Second half of previous post
and here's the next part:
Once again the prince and the jester worked side by side in Prowl’s garden. Jazz was still amazed that he had been granted that particular privilege. If there was one thing he had learned about this place it was that no one was allowed to enter without permission, and certainly not to tinker with the Praxian’s crystals. It was an enormous show of trust and affection on Prowl’s part.
All the while they entertained themselves discussing philosophy and history or Jazz told outrageous stories about life in the city (some of it had to be made up, Prowl was sure of it, but he couldn’t tell which… the way Jazz delivered those anecdotes they sounded so sincere and real). This time was no different.
“You are jesting.” Prowl accused him.
“Course Ah am,” Jazz replied glibly, “’s what Ah do.”
Golden optics narrowed. “A poor choice of words maybe, but my sentiment remains the same. So let me see if I got this straight: This thief was new to the city, and after careful consideration not only picked an enforcer bar as the target, but also chose to conduct said robbery when it was filled with enforcers.”
“Yep.”
“And he failed to notice their presence.” A flat tone of stark disbelief coloured Prowl’s voice.
“Ya got it.” The grin on Jazz’s face got even broader if it was in any way possible.
“That I could deal with, if it was not for the fact that you also wish for me to believe that he forgot to remove the safety and load his gun. Who could possibly be that stupid?” The doorwinger could feel his battle computer being seconds away from going into overdrive and fritz.
“Maybe he did it on purpose…” Jazz mused.
“Why?” Prowl looked at Jazz aghast. Belatedly he noticed the way the silver frame was shaking with suppressed laughter… “Why you!”
Outright laughing Jazz jumped up and ran away, promptly followed by the black and white who tried to catch him mock- growling. They chased each other through the garden for a while before collapsing underneath one of the trees, their cooling fans whirring. Quietly smiling to himself, Prowl basked in the presence of the silver mech, while he wondered about what Ratchet had told him about spark synchronicity more than two decacycles ago. Ever since then he and Jazz had met every single day without fail, even if it was just for a couple of hours. He simply could not stop thinking of what the medic had said. A spark that was the perfect match to his in every conceivable way… What did this all mean?
His companion’s musical voice interrupted his musings. “What Ah wouldn’t give for some of those cookies now…”
“I beg your pardon?” Prowl wanted to be sure he heard correctly, considering that he had not been paying attention.
“Just daydreaming ‘bout the best cookies on the face of Cybertron,” Jazz explained, “Ah know Heatspot’s makin’ some for this evening.”
After a few seconds of consideration, Prowl offered, “I could send for some of them, if you wish to.”
“That’s sweet of ya Prowler, but Ah doubt even ya’d get any ‘fore she deems them ready.” The jester laughed. “Pit, Ah bet she’d even send Prime away, if he’d come ta ask.”
Prowl blinked. “Still we could try. In the meantime I have some cubes of energon…” As the black and white made to get up from his seat on the ground, a silver servo grasped his own and stopped him from leaving.
Jazz was grinning in a way that could only be described as truly devious. “Let’s go get some.”
Confused, Prowl frowned. “But you just said that Heatspot is saving those cookies for dinner. The way you described her in your previous tales, she is never going to part with any of them, not even for us.”
The jester chuckled. “That’s why we’re gonna sneak in and steal some!” the silver mech was rubbing his servos together in anticipation.
Golden optics wide, Prowl sputtered. “But…but we cannot do that!”
“Why not?” Jazz asked, grinning. “Come on, Sparkles, it’s gonna be fun.”
“Do you have a deactivation wish?” The young prince couldn’t believe Jazz was seriously proposing they snitch cookies from the only femme in the whole city to rival Ratchet’s infamous temper… and his aim, only she didn’t throw wrenches. Instead she had, at least according to Jazz’s and the twins’ tales, what he considered to be an unnatural relationship with her rolling pin… “If she catches us, we are doomed!”
“Not if we’re fast and sneaky enough, Prowler.” Jazz pointed out so reasonably Prowl had to refrain himself from strangling him. “An’ somethin’ about your name suggests ya’re actually good at this kinda thing, when ya put that diabolical processor of yours to it. Ah seem ta recall ya having told me about partnerin’ up with Siders now and then. And yet, ya never were caught.”
