Well, finally
The Things We Do For Love
Chapter 11
Author: Thalanee
Verse: pre-Movie
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 2700 words
Warnings: Bad thieving Jazz… again no food or beverages while eating ;P
Disclaimer: Still not mine, sorry.
Summary: And don’t forget to introduce your true love to your parents either.
Author’s Notes: Sorry it took so long, but real life seems to hate me right now… the dialogue’s really gave me trouble (I’m still not entirely satisfied, but they won’t get any better and I’ve already worked on it too long, so…)
A happy new year to all of you! :D And thanks to all those who encouraged me and kept asking for new chapter (you know who you are) XD
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“I’m still trying to decide whether I should laugh maself silly or give ya a good trouncing.”
Apparently the sentiment thusly expressed was shared by all parties present. Ratchet was still looking them over, even though they had finally arrived at the precinct, thoroughly unconvinced of their continued assurances that, no, they were not going to die from their virtually nonexistent wounds. He had started cursing roundly when he saw the dislocated doorwing (realigning it had hurt like the pit even with painkillers) and was still muttering to himself.
Barricade was still hovering over Prowl, and by extension over Jazz, who still hadn’t relinquished his hold on the Praxian, and was still looking torn between giving the silver mech a pat on the shoulder for trying to rescue Prowl or whacking him in the head for endangering his partner in the first place.
The grey youngling he had brought with him, Bluestreak, was hovering near Prowl, watching him with an expression that could only be described as pure, unadulterated hero-worship. As soon as he had caught sight of the black and white he had latched onto him with everything he had. His incessant stream of words was quieted for now with the help of a full cube of energon.
Redline, Prowl’s chief, had intended to start ranting at them the moment they arrived in the precinct where he was waiting for them along with a guest from Iacon, but had found himself beaten to the punch by said guest, a black mech with blue racing stripes and a silver visor. Listening to the mech, the red and white Chief had surreptitiously started taking notes for future lectures. Not even the silver thief’s meek “Hi, sire.” had stopped Spotlight, the current Head of Special Operations for even a klick.
Admittedly most of Spotlight’s ire seemed to be directed at his errant offspring (Redline felt he should have known there was more to the silver special ops agent than met the optic) and said offspring’s blatant disregard of mission protocols. Revealing his true identity? Foolish. Drawing that much attention to the Praxian enforcer? Dangerous. Subsequently leaving him without protection? Downright unthinkable! Continuing in this vein for what seemed a very long time indeed, Redline almost began to pity Failsafe, no Jazz. Almost.
Now uttering that final sentence, the Head of Special Operations eyed the pair with a mixed air of exasperation and fond amusement.
“Would it help any if Ah said it ain’t ever gonna happen again?” Jazz piped up in a small voice, earning a snort from his sire and a deliberate stab somewhere sensitive from Ratchet, who was still poking and prodding them.
“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Spotlight crossed his arms and shook his head. “I taught ya better than that. Remind me again why ya chose to break almost every single rule?”
Azure visor twinkling with mirth, Jazz exclaimed, “Ah claim divine intervention!”
The sight of the boggled expression on his sire’s face was a memory Jazz would treasure forever. “Divine intervention?” the stunned mech repeated, sure that he must have misheard. “Could ya explain that one to me, please?”
“What else would ya call meeting Primus’ gift to Cybertron?” his creation cheekily pointed out, pressing a kiss to the listening Prowl’s servo that made the black and white blush.
Spotlight thought he should have known better than to demand an explanation from Jazz. He knew trying to follow the path’s his son’s mind followed would result in massive processor aches for him, and he still had to ask, which resulted in the urge to go find a wall, or any other flat surface really, and bang his head against it. His mate Quicksilver would laugh himself silly… then again Jazz had inherited those traits from his carrier. Throwing his servos into the air, he lamented, “Primus, what did I do to deserve this?”
“Carrier would say it’s karma for what ya did ta your own sire, dad.” Pit, arguing with his creator was fun, Jazz thought. He always got worked up about Jazz’s antics. Still, Jazz knew for a fact, that his sire enjoyed their verbal sparring just as much as he did.
“Hush mechling, can’t ya see that I’m raving?” Spotlight still sounded annoyed (mostly) but the half-grin on his face betrayed his improved mood.
All the while Prowl had watched their exchange in fascination. Now it was obvious where Jazz had inherited most of his mannerisms (and his good looks) from, though Spotlight’s were more understated in comparison to Jazz’s flamboyant air. Little did he know that Jazz’s other creator was one of the greatest actors Cybertron had ever seen, with a fable for drama that had yet to find its match.
