Star Crossed
Sooo.... I have officially written the longest chapter yet ever for a fanfic(for me at least). 5500 words. @.@
Face Off
The sun slid down its celestial path, leaching the world of its light. The stars sparkled above, distant suns that traced their own trail across the vast cosmos.
They needed to return to the base.
That would mean leaving the comfort of each other’s arms. Sideswipe pulled Prowl closer. There had been times, back on Cybertron, where they would be separated for several metacycles. Two decacycles should have been nothing to them.
And it was all Jazz’s fault.
Thoughts of the saboteur came uninvited and tainted Sideswipe’s pleasant contemplation.
He turned his mind to the mech beside him. He ran light fingers over the still form, tracing his cheek seams from dark optics to slim mandible. He smoothed his hands over Prowl’s doorwings, and caressed his waist.
Their lovemaking had been as desperate as that time after they’d first awakened. Plugged into each other, they let their emotions wash over one another. Desperate to forgive and desperate to forget. Prowl had overloaded, seizing Sideswipe in the same moment. Then the tactician slipped offline.
And scared the spark out of Sideswipe.
Sideswipe had shaken and smacked Prowl, trying to get a response. He’d been ready to call Ratchet, or haul Prowl back to base when the blue optics lit up. The tactician hazily looked around, confusion evident on his face and in his vocalizer. Relieved that his lover hadn’t gone permanently offline, Sideswipe coaxed Prowl back into recharge.
The poor mech was worn out, emotionally, mentally, and probably physically. This entire situation had left the tactician drained in so many ways.
Another reason to hate the saboteur.
Sideswipe’s chronometer ticked away in his optical display. He sighed and gently shook Prowl online. “We need to get back, sparkles.”
“Don’ calll mme that,” Prowl murmured drowsily.
Sideswipe smiled, embracing the tactician before helping him up. Prowl leaned heavily against Sideswipe’s shoulder, shaking his systems online.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Rather not go back.” A sleepy smile crossed Prowl’s face as he focused on the warrior.
“Your battle computer isn’t fritzing again, is it?” Sideswipe kissed the tactician, quick, affectionate pecks. He still loathed letting go.
“Battle computer’s fine. Just tired.” Prowl hesitated and his doorwings drooped. “And Jazz is there,” he admitted.
A humorless laugh startled Prowl into looking up. “I doubt he’ll be up to bothering you. Sunny ‘talked’ to him earlier today.”
Prowl narrowed his optics and Sideswipe could almost hear him boot up the rest of the way.
“He talked me into listening to you.”
Prowl smiled and nodded. “Tell him ‘thank you’ for me.”
Sideswipe looked down at their hands, and reluctantly he let go. “Guess I’ll see you back at the Ark.”
The tactician stared off into the distance. He touched Sideswipe’s arm, even though he still had Sideswipe’s attention. Serious blue optics focused on the prankster. “I don’t want Sunstreaker to get in trouble.” He paused and his fingers gripped Sideswipe’s arm, as though trying to draw reassurance from the warrior’s presence. “I’m going to have to act the part, Sides. Primus.” Prowl spat out the last word, glaring over the warrior’s shoulder.
Sideswipe stiffened and his engine growled his opinion on that. “I’d rather you not have any thing to do with him.” He still couldn’t believe that Jazz was responsible for this.
Prowl nodded, his fingers trailing down to squeeze Sideswipe’s hand. “I have no choice, Sides.”
The warrior scowled. “You’re not seriously going to let him continue to fragging rape you.”
Prowl looked up, then away, his brow ridge furrowed. “Any suggestions would be welcome.”
“Uh…” Sideswipe hadn’t expected to be called on so soon. “Slag. Fine. Go ahead.” The warrior scowled his continued displeasure.
Prowl jabbed a finger at Sideswipe’s chest. “Don’t interfere.. Don’t even make an appearance.” He reached up to kiss the tall warrior. “Would you be able to sneak into my quarters again?
“Yeah. I can do that. When?”
“Before the day cycle starts. If I am in recharge, then shake me online. Until then, consider the problem. You and Jazz process in similar ways.”
Sideswipe opened his mouth to object, then shut it at the ‘Don’t even try’ look Prowl shot him.
They stared at each other, loathe to part ways.
Finally Prowl brushed Sideswipe’s cheek with his fingertips. “I love you.”
Sideswipe caught his hand to place a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m still mad that you didn’t tell me, but I love you too.”
Sideswipe released his lover’s hand and watched the Datsun leave. He flopped onto his back, relief wending its way through his mind.
****
Prowl soared over the road, his spark and processor as light as air. He ran through his plan again, affirming the likelihood of success. He may not be able to predict Jazz’s response, but he knew what Optimus would do with a 88.34% accuracy.
The short recharge with Sideswipe, specifically in Sideswipe’s arms, revitalized him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. The weight of worry lifted with the knowledge that Sideswipe had forgiven him. He felt very unlike himself, driving at unreasonable speeds, wanting nothing more than to shout to the stars.
The last time he’d felt so illogically joyous, had been back on Cybertron, a long, long time ago. That first time after he and Sideswipe had plugged into each other and delved into one another’s memories, their emotions. It was intoxicating as high grade.
He leapt to his feet and promptly smoothed away the smile on his face. He strode into the command center and straight up to Optimus.
“Have you seen Jazz?” He lifted his brow ridge and widened his optics.
Optimus turned, his own optics widening. “He’s in the med bay. Where have you been?”
Prowl composed himself. “He was supposed to meet me several cycles ago. Why is he in the med bay?” He kept his doorwings held tensely up.
“Meet?” Prime’s optics narrowed. “Didn’t I ask you-”
“I cannot give Jazz the attention he deserves here, Prime. My duties are too distracting.” He stopped and allowed Prime to make his move.
The Autobot Commander didn’t disappoint. “This is the first time, either of you have mentioned it as a problem. It’s been two decacycles since my request.
Prowl drooped a little. “We’ve been unhappy this whole time, surely you’ve noticed.”
“Yes, actually, I have.”
The tactician shifted, edging toward the doorway. “Why is he in medical?”
Prime’s optics blazed. “He was attacked.”
Prowl tensed. “Really?” He threw all the concern he could into his voice. “I’m assuming it was a Decepticon?”
“He collapsed before he could answer.” Optimus gently pushed Prowl toward the door. “I’m sure you’re worried about him. Ratchet says he’s online. Let’s go talk to him and find out.”
The two mechs walked in companionable silence, Prime’s large, brightly colored bulk moved easily around the smaller black and white mech. Then Optimus spoke, his tone soft. “Does it really disturb you to be here?”
“Yes,” Prowl replied.
“I see.” Prowl heard the apology, even though it wasn’t said. And it hurt Prowl to know how he abused Prime’s trust. But Prowl found the pain durable for the spark the red twin had ignited so long ago.
The med bay doors opened to admit them. Ratchet glanced up and closed up the torso panel he worked on. He circled the table as the other two officers approached. His gaze shifted from Prime to Prowl.
“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to get here.” The medic’s optics turned to Prime.
Optimus moved around Ratchet and touched Jazz’s tireless shoulder, “Are you okay there, Jazz?”
The saboteur laughed and winced. “I’ll be all righ’, once Ratch let’s me outta here.”
“That’s not happening until the day cycle begins, Jazz,” Ratchet grumped.
Prowl swept in and lay a hand on the Porsche’s chestplate. “Jazz you need to rest and allow your internal repairs to run.”
The saboteur stared at the tactician, jaw slowly loosening. He snapped his mouth closed and frowned at Prowl.
“Is there something wrong, Jazz? Prowl?” Optimus suddenly asked.
The two black and white mechs stared at one another a moment longer before Prowl finally spoke. “I was worried when you didn’t make the rendezvous.” His optics never left the visor before him, completely ignoring the other two mechs in the room.
