Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: Crossover,
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter
At All Costs 24: To Iacon and the Future
Jazz had to admit, to himself at least, that Prowl was a rather skilled actor when he put his processors to it. Good enough for Ops work, if his tactical computer and logic center weren't far more valuable to Tactical. He had absolutely no doubt that every Decepticon who'd seen it believed that Prowl had thrown Soundwave for Jazz and was defecting out of fear of his former lover.
Slag it, he believed the show and he knew it was an act.
The trickiest part was figuring out how to explain that Korrës wasn't going to escort them but met them in Iacon ... and then manage to be in two places in the same room.
Thankfully Black Echo said he had an answer.
For now, Jazz only had to worry about keeping Prowl on track and out of sight until they reached the rendezvous.
His job was made slightly easier by the fact that the Praxian was very obedient at the moment, if somewhat distracted. Shaken and stressed on the inside, it was only visible if one knew what to look for.
It was good sign that Prowl was starting to truly function in the present when he started asking questions. "Who am I going to see?"
"The Autobot SIC and acting commander Black Echo, TIC Ultra Magnus, CMO Ratchet ... the Prime if he's around," Jazz rattled off who he was sure were going to interrogate his lover and prize catch. "Probably others."
The first designation Prowl recognized, having heard it before from his silver companion. The others were pulled up from his files, tactical computer quickly picking out key points on all the mechs Jazz had listed for him.
They were going to be a hard crowd to convince.
"Has the Matrix chosen a new Prime then?" He had hoped to have more a base built before facing that challenge, but he would work with what he had.
"I'm not sure, but I think so," Jazz nodded as he guided Prowl around a corner in the one section of the city that hadn't been badly damaged. "They're still keeping quiet about the last one biting the dust."
"Something easier to desire than to do, I am sure." Prowl responded, sensor panels sweeping in search of danger or threat out of habit any more. Focusing on something outside of himself was easier, and so he did that.
It also allowed him to ignore the small bits of fear and all of the scenarios his battle computer was throwing at him where this all ended badly.
"Weapons on the bench," A low, deep voice rumbled from the darkness.
"That's Black Echo," Jazz commented as he carefully removed a light blaster and Prowl's spare dagger from his subspace and put them on the bench as directed.
Prowl twitched, startled and irritated, though neither showed beyond the small motion as he obeyed as well, carefully placing his side arm and backup blades he carried next to Jazz's.
The Praxian then backed up slowly, still looking for the exact source of the voice that had managed to take him by surprise when he had been on the lookout. He watched as a small dark minibot, one that barely came up to Jazz's chest, slipped from the shadows and gathered the items before stepping a few paces away. Powerful scanners swept over him, and a rich black colored mech taller than Prowl stepped forward.
"Welcome to Iacon, Prowl," Black Echo rumbled, taking in his guests. "I understand you wish to defect."
"Correct." Prowl answered simply, not bothering to hide the fact that he was studying these new mechs in return. The scans running over him made his own sensors itch.
"Thank you." He added as polite afterthought.
Black Echo chuckled. "Well then Prowl, follow me and we'll start on all the fun stuff before paperwork is settled." He motioned the pair to follow him into the shadows. It was then that Prowl understood how such a large mech had snuck up on him. While Black Echo was a very quiet mechanism, he had also stepped out of a door only a few paces away.
Still annoyed at being caught- if the mech had meant him or Jazz any harm they wouldn't have had time to defend themselves- Prowl satisfied himself with filing the information away and making a little note of it in his personal file on the black mech.
He glanced at Jazz, wondering a little at the phrasing and if he should be worried about whatever the current acting commander of the Autobots had in mind. Fun, at least among the Decepticons could have layers of meaning within meaning. From what Jazz had said of the mech, Black Echo was as in to causing pain and suffering as any Decepticon. It wasn't a comforting thought.
The only good part was that Jazz wasn't at all skittish about him. The smaller mech behind them, the one with their weapons, that one Jazz seemed to want to avoid getting too close to, but Black Echo didn't bother him.
"I don't suppose Korrës briefed you on what to expect?" Black Echo asked as he led them through a maze of dark, tight corridors.
"The basics. There was not as much time between my decision to defect and my actual departure to make for convenient planning." Subtly Prowl shifted the divisions of his processing power to focus more on the mech that Jazz was avoiding.
Simple questions such as the black mech was asking did not demand much of him, but he had entered into this with no promise of safety, and he doubted they would hesitate to shoot him in the back if they deemed it necessary, or even simply advantageous.
"Yes, surely a lover's spat is not cause enough to defect," Black Echo prodded, well aware of Prowl's shift of focus.
"It was rather more than a 'spat'." Prowl explained, tension seeping into his voice for a moment. "And one does not cross Soundwave lightly."
There were other reasons, layered on top of each other to create a defense. None of them alone were enough to justify his turning his back on something he had believed in, but added all together they might well cause one to wonder why Prowl had stayed as long as he had.
"No, you don't," Black Echo agreed amiably as Jazz moved a bit closer to Prowl, watching Anchor like he was Unicron himself. "He's one of the scarier mechs out there. That full story is one I'm expecting to hear."
Prowl's sensor wings flicked, the move meant to look dismissive even as Prowl tried to settle his response to Jazz's actions. "I am sure it is not as entertaining as it sounds. I made a choice and he was...not pleased."
