Cuddles

Chapter 2

Before Jazz fully onlined, his hand stretched over the soft padding of the berth, searching for something, or rather someone. Feeling only the cold covers, he activated his visor feeling rather disappointed when he found the berth empty.

"Prowl?" Jazz sat on the berth, looking around the room still sleepily. His head lightly troubled him, but he had survived a lot worse hangovers than this one. He wondered how Prowl must be feeling. Probably experiencing a world of pain. They drank from Sideswipe's brew – it gave one pit of a buzz, but the hangover was merciless.

Jazz slowly stood up and stretched, looking around the quarters. They were pretty empty, barely any personal possessions or colors. Altogether, the room was rather dull. Well, this was Prowl's room.

He wondered why Prowl would flee like this. It's not like they did anything… his thought came to an abrupt stop. The Praxian was so overcharged last night, that he didn't know up from down. And Jazz was a known berth-hopper. Prowl was more than able to put two and two together.

The spy groaned. This was just great, Prowl probably had come to the wrong conclusion. He should better find him as fast as possible and set things straight. He didn't want the tactician to think he took advantage or something of the sort. They weren't the closest of friends, but still he owed the mech an explanation.

And he knew just where to find him, that slagging workaholic. He went straight for Prowl's office.

Surprisingly, outside stood two mechs, both carrying pads. Jazz winced at the amount of them and felt so Primus damn lucky that he had more field work than this. With Prowl's hangover all this data work was probably a special kind of pit.

"Hey, mechs. What're you doing outside Prowl's office?" Jazz asked with a friendly smile as he came to a stop in front of them.

"Waiting for Stiffy to open the slagging door." One of them, casually leaning on the door, answered.

Frowning, Jazz asked rather flatly, "Stiffy?"

"Yeah, cuz he's so stiff and all." The second 'bot snicker, making Jazz glare at him. Sure, he had thought the same just yesterday, but Prowl deserved better and really, they all knew it. And thinking was not the same as fragging talking about it outside of said mech's office.

"Aw, come on, Jazz. You know it's true," The first one started with a smile.

Something inside Jazz snapped. The little thread in his mind called fragging reason shattered and he opened his mouth.

The Pit broke loose.

"Now, I wouldn't say that." He started, "I mean, c'mon, did you see him last night! Those moves, the way he danced. Did you see how he bended?"

And pit, even in his memories it was erotic. If Prowl ever needed a second career, this could be it.

Both mechs stopped snickering and stared at Jazz. "Yeah," The first one said thoughtfully, "We also saw you leaving with him."

Jazz smirked. He was about to blow Prowl's reputation sky-high. No one would ever call him 'stiffy' again. "Yes. I swear to Primus, best lay ever."

"…What?" The second mech gaped.

"You heard me." Jazz crossed his arms, "I guess it's to be expected, mech has a battle computer and all – he is good! Mind-blowingly good. Knows just where to touch. Not to mention those door wings of his. Delicious."

"You're joking."

"Am not," Jazz said confidently. "Why would I? Just because the mech doesn't like showing off, doesn't mean he isn't good. Primus, just thinking about it makes my armor vibrate. He liked to be in charge – very powerful demeanor. Those hands of his?" He made a whistling sound, "I'll never look at them the same way as before."

Suddenly, before the other mechs could question him more, the door to Prowl's office opened. The first mech who was leaning on the door fell rather clumsily, the pads he was holding scattering all around him.

Prowl stood at the door way, wings held higher than usual and face in a cold expression. Jazz's story was backed up by Prowl's appearance. The Praxian's optics were rather dim, armor dirty and scuffed, not to mention white streaks from Jazz's own armor on him from when Prowl pinned him more forcefully to the berth.

Jazz winced. Did Prowl just hear all of that? Well, a part of Jazz mused, at least he didn't say that Prowl liked to spank. All humor died in Jazz when he saw Prowl's cold gaze directed at him.

This wasn't good.

0000

Prowl's orn started well. He was left alone, mostly, no one asked about anything and he could do his work. After a few joors even his processor ached receded to more manageable levels. Levels that would let most mechs only curse, instead of making them seek out their own final resting place.

