Grasping a Chance

by Gatekat

Knights of Light, Jazz/Prowl When an aimless young saboteur and a gifted but unhappy tactician crash land on a world far from home, their suddenly new lack of choices may be the best thing that has ever happened to them.

10. Binding Realities

Grasping a Chance 10: Binding Realities
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Jazz onlined gradually to comfortable warmth, three fields all marked as safe and a gentle hand stroking his back. It was nice not to have to boot up on combat protocols and he snuggled into the warm frame half under his, relieved for a reason he couldn't grasp that it was Prowl. Relief and affection flooded his field and spilled over to the other mech. Prowl had kept his word. Prowl was here. Jazz lifted his helm as optics came online, seeking the other mech's.

"Feeling better?" Prowl's rich voice rolled over him softly as their optics met.

Silence as Jazz considered his answer, processor starting to catch up with the events of the prior orn, of the binding that he almost remembered but on another level didn't. "I don't know." He admitted, very softly.

"Can I help?" Prowl offered, his touch still platonic and gentle.

Confusion and fear rippled though Jazz, playing off of one another, and Jazz began to tremble ever so slightly under the gentle touches. "I don't know." He repeated, hands grabbing on to Prowl's armor and holding tight like he had wanted to and been unable before.

One hand still stroking Jazz's back, Prowl brought his other up to caress the dataport they usually used. The cover snapped open with the first brush of his fingers and Jazz focused on that, seeking the comfort and grounding that had always come from the connection between them when hardwired. Relief as Prowl plugged in and Jazz's firewalls dropped, sure that is anyone could help bring order and clarity to his confused processor it was this mech.

Prowl's mental touch as he extended his awareness into Jazz was respectful, just as it always was. ~Show me what hurts?~

Slowly Prowl was pointed in the direction of the vulnerability that Jazz was still having a hard time completely accepting on a conscious level.

There was a mental quiver from Jazz as he plunged and revealed the truth, already braced for rejection.

He cared about Prowl. Cared about the mech on a level that went beyond personal gain or self-preservation. Cared about Prowl in ways that he still didn't understand, but finally accepted existed.

~I...you.~ He whispered, unable to fully explain.

~Yes,~ Prowl murmured, recognizing the sensations and the difficulties. ~We have more in common than we believed,~ he said gently, caressing Jazz's awareness with his own mixture of fear and want that came from the same beliefs, if not quite the same experiences.

The understanding and acceptance eased some of the tension from Jazz, and he wormed his way deeper into the mental warmth and comfort that was there.

~Do you want this to change anything?~ Prowl asked gently, expressing his openness to it despite his own fears.

~Doesn't matter what I want. It's going to.~ Jazz answered, stating his belief. ~But I don't think so.~

~Then it will remain between us,~ Prowl said firmly. ~No one else need be told. Though there is a 73% probability that most who pay attention to such things knew before you did.~

Jazz pondered that, and the truth that he knew Prowl spoke. ~You knew?~ He asked, curious.

~No,~ he whispered uneasily. ~Emotional protocols did not integrate well for me. I recognized that I felt far too protective of you for logic or duty. I did not know what you felt.~

~Do now.~ Jazz observed. ~Do you want it to change?~ Not what Jazz wanted, was the strong implication, but what Prowl wanted. What Prowl was comfortable with. That Jazz did not want to feel that unease in Prowl if he could help it.

The connection went still, Prowl struggling with his nature vs. newer social programming.

~I ... do not understand the social implications well enough to know,~ he eventually said. ~I'm not sure what would change.~

~Maybe nothing.~ Jazz observed as he curled against Prowl, finally relaxing in the warmth. ~How others treat us, if we start admitting that it might be more openly.~

Jazz was quiet too before he forced himself to admit something else. ~I will try not to change how I act.~ He finally promised, unsure of how accepting what he had been denying for so long might influence him.

~What do you believe could change?~ Prowl asked, curious.

~How I approach you in public. In private.~ Examples were easier than words for Jazz over the hardline, so he moved to those instead. His core deep need to touch and be touched. His constant desire for companionship that he had struggled to keep in check his entire functioning, the need at war with survival. How he had kept a severe hold on it around Prowl most of the time, for the other mech's preference.

How without realizing it he had shaped so much of his action around the other mech. His schedules. His plans. Even his interfacing, only ever offering to spike Prowl and never asking for the same in return.

