More angst, but I fixed it this time!
Not Even in Death though, is kind of stalled for now.
For a certain someone who spawned the whole idea in the first place.
Title: People Keep Talking
Rating: G
Warning: Me and my angst....
Pairings/Characters: Jazz/Prowl, mentions of Tracks. (I'm sorry about Tracks... I don't really have anything against him. We just needed someone for the role.)
Summary: Jazz has been seeing and hearing things around the Ark concerning his relationship with Prowl, and they do not a happy saboteur make.
Prompts: from
snugsbunny: One of them being jealous of another mech's flirtations with their mate, AND Track's saying a certain something that hurts Jazz to the spark - you'll see what - and then No-One, by Alica Keys kicked it off.
edit: formatting... I don't know what happened, and I can't seem to fix it. Sorry for double spacing. :S Also, linking is having a hissy fit at me, song can be got here: http://www.4shared.com/file/56421954/56ecc4eb/04_-_No_One.html
~*~
It was something Prowl truly disliked.
He loved Jazz with everything he was and ever would be, but that could never stop the chill that would blow through his spark when he was confronted with this sight.
Tears, faintly pink in colour, rolled down face of the beautiful mech. The visor had been shoved up, revealing those gorgeous optics while Jazz swiped at the rolling pink-tinged pearls. His were lips set in a tight frown that caused his kissable bottom lip to tremble, just like it did when he was approaching overload.
Dragging his processor back to the here and now, Prowl swiftly moved to the seated mech, kneeling in font of the berth and reaching out to take the black hand. To his surprise though, when those optics flickered online abruptly, Jazz withdrew his hand, curling even further into himself as he settled a reproachful gaze on Prowl.
“Jazz? What’s wrong?”
“Tracks is what’s wrong,” Jazz snarled back, truly surprising Prowl with the vehemence in his voice.
“Tracks?”
“You and Tracks!” Jazz barely got the words out before a sob filled his vocaliser with static. Prowl could do nothing but stare up at his distraught mate in bewilderment. “I seen it, Prowl. The way he looks at you.”
“The way he...” the tactician could do little more than continue staring, his processor racing and falling over itself in an effort to fill in the apparent gaps in its memory.
“And the touches. Lingerin just a little too long for casual friendship. Why’s he touching ya in the first place? And you know the worst bit, Prowl?” Jazz demanded, answering before the taller black-and-white was given a chance to, “You ain’t done nothing about it!” What anger was in his voice cracked on misery, and Jazz hunched further into himself, new tears running a stream of pink down his face.
“Jazz,” Prowl moved to sit on the berth beside the smaller mech. “You think I’ve even noticed Tracks?”
Jazz glanced doubtfully at him, shrugging one shoulder as he did.
“I know you’re busy Prowl, but you’re never here with me. Always off, doin something else, bein with everyone but me.” Prowl felt his doorwings sink lower with his spark at the truth in his mate’s words. “What am I meant to think when someone starts flirtin with ya right in front of me?”
“Jazz, exactly how long were you flirting with me before I noticed?” Prowl asked teasingly. Jazz looked up, face a little miffed at the tone until he realised what his lover was implying.
“Kinda forever, if you ask me.”
“And I’ll assume that Tracks has not been doing so forever, yes? Therefore, I have not noticed.” To his credit, Jazz managed a wobbly little grin. The tactician took his hand in his own, rubbing the fingers softly.
“You know I’m all yours,” he asked, leaning closer to look into those uncovered optics as he brushed away the tears. “Don’t you?”
Jazz nodded slowly. “It’s just that... Tracks... he said...” the saboteur trailed off, and bit hesitantly at his lip, sinking even lower, his misery returning full force.
“He said what?” Prowl prompted, leaning a little more into his partner.
“I overheard him ask someone why you put up with me,” Jazz blurted out, suddenly wound up tensely again. “And then, you know, I wondered, you ain’t ever here, you’re always working, so maybe he’s right, and why do you put up with me Prowl?” there was a trace of accusation at the end of his Bluestreak-like rant, but Jazz refused to look up at his lover, as if fearing to find the answer to his question.
Shocked, Prowl did the only thing he could think of - he pulled the smaller mech into his arms. Distressed as he was, Jazz still pressed himself gratefully into his partner’s embrace, snuggling close against him with an unhappy hitch of his intakes.
“I don’t ‘put up with you,’ Jazz,” Prowl murmured against the top of the black helm that he gave a soft, comforting stroke. “My beautiful Jazz. I think it’s you who puts up with me.”
“But I love ya,” Jazz protested quietly.
Prowl moved his soothing touches to the saboteur’s back. “And I love you too. How could I not? You’re gorgeous, exceptionally good at what you do. A bit silly sometimes,” Jazz made a hiccupping sound at that.
“But you’re the only one who can make me laugh,” Prowl nuzzled at the top of the black helm. “And drive me to distraction though you do, you follow your own rules and be who you are. My wonderful Jazz, who tests me and points out my flaws. And accepts those flaws. How could I not love you, Jazz?”
“It’s soundin pretty hard from here,” Jazz admitted with a shaky laugh.
“You know what else? Because you’re sexy. Sexy when you’re angry. And when you’re happy. When you’re smiling, or when you’re pouting and that cute bottom lip is trembling.” The smaller mech started to giggle a little.
“I love you for all those quiet times. Just you and me, and nothing else,” he pressed a kiss against the base of one horn. “And I love you because you showed me how to talk to you without saying a word, and in so many different ways.”
Jazz looked up in surprise when the music started, because the heavy baseline certainly wasn’t coming from his sound system this time. He recognised the music instantly as something by one of the Terran performers, a woman with a strangely beautiful, melodic voice.
And just when did Prowl learn to tap human radio signals to find something so specific? He questioned, answering himself automatically with the amendment Because that’s my Prowler, always adapting. Jazz half-smiled at the though, but pushed it away to concentrate on what was being sung.
People keep talking, they can say what they like.
Jazz smiled up at his lover, mouthing along through the tears, this time of appreciation, “All I know is, everything’s gonna be alright.”
Prowl nodded back with his own smile, letting Jazz’s other love tell him exactly what he felt. The saboteur settled himself more comfortably back against his mate, happily overwhelmed that Prowl knew exactly how to say everything he meant, that he could use that medium just as Jazz always had. To feel, to speak, to love.
He couldn’t keep from happily beginning to rock in time to the thudding base, content to shutter his optics again, this time snuggled closely against his lover who simply tightened his hold and kept him close while they listened.
No one can get in the way of what I’m feeling for you.
Some people search the world to find something like what we have.
I know, people will try, try to divide something so real,
So til the end of time I’m telling you there ain’t no one.