[Fic] Foreign ways (2)

[taralynden]

Continuation of Foreign ways

back to segment 1


The work was demanding and soothingly similar to that he had done back in Praxus, so Prowl soon found he was enjoying himself immensely. His colleagues were often overly familiar, but they meant no harm and worked hard at their own jobs, and his supervisor was refreshingly exacting in his requirements.

The hardest part of any orn was dealing with Jazz.

The courier spent most of the orn travelling around Iacon, but that meant he might pop up at any moment, suddenly there where he had not been just moments earlier. After the shock of the first orn Prowl had prepared himself and now found he could discipline himself into focusing solely on Jazz's visor and not allowing his gaze to wander. The attraction was still inexplicable but he had decided to simply ignore it. They were to be here for only thirty orns and there were now only twelve remaining.

Rapidfire had been caught up in his own work, usually not returning to the apartment until well into the night and often still charging when Prowl crept out to leave for work. When they did speak, he was effusive about the scholars here and the work they were doing, but the details were less important than the fact that it appeared this had been a good move. Prowl had never seen his partner so enthusiastic about anything. In some ways it was a shame they were not intending to stay for longer, except...

Except that he still hated the tiny apartment with a passion. The long groons there alone in that claustrophobic space before going to recharge were the least pleasant part of his orn. If only there were some way to make them more bearable.

Still pondering that Prowl headed into the administrative building and turned a corner then stopped in confusion. The first thing he saw when he walked through the door was a small figure playing with a simple puzzle on the floor. A sparkling.

He reset his optics but it was still there: there was a sparkling in his office.

"I hope you don't mind, Gelcast couldn't take him today and the medics insist he needs to stay with one of us at all times for the first six decacycles."

"No problem at all." Prowl lied, bemused, moving over to his desk. "Shall we begin with the construction reports? I have them ready for you."

"Oh no rush." Redmark smiled at him. "We never really got a chance to talk when you came in - I was a bit distracted, you understand. How've you been settling in?"

Prowl sank into his chair. Was Redmark not concerned that his attention was split between his work and his sparkling? The infant did not seem at all perturbed by his caretaker's distraction, in fact he seemed perfectly happy occupying himself.

A feeling of dismay washed over him. Was this normal for sparklings? If so, how was he ever going to fill his days?

"I believe my work has been deemed satisfactory." he answered belatedly, deliberately turning away from the disturbing sight and focusing on the other adult.

"So I hear." Redmark agreed warmly. "Underscore has been raving about you ever since you started. He's not easy to please, either. But I meant about the shift to Iacon. A big move for you."

"It's only temporary. Rapidfire's contract at the academy is limited."

"Disruptive, though." Redmark mused. "You left a very good job behind just to come with him, and without anything to come to. You could have stayed at work - as you say, he won't be here long."

"If I have need of another role I'm confident I could find something, however you appear to be mistaken. I had already left..." Prowl began.

"What if it already found you?" Redmark interrupted.

"I beg your pardon? I don't follow."

"Prowl, when I say Underscore is hard to please, I mean it's practically impossible. He doesn't like anybot. He only tolerates me. I've never met anyone he actually approves of, until you. And here's the thing: Gelcast's been offered a post in Vos. Oh sure, it's not as prestigious as here, maybe, but it's work he wants to do. He's put off his own career for a long time so I could build my own, but this chance mightn't come again for awhile. Besides, I like the idea of being mentor to my sparkling, not just creator. Can't do that if I'm working full time in a high stress position. My problem was I didn't want to leave the post vacant. But after seeing you here, I think everything'll be just fine."

"But I'm only here temporarily."

"Unless you choose to stay. Prowl, you're good at this job. And your partner'd get a permanent position at the academy no trouble at all - I know they want him. You're already here, so why not stay?"

"I cannot. I'm sorry. It's not an option."

"Well, if you're sure." Redmark accepted it reluctantly. "But think about it, okay? The offer'll stay open, you don't have to make a decision now."

He had disappointed his colleague, he knew, but what was being offered was simply out of the question. For someone like Redmark, working for the Prime would be a great honour even if it were only as an administrative assistant. He could understand that even though it was not at all true for him.

They spent the next few breems going over some of the reports he had been writing, and Prowl found his thoughts drifting again. He did like the mechs here, and he was not pleased to disappoint them. And perhaps they could also help solve one of his problems, if only temporarily.

As Redmark reached for the next pile, Prowl spoke up.

"I cannot take this role you are offering, but perhaps I could at least join you for a drink tonight in gratitude for your consideration."

"Did I hear you say you were comin' drinkin'?" Jazz piped up from the main room, startling him.

Trust him to have heard.

"If I can get Rapidfire's approval." Prowl cautioned. "But I should be glad to if he will allow it."