“The…” Jazz trailed off and air hissed out of his vents. He knew, then, where Prowl had disappeared to. The saboteur pressed his lips together and his body shifted into a tense stillness. “Well, I’m sorry Prowlie. It completely slipped my processor. Guess Sunstreaker must’a completely beat it out of me.”
Optimus’ voice boomed out, interrupting their staring contest. “Sunstreaker? Sunstreaker did this?
“Ayup. Jus’ like he shredded Prowl a couple’a decacycles ago.”
Prowl held himself still to keep from reacting to Jazz’s statement.
“Prowl, is this true?” Optimus and Ratchet turned to face the tactician.
“No,” Prowl said, keeping his voice on a neutral tone. “Jazz is mistaken. It was Dragstrip who assaulted me.”
Optimus crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there something going on that I should know about.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Prowl slid a glare toward the saboteur. “Our personal affairs are not Prime’s business.”
Jazz scowled back. “He might disagree with that.”
Prime looked between the two uncertainly.
Prowl stiffened, doorwings rising. Jazz smirked knowingly.
“Prowl’s interfacing wi’ Sideswipe. That’s prob’ly what he was doing when I was attacked.”
Silence filled the void after Jazz’s words.
Prowl clenched his fist, glaring at Jazz. He managed a tight, incredulous smile for Optimus and then he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in awhile Jazz.” Prowl had been planning a confrontation like this for vorn upon vorn. Longer than the saboteur could likely guess. “Sideswipe? What would make you think Sideswipe and I could spend more than three breems in a room together, much less alone and in an intimate situation?”
Jazz’s scowl deepened.
Prowl removed his hand from Jazz’s chest and narrowed his optics at the saboteur. This was also in one of the infinite scenarios he had predicted and planned for, weighing Jazz’s chaotic reactions, in an attempt to find a solution to his problem. “You are being petty and jealous of the time I have to spend correcting the twins’ actions.” His doorwings lowered. “It simply astounds me that you would drag Optimus into our … spat.”
Jazz’s visor winked off for a brief second, and his frown faded to surprise. Whatever the saboteur might have expected Prowl to do, this had apparently not been it. It gave the tactician some small sense of satisfaction to throw Jazz off.
Prime regarded his second-in-command in silence for a few moments. Air sighed out of his vents and he looked to Jazz. “Do you have any proof, Jazz?”
Ratchet, who had been unusually quiet up to that point, spoke up before the Porsche could open his mouth. “You’re not serious, Prime? This is Prowl we’re talking about. And Sideswipe of all mechs.” Ratchet reconsidered his words. “This is Prowl with Sideswipe we’re talking about.”
Prime glanced at Ratchet. “Are you going to retract that accusation, Jazz?”
Jazz looked at Prime and Ratchet and then scowled at Prowl. “No.”
“Do you have any proof?”
The saboteur opened his mouth and then shut it with a click. “No, Prime.”
“I see.” He regarded his officers and sighed again. “Prowl, when you are done here, I’d like to see you in my office.”
Prowl’s doorwings drooped. “Yes, Prime.”
Optimus nodded and trudged out of the med bay. Ratchet glared at the two black and white mechs. “Two breems, and you’d better not be here when I come out.”
“One breem will suffice, Ratchet. Jazz needs his rest.” Prowl frowned down at the saboteur.
Ratchet shrugged and disappeared into his office.
The two mechs regarded one another, both aware of the camera that caught their every move and listened for their conversation.
“I need a kiss t’ get better, Prowl,” Jazz’s smile twisted into a barely perceptible sneer.
The tactician leaned away, his doorwings sweeping back to emphasize his distaste. “You need to rest, Jazz.”
Jazz hooked his fingers into the joint between Prowl’s chest and his neck cables, and pulled the tactician down. “Y’know, I love ya.”
Prowl’s doorwings drew back farther. “You have a very peculiar way of showing it.”
Jazz’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “How can I compete with your other love?”
Prowl resisted Jazz’s weakened attempts to pull him closer, his arms braced on the gurney. “Jazz, there is no competition. There has never been any competition.” Prowl broke away from Jazz’s grasp and turned away from the saboteur’s bereft hand.
“Yer gonna punish Sunny, though, right?”
Prowl paused, resisting the urge to cast one last glare at the meddling saboteur. He continued of the medbay and headed straight for Prime’s office.
He ran scenario after scenario through his battle computer. Sixty-four percent of them came back that, without Jazz willing to put forth further evidence, such as admitting he’s been lying to Prime this past metacycle, protocol would dictate for Prime to disregard the accusation. Innocent until proven guilty would be his savior, it was the Autobot way.
Optimus looked up when Prowl entered. He held a datapad in his hands. Prowl recognized it as one he’d given his commander a long, long time ago, when Prime had fallen into a deep depression over the state of his troops, the planet, the energon crisis, everything. Prowl had compiled a list of quotes and catergorized them, in his perversely ordered fashion. It was a list he himself looked at to remember why they fought. Although Prowl had organized them for Prime, they’d initially been a gift from Sideswipe. Something Prime did not need to know.
He knew Optimus only looked at the list to find comfort in the empowering words.
Prowl had shaken Prime’s confidence.
And it hurt to know that.
Prowl stood before Prime’s desk, palms slapped to his thighs to keep his fingers from curling. His doorwings stood rigid behind him as he stood at attention.
Prime sighed, letting the datapad fall from his fingers. “Why would Jazz think that, Prowl?”
Prowl didn’t dare relax his posture. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t act like a lovestruck sparkling, Prowl.” The two mechs regarded each other coolly.
“I’m hardly a sparkling, Prime.”
Optimus leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk before him. “You weren’t really worried about Jazz.” The accusation lay just below Prime’s statement.
Prowl’s doorwings shifted. “Jazz is capable of taking care of himself. I normally don’t have to worry about him. I value that.”
“This is a serious accusation Jazz has made, Prowl…”
“He has given no proof.”
Prime turned his head slightly, eying the tactician. “No, he hasn’t and you are innocent until proven guilty. Since there is no proof, I cannot pursue it.”
Prowl held himself against relaxing, aware of Prme’s continued scrutiny.
“Is there anything you want to tell me, Prowl?”
“No, Prime.”
“I see.” Optimus reached over and plucked another datapad off one of the teetering piles on his desk. “I’ve received a communiqué from Ultra Magnus. He’s currently coordinating a strategy to send reinforcements over the spacebridge, as well as building materials for Grapple and Hoist’s project.”
“Reinforcements would be welcome,” Prowl replied, accepting the datapad from Prime, his stance relaxing into business as usual. Prime would allow him to arrange punishment detail for Sunstreaker.
****
The continuous caress of fingers over his headlights and chevron brought Prowl online. A silhouetted form hovered over him, blue light running across his face. It was the horns that did it for Prowl, he strangled a yelp and lashed out a foot.
The voice that cried out in reply was not the jovial visored mech’s. His systems coming to full alertness, Prowl noticed the bright color of optics set in the face. Though set on a black helm, he noticed the sharp angle the horns took.
“Sideswipe?”
“Oof, yeah. I’m Sideswipe.” The warrior lifted himself to his elbows. “Ow, remind me not to get you mad at me.” Sideswipe rubbed his chestplate and the scratched paint and dented metal there. “Nasty kick there, Prowl.”
The tactician sat up, sheepish grin in place and he reached out a hand to help his lover to his feet. “Sorry, thought you were… someone else.”
The scowl showed plainly even in the shadows. “I don’t suppose you’ve actually done that to him?” The red twin slipped onto the berth with Prowl. He wrapped his arms around Prowl’s torso, drawing the tactician to his chestplate.
Prowl stiffened in his lover’s arms, his doorwings wincing away from Sideswipe. He couldn’t help the discomfort that crawled through his systems.
Sideswipe nuzzled against Prowl’s neck and windshield, his hands trailed over the tactician’s front plates.
