Oneshot: Ventua Crystaluca
Title: Ventua Crystaluca
Fandom Continuity: G1, pre-war
Genre: Humour
Rating: PG
Warnings: not beta
Relationships: Prowl / Jazz
Summary: Jazz wants them to move together. This prompts Prowl to admit, that he might have something else living in his apartment. Jazz suddenly doubts his lovers sanity.
Ventua crystaluca
When Jazz met Prowl for the first time, he saw a very confident, incredible competent mech that told him quite frankly that his neighbours wanted him to turn down the music now. Jazz argued that his music was his work and he needed to finish the song. The enforcer in this door saw things differently.
What followed was a rather long discussion about music, respect, philosophy and laws, a meek Jazz that plugged in his headphones and a Prowl that wondered why he had given this punk his private comm number. Though, he knew, he had enjoyed the discussion like few things previously.
Jazz called an orn later to ask the enforcer, if the new song was better than the previous one he had heard. Prowl’s dry answer was that any song sounds better if not being forced to listen to it on a stairwell, while on the job and preparing for a potential explosive confrontation. Jazz laughed and invited him to listen to both songs over warm energon and goodies so he could compare the songs properly.
It was the beginning of a romance that neither had expected to find within the other.
Still, after a vorns of dates and visits, Jazz couldn’t help but notice a few details. Namely that Prowl seemed to have a very boring life, only ever commuting between his apartment, Jazz’s place and work. And second, that Prowl hadn’t ever invited Jazz.
“You are spending a lot of time here,” commented Jazz one evening in his living room.
Prowl looked up from his cube of energon. “Yes…? Am I annoying you?”
“Pit, no! Of course not, I love you having here.” He looked down at his own cube. “I just… you know… maybe, I thought, we might think about moving in together? I mean you recharge every second orn here anyway.”
Prowl’s doorwings twitched. Instead of enthusiastically agreeing as Jazz had half-expected him to do, his lover seemed reluctant.
“I still have my own apartment…”
“Exactly. It would be cheaper to share and we could finally do that Vos holiday we talked about.”
“Yours isn’t that big.”
Jazz frowned. His apartment only had two rooms, true, but Prowl hadn’t ever seemed to care about it previously. “Well, I would be prepared to move in that case?”
The enforcer looked at him as if he had just turned into a serious problem with large claws. “You really want to move together.”
“Yes?” Jazz shuffled uncertainly. He had expected a bit more enthusiasm. “Why else would I mention it?”
“I see.” Prowl took a deep gulp of is cube. “My apartment is a lot bigger.”
Jazz blinked in surprise. “Well, I that case it probably would be easier if I move in with you.”
Prowl looked away. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”
Jazz’s tank felt suddenly cold. “…you don’t want me in your apartment?”
“Jazz…”
His spark dropped, this wasn’t going as he had expected - at all. “Prowl… Just…” He put his head into his servos, trying to calm his raging fantasies down. “This is not the point where you tell me you have another lover, right?”
“No!” Prowl put his hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “I only want you.”
It felt good to hear those words. Still, doubt and fear were still coursing through his cables. “I always thought you were ashamed of your small room or something.”
“No, I am not,” admitted Prowl slowly. “But it probably is something you should know about me.”
'Oh Primus,' thought Jazz. 'Here it comes. He'll say he’s got a sparkling or is part of some cult or likes murdering people in their sleep!' “Just say it.” Jazz tried to put up a brave front. “It can't be too bad right?”
Prowl nearly winced. “It's nothing really bad, it's just my hobby.” There was a pause. “I like ventua crystacula.”
Jazz stared. That he hadn’t expected at all. “The demon crystals?”
“Yes.”
“Ooookay. You like murderous killer crystals.” Jazz rubbed the edge of his visor. “Unusual, but nothing to get your doorwings into a twist...”
“I grow them,” admitted Prowl. “I have 62 currently and are expecting a new batch tomorrow.”
“What?!” squeaked Jazz. Prowl only looked down at his servos. The musician waited for the hidden camera, the joke sign, something. All he got was silence. “Is that even legal?” he asked weakly.
Prowl’s door wings twitched. “In a way?”
Jazz groaned. “It's illegal, right? You’ve got an illegal hobby of growing murderous killer crystals!”
“They are not as bad as their reputation,” Prowl said defensively. “They are just intelligent crystals that defend themselves.”
“Violently.”
“…yes. But wouldn't you do the same if someone steps on your sparkling?”
