You and Me...Plus Two?: Serande Pt. 2
Title: You and Me...Plus Two?: Serenade
Chapter: 2/?
Authors: crazedwolf and cloud_sama
Beta: Chickenperson52
Rating: PG
Series: Transformers (Mostly G1 based with a hint of IDW)
Characters: Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: Slashy slash of course~
Summary: What had they done?
Author's Notes:
GAH. Sorry this took so long to get done! I've just been so out of it as of late creativity wise that I just couldn't find a good way to go about doing this. >: But here it is finally! The next installment of Serenade! =D
This chapter was written by me, Wolfeh, but a lot of my inspiration for it came from Lumi all the same. :3 Once again, this is all apart of the gift-story that we're working on for blind_foxx and I hope you enjoy it my dear!
Comments are love!
The sky outside was just beginning to lighten as inside a small apartment, a pair of optics unshuttered and came to life with a soft, hazy blue glow. It took a moment for the owner of the optics to fully come online, the lingering effects of recharge affecting his processor to the point that coherent thought was impossible. When he finally awoke though, the first thing Prowl realized was that he was not alone and that in itself was not normal by any means. His optics flickered a bit, brightening as the tactician became even more aware and slowly glanced at his side.
Jazz.
It was in that moment that Prowl realized what it all meant. Why he was there with Jazz and why he felt so..so content for once.
They had interfaced.
Stiffening almost immediately, the mech had all intentions of getting up off the berth and leaving right then and there without a second thought. He was disgusted with himself, with the bot beside him; he had lost control of himself last night and done something that he would never normally do. Prowl never got close to anyone, let alone got himself trashed on high grade and slept with a fellow soldier. Anger came to him before anything else, hands curling into light fists as he tore his gaze away from Jazz, turning his glare on the window as a frustrated rush of air escaped his vents. But, as much as he tried, the tactician was unable to be angry for long. Other emotions began to creep in, despite his attempts to block all of them out; the anger and frustration were mixed with a sense of satisfaction, a relaxed, calm feeling that Prowl was completely unfamiliar with.
When was the last time he had been relaxed?
He glanced at Jazz again out of the corner of his optics, snorting to himself as a stray thought crossed through his processor.
[Apparently last night..]
Shaking his head to dismiss that insane notion, Prowl sat up, careful not to disturb the saboteur as he swung his legs over the side of the berth and steadied himself with his hands on the edge. His optics shuttered as he tapped into the memory files from the night before in an attempt to piece it all together.
They had gone to the mess hall which had, thankfully, been rather empty.
He had been uninterested in drinking at first, but Jazz had talked him into having one..
And one turned into two, then three, then four..
It was late when they finally left, both of them lost in the haze of the high grade.
”Your quarters or mine?” Jazz had purred, running his digits over the tactician's chestplate, grinning as he gained a tremble from the other mech.
“Either,” had been the heated reply before Prowl caught the other in a kiss, not in the mood for anymore words.
The memory file was closed off, and Prowl let out a frustrated noise as more disgust rose inside him. The thought of him acting like that just...The disgust he was feeling suddenly began to change as he glanced over his shoulder to Jazz, the emotions twisting into blame; blame aimed at Jazz only. Once more his anger returned as he tried to remember what else had gone on that night, tried to remember how much Jazz had actually had, if any at all. Had it all been a game for the saboteur? Had he just pretended to drink just so he could get Prowl into berth and use it as leverage later? Had he made a bet with someone? Was that why he had done it?
A thousand and one different scenarios began to play through the ever-logical bot's processor, but at the same time, he knew that everything he was thinking and feeling was pointless and out of line.
He and Jazz had worked closely for vorns and he knew that Jazz wasn't that type of bot. Sure he was a prankster, when he wanted to be, but that was all a part of who the other mech was. He was light-sparked, always trying to help those he was close to.
And that's what he had always been trying to do for Prowl. He had always been trying to get close, to get the tactician to let him in because despite all of Prowl's attempts to hide what he was feeling, Jazz had always been able to read him, had always known for the most part what the other was hiding and trying not to let show.
This whole thing, this whole trick, had been Jazz's way of getting Prowl to lighten up, to actually let himself feel for once, to let someone get close to him; and the realization caught Prowl off guard, so much so that his anger dissolved into confusion.
Why did he care so much?
Prowl had never let anyone get close. He had those he considered friends, sure, but even they weren't allowed to know everything about him. Prowl stayed closed off, not wanting weaknesses that could be used against him, not wanting to let himself get distracted as some many of the other Autobots let themselves get; but despite all of that, there had always been two bots that had ignored his attempts to push them away and had always been right there.