The similarity between the arms that held him, and the ones that haunted him, set Prowl on edge. He tensed unconsciously, his hands gripping the edge of his berth. He repeated his lover’s name over and over in his processor, fighting the ghost of Jazz that his sub-processors told him was there. Confusion warred with panic, the all-too familiar settings and Sideswipe’s immediate visual absence activating memories of Jazz in this room… touching him…
The kisses halted and the caresses stilled. The arms tightened around Prowl’s waist. “What?”
Prowl stiffly patted Sideswipe’s hands and pulled away from the twin’s embrace. He turned to face his lover, which seemed to help his unease.
Sideswipe frowned at Prowl, his optics dimming slightly.
“I’m sorry, it’s just” Prowl paused, unable to articulate the emotions that coursed through him. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
Sideswipe shifted, glancing away with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I don’t suppose you managed to keep Sunny out of trouble.”
“Would I let you down like that, Sideswipe?” Prowl asked in a soft voice.
“Don’t know. You haven’t exactly been keeping with what I expect of you lately.”
Prowl cast his dim optics down and his door panels sagged. He pressed his lips together, and didn’t refute the accusation. “His punishment is my decision. I will deal with him as lightly as I can. What was Sunstreaker supposed to be doing?”
“He was off duty. He was supposed to be at the party.”
“What reason would Sunstreaker have to attack Jazz?”
Sideswipe, not one to be completely idle for long, stroked and caressed Prowl’s white hand. “Jazz is accusing Sunstreaker, then?”
“Naturally why would he not?”
“Because he’s blackmailing you,” Sideswipe turned one of the wheels on Prowl’s shoulder, playing his fingers into the tread of the rubber. “He’s blackmailing you, and would be in just as much trouble if Optimus found it.” Sideswipe’s optics brightened as he continued. “He’s in as deep as we are, because he has been keeping our secret, your secret for a metacycle. As far as Prime knows, he’s been keeping it longer. He’s an accomplice, knowingly withholding information when asked for it by a superior officer, in this case Prime.” Sideswipe’s fingers moved to Prowl’s helmet, caressing down the cheek guard, along the edge and up to Prowl’s auditory receiver. “I think I know what we can do, sparkles.”
Prowl tilted his head, his own fingers lifting to stroke the twin’s horns. “You are entirely too knowledgeable about law, delinquent.” He lightly tugged on the horns to draw Sideswipe closer.
“I have to,” Sideswipe murmured against the Datsun’s lips, “if I want to stay ahead of you, sir.”
****
Prowl sidled up to Jazz, trying not to be too obvious about the sidling. He didn’t ponder on the logic of it; he didn’t need to freeze up at that moment. Jazz sat at the console, intent on whatever played on the screen. In full view of the rec room, Prowl rested his elbows on Jazz’s shoulders.
“Jazz, I have requested that Prime allow us to enjoy this beautiful day.”
The saboteur turned his gaze up to the tactician. A suspicious frown turned his lips for the briefest of astroseconds. “Didn’t you have something else in mind?”
Prowl tilted his head, surprise widening his optics. “Can’t I reschedule my duties for you?”
Jazz’s visor flashed and he turned around, rising to his feet. He pressed closer to Prowl catching tactician’s shoulders and leaning in. “Why should I do anythin’ for ya, Prowlie? Y’ don’ seem t’ appreciate what I do for ya.”
Prowl schooled any anger out of his face. “But I’m not asking you to do anything for me, Jazz.”
The light behind Jazz’s visor dimmed, like the narrowing of optics. “I thought y’ were gonna be spendin’ more time disciplinin’ th’ twins,” he hissed.
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, even as he pressed his impassive lips against the saboteur’s own. “Now why would I want to do that when you need my attention, too?”
Jazz leaned away to stare at Prowl. The saboteur’s normal jovial grin was nowhere to be found. His visor darkened even further and he pulled Prowl into a kiss. Never mind that the entire room pretended not to watch the two officers. Never mind that Prowl hated any public display. Jazz gripped Prowl’s upper shoulder struts, his lips questing for an answer, a response.
“Kiss me back, Prowl.”
Prowl forced his hands to uncurl at his sides. “Jazz, please, not here.”
“Kiss me back, Prowl. Like y’mean it.”
Optics watched, though they pretended not to. Prowl found himself in the same quandary he’d tried to place Jazz in. Having solicited Jazz’s time and attention in front of everyone, it would seem as peculiar for him not to respond as it would for Jazz to have refused.
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, even as he leaned into the kiss. His systems churned as he moved his lips against the saboteur’s. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the Porsche.
“C’mon, Prowl, I know you can do better than that.” Jazz released Prowl’s shoulder struts and wrapped one arm around the tactician. His other hand delved into Prowl’s doorwing joint, eliciting a protesting whine from Prowl’s vocalizer. The Porsche moaned in reply, pulling the tactician closer and digging his fingers painfully deeper. “I dunno if I wanna wait till we get outside, Prowlie,” Jazz murmured against Prowl’s lips, his engine purring, “I don’ think I can make it t’ either ‘a our quarters.”
Prowl stiffened, wincing at the assault on his door hinges. The plan would never work if he couldn’t draw the saboteur out of the Ark. Jazz bent Prowl’s head back, deepening the kiss. The black and white saboteur vibrated against the tactician’s chassis.
Prowl shifted, grasping Jazz’s elbows as he attempted to squirm away from the black hands. He couldn’t simply shove the saboteur away, not without looking suspicious. Why, oh why did Jazz have to be so aggressive now? In front of everybody? Jazz tightened his grip on Prowl, sending sharp pain into the tactician’s side from his probing fingers.
“Can’t you two take it to one of your rooms? Why do you have to subject us to this?” Gears grumbled, accompanied by murmured ‘yeahs’ from those around him.
Jazz pulled away, cycling air rapidly through his ventilators. He still clung to Prowl, though he smirked at their audience. “Aw, sorry. Ya’ll know how I can be. Prowlie,” and his fingers twitched, scraping wiring and circuitry in the Datsun’s side, “jes’ makes me forget myself.” His hand withdrew, teasing as it went.
Before the Porsche could grab hold of the Datsun, Prowl slipped his arms over Jazz’s shoulder. He leaned back, tilting his head so that he looked up at the jovial mech from under his chevron with a pout. It made him feel odd, having to act like a spoiled sparkling. If he wanted to get the result he desired though, he knew he’d have to play on Jazz’s weakness.
“I’d rather go outside and enjoy this beautiful day.”
Jazz’s fingers twitched where they rested on Prowl’s hips. He pulled his mouth to one side. “How can I say no, when yer lookin’ at me with those big baby blues.” The saboteur pressed another devouring kiss over Prowl’s mouth, jabbing his fingers deep into Prowl’s sides.
Prowl cycled air, trying to shake the unwanted feel of Jazz pressing against him. The other black and white mech ducked out of the rec room. Prowl gathered himself and followed after the Porsche. A hand on his arm stopped him and he looked down in surprise at Ironhide.
“Y’know, Prowl, I think it’s scraps an’ rust that of all mechs on the base, Jazz’s spark would seek you. Yer the only one who can make him frown like that. Ya don’t even love him, do ya?”
Prowl’s doorwings twitched, sending twinges into his pain receptors. A quick diagnostic revealed tears in his coolant and fuel lines. Typical. Ratchet was going to blow a fuse. “Were you interested in him?” Prowl asked, pulling his arm out of Ironhide’s grasp.
“Wha-? No! I’m jus’ sayin’ is all.”
“I see.” Prowl nodded a farewell and stepped out of the rec room. He didn’t see Jazz until he proceeded out of the Ark and into the noon sun.
Jazz and Mirage bantered lightly over a datapad, poking and jostling each other. Trust Jazz to bring out the best in the normally reclusive spy. The saboteur treated his small team with all the kindness and openness Prowl had observed in many fleshling creators on this planet. Why, then, did he see fit to torment Prowl?
