Trick or Treat!
Title: Halloween Challenge - Treat
Rating: G/PG-13
Series: TFA
Pairings/Prompt: TFA- Jazz/Optimus- "Don't go without me"
Warnings: Slight spoilers for season 3 and the finale, and the canon story The Stunti-Con Job. A bit angst, heavier in the second part.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but Hasbro's.
Authors Notes: Unbeta'd. Part of a larger series.
First posted fic here! Would the mods create an author tag for me, please?
“Heya, OP.”
Optimus stopped in front of the door, optics cycling wide.
“Jazz, what are you doing here?”
The ninja-bot unhooked the one leg from the other and pushed away from the wall, a warm grin on his face. He flicked his fingers in direction of Cliffjumper behind Optimus in the room. The intelligence agent narrowed his optics.
“Wanted to check on you after your little hero-time in the arena. You really made Ratchet mad in worry.”
“Why do I have the feeling none of you will let this go for a long time?”
“Because none of us will. Ever.” One side of his vizor dimmed in the estimation of a wink - Jazz had soaked in human culture almost more than Bumblebee - with the offer of an unrepentant grin. Optimus uttered a suffering sigh.
“I’d suspected that already.” With how Ratchet had scolded him for being reckless, he guessed it was normal he had already told their other team members. At least the team members who were less impressionable and prone to get ideas than, let’s say, Bumblebee or Sari.
“Wasn’t me who convinced a bunch of Autotroopers to let you switch with a Decepticon in disguise. And member of a team of more disguised Decepticons that had rigged up the arena and themselves to blow Megatron free.” The smiled dimmed a little before Jazz grinned wide once more - a bit too wide. “You’ve got all that experience with Cons, of course, but your not invincible, dig?”
“All I had were some hunches, which kinda made this a decision in the spur of the moment.” Optimus rubbed his neck, uncomfortably aware of their audience. Cliffjumper, head of intelligence and communication. He maybe was not in favor of Sentinel’s reign and had applauded their defeat of Megatron, but he was still part of the Elite Guard that answered to both Sentinel and the council. There could be audials hidden anywhere.
Optimus stepped closer to Jazz. The door thankfully closed. Maybe it was now a trick of the light, but his vizor focused for a nanoklik behind him. He had a feeling that Jazz would question him about that too, sooner or later.
No, it was a fact. Jazz had been an Elite Guard for stellar cycles; he knew it was serious business if you walked out Cliffjumper's office.
“There were officials involved. You could have told them.”
“They were less lucky than I with investigation, and Sentinel wouldn’t have listed to me without any proof.” Because while Sentinel listens to few, he listens even less to me. Was the unsaid addendum.
“So you decided to slap on an electronic paintjob, switch places and play the mole. ‘Cause of some hunches.”
Engine giving a little rev, Optimus’ mouth thinned.
“Excuse me if I got suspicious that a bot was at the site of attack on Ironfist and his workshop-” His engine revved louder as the memory of Ironfist’s injuries suddenly sizzled white-hot in his lines.
“A robbery that was in the same pattern as previous thefts of weapons, mods and explosives.”
“Hey, hey, mech, calm down, this is no interrogation.” Placating, Jazz raise his hands, palms facing outward. “I’m just worried, is all. ‘s not like the first time ya did your thing on yer own, but we always had some forewarning. That one here just came out of the left field when I heard about it.”
“There simply wasn’t time before the actual performance would start. More bots could have been hurt-” Another growl startled Optimus to awareness of what he was doing. He dragged down a hand over his face, venting deeply. His hand was trembling. The components of his jaw whined as he ground his denta against each other. Allspark, he felt as if his processor would white out on him any moment, as it dumped more and more emotions that were dated back to the moment he had learnt that somebody had attacked an injure Ironfist. The connected tags to Prowl only-
No. He was not going there.
“Sorry about that.” Optimus ground out forcibly calm. “I guess I’m still stressed from battle.”
“Mech, it’s alright.” Jazz layed his palm on both his shoulders.
[[:Ironfist’s a friend of yers. Ya have every right to be upset.:]]
Jazz transmitted a chuckle over the comm.-link at Optimus’ stare.
[[:What, ya thought I’d talk loud about what eats you? I am a ninja-bot. I was never officially in intelligence, but ol’ Cliffjumper sent me undercover to a few missions because I’m good at gathering recon.:]] His vizor locked again on the door with an unreadable expression.
[[:Jazz-:]]
[:So Cliffjumpers knows too.:]] He said meaningfully, as returned his attention to the Prime. Before the younger mech could as much as start pondering the implications, the former guard’s mech changed the topic.
“Where were ya headed before I caught ya?”
“Um,” Optimus floundered. Where had that come from? “I’m gonna visit Ironfist in the hospital check up on him, then return to Omega.”
