WIP Fic: Transformers Fandom (Prowl/Jazz) 5/7
Title: Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248
Author: Moonbeam's Predilections
Fandom: Transformers G1
Genre: Humour, Romance, Borderline Crack and Getting Crackier!
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,479 words this part, 5,426 words total
Part 1: In which Jazz learns what the Decepticons are getting up to when they're not causing trouble.
Part 2: In which Jazz learns that Seekers ain't the only ones with quirky programming.
Part 3: In which the time has come.
Part 4: In which lucky!Jazz *gets* lucky.
~*~*~*~
Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248: Part 5/7
By Moonbeam
Jazz, as only the Autobot’s premier spy could, led Prowl on a merry chase. Following nothing but the fading traces of the electromagnetic frequency his own had become tuned to, Prowl put all his considerable skills to use tracking his mate.
Since Jazz was not actively trying to hide or avoid him completely, the game was satisfyingly fun for them both. Prowl ignored the undisguised stares and amusement on the faces of those he passed as he followed his mate’s trail all over the base. Occasionally, he even had to double-back along his own path as clever Jazz employed some of his espionage tricks for an added challenge. When he did, always there would be a little clue to set him back on track: a scuff of paint, a scratch in the suspicious shape of an arrow, or a helpful Autobot ready to point him along. Several times, Prowl got close enough to catch a glimpse of a fleeing monochromatic shape before it vanished once more with a taunting laugh.
Exhilarated by the chase, the heat’s influence soon began to build again in burning anticipation of winning his prize.
Prowl only slowed his pace when his sensory network detected an unusual signature. It was not the familiar essence of his mate, so he almost passed it by. But there was something about it that called to his spark and he still retained enough higher level reasoning to wonder what. Curious, he crept quietly to the nearest room and peered in.
Huh. Well, that was perhaps more than he ever needed to know about his coworkers.
Plastered against - and partially on - the Security station, Smokescreen’s bright blue armor was almost invisible beneath Inferno’s bulk. Only the ends of his doorwings were exposed as the firetruck applied himself diligently to Smokescreen’s back. Based on the amount of moaning emerging from beneath the pair, his fellow Praxian was enjoying the attentions. Prowl blinked, the non heat-addled part of his processor curious how they could mate properly in that position. Then Inferno wrapped his arms around Smokescreen’s waist and all but lifted the mech off to the side to reveal the smaller Red Alert pinned to the console.
Red Alert’s wide open spark was still pulsing erratically with post-overload bliss when Inferno swept him up too and claimed a kiss of his own. Smokescreen squirmed back into the melee with a gleeful ardor that brought all three crashing to the floor. When they did, Prowl distantly noticed they were covered in what looked like Inferno’s fire retardant foam - and that was definitely smoke damage blackening the bank of monitors - before he was distracted by the ambient waves of arousal pouring off them at the three-way interfacing.
Far too charged up by the events to feel any embarrassment, Prowl swiftly returned to the hunt for his own mate. This time however, he used the overriding need of the heat cycle to his advantage and spurred his battle computer to determine the most likely location of his mate. Smiling when the answer came to him, he abandoned his higher level functions and set off at a fast run down the next hall.
Prowl careened around a corner, throwing out an arm for balance as he took the turn too fast. A breem after, he was leaping in the air to clear the skidding forms of the twins as an evilly smirking Ratchet tripped them on their way past his medbay. Astroseconds later Bluestreak tumbled out of the medic’s domain and loosed a triumphant yodel as he nearly smothered Sideswipe in his enthusiasm.
“Prowl.” The still grinning Ratchet nodded respectfully to him as he passed, but he did not pause. As he swung about the next corridor, he faintly heard Ratchet’s echoing yell for the trio to for Primus’s sake, take it to your own quarters! before he got out of range.
Then he was approaching the supposed-to-be empty command centre and his electromagnetic field flared as it sensed Jazz nearby. Howling a battle cry, Prowl put on a last burst of speed and launched himself through the entrance and directly into his mate. Jazz caught him and merrily met his lips when he crushed their mouths together.
