Author's Note: This is why I generally avoid forums and LJ communities...Plot bunnies, for me, spawn far too easily. This came from the prowlxjazz LJ community, with the summary being the inspiring line from vejiraziel.
- Tease -
The first time it happened was an accident. Jazz, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had discovered one night when overcharged that Bluestreak made entertaining noises and said the weirdest things if they just randomly groped him. Somehow that knowledge had lodged itself in their processors, even if memories of the rest of the night hadn't, and after they recovered, the three had made a game out of seeing who could get the weirdest noise or statement out of the young gunner. So far Sunstreaker was winning, but Sideswipe and Jazz figured that was because Bluestreak actually liked being randomly groped by the yellow bot (which was the only reason that Bluestreak hadn't complained and none of the rest of the command element had interfered with their game). Sideswipe and Jazz had their own private wager going for how long it would take Sunstreaker to figure that out, and what he would do when he did.
Of course, this 'game' with Bluestreak was often put on hold when one of the three of them had to go on missions, as Jazz had just had to. As soon as the missing participant returned, of course, the game started again, often with little to no warning to any participant but the one returning. This proved to be a bit problematic this time around, as the twins hadn't had time to warn Jazz that the new tactician, arrived only two days ago, had a similar build and paint job to Bluestreak, making him easily mistaken for the young gunner when approaching from the back. The fact that the only other bot in the room at the time was Hound, who still owed Jazz for a particularly, hm, colourful prank, did not help matters.
Still, Jazz was nothing if not quick to adapt, and after 'Bluestreak' jumped from his chair and spun around to reveal himself as someone quite different, the saboteur had, after a moment of surprise, shot a glare in Hound's direction, and then turned to the startled tactician with a large, disarming grin.
"Welcome to th'base!" he said cheerfully, then strode out of the room, whistling. Jazz figured that if the tactician had a problem with the inadvertent groping, he could apologize and explain later, when he didn't have an image to keep up. In fact, Jazz was quite prepared to do so when he saw how stiffly Prowl acted when Optimus formally introduced the two of them. Before he had the chance to get Prowl alone to apologize, though, Jazz had the opportunity to observe the other mech in the rec room, interacting with the other Autobots in the same stiff manner. Apparently stiff and formal was how Prowl usually acted.
Jazz decided it was time to change that.
When Prowl agreed to the transfer to Optimus Prime's elite unit, he was certain being molested by the resident saboteur on office hours wasn't part of the job's description. Pointing that out to Jazz, however, only made the saboteur more determined. The worst part was that Jazz was very careful to avoid even casually touching Prowl when any of the other command staff were around. As soon as they were the two highest ranking officers in the room, however, Prowl inevitably felt the saboteur's wandering hands on him. Whether it was just a quick brush against his door wings, or grabbing his aft, Jazz seemed determined to feel up every inch of Prowl...in public.
The worst part was, as much as Prowl complained about it and pushed the saboteur away, he couldn't deny the fact that he would have welcomed the touches in private. He'd been aware from the first moment he saw Jazz that the saboteur was good-looking, and over time, he'd developed an attraction to the other mech. Naturally, this was helped along by Jazz constantly groping him, and it was actually most of the reason that, after almost half a vorn of being subjected to Jazz's public groping and fondling, Prowl still reacted. Most things he could adapt to, given time: the twins pranks, Red Alert's paranoia, Mirage's random use of his invisibility cloak...they'd taken him by surprise when he'd first arrived, but now he was used to them. They'd ceased to surprise him, and he was able to treat them like the normal occurrences they were.
Jazz's groping probably would have eventually been accepted in the same way if it wasn't for that little part of his CPU that had begun collapsing into spastically happy goo every time the saboteur touched him. That reaction to Jazz's gropes was what really made him stiffen now, and the glare he followed it with was more of a cover than anything else. If there weren't always other Autobots around, Prowl might not have glared, but he wasn't about to let himself get groped in front of his subordinates without at least looking like he wasn't enjoying it. And since Jazz apparently had a pathological fear of being alone with Prowl, anywhere, at any time, this left Prowl rather frustrated.
Of course, logic dictated that this had to end eventually, before either Prowl embarrassed himself, or his CPU crashed. Logic, however, failed to provide a solution to the problem. High grade, on the other hand, had, somewhere in it's murky depths, the solution for everything.
The party was ostensibly to celebrate a recent victory over the Decepticons, and Prowl had only attended because Sideswipe had managed to put a security lock-down on the doors to both his quarters and his office. When he'd come searching for either Red Alert or Sideswipe, he'd found them at the party, and been informed that the lock-down would be released once he'd had a cube of high grade. One cube which had been constantly refilled over the past half joor before Prowl finally realized what was going on and demanded the unlocking codes for his quarters. Red Alert supplied the codes readily at seeing the look on the tactician's face, and now Prowl was making his way out, intending to recharge.
"So then Skywarp decided to be tricky and live up to his name, but Blue here was ready for him -" Jazz's story barely paused when Prowl walked by, though he lost more than a few moment's of his listeners' attention when his hand snaked out to briefly caress the joint in-between Prowl's door wings, causing the tactician to stiffen and stop. Prowl turned his optics to the saboteur, intending to glare, but at that point, the high grade took over and decided that logic was right, this needