Today would be the day to do it. Most of the Autobots were running around trying to mobilize for another peace conference on Cybertron, making it a passing distraction that no one would know about, except for Tracks, who had caught him looking it up on the Internet. Sky Lynx was departing that afternoon with a few representatives, casting the entire Autobot City in turmoil and leaving those not going bored, overworked, or needing some kind of vent. Springer was ready.
He found his target walking down the hall, needing a break but trying to get everything required to be accomplished done first. He hadn't stopped moving all day, trying to prepare himself for take-off time, since he'd be gone for a very long time and didn't want to abandon any unfinished business. Springer caught up to him, with difficulty.
"What's up, Springer?"
"Well…" He cleared his throat and began his monologue. "I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream. Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain."
"You have a brain?" the saboteur playfully asked, shoving Springer against the wall while not breaking momentum. "I thought you had a fanbelt loose."
"Nah. Just a screw. Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head. And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread-"
"I'm blasting off soon," the Porsche reminded him, in a tone suggesting that this was something that had better be quick.
"Well, yeah, you are. But that's not what I'm trying to say." Jazz would not make this easy. Springer had spent so much time preparing, practicing…and Jazz was tossing out flippant remarks and making it harder to concentrate. "Let me tell it to you this way: This morning I woke up with this feeling I didn't know how to deal with and so I just decided to myself. I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it, and did not go and shout it when you walked into the room."
"You have a screw loose!" he suddenly laughed, belatedly. The triple changer laughed at his friend's lack of quick thinking but was still exasperated. "Sorry, man. My processor's still in slow-mo from not recharging right."
So something was bothering Jazz, too; the stress of going to Cybertron for an interplanetary pressure-chamber was not abiding well. Springer had not been going offline easily, either, thanks to this song playing in his head. An irritating, annoying song that repeated so often Springer knew it backwards, too.
yaw siht tlef reven I taht yas ot em seirrow ti hgouht
fo edam si efil tahw taht t'nsi uoy evol I kniht I
rof eruc on si ereht evol a fo erus ton m'I that diarfa m'I
fo diarfa os I ma tahw os uoy evol I kniht I
This Autobot was special. They had been friends for a short amount of time, but thanks to circumstances (a scenario that seemed to happen a lot for the war-torn Cybertronians), they had found a small patch of emotional rock to sit down on and get to know each other. Jazz was funny, quick-witted, and talented. Springer was the same, except berated for his lack of taste in decent earth-music. They had formed and uneasy friendship on the premise that each were in love with somebody else and needed to talk to someone who understood. Two halves did not always make a whole; sometimes they made a mess. Springer HAD to get to him, or the whole attempt to communicate would be for naught. Jazz would get onto Sky Lynx and they might not see each other for a very long time.
"Jazz…I don't know what I'm up against,"
"Decepticons," came the response. The saboteur knew what he was doing, judging from that smug grin.
"I don't know what it's all about."
"None of do, man, we just keep goin'." He was doing this on purpose! Springer tried again.
"I got so much to think about."
"Not in that brain of yours," the Porsche replied, stopping to deposit a datapad on Rodimus' overflowing desk. "Man, I think he needs another visit from OfficeMax Prime."
Frustration mounting, Springer wondered if he should tell him in another language.
Hey, pienso te amo tan cuál es yo así que asustado de mí está asustado que no soy seguro de un amor allí no soy ninguna curación para mí
Pienso que te amo no es que qué vida se hace sin embargo de ella se preocupa me para decirme nunca sentía esta manera
"This is important. Believe me you really don't have to worry, I only wanna make you happy and if you say "hey go away" I will. But I think better still I'd better stay around and love you. Do you think I have a case let me ask you to your face. Do you think you love me?"
Springer's hands waved encouragingly as he eagerly awaited his audience's reaction. Jazz gave a slow smile and laughed gently. "I have no idea. You finally stumped me."
"It's the theme from the Partridge Family!" shouted Cliffjumper, who had been walking behind the pair for most of the duration of Springer's recitation. "You know…I Think I Love You?"
"I think I love you too! What took you so long, baby?" Jazz cried, sweeping the mini-bot up into his arms and kissing his red helmet a la Pepe Le Pew while his captive struggled. Springer laughed so hard he had to brace himself against the wall.
"You two are WEIRD! Who tries to guess which TV theme song the other's saying as a game? Why can't you fight each other for fun like normal mechs?" Cliffjumper wrenched himself away from the Porsche and inched away in case Springer tried something.
"We ARE normal," Jazz retorted. "Nah, wait, you're right about Springer. It took him a week to figure out I was doing the theme from 'Friends.' Didn'tcha?"
Springer shrugged dismissively as Cliffjumper made a break for it. "Not as long as you when I did the theme from 'Gundam Wing.' What was that, ten days?"
Jazz shoved him against the wall again but missed and sent him falling through a doorway by accident. "So this one took a few tries. I got one for ya: Hong Kong Phooey-"
Springer looked up to see an embarrassed Ultra Magnus crouched behind the door. Startled, he motioned for the triple changer to keep quiet. Springer stood up and joined Jazz, breaking out his singing voice.
"Number one super guy!" He and Jazz struck a K'ung Fu pose together and continued singing. "Hong Kong Phooey! Quicker than the human eye!"
Tracks passed them going the opposite direction and shook his head. "Fools," he muttered as he approached the doorway Springer had just fallen into.
Springer sang louder to cover up the inevitable noise that would erupt the minute Ultra Magnus captured his prey. "He's got style, a groovy style, and a car that just won't stop-"
No one was perfect. Some Autobots find fun lurking in corners, some guess television theme songs. 'Whatever works,' Springer thought, blocking Jazz's hand as they whapped and sliced their way down the hall towards Sky Lynx. "When the going gets tough, he's really rough, with a Hong Kong Phooey chop (Hi-Ya!)"
"Fan-riffic!" called Ultra Magnus from the floor of the other room. Jazz cracked up and continued singing.
They paused at Sky Lynx, smiling at the other. "Take care of Prowl for me," Jazz asked, trusting only Springer to keep the grave marker maintained while he was away.
"Take care of Roddy," Springer returned, giving Jazz a little shove towards the entrance where Rodimus beckoned, demanding to know what was keeping Ultra Magnus. The mech in question staggered outside with grinning Tracks in tow. The Corvette paused next to Springer and waved goodbye with the rest of the Autobots sending the peace conference participants off. As Sky Lynx disappeared into space Tracks asked the triple changer if Jazz had guessed what Springer was trying to tell him.
"No," he lied sadly. It was better than admitting the truth.