Black Echo glanced at Prowl, considering him, before opening a door that hadn't been apparent before it slid into the wall to spill bright light into the dark hall. "Take a seat," the big mech motioned inside as he stepped into the room.
Prowl gave the space a sweeping glance. An over-large plush chair, meant either for a short wide mech or two his size, a couple normal chairs, and one designed for a minibot to sit around the round table summed up the furniture. The only other object in the room was a double berth, padded for a Praxian from its look.
He didn't want to, the layout of the room setting him on edge. He wanted to look at Jazz, wanted some sort of guidance in a situation he had never encountered before.
Finally he moved into the room and settled into one of the standard seats, arranging his sensor panels for as much comfort as possible, and so that he still had some sense of what was going on behind him. He watched as Black Echo pulled out the other chair and dropped into it with a sprawling ease of someone who knew, right down to their spark, that they were in absolute control. He also noted in that moment that the small minibot hadn't followed them into the room.
"Move," Jazz snapped, drawing Black Echo's attention to him. "Don't look so fraggin surprised. You aren't paying me right now. Move," he shoved at the much larger mech's chair hard enough to make it rock.
Black Echo cycled his dark blue optics, then laughed and stood, swapping the placement of the his chair and the minibot's one so Jazz could sit next to Prowl.
Prowl hid his surprise, since that was a dynamic he had not expected from his knowledge of Black Echo and his understanding of Jazz's place among the Autobots.
Still, it was a comfort to have the small mech as a sort of insulation between him and the stranger. He relaxed minutely, nowhere near at ease but not concerned that someone was going to take him out from behind at the moment.
As prepared as he figured he was going to be, Prowl resigned himself to waiting for whatever was going to come next. The first thing was that Jazz's hand found his under the table.
Then Black Echo settled again and focused on Prowl. "Tell me why you want to defect. Why I should trust you."
Prowl vented softly, considering. The supposed fear for his own continued functioning would have been a perfectly acceptable reason among the Decepticons, possibly even where this line of questioning would have ceased.
But the entire point of being here was that he was no longer among the Decepticons.
"I joined to fight against a system that was wrong. Not to bring harm to those I wished to help. The Decepticons no longer look beyond themselves." Prowl looked at Black Echo, intense, serious. "Do you?"
The big mech chuckled, honest amusement in his smile. "You do realize you're asking a senior Black Ops agent if he's a good mech." Black Echo's smile turned hard. "No Prowl. I'm not. No one with my function can say that. We exist to do the ugly work so politicians can seem clean even when they aren't. Just ask your lover what kind of mech I am when I'm not playing SIC," he motioned to Jazz, who looked down, his fingers tightening around Prowl's.
Prowl squeezed Jazz's hand in return, calm.
"The system's more corrupt than even you imagined," Black Echo continued, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. "Autobot vs. Decepticon went past the stage of right vs wrong, good vs evil, a long time ago. On the other hand, pretty much everyone who made the system corrupt is with Primus and next to no one functioning and willing to talk is part of it anymore. Now it's a matter of whether the system is changed from within or without."
Prowl had been under no illusion that Black Echo was 'good' by any means. But good was a very elusive concept. Still, it spoke of the mech's integrity on some level that he was bluntly honest about his function.
"The inquiry was not well done." Prowl conceded. "A better phrasing might be what are your intentions?"
Prowl had been taken for a fool once, and he did not wish the same to happen again.
Black Echo considered him again before answering. "To ensure a Prime, the bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, remains the ruler of Cybertron. For good or ill and expecting both, a Prime has ruled since the first Thirteen. I have no intention of seeing that end during my functioning."
"Then we at least share a common goal." Prowl said quietly. The Prime had not been the one hurting the people. It was the Council, and the severe unbalance of power that had formed between the two.
"How did you end up with Soundwave?" Black Echo asked with genuine curiosity.
Prowl shrugged slightly. "He approached me not long after I had been promoted to the rank of junior officer. At that time accepting his attention was a logical course of action."
"It was never for more than his protection then?" Black Echo raised an optic ridge.
"Protection. Company of my choosing. Companionship. There were far worse mechs that wanted my time." Prowl answered easily enough, none of what he was saying a lie, to the mech he was speaking to or his own spark.
"Oh?" Black Echo was suddenly very interested. "Who else wanted you?"
"Several members of the Construticon gestalt. Another Praxian, because of frame type. Shockwave. Among others." Prowl answered, clearly not impressed with any of the options.
Apparently it was of interest to Black Echo, though. "Mmm, what made Soundwave preferable to Shockwave? As far as power goes, Shockwave is arguably a better choice."
"Detachment. Soundwave was there and offered first. I also did not learn of Shockwave's interest until afterward."
Black Echo nodded. "And how'd you end up with Jazz, choosing him over Soundwave?"
Prowl vented quietly. "Things change." He looked at Jazz as the silver minibot scooted closer. "I wished to spend what free time with those whose company I enjoy. Soundwave saw things differently, but my spark is not his to command."
"Perhaps not, but that is still a serious break to make, especially for a mech whose time is bought more often than not."
"I never deluded Prowl about what I am or that I'll always sell my time and attention," Jazz actually growled.
"He did not." Prowl agreed, defending Jazz. "But the outcome would have been no different if it were anyone else, unless perhaps I managed to catch the optic of someone who ranked even Soundwave."
Black Echo shuddered faintly, as did Jazz.
