Behind closed doors
Title: Behind closed doors
Part: 1/1
Author: Usagi-Atemu-Tom
Anniversary Challenges: Week three prompt - #12
Genre: slash, romance
Warnings: slightly sad, small fluff, a bit humour
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl Feedback: Please, yes, I love feedback! =^^=
Summary: The question who of the Autobots loves to sing, dance and perform seems obvious to answer. But it is a secret, now only exposed behind closed doors between two mechs, which reveals the true answer to that question. It was what brought them together. And it is what will always keep them from falling apart.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine I don't make money with it and write only for fun and to get better in writing English. ^_^
Helpful Pointers:
Vorn - 83 years
Stellar-cycle - 7.5 months
Orn - 13 days
Joor - 8 hours
Breem - 6 minutes
Astrosecond - 5/6ths of a second
Klick - 1 millisecond
"..." - Speaking
/.../ - Sparkbond speaking
Please note that I've only ever watched the two movies from 2007 and 2009. While I've 'met' a lot of Transformers from the comics and cartoons, that more often than not show up in fanfics I, of course, have not seen them in action and therefore might not be able to interpret their characters right. I am using mostly what I've learned through the movie (and maybe fanfics) and while catching some ideas here and there I am mainly using my very own ideas for things like energon, space bridges and so on.
Also, this story is mostly 'verse-neutral, so you might be able to still put it into G1 even if I had Bayverse in mind.And not to forget, much thanks to Taralynden for betareading.
"Ah like yer voice!"
On a good day, Jazz used to sing and dance as much as he could, but on the days where even the fun loving saboteur felt sad and depressed, Prowl sang and danced with him behind the closed doors of their quarters. No one besides Jazz knew Prowl had a beautiful voice.
"Ah like yer voice!"
It had been the beginning. Their first meeting. The first shared secret of many to come.
"Ah like yer voice!"
Prowl turned around from the mirror where he was in the middle of taking off the fake colours he usually wore during his performances to face the speaker that was leaning against the frame of his door.
His faceplates showed his obvious shock and surprise, and if his expression alone had not been enough indication, his Praxian doorwings, held stiffly in a sharp v-form, only enhanced the fact that the sudden visitor was neither expected nor welcomed.
"Who are you? And how did you get into the artist's section?" the young Praxian grouched, the pads in his servos showing the fake blue and red colours that were still partly covering his mostly white frame.
His visitor, an equally young mech of black and white colouring with a blue visor framing his face, had already taken a closer look, assessing the situation and realised the mistake he made by barging into the room especially without knocking as would have been polite.
Throwing the angry mech a look that was both apologetic and sheepish, he decided to start by answer the demand for identification.
"Sorry for intrudin', name's Jazz", the young visitor told him. "But ya might recognise meh under th' designation Chantsong. Ah was th' mech performin' after ya. Durin' th' wait, Ah was listenin' t' yer voice an' Ah love it so much Ah've been wantin' t' meet ya in person ever since."
Prowl, after hearing the name Chantsong, calmed down a bit now that he knew it was not a simple fan who intruded backstage but a fellow performer who invaded his room. Still his body held most of the tension, his whole posture guarded and he honestly could say he was far from happy, even if he was willing to acknowledge the other now.
"Chantsong, yes I know you. Though I cannot say that I recognise your frame, which makes me wonder."
Jazz, as he had introduced himself, had by now grabbed one own his arms and rubbed his servo over it in a nervous gesture.
"Ah'm really sorry for bargin' in. Ah honestly hadn't expected someone else like meh. An' t' ease yer mistrust, Ah'm special ops in trainin'. Performin 's part of mah current mock task. Ah'm supposed to cover as someone else an' fool everyone. Lucky for meh since Ah really love t' sing an' dance, so this's somethin' Ah do really well. After mah own performance, Ah had a briefin' wit' mah mentor an' mah looks were changed back since lessons have ended for today. Ah've been so afraid that Ah mighta missed th' chance t' meet ya, Ah totally forgot t' knock."
Done with his rushed and excited tale, Jazz looked at Prowl with an expectant gaze, obvious even with the visor covering his optics, apparently pleading for forgiveness. The young Praxian simply studied the special ops trainee for a moment, thinking his explanations over.
"You words sound honest enough", Prowl conceded, "however even if you are a trainee, do your teachers not tell you that you should not tell the next mech you meet about your cover?"
"Yes, of course they do", Jazz answered, laughing. "But Ah noticed th' fake colour ya're currently takin' down. Therefore Ah conclude Softflow's certainly not yer real designation an' ya're more concerned that Ah might've glimpsed yer true identity than about th' fact that Ah might've been an intruder t' th' backstage. So Ah, decided that t' risk an' fail this task is a small price t' pay t' try an' make up for mah mistake."
