[FIC] Morning Tea, 2/? (Transformers, Jazz/Maggie, PG-13)
Title: "Morning Tea" - Chapter 2
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: Kristie (ionicaq)
Pairing: Jazz/Maggie
Rating: PG-13 (just in case, nothing even remotely serious though... for now :))
Summary: Jazz asked Maggie a question over a cup of tea. What will be her answer?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their copyright owners. No money gained, only fun.
Chapter 1
“Morning Tea” - Chapter 2
Maggie stared dumbly at the droplets of green tea that were sliding down the silver armor of Jazz’s broad chest. “Umm…” she said intelligently, and then looked back up to the saboteur’s curious face. “It’s not like I don’t appreciate the offer, Jazz, but… Geez, you gotta be kidding,” she shook her head again with an amused laugh.
“Nope, I’m askin’ ya for a cuddle,” Jazz answered with a smile.
“It’s impossible,” she lifted her hands up to make her point. It was funny how an innocent word like ‘cuddle’ had suddenly taken an entirely different meaning. Talk about the wonders of psychology. “The- the sheer mechanics of it-” A scientist in her was raising his head, drawing mental schemes, but crumpling the imaginary sketches and tossing them into a nonexistent trash bin.
Jazz was a personification of calm. “We can figure it out,” he said, unabated. “’Adjusting’ is ma’ middle name.”
“You don’t have a middle name, Jazz,” she gave a half eye-roll with a weary sigh.
“It’s a figure o’ speech,” he nodded to the side.
“Yeah, right…” Maggie mumbled. She took another napkin and started to clean Jazz’s armor.
The mech followed her every move with his optics; she could practically feel his gaze on herself. “So, yer answer is…?”
“Hey, give a girl a break here, will you?” She shut him out defensively, wiping the liquid away.
“Well, at least ya didn’t say ‘no’,” he pointed out with a small smile.
“Well, I didn’t say ‘yes’, either,” Maggie reasoned, just as she heard a strange humming/hissing under her palms. “What’s that sound?” she asked looking up in worry, afraid that the moisture had somehow damaged Jazz’s delicate and sophisticated circuitry.
“That’s ma’ coolin’ system… It’s gettin’ a bit hot in here,” he purred, grinning down at her.
She gaped up at him, unable to form a reply right away, with a sudden feeling of being on the receiving end of a cruel joke. His intent stare, even if obscured by the visor, wasn’t exactly helping her discomfort. He was pushy, he was oblivious, he was smug, and he seemed to not listen to anything she was saying. Maggie opened her mouth, and had to struggle with her voice to speak. “…are you doing this on purpose?”
“Doin’ what on purpose?” Jazz asked in confusion.
“…this,” she made a general gesture, indicating the entire situation. “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. What’s your motivation?”
He inclined his head to the side. “Do I need a motivation ta talk to a beautiful female?”
There they were again. Back to where it all had started: staring at each other - a smirking mech and a confused human girl. Maggie didn’t know what to say. The worst thing was that behind all the posing and smiling Jazz could be as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper - like right now. How could she figure out what he wanted if she didn’t know what was happening behind that visor of his? He could be joking, he could be friendly-flirting, he could be making advances at her, and he could be just plain mocking her. She could put up with the first three options - well, theoretically - but she wouldn’t like to be the target of taunting.
Jazz’s smirk faded a little, taking a softer curve; one of his hands reached out slowly, and a tip of his finger touched Maggie’s cheek, carefully, lightly, as if it wasn’t a digit belonging to a huge creature made of steel.
She froze.
The metal was surprisingly warm, and didn’t seem sharp or hard at all. The finger caressed Maggie’s skin gently and traced her jaw line, stopping under her chin, barely there, but somehow even more tangible than if it had been pressed firmly.
“Think ‘bout it, baby. Take yer time,” he murmured softly, his voice low and velvety. Withdrawing his hand, he got up in one fluent motion and left the room, giving Maggie one last glance before disappearing out the door.
She was speechless.
And flustered.
It was embarrassing.