In a form of offering exchange, of vulnerability, Prowl offered what he'd done as his attachment to Jazz had increased. Jazz's true function in the army going from something not to be volunteered to something to never speak of. The protocols he'd written and trained himself to use to accept being touched, even enjoy it, though that was still a struggle at times. His careful shielding of Jazz from his criminal activities as best he could. That he even considered Jazz's desires in his calculations, and then how high they went in the priority queue.

Even the offer from just a few orns earlier when he'd mentioned the possibility of spiking Jazz. He'd backed off then, not ready to risk the new with such a limited time, but he had meant it. If Jazz wanted that, Prowl was willing to try and satisfy because he wanted to please Jazz, just to have him purring happily. He couldn't hide how that level of need to touch scared him, even as he understood it fully, comparing it to his need to have fields or hardline connections to others to feel anything resembling whole.

Jazz felt all of that, inspected it with care and a sort of reverence as his processor settled more. Outwardly his frame molded against Prowl as the rest of him reached out in a gentle caress through field and hardline.

~I am willing to try.~ He offered, desire and determination underscoring the words. He had a chance here. He wanted to take it.

~Then we try,~ Prowl replied steadily, his touch becoming less platonic but not demanding as he nuzzled Jazz for a kiss. ~I want to be happy here.~

Jazz purred in willing agreement, helm tilting into the touch and then the offered kiss. Happiness and contentment filled him, unfamiliar feelings, but after a moment of consideration ones that Jazz decided he liked as shared them for Prowl's inspection.

~Yes,~ Prowl nearly moaned as the emotional pleasure caressed him, something alien and frightening but so very good. ~More of that.~

There was a flare or surprise, and then delighted laughter from Jazz as he obeyed, jumping in to explore this new world with more hope than he could ever recall having. He was only absently aware of the Knights getting up and slipping from the room to give them a bit of privacy. Prowl's kiss was far too enjoyable to care much.

From Prowl's side came memories, fragmentary and degraded, of another existence where he'd felt content. The sensations were familiar, but the cause was alien enough Jazz couldn't quite grasp what he was being shown. They were accepted though, added the ever growing file that was Prowl in his processor. As broken as they were, Jazz offered them respect, and then offered to make new ones, to recreate the feelings even if the circumstances would never be again.

Under him Prowl shuddered with a want so intense it all but blotted out his awareness. He'd do anything to have that sensation of wholeness back, even if only for a few kliks at a time.

~Tell me what you need. How.~ Jazz asked, willing to give but needing to know how.

There was a moment of absolute stillness as Prowl tried to answer, and in the end he couldn't give it words. Not even across the hardline. He simply unlocked his chest plates and looked at Jazz with a mixture of hope and fear.

Shock made Jazz go still as well, then awe as the implication set. His frame trembled as he processed it all, and then nodded very slowly as his chest plates unlocked. ~If it will help-yes.~

~I was never intended to be alone,~ Prowl whispered as his armor slid out of the way and his spark chamber moved upwards to facilitate the merge. ~I crave the data connection as you crave the physical.~

~Then it's yours.~ Jazz offered, swirling blue light spilling out as his chest plates parted to mix with the pale blue of Prowl's.

A low, anticipatory moan escaped Prowl. ~Have you...?~

~No.~ Jazz admitted, honest. His spark was the one part of him that he had managed to keep safely locked away. That he was willing to offer it to Prowl, now, like this, was proof if any was still needed of how much he trusted the other mech.

~Neither have I,~ Prowl murmured, though with a strong sense of understanding the physics and processes of doing so safely and pleasurably. ~Please, I want to feel whole...~ he shivered, not fully knowing where the sudden drive was coming from, but not challenging it. He gently pressed down on Jazz's back, the embrace becoming a guiding force.

~Yes.~ Jazz agreed and offered again, the protective crystal spiraling open to let the first leaders out, seeking the spark it could feel so close and had no reason to fear. ~If it will help, yes.~

Prowl could only moan as his chamber spiraled open, his leaders rushing outward to entwine with Jazz's. His processors whited out with the pleasure and sensations and his chest arched up, wanting, needing.

For a nanoklik Jazz's spark pulled back, started and frightened by the strength of the spark and the mech behind it reaching out for his. The initial rush as the leaders touched and the connection pushed deeper had Jazz reaching out, looking frantically for Prowl.

