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4. Chapter
Feeling quite grumpy, Jazz fiddled with his report in the rec room. It was strange, that only when he was in a sour mood he bothered to do these horrid duties. But if he finished these reports then that would mean he would get to see Prowl, because he could deliver them personally.
Before, he never really gave much attention to the quiet tactician, but for the last couple of orns, he couldn't stop think about him! Not to mention that every conversation held in this base was Prowl related. Prowl's aft this, Prowl's doorwing that. Primus really hated him.
Just as he finished with the report, he felt a presence behind him and Jazz turned to see Swifttail fidgeting.
"Need somethin', Switch'?" Jazz asked friendly. No point in being rude to the others.
The tailed mech seemed to snap out of his daze, "Uh, yeah. Prowl wants you in his office."
Jazz's processor nearly locked on the spot. Prowl? Prowl wanted him in his office? Now? What the frag? After doing everything in his power to avoid the saboteur, suddenly he wanted to see him in his office… Oh. Jazz came to a realization. It was probably because of a mission. No matter how pissed at him Prowl may be, the Praxian would never hinder a mission. Which meant that they would be alone! Jazz would be able to talk, finally, with the stubborn glitch!
In a hurried frenzy, Jazz quickly tucked the data pads in his subspace and headed towards the office. Surprisingly, he felt someone following him. He looked back and it was Swifttail. He ignored the bot – he probably was headed towards the base commander's office. That is, he believed that, until Switch' missed the turn to head there. Feeling unnerved, Jazz came to a sudden halt (right in front of Prowl's office) and turned, the other bot nearly colliding with him.
"Swifttail," Jazz said calmly.
"Yeah?" The other bot asked nervously.
"Go hack something. Preferably not the officers files, yeah?"
Embarrassed, Swifttail nodded: "Sure, Jazz. Have a… pleasant orn."
Only when he was sure that the tailed bot was far away, did he ping the doorbell. This was it. Prowl wants to calmly talk? Frag no. That time was over. He had his chance and missed it. Now Jazz was pissed.
The door opened and Jazz stomped inside. Prowl was sitting behind his desk as if nothing had happened, the slagger.
"Jazz, sit down, please. You have a mission," Prowl started in his usual work voice.
Jazz would have none of that: "Frag the mission! You and I need to talk."
The tactician frowned, obviously displeased. "Now is not the time. And I suggest you listen, because I will not repeat myself." The Praxian clasped his hand together and placed them over the desk: "The mission is simple."
"The Pit it is!" Jazz kicked the chair aside, no way he would sit! "Would it kill you to simply talk to me? I don't eat mechs, jeez," he said, showing that he was actually offended by Prowl's treatment of him.
Prowl ignored that opening completely: "On the east of the base, a former bunker had been found with extensive tunnel structure." The tactician went on and on.
"Just listen, will ya?!" Jazz raised his voice. He should probably tell Prowl about his little lie, because he was sure that the mech, not matter how socially stunted he was, must have noticed the strange behavior of the crew towards him.
"There were Decepticon sightings in that area."
"Prowl!" Jazz hissed, "I…" He looked away. It was his fault that the rumour mill went so out of control like this. "I may have said some things to the other bots. Things about you."
Prowl's reaction was non-existent: "And there is a chance that they could barricade themselves in there."
Stubborn glitch of a tactician. Resigned, Jazz started a new tactic, "Alright, I get that you are pissed. But you have to understand that I did it for your own good! Can you even grasp what a legend you are now? Okay, I maybe went a little overboard but still… Are you even listening to me?!"
Prowl didn't look at him, just stared ahead and talked. He had never looked more like a drone then now. "Like I said, a simply sabotage mission. Destroy the tunnels."
And just like that time in the morning after in front of Prowl's office, something inside Jazz snapped again. If Prowl didn't give him his attention, than he would force matters.
"Aren't you curios what I told them?" he asked in a more calm voice.
"I have created a plan insuring a success rate of nearly 98%." Just as he expected, Prowl went on with his mission report, solidifying Jazz resolve to do this next.
"It's a shame you don't really remember. But don't worry, I remember for the both of us-" Jazz went on evilly, "Plus, I'm an open bot and shared this with the rest of the crew." He relished in the feeling of satisfaction when Prowl hitched in his report for a second. Jazz wouldn't have resorted to this but he just needed to get Prowl's attention! Why was that so hard?!
"I told them how we fragged each other senseless. Oh yeah, it was the best night of my life." And this wasn't entirely a lie, "Can you even imagine how talented those hands of yours are? Primus, they tweaked just the right wires. Oh, and you're a great kisser, even if you strayed from my mouth, but I wasn't complaining."
Prowl was continuing with his debriefing, but was speaking more quietly. Jazz actually wished Prowl would tell him to shut up, at least if they have a fight, it won't be work related. But the damn mech was just too stubborn.
