and see what you can do for Ratchet. Everyone else able, get in there and do as much damage as you can. Leave Megatron to me." There was a chorus of 'yes sir's, and then fast and furious chatter as everyone picked out targets and made hasty plans. Prowl interjected every once and awhile with recommendation, which were duly noted and sometimes even listened to, but the mech himself obviously wasn't going anywhere, telling Ironhide to leave him when the mech said he'd be staying back and shooting.
"You're a melee fighter, not ranged, Ironhide. I still have my rifle. Go." Prowl said firmly, around the rest of the chatter, and there was a pause, then Ironhide was claiming dibs on Motormaster. From there, the battle went quickly, finishing in a matter of minutes. Something laughingly relayed one of Megatron's parting comments to Ramjet, who had been the one to hit Ratchet. Evidently the cone-head was barely conscious, after the beating Sideswipe and Cliffjumper had given him, but Megatron was already ranting at him for being a slagging idiot and hitting the Autobot's medic and didn't the fragger know that doing so always lost them the battle and he was never going to see anything but the inside of the brig ever again...Jazz was in the middle of laughing over it with First Aid when he suddenly felt something...foreign. It wasn't an intrusion, but it was unpleasant, feeling like a deep ache along his shoulders and stretching into his door wings, causing his mood to drop noticeably. Jazz frowned, and First Aid gave him a concerned look.
"Prowl, y'alright?" Jazz had spoken over the comm channel before he realized what he was doing.
"I'm fine Jazz." Prowl said, his voice calm - too calm.
"No, you're not." Jazz said, letting his concern leak into his voice. There was a pause in the comm chatter as the Autobots on the field apparently spoke out loud instead of over the channel, and then Ironhide came on the line.
"Stubborn slagging..." the mech muttered. "He didn't say a word 'bout his door wings." Jazz winced sympathetically.
"I think I'd better get to the med bay." First Aid said softly, and Jazz looked up at him.
"Want help?" he said. "I got less training than Swoop, but I know how to identify serious injuries, an' how to patch things so you can get to them later."
"Ah - yes, that would be appreciated. Wheeljack will probably be busy with Ratchet." First Aid's expression got gradually more horrified as he spoke, the young medic suddenly realizing that he was about to be the top medic.
"Relax Aid, I didn't hear of any other major injuries." Jazz said as he re-routed the channel to be heard in med bay, then stood from his chair. "You go ahead to the med bay, I'll stop in and see Tracks before I head to the entrance."
"Alright." First Aid said unsteadily, then gave himself a shake, straightened his shoulders, and marched out purposefully. Jazz, heading out another way to get to Tracks' quarters, decided that the young medic would do alright. It was his first big test, handling the aftermath of a battle essentially by himself (Swoop and the Dinobots were out training), but Ratchet had trained him well.
Tracks was fine, still sulking about not being in the battle, and Jazz left him there, heading for the entrance of the Ark. It would be another fifteen minutes before the first of the Autobots got back, inside Skyfire, but those would be the most injured, and they were the reason Jazz was out here. It wasn't long until Skyfire came into view, and Jazz quickly checked up on Prowl - his door wings had a black scorch mark running cross-wise down them, but otherwise he was fine. Satisfied, Jazz turned to helping get Ratchet moved into the med bay.
The medic, it seemed, had taken a missile to his right shoulder, and while he still had his arm, most of the upper right of his torso was a mess of sparking wires, melted metal, and leaking lines. Wheeljack was frantically closing as many of those as he could even while they carried Ratchet to the med bay. First Aid had been correct in assuming that the inventor would be too wrapped up with keeping Ratchet alive to help with the other patients, so Jazz began throwing his rank around, ordering the uninjured out - including Prime, much to everyone's (including Jazz and Prime's) amusement. He took a few pages from Ratchet's book, threatening a few of the more stubborn ones - Sideswipe, since Sunstreaker was hurt, and most of the mini-bots, since Bumblebee was hurt - but eventually got everyone without an injury, save for himself, First Aid, and Wheeljack, out of the med bay. After looking around at who was injured, he promptly called Hound back in, since he knew scout and special ops training included equivalent basic field medicine courses.
