Special thanks to everyone who sent their well wishes for me to get better. I am feeling much better now. ^_^ It was great fun teasing some of you with the shower scene of the last chapter; I know it was disappointing not to have them get it on right away, but don't you think that would ruin the sexual tension I've been developing thus far? There's so much more in their relationship to tease you all with before anyone is willing to admit anything... *evil grin*
Massive thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter: Optimus Bob, phoebe turner, Got Buttermilk, Faecat, renegadewriter8, Kai-Chan94, Jinx, Darkeyes17, Christina, Knocks, femme4jack, CNightJoy, aughoti, FoghornLeghorn83, smoking caramels, A Lurker, Nightblooming Orchid, Daklog73, BoredTech, Midnight Marquis, Pruhana, kathy3meme, Peacewish, Patcher, sparklespepper, JenEvan, ChaosGarden, Uniasus, Chikku-Chikku, Sideslip, DitzyMusicLover, and Nanodiode. Your kind words, brilliant insight, and enthusiastic comments are the best inspiration a writer could ever hope for, and apparently you are the cure to the common cold as well! ^_^
Read, Review, and Enjoy~
Chapter 23
Joints stiff and his head uncharacteristically fuzzy, Jazz rolled over on the berth he laid on and absorbed his surroundings. Just by the feel of the room- the touch of the air against his armour, the specific dips in the berth below him, the scents that lingered- he knew he wasn't in his room. His quarters were still located in the bowels of Iacon, farthest from the command center and dangerously near Wheeljack's labs; his room was usually cold, the berth was mostly flat because it hadn't been abused enough to mould to its user's shape, and the scent of his room was musty and stale with a lingering burnt smell from Wheeljack's many accidents. The room he was currently in was moderately warm, the berth beneath him had a defined dip in it from someone recharging there regularly, and the scent was crisp, clean, and familiar.
Nearby, he heard the squeak of a chair being moved.
"You're online, I see," someone said.
Jazz turned his head toward the sound, already knowing who it was before he scanned for a spark resonance. He let his optics flicker online to focus on the storm-grey figure sitting at the desk close by.
Prowl offered a small smile, leaning back in his chair. "Good morning."
"Your quarters?" Jazz asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything. He already knew the room was Prowl's. He'd snuck in here enough times to have memorized the place. These were Prowl's actual quarters in the main barracks, not the room he had been using near Jazz's to make sure the saboteur didn't do anything naughty. Like Prowl himself, his room was utilitarian with only the basics; a berth, a desk, and several filing cabinets with each drawer carefully labelled.
"Of course," Prowl replied with a slight shrug.
"Ah recharged here?" Jazz wondered quietly, running his palm over his faceplate, scrubbing away his drowsiness. His voice was rough, like someone had taken a sandblaster to his vocal processor. A couple of alerts flashed across his vision- he needed more recharge, needed some fresh energon, but nothing too pressing.
The tactician inspected the tips of his long, dextrous fingers. In a nonchalant tone, he said, "No, I knocked you unconscious and dragged you here."
Jazz arched an optic ridge incredulously.
Prowl rolled his optics. "Of course you recharged here. You even walked the whole way on your own steam."
"Aren't you the funny mech in the mornings," Jazz drawled. "Remind meh never ta online around ya again."
"I will keep that in mind," Prowl replied. "If it is any better explanation to your presence here, you were exhausted and your quarters were nearly on the other side of the base. It was only logical to let you stay here."
Of course, it was only logical to let him stay here.
Jazz sat up slowly, stretching so that several slates of armour cracked back into place. He rolled his shoulders, then cracked his neck, wriggled his fingers- getting the lubricant flowing again so his joints stopped feeling so stiff. Once done, he eased back to sit against the wall. The polymer covering on the berth was comfortably worn down, feeling good to sit on.
"Your berth is more comfortable than mine," the saboteur pointed out.
"I've had time to break it in," Prowl replied, arching an optic ridge.
Jazz nodded, looking about the room before returning his gaze to Prowl. "So, did we...?"
Prowl frowned, instantly wary of what the saboteur might be insinuating. "Did we what?"
"Ya know- meh, you, a little plug'n'play action?" He gestured between his interface panel and the Prowl's. His optic ridges arched and a sly smile played at his mouthplates. "'Cause if we did, Ah'd kinda like ta know."