Both mechs paused in their doings, studying each other anew until the young ops trainee could not help himself but give voice to something he noticed.
"Is that black under yer fake colour? That's so cool mah favourite singer has th' same colouring as me."
Prowl could not help but stare in disbelief as the mech danced around his room, door long since closed behind him. Such a simple fact could make someone this happy? In all his time since creation he never met anyone who was this easily excited. Shaking his head a sudden burst of amusement that he could not help, the young Praxian watched his fellow performer dancing and studying his room before finally addressing him again.
"As much as I appreciate your praise and excitement about my person, I would be really thankful if you would allow me to continue taking off my cover as I have to be at work in about half a joor."
Jazz abruptly stopped his escapades and turned to the exasperated looking mech, looking sheepish again.
"Sorry, mech", he apologised, "Ah've got carried away again. But ya just have such a wonderful voice. Ah loved hearing ya sing an' now t' find out we've somethin' else in common just makes mah day."
"Thank you, Jazz."
"No, problem, mech!" the young special ops trainee smiled. "Well, Ah'm leavin' ya t' take care of ya cover now. Though, are ya willin' t' tell meh if ya perform again? Ah would love t' hear ya singin' once more."
Prowl considered the request for an astrosecond before he nodded.
"Yes, I will perform as often as I can here in Praxus. You will either find me here in other small energon bars around this district because it's the safest place to not risk exposure to mecha I know."
His decision to answer honestly was obviously the right one because Jazz was certainly glowing with happiness. If he had not felt so strangely happy himself about the other's antics, he might have thought the actions quite illogical.
"Thank ya!" the young trainee beamed before turning to the door. "Ah'm leavin' ya now an' Ah hope t' see an' hear ya again."
He opened the door and was just about to step out when Prowl held the mech back.
"Jazz?"
"Yes?"
"Your performance was not bad yourself! I like your voice as well."
Even though he could not see it, Prowl knew that the beaming smile on Jazz's faceplates had intensified.
Three orns went by before Prowl and Jazz met again. This time it was Jazz who was surprised by an unexpected visit from the mech he had come to idolise after hearing him sing only once.
The young special ops agent was still in the middle of his current mock task, covering as a stage artist. Without this being the plan, Chantsong had become quite popular. It went so far that he had to record some soundfiles for the Cybertronian population and this time he had a concert in Praxus that was quite a lot bigger than the gig at the small energon bar he started things with.
To be honest, his teachers had not been happy but Jazz was still young and he really did enjoy the rush of performing as well as a chance to sing and dance, something he would have decided to do earnestly had special ops not sounded more appealing and varied to him. With a bigger concert came tighter security and with security came the request to accept a personal bodyguard.
Since Jazz was of the opinion that nothing bad could happen and because of his age, the chief of enforcers in the end was able to talk him into at least accepting an enforcer who had just finished training and was around his age. If nothing else, the two of them might understand each other well, though Jazz had the strange feeling that the chief doubted his own arguments. He wondered if maybe the enforcer that was supposed to watch him was deaf or hated music or something.
His bodyguard arrived when he was in the middle of putting on last touches to the frame he used when acting as Chantsong. At first he did not pay much attention, too busy with polishing. He only saw a glimpse of the young enforcer in the mirror. Praxian built, with graceful doorwings held proud and high, not unexpected as he was performing in Praxus. His bodyguard seemed to be mech-build and the colouring was black and white. It would have fitted well to his original body, Jazz could not help but notice with a secret smile.
There was a short greeting from his side, before he concentrated on the small speck of dirt on his armour he noticed earlier. But even while being busy with polishing, he could feel the optics of his bodyguard on his frame, silently studying him. Not that he minded. It was only when the enforcer finally addressed him, that Jazz felt like someone had hit him over the head.
"Good evening, Jazz!"
The young special ops trainee spun around fast, speck of mud all but forgotten. His mouth already opened in, he did not even know what he was about to say, but that also got lost when he finally LOOKED at the enforcer properly.
Regal doorwings, a white frame heavily accentuated with black spots, glowing blue optics and while the faceplates seemed to show nothing but seriousness, Jazz was able to detect the amusement of the other in the warm light of the optics. He needed a moment to recover from the surprise of being addressed by his real designation, but he certainly recognised him then.
"Ya're Softflow", Jazz whispered, his tone a mixture of awe and surprise. Then his face changed and a grin of excitement lightened his features. "Ya're an enforcer! Mech, ya're not even so far off from what Ah do. We both want t' protect mecha wit' what we do. Primus this is a surprise but such a great one. Softflow's takin' th' job of protectin' meh."
The young trainee would have gladly danced around the room, but at the last second he remembered that he would ruin his nearly finished job of cleaning his frame for the upcoming concert and therefore he kept himself content with cheerfully grinning at the enforcer like crazy. That was until he remembered his confusion about the doubting tone of the chief, when he suggested his bodyguard and him might be able to get on well with each other.