He had to tell the others about the mission he’d accepted from Cliffjumper, after all. That would be a nice conversation after the Stunticons. Even more so that this task involved possibly more Decepticons.
“Sounds solid.” With a grin on his lips again, Jazz clapped the red shoulders.
“You go ahead to the entrance of Metroplex. I have ta finish some business, then I’ll join you.”
“That isn’t necessary-”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Jazz tutted. “You won’t go without me. I wanna meet this Ironfist fellow. Besides, I have to have your back should you stumble into another mess-”
“Jazz-”
“Ah-ah-ah.”
The urge to sigh in suffering rose in Optimus again.
“That’s my confirmation that there's no chance you'll ever let this go.”
“No chance indeed.” The ninja-bot spun him around by the shoulders and gently pushed him forward.
“I’ll see you at the entrance. That shouldn’t take me more than a few kliks before I can join you. And if you even think of sneaking off, I’ll jump you from a dark corner, drag you to Ratchet and tell him some details about the Stunticon job you might have conveniently left out. You know, so not to worry Ratchet instead of not getting a lecture.”
“Tell me why I’ve never put you in a brig for insubordination?” Came the good-natured grouse.
“Because you’re too awesome for that; you yell instead. Second, you never did that to anyone. Third, I’d have broken out when getting bored. Now go on, I have to do ninja-bot business.”
“I’m still thinking I’d have been a good idea. And you’ll certainly tell me later about this secret stuff, right?”
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
The chuckle finally broke out of Optimus and he waved at his friend as he walked. Soon he turned around the next corner, vanishing out of sight. Jazz swept his far-range scanners down the corridor to track his path. Once the Prime was on the way to Metroplex’s entrance, Jazz’s smile fell away to a mask as he faced the door.
---
Cliffjumper snapped his head up when he entered his office, but he didn't seem surprised at who it was or that he was coming inside like that all.
“Jazz.”
Jazz didn’t even offer a nod. He silently sat into chair in front of the desk. The red bot glowered back at Jazz’s stare.
“I’ll come with Prime on that mission you gave him.”
Blue optics narrowed dangerously.
“What mission? Besides, you have no authority in official Elite Guard business anymore.”
“Prime’s not on the Elite Guard either, yet you called him. This means it’s serious.”
“You still entered a restricted area without clearance.”
A shrug.
“He’s my leader. I gotta take care of him. And it did never bother you before when I did that.”
“You only knew of this meeting because you spied on our previous conversation. I'm certain he doesn’t know about that. And you did never such a thing for Ultra Magnus either.”
“Things change, it’s the nature of the universe. Never came up with him, though, so I dunno.”
Cliffjumpered mustered him intently, fingers drumming on the desk’s surface.
“You’re emotionally compromised. You display behavior you never showed before tied in to your leader with whom you have a relationship past professional. Which is likely related to the fact you recently lost a comrade in battle.”
Jazz’s plating tightened imperceptible. That game of hide-and-seek about a topic they both knew already intimately about was an old one between them. But that the officer dared to veer off and with his finger directly into the still bleeding gash over his spark-
“And you want me to send you with another mech on an Elite Guard task, as you so implied, despite that you can’t guarantee to be at your top game.”
Where Jazz’s plating had pressed against his protoform before, it bristled and flared widely now. He stood up, leaning with both arms on the desk so he was looming over the intelligence officer, anger barely restrained. How dare he. How dare to try manipulate him with this wound.
“That’s rich coming from you, given the mech you picked for this mission.”
“I laid all issues out in front of Optimus Prime. He knows what he’s getting into, and he has the experience needed.”
“Whatever.” Jazz hissed with a venom that could have dripped onto Cliffjumper's head, burn through the metal, the protoform, into his processor and from there down down down to his spark.
“I’ll come with Prime, no matter what you, Sentinel or anyone else will say.”
“That’s not for you to decide. I assigned specifically Optimus Prime to this mission, not you.”
“See if I care. I told you what I’m gonna do as usual, but you won’t stop me. Prime’s not gonna go without me.” Abruptly, Jazz spun on his heels, not looking back as he strode for the door. He had said his piece; if he stayed any longer, he might do something that would land him in the brig. Inside stasis cuffs and worse restraints that not even processor over matter might free him.
“Jazz.”
He kept walking.
“You don’t need to debrief me. I’ve gotten everything already.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Cliffjumper drily retorted.
“But that’s not what I wanted to say. Bots that are emotionally compromised tend to make rash decisions, so be careful. Doubly so, for both of your sakes.”
Jazz’s fingers twitched.
“Oh yeah? That’s why you knew Prime would accept the assignment? You have no right to give me any advice, so shut it, Cliffjumper.”
“… I don’t want to use your friend. You know that. He’s just the best for this job.”
The ninja-bot didn’t grace him with a reply. Optimus was waiting for him and that's where he was needed.