"Now who is being the funny mech?" Prowl shook his head, the corners of his mouthplates tugging up in his familiar almost smile. "I've resisted your advances for over a vorn. Do you really think I would give in to a moment of wantonness the moment you were passed out and vulnerable on my berth?"
"Ah would if our positions were reversed," Jazz said casually.
"That's lovely, Jazz- it speaks volumes of your integrity," Prowl drawled. He stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankle, his hands folded casually in his lap.
"What integrity?" Jazz laughed, surprising himself by the sound. So soon after returning to the one place he never wanted to see again and he was relaxed enough to laugh and tease? It was either he was still exhausted and in desperate need of more recharge to get his faculties under control, or else the energon Ratchet had prescribed him truly did have some kind of heinous drug slipped into it.
Prowl canted his head gently, as if sensing the internal dilemma that suddenly hit the saboteur. His voice was smooth and rich as he said, "There is a sliver of honour hiding away in that spark of yours."
"It's pending removal. Splinters are annoying when they dig in," Jazz replied lightly, sliding to his feet. He wandered forward until he stood directly in front of Prowl, leaning down to brace his hands on the arm rests of the chair, their faceplates lingering only a breath apart. Jazz met Prowl's unblinking stare with pure challenge. "Honour or not, if Ah did take advantage of ya, you'd like every moment of it."
"You've only been back for a single night and you think you're up for the challenge?" Prowl asked, shaking his head wryly. He didn't bother to back away, even with Jazz leaning in so close. His captivating almost smile still played across his mouthplates, threatening to stretch into a full smile.
Jazz leaned in a little closer, so close that their personal magnetic fields played against each other. Their harmonics were entirely out of sync, causing an electric sensation to rush over their armour as their fields challenged each other. "Ah am definitely up for the challenge, any time of orn or night."
Prowl inclined his head, the blueness of his optics deepening for a moment. "I have no doubt."
Slowly, Jazz slid his visor up so that he had an unimpeded view of the tactician he had at his mercy. He looked the same since the orn they had met, and yet everything but the physical details was different. Jazz knew this mech... and at the same time, he didn't. Prowl had been his prey first, then his challenge, and now his... partner. The word left a weird, churning feeling in his mind when he thought about it. He'd never had a partner before.
As if to test the new boundaries between them, he hitched his knee on the edge of the chair, levering himself up over Prowl. The tactician did nothing to stop him. Indeed, he seemed just as curious to allow Jazz to test whatever boundaries he was trying. His long legs spread, giving Jazz more room on the chair's edge for more leverage. Prowl's optics remained calculating, but not as detached as he might have liked. The deepened blue of his gaze was mesmerizing.
"This isn't the time, Jazz," Prowl murmured.
"Why not? Ah thought ya always made time for meh," Jazz drawled, leaning a fraction closer.
"You just got back; you're still disoriented, exhausted, and perhaps a little bit out of your mind. You should allow yourself time to acclimate to this environment," Prowl said, leaning away a fraction.
Jazz smirked. "Does that mean there'll be time for this later?"
"What?" Prowl's optics flashed. "No, of course not. That's not at all what I meant."
"Alright, fine, that's not what ya meant. Tell meh one thing, though... Have ya ever thought about it, Prowler?" Jazz purred, moving his hands to brace against Prowl's broad shoulders.
"Thought about what?" Prowl asked, and the saboteur was satisfied to note that the mech's voice was not as calm as it had been a few moments before. The timbre was richer, giving way to an emotion that the tactician was probably trying to stamp out.
"Us," Jazz breathed, enjoying every moment of the show. It was all about control, after all. How far could he go...? How far would Prowl let him go..? Who would give in first...?
Prowl cleared his vents carefully. "Us?"
Jazz offered a sly smile. "Haven't ya ever wondered what it would be like if you an' Ah put our minds together?"
"We've already put our minds together before," Prowl pointed out, purposely choosing to be obtuse. His hands came up, trailing up the front of Jazz's legs until he gripped him at the pelvis as if to pull him closer or push him away. His fingers grasped the metal hard; if he had had claws, he would have scratched the paint off.
