December Challenge 2011

[thalanee]

 
The Meaning of a Kiss

Author: Thalanee

December- Challenge 2011, Prompt: Eskimo Kisses

Verse: Movie-AU

Word Count: 3800 words

Warnings: might give you toothache from the sweetness ;)

Rating: pg-13

Disclaimer: How I wish they were mine, but they’re not… maybe I’ll get them for Christmas?

Summary: There’s more than one way of kissing as Prowl is about to find out.


Author’s Notes: In collaboration with vejiraziel, who volunteered to draw a picture. Thank you very much once again! :D

This came to me while I was listening to Christmas songs, waiting for the bus. People started staring when I was suddenly grinning and aaww-ing to myself XD Bunnies pick the strangest times to pounce on me!

Turned out a lot longer than I was planning, too! ;P

XXXXX

The accursed things were everywhere.

In every corner, in every nook and cranny in the NEST base, every doorway whether it was made for humans or mechs, and even some highly unexpected places outside someone had placed the innocent seeming green plants with the white berries called Phoradendron serotinum, otherwise known as mistletoe. Some nefarious prankster had even had the ball bearings to place one such piece of greenery above Prowl’s own office door!

At first the Autobot SIC had not minded the presence of the plant, knowing it to be part of the traditional decoration used for this particular human holiday, truth be told he had not really registered it at first. Until he had discovered the true reason there were so many branches of mistletoe around. Prowl had been appalled when he had found himself under the plant with Sideswipe by chance and was told what would be required.

To the silver swordsmech’s surprise and the amusement of everyone else, Sideswipe found himself kissing a datapad when he tried to stay true to tradition and kiss the tactician. Afterward Prowl had gotten away to his office, where he was still… oh well, there was no way to deny it, he was hiding from the other bots. Rubbing his ruby chevron to alleviate the headache, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea how something as intimate and important as a kiss could be treated so callously.

In the traditions of Praxus, his home, a kiss was something only shared between bots who were courting and wanted to take the next step in their relationship. Doorwings twitching in the silence of his office, he sighed.

He couldn’t really say he fully understood the meaning of Christmas, never mind that he had a slight suspicion that there were quite a number of humans who didn’t either, and it was their holiday in the first place, but he did not mind the festive mood. In truth he welcomed it after all that had happened in the war. His processors and spark still stalled in protest at the thought that Jazz had actually died, though he had come back, through a combination of Allspark energy, the matrix’s wisdom, Ratchet’s skills and sheer dumb luck.

The doorwinger relished the thought of having happy Autobots around, of being close to his friends during the holidays, but he absolutely did not want to be caught underneath one of those plants. Not considering his past experience…

And that was the true reason Prowl was so determined to avoid being caught underneath the plant again.

Prowl had never been kissed before.

And he wanted that first kiss to mean something, not to be part of some holiday entertainment that determined whom would be kissed by whom based on pure chance.

So caught up in his musings he was, that he didn’t notice Jazz enter his office until the mech stood directly in front of his desk.

He looked up to see his best friend- and if he was perfectly honest about it romantic interest (not that he would admit that out loud, at least not yet) - twirling one of those mistletoe branches in his silver servo, grinning mischievously. The Praxian couldn’t help the slight feeling of betrayal welling up in his spark. Prowl knew that Jazz most likely didn’t know about those traditions and probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still… This was one of the rare instances where he didn’t find any comfort in logic.

Sitting up perfectly straight, he tried to ignore the glint in Jazz’s visor and eyed the plant wearily. Doorwings rose almost imperceptively, before Prowl got himself under control again and stilled the unconscious movement.

“Hey there, Prowler, enjoying the festive atmosphere?” There was a roguish quality to the grin on those silver face plates.

“I would enjoy it more, if random mecha stopped trying to trap me underneath one of those.” The bitterness in his tone surprised even himself. Hoping that Jazz hadn’t noticed it, he stopped himself from continuing, but it was too late. Jazz had heard it.

“Ya alright, Prowler?” Now that Jazz looked more closely, he could see how tense the black and white was, how high he held those white wings Jazz adored so much. That couldn’t be comfortable. Fighting down the urge to pet those fascinating appendages, the saboteur fixed his gaze on Prowl.

“I’m fine, Jazz.” Vaguely waving a white servo, he tried to appear as in control as possible. He failed. Miserably.

“Yeah, right,” the saboteur snorted, “fine is just code for nothing’s alright, ‘specially when ya use that tone.” Planting himself in front of Prowl’s desk, hands on his hips, he was determined to find out what was wrong and fix it.

“Let it rest, please.” The last thing he needed was Jazz finding out that Prowl was practically a virgin in all things concerning love. The silver mech would never let him live it down! What was more important though, was that he didn’t want to appear less in Jazz’s eyes.

“No way, mech. Something’s botherin’ ya, an’ Ah ain’t gonna stand by and watch. Ya’re ma friend!” Silver servos were placed in the middle of the desk and Jazz leaned in close… close enough to kiss. Oh no, bad Jazz, don’t go there, the saboteur reprimanded himself. Time to pull out the big guns… “Ya tell me what’s so bad or Ah swear, Ah’ll sic Blue on ya.”

Golden optics widened slightly in indignation. “You would not!” Seeing the smug smirk on Jazz’s face, he huffed. “Oh, you would. Fine.”

“Ah knew ya’d see things ma way eventually,” Jazz drawled, ignoring the raised optic ridge and the Look aimed his way. He’d had lots of practice doing that over the vorns.

“I just… feel uncomfortable with the idea of kissing random mechs, just because I find myself standing underneath a piece of greenery with them. And I certainly do not appreciate certain bots continued attempts to place me underneath one of them.”

“Sure, some of the bots are overdoing it a little, but they don’t mean anythin’ bad by it.”

“Be that as it may, but even you have to admit, that some of them have turned this into a contest. I do not wish to be part of this.”

“Come on, Prowler, it ain’t that bad.” Jazz laughed, trying to lighten his friend’s somber mood. “The way ya act, I’d almost think ya’ve never been kissed before.”

The embarrassed silence that greeted his jest pulled him up short. Carefully he eyed the clearly uncomfortable Praxian, who was shifting nervously, his arms crossed over ruby chestplates. White doorwings were twitching and Prowl was looking anywhere but at him. For Primus sake, Prowl was acting like a youngling with his first crush!

That thought stalled him for a moment, then it slowly began to dawn on Jazz what Prowl’s behavior meant…

“Ya act as if ya’ve never been kissed before,” he said offhand, as if trying to joke, just to see if Prowl’s reaction confirmed his theory.

And it did. Doorwings were twitching violently and the tactician had even started squirming. He looked mortified. And if those clues weren’t enough there was also the fact that Prowl was blushing a shade of crimson that almost put his chevron to shame.

“H-how… I mean, what makes you think… oh bother.” As soon as he had spoken, Prowl knew that Jazz had seen through him.

“Ya’ve really never been kissed?!” The silver saboteur couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful friend in astonishment. It was hard to believe that no one had ever shown enough interest in the doorwinger to kiss him. Pit, Jazz himself had been and still was more than interested himself! He’d just always thought that Prowl wasn’t interested at all, so he’d kept silent, instead of being rejected outright.

If it was possible, Prowl’s blush became even deeper. Jazz had to suppress the urge to coo at the adorable sight of the usually stoic Prowl acting like that. “A kiss is something very serious in Praxian culture.” The tactician finally mumbled. “When we offer that privilege to a prospective lover it is indicative of our wish to make the relationship permanent. As such it is only offered if we are sure that we wish the relationship to last, it is meant as a promise, not as serious as agreeing to bond, but still not to be taken lightly. In short, it means we are offering our lives, our sparks.” He hesitated, then continued. “There has never been anyone I wished to bind myself to in such a manner.”