Well, Jazz was right about that. “I still remain unconvinced. Besides everyone will recognize me.” The thought bothered Prowl. He couldn’t just go around and play pranks (openly), he was supposed to be a good example to the bots he helped rule!
“Not if ya wear this.” In a single fluid motion, Jazz detached his visor from his face and placed it over Prowl’s optics. The jester paused to look. For some reason he really liked the thought of Prowl wearing something of his, and he did look gorgeous with it too.
Confused, Prowl’s servos rose up to touch the new accessory to his looks. “Do you really think this will work?” He sounded dubious.
“Ya really look different with it. And ya’ve been mucking about in the garden, so ya don’t look very much like a noble right now. ‘Sides, bots only see what they expect ta see.”
“Alright,” Prowl consented, hard pressed to keep from smiling. “Let’s go, before I remember that I am supposed to be an adult.”
“Sweet!” Jazz exclaimed. Not waiting for any further response he suddenly grabbed Prowl by the waist and, pulling the smaller bot close to him, clambered up the wall without any difficulty. Whooping with joy, Jazz jumped down the other side, laughing as Prowl threw his arms around the silver mech’s neck and actually swore at him.
“Come on, Sparkles, let’s go steal some cookies!” Taking Prowl’s hand in his, he led the way to the kitchens.
Servo in servo they made their way to Heatspot’s domain, passing busy servants and messengers. Sometimes Jazz was spotted by someone he knew and waved to them, but didn’t stop to talk to anyone, instead dragging Prowl with him.
The doorwinger was busy watching a side of the palace he had never laid optics on before. The hustle and bustle of mechs and femmes going about their business, singing to themselves or shouting instructions at each other, telling jokes and laughing was so different from the quiet, stately air he was used to. It was lively and loud, and became even more so, the closer they came to the part of the palace that housed only the servants’ quarters and courts and the palace kitchens and stables.
The excitement of what they were doing was getting to the black and white. He wouldn’t admit it if asked but he really enjoyed sneaking about the palace with Jazz without being recognized. Both of them giggled like sparklings about to do exactly what their parents had forbidden them to do.
Soon enough the delicious smells and the loud clanging of pots and other cutlery told Prowl where exactly the kitchen was, even though he had never been there before, not even in his few adventures with Sideswipe. Peeking around a conveniently placed pile of crates the two would-be thieves watched the small courtyard in front of the door leading to the red and yellow cook’s domain.
Several sets of windows faced the little courtyard. Through them the two miscreants caught the occasional glimpses of one of the cooks or their helpers, hurrying about the kitchen, shouting orders and requests, carrying trays and tablets and plates to and fro.
“So how exactly do we go about this? We will hardly be able to just walk in and get some of the cookies and walk out without being noticed.” Prowl whispered.
“Ah know exactly how ta do this, Ah’ve done it before.” Jazz replied, his visor gleaming with mischief. “When the goodies are finished the cooks place the baking sheets on the window sills to cool down. We’ll sneak in close and snatch a few when they ain’t lookin’.”
“You make it sound like it is the easiest thing in the world…” There was a slight note of doubt in the prince’s voice.
“It is, Ah’ve done it dozens of times.” Jazz waved a servo in a reassuring gesture.
“Does this not mean that the cooks will be on the lookout for you?” Prowl inquired.
“They’re tryin’, but they’re way ta busy ta pay close attention. We just have ta wait for the right moment. Trust me, it’s gonna be easy.”
Still not entirely convinced, Prowl remained watchful, always checking that nobody saw them. It was strangely exhilarating. Soon their moment came in the form of a baking sheet full of deliciously smelling cookies being placed on a window ledge close to them by none other than the head cook Heatspot herself. As if she knew they were there, she cast a look around the courtyard, nodding to herself in satisfaction when she saw no one (Prowl and Jazz had taken care to remain hidden from view).
After a couple of breems the silver jester motioned for Prowl to follow him and watch out for other bots and slowly the pair crept toward the window, sidling closer to their goal. Soon they was sitting directly underneath the window ledge.
If anyone in the kitchen had paid more attention they could have seen a silver servo appearing from outside, its fingers feeling around until they accidentally touched the still hot baking sheet, twitching away for a moment, before snatching a cookie and disappearing from view again.
But fortunately for Jazz no one had been looking.