Jazz liked that he didn't give in so easily. That's what he truly admired about Prowl- that he never gave in to the challenge; he always fought back. After so many orns dealing with little pests who bent under his will with barely a thought, having some resistance was refreshing. If there was anything about Iacon that he would have missed, it would have been defiance that Prowl offered in every clash they had.
"That was for business," drawled the saboteur. One hand slid over the curve of a storm-grey shoulder, gliding down the warm metal to the doorwings splayed from the tactician's back. He was pitiless as he delved his fingers into the crevice between the appendage and Prowl's back. Sensitivity worked both ways- for pain or for pleasure. The noise that escaped Prowl's mouthplates after a magnetic pulse ran through him was not of pain.
"What about pleasure?" Jazz purred. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like? 'Cause Ah'd be lying if Ah said Ah never wondered." His claws continued to play with the tension wires in the tactician's back like he was playing with puppet strings. Resist as he might, Jazz knew the mech was not unaffected. The blueness of his optics continued to deepen, his frame clenching tight. "Come on, Prowler- knowing what Ah know about ya... We'd be explosive together."
Prowl sucked in a deep drag of air, cycling it like his life depended on it. When he let it out, it seemed he regained some control over himself. His gaze met Jazz's as his hands left the saboteur's sides, travelling up to take his forearms and pluck his hands away from his back.
"The thing about explosions, Jazz, is that they're over far too quickly and leave more damage behind than what they're worth."
In one smooth movement, Prowl rose to his feet, forcing Jazz to do the same. As soon as they were standing, Prowl released the saboteur's arms and stepped away, putting some breathing room between them so that their magnetic fields no longer lingered together.
Jazz knew the game was over now, but he couldn't be sure who had won this round.
"We're partners now," said the tactician, his hands brushing down his front as if to remove any tingling traces of Jazz on him.
Jazz crossed his arms in front of his chest, tilting his chin up. "Yeah, so?"
"I try not to mix business with pleasure," Prowl replied, his optics flickering to Jazz's for a moment. "It never turns out well."
"It'd be good while it lasted, though," Jazz replied with a shrug.
Prowl's almost smile made another tempting appearance. "I can tell that you're only doing this to see if you can get a rise out of me. You have no sincere interest in me, other than to see what ways you can torment me." He shook his head. "You should have chosen an easier target."
Jazz smirked. "Why would Ah do a thing like that? Ah got plenty of a reaction out of ya already." His smirk widened as he took a step forward, enjoying the fact that Prowl didn't take a step back but did tense in expectation. Jazz laid the tip of one claw to the armour of Prowl's chest and ran the digit down slowly, tracing the powerful contours of the tactician's frame. Prowl's optics darkened once again. "See? Ah think Ah win this round."
Prowl snorted, stepping away. "I let you win only because I am happy to have you back."
"Keep telling yourself that," Jazz laughed.
"I will, thank you." He turned to his desk and collected several data pads that he must have been working on throughout the night, because obviously he hadn't bothered to recharge. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to submit a few reports before the first shift starts. You're welcome to got back into recharge if you want. I won't be here to disturb you."
Jazz shrugged. "Ah'm online now. Might as well face the orn."
"Just try not to hurt anyone if they choose to be nice to you today," Prowl warned lightly, making his way to the door.
"No promises," Jazz replied, smirking.
The door hissed open into a quiet corridor with no one around to see two bots exiting a room meant for one. They travelled together out of the barracks peacefully and parted ways when Prowl turned toward the command centre and Jazz went in the opposite direction. It was then that Prowl called back to Jazz, causing the saboteur to pause in his next step, turning around to regard the tactician.
"Ya need something?" he asked.
"No," Prowl intoned, turning the corner of his mouthplates up. "I never properly answered your question earlier. I have thought about it."
Jazz arched an optic ridge.
"You and I, that is. I have thought about it before," the tactician admitted evenly, as if he was discussing something as simple as the weather. "But just because I've considered the possibility doesn't mean I wish to make it reality."
"There's a first time for everything," Jazz replied with a devilish smirk.
"Not for this," Prowl said, and then inclined his head. "Although, I must admit- I've missed your ridiculous propositions. Curbing your enthusiasm never ceases to be entertaining."
"Aww, when ya say things like that, it only make meh wanna try harder," Jazz laughed.
Prowl shook his head, offering a low, handsome sound like a laugh. "Have a good orn settling back in, Jazz. You know where to find me if you need anything."
