As usual, the biggest thanks to all the reviewers and followers! Big thanks to SunnySidesOfBlue, Lair Of The Twisted Muses, gemava, Gamemice, love-child-tokyo, DreamMaster08X, Crazygrrl XD, Galem (guest), Autobot Chromia, DeceptiCop647, Lexma, dbzfan, musical-artist94, PixelusPrime and RagDolDark!

I love reading your reviews so much! Hope this is okay for you all...

Prowl struggled to ignore the pings from his office door, indicating there was someone outside.

After a couple of breems, he knew he couldn't ignore it any longer and sighed as he sent the command for the door to open.

Of all the mechs he expected to enter the room, Hound was not one of them. The green scout smiled nervously as he walked over to the desk, and gestured questioningly at a chair. "May I sit down?"

"Of course." The SIC recovered from his surprise quickly and professionally. "How can I help you, Hound?"

"I wanted to talk about Jazz, actually." The scout sat and cleared his vocaliser, clearly feeling uncomfortable as Prowl tensed.

"I see. Go ahead."

"Um.. I just wanted to know.. how can we be sure that he can be trusted? I mean, if you say that he can be trusted, I completely support your decision, but he was a Decepticon for a long time. It's hard to just change everything you believe and become an Autobot just like that."

"I understand your concerns." Prowl said stiffly, interlocking his fingers on the desk. "But Jazz will be faithful to the Autobots."

Uncharacteristically frustrated, Hound began to fidget. "But sir, how can he be faithful to the cause when he can't even be faithful to you? I know that the whole reason he's here is because of you but-"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

Prowl's voice had gone glacial and he stared icily at his subordinate. "What do you mean he has not been faithful?"

Looking surprised and uncomfortable, Hound shifted slightly in his chair. "I.. you didn't know?"

"Know what, Hound?"

The scout winced at the use of his name. "Well.. When he first came back to the Autobot base he stank of transfluid and stuff."

"It could have been his own." Prowl found himself arguing, even though his battle computer was informing him he was being illogical.

"Sir, my sense of smell has always been unparalleled, hasn't it?" Upon the tactician's reluctant agreement that it had, Hound continued. "There was the smell of several different mechs on him."

"I see." Prowl had become very quiet all of a sudden, and the scout suddenly felt slightly fearful. "Well. Optimus believes in him, so that should be enough."

Suddenly unwilling to push his point any further, Hound nodded and stood. "Yes sir. Thank you for your time."

Prowl waited until the door had closed behind the scout before sending a comm. to Jazz, requesting his presence in his office. As he waited, the tactician found himself scratching at his desk, and had to consciously force himself to stop fidgeting.

As usual, the saboteur's arrival was announced not with a knock, but with the door being hacked open. Jazz beamed as he bounced into the room and made his way straight over to the desk. "Ya wanted t' see me, Prowler?" He grinned as he leaned over the desk seductively, displaying his attractive frame.

"Sit down, please." Prowl requested, ignoring the puzzled look on his lover's face as he did so. "Where is Bumblebee?"

"In the rec. room wit' Bluestreak. Wha's wrong?"

"I wished to speak with you about the time when you were away."

"Okay.." Shifting on his chair, much the same as Hound had done minutes before, the saboteur watched Prowl curiously.

"Did you interface with anyone whilst you were away?"

The ex-Decepticon's whole body almost locked up with shock. "Wha'?"

"Who was it?"

"Ah... Prowler, Ah don't understand-"

"Please answer the question." Prowl couldn't help but wonder at the illogical anger that had taken over him. His processor supplied him with a word; jealousy. He was jealous. And he supposed his processor was correct. After all, were lovers not supposed to remain faithful? Was that not the point? "I suggest you explain why you did it before I suffer from a logic crash."

Suddenly desperate, Jazz leaned over the desk. "Ah'm sorry, Prowler! It wasn't meant ta hurt ya or anythin', Ah just-"

"You needed someone else to satisfy you."

"No! Prowler, ya were always enough f'r meh!"

"Then explain."

"Ah- um.. There were certain circumstances where Ah needed t' pay for things.. and Ah had no credits. It's the Decepticon way for payin' for somethin' ya can't afford-"

"So you offered your body as a way of payment." Prowl couldn't help the wince that crossed his face. Jazz's explanation was indeed logical, but it wasn't something he wanted to hear.