To Jazz’s horror Prowl sounded calm, rational and very convinced of his opinion. Jazz loved that voice usually, it was what had first drawn him in to the mysterious enforcers. But not when they were talking about a species that was capable of slicing mechs apart. “They're crystals!”
“I am aware,” Prowl said. “They still feel a creator bond in a way and want to protect their offspring.”
Jazz couldn’t believe this! “Just last vorn a single one of those ventuas killed eight mechs before it could be subdued! Eight, in two breems!”
“Only because they destroyed its twin crystal!” argued the enforcer.
“Still...”
“Jazz, I know about the danger. I led the team that subdued it.” Prowl smiled. “It now lives happily among its brethren and is even regaining its natural blue colour, a sign that it is overcoming its depression.”
The world tilted a bit. “In your apartment?”
Prowl hesitated for a moment. “Well, yes.”
“Of course,” muttered Jazz in sheer disbelief. “How do you even fit 62 ventua crystacula into a single apartment without being killed within the first breem?”
“Zones,” Prowl said as if that explained anything. “But it is a bit cramped, admittedly. I am thinking of moving.”
For a moment Jazz imagined 62 of those monsters being carried through the city state. It would be a blood bath. “So, moving in with me is out of question.”
“I am afraid so, yes.”
He took a deep vent. “You’re an enforcer, how can you even break the law so blatantly without anyone noticing?”
A devious smile appeared on Prowl’s face. “As a said it is kind of legal. Officially I research them.”
“And unofficially?”
“Unofficially, I offer them asylum.”
Jazz was at loss for words. “Asylum for killers?” He had always assumed that the enforcers killed those demon crystals and not… this.
“They only react,” explained Prowl gently. “It’s in their code, they can’t help it. As such they are innocent of their murders. If treated correctly, they are completely harmless. For example, remember the Vector Highway incident? Those foolish mechs tried to calm a panicked ventua by trying to burn it! Of course it collapsed the bridge. I managed to rescue it and now it is even expecting rosa crystals, I think!”
“Right.” Jazz felt a headache coming in. He did remember the incident. It had been a sea of flames, crystal shards and mech blood.
“Rosa? Is that special?”
“Very.” He smiled. ”I have the theory that they're their next evolutionary step. Less aggressive but poisonous. And of course rosa, all of them.”
The demon crystals were evolving and becoming poisonous. Wonderful. Because they weren’t already deadly enough. And Prowl was happy about it! Just when had he entered twilight zone?
“You don’t believe me that they are harmless,” said Prowl a bit sadly.
Jazz gave him an exasperated look. “They are demon crystals, Prowler. Those kill several mechs every vorn and every sparkling is warned off about them. Sorry, no, how could I believe you?”
“Understandable.” Prowl leaned back in his chair. “I want you to meet them. It will help with your fears.”
Jazz doubted that very much. “I thought you liked me,” he said sarcastically-
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do!” Prowl’s doorwings fluttered. “Which is why I think you should meet those I share my
apartment with. It’s important you all understand each other.”
It sounded so reasonable… It wasn’t. “With all 62.” And if only 61 liked him, he was a dead mech.
“It will take while of course to meet them all properly. Still, I think it should be done.”
“Right.” Jazz sighed. “Just to make sure… you feed them, right?”
“Of course.”
Jazz frowned. “And what?”
“Mech blood,” was the quick and easy answer.
Jazz paled dramatically.
Prowl’s optics widened. “It was a joke!”
Of course Prowl would discover his humour in a situation like this. “Bad timing, Prowler. Really.”
“Sorry.” The Praxian offered a small smile. “It’s just unprocessed energon and lithium. Perfectly harmless things.”
It sounded at least harmless. “Okay. So they will not hunt me down for food, right?” Prowl crossed his arms, but nodded. “Just asking, ‘cause you know, when I walk around and they might feel hungry, who says they don’t decide I’m a good snack?” He made a handwave. “Yeah, I know, sentient and harmless and well-fed. Good. Have they ever met other mechs besides you?”
“Sure. Smokescreen and Bluestreak visit me regularly.”
Jazz blinked. “Your brother and his sparkling - you let a sparkling near them? Why didn’t the glomp down on him?”
Prowl nodded. "Well, strangely enough they love little Blue. I'm not sure why, but if anything they're sparkling overfriendly.” He smirked. “Frankly I would love to see anyone hurting Blue while they are nearby. I imagine it would be very short and very painful.”
And very, very bloody, no doubt. Killer crystals deserved that nickname and all the others. “So, if you aren’t a kidnapper you can pet them?”