"And ya know how ta find meh," said the saboteur, turning on his heel to finally make his way to his intended destination. Behind him, he could hear Prowl's footsteps grow distant as he went on his way.
Since it was still early, somewhere between the dregs of the night shift finishing up and the first shift of the orn beginning, Iacon was still relatively quiet. There were only a few bots around to spot Jazz, and they did not make such a fuss as the ones who had greeted the saboteur the orn before. Most of them were too tired to make much of a fuss, though they did offer polite smiles and nods of their heads. They showed no fear of him at all.
It was odd, uncomfortable, and Jazz didn't like it, but he allowed it to pass without comment. Prowl had been right to observe that he didn't like it when bots thanked him, and Jazz had been partially honest when he said it was something he wasn't used to. Truly, he had gone his entire life without being thanked for a single thing and lived with an intense distrust for everyone around him; he felt he was justified not to trust the words of others.
And the ones who did mean it when they thanked him... did he really need to hear the words when he knew he'd only hurt them later? It was such a waste of words.
He came to the med bay's entrance in the midst of his own personal thoughts, so he entered without considered who might be on the other side. Within the large, sterile room, there was the usual assortment of berths and medical equipment. There were no patients on any of the berths, and the room itself was dim with the lights turned down to its lowest setting.
Jazz cast his optics to one of the berths on the far side of the room, moving toward it silently. He touched the surface of it, feeling the light polymer covering. It was the berth Prowl had once laid on after his return from Straxis, the night Jazz had first broken out of his cell to come taunt him for fun. He recalled what he had said to the tactician that night-
"Whatever sort of thing is between us now, it's only just begun."
A vorn ago, it had been a threat.
He had had every intention of making his debacle into Iacon one long, drawn out game of torture; he'd wanted to get into Prowl's mind to tear it to pieces, playing with the scraps that were left until the tactician was nothing but stripped wires and raw agony.
Now... not so much.
Movement behind him had him tensing, bringing a blade to bear.
Ratchet stood unimpressed in the doorway to his small office. "I was wondering when you'd show up here."
Jazz frowned, noting that the blade he had brought out was still stained with someone's energon. He tucked it away into its hidden sheath.
"You don't look too worse for wear, I suppose," said the medic, pushing out of the doorway to make his way over. His optics were critical as he assessed the saboteur, though he didn't bother with any kind of in-depth scan. "Those scratches will heal on their own. No sign of infection anywhere... Good thing you're clean now or else I would have started to worry. A good buffing and no one should be able to tell the difference."
"Ah'm not here for treatment," Jazz snorted.
"I know," Ratchet said. "Just thought I'd offer my medical opinion anyways." He gestured to the window-lined wall at the back of the med bay, offering a view of the ICU on the other side. "Bluestreak is through there."
Jazz opened his mouthplates to point out that he wasn't there for Bluestreak either, but closed his mouthplates and chose to say nothing about it. He lurched forward, making his way to the crystalline door disguised amongst the crystalline wall. It hissed open for him, staying open so Ratchet could follow him in.
The ICU was a familiar place by now, seeing as he had put Prowl in here more than a few times after one of their training sessions together. Prowl's makeshift desk in the corner was even still there, waiting for the next time the tactician would be in for a round of repairs. Jazz noted that a few berths were in use, but he was uninterested in any of the injuries of the others. He made his way to the slim, grey form laying at the back of the ICU.
"Worked on him most of the night," Ratchet announced. "When you severed the memory loop, you did quite a bit of damage."
"Ya saying Ah shouldn't have severed it?" Jazz asked, shooting a hard look back at the pale yellow medic.
Ratchet shook his head. "No, I'm just saying you chose the lesser of two evils. If you'd done nothing, his mind wouldn't have survived long enough to make it back here."
Jazz stared down at the still form in front of him. Bluestreak looked the same as he did the orn before, except cleaner now and he'd stopped shaking. It was then that Jazz noticed that the sniper's head was in a brace. The back of his head where protective metal plating should have been, there was now a gaping dark hole.
"Ya removed his processor," the saboteur intoned, his claws tracing the brace that kept Bluestreak's empty head off the berth.
