Chapter 22
-0-Prime's office that morning
When Jazz finally left, Prime took the datapad and perused it. It was vintage Prowl, neat, concise and orderly just like him. Prime grinned as he downloaded the contents into a file he created entitled, 'Galloway Confrontation #287' then closed it, putting it back on the desk. He leaned back as the mirth he felt over the remark Prowl had told him albeit with the most discomfort he had ever seen in the normally stolid mech still tickled him. Prowl was a mech of good taste and refinement obviously. It was good to see him loosen his wing nuts and be just a little bit wild.
He had to get more moments like this.
They were so endearing, so cute and satisfying. Prime stopped, considering his almost child-like sense of lust and delight for the tense taciturn winger who could flip a desk in rage as easily as he could punch a wall.
It was silly and so much fun. But it had to end sometime. He wondered if he could find an opening to tell Prowl at long last how much Prowl meant to him. How much he longed for Prowl when he was absent. How comforting his calm presence was when things went to the Pit. How he marveled when Prowl would flip out over the frustration his planning going nowhere gave him. How he enjoyed Prowl unloading his long held pent up frustration when the act of holding it in would glitch his processor.
Like that.
Just listening to Prowl direct actions that to the last detail were precise and winning, that was comfort to Prime.
He sat in his office stewing, then made up his mind. He was going to tell Prowl. Then he sat some more, worrying about what he could say. Then he made up his mind. He was going to tell Prowl. Then he worried some more about when he could, should he make it romantic or should it be a hit-and-run in a crowded place? What if Prowl didn't feel the same way, Jazz be hanged and Prowl guffawed or there was a scene? He knew that he was big but he was sure if that happened he would find the nearest knothole and climb into it. Then he made up his mind to wait.
/... you are such a big femme .../ Prime thought as he picked up his stylus to begin his day's work.
-0-Nearby
Prowl paced his office turning to walk two steps to one wall, then two steps back. He was a big mech and it was a small office. He would have sighed if he could have but they didn't breathe so he didn't. He did vent air and that was close but no banana.
Or was it cigar?
Humans!
He was losing his processor, he thought. The sexual tension between Prime and himself, unless he was imagining it and then he would have to go to the wash racks off shift ... where was I, he thought ... oh yeah, sexual tension.
He paused pacing to access a file he kept in the data dump at the bottom of his processor stem along with a few nice sports car photos he downloaded from Car and Driver Magazine. It was an article from Cosmopolitan about sexual tension and "How To Land That Difficult Man".
/... yes, I'm that desperate .../ he thought as he silently cursed a prim upbringing and a lifelong adherence to the real world and facts. He read and discarded a number of suggestions. He didn't wear lingerie and he didn't wear perfume. He didn't understand sex toys even though they appeared to be at a higher number on the list than accommodating interests that didn't require orifices.
/... its a human thing ... I'm sure I will never understand... hopefully .../
Be direct. Hmm. That's so not me but it is but it isn't. Be direct, look him in the eye and tell him things he wants to hear. Tell him what you want. Tell him he's sexy and his body turns you on.
Pause to reflect on the multitudinous ways that could blow up in his face ...
/...that won't be hard ... he is sexy in a Cybertronian sort of way ... not human ... Primus, penises are so ugly ... now prongs and no, I won't go there ... I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a USB cable again ... tell him he's sexy ... how do you do that? .../
He paused a moment to gather his wits. "Optimus, uh Optimus, have I ever told you how sexy you are?" He paused again to wince inwardly in a major puckering sort of way. "I doubt I ever will either." He shuttered his optics and shook his helm. "I'm such a dumb aft. I'm such a dumb aft. Why am I such a dumb aft?"
-0-Nearby in the Rec Room
Jazz sat sipping his energon, the loyal long suffering Mirage sitting with him watching the machinations form and be discarded on Jazz's face.
"These two nuts are harder to crack than you thought aren't they," Mirage said smirking slightly.
Jazz looked at him with how own smirk. "You doubt I can work my magic?"
"It could be that you've found the ceiling for your evil, my dear and most beloved Jazz," Mirage said leaning back in his chair as he grinned at his lover.
"We'll see, Mirage. Wager?" Jazz asked sitting back himself, admiring Mirage's paint scheme once more.
"Done," Mirage said leaning forward. He whispered his wager to Jazz.
Jazz smiled. "You're on."
-0-In Prowl's office
He sat brooding as Sentinel Prime of all things entering his processor. He shifted in his chair turning it one way and back the other again as an intimate moment entered his processor.
^..^
"Prowl! Prowl!"
He lay on his back staring up at Sentinel. Feeling very little below the fan belt or anywhere else, he watched as Prime galloped his way toward overload alone.
Again.
When he finally passed the finish line and collapsed on Prowl blocking out all view of anything whatsoever he was so big, even Prowl's venting was muffled. For a long time he lay silently, his frame cooling down, ticking and popping sounds the only ones in the room.