Prowl gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Jazz, you don't pet them. Would you pet a strange mech? No, so don't do it to them. At least not without clearly expressed invitation...” Jazz wanted to say something about a written invitation with several signatures, when Prowl continued: “The young ones do like to cuddle though. Don't be scared if they seem to be strangling you.”
“Strangling me…?” Prowl nodded. He took a deep breath, trying not to scream or run or both. He could still do that when he saw those 62 crystals. Or more, if there is really a new batch expected next orn. “So they don’t like to be petted. What do they like?”
“That’s difficult to say sometimes. They are crystals after all.” He looked thoughtful. “I am very sure though that most like soft music, different light and criminal stories of Nightseeker. It has a positive effect on their composure.”
Jazz just nodded. What else was there left to say?
Maybe Prowl had recognised his apprehension, because he took Jazz into his arms. “There is really no need to worry. You’ll see they’re better than their reputation.”
Not that they could be much worse, he thought. “Okay.” At least there wasn’t another mech, or sparkling or cult. Just 62 murderous crystals, he was somehow expected to live with. Okay. He could do this.
“There’s something else,” Prowl suddenly said.
Jazz didn’t move from the hug. “What?”
“I have a second hobby.”
He stiffened. “Oh please say, it's something normal like sun surfing!”
Prowl paused. “...isn't that awfully dangerous?”
“You live with 62 devil's crystals,” said Jazz drily.
Prowl shrugged. “I do consider myself saner than those surfers. No, my other hobby is harmless. I like mathematics.”
Mathematics. Good old boring mathematics. Nothing Jazz would have ever classified hobbyworthy, but at least it wasn’t alive and wanted to eat him. He relaxed. “Good for you?”
“... it translated into hacking.”
And there went the relaxation. Jazz groaned. “Prowl, do you have any legal hobbies?!”
“I only have two.”
“So no.” Figured.
The enforcer shrugged. “Now you know why I don't like talking about them.”
~
Jazz later met Mirage in a bar. The noble mech was a good friend and better listener.
“Remember when I said that Prowl needs a hobby?” he said moments after he sat down next to Mirage.
The aristocrat gave him a curious glance. “How could I forget, you only said that for three vorns now…”
“I take it back.” Jazz waved the barkeeper. “The strongest on the menu, please.”
Mirage observed him amused. “Well, isn’t someone ready to get overcharged. Did your lover turn out to be a secret pornstar?”
“I wish,” Jazz said. “Hey, did you know that demon crystals crystals comes in twelve different colours and can be poisonous?”
“No?”
“See, I learned it today. From Prowl. Who grows them.”
Mirage frowned. “… we are talking about ventua crystaculas?”
“The very same.”
“Aren’t they deadly?”
“Very much so.” Jazz’s drink arrived and he emptied it in one go. “He grows them in his apartment. 62 of them. Legally, thanks to some slag about research.”
Mirage stared, then turned to the barkeeper. “The same what my friend had, for the both of us.” He turned back to Jazz. ”I know a good lawyer for last wills and such things…?”
Jazz’s head hit the table. “Not helping.”
“What can I say? That your lover and future bondmate is crazy?” Mirage smiled. “At least he is a lot less boring than I thought. Maybe you really fit together.”
“I don’t grow anything insanely dangerous in my apartment!” defended Jazz himself.
“No. You do illegal street races,” Mirage countered. “Have you told Prowl about them, yet?”
Embarrassed, Jazz looked deep into his cube. “… no?”
“Might be the right moment.”
And there was the third reason, Jazz really liked having Mirage as a friend - his advice was usually good. “I think about it.” If followed through, of course.
~
To Prowl’s delight and Jazz’s surprise the crystals did not kill him during the first meeting, nor the second or the third. Slowly, he got used to them. Even better, Prowl accepted Jazz’s secret with surprise, and then genuine interest. It turned out that enforcers practised on their own racing strip, which Prowl had visited frequently when he was younger. He promised to take Jazz there soon, who couldn’t wait.
Just when Jazz thought he would get used to his life that now somehow included 67 demon crystals, he received an urgent call in the morning.
“Prowl?” he asked tiredly. “That’s you?”
“Yes.” The Praxian sounded worried. “Can you come over? I had a break in, I think.”
“Oh no!” Jazz immediately sat up. “Are you alright? Are things missing?”
“Kind of.” There was a hushing sound in the background. Seems like the ventuas were agitated. “I am missing the thief. There’s a tool bag, but not much else.”
