Little Red
The sound of running water echoed in the wash rack. Jazz silently sat on the floor, the ache in his hand somewhat lessened, and waited for Prowl to finish.
Prowl himself was unaware that Jazz was even there, not hearing the mech climb in through the small window with the racket the water was making as it rained down onto his plating. Scrubbie in hand, Prowl was scrubbing away at himself in a last ditch effort to make himself look reasonably presentable. He had lazed around in berth for too long, leaving the fluids to stain his hips.
And they did.
While his grandcarrier would likely not notice, Smokescreen most certainly would and he refused to allow that to happen. Smokescreen wouldn't get off his back about it, excited that Prowl had finally loosened up a little.
While he technically had loosened up, he wasn't about to let Smokescreen know. He'd want every single little detail and would stop at nothing in order to obtain it.
And now he knew that his brother was here on a hunting trip, he certainly couldn't let him know.
After a few minutes of vigorous scrubbing, the stains were finally washed away and Prowl could shut off the water.
He turned around and stepped out of the cubicle only to promptly stumble back into it, yelping in shock, when he saw that he was not alone. Jazz was still sat in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them to pull them in closer.
There were weld marks on his arms, helm and legs. Prowl couldn't see his chest and abdomen, but he hoped there weren't any there too.
Jazz jumped when he heard Prowl yelp, helm shooting upwards with his visor bright in shock.
"Sorry, did Ah scare ya?"
"Just… just a little. How long have you been here for?" Prowl asked, kneeling down beside him.
"Just got here." Jazz replied, shifting slightly to be closer to Prowl. The closer he was, the less and less his hand ached and the faster the pain ebbed away. "Ma hand was hurtin', so Ah came ta see ya. Is yours at all…?" Jazz trailed off as he realized Prowl hadn't shown any inclination at all that his mark was hurting.
"I shut off the receptors in that hand. I can't feel it at all." He replied, biting down on one of his fingers as if to emphasize his point. "Why didn't you do the same?"
"Ya not meant to shut them off, it builds up and comes at once when ya turn 'em back on." Jazz deadpanned, internally groaning.
"Oh." Prowl simply replied, looking down at his hand. "Would you mind if I turned it back on now?"
"Go ahead."
Prowls optics dimmed, a sign that he was rooting around inside for the coding that would reactivate the pain sensors in his hand. This was then quickly followed by-
"OH SWEET PRIMUS"
Jazz had found the whole escapade overall quite amusing.
Prowl had rolled around on the floor holding his hand whilst swearing his head off, clearly not prepared for the backlash. When he was done, he childishly pouted at Jazz, optics narrowed.
"Glad you're enjoying yourself so much." He huffed, gingerly flexing his hand. The pain was gone, the ache overall dulled. It was still lingering there, although Prowl suspected that it would fade away to nothing quite quickly.
"Oh Ah am." Jazz giggled, holding his sides. Every so often he would wince and his breath would hitch, something that didn't go unnoticed by Prowl.
"You're hurt." He said, suddenly sitting up and starting intently at the mech still curled up in the corner of the washrack. Jazz froze, visor brightening.
"What makes ya say that?"
"Well for one you're covered in welds." Prowl bluntly began. "Then there's how your breath keeps on hitching and you're wincing whenever it does."
"Ah may have gotten into a little scrap with someone-"
"I may not have joined the hunting profession but I know enough about your culture to know that so long as the Alpha wasn't involved, someone will help you do your welds and you would have likely been tended to by the packs medic." Prowl replied as he stood up and walked over to Jazz, crouching next to him again. "So you did something to anger your Alpha, which is not a 'little scrap' as you call it."
"What's it ta ya" Jazz grumbled, looking away.
"Important." Prowl snapped back, trying to persuade Jazz to uncurl. "Did you run away from the den? Or did you get permission to leave?"
"Why do ya wanna know?"
"I would like to know so I can prepare if I have an angry Alpha making a beeline to my grandcarriers house. For starters, we can't let Smokescreen see them."
"Ah got permission, he was strangely compliant. Ya wont get any Alpha's comin' here." Jazz replied, eventually allowing himself to uncurl from the tight ball he was wound up in. Prowl visibly relaxed when he saw that there weren't any welds on his chest or abdomen.
At first glance, that is.
Prowl was about to turn away to try and get Jazz to show him his back when he noticed a small weld that looked as though it was coming from underneath his bumper. Leaning down slightly and looking underneath it, he saw a large laceration that took up at least two thirds of the length of his bumper.