Hound proved to be a good choice, since the mech was also able to calm down some of the more irritable patients, excluding Sunstreaker (who whined loudly and irritatingly, as he always did when his brother wasn't in the med bay with him, and nobody besides Sideswipe or Ratchet at his scariest could ever shut him up), while patching them up long enough for them to stay online until First Aid got to them. First Aid himself was working quickly, but surely, making his way through the most serious of patients first. Fortunately, the only one with a life-threatening injury was Ratchet.
Wheeljack eventually began asking for parts, and First Aid, at first, tried to get them, only to growl with annoyance at the frequency with which Wheeljack asked - the inventor apparently did not know how to anticipate and ask for more than one part at once, like Ratchet did - and so Sideswipe was called back in to get parts.
"Why me?" Sideswipe asked in a sort of stunned way when he was told why he was back in the med bay.
"Because you've been in here often enough, when you're supposed to be and not, that you know where most things are, and it'll shut up your brother." First Aid replied snappily. "Now go ask Wheeljack what he needs." Sideswipe went, causing his twin, and several other mechs, to snigger. Sideswipe just mouthed 'he's scary!' and proceeded to ignore them all, causing a brief laugh, especially from Groove, the only injured Protectobot. Fortunately, Groove's injuries were so slight that he and Jazz fixed them together, meaning First Aid wouldn't have the unpleasant task of working on one of his gestalt-mates. Jazz sent him off with a warning to get First Aid to look him over regardless, the same as he was telling everyone he could fix up and send out himself. Groove agreed, but came back after a few minutes with a tray full of energon.
"Prime's orders." the mech said, nodding to the tray, and distributed it first between the five 'medics' - Sideswipe was extremely pleased that he rated one simply for 'playing fetch for Wheeljack', as his brother put it bitingly. Then Groove went and got more energon for the injured mechs, and that was when they discovered that Trailbreaker had a problem in his energon conversion system. First Aid was forced to focus on that for awhile, and Groove got the wonderful job of cleaning up the energon that Trailbreaker had decorated the floor with.
Jazz lost track of time somewhere in there, tending to the various bots and keeping a close eye on First Aid and Wheeljack, making sure they had everything they needed. He could tell the moment Wheeljack stabilized Ratchet, as the inventor visibly relaxed, and Sideswipe started cracking jokes, lightening the mood in the med bay. The red twin eventually started up a game of 'What We're Going To Do To Ramjet When We See Him Next', which got everyone in a good, if somewhat bloodthirsty, mood. First Aid, meanwhile, seemed to go through cycles of getting so stressed he looked like he was about to snap, only to suddenly calm down and remain that way for a stretch of time before working himself up again. Jazz suspected the other Protectobots had something to do with it, and made a mental note to thank them later.
Eventually, Jazz and Hound ran out of patients, and the saboteur sent Hound off to rest, realizing only then how late it was - the battle had happened in the early morning, so they'd been working in the med bay most of the day, with only one cube of energon each to keep them going. First Aid was looking dead on his feet, but he only had a few more patients to check, so Jazz didn't say a word, instead going to check on Wheeljack and Sideswipe.
"How's Ratch?" Jazz asked softly as he approached.
"He'll be fine in a few days, though it was close there for awhile." Wheeljack replied, the lights on the side of his head flashing wearily as he worked on his friend. "Some of his armor had melted onto his spark casing."
"Ouch." Jazz said.
"Yeah. Never thought I'd say this, but it was a good thing Sideswipe always gets himself injured, because if he hadn't had the same thing happen to himself once, and then had to listen to Ratchet ranting about what he'd had to do to fix it later, I wouldn't have been able to stop the molten metal from getting into Ratchet's spark." Wheeljack said quietly.
"Yes you would have." Sideswipe said firmly. "You were already close to it when I remembered Ratchet's solution."
