Prowl slowly came back online. For a moment, he was confused as to why the usual white of his ceiling was now grey.

Then something shifted besides him and Prowl turned his head to see Jazz's head resting in the crook of his arm.

Suddenly the memories of last night came flooding back to him and the concept of the Autobot Head Spy being asleep in arms actually made sense.

Prowl realised that he had never actually seen Jazz asleep before. Previously Prowl had always fallen asleep first to find his fellow commander gone by the time he woke up.

But now Jazz was nestled into his side, a small smile on his face as his body rose and fell with soft intake of his vents. It was the first time Prowl had ever seen him look at peace.

Prowl managed to save the sight to his memory banks before the previously dim light of Jazz's visor blinked blue as his eyes presumably opened.

Jazz froze. His visor glitches white, apparently as surprised as Prowl to find that he was still here.

For a second Prowl thought the spy was going to bolt. Then a grin graced a his face.

"G'morning beautiful."

People had called Prowl many things over the years; a drone, a stuck up prude and an arsehole. However nobody had ever called him beautiful before. Prowl knew he must have been blushing like a inexperienced sparkling, but there was little he could do to stop it. Especially when Jazz stroked his servo down the side of his burning cheek.

Jazz shifted and Prowl's face flushed even brighter as he thought the spy was going to lean down to kiss him. Then he got out the berth instead.

Prowl felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. The past three instances confirmed that Jazz did not stick around. He should not have expected a different outcome.

He watched as Jazz searched through the draw across the room, waiting for him to find whatever he was looking for before he left. Eventually the spy picked out a bottle of energon, home brewed but thankfully not high grade otherwise Prowl would have to report him for day drinking. Jazz strolled back across the room, but instead of heading out his door, he crawled back into bed.

"You're staying?" Prowl asked, bewildered.

"Well this is my room." Jazz shrugged, holding out the bottle.

Functioning on instinct, Prowl took a sip. It was stronger than he personally preferred and silk smooth the way he knew Jazz liked it. Not sure how to process the unexpected outcome of Jazz actually sticking around, Prowl's eyes wondered around the habsuite. The last time that he had been in here he'd been a bit preoccupied trying to stay alive so he hadn't had the chance to look at it properly.

It was far more sparse than Prowl had imagined. Aside from the electro-base resting in the corner, it was practically empty.

Jazz must've noticed his eyes focusing on the base as after he'd had his turn to drink, he picked it up. Lying back down on the berth, Jazz idly strummed on the strings. Despite appearing to be plucking them at random, Prowl found the melody to be soothingly pleasant to his audials. Prowl knew nothing about music but even he could recognise that Jazz had a natural talent. He couldn't help but wonder what life Jazz could have lived with that talent if not for the war.

"Did you want to be a musician?" Prowl asked.

Jazz snorted.

"Everyone assumes that. Not that I can blame them. And if before everything went to shit if someone had offered me a recording contract I wouldn't have said no." Jazz paused his plucking, stroking a hand along the smooth metal of the instrument's neck. "Actually I wanted to be an actor. So I could be anyone but myself." Prowl watched as his grip around the instrument tightened. Personally, Prowl didn't think that Jazz was such a bad person to be. "I would be famous. And everyone would love me for it." He loosened it again as he let out another snort. "I suppose I did get get my dream in a way. Except instead of dodging paparazzi I'm dodging Deception blaster fire."

Jazz turned his gaze to Prowl. Even after everything Prowl had a hard time deciphering the look beneath his visor.

"What about you then? Why did you become a cop?"

Prowl could tell Jazz that he did it because he wanted to help people. That was the answer he usually gave. And it wasn't a lie. He did want to help others. But…

"I was born with a battle computer embedded within my processor." Prowl said, unconsciousness bringing a servo to the side of his head. He could feel the buzz of the bytes of the computer continuously firing under his skin. "Every day for as long I can remember it would run and run and run different scenarios over and over and over again about anything and everything that had ever happened." He scratched the side of his head, digging for an itch that never went away. "I thought joining the police force would at least put it to good use; to protect lives and keep it's endless outcomes occupied. And the enrichment of scenarios did stop my mind from breaking." Prowl brought his other hand up to his wrist, forcing his servo back down and once again fighting against the urge to rip out his own brain. "But no matter how many different options I would propose on how to fix our system to fulfil its purpose of keeping people safe. Those higher up never cared to implement any of them. Because they never cared about helping anyone in the first place."

That was why it hurt so much when people said he didn't care. Because for the longest time, he was the only one who did.

Even now, he couldn't stop running simulations on how many lives he could have saved if only those in charge had listened.

"You ever thought what you could be without thinking it through your battle computer first?" Jazz asked.

"I can't."

"Really? You never thought about being a musician?"

It was Prowl's turn to snort.

"Even if it was not for this," Prowl tapped his head. "I do not think I would have made a good musician."

"How wouldya know if you never tried? Here!"

Before Prowl could protest, Jazz had placed the base into his lap and Prowl quickly became preoccupied with not damaging it again. So much so that he didn't notice Jazz was now kneeling behind him until he felt the now familiar weight of his arms surrounding him.

Jazz's hands cradled his, moving one hand to the neck of the base whilst the other was held against the strings. Jazz placed his fingers until they mirrored his, and moved them against the strings. They made a simple strumming sound.

"Now you try." Jazz smiled.

Prowl moved his fingers on his own. Once again the strings strummed with sound. He did it again. It was the same outcome. Next time he did it slower, the sound instead coming out soft. He tried and changed and strummed, making as many different sounds as he could.

Prowl had no idea if any it was any good. But in the end it didn't really matter. Music had no logical purpose to it. It couldn't be programmed into a weapon or change the outcome of a battle. It wasn't designed to do anything physical. It was made to evoke a feeling.

To create something without a purpose other than to create was freeing in a way Prowl had never felt before.

Prowl glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz already staring at him.

Despite the fact that they had literally been inside each other, this creation of feeling was the most intimate experience Prowl had ever felt with another person.

"What if you don't need the whole world to love you?" Prowl asked, for once just doing instead of over thinking what he was about to do. "What if you only needed one person?"

"Like who?"

Prowl shivered as the musician's breathe tickled his shoulder.

Jazz moved his hand from the base to cup his chin, holding him the same tenderness he did his instrument.

Prowl glanced at his parted lips, as Jazz tugged them ever closer until he could taste their mingling morning breathes in the air.

"THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME! DO YOU READ ME?"

Prowl bashed himself into Jazz's nose, completely missing the spy's lips, as the Prime's voice blasted over his comm. By Jazz's echoing wince, he too must've gotten the same message.

"Y-yes sir." Prowl replied, grateful that their leader could not see the state that they were currently in. He couldn't even look at Jazz who had dropped the hand from his chin to instead cradle his own dented nose.

"GO TO THE MEDBAY! NOW!"


A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter is late! Usually I update on Sundays! And I've managed to update my Across This New Divide series once a week for the past couple of months! But I've been busy with a lot of other fics from different fandoms recently! Plus a lot of personal life stuff! So I'm going to have to go back to one a fortnight updates from now on! Updates will probably alternate between this and my SunnyBlue fic! Sorry again! Xxxxxxx