Unfortunately for Jazz however, the spoils he was now sharing with the black and white had left a noticeably empty space on the baking sheet…
The two perpetrators knew nothing of their impending doom as they quickly subspaced the majority of the said spoils, each keeping two to eat while they were still warm.
Prowl couldn’t keep the silly little grin from tugging at his lips. He felt a little silly but he actually enjoyed the thrill of the adventure even as they retreated back the way they came so they would not be caught.
But alas, it was not to be…
A cry of indignation caught their attention. Turning around they were presented with a scary sight: Heatspot stood in the door with her rolling pin raised in one servo, looking around for the perpetrators. Suddenly her head whipped around and she turned her beady eyes on the couple.
“Oh Primus,” Prowl whispered.
“Ah agree.” He gulped as the cooks optics narrowed and she advanced into their direction. At that moment Jazz remembered that he and Prowl were still holding one cookie each…
“I think an expeditious foray into rearward space is in order.” Prowl murmured in his accomplice’s direction, as he took a few steps backward.
Jazz nearly choked on the part of the cookie he was still munching when he heard, but stifled the laughter. “Ah agree.”
And so the pair took off running, quickly followed by the enraged cook swinging her favourite tool and yelling abuse at them. “Come back here, you little thieves! I’ll teach you to steal from my kitchen!”
“Faster!” Jazz shrieked and, speeding up, grabbed Prowl’s servo once again so they wouldn’t be separated. Dodging around other mechs and femmes their passing was followed by occasional curses and crashes when the obstacles in their path didn’t react fast enough or were bowled over by their pursuer. Careening around a corner they nearly ran into another unfortunate mech, who in fright threw his servos into the air… and with them the plate of cubes he was holding.
All of which promptly landed on the cook.
When they heard the splattering Prowl and Jazz turned around to look and saw Heatspot get up again, despite slipping on the cubes contents.
“Just how fast is this femme?” Prowl gasped. He would have to thank Ironhide for putting him through combat training again and again, or else Prowl would have dropped already.
“Don’t know, but we gotta loose her!” Jazz sounded breathless, but not because he was getting tired… he just found it hard to suppress his laughter.
A howl made them turn again and run down another hallway, laughing as they raced around several corners. “Let’s go hide, Sparkles.”
“Hide where?” In answer Jazz directed him to the court they had reached just then and toward a smallish room that was practically hidden from sight by one of the pillars there. Anyone looking there would just see a shadow. It was barely a room, more a closet.
“You are not serious.”
“Ya got a better idea?”
From not very afar they could hear Heatspot’s approach. Taking that as their cue they bolted into the little hideout and waited until the red and yellow femme had passed, but not before stopping so close to them that for a moment they thought they’d be caught, especially when the femme growled.
The pair held their breath so she wouldn’t notice them. So preoccupied where they that they didn’t even realize how close they were pressed to each other, and that they were still holding servos. When she had finally continued on in another direction, both the jester and the prince let out sighs of reliefs before turning toward the other. Only then did they notice that there was virtually no air between their chassis’.
Both stilled completely, golden optics locking unto blue visor. Intakes held, they moved in unison, closing the distance between their lips ever so slowly. The outside world ceased to exist as all their senses and attention were trained on each other.
One of Jazz’s servos came up to lightly rest on Prowl’s hip, stroking it softly, while Prowl’s free hand came up to rest over the silver plating that hid the jester’s spark, making it spin in its chamber.
Their lips were so close now they almost touched, and Jazz prepared to lean closer to kiss the doorwinger in earnest…
… when a loud noise from outside their hideout made them jump apart. Apparently Heatspot had given up on her search and was now returning to her lair, grumbling and cursing under her breath unintelligibly, only the occasional word comprehensible to her surroundings.
Watching the head-cook retreat Jazz couldn’t help but curse his ill luck. He had only been mere millimeters away from kissing Prowl, dammit! Millimeters. It had felt so wonderful, having Prowl’s body in his arms, caressing that black and white plating… Shaking his head to dislodge that train of thought before his already warmed plating heated up even more, he snuck a look at his companion.
Prowl looked so adorable with his facial plating heated from embarrassment. And he was touching his lips, brushing them with his fingers. The sight almost made Jazz snatch Prowl and kiss him regardless, but he wanted to do it right and it wouldn’t do to be interrupted again.