~I'm here,~ Prowl soothed him over the hardline. The bond knew only pleasure at the moment, the coronas not yet touching. ~It's safe.~

Jazz calmed instantly, trusting Prowl to be in control. Trusting him that this was safe. He settled more as calm and good replaced the fear and panic. ~Ready.~ He finally offered.

More tendrils made a connection, increasing the energy flow between the two sparks. Then Prowl gently drew Jazz closer, just barely bringing their coronas in contact with a sharp gasp from both mechs that flowed into a deeply pleasured moan.

Jazz's frame trembled, though he hardly noticed as more of his attention focused on the new sensation of his very spark touching another.

It was different, more intense and intimate than anything he had ever felt before, and slightly unsettling that this was just the surface.

~Yes,~ Prowl moaned, shuddering in bliss that was only fractionally associated with the pleasure. Though the word-glyph came over the hardline, Jazz's very spark felt a faint echo of it.

~Following you.~ Jazz murmured, relinquishing all control. This was for Prowl, for the other mech to take what he needed. ~Show me?~

~Yes,~ Prowl shivered in bliss and gradually drew Jazz closer, deepening the merge in increments until a full sense of the other flooded their sparks. ~Jazz,~ Prowl moaned over their fledgling spark connection. ~Oh Jazz.~

Wonder and awe filled Jazz, as well as a new and deeper understanding. If this was what Prowl had been missing, it was a miracle that the other mech was still sane.

~Here.~ He answered, and the sense of Prowl in his spark eased something in him as well. It wasn't how he connected the best, but it was unshakeable evidence that Prowl was there, reassurance that Jazz needed on many levels.

~Feels so good,~ Prowl shuddered, unable to express how intense the sense of almost whole was to his core programming, part of him that couldn't be removed even when he became a mech and they were a determent to him. Instead he tried to pressed that sense of exquisite wholeness through the bond and the hardline, trying to give Jazz a grasp of what he was giving Prowl and how much it meant to Prowl to have this, even if just for a few moments.

Jazz relaxed into the merge then, accepting the pleasure and the connection and accepting once more that this was going to be something different for him than it was for Prowl, but just as good. ~Then it is a good thing.~ He hummed.

~Oh Primus,~ Prowl's processors actually whited out as their coronas fully merged. It wasn't from the charge coursing through his frame, though that was higher than he could ever recall, but from the sense of whole that shut down everything in his desperate desire to experience it fully.

Prowl's pleasure alone was more than Jazz could ever recall, pushing at his so perfectly. He wanted to drag this out, wanted to make it last for Prowl. Wanted this absolute bliss he could feel from the other to go on and on.

But the charge, the connection, the bliss, the stress from the changes in himself that he had still not completely recovered from- together they were all too much. His spark flared, energy blossoming out to consume both, and Jazz was too caught of up in the sensation to notice the small answering flare from Prowl's spark, a small miracle and perhaps a gift from Primus.

All Jazz knew when he came down was that Prowl was purring deeply, content and happy. Prowl actually felt happy. The hardline was pulsing with the Praxian's contentment and desire to repeat that frequently.

~That felt amazing,~ Prowl murmured in awe over the hardline when he felt Jazz was self-aware enough to understand.

~So it worked for you?~ Jazz asked, his tone a happy purr as he relaxed against Prowl, pleased and willing to repeat it.

~I think so,~ Prowl said with more than a hint of wonder. ~If not overload, then something at least as good. That was the most perfect I have ever felt.~

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The next orn Jazz was still aching, but not so much that he'd been excused from following along behind Wing as the mech did all sorts of unpleasant chores. Drone work, in Jazz's opinion, but a sentiment he kept to himself. He offered to help when he could, or when two sets of hands would clearly make things go easier. Wing seemed to forgive him when he had to stop too because of the strain from the repairs or the fear of Redline.

The thing that Jazz really noticed though was the way other Knights, and even the Knights' dependants, looked at him now. There was respect there. Not much trust, but definite respect. If they were going to stay, that was a start to rebuilding what they had broken.

"That you took my penance and punishments made a real impression," Wing said quietly when they were alone, after noticing Jazz picking up on the looks he got. "Every Knight, every Initiate and almost every dependant knows you did that on your own. Whatever your reasons, it impressed a lot of mecha that are hard to impress."

"No fancy reasoning behind it. Just the one I gave." Jazz said as he picked back up the brush he had laid aside to rest and started back on the stubborn stain on the training room floor. "Did what Prowl couldn't." There was no judgment in the statement, just the acknowledgement of fact.