"Given who that list is, you'd be better off running if that had happened," Black Echo muttered. "Couple sick fraggers there, even by my standards. Are there any Cons you're going to miss, anyone who's not convicted of the cause?" he asked. "Mechs we should focus on courting?"
"Freeway, Getaway, Sprocket, Greaser, Skids ... especially Skids," Prowl murmured. "I have no idea how he became a Decepticon, much less how he's survived, but he's a brilliant mech and has no business being in the war's front lines. I wouldn't go looking for him, but Smokescreen might make a passable Autobot if you can curb his con artist base programming."
He glanced at Jazz, suddenly thoughtful. "Windcharger might be a possibility as well. Minibot. Joined because he was looking for a fight, but I am not sure that the ideals of the Decepticons ever really appealed to him."
Black Echo nodded, thoughtful. "What are your goals in defecting?"
Prowl shrugged. "To live to see the end of the war." He said first, and then went still as he considered the rest of his answer, a real answer. "To see a world where there is at least chance for those functioning to answer their sparks as they were meant to. Without sacrificing those I wish to help in the process."
"The end of what held you back, the end of the caste system?" Black Echo suggested.
Prowl stared at him, impassive on the surface as his processor sprang into overdrive. Memories files surfaced, everything that had held him back from fulfilling the desires of his spark and core programming since he woken to functioning.
Programming. Programming that had forced him to go against the desires of the spark that Primus had seen fit to give him. Programming that had held him back from loving one of the mechs who held claim to his spark before Soundwave had provided him orders to soothe it.
"Programming." Prowl growled softly.
The larger mech hummed thoughtfully and leaned back to consider the mech before him. "The end of pre-programmed mechs?"
Sensor panels twitched. "Not necessarily, but certainly changes in how they are handled. Pre-programmed and indentured or not, the spark that powers still comes from the Well by the will of Primus."
"But what is requested is what is delivered," Black Echo pointed out. "It could be argued that any spark ill-suited to its function is because the priest who called for it did not ask for the right thing." He leaned forward. "Do you know who called your spark forth?"
"Would it make a difference?" Prowl asked, calmer on the surface than underneath because he wasn't sure where Black Echo was taking that line of questioning. "Those who requested me got what they asked for. What they did not consider well enough beforehand was what they were getting when they asked. Nor did they consider a spark they had requested as being anything more than an overly intelligent drone. I would see pre-programmed sparks acknowledged as sparks, even while under contract."
"It makes a difference because of why you are here," Black Echo said gently. "The High Priest who called you was Soundwave. The very mech who you shared a berth with for vorns and you are now trying to escape. He has had an interest in you from the beginning. He may well have always intended to claim you as his plaything."
The Praxian frames mech vented thoughtfully. "I am away from him now."
Never mind that Soundwave had offered to free him more than once, with truth that Prowl could feel behind the offer. Never mind that Prowl had chosen to stay each time, going out of his way to prove to the host that he wanted to stay.
Those were things the black mech never needed to know. Couldn't know if they were going to make this work.
"And I am here, if you will have me."
"Oh, we'll have you," Black Echo promised. "In what capacity is what we're still working out. You would be an uncontested asset to the tactical division. They're not at all shy that they want you. You're a damn fine frontliner, and your value to my own division is unquestionable. You are by far the highest ranking Decepticon to ever defect. Praxus will want you back for trial when they find out you're here. Not that long ago the Senate would too." He leaned back and regarded the mechs across from him. "Where you go, for what and with what clearance is officially up to the Prime, functionally up to me. What I recommend to him will depend entirely on how much I decide to trust you."
"Prowl can't go back," Jazz pointed out.
"So you say," Black Echo nodded. "I'm also aware of Soundwave's capabilities. So let's get down to tactical intel. Codes, maps, Decepticon IDs, rank structure, facilities and forces."
Prowl nodded his understanding, somewhat relieved that the personal line of questioning was at end. "Where do you want to start?"
Joors later Black Echo had left, energon rations consumed and Jazz had coaxed Prowl to the berth. The silver mech was rubbing Prowl's sensor wings to soothe them and the tension in the joints and cables.
"You know, I still have a hard time processing that we're actually doing this," Jazz murmured as he ignored the growing discomfort in his own systems to work the stress from Prowl's.
Prowl groaned softly as Jazz's hands found a particularly troublesome spot and the Praxian's entire frame started to relax. For a few moments he indulged himself in the work of the skilled hands before reaching around to pull Jazz in for a kiss.
Pressing his lips to the silver mechs in a gentle expression of thanks he settled down on the berth. "What is there to process?"
"That you actually left Soundwave," Jazz pointed out. "That mech has contacts that put mine to shame. My giving up that contract for you," he shook his head even as he snuggled close, his engine purring. "Worth it, but processing how to make up the 68% loss is giving me quite a processor ache."
"Stop thinking about it." Prowl suggested, hands running down the sleek back in apology. "I'll help you figure out a way to make it up later. And thank you."
"Mmm, hard to," Jazz purred and pressed into the touch. "It's my function, Prowl. It doesn't even turn off when we interface."
Prowl's hands faltered as that processed, sorrow in his optics and in the field that reached out to hesitantly encompass Jazz. "I'm sorry. When I asked you- I didn't realize-."
That it would cause Jazz this much distress. He would do everything in his power to see the silver minibot protected, cared for, and happy.
But his power was non-existent. His own continued functioning was questionable. New tension spread through him as his computers started to work on the problem.