Peeking out from their hideout he ascertained that there was no one around and still holding Prowl’s hand, motioned for the prince to follow him.
Quickly they snuck back to the black and white’s garden, always on the watch for the cook, just in case she had decided to continue her pursuit.
Under their tree they both collapsed. One glance at each other was all it took for them to collapse into helpless laughter side by side.
“This…” Prowl gasped for air to cool down his systems, “was by far the most foolish thing I have ever done!”
“And the most fun, Ah hope.” Jazz moved until he was resting on one of his elbows, smiling down at Prowl.
“That too.” Prowl answered, a soft smile visible on his face. “Though I do hope you will not get into trouble for this, if she recognized you.”
“An’ ya won’t get into trouble?” Jazz teased. “Ya stole as many of those cookies as Ah did.”
“Yes, but no one will recognize me,” Prowl replied impishly, a humorous tone to his voice, as he tapped the visor he was still wearing.
Slowly Jazz reached out to pluck the visor away so he could look into Prowl’s real optics. The sight of Prowl wearing his visor was still strangely alluring, but it simply could not compare to the black and white’s real optics. Without even realizing what he was doing he leaned closer, caught up in the moment and nuzzled Prowl’s nose with his own.
Upon the silver mech’s closeness to Prowl it felt for a moment as if his spark would jump out of his casing. It felt exactly like earlier that day. Holding his breath, he stilled completely. Mistaking the doorwinger’s stillness for distress Jazz made to get up again, only for Prowl to pull him back down again, running his hands up Jazz’s chest plates and wrapping them around the taller mech’s neck.
Jazz leaned down until their lips almost touched, before he spoke up. “Ya sure about this, Prowl?”
What he was about to do broke every code of conduct of the Iaconian courts, but Prowl couldn’t care less. He could not bring himself to pull away or ask Jazz to stop, not when this felt so right. The feeling in his spark drowned any other train of thought.
“Yes,” he breathed.
As soon as the word had left his mouth Jazz leaned down and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. It was soft, slow, and as it lasted Prowl never wanted this moment to stop
To Be Continued
That’s it for now… tell me what you think, please?
Once again the prince and the jester worked side by side in Prowl’s garden. Jazz was still amazed that he had been granted that particular privilege. If there was one thing he had learned about this place it was that no one was allowed to enter without permission, and certainly not to tinker with the Praxian’s crystals. It was an enormous show of trust and affection on Prowl’s part.
All the while they entertained themselves discussing philosophy and history or Jazz told outrageous stories about life in the city (some of it had to be made up, Prowl was sure of it, but he couldn’t tell which… the way Jazz delivered those anecdotes they sounded so sincere and real). This time was no different.
“You are jesting.” Prowl accused him.
“Course Ah am,” Jazz replied glibly, “’s what Ah do.”
Golden optics narrowed. “A poor choice of words maybe, but my sentiment remains the same. So let me see if I got this straight: This thief was new to the city, and after careful consideration not only picked an enforcer bar as the target, but also chose to conduct said robbery when it was filled with enforcers.”
“Yep.”
“And he failed to notice their presence.” A flat tone of stark disbelief coloured Prowl’s voice.
“Ya got it.” The grin on Jazz’s face got even broader if it was in any way possible.
“That I could deal with, if it was not for the fact that you also wish for me to believe that he forgot to remove the safety and load his gun. Who could possibly be that stupid?” The doorwinger could feel his battle computer being seconds away from going into overdrive and fritz.
“Maybe he did it on purpose…” Jazz mused.
“Why?” Prowl looked at Jazz aghast. Belatedly he noticed the way the silver frame was shaking with suppressed laughter… “Why you!”
Outright laughing Jazz jumped up and ran away, promptly followed by the black and white who tried to catch him mock- growling. They chased each other through the garden for a while before collapsing underneath one of the trees, their cooling fans whirring. Quietly smiling to himself, Prowl basked in the presence of the silver mech, while he wondered about what Ratchet had told him about spark synchronicity more than two decacycles ago. Ever since then he and Jazz had met every single day without fail, even if it was just for a couple of hours. He simply could not stop thinking of what the medic had said. A spark that was the perfect match to his in every conceivable way… What did this all mean?