Optimus and Jazz.
And now Jazz had gone to a new level in his attempts at getting Prowl to let him in, and it had definitely worked, at least in one way. He had definitely gotten closer to the tactician than any other bot before, but that was it, right? They had interfaced and that was all; no lasting effects of any sort.
A shudder ran through Prowl's frame as he realized that was far from the truth, and it scared him.
For so long he had kept his emotions closed off, kept them buried so he could perform his functions properly and perfectly; but now he could feel them. He could feel something bubbling, something that for all he knew, had been there for ages, and he had just refused to acknowledge it. Something that was connected to Jazz, that was there because of the other mech; a sense of compassion, a sense of desire.
All of it was making Prowl's processor ache and another rush of air escaped his vents; his entire frame froze as the bot on the berth behind him shifted. He waited, scanners going wild as he tried to determine whether or not the other was coming online; he wasn't, and slowly the tactician relaxed. His hands rested in his lap now, digits absently curling and uncurling, his spark pulsing a bit as the emotions it had not been able to really grasp came into its reach. Prowl winced slightly, a defeated look briefly overtaking his faceplate before it disappeared. He slowly rose.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't.
At least..not yet.
Moving around the berth the tactician started for the door as his usual mask fell into place, but a soft pang in his spark made him hesitate. He stood for a long moment facing the doors and not moving before he turned, optics once more on Jazz. Something was urging him to act in a way that he was not willing to act, but he was unable to stop his peds as they moved of their own free will, (at least that's what Prowl told himself) taking him once more to the side of the berth. His right hand twitched, digits curling, and he reached out, stroking the backs of his digits over Jazz's cheekplate. There was a look on the saboteur's faceplate, an air about him that made Prowl's spark flutter a bit, that made him almost want to lay back down beside the other.
But he knew better.
One last impulse got the best of him; Prowl leaned down as gently and quietly as he could, and brushed his lips over Jazz's helm. As soon as the act was complete, he was at the door again, unlocking it and letting himself out.
The door slid shut just as Jazz's optics unshuttered, faint confusion marring his expression as he tried to brush off the haze of recharge, staring at the door as his scanners informed him he was alone.
“Prowl...”
Chapter: 2/?
Authors: crazedwolf and cloud_sama
Beta: Chickenperson52
Rating: PG
Series: Transformers (Mostly G1 based with a hint of IDW)
Characters: Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: Slashy slash of course~
Summary: What had they done?
Author's Notes:
GAH. Sorry this took so long to get done! I've just been so out of it as of late creativity wise that I just couldn't find a good way to go about doing this. >: But here it is finally! The next installment of Serenade! =D
This chapter was written by me, Wolfeh, but a lot of my inspiration for it came from Lumi all the same. :3 Once again, this is all apart of the gift-story that we're working on for blind_foxx and I hope you enjoy it my dear!
Comments are love!
The sky outside was just beginning to lighten as inside a small apartment, a pair of optics unshuttered and came to life with a soft, hazy blue glow. It took a moment for the owner of the optics to fully come online, the lingering effects of recharge affecting his processor to the point that coherent thought was impossible. When he finally awoke though, the first thing Prowl realized was that he was not alone and that in itself was not normal by any means. His optics flickered a bit, brightening as the tactician became even more aware and slowly glanced at his side.
Jazz.
It was in that moment that Prowl realized what it all meant. Why he was there with Jazz and why he felt so..so content for once.
They had interfaced.
Stiffening almost immediately, the mech had all intentions of getting up off the berth and leaving right then and there without a second thought. He was disgusted with himself, with the bot beside him; he had lost control of himself last night and done something that he would never normally do. Prowl never got close to anyone, let alone got himself trashed on high grade and slept with a fellow soldier. Anger came to him before anything else, hands curling into light fists as he tore his gaze away from Jazz, turning his glare on the window as a frustrated rush of air escaped his vents. But, as much as he tried, the tactician was unable to be angry for long. Other emotions began to creep in, despite his attempts to block all of them out; the anger and frustration were mixed with a sense of satisfaction, a relaxed, calm feeling that Prowl was completely unfamiliar with.
When was the last time he had been relaxed?
He glanced at Jazz again out of the corner of his optics, snorting to himself as a stray thought crossed through his processor.
[Apparently last night..]
