A/N: Pinpoint's my own OC in case you're wondering, but he's really not that important. You'll hardly notice he's there, I promise. ;)

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

~blah~ is comm-speak ; ; blah is Cybertronian

Chapter 1: The calm before the storm

"Busy?"

Blaster looked around, surprised since he had thought he was alone in the hallway, and spotted a grinning Jazz lounging against a wall down a side corridor.

"I just got off duty," Blaster answered, "thought I'd go check out the latest top fifty."

Jazz nodded thoughtfully, notably not making a comment on the latest chart-topper, and Blaster smiled to himself: Jazz was like this sometimes, and it always led to only one thing. It had been awhile, and the last he had heard Jazz was sharing Windcharger's berth. Not that that meant anything at all. The Head of Special Ops was a source of constant dismay to the other officers in his seeming determination to sparkshare with every soldier in the unit. And since their numbers kept increasing since they had arrived on Earth, Jazz had fewer targets to keep himself occupied with, so he tended to turn up like this more often than in the past.

"Your berth or mine?" Blaster asked as they continued to walk.

Jazz's expression flickered to one of distaste before resettling on a more neutral mien.

"Yours. Prowl's on med leave."

That explained that, then. And perhaps it explained this too. Jazz and Prowl worked well enough together, but there were few mechs as different as those two: one so utterly spontaneous and unrestrained that it was a source of constant amazement that Prime put up with him in the officers ranks; the other so logical and structured that Blaster occasionally wondered uncharitably if he was not just a particularly sophisticated drone rather than a properly sparked mech. The fact that they had ended up sharing quarters was an unhappy circumstance, but they usually managed to ensure they spent almost no time there together. This, though, was Jazz's scheduled down time, and Blaster knew how the saboteur loved to while away his first breem or so after a shift listening to music and relaxing. As for his current mood, it was probably just a snap decision made when he had spotted Blaster alone in the hallway. It could easily have been anyone.

Anyone other than Prowl, anyway.

He could refuse, of course. Jazz would not take it badly, he would just find someone else, and nothing more would be said. But there was nowhere else he had to be, and this would be fun. It always was, with Jazz. No commitment, no complications, just a few breems of good company and tension release. His attention flicked briefly to his roommates' schedules as they turned down the final corridor, then reassured himself that they were both on patrol. They would have the room to themselves.

Jazz waited as he opened the door and went in, then caught him from behind and swung him up against the wall even as the door closed. As his equilibrium returned, the shorter mech's hands were already teasing him, ghosting over sensitive nodes and caressing the seam along his right side. Poor Jazz, he thought as he met the slightly desperate touches with moves of his own. Finding Prowl in their quarters must really have upset the other mech for he was showing none of his usual restraint, but that suited Blaster just fine. Mostly Jazz retained control in these little trysts, and Blaster was going to take full advantage of his lapse.

Feeling the energy beginning to pulse between them, he slid his hands over Jazz's shoulders and into the dip that he knew was particularly sensitive. Jazz's vocaliser glitched a little and he pitched awkwardly forward as an unexpectedly quick overload hit him, which sent Blaster over the edge as well. Blaster shuddered at the power of the sharing, nearly losing his own footing and falling on top of the other mech. It had never been this intense with Jazz before. Their unions had always been satisfying, but playful. This was more desperate, and it made him wonder why. Jazz seemed strangely shocked at the release, and Blaster began to smile smugly. No-one had ever gotten the better of the saboteur that he was aware of; was this the first time? If so, he intended to make the most of it, and braced himself against the wall before stroking Jazz's arms gently. The other mech swayed, then abruptly froze in place, raising a warning hand to stop Blaster from speaking or doing anything further. Blaster groaned inwardly, recognising the signs of a mech receiving a message and wondering if it was an attack. If so, he would likely be asked to send a ship-wide comm 'cast in a moment. A few clicks passed, then Jazz's optics focused on him and he transmitted a single word in text.

~Prime.~

Then he was pulling away, glancing apologetically at Blaster as he tried to walk off the remaining overload effects, clearly still listening to whatever orders he was being given. It ended with a short, formal nod as though Prime himself could see it, then a frustrated sigh which was clearly not aimed at their leader.

"Blaster, I'm sorry man, I've gotta find Prowl and get some stuff done. Maybe later?"

"Sure." Blaster nodded equably, knowing that there may well not be a 'later' any time in the next few orns.

That was just how it was with Jazz, and he accepted that. Still, it also meant that he did not need to virtuously wait for the saboteur to come back in order to subdue the outlet his body now craved. So. Who else was off duty this shift?

First Aid stepped into the med lab with his gaze fixed on the data pad before him. The hypothetical scenario Ratchet had set for him as theory work was a challenging one and he still was not sure he had covered all the angles on it, but he was happy with how far he had gotten and was ready to ask for help. These exercises always instigated fascinating discussions about things he had never considered before meeting the senior medic. All he had known in the past had been minor malfunctions and he had always known what had caused them and been able to reverse it, but there were so many variables he had never known about. It was a minor miracle that he had never done any irreparable harm with his limited knowledge of the past.