"Great!" Jazz cheered. "About time we got t'see ya outside o'work. I'll tell everyone. Just leave it t'me."

"Everyone?" Prowl echoed, alarmed.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him." Redmark assured him, rising. "Jazz'll organise half the city into a party if he's left to it, but he can be talked round into being reasonable. Why don't you get started while I sort that out?"

The bar was noisy and Prowl hesitated in the entrance, but Jazz grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd.

The obscenely intimate gesture caught him entirely off-guard and he found himself torn between enjoying the contact while it lasted and the knowledge that he should be pulling away and leaving right now. But the bar was as busy as the noise level suggested, and within a few steps he found himself trapped in the crowd, jostled about until he could no longer even tell which direction they had come from: there was no chance he could find his way out again, he was not at all sure how Jazz was managing to keep them moving.

He clung to Jazz's hand as a lifeline in the chaos, and just as the claustrophobia seemed about to overwhelm him he was being pulled up a small ramp to a mezzanine level and through two sets of buffer doors. The booths and tables up here were quieter, and the babble from below was muted suggesting some kind of shielding. Such things were expensive and the use of this space would be similarly so.

"I can't afford..." he began anxiously.

"Don't worry, 's on me." Jazz assured him.

"The owner's his brother." Redmark explained as they settled at a corner booth, leaving Jazz to talk to a waiter. "Ricochet always keeps a table for us at this time."

"Remember that time he didn't?" Cliffjumper laughed. "Jazz went ballistic."

"Most of Jazz's wages go into this place." Redmark continued quietly, settling beside Prowl. "Ricochet got deep in debt awhile back and their parents disowned him, but Jazz stood by him and sorted it out."

Prowl was surprised. Jazz had struck him as purely hedonistic, but this suggested another side to the courier. Not to mention the very foreign concept of defying the wishes of your creators by acknowledging an outcast.

"Would such actions not result in him also being outcast?"

Cliffjumper and Redmark looked confused but Smokescreen shook his head, settling beside him at a proper distance.

"The rules here are different. Are you okay? Jazz can let you out the back way if you want to go. I thought he'd be sensible enough to bring you in that way."

"Go?" Cliffjumper asked. "But he's only just got here!"

"Here we go." Jazz carolled, helping one of the waiting staff to set cubes of energon down on the table. "I called ahead an' Ric opened a new batch, special. Drink up, mechs."

Prowl looked at the cube before him. It was an intoxicant, but did not appear to be particularly strong. A single cube should not do him any harm.

"I am here, now." he told Smokescreen. "I will stay for a short while."

The other Praxian looked disappointed, and Prowl abruptly realised that Smokescreen's concern had not been so much for his welfare but for Smokescreen's own comfort: he was probably not enjoying his role as chaperon.

Taking a sip at his cube, and relieved to find it was as mild as he had expected, he watched as Jazz took a gulp of his own then bounded over to a nearby space reserved for dancing.

"He's really hyper tonight." Cliffjumper laughed, rising to join him.

"I wonder why." Smokescreen mused, glancing sidelong at Prowl.

Prowl met his gaze evenly.

"I'm quite sure I have no idea." he said firmly.

Regardless of his mixed feelings for the courier, it was not Smokescreen's place to disapprove, and he would remain here for long enough for the lesser-status Praxian to realise that. On the other hand he knew full well that he should not tempt fate. He would have this one cube and then leave. Based on the previous decaorns, Rapidfire would not be home for several groons yet, so he had plenty of time.

And in the meantime, he had the perfect excuse to simply stare at Jazz and try yet again to figure out why he was so strongly attracted to the mercurial mech.

Redmark and Cliffjumper had left while Jazz was dancing, and Prowl was still sipping at his first cube.

"You sure you don't want a refill?" Jazz asked, dropping onto the bench beside him.

"One is quite enough. I should be heading home soon."

"I'll drive you there - no need to go alone."

"We'll drive you there." Smokescreen corrected, flashing him a quick glare before smiling soothingly at Prowl. "Jazz will persist so there's no point in arguing, but I can at least see you home with your honour intact."

"Hey!" Jazz cried, hurt. "Just what do you think I am? I never go where I ain't wanted."

"Rapidfire would appreciate that." Prowl nodded to Smokescreen. "I really should have spoken to him before coming out."

"You tried callin' all day, an' even made us late goin' there t'tell him." Jazz pointed out, still aggrieved. "Not your fault the receptionist wouldn't take a message. But honestly, Prowl, I wouldn't jump ya. Not that I wouldn't want to, but you're taken."

He saw Smokescreen bury his face in his hands at that last statement but Prowl's expression remained neutral.