"But of course you didn't stop there. You really showed your dominant side and let it all out. I should have guessed that beneath your cool plating lies a hot well of energy..." Prowl's wings flicked. "Mech, you used all that energy. Your tongue, down in my parts was something unimaginable. And when you pinned me against that wall and just took me again and again-" It shouldn't bring Jazz so much satisfaction to see Prowl taking up a datapad to hid his trembling hands. "I thought it couldn't get better. But it did. Because we managed to get to your berth, and hello, you're a player there, too. I don't think I could walk without thinking about you for the next orn. "
Prowl's voice and become very quiet and hesitant. Good. There was the attention he had craved.
"Your equipment is nothing to scoff at. Definitely something I dream about. Brought me so much pleasure, that it was already nearly painful... but not that I'm complaining. You made me scream, after all." He smiled and Prowl stared at this desk, silent now, wings fluttering like mad, the rest of his body stiff and frozen.
"I like it when a mech plays rough. You certainly did." Jazz said and crossed his arms, "After all, you did notice the state of your pain job. Best overload of my life. It truly was."
For a moment it was quiet in the office. Very quiet. Then Prowl deeply vented, trying to save his composure.
"That is all. Do you have any questions?" Prowl wouldn't look at Jazz.
Jazz stared at Prowl for a couple of more seconds, the feeling of hurt increasing. Finally, he said annoyed, "That was the best night of my life." That was the truth. He had liked the cuddling more than all previous experiences. Jazz smirked when Prowl gave a barely-there wince, face as mask as if made of steel.
"If you would please leave." Prowl handed him the pad containing the details of the mission for Jazz to review later on his own, "I have much work to do."
Jazz sighed, "I bet you do." Resigned he took the pad. He had lost, no matter what he said Prowl would ignore him... fragging 'tastic. And he still hadn't told him the truth!
Before he left, he placed silently his finished reports on the desk. He didn't hear a word about the mission so it would be best if he focused his mind on it. The last thing he wanted was fragging up on a mission. He'll try to talk with Prowl again after the mission. Hopefully, he wouldn't lose his cool like he had now and Prowl would simply listen.
Mechs can dream, right?
This was Prowl's fastest debriefing ever, Jazz mused as he opened the door to the office and nearly collided with-
"Swifttail?" Who was standing in front of the door along with Skywinder and Kippler. And was that Quickturn peaking around the corner?
"That was fast," Kippler commented.
"Yeah." Jazz looked down at his pad, "He's really busy so we had to make this quick." Prowl usually took a lot more time to debrief Jazz. Not to mention that Jazz usually asked a lot of questions. This time though... Primus. He really could've handled this better.
"Ohhh." The mechs looked at each other uncomfortably.
"Well, maybe next time he'll make it up?" Swifttail offered kindly.
Jazz shook his head with a chuckle, "He better." And he better listen to what Jazz had to say. He had no idea what would happen to the rumor mill in his absence. All he could do was hope there was a base to return to after his mission.
0000
Jazz had gone and Prowl tried to concentrate on his work. But he couldn't forget what Jazz had said, the detailed descriptions... they had not only mortified him, but also made him uncomfortably warm. To imagine that he did that all to Jazz... Primus. He wished he could remember, then maybe it wouldn't feel all so unreal and embarrassing. Then, maybe, he would be handling this better.
But he wasn't remembering. And now it seems that every single bot on base knew more about his night with Jazz than himself. Why? What did he do to deserve this?
After a joor of staring at his datapads, he stood and left his office. It made no sense to pretend to be working any longer. Absently, he hoped that Jazz heard at least some of the things he said, the warnings, the side notes... sure, most things were also on the mission pad, but never before had Jazz heeded out of base that ill prepared. Though, it was an easy mission. Surely, nothing would go wrong, Jazz would come back and then... well, Prowl feared that he still would want to talk.
He turned straight to the rec room and there to the energon dispenser deep in thought. But he never made the way.
"Sir, are you alright?" asked someone.
He stopped and saw Kippler and several other mechs looking concerned. He tried to smile. "Sure. I just need a bit Energon."
Two bots jumped suddenly up and ran to the dispenser. Prowl looked after them a bit startled.
"Of course," Kippler nodded. "Understandable. To manage all the work and to still use that much energy is impressive."
"Yes...?" The two bots returned in what has to be a new record, both with a whole tray of colourful energon cubes.
"Sir," said the left one. "I chose a few sweet one for you."
The other held his tray higher: "Mine are more bitter, but I mixed them fresh. If you would like to try?"
Stunned, Prowl nodded, an automatic reaction dating back to his younglinghood. They seemed happy and before Prowl could think, he had tried the bright yellow one, the green cube, and the standard rosa cube that fizzled a bit. Maybe they needed a neutral tester for the next party?
"They're all... very good," he admitted with a smile.
"Thank you! Then please, try this one! It's receipt his new, created in Iacon and the new must-drink there, I heard."