"I know," Jazz murmured and stretched upwards to kiss him. "You're worth it. I can make up the difference as soon as they turn me loose. Well, enough at any rate. It's just been a long time since I didn't have a major contract to rely on."
Prowl sighed. "We'll just have to see about getting them to turn you loose as soon as possible then."
"Babe, no," Jazz pressed close and kiss him almost frantically. "No. Not until you're free too. They won't let me back in if I walk out that door. No, they're providing energon. Just ... are you agreeable to interfacing here?"
"With you?" There was a slight teasing note to Prowl's voice as he held Jazz against him. "Anywhere."
Tension fled Jazz with a wash of relief. "Good," he whispered, his hands becoming much more direct as he focused his mouth on Prowl's neck. "Been too long."
Whatever Prowl had been planning to answer was lost in the moan from the attention on his neck, his own hands sliding over the silver mech in a way that was far more than merely comforting. He heard Jazz's interface panels snap open even before his hands reached those sleek silver hips.
"Tell me what you want, please," Jazz gasped against Prowl's throat. "Tell me how to please you."
"Ride me? So I can watch when you overload?" Prowl suggested, tilting his head to drag his glossa over a sensor horn.
Jazz moaned, shuddering in anticipation as he squirmed down Prowl's broad chest, kissing as he went, until his mouth was sealed over Prowl's spike cover. Then he hummed, deep and rumbling, while his glossa swirled along the smooth, warming metal.
Prowl optics flickered at the attention, not even trying to hold back as spike cover slid away, exposing everything to that wonderfully talented glossa. A low moan escaped him as Jazz sealed his mouth around the spike housing, ever so much like their first blissful time. Very much like that first time, Prowl's spike responded eagerly and pressurized into the welcoming slick heat.
With a smile and a wave of pleasure in his field at causing such pleasure, Jazz hummed and sucked. He had long ago stopped trying to explain the coding quirks that made him a sparked pleasurebot. How he could gain such physical pleasure by causing pleasure, but it was very much a part of his core nature. He loved to make others moan and feel good no matter how he did it.
Only when Prowl was struggling to hold back thrusting his hips did Jazz pull his head away. "Still want me to ride you, lover?"
"Tease." Prowl growled without any true aggression, regaining enough control to reach out and pull the smaller mech up for a kiss. "Yes."
"Good," Jazz moaned into the kiss, relishing it before he had to break it and slide back. "Hardline?" he opened the dataport on his chest.
"As long as it won't cause problems." Prowl answered, matching port reveled willingly.
Jazz simply shivered in anticipation and quickly plugged in both ways. After the first data pings to ensure the connection was working, he opened himself up fully to his lover, offering Prowl access to his processors as well as his sensory data. He slowly sank down on Prowl's spike, sharing the exquisite sensation of being stretched and filled, a sensation they both enjoyed more than doing the filling.
Prowl moaned, settling back to enjoy everything that Jazz offered. Hands traced over Jazz's thighs, teasing lightly at the hip joints as he made sure Jazz understood just how much pleasure he brought to Prowl.
It was a thought-move that made Jazz tremble as he settled with Prowl's spike fully enveloped by his valve.
~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz gasped through the hardline, his valve rippling around its prisoner. ~You're so worth it.~
A brush of relief on Prowl's part that Jazz believed him to worth what Jazz was enduring for him. So thankful for the small mech's willingness to give for Prowl and his wish that he had something to offer in return.
~Love you.~
~That, and you, are enough,~ Jazz moaned as he lifted himself up, relishing every tiny ridge and node of the spike sliding inside him and sharing that pleasure with the mech causing it.
~Thank you.~ Prowl whispered across the line, sending all the love he could across the connection, all the peace and comfort he found in the mech with him.
Fingers moved along the edges of Jazz's hips, Prowl's entire frame quivering as he took in the beauty of Jazz displaying his pleasure, just for Prowl. It didn't matter if they were being watched, this was for Prowl and it was intoxicating.
His helm thrown back, his chassis arched and every system in his frame focused on what was happening in his valve, Jazz slowly lifted himself up and pushed himself down, shifting the angle with every movement.
Prowl forced himself to be still, to draw out this shared pleasure flooding him for as long as he could, to value what Jazz was offering as his systems kicked into overdrive.
~Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like that?~ Prowl demanded, sharing what he was seeing and feeling to make sure Jazz could understand. The feel of Jazz's valve around his spike was wonderful, but it was so much better with being able to see Jazz like this.
~As beautiful as you are lost in pleasure,~ Jazz replied, more than willing to draw this out as long as he could. ~You sound so good, like the finest energon.~
~Sound?~ Prowl repeated, a moan escaping him and his fingers digging into Jazz's hips as the silver mech moved again. He felt how enticing the sound was to his lover, the shock of erotic pleasure it caused Jazz
~Yes, your moans sound so sweet,~ Jazz shuddered, slowly riding Prowl's spike while his valve worked. ~Love the way you sound, the flare of your wings, the feel of your frame against mine, the charge I cause in your systems.~
"Jazz..." Prowl moaned and shifted his frame, wings spreading against the berth, a hand moving to run along Jazz's frame, charge beginning to build on the surface of Prowls.
All in response to what Jazz did to him.
With a gasp of his vents, Jazz brought his helm forward so he could meet Prowl's bright optics and watch the face he adored twitch and morph in ecstasy.
"So lovely," Jazz whispered, his hips trembling as he held to the exactingly slow pace. "Stroke me? Let me see my transfluid glistening on your chest."