Rating: G/PG-13
Series: TFA
Pairings/Prompt: TFA- Jazz/Optimus- "Don't go without me"
Warnings: Slight spoilers for season 3 and the finale, and the canon story The Stunti-Con Job. A bit angst, heavier in the second part.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but Hasbro's.
Authors Notes: Unbeta'd. Part of a larger series.
First posted fic here! Would the mods create an author tag for me, please?
“Heya, OP.”
Optimus stopped in front of the door, optics cycling wide.
“Jazz, what are you doing here?”
The ninja-bot unhooked the one leg from the other and pushed away from the wall, a warm grin on his face. He flicked his fingers in direction of Cliffjumper behind Optimus in the room. The intelligence agent narrowed his optics.
“Wanted to check on you after your little hero-time in the arena. You really made Ratchet mad in worry.”
“Why do I have the feeling none of you will let this go for a long time?”
“Because none of us will. Ever.” One side of his vizor dimmed in the estimation of a wink - Jazz had soaked in human culture almost more than Bumblebee - with the offer of an unrepentant grin. Optimus uttered a suffering sigh.
“I’d suspected that already.” With how Ratchet had scolded him for being reckless, he guessed it was normal he had already told their other team members. At least the team members who were less impressionable and prone to get ideas than, let’s say, Bumblebee or Sari.
“Wasn’t me who convinced a bunch of Autotroopers to let you switch with a Decepticon in disguise. And member of a team of more disguised Decepticons that had rigged up the arena and themselves to blow Megatron free.” The smiled dimmed a little before Jazz grinned wide once more - a bit too wide. “You’ve got all that experience with Cons, of course, but your not invincible, dig?”
“All I had were some hunches, which kinda made this a decision in the spur of the moment.” Optimus rubbed his neck, uncomfortably aware of their audience. Cliffjumper, head of intelligence and communication. He maybe was not in favor of Sentinel’s reign and had applauded their defeat of Megatron, but he was still part of the Elite Guard that answered to both Sentinel and the council. There could be audials hidden anywhere.
Optimus stepped closer to Jazz. The door thankfully closed. Maybe it was now a trick of the light, but his vizor focused for a nanoklik behind him. He had a feeling that Jazz would question him about that too, sooner or later.
No, it was a fact. Jazz had been an Elite Guard for stellar cycles; he knew it was serious business if you walked out Cliffjumper's office.
“There were officials involved. You could have told them.”
“They were less lucky than I with investigation, and Sentinel wouldn’t have listed to me without any proof.” Because while Sentinel listens to few, he listens even less to me. Was the unsaid addendum.
“So you decided to slap on an electronic paintjob, switch places and play the mole. ‘Cause of some hunches.”
Engine giving a little rev, Optimus’ mouth thinned.
“Excuse me if I got suspicious that a bot was at the site of attack on Ironfist and his workshop-” His engine revved louder as the memory of Ironfist’s injuries suddenly sizzled white-hot in his lines.
“A robbery that was in the same pattern as previous thefts of weapons, mods and explosives.”
“Hey, hey, mech, calm down, this is no interrogation.” Placating, Jazz raise his hands, palms facing outward. “I’m just worried, is all. ‘s not like the first time ya did your thing on yer own, but we always had some forewarning. That one here just came out of the left field when I heard about it.”
“There simply wasn’t time before the actual performance would start. More bots could have been hurt-” Another growl startled Optimus to awareness of what he was doing. He dragged down a hand over his face, venting deeply. His hand was trembling. The components of his jaw whined as he ground his denta against each other. Allspark, he felt as if his processor would white out on him any moment, as it dumped more and more emotions that were dated back to the moment he had learnt that somebody had attacked an injure Ironfist. The connected tags to Prowl only-
No. He was not going there.
“Sorry about that.” Optimus ground out forcibly calm. “I guess I’m still stressed from battle.”
“Mech, it’s alright.” Jazz layed his palm on both his shoulders.
[[:Ironfist’s a friend of yers. Ya have every right to be upset.:]]
Jazz transmitted a chuckle over the comm.-link at Optimus’ stare.
[[:What, ya thought I’d talk loud about what eats you? I am a ninja-bot. I was never officially in intelligence, but ol’ Cliffjumper sent me undercover to a few missions because I’m good at gathering recon.:]] His vizor locked again on the door with an unreadable expression.
[[:Jazz-:]]
[:So Cliffjumpers knows too.:]] He said meaningfully, as returned his attention to the Prime. Before the younger mech could as much as start pondering the implications, the former guard’s mech changed the topic.
“Where were ya headed before I caught ya?”
“Um,” Optimus floundered. Where had that come from? “I’m gonna visit Ironfist in the hospital check up on him, then return to Omega.”