“Oh.” His nightmares of being eaten by crystals resurfaced with a vengeance. “Maybe, he just ran away?” It would be a very reasonable reaction to Prowl’s apartment.
“I hope so. But it would be great if you could help me checking the ventuas. I think I saw a bit more rosa in their reflections this morning than usual.”
Poison. Great. Jazz sighed. What didn’t one do for a healthy, loving relationship. “I’m coming.”
~
“Jazz, there are journalists in front of my door!” came the panicked comm call a few decaorns later.
Jazz turned off the music. “What? Why?”
“They said, they make a show about the most deadly hobbies ...”
Jazz couldn’t help but chuckle. So, they had read his email about Prowl and his hobby and had decided to visit. “Well, hate to break it to you, but they aren't at the wrong location then.”
“Ventuas are not dangerous.”
“If you are their owner.” He wouldn’t ever forget the poor thief they found in Prowl’s apartment. To their amazement he had been alive - just buried among no less than 22 demon’s crystals for joors while bleeding out. A hospital visit and he was physically fine… besides a newfound panic of crystals.
“And if you are respectful,” added Prowl distractedly. “But these journalists want to enter my apartment!”
“Afraid they'll get eaten?”
“No, I didn't clean yet!”
This time Jazz laughed out loud. “Just let them in,” he advised. “Believe me, no one cares about your rug when faced with a moving wall of over a hundred killer crystals.”
“71,” came the quick correction.
“Ah, a new batch?”
“Yes, I hadn’t seen it previously so it was a very welcomed surprise.” Alking about his crystals always calmed Prowl a bit, and it didn’t fail to do the job this time as well. “It was the ventua in the corner by the berthroom. The light blue one, remember?”
“The slender one you removed from the roof of a factory, because it kept destroying the machines and attacked the workers? Well, congratulations, I guess. And tell them not to eat the journalists, they have clunky specialised parts…”
“Jazz, stop giving them dietary advice that sounds like eating mechs is okay.”
“I do, when they stop eating them.” He hummed a few notes of the song he was composing. “Good luck with the journalists. Don’t forget, the deadly crystal army is on your side. It’s their problem that they want to enter.”
“I will not stop the little ones from hugging them. They woke me after all. Until tonight, Jazz?”
Jazz wasn’t so sure if it was really hugging what the little crystals did… he would rather call it training for deadly attacks. That’s how it had felt like at least. Prowl had assured him that they just wanted to say hello. If that was their hello, he didn’t want to experience their goodbye.
“Yeah, until then.”
The comm call ended and he started his music again. His new song was called ‘Hungry’. He smiled. Those poor, poor journalists…
~
The potential landlord looked at them as if they had told him they were wanted mass murderers on holiday. “Ventuas,” he muttered. “The crystals?!”
“Yes.” Prowl nodded. “I have 83. And of course they would move in with us.”
The landlord looked to the exit of the empty apartment, then back. “You said you’re an enforcer!”
“I am.” Prowl frowned. “I just also grow ventuas.”
Another glance to the door. “… I will think about you moving into this apartment, yes? Can you now please leave? I just remembered I have an important meeting later. Really important. Can’t miss it. Yes?”
Jazz gave him a calming smile. He had gotten quite good at them. “Of course, we go. Prowl, dear, are you coming?”
The apartment hadn’t been that nice, anyway. Only the size had been right, but there hadn’t been enough windows for the light the ventuas needed and Jazz hadn’t liked that there wasn’t a room for his music. He insisted on needing one to work. In reality, he wanted one ventuafree room after he lost the argument about the berth room.
Outside they only saw the backlights of the landlord, when he raced away as fast as his tyres allowed to.
Prowl’s doorwings dropped. “We’re searching now for close to eleven vorns and no one wants us.”
Jazz shrugged. “Ventuas just have a bit too high murder count for the average landlord. We can still built our own house.”
Prowl thought about it for a moment. “With our own garden?”
“If you want one.” Jazz smiled. “I saw a nice offer for a small forest at the edge of Praxus. It’s remote, there is nothing around… The only problem is, the forest alone would eat all our savings. We would probably need another 100 vorns just to have enough money to build the house.”
“But you want to do it anyway?” asked Prowl slowly. “I know that it’s just because of my ventuas…”
“I want to live with you, and if that’s the only way then I’m okay with it.” Jazz hesitated, then added, “And I am starting to like them as well.” Maybe he was losing his sanity. Piece by piece.
When a happy Prowl hugged him, though, he thought it was worth it. He had never liked his sanity after all.
