Behind Closed Doors

Prowl signed his daily report and turned back to his console.

He listened idly to the chatter of the other on-duty Autobots in the control room, and checked his inbuilt chronometer.

Nine-point-three-two minutes until the end of his shift.

His thoughts turned involuntarily to a certain saboteur; he was sure Jazz was having reciprocating thoughts.

Prowl felt his door-panels draw slightly in and upward in anticipation.

He concentrated on keeping them in their usual calm position; he definitely didn't want anyone getting any ideas on what might be going through his CPU.

Jazz wandered around his quarters, which, not being large, didn't give him much room to wander in.

He glanced at his wallclock- a fluoro monstrosity shaped like a huge human wristwatch, given to him by Carly- and ticked off the minutes until the end of the tactitian's shift.

About nine, by his count.

Nine long, agonizing minutes.

He crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his bunk, trying to get a grip on himself.

Down, boy!

Jazz said to himself.

He couldn't wait for the tactitian to join him so they could pick up where they'd left off last night.

It had taken him a long time to coax Prowl into even considering it, but from the first time had seen a side of the Datsun he'd never known existed.

And Jazz liked it.

He'd spent a good deal of time trying to free the tactitian from his embarrassment, and he was having partial success.

Jazz knew Prowl was concerned about their getting caught; he tried to assure him over and over it was unlikely, and if they were, well, surely they weren't the only ones at it?

Jazz didn't care, he enjoyed the time well-spent with the Datsun and stuff anyone who judged them.

Prowl logged off his duty station and headed for his quarters.

He was grateful to the Porsche's gentle handling of the situation, and his unerring patience with Prowl's self-consciousness that the tactitian was working hard on getting rid of.

He took his time dropping off some duty logs and straightening his desk, knowing full well Jazz was waiting impatiently next door.

That thought just added to the anticipation and fun.

Jazz idly tapped his foot; he was positive the Datsun deliberately waited an extra five minutes before joining him each time.

There came the tap on his door, right on cue.

Jazz rolled his optics, trying to remember how many times he'd told Prowl not to bother; he was obviously expected.

The Porsche grinned wickedly, wondering how much more fun the tactitian would be if he could be restrained long enough for someone to remove his politeness circuits.

He keyed the tactitian in and shook a finger at him.

"You're late, man," Jazz pointed out with false irritation.

"My chronometer says I'm right on time," Prowl said calmly.

"Well it's wrong," the saboteur sulked playfully.

"My apologies," the Datsun said lightly, following the script they'd set.

He accepted the Energon Jazz handed him; the Porsche glanced at the slightly upswept door-panels and grinned.

"Guess I'm not the only one on tenterhooks," he chuckled.

Prowl smiled slightly.

"Last night didn't go as planned, did it?" he asked.

Jazz shook his head, grinning; they hadn't got past the Energon fix before an emergency had sent them both back on duty, two sharp minds hadn't been fully concentrating on their jobs that time.

Prowl watched Jazz throw back two lots of Energon.

"How much energy are you expecting to expend?" he questioned.

The saboteur slung an arm over the tactitian's shoulders.

"That depends on how long you stay," he grinned.

Jazz let go of him and hoisted himself onto his bunk, and watched Prowl's gaze turn to the floor.

"Aw, c'mon man- we aren't doing anything wrong,"

"I's just..."

Jazz gave him his crooked grin. "You're still embarrassed, right? Please don't be, it's only you and me," he said softly, patting a spot on the bunk.

The tactitian settled next to him, both full of delicious anticipatory energy.

Jazz couldn't keep still, he was ready!

Prowl eyed him with a small smile and took the black hand.

He guided it across their knee-joints, down...down.

Down to click the TV remote between them.

"I am She-ra, Princess of Powerrr!"