-----
The next morning found Maggie at the Autobot base sitting in her computer chair with her legs resting on top of the table and one of her hands cradling her aching head. Staring emotionlessly at yet another Cybertronian coded encryption that refused to get cracked, she wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere, curl into a little ball and just die peacefully. That would surely relieve her from the necessity of thinking.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. She had a freaky and downright scary dream of Megatron waking up at the Hoover Dam pissed off as hell and making her his pet slave, to Frenzy’s utter delight. Fortunately, she woke up in cold sweat before things got really ugly. However, if it wasn’t bad enough, she couldn’t stop thinking of Jazz’s visit to her workroom the previous morning. It felt pretty much like someone had infected her brain with a virus that plagued her mind with strange thoughts, depriving her of the much needed rest.
Okay, so she was the object of an interest of a particularly cocky, mischievous robot (thank God, it was a relatively harmless Autobot, not some cranky Decepticon with a delusion of grandeur and epic plans of conquering the Universe). So what? Ah, that’s where it all went so wrong - from the very start. This was crazy, and impossible, and… and even if she did return the- the feeling, or whatever it was, where would they go from there? It wasn’t like a robot and a human could have some kind of romantic relationship. But then again, she’d always thought of herself like of a person who valued the emotional aspect of love, and not the physical one… Of course, physical intimacy was a very important part of relationship, but it wasn’t the alpha and omega of it; the union of minds and souls was far more meaningful… But then it would mean that in this particular situation she was betraying her own principles by labeling the whole issue unacceptable, wouldn’t it? But honestly, who could blame her for that? She bitterly realized that many people could state that feelings were more important to them than sex - but that’s only because they never got a huge robot as their not-so-secret ‘admirer.’
Maggie chuckled sadly at the idea, staring into space wearily and chewing at her pencil.
“Now, those ‘re the legs ta die for,” a familiar velvety voice purred from the door, and she jumped in her chair at the sudden intrusion into the calm silence of her workroom.
She hastily tried to put her long lower limbs down from the table, tangling in the stiletto heels of her shoes. With an absolute horror she felt the chair shudder underneath her, and heard a distinct popping sound of one of its wheels breaking. A short motionless moment of zero gravity and shaky balance gave her enough time to let out a pitiful frightened whimper and see her life flash before her eyes - before the ruined construction with her on top started to topple back…
Maggie’s high-pitched miserable ‘eep’ was cut short when the fall suddenly stopped before she could hit the floor. She opened her tightly squeezed eyes carefully and found herself staring upside down into Jazz’s black visor only inches from her face.
After a second of an awkward silence a soft mechanical whirring came from somewhere inside the Autobot as he inclined his silver head slightly to one side and let a sly smile creep up on his face. “I’m that drop dead gorgeous, mmm?” he rumbled quietly.
She was damn sure she hadn’t blushed like that since she was fifteen. The fact that her short skirt was revealing more than would be appropriate only added to her embarrassment.
“Morning, Jazz,” she mumbled, not so gracefully trying to get out of the chair and feel the steady ground under her feet. After several struggling attempts she finally stood up, righting her clothes and hair and giving Jazz an almost hostile glare. If he laughed - if he only laughed! - she’d…
“Nice skirt,” he complimented, smiling down at her and leaving her speechless for a moment.
“Uh… thanks?” she offered awkwardly tucking one blond strand behind her ear.
Jazz wordlessly rolled the spare computer chair towards Maggie and motioned for her to sit. Having no other options or places to sit left, she complied, placing an elbow on the table and resting her poor head in her hand again as she watched the Autobot getting down into a squat beside her.
“So,” he started, and Maggie tensed instantly. The experience taught her to expect anything from Jazz, especially after he said ‘so.’ “How was yer day?” he asked conversationally, to the girl’s relief.
“Fine… I guess,” she flashed him a weak smile that disappeared the moment it was formed. For some reason she couldn’t look into his visor for more than two seconds. She felt small in comparison to Jazz, and at that moment, with him sitting so close, it was like she was cornered, though she would never admit that even under torture.
“Don’ sound fine ta me,” he chuckled. “Didja sleep well?”
“Not really,” she confessed, rubbing her temples. At the curious tilt of his head she added, “Nightmares.”