Fandom Continuity: G1, pre-war
Genre: Humour
Rating: PG
Warnings: not beta
Relationships: Prowl / Jazz
Summary: Jazz wants them to move together. This prompts Prowl to admit, that he might have something else living in his apartment. Jazz suddenly doubts his lovers sanity.
Ventua crystaluca
When Jazz met Prowl for the first time, he saw a very confident, incredible competent mech that told him quite frankly that his neighbours wanted him to turn down the music now. Jazz argued that his music was his work and he needed to finish the song. The enforcer in this door saw things differently.
What followed was a rather long discussion about music, respect, philosophy and laws, a meek Jazz that plugged in his headphones and a Prowl that wondered why he had given this punk his private comm number. Though, he knew, he had enjoyed the discussion like few things previously.
Jazz called an orn later to ask the enforcer, if the new song was better than the previous one he had heard. Prowl’s dry answer was that any song sounds better if not being forced to listen to it on a stairwell, while on the job and preparing for a potential explosive confrontation. Jazz laughed and invited him to listen to both songs over warm energon and goodies so he could compare the songs properly.
It was the beginning of a romance that neither had expected to find within the other.
Still, after a vorns of dates and visits, Jazz couldn’t help but notice a few details. Namely that Prowl seemed to have a very boring life, only ever commuting between his apartment, Jazz’s place and work. And second, that Prowl hadn’t ever invited Jazz.
“You are spending a lot of time here,” commented Jazz one evening in his living room.
Prowl looked up from his cube of energon. “Yes…? Am I annoying you?”
“Pit, no! Of course not, I love you having here.” He looked down at his own cube. “I just… you know… maybe, I thought, we might think about moving in together? I mean you recharge every second orn here anyway.”
Prowl’s doorwings twitched. Instead of enthusiastically agreeing as Jazz had half-expected him to do, his lover seemed reluctant.
“I still have my own apartment…”
“Exactly. It would be cheaper to share and we could finally do that Vos holiday we talked about.”
“Yours isn’t that big.”
Jazz frowned. His apartment only had two rooms, true, but Prowl hadn’t ever seemed to care about it previously. “Well, I would be prepared to move in that case?”
The enforcer looked at him as if he had just turned into a serious problem with large claws. “You really want to move together.”
“Yes?” Jazz shuffled uncertainly. He had expected a bit more enthusiasm. “Why else would I mention it?”
“I see.” Prowl took a deep gulp of is cube. “My apartment is a lot bigger.”
Jazz blinked in surprise. “Well, I that case it probably would be easier if I move in with you.”
Prowl looked away. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”
Jazz’s tank felt suddenly cold. “…you don’t want me in your apartment?”
“Jazz…”
His spark dropped, this wasn’t going as he had expected - at all. “Prowl… Just…” He put his head into his servos, trying to calm his raging fantasies down. “This is not the point where you tell me you have another lover, right?”
“No!” Prowl put his hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “I only want you.”
It felt good to hear those words. Still, doubt and fear were still coursing through his cables. “I always thought you were ashamed of your small room or something.”
“No, I am not,” admitted Prowl slowly. “But it probably is something you should know about me.”
'Oh Primus,' thought Jazz. 'Here it comes. He'll say he’s got a sparkling or is part of some cult or likes murdering people in their sleep!' “Just say it.” Jazz tried to put up a brave front. “It can't be too bad right?”
Prowl nearly winced. “It's nothing really bad, it's just my hobby.” There was a pause. “I like ventua crystacula.”
Jazz stared. That he hadn’t expected at all. “The demon crystals?”
“Yes.”
“Ooookay. You like murderous killer crystals.” Jazz rubbed the edge of his visor. “Unusual, but nothing to get your doorwings into a twist...”
“I grow them,” admitted Prowl. “I have 62 currently and are expecting a new batch tomorrow.”
“What?!” squeaked Jazz. Prowl only looked down at his servos. The musician waited for the hidden camera, the joke sign, something. All he got was silence. “Is that even legal?” he asked weakly.
Prowl’s door wings twitched. “In a way?”
Jazz groaned. “It's illegal, right? You’ve got an illegal hobby of growing murderous killer crystals!”
“They are not as bad as their reputation,” Prowl said defensively. “They are just intelligent crystals that defend themselves.”
“Violently.”
“…yes. But wouldn't you do the same if someone steps on your sparkling?”
