Cold Spark - Chapter 1
Title: Cold Spark (Chapter 1 of ?)
Verse: G1 with references to WFC later
Rating: PG
Other Characters: Ratchet
Warnings: light touching, cursing, arguing
Summary/Notes: This story takes place after “The Best Is Yet to Come”. Even though Prowl and Jazz have bonded, their relationship is not perfect.
(I do not own Transformers.)
The physical damage to the saboteur had been severe but not spark-threatening. It had taken Ratchet several cycles to make the repairs even with Wheeljack helping to fabricate new parts. Even with the new parts in place and the tears to plating welded together again, it still took more cycles to repair the damaged wires and circuits.
When Ratchet finally brought Jazz out of medical stasis the saboteur saw the medic carefully scanning him. The next mech Jazz saw was the tactician who was watching him closely. Jazz smiled at his lover while Ratchet completed his scans. He wondered if Prowl had felt as distraught as Jazz had after the seekers had nearly killed Prowl.
With a grunt and a nod Ratchet set down the scanner. “You’re free to go, Jazz, but you are off duty for the next decacycle and light duty only for the next two decacycles after that.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Jazz said and grinned at Prowl.
“And don’t either of you show up in here with broken fans, either,” Ratchet yelled after them as he saw Jazz’s servo slip to Prowl’s aft as the couple left the medbay. Jazz was in pain from his injuries but laughed as a wrench went sailing by his helm.
“Ratchet ought to know ‘facing is good medicine,” Jazz mumbled giving Prowl’s aft a light squeeze.
Prowl said nothing in response.
They returned to their quarters and once inside Jazz swept Prowl into a passionate kiss. At least he tried to. His lover was not very enthusiastic in his response which caused Jazz to reluctantly break the kiss and look at Prowl with concern.
“What’s wrong, Prowler?” he asked softly as he brushed a servo along the tactician’s check. “I know I was injured badly but I’m okay now.” Jazz felt bad that he had worried his lover and bondmate.
Prowl looked at Jazz from underneath his striking chevron. Jazz wondered yet again if Prowl realized how attractive he was. Jazz looked into Prowl’s optics trying hard to not let his own optics wander to Prowl’s doorwings.
With his characteristic blank expression Prowl said, “I don’t understand what happened, Jazz. You shouldn’t have been severely injured at all. My calculations showed a 98.3 percent probability of complete success for your mission. For the remaining 1.7 percent the worst outcome should have resulted in only superficial injury. You…” He stopped when he noticed that Jazz was looking at him in a strange manner.
“Are ya serious, mech?” Jazz whispered. “I get injured while on a mission to gather information about Decepticon activity and the first thing ya say to me is that in all probability this shouldn’t have happened?” Jazz stepped away from Prowl. “What about me?”
Prowl continued in his same neutral tone, “You know I never authorize a mission for anyone which has less than an 80 percent probability…” He was cut off by Jazz’s raised voice.
“Probability! I want to know if ya care for me! Not if my life fits into yer probability calculations.” Jazz took a step away from Prowl.
“Jazz, please,” Prowl kept his voice calm but firm. “You are being unreasonable. I am simply concerned as to why my calculations were wrong. If there is a problem with my tactical processor it must be repaired before…”
“Oh, you need a repair alright, Prowl!” Jazz yelled.
Prowl inwardly cringed when he realized Jazz used his proper designation to address him and not the variant Jazz was so fond of.
“Jazz, it does no good to get upset over this…” Prowl tried to reason.
“Prowl, stop. Ya didn’t even ask me how I was feeling when I onlined,” Jazz said with a hard edge to his voice. “Ya just stood there running calculations through yer slagging processor! Is that all I am to ya? An equation in yer computations?”
Prowl raised on optic ridge and answered, “Actually Jazz, it’s more like you are a variable in my computations. And a highly unpredictable one I might add…”
“Prowl! I can’t believe this!” Jazz shouted. He pushed past Prowl to the door.
“Where are you going?” Prowl asked quietly.
The door opened and Jazz stepped out into the hall. He continued to shout even though there were other mechs in the hall. “Does it matter where I go? Why don’t ya add this piece of information and run it through yer slagging tactical processor: ya have a cold spark, Prowl.”
Prowl became completely motionless at the insult. Even his doorwings became still. He stared at his bondmate in shock. Neither noticed that the other mechs in the hallway were silently watching as well.
“I can’t believe I thought this would work!” Jazz continued to shout. “I think I’ll go have Ratchet check my processor to see how I can possibly continue to function with such a slagging glitch! Compute this, Prowl: it’s over between us!”
Just like that, Jazz walked out. The door shut behind him leaving Prowl alone. He computed only a 4.6 percent chance that Jazz would come back. Then he winced as he realized this was the sort of behavior that had Jazz so angry. “Jazz…” he whispered to the empty room, “I do care about you…”