"Why couldn't he?" Wing gave Jazz a look before going back to his own scrubbing.

"Take on more of Thorn's? Self preservation programming." Jazz explained, having asked about that himself after the fact and accepted the answer as just another aspect of Prowl. "And maybe the fact that he's smarter than I am." Jazz joked as he half scooted across the floor to the next mark, too lazy to actually get to his feet. No seemed to mind how the work was done, so long as it was done well and in a timely manner. So he could look like all the fool he wanted in the process.

"I suspect he's smarter than any two mecha in the entire city put together," Wing smiled fondly. "Not that it brings him any joy or pride. Sometimes I think he'd be happier without his smarts and hardware. So he's got programming that actively prevents him from endangering himself beyond the norm?"

"What he explained to me and I understood." Jazz nodded. "Tacticians of his caliber are considered a valuable asset. They are more important than...most mecha."

"And he belonged to the Prime, which made him far more valuable than most," Wing nodded. "I just always figured that kind of thing was learned value, not a program. But maybe if he was that unhappy, they needed it to keep him in line. Like the no-defection code."

"With him I wouldn't be surprised. Even just to keep him from offlining himself on purpose." Jazz murmured, a softer note to his voice.

Wing gave a sad x-vent. "Does he have those thoughts anymore?" he asked gently.

Jazz shook his helm as he stood, tossing his brush to splash in the bucket. "I don't think so. At least I haven't caught anything like that from him any time that we have been connected." He turned, surveying the now clean room, and felt an odd surge of satisfaction. "What next?"

"The mecha-koi ponds," Wing made a face as he stood. "I'm glad Prowl isn't that depressed. Did I read your fields right the other orn, that you've spark-merged?"

Jazz was quiet for a klik, processor going back over that memory yet again and causing a faint shiver to run through his frame. "Yeah, we did."

Wing smiled warmly. "Planning to again?"

"It seemed to help Prowl. Yes, if he wants to, I will do it again. It was...different." Jazz said, not quite finding the words to sum up what had happened.

"Helping Prowl, is that the only reason?" Wing became more focused as they walked.

Jazz hesitated. "Not entirely." He admitted. He would do it again because he liked it himself.

"Good," Wing visibly relaxed. "Do you know what can happen if you continue to merge?"

"Not really." Jazz admitted, helm tilting curiously. "Just that before it was something to be avoided if at all possible."

"Good advice unless you intend the relationship to be permanent," Wing nodded. "The more sparks are exposed to each other without anyone else in between, the closer they get. Your spark will become more attached to the other. Eventually you can have difficulty merging with others as your spark frequencies begin to align. The real danger is unintentionally kindling."

"Kindling? Creating?" Jazz asked, frowning as he worked all that through his processor.

"Yes," Wing nodded as they walked outside. "It might be very unusual, but for couples or triads who merge regularly, it can happen. Here it is a cause of great celebration, but I know neither of you are ready for that kind of additional stress, no matter which of you carried."

Jazz shook his helm, optics focusing on their next task as they swept over the decorative ponds and their glittering inhabitants. "No. And Prowl may never agree to it."

Wing gave an unhappy hum but didn't respond as he focused on the first pond. "We wipe dust off the plants, pick up what's fallen in the oil and if anything looks deactivated or damaged, pick that up so maintenance can fix it."

Jazz obediently set to work, the location oddly soothing he tended the crystal and metal plants surrounding the pond, even swiping a rag over one of the benches overlooking a clear spot quickly. "Why is that a bad thing?" He asked quietly when he was near Wing again.

The jet was hip-deep in fine, nearly transparent oil and the subject of great interest to the brightly colored and artistically patterned mecha-koi, some as long as his arm but most much smaller. "Everyone is expected to contribute to the next generation. Beyond that, Prowl has a lot to offer a newspark. He's got a strong spark, he's very smart, adaptive, clever; he'd make an excellent creator even if he chose to have little to do with his creation afterwards."

"A breeder." Jazz said, framing the description Wing had given him into something that he could understand. "Creators are the mecha that raise you."

Mecha that Jazz had never had in his life. Mecha that he had only seen through the lives of others, looking in windows and watching from the shadows.

Wing paused and looked at him, mulling the description over. "Sire or carrier is more accurate. Historically a breeder is a mecha whose only function was to create sparklings. I understand your distinction, for all I've encountered very little of it. Few mecha are willing to give up a sparkling they helped create here."

Jazz listened and read between the lines for what he hadn't said. "It's shameful not to raise your creation. Something that gets you shunned."

Wing nodded. "Enough that even those that do it will go to lengths to appear as if they do. Making a show of carefully placing the sparkling with kin, or a much more well-off couple."

"Do Knights do that much?" Jazz asked, genuinely curious until he saw the horrified look cross Wing's features before being quickly controlled. "It just didn't seem like it's the most nurturing group of mecha."

Wing gave him a sad smile. "No, I don't suppose it does from the outside. But to be a full Knight, the next rank up from me, you have to train someone to my rank. That's at least a couple centuries of intense one-on-one education, training, living together, refueling together, everything. A Knight pretty much gives up their existence outside of training for the entire time. Compared to that, to being a Daoshi, raising a sparkling is easy."

"And you are expected to contribute the same as everyone else?" Jazz said after he had mulled that over, finding that it made sense, even to him. Even if it was another aspect of being a Knight that was probably going to confuse him for the rest of his functioning.

"Of course, though I'm still young enough that I haven't been asked outright to yet," Wing said with an easy smile. "Every citizen is expected to contribute to the future."

Jazz just let that drop, thinking as he moved on to cleaning some debris out that had built up around a small filter. Wing let him think, not pushing the subject but ready if Jazz had questions.

"You said once...Dai Atlas is one of your creators?" Jazz finally asked after they had moved on to the next pond.

"Yes," Wing nodded. "Axe is my sire."

"What's it like? To have creators? To grow up with someone looking after you?" Jazz asked, a desperate edge of need to know in the question.

Wing did a good impersonation of the mecha-koi around him for a moment, his wings untucking and flicking as he tried to work out how to explain that. "Umm, you always have someone that watches out for you, takes care of you, teaches you, protects you. It's always having someone you can rely on. It's also growing up being able to become almost anything, but that means not having a clue what you're going to be, what your function is."

Jazz's field flickered in confusion and distress at the idea, trying to process it. He vented heavily. "Will I be required to create as well?"

"It's expected for all citizens," Wing murmured. "But no one is going to force you to."

"They might want to reconsider with me." Jazz said, bending over and shooing a couple of the mecha-koi away from debris that had fallen in the pond, tossing the gooey object aside into a bucket. "How long will they wait to approach Prowl? Get him used to the idea so he doesn't try and bolt again. Or does he already know?"

"Why would you want to be raped to kindle?" Wing didn't even register Jazz's question in his horror.

"I, raped, what?" It took Jazz a klik to process what Wing had said, and then piece together what the other mech had thought. "I don't! But I'm rather sure you don't want any creation that I would produce or influence as part of your city."

That confused the jet even more. "Why not? You're smart, creative, loyal, honorable, you have a strong spark. You'd produce great sparklings."

Bitterness filled Jazz. They were not allowed to leave, but they were expected to contribute if they were to remain? He considered that, looking at it from multiple angles, before shrugging stiffly. "Fine. But you'll want someone else to raise them, if you want them to turn out to be good little mecha."

A mecha-koi swam around his legs, distracting him and rising to the surface to nip at the fingers Jazz trailed along teasingly.

"But you're a good mech," Wing objected more strongly, distressed that his charge thought he couldn't raise a sparkling.

On some private level, it was touching to Jazz that Wing thought that. It also made him smile, a little sad for the truth the other did not know, and may well never. Instead he shifted the subject, bringing up his questions from before.

"And Prowl? How are they going to break the subject to him? Or does he already know?"

"He knew after he phrased the entire public library at the Citadel," Wing chuckled at the memory of Thorn's stunned look when he realized what his charge was doing. "I think that was ... eight or nine orns after you got out of medical. Asked Thorn about the details."

Jazz was not the least bit surprised at what Prowl had done or when. It was perfectly in line with the other mech's nature and his need to know and be in control, at least as much as possible. "And how did he take it?"

"Like he takes everything," Wing chuckled, recalling Thorn's recounting of the conversation. "Pragmatic to the extreme. He doubted that he could provide the emotional connection a sparkling needs, but otherwise didn't seem to object."

That also sounded like the Prowl that Jazz knew, and he nodded as he considered Prowl's point. "He could, I think. It just won't be easy for him. And still...distant." That was the best word that Jazz could come up with, as familiar as he was with the way that Prowl felt and expressed things.