Fingers teased down Jazz's chest, tracing seams, waist, hips...before wrapping around the ornate spike, stroking and squeezing slowly in time with the silver mechs movements. Jazz shuddered and pressed into the touch as best he could, his movements restricted by the spike inside him.
"Oh, Prowl," he moaned and arched shamelessly, the tormenting duel stimulation and his inability to drive into both a glorious feeling he shared in full with the mech causing it.
A answering shudder rippled through Prowl. "Let go."
There wasn't a trace of hesitation as Jazz complied, his cry echoing in the room as his spike overloaded, sending an arc of shimmering transfluid to splash on Prowl's chest. His optics shorted out, the visor going black as his features tightened in bliss. All the while his valve worked Prowl's spike but held back from overloading by the barest margin, wanting to give Prowl a double show for his efforts.
"Beautiful." Prowl praised, hips starting to move with his lover now, moving to bring them both pleasure.
Jazz's moans rose, the pleasure rising hot and fast even against the cooling charge from the spike overload. He forced his optics on to take in the sight of his lover moving under him, the pleasure etched in his handsome features and Jazz transfluid spreading over his chest.
"Oh Primus," Jazz whimpered, offering up just what the sight did to him. "Can't believe you're really mine."
"Yours." Prowl agreed softy, hands moving to settle on Jazz's hips, working into the silver mechs hips just the way Jazz got off on most. Thankful that he could be that for Jazz. Thankful that Jazz was here, with him.
His world was not perfect. Not even close to right, at the moment. But it was bearable because he was not alone.
Prowl moaned, the slow charge building from his spike surging with Jazz's and bringing him so much closer to release.
It was the tipping point Jazz was waiting for and he moaned, then keened, before he let go completely and allowed his valve overload to take him.
The sight, the sound, the pleasure washing through him from every connection between them cascaded Prowl into his own overload as he followed his lover into bliss, pleasure moving between them in a continuous loop.
Prowl's first awareness was of pleasure, the familiar warmth of Jazz's valve around his spike as the minibot rode him.
A soft moan as his optics focused slowly, traveling up the lithe silver frame before meeting the glowing visor.
"Morning, handsome," Jazz purred and squeezed his valve as he leaned forward for a kiss. "Recharge well?"
"Very well." Prowl replied, reaching up to cradle the silver mechs face, sharing a gentle kiss. "And my wake up call is very pleasant."
"Every morning from now on, love," Jazz murmured, shivering at the truth of it. "Every morning I can wake you this way, or with my mouth, or my spike, or my hands."
"I would enjoy any of that, and all of that. Just as I would enjoy simply waking to find you next to me." Prowl kissed him again, glossa teasing.
Jazz merely hummed and kissed back, his hands reaching for Prowl's sensor wings.
"Primus," a frustrated voice grumbled from across the room.
The Praxians reaction was immediate, holding Jazz close and reaching for weapons no longer close at hand as all of his senses focused with a growl on the individual who had dared to invade.
The mech's ID ping was 'Ratchet, Autobot CMO' and the mid-sized red and white mech remained by the door, arms cross and glaring at them. "Well finish up already so we can get the medical checkup out of the way."
Prowls grip loosened, field flaring in apology/question against the mech in his arms. "Jazz?"
"I don't care about the audience," he murmured. "You?"
"He was the one who chose now to interrupt." Prowl pointed out, smirking a bit as he leaned in to kiss Jazz rather thoroughly, making it blatantly obvious how nice it was.
Jazz hummed again and finished reaching for Prowl's wings, stroking them as Prowl began to thrust into him.
Strong hands held Jazz in place and Prowl flared his wings to give Jazz the best possible access from this angle as Prowl switched his attention to Jazz's sensor horns, teasing them thoroughly. He enjoyed the squirming moans he elicited, and the way his own mingled with Jazz's when the minibot began to mouth his neck.
Both mechs were aware of the medic watching him, his occasional huffs and grumbles, until the charge building in them began to zap between them.
With a gasp Jazz shuddered and keened, his valve rippling around Prowl's spike as the silver mech overloaded with a shameless display for anyone watching. A shameless display that worked just as well on his willing lover, sending Prowl into his own overload.
The Praxian leaned back against the berth as he came off his high, well aware of the impatience radiating from the medic across the room but unwilling to rush this. His attention remained mostly on Jazz, hands running down the smaller mechs back in a way that always seemed to soothe the silver mech and bring him pleasure without arousing him too much.
"Thank you." He murmured, planting a gentle kiss on Jazz's helm as well.
"Mmm, you're welcome," Jazz purred, reluctant to disentangle himself but familiar enough with Ratchet to know that the medic was about to haul him off Prowl by his scruff if he didn't move himself.
"Any physical damage you care to tell me about before I start looking?" Ratchet grumbled as Jazz settled on the foot of the berth to clean up.
"Little that is not cosmetic in nature." Prowl responded, classifying his damage through long practice. There were dents and scratches in his armor that needed to be addressed before they began to compromise the integrity of his plating, but at the moment they were merely surface blemishes.
Several stretched and strained cables plagued him, as well as a stiffness in one doorwing that had been caught during his 'escape' with Jazz, but all of that Prowl was accustomed to letting his self repairs see to.
"Right," the CMO nodded and pulled a cable from his arm. "Open up then and let's see what your programming looks like."
