Managed to get this chapter up earlier than expected. Chapter 14 is out of the writing phase and ready for typing, so hopefully it will be ready for posting next week or earlier.

Warnings: unusual relationship opinions generated by past trauma. Smexy Prowl; oozy Jazz, etc. The PxJ fans should be pleased.

Enjoy!

Chapter 13:

Lord Goldbug, Sovreign of the Underrealm, Supreme Emperor of all Minibots, was nowhere to be found. The conference was to have begun almost twenty kliks ago, but the precisely punctual king had disappeared. Bumblebee began to fidget worriedly and exchange glances with his carrier, this was all most unnerving, a comm from Goldbug nineteen kliks ago had arrived stating he had been delayed. The mecha were becoming impatient and the prince wondered how long they could delay. A few more kliks perhaps, then Hornet would need to take over as representative helm of state.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Optimus sighed in relief as he signed and set aside the last of the orn's datawork. The influx of minibot refugees had doubled his workload and he looked forward to a nice quiet cube of highgrade and a good bookfile before he turned in for the dark-cycle. He stretched up to loosen tense cables and unkink his back struts. As he slumped down he noticed a light blinking on his desk comm indicating he had recorded message. Optimus depressed the key and listened.

Oh Primus below…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Red Alert ignored the increasingly irate screaming emanating from the call block as he checked the extra forcefield he was raising to keep the imposter king-cum-assassin from escaping. Pure blue sparks lit the air around his horns as his glitch extrapolated all the ways the minibot could slay them in their recharge. The security director soothed himself that the first step to re-securing Iacon base had been completed successfully with the imprisonment of the imposter.

Red Alert exited the main cell block and moved to the console to reinforce the lock encryption with a rotating code devised by Ops for the express purpose of containing an infiltrator. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the console, Optimus Prime and General Prowl swept around the corner into the room. The Prime's vents were puffing and Prowl's optics were overbright. Their laser focus swept the anterior chamber of the brig and landed with intensity on the security director who immediately began to panic.

"Prime! You can't be here! What if the assassin escapes?! There will be no time for you to escape! Quickly, you must leave now! Until we put the prisoner in punitive status you are not permitted below level twelve and you are to be escorted by no less than three guards when you are outside your office or quarters. Ironhide will need to be assigned to you permanently, which means adding a second berth to the antechamber of your quarters…"

Red Alert trailed off as Optimus held up a staying servo. "Red Alert, while I appreciate and applaud your dedication to the safety of both myself and the Autobots, this mech is not an assassin."

"But Prime!" Red began to protest, but yet again Optimus waved himself to silence.

"No Red Alert, this mech has already been tested for legitimacy by Special Operations, Medical, and your own Security Department. This mech is Lord Goldbug and you must let him out before you cause an irreparable diplomatic incident."

The sparks between Red's horns flared for a long moment, but even the glitch could not argue with that sort of background check, especially since the protocols for such vetting had become most stringent in the wake of the spy ring infiltration two vorns ago. That did not mean he was not going to grumble about dire possibilities even as he complied.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hornet stood gracefully from his seat on the hanger overlook and moved to the railing to quiet his much beloved subjects. Despite their personal distraction they quieted swiftly at the sight of their Royal Consort.

"My dear denizens of the exalted Underrealm, in this dark time we must be thankful for all that remains to us. We have been exceedingly favorable in the optics of Primus, for he saw fit to plan ahead and send our Prince the desire to go forth in the service of our Prime that the Prime might have favor toward us in our time of need. Now, however, that time is at an end and our Prince is coming home."

As the crowd roared their approval the door to the overlook opened and Goldbug strolled in. To those closest to him he looked positively tempestuous, but his regality was wrapped around him like a masking cloak the crowd would certainly not see through. Bumblebee cringed at having to say what was necessary when his sire was already so upset, but there was no other way.

Lord Goldbug joined his conjunx at the railing and wrapped an arm around Hornet affectionately. "My resplendent Consort is correct. I will be relinquishing my title as Reigning Lord and assuming a new role as Advisor Regent. Please, my citizens, join me in welcoming our new Reigning Lord, Prince Bumblebee, King Apparent."

This was not what they had discussed, Bumblebee fumed. Then he paused mentally, this development would make things much easier. He came parallel to genitors and looked down over their few remaining mecha. Most of those present were younglings and elderly as the able-chassised had stayed behind to hold back the invading Decepticon forces. The former group would not remember their prince as anything but a name, while the latter group would remember precisely why their prince had left and did not return. Both demographics would be aware of how of the Captain of the Royal Guard stepped in to fill the gap.