"It's not about what you would do so much as what you may do." Prowl corrected him. "Whether or not I personally trust you, I should always have a Praxian chaperon with me as witness that nothing happened. If Smokescreen had been unable to come tonight I would most certainly have not been able to join you here. And even with him here, I'm far from sure that Rapidfire would have approved. This place is not quite what I had imagined." he finished with a sigh, looking about.

Jazz folded his arms crossly.

"Y'know, I really don't like the sound o'this guy. You should leave him, you deserve better."

Smokescreen choked at that statement but Prowl looked quizzical.

"Leave him? That's impossible."

"Why? Because he's threatenin' ya? I'd set him straight - just point me at him."

"You have been watching too many holodramas." Prowl shook his head wryly. "Rapidfire does not mistreat me; I do not need rescuing from an evil tyrant. He loves me. If he were being violent I could go to the magistrate and seek reparation but there's no need for that. He would never harm me, we've known each other all our lives."

"Just because he ain't leavin' dents doesn't mean he ain't hurtin' ya." Jazz persisted. "What about what you wanna do? You like this work, an' you're good at it. Why can't you keep doin' it?"

Prowl's gaze flicked away, but not quite quickly enough to hide the shadow crossing his face.

"Perhaps I will, once our sparklings are sparkmated."

"That's centuries away!"

Prowl looked back at him, his face composed and his words calm.

"And until then it is my role to act as mentor. We do not have these schools you have in Iacon, where sparklings are left by the dozen in the care of a single adult. It is the responsibility of the family to raise their next generation. I'm looking forward to it."

Jazz wanted to scowl. That last statement was a lie, he was sure of it. But Smokescreen was frantically comming him to leave it alone, and he did not want to end the night on a sour note so he simply smiled and suggested that they finish up their drinks.

Rapidfire heard the soft chime of the doorcode being entered and strode through to the entryway in time to see Prowl step inside.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

Behind Prowl a black and white commoner began to try to push through but was pulled away by someone else with a Praxian accent.

Prowl closed the door.

"You're home early tonight."

"So you admit you've done this before?" Rapidfire seethed.

"No. Fire, it's not like that..."

"Who were those mechs with you? That black and white one was touching you!"

"He means no harm, he's just tactile."

"Who is he?"

"He's a friend. Someone I work with, a courier. His name is Jazz."

"You don't need friends here. We're going home in a decaorn, can't you be just a little more patient?"

"I have done nothing wrong. We went to a bar for a drink..."

"A bar? Primus! Don't you care at all for my reputation?"

"I had a chaperon the entire time. Honestly, Fire, I did nothing unseemly. I only had one drink."

"You went to a bar. That alone is questionable."

Prowl's doorwings trembled and Rapidfire could not yet tell if that was from shame or from fury. For Prowl's sake it had better be the former.

"You have never denied me social contact with my work colleagues. Why should I think it any different here?"

"Because it is different here. And because you were trying to keep it secret. If I hadn't already been home would you even have told me?"

"Of course!"

"And why didn't you ask? If it was innocent you could have asked first! You never asked me this morning."

"It wasn't planned."

"Then you should have said no."

"I tried to contact..."

"No. I've heard enough. You are confined to the apartment from now on."

Prowl swallowed whatever protest he had been about to make and bowed his head.

"Of course. I'm sorry. From now on I will return home directly from work..."

"No! No more work. You will stay here until we are ready to return to Praxus. I'll resign on your behalf tomorrow. You will stay here and you will have no more contact with this Jazz. Clearly all of this was a mistake, just like I thought at the beginning. I should have trusted my instincts."

"See what you've done?" Smokescreen intoned dourly as Jazz walked in. "I tried to warn you."

"What? Hey, where's Prowl?"

"He quit." Redmark frowned, typing awkwardly with one hand while supporting a sleepy sparkling against his chest with the other.

"Quit?" Jazz echoed blankly. "But why? He loved the work. He was good at it. I thought you wanted him to stay?"

"I did." Redmark grunted sourly. "And I thought he was interested, too."

"Maybe he was." Smokescreen shrugged. "That's not the point. It's not his choice."

"You said that before, but come on." Jazz frowned at him. "Why would his partner say no? Most mechs'd do anythin' to work for the Prime."

"They don't see it like that." Smokescreen persisted. "Anyway, even if he might've talked him round, you spoiled it all by getting him to come out last night. I told you it was a bad idea."

"But he loved it." Jazz protested. "And it was only one drink, he didn't even get tipsy!"

Smokescreen shook his head, giving up. He had tried to explain but Jazz was never going to understand. The concepts were too foreign.

Yes, Prowl had enjoyed the conversation and company last night. The poor mech was isolated here in Iacon; he must be painfully lonely away from the approved company of his friends and family in Praxus. From what Smokescreen had heard they had not even brought any servants with them, so Prowl would be all alone in that apartment when his sparkmate was not there.