Ratchet grimaced. "I had to. It was the only way I could work on his processor properly." He moved to Bluestreak's side, patting the mech's hand. "His mind is still active, but with it detached from his frame, the damages won't effect him physically. It was the best thing I could do for him. As soon as everything is sorted out, I'll be able to put his processor back in."
Jazz nodded, moving away from Bluestreak's frame to the computer hooked up nearby. Set up in a protective container was the sniper's processor, looking so innocuous as it sat there amidst the web of cables and wires.
"May Ah?" he asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.
"Be my guest. There's nothing you can to that will make him any worse," Ratchet sighed.
His fingers flew across the keyboard as he accessed Bluestreak's processor, watching as streams of information flashed across the screen. He was mostly curious, wanting to see not only the damages but also what made the sniper tick. The data was so mixed up that he couldn't get much out of it. He noticed a live stream of active data repeating the same lines over and over:
Periwinkle. Aquamarine. Lapis Lazuli. Teal. Azure. Ultramarine. Indigo.
All different shades of blue.
Ratchet peered over Jazz's shoulder, seeing what he was seeing. "He's been thinking that over and over ever since I got him hooked up to the computer."
"Is it some sort of mantra ta keep him focused?" Jazz asked.
"No, they're the names of his family- all of them were Security Response, like him." The medic cycled air quietly, looking away for a moment. "They all perished in the Crystal City Massacre."
"Ah knew he was a survivor..."
"You just didn't think of how much he lost?"
Jazz nodded.
Ratchet cast the saboteur a measuring look. "Were you...?"
"No, Ah wasn't involved in Crystal City." Jazz kept his gaze on the screen, refusing to look anywhere else. "Ah wasn't a Decepticon then. Ah was in Vos doing mah own thing." Albeit, his own thing wasn't much better than being a Decepticon. He had been trading drugs, weapons, information, and doing whatever he damn well pleased without a care to who he hurt or how he hurt them.
Ratchet sighed, accepting the answer. He settled back into silence for several astroseconds, watching as Jazz rapidly zipped through all the data and programming that made Bluestreak who he was. Finally, he had to ask: "Do you know who put the memory loop in him?"
"Ah do," Jazz replied quietly. When he finally had seen enough of Bluestreak's mind, he left the computer and turned back to Ratchet. "First Aid and the twins are confident ya can put him back together. Think you're up to it?"
Ratchet's mouthplates firmed into a thin line. "Yes, I'm up to it. It will take time, and I can't guarantee he'll be back one hundred percent, but I can get him as close to normal as possible."
Jazz nodded.
Ratchet propped his hip against Bluestreak's berth. "You gonna tell me who did this to him?"
"Later," Jazz sighed. "If Ah'm gonna tell anyone, Ah'll tell all of ya at the same time. Just be there for the debriefing."
"Alright, I'll be there," Ratchet assured.
Jazz nodded, turning on his heel to leave. He took a step, then paused. "Hey Ratch'."
"Yes?"
"That energon ya gave Prowl..."
A wry smile flickered onto the medic's hard faceplate. "I figured it was the least I could do."
"Thanks." He left the ICU before anything more could be said. He left the med bay all together in search of the nearest lift that would take him down several levels. He had no desire to seek out his own quarters, since they held nothing for him. It was just a small room with a berth in it, and scattered with the spoils of many successful night raids on unsuspecting Autobot rooms. Mostly it was Mirage's stuff, because Jazz found it hilarious to mess with him. Instead of the level for his quarters, he went down two more until he was in the deepest place anyone could find within the boundaries of Iacon: the brig.
He made his way down the familiar corridors, scanning for the twins' spark signatures. They didn't actually have separate signatures like normal bots; Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were essentially freaks of nature, each having exactly one half of a whole signature. Whenever they were together, they only registered as a single spark. When he found the specific block housing the twins, he cracked the lock on the door and let himself in.
Sideswipe spotted him immediately through the force field and stood up to greet the saboteur. "Can you believe they only left a drone to watch us? It's insulting, really."
Jazz walked past the drone, paying it as much mind as he would a piece of furniture. "You're both big bots, so Ah'm sure you'll get over it."
"Doesn't mean I'm happy about it," Sideswipe huffed. "The only way this could get any worse is if they sent Tungsten down to watch us."
Wheeljack's microbot-sized, squeaking, squealing, practically useless little drone. Yep, that would be way more insulting.
