Prowl had spent most of his allotted sleep time re-reading the autobot code to see if there was a way to legally remove Jazz from his position.
Unfortunately short of treason, there was no way to remove a head of command without input from the others and as they were fighting to uphold democracy, Prowl had to concede to the votes of his peers, even if he disagreed with them.
Ultimately all his late night research had resulted in was a four hour recharge cycle. Which was even less than the six hours he usually allotted for himself which he had previously calculated to be the minimum amount of sleep needed so that he could ensure that he was using as much time as possible to attend to his duties. And now his functionality was below optimum usage which in turn had increased his stress levels, as his battle computer helpfully informed him.
Despite the late night, he was still able to arrive fifteen minutes early to the fortnightly command meeting.
For once he was not the first person there, as sitting in what was usually his chair with their pedes up on the oval table was the source of all Prowl's current problems.
"Good morning Commander!" Jazz cried with a wave.
Prowl didn't have the patience hold back a cringe at the loud audio volume.
"That is my seat." He told him.
"Sorry mech, didn't know we had assigned seating." Jazz said, although Prowl's processor was willing to bet that it was no coincidence that the spy had chosen that seat, if the times he had previously happened to coincidently be busking outside his old station whenever he was on duty were anything to go by. Which they were.
"Here ya are." Jazz said, graciously getting off the chair and offering it to him with a bow.
Prowl had learnt more than he would have cared to know about pranks from the twins to fall for that.
"Whilst do not have assigned seating, normally I would sit there. However, today I have decided to sit here instead." Prowl said, pointed sitting in the chair next to him.
If Jazz had been about to protest, it was cut off as the rest of high command started to arrive. The spy quickly started up a conversation with Ironhide and within a minute, the gruff old veteran was laughing along with whatever tales Jazz was spinning like they were old friends.
Prowl watched as Red Alert skittered around the pair and scanned their usual seat for explosives before sitting down, one optic trained on Jazz. Prowl was glad that at least not all of high command had fallen for his charm.
Thankfully it wasn't long before Optimus arrived by which point everyone had settled down.
Optimus blinked when his optics landed on Prowl. Prowl felt a twinge of guilt as he just released that he was sat where the Prime would often sit, even though he knew that Optimus would not be upset by it.
Instead Optimus' optics moved from Jazz to Prowl. For some reason that his processor, hadn't quite worked out the meaning of yet, Optimus was wearing a similar tired look to when Bumblebee had decided to pick a fight with some of the older mechs for no reason.
For the most part the meeting carried on as normal. It was their monthly briefing with the rest of command at the MacCadam's base so Elita-One, Ultra Magnus and Chromia joined them via holo-call. Prowl's mood was not improved by Chromia and Ironhide spending most of the meeting blatantly flirting even though he should have expected it by now.
By the end of it, not much had changed and nothing new had been learnt. Megatron was still a threat and Elita-One didn't have anything new to report. The only thing that had changed was the pain behind Prowl's processor which had gotten even worse.
He headed straight for his office when the meeting was over, not wanting to indulge in pointless small talk that he knew the others, especially Jazz would try to force him into.
However, when he got there, he found a package waiting on his desk. Once again, having learnt from previous experiences with the twins, Prowl was not going to entertain the idea of opening that.
He also made a mental reminder to book a meeting with Red-Alert to re-evaluate his office security as he put the package in his draw to be tested by Wheeljack later.
Prowl had barely opened the morning reports when there was a knock on his door. He had no meetings scheduled and if it was an emergency then someone would've hailed him over his internal comms by now.
His processor ache worsened tenfold when he opened the door to find Jazz standing behind it.
"Hey Prowler did you like your present?"
"I haven't opened it." Prowl stated.
"Saving it for a reward for when you finish all your paperwork eh?"
Prowl had no plans on ever opening that present but he did not mention that as Jazz continued.
"Anyway, I was just passing by on my way to the rec for mid-day rations if you wanted to join me?"
Prowl knew that his office was not on the way back from the rec room as he deliberately selected it to be as far away as possible. But again, he decided not to mention that.
"Sideswipe brings me my rations as part of his current punishment detail." Prowl also didn't mention that by the time the Lamborghini was done chatting the audio receptors off everyone, it was usually half spilled and lukewarm but it was preferable to being in the rec room where the constant bombardment of noise irritated his battle computer and nobody wanted him there anyway.
"No worries! Maybe some other time then?"
"Maybe." Prowl replied, shutting the door before he could be roped into agreeing to a specific time.
Frustrated Prowl tried to finish his reports, but thanks his processor ache he kept falling further and further behind schedule. Until there was another knock at his door.
As Sideswipe was not due for another hour, Prowl ignored the request for entry, his processor having already provided a 87% chance of who was most likely at his door and carried on with his reports.
A few moments later, despite being locked, the door beeped open.
Prowl startled as the black and white form of Jazz strolled into the room.
"So I thought, I would save Sideswipe the trouble of getting your rations. Plus I added something a little special." Jazz said, winking at the unnaturally purple liquid that had been adorned with decorative rust flakes.
"I do not drink high-grade during office hours." The and neither should you went unsaid. Besides, the texture of sprinkles irritated his intake port.
"Your loss Babe." Jazz shrugged.
"Babe?!" Prowl exclaimed incredulously.
"Yeah mech, everyone is either a bot or a babe and you tall, pale and serious are definitely a babe."
Prowl bristled as Jazz's optics roamed his plating.
"If you drink that in front of me, I'll report you." Prowl stated, having to hold himself back from flipping his table out of the way and shoving the spy out himself.
Jazz took the hint, sauntering back out, raising the glass to his lips just as the door closed.
Prowl commed Red-Alert an order for new security codes.
Sideswipe came and went with his mid-day and evening rations and Prowl finally felt his fuel pressure return to near acceptable levels as he worked through his meal breaks to catch up.
Then there was a beep at his door as despite having got new codes, it slid open.
Prowl's fault pressure skyrocketed as Jazz once again waltzed in, this time with an electro-bass in his hands.
"Aww you just missed one pit of an impromptu party!" Jazz cried. "And since you missed our little shindig in the rec, I thought we could have our own private party here instead!"
Jazz had barely started strumming when Prowl marched out from behind his desk. Yanking the instrument from his hands.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Prowl yelled, throwing the base across the room.
A flash of emotion slashed across Jazz; faceplate as it crashed into the wall. It was too fast for Prowl's processor to recognise it, but if he hadn't been designed to look for the details that most bots missed, he probably would not have seen it at all.
Prowl watched Jazz approached the electro-base. The spy knelt beside it, cradling the instrument in his arms like a wounded animal. With his head bowed, his expression was hidden from Prowl's view.
Prowl didn't know much about instruments but to him it looked as though one of the strings had broken. But what he did know was that on their barren wasteland of a planet the probability of them finding a replacement was near to zero.
Before Prowl could even think about what to say, Jazz left without even looking him in the eye.
Feeling himself slip into autopilot, unsure what else to do, Prowl returned to his paperwork, failing to force his brain to focus on his work in an attempt to not analyse the impending guilt.
A/N: So yeah sorry this might end up more of a slow burn then I initially intended... Xxxxxx