(no subject)
At First Sight
Part I
Author: Thalanee
Verse: It’s A Game
Word Count: 2900 words
Warnings: crack, no eating or drinking (your keyboard will be grateful)
Rating: PG- 13
Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine, but in truth they are not…
Summary: They’ve met in the game, and now it’s time to meet in the real world too. If only Jazz and Prowl knew how that first time together was going to end!
Author’s Notes: See what I’m doing when I’m supposed to be listening to my lectures? But I needed to write something fluffy and funny, so here it is.
One version of Renegadewriter8’s Jealousy-prompt (I’m still working on another).
XXXXX
To anyone who cared to look closely enough it was obvious that the silver mech sitting at a quiet table in the bar could barely contain his excitement, at least if the giddy way he was bouncing up and down in his seat was any indication. Even the usually dark visor fritzed on and off in a myriad of different colours. The reason for this show of nerves?
Jazz would finally meet Prowl in the real world!
The first time they had crossed paths they had been playing their characters in the new game “The Great War” in a version that would later be called Generation 1. The graphics depicting the mechs were still in their infancy at that point, so they didn’t look so great. Ok, truth be told they did a horrible job of it, making the bots look boxy, but originally the game wasn’t meant to be anything but entertainment for its own inventor (who was having the time of his life right now tweaking with the settings and constantly improving the game with his growing horde of fellow programmers). But it had been fun to play anyway, especially when he had earned enough experience to be promoted to officer rank and was subsequently teamed up with the Autobot tactician, a mech who had introduced himself as Prowl.
As far as he knew that was the mech’s real name (almost no one in the game used an alias anyway). Despite their different personalities, or maybe because of them, they had hit it off right from the start. Gaming together had turned into chatting via the game channel had turned into writing long letters had turned into talking over comms, sometimes for hours.
Over the course of time Jazz had somehow found himself falling for the reserved, soft-spoken mech with the light lilting voice, that sounded almost as if the mech was singing, even though he had no idea what Prowl actually looked like, since due to aforementioned reasons a bot’s appearance in the game was no indicator of his appearance in real life. Jazz himself was a prime example for that, since his broad-shouldered silver body didn’t look anything like his black and white character. But he had already decided that he didn’t care what Prowl looked like, big or small, massive or slender, mech- or femme-frame, grounded or seeker, young or old, all that didn’t matter to him.
A mech could hope though, since there was one detail he knew he would love already: Prowl had described himself as a black and white Praxian mech with doorwings and enforcer decals, and to say that Jazz had always had a thing for wings would be an understatement. As such he would be easily recognizable here in Iacon, where he had been transferred to from Praxus, his hometown.
Checking his chronometer once again his spark nearly stopped spinning. Prowl was supposed to arrive right now, and if he was as punctual with meetings as he was with calls he could be here any minute.
As if on cue, a new mech entered the bar and stopped a few steps from the entrance to look around.
Jaw hitting the floor Jazz idly wondered if it was physically possible for a Cybertronian to drool like an organic. It certainly seemed to be the appropriate response to him.
Because the mech was beyond gorgeous. The simple black and white paintjob suited his slender frame perfectly, right down to the red and gold accents. Absently he noted he little red triangle in a very intriguing place on black hips, before his eyes were drawn upward by the movement of regal white doorwings adorning the mech’s back. His hands itched to touch them, stroke them… no, bad Jazzy, don’t go there. Trying to distract himself from the products of his own treacherous imagination he looked up at a face most bots wouldn’t have called beautiful, but to Jazz it was wonderfully exotic, and right into mesmerizing golden optics, slightly slanted and just a little larger than average. High cheeks and full lips completed the look, crowned by a ruby chevron with a golden centre.
When Prowl moved, Jazz nearly melted. The doorwinger was poetry in motion. At the moment Jazz was very much disinclined to believe Prowl’s claims that he was average in looks for Praxian standards.
In fact he was so busy drinking in the sight of his date that he didn’t even notice Prowl looking back at him and moving toward him now- only to be stopped by another mech!
