Chapter 8: Going Home
Jazz woke slowly. It was to be expected, after a direct dose of a sleeping gas powerful enough to take out a Draken. Even so, Prowl crouched nervously next to him, gently caressing his helm in long, sweeping strokes.
"Jazz?"
"Prowler? Wh- What're ya doin' here?! Ya-"
"The Draken is dead."
The silver mech blinked once.
Twice.
Glanced over at the long, graying frame.
Looked back to Prowl.
"You... Ya killed it."
"Yes," the Praxian said, smiling viciously.
"Ya killed th' Draken."
"I did."
"Ya... saved me?"
"I should think so."
Jazz laughed as he sat up. "Primus! Ya... Ya killed it!"
Giving him a dry look, Prowl twitched his smile into a stern look. "Jazz, we have already covered this."
The Prince of Iacon just laughed again as he threw his arms over the Praxian's shoulders, careful, as always, of the doorwings.
They did not stay in the lair for long. Home was waiting, with friends, warm energon, and then their berths.
Prowl helped Jazz to his feet, and slowly, they walked from the cave, through the tunnels, and out, into the sunlight.
There, they stopped for a moment, staring out over the city.
"Primus. Never seen it from so far away a'fore," Jazz said quietly.
"Indeed. It looks very peaceful from here."
"It is peaceful now, thanks t' ya."
"I did not do it for the city."
The silver mech cast a glance at his companion. "No?"
Prowl smiled faintly as he turned to Jazz. "No. I could not let the monster keep you, Jazz. I had to get you back."
Smiling back, the Prince snagged one of the Praxian's hands in his own. "Me, huh? Ya like me 'nough t' kill a draken?"
"I do, as surprising as it might seem."
"Nah, not really. Ah'd do th' same fer ya, ya know."
There was a moment of contented silence as they stood together and looked out at the faraway city.
"Jazz... The Prime made sure I was aware of his... offer... before I came."
"Well, Ah'm willin'."
"Are you?"
Jazz reached up and placed both hands on Prowl's shoulders, forcing the taller mech to look at him."Prowler, Ah was thinkin' 'bout askin' ya fer a while now. Jus' haven' worked up th' bolts t' do it."
The Praxian let out a long, heavy vent, then smiled. "In that case, Jazz, would you give me the honor of taking my spark?"
"Ah'd be happy t' do it, Prowler."