Naturally, big thanks to Paradiseeker, Lair of the Twisted Muses, Golden Eagle 603, Phoenyx Starr, zrexheartz, musical-artist94, Gamemice, Autobot Chromia, Crazygrrl XD, icesong180, ghost-writer-88, DreamMaster08X, ichigo-tsubasa, Lexma, dbzfan1234 LapizLazuliRose and Chistarpax for their reviews! Every review is greatly appreciated, so thank you so much!

It had been several vorns since Jazz had taken over the training for the Special Ops department, and everyone could see an extremely noticeable difference in the success rates of missions and retrieval of data. Jazz had pointed out several times that the success rates would be even higher if Spectrum would stop shooting down all his plans and theories before he could put them into effect.

Almost every Autobot had calmed considerably around Jazz, and most had forgotten his past as a Decepticon. Except Spectrum, of course, but Jazz liked to pretend he didn't exist.

As much as he was enjoying himself, he was thoroughly unimpressed with the increased workload.

"Ugh!"

Prowl didn't glance up from his desk. "Is something wrong?"

"He's ignorin' another one o' mah plans."

"Spectrum?" Curious, he raised his helm and looked at his lover with a raised optic ridge.

"Who the frag else?!" Jazz hissed, throwing the datapad he had been reviewing at the wall.

"Jazz!" The tactician reprimanded sharply, frowning severely. "Pick it up."

"Don't wanna." Folding his arms across his chassis, Jazz glared sulkily at the broken datapad.

"Primus, Jazz," with a heavy sigh, Prowl got to his feet and walked over to pick up the pieces of the shattered datapad. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes. Ah'm angry." Getting off his chair too, Jazz followed the Praxian and draped himself over his bent body.

"Jazz."

Ignoring the warning, the saboteur grinded against the taller mech. "Why's he bein' so stupid?"

"I do not know. Please stop humping my leg."

He pouted, but stepped away. "Ah fraggin' give up. Why do Ah even bother?"

"Oh, come here and stop sulking." Prowl pulled the small mech closer and wrapped his arms around his waist. The saboteur leaned into him with a scowl. "I will talk to Optimus. Your plans should not be ignored. But that is not entirely why you are in such a bad mood, is it?"

Jazz said nothing.

"Is it because of Bumblebee?"

There was a brief, sulky silence. "Ya know it is."

"You know he had to get his adult upgrades sometime."

"No he didn't."

"Jazz," Frowning disapprovingly, Prowl leaned back so he could see his mate's face. "Don't be childish."

"He's too young t' be gettin' adult upgrades, Prowler." Jazz whined, nuzzling his face into the tactician's chassis. "He's still a baby."

"No, he isn't. Do not be difficult about this." The SIC pleaded, trailing his fingers down the smaller mech's backstruts. "It is Ratchet's call as Chief Medical Officer, and he believes it's time for his upgrades."

"But.. But what if he wants t' move out? What do we do then? He'll be an adult, Prowler! How're we meant t'protect him if he ain't with us anymore?"

There was silence for a long moment, before the tactician pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his lover's helm. "How long have you been worrying about this?"

"A while." Sighing, Jazz allowed himself to relax into the Praxian's embrace. "Ah just.."

"I know, dearspark." Another kiss was pressed to the dark helm. "We will still be able to protect Bumblebee, no matter how old he gets. I know you would never allow any harm to come to him. And if he wishes to move out, we let him."

"But-!"

"We will let him," Prowl interrupted, "because it is his choice. I'm not telling you to let him go, just to give him some freedom. Can you do that?"

A small whimper escaped Jazz's vocaliser, and wriggled closer into Prowl's body. "Ah dunno..."

"Of course you can. You love him, don't you?"

"O' course."

"Well then. Respect his decisions."

Jazz was silent, gazing at the floor. "He already decided t' move out, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"When? When'd he decide?"

"We had a talk last night."

"What'd you say to him?" The saboteur's voice turned accusing, "Did you suggest movin' out?"

"No, and I resent the fact that you would even consider that as a possibility. He asked me if I would be angry with him if he wanted to move out. I told him of course I would not be angry, I would support him."

"But.. Why does he wanna leave?"

"Doesn't every new adult?"

"But.. He's only a baby."