"How did you get that?" Prowl asked, pointing at it.
Jazz shrugged, wincing at the pain the motion caused. "Ah don't know how Ah got half of 'em, Prowler."
He was silent for a few moments, mulling over a sudden thought. "The mark, is there any way for us to cover it up? Would painting it work?"
The thought that he was so eager to hide it stung a little, but Jazz didn't show it. "Paint does work, but it burns off after a couple'a hours."
"I'd like it if you'd allow my grandcarrier to take a look at your wounds. She was a trained medic."
"There's somethin' else though, ain't there?" Jazz asked, noting how Prowl wouldn't look him in the optic.
"She was also in the hunting profession. She quit after a bad injury that was inflicted by the Alpha in this forest."
"What is it wit' ya family?!" Jazz demanded, shrinking away from him. "Ya just trin' ya get meh killed-"
"It's not as if I like it either! I'm surrounded by mecha who know how to kill me with a screwdriver in fifty different ways!"
"An' you don't?"
"Not fifty. Now, stay here. I'm getting the paint."
Prowl stood and left the washrack, returning a few moments later with two small tins of paint and two brushes.
"Ya sure it's gunna match?" Jazz asked, comparing the colour on the outside of the tin to the colour of his hand. While Prowl had a jet black finish that contrasted greatly with his pure white, Jazz's was obsidian.
"I can mix the two until they do." Prowl replied, opening both tins and placing a dollop of the white paint into the lid of the black, repeating it with the black paint before mixing them together. "Now, seeing as I can't simply bring you downstairs, we have to plan something." Prowl began, gently moving Jazz's hand so it was flat. "Are you able to climb out of the window again?"
"Ah should be able ta."
"Good. Hide in the bushes, or wherever you would prefer, and I shall leave the house with the story of going for a late night walk."
"Won't she find that unusual?"
"I always used to do it when I was younger, I see no reason for it to be strange now. Then, we can come back with the story that I found you."
"Not too far from our first encounter." Jazz replied with a wink.
Prowl simply pressed his lips together and didn't comment.
Jazz frowned at him, question forming in his mind. Whether or not he was going to voice it Jazz didn't know. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure he'd like the answer.
"What's bothering you?" Prowl quietly asked as he applied the last of the paint. Jazz twitched, not aware that Prowl had noticed.
"Nothin'. So, how do we explain my injuries?"
Prowl gave him a look that showed he wasn't going to be believing Jazz any time soon. "Up to you. You could feign memory loss, or we could tell a half-truth and say you encountered an Alpha, although that may cause more problems than it solves."
"Ah'm not gunna sell out my pack, Ah wont mention them." Jazz firmly replied. He wasn't going to give any indication that he had seen them at all – he refused to put them in danger.
"Memory loss it is then. I hope you're a good actor."
Prowl quietly closed the gate behind him, his grandcarrier informed that he was going on a walk. He noticed the curtain move at the window, their face peeking out from behind. Throwing them a small wave, Prowl continued onwards into the dark forest.
Out of sight from the house, Jazz emerged from behind a tree when he heard Prowl coming.
"Ah still have no idea what Ah'm gunna say."
"If you can't think of anything by the time we get there, I'll do the talking. I just hope she buys it."
"Have ya got a reputation as a lair?"
"No, but my brother does."
"Ya should be just fine then."
"We can hope."
Prowl supported Jazz against his side, arms under his shoulder while Jazz threw his arm over Prowls shoulders. "Just try and behave yourself. No inappropriate groping, no comments, no innuendos."
"Aawww, if Ah knew there were that many strings attached Ah wouldn't have agreed!"
Prowl rolled his optics, not bothering to retaliate.
By the time they had reached the gate again, Jazz was barely holding back the fit of giggles that threatened to escape and Prowl was seconds away from dumping the mech on the floor and kicking him repeatedly. The perverted mech just couldn't keep his hands to himself, and Prowl was almost certain that he was only doing it to make the whole ordeal that much harder.
"Remember what I said." Prowl quietly growled into Jazz's audial. Jazz purred in return, pressing in closer to Prowl before the doorwinger squeezed his hand, tightening his grip on him, and Jazz reluctantly pulled away.
The door opened quickly, and Prowl managed to maneuver the two in before calling for his grandcarrier.
