Berth Snatcher (5/6)
Title: Berth Snatcher (5/6)
Rating: G
Verse: G1
Word count: 814
Warnings: None.
Summary: Five times Jazz ends up in Prowl's berth (and one time he doesn't).
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
“What has happened?”
Jazz roused at the quick, clipped voice that seemed to obliterate all other sound within the Med Bay. He tried to call a greeting - hey Prowler, what’s the haps? - but just as he struggled to speak, he felt a restraining hand on his chest plate. Right. Ratch’ disabled my vocalizer. He onlined his visor to see Prowl standing stiffly at his makeshift berth. The hand on his chest plate belonged to Ratchet who sent him a quelling look before turning back to Prowl.
“A virus,” Ratchet explained in disgust. “Something Shockwave cooked up by the coding. It causes bots to let their vocalizer run without stopping to process.”
“To allow for the retrieval of sensitive information from unwilling sources.” Prowl deduced, and Ratchet nodded grimly.
“Luckily, our Jazz got himself out of enemy hands before the virus could become active, but the only way to get rid of it is to let it run its course.” Ratchet said, and Prowl frowned.
“It will not cause any harm to his systems if left unchecked?”
“It’ll cause more to go in there and mess around,” Ratchet growled. “Slagging Shockwave. I have his vocalizer disabled for now, but that won’t work for long. He needs to talk; otherwise the virus will start up with some of that damage. Unfortunately, with his clearance level…”
“Only the Prime or I would be safe to leave him with,” Prowl finished. “It would be dangerous to leave him on his own on the chance that someone might come upon him and learn things they shouldn’t. Very well,” Prowl said with a nod, “I will bring him to my quarters. I can limit access to him easily enough, that way.” He looked down at Jazz. “If that would be acceptable to you?”
Jazz knew it wasn’t really a question, but it was nice of Prowl to ask. He managed a grin and fumbled for Prowl’s arm, giving it a quick squeeze. Prowl’s optics softened briefly at him before he straightened up and turned to Ratchet. “If you could render some aid in transporting him to my quarters…”
After Ratchet had enabled Jazz’s vocalizer and hastily retreated from Prowl’s quarters, Jazz sat gingerly on the edge of Prowl’s berth, idly rambling about his last mission’s parameters. He was still sore from his last brush with the enemy, but it was good to be out of the Med Bay. He told Prowl as much and was rewarded with another brief quirk of his lips.
“I’m sure it is a relief to Ratchet as well when you are not within Medical,” he said mildly, and Jazz laughed.
“I dunno what you’re talking ‘bout, mech. I am so very lovable. Bots pine when I’m not around to brighten their cycles.”
“I suppose it must give you some small measure of comfort to continue to believe such a thing,” Prowl said, and from any other bot it would have sounded cutting, but Jazz knew that was Prowl’s teasing voice, and he felt a small bloom of warmth in his spark.
“Primus, I love you,” he said, smiling, because how could he not tell him?
For a nanosecond, Prowl almost seemed to stall, but it vanished quickly and he regarded Jazz with a bland expression that was only belied by the warmth of his optics. “I am somewhat fond of you as well, but that does not mean that I pine.” He said, still using his teasing voice.
“I do,” Jazz insisted, over-earnest. It was important that Prowl understood, and with Prowl’s startled expression, it seemed that he did. “I’m in love with you. You’re just…you’re amazing. You always take care of me - of all of us - an’ you really do brighten my cycle, an’…”
“Jazz…”
“S’okay,” Jazz told him easily, “you’re not. In love with me, I mean. You don’t have to love me back.”
“Jazz,” Prowl said again, firmly. “You are not in your right processor right now, and I am taking advantage of that.”
“I wish you’d take advantage of me,” Jazz said wistfully, and Prowl pinched the bridge of his olfactory passage.
“I am going to turn off my audio receptors,” Prowl said, “as I should have done to begin with. And you are going to give me your report - in full - of the past 15 missions you have run.”
“But you won’t be able to hear it,” Jazz said, frowning.
“That isn’t important. You will continue to talk, I will not hear anything else I should not, and once this virus has cleared your system, you and I will have a discussion.” And then Prowl turned off his audio receptors and Jazz, still frowning, began his report.
When Jazz awoke, bleary and confused, the first thing he registered was the warm bulk of Prowl beside him
The second thing he registered was the events from the previous cycle. Oh, slag.
A/N: "And I will update this once a week!" *checks to last posting date* Uh. Oops?