To Jazz’s horror Prowl sounded calm, rational and very convinced of his opinion. Jazz loved that voice usually, it was what had first drawn him in to the mysterious enforcers. But not when they were talking about a species that was capable of slicing mechs apart. “They're crystals!”
“I am aware,” Prowl said. “They still feel a creator bond in a way and want to protect their offspring.”
Jazz couldn’t believe this! “Just last vorn a single one of those ventuas killed eight mechs before it could be subdued! Eight, in two breems!”
“Only because they destroyed its twin crystal!” argued the enforcer.
“Still...”
“Jazz, I know about the danger. I led the team that subdued it.” Prowl smiled. “It now lives happily among its brethren and is even regaining its natural blue colour, a sign that it is overcoming its depression.”
The world tilted a bit. “In your apartment?”
Prowl hesitated for a moment. “Well, yes.”
“Of course,” muttered Jazz in sheer disbelief. “How do you even fit 62 ventua crystacula into a single apartment without being killed within the first breem?”
“Zones,” Prowl said as if that explained anything. “But it is a bit cramped, admittedly. I am thinking of moving.”
For a moment Jazz imagined 62 of those monsters being carried through the city state. It would be a blood bath. “So, moving in with me is out of question.”
“I am afraid so, yes.”
He took a deep vent. “You’re an enforcer, how can you even break the law so blatantly without anyone noticing?”
A devious smile appeared on Prowl’s face. “As a said it is kind of legal. Officially I research them.”
“And unofficially?”
“Unofficially, I offer them asylum.”
Jazz was at loss for words. “Asylum for killers?” He had always assumed that the enforcers killed those demon crystals and not… this.
“They only react,” explained Prowl gently. “It’s in their code, they can’t help it. As such they are innocent of their murders. If treated correctly, they are completely harmless. For example, remember the Vector Highway incident? Those foolish mechs tried to calm a panicked ventua by trying to burn it! Of course it collapsed the bridge. I managed to rescue it and now it is even expecting rosa crystals, I think!”
“Right.” Jazz felt a headache coming in. He did remember the incident. It had been a sea of flames, crystal shards and mech blood.
“Rosa? Is that special?”
“Very.” He smiled. ”I have the theory that they're their next evolutionary step. Less aggressive but poisonous. And of course rosa, all of them.”
The demon crystals were evolving and becoming poisonous. Wonderful. Because they weren’t already deadly enough. And Prowl was happy about it! Just when had he entered twilight zone?
“You don’t believe me that they are harmless,” said Prowl a bit sadly.
Jazz gave him an exasperated look. “They are demon crystals, Prowler. Those kill several mechs every vorn and every sparkling is warned off about them. Sorry, no, how could I believe you?”
“Understandable.” Prowl leaned back in his chair. “I want you to meet them. It will help with your fears.”
Jazz doubted that very much. “I thought you liked me,” he said sarcastically-
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do!” Prowl’s doorwings fluttered. “Which is why I think you should meet those I share my
apartment with. It’s important you all understand each other.”
It sounded so reasonable… It wasn’t. “With all 62.” And if only 61 liked him, he was a dead mech.
“It will take while of course to meet them all properly. Still, I think it should be done.”
“Right.” Jazz sighed. “Just to make sure… you feed them, right?”
“Of course.”
Jazz frowned. “And what?”
“Mech blood,” was the quick and easy answer.
Jazz paled dramatically.
Prowl’s optics widened. “It was a joke!”
Of course Prowl would discover his humour in a situation like this. “Bad timing, Prowler. Really.”
“Sorry.” The Praxian offered a small smile. “It’s just unprocessed energon and lithium. Perfectly harmless things.”
It sounded at least harmless. “Okay. So they will not hunt me down for food, right?” Prowl crossed his arms, but nodded. “Just asking, ‘cause you know, when I walk around and they might feel hungry, who says they don’t decide I’m a good snack?” He made a handwave. “Yeah, I know, sentient and harmless and well-fed. Good. Have they ever met other mechs besides you?”
“Sure. Smokescreen and Bluestreak visit me regularly.”
Jazz blinked. “Your brother and his sparkling - you let a sparkling near them? Why didn’t the glomp down on him?”
Prowl nodded. "Well, strangely enough they love little Blue. I'm not sure why, but if anything they're sparkling overfriendly.” He smirked. “Frankly I would love to see anyone hurting Blue while they are nearby. I imagine it would be very short and very painful.”
And very, very bloody, no doubt. Killer crystals deserved that nickname and all the others. “So, if you aren’t a kidnapper you can pet them?”