"No, I wasn't." Wheeljack said, looking troubled, and Jazz put a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning to find Prowl. He found the tactician laying face down, unconscious, on a berth, having been tended to by First Aid quite early on. The back of Prowl's door wings, however, still bore the scorch mark Jazz had seen earlier, looking like they hadn't been tended to, and Jazz frowned, wondering why. Then he noticed the reboot inhibitor strapped to Prowl's head, and realized that First Aid must have had a few problems fixing him.
"I'd like to know how he managed to get shot like that, and who did the shooting." First Aid said as he came up on the other side of Prowl's berth. "There's some serious damage there that even Ratchet would need awhile to fix."
"Finished with everyone?" Jazz asked curiously, glancing before the young medic, and First Aid nodded.
"I want Wheeljack to look over some of them, and Ratchet to look over all of them once he's better, but for now, they should live, especially with the speech I've been giving them all." he said.
"Oh?" Jazz asked, and First Aid grimaced.
"Yeah. I'm not Ratchet. I'm nowhere near as good as Ratchet, no medic alive is. So I'm likely going to miss things, which means if anything feels even the slightest bit out of place to them, they need to let me know, since chances are I won't spot it myself." the young medic said.
"Not the most reassurin'." Jazz mused.
"No, but necessary." First Aid replied. "Hurts my pride a little, as well, but as long as everyone's alright in the end, my pride can be beaten down into nothingness for all I care." Jazz nodded, giving the young mech a small smile.
"So how long before he's online again?" Jazz asked, turning his gaze back to Prowl.
"Probably late tonight." First Aid said.
"I thought you said his wings would take awhile to fix?" Jazz asked curiously.
"Oh, they will. But with some of the angles I'll have to hold them at to fix them, I can't leave them attached. So I was going to remove them, then let him go back to his quarters." First Aid replied with a shrug, then gave Jazz an amused look. "Seems you two will have reversed in terms of back appendages."
"Evidently." Jazz said with a chuckle. "Are you going to rest for a bit before taking them off?"
"I...am not going to pick up anymore of Ratchet's bad habits. Yes." First Aid said with a sense of finality, then giggled slightly, for a moment showing how young he really was. "I don't think the Autobots could handle two Ratchet's anyways."
"Oh, the Autobots could, but I don't think the twins can." Jazz said dryly.
"Yes we could!" Sideswipe called from where he was still helping Wheeljack. "Besides, having two Ratchet's would be perfect for situations like this...I'm already starting to miss being roared at, insulted, and having tools thrown at my head."
"Sorry, I'll try and improve." First Aid said with a snort as he and Jazz turned to watch Wheeljack doing some sort of fine-tuned work on part of Ratchet's shoulder. Sideswipe was currently providing light, of various types as requested by Wheeljack, so Jazz suspected the inventor was working on Ratchet's sensor net.
"Meh, as long as you keep up the essential similarity, which is being able to fix my bro, I don't mind. Just feels suspiciously...empty in here." Sideswipe said, glancing around for a moment. "You ever notice how he seems to fill up any room he's in?"
"Yeah." First Aid said softly, his expression sad as he looked at his mentor, laying unconscious on the berth.
"He'll be fine, Aid." Wheeljack said without looking up. "Go get some energon and unwind a bit before coming back."
"Yeah, come on. Optimus will be waitin' for a report, an' you've got a good one to give." Jazz said, resting a hand on First Aid's shoulder and steering him towards the exit of the med bay.
"I'm going, I'm going." First Aid said with a light laugh. Jazz grinned and let the young medic go, since he was walking on his own - unlike certain other medics would be - and they headed out together, making for the rec room. They got half-way before the other Protectobots met up with them, and Jazz handed First Aid off to his brothers, then went to give Optimus his report. It wasn't hard for the saboteur to miss that Optimus was troubled as he gave his report, so he stayed after his report was done and coaxed the Autobot leader into talking to him. Turned out the big lug was blaming himself for Ratchet and Prowl both getting hurt, and Jazz spent the remainder of the evening trying to cheer Optimus up, as well as convince him it wasn't his fault. In the end, it was the threat to call Elita on Cybertron and have her tell him he was being stupid that got through to Optimus, and Jazz was able to head off feeling satisfied. He was almost back to his quarters when his comm line beeped at him.