That was the last thing Prowl was consciously aware of until an incessant beeping disturbed his comfortable rest along Jazz’s body. Lifting his head from his mate’s shoulder, he glanced blearily around until his optics cleared enough to realize the beeping was Teletraan-1 patiently announcing an incoming call.
His heat phase considerably eased by the most recent bout of interfacing, Prowl’s sense of duty reared its ugly head. Sighing, he began to untangle himself to get up and see what the message was about.
“Mm, wha izzit?” Jazz mumbled, stretching out atop what Prowl now recognized was the conference room table off to the side of the large room. Both flustered and vaguely smug by the realization, Prowl scrambled down as he explained.
Jazz propped himself up on one arm, unbothered by his improper location. “Gonna have ta call Optimus; we’re not supposed to be on duty until yer heat cycle’s done. Who is it anyway?”
“Just a moment, Jazz, let me just-“
Megatron’s frowning visage took over the screen.
“Whoa!” Jazz quickly joined him at the console. “Definitely gotta call Optimus. Wonder what ol’ bucket head wants at a time like this?”
Optimus Prime arrived in short order. Ratchet came soon after, dragging a very embarrassed Red Alert behind him as Smokescreen and Inferno trailed obediently (well, Inferno was behaving, Smokescreen kept trying to steal Red Alert back) in their wake. Once all the key players were there, the Prime activated Teletraan-1’s communications link and opened a channel to the Decepticon base.
“Geetings, Megatron.” He nodded pleasantly to the opposite faction’s leader. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Megatron scowled darkly at the Autobots. “I’m declaring a truce,” he said shortly.
Optimus blinked. “I’m sorry? Not that we in any way object to a cease of hostilities, but I am curious as to what brought this request on.”
“That’s none of your business,“ Megatron began, a thunderous expression on his dour face, when suddenly Starscream draped himself over his shoulder. “Get off me!”
But Starscream just canted him a saucy smirk and purred. “That’s not what you were saying a few orns ago.”
While the Autobots stared in bemusement, Megatron’s scowl faltered for a brief moment before deepening even further. “That doesn’t count! I was still under the influence of your blasted-“ He cut himself off with a significant glare at the watching Autobots.
“Oh please, it’s not like they don’t know.” The Seeker laughed, ignoring his leader’s displeasure. “Hey Prowl, has your heat kicked in yet?”
If Prowl could have blushed like a human he’d have been beat red when everyone turned to stare at him and Jazz pressed so close together they were all but advertising the afterglow. Smokescreen started giggling and didn’t stop even when Inferno clapped a hand over his face.
Their reaction was answer enough for Starscream. His smirk widened. “I thought so. Well, as you’ll no doubt soon be experiencing for yourselves, we need to put this little war of ours on hold for a while since about half the base is now expecting sparklings. Including myself,” he added, his bright red optics going hard in warning. “And I will not tolerate any harm coming to my winglet.”
At his side, Megatron snorted. “That’s my sparkling too, you crazy aft flyer. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that my Second went into heat and got himself sparked up, he had to drag my Third into it too!”
Starscream mockingly poked his mate. “Congratulations, oh mighty leader, you’re going to be a daddy - twice over!”
At which point Jazz suddenly realized what they were talking about and spoke up without thinking. “Wait, so Soundwave’s sparked up too? How does your going into heat make that happen, unless it’s just somethin’ about him? I mean, the mech’s got six Cassettes and they had to come from somewhere... “ He mused to last bit to himself.
Prowl looked at him strangely. “Erm, Jazz? You do know that the heat phase is just about facilitating the breeding cycle, yes? Because for Vosians and Praxians, going into heat just means we’re ready to breed. It doesn’t mean we’re always the newspark's carriers. If our mate is the one to become sparked up, that’s good enough to satisfy the heat just fine.”
Jazz stared back blankly.
A full breem passed in silence.
Then...
“WHAT?!?”
Jazz looked down at his own chest, where he’d been feeling some slight twinges but put it off as a byproduct of all the vigorous exercise he’d been subjecting his spark to lately. Turns out he may not have been that far off the mark after all.
Huh.
~*~*~*~
To Be Continued... in Part 6!