A hand tugging on his doorwing drew Prowl back to the present. “So, we’re outside Prowlie. I don’ think you had here in mind, didja?”
Prowl transformed. “No, I did not.” He pulled away from the saboteur, listening to the click and whines of the Porsche’s transformation.
The tactician drew Jazz farther away from the Ark. He sought a particular path that he turned down as soon as they came upon it. Jazz kept lagging farther and farther behind, until he finally rolled to a complete stop.
Prowl stopped, turning his wheels to stop at an angle from Jazz. “Is something wrong?”
The Porsche shifted to reverse, inching back. “Somethin’ ain’t right. It’s too quiet.” Jazz’s headlights flashed. “What’s goin’ on Prowl?”
Prowl transformed, walking back to the Porsche. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jazz. Of course it’s quiet; the local wildlife is disturbed by our presence.” As he spoke, he transmitted a coded message over a secure frequency.
Jazz surged to his own feet, looking about anxiously. “That ain’t- what was that?” His visored gaze turned to Prowl. “Did you just-“
Trees and branches cracked and crashed, interrupting Jazz. The Porsche looked at Prowl in alarm as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker charged out of the underbrush.
The nimble mech slid under Sunstreaker’s grasp and right into Sideswipe’s.
“Don’t hurt him,” Prowl said in his most authoritative voice.
The twins paused in wrestling the Porsche to the ground. Their briefly averted optics gave Jazz the chance to throw Sunstreaker off.
“Tell that to him,” the red twin hollered grappling the black and white mech down.
Prowl held a neutral expression as Sideswipe’s piledriver smashed into the Porsche’s chestplate.
“Jazz, stop struggling.”
“Why?” The saboteur aimed a double kick into the red twin’s torso. “So these two can finish what Sunstreaker started two days ago?” Jazz shoved himself to his, ready to take off.
Sunstreaker plowed into the saboteur, knocking him back to the packed earth in a flurry of leaves. Black, white and gold flashed in a whirling mass of grunts and pained cries. Then crimson joined in the fray, and metal crashed and pounded together.
Prowl waited patiently, wincing internally as he visualized the damage being caused. His doorwings drooped and flared off his shoulders as he so desperately wanted to step in and help, but he stood his ground. He respected, and loved, Sideswipe too much to interfere with him in this.
Sideswipe had asked Prowl to let him handle it, and Prowl agreed to.
He had not expected Sunstreaker’s involvement, but he should have known that the golden Lamborghini would never allow his brother to face this alone.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Sunstreaker dragged a quiescent Jazz to his feet, hauling him up with his arms locked behind his back.
Prowl frowned as the saboteur moaned, shaking his head in a daze. His blue optics sought out Sideswipe’s, but he said nothing. If this was to work, they would need to portray a united front. The red twin circled the damaged saboteur, like a turbohawk on a wreck.
“Jazz, are you functioning?”
“Nno thanks t’ yer,” Jazz groaned, his systems surging audibly, “mmbodyguardss.”
Sideswipe paused, reaching out to shove the Porsche’s shoulder. “What did you expect? ‘Oh, hey he’s raping Prowl, well we’re all Autobots, so it’s okay!” Sideswipe’s cheerful mien dropped instantly. “I don’t fragging think so.”
“I was hopin’ we could talk it out.” Despite the obvious pain he was in and the sagging of damaged parts, Jazz still managed a smile for the Lamborghini. “It ain’t like it’s my fault your lover didn’t tell you nothin’ ‘bout what was goin’ on.”
Prowl stepped forward before Sideswipe could react. The set of his jaw and the tightness of his hands promised nothing gentle for the saboteur. “That is between Sideswipe and myself, and doesn’t involve you.”
Jazz laughed, pained static filled his vocalizer. “It doesn’t, eh? Then why are ya makin’ such a big deal outta it?” The visor turned toward Sideswipe. “It’s not like Prowl ever really said ‘stop.’”
Sideswipe jerked away from Prowl. “Because you wouldn’t let him. That’s an excuse a Decepticon would use. Hey, you know, maybe you’re not Jazz, maybe you are a Decepticon. Because Jazz would never do this.”
Jazz quirked a grin. “How do ya know what I will an’ won’t do? Ya don’ see nothin’ I don’ wantcha t’ see.”
Sunstreaker shook the saboteur. “He’s in fragging special ops. This is what he does.”
“Shut up, Sunny, you’re not helping here.”
Prowl stepped forward before the twins could dissolve into an argument. “We aren’t here to discuss your motives, Jazz. We’re here to discuss just what is going to happen.”
Sideswipe stood next to Prowl, his presence a reassurance to the tactician’s spark. The twin glanced at Prowl. “His motives are exactly why we’re here sparkles.”
“An’ why should I listen t’ anythin’ you have t’ say.” Defiant to the end, Jazz leveled a glare at the two lovers.
Prowl frowned. “He may not know what we’re saying, but he knows we’re transmitting. It does not take a genius to deduce that we’re arguing. We do not need to argue in front of him, Sides.”
Jazz watched them, a knowing smirk on his face. “Aw, don’t let me stop ya. Go ahead an’ talk. I’ll be here, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Prowl laid a restraining hand on Sideswipe’s arm. “Don’t. It’s what he wants.”
The red twin scowled fiercely before his optics flickered briefly. He cupped Prowl’s chin with his hand and caught the tactician’s lips in a devouring kiss.
Prowl tensed, his doorwings trembling as Sideswipe laid claim to his mouth, crushing him against his flat red chest plate. Sideswipe slipped his fingers into the tactician’s hinge crevice, fingering the joints with surprising gentleness compared to his possessive kiss. Prowl’s system churned uneasily.
“Sideswipe, if you don’t stop, I will hit you.”
The Lamborghini’s engine grumbled and Sideswipe tweaked a particularly sensitive sensor around Prowl’s hinges. Prowl winced as the normally ticklish spot registered pain. The red twin pulled his hands away and released Prowl’s lips. The tactician followed Sideswipe’s blank stare to his black hands. His fingertips glowed with a pink cast. The blankness disappeared into an angry glare that turned to the saboteur.
“You just keep on hurting him,” he snarled.
Jazz twitched, his lips turning down for the briefest of moments. Metal squealed. “He never said nothin’!” he yelped.
Sunstreaker’s scowl gave reason to the Porsche’s cry; his black fingers dented the saboteur’s shoulder struts.
Sideswipe stormed over to slam a piledriver into Jazz’s torso plating. “He doesn’t say anything! He shouldn’t have to!”
“He didn’t make a sound in Halifax,” Sunstreaker added, his optics locked with his sibling’s.
Prowl remained still, patiently waiting for Sideswipe to reign in his temper.
“Halifax?” Confusion flickered in Jazz’s visor. “What does that- Oh.” The saboteur drooped a little. “I’d forgotten about that. You were there weren’t cha?”
“Yeah, well, we hadn’t forgotten. Considering it was for our benefit.” Sideswipe took his position next to Prowl again. “I guess Sunny’s right. What can we expect from someone who’ll stand by and watch Starscream-“ Sideswipe’s vocalizer buzzed, cutting off the sentence. “Factory reject,” he burst, pulling Prowl against him.
Prowl wasn’t sure who Sideswipe desired to reassure, Prowl, or himself?
Jazz tilted his head. “That long ago, eh Prowl?” He sighed. “I couldn’t blow my cover. Prime accepted that. If I had stopped Starscream, he’d’a blown my head off, an’ Iacon with it.”
Sideswipe tucked Prowl’s white helm under his chin. “At least Starscream has the courage to wear the right insignia.”
Blue optics flickered in annoyance. “That’s enough, both of you.” Prowl ducked out from Sideswipe’s embrace. “Jazz, we are long overdue for a talk on the status of our relationship.”
The saboteur frowned.
“Now then, this is what’s going to happen…”
--------------------------
This is still due some revisions I'm sure. Concrit would be appreciated (I'll give you love and huggles, and cyber cookies, mmmm cyber cookies).