"Jazz here." he replied lazily.
"Could you come down to the med bay Jazz?" First Aid's replied. "I've removed Prowl's door wings and I'm about to bring him online. It might go easier if you're here."
"Course, on my way." Jazz replied, surprised that he'd actually managed to forget that First Aid was going to let Prowl out of the med bay tonight, and changed course, heading back to the med bay. He got there just as Prowl sat up, and watched without revealing his presence as the other mech tentatively stood up. Prowl almost immediately over-balanced himself, and though First Aid moved to catch him, Jazz got there first.
"Your center'a balance is gonna be about here." Jazz said, poking the tactician's torso in the appropriate spot, and Prowl paused, then straightened himself, and managed to take a step away from Jazz without falling over.
"Thank you Jazz." he said, sounding relieved.
"No problem." Jazz replied pleasantly. "How you feeling otherwise?"
"...Blind." Prowl said with a small grimace.
"That's just from the missing sensory information your door wings normally give you." First Aid spoke up."You should become accustomed to the loss over time, though I should have your wings fixed and back on you before you get too used to it."
"I hope so." Prowl said, glancing at his mangled wings, laying on a table at the back of the med bay, next to Jazz's transformation cog.
"Oh, I've also disabled your transformation sequence, since the absence of your doors might cause...problems." First Aid said with a small grin after following Prowl's gaze.
"Of course." Prowl said with a nod.
"You're good to go otherwise." First Aid said. "Just come to me if you feel anything - and I mean anything - wrong. I don't have Ratchet's sensors, or rank, so even if I could tell something was wrong with you, I couldn't drag you back here like him." the young medic nodded towards Ratchet's berth, which was being 'guarded' by Sideswipe. Wheeljack was nowhere to be found, though with the way Ratchet's wound was covered, Jazz suspected the inventor had gone to get some recharge before continuing.
"There will be no need for that, I am sure." Prowl said, bringing attention back to himself and away from Ratchet.
"Tell that to Red Alert. He's kept a tally of the number of times he's watched Ratchet drag you down to the med bay." First Aid said with a snort. "I believe the total is into the three hundreds now." Prowl gave the medic a sour look.
"Yeah, but he's also got me to convince him to come down here, now." Jazz told the medic with a bright grin, then grabbed Prowl's arm. "An' speaking of convincin' you to go places, Prowl, what does a mech have to do to get an escort back to his quarters?" The look Jazz gave Prowl was partly teasing and partly leering, but it got Prowl moving, and after thanking First Aid, the two officers left the young medic alone to - hopefully - get some recharge.
The walk back to Jazz's quarters was interesting, as Prowl kept twitching and glancing around nervously. He nearly jumped out of his armor when Beachcomber walked past them, getting him an odd look, and Jazz was suddenly glad that First Aid had decided to let the tactician out of the med bay tonight. If Prowl was this jumpy at this time of night, Jazz couldn't imagine what he'd be like during the day, when there were a lot more mechs wandering about.
When they reached Jazz's quarters, Prowl stepped in without a word, and as Jazz locked the door, he could feel the tingle - almost painfully in his door wings - of a high-powered sensor sweep. He turned to Prowl with an amused smile, intending to make a joke about it, but amusement quickly died and was replaced with concern when he saw Prowl. The tactician had gotten up onto Jazz's berth and backed himself into a corner, so that nothing was behind him, and was hugging his legs to his chassis, gaze darting around the room.
"Prowl? Y'alright?" Jazz asked softly, approaching the other mech carefully.
"Fine." Prowl replied shortly, and Jazz couldn't stop the noise of disbelief that came. Fortunately, it ended up catching Prowl's attention, and he looked up at Jazz for a moment before uncurling, stretching his legs out across the berth and letting his hands fall into his lap. Jazz took a seat on the berth, facing Prowl, and took one of the other mech's hands in his own.
"Nothing's gonna hurt ya here, Prowl." Jazz said.
"No, but mechs will sneak up on me." Prowl muttered almost inaudibly.