"Ah'm sorry, Prowler. Ah needed t' stay fueled, and Megatron didn't give enough energon for anyone to survive on. Ah had t' go to Swindle most days, and-"

"And what about the other mechs?"

The saboteur faltered. "Other..?"

"Yes. Other mechs. Could you explain them, please?"

"Prowler..."

"I think I deserve to know, Jazz."

Slowly, the saboteur nodded. "Swindle, because I needed things. Vortex, because he let me share a room wit' him-"

"By 'room', do you mean berth?"

After a brief hesitation, Jazz wilted. "Yeah."

"Continue." The cold anger didn't show on the tactician's face, but it was audible in his voice.

"Um.. Soundwave 'cause he agreed not t' tell Megatron Ah was wit' the Autobots, Ramjet and Thrust 'cause Ah owed them a favour, Hook 'cause he did some repairs on me, Deadlock 'cause-"

"Stop." Prowl sighed, covering his face with his hands. "That is quite enough."

"Ah'm sorry, Prowler." His voice dropping to a whisper, Jazz leaned closer to the tactician over the desk. "Let meh make it up t' ya. Please."

"How would you propose to make it up to me?" The SIC sighed, his words only slightly muffled by his hands.

Jazz walked around the desk and pulled Prowl's hands away from his face, before moving to straddle his lap.

"No." Prowl said sharply, narrowing his optics dangerously. "This is hardly the appropriate way to 'make it up' to me."

There was a confused pause. "But.. What do ya want meh t' do?"

"Make me a promise."

"A promise?"

"Promise me that you will not share your body with anyone other than myself."

The blue visor flashed in surprise. "You..? But.."

"Is that a problem?"

"No! No.. For you, Ah'd do anything." Jazz murmured, burying his face in the tactician's neck. "Ah promise. Ah'm all yours."

"Good." A small growl rumbled out of Prowl's chassis, and his hands tightened around the saboteur's hips. "I will admit, I am not fond of sharing."

"Ah'm sorry, Prowler."

"Did any of them hurt you?" The tactician turned his attention back to what the saboteur had said.

"Nothin' Ah couldn't handle. Plus, Ratchet fixed meh all up nice and pretty when Ah first arrived."

A wince crossed Prowl's face at that. "You should not have had to go through that."

His shoulders rose and fell in a delicate shrug, and he rested his helm on Prowl's shoulder. "Ah just... What do Ah do if Ah need t' pay someone?"

"You should never feel like you must sell your body as a way to pay anyone, ever."

"Ah still feel like Ah should pay ya somethin' better, though." With a murmur, Jazz began grinding down on the other mech's interface panel.

"Do you want to interface?" The tactician asked bluntly, gazing the smaller mech directly in the visor.

"What?" Clearly startled by the question, Jazz drew back.

"Is it your wish to to interface, or do you simply feel obliged to?"

"Ah- isn't it- you don't want to?"

"That is not what I asked."

"If you want to, Ah'll do it-"

"I asked if YOU wanted to interface."

"Ah... Ah guess.. Not really..?" Jazz winced slightly, as if he expected to be reprimanded.

"Very well." Catching sight of the saboteur's surprised expression, Prowl kissed the smaller mech's forehead gently. "I would never do something you don't wish to do, Jazz. It is your body, and I find myself privileged to be allowed to touch you intimately."

There was silence for a second, before Jazz nodded slowly and rested his helm on the Praxian's shoulder plating. "Thank you, Prowler."

...

"Bee, quit doin' that."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's irritating."

"Why?"

"'Cause it is."

"Why?"

"Bee!"

The youngling giggled and ceased tapping his fists against the table top. "What does irritating mean?"

"Same thing annoyin' means. Drink your energon." Jazz sighed and leaned back into the couch, glancing over to where Prowl was reading a report a little bit away in a chair by himself. His attempts to get the Praxian out of his office had succeeded, but he couldn't yet prevent him from bringing his damned datapads too.

"Jazzie?"

"Yeah?" The saboteur asked tiredly, taking a swig of his own energon.

"What does interfacing mean?"

A yelp escaped the youngling as Jazz choked and spat his energon across the table, coughing and spluttering and pounding on his own chassis. "WHAT?"

Several of the other Autobots in the rec. room had subtly unholstered their weapons at the ex-Decepticon's shout, and were waiting for any sign of the saboteur losing control. Prowl had barely glanced up from his datapad, far too used to the other mech's outbursts.

Cringing slightly, Bumblebee whispered "Please don't be mad. I just wanted to know.."