Face Off
The sun slid down its celestial path, leaching the world of its light. The stars sparkled above, distant suns that traced their own trail across the vast cosmos.
They needed to return to the base.
That would mean leaving the comfort of each other’s arms. Sideswipe pulled Prowl closer. There had been times, back on Cybertron, where they would be separated for several metacycles. Two decacycles should have been nothing to them.
And it was all Jazz’s fault.
Thoughts of the saboteur came uninvited and tainted Sideswipe’s pleasant contemplation.
He turned his mind to the mech beside him. He ran light fingers over the still form, tracing his cheek seams from dark optics to slim mandible. He smoothed his hands over Prowl’s doorwings, and caressed his waist.
Their lovemaking had been as desperate as that time after they’d first awakened. Plugged into each other, they let their emotions wash over one another. Desperate to forgive and desperate to forget. Prowl had overloaded, seizing Sideswipe in the same moment. Then the tactician slipped offline.
And scared the spark out of Sideswipe.
Sideswipe had shaken and smacked Prowl, trying to get a response. He’d been ready to call Ratchet, or haul Prowl back to base when the blue optics lit up. The tactician hazily looked around, confusion evident on his face and in his vocalizer. Relieved that his lover hadn’t gone permanently offline, Sideswipe coaxed Prowl back into recharge.
The poor mech was worn out, emotionally, mentally, and probably physically. This entire situation had left the tactician drained in so many ways.
Another reason to hate the saboteur.
Sideswipe’s chronometer ticked away in his optical display. He sighed and gently shook Prowl online. “We need to get back, sparkles.”
“Don’ calll mme that,” Prowl murmured drowsily.
Sideswipe smiled, embracing the tactician before helping him up. Prowl leaned heavily against Sideswipe’s shoulder, shaking his systems online.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Rather not go back.” A sleepy smile crossed Prowl’s face as he focused on the warrior.
“Your battle computer isn’t fritzing again, is it?” Sideswipe kissed the tactician, quick, affectionate pecks. He still loathed letting go.
“Battle computer’s fine. Just tired.” Prowl hesitated and his doorwings drooped. “And Jazz is there,” he admitted.
A humorless laugh startled Prowl into looking up. “I doubt he’ll be up to bothering you. Sunny ‘talked’ to him earlier today.”
Prowl narrowed his optics and Sideswipe could almost hear him boot up the rest of the way.
“He talked me into listening to you.”
Prowl smiled and nodded. “Tell him ‘thank you’ for me.”
Sideswipe looked down at their hands, and reluctantly he let go. “Guess I’ll see you back at the Ark.”
The tactician stared off into the distance. He touched Sideswipe’s arm, even though he still had Sideswipe’s attention. Serious blue optics focused on the prankster. “I don’t want Sunstreaker to get in trouble.” He paused and his fingers gripped Sideswipe’s arm, as though trying to draw reassurance from the warrior’s presence. “I’m going to have to act the part, Sides. Primus.” Prowl spat out the last word, glaring over the warrior’s shoulder.
Sideswipe stiffened and his engine growled his opinion on that. “I’d rather you not have any thing to do with him.” He still couldn’t believe that Jazz was responsible for this.
Prowl nodded, his fingers trailing down to squeeze Sideswipe’s hand. “I have no choice, Sides.”
The warrior scowled. “You’re not seriously going to let him continue to fragging rape you.”
Prowl looked up, then away, his brow ridge furrowed. “Any suggestions would be welcome.”
“Uh…” Sideswipe hadn’t expected to be called on so soon. “Slag. Fine. Go ahead.” The warrior scowled his continued displeasure.
Prowl jabbed a finger at Sideswipe’s chest. “Don’t interfere.. Don’t even make an appearance.” He reached up to kiss the tall warrior. “Would you be able to sneak into my quarters again?
“Yeah. I can do that. When?”
“Before the day cycle starts. If I am in recharge, then shake me online. Until then, consider the problem. You and Jazz process in similar ways.”
Sideswipe opened his mouth to object, then shut it at the ‘Don’t even try’ look Prowl shot him.
They stared at each other, loathe to part ways.
Finally Prowl brushed Sideswipe’s cheek with his fingertips. “I love you.”
Sideswipe caught his hand to place a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m still mad that you didn’t tell me, but I love you too.”
Sideswipe released his lover’s hand and watched the Datsun leave. He flopped onto his back, relief wending its way through his mind.
****
Prowl soared over the road, his spark and processor as light as air. He ran through his plan again, affirming the likelihood of success. He may not be able to predict Jazz’s response, but he knew what Optimus would do with a 88.34% accuracy.
The short recharge with Sideswipe, specifically in Sideswipe’s arms, revitalized him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. The weight of worry lifted with the knowledge that Sideswipe had forgiven him. He felt very unlike himself, driving at unreasonable speeds, wanting nothing more than to shout to the stars.
The last time he’d felt so illogically joyous, had been back on Cybertron, a long, long time ago. That first time after he and Sideswipe had plugged into each other and delved into one another’s memories, their emotions. It was intoxicating as high grade.
He leapt to his feet and promptly smoothed away the smile on his face. He strode into the command center and straight up to Optimus.
“Have you seen Jazz?” He lifted his brow ridge and widened his optics.
Optimus turned, his own optics widening. “He’s in the med bay. Where have you been?”
Prowl composed himself. “He was supposed to meet me several cycles ago. Why is he in the med bay?” He kept his doorwings held tensely up.
“Meet?” Prime’s optics narrowed. “Didn’t I ask you-”
“I cannot give Jazz the attention he deserves here, Prime. My duties are too distracting.” He stopped and allowed Prime to make his move.
The Autobot Commander didn’t disappoint. “This is the first time, either of you have mentioned it as a problem. It’s been two decacycles since my request.
Prowl drooped a little. “We’ve been unhappy this whole time, surely you’ve noticed.”
“Yes, actually, I have.”
The tactician shifted, edging toward the doorway. “Why is he in medical?”
Prime’s optics blazed. “He was attacked.”
Prowl tensed. “Really?” He threw all the concern he could into his voice. “I’m assuming it was a Decepticon?”
“He collapsed before he could answer.” Optimus gently pushed Prowl toward the door. “I’m sure you’re worried about him. Ratchet says he’s online. Let’s go talk to him and find out.”
The two mechs walked in companionable silence, Prime’s large, brightly colored bulk moved easily around the smaller black and white mech. Then Optimus spoke, his tone soft. “Does it really disturb you to be here?”
“Yes,” Prowl replied.
“I see.” Prowl heard the apology, even though it wasn’t said. And it hurt Prowl to know how he abused Prime’s trust. But Prowl found the pain durable for the spark the red twin had ignited so long ago.
The med bay doors opened to admit them. Ratchet glanced up and closed up the torso panel he worked on. He circled the table as the other two officers approached. His gaze shifted from Prime to Prowl.
“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to get here.” The medic’s optics turned to Prime.
Optimus moved around Ratchet and touched Jazz’s tireless shoulder, “Are you okay there, Jazz?”
The saboteur laughed and winced. “I’ll be all righ’, once Ratch let’s me outta here.”
“That’s not happening until the day cycle begins, Jazz,” Ratchet grumped.
Prowl swept in and lay a hand on the Porsche’s chestplate. “Jazz you need to rest and allow your internal repairs to run.”
The saboteur stared at the tactician, jaw slowly loosening. He snapped his mouth closed and frowned at Prowl.
“Is there something wrong, Jazz? Prowl?” Optimus suddenly asked.
The two black and white mechs stared at one another a moment longer before Prowl finally spoke. “I was worried when you didn’t make the rendezvous.” His optics never left the visor before him, completely ignoring the other two mechs in the room.
