Custom-Made Comfort
Yes, more Jazz-fic, and this time it's (*sigh*) another Prowl/Jazz for all you crazy folks. PG for fluff and tooth-decaying sweetness. Jazz makes a new acquisition...
especially dedicated to eloquencelost, she'll know why ;)
Custom-Made Comfort
“So explain to me why we’re here again, Jazz.”
Jazz glanced over at Trailbreaker with a grin and gestured to the field before them. “Mattress sale.”
“Right…”
“No, really.” The saboteur swept his arm in an arc to indicate the various stalls that dotted the grass, each selling their own verison of what they claimed was the Most Comfortable Mattress™. “See?”
“Yes, I see. So why are we at a mattress sale?”
“T’buy a mattress of course.” Jazz started off across the field. “Why else would we be at a mattress sale?”
Trailbreaker stared at the saboteur’s back, wondering if Jazz had finally lost it, then shrugged and followed the black-and-white. At the very least, it promised to be an amusing experience.
“And why exactly do you want to buy a mattress?” he asked, catching up to the other mech.
“Ever had one o’ those days where ya feel so sore an’ battered that even lyin’ on the recharge berth feels like you’re lyin’ on a pile o’ rocks?” Jazz asked.
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those.”
“Well, the humans had the right idea when they figured it was a lot better t’rest on somethin’ soft an’ comfy that actually encouraged sleep.”
“All well and good, but how do you intend to find one to fit you?”
Jazz looked scandalized as he led Trailbreaker through the sale-field, not bothered in the least by the curious glances the humans gave them.
“Oh ye of little faith, haven't you ever heard the phrase: ‘what the Jazz-man wants, the Jazz-man gets’?”
“Can't say I have, no,” Trailbreaker teased.
“Then watch and learn, my friend.” Jazz stopped in front of a particular stall and beamed at the young salesgirl there. “Mornin’ Lucy. Remember me?”
Lucy looked up and smiled. “Kinda hard to forget when an Autobot stops by our company and makes a request for one of our mattresses.”
“Couldn’t resist. Y’all have such lovely customer service.”
Trailbreaker chuckled. He was pouring on the charm in true Jazz-style. In a way, the big black mech could see why some bots, too, could fall for him. It was a little impossible to NOT like him.
“Why thank you,” Lucy replied. “Would you like to see your order? It’s ready for you.”
“That’d be great. Lead the way.”
“Sure, follow me.”
Stepping from behind the counter, she set off at a brisk pace towards another part of the field, matched easily by the long strides of the Autobots. They headed to a row of large tents and trailers, and she led them behind these, then stopped.
“There it is,” she said and gestured before her to a large, white… thing. “We reinforced the springs according to the specs you gave us, and we used the softest stuffing our brand’s known for.” She smiled proudly at Jazz. “The over-quilt’s satin and down, just like you requested, and we threw in a pair of complimentary pillows for the hell of it. What do you think?”
Jazz sat down on the edge of the mattress, that easily dwarfed the human, and bounced a little to test the springs while running his hands over the fabric, grinning at its softness. Then he promptly fell back and lay sprawled on it, letting out a sigh of contentment.
“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever laid on,” he said. “Ah, ‘Breaker, you have no idea how divine this feels. Its like lyin’ on a cloud, only not as damp.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Trailbreaker replied. “Seems a little big for just one mech though.”
“That’s ‘cause it ain’t for one mech,” Jazz said.
“Ah, and Prowl’s actually okay with this?”
“Prowl don’t even know about this.”
Trailbreaker threw back his head and laughed. “Oh to see the look on his face when he sets optics on it.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Great. Now how about we make a move and get this thing back home. Up ya get.”
Jazz didn’t move. “But it’s so comfy.”
“You can enjoy it back home. Get!” The black mech projected a forcefield that promptly bumped the smaller mech off the mattress, then transformed. “You’ll need to lock your magna-beams on the field to help transport it.”
Jazz nodded, then knelt before Lucy. “Thanks again darlin’, and if it works out, expect a few more orders from various Autobots.”