"Say, when yer chief pointed out we're of th' same age, he didn't sound like he was confident we'll get along well. Willin' t' tell meh why not?"
The face of the enforcer stayed the way it was, not one part as much as twitching. The glow of his optics dimmed in a small sign of exasperation however.
"I have a small reputation of taking my work too seriouslyand acting too stoically", the young enforcer calmly explained, though Jazz, with his excellent hearing, was able to notice the small sigh that escaped the other by letting air through his vents. "My colleagues think of me as interesting and expressive as a drone doing paperwork. They doubt there is anything that can excite or interest me. At least that would be the most logical explanation for my chief's expression."
Jazz could not help but shake his head in disbelief.
"Bah, they know nothin'! Ya have a beautiful voice. Yer dancin' is th' most expressive Ah've ever seen an' right now ya show enough emotions that Ah can't help but question if yer colleagues even troubled themselves to look close enough."
The mech, Jazz noted after he was finished with his rant, looked very obviously torn between embarrassment and thankfulness. Seemed not enough mecha had complimented this one and Jazz made a note in the back of his processor to do so more often.
"So, Softflow, since Ah'm ready t' go t' stage now, would ya like t' accompany meh an' tell meh what ya think of th' performance afterwards over a cube of energon?"
The enforcer watched him for a long moment, checking him over, considering the offer. Finally a small, barely there smile made its appearance on his lipplates.
"I would like that", the young Praxian finally answered. He held open the door so Jazz could step through. "And Jazz?"
"Mmmh? The young ops trainee looked over his shoulder at the enforcer that was supposed to protect him this night.
"My real designation is Prowl!"
The wide smile Jazz showed after those words could have lit up the stage all by itself.
After that night Jazz and Prowl became close - best friends. Even though Prowl was working as an enforcer in Praxus and Jazz was a Polihexian who did his special ops training in Iacon, they used every bit of their free time to spend with each other. They even performed together more often than not, especially after Jazz was no longer required to use the cover of Chantsong for his training.
Jazz, with the skills he learned in special ops, was able to alienate the frame of Softflow so much from Prowl's original form that he no longer had to fear being discovered by mecha who knew the enforcer. Soon Softflow was known to be the skilled singer who tended to perform with Chantsong in beautiful duets and the crowd loved them both.
As time went by, Prowl's work as an enforcer increased and Jazz's own training took more of his time than ever before. Concerts for their alternate identities became rare and therefore extra special for the fans. It was one of many reasons why Jazz and Prowl enjoyed their free time together as performers even more. They sang and danced with everything they had, not knowing when the next time would be that they would be able to do this.
And then, one day everything changed.
Riots had been building up in all parts of Cybertron. Unhappy mecha, mecha who were seeking for power. The shouts for change grew louder and louder. Already attacks had happened in isolated parts of different cities. Factions were developing. Two of the most noted were the Autobots, who tried to solve problems peacefully and to protect those who needed help, and the Decepticons, mostly military based mecha who were noted for their aggression and ruthlessness. So far the incidents had been minor, though alarming. Then, however, came the totally unexpected attack on Praxus. From one astrosecond to the other, Decepticons from ground and sky raided the great, proud city that had been successful to stay neutral thus far into the conflict.
Prowl had been in Iacon when it happened, half an orn remaining from his break with the enforcers which he used to spent with Jazz as he always did. It was their celebration of Jazz's successful completion of his special ops training. They had been performing on a big concert in Iacon, been in the middle of a dancing session, when everything was interrupted for the horrible news to be relayed on every speaker and screen present. Cybertron itself seemed to hold its breath as reports and pictures went all around the planet, shocking those who listened and watched.
For Prowl, a Praxian who called that city his home, it was hard not to break down from shock. First he did not want to believe it, tried to stay calm and collected, listing off all the logical reasons why this could not be true. In the end they flew to Praxus personally, two of the many who flocked to help the Autobots search for survivors.
To see the destruction was nearly too much for both of them. Prowl especially, since this was his home, but Jazz also suffered because he associated many wonderful memories from this town, the most precious the one where he met Prowl for the first time. Together, while struck with grief and shock, the combed through the rubble of destruction, even though there was little hope for them to find anyone alive, not nearly four joors after the attack.
Fate decided otherwise though. After another half joor had gone by, the enforcer and special ops agent discovered a miracle in form of a small, grey Praxian youngling by the designation of Bluestreak. He was scared and injured but obviously alive and in good enough health. The little one and three other, adult mecha, turned out to be the only survivors of one of Cybertron's biggest cities.
Jazz had been grief stricken during their whole search. Prowl, on the other hand, hurt so badly he was past the point where he could express the grief he felt. For this reason, a lot of the other helpers looked at him strangely, called him sparkless for not grieving while others who were not even Praxians were doing just that.