Jazz could hardly believe his own audios. “No one at all?”

Prowl squirmed a little. He knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one completely. Damn Jazz and his ability to perfectly read mechs’ behavior… “Well, there is one mech, but he has never displayed a sign of being interested and I was reluctant to broach the subject.”

A hot wave of jealousy washed over him, before he knew it. Imagining his Prowl with someone else was just plain wrong. Wait a moment…

His Prowl? Where had that thought come from? Prowl was a free mech and no one’s property. Yet, the more he mulled it over, the more right it sounded. His Prowl. Not as in  Prowl belonging to him, but belonging with him. His Prowl… Maybe he should court the Praxian after all. There was just one little detail to take care of before.

“Anyone Ah know?”

One corner of Prowl’s lips curved upward in a little half- smile. “You could say that.”

That cryptic reply didn’t really help much. Frowning Jazz decided to dig deeper, so he could later take care of the competition, Jazz’s darker side proposed before he could stop the idea. “Come on, Prowler, ya know ya can tell me anything. Besides ah have ta know, so Ah can turn him into spare parts if he hurts ya!”

Prowl’s lips twitched as he imagined a growling Jazz in a knot on the floor trying to fight himself, chewing on his own foot. Wherever had that image come from? “I imagine that would turn out to be rather difficult if not impossible.” He replied dryly, his face perfectly straight.

“What, ya think Ah’m no match for them?” Jazz joked, listing all the mechs who would be able to hold their own against him in a fight. It was rather short and only made up of Optimus Prime, Ironhide and the twins… Somehow the images seemed just plain wrong. Besides Jazz was getting the distinct feeling he was missing something obvious.

Meanwhile Prowl was busy scrounging up every ounce of courage he possessed. He had wanted to tell Jazz about his feelings ever since he had heard about Jazz’s death and return to life, knowing the saboteur might not be so lucky again, but every time he had attempted to approach the handsome silver mech, he had found himself hiding or turning away in the last minute. Frustrated with his own cowardice, he decided it would be now or never.

Opening his mouth he tried to say it, but found that his voice had decided to take an impromptu vacation somewhere far away and it didn’t seem as if it had any intention of coming back soon. The expectant and somewhat amused look Jazz gave him when Prowl repeated the procedure several times didn’t help at all…

He had defeated Starscream and Shockwave in battle, had held his own against Soundwave and even faced Megatron and he hadn’t felt this nervous. How difficult could it be to say a single word?!

“You.” Oh Primus, that hadn’t been his voice, had it? He had sounded… squeaky. Primus help him.

“’Scuse me?” Jazz stared at the black and white dumbstruck, wondering if he had heard right.

“It… It’s you.” Prowl stammered. Somehow in his mind the scene had played out a lot less embarrassing. Twisting his servos in his lap, he stared at the silver servos still placed on the surface of his desk, so he didn’t have to see the look on Jazz’s face.

Had he done so, he would have seen the happy-silly grin sprout on Jazz’s face as he realized what the doorwinger was saying. Right now, Jazz felt as if he could lift all of Cybertron with ease, felt like running through the base and telling everyone he met that Prowl was his now, felt like yipping and laughing and dancing and singing! Best. Christmas. Ever!

But first things first…

Prowl flinched when the silver servos disappeared and he heard Jazz step away from the desk, but before he knew what had happened, strong arms had wrapped around his slim waist and he was lifted out of his chair and twirled around the room in Jazz’s arms. Did that mean…?

“Love ya too, Sweetspark.” Jazz announced, holding Prowl close, who in turn allowed a smile to appear on his face, content with being held for a while, before he stepped back.

“So… what happens now?” the doorwinger asked, unsure how to proceed, absently drawing invisible lines on Jazz’s chassis, the movement doing wonderful things to the saboteur’s spark.