That one was obviously drunk out of his processor and now leaning in close to the much smaller doorwinger, chatting him up. Jazz had to clamp down hard on the sudden desire to get over there and rip out the drunkard’s facing equipment with his bare servos.
XXXXX
Prowl was beginning to get very annoyed.
Considering that Prowl usually had the patience of a saint, that was saying something. It was hard to trigger his temper, but if one succeeded the result was spectacular.
The enforcer had entered this bar, where he would finally meet Jazz for the first time. Stepping through the door he had to pause for a few moments to allow his optics to adjust to the many coloured lights. His doorwings nearly twitched along with the rhythm of the music, but the enforcer had taught himself to control the movements of his panels, keeping them still on his back.
The songs were upbeat, mechs and femmes dancing along with them without a care whether it looked good or not, everyone just enjoyed themselves. Jazz had recommended this bar when they were looking for a place to meet.
Speaking of which, Prowl remembered and looked around to find the other in the throng of bots. Almost immediately he laid optics on a silver form lounging in one of the chairs at an out of the way corner table that had a view of the full room.
The mech was slightly taller than Prowl, his silver armour glowing attractively in the lights in a way that made Prowl want to run his servos all over it. Wrapped in the armor was a strong looking broad shouldered body. Half of the handsome face with a contagious megawatt smile was covered by a dark visor, giving him a mysterious, somewhat dangerous
Air that sent delicious shivers down Prowl’s back and made his wings flutter in an unconscious attempt to give him a more appealing appearance.
This was without a doubt Jazz. Doorwings hiking up on his back, Prowl gathered all his courage to approach the silver mech, all the while praying to Primus that this date would not end as disastrous as his previous experiences. Other bots had been put off by his quiet, reserved nature, one mech even going so far as to call him an emotionless drone to his face. Another it had turned out had only dated him in order to see how fast he could worm his way into Prowl’s berth, going so far as to bet with his friends how long it would be. Prowl was forever grateful he had found out beforehand.
Only sheer willpower and practice kept him from showing any signs of his thoughts on his face. When Jazz had asked him to meet for real, Prowl’s first instinct had been to refuse. Convinced that such a thing could only lead to hurt and disappointment he had been prepared to say no, but a tiny feeling in his spark had prompted him to give it one more try (besides Starscream had threatened to drag him to the date by his doorwings if he wouldn’t go on his own… some friend the seeker was). If Jazz rejected him too, he would give up on romance once and for all.
Determined to face the inevitable rejection he thought was coming, he began to make his way over to Jazz, weaving his way through the mechs and femmes dancing to the beat of the music. The songs were loud but not overly so. Still it was not entirely comfortable on the sensitive sensor panels.
He had almost arrived at his destination, when out of the blue a big yellow and purple mech appeared, highgrade in hand, and lurched closer to Prowl, placing himself squarely between the black and white and his goal.
“What’s a cute thing like you do in a dump like this?”
“I beg your pardon, but that is none of your business.” Prowl replied, matter of fact. “I am expected, so would you let me pass, please?”
“Aw, don’t be like that, kitten. I’m sure we’re gonna enjoy each other’s company!” Waggling his optic ridges suggestively he gave Prowl a full body leer.
Scrunching up his nose in disgust at the smell of highgrade the mech gave off, Prowl threw him the coldest look he could muster. “You are not endearing yourself to me. Cease this display and leave me alone.”
Mechs had been known to cower in terror when subjected to the sight. Not this one though. Either he was too drunk to notice or he was too drunk to realize what that look meant, the fact was, he made a very grave error in judgement: mistaking Prowl’s icy silence for shyness or silent permission he slung an arm around the doorwinger’s waist and tried to draw him in closer to his own chassis.
Golden optics narrowed in anger, as Prowl was just about to grab the offending appendage and use it to throw the other mech to the other end of the room by it (make no mistake, small Prowl may have been, but he could do it), when he was interrupted mid-movement.