You know, I could probably end the fic right here. It's kind of complete in and of itself, when you think about it. But where'd the fun in that be? An epilogue may still be very much needed, methinks. ;)
Author: Moonbeam's Predilections
Fandom: Transformers G1
Genre: Humour, Romance, Borderline Crack and Getting Crackier!
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,479 words this part, 5,426 words total
Part 1: In which Jazz learns what the Decepticons are getting up to when they're not causing trouble.
Part 2: In which Jazz learns that Seekers ain't the only ones with quirky programming.
Part 3: In which the time has come.
Part 4: In which lucky!Jazz *gets* lucky.
~*~*~*~
Reasons Jazz Is A Lucky Mech, #248: Part 5/7
By Moonbeam
Jazz, as only the Autobot’s premier spy could, led Prowl on a merry chase. Following nothing but the fading traces of the electromagnetic frequency his own had become tuned to, Prowl put all his considerable skills to use tracking his mate.
Since Jazz was not actively trying to hide or avoid him completely, the game was satisfyingly fun for them both. Prowl ignored the undisguised stares and amusement on the faces of those he passed as he followed his mate’s trail all over the base. Occasionally, he even had to double-back along his own path as clever Jazz employed some of his espionage tricks for an added challenge. When he did, always there would be a little clue to set him back on track: a scuff of paint, a scratch in the suspicious shape of an arrow, or a helpful Autobot ready to point him along. Several times, Prowl got close enough to catch a glimpse of a fleeing monochromatic shape before it vanished once more with a taunting laugh.
Exhilarated by the chase, the heat’s influence soon began to build again in burning anticipation of winning his prize.
Prowl only slowed his pace when his sensory network detected an unusual signature. It was not the familiar essence of his mate, so he almost passed it by. But there was something about it that called to his spark and he still retained enough higher level reasoning to wonder what. Curious, he crept quietly to the nearest room and peered in.
Huh. Well, that was perhaps more than he ever needed to know about his coworkers.
Plastered against - and partially on - the Security station, Smokescreen’s bright blue armor was almost invisible beneath Inferno’s bulk. Only the ends of his doorwings were exposed as the firetruck applied himself diligently to Smokescreen’s back. Based on the amount of moaning emerging from beneath the pair, his fellow Praxian was enjoying the attentions. Prowl blinked, the non heat-addled part of his processor curious how they could mate properly in that position. Then Inferno wrapped his arms around Smokescreen’s waist and all but lifted the mech off to the side to reveal the smaller Red Alert pinned to the console.
Red Alert’s wide open spark was still pulsing erratically with post-overload bliss when Inferno swept him up too and claimed a kiss of his own. Smokescreen squirmed back into the melee with a gleeful ardor that brought all three crashing to the floor. When they did, Prowl distantly noticed they were covered in what looked like Inferno’s fire retardant foam - and that was definitely smoke damage blackening the bank of monitors - before he was distracted by the ambient waves of arousal pouring off them at the three-way interfacing.
Far too charged up by the events to feel any embarrassment, Prowl swiftly returned to the hunt for his own mate. This time however, he used the overriding need of the heat cycle to his advantage and spurred his battle computer to determine the most likely location of his mate. Smiling when the answer came to him, he abandoned his higher level functions and set off at a fast run down the next hall.
Prowl careened around a corner, throwing out an arm for balance as he took the turn too fast. A breem after, he was leaping in the air to clear the skidding forms of the twins as an evilly smirking Ratchet tripped them on their way past his medbay. Astroseconds later Bluestreak tumbled out of the medic’s domain and loosed a triumphant yodel as he nearly smothered Sideswipe in his enthusiasm.
“Prowl.” The still grinning Ratchet nodded respectfully to him as he passed, but he did not pause. As he swung about the next corridor, he faintly heard Ratchet’s echoing yell for the trio to for Primus’s sake, take it to your own quarters! before he got out of range.
Then he was approaching the supposed-to-be empty command centre and his electromagnetic field flared as it sensed Jazz nearby. Howling a battle cry, Prowl put on a last burst of speed and launched himself through the entrance and directly into his mate. Jazz caught him and merrily met his lips when he crushed their mouths together.
That was the last thing Prowl was consciously aware of until an incessant beeping disturbed his comfortable rest along Jazz’s body. Lifting his head from his mate’s shoulder, he glanced blearily around until his optics cleared enough to realize the beeping was Teletraan-1 patiently announcing an incoming call.