“If you’re finished chewing out yours, may we have a word with ours?” A look in the direction of the speaker made Prowl gulp in apprehension. In front of Jazz and him, Barricade, Redline and all the senior enforcers who had helped raise him were lined up looking at him. Just looking at him. It made him feel like a little sparkling who had been caught with his hand still in the forbidden goodie jar… just like the time he had built himself a nest out of some of the more important datapads in one of the chief’s drawers. While everyone else had been turning the precinct upside down in search of the wayward sparkling.
“Of course, mechs.” Spotlight bowed and gestured in the direction of the happy couple.
“Would you care to explain,” Barricade growled, “just why you saw fit to apprehend two mechs on your own, without calling for backup, which got you captured? Would you further explain why you raided their base alone, without backup? And why, after finishing that, you waited for more than an hour before calling us?”
For the casual outside observer, Prowl was unfazed by the questioning. Anyone who knew him well, which unfortunately included the bots interrogating him, however saw the way his doorwings lowered just a little, and how his optics were just a shade dimmer than usual.
“As for the first, I intended to call for backup, but my comm. lines were jammed by a device the two had brought with them. When I became aware of that it was already too late. Besides they were holding a youngling hostage.” A white servo petted young Bluestreak’s helm when he whimpered at the memory. They youngling quieted immediately and snuggled up to the enforcer, who held him close. “Look me in the optics and tell me none of you would have done the same.”
“You win that one, mechling,” Safeside, one of the oldest grumbled. “But that still doesn’t explain why you decided to singlehandedly clean out that warehouse… without calling us.”
“As I already explained, my comm. lines had been completely disabled while I was unconscious, rendering me incapable of calling anyone. For my escape I would have had to fight my way outside regardless, so after I had arrested and secured everyone in the building the need for escape was eliminated, so I saw no reason why I shouldn’t stay and secure the evidence for Jazz.” The doorwinger sighed, before he continued. “I am sorry I caused you to worry…” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words. Waiting for Jazz and knowing the silver saboteur was alright had seemed so much more important in those moments. Helplessly he glanced at Jazz, who smiled back at him.
“So you decided to wait for the silver scoundrel instead of coming to us?” Barricade growled, throwing death glares at Jazz.
Prowl hissed, his doorwings raising into a sharp V, thereby giving him a more intimidating, almost menacing aura. “Jazz is not a scoundrel!”
“And how do you know, that what he said to you wasn’t part of his plans, that he didn’t lie?” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he should have kept silent, when Prowl visibly flinched with hurt.
Jazz had jumped up, snarling and was ready to rip into Barricade, but he was interrupted.
“That’s enough!” Redline bellowed. “Stand down, both of you.”
Both obeyed at once, even though Prowl was still seething on Jazz’s behalf. The chief threw a questioning look at Spotlight, who just nodded minutely. The covert mission was over now, revealing Jazz’s true identity wouldn’t do any more harm. Besides anyone with half a processor had already figured most of it out just by listening to Spotlight rant at Jazz.
“Son, it’s time ya really introduced yourself.”
Jazz nodded and stood, activating the part of his programming that would allow him to revert back to his original looks. As everyone looked on in astonishment, dark silver plating changed colour to a lighter white silver, and shifted around the chassis, giving the bot an altogether different appearance, stronger, with stronger lines than before. The visor darkened from azure to a blue so deep it was almost black.
Grinning, the saboteur bowed in front of his audience. “Hi, mah name is Jazz, and Ah’m a Special Ops agent from Iacon, sent here on a mission ta collect enough evidence against dear Swindle ta make sure he ain’t ever gonna see tha light o’ day. An’ Ah hope ya don’t mind, officers, but now that ma mission is over Ah’m gonna direct all of ma attention ta courting Prowl properly.”
“…And what do you call what you were doing before?” Redline asked after a moment of hesitation.
“Ah was just getting’ started, sir.” Jazz smirked. Then he sobered. “An’ Ah want ta make one thing abundantly clear: ma feelings for Prowl are real. They have nothin’ ta do with the mission and Ah ain’t gonna abandon Prowl now.” He looked at Barricade specifically. “Ah made a promise and Ah intend ta keep that.”
Uncomfortable, Barricade scratched at the back of his head. “Look,” he sighed, “I didn’t mean that, I was just angry. It was not my place to say that.” Then he mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven,” Prowl murmured back from where he was standing between the saboteur and the black enforcer.
A silver servo appeared in his field of vision. “It’s cool, mech, ya were only worried about Prowler. Friends?”
“Friends.” Shaking servos, Barricade suddenly pulled Jazz into a mix between a hug and a headlock. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t pound you if you ever hurt my partner. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Jazz gave a mock salute to the enforcer.
“Are you children finished playing?” Ratchet drawled. “If so, Prowl I want to see you in my clinic tomorrow to check on that wing of yours. And take things easy for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, Ratchet.”
