Berth Snatcher (2/6)
Title: Berth Snatcher (2/6)
Rating: G
Verse: G1
Word count: 595
Summary: Five times Jazz ends up in Prowl's berth (and one time he doesn't). Part 1 here.
It was supposed to be a routine recon mission. However, it had been anything but routine. Jazz made his way to his quarters with slow steps, glad to be back at last. The mission had lasted six orns; not a long amount of time normally, but the amount of action that had happened within those six orns could have spanned much, much longer. He’d barely had time catch any recharge within that span; spending nearly the entirety of the mission dancing on a vibroblade’s edge.
And now, even deep within the safety of the Autobot base, Jazz still couldn’t relax. He was still too charged; it seemed that there was still something waiting just around the corner if he dropped his guard. Normally, Jazz would find a warm body from Ops to recharge with: guarding each others’ backs, so to speak. But all were either off base or spoken for, and he couldn’t bring himself to intrude on those bonds still newly-forming among his teammates. It was bound to be a long cycle before he could properly shut down.
But he was so fragging tired.
Given the late joor, Jazz wasn’t really expecting anyone to be loitering around the barracks. So it was with some surprise that he regarded Prowl waiting quietly in the hall. Gathering up his remaining strength, Jazz gave him his best smile. “Heya. What’s a mech like you doing in a place like this?”
Prowl regarded him calmly. “Waiting,” he said. Jazz attempted to put together something somewhat lecherous and altogether Jazz-like but Prowl cut him off with a polite “would you join me?” Then he opened his door, beckoning the surprised mech inside. Jazz stumbled within, unresisting as Prowl took his hand and led him to his berth, the door closing with a soft snick behind them.
Prowl left him there and Jazz stood in front of the berth dumbly, his processor scrambling to make sense of Prowl’s actions. Behind him, he heard the faint rumbling of the dispenser and then Prowl was standing solicitously at his elbow with a glowing pink cube of energon.
“Here,” he offered quietly, pressing the cube into Jazz’s unresisting hands, “drink this.”
For a klick, Jazz simply stared at the offering in his hands, considering. The idea of Prowl trying to take advantage of him in his current state seemed laughable; it was Prowl for Primus’ sake. He was used to being suspicious of motives - he worked in Ops, after all - but Jazz honestly couldn’t see that kind of intention coming from Prowl’s personality component. He brought the cube up to his lip components and drank; the brew was a mild high-grade with a slightly bitter taste. Absently, Jazz recognized it as a medical restorative used for overworked mechs. When he had finished, Prowl took the empty receptacle in one hand and used the other to gently push Jazz down towards the berth. “You should get some recharge.”
“Prowl…?”
Prowl smiled faintly. “I am not so unaware of the pressures of working in Ops. And I would hope that in the time we’ve worked together you might consider me as someone trustworthy.”
“Well, yeah,” Jazz managed as he tried to process Prowl’s meaning. “We’re friends, right?”
Prowl’s fingers rested briefly on his shoulder guards. “Rest. I will guard your recharge.” The significance of that simple statement finally clicked and Jazz smiled back, feeling the tension within him slacken as his processor reached the point of safesecurehome. He then slipped directly in to recharge and stayed there until Prowl woke him for the next shift.
A/N: It is still Wednesday, so I am not late! Even if I am very tired. As always, comments and criticism are welcome (only if you want to). I am not used to this writing non-humor shtick but I am trying! And now I am sleeping.
Rating: G
Verse: G1
Word count: 595
Summary: Five times Jazz ends up in Prowl's berth (and one time he doesn't). Part 1 here.
It was supposed to be a routine recon mission. However, it had been anything but routine. Jazz made his way to his quarters with slow steps, glad to be back at last. The mission had lasted six orns; not a long amount of time normally, but the amount of action that had happened within those six orns could have spanned much, much longer. He’d barely had time catch any recharge within that span; spending nearly the entirety of the mission dancing on a vibroblade’s edge.
And now, even deep within the safety of the Autobot base, Jazz still couldn’t relax. He was still too charged; it seemed that there was still something waiting just around the corner if he dropped his guard. Normally, Jazz would find a warm body from Ops to recharge with: guarding each others’ backs, so to speak. But all were either off base or spoken for, and he couldn’t bring himself to intrude on those bonds still newly-forming among his teammates. It was bound to be a long cycle before he could properly shut down.
But he was so fragging tired.
Given the late joor, Jazz wasn’t really expecting anyone to be loitering around the barracks. So it was with some surprise that he regarded Prowl waiting quietly in the hall. Gathering up his remaining strength, Jazz gave him his best smile. “Heya. What’s a mech like you doing in a place like this?”
Prowl regarded him calmly. “Waiting,” he said. Jazz attempted to put together something somewhat lecherous and altogether Jazz-like but Prowl cut him off with a polite “would you join me?” Then he opened his door, beckoning the surprised mech inside. Jazz stumbled within, unresisting as Prowl took his hand and led him to his berth, the door closing with a soft snick behind them.
Prowl left him there and Jazz stood in front of the berth dumbly, his processor scrambling to make sense of Prowl’s actions. Behind him, he heard the faint rumbling of the dispenser and then Prowl was standing solicitously at his elbow with a glowing pink cube of energon.
“Here,” he offered quietly, pressing the cube into Jazz’s unresisting hands, “drink this.”
For a klick, Jazz simply stared at the offering in his hands, considering. The idea of Prowl trying to take advantage of him in his current state seemed laughable; it was Prowl for Primus’ sake. He was used to being suspicious of motives - he worked in Ops, after all - but Jazz honestly couldn’t see that kind of intention coming from Prowl’s personality component. He brought the cube up to his lip components and drank; the brew was a mild high-grade with a slightly bitter taste. Absently, Jazz recognized it as a medical restorative used for overworked mechs. When he had finished, Prowl took the empty receptacle in one hand and used the other to gently push Jazz down towards the berth. “You should get some recharge.”
“Prowl…?”
Prowl smiled faintly. “I am not so unaware of the pressures of working in Ops. And I would hope that in the time we’ve worked together you might consider me as someone trustworthy.”
“Well, yeah,” Jazz managed as he tried to process Prowl’s meaning. “We’re friends, right?”
Prowl’s fingers rested briefly on his shoulder guards. “Rest. I will guard your recharge.” The significance of that simple statement finally clicked and Jazz smiled back, feeling the tension within him slacken as his processor reached the point of safesecurehome. He then slipped directly in to recharge and stayed there until Prowl woke him for the next shift.
A/N: It is still Wednesday, so I am not late! Even if I am very tired. As always, comments and criticism are welcome (only if you want to). I am not used to this writing non-humor shtick but I am trying! And now I am sleeping.