30 Days and 30 Nights: Day 3
Cybertronian time references similar but not equal to our own: astrosecond ~ second, klick ~ minute, joor ~ hour, cycle ~ day, deca-cycle ~ week, orn ~ month, vorn ~ year
Day 3: "Less than lovers, more than friends."
Change.
It was inevitable over the course of time.
It was expected during this war as locations changed, mechs changed, views changed…feelings changed.
Changes could be good or bad.
Changes could also be surprising.
One orn, the rough equivalent to three Earth month, after waking up on the organic planet, when the feelings of a tactician changed about a particular saboteur it was certainly surprising. But then at the same time it wasn't entirely unexpected.
After all, they'd been working side by side since the beginning of the war. The Autobot numbers were dwindling down over the vorns, the basic instinct of survival was prominent, the desire to seek companionship with another to quell their fears grew more frequent each and every cycle.
What was equally surprising was the saboteur's feelings seemed to also change towards the tactician. While no words were ever used express these feelings. There were the shy touches, the wider smiles, the closeness of the saboteur, daring to invade the tactician's personal space, something he never did before back on Cybertron.
On Cybertron the two were always professional, abiding by protocol and their mannerisms were that of the high ranked officers that they were. On Earth influenced by its many cultures and their new human allies, professionalism had gone out the proverbial window and a more relaxed, easy going environment prevailed…at least while off duty.
Even the most strictest of them turned a blind optic and feigned ignorance, so long as it didn't interfere with one's duties. One of the most professional of them was at times the most juvenile, whether on duty or not, unless he was on a sabotage mission. There was a understanding amongst them, that for the first time their fellow Autobots could simply live. Something they hadn't been able to do in so long.
And that initiated the change in how they perceived each other.
The only question was, what change in their relationship was to come next. Or perhaps more importantly, which of them was more willing to make that change.
In an odd turn of events, it was the reserved tactician who decided to take action first…
Prowl sat stiffly behind his desk. One hand was fidgeting about with his stylus. His optics weren't even focusing on the material on the datapad before him. He couldn't concentrate. His processor kept cycling over and over. Even his spark pulsed a tad faster than normal.
In a word he was nervous.
Yes nervous.
The stoic, no nonsense, always calm and collected Second in Command of the entire Autobot Army was as nervous as a first vorn cadet during their first cycle of boot camp at the Academy.
Why?
Well the cause of his nervousness was about to waltz through his office door. And Prowl knew he couldn't allow these growing feelings of awkwardness and nervousness to continue whenever around his best friend. His friend was much better and more adept to handling such emotions than Prowl. Which made Prowl wonder why his friend hadn't brought up the obvious between them. Instead, it was Prowl who was going to do something about it.
And what he had planned only made him more anxious. Which for some odd reason made it feel like the right thing to do.
"How illogical," he muttered to himself, setting the datapad and stylus down. Obviously he wasn't going to get any work done. With a huff from his vents he snatched the datapad back up. "At least hold the datapad, then you look like you're working, idiot."
Right on time, the door swished open. Prowl's spark coiled and his tanks lurched. As expected, Jazz strolled in, grin on his face, twinkle on his visor, and two cups of energon in his hands. For a mech who thrived on spontaneity, Jazz had a routine down just like Prowl. And everyday just before evening since they settled in on Earth, Jazz would show up in the CTO's office with two cups of energon.
"Evenin' Prowler," Jazz smiled, taking his normal seat across from the tactician. "I know ya missed yar break today so I thought I'd bring ya some energon."
"Thanks Jazz," Prowl replied, with his usual small smile, maintaining his calm, dignified demeanor on his outward appearance. "You alone keep Ratchet off my aft."
"I try," Jazz laughed, relaxed into his seat. "Can't have Ratch gettin' cranky an' throwin' wrenches at ma best friend."
That was a sign.
It was now or never, Prowl decided. He kept the cup in his hands, to keep them busy and to hide his nervousness.
"Jazz, how long have we been friends?" he asked, looking at the steam wafting off the pinkish liquid, too afraid to even dare to take a drink with as much as his tank was fretfully churning.
"Long time, ma friend. A long time."
"Don't you think it's time we both admit it?" Prowl asked, making direct optic contact with Jazz.
"Admit what?" Jazz asked with a smirk.
Prowl smiled warmly, "Jazz, we're both keenly observant mechs. I know you have not failed to notice that things changed between us after we woke up on Earth. The energon. The casual caresses. The lingering in one's private space. The long stares across the room when we think the other isn't looking or paying attention. Admit it, we're more than friends to each other."
"Ah but we're less than lovers," Jazz smiled kindly in return as he leaned forward, resting his arms on Prowl's desk. "Got any ideas how we can…remedy that?"
Prowl chuckled softly, reaching across with his hand open. Jazz didn't hesitate to accept the offer. Prowl's spark and tank calmed as his hand gently gripped the black hand resting in his. His smile grew with his new found confidence.
"I am quite prepared to take our relationship to the next level. Are you?"
"I ain't opposed. What do ya got in mind?"
"I propose we go out on a date," Prowl said, his thumb, gently caressing the back of Jazz's hand. "I've acquired passage for us to a concert."
"Ya got tickets to a rock concert?"
"Not exactly a rock concert. I'm aware of your love of any kind of music and chose a genre more…me."
"Ah see. Barbershop Quartet?" Jazz teased, making Prowl laugh.
"No."
"Folk music?"
Again Prowl laughed, releasing Jazz's hand and leaning back slightly into his chair.
"Rap?"
"Ak! Frag no!" Prowl exclaimed fluttering his doorwings. "I'll give you a hint…Beethoven."
"That Saint Bernard dog from the movie that slobbers on everything?" Jazz asked with the cheekiest grin he could ever flash.
Prowl shot him a mock glare that only made the saboteur breaking into a fit of wild giggles.
"Done?" Prowl asked after a few moments when Jazz's giggles began to quiet down.
"Sorry, Prowler. I'm done," Jazz smiled with a somewhat serious face. "So a symphony an' classical music sounds lovely. When's the concert?"
"This coming Saturday."
Jazz frowned leaning forward, a somber look on his face that made Prowl's tank plummet.
"Is…is there a problem?" Prowl hesitantly asked.
"Just one," Jazz replied seriously. "Three days is too long to wait."
"I don't understand. That's when the Philharmonic is performing. There are no earlier performances."
"Prowl, its not about the concert," Jazz smiled fondly. "Its about us bein' alone in a relaxed settin'. I know I can't wait until this weekend."
"Oh."
"Come with me, I wanna show ya somethin'."
Prowl was still somewhat confused but dutifully followed Jazz through the Ark, outside and then up a trail. Once to the desire spot, they stopped and took in the view of the Ark, the trees, the river, birds, and the slowly setting sun.
Finally Prowl understood.
"Ya spend far too much time in yar office, Prowler," Jazz spoke softly, taking a white hand in his. "Yar missin' out on some of the beautiful things this planet has to offa. But that's ok. Coz with me, yar gonna get to experience them."
"Is that a promise?"
"Ya bet yar cute aft, it is."
Prowl blushed making Jazz laugh. Then the two of them sat side by side watching their first of many sunsets to come.
The End.