Bumblebee bowed low to his sire, then addressed the minibots. "Citizens of the beleaguered Underrealm, it is with deepest gratitude that I accept the honor of becoming your king."

The crowd roared.

Bumblebee raised his servos genially for silence. "Like my sire, the great and wise King Goldbug, I swear to uphold the needs of the many over my own personal desires and always do that which is best for those in my care."

Again the crowd lit up like fireworks.

"As my first act as king I appoint General Thorn, Captain of the Royal Guard, as my heir apparent and proxy."

The mecha cheered and Goldbug nodded his approval; it was always wise to plan for the worst and hope for the best.

"My second act as King is to abdicate the throne and leave you in the more capable servos of my chosen brother, Thorn."

Pandemonium broke loose as the crowd expressed mixed opinions of his announcement. However, it was done now and the assembly would just have to get used to it because Bumblebee was not redacting his statement. The former prince bowed to a purple faceplated Goldbug and his sobbing carrier.

"Forgive me my sire, my dear carrier," he intoned lowly. "My place is with my Prime and I cannot leave his service until I feel my duty is fulfilled. I will miss you both, but I know you will be safe in the outer reaches of space. Fare thee well."

The crowd had silenced itself by this point and heard the poignant goodbye. This, more than the long absence of their prince, moved them to accept his decision of abdication. The former prince turned to exit, but was stopped when his sire finally found his vocalizer. "If you walk out that door and do not fulfill your duty I will disown you and you will be banished forever from the territories of the minibots!"

The crowd was riveted to the unfolding drama. Bumblebee turned to face his sire. "I love you very much my sire and I always have strived to follow your teachings, the first of which was 'honor your oaths'. I gave my oath to the Prime not to leave his service until the war ended or the Well called for me. I would bring dishonor upon myself, my house, and you my sire to break that promise. If you cannot understand this tenant of functioning, which you yourself instilled into me, then I accept your conditions of leaving."

And Bumblebee walked out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Prowl entered his domicile to dim, peaceful lighting and delicious smells.

"Smokey, are we celebrating something tonight?"

There was no answer.

The black and white walked into the kitchen to find a veritable feast laid out. There was only one place setting at the table and most of the dishes were his favorites. Before he got himself too excited over the possibilities, Prowl commed his brother.

-:- Smokescreen, did you prepare the dark-cycle meal? -:-

-:- No? Should I have? -:-

Prowl hesitated before sending his reply. -:- I think Jazz might have said yes! -:-

There was a large pause as Smokescreen waited for more information, but none was forthcoming. -:- Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out. -:-

It was only an internal comm call, but Smokescreen swore he could hear his brother's systems seizing. He snickered. -:- Good luck brother dearest, remember you brought this upon yourself. -:-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

In the lowest level of the base in the farthest corner, a thin band of blue lit up to scan its owner's environment. Pressed precariously against the ceiling, limbs splayed at odd angles to hold him up, Jazz was practicing his infiltration techniques.

The saboteur heard movement down the hall and extinguished his visor again. A moment later a red and blue Praxian stalked past and continued down the hall, doorwings swaying gently as they scanned for their bearer's prey.

Thus the reason Jazz was hid… stealth training.

The temporarily all black saboteur waited until the motion sensitive mech had turned the next corner, counted to fifteen for good measure, then dropped silently to the ground and dashed away on silent peds. He headed straight for the nearest lift in the hope of putting at least a few levels between them before Smokescreen realized he had changed locations. Jazz pressed the button for the lift and looked around frantically, knowing for certain that the Praxian could show up any klik. He could not help his terror, who could when being commed with dire threats of what would happen when the caller caught his victim.

Said comm had come just as he finished setting out the last prepared dish, and Jazz had been running ever since.

The lift pinged softly as it arrived and Jazz grimaced at the tell-tale sound. When the lift doors opened he was brought to the terrifying realization that all his sneaking had been for naught.

"Hello Jazz."

Jazz's jaw dropped. "Whu'…, bu' how?!"

Smokescreen smirked and motioned the caught saboteur into the lift. "Well, it seems that our dear Security Director has been dabbling in hologram technology under Hound's consultation. Apparently it has many interesting uses in the security world. Since Red Alert has become one of Prowl's few, but dear, friends, he was only two happy to help me catch the mech toying with my brother's spark."

"Whoa, whoa," Jazz exclaimed, raising his servos in a defensive motion. "Ya knew n' ya approved o' mah intentions ta court ya brutha, n' ya kno' Ah'm serious 'bout him so wha's tha deal!"