"Ya didn't have ta be here in the first place if ya didn't want ta be," Jazz pointed out, dragging a chair down the aisle to sit outside the occupied cells. Sunstreaker could be seen in the cell next to Sideswipe's, laying on the berth quietly. He was a handsome sight, even as he did nothing more than stare at the ceiling.
"Yeah, well... whatever." Sideswipe turned to the narrow berth in his cell, getting comfortable on it.
"Didn't actually expect you two ta do the noble thing," Jazz intoned.
Sunstreaker snorted quietly.
"Wasn't noble," Sideswipe shrugged. He folded his arms behind his head and looked as nonchalant as he was handsome.
"Don't tell meh you're actually starting ta respect ol' Prowler," Jazz said in mock horror.
The red twin barked a laugh. "Funny, Jazz. Me and Sunny were going to go after Bluestreak anyways- Prowl just gave us the excuse to get moving sooner than later."
"The tracer he gave us came in handy, too," Sunstreaker intoned.
Sideswipe looked at the wall next to his shoulder, where Sunstreaker was on the other side. Then he nodded. "Yeah, the tracer was useful, too." He turned his shrewd optics on Jazz. "You gave him the tracer, didn't you? It wasn't Autobot design; definitely looked like something you might handle."
Seeing no point in lying, Jazz nodded. "If there had ever been a reason he needed ta get a hold of meh, Ah made sure he had a way."
"Figured as much," Sideswipe mumbled. "Good thing you gave it to him, or we would have been looking for you and Blue for orns." There was no particular tone in his voice; he wasn't teasing, nor was he plotting any mischief. It seemed like he was more content at the moment to accept the tracer for the tactical advantage it had been instead of mocking it as a gesture of affection between Jazz and Prowl. As soon as he was out of his cage, that was likely to change.
Jazz leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and letting his chin rest on his laced together fingers. "Ah take it you're here because ya figured ya were going ta be here anyways."
"You always were a smart bot," Sideswipe snorted. "Like I said, we were going to go anyways, he just gave us the excuse. Besides, being down here is like a vacation. Don't have no duties, don't have to listen to no one barking at us, and our energon is delivered straight to us. What more could we ask for?"
"Not mah idea of a vacation," Jazz said, regarding the cell block with distaste.
"To each their own," Sideswipe intoned lightly.
Sunstreaker sat up on his berth, watching Jazz carefully. "Why are you here, Jazz?"
"In Iacon?"
The golden twin shook his head. "No, I know why you came back." His optics lingered on Jazz, piercing through the visor with a knowing stare. There for a split second, then gone. "I want to know why you're down here with us. You don't like the brig- it's a cage to you."
Jazz leaned back in his chair. "Ah'm repaying a favour; ya helped meh out while we were out there, so the least Ah could do is help ya out here. Ah can break ya out of those cells, if ya want."
"We could get out on our own if we wanted to," Sideswipe said, rolling onto his side. "And if we got caught, we'd be put right back in here for longer."
"Or we'd get something worse," Sunstreaker intoned.
Sideswipe wrinkled his olfactory sensor. "Yeah, or worse."
Jazz nodded. "Alright, so Ah won't get ya out of here. Bet ya wanna know what's up with Blue, though."
Both warriors were instantly alert and sitting up, their bright gazes zeroing in on Jazz like burning blue lasers.
"You saw Bluestreak?" Sunstreaker demanded.
Jazz nodded. "Ah was with him before Ah came here."
"How is he?" the golden mech asked, his hands clenching on the edges of his berth.
The saboteur looked to the side, his shoulders dropping a bit. "Ratchet's confident that Bluestreak will recover, but he might not make it back ta his old self completely. Right now, his processor is outside his head, being manually sorted out. Ah looked through the data and it's pretty scrambled."
Sideswipe made a hissing noise, his fist smacking into the wall. "The bot can't catch a break, can he?"
Jazz sat silently in his chair for several moments, looking back and forth between the infamous twins. "This is personal for ya, isn't it?"
Both twins fell silent. Their gazes dropped, unable to meet Jazz's unblinking stare.
"Ah take that as a yes," Jazz said smartly.