Shaking his head to dismiss that insane notion, Prowl sat up, careful not to disturb the saboteur as he swung his legs over the side of the berth and steadied himself with his hands on the edge. His optics shuttered as he tapped into the memory files from the night before in an attempt to piece it all together.
They had gone to the mess hall which had, thankfully, been rather empty.
He had been uninterested in drinking at first, but Jazz had talked him into having one..
And one turned into two, then three, then four..
It was late when they finally left, both of them lost in the haze of the high grade.
”Your quarters or mine?” Jazz had purred, running his digits over the tactician's chestplate, grinning as he gained a tremble from the other mech.
“Either,” had been the heated reply before Prowl caught the other in a kiss, not in the mood for anymore words.
The memory file was closed off, and Prowl let out a frustrated noise as more disgust rose inside him. The thought of him acting like that just...The disgust he was feeling suddenly began to change as he glanced over his shoulder to Jazz, the emotions twisting into blame; blame aimed at Jazz only. Once more his anger returned as he tried to remember what else had gone on that night, tried to remember how much Jazz had actually had, if any at all. Had it all been a game for the saboteur? Had he just pretended to drink just so he could get Prowl into berth and use it as leverage later? Had he made a bet with someone? Was that why he had done it?
A thousand and one different scenarios began to play through the ever-logical bot's processor, but at the same time, he knew that everything he was thinking and feeling was pointless and out of line.
He and Jazz had worked closely for vorns and he knew that Jazz wasn't that type of bot. Sure he was a prankster, when he wanted to be, but that was all a part of who the other mech was. He was light-sparked, always trying to help those he was close to.
And that's what he had always been trying to do for Prowl. He had always been trying to get close, to get the tactician to let him in because despite all of Prowl's attempts to hide what he was feeling, Jazz had always been able to read him, had always known for the most part what the other was hiding and trying not to let show.
This whole thing, this whole trick, had been Jazz's way of getting Prowl to lighten up, to actually let himself feel for once, to let someone get close to him; and the realization caught Prowl off guard, so much so that his anger dissolved into confusion.
Why did he care so much?
Prowl had never let anyone get close. He had those he considered friends, sure, but even they weren't allowed to know everything about him. Prowl stayed closed off, not wanting weaknesses that could be used against him, not wanting to let himself get distracted as some many of the other Autobots let themselves get; but despite all of that, there had always been two bots that had ignored his attempts to push them away and had always been right there.
Optimus and Jazz.
And now Jazz had gone to a new level in his attempts at getting Prowl to let him in, and it had definitely worked, at least in one way. He had definitely gotten closer to the tactician than any other bot before, but that was it, right? They had interfaced and that was all; no lasting effects of any sort.
A shudder ran through Prowl's frame as he realized that was far from the truth, and it scared him.
For so long he had kept his emotions closed off, kept them buried so he could perform his functions properly and perfectly; but now he could feel them. He could feel something bubbling, something that for all he knew, had been there for ages, and he had just refused to acknowledge it. Something that was connected to Jazz, that was there because of the other mech; a sense of compassion, a sense of desire.
All of it was making Prowl's processor ache and another rush of air escaped his vents; his entire frame froze as the bot on the berth behind him shifted. He waited, scanners going wild as he tried to determine whether or not the other was coming online; he wasn't, and slowly the tactician relaxed. His hands rested in his lap now, digits absently curling and uncurling, his spark pulsing a bit as the emotions it had not been able to really grasp came into its reach. Prowl winced slightly, a defeated look briefly overtaking his faceplate before it disappeared. He slowly rose.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't.
At least..not yet.
Moving around the berth the tactician started for the door as his usual mask fell into place, but a soft pang in his spark made him hesitate. He stood for a long moment facing the doors and not moving before he turned, optics once more on Jazz. Something was urging him to act in a way that he was not willing to act, but he was unable to stop his peds as they moved of their own free will, (at least that's what Prowl told himself) taking him once more to the side of the berth. His right hand twitched, digits curling, and he reached out, stroking the backs of his digits over Jazz's cheekplate. There was a look on the saboteur's faceplate, an air about him that made Prowl's spark flutter a bit, that made him almost want to lay back down beside the other.
But he knew better.
One last impulse got the best of him; Prowl leaned down as gently and quietly as he could, and brushed his lips over Jazz's helm. As soon as the act was complete, he was at the door again, unlocking it and letting himself out.
The door slid shut just as Jazz's optics unshuttered, faint confusion marring his expression as he tried to brush off the haze of recharge, staring at the door as his scanners informed him he was alone.
“Prowl...”