Prowl obediently offered a convenient port that would allow the medic the access he needed, the Praxian settling on the berth and arranging his sensor panels to potentially stay a while as both systems worked out the preliminaries.
It was an odd feeling, having an actual professional medic, a doctor who had as much training as the system had to offer, moving through his systems, his unsecured memories, and paying special attention to his protocols and anything that wasn't default. As gruff as Ratchet's exterior manner was, he was actually much gentler than Hook.
~Of course I am, you glitch. He's an engineer with no business working in a medbay, much less in charge of it. I'm a top-ranked physician and surgeon.~
~Your forgiveness if you are a luxury I am not accustomed to. ~ While Prowl had no desire to defend Hook, it was still truth that the Constructicon had at least kept him functional. But now he could also understand the respect with which even the symbiots had referred to this mech's skill with.
Respect that was very hard to earn.
~Nice to know the little monsters remember me,~ Ratchet sounded gruff, but there was an underlying fond frustration to the thought. ~How long were you with Soundwave?~
~From the time I was made an officer. Almost sixteen vorns.~ Prowl answered honestly.
~Enjoy it?~ Ratchet prodded at a protocol that Prowl, then Soundwave, had modified. ~Was he good to you before he got possessive?~
~Very good to me.~ Prowl replied, tolerating the prodding to the protocols without flinching. The smoothing out of the adjustments that Prowl had made by Soundwave to those were adjustments that Prowl hoped even Ratchet would approve of, adjustments that had made Prowl's continued functioning much more pleasant. ~In the end there was simply no more room for compromise.~
Ratchet grunted and moved on to the next protocol that had been tweaked. ~You're good at self-programming. Stop it.~
~I have never done anything unnecessary.~ Prowl pointed out quietly, with the implication that he would do as needed in the future, with or without the medics approval.
~You have never had anyone with medical training to do it either,~ Ratchet growled. ~You leave editing to me. Do you have any idea how badly you can frag yourself with editing?~
Prowl actually had a very good idea, having seen several self edits go wrong. Part of the reason he was so careful whenever he made alterations to his own coding.
~I will come see you, if I can.~ Prowl conceded.
A displeased rumble of the medic's engine warned that he wasn't happy with the concession, but the promise seemed to be enough.
~Tel me about Soundwave,~ Ratchet asked, his tone of more personal interest than professional. ~I knew him when he and his lot were at the Temple in Iacon.~
~What do you wish to know?~ Prowl inquired in return. It was easier for him to manage if he only had to give answers to questions. Answers he could frame in fact without being in danger of wandering into things that could potentially give the truth away. Especially to one who seemed to be as observant as the medic.
Ratchet chuckled. ~Let's start with does he still have just the five symbiots?~ He added image-designation files for the five he knew, the twins barely more than sparklings at the time, though they had their final frames.
~Yes.~ Prowl relaxed a little, sharing updated image files in return. ~They are all still with him. And the twins still delight in causing mayhem where they can.~
~I miss Laserbeak and Ravage sometimes,~ Ratchet admitted, not at all ashamed of the fact. ~Ravage delighted in bringing me 'gifts',~ he chuckled softly at the memories, sharing the first. A final-frame Ravage, less than a vorn old, looking inordinately proud of herself as she pawed at the door of Ratchet's home in the middle of his recharge cycle with a razor rat in her jaws.
~That little bugger had been keeping me awake for decaycles,~ Ratchet reminisced. ~She was so proud to have caught what annoyed me so much.~
Prowl considered the memory, venting softly as he weighed Ratchets obvious affection with his own. ~Out of all them she seemed to approve of me the most. I enjoyed her company, even if all she was doing was sitting in my office as I worked.~ He admitted.
Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. ~You know, it's okay to miss them, miss Soundwave, grieve your loss. He meant a lot to you for vorns, I have no doubt he protected you and helped you. You can talk to me, if you ever feel like reminiscing. I know it's not a sign you're thinking of going back.~
The offer honestly caught Prowl off guard, both in content and in the obvious sincerity behind it. The idea of another individual he would not have to act like he despised his 'former' lover and family in front of was tempting beyond words.
~Thank you. I shall remember that offer. Though anyone with half a logic center could reach the conclusion that returning is not an option if I wish to continue to function. Megatron would make an example of me I would never recover from, if no one else got to me first.~
~That would only account for a handful of mechs,~ Ratchet snorted with a frustrated rumble of his engine. ~I've been accused of being a Con sympathizer because I don't believe Soundwave's the Unmaker incarnate. Just remember there's at least one mech here who was Soundwave's friend before all this happened and still remembers the good spark in him very well. Sooner or later, it's going to hit you. You won't be the first or last I've helped through this kind of thing, and it'll be as confidential as anything in this place. But back to your edits. What in the Pit does this one do?~
Prowl nodded in understanding and thanks before turning his attention to the protocol that Ratchet had picked out. ~Combat boot sequence. It brings all critical systems online before secondary systems. It also bypasses the usual start-up diagnostics on those systems. Much like the one you set off this morning, only more intense.~
He followed Ratchet's attention to a particular line of code. ~Yes, weapons systems are, or at least were where I came from, considered a critical system. Because of how I function that also encompasses my battle and my tactical computers.~
A wordless grumble turned into a mutter about Con society. ~Given you aren't going to have weapons for some time and you're going to be around mechs who are just looking for an excuse to off line you, you'd be better off turning it off. It won't help you here.~
Prowl considered that, running the suggestion through the same tactical and battle computers before offering what he hoped was a reasonable compromise. ~What if you alter it so that my tactical and battle computer still come online, but delete all of the start-up for weapons and combat protocols?~
Ratchet considered that, then nodded before setting to work. Half to Prowl's surprise, the weapons version wasn't deleted, but stored. ~This version will also ping me if it activates more than once a decaorn. Booting this way isn't healthy, Prowl, no matter how normal you think it might be.~
Relieved at not having to feel like he was defenseless, Prowl agreed. He hoped that after a while he would not need to boot up like that on a regular basis. ~Acceptable.~
~If the same mech causes it regularly, they'll have me to deal with,~ Ratchet growled. ~There's what they need to do and there's being sadistic. I know the difference no matter what they say. I've got enough work to do. Untangling your processors from a SpecOps Special is not a project I need added. I've got enough bringing Optimus up to speed.~
Prowl worked to contain his reaction to that last statement, burying the tension, the hope, and worry that rose in him all at once at the possibility that Ratchet's statement created in him. Instead he focused on his other surprise, almost confusion at the fact that out of everyone he had met, Ratchet seemed to not hold a grudge against him for the fact that he had been a Decepticon.