His companion’s musical voice interrupted his musings. “What Ah wouldn’t give for some of those cookies now…”
“I beg your pardon?” Prowl wanted to be sure he heard correctly, considering that he had not been paying attention.
“Just daydreaming ‘bout the best cookies on the face of Cybertron,” Jazz explained, “Ah know Heatspot’s makin’ some for this evening.”
After a few seconds of consideration, Prowl offered, “I could send for some of them, if you wish to.”
“That’s sweet of ya Prowler, but Ah doubt even ya’d get any ‘fore she deems them ready.” The jester laughed. “Pit, Ah bet she’d even send Prime away, if he’d come ta ask.”
Prowl blinked. “Still we could try. In the meantime I have some cubes of energon…” As the black and white made to get up from his seat on the ground, a silver servo grasped his own and stopped him from leaving.
Jazz was grinning in a way that could only be described as truly devious. “Let’s go get some.”
Confused, Prowl frowned. “But you just said that Heatspot is saving those cookies for dinner. The way you described her in your previous tales, she is never going to part with any of them, not even for us.”
The jester chuckled. “That’s why we’re gonna sneak in and steal some!” the silver mech was rubbing his servos together in anticipation.
Golden optics wide, Prowl sputtered. “But…but we cannot do that!”
“Why not?” Jazz asked, grinning. “Come on, Sparkles, it’s gonna be fun.”
“Do you have a deactivation wish?” The young prince couldn’t believe Jazz was seriously proposing they snitch cookies from the only femme in the whole city to rival Ratchet’s infamous temper… and his aim, only she didn’t throw wrenches. Instead she had, at least according to Jazz’s and the twins’ tales, what he considered to be an unnatural relationship with her rolling pin… “If she catches us, we are doomed!”
“Not if we’re fast and sneaky enough, Prowler.” Jazz pointed out so reasonably Prowl had to refrain himself from strangling him. “An’ somethin’ about your name suggests ya’re actually good at this kinda thing, when ya put that diabolical processor of yours to it. Ah seem ta recall ya having told me about partnerin’ up with Siders now and then. And yet, ya never were caught.”
Well, Jazz was right about that. “I still remain unconvinced. Besides everyone will recognize me.” The thought bothered Prowl. He couldn’t just go around and play pranks (openly), he was supposed to be a good example to the bots he helped rule!
“Not if ya wear this.” In a single fluid motion, Jazz detached his visor from his face and placed it over Prowl’s optics. The jester paused to look. For some reason he really liked the thought of Prowl wearing something of his, and he did look gorgeous with it too.
Confused, Prowl’s servos rose up to touch the new accessory to his looks. “Do you really think this will work?” He sounded dubious.
“Ya really look different with it. And ya’ve been mucking about in the garden, so ya don’t look very much like a noble right now. ‘Sides, bots only see what they expect ta see.”
“Alright,” Prowl consented, hard pressed to keep from smiling. “Let’s go, before I remember that I am supposed to be an adult.”
“Sweet!” Jazz exclaimed. Not waiting for any further response he suddenly grabbed Prowl by the waist and, pulling the smaller bot close to him, clambered up the wall without any difficulty. Whooping with joy, Jazz jumped down the other side, laughing as Prowl threw his arms around the silver mech’s neck and actually swore at him.
“Come on, Sparkles, let’s go steal some cookies!” Taking Prowl’s hand in his, he led the way to the kitchens.
Servo in servo they made their way to Heatspot’s domain, passing busy servants and messengers. Sometimes Jazz was spotted by someone he knew and waved to them, but didn’t stop to talk to anyone, instead dragging Prowl with him.
The doorwinger was busy watching a side of the palace he had never laid optics on before. The hustle and bustle of mechs and femmes going about their business, singing to themselves or shouting instructions at each other, telling jokes and laughing was so different from the quiet, stately air he was used to. It was lively and loud, and became even more so, the closer they came to the part of the palace that housed only the servants’ quarters and courts and the palace kitchens and stables.
The excitement of what they were doing was getting to the black and white. He wouldn’t admit it if asked but he really enjoyed sneaking about the palace with Jazz without being recognized. Both of them giggled like sparklings about to do exactly what their parents had forbidden them to do.