"Not anymore." Prowl began gently rocking the smaller mech from side to side, feeling him wilt into his arms. "You signed the forms Ratchet presented you with. You approved the adult upgrades."

"Ah didn't approve him movin' out! We can just lock him in our quarters until he sees sense. He don't really wanna move out, Ah know he doesn't."

...

Jazz sniffled, turning his back in a weak attempt to hide the tears slipping down his face.

On the other side of the quarters, Prowl was helping Bumblebee pack what little belongings he had into a box. The minibot didn't appear too physically different; the only noticeable changes included a slightly slimmer and taller frame. Glancing over at the saboteur, a guilty look crossed the new-adults face. "Jazzie? Are you okay?"

"Ah'm fine."

Bumblebee glanced to Prowl for help. The tactician sighed, gazing at his mate and shaking his helm. "Just give him some time, Bumblebee."

Taking a deep intake to steady himself, the saboteur turned around and forced a smile. "Ah'm fine! Ah'm just great!" An awkward silence fell over the room as Jazz tottered around the room, picking up Bumblebee's stuff and clutching it to his chassis, wiping away his tears when he thought no one was looking.

Prowl and Bumblebee shared and uncertain look, before glancing back to the saboteur.

"Oh! Remember Pixel?" Fresh tears slid down Jazz's face as he turned, clutching the small metal doll to his his face. "Ya used t' love this doll."

A sigh whooshed out of Prowl's vents as his mate started to sob. "Jazz..."

"B-bee, do ya want Pixel?"

"Um.. Yeah. Thank you." Smiling uncertainly, the minibot stretched out his hand for the doll.

Still sniffling, the small saboteur shuffled forwards. Just before handing over the little metal doll, Jazz sobbed again and threw his arms around Bumblebee, hugging him tightly. "Ah don't want ya t' go!"

"Jazz!" Prowl scolded, stepping forwards and attempting to pry his lover off of the helplessly guilty looking Bumblebee. He wouldn't budge. "Jazz.. For Primus' sake. He will be right down the hall!"

"B-but that's-"

"Why don't you sit on the berth and calm down?"

"Okay.."

Prowl watched the saboteur shuffle away in silence, before turning to the stricken looking minibot. "Do not worry. You know Jazz and emotions."

"But.. Will he be okay?"

"Of course. Jazz... his emotions are stronger than most because he has suppressed them for so long. But he will bounce back. Just.. for the love of Primus, please visit twice a day for at least the next month until he adjusts."

"Yeah, okay." Still looking guilty, Bumblebee glanced at the black and white frame lying face-down on the berth.

"He is just being melodramatic."

The minibot nodded slowly, "Can you walk me to my new quarters? I needed to talk to you about what department I was thinking of joining."

"Certainly. Jazz, stay put and do not break anything."

...

"Into the ring. GO!"

The Special Ops team in-training winced, and the two mechs Jazz had pointed at sighed and trudged into the wrestling ring.

"Okay. Fight."

The saboteur's mood had filtered into his training techniques, and the trainees were exhausted from the merciless exercises he had them doing.

The first mech (Clockwise, as far as Jazz could remember) turned to the other mech (..Skids, maybe?) and smiled nervously. "Ready?"

"Ya don't ask your opponent if they're READY!" Jazz roared in frustration, barely resisting the sudden urge to tear someone's faceplate off and stomp on it. "Just ATTACK!"

Obediently, Skids lunged forwards.

Clockwise did likewise at the same time.

There was a resounding crash as they smashed faces so hard that Clockwise fell into temporary stasis.

Everyone was silent, terrified. No one looked at Jazz, fearing his reaction.

Thankfully, at that precise moment, the door to the training room slid open and Prowl poked his head in. "Jazz?"

"Ya better be here t' distract me from this train-wreck."

Cool blue optics landed on a dazed looking Skids and unconscious Clockwise. "Ah. Training is going well, then?"

Jazz whirled around with an angry hiss. "Ah'm not in the mood. What is it?"

Even with the threat, Prowl couldn't stop the small smile from spreading across his face. It shouldn't, but it amused him greatly to see his lover get so frustrated over training the bots. It showed he cared, on some level; after all, if he didn't care he could easily just train them badly and praise them for their failures. Instead, he seemed to take every failure personally, and pushed everyone to do their absolute best. No one was allowed to slack off. "I have a new recruit for you. A scout."

