Elita-One's team were due to arrive the next day so Jazz was busy in the rec-room strumming up hype for his Welcome to the Ark/Bumblebee's very belated Sparkday Party tomorrow night. Thankfully he wasn't finding it too hard a task. It had been long time since they'd had such a large group of mostly new bots on board and people were eager for the chance to meet potential new dance partners.

Plus after the unease of the last few weeks with the attack on the Ark, Bumblebee's kidnapping and one of their own betraying them, the Autobots were in need of an excuse to bring up their spirits.

Jazz effortlessly glided between the tables, bobbing in and out of conversations like a mermech of the rust sea. Until there was only one table left.

Nestled into the booth in the corner, Jazz spotted Mirage and Hound. Although it was almost hard to tell the two apart with how close they were sitting together.

Jazz sauntered over, sliding into the seat across from them.

"I trust I'll see you two at the party tomorrow?" Jazz asked, leaning over the table to be heard over all the chatter.

"You won't see me." Mirage replied, meaning that as per usual he was going to spend most of it standing invisible in a corner.

A year ago, Jazz would've teased him into agreeing to one dance. But he caught himself before he could. He was Mirage's boss now. It wouldn't be appropriate.

Luckily, Hound beat him to it.

"And miss a chance to show off all those Tower's dance lessons you told me about?" The scout said, somehow leaning in even closer, glancing up at Mirage with earnest green eyes. "Come on, do it for me?"

Mirage sighed.

"I'll do one dance. But it needs a partner so I'll have to teach you how to do it to."

"You say that like that's a bad thing." Hound grinned.

Jazz watched the entire interaction as though he was looking at a holo-screen. Despite the pair sitting right in front of him, it felt as though they were on the other side of the planet.

He glanced up at the dull reflection in the ceiling above them. Sure enough his suspicions were confirmed when under the table, he spotted their hidden intertwined hands.

Something in Jazz's spark broke.

He was happy for them. Truly he was. He'd seen sparks flying between the pair ever since their first meeting. He'd always known it was simply a matter of time.

But he should have known about it. He should've been the first to know. Mirage was his best friend. He'd been teasing the spy about his crush for years now.

Although, now that Jazz thought about it, he had no idea when Mirage would've had the time to tell him. He couldn't remember the last time that the two of them had talked about something other than a mission.

Suddenly Jazz couldn't bare the sight of them.

"Well I can't to see your performance!" He said, bidding them goodbye with a smile.

Mirage was too engrossed with his new lover to notice that it wasn't real.

Jazz breezed through the crowds, invisible in ways Mirage never could. He didn't allow his persona to drop until he heard the blast doors close behind him.

Jazz did not lie to himself. He knew that he was jealous. Not in the way that most people would think. There had never been any romance between him and Mirage. But that didn't mean that he didn't love him. And that it didn't hurt to finally accept that because of Jazz's new rank, their relationship would never be what it once was.

Without realising it, Jazz found that his pedes had taken him to Prowl's door.

If the head tactician was surprised to see him at the late hour, then he didn't show it. Instead he simply stepped out of the way, allowing Jazz to head inside. Prowl didn't need to be a tactical genius to determine why Jazz was at his door.

Like all the other habsuites in the Ark there wasn't much room, so Jazz sat on the edge of the berth.

After searching for something in the desk draw, Prowl sat besides him.

He handed Jazz a glass of high grade. The good kind that is actually suppose to taste nice instead of cheap shit that just gets you drunk.

Jazz downed it in one. It was beautiful in its smooth elegance. Much like the mech who had given it to him.

Jazz put the empty cube aside and placed his palm on Prowl's arm, avoiding those concerned blue optics as he traced the old scar buried under lays of polished paint.

"What do you need?" Prowl asked.

"I don't want to feel alone." He confessed.

Allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of another mech kissing him, surrounding him, being inside of him, Jazz could almost convince himself that he didn't.


A/N: Unfortunately Transformers One isn't out in the UK until October 11th so I haven't seen it yet so no spoilers in the comments please! Xxxxxxx