He tried it. And the next one. And the one after that one. It took a while, until he understood that every single receipt was made with high-grade. They tasted so differently from the normal standard high-grade of his, that he had been fooled at first. Now, he was already a bit tipsy and in no condition to return to work. And after that conversation with Jazz he really deserved a break. So, why not, right? He drank a few more and joined them on their table. It was fun, he admitted. Never before had he been invited and it made him happy, smile a bit more, once even laugh...
When Quickturn – when did he come? - fell against him, he didn't mind. Not even when Quickturn begun cuddling him. It was so nice to be here, part of the group, just forgetting... certain saboteurs. Sadly, a few others on the table thought differently.
"So..." said Kibbler then. "I heard Jazz and you are... friends?"
"Yes." Prowl sighed. Feeling the worry and shame returning. "I like him. He's a good bot, just a bit..." He made a handwave not even knowing what he meant, but it seems no one cared. "But skilled at what he does," he added then, thinking about the mission, how has risked his life so often and always returned.
"You're quite skilled yourself, I've heard," said another bot with a grin.
Prowl shrugged, a bit uncertain. Compliments were nothing he received often. "There is always someone better than you."
"Not on this base though...?" asked Quickturn.
Prowl had to chuckle. "No, not on this base." He was the only tactician on base.
"Prowl!" The one sharp word cut through the rec room, letting the merry atmosphere die a very abrupt death. The tactician flinched and turned, and there in the doorway was standing his base commander, looking very much annoyed. "Come with me!"
Prowl wanted to melt into his seat. He had been caught drinking, drunk(!) in the rec room during his official shift time. Sure, normally nothing should happen and he nearly had no work left, but what kind of example was he setting? Had Jazz really rattled him this much? This would be at least a warning, maybe even brig time... he could forget his career.
With a heavy spark, he carefully pushed Quickturn off him and stood. Maybe it was even worse and an emergency had happened and the base's only tactician was drunk? Jazz... please, Primus, don't let this happened.
He followed his commander to his office, in heavy guilty silence. When they entered, commander Streetbump closed the doors behind them and then turned without offering a seat to his subordinate:
"Prowl, you should know that I'm happy to see you showing an interest in the crew." Streetbump sighed. "But I'm not sure that this is the right way."
The tactician stared at his pedes. "Sorry, sir."
The commander sighed. "It's not that bad. Just comm me the next time, right? I can't even punish you, or Patch would have my helmet. He's trying to get you to loosen up for vorns now."
Prowl relaxed a it. No punishment? Seemed as if he needed to thank Patch. "Really?"
Streetbump gave him an unamused look. "Yes, really. I heard you're legendary among the medics in your workaholic ways."
Prowl could only stand there and blink. The enjoyable buzz in his processor prevented any good answer, and so, after a few astroseconds, he only nodded. It was true, the medics had been pestering him about a vacation for a long time now.
Streetbump smiled a bit. "But that's not really the reason, why I called you out of the rec room." He frowned. "I'm aware that you are skilled in this area, but were you really comfortable among these mechs?"
Prowl stared. Maybe it was the high-grade that didn't let him understand this sentence? "Maybe...?"
"Maybe isn't a yes, Prowl." Streetbump laid a hand onto his shoulder. "Should they give you ever trouble, or try to force anything, I want you to be aware that you can call me at anytime, Prowl. As a friend and as your commander."
Prowl looked into the worried optics and really got the feeling that he had missed something. "I will," he promised.
Streetbump relaxed visibly. "Good. So your punishment for getting drunk is confinement in your quarters until the next shift, got that?"
"So, I'm grounded?" Prowl had to smile.
"If you want to call it that. Now go." Streetbump opened the door. "And no more high-grade! And no berth-entertainment!"
"Understood, sir."
Prowl stepped outside and walked back to his quarter. Before it, he met Kibbler who looked a bit guilty.
"Are you punished, sir? We never wanted to get you into trouble..."
"Not heavily so," answered Prowl while he entered his code. "But I'm confined alone in my quarters until next shift."
"Oh." Kippler seemed disappointed. "So, maybe next time?"
Prowl nodded. "Maybe. I wish you a good orn."
His quarters were silent, such a contrast to the loud rec room. Only now did he really register his unsteady walk, his slurred speech, the slow thoughts. As he sat down on his berth, he thought back to Jazz, to Kippler, to Streetbump... they had all been so strange. As if...
And suddenly, there was a thought. Jazz had told 'everyone' they had 'fragged'. That Prowl had been good... and all those talks, double meanings...
Oh. Primus.
Prowl's processor stalled. So Kibbler... and Quickturn... and Swifttail's hack... Patch's strange questioning... and the party in the rec room just now and Streetbump... they all...
No.
Impossible. But true.
His circuits burned as they tried to find the sense, the logic in it – to no avail.
Primus.
They all thought... they all wanted...
Him.
Prowl crashed with a horrified whimper.
So, Prowl finally realised what is going on. Of course, that this will actually *help* is more than doubtful... *hugs Prowl* Worse is to come, my dear.