Rating: G
Verse: G1
Word count: 814
Warnings: None.
Summary: Five times Jazz ends up in Prowl's berth (and one time he doesn't).
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
“What has happened?”
Jazz roused at the quick, clipped voice that seemed to obliterate all other sound within the Med Bay. He tried to call a greeting - hey Prowler, what’s the haps? - but just as he struggled to speak, he felt a restraining hand on his chest plate. Right. Ratch’ disabled my vocalizer. He onlined his visor to see Prowl standing stiffly at his makeshift berth. The hand on his chest plate belonged to Ratchet who sent him a quelling look before turning back to Prowl.
“A virus,” Ratchet explained in disgust. “Something Shockwave cooked up by the coding. It causes bots to let their vocalizer run without stopping to process.”
“To allow for the retrieval of sensitive information from unwilling sources.” Prowl deduced, and Ratchet nodded grimly.
“Luckily, our Jazz got himself out of enemy hands before the virus could become active, but the only way to get rid of it is to let it run its course.” Ratchet said, and Prowl frowned.
“It will not cause any harm to his systems if left unchecked?”
“It’ll cause more to go in there and mess around,” Ratchet growled. “Slagging Shockwave. I have his vocalizer disabled for now, but that won’t work for long. He needs to talk; otherwise the virus will start up with some of that damage. Unfortunately, with his clearance level…”
“Only the Prime or I would be safe to leave him with,” Prowl finished. “It would be dangerous to leave him on his own on the chance that someone might come upon him and learn things they shouldn’t. Very well,” Prowl said with a nod, “I will bring him to my quarters. I can limit access to him easily enough, that way.” He looked down at Jazz. “If that would be acceptable to you?”
Jazz knew it wasn’t really a question, but it was nice of Prowl to ask. He managed a grin and fumbled for Prowl’s arm, giving it a quick squeeze. Prowl’s optics softened briefly at him before he straightened up and turned to Ratchet. “If you could render some aid in transporting him to my quarters…”
After Ratchet had enabled Jazz’s vocalizer and hastily retreated from Prowl’s quarters, Jazz sat gingerly on the edge of Prowl’s berth, idly rambling about his last mission’s parameters. He was still sore from his last brush with the enemy, but it was good to be out of the Med Bay. He told Prowl as much and was rewarded with another brief quirk of his lips.
“I’m sure it is a relief to Ratchet as well when you are not within Medical,” he said mildly, and Jazz laughed.
“I dunno what you’re talking ‘bout, mech. I am so very lovable. Bots pine when I’m not around to brighten their cycles.”
“I suppose it must give you some small measure of comfort to continue to believe such a thing,” Prowl said, and from any other bot it would have sounded cutting, but Jazz knew that was Prowl’s teasing voice, and he felt a small bloom of warmth in his spark.
“Primus, I love you,” he said, smiling, because how could he not tell him?
For a nanosecond, Prowl almost seemed to stall, but it vanished quickly and he regarded Jazz with a bland expression that was only belied by the warmth of his optics. “I am somewhat fond of you as well, but that does not mean that I pine.” He said, still using his teasing voice.
“I do,” Jazz insisted, over-earnest. It was important that Prowl understood, and with Prowl’s startled expression, it seemed that he did. “I’m in love with you. You’re just…you’re amazing. You always take care of me - of all of us - an’ you really do brighten my cycle, an’…”
“Jazz…”
“S’okay,” Jazz told him easily, “you’re not. In love with me, I mean. You don’t have to love me back.”
“Jazz,” Prowl said again, firmly. “You are not in your right processor right now, and I am taking advantage of that.”
“I wish you’d take advantage of me,” Jazz said wistfully, and Prowl pinched the bridge of his olfactory passage.
“I am going to turn off my audio receptors,” Prowl said, “as I should have done to begin with. And you are going to give me your report - in full - of the past 15 missions you have run.”
“But you won’t be able to hear it,” Jazz said, frowning.
“That isn’t important. You will continue to talk, I will not hear anything else I should not, and once this virus has cleared your system, you and I will have a discussion.” And then Prowl turned off his audio receptors and Jazz, still frowning, began his report.
When Jazz awoke, bleary and confused, the first thing he registered was the warm bulk of Prowl beside him
The second thing he registered was the events from the previous cycle. Oh, slag.
A/N: "And I will update this once a week!" *checks to last posting date* Uh. Oops?