~Physician to the Prime gave me a lot of prestige but not a lot of work. I spent most of my off hours in the clinics, volunteering,~ Ratchet explained grimly. ~I was more than a little tempted to join the rebellion. Then I met Megatron. The mech wasn't right, even then. It wasn't as obvious, but it's my function to spot dysfunction. I've always agreed with their original goal. It's their methods and the stability of their leader that turned me away.~
A small shudder from Prowl. How well he knew how far Megatron had fallen, even with the attempts of others to focus and contain him. ~I am not sure they even have a true goal anymore. Not one worth fighting for.~
~Unfortunately. A different leader and it may have been a different story, but with Megatron ... the best way to help the lower castes was still to work on the Prime and through the Senate. That much is a lot easier now, with a new Prime and no Senate. Optimus is nothing like Sentinel in the best ways possible.~
~So there is a new Prime?~ If Ratchet was willing to throw that information out twice they couldn't be trying to keep it that secret. But then, Prowl wasn't sure that he was ever going to be leaving that room he had walked into ever again, so it probably didn't matter if he knew or not.
~Yes,~ Ratchet vented softly. ~I'm not sure what the Matrix was thinking with this one, but Optimus was designated well at least. I think you'll like him for what you're trying to do, and hate him if you're ever his tactician.~
Tension again. ~What I am trying to do? Explanation please. And why would I hate him?~
~Please, we have a solid idea why you joined the Cons in the first place. The incidents with Vondro 5, Caperil, Whistlesong. The caste system that prevented you from gaining any more control over how your efforts were utilized. It may not feel like it, but you were among his earlier recruits. Those who joined when he still mostly believed his words of equality and equal rights. That skill and drive should determine how far a mech goes, not how or why they were created. You still want that. Not to be handed anything, but the right to gain as much as you can earn.
~As for Prime ... what makes him a great leader to rebuild after this mess ... well, you'll see, but he is not keen on some of the harder choices a Prime at war has to make.~
Prowl relaxed, the truth of why he had ever wanted to fight spoken by someone else. Someone who seemed to understand, at least somewhat. Yes, Megatron had given him something to believe in when he had been searching the hardest. And then shattered Prowl's belief that his vision was the way to achieve it, but never Prowl's belief that change was needed.
~He will have to learn, or this war may never end. Or if it does, it will be on Megatron's terms and not his.~ Prowl pointed out quietly.
~Something like that,~ Ratchet agreed as he pulled out of Prowl's processors and unplugged. "When Black Echo's done with you, I'll schedule time to fix all the little things and bring your frame up to my standards of repaired. For now, those cables in your sensor wing are the only thing that needs fixing."
"It would be nice to not have to wait on my repair systems to fix them." Prowl agreed, allowing himself to sound hopeful. Ratchet would not be able to repair them completely, but he could speed the processes considerably.
The CMO grunted and pulled his medkit from subspace. "On your front then."
Obedience as the Praxian stretched out on the berth, sensor wings spread and relaxed, Prowl trusting the medic already to be as careful and as skilled here as he had been in Prowl's processor.
In the background, Prowl could hear, feel Jazz's unease. The possessive rumble of the minibot's racing engine and the responding, much deeper rumble of the more powerful but slower engine the medic had. Yet Prowl could feel the skilled hands working on the cables, knowledgeable fingers as they moved along the delicate structures and then his sensor suite housing and backstrut, out to his shoulders. Every touch seeking hidden damage and overall condition.
A brief twitch of his wings meant to reassure the silver minibot, Prowl calm under Ratchet's care. There was little more actual damage, though Prowl was going to be interested to see what improvement the medic intended to make, if he was allowed.
The corrections to the tension in the cables was a relief, and Prowl made sure to voice his thanks as other sections of his frame affected by those were also relieved.
"I expect to see you in my medbay regularly for maintenance once you're out of here," Ratchet said firmly as he gave Prowl a pat on the shoulder and moved away, signaling he was finished. "Your frame is not one that handles minor neglect well."
"I shall, since that is something I have discovered myself." Prowl said, rising and stretching his sensor wings, cautiously at first than completely in obviously relief before allowing them to settle.
While Jazz's attention was fixed on Prowl's wings, Ratchet made a lighting-fast move and Jazz suddenly slumped forward in shut-down.
