Author's Notes: Rated T for implied slash. ProwlxJazz
He crept along the darkened corridor, wondering just how long it had been since someone had visited the lower levels of the Ark, which had long since been buried deep in the bowels of the long-inactive volcano. He ducked under a mass of rock that hung low from the metal ceiling, the weight of the granite threatening to pull the entire mass of metal downward in a heap. The tactician subconciously calculated the odds of that happening, without even realizing it. He shook his head, for once trying not to think of what COULD happen. It was unlike him, yes. But, he knew he couldn't think about it now, let it hinder him, as this was the only route in which to reach his destination. If anyone knew he was even HERE, nevertheless what he was here FOR, it could quite possibly ruin his reputation, after all.
He crept stealthily along the darkened corridor once again, listening to the ever-so-faint creaking and groaning of the metal under the stress of the mountainside, hoping it wouldn't collapse on top of him (until he was at least out of it's immediate proximity). He reached his destination, and lowered himself almost to the floor, to crawl under the twisted half-open door of the rear shuttle bay. Almost soundlessly, he quickly skirted to the right, and concealed himself behind a computer bank. If his contact were here, he could have possibly seen the tactician upon entry. The only possible alternative would be to conceal himself in the shadows. Something he had since learned from the Autobot's sabouteur, Jazz.
Now there was a mystery.
The only Autobot (other than Mirage) that could practically dissolve into the shadows. The mech could walk right up behind you and...
Shoving the thought aside, he concentrated on the darkness, untill his optics had adjusted to the dim light; Which faded to almost completely pitch black towards the back of the bay. He dreaded being caught off-gaurd back there. Not that staying where he was now would help a great deal, he decided. But it was better than leaving himself out in the open, to be easy prey for the mech he knew had to allready be waiting for him. He slid to the right a few meters, trying hard not to make noise, and trying to decide where his 'adversary' would be. If he were the first person, where would he position himself in the room? It would almost have to be a strategic position, possibly above the rest of the room, in order to see all points at once, but still concealed by shadows.
Drat! he hadn't thought of that! the other person in the room could allready have spotted him! and to think, he had been so stupid as to simply slink into the room and hide behind something, like an amateur! he had known this mech for how long now? he mentally smacked himself for thinking on the present for once He never did that! He had allways tried to think of what a situation would bring, and what to do next. It wasn't like him. He was usually so logical, planning out everything before he even moved. He wondered if the mech in question hadn't gotten into his C.P.U. somehow.
- he subconciously smiled at the thought.
He quickly banished it when he heard something hit a drum across the back of the shuttlebay, and a softly uttered curse. "Back to business." he thought. He crept around the crates and barrels, carefull not to make a sound. In the darkness, the only way he could see was to brush his hand against the side of the crate beside him for guidance. And the knowledge of the layout that he had gotten from when he had been here before. And in exactly the same situation.
He heard the faint footsteps from about fifty meters away.
"Trying to sneak up behind me?" he thought.
The tactician quickly calculated the possible routes the other mech in the room could take, considering the layout of the crates and barrels. "Unless he's rearranged a few since we were here last." he thought. But the odds of that happening was slim to none, considering the size of the boxes and crates and other various things.
The shuttle bay went silent once again. Prowl knew either he was getting close to his "hide-and-go-seek" partner, or the mech was right on top of him.
He glanced up.
nothing. Not even the soft glow of optics.
But, then again, that never was something he'd looked for. He decided it was best if he kept moving, anyway. He skirted a glance around, then moved on to the next set of boxes, looking around, and up, as he moved. If he could just make it to the other side of the bay...
A set of metal feet hit the deck plating behind him. Prowl froze. The odds of someone watching him from atop the crates had been very good. Why hadn't he realized that? Maybe because he wanted to make it interesting?
"Caught you again." The voice from behind him said.
"Why can't you just wait for me at our pre-determined meeting place?"
" 'cause" a pair of arms wrapped themselves around the tactician's neck from behind, pulling him back.
"It's allway more interestin' if I catch 'ya by suprise." the owner of the voice kissed the tactician's neck softly."
"You know what would happen if we were to get caught." Prowl reasoned, breaking free of the mech's grip to face him.
"uh huh." the mech looked like he didn't believe him. "Like anyone's gonna come down here lookin' for a missin' tactician at two o'clock in 'da mornin'. The black and white mech grinned. Prowl gave him a wordlessly skeptical look.
"Okay, okay." The black and white mech, near-invisible in the shadows as Prowl was, led him to the back of the shuttle bay, where the ruins of an old shuttle lay, the hatch open and waiting.
"Well?" "Well, what?"
"Are 'ya gonna join me, or stand around all night listenin' ta da mountain?"
Prowl shot the saboteur a poisonous look. "Just making sure we're alone."
Jazz only grinned. "Trust me."
"Trust me?" Prowl parroted, lifting an optic ridge. He gave a skeptical glance back at the half-pried-open door, and back at the Porsche, realising just how many time they had met here, in the dark. And how many boxes and crates were between them and said door.
The odds of them being caught were next to nill, yes. Of course, Prown would never let himself be thought of as one to give in to compulsive thinking. But before he could react, the sabouteur had shoved him into the side of the shuttle, lips firmly pressed to his. Without thinking, he returned the passionate kiss. He barely gave the half-open shuttlebay door another glance as the two made their way up the ramp that led into the shuttle.