The femme came in quickly, and Jazz was sure that he had seen her before. A very dark grey, she had blue highlights and a golden chevron. What caught Jazz's eye the most were the multitude of scars that marred her frame, one of them running from the corner of her lip and up towards her audial so her mouth was trapped in a permanent smile.
That is, until Jazz looked down and saw her legs. One of them was clearly fake, and Jazz swallowed hard. A murky memory file came to mind, one that was hard to remember and barely there, but Jazz remembered where he had seen her before.
He wondered if she would recognize him, despite the vorns that had passed.
"Prowl?" She asked, suddenly coming to a halt when she saw Jazz. "Oh Primus! Is he okay?"
"I found him outside, he says he can't remember how he got there." Prowl replied, subtly shifting his stance to better support Jazz.
"Take him through to the kitchen, sit him in one of the chairs. I'll go get the medical kit." She ordered, quickly turning and limping away. Jazz noticed then the scars on her back where the hinges for her doorwings should have been.
"She used to have doorwings?" Jazz quietly asked as Prowl lead him into the kitchen.
"All Praxians do, femmes included." Prowl replied.
Jazz couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He'd known mecha to go mad after the loss of their wings. She was either hiding her distress very well, or she had already grown past the loss.
"I hope this will be enough." The femme said as she joined them, pulling up a chair so she could sit beside Jazz as she worked on him. "What's your name?"
"Jazz."
"Do you remember anything at all?" She asked, carefully inspecting the wound under his bumper. Jazz hissed, breath hitching again.
"Not a lot. Ah heard somethin' outside, an' Ah went ta investigate. Next thing Ah know, Ah'm layin' face down in the dirt in the forest with no idea as ta how Ah got there."
"Sounds like you were attacked by something. This place is crawling with strange beings, I wouldn't be surprised if one of them found themselves in the town."
"What kind'a strange bein's?" Jazz asked, feigning curiosity. Prowl gave him a look, but kept silent.
"Well there are the simple things that don't do you any harm, like the Wisp's and the Fae's. I'm often finding them in the garden playing in the crystals." She began, applying a numbing gel to the wound under Jazz's bumper. It looked as though she had decided that the others were okay to be left as they were, but this one was one that needed the most attention. "There are others that are bigger but you don't get any of them around here, which is disappointing. You did where I used to live." She mused. "What you do get however are the much bigger ones that look just like you and me." Her face darkened. "The changed and the leechers."
"Th' what?"
"The worst things to encounter. Both can hide and mingle amongst us, changing form when the time is right. Leechers sustain themselves by drinking energon from living cybertronians and are perfectly happy to steal spark energy. Changed are much worse, they're grotesque." She shuddered.
"Would you like me to explain to him later?" Prowl offered. She nodded.
"I believe that would be best, Prowl."
Jazz gave Prowl a quizzical look, thoroughly confused. He didn't think he was that bad. Prowl just shrugged. The entire exchange went by unnoticed by the femme as she worked away. Jazz couldn't feel any pain, but he could feel what she was doing, and quite frankly it felt quite weird.
There was a loud click as the front door opened again, and Smokescreen strolled into the kitchen just moments later.
"The weather's perfect out there- Oh? Who's this?" He began, pausing for a moment when he spotted Jazz.
"This is Jazz. I found him while I was on a walk. Jazz, this is Smokescreen, my brother." Prowl replied, gesturing between the pair.
"Pleasure to meet you. Sorry if my brother bored you, he's not too much of a talker." Smokescreen replied, cheekily tweaking the tip of Prowls chevron. Prowl simply smacked his hand away and glared at him.
"Ya should talk more, ya voice is nice." Jazz replied, cheekily grinning at the now thoroughly embarrassed Prowl.
"See! He agrees!" Smokescreen cheerily replied as he hopped into a chair himself. Their grandcarrier allowed a laugh to escape them.
"Now now, mechs. Behave yourselves. I'm not going to repair anyone else tonight."
"Spoil sport." Smokescreen huffed.
"While you're under my roof you're under my rules, Smokey." She retorted.
"Fine, fine!" He replied, holding his hands up. "I'm going to go hit the sack now, so if you need me knock loudly."
"Night night, take care to not wake me up again tomorrow. I do not appreciate early wake ups."
"Sure, sure."
"G'night Smokescreen." Jazz chirped, giving him a quick wave.
The mech strolled out of the kitchen, and when he got upstairs the trio heard him loudly yawn.