His heat phase considerably eased by the most recent bout of interfacing, Prowl’s sense of duty reared its ugly head. Sighing, he began to untangle himself to get up and see what the message was about.
“Mm, wha izzit?” Jazz mumbled, stretching out atop what Prowl now recognized was the conference room table off to the side of the large room. Both flustered and vaguely smug by the realization, Prowl scrambled down as he explained.
Jazz propped himself up on one arm, unbothered by his improper location. “Gonna have ta call Optimus; we’re not supposed to be on duty until yer heat cycle’s done. Who is it anyway?”
“Just a moment, Jazz, let me just-“
Megatron’s frowning visage took over the screen.
“Whoa!” Jazz quickly joined him at the console. “Definitely gotta call Optimus. Wonder what ol’ bucket head wants at a time like this?”
Optimus Prime arrived in short order. Ratchet came soon after, dragging a very embarrassed Red Alert behind him as Smokescreen and Inferno trailed obediently (well, Inferno was behaving, Smokescreen kept trying to steal Red Alert back) in their wake. Once all the key players were there, the Prime activated Teletraan-1’s communications link and opened a channel to the Decepticon base.
“Geetings, Megatron.” He nodded pleasantly to the opposite faction’s leader. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Megatron scowled darkly at the Autobots. “I’m declaring a truce,” he said shortly.
Optimus blinked. “I’m sorry? Not that we in any way object to a cease of hostilities, but I am curious as to what brought this request on.”
“That’s none of your business,“ Megatron began, a thunderous expression on his dour face, when suddenly Starscream draped himself over his shoulder. “Get off me!”
But Starscream just canted him a saucy smirk and purred. “That’s not what you were saying a few orns ago.”
While the Autobots stared in bemusement, Megatron’s scowl faltered for a brief moment before deepening even further. “That doesn’t count! I was still under the influence of your blasted-“ He cut himself off with a significant glare at the watching Autobots.
“Oh please, it’s not like they don’t know.” The Seeker laughed, ignoring his leader’s displeasure. “Hey Prowl, has your heat kicked in yet?”
If Prowl could have blushed like a human he’d have been beat red when everyone turned to stare at him and Jazz pressed so close together they were all but advertising the afterglow. Smokescreen started giggling and didn’t stop even when Inferno clapped a hand over his face.
Their reaction was answer enough for Starscream. His smirk widened. “I thought so. Well, as you’ll no doubt soon be experiencing for yourselves, we need to put this little war of ours on hold for a while since about half the base is now expecting sparklings. Including myself,” he added, his bright red optics going hard in warning. “And I will not tolerate any harm coming to my winglet.”
At his side, Megatron snorted. “That’s my sparkling too, you crazy aft flyer. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that my Second went into heat and got himself sparked up, he had to drag my Third into it too!”
Starscream mockingly poked his mate. “Congratulations, oh mighty leader, you’re going to be a daddy - twice over!”
At which point Jazz suddenly realized what they were talking about and spoke up without thinking. “Wait, so Soundwave’s sparked up too? How does your going into heat make that happen, unless it’s just somethin’ about him? I mean, the mech’s got six Cassettes and they had to come from somewhere... “ He mused to last bit to himself.
Prowl looked at him strangely. “Erm, Jazz? You do know that the heat phase is just about facilitating the breeding cycle, yes? Because for Vosians and Praxians, going into heat just means we’re ready to breed. It doesn’t mean we’re always the newspark's carriers. If our mate is the one to become sparked up, that’s good enough to satisfy the heat just fine.”
Jazz stared back blankly.
A full breem passed in silence.
Then...
“WHAT?!?”
Jazz looked down at his own chest, where he’d been feeling some slight twinges but put it off as a byproduct of all the vigorous exercise he’d been subjecting his spark to lately. Turns out he may not have been that far off the mark after all.
Huh.
~*~*~*~
To Be Continued... in Part 6!
You know, I could probably end the fic right here. It's kind of complete in and of itself, when you think about it. But where'd the fun in that be? An epilogue may still be very much needed, methinks. ;)