Hey guys! As usual, massive thanks to everyone who reviewed, including Autobot Chromia, zrexheartz, Lexma, DreamMaster08X, Gamemice, musical-artist94, gemava, Golden Eagle 603, Lair of the Twisted Muses, TFlov, dbzfan, LapisLazuliRose, and Ailiya (guest)!

Also, I was thinking of maybe starting a collection of one shots and drabbles about Prowl and Jazz meeting for the first time. Would anyone be interested? I'd love to take requests and stuff for them, so tell me what you think :)

"Jazz?"

The visored mech mumbled, shoving lightly at Prowl as the Praxian tried to wake him up. "G'way."

"Pardon?"

"Go away." With a groan, Jazz turned over onto his back and glared from beneath his visor. "Ah'm sleepin'."

"I have good news." A smile flickered across Prowl's face as he shook his lover again.

"Did Spectrum die while Ah was sleepin'?"

His smile faded, and a small frown puckered the smooth metal of his forehead. "No. Listen, I was speaking with Prime and-"

"Prowl, baby, can this not wait 'till later?" Jazz groaned, curling up into his lover's warmth on the berth. "It's still early."

"No it isn't. You were meant to be up three and a half hours ago."

"But Ah'm tired."

A little giggle came from the couch, where Bumblebee was peering over the datapad he was reading. He grinned at his adoptive guardians brightly. "But Jazzie, Prowler has good news!"

A single doorwing twitched at the use of the nickname, but otherwise Prowl showed no signs of acknowledging Bumblebee's words. After another moment, Jazz sighed and sat up in the berth, "Alrigh', what is it?"

"Prime has asked for you specifically to train the Special Operations mechs."

There was a long silence, before Jazz's visor flickered in a blink. "Wha'?"

"He was impressed with how you retained control of your last mission, and how you rescued Spectrum instead of simply leaving him for dead. He wants you to oversee the training of the Special Operations mechs."

"You mean he- um... Why can't Spectrum do it?"

"He is still in the medbay being treated for shock."

Fragball, Jazz thought, scowling. If something as small as being knocked unconscious and strung up by some Decepticons caused him to go into shock, Spectrum didn't seem fit to run Special Operations. "Ah dunno, Prowler..."

"This is a fantastic opportunity for you. You are beginning to integrate into the Autobots. You're being trusted. Will you please do it?"

"Mmmm... Decepticon Special Ops trainin' is VERY different from Autobot Special Ops trainin', Prowler..."

"I realise that, but if anyone can do this, it's you. You could be exactly what the Autobots need to lend Special Ops an edge."

Jazz looked down at his legs, frowning beneath his visor. "Ah dunno, baby. Let meh think 'bout it."

"Of course." With a small nod, Prowl kissed the top of the smaller mech's helm. "Tell me when you have reached a decision."

There was another pause, before Jazz nodded swiftly. "Yeah. Okay, Ah'll do it."

Another giggle came from the couch, and Bumblebee got up and pulled himself up onto the couch. "Can you teach me, too?"

"Sorry, Bee, no can do. Fightin' ain't for younglin's."

"But-"

"Bumblebee, do not argue with Jazz." Prowl frowned sternly at the youngling, before focusing his attention back to his lover. "Thank you. You will do fantastically."

"Hmph." With a small snort, Jazz hugged Bumblebee close and leaned back into Prowl. "So, when do Ah start?"

...

"So.. These fragheads are meant t' be Special Ops?"

"Do not be too hard on them." Prowl replied easily, eyeing up the mechs in front of them. "These are some of the new recruits as well as the previous members of Special Operations. There are also quite a few mechs who have nothing to do with Special Ops; they simply wish to improve their fighting."

"Hmph." Visor dimming slightly as he surveyed the line of Autobots, Jazz tapped his fingers on his chin thoughtfully. "Ah can see why the Decepticons have been kickin' Autobot aft in terms o' infiltration and sabotage."

"We have done our best with what we have. I trust you will be able to improve the current standard."

A sharp grin tilted up the sides of the saboteur's lip components. "We'll see." His gaze flickered from 'bot to 'bot, before resting on a familiar figure. The grin widened. "Sideswipe! Grab a sword and come over here." Glancing to Prowl, who was still standing by him, he murmured, "You'd best move over to the wall so ya don't get hurt, Prowler." With a bow of the head, Prowl retreated out of the way as Sideswipe approached. The red frontliner paused uncertainly, grasping his chosen blade in his hand. Jazz nodded approvingly. "Good. Now attack me."