"He needs to start getting enough sleep." Their grandcarrier groused as she finished up the repairs. "Now, don't strain yourself too much. You'll need to go see a real doctor soon about that. You're also welcome to stay here for as long as you need." She said, packing away her equipment. "Prowl, could you take him upstairs?"
"Certainly." Prowl replied, moving to help Jazz stand again before leading him upstairs. Instead of taking him to the guest room like his grandcarrier probably intended, he slipped into his own room instead.
Jazz promptly made a beeline for the berth, flopping down onto its plush surface.
"Ya berth is comfier than it should be." Jazz remarked, voice heavily muffled. He released a sigh, slowly rolling onto his back.
"What is it?" Prowl asked as he closed the door, moving to sit on the end of his berth.
"That was more nerve wrackin' than Ah thought it would be."
"How so?"
"Ah recognize her. She's called Stormcloud, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is. Have you encountered her before in this forest?"
"Yeah. Ah don't remember it too well though, Ah just remember bein' scared an' there bein' a lot of energon."
"If she had recognized you, she would have said something." Prowl assured him. "I don't think you're in danger."
"Ah'd hope so."
Jazz glanced down at his palm and saw that the paint was already starting to fade away, the lightly coloured marking underneath starting to come through.
"Ah'm glad that she didn't notice the paint. That would have ended badly."
"I must admit I am not sure what she would do."
"Earlier she said somethin' about leechers. What are they?"
"I thought you knew?" Prowl asked, optics brightening slightly in surprise. "They're creatures who can't go into areas of starlight. They feed from energon from live – or deactivated – bodies. Bite mecha to get it, pierce the skin. It's where they get their name. The marks they leave behind are very distinctive."
Jazz nodded. "Ah've never encountered one. Ah know they've got this whole rivalry thing wit' mecha like me, but they don't really come here anymore."
"If memory serves me right, it's because they're scared of your Alpha. He's responsible for the cull that happened here before either of us were born."
"Speakin' of my Alpha…" Jazz purred, quickly moving to straddle one of Prowls thighs. "He didn't let me leave just ta come say hi."
"What happened to 'you probably won't be seeing me for a bit'?" Prowl teased, allowing Jazz to make himself comfortable. The mech visibly blushed, energon rushing to his faceplates.
"That was before Ah knew it'd hurt this much." Jazz grumbled, moving to nuzzle at Prowls nose. "Ah'll be honest, Ah don't know what we're gunna do. Ah can't keep comin' back n forth."
"We'll work something out. I'm more worried about when I have to go back to Praxus."
"Ya not stayin'?"
"Not my choice, I can't. The only reason I'm here is because I was made to take holiday."
Jazz visibly slumped. "Ah… Oh. A-are ya sure ya can't?"
"I'm sorry." Prowl tightly pressed his lips together, looking down. "I would ask you go back with me, but I'm sure there's a rule about packs staying together."
"There is. Ah'd be considered a deserter."
"Do you know if this will ever stop?"
"Eventually. Ah don't know how long, but when it does establish we can spend longer apart. Apparently it's different between species."
"I take it that it doesn't happen often."
"So rarely they don't bother tellin' us about it. How long until ya leave?"
"Just three cycles."
"Make it up to me?"
Neither heard the door click open as Prowl leaned forwards and captured Jazz's lips with his own. It was the sudden wolf whistle that made them jump apart, both immediately looking at the door to see Smokescreen leaning against the doorframe, fanning himself with his hand with a playful grin on his face. "Wow, it's getting hot in here! Damn, Prowler. Didn't see that coming from you."
Prowl was trying his hardest to not furiously blush, but even his best efforts couldn't stop the pink hue that coloured his face.
"What did you want?" Prowl asked as normally as he could, ignoring the position they had been caught in. Jazz was still perched on his thigh, looking decidedly awkward, hand with the marking on it now firmly planted on Prowls forearm. He'd try his hardest to stop it from being seen, that much he'd decided.
"I was going to ask where your black paint was. I need to touch up a few places."
"It's in the bathroom, top shelf."
"Thanks." Smokescreen replied, tromping into the bathroom and collecting the paint. "Now, don't let me disturb you. Have fun!" He chirped, quickly closing the door before Prowl could throw anything at him.
I tried to find the book that I used to read as a child that had Little Red Riding Hood included, but I can't find it anywhere. I'm quite upset about that actually.
On another note, I also got some really, really bad news about a friend. Sorry for any delays, my will to write kind of… dwindled…
~Llama