Jazz, close and protective friend that he had become - a mech who knew and was able to see the pain where others did not - snapped more than once at the mecha surrounding them, going as far as attacking one of them after an especially hurtful comment aimed at Prowl.
Calm only came after even the last gave up and Autobots and helpers alike left the ruins that had once been a beautiful city. That night, when everyone was gone, Prowl and Jazz found themselves right at the centre of the city. They sat there at the highest point they could reach without danger of the debris breaking in and Prowl started to sing softly, Jazz joining only moments later. They sang a lullaby to the city that had gone into recharge, to the mecha that would never online again. They sat there, their voices drifting softly over the destruction, leaving the ground and climbing high into the sky. Jazz leaned against Prowl's frame, seeking and offering support at the same time while their song drifted through the night.
It was the last time Prowl ever sang in public. After that night, after the destruction that took place he could no longer bring himself to perform in front of a crowd ever again. Softflow had died together with the rest of the city of Praxus. The last and only one to ever hear him sing, was Jazz, who stood by his side and performed with him.
And as the night was over, the pain finally being expressed and let out, Prowl and Jazz became closer than ever. Together, they joined the Autobots, determined to offer all they had to help preventing such a disaster as it happened in Praxus.
Time went by fast. Former enforcer and now tactical officer as well as special ops agent and saboteur for the Autobots quickly climbed through the ranks just as quickly as their relationship changed into something special. Before they knew it, Prowl had become second in command, Jazz third under Optimus Prime. And the couple themselves were bonded. An action, while dangerous, they did not wish to deny themselves, not when they came to depend on each other as much as they did.
The war had started for real between Autobots and Decepticons, a war that led the fighting mecha to leave their planet behind, to leave it dying and without hope, only to find new hope and a new home on a small organic planet called Earth.
During this journey, Prowl and Jazz had to go through hardships. They nearly lost the other more than once, never sure if their bond would allow them to stay together if the worst came to pass, or if one was forced to go on without the other. It was something that differed from bonded to bonded, always unsure, never known for certain until proven.
By the time both bonded were on Earth the war had ended once before sadly starting again. Their duties were calling and Jazz, as special ops agent and saboteur as well as the unofficial morale officer, had a lot on his servos to take care of, to keep the tide on their side and the comrades hopeful and happy.
It never occurred to most of the Autobots that Jazz could be anything than happy and enthusiastic, singing and dancing his way around during free times or trying to pester Prowl to abandon his work and spend some quality time either in their berth or with their comrades and friends in the recreation room.
No one ever thought that Jazz could be anything but cheerful. That would be just as unheard of as Prowl suddenly starting to dance and sing in their midst. How could they ever guess, of course if their third in command never allowed them to see what they should not?
Jazz returned from his mission in a manner as if he was still inside a Decepticon base. Skilfully avoiding the cameras belonging to Red Alert and the human guard duty on base, the saboteur silently crept through the base they called home until he finally reached the rooms he was sharing with his bondmate.
Prowl, the only one besides Optimus aware of Jazz's return thanks to their bond - Prowl had informed his Prime the moment he felt the arrival, together with the request for a break as well as to not announce the saboteur's return until further notice - was already waiting inside.
The moment the door closed behind the ops agent, his frame sunk into itself and a soft, sparkbroken keen made itself known from the saboteur's lipplates.
/All lost/, Jazz sent tiredly over their bond. /They were killed before Ah could do anythin'. If Ah woulda just been faster. Maybe Ah coulda saved at least one. Three bots, Prowl, three lives lost. Again./
He broke down into the tactician's waiting arms with strong, though silent sobs, the light keening continuing for a long time.
/Hush, love, hush!/ Prowl sent back over the bond, followed by feelings of love and strength. /It's not your fault! You are the fastest mech we know. If you could not save them in time then their lives were already lost, as much as it pains to admit that. There was nothing you could do!/
Slowly Prowl started to swing his frame, bodyplates vibrating under the quiet hum he let out together with his movements. Soon the tactician was leading his bondmate around their room in a soothing dance, his voice singing to his bondmate one calming song after another until finally Jazz stopped his keening and joined his bondmate in the dance and singing he had started - for now calmed down and comforted.
On a good day, Jazz used to sing and dance as much as he could, but on the days where even the fun loving saboteur felt sad and depressed, Prowl sang and danced with him behind the closed doors of their quarters. No one besides Jazz knew Prowl had a beautiful voice.
"Ah like yer voice!" Jazz whispered softly, before he allowed himself to get lost in a deep, sensual kiss with his bondmate. Lipplates occupied and quite unwilling to let go any time soon of their counterparts, Jazz added his final thought through their bond.
/It's what made meh fall 'n love wit' ya first!/
The End