“There ya are, ya sleazy slagbag!” en enraged voice howled, drowning all the other noise in the bar and thereby drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Turning to look bots saw a silver mech stalking over to the big drunkard, pointing at him accusingly. “Ah wait at home with our little sparklings and where are ya?”
Pausing to look around, the new mech prowl recognized as Jazz gestured theatrically. “Gallivanting about in a bar, tryin’ ta force yourself on unsuspecting mecha!” Jazz looked absolutely crushed, conveying the impression of a mech near the verge of tears. Prowl could hardly believe his own optics and audios, but then it dawned on him and he was hard pressed not to laugh. Disapproving stared focused on Jazz’s unsuspecting victim, while unfriendly mutters rose in the audience. How could a mech neglect their own family like that?
By then everyone had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the drama playing out in front of them. The DJ, a friend of Jazz’s named Blaster, had even turned down the music somewhat so everyone could hear better. The thusly accused opened his mouth to say something, dimly aware despite being drunk that something wasn’t right here, but before he could say anything in his defense Jazz continued, his voice seeming like a dejected whisper (though he was still audible to most of the patrons around).
“What am Ah supposed ta tell our little ones when they ask for their daddy, so he can read them a bed time story? That ya prefer ta drink yourself into a stupor and prey on innocents like him?” There Jazz pointed at Prowl who by now was trying to twist out of the drunkards grasp, which proved to be surprisingly strong. “I should have listened ta my friends when they warned me not ta fall for ya, but Ah protected ya and this is how ya choose ta repay me? Shame on you!”
Shoving at the big mech’s chassis, Jazz used the opportunity to grab Prowl and free him from the other’s grasp, clutching the doorwinger to his own chestplates protectively. “And here ya are whispering the same sweet nothings into this innocent’s audio,” Jazz nearly shrieked, “But Ah shall rescue him from your clutches like ma friends tried ta rescue me! Ya won’t succeed this time.” With this, Jazz turned to move.
“Hey!” the doomed one bellowed, but he didn’t get any further than that. Jazz pushed past him, the crowd that had gathered parting for Prowl and him.
“Stay here and drink, ya don’t deserve our sparklings!” the silver mech yelled in parting. Prowl couldn’t take it anymore! He buried his face in Jazz’s neck to smother his laughter. Shoulders shaking and wings quivering violently with repressed laughter, he tried to hold it in but couldn’t help the occasional hiccup escaping him. Jazz realized that Prowl was near hysterical with laughter, but everyone else thought Prowl was crying, making them even more determined to teach the mech some manners.
“Come, sweetspark, let’s leave.” Jazz crooned, using the apparent tears as an excuse to lead an unresisting Prowl away and out of the bar, stepping out into the cool night air, where they could only dimly hear the music from the bar and other places.
Jazz felt very pleased with himself.
That mech should have known better than to touch what was Jazz’s! Never mind that there was no way the mech could have known or that he and Prowl weren’t even a couple (yet, his spark supplied helpfully and enthusiastically), it was the principle of the thing. Prowl belonged with Jazz, period.
Normally Jazz wasn’t the jealous type, but seeing that other mech chat up the doorwinger had really fragged him off. And when the mech wouldn’t leave Prowl alone, Jazz was hard pressed not to go over there and do something drastic. Yet, when he had dared touch Prowl, the silver mech had snapped!
How dare he?!
Originally he was just going to rip the mech’s facing equipment off, but then he’s had an even better idea, and it had worked out beautifully. So beautifully in fact, that he still had an armful of laughing Praxian hanging onto him for dear life.
Yes, life was really good right now.
It took Prowl a while to regain his composure, but after a while he managed not to collapse into giggle fits remembering what had happened and looked up at his rescuer, golden optics still glowing with laughter. “That was absolutely priceless! How did you come up with that?”
“That’s for meh ta know and ya ta find out, Sweetspark.” Flashing his visor on and off, he winked at the mech still in his arms. Prowl hadn’t let go yet, and Jazz would be damned before he did.
“So it is a trade secret?” the doorwinger teased back.
“Something like that. Good to see you enjoyed the show, Prowler.” A roguish grin spread on Jazz’s face, as he moved his head to indicate the entrance to the bar.