Releasing a whoosh of air from his vents in a sigh, Jazz rubbed at his visor tiredly and offlined his optics. "Send 'em in. He'll be workin' with Hound."

"In you go, Bumblebee."

Jazz's optics were onlined so quickly the crystal of his visor almost shattered. He watched in numb surprise as his mate stepped back from the door to allow access to a familiar little yellow frame. "No. Absolutely not."

"I am afraid you do not have a say in the matter."

"Excuse meh?" Now hissing furiously, Jazz stalked towards the tactician with a murderous expression. "He ain't joinin' Ops. Do ya want him killed?!"

"Bumblebee is old enough to make the decision for himself, and-" his sentence was sharply cut off as he was grabbed by the arm and hauled out of the room and into the corridor.

Jazz punched the door closed so the gawking trainees inside couldn't watch the approaching argument, then slammed the tactician up against the opposite wall. "Are ya fraggin' insane?!" He snarled, baring his denta.

"Jazz-"

"He's barely an adult! He don't know what he's doin'! And he's a fraggin' mini! It's too dangerous, he's gonna get himself killed!"

"Spectrum already approved him-"

"AH DON'T FRAGGIN' CARE WHAT SPECTRUM APPROVED! HE CAN DIE IN A HOLE FOR ALL AH CARE-"

"Shhh!" Furiously disapproving, Prowl managed to free an arm and clap a hand over Jazz's mouth. "Prime also approved him. This is what he wants to do, and-"

"This is not what he wants t' do. He-"

"Jazz. Please calm yourself. I believe it was you who mentioned just last week how effective minibots are in Special Operations. They are able to get into places no one else would be, correct?"

"It's okay when they're not younglin's-!"

"Bumblebee is no longer a youngling. He is an adult now, and as an adult, he made his choice."

"Prowler, please," Jazz promptly resorted to begging, clutching at the SIC's shoulders. "He'll be killed."

"A risk all of us must take when joining a war."

"Prowl! Not only do ya want our younglin' t' join the most dangerous department in the war, ya want meh t' train him even though ya know how actively Ah disagree with this?"

"I know how much you love him. I know how hard you would work to make sure he is as fully prepared and protected as possible. I know you will make sure he knows how to fight and defend himself. Bumblebee stands a better chance with you than with anyone else in the whole Autobot army."

"Ah can't do it."

"Of course you can. And if you don't, Spectrum will be in charge of his training."

An involuntary hiss escaped the saboteur, and his plating bristled. "No."

"So you will train him. Good." Prowl gently pried the smaller mech's angry hands off himself, then leaned down to gently press a kiss on the top of his helm.

"You are the most manipulative mech Ah've ever met."

"Mhmm. I have been told. Now go in there and train your mechs."

The slap to his aft as he walked towards the door was unexpected, and Jazz squawked and threw a glare behind him. The door slid open, and the saboteur stalked in, struggling to pretend he hadn't seen the sly smirk his lover had given him. "Bumblebee, go to Hound."

"Yes, sir."

Flexing his claws, Jazz glared around at his group. "Okay, wallflowers. Listen up; you're crap at fighting. Holy slag, you're awful. That's where I come in. See, where I was trained, there was no failure. If you failed, you died. It was a very simple system."

Several mechs shared uncertain and nervous looks with each other, but all were silent and attentive.

"But apparently, the Autobots are against murder or somethin'. So, Ah can't threaten ya with death. But, Ah can sure make ya miserable. And it's so easy for li'l accidents t' happen, 'specially in Special Ops trainin'.

"So listen t' meh closely; ya will follow my every order. Ya will not question me. If Ah tell ya somethin', Ah expect ya t' not ask again. Ah will only tell ya once. If Ah'm speaking, you listen. No one talks while Ah am talkin'. Is that clear?"

"If Ah ask a question, Ah expect a fraggin' answer."

"Yes, sir." Voices mingled and echoed around the room.

"Good. Now; separate into partners." There was a sudden clamour as everyone scrambled to their friends to partner up. Jazz struggled to not roll his optics, before giving into his urge. Once everyone was in pairs, he nodded. "Okay. Now, one pair at a time, step forward and face each other. Ah want ya t' spar." He turned his attention to the first pair he saw. "You two; you're up first. Try not t' hurt yourselves, just each other."