"It happens." Jazz said with mild amusement. "Aid just 'bout scared the energon outta me earlier - snuck up behind me while I was busy being bored." Prowl gave him an odd look.
"You have door wings now though." the tactician pointed out.
"Doesn't mean I can't be snuck up on." Jazz said with a shrug, then as a thought occurred to him, added, "Don't tell me you've never had someone sneak up on you?" Prowl frowned.
"Unless you count times in battle or on missions when cloaking devices were involved, only once. When I was still a youngling." he stated, and Jazz stared at him for a moment in surprise. Prowl shrugged. "When you grow up with door wings, you learn how to interpret the data they give you. They're...practically another set of sensors, optics, and audios all by themselves if you know how to use them. I actually met a mech once who could use them instead of his other sensors, and get around just as well. He enjoyed wandering around with his optics turned off, scaring mechs and femmes he hadn't met before." Prowl paused for a moment. "He went insane after a Decepticon ripped his door wings off."
"You're not going to go insane, Prowl." Jazz said, arching an optic ridge, and Prowl gave him an exasperated look.
"Of course not." he said. "I feel half-blind, however, and it's making me nervous and jumpy and...tense." Prowl hunched in on himself a bit at that, pulling his legs back up to his chassis, and scowled at a spot on the berth.
"A good night's recharge should help with that." Jazz said reassuringly.
"I don't think I can get into recharge with how tense I am." Prowl muttered, and Jazz resisted the urge to compare his lover to a petulant sparkling, no matter how strong the similarities right now. He wanted to help Prowl, after all, not send the mech stomping out of his quarters.
"We'll have to find a way to get you into recharge, then." Jazz said patiently. "What's something relaxing that you feel like doing?"
"Going for a drive?"
"Now you're just being difficult." Jazz said dryly, and Prowl gave him a sour look.
"As shocking as this may be to you, I do not always feel like working, and I wouldn't be able to focus to read or watch anything, so that doesn't really leave much else, now, does it?" the tactician said acidly.
"Well neither of us can transform right now, so goin' for a drive is outta the question, too." Jazz replied, then stood and went over to his stereo. He flipped through his collection of music until he found some nice jazz music and put it on. It was rather ironic that Prowl's favourite earth music had always been jazz music, even from before he'd admitted his feelings for Jazz, the mech. It had given Jazz a little boost in confidence when he'd first discovered that, until he'd realized it wasn't Prowl returning his affections - he just honestly liked the music.
"Feeling quiet this evening?" Prowl murmured as Jazz returned to the berth, and Jazz paused, realizing the music was about half the volume he would've normally played it at. He hadn't even noticed.
"Door wings." he explained sheepishly, shrugging. "I can turn it up if you want."
"No, that's fine. Your normal volume can get unpleasant at loud parts...when you have door wings." Prowl said, frowning slightly at the last part.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to apologize to ya for that. I had no idea the volume was what was causin' problems." Jazz commented.
"The volume and I'm not a big music fan." Prowl replied, then added with a small smirk, "Except for Jazz." Jazz couldn't tell if the tactician meant him, or the music, and as part of his effort to get Prowl to relax, Jazz decided to assume the other mech meant him.
"It's always nice to have fans." Jazz said with a smirk, and Prowl gave him an amused look. "Feelin' more relaxed yet?"
"A bit." Prowl admitted, though he still looked a little jumpy.
"Let's see if we can't turn that into 'a lot'. Turn around." Jazz ordered. Prowl gave him a suspicious look, and Jazz wiggled his fingers at the other mech. Prowl frowned, but turned around, though only so that his side was to the room at large, not his back, and he kept glancing behind himself until Jazz settled himself in Prowl's line of view.
Looking at Prowl's back without door wings was a strange sight for Jazz, and he couldn't help but run a gentle finger along where they were supposed to join. The touch caused Prowl to tense up again, so Jazz turned on the magnetic wave emitters in his hands to a low frequency and ran his hands across the empty joints. Prowl began to relax immediately, and Jazz smiled to himself, then focused more intently on his 'massage', making sure every part of Prowl's back was exposed to the gentle magnetic waves. Prowl had visibly relaxed when he was done, and didn't even jump when Jazz stood, just giving the saboteur a quizzical look.