“The…” Jazz trailed off and air hissed out of his vents. He knew, then, where Prowl had disappeared to. The saboteur pressed his lips together and his body shifted into a tense stillness. “Well, I’m sorry Prowlie. It completely slipped my processor. Guess Sunstreaker must’a completely beat it out of me.”
Optimus’ voice boomed out, interrupting their staring contest. “Sunstreaker? Sunstreaker did this?
“Ayup. Jus’ like he shredded Prowl a couple’a decacycles ago.”
Prowl held himself still to keep from reacting to Jazz’s statement.
“Prowl, is this true?” Optimus and Ratchet turned to face the tactician.
“No,” Prowl said, keeping his voice on a neutral tone. “Jazz is mistaken. It was Dragstrip who assaulted me.”
Optimus crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there something going on that I should know about.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Prowl slid a glare toward the saboteur. “Our personal affairs are not Prime’s business.”
Jazz scowled back. “He might disagree with that.”
Prime looked between the two uncertainly.
Prowl stiffened, doorwings rising. Jazz smirked knowingly.
“Prowl’s interfacing wi’ Sideswipe. That’s prob’ly what he was doing when I was attacked.”
Silence filled the void after Jazz’s words.
Prowl clenched his fist, glaring at Jazz. He managed a tight, incredulous smile for Optimus and then he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in awhile Jazz.” Prowl had been planning a confrontation like this for vorn upon vorn. Longer than the saboteur could likely guess. “Sideswipe? What would make you think Sideswipe and I could spend more than three breems in a room together, much less alone and in an intimate situation?”
Jazz’s scowl deepened.
Prowl removed his hand from Jazz’s chest and narrowed his optics at the saboteur. This was also in one of the infinite scenarios he had predicted and planned for, weighing Jazz’s chaotic reactions, in an attempt to find a solution to his problem. “You are being petty and jealous of the time I have to spend correcting the twins’ actions.” His doorwings lowered. “It simply astounds me that you would drag Optimus into our … spat.”
Jazz’s visor winked off for a brief second, and his frown faded to surprise. Whatever the saboteur might have expected Prowl to do, this had apparently not been it. It gave the tactician some small sense of satisfaction to throw Jazz off.
Prime regarded his second-in-command in silence for a few moments. Air sighed out of his vents and he looked to Jazz. “Do you have any proof, Jazz?”
Ratchet, who had been unusually quiet up to that point, spoke up before the Porsche could open his mouth. “You’re not serious, Prime? This is Prowl we’re talking about. And Sideswipe of all mechs.” Ratchet reconsidered his words. “This is Prowl with Sideswipe we’re talking about.”
Prime glanced at Ratchet. “Are you going to retract that accusation, Jazz?”
Jazz looked at Prime and Ratchet and then scowled at Prowl. “No.”
“Do you have any proof?”
The saboteur opened his mouth and then shut it with a click. “No, Prime.”
“I see.” He regarded his officers and sighed again. “Prowl, when you are done here, I’d like to see you in my office.”
Prowl’s doorwings drooped. “Yes, Prime.”
Optimus nodded and trudged out of the med bay. Ratchet glared at the two black and white mechs. “Two breems, and you’d better not be here when I come out.”
“One breem will suffice, Ratchet. Jazz needs his rest.” Prowl frowned down at the saboteur.
Ratchet shrugged and disappeared into his office.
The two mechs regarded one another, both aware of the camera that caught their every move and listened for their conversation.
“I need a kiss t’ get better, Prowl,” Jazz’s smile twisted into a barely perceptible sneer.
The tactician leaned away, his doorwings sweeping back to emphasize his distaste. “You need to rest, Jazz.”
Jazz hooked his fingers into the joint between Prowl’s chest and his neck cables, and pulled the tactician down. “Y’know, I love ya.”
Prowl’s doorwings drew back farther. “You have a very peculiar way of showing it.”
Jazz’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “How can I compete with your other love?”
Prowl resisted Jazz’s weakened attempts to pull him closer, his arms braced on the gurney. “Jazz, there is no competition. There has never been any competition.” Prowl broke away from Jazz’s grasp and turned away from the saboteur’s bereft hand.
“Yer gonna punish Sunny, though, right?”
Prowl paused, resisting the urge to cast one last glare at the meddling saboteur. He continued of the medbay and headed straight for Prime’s office.
He ran scenario after scenario through his battle computer. Sixty-four percent of them came back that, without Jazz willing to put forth further evidence, such as admitting he’s been lying to Prime this past metacycle, protocol would dictate for Prime to disregard the accusation. Innocent until proven guilty would be his savior, it was the Autobot way.
Optimus looked up when Prowl entered. He held a datapad in his hands. Prowl recognized it as one he’d given his commander a long, long time ago, when Prime had fallen into a deep depression over the state of his troops, the planet, the energon crisis, everything. Prowl had compiled a list of quotes and catergorized them, in his perversely ordered fashion. It was a list he himself looked at to remember why they fought. Although Prowl had organized them for Prime, they’d initially been a gift from Sideswipe. Something Prime did not need to know.
He knew Optimus only looked at the list to find comfort in the empowering words.
Prowl had shaken Prime’s confidence.
And it hurt to know that.
Prowl stood before Prime’s desk, palms slapped to his thighs to keep his fingers from curling. His doorwings stood rigid behind him as he stood at attention.
Prime sighed, letting the datapad fall from his fingers. “Why would Jazz think that, Prowl?”
Prowl didn’t dare relax his posture. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t act like a lovestruck sparkling, Prowl.” The two mechs regarded each other coolly.
“I’m hardly a sparkling, Prime.”
Optimus leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk before him. “You weren’t really worried about Jazz.” The accusation lay just below Prime’s statement.
Prowl’s doorwings shifted. “Jazz is capable of taking care of himself. I normally don’t have to worry about him. I value that.”
“This is a serious accusation Jazz has made, Prowl…”
“He has given no proof.”
Prime turned his head slightly, eying the tactician. “No, he hasn’t and you are innocent until proven guilty. Since there is no proof, I cannot pursue it.”
Prowl held himself against relaxing, aware of Prme’s continued scrutiny.
“Is there anything you want to tell me, Prowl?”
“No, Prime.”
“I see.” Optimus reached over and plucked another datapad off one of the teetering piles on his desk. “I’ve received a communiqué from Ultra Magnus. He’s currently coordinating a strategy to send reinforcements over the spacebridge, as well as building materials for Grapple and Hoist’s project.”
“Reinforcements would be welcome,” Prowl replied, accepting the datapad from Prime, his stance relaxing into business as usual. Prime would allow him to arrange punishment detail for Sunstreaker.
****
The continuous caress of fingers over his headlights and chevron brought Prowl online. A silhouetted form hovered over him, blue light running across his face. It was the horns that did it for Prowl, he strangled a yelp and lashed out a foot.
The voice that cried out in reply was not the jovial visored mech’s. His systems coming to full alertness, Prowl noticed the bright color of optics set in the face. Though set on a black helm, he noticed the sharp angle the horns took.
“Sideswipe?”
“Oof, yeah. I’m Sideswipe.” The warrior lifted himself to his elbows. “Ow, remind me not to get you mad at me.” Sideswipe rubbed his chestplate and the scratched paint and dented metal there. “Nasty kick there, Prowl.”
The tactician sat up, sheepish grin in place and he reached out a hand to help his lover to his feet. “Sorry, thought you were… someone else.”
The scowl showed plainly even in the shadows. “I don’t suppose you’ve actually done that to him?” The red twin slipped onto the berth with Prowl. He wrapped his arms around Prowl’s torso, drawing the tactician to his chestplate.
Prowl stiffened in his lover’s arms, his doorwings wincing away from Sideswipe. He couldn’t help the discomfort that crawled through his systems.
Sideswipe nuzzled against Prowl’s neck and windshield, his hands trailed over the tactician’s front plates.
