TF: Every Night for an Orn

[wildernesstales]

Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Pairings: Jazz/Ironhide, future Jazz/Prowl
Summary: Prowl listens night after night, hating the way it makes him feel.  If only Jazz wasn't the mech Prowl thought he was.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: From the meme prompt here , relating to the prompt kida_bridger asked for here.  Noise wise, it only really works as sticky, sorry.  But there’s no explicit mention of anything, so I’d deem it safe to read even if you don’t like the idea of sticky.
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.

“Oh frag, yes!” Jazz’s voice rang out loud and clear.  Prowl cringed.  It was utter torture listening to Jazz night in night out.  Well, not actually listening to Jazz, more that he was listening to Jazz with someone else.  Not of course that he’d ever mentioned it to Jazz.  He’d known the mech long enough to know that he liked fun and adventure.  And mechs.  He certainly didn’t appear to be a one mech mech.  Which Prowl was.  He didn’t like to sleep around, not the way he saw and heard Jazz do.  He watched Jazz do it for almost as long as he’d known the mech.  And each mech Jazz had taken to his berth had broken a little piece of Prowl’s spark.  He was in love with Jazz.  And had been for a very long time.  And had kept it a secret for a very long time.

It had been bearable while they were back on Cybertron; his quarters were the opposite end of the officers block.  But here on Earth, in the remodelled Ark, his quarters were right next door to Jazz’s.  And because it was a spaceship, the internal walls were thin, to cut down on weight.  Which meant that the divide between Prowl’s room and Jazz’s room was thin.  Which meant that every loud noise conducted well through the wall.  Too well in Prowl’s opinion.

“Please…” Jazz whined, and Prowl knew that meant he was getting closer to his overload.  Jazz liked it hard and fast when he got close, Prowl knew that.  Knew that after listening to so many of Jazz’s nightly pleasures.  The sounds increased, the scraping and clanging coming faster as whoever Jazz was with increased the pace.
“Frag, yes.” Ironhide.  Prowl covered his optics with one hand as he recognised the voice.  “Give it ta me.”
“Yes.” A breathless whimper.  And Prowl knew that Jazz would overload on the next thrust.  The wail that echoed through the wall a moment later told him he was correct.  The grunt on the tail end of the wail told him that Ironhide had also overloaded.  He gave a grateful sigh.  That meant (hopefully) that tonight’s activities were over.  And that he could finally get some rest.  He settled himself back down in his berth and offlined his optics.  He could at least now get a few hours rest before his shift started.  Not as much as he would like, but it was enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Prowler.” Jazz practically beamed at Prowl as he walked into the meeting room.  Prowl stifled a groan.  How could the mech look so refreshed after doing what he’d heard Jazz doing last night?
“Jazz.” He nodded in Jazz’s direction, returning his attention to his datapad.  It took more effort than he wanted, but he managed it.  Jazz bounced over to sit in the chair next to him, leaning over to look at his datapad.  Prowl flicked a doorwing in irritation.
“You all right Prowler?  Ya look a little... tired.  Not get much recharge last night?”
“I recharged adequately.” Prowl deliberately didn’t look at Jazz.  Nor did he say what he wanted to say.
“Mmmokay mech.” Jazz nodded and leant back in his chair, waving as Ironhide and Optimus Prime entered.  Prowl looked up, catching the glance Ironhide and Jazz shared.  He did however, miss the subtle shake of Jazz’s head.  Red Alert stalked in, closely followed by Ratchet, who for all the world looked as though he’d had to shepherd Red Alert all the way there.  Which, to be fair, he probably had.  Even for meetings, Red Alert didn’t like leaving the security office.