Sideswipe hunched his shoulders, the light in his optics dimming. "When we were young, Bluestreak was the first real friend we ever made outside the stunt troupe we came from," he said lowly. "He's one of the few good things we have left from... before we went to Kaon. But Blue's a survivor. If he could make it through the Crystal City Massacre, he can get through this."
"Oh." For once, Jazz had no smart reply. He had no words at all. He actually wondered what it would be like to have a good memory of his past, something he could hold on to like the twins seemed to do. For him, there was only pain and loneliness before everything turned into a blur as the madness took over.
Sunstreaker suddenly slipped from his berth, making his way to the very end of his cell. He crouched at the limit, just before the force field fried his front. He was on level with Jazz, matching his gaze. The ice in his optics had melted very briefly. "That favour you said you owed us..."
"Yeah?"
"You can repay us by checking in on Blue every orn until we're out of here," said the golden mech.
Jazz arched an optic ridge at the simplicity of the request. "That's all?"
"That's all," Sunstreaker sighed.
The saboteur made a show of considering the option at length, lounging back in his chair and tapping his chin thoughtfully. It was a little cruel to tease the twins like that, but some habits died hard. Sunstreaker remained crouched for the duration of Jazz's consideration, while Sideswipe fidgeted nervously. Finally, when he had had his fill of letting them squirm, Jazz tipped them a half-smile. "Ah'm feeling generous toward the two of ya today, so Ah guess Ah can do that."
Sunstreaker didn't quite smile, but his relief was apparent.
Sideswipe grinned broadly. "I knew I was right when I told Moonracer you weren't that bad."
"Let's just keep that between us, shall we?" Jazz intoned tightly while still trying to maintain a playful attitude. "You'd be ruining mah reputation with slag like that, and that's liable ta make meh cranky. Ya don't want meh cranky, now do ya?"
"My mouthplates are sealed," laughed the red twin, making a sealing gesture over his mouthplates with his hands.
At the far end of the cell block, the security system chirped as the lock was disengaged, followed by the door sliding open. Much to the surprise of the three occupants of the cell block, Prowl appeared in the doorway, his hands full with an energon cube in each. When the tactician's optics landed on Jazz, he mirrored their surprised rather well with a look of his own.
"Am I interrupting something?" he wondered politely.
Jazz rose from his seat, shaking his head. "Ah was just leaving."
"If you'll wait a moment, I'll leave with you," Prowl said, swiftly crossing the cell block to the two occupied cells. He didn't have a free hand to drop the force fields, so Jazz did it for him by breaking the codes. The two cubes he'd brought with him were handed to the respective prisoners, who were so stunned to see Prowl down there with them that they accepted the cubes without a word.
"It's concentrated energon," Prowl said, stepping back to allow Jazz to erect the force fields again. "You two never got any on the ship and I checked the brig schedule to see if any was delivered to you yet and it didn't look like it. I thought now would be a good time to give you your cubes. You're probably in need of some quality fuel."
Jazz cast the tactician an appraising look, noting the shift of his feet, the certain set of his faceplate. It was unlikely Prowl would have been able to convince Ratchet to release two cubes of specially treated energon, so either he had gone to First Aid with the request or he had taken it without asking. Jazz wanted to favour the latter option simply because Prowl looked too guilty to have gone by the books on this one.
"It sure beats syphoning energon from dead mechs," Sideswipe said as he considered his cube carefully, and then his sharp optics flashed with wicked mischief. "But don't think this absolves you of what you owe us." He cracked the seal on his cube and took a swig.
Prowl grimaced. "I understand."
Jazz almost laughed. Sideswipe might have been a deadly warrior, but he was still a Kaonite merchant at spark; he would ruthlessly extort whoever he could for as much as he dared, and he'd do it for fun. Prowl was no exception. Only a few breems before, the twins had exonerated the tactician of any debt he might have owed them, and now here they were ready to take him for all he was worth. This was one of the reasons Jazz tolerated the twins so well- they liked playing by their own rules, and those rules were not always Autobot-like. He was willing to let them have their fun now, so he schooled his features; he might have been Prowl's partner, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy things at the mech's expense.
Sunstreaker lingered near the field, watching the scene play out with interest. His ice-like optics travelled between his brother and Prowl with thinly veiled amusement.
Prowl straightened his stance, holding his head up. "Name the parameters of your request."