“Hmm… What’s with yer head?” Jazz asked, reaching a finger towards her carefully.
Maggie flinched involuntarily. “Uh… a headache.”
Jazz kept silent for several seconds, looking at her strangely. “Okay,” he suddenly said lifting his hands up, finality in his tone. “It was nice ta talk to ya, but I’d better go.” He got up and moved to the exit not waiting for her reaction.
“What? Why?” Maggie was shocked. She didn’t like the way he said that. It didn’t sound right. Did she offend him somehow? “Did I- did I say something wrong?”
“No, but…” Jazz stopped in the middle of the room, half-turned to the girl, and finally looked at her. “I’m embarrassin’ ya, Maggie. I don’t wanna make yer day worse than it already is. It’s bad enough ya have a headache.”
“What? You’re not embarrassing me, why would you think that?” She allowed herself a short laugh, but it came out nervous and half-hearted, as if to prove the saboteur’s point.
Jazz sighed and came close to Maggie again, crouching in front of her. “Look, I didn’t come here for yer answer, okay?” He said softly. “Ya don’t hafta get all stiff when I’m in the same room with ya, Meg. I like yer company, an’ I consider you ma’ friend, no matter what.” He paused for another sigh. “It ain’t an easy question I asked ya yesterday. I won’t rush ya.”
She stared up at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Not trusting her voice, she only nodded slightly in reply.
“Take a day off an’ get some sleep. Optimus can wait,” Jazz said in an authoritative voice, and despite the momentary reflex to protest Maggie suddenly realized how tired she was. It was strangely moving to have someone care and make such a decision for her.
The girl nodded once more, and the Autobot straightened up again and turned to leave. “Jazz?” She called out to him, stopping him on the threshold and making him look at her with attention. “Thanks… for catching the chair,” she said quietly.
The smile that lit up his face was pure warmth, with a hint of playfulness. “Anytime, babe.” With that, he gave her a farewell bow and left the room.
It seemed like every time he came through that door he either got her confused, or showed a new side of himself.
She couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad. She really needed some sleep. Preferably free of dreams.
End of Chapter 2
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: Kristie (ionicaq)
Pairing: Jazz/Maggie
Rating: PG-13 (just in case, nothing even remotely serious though... for now :))
Summary: Jazz asked Maggie a question over a cup of tea. What will be her answer?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their copyright owners. No money gained, only fun.
Chapter 1
“Morning Tea” - Chapter 2
Maggie stared dumbly at the droplets of green tea that were sliding down the silver armor of Jazz’s broad chest. “Umm…” she said intelligently, and then looked back up to the saboteur’s curious face. “It’s not like I don’t appreciate the offer, Jazz, but… Geez, you gotta be kidding,” she shook her head again with an amused laugh.
“Nope, I’m askin’ ya for a cuddle,” Jazz answered with a smile.
“It’s impossible,” she lifted her hands up to make her point. It was funny how an innocent word like ‘cuddle’ had suddenly taken an entirely different meaning. Talk about the wonders of psychology. “The- the sheer mechanics of it-” A scientist in her was raising his head, drawing mental schemes, but crumpling the imaginary sketches and tossing them into a nonexistent trash bin.
Jazz was a personification of calm. “We can figure it out,” he said, unabated. “’Adjusting’ is ma’ middle name.”
“You don’t have a middle name, Jazz,” she gave a half eye-roll with a weary sigh.
“It’s a figure o’ speech,” he nodded to the side.
“Yeah, right…” Maggie mumbled. She took another napkin and started to clean Jazz’s armor.
The mech followed her every move with his optics; she could practically feel his gaze on herself. “So, yer answer is…?”
“Hey, give a girl a break here, will you?” She shut him out defensively, wiping the liquid away.
“Well, at least ya didn’t say ‘no’,” he pointed out with a small smile.
“Well, I didn’t say ‘yes’, either,” Maggie reasoned, just as she heard a strange humming/hissing under her palms. “What’s that sound?” she asked looking up in worry, afraid that the moisture had somehow damaged Jazz’s delicate and sophisticated circuitry.