The similarity between the arms that held him, and the ones that haunted him, set Prowl on edge. He tensed unconsciously, his hands gripping the edge of his berth. He repeated his lover’s name over and over in his processor, fighting the ghost of Jazz that his sub-processors told him was there. Confusion warred with panic, the all-too familiar settings and Sideswipe’s immediate visual absence activating memories of Jazz in this room… touching him…
The kisses halted and the caresses stilled. The arms tightened around Prowl’s waist. “What?”
Prowl stiffly patted Sideswipe’s hands and pulled away from the twin’s embrace. He turned to face his lover, which seemed to help his unease.
Sideswipe frowned at Prowl, his optics dimming slightly.
“I’m sorry, it’s just” Prowl paused, unable to articulate the emotions that coursed through him. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
Sideswipe shifted, glancing away with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I don’t suppose you managed to keep Sunny out of trouble.”
“Would I let you down like that, Sideswipe?” Prowl asked in a soft voice.
“Don’t know. You haven’t exactly been keeping with what I expect of you lately.”
Prowl cast his dim optics down and his door panels sagged. He pressed his lips together, and didn’t refute the accusation. “His punishment is my decision. I will deal with him as lightly as I can. What was Sunstreaker supposed to be doing?”
“He was off duty. He was supposed to be at the party.”
“What reason would Sunstreaker have to attack Jazz?”
Sideswipe, not one to be completely idle for long, stroked and caressed Prowl’s white hand. “Jazz is accusing Sunstreaker, then?”
“Naturally why would he not?”
“Because he’s blackmailing you,” Sideswipe turned one of the wheels on Prowl’s shoulder, playing his fingers into the tread of the rubber. “He’s blackmailing you, and would be in just as much trouble if Optimus found it.” Sideswipe’s optics brightened as he continued. “He’s in as deep as we are, because he has been keeping our secret, your secret for a metacycle. As far as Prime knows, he’s been keeping it longer. He’s an accomplice, knowingly withholding information when asked for it by a superior officer, in this case Prime.” Sideswipe’s fingers moved to Prowl’s helmet, caressing down the cheek guard, along the edge and up to Prowl’s auditory receiver. “I think I know what we can do, sparkles.”
Prowl tilted his head, his own fingers lifting to stroke the twin’s horns. “You are entirely too knowledgeable about law, delinquent.” He lightly tugged on the horns to draw Sideswipe closer.
“I have to,” Sideswipe murmured against the Datsun’s lips, “if I want to stay ahead of you, sir.”
****
Prowl sidled up to Jazz, trying not to be too obvious about the sidling. He didn’t ponder on the logic of it; he didn’t need to freeze up at that moment. Jazz sat at the console, intent on whatever played on the screen. In full view of the rec room, Prowl rested his elbows on Jazz’s shoulders.
“Jazz, I have requested that Prime allow us to enjoy this beautiful day.”
The saboteur turned his gaze up to the tactician. A suspicious frown turned his lips for the briefest of astroseconds. “Didn’t you have something else in mind?”
Prowl tilted his head, surprise widening his optics. “Can’t I reschedule my duties for you?”
Jazz’s visor flashed and he turned around, rising to his feet. He pressed closer to Prowl catching tactician’s shoulders and leaning in. “Why should I do anythin’ for ya, Prowlie? Y’ don’ seem t’ appreciate what I do for ya.”
Prowl schooled any anger out of his face. “But I’m not asking you to do anything for me, Jazz.”
The light behind Jazz’s visor dimmed, like the narrowing of optics. “I thought y’ were gonna be spendin’ more time disciplinin’ th’ twins,” he hissed.
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, even as he pressed his impassive lips against the saboteur’s own. “Now why would I want to do that when you need my attention, too?”
Jazz leaned away to stare at Prowl. The saboteur’s normal jovial grin was nowhere to be found. His visor darkened even further and he pulled Prowl into a kiss. Never mind that the entire room pretended not to watch the two officers. Never mind that Prowl hated any public display. Jazz gripped Prowl’s upper shoulder struts, his lips questing for an answer, a response.
“Kiss me back, Prowl.”
Prowl forced his hands to uncurl at his sides. “Jazz, please, not here.”
“Kiss me back, Prowl. Like y’mean it.”
Optics watched, though they pretended not to. Prowl found himself in the same quandary he’d tried to place Jazz in. Having solicited Jazz’s time and attention in front of everyone, it would seem as peculiar for him not to respond as it would for Jazz to have refused.
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, even as he leaned into the kiss. His systems churned as he moved his lips against the saboteur’s. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the Porsche.
“C’mon, Prowl, I know you can do better than that.” Jazz released Prowl’s shoulder struts and wrapped one arm around the tactician. His other hand delved into Prowl’s doorwing joint, eliciting a protesting whine from Prowl’s vocalizer. The Porsche moaned in reply, pulling the tactician closer and digging his fingers painfully deeper. “I dunno if I wanna wait till we get outside, Prowlie,” Jazz murmured against Prowl’s lips, his engine purring, “I don’ think I can make it t’ either ‘a our quarters.”
Prowl stiffened, wincing at the assault on his door hinges. The plan would never work if he couldn’t draw the saboteur out of the Ark. Jazz bent Prowl’s head back, deepening the kiss. The black and white saboteur vibrated against the tactician’s chassis.
Prowl shifted, grasping Jazz’s elbows as he attempted to squirm away from the black hands. He couldn’t simply shove the saboteur away, not without looking suspicious. Why, oh why did Jazz have to be so aggressive now? In front of everybody? Jazz tightened his grip on Prowl, sending sharp pain into the tactician’s side from his probing fingers.
“Can’t you two take it to one of your rooms? Why do you have to subject us to this?” Gears grumbled, accompanied by murmured ‘yeahs’ from those around him.
Jazz pulled away, cycling air rapidly through his ventilators. He still clung to Prowl, though he smirked at their audience. “Aw, sorry. Ya’ll know how I can be. Prowlie,” and his fingers twitched, scraping wiring and circuitry in the Datsun’s side, “jes’ makes me forget myself.” His hand withdrew, teasing as it went.
Before the Porsche could grab hold of the Datsun, Prowl slipped his arms over Jazz’s shoulder. He leaned back, tilting his head so that he looked up at the jovial mech from under his chevron with a pout. It made him feel odd, having to act like a spoiled sparkling. If he wanted to get the result he desired though, he knew he’d have to play on Jazz’s weakness.
“I’d rather go outside and enjoy this beautiful day.”
Jazz’s fingers twitched where they rested on Prowl’s hips. He pulled his mouth to one side. “How can I say no, when yer lookin’ at me with those big baby blues.” The saboteur pressed another devouring kiss over Prowl’s mouth, jabbing his fingers deep into Prowl’s sides.
Prowl cycled air, trying to shake the unwanted feel of Jazz pressing against him. The other black and white mech ducked out of the rec room. Prowl gathered himself and followed after the Porsche. A hand on his arm stopped him and he looked down in surprise at Ironhide.
“Y’know, Prowl, I think it’s scraps an’ rust that of all mechs on the base, Jazz’s spark would seek you. Yer the only one who can make him frown like that. Ya don’t even love him, do ya?”
Prowl’s doorwings twitched, sending twinges into his pain receptors. A quick diagnostic revealed tears in his coolant and fuel lines. Typical. Ratchet was going to blow a fuse. “Were you interested in him?” Prowl asked, pulling his arm out of Ironhide’s grasp.
“Wha-? No! I’m jus’ sayin’ is all.”
“I see.” Prowl nodded a farewell and stepped out of the rec room. He didn’t see Jazz until he proceeded out of the Ark and into the noon sun.
Jazz and Mirage bantered lightly over a datapad, poking and jostling each other. Trust Jazz to bring out the best in the normally reclusive spy. The saboteur treated his small team with all the kindness and openness Prowl had observed in many fleshling creators on this planet. Why, then, did he see fit to torment Prowl?
A hand tugging on his doorwing drew Prowl back to the present. “So, we’re outside Prowlie. I don’ think you had here in mind, didja?”