"Nah, I don't think I will," Sideswipe replied slowly. "This is something that me and Sunny gotta think on. All you gotta know is that one of these orns, we're going to come to you for a favour." He looked like he was enjoying every moment this. "It might be tomorrow, or the next orn, or fortnight from now... maybe even a vorn. I don't forget these things, you see? When bots owe me, I get them to pay up."
"So I've heard," Prowl said tightly.
Sideswipe smirked. "One of these orns, we will come asking for a favour. When we do, you won't be allowed to question it, whatever it is. You'll just give it to us. If you don't, we can make your life even more miserable than it already is. Understand?"
There was such laughing delight in the red twin's gaze, it was nearly sickening. What was even more curious was the satisfaction that reflected in Sunstreaker's optics. They were both disgustingly delighted to have the tactician under their thumbs. All those vorns of being punished by him and they finally had their revenge.
For a very long moment, it looked like Prowl's jaw would crack from how tightly he was clenching it. Eventually, he managed to nod his head. He understood the terms of the agreement, even if he didn't like them.
Sideswipe offered a Cheshire grin. "Good. Now that we have a deal, you can go now." He toasted both Prowl and Jazz with his cube of energon. "Have a pleasant orn."
When it looked like Prowl wouldn't be able to physically wrench himself from his spot, Jazz laid his hands to the tactician's shoulders. Either the touch itself was what shocked him out of his daze, or it was the memory of what Jazz could do with his touch that had Prowl moving; whatever the reason, the storm-grey bot was like quicksilver up the cell block and into the hall. Jazz offered the twins a devilish smirk and an impressed nod of his head before he followed after the other bot at a much more reasonable pace.
Prowl waited in the hall, looking as if he had an incredibly bad taste in his mouth. When Jazz approached, he cast the saboteur a measuring stare. "Why do I get the feeling I've made a deal with the Unmaker?"
Jazz did laugh this time. "Ah wouldn't say the Unmaker, per se. More like one of his more annoying spawn."
"That is hardly a comfort to me," Prowl sighed. He scrubbed his faceplate with his hands. Jazz could practically see the gears turning the tactician's mind, desperately trying to justify the unsavoury deal he just made. Knowing him as well as he did, Jazz knew Prowl had his battle computer on and was working through a thousand different scenarios, and then figuring out a thousand possible consequences to each scenario. It was almost fun, watching him struggle to come to terms with what he'd done.
"It's not so bad," Jazz intoned lightly, bumping Prowl's shoulder with his own. It was enough to urge Prowl to start walking toward the lift. They meandered down the hall at an easy pace. "What's the worse they could ask for?"
Prowl shot him a dark look. "I've already considered the absolute worst thing they could ask for and it's not good."
Jazz canted his head, considering the volatile nature of the twins- a little bit too much like his own. He very nearly grimaced. "Yeah, never mind. It could get pretty bad."
"What is done is done, I suppose," Prowl sighed. "I did owe them."
"Sure," replied Jazz, suppressing the smirk that threatened to give him away.
They boarded the lift and reached for the controls at the same time, discovering that they were heading for the same floor. Jazz shooed Prowl's fingers out of the way and pressed the button for himself. Both ignored how in sync they were becoming, especially so soon after Jazz's return. It was discomforting to know that they could return to their old habits so easily with such little prompting. They passed several floors in silence, refusing to look at each other.
Finally, Prowl broke. "About my training..."
Jazz tensed, then sighed. "We'll meet in a few orns. There's no point in putting it off now that Ah'm back."
Prowl settled back, satisfied with the answer.
They were nearly to their stop.
"Are ya going ta the debriefing?" Jazz wondered lightly.
"What debriefing?" Prowl asked, his red chevron glinting in the light as he tilted his head.
"The one Ah'm about ta call," Jazz said, smirking.
"Oh." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. "My schedule seems to have suddenly cleared."
"How convenient," Jazz drawled.
Their optics caught, then lingered. They smirked at each other, daring and challenge alight in their clashing gazes. Anticipation for their next round of trying to one up each other rose. Remembered heat from that morning suddenly trembled through them; Jazz shifted his weight from one foot to the other, while Prowl blinked and looked away.
"We're partners," the tactician said lowly.
"Haven't forgotten," Jazz replied, his voice suspiciously dry.