[Fic] Politeness and politics
Title: Politeness and politics
Rating: K
A/N: fluff forrenegadewriter8's birthday ^_^ Fits with my "Foreign ways" 'verse
The last of the guests finally retired for the evening and Prowl smiled as Jazz flopped dramatically onto a nearby couch and slumped there splayed as though he had lost control of his joints. The short notice that a delegation from Perihex was en route had resulted in two frantic orns of preparation so that everything was just right and everyone was tired, but it had been worth the effort.
"About time!" Jazz huffed. "I thought they'd never get tired!"
Prowl walked over to him and held out a hand.
"The ability to choose one's company is certainly one of the less appreciated benefits of being part of the general populace; those of us in the social elite do not have such luxuries. Come along, it's time to rest. Tomorrow will be at least as draining."
Jazz groaned, shaking his head and making no effort to rise.
"Tomorrow? It's already tomorrow."
"Today, then." Prowl readily accepted the correction. "You do realise that making a fuss here is just reducing the amount of time you'll get to charge?"
"Can't we just stay here? It's comfy here an' there's room for two. Why walk all that way when ya don't have to, I say."
"Absolutely not." Prowl responded firmly, though his doorwings twitched a little at the suggestion.
Whatever would the Perihexian ambassador think if he found out his host was camping out in the evening room? Something sordid, no doubt. Something gossip-worthy, definitely. Time to make his point a little more firmly.
Letting his arm drop down, he turned away.
"You are certainly not going to stay here. If you don't have the energy to walk I'll simply have to summon Titan to carry you up."
Naming the stoic guard captain was sufficient to move his wayward mate: Jazz made a rude noise, finally dragging himself up, and shuffled over to him.
"Alright, alright, I'm comin'. Y'don't have t'get nasty about it."
Prowl smiled, catching Jazz's hand and walking out into the hall. The house was so echoingly quiet at this late hour with most of the generators on stand-by, most of the lighting dimmed and most of the servants charging quietly instead of buzzing around on their duties. A handful waited politely outside the room, bowing politely and heading inside to clean up, and Prowl gestured to Coil who was in attendance at the foot of the stairs.
"Please ensure those who worked late tonight are granted an extra joor's leave, yourself included." he instructed. "I'll review the balance sheets tomorrow after breakfast."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir. Do you require anything else?"
"No, that will be all."
"Night, Coil." Jazz waved at him, starting up the stairs.
"Good night, sir."
Prowl followed, easily catching up at the first landing, and by the second matching his partner step for step.
"Silly mech." he scolded fondly as they ascended the last set. "You used to stay up this late easily enough in Iacon from what I recall."
"Only when I was enjoyin' m'self."Jazz grumbled. "That lot're so borin' I thought I was gonna have t'do somethin' drastic!"
Prowl pulled him closer as they reached the hall and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you for restraining yourself, then."
Jazz shook his head.
"This means a lot to ya. I know that."
"Until we can increase manufacturing to export levels again we are dependent on thesupport of our neighbour states." Prowl sighed walking into their berth room and unclipping the sash that hung from his right shoulder to left hip. "Perihex has been generous though only with the assurance of suitable recompense when..."
Jazz cut him off with a kiss.
"No more politics t'night. Kay?"
Prowl nodded in agreement, then laid the sash on his dressing table and followed his mate to the berth.
Jazz sighed as they cuddled close.
"Y'know the worst part?"
"Please tell me." Prowl responded, connecting the charging cord to his own port but not activating the connection yet.
"I'm actually startin' t'keep up wit' it." Jazz mourned.
Prowl laughed softly and nuzzled his mate tenderly.
"We'll convert you into a proper elite yet. I don't suppose you'd consider a conversion to a Praxian frame?"
He got no response, the last light fading from Jazz's visor. Turning off his own optics, Prowl settled in for a restful night in the arms of his partner, sparing only one moment for his nightly prayer of gratitude.