"But you don't have a sword."

Jazz smiled. "That don't mean Ah'm unarmed."

Sideswipe let out a yell and ran forward, slashing his sword at the air. Jazz looked at him and punched him in the face. Hard.

"Ow!" Sideswipe yelled, stumbling back and falling on his aft.

A serene smile spread across Jazz's face. "Ask yourself, my student, how did I beat you?"

"You hit my nasal ridge!"

"Exactly. If you can hit your opponents nasal ridge more times than he can hit yours, you too can taste victory."

"Frag, I'm bleeding!"

"You might need a tissue." With a shrug, Jazz turned to observe the others in room. Pointedly ignoring Prowl as he smirked in the corner, the saboteur spoke up. "Okay, so that was pitiful. Unfortunately, a lot of frontliners have performance issues like that." He ignored the collective laughter and Sideswipe's whimper of protest, and continued talking. "That wasn't a joke. Frontliners tend to get cocky in close-combat, and they become too reliant on their strength and size. So if you can surprise them by hitting them hard enough, you gain the upper hand." He cast a glance to Prowl in the corner of the room. "Prowler, is there a simulation room t' run infiltration and battle simulations?"

"Yes."

"Good." He turned back to the congregation and gestured at the Praxian. "Follow Prowl."

...

The simulation was simple. Jazz had designed it himself for the lowest form of Decepticon spies to practice with.

The simulation took place in the middle of an enemy base (it had originally been an Autobot base that had needed to be infiltrated, but Jazz had modified it to make it more suitable for Autobot usage). Once the infiltrators made it to a certain point, misty fog would blow in, impairing their vision. Then, they would be attacked by weak drones. They had to fight through the drones quickly and without drawing attention to themselves, and get to the target; the Command Deck. It was so simple. A sparkling could complete it.

And yet, Jazz stood with his arms folded and glared severely at the mechs staggering out of the simulation room. "That," he announced, "was awful."

A small whine escaped one of the mechs as he keeled over onto the floor. Both the twins were leaning on each other for support, Mirage was invisible in shame of his failure, Hound was holding a bleeding face, and most of the other mechs had cuts and wounds littering their bodies ranging from shallow to extremely deep. No one was without injury.

"No, really. It was the most embarrassing attempt at that simulation Ah've ever seen. Ah'm embarrassed for ya. How the frag can most of ya call yourselves Special Ops?"

"In our defence," Sideswipe gasped, "We've never infiltrated anything in our lives."

"Yeah, that much was obvious. And yet, those were drones a were fightin'. Ya got beaten up by drones."

Prowl was in the corner again, still trying not to laugh as he watched his lover rant and rave at the mechs that were flinching away from his ire. "Jazz." He interrupted calmly, "It was only their first try. Perhaps next time will be better."

"NEXT TIME?! THERE AIN'T GONNA BE A NEXT TIME!"

Barely preventing himself from rolling his optics, Prowl took his lover by the arm and pulled him away. Lowering his voice so no one but Jazz could hear him, he said, "Calm down. You are being over-dramatic. It was one failure; you can make them better. Make sure they won't fail again."

"Ugh... They're idiots, Prowler. Ah'm workin' with idiots."

A wry smile spread across the tactician's face. "Ah yes, I know that feeling quite well. But they will pull through, they usually do."

Sighing, Jazz glanced at the collection of injured idiots again. "Primus. Fine, fine. We'll see what Ah can do." He turned fully to face his 'students'. "Well... At least it took a while for ya t' get beat, rather than immediately..."

"That was mostly our fault." Sideswipe nodded at his twin with a wince as he popped his shoulder joint back into place. "We wanted to see how many of the enemy we could take down before we had to retreat."

"And how many did you manage?"

"I didn't get any." Sideswipe admitted shamefully, lowering his head. "But Sunny almost took down that tall drone. Right, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker was too busy sulking to answer.

"But then the tall drone started hitting him, so he stopped and ran away."

"I did not run away." Sunstreaker snapped furiously, glaring at his twin. "I tactfully retreated."

"That slagging fog confused our senses," Cliffjumper complained, "We couldn't see a thing! I tried going after our target, but then this massive mech reared up in front of me. I hit him but I swear, it was like hitting a wall."

Sideswipe nodded. "You hit a wall."

The red minibot blinked. "I what?"

"I saw it. You ran into a cloud of fog and stumbled around for a second until you reached a wall, and then you shrieked and punched it. It was very heroic."

Jazz buried his face in his hands. He had a lot of work to do.