“I did, and my name is Prowl, as you very well know, Jazz.”
“’S ma nickname for ya, as is Sweetspark.”
“Isn’t a nickname supposed to shorten one’s designation? Lengthening my name like that rather seems to defeat the purpose of the exercise.” Tilting his head to the side, Prowl looked up at Jazz confused.
A confused Prowl looked rather cute in Jazz’s opinion. “Shush, ya.” He laughed. “Ah’m gonna do it anyway.”
Shaking his head, Prowl abandoned that line of conversation, knowing that Jazz wouldn’t be deterred in any way. And he didn’t really mind, anyway. Allowing a small smile to appear on his face, Prowl fluttered his wings. “I neglected to thank you for rescuing me. I appreciate the help.”
“Don’t mention it, Sweetspark.” Jazz purred, pressing a kiss to Prowl’s chevron.
Which was when Prowl realized just how closely he was pressed to that silver chassis. Blushing furiously he tensed a bit, but found himself strangely unwilling to part with Jazz, especially since there was a warm tingly feeling where their chestplates touched. He didn’t know what it meant, he only knew that he wanted it to last.
Jazz smiled at him, and stepped back somewhat so he wouldn’t make Prowl uncomfortable, though he kept an arm around the doorwinger’s waist, still holding him close, as unwilling to part as Prowl was.
“What say ya, we go somewhere else and enjoy the evening? Ah know this really nice place in a park around here. No drunk mechs this time, Ah promise!” He held a hand over his spark impishly, hoping Prowl would say yes.
“Alright.” Prowl answered, laying one of his servos over the one Jazz had wrapped around him, drawing closer still.
So they wandered off into the night for their first date.
And neither of them had a clue that the next day they would wake to find themselves bonded to each other.
To Be Continued
Notes: I don’t know how long I’ll be working on the second part, but I will post it. I just don’t know when yet. Next up will be the December Challenge stories and the next chapter of Things We Do For Love.
Please, tell me what you think?
Part I
Author: Thalanee
Verse: It’s A Game
Word Count: 2900 words
Warnings: crack, no eating or drinking (your keyboard will be grateful)
Rating: PG- 13
Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine, but in truth they are not…
Summary: They’ve met in the game, and now it’s time to meet in the real world too. If only Jazz and Prowl knew how that first time together was going to end!
Author’s Notes: See what I’m doing when I’m supposed to be listening to my lectures? But I needed to write something fluffy and funny, so here it is.
One version of Renegadewriter8’s Jealousy-prompt (I’m still working on another).
XXXXX
To anyone who cared to look closely enough it was obvious that the silver mech sitting at a quiet table in the bar could barely contain his excitement, at least if the giddy way he was bouncing up and down in his seat was any indication. Even the usually dark visor fritzed on and off in a myriad of different colours. The reason for this show of nerves?
Jazz would finally meet Prowl in the real world!
The first time they had crossed paths they had been playing their characters in the new game “The Great War” in a version that would later be called Generation 1. The graphics depicting the mechs were still in their infancy at that point, so they didn’t look so great. Ok, truth be told they did a horrible job of it, making the bots look boxy, but originally the game wasn’t meant to be anything but entertainment for its own inventor (who was having the time of his life right now tweaking with the settings and constantly improving the game with his growing horde of fellow programmers). But it had been fun to play anyway, especially when he had earned enough experience to be promoted to officer rank and was subsequently teamed up with the Autobot tactician, a mech who had introduced himself as Prowl.
As far as he knew that was the mech’s real name (almost no one in the game used an alias anyway). Despite their different personalities, or maybe because of them, they had hit it off right from the start. Gaming together had turned into chatting via the game channel had turned into writing long letters had turned into talking over comms, sometimes for hours.