Prowl gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Jazz, you don't pet them. Would you pet a strange mech? No, so don't do it to them. At least not without clearly expressed invitation...” Jazz wanted to say something about a written invitation with several signatures, when Prowl continued: “The young ones do like to cuddle though. Don't be scared if they seem to be strangling you.”
“Strangling me…?” Prowl nodded. He took a deep breath, trying not to scream or run or both. He could still do that when he saw those 62 crystals. Or more, if there is really a new batch expected next orn. “So they don’t like to be petted. What do they like?”
“That’s difficult to say sometimes. They are crystals after all.” He looked thoughtful. “I am very sure though that most like soft music, different light and criminal stories of Nightseeker. It has a positive effect on their composure.”
Jazz just nodded. What else was there left to say?
Maybe Prowl had recognised his apprehension, because he took Jazz into his arms. “There is really no need to worry. You’ll see they’re better than their reputation.”
Not that they could be much worse, he thought. “Okay.” At least there wasn’t another mech, or sparkling or cult. Just 62 murderous crystals, he was somehow expected to live with. Okay. He could do this.
“There’s something else,” Prowl suddenly said.
Jazz didn’t move from the hug. “What?”
“I have a second hobby.”
He stiffened. “Oh please say, it's something normal like sun surfing!”
Prowl paused. “...isn't that awfully dangerous?”
“You live with 62 devil's crystals,” said Jazz drily.
Prowl shrugged. “I do consider myself saner than those surfers. No, my other hobby is harmless. I like mathematics.”
Mathematics. Good old boring mathematics. Nothing Jazz would have ever classified hobbyworthy, but at least it wasn’t alive and wanted to eat him. He relaxed. “Good for you?”
“... it translated into hacking.”
And there went the relaxation. Jazz groaned. “Prowl, do you have any legal hobbies?!”
“I only have two.”
“So no.” Figured.
The enforcer shrugged. “Now you know why I don't like talking about them.”
~
Jazz later met Mirage in a bar. The noble mech was a good friend and better listener.
“Remember when I said that Prowl needs a hobby?” he said moments after he sat down next to Mirage.
The aristocrat gave him a curious glance. “How could I forget, you only said that for three vorns now…”
“I take it back.” Jazz waved the barkeeper. “The strongest on the menu, please.”
Mirage observed him amused. “Well, isn’t someone ready to get overcharged. Did your lover turn out to be a secret pornstar?”
“I wish,” Jazz said. “Hey, did you know that demon crystals crystals comes in twelve different colours and can be poisonous?”
“No?”
“See, I learned it today. From Prowl. Who grows them.”
Mirage frowned. “… we are talking about ventua crystaculas?”
“The very same.”
“Aren’t they deadly?”
“Very much so.” Jazz’s drink arrived and he emptied it in one go. “He grows them in his apartment. 62 of them. Legally, thanks to some slag about research.”
Mirage stared, then turned to the barkeeper. “The same what my friend had, for the both of us.” He turned back to Jazz. ”I know a good lawyer for last wills and such things…?”
Jazz’s head hit the table. “Not helping.”
“What can I say? That your lover and future bondmate is crazy?” Mirage smiled. “At least he is a lot less boring than I thought. Maybe you really fit together.”
“I don’t grow anything insanely dangerous in my apartment!” defended Jazz himself.
“No. You do illegal street races,” Mirage countered. “Have you told Prowl about them, yet?”
Embarrassed, Jazz looked deep into his cube. “… no?”
“Might be the right moment.”
And there was the third reason, Jazz really liked having Mirage as a friend - his advice was usually good. “I think about it.” If followed through, of course.
~
To Prowl’s delight and Jazz’s surprise the crystals did not kill him during the first meeting, nor the second or the third. Slowly, he got used to them. Even better, Prowl accepted Jazz’s secret with surprise, and then genuine interest. It turned out that enforcers practised on their own racing strip, which Prowl had visited frequently when he was younger. He promised to take Jazz there soon, who couldn’t wait.
Just when Jazz thought he would get used to his life that now somehow included 67 demon crystals, he received an urgent call in the morning.
“Prowl?” he asked tiredly. “That’s you?”
“Yes.” The Praxian sounded worried. “Can you come over? I had a break in, I think.”
“Oh no!” Jazz immediately sat up. “Are you alright? Are things missing?”
“Kind of.” There was a hushing sound in the background. Seems like the ventuas were agitated. “I am missing the thief. There’s a tool bag, but not much else.”