"Lay down." Jazz said, motioning, and Prowl hesitated then. "I'm right here behind ya, Prowl. I promise I'll let you know if some mech miraculously gets past my very non-regulation door lock without making enough noise to be heard on Cybertron, and starts sneakin' up on you." Prowl grunted, glaring mildly at Jazz, but lay down, with his back to the room. Jazz nudged him farther onto the berth, and Prowl obligingly scooted over until his knees were almost against the wall. The empty space on the berth was still rather small - Jazz had yet to get around to getting the help to move Prowl's berth into his room while the tactician was on duty - but there was enough room for Jazz to sit in the right position that he could reach virtually all of Prowl without moving.
After settling himself, Jazz simply looked for a moment, with what he knew had to be a rather stupid grin on his face. He couldn't help it - after all these years, he was finally allowed to look. Even better, he was allowed to touch, to caress, and...well, do other things. Which hopefully he'd get to later tonight, presuming he could get Prowl relaxed without sending the tactician into recharge. Since that would only be accomplished if he actually started the relaxing part, Jazz settled his hands on Prowl's upper back and activated the wave emitters again. This time he added the sonic emitters, as well, and within minutes, Prowl's systems were purring away happily, all tension gone from the other mech's frame.
Jazz was smirking to himself over a job well done when he suddenly realized that Prowl's systems were quieting, as well, and with a frown, he peeked over the tactician's shoulder to look at his face, and found that Prowl was deep in recharge.
"Fiddlesticks." Jazz muttered to himself with slight disappointment. Oh well - there were worse things than having Prowl recharging in his berth, even if he would prefer more. Especially after he had to stay behind while Prowl went out to battle earlier today. He'd had two ulterior motives to his massage, after all - one, to try and get some interfacing, which he'd obviously failed at, but the more important reason was the second anyways, which was to reassure himself that, save for the door wings, Prowl was here, and in one piece. As Jazz settled himself behind Prowl, he couldn't help but run another scan, just to be sure, and inwardly laughed at himself for it. He refused to find anything out of the ordinary about focusing all his sensors on Prowl's systems before heading into recharge himself, though - after all, Prowl's systems were very soothing.
And that would be his excuse for it no matter who asked.
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Prowl's door wings were itchy.
This was generally irritating just because it was difficult to reach your own door wings to scratch them. Right now, however, it was much more than simply irritating, since he was quite aware that he currently did not have any door wings. Which led to confusion on his part about how they could be itchy when they weren't even there. His processor presented the idea that maybe First Aid had managed to fix them during the night and re-attached them, but that was ridiculous, since his chronometer told him he'd barely been in recharge for three hours, and he could feel Jazz curled up behind him, which meant he was still in Jazz's quarters. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, however, only to find, as expected, that he remained wingless. His gaze did catch, however, on Jazz's new door wings, and he observed them curiously for a moment, watching as they twitched while Jazz recharged.
After a few moments, Prowl's gaze slid down to Jazz's face, and he recalled Jazz suddenly asking over the battle channel if he was alright, though he'd said nothing about his injuries before that. Prowl considered his next action for a few scant seconds before deciding there was nothing to lose, then reached out and scratched the part of Jazz's door wing that was 'itchy' to him. The relief was immediate, and Prowl smiled slightly as Jazz sighed softly, shifting a bit. The saboteur remained in recharge at first, but as the itchiness faded, the other mech began to wake. Prowl hesitated for a moment, considering drawing back and seeing if Jazz would just go back into recharge, but Prowl himself was awake now, and it was rather frighteningly hard to resist glancing over his shoulder, even though he knew only the wall was behind him. So instead of drawing back, Prowl turned his scratches into caresses, focusing on the saboteur's door wings, much like Jazz usually focused on his door wings.