"Ah ain't mad at you, baby." Jazz grit out through his denta, clenching his fists so hard on the table that he bent the metal out of shape. "But tell meh where ya heard that."

"Interfacing? Um.. Some of the mechs were talking about it yesterday when I was with Bluestreak yesterday. They asked me if I knew what it was, and I said yes because I didn't want to look stupid."

"And then?"

"They asked me if you and Prowl did it, and I didn't know if you did or not. So they told me I would have noticed because I share a room with you two, but I didn't really know what they were talking about."

Furious beyond belief, Jazz remained completely and totally still. The anger still coursed through him, but so long as he didn't move, he couldn't rip anybody's throat cables out.

Recognising his guardian's 'angry' stance, Bumblebee looked around uncertainly for Prowl. After a few moments of no movement, the youngling began shifting uncomfortably. "Jazzie?"

Still furious, Jazz willed himself to calm down enough to deal with Bumblebee without snapping. "Yes, Bee?"

"Will I get Prowl?"

"I think that's a good idea."

"PROWL!"

The former Decepticon remained motionless as his partner was called over. Prowl sat down next to him and swiftly took both of his hands in his own. "Jazz, calm down." He murmured softly, recognising the anger that was causing the smaller mech to actually tremble.

"Ah can't, Prowl." Jazz hissed, clenching his fists in the tactician's grasp. "Did ya hear what those fraggin' aftholes said t' Bee?"

When the Praxian just frowned in confusion, Jazz sent him the log of the conversation between himself and the youngling. Optics dimmed as Prowl listened to the conversation, and his frown deepened until it looked as though it had been carved into his face. "Who were the mechs he was speaking to?"

"Ah don't know, but Ah swear Ah'm gonna tear them apart."

"Calm down." Leaning closer, Prowl pulled the smaller mech into his arms. He ignored the rest of the room as they tensed around their weapons, focusing solely on the taut frame within his arms. Running his hands up the tense spinal struts seemed to help the rigid saboteur relax slightly. "You are an Autobot now, and you promised me you would not harm anyone. The mechs will be dealt with, I promise. But I need you to rid yourself of your anger; you are scaring Bumblebee."

With an angry sigh, Jazz melted completely into the larger black and white mech's arms. "Ah just- they had no right t' say that t' Bee."

"I know."

"Especially 'bout us! It's none o' their fraggin' business! Ah thought Autobots were meant t' be different from the Cons!"

Taking a small invent of air for patience, Prowl pressed a kiss to one of the delicate sensory horns. "I know."

Unnoticed by either of them, Bumblebee had shuffled closer to them and was now standing near the edge of the couch. "Are you two interfacing now?"

Spluttering, Jazz scrambled away from Prowl. "Wha'?! No! Bee, forget about what those mechs said, 'kay?"

"But what is it?" The youngling whined, frowning. He turned to Prowl and tilted his head. "Prowlie, y'know how you know everything?"

A snort escaped the tactician's chassis and he shook his head. "Hardly, Bumblebee."

"But you must know what interfacing is."

Groaning, Prowl massaged his chevron as he felt a processor ache approaching. "How about next time we visit Ratchet, you ask him?"

As Bumblebee agreed and darted off to play on the chairs, Jazz cast his lover a sly look. "Poor Ratchet."

"Poor Ratchet nothing. He has been trained to explain things like that."

After a light laugh, the saboteur abruptly turned serious again. "Prowl, I seriously wanna hurt those mechs."

"I know you do, Jazz, but you can't. You know that." Prowl murmured, silently noting the use of his actual designation rather than the derivative that the small mech was so fond of. "I will find out who they are and punish them, and that is final."

"Can Ah help with the punishment?"

Regarding the saboteur warily, Prowl narrowed his optics. "What were you thinking of?"

"Torture."

"No."

"Why not, Prowler?" He whined, nuzzling at his partner's neck cables. "They deserve it."

"I will handle the punishments. I have no doubt that you will somehow manage to indirectly make their existences miserable anyway."

"Ah have you, don't Ah? Ya can just give 'em the worst duties ever. Like clean-up duty, and monitor duty with Red Alert."

"Hmph. I suppose that could work."

"'Course it could." The smaller mech murmured, changing his nuzzling to biting lightly at the other's neck cables. He couldn't help the grin that tilted up his lips as Prowl's engine purred quietly in appreciation.

"I pity whatever mech gets on your bad side."

"Ya should. It never ends well for 'em."