“That’s ma’ coolin’ system… It’s gettin’ a bit hot in here,” he purred, grinning down at her.
She gaped up at him, unable to form a reply right away, with a sudden feeling of being on the receiving end of a cruel joke. His intent stare, even if obscured by the visor, wasn’t exactly helping her discomfort. He was pushy, he was oblivious, he was smug, and he seemed to not listen to anything she was saying. Maggie opened her mouth, and had to struggle with her voice to speak. “…are you doing this on purpose?”
“Doin’ what on purpose?” Jazz asked in confusion.
“…this,” she made a general gesture, indicating the entire situation. “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. What’s your motivation?”
He inclined his head to the side. “Do I need a motivation ta talk to a beautiful female?”
There they were again. Back to where it all had started: staring at each other - a smirking mech and a confused human girl. Maggie didn’t know what to say. The worst thing was that behind all the posing and smiling Jazz could be as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper - like right now. How could she figure out what he wanted if she didn’t know what was happening behind that visor of his? He could be joking, he could be friendly-flirting, he could be making advances at her, and he could be just plain mocking her. She could put up with the first three options - well, theoretically - but she wouldn’t like to be the target of taunting.
Jazz’s smirk faded a little, taking a softer curve; one of his hands reached out slowly, and a tip of his finger touched Maggie’s cheek, carefully, lightly, as if it wasn’t a digit belonging to a huge creature made of steel.
She froze.
The metal was surprisingly warm, and didn’t seem sharp or hard at all. The finger caressed Maggie’s skin gently and traced her jaw line, stopping under her chin, barely there, but somehow even more tangible than if it had been pressed firmly.
“Think ‘bout it, baby. Take yer time,” he murmured softly, his voice low and velvety. Withdrawing his hand, he got up in one fluent motion and left the room, giving Maggie one last glance before disappearing out the door.
She was speechless.
And flustered.
It was embarrassing.
-----
The next morning found Maggie at the Autobot base sitting in her computer chair with her legs resting on top of the table and one of her hands cradling her aching head. Staring emotionlessly at yet another Cybertronian coded encryption that refused to get cracked, she wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere, curl into a little ball and just die peacefully. That would surely relieve her from the necessity of thinking.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. She had a freaky and downright scary dream of Megatron waking up at the Hoover Dam pissed off as hell and making her his pet slave, to Frenzy’s utter delight. Fortunately, she woke up in cold sweat before things got really ugly. However, if it wasn’t bad enough, she couldn’t stop thinking of Jazz’s visit to her workroom the previous morning. It felt pretty much like someone had infected her brain with a virus that plagued her mind with strange thoughts, depriving her of the much needed rest.
Okay, so she was the object of an interest of a particularly cocky, mischievous robot (thank God, it was a relatively harmless Autobot, not some cranky Decepticon with a delusion of grandeur and epic plans of conquering the Universe). So what? Ah, that’s where it all went so wrong - from the very start. This was crazy, and impossible, and… and even if she did return the- the feeling, or whatever it was, where would they go from there? It wasn’t like a robot and a human could have some kind of romantic relationship. But then again, she’d always thought of herself like of a person who valued the emotional aspect of love, and not the physical one… Of course, physical intimacy was a very important part of relationship, but it wasn’t the alpha and omega of it; the union of minds and souls was far more meaningful… But then it would mean that in this particular situation she was betraying her own principles by labeling the whole issue unacceptable, wouldn’t it? But honestly, who could blame her for that? She bitterly realized that many people could state that feelings were more important to them than sex - but that’s only because they never got a huge robot as their not-so-secret ‘admirer.’
Maggie chuckled sadly at the idea, staring into space wearily and chewing at her pencil.
“Now, those ‘re the legs ta die for,” a familiar velvety voice purred from the door, and she jumped in her chair at the sudden intrusion into the calm silence of her workroom.
