Chapter 21

-0-Outside Prowl's office

He peeked inside expecting anything, then entered to stare at the slumped figure in the chair behind the desk. "Hey?"

Fritzing optics met his gentle greeting. "Jazz?"

Jazz entered the room to sit in the chair across from Prowl's desk. "You look slagged."

"I don't remember being so mortified," Prowl said. "You do know what I told him don't you?"

"USB cables?" Jazz said grinning at the wince of pain that crossed Prowl's face. "I think it's funny. Prime thought so, too. He nearly threw a rod laughing."

Prowl shook his head as he leaned back stiffly, the stylus in his servo tapping lightly on the desk. "He surprises me every day."

"He does," Jazz said relaxing into his chair. "You're really crazy about him aren't ya?"

Prowl nodded as he tossed the stylus down on the desktop. "I am." He was silent a moment. "Ratchet says I'm a fool not to go in and tell him. He says that Prime likes me, too."

"No, he doesn't, Prowler."

Prowl started then looked at Jazz, his expression falling to the floor.

"He *loves* you, Prowl," Jazz replied softly.

Prowl looked at Jazz, staring with hopefulness at him as he sat quietly, then he frowned slightly as he lowered his helm to the desktop.

"You really should go in and tell him how you feel, too," Jazz said. "He won't be anything but ecstatic."

"How do you *know*?" Prowl asked, his voice muffled by the desktop.

"Because I've been around. I've seen a lot of mechs pining away for other mechs and sometimes, femmes. I know what love looks like."

Prowl's helm rose as he leaned back in his chair regarding Jazz quietly. "Just like that. Go in and say, "I love you. Please tell me if you do, too?"

"Sure. Why not? What do you have to lose?"

Prowl regarded Jazz quietly. "My working relationship if you're wrong. My ability to take care of the army, to feel comfortable around Prime. Prime's discomfort with me if you're full of slag and wrong. I could go on but I think you get the idea."

Jazz smirked. "You really have an answer for everything. I never saw such a smart person be so stupid. What exactly are you waitin' for? Him to come to you and throw himself at you?"

Prowl shook his head. "I'm not you, Jazz. I'm not socially skilled. I don't have chit-chat to roll out and dazzle people with and I don't know how to exactly measure reactions of mechs beyond a certain mathematical calculation."

"That's where you're messin' up. Who said you have to be mathematical and precise? Love doesn't work that way. It's messy and complicated and simple. You do love Prime don't ya?"

Prowl crumpled as his shoulders sagged from misery. "In the worst way," he said. "Since forever."

"You've known him a long time," Jazz said settling back to pry which was his specialty. Prying and making people say 'thank you, Jazz for reading my diaries and picking my pocket' was his inside curve ball. He needed more material to work with and he was determined to open this tin can if it took all morning.

Prowl nodded, his optics gathering that faraway look they got when he was thinking deeply. "I met him the day he came to the Citadel as Prime. I remember thinking 'another one' as I shook his servo. I didn't think about it much because he was just another big mech who I was going to have to train."

"You really thought that?" Jazz asked, fascinated with the uncharacteristic disclosure from the most buttoned up mech he knew.

Prowl shrugged. "He was a dockworker before this and when he came he didn't even pretend to be a soldier which made me like him from the start. He was calm and interested in learning what to do without ego pretensions so I decided to do what I always did when the Primes came, be his left servo."

"You have been," Jazz said wondering if he could push his luck a little. "I heard that you served under other Primes, too?"

Prowl glanced at him wincing slightly. "Nice choice of words, Jazz."

Jazz smirked. "You heard the rumors, too?"

"Hard to miss," Prowl said shaking his head. "Nova Prime hardly knew I was around. I wasn't in his social group and he didn't exactly consult if you know what I mean. Jhiaxus was his main thinker. I was just the spare, I guess. And I was so young I don't think he even knew I was in the army."

Jazz nodded. "What about Sentinel? Did you really have a relationship with him?"

Prowl considered him. "What did you hear?"

Jazz shrugged. "I heard you were in a relationship with Sentinel Prime. That's all."

Prowl shook his head. "You aren't in a relationship with Sentinel."

Jazz waited watching the emotions play across Prowl's face. It was concerning. "What happened with him?"

Prowl shrugged then looked at Jazz as a sad expression formed on his face. "He wasn't good for me. He had an ego that didn't allow for anyone to love him more than he loved himself. He had good qualities but mostly he was selfish and self centered. He had such a conflated sense of himself. Everyone else were lesser beings."