The other mech would make the effort, if his processors could be convinced that it was worth the expenditure of resources.

"He wouldn't be expected to do so on his own," Wing pointed out. "I have no doubt you'd connect just fine with your creation. Prowl can care for it in other ways. You'd have such a lovely, strong sparkling."

Jazz just stared at the Knight, rather blindsided by the suggestion. "Maybe." He finally managed, not sure how to answer what seemed to him a highly improbable scenario.

"Why wouldn't you and Prowl create together?" Wing asked, very curious at the idea of kindling with someone other than your mate.

"There's nothing to guarantee that we'll still be together by the time whatever decides it's time for us to contribute rolls around." Jazz pointed out. "Prowl does what is best, tactically sound, for his own survival. It's how he is."

Jazz reached down and ran a gentle finger along one of the smaller mecha-koi, watching it swim slowly away before he climbed out of the oil and started collecting their tools and the waste they cleaned out of the ponds. "By that time, I may not be what he needs any more."

Wing hummed and followed. "I think you underestimate your value to him. Merging sparks is not a casual thing. He cares for you, Jazz. A lot."

"He's merged with you and Thorn," Jazz pointed out. "Three mecha in as many orns is casual, at best."

Wing shook his helm and offered Jazz a couple oil-absorbent squares of fabric to clean up with. "That's just gathering data. He wanted to know if merging with you was special, or if that worked with anyone." He paused and looked at Jazz as they wiped their legs off. "He returned to you."

"He did." Jazz agreed, pausing to trade one saturated rag for a new one and starting on his other leg. "Said he wanted to be with me, that I 'felt better." He explained with a shrug. It was still hard for him, hard for him to believe that Prowl would stay for any length of time. Hard for him to believe that Prowl wouldn't move on once he found something better.

Everyone left. Everyone moved on when they no longer needed or wanted you. Functioning had taught Jazz that, and he still trusted what he knew far more than what he wanted.

"And that's not enough to make you believes he really cares about you?" Wing cocked his helm and finished getting the oil off his pedes.

"In his own way, I want to believe he does." Jazz said quietly, his oil soaked rags joining Wing's as they finished up. They stood and walked on to the next chore. Cleaning the primary wash racks.

"So enjoy it," Wing suggested. "He really does like you Jazz. He's willing to risk his very spark to protect you. That's not to be taken lightly."

"He'd what?" Jazz looked at Wing, unbelieving. Prowl wouldn't risk himself for Jazz. Surely he couldn't.

"He told you to get away when he was crashing, to let him call for help." Wing paused to meet Jazz's visored optics squarely. "He's smart enough and knows his systems well enough to be fully aware that his chances of survival were much lower if he had to make that call. He valued protecting you from criminal charges more than he valued his own survival."

Jazz went still, vents catching as that sunk in. He'd been so focused on Prowl in those moments, he'd never gone back and considered what would have happened if he had obeyed. Those were memories so laden with fear he had avoided them, even now.

Prowl's actions then had been illogical, against the self preservation coding that had dictated his functioning. For a moment Jazz wondered if those actions had contributed to the strength of the crash, and twinge of sorrow ran through him.

"He...did." Jazz admitted, voice full of just how shaken he was by the revelation.

Wing reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, his field warm and supportive. "That's not a bad thing, Jazz. Just allow yourself to accept that your loyalty to him is very much returned in kind. You love each other a lot, even if that's not how you'd describe it. He cares deeply for you, values you far too much to leave easily."

Phrased like that, it was easier for Jazz to accept, and he calmed under the field and familiar, confident touch. "Maybe." He said again, but this time there was hope under the word instead of doubt, and a belief that what Wing was saying just might be true.

A warm, understanding smile spread across Wing's features like a sunrise. "You're good for each other, Jazz. You really are. He's so much warmer and more friendly, more social, when you're there to protect him." An even warmer smile graced Wing. "You really calm down too, in your own way. You're less volatile, more affectionate. I think he makes you feel safe, and I know you make him feel safer."

It was odd, true, and one of those things that Jazz was still wary of admitting, especially to anyone else. The warmth that reached back in his field was Wing's answer instead, full of thanks and hope and all the things that Jazz still had a hard time expressing in words.

"Good," the jet smiled brightly and patted his shoulder. "Let's get the shift over with."