“Oh.” His nightmares of being eaten by crystals resurfaced with a vengeance. “Maybe, he just ran away?” It would be a very reasonable reaction to Prowl’s apartment.
“I hope so. But it would be great if you could help me checking the ventuas. I think I saw a bit more rosa in their reflections this morning than usual.”
Poison. Great. Jazz sighed. What didn’t one do for a healthy, loving relationship. “I’m coming.”
~
“Jazz, there are journalists in front of my door!” came the panicked comm call a few decaorns later.
Jazz turned off the music. “What? Why?”
“They said, they make a show about the most deadly hobbies ...”
Jazz couldn’t help but chuckle. So, they had read his email about Prowl and his hobby and had decided to visit. “Well, hate to break it to you, but they aren't at the wrong location then.”
“Ventuas are not dangerous.”
“If you are their owner.” He wouldn’t ever forget the poor thief they found in Prowl’s apartment. To their amazement he had been alive - just buried among no less than 22 demon’s crystals for joors while bleeding out. A hospital visit and he was physically fine… besides a newfound panic of crystals.
“And if you are respectful,” added Prowl distractedly. “But these journalists want to enter my apartment!”
“Afraid they'll get eaten?”
“No, I didn't clean yet!”
This time Jazz laughed out loud. “Just let them in,” he advised. “Believe me, no one cares about your rug when faced with a moving wall of over a hundred killer crystals.”
“71,” came the quick correction.
“Ah, a new batch?”
“Yes, I hadn’t seen it previously so it was a very welcomed surprise.” Alking about his crystals always calmed Prowl a bit, and it didn’t fail to do the job this time as well. “It was the ventua in the corner by the berthroom. The light blue one, remember?”
“The slender one you removed from the roof of a factory, because it kept destroying the machines and attacked the workers? Well, congratulations, I guess. And tell them not to eat the journalists, they have clunky specialised parts…”
“Jazz, stop giving them dietary advice that sounds like eating mechs is okay.”
“I do, when they stop eating them.” He hummed a few notes of the song he was composing. “Good luck with the journalists. Don’t forget, the deadly crystal army is on your side. It’s their problem that they want to enter.”
“I will not stop the little ones from hugging them. They woke me after all. Until tonight, Jazz?”
Jazz wasn’t so sure if it was really hugging what the little crystals did… he would rather call it training for deadly attacks. That’s how it had felt like at least. Prowl had assured him that they just wanted to say hello. If that was their hello, he didn’t want to experience their goodbye.
“Yeah, until then.”
The comm call ended and he started his music again. His new song was called ‘Hungry’. He smiled. Those poor, poor journalists…
~
The potential landlord looked at them as if they had told him they were wanted mass murderers on holiday. “Ventuas,” he muttered. “The crystals?!”
“Yes.” Prowl nodded. “I have 83. And of course they would move in with us.”
The landlord looked to the exit of the empty apartment, then back. “You said you’re an enforcer!”
“I am.” Prowl frowned. “I just also grow ventuas.”
Another glance to the door. “… I will think about you moving into this apartment, yes? Can you now please leave? I just remembered I have an important meeting later. Really important. Can’t miss it. Yes?”
Jazz gave him a calming smile. He had gotten quite good at them. “Of course, we go. Prowl, dear, are you coming?”
The apartment hadn’t been that nice, anyway. Only the size had been right, but there hadn’t been enough windows for the light the ventuas needed and Jazz hadn’t liked that there wasn’t a room for his music. He insisted on needing one to work. In reality, he wanted one ventuafree room after he lost the argument about the berth room.
Outside they only saw the backlights of the landlord, when he raced away as fast as his tyres allowed to.
Prowl’s doorwings dropped. “We’re searching now for close to eleven vorns and no one wants us.”
Jazz shrugged. “Ventuas just have a bit too high murder count for the average landlord. We can still built our own house.”
Prowl thought about it for a moment. “With our own garden?”
“If you want one.” Jazz smiled. “I saw a nice offer for a small forest at the edge of Praxus. It’s remote, there is nothing around… The only problem is, the forest alone would eat all our savings. We would probably need another 100 vorns just to have enough money to build the house.”
“But you want to do it anyway?” asked Prowl slowly. “I know that it’s just because of my ventuas…”
“I want to live with you, and if that’s the only way then I’m okay with it.” Jazz hesitated, then added, “And I am starting to like them as well.” Maybe he was losing his sanity. Piece by piece.
When a happy Prowl hugged him, though, he thought it was worth it. He had never liked his sanity after all.