Smokescreen frowned imperiously and folded his arms. "That was before Prowl offered a bonding courtship to you."

Now Jazz was truly angry. "So, what?! Ah'm good enough fo' a romantic fling, bu' not a serious commitment?!"

"That's not it at all." Smokescreen replied soothingly. "I think you'll be good for my brother either way, but since he decided to get serious, my role in all this has shifted from helpful friend to protective brother."

And the truth dawned upon Jazz. "WAIT, 's this a shovel talk?"

Smokescreen's grin was positively evil. "Of course not Jazz. This is simply a friendly reminder that, while I might not be Special Operations, I have been a gambler for a very long time and I have a long list of favors, debts owed, and wires I can pull should the need arise… if you catch my drift?"

The king of swerve, the master of enemy manipulation, whimpered pathetically and floundered for words.

-:- Jazz, sorry to trouble you so late in the dark-cycle, but it appears that some mech has bestowed the kindness of a home cooked meal upon me. There is far too much for me to eat by myself and I wondered if you might be interested in joining me. -:-

Saved by the comm!

Jazz flipped upward to cling to the ceiling and kicked out the maintenance hatch. He slithered through before Smokescreen could do more than exclaim and called back to the indignant mech. "Sorreh Smokey, Ah gotta hot date wit' mah Prowler n' Ah can' be late."

Smokescreen leapt upward and snagged the lip of the opening with a servo. There was no way Jazz was going to run out on this discussion, especially with how flippantly he was behaving. The Praxian swung his other arm up to have his chassis into the lift shaft, but just as his helm started to breach the opening Jazz popped back into sight.

"N' fo' tha record Smokey, Ah love Prowl wit' everythin' Ah am n' there ain' nothin' tha' Ah wouldn' do ta make him happy, includin' removin' mahself from his life permanentleh if tha's wha' it takes."

Smokescreen lowered himself back into the lift as Jazz disappeared again and smiled with satisfaction. His duty to ensure his brother's eternal happiness was fulfilled… for the moment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-:- On mah way Prowler! -:-

Prowl smiled as he received the enthusiastic affirmative. Normally, the tactician would have protested the nickname, but circumstances had changed, allowing him to enjoy the affectionate name for its intended purpose. According to Praxian customs only one's family or bonded could call them by a familiar name and of all the secret romantic dreams Prowl had lost, this one had never been broken or fulfilled. It had shocked him to be addressed so by a mech who he barely knew but as their friendship grew and deepened it became a guilty pleasure. Prowl always made sure to do the proper thing and correct the nickname, but every time he wished for the Polyhexian to never stop. It was this wish that had first alerted Prowl to the state of his growing affections for his best friend, however, denial had been the safer path. Prowl was supremely happy to have fulfilled that tradition, despite smudging the lines of precisely when it could be considered acceptable for Jazz to be allowed familiarity.

Prowl knew that his strict adherence to old traditions was probably confusing to his peers, especially considering how most Praxians had moved away from such things and closer to the Iaconian free-love standard. He himself had reveled in such freedom once upon a time, but had soon learned the consequences of such indiscretion when he met Sentinel. Primus had mercy upon him even then, and seen fit to rescue him with the advent of the True Prime. During Prowl's healing he had come to the conclusion that had he held to the Praxian tenant of not interfacing before bonding he would have had the opportunity to see Sentinel for who the mech really was.

Especially considering that Prowl could list several warning signs in retrospect that he would have noticed if the relationship had not moved so fast. When Prowl considered his burgeoning relationship with Jazz he could not find any such detrimental markers. Prowl was ever vigilant to pay attention; he would not be trapped in another abusive relationship. This time however, his spark was at peace with Jazz, if one could call joyous whirling and pleased fluttering peaceful.

The doorchime rang.

Prowl looked at the door with trepidation as doubts arose. What if Jazz had not prepared the meal? What if Jazz thought this was just another act of friendship?

Prowl stilled his twitching doorwings and took a deep intake. Either way, he would get through this.

He opened the door. Any doubts he might have had evaporated when he laid optics on the excitedly wriggling Polyhexian on his doorstep. Prowl smiled softly.

"Jazz, please, come in."

Jazz sidestepped into the living room and had to strangle himself practically to keep from throwing in any more dance moves. He was just so excited to finally have a date with this wonderful mech. It did not help that Prowl was genuinely smiling at him. It was a good thing Prowl did not smile at him like that during working joors or he would totally be a worthless puddle of smitten Jazz.