“Let’s take our time an’ see what happens. Now that Ah got ya Ah ain’t gonna let ya get away evah again!”

XX A year later, Christmas Eve XX

Jazz skipped his way to Prowl’s office, whistling and humming to himself.

Today it would be exactly an earth year since he and Prowl had officially become an item, as the human saying went, and Jazz had never been so ecstatically happy as in that year.

They had taken things slowly, even so the transition from being friends to being lovers had felt so right, so natural even though they had yet to do more than hold hands or cuddling… when Prowl had once given Jazz a simple peck on the cheek, the saboteur had felt like he could fly!

He was content to wait until Prowl was ready. And until then he was going to enjoy every single step leading them toward that kiss. Besides a human year was only the blink of an eye in comparison to a Cybertronian year. In their own measure of time he and Prowl had been a couple for a short time.

The door to Prowl’s office opened for him automatically, letting him through even when everyone else was banned from entering, a thought that gave the silver Solstice a warm glow.

As did the sight that greeted him when he entered the room. The police racer was sitting at his desk, working on datapads. White doorwings fluttered when Prowl looked up at Jazz, that tiny smile on his face, the one that was purely reserved for the saboteur.

“Good evening, Jazz.” Placing the datapad on the desk he stood to greet the slightly taller mech.

“Heya, Sweetspark, ya ready for the Christmas party?” Jazz hugged the other close, pressing a chaste kiss to the red chevron, eliciting a purr from the Praxian. To his delight he had discovered that when he was in the right mood, Prowl was actually quite… well, cuddly. If those magnificent doorwings were stroked in just the right way it earned Jazz a lapful of relaxed, purring Praxian wanting to snuggle.

“As ready as I ever will be,” Prowl answered, pressing a chaste kiss on Jazz’s cheek. “Let us join the others, I know everyone has been looking forward to this.”

“oh yeah, it’s gonna be the greatest party of tha year!” Jazz exclaimed, fairly glowing with anticipation.

Prowl chuckled. “You say that about every party, Jazz.”

“Hush ya, that’s ‘cause every party’s supposed ta be the best, an Ah’m gonna make sure this one is too. Ah also asked Blaster not ta turn the volume up ta high, Ah know it bothers your wings.”

Touched by his mate’s thoughtfulness Prowl took one of Jazz’s servos in his own white one. “Then let us go, we should not make the others wait.”

Leaving the offices behind they made their way out of the building housing the Autobots’ offices and to the hangar where the rec room was located. It was already dark outside and the base was only illuminated by the moon and the colourful lights the humans had hung everywhere, from trees and windows, to lamps and signs, to give their base a festive air.

Snowflakes fell soundlessly from the sky blanketing everything in a fluffy white cloak and making the world seem tranquil and peaceful.

Enjoying the quiet atmosphere, which was only interrupted by the muffled, far away seeming sound of Christmas songs being played in the rec room, they made their way across the little square connecting the different buildings to the main entrance of the rec room.

Suddenly Prowl stopped and looked upward. Jazz’s gaze followed and only then did he notice the little plant hanging from the lintel above them, the very same plant that was ultimately the cause for Prowl’s confession last year.

Jazz smiled at the memory and was ready to continue on their way, only Prowl had remained standing underneath the mistletoe, staring at it contemplatively.

“What’s up, Prowler?” he asked, stepping closer again.

For a moment Prowl hesitated, but then he chose to speak up. “If I remember correctly there is something we are supposed to do after finding ourselves underneath this plant at this particular time of the year.”

Blinking his visor, it was Jazz’s turn to stare. “Prowler, are ya sure?”

“Yes.” No, another part of him said, but Jazz had been so patient with him, and truth be told, he had started wondering what a real kiss would feel like. So on the spur of the moment he decided to offer, but he was already thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have. Torn between wanting to be kissed by Jazz and wanting to wait, knowing what such a gesture was supposed to mean he remained silent, not knowing what else to say.