Soon enough the delicious smells and the loud clanging of pots and other cutlery told Prowl where exactly the kitchen was, even though he had never been there before, not even in his few adventures with Sideswipe. Peeking around a conveniently placed pile of crates the two would-be thieves watched the small courtyard in front of the door leading to the red and yellow cook’s domain.
Several sets of windows faced the little courtyard. Through them the two miscreants caught the occasional glimpses of one of the cooks or their helpers, hurrying about the kitchen, shouting orders and requests, carrying trays and tablets and plates to and fro.
“So how exactly do we go about this? We will hardly be able to just walk in and get some of the cookies and walk out without being noticed.” Prowl whispered.
“Ah know exactly how ta do this, Ah’ve done it before.” Jazz replied, his visor gleaming with mischief. “When the goodies are finished the cooks place the baking sheets on the window sills to cool down. We’ll sneak in close and snatch a few when they ain’t lookin’.”
“You make it sound like it is the easiest thing in the world…” There was a slight note of doubt in the prince’s voice.
“It is, Ah’ve done it dozens of times.” Jazz waved a servo in a reassuring gesture.
“Does this not mean that the cooks will be on the lookout for you?” Prowl inquired.
“They’re tryin’, but they’re way ta busy ta pay close attention. We just have ta wait for the right moment. Trust me, it’s gonna be easy.”
Still not entirely convinced, Prowl remained watchful, always checking that nobody saw them. It was strangely exhilarating. Soon their moment came in the form of a baking sheet full of deliciously smelling cookies being placed on a window ledge close to them by none other than the head cook Heatspot herself. As if she knew they were there, she cast a look around the courtyard, nodding to herself in satisfaction when she saw no one (Prowl and Jazz had taken care to remain hidden from view).
After a couple of breems the silver jester motioned for Prowl to follow him and watch out for other bots and slowly the pair crept toward the window, sidling closer to their goal. Soon they was sitting directly underneath the window ledge.
If anyone in the kitchen had paid more attention they could have seen a silver servo appearing from outside, its fingers feeling around until they accidentally touched the still hot baking sheet, twitching away for a moment, before snatching a cookie and disappearing from view again.
But fortunately for Jazz no one had been looking.
Unfortunately for Jazz however, the spoils he was now sharing with the black and white had left a noticeably empty space on the baking sheet…
The two perpetrators knew nothing of their impending doom as they quickly subspaced the majority of the said spoils, each keeping two to eat while they were still warm.
Prowl couldn’t keep the silly little grin from tugging at his lips. He felt a little silly but he actually enjoyed the thrill of the adventure even as they retreated back the way they came so they would not be caught.
But alas, it was not to be…
A cry of indignation caught their attention. Turning around they were presented with a scary sight: Heatspot stood in the door with her rolling pin raised in one servo, looking around for the perpetrators. Suddenly her head whipped around and she turned her beady eyes on the couple.
“Oh Primus,” Prowl whispered.
“Ah agree.” He gulped as the cooks optics narrowed and she advanced into their direction. At that moment Jazz remembered that he and Prowl were still holding one cookie each…
“I think an expeditious foray into rearward space is in order.” Prowl murmured in his accomplice’s direction, as he took a few steps backward.
Jazz nearly choked on the part of the cookie he was still munching when he heard, but stifled the laughter. “Ah agree.”
And so the pair took off running, quickly followed by the enraged cook swinging her favourite tool and yelling abuse at them. “Come back here, you little thieves! I’ll teach you to steal from my kitchen!”
“Faster!” Jazz shrieked and, speeding up, grabbed Prowl’s servo once again so they wouldn’t be separated. Dodging around other mechs and femmes their passing was followed by occasional curses and crashes when the obstacles in their path didn’t react fast enough or were bowled over by their pursuer. Careening around a corner they nearly ran into another unfortunate mech, who in fright threw his servos into the air… and with them the plate of cubes he was holding.
All of which promptly landed on the cook.
When they heard the splattering Prowl and Jazz turned around to look and saw Heatspot get up again, despite slipping on the cubes contents.
“Just how fast is this femme?” Prowl gasped. He would have to thank Ironhide for putting him through combat training again and again, or else Prowl would have dropped already.
“Don’t know, but we gotta loose her!” Jazz sounded breathless, but not because he was getting tired… he just found it hard to suppress his laughter.