The saboteur was purring contently by the time his optics turned on, and he gave Prowl a look that was both amused to full of desire. Prowl ignored him, concentrating on the door wings, well aware that he had practically positioned himself on top of Jazz to be able to reach both of them, and Jazz's purring systems were sending vibrations through his own frame. Jazz's hands were both trapped under Prowl because of this, but the saboteur eventually got one free, and Prowl found out just how pleasant it was to have sonic waves pulsing against sensitive wires and oooh, the empty joints for his wings were still so very nicely sensitive, at least when Jazz's hands (when had he gotten the other one out from under Prowl...?) were on them.
"This is a nice way t'wake up." Jazz murmured as he pull Prowl away from his door wings for a moment for a slow, leisurely kiss.
"You door wings were itchy." Prowl said mildly.
"And that's what you call scratchin' 'em?" Jazz asked with amusement.
"No, this is called groping them..." Prowl said, and demonstrated by reaching back to Jazz's door wings again to do just that. Jazz chuckled, though it hitched in the middle as Prowl found a particularly sensitive spot, and then the saboteur's hands were roaming again. He was twitching now, with vents cycling noisily and strange noises issuing from his vocalizer that could be taken as grunts or moans or a combination of both, and Prowl smirked to himself over the accomplishment. He wasn't immune to gossip from the troops, after all, even if he didn't participate in it, and he knew Jazz had interfaced with quite a few other mechs and femmes while trying to get Prowl. The generally consensus had always seemed to be 'smooth as polished glass even at the height of it'. So to be the one to make Jazz loose that cool, smooth-talking front was rather satisfying. And also a little bit of revenge, since Jazz tended to make Prowl lose his cool, collected exterior with anything from a look to a caress of his now-absent door wings.
"How did y'know they were itchy?" Jazz after a few moments, his voice wobbly, and Prowl redoubled his efforts on the saboteur's door wings. He wanted to see if he could get Jazz to the point where he literally couldn't talk. Not because he didn't want to hear him speak, but because he wanted to see if he could.
"Felt it." Prowl replied absently, leaning up for a moment to give Jazz a fierce kiss, and smirked as that left him looking rather dazed. Despite one of Prowl's hands shifting its attention to the saboteur's sensitive horns, and Prowl's mouth (which the saboteur had commented on being talented before) doing what it could to the parts of Jazz within nibble and kissing range, however, Jazz evidently held on to some piece of control, refusing to overload. Prowl wondered at the reason, even as his own systems purred from both Jazz's hands and the sight and feel of Jazz being so ridiculously close to overload, only to have the answer presented as Jazz's chest armor split open to reveal his spark casing. Prowl smiled faintly, unbridled joy washing over him once again that Jazz loved and trusted him enough for this, and let his own chest armor slide apart.
The meeting of their sparks was surprisingly gentle, both of them skirting along the edges at first, until Jazz reached out and gave Prowl a tug, pulling him in, and the tactician found himself in the pleasantly chaotic mind of his lover. He simply enjoyed the experience at first, until he realized that a specific part of Jazz's mind was not only wide open to him, but beckoning him in, and curiously, he went.
Sensation. Pure, glorious sensation washed over Prowl, and he gasped at the intensity, It wasn't until his own mind automatically began categorizing the sensations that he realized what Jazz had done - he'd opened the controls on the subroutine Prowl had written for him, letting Prowl in to feel everything Jazz's door wing could. It was unexpectedly relieving, releasing tension Prowl hadn't even been aware of, as the world - or at least Jazz's quarters - opened up around him again, and he could see and feel properly once again.
It was a rush, and so powerful that Prowl's systems went into overload after only a few moments, but the tactician clung to the that flow of data, refusing to lose it as his systems went over the edge. He was aware of Jazz overloading as well, but most of his mind was focusing on that data, the feel of the air currents, the chemical composition of the air in the room, the electro-static charge, the temperature, the amount of light, everything and anything, Prowl held onto it all, feeling the changes as the two mechs overloaded, recognizing it from previous times, and rejoicing in being able to do so once again. Unfortunately, it seemed he had well and truly worked Jazz up, as the force of the saboteur's own overload sent him off-line, and with Prowl still in his mind, even if only clinging to that one sub-routine, the tactician went down with his lover into blackness.
- END -