But it was only a temporary state. They would be back home in a few more decaorns. They would quite likely never return here and this would just be an uncomfortable blip in their memories, nothing more.

The problem was that Jazz had gotten too involved. He was utterly besotted with Prowl: anyone who cared to look could see it. He would not do anything unseemly by Iaconian standards, but he had done almost nothing correctly by the rules of Praxian society. And it certainly did not help that Prowl was not doing much to dissuade him.

In many ways it was for the best that Prowl would not be coming back to work. He had a whole lieftime of acting correctly within a stifling role ahead of him, and if he had managed it this long then it was simply cruel to be in a position where he could see other ways of living. His infatuation with Jazz would pass and he would probably spend the rest of his life quite happily in Praxus. The less contact the two of them had, the quicker each would realise how foolish they had been.

Well, Prowl would. Jazz, of course, was still Jazz.

Jazz drove up the spiral ramp, fuming but trying to keep hold of his temper. It would only make things worse if he let his anger show, and he knew Smokescreen would argue that he was already making it worse just by coming but he would be slagged if he let things go like this when it was all his fault.

He had been ringing Prowl's home number for the past three orns with no response. A couple of times the line had been busy so he knew someone was home, but no-one ever answered his calls.

Reaching the right level he paused to compose himself, then walked to the apartment door and activated the chime. The door opened, revealing Rapidfire, a mech who Jazz had barely so much as glimpsed up until now but who he already despised with a passion.

"Yes? Who are you?"

Jazz pasted on his best polite smile, not reacting to the rudeness.

"Please, sir, may I come in? I need to speak with you. I'm a workmate of your sparkmate's."

Rapidfire hissed, his doorwings flaring threateningly.

"You are Jazz." he guessed.

"Yes sir, and I need to apologise. I was the one who..."

"You are not welcome here. Please leave."

The angry Praxian tried to shut the door but Jazz darted forward, blocking the way.

"Please. Look, it's my fault he did the wrong thing. But you've gotta let him come back to work. He was good at it, and we really need him."

"You'll just have to find someone else. Now leave. I have called the Enforcers and I will lay charges for trespass if you do not go immediately."

"Don'tcha get it, mech?" Jazz demanded, giving up on the formal speech patterns he had been practicing. "He was workin' for th'Prime. Not just anyone gets t'do that. You don't even need t'go back to Praxus anymore either, he's been offered a permanent job! Don't y'know how rare that is?"

A soft protest caught his attention and he spotted a horrified-looking Prowl at the end of the hall. Apparently he had never told his partner of the job offer, and so Jazz had just made everything worse.

"Get out." Rapidfire hissed, shoving him backwards.

Jazz stumbled, caught by surprise, and before he could recover the door had closed and locked. In the sudden silence he could hear the roar of fast-moving engines on the ramp and knew that he was out of time.

Resigned, he walked to the top of the ramp and sat down to wait for the Enforcers. No point running when they knew who he was and could track him down, but the arrest was not what troubled him most. That was the image which had all but etched itself on his spark, the resignation on Prowl's face as the door had closed.

"Well this is new." Ricochet greeted him cheerfully. "I'm usually on that side of the bars. It's kinda different from this side."

"Thanks for comin' Ric." Jazz sighed tiredly. "You've paid the bail?"

"Yup. Just waitin' for the sergeant to come let you out."

It disturbed him how quiet his brother was. Jazz had never been arrested before, not once. He was the good one of the family: always followed the rules, always behaved, always did things right. When the Enforcers had called Ricochet's first reaction had been to think of the dozen or so things they might want him for, then to wonder if it was a joke when they explained that Jazz had been detained for trespassing and needed him to come and bail him out.

It was no joke. Here he was on the wrong side of the bars.

"It was that Praxian, wasn't it?" he guessed. "The one you brought in the other night. What happened, his mate find out you've been chattin' him up?"

"I ain't really feelin' like talkin' about this right now, Ric, okay?"

"You didn't knock him up, did ya?" Ricochet checked.

Jazz glared at him.

"I never touched him, okay?"

Ricochet grinned.

"So it was him you've been moonin' over. I thought so. He's pretty, I'll give ya that."

"He's a pit damned slave, is what he is." Jazz growled. "But he seems t'like it that way, so who'm I t'spoil it for him?"

"I thought slavery was illegal in Praxus?"

"Me too." Jazz sighed, then rose as the sergeant approached. "Forget it. It ain't like I'm gonna see him again anyway. Lets just go home an' get drunk. The sooner, the better."

"Just don't do it in public or you'll be straight back in here." the Enforcer warned.

"I'll see him home." Ricochet assured him, feeling very peculiar to be in the role of being the sensible one. "Come on, Jazz, time to go."

on to segment 3