“I mean it, youngling. If I get so much as an inkling that you were working, I’ll weld you to a berth!”
“Yes, Ratchet.”
Suspicious, Ratchet narrowed his optics at the black and white, who only gazed back at him mildly, the perfect picture of innocence. “I see Jazz has already corrupted you.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Ratchet,” the enforcer replied smoothly, making Bluestreak giggle.
Ratchet turned to him. “You, Bluestreak isn’t it, you’re coming with me to the clinic so I can give you a proper checkup. Who knows when you had your last one.”
Bluestreak stilled, his lower lip trembling. Woeful optics looked up at the medic, almost filled with tears. “I have to leave?”
“No. You will stay with me.”
Everyone looked at the speaker with surprise and- in the enforcers’ case- approval. It was Prowl.
“Really?” The youngling brightened, walking over to Prowl and clutching his waist. “I can stay with you? Cause that would be so awesome, you’re so cool and you’re the only one who ever cared for me and I really like you, I would love it if I could stay, please don’t send me away!”
Prowl smiled softly. Bluestreak had grown on him in the short time they knew each other and he didn’t have the heart to turn him away, which meant living on the streets again or being sent to one of the youngling centers. Prowl dimly remembered the one he had been in for a short time and he remembered how lonely he had felt. “You will have to go with Ratchet for now so he can make sure you are healthy, but when he is finished you may come and stay with me. I will care for you.”
“Jazz will be there too?” Bluestreak sounded so hopeful
“Ya bet Ah’m gonna be there, Blue.” Winking in a conspiratorial manner, he whispered loudly, “ya can even help me surprising Prowler.”
Whooping Blue jumped at Jazz, his second favourite bot in the world and hugged him, then ran toward Ratchet, eager to get the examination over with so he could go live with Prowl. The medic had trouble keeping up his gruff image with the large grin on his face, as he and Blue left for the medic’s clinic.
“Guess we’ll set up another playing corner.” Safeside announced.
“Just as long as the kid doesn’t build himself a nest out of my datapads.” Redline teased, chuckling when Prowl actually blushed.
Smoekscreen grinned broadly. “I’ll go and collect the toy boxes from storage.”
“I can’t believe we’ll have another sparkling running around here,” Bluelight, one of the few femme enforcers dreamily sighed. “I really missed it, to be honest.”
When they all noticed the confounded look on Prowl’s face, they laughed. “You didn’t really think you’d have to care for the little one on your own, did you.” Redline gave Prowl a pointed look. “You’re gonna have to share.”
“Thank you all.” Prowl’s optics glowed golden, and if he could have he would have hugged them all.
“Aww, don’t mention it, Prowl. It’s gonna be nice to have another little one running around here. And if he’s anything like you were, you’re going to have your fair share of the worrying. Like we did, when you dedided to explore the vents on your own, or when you snuck up on mechs during live-fire exercises. That one nearly gave me a spark attack.” Safeside joked.
“Are you going to do that more often?”
“Do what?”
“Recount embarrassing stories from my childhood.”
“Any chance we get, Prowl, any chance we get.”
“See what I have to deal with?” Prowl mock-groused earning chuckles from the other enforcers, turning to look at Jazz and Spotlight.
The former was grinning openly, the latter had a servo pressed to his neck directly over his vocalizer and his lips shut tightly, but when he saw the aggravated look on Prowl’s he burst out with laughter.
“Ya think your bunch are bad? Ya should meet the other Special Ops. Now there’s a bunch of softies.”
“That’s supposed to be a secret, mechling,” Spotlight wheezed, his laughter having died down somewhat.
“Say, all business here’s done, ain’t it?”
“Yes, all the official business is over now. Why are ya asking?”
“Seems there’s only one thing for me left ta do then,” Jazz mused, one servo scratching at his chin, while he eyed the assembled enforcers, who in turn eyed him suspiciously.
“And what would that be?” Barricade asked wearily. A Special Ops agent the silver mech might be, but this was still Jazz they were talking about, and the black mech knew him well enough by now to realize that twinkle in the silver mech’s visor meant trouble.
“This!” Jazz exclaimed, suddenly bending down to sling Prowl over his shoulder. The doorwinger yelped in surprised when the world suddenly tilted and he found himself with a good view of Jazz’s aft. Before he could say anything Jazz had already started running in a direction opposite of the group of mechs staring after them and called out, laughing.
“What better way ta go out wit’a bang than steal the greatest treasure in tha city while being chased by a whole bunch of enforcers?”
To Be Continued
Author’s Notes: Again, I apologize sincerely for taking so long, but the bunny wanted to play catch…
Tell me what you think?