A howl made them turn again and run down another hallway, laughing as they raced around several corners. “Let’s go hide, Sparkles.”
“Hide where?” In answer Jazz directed him to the court they had reached just then and toward a smallish room that was practically hidden from sight by one of the pillars there. Anyone looking there would just see a shadow. It was barely a room, more a closet.
“You are not serious.”
“Ya got a better idea?”
From not very afar they could hear Heatspot’s approach. Taking that as their cue they bolted into the little hideout and waited until the red and yellow femme had passed, but not before stopping so close to them that for a moment they thought they’d be caught, especially when the femme growled.
The pair held their breath so she wouldn’t notice them. So preoccupied where they that they didn’t even realize how close they were pressed to each other, and that they were still holding servos. When she had finally continued on in another direction, both the jester and the prince let out sighs of reliefs before turning toward the other. Only then did they notice that there was virtually no air between their chassis’.
Both stilled completely, golden optics locking unto blue visor. Intakes held, they moved in unison, closing the distance between their lips ever so slowly. The outside world ceased to exist as all their senses and attention were trained on each other.
One of Jazz’s servos came up to lightly rest on Prowl’s hip, stroking it softly, while Prowl’s free hand came up to rest over the silver plating that hid the jester’s spark, making it spin in its chamber.
Their lips were so close now they almost touched, and Jazz prepared to lean closer to kiss the doorwinger in earnest…
… when a loud noise from outside their hideout made them jump apart. Apparently Heatspot had given up on her search and was now returning to her lair, grumbling and cursing under her breath unintelligibly, only the occasional word comprehensible to her surroundings.
Watching the head-cook retreat Jazz couldn’t help but curse his ill luck. He had only been mere millimeters away from kissing Prowl, dammit! Millimeters. It had felt so wonderful, having Prowl’s body in his arms, caressing that black and white plating… Shaking his head to dislodge that train of thought before his already warmed plating heated up even more, he snuck a look at his companion.
Prowl looked so adorable with his facial plating heated from embarrassment. And he was touching his lips, brushing them with his fingers. The sight almost made Jazz snatch Prowl and kiss him regardless, but he wanted to do it right and it wouldn’t do to be interrupted again.
Peeking out from their hideout he ascertained that there was no one around and still holding Prowl’s hand, motioned for the prince to follow him.
Quickly they snuck back to the black and white’s garden, always on the watch for the cook, just in case she had decided to continue her pursuit.
Under their tree they both collapsed. One glance at each other was all it took for them to collapse into helpless laughter side by side.
“This…” Prowl gasped for air to cool down his systems, “was by far the most foolish thing I have ever done!”
“And the most fun, Ah hope.” Jazz moved until he was resting on one of his elbows, smiling down at Prowl.
“That too.” Prowl answered, a soft smile visible on his face. “Though I do hope you will not get into trouble for this, if she recognized you.”
“An’ ya won’t get into trouble?” Jazz teased. “Ya stole as many of those cookies as Ah did.”
“Yes, but no one will recognize me,” Prowl replied impishly, a humorous tone to his voice, as he tapped the visor he was still wearing.
Slowly Jazz reached out to pluck the visor away so he could look into Prowl’s real optics. The sight of Prowl wearing his visor was still strangely alluring, but it simply could not compare to the black and white’s real optics. Without even realizing what he was doing he leaned closer, caught up in the moment and nuzzled Prowl’s nose with his own.
Upon the silver mech’s closeness to Prowl it felt for a moment as if his spark would jump out of his casing. It felt exactly like earlier that day. Holding his breath, he stilled completely. Mistaking the doorwinger’s stillness for distress Jazz made to get up again, only for Prowl to pull him back down again, running his hands up Jazz’s chest plates and wrapping them around the taller mech’s neck.
Jazz leaned down until their lips almost touched, before he spoke up. “Ya sure about this, Prowl?”
What he was about to do broke every code of conduct of the Iaconian courts, but Prowl couldn’t care less. He could not bring himself to pull away or ask Jazz to stop, not when this felt so right. The feeling in his spark drowned any other train of thought.
“Yes,” he breathed.
As soon as the word had left his mouth Jazz leaned down and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. It was soft, slow, and as it lasted Prowl never wanted this moment to stop
To Be Continued
That’s it for now… tell me what you think, please?