Over the course of time Jazz had somehow found himself falling for the reserved, soft-spoken mech with the light lilting voice, that sounded almost as if the mech was singing, even though he had no idea what Prowl actually looked like, since due to aforementioned reasons a bot’s appearance in the game was no indicator of his appearance in real life. Jazz himself was a prime example for that, since his broad-shouldered silver body didn’t look anything like his black and white character. But he had already decided that he didn’t care what Prowl looked like, big or small, massive or slender, mech- or femme-frame, grounded or seeker, young or old, all that didn’t matter to him.
A mech could hope though, since there was one detail he knew he would love already: Prowl had described himself as a black and white Praxian mech with doorwings and enforcer decals, and to say that Jazz had always had a thing for wings would be an understatement. As such he would be easily recognizable here in Iacon, where he had been transferred to from Praxus, his hometown.
Checking his chronometer once again his spark nearly stopped spinning. Prowl was supposed to arrive right now, and if he was as punctual with meetings as he was with calls he could be here any minute.
As if on cue, a new mech entered the bar and stopped a few steps from the entrance to look around.
Jaw hitting the floor Jazz idly wondered if it was physically possible for a Cybertronian to drool like an organic. It certainly seemed to be the appropriate response to him.
Because the mech was beyond gorgeous. The simple black and white paintjob suited his slender frame perfectly, right down to the red and gold accents. Absently he noted he little red triangle in a very intriguing place on black hips, before his eyes were drawn upward by the movement of regal white doorwings adorning the mech’s back. His hands itched to touch them, stroke them… no, bad Jazzy, don’t go there. Trying to distract himself from the products of his own treacherous imagination he looked up at a face most bots wouldn’t have called beautiful, but to Jazz it was wonderfully exotic, and right into mesmerizing golden optics, slightly slanted and just a little larger than average. High cheeks and full lips completed the look, crowned by a ruby chevron with a golden centre.
When Prowl moved, Jazz nearly melted. The doorwinger was poetry in motion. At the moment Jazz was very much disinclined to believe Prowl’s claims that he was average in looks for Praxian standards.
In fact he was so busy drinking in the sight of his date that he didn’t even notice Prowl looking back at him and moving toward him now- only to be stopped by another mech!
That one was obviously drunk out of his processor and now leaning in close to the much smaller doorwinger, chatting him up. Jazz had to clamp down hard on the sudden desire to get over there and rip out the drunkard’s facing equipment with his bare servos.
XXXXX
Prowl was beginning to get very annoyed.
Considering that Prowl usually had the patience of a saint, that was saying something. It was hard to trigger his temper, but if one succeeded the result was spectacular.
The enforcer had entered this bar, where he would finally meet Jazz for the first time. Stepping through the door he had to pause for a few moments to allow his optics to adjust to the many coloured lights. His doorwings nearly twitched along with the rhythm of the music, but the enforcer had taught himself to control the movements of his panels, keeping them still on his back.
The songs were upbeat, mechs and femmes dancing along with them without a care whether it looked good or not, everyone just enjoyed themselves. Jazz had recommended this bar when they were looking for a place to meet.
Speaking of which, Prowl remembered and looked around to find the other in the throng of bots. Almost immediately he laid optics on a silver form lounging in one of the chairs at an out of the way corner table that had a view of the full room.
The mech was slightly taller than Prowl, his silver armour glowing attractively in the lights in a way that made Prowl want to run his servos all over it. Wrapped in the armor was a strong looking broad shouldered body. Half of the handsome face with a contagious megawatt smile was covered by a dark visor, giving him a mysterious, somewhat dangerous
Air that sent delicious shivers down Prowl’s back and made his wings flutter in an unconscious attempt to give him a more appealing appearance.
This was without a doubt Jazz. Doorwings hiking up on his back, Prowl gathered all his courage to approach the silver mech, all the while praying to Primus that this date would not end as disastrous as his previous experiences. Other bots had been put off by his quiet, reserved nature, one mech even going so far as to call him an emotionless drone to his face. Another it had turned out had only dated him in order to see how fast he could worm his way into Prowl’s berth, going so far as to bet with his friends how long it would be. Prowl was forever grateful he had found out beforehand.