Prowl flinched, surprised, and a warning growl escaped him on reflex at the assault on his lover. He had a hard time believing that the medic intended any harm, did not want to believe harm was intended, but newly repaired sensor wings still flared in aggression barely held in check.
"Relax you," Ratchet grumbled at him, though there was a trace of humor in his tone. "He's not as agreeable to a checkup as you are."
"If that was how I was convinced it was time for one I might not be either." Prowl commented, wings relaxing but sharp optics following every move the medic made as he worked on Jazz.
"If you fought me after Black Echo had a full orn working you over for his gratification I'd handle you the same," Ratchet snorted. "Even if Jazz didn't tell you what that mech is like in the berth, I'm sure someone did."
"Not in detail." His tone made it clear that he knew far more than he wanted to know though, and that none of it made him happy, even if this was far out of his control as the abuse some of the Decepticon officers delighted in dishing out.
"He fights you?" Prowl asked, much more reasonable as he continued to watch Ratchet, admiring the medics' skill from a different angle.
"Yes," the CMO grunted, opening panels to check the condition of Jazz's hardware. "He can't stand giving up that much control. Mech doesn't trust."
"And it may be that I trust too easily." Prowl said to no one in particular as his attention centered on Jazz. "I am sure he would benefit from your care far more often than he takes advantage of it."
"Oh he would, but then he'd have to explain his modifications more often," Ratchet grumbled. "Mech does more self-programming than you. And believe me, he's the paranoid one. You're the sane one."
Not sure if that added up to a compliment in the end Prowl let it slide, thinking quietly. He had always suspected Jazz did more than he told Prowl, and now he was getting a much broader view of Jazz.
There was still no solid evidence, but everything from the way that Jazz had openly made a demand of Black Echo when they had first arrived to his refusal of regular medical care with someone who was as skilled as Ratchet made him question exactly what kind of role Jazz played among the Autobots. The silver mechs own beliefs, those that he had shared with Prowl, his concern for the common grunt, had never lined up with modern Decepticon ideals.
Prowl had never dug too deep when it came to Jazz, his function, and his dealing of information. He still wouldn't, for the time being. What was important to him he already knew about the mech.
He loved Jazz, and truly believed that Jazz felt something for him, whatever others might say. And for now that was enough.
Ratchet closed up the minibot's ports and turned him back on.
"Was that really necessary?" Jazz growled with a glare for Ratchet.
"For you, yes," the CMO smirked. "I know what kind of editing you do when I can't keep an optic on you."
Jazz huffed and glared, but didn't actually contradict him.
Ratchet snickered. "Finish your morning fun, and don't forget your energon. Black Echo'll be back in a joor," he added before turning to leave.
Hiding his own amusement until the medic was gone Prowl held out a hand, inviting Jazz to join him.
"Damn medic," Jazz grumbled as he climbed into Prowl's lap and claimed a kiss. "Now ... where were we?"
"Coming down from a rather nice wake-up high when he separated us." Prowl replied, settling Jazz on his lap better to run his hands over the minibot's back. "He seemed rather irritated with you."
"Yeah, Ratchet absolutely hates it when mechs do their own upgrades and editing," Jazz chuckled. "I'm one of the few who still refuses to accept that he knows more than I do about my own systems and it drives him crazy."
"You do not trust him?" Prowl asked, curious as he nuzzled at Jazz's helm, content for the moment with simply holding the minibot while they had a few moments of peace.
"With life and death? Absolutely," Jazz said without hesitation. "With the little tweaks I'm constantly making to make my functioning better but aren't in the specs? He takes them out as soon as he finds them. It'll take me a couple orns to fix what he just did."
"So why the growl when he fixed my sensor wings?" Prowl asked, stretching them again just because he could.
Jazz sighed and slumped, tucking his head against Prowl's chest before he answered. "I was jealous, okay? I know he can offer a lot more than me and he'd be interested in trying."
Prowl shook his head, finally resigning himself to the fact that he could not seem to escape other mechs attentions wherever he was. Holding Jazz tightly against him he teased at a sensor horn until the silver mech lifted his head so that Prowl could claim a kiss from.
Fierce and possessive, engine rumbling enough to carry through both frames, Prowl broke off to look at Jazz. "He may try all he likes, but he will get no farther than the others." He promised.
A peppering of kisses that tried to cover the near-sob from Jazz, then a longer, sensual kiss. "I don't deserve you, but I'm grateful," Jazz whispered. "I can never return that loyalty."
Leaning his helm against the smaller mech, gazes locked, Prowl simply held him. "I would never ask you to."
He knew what Jazz was, and he loved Jazz because he was Jazz. That the silver mech felt anything for him in return was enough for Prowl, and he flared his field gently, love and acceptance and thankfulness and peace woven through it.
All of it for Jazz, because of Jazz.
A low, nearly chocked-off sob vibrated against Prowl's neck as Jazz took in Prowl's field, then flared his own. Respect, lust, desire, affection ... even joy rippled between them in Jazz's reply.
"It's enough." Prowl promised him again, speaking truth. What Jazz was willing and able to give him was enough, and he made sure to echo the Jazz's joy and affection with his own as he smiled at the mech.
"Everything I can give you is yours," Jazz promised softly, honestly, and for a rare moment in his functioning, he was truly content to simply press close and soak in the acceptance and desire Prowl so willingly offered.
Jazz, against all odds, against all programming, had a lover.
He was not going to give this feeling up for anything.