The meeting seemed to drag to Prowl.  He gave his report and listened to the others, defending Red Alert where necessary.  He scribbled notes on his data pad, and concentrated on the matters that needed his attention.  But at the same time, all he wanted to do was head to his office and perhaps manage a small nap.  Despite what he’d said to Jazz, he hadn’t recharged adequately, his recharge full of visions of Jazz with other mechs, and himself getting more and more jealous until his spark imploded.  He’d come out of recharge suddenly after that and had spent the rest of his time until his shift started reading and trying to take his processor off Jazz and his behaviors.  It was always the same on the nights he heard Jazz and whoever his partner for the night happened to be.  And recently, it had been every night.  And it was more than Prowl could take.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Prowl…” Ironhide was waiting for Prowl outside the meeting room.  Prowl stifled a groan.  Out of all the mechs on the Ark, Ironhide really wasn’t one he wanted to be speaking to.  Not today.  Not after what he knew Ironhide and Jazz had been up to the previous night.
“Yes?” If it was a little curter than normal, Prowl found he really couldn’t care.
“You and me gotta have a talk about Jazz.” Ironhide didn’t miss the way Prowl’s doorwings hitched higher at the mention of Jazz’s name.
“What happens between you and Jazz is of no concern to me.” He replied coldly.  Ironhide groaned, resisting the urge to slap Prowl upside the helm.
“Listen, there ain’t no me and Jazz.  There ain’t no Jazz and anybody.  All he wants is you.”
“A fact he disproves by ‘sleeping around’ as the humans would say.” This time, Ironhide didn’t resist and slapped Prowl upside the helm.
“There ain’t nothing going on.  Fragger’s doing it to try and make you jealous, to force you to show some sort of interest after ya turned him down.” Prowl, still in shock from the jolt to his processors, stared dumbly at Ironhide.
“Then last night…”
“Was him trying to rile you.  I know ya got feelings for him Prowl, I can see it in the way ya look at him.  Why don’t you do something about it.”
“Because…” Prowl flailed about for a reason, now that he knew Jazz wasn’t as promiscuous as he thought.
“Exactly.  Now, get yer aft down to that tip he calls an office and show him ya care for him like he cares for ya.”
“I…” Prowl cut himself off and nodded at Ironhide, turning away to head towards Jazz’s small office.  He glanced back.  “Thank you Ironhide.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jazz was lounging in his office, chair tipped back, feet resting on a pile of datapads on his desk.  It was nice and peaceful and gave him a chance to think.  Hardly anyone bothered him down here.  Which was why, when the door chime sounded, he fell off his chair.  The door slid open to reveal Prowl.
“Jazz?”
“Prowl?” For once, Jazz was lost for words, trying to work out why Prowl would be down here in person rather than speaking to him across the comm.  Then it dawned on him.
“Ironhide.” Prowl nodded.
“We need to talk.” He stepped into the room and let the door close behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Authors Notes Redux: Yeah, I couldn't resist turning it into comedy.  The idea just struck while I was writing it... and well... I went with the flow.

And because I know you all want to know exactly what was going on in Jazz’s room that night…

“Ya sure ya want ta do this, with me?” Ironhide asked, voice quiet.
“Yeah mech, I’m sure.”
“All right then.” Ironhide shrugged and settled himself down, pulling out a datapad.  Made sense to be doing something.
“Start off slow, then build up.” Jazz curled up next to Ironhide.
“Believe it or not youngling I do know how to interface.”  Jazz just grinned and stretched, tapping his fingers against Ironhide’s leg.
“Do ya honestly think this will work?” Ironhide asked.
“I don’t know what else to do.” Jazz shrugged, letting out a quiet moan.
“You could, yanno, talk ta him.”
“I’ve tried.  He keeps… well, misinterpreting what I’m saying.”
“Mebbe ya just ain’t being clear enough.”
“What, walking up to him and telling him that I really wanna tumble with him ain’t enough?” That prompted a laugh from Ironhide.
“Only you could get away with saying that ta Prowl.” Jazz grinned and moaned again, a little louder.
“Oh, do that again.” He purred.  Ironhide shook his head and switched his datapad on, deliberately knocking his arm against Jazz’s and making a noise.
“Perfect.”

“Oh frag, yes!” Jazz’s voice rang out loud and clear.  Ironhide shook his head and typed a few more words into his analysis of the last battle.  He scraped his fingers across Jazz’s legs, which were resting in his lap.  Jazz lifted his head off the couch and grinned at him.
“Please…” Jazz whined, shifting his legs and letting Ironhide set up the rhythm of ‘thrusting’ – slapping his hand down on Jazz’s thigh plating.
“Frag, yes.” Ironhide gave a theatrical groan.  “Give it ta me.”
“Yes.” Jazz whimpered, which sounded more erotic than his position lying on the couch with his head dipped down over the end woult indicate.  He paused, then wailed as though he’d overloaded.  Ironhide managed to smother his laughter with a credible grunt.  Jazz tilted his head, listening intently, before he sat up and flopped over Ironhide’s lap.
“Thanks for that lover.” He grinned.  Ironhide just shook his head.  Really, one of these days Prowl was going to catch on to Jazz’s affections.  He had to.  He wasn’t sure Jazz could keep this up without breaking eventually.

Comments

[kida-bridger.livejournal.com]

I loved this. Felt so bad for Prowl in the beginning and only Jazz could come up with something like that.