"You were lovers?" Jazz persisted.

"I suppose so. But it was unsatisfying. He would expect and not give. He would take and then leave. He wanted it to be quiet," Prowl said. "I didn't have anything against him. He could be a sweet mech but I really didn't have a good time. I don't especially have good memories of him and those days. Just ... I," he paused a moment, then shook his head. "I was lonely."

"I'm sorry," Jazz said quietly.

"Sentinel was an egotistical individual but he was also brave and tried as hard as he could," Prowl said, oddly feeling a need to defend Sentinel to Jazz.

"Was he your only lover or were there others?" Jazz asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Prowl looked up at him regarding him squarely. "You're interrogating me, Jazz."

"That obvious?" Jazz asked, grinning.

"Yes," Prowl said quietly, pushing the ghosts of his past back to where they belonged.

They sat a moment neither talking, then Prowl shifted uneasily in his chair. "I can do a lot of things, Jazz. I know I'm good at a lot of things and I give everything that I have to the Autobots and to Prime. I'm just not very good at social things. I can't be a dazzling lover and go after what I want. I never have and I don't suppose I'll change."

"I know," Jazz said. He stared at Prowl waiting for him to speak.

Prowl met his gaze and kept it. "You're waiting for more confessions, right?"

"Yes," Jazz replied with a chuckle.

"Sorry. I think between USB cables and Sentinel Prime I've given all the testimony of my backwardness that I can manage today."

Jazz smiled. For him, it was enough.

-0-Med Bay

Ironhide sat in Ratchet's chair behind his desk tapping his fingers. Ratchet was running about getting the place back in shape following their last foray into the world of Decepticon deception and arms dealers. He was mulling over his dissatisfaction with the soldiers and his present state of sexual anxiety with Ratchet. To put it mildly, he was restless with pent up sexual energy and had no place to put it.

/... I'm a mech with needs ... a mech can't live on high grade and artillery practice alone .../ "Ratchet."

It took a moment for Ratchet to appear around the corner, his blue optics filled with curiosity and wariness. "What?"

"Come and talk to me," Ironhide said swiveling his chair to face the door.

"I, unlike some mechs I can name have work to do, Ironhide."

"Come here. Talk to me, baby."

It was silent a moment.

"Baby?" Ratchet said moving to stand in the doorway with servos on hips. "You're been around the soldiers too long. I'm way past being a baby."

"Access the multiple meanings," Ironhide suggested. He waited as Ratchet did, a smile forming on his lips as he got the meaning intended.

"So you think if you sweet talk me you'll get what?" Ratchet said moving to sit in the chair across from his desk. He noted that things had been moved around and that meant that Ironhide was looking for the datapads he'd hidden before. He grinned.

/ … ha-ha, Ironhide! … /

"Can't hurt," Ironhide said smirking at the big medico. He leaned forward on his elbows, a smoky look crossing his face. "Gotta give a mech points for trying, ba-bee."

Ratchet smirked as he leaned forward as well. Their lips were close enough to almost touch and Ratchet's sensors noted that Ironhide's already high inner core temperature was rising by proximity. "What do you want to talk about, ba-bee?"

"About a rule change. About you and me burning off the top of the buzz I know you have as badly as I do," he whispered as he leaned closer. His lips gently touched Ratchet's, softly kissing him.

Ratchet let him. It had been a while for him, too, then he leaned back slightly.

"Well?" Ironhide asked, confident that he had at least breached the walls of Fortress Ratchet just a wee bit.

Ratchet smiled, his own look of sultry sexiness crossing his face. He leaned forward coaxing Ironhide to lean in. As they almost touched again, Ratchet whispered: "No." Then he sat back smiling as a look of frustrated tenacity lit up Ironhide's own. He rose, patting Ironhide's big servo. "Gotta work, Ironhide. You might try it. It'll help with all your anxieties." Then he walked into the other room with a smile on his face.

Ironhide watched him go admiring and damning his tenacity. "Well, we'll see, ba-bee," he said rising to leave. Strolling by, his smoky gaze holding Ratchet's, he walked out of the Med Bay and down the corridor.

Ratchet watched him go, smirking as he left. "Good one, Ironhide. You're one nice kisser," he whispered to himself, then he walked back to the storeroom to resupply the surgery.

First Aid sitting nearby re-calibrating machines shook his head. "Too much information, you glitch heads. Too, too much information."