She hastily tried to put her long lower limbs down from the table, tangling in the stiletto heels of her shoes. With an absolute horror she felt the chair shudder underneath her, and heard a distinct popping sound of one of its wheels breaking. A short motionless moment of zero gravity and shaky balance gave her enough time to let out a pitiful frightened whimper and see her life flash before her eyes - before the ruined construction with her on top started to topple back…
Maggie’s high-pitched miserable ‘eep’ was cut short when the fall suddenly stopped before she could hit the floor. She opened her tightly squeezed eyes carefully and found herself staring upside down into Jazz’s black visor only inches from her face.
After a second of an awkward silence a soft mechanical whirring came from somewhere inside the Autobot as he inclined his silver head slightly to one side and let a sly smile creep up on his face. “I’m that drop dead gorgeous, mmm?” he rumbled quietly.
She was damn sure she hadn’t blushed like that since she was fifteen. The fact that her short skirt was revealing more than would be appropriate only added to her embarrassment.
“Morning, Jazz,” she mumbled, not so gracefully trying to get out of the chair and feel the steady ground under her feet. After several struggling attempts she finally stood up, righting her clothes and hair and giving Jazz an almost hostile glare. If he laughed - if he only laughed! - she’d…
“Nice skirt,” he complimented, smiling down at her and leaving her speechless for a moment.
“Uh… thanks?” she offered awkwardly tucking one blond strand behind her ear.
Jazz wordlessly rolled the spare computer chair towards Maggie and motioned for her to sit. Having no other options or places to sit left, she complied, placing an elbow on the table and resting her poor head in her hand again as she watched the Autobot getting down into a squat beside her.
“So,” he started, and Maggie tensed instantly. The experience taught her to expect anything from Jazz, especially after he said ‘so.’ “How was yer day?” he asked conversationally, to the girl’s relief.
“Fine… I guess,” she flashed him a weak smile that disappeared the moment it was formed. For some reason she couldn’t look into his visor for more than two seconds. She felt small in comparison to Jazz, and at that moment, with him sitting so close, it was like she was cornered, though she would never admit that even under torture.
“Don’ sound fine ta me,” he chuckled. “Didja sleep well?”
“Not really,” she confessed, rubbing her temples. At the curious tilt of his head she added, “Nightmares.”
“Hmm… What’s with yer head?” Jazz asked, reaching a finger towards her carefully.
Maggie flinched involuntarily. “Uh… a headache.”
Jazz kept silent for several seconds, looking at her strangely. “Okay,” he suddenly said lifting his hands up, finality in his tone. “It was nice ta talk to ya, but I’d better go.” He got up and moved to the exit not waiting for her reaction.
“What? Why?” Maggie was shocked. She didn’t like the way he said that. It didn’t sound right. Did she offend him somehow? “Did I- did I say something wrong?”
“No, but…” Jazz stopped in the middle of the room, half-turned to the girl, and finally looked at her. “I’m embarrassin’ ya, Maggie. I don’t wanna make yer day worse than it already is. It’s bad enough ya have a headache.”
“What? You’re not embarrassing me, why would you think that?” She allowed herself a short laugh, but it came out nervous and half-hearted, as if to prove the saboteur’s point.
Jazz sighed and came close to Maggie again, crouching in front of her. “Look, I didn’t come here for yer answer, okay?” He said softly. “Ya don’t hafta get all stiff when I’m in the same room with ya, Meg. I like yer company, an’ I consider you ma’ friend, no matter what.” He paused for another sigh. “It ain’t an easy question I asked ya yesterday. I won’t rush ya.”
She stared up at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Not trusting her voice, she only nodded slightly in reply.
“Take a day off an’ get some sleep. Optimus can wait,” Jazz said in an authoritative voice, and despite the momentary reflex to protest Maggie suddenly realized how tired she was. It was strangely moving to have someone care and make such a decision for her.
The girl nodded once more, and the Autobot straightened up again and turned to leave. “Jazz?” She called out to him, stopping him on the threshold and making him look at her with attention. “Thanks… for catching the chair,” she said quietly.
The smile that lit up his face was pure warmth, with a hint of playfulness. “Anytime, babe.” With that, he gave her a farewell bow and left the room.
It seemed like every time he came through that door he either got her confused, or showed a new side of himself.
She couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad. She really needed some sleep. Preferably free of dreams.
End of Chapter 2