They were supposed to both be offline but for the past few ventures into the world of metallic orgasm, Sentinel was the only one to finish the race to the metal as it were. He was left knitting at the starting line.
Sentinel roused looking down at Prowl with a smug look. "Hi, beautiful."
Prowl frowned. "You weigh a ton."
"I weigh several tons," he said proudly disconnecting to roll off to the side. He rubbed his chassis idly with his servo as he stared at the ceiling with satisfaction fairly radiating off him.
"That was nothing I'd write home about," Prowl finally ventured.
Sentinel turned his helm to stare at Prowl. "You underestimate yourself, Prowl."
"No, you over estimate yourself, Sentinel."
Of course, that went over well. He sat on the berth watching as Sentinel got up, turned to him and scowled. "I don't over estimate myself," he said. "I know how good I am."
"Really? I didn't even get a buzz. You were off down the road and I was still in the garage," Prowl said, finally, at long last standing up for himself.
"That's your problem, Prowl," he said defensively. "It's a two mech game, 'facing. You might put a little effort in it yourself."
At that point, Prowl lost every breakable he owned as Sentinel began a strategic retreat from Prowl's apartment. It also began the last campaign that Sentinel ever waged to get Prowl back.
Prowl quit thinking there. It wouldn't be long after that Sentinel was murdered and Optimus came onto the scene. Out of the fathead and into the fryer. He grinned. Nice pun. Rising, he began to pace once more.
-0-Prime's office
He made up his mind, then he changed it. Then he made it up. Pausing, wavering, he changed it. Then he manned up. He made up his mind. :Prime to Prowl.:
:Prowl here:
[Pause. Intense manning up]
:Prowl, meet me in front of the hangar. By the bench.:
:Affirmative.:
Prime squared his massive shoulders, checked himself for dirt specks or other hindrances to the campaign ahead and strode to his door. Grasping the knob, wincing at the Decepticon Seekers currently warring in his tanks, he stepped out into the light to face the toughest battle of his life.
He was going to tell Prowl.
Something.
-0-Walking to the front of the hangar
Prowl felt his servos but his peds might have been on the body of another person. Prime wanted him. For business he considered, but being around Prime lately had grown difficult. He continued onward.
-0-Nearby
Jazz saw Prime pass, then Prowl followed. Something was amiss. Prime looked nervous and Prowl looked fritzy. He followed determined to derail any attempts to derail a probable denouement that could spell happiness to the two hapless mechs passing by.
Outside Prime turned as Prowl stopped in front of him. "Sir?" Prowl asked looking at Prime with curious optics.
Prime who was lost in their soft blue luster lost his purpose. He stood silently staring at Prowl with real emotion on his normally composed face.
Prowl who was overcome with Prime's focus found himself staring silently, too.
Jazz who was overcome with their ineptitude also found himself staring.
Then It Happened.
Finally.
Prime touched Prowl's face as a smile formed on his lips. Prowl, overcome, gripped Prime's arm squeezing it as a small smile formed on his own. Then they communicated off line, Jazz only guessing at the conversation. At this point, Prime walked briskly into the hangar to disappear inside.
Prowl who stood a moment as still as a statue glanced around, ever proper and prim, then began to walk equally briskly into the building.
Jazz who was standing nearby watching it all beeped Ratchet.
:Ratchet here. What's up, Jazz?:
:Prime in a couple of kliks, I'd say:
It was silent a moment, then Jazz could feel the smile that came over the line to him.
:Operation Get Prowl Laid is a go?:
:Yep: was all Jazz could manage around the marching band in his processor.
-0-Half a joor later
Prime walked out of Prowl's office with a light skip to his step. He walked to the Rec Room and out the hangar door, onward to the N.E.S.T. HQ for the early afternoon briefing and all around bull fest known as the daily staff meeting. He was happy, spark light and glowing.
Jazz who was standing at the door to the Ops Center before going on shift watched with a grin. Mirage owed him. Even though they had finally done it on their own he was going to take credit. After all, all is fair in love and war he considered.
Sometimes the humans were profound.
Then Prowl exited, his wings pert and his affect glowing.
Jazz entered the Ops Center making for the sensor grid where he knew Prowl always went first. Hanging there, pretending to care, he watched as Prowl came toward him.
Prowl slowed a moment then nodded to Jazz. He stared at the grid, looking at it but not seeing it. The frenzied tryst in his office over his desk was still very much on the front of his processor.
"You look happy," Jazz said grinning at the winsome winger of many a blow out over a point of battle.
"Uh, its a nice day."
"Um-hm. Nice tattoo."
Prowl glanced at him frowning slightly. "What?"
"Nice tattoo. Nice shade of blue," Jazz said glancing down.
On Prowl's thigh was a streak of blue paint, a souvenir if you will of a frenzied long overdue moment. He gasped then reached down to cover it with his servo as he glanced around.
Jazz snickered. "Keep it. A souvenir of 'two trains colliding'," he said quoting the report of the miscreant soldiers.
Prowl shuttered his optics, shaking his head slowly. "It never failed," he said. "Never.