Only sheer willpower and practice kept him from showing any signs of his thoughts on his face. When Jazz had asked him to meet for real, Prowl’s first instinct had been to refuse. Convinced that such a thing could only lead to hurt and disappointment he had been prepared to say no, but a tiny feeling in his spark had prompted him to give it one more try (besides Starscream had threatened to drag him to the date by his doorwings if he wouldn’t go on his own… some friend the seeker was). If Jazz rejected him too, he would give up on romance once and for all.
Determined to face the inevitable rejection he thought was coming, he began to make his way over to Jazz, weaving his way through the mechs and femmes dancing to the beat of the music. The songs were loud but not overly so. Still it was not entirely comfortable on the sensitive sensor panels.
He had almost arrived at his destination, when out of the blue a big yellow and purple mech appeared, highgrade in hand, and lurched closer to Prowl, placing himself squarely between the black and white and his goal.
“What’s a cute thing like you do in a dump like this?”
“I beg your pardon, but that is none of your business.” Prowl replied, matter of fact. “I am expected, so would you let me pass, please?”
“Aw, don’t be like that, kitten. I’m sure we’re gonna enjoy each other’s company!” Waggling his optic ridges suggestively he gave Prowl a full body leer.
Scrunching up his nose in disgust at the smell of highgrade the mech gave off, Prowl threw him the coldest look he could muster. “You are not endearing yourself to me. Cease this display and leave me alone.”
Mechs had been known to cower in terror when subjected to the sight. Not this one though. Either he was too drunk to notice or he was too drunk to realize what that look meant, the fact was, he made a very grave error in judgement: mistaking Prowl’s icy silence for shyness or silent permission he slung an arm around the doorwinger’s waist and tried to draw him in closer to his own chassis.
Golden optics narrowed in anger, as Prowl was just about to grab the offending appendage and use it to throw the other mech to the other end of the room by it (make no mistake, small Prowl may have been, but he could do it), when he was interrupted mid-movement.
“There ya are, ya sleazy slagbag!” en enraged voice howled, drowning all the other noise in the bar and thereby drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Turning to look bots saw a silver mech stalking over to the big drunkard, pointing at him accusingly. “Ah wait at home with our little sparklings and where are ya?”
Pausing to look around, the new mech prowl recognized as Jazz gestured theatrically. “Gallivanting about in a bar, tryin’ ta force yourself on unsuspecting mecha!” Jazz looked absolutely crushed, conveying the impression of a mech near the verge of tears. Prowl could hardly believe his own optics and audios, but then it dawned on him and he was hard pressed not to laugh. Disapproving stared focused on Jazz’s unsuspecting victim, while unfriendly mutters rose in the audience. How could a mech neglect their own family like that?
By then everyone had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the drama playing out in front of them. The DJ, a friend of Jazz’s named Blaster, had even turned down the music somewhat so everyone could hear better. The thusly accused opened his mouth to say something, dimly aware despite being drunk that something wasn’t right here, but before he could say anything in his defense Jazz continued, his voice seeming like a dejected whisper (though he was still audible to most of the patrons around).
“What am Ah supposed ta tell our little ones when they ask for their daddy, so he can read them a bed time story? That ya prefer ta drink yourself into a stupor and prey on innocents like him?” There Jazz pointed at Prowl who by now was trying to twist out of the drunkards grasp, which proved to be surprisingly strong. “I should have listened ta my friends when they warned me not ta fall for ya, but Ah protected ya and this is how ya choose ta repay me? Shame on you!”
Shoving at the big mech’s chassis, Jazz used the opportunity to grab Prowl and free him from the other’s grasp, clutching the doorwinger to his own chestplates protectively. “And here ya are whispering the same sweet nothings into this innocent’s audio,” Jazz nearly shrieked, “But Ah shall rescue him from your clutches like ma friends tried ta rescue me! Ya won’t succeed this time.” With this, Jazz turned to move.
“Hey!” the doomed one bellowed, but he didn’t get any further than that. Jazz pushed past him, the crowd that had gathered parting for Prowl and him.