“We’ve been a couple for an Earth year, Prowler, that ain’t much for Cybertronians.” Seeing Prowl’s doorwings wilt and twitch, even though his face was still perfectly neutral, Jazz clarified. “Ah want ta kiss ya, Sweetspark, especially knowin’ what it means, but Ah don’t want ya ta regret it, cause ya rushed. Ah’m happy ta wait ‘til ya really feel ready.” Underneath his visor, Jazz hid a frown. Prowl might claim to be sure, but to anyone fluent in body and doorwing lingo it was obvious that he wasn’t. Jazz wouldn’t kiss him while he was still that insecure, he would just find another way to show Prowl he meant what he had said. Just when he opened his mouth to say so, he suddenly knew what he could do.

“Prowl?”

“Yes, Jazz?”

“Come here,” he coaxed, opening his arms, “lemme hold ya.”

The hesitant way Prowl came closer, as if he was fearful of doing something wrong, tugged at Jazz’s spark, waking his protective instincts. Wrapping his arms around Prowl’s waist, he cuddled the black and white close, gently stroking his back and the white doorwings. Feeling the shivers in the black and white frame against his own he took his time until Prowl was relaxed and golden optics had closed.

Gently he tipped Prowl’s head up, silver fingers holding the doorwinger’s chin and leaned in closer, azure visor dimming slightly. He touched the tip of his nose against Prowl’s, softly nuzzling the adorable appendage with his own.

Feeling the unexpected touch to his nose instead of his lips, golden optics snapped open and met the amused loving gaze of Jazz’s visor. All the while the saboteur continued the nuzzling. Oddly enough, it caused a pleasantly warm feeling in Prowl’s chassis and he could feel his spark pulsing happily at the contact.

Upon Prowl’s questioning gaze the smile turned into a grin and Jazz chuckled. “It’s called an Eskimo kiss. Ya like?”

A silvery laugh escaped Prowl. The doorwinger felt he really could get used to these kisses. Slowly he started to return the motion, eliciting a satisfied grin from Jazz. “Yes, I think I do, but I might need another to be sure.”

Well, if Prowl wanted more kisses (no matter what kind), who was Jazz to argue?

The End

Bonus scene:

“How long have they been standing there?” Ratchet asked, peeking around the corner along with various mechs and humans, all of them ignoring the snow slowly falling around them in favor of watching the SIC and TIC Eskimo-kissing under the mistletoe they had placed in the entrance to the hall.

“About half an hour,” Optimus Prime whispered, secretly pleased that his two officers had finally confessed their feelings to each other. It certainly had taken them long enough.

“Scratch how long they’ve been here,” Sideswipe piped up. “I want to know whether this counts as a kiss or not. Smokey won’t pay up before we’ve decided.” The silver swordsmech stood to win a considerable number of cubes of highgrade if this did count as a kiss.

“It’s called an Eskimo kiss, so that means it is a kiss right, a kiss doesn’t have to be on the lips, and if you count that as a kiss then what about the time Prowl gave Jazz that kiss on the cheek, or the kiss on the servo Jazz gave Prowl yesterday, I mean those are kisses too, right, so they count for the bet too, don’t they?” the grey gunner piped up, happy that his mentor had finally found a mech to be with.

“Those don’t count, they’re one-sided!” Sideswipe declared, his optics never leaving the ridiculously sweet scene. He wouldn’t miss a moment of this. After all, when would he ever get blackmail material of this quality again?

The whirr of the security camera overhead indicated that red Alert seemed to think so too.

“But then why do you call them kisses, if they are not, I mean isn’t that confusing? Why not call them something else, why use the same word if they’re not the same? Humans do that often don’t they, do you think they do that on purpose?” The grey gunner scratched his chevron in honest confusion.

And while the Autobots argued on, Jazz and Prowl Eskimo-kissed, oblivious to the outside world.

Really The End Now

p.s.: What do you think?