He had to tell the others about the mission he’d accepted from Cliffjumper, after all. That would be a nice conversation after the Stunticons. Even more so that this task involved possibly more Decepticons.
“Sounds solid.” With a grin on his lips again, Jazz clapped the red shoulders.
“You go ahead to the entrance of Metroplex. I have ta finish some business, then I’ll join you.”
“That isn’t necessary-”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Jazz tutted. “You won’t go without me. I wanna meet this Ironfist fellow. Besides, I have to have your back should you stumble into another mess-”
“Jazz-”
“Ah-ah-ah.”
The urge to sigh in suffering rose in Optimus again.
“That’s my confirmation that there's no chance you'll ever let this go.”
“No chance indeed.” The ninja-bot spun him around by the shoulders and gently pushed him forward.
“I’ll see you at the entrance. That shouldn’t take me more than a few kliks before I can join you. And if you even think of sneaking off, I’ll jump you from a dark corner, drag you to Ratchet and tell him some details about the Stunticon job you might have conveniently left out. You know, so not to worry Ratchet instead of not getting a lecture.”
“Tell me why I’ve never put you in a brig for insubordination?” Came the good-natured grouse.
“Because you’re too awesome for that; you yell instead. Second, you never did that to anyone. Third, I’d have broken out when getting bored. Now go on, I have to do ninja-bot business.”
“I’m still thinking I’d have been a good idea. And you’ll certainly tell me later about this secret stuff, right?”
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
The chuckle finally broke out of Optimus and he waved at his friend as he walked. Soon he turned around the next corner, vanishing out of sight. Jazz swept his far-range scanners down the corridor to track his path. Once the Prime was on the way to Metroplex’s entrance, Jazz’s smile fell away to a mask as he faced the door.
---
Cliffjumper snapped his head up when he entered his office, but he didn't seem surprised at who it was or that he was coming inside like that all.
“Jazz.”
Jazz didn’t even offer a nod. He silently sat into chair in front of the desk. The red bot glowered back at Jazz’s stare.
“I’ll come with Prime on that mission you gave him.”
Blue optics narrowed dangerously.
“What mission? Besides, you have no authority in official Elite Guard business anymore.”
“Prime’s not on the Elite Guard either, yet you called him. This means it’s serious.”
“You still entered a restricted area without clearance.”
A shrug.
“He’s my leader. I gotta take care of him. And it did never bother you before when I did that.”
“You only knew of this meeting because you spied on our previous conversation. I'm certain he doesn’t know about that. And you did never such a thing for Ultra Magnus either.”
“Things change, it’s the nature of the universe. Never came up with him, though, so I dunno.”
Cliffjumpered mustered him intently, fingers drumming on the desk’s surface.
“You’re emotionally compromised. You display behavior you never showed before tied in to your leader with whom you have a relationship past professional. Which is likely related to the fact you recently lost a comrade in battle.”
Jazz’s plating tightened imperceptible. That game of hide-and-seek about a topic they both knew already intimately about was an old one between them. But that the officer dared to veer off and with his finger directly into the still bleeding gash over his spark-
“And you want me to send you with another mech on an Elite Guard task, as you so implied, despite that you can’t guarantee to be at your top game.”
Where Jazz’s plating had pressed against his protoform before, it bristled and flared widely now. He stood up, leaning with both arms on the desk so he was looming over the intelligence officer, anger barely restrained. How dare he. How dare to try manipulate him with this wound.
“That’s rich coming from you, given the mech you picked for this mission.”
“I laid all issues out in front of Optimus Prime. He knows what he’s getting into, and he has the experience needed.”
“Whatever.” Jazz hissed with a venom that could have dripped onto Cliffjumper's head, burn through the metal, the protoform, into his processor and from there down down down to his spark.
“I’ll come with Prime, no matter what you, Sentinel or anyone else will say.”
“That’s not for you to decide. I assigned specifically Optimus Prime to this mission, not you.”
“See if I care. I told you what I’m gonna do as usual, but you won’t stop me. Prime’s not gonna go without me.” Abruptly, Jazz spun on his heels, not looking back as he strode for the door. He had said his piece; if he stayed any longer, he might do something that would land him in the brig. Inside stasis cuffs and worse restraints that not even processor over matter might free him.
“Jazz.”
He kept walking.
“You don’t need to debrief me. I’ve gotten everything already.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Cliffjumper drily retorted.
“But that’s not what I wanted to say. Bots that are emotionally compromised tend to make rash decisions, so be careful. Doubly so, for both of your sakes.”
Jazz’s fingers twitched.
“Oh yeah? That’s why you knew Prime would accept the assignment? You have no right to give me any advice, so shut it, Cliffjumper.”
“… I don’t want to use your friend. You know that. He’s just the best for this job.”
The ninja-bot didn’t grace him with a reply. Optimus was waiting for him and that's where he was needed.