“I’ll be glad to help,” Lucy replied.
The mech grinned, then transformed and activated his magna-beams. Together, he and Trailbreaker managed to lift and suspend the mattress between them, and set off for the Ark.
=====
That evening, Jazz stepped into his room fresh and damp after a cool shower in the washracks, and gazed longingly at his lovely new bed. They’d gotten it back to the Ark without any trouble and had only just moved it into the room, when the klaxons went off, summoning them out to a brief skirmish near by. While no one had taken any serious injuries as such, he had taken a hard fall that left him more dented than anything else, and Ratchet advised him to just sleep off the aches.
Purely out of habit, he glanced at the clock, and noted that it would still be a few hours yet before Prowl arrived home from his trip to Canada, so he dimmed the lights and crawled up onto his nice new bed.
It proved to be his undoing. The cool texture of the satin and the softness of the down, coupled with the light feel of the pillow, all conspired to send his body into a powered down state, the aches comfortably cushioned by the mattress. His optics flickered and before he knew it, he drifted off into a blissful recharge.
So he never got to see the look on Prowl’s face when he returned later that night and after a trip to the washracks entered the room, stopping short when he saw the latest addition to their quarters.
Prowl smiled fondly at Jazz’s sleeping form curled up on his side on the quilt-cover, then turned his attention to the bed itself, crouching down and running his hand over the surface, before climbing up and sitting on it, pleasantly surprised by the softness. No wonder Jazz had fallen asleep on it. He edged closer to the other mech and placed a light kiss on his cheek, running a hand down his back and frowning when his fingers touched a dent. Had he been hurt, and if so, how?
“Had a bit of a rumble earlier,” Jazz murmured, and Prowl noticed the dim light behind the visor indicating he had woken up a little. “I’m alright, in case you were wonderin’, just a li’l dented.”
“I see.” Prowl continued to fuss over him.
Jazz sighed, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him down. “How was your trip?”
The tactician relented, partly because the bed felt so comfortable to lie on that he didn’t want to get up again for a good long while. “Uneventful…. Jazz, why do we have a bed?”
“Technically, it’s a mattress.” He shrugged. “Just felt we needed one… and it’s comfy.”
“So I’ve noticed, but it begs the question - will I be getting any sleep on it?”
Jazz grinned, albeit a little sleepily. “Who needs sleep?”
“Apparently you do.”
Turning onto his front, Jazz crossed his forearms in front of him and rested his chin on them. Prowl’s lips twitched a little at how adorable the saboteur looked right then, and he stretched out a hand to caress the black helm affectionately. Jazz smiled contently and angled his head to let those white fingers brush over one of his horns, sighing at both the feel of Prowl’s hand on his head, and the cool satin against his skin. Prowl chuckled a bit.
“You’re silly,” he said.
“You like me like that,” Jazz replied, moving forward and pillowing his head on Prowl’s mid-section. “Mmm comfy.”
“Jazz… there’s a perfectly fine pillow right here,” the tactician commented.
“Yeah, I know, but your tummy’s comfier.”
“Technically, I do not have a stomach, and my torso is a lot harder than a pillow.”
“Meh, trifles.”
Prowl sighed and fell quiet, though his hand continued to caress Jazz’s head. Then a thought occurred to him and he allowed himself a small smile.
“Jazz…”
“Hmm?”
“I can't kiss you good night if you’re all the way down there.”
“… Damn.”
Grumbling good-naturedly, Jazz pulled himself level with Prowl, nuzzling and kissing him lightly. Prowl waited till he eased off, then pulled him closer and kissed him soundly, smirking at Jazz’s muffled sound of surprise. He did love to catch the usually sneaky saboteur off-guard.
Kissing him once more, he pulled away and let Jazz cuddle close to him, wrapping an arm around him and stroking his helm again.
“Mmm… love you, Prowl,” the saboteur murmured.
“Love you, too, Good night, Jazz.”
“Night.”
“And maybe tomorrow, we’ll christen the bed.”
~END.