Prowl transformed. “No, I did not.” He pulled away from the saboteur, listening to the click and whines of the Porsche’s transformation.
The tactician drew Jazz farther away from the Ark. He sought a particular path that he turned down as soon as they came upon it. Jazz kept lagging farther and farther behind, until he finally rolled to a complete stop.
Prowl stopped, turning his wheels to stop at an angle from Jazz. “Is something wrong?”
The Porsche shifted to reverse, inching back. “Somethin’ ain’t right. It’s too quiet.” Jazz’s headlights flashed. “What’s goin’ on Prowl?”
Prowl transformed, walking back to the Porsche. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jazz. Of course it’s quiet; the local wildlife is disturbed by our presence.” As he spoke, he transmitted a coded message over a secure frequency.
Jazz surged to his own feet, looking about anxiously. “That ain’t- what was that?” His visored gaze turned to Prowl. “Did you just-“
Trees and branches cracked and crashed, interrupting Jazz. The Porsche looked at Prowl in alarm as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker charged out of the underbrush.
The nimble mech slid under Sunstreaker’s grasp and right into Sideswipe’s.
“Don’t hurt him,” Prowl said in his most authoritative voice.
The twins paused in wrestling the Porsche to the ground. Their briefly averted optics gave Jazz the chance to throw Sunstreaker off.
“Tell that to him,” the red twin hollered grappling the black and white mech down.
Prowl held a neutral expression as Sideswipe’s piledriver smashed into the Porsche’s chestplate.
“Jazz, stop struggling.”
“Why?” The saboteur aimed a double kick into the red twin’s torso. “So these two can finish what Sunstreaker started two days ago?” Jazz shoved himself to his, ready to take off.
Sunstreaker plowed into the saboteur, knocking him back to the packed earth in a flurry of leaves. Black, white and gold flashed in a whirling mass of grunts and pained cries. Then crimson joined in the fray, and metal crashed and pounded together.
Prowl waited patiently, wincing internally as he visualized the damage being caused. His doorwings drooped and flared off his shoulders as he so desperately wanted to step in and help, but he stood his ground. He respected, and loved, Sideswipe too much to interfere with him in this.
Sideswipe had asked Prowl to let him handle it, and Prowl agreed to.
He had not expected Sunstreaker’s involvement, but he should have known that the golden Lamborghini would never allow his brother to face this alone.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Sunstreaker dragged a quiescent Jazz to his feet, hauling him up with his arms locked behind his back.
Prowl frowned as the saboteur moaned, shaking his head in a daze. His blue optics sought out Sideswipe’s, but he said nothing. If this was to work, they would need to portray a united front. The red twin circled the damaged saboteur, like a turbohawk on a wreck.
“Jazz, are you functioning?”
“Nno thanks t’ yer,” Jazz groaned, his systems surging audibly, “mmbodyguardss.”
Sideswipe paused, reaching out to shove the Porsche’s shoulder. “What did you expect? ‘Oh, hey he’s raping Prowl, well we’re all Autobots, so it’s okay!” Sideswipe’s cheerful mien dropped instantly. “I don’t fragging think so.”
“I was hopin’ we could talk it out.” Despite the obvious pain he was in and the sagging of damaged parts, Jazz still managed a smile for the Lamborghini. “It ain’t like it’s my fault your lover didn’t tell you nothin’ ‘bout what was goin’ on.”
Prowl stepped forward before Sideswipe could react. The set of his jaw and the tightness of his hands promised nothing gentle for the saboteur. “That is between Sideswipe and myself, and doesn’t involve you.”
Jazz laughed, pained static filled his vocalizer. “It doesn’t, eh? Then why are ya makin’ such a big deal outta it?” The visor turned toward Sideswipe. “It’s not like Prowl ever really said ‘stop.’”
Sideswipe jerked away from Prowl. “Because you wouldn’t let him. That’s an excuse a Decepticon would use. Hey, you know, maybe you’re not Jazz, maybe you are a Decepticon. Because Jazz would never do this.”
Jazz quirked a grin. “How do ya know what I will an’ won’t do? Ya don’ see nothin’ I don’ wantcha t’ see.”
Sunstreaker shook the saboteur. “He’s in fragging special ops. This is what he does.”
“Shut up, Sunny, you’re not helping here.”
Prowl stepped forward before the twins could dissolve into an argument. “We aren’t here to discuss your motives, Jazz. We’re here to discuss just what is going to happen.”
Sideswipe stood next to Prowl, his presence a reassurance to the tactician’s spark. The twin glanced at Prowl. “His motives are exactly why we’re here sparkles.”
“An’ why should I listen t’ anythin’ you have t’ say.” Defiant to the end, Jazz leveled a glare at the two lovers.
Prowl frowned. “He may not know what we’re saying, but he knows we’re transmitting. It does not take a genius to deduce that we’re arguing. We do not need to argue in front of him, Sides.”
Jazz watched them, a knowing smirk on his face. “Aw, don’t let me stop ya. Go ahead an’ talk. I’ll be here, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Prowl laid a restraining hand on Sideswipe’s arm. “Don’t. It’s what he wants.”
The red twin scowled fiercely before his optics flickered briefly. He cupped Prowl’s chin with his hand and caught the tactician’s lips in a devouring kiss.
Prowl tensed, his doorwings trembling as Sideswipe laid claim to his mouth, crushing him against his flat red chest plate. Sideswipe slipped his fingers into the tactician’s hinge crevice, fingering the joints with surprising gentleness compared to his possessive kiss. Prowl’s system churned uneasily.
“Sideswipe, if you don’t stop, I will hit you.”
The Lamborghini’s engine grumbled and Sideswipe tweaked a particularly sensitive sensor around Prowl’s hinges. Prowl winced as the normally ticklish spot registered pain. The red twin pulled his hands away and released Prowl’s lips. The tactician followed Sideswipe’s blank stare to his black hands. His fingertips glowed with a pink cast. The blankness disappeared into an angry glare that turned to the saboteur.
“You just keep on hurting him,” he snarled.
Jazz twitched, his lips turning down for the briefest of moments. Metal squealed. “He never said nothin’!” he yelped.
Sunstreaker’s scowl gave reason to the Porsche’s cry; his black fingers dented the saboteur’s shoulder struts.
Sideswipe stormed over to slam a piledriver into Jazz’s torso plating. “He doesn’t say anything! He shouldn’t have to!”
“He didn’t make a sound in Halifax,” Sunstreaker added, his optics locked with his sibling’s.
Prowl remained still, patiently waiting for Sideswipe to reign in his temper.
“Halifax?” Confusion flickered in Jazz’s visor. “What does that- Oh.” The saboteur drooped a little. “I’d forgotten about that. You were there weren’t cha?”
“Yeah, well, we hadn’t forgotten. Considering it was for our benefit.” Sideswipe took his position next to Prowl again. “I guess Sunny’s right. What can we expect from someone who’ll stand by and watch Starscream-“ Sideswipe’s vocalizer buzzed, cutting off the sentence. “Factory reject,” he burst, pulling Prowl against him.
Prowl wasn’t sure who Sideswipe desired to reassure, Prowl, or himself?
Jazz tilted his head. “That long ago, eh Prowl?” He sighed. “I couldn’t blow my cover. Prime accepted that. If I had stopped Starscream, he’d’a blown my head off, an’ Iacon with it.”
Sideswipe tucked Prowl’s white helm under his chin. “At least Starscream has the courage to wear the right insignia.”
Blue optics flickered in annoyance. “That’s enough, both of you.” Prowl ducked out from Sideswipe’s embrace. “Jazz, we are long overdue for a talk on the status of our relationship.”
The saboteur frowned.
“Now then, this is what’s going to happen…”
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This is still due some revisions I'm sure. Concrit would be appreciated (I'll give you love and huggles, and cyber cookies, mmmm cyber cookies).