It got worse when Prowl fluttered his wings at him. Jazz was so wrapped up in finally living his dream that he almost missed the Praxian directing him to the table. Jazz oozed into his seat and smiled dreamily at the black and white. The first bite of ultra acidic energon brought him hastily back to reality.

Prowl was feeling quite flattered by Jazz's smitten behavior and wondering how he had never noticed it happening before. He served up two portions of the main course and its sidedishes then took the first bite as tradition dictated the prathama should. Prowl shuttered his optics in bliss, oh it was delightfully tasty. The perfect blend of bitter acids and the spicy aftertaste was divine. Prowl opened his optics to compliment Jazz on his excellent cooking, but was met with a coughing, sputtering pile of miserable Polyhexian. He could not help smirking a bit at Jazz's plight, but was kind enough to cover his mouth. Jazz glared at him for enjoying the situation, but it was short-lived due to his attempt to swallow. When Jazz's helm hit the table Prowl decided to take mercy upon his potential prebonded. He arose and pulled a bottle from a cabinet. Prowl drew up a dropper from it and dripped it liberally on Jazz's energon.

"Try it now." He said gently.

Jazz looked up at him skeptically, but dutifully ate another mouthful. He could feel Prowl's optics on him, waiting for a verdict. Jazz swallowed. While the energon was still spicy, it was no longer acidic which made it much more palatable than Jazz anticipated. Jazz looked up at Prowl incredulously. "Wow Prowler, wha' is tha' stuff!"

There was a tiny smirk flirting with the corner of Prowl's mouth and Jazz felt the sudden need to lick it off.

"That, dear Jazz, is extract of lacewing crystal. It is a very expensive food additive. Smokescreen and our carrier held a deep dislike for acidic foods just as you seem to. Our sire and I were the exact opposite. It was a compromise my sire negotiated long and hard for that he might have his favorite meals at least occasionally."

Jazz swallowed nervously. "Um, won' Smokey be mad tha' ya wastin' such a 'spensive commodity on meh?"

"Nonsense." Prowl rebutted. "You are worth far more than a mere bottle of lacewing. Besides, since the crystal gardens of Praxus now lie in ruin, we hold the market monopoly on lacewing, all thanks to your precious find during the search. Smokescreen has stated several times how much he owes you for that."

Prowl's vocalizer hitched as he spoke of his lost home and Jazz put a comforting servo on his arm. "Thanks Prowler."

Prowl's wings fluttered at the endearment and he stroked a servo over his potential intended's helm. "You are most welcome. Is the food palatable now?"

Jazz could recognize an attempt to change a painful subject. "Yeah, we ate ah'lotta spiceh food in Polyhex, bu' it was always on tha sweet side."

"Sweet and spicy?" Prowl puzzled. "that does sound like an interesting deviation. If you are so inclined to cook again, I would greatly enjoy tasting such cuisine."

Jazz's smile lit up the room. That was an invitation for a second date. "Sure Prowler, Ah'd like tha'."

After that their meal went well; the ice having successfully been broken. Jazz found that he could converse normally with the object of his affections now that the novelty of being able to openly express his attraction was wearing down a bit. By the end of the meal touches and implied suggestions Prowl had not given any indications that courtship would be commencing. He finally got up the courage to ask as Prowl escorted him to the door.

"Uh, Prowler, Ah don' wanna pressure ya 're nothin', but Ah need'a clear answer here…" Jazz trailed off, not knowing how to phrase what he needed to say.

Fortunately, Prowl showed rare intuitiveness and realized what Jazz was trying to get out. He reached down and grasped the Polyhexian's servo, bringing it to his lipplates for a gentle kiss. "My dearest Jazz, it is my honor to court you and I can never express how grateful I am that you would grant me this chance to deepen our relationship."

Jazz melted into the doorframe, as his legs could no longer hold him up.

"Sure! No problem Prowler." He replied weakly.

Prowl smirked sexily and bid him good dark-cycle.

It would be quite a while before Jazz was able to move.

Every1's Beta: More sneaky 'Bee for you in this chapter, hope you liked it! I didn't want an immediate confrontation between Jazz and Blue, but I realized that they had never really met either, thus the 'calm encounter'. Bluestreak has automatically associated Autobot with safety and trustworthy too, which helps him when confronted with a 'stranger', he looks for the red face first (and I am just now realizing that I should have put that in somewhere, well, next time maybe). Blue's shovel talk with Jazz is coming, it just needs the perfect setup.