Looking up to admit defeat to his mentor, he paused in surprise. The room was completely empty. Checking his chronometer and then the duty roster he reassured himself that he was not abnormally early. So where was Ratchet? He set the pad down on one of the side benches and walked over to the open door on the far side of the bay. Ratchet's office was dark and empty. So was the storeroom when he thought to look there. Very strange. Perhaps he had just been called away, though. It happened.

Knowing that Ratchet would never abandon the lab for long, he checked the work plan for the shift. Two regular checkups were scheduled - Smokescreen and Pinpoint - and Huffer's knee joints needed lubricating. Tracks was supposed to come in for another energon infusion since he had still not fully recovered from when his friend Raoul had talked him into drinking some of the sludge the humans called fuel. And... Prowl was to come in for a CPU scan?

First Aid stared at that last item for a moment, wondering what that meant. Surely Ratchet did not think Prime's tactical officer and second in charge was having programming problems? No. More likely there was some other use for a CPU scan that he just did not understand yet. Or perhaps it was just another instance of Ratchet's peculiar sense of humour. No doubt all would become clear soon enough.

"Am I early?"

He looked over to the door to see Smokescreen entering.

"A little, but that's okay. I'm just setting up."

"Ratchet's finally letting you take a shift, then?" the psychologist asked, looking around curiously. "That was quick, for him."

First Aid shook his head.

"I'm sure he'll be back shortly, but I can get you hooked up and ready to go for when he gets here. That'll save some time."

Prowl shifted and felt Jazz's arms tighten around his torso.

"Not yet." his lover murmured. "Just a few clicks more. Please."

He gave that request some serious consideration. Jazz had returned far sooner than Prowl had expected given his mission - after all, should it not take some preparation to find and seduce a potential lover? - but had also been uncommonly agitated. Not distressed, but apparently angry with himself. He had paced back and forth for awhile, unwilling to explain or let Prowl touch him, before finally sinking down on the recharge berth and asking to be held. Though Prowl had hoped to continue what they had started earlier he sensed that Jazz was no longer in the mood so they had done little more than cuddle. Pleasant, if not what it could have been.

So, yes, he duly considered staying curled up together. In the end, though, he knew that they had pushed their luck enough for one day. Optimus would soon be returning, and would likely check on him. Best that they not be caught like this. And for the sake of their cover they should also have more solid alibis than a few minutes's dalliance on Jazz's part, which meant getting some work done.

Pressing his forehead briefly against Jazz's in mute apology, he pulled free and rose to pace over to his desk. To his credit Jazz made no real effort to fight him, simply sighing and sitting up with his legs hanging free over the edge of the berth.

"Too short, Sparkles. Slag it all, it's always too slaggin' short."

"I know."

Nevertheless, he reactivated his communications net and checked his message bank - something he had avoided while Jazz was away for fear that he would see something that he felt obliged to act on immediately. To his relief, there were no urgent flags. There were a number of queries about the mess around Wheeljack's lab; it seemed he had managed to tear the doors off it again and the hall was filled with debris. Perceptor had sent him a low priority text to say that Slingshot had covered Wheeljack's shift and that he had put Cliffjumper on two shifts of cleaning out the air ducts as punishment for leaving the monitors unattended. Prime had sent him an appointment for a meeting in his office in two breems time, and...

A knock on the door pulled his focus back to the room and he glanced at Jazz. The other mech was already settling himself on his own recharge berth, safely on the other side of the room. Chances were that whoever it was would not know the difference between one berth and the other, but they had not kept this secret for so long by being sloppy.

"Come." Prowl called, gathering up a couple of datapads.

Smokescreen looked apologetically at each of them.

"Sorry to bother you when you're off-duty..."

"If it's your shift report you can leave it in my office, I'll be back there shortly." Prowl told him.

"Actually it's not a report, just something a bit odd. Do either of you know where Ratchet is?"

Prowl frowned, the duty roster flicking up on his HUD and a part of his system searching through his received texts to check that the CMO had not sent him any information while he had been indisposed.

"He's not in the bay?" Jazz sounded mildly surprised.

"No." Smokescreen confirmed. "And First Aid's getting rattled."

"He won't be far away, he never is." Jazz pointed out.

"That's what I said initially. But I've been in the bay for nearly over a hour now and he hasn't turned up. And I asked around a bit, and no-one's seen him since the first shift briefing."

"I have." Prowl considered. "He called me in to the medbay shortly after that, and he was heading off to talk to Wheeljack. I take it someone has checked with him?"

Smokescreen shook his head.

"I thought about it, but you can't even get into the workshop right now for all the mess from that last explosion. Doesn't look like anyone's hurrying to clean it up either: I called out in case that's where they were, but no-one answered."

Prowl felt his good mood evaporating as his tactical computer strung together the obvious evidence and came up with an answer he did not like. Fact: neither Wheeljack nor Ratchet had been seen or heard from in nearly a joor. Fact: there had been an explosion in Wheeljack's lab at about that time which had been ignored sufficiently by everyone for there to still be rubble blocking the hallway all this time later. Analysis: they had a potentially critical situation here. Looking across at his bondmate, he saw that Jazz had reached the same conclusion.

"Actually, I think maybe I know where Ratchet is after all." the saboteur commented lightly. "Smokey, go back to the repair bay and tell First Aid we'll be in touch."

The door closed and Prowl looked at his mate.

"Surely not. Surely someone would have looked by now?"

Jazz rose, his expression grim.

"Lets go find out."