“Stay here and drink, ya don’t deserve our sparklings!” the silver mech yelled in parting. Prowl couldn’t take it anymore! He buried his face in Jazz’s neck to smother his laughter. Shoulders shaking and wings quivering violently with repressed laughter, he tried to hold it in but couldn’t help the occasional hiccup escaping him. Jazz realized that Prowl was near hysterical with laughter, but everyone else thought Prowl was crying, making them even more determined to teach the mech some manners.
“Come, sweetspark, let’s leave.” Jazz crooned, using the apparent tears as an excuse to lead an unresisting Prowl away and out of the bar, stepping out into the cool night air, where they could only dimly hear the music from the bar and other places.
Jazz felt very pleased with himself.
That mech should have known better than to touch what was Jazz’s! Never mind that there was no way the mech could have known or that he and Prowl weren’t even a couple (yet, his spark supplied helpfully and enthusiastically), it was the principle of the thing. Prowl belonged with Jazz, period.
Normally Jazz wasn’t the jealous type, but seeing that other mech chat up the doorwinger had really fragged him off. And when the mech wouldn’t leave Prowl alone, Jazz was hard pressed not to go over there and do something drastic. Yet, when he had dared touch Prowl, the silver mech had snapped!
How dare he?!
Originally he was just going to rip the mech’s facing equipment off, but then he’s had an even better idea, and it had worked out beautifully. So beautifully in fact, that he still had an armful of laughing Praxian hanging onto him for dear life.
Yes, life was really good right now.
It took Prowl a while to regain his composure, but after a while he managed not to collapse into giggle fits remembering what had happened and looked up at his rescuer, golden optics still glowing with laughter. “That was absolutely priceless! How did you come up with that?”
“That’s for meh ta know and ya ta find out, Sweetspark.” Flashing his visor on and off, he winked at the mech still in his arms. Prowl hadn’t let go yet, and Jazz would be damned before he did.
“So it is a trade secret?” the doorwinger teased back.
“Something like that. Good to see you enjoyed the show, Prowler.” A roguish grin spread on Jazz’s face, as he moved his head to indicate the entrance to the bar.
“I did, and my name is Prowl, as you very well know, Jazz.”
“’S ma nickname for ya, as is Sweetspark.”
“Isn’t a nickname supposed to shorten one’s designation? Lengthening my name like that rather seems to defeat the purpose of the exercise.” Tilting his head to the side, Prowl looked up at Jazz confused.
A confused Prowl looked rather cute in Jazz’s opinion. “Shush, ya.” He laughed. “Ah’m gonna do it anyway.”
Shaking his head, Prowl abandoned that line of conversation, knowing that Jazz wouldn’t be deterred in any way. And he didn’t really mind, anyway. Allowing a small smile to appear on his face, Prowl fluttered his wings. “I neglected to thank you for rescuing me. I appreciate the help.”
“Don’t mention it, Sweetspark.” Jazz purred, pressing a kiss to Prowl’s chevron.
Which was when Prowl realized just how closely he was pressed to that silver chassis. Blushing furiously he tensed a bit, but found himself strangely unwilling to part with Jazz, especially since there was a warm tingly feeling where their chestplates touched. He didn’t know what it meant, he only knew that he wanted it to last.
Jazz smiled at him, and stepped back somewhat so he wouldn’t make Prowl uncomfortable, though he kept an arm around the doorwinger’s waist, still holding him close, as unwilling to part as Prowl was.
“What say ya, we go somewhere else and enjoy the evening? Ah know this really nice place in a park around here. No drunk mechs this time, Ah promise!” He held a hand over his spark impishly, hoping Prowl would say yes.
“Alright.” Prowl answered, laying one of his servos over the one Jazz had wrapped around him, drawing closer still.
So they wandered off into the night for their first date.
And neither of them had a clue that the next day they would wake to find themselves bonded to each other.
To Be Continued
Notes: I don’t know how long I’ll be working on the second part, but I will post it. I just don’t know when yet. Next up will be the December Challenge stories and the next chapter of Things We Do For Love.
Please, tell me what you think?