As requested by Moonwallker! Sorry this took so long, I've just been so busy lately.

Bubble bath

It was, for lack of better term, pissing it down. The water had saturated the ground, making it sticky with mud that sucked you in the moment you stepped on it.

Jazz was out on patrol with the lambo twins, and they were without a single doubt filthy. Prowl was thankful that officers had their own private washracks. Without a doubt, Sunstreaker would kick up a storm if he couldn't get washed, re-painted and polished the moment he stepped foot in the Ark. He was such high maintenance, it was a wonder he got through the war the way he did.

The only warning Prowl had that Jazz had returned was a shout of his name and the force of the mech colliding into his back, splattering muck everywhere.

"Jazz!" Prowl shouted, throwing his arms out to avoid slamming into the floor. Jazz wriggled around on his back, spreading the mud around as much as he possibly could.

"It's all in meh gears!" he loudly complained, shuffling awkwardly. A wet squelch met their audials. "And in meh joints!"

"Maybe if you stopped moving it wouldn't get everywhere."

"It got in while Ah was drivin'"

Prowl dragged himself out from under Jazz – well, he tried to. Jazz stubbornly stayed firmly planted on his back, clinging to Prowls midsection like a koala. "Ah need a bath, pronto." He mumbled. Thanks to Jazz, it looked like Prowl needed one too. It stunk like Jazz had planned for this to happen.

"You're cleaning this hall." He growled, awkwardly pulling himself up into a standing position. Jazz still clung to him, evidently sulking. He hated having mud in his joints. It was slimy, organic and it always felt gritty.

Dutifully ignoring the looks that were thrown their way by the mechs they passed, Prowl waddled over to the washracks. Even though officers had their own washracks, they didn't have baths. No, they had a single oil bath and that was kept in the washracks. It was very rarely used, and the mech had to have permission from an officer to use it.

Being officers themselves, Prowl and Jazz had no problems getting the door to it open.

The moment Prowl was in the room Jazz let go of him and bounded over to the bath, quickly slipping in with a sigh. His visor dimmed and he had a faint smile on his face, bad mood fading away. He glanced at Prowl who stood awkwardly by the door, undecided as to whether he should join the black and white or shower instead. He reached his hand towards him, inviting him in. Prowl looked slightly embarrassed.

"Ah'll drag ya in." Jazz stated, moving to the edge and pulling himself out to show him that he was serious. Prowl quickly relented, slipping into the oil bath opposite him. He relaxed back against the side, surprised at how warm the oil already was, and offlined his optics. He guessed that Jazz must have sent the command for it to start warming up while he was busy getting him covered in mud too.

He onlined his optics again to ask Jazz why he'd done that before he stopped, and watched with faint wonder as Jazz squeezed a bottle of something into the oil, swirling it around so that bubbles began to form.

"What is that?" Prowl asked, all previous thought forgotten. Jazz grinned before snapping the lid back onto the bottle and returning it to the side.

"Bubble bath."

He'd never heard of it before. At his look of complete and utter confusion, Jazz laughed. "Turn on the jets, full power."

Prowl didn't even think about what turning on the powerful jets mixed with copious amounts of bubble bath would do, and he soon learned. With the jets now turned on, the bubbles were forming at an alarming rate. The way the water was being thrown around meant that the bubbles were getting launched everywhere. Prowl quickly found the button to the jets and turned them back off again, but it was too late.

"What did you make me do?!" Prowl demanded, feeling a little embarrassed. He should know better with Jazz! He was worse than the twins! Jazz was cackling with laughter, clearly finding the entire situation humorous. Prowl didn't quite share the same mentality. He frowned at him, folding his arms over his chest.

Scooping up a large amount of bubbles, Jazz pulled them towards him and up against his face, almost covering it. Prowl was slightly worried that he was going to irritate his optics with them until he pulled his arms away, the bubbles slipping away to form a white, fluffy beard. The saboteur threw his arms out, grinning widely. "Ya like meh new look?"

Prowl stared at him, looking slightly nervous. Jazz glanced above him, about to warn Prowl about something but it was too late. A huge group of bubbles splattered onto Prowls helm, slowly dripping down his face. Prowl quickly wiped it away from his optics and looked up oh Primus how did that get up there.

The ceiling was covered in bubbles, absolutely covered. It was starting to drip down onto the floor, some landing in the bath and on their helms. The most logical explanation as to how it got there was from the force of the jets, but surely they weren't that powerful...

Prowl felt his logic centre glitch and started laughing hysterically. The situation was so obscure he had no idea how to even begin to react. Jazz was slightly worried that he'd broken the poor mech.

"Hey Prowler, ya feelin' okay?"

"Nooooooo" Prowl replied, white specks appearing in his optics. He was close to crashing. Shoot; and Jazz had thought this would have been a great idea. It appeared that it wasn't, and Prowl was reacting quite badly to it.

Relenting to the fact that he'd never be able to have a bubble bath with the tactician, he set about trying to make the situation more logical. Starting with the bubbles on the ceiling.

"They were there earlier, Ah had Blaster put 'em there" He tried. Prowl looked at him blankly, fighting internally. Probably going over sets of data, knowing him. Something logical. Data was logical, right?

"I... see."

That seemed to work. Jazz enthusiastically nodded, grinning. Prowl appeared to be accepting this as his eyes returned to their normal ice blue, and he shook his helm with a groan.

"Remind me to never take a bath with you ever again." Jazz pouted. No fair! He still wanted bath time with Prowler – just no bubbles. Bubbles were a bad idea.

"Aww, Prowler! Who's gonna get meh back?"

Prowl fixed him with a glare, taking two scrubbing brushes off the shelf and tossing one at Jazz before he started scrubbing at his legs.

As he hadn't been thrown outside of joors on end, he wasn't as bad as Jazz. A few minutes of scrubbing made him squeaky clean. He contemplated getting out, but the pathetic sight of Jazz attempting to scrub his back, and failing miserably, made him stay. He shuffled over to Jazz and before he could question what he was doing, he began scrubbing away. Jazz began purring, leaning into the touch. Prowl sighed and nudged him forwards. Jazz had gone slightly limp from the treatment, but still sagged forwards before suddenly jerking upright when Prowl reached the middle of his back.

Prowl was startled by the sudden movement before he quickly understood.

Jazz was ticklish there.

A malicious grin spread on his face before he started scrubbing there again, Jazz bit down hard on his lip, squirming and gasping, a few giggles escaping before he lost control and started screaming with laughter, thrashing around. Oil was flung out of the bath and onto the floor with a slapping noise, creating a huge mess that would surely get them barred from using the bath. When Prowls arms started to feel like lead he stopped, panting slightly from the effort of scrubbing that fast, Jazz huffing to try and cool himself down.

"Tha'" Jazz began, "Was mean, Prowler."

"That, was funny."

"Ya have a twisted sense of humour."

"You love it."

"Ah know Ah do."

I'm not sure if I'll be able to update Nobility or Experimental until I get back from my holiday. I'll definitely be writing during that week though! I've got a lot of the next chapter of Nobility down, I just need to finish it, so it's probable that that will be updated before I leave but I'm not making any promises.

(Do I win any awards for having 'he' in the same sentence so many times it doesn't even look like a word anymore?)

~Llama