Slowly, his shaken confidence repaired itself. He had interfaced with Jazz, so what? It could have been worse. He could have found Sideswipe in his berth, or, Primus forbid, Bluestreak! Jazz would understand what happened, and probably didn't expect anything from him now. Prowl just needed to make it clear, that they would carry on like before. That was all.

A chime alerted him to the fact that someone stood outside of this door. He had installed it after a few too many pranks (and one or two deliberate poisonings, but nothing had ever been proven), and quite liked to be forewarned that someone was coming. But instead of asking to come in, the mechs simply kept standing in front of his door and his system kept ringing.

And ringing.

Prowl grew annoyed. Every single chime was painful for his head. Usually, he would have waited longer, but today he had no patience or pain-tolerance left. So he stood, was at the door with a few fast strides and opened it.

He barely managed to step aside to avoid a mech falling against him. Instead the Autobot caused a mess with himself and the datapads on the floor. Prowl grew even more annoyed, knowing that now he could sort out these pads anew. More work. Great.

Then, he looked at the rest of the group that was staring at him with wide optics – the left one being Jazz. Panic rushed over the tactician for a moment, before he banished all feelings. Logic, he needed logic and didn't he have a plan what to do about Jazz as well? Yes, he had.

He just needed to act as normal.

"Good day, gentlemechs." He looked at the one on the floor. "Kippler, if you would be so kind to pick up the datapads, I need them. Quickturn, do you have the supply reports with you?"

"Yes, of course, sir." Quickturn gave them to him.

He took them, slowly getting more sure and daring to look at Jazz. The saboteur seemed to be rested, and obviously hadn't as bad a processor ache as he did. Instead, he now seemed to be nearly embarrassed... and this fact helped Prowl immensely with his confidence.

"Jazz," what to say? - "I have much work to do today, so please don't disturb me." Maybe this hadn't been the best sentence? But it was true and he didn't know what else to say in front of strangers. How else to make clear that he didn't want a repeat or anything... He turned and plucked the pads out of Kippler's servos. "I wish you a good orn, Jazz."

Without another word he returned into the sanctuary of his office, hoping that the saboteur got his meaning: All is normal, all is as before.

0000

Well, Jazz mused as he kept blinking at the closed door of the tactician's office, this could have gone a whole lot better.

Prowl was obviously pissed. Jazz sighed. He'll just have to talk to the Praxian later. He was obviously busy with work and judging from the looks of his paint job, still suffering from the hangover.

His shift starts in a couple joors. Better take a shower and recharge some more, that way he would confront Prowl with a fresh processor and explain everything before the rumor mill got out of control. The last thing he needed was Prowl being pissed at him for this as well.

Resigned, he left with a wave at the two bots in front of the office and headed for his quarters. Everything would be alright. Once he told Prowl the truth, everything would go back to normal, and if Jazz was lucky, his plan to boost Prowl's reputation would work as well.

Smiling, Jazz entered his room. Yes, everything would be just fine.

Or not.

0000

Rarely had a rumor mill experienced as sharp an increase as this time. The last vorn had brought nothing but routine and the bots were starved for some delicious interesting news... and Jazz's report of Prowl's exceptional prowess in the berth was definitely that.

"Have you heard...?" became probably the sentence most often muttered, followed by surprise and then by grins.

A whole base took the opportunity to turn around, to assess the tactician, to discover that yes, Praxian's had an elegant, beautiful frame and Prowl gave it a quiet, elegant twist with a dignity, that hid, well, much.

Soon stories crept up, of mechs that had heard of other mechs that had a friend... that confirmed Prowl's story. No one was sure, how much truth these contained, but after vorns of nothing to gossip about, no one really cared. This was new, this was exciting, and more than one wanted to suddenly confirm Jazz's story.

One, because Prowl really was a great catch, if you ignored his stiff behavior (how had they missed that for vorns?) and mechs wanted a good interfacing. And two, because it alleviated the boredom and would be easily something that would turn anyone into the center of the base's social circles, and three, because mechs were just curious, after all Prowl was suddenly a new factor in a small base.

All together, there were more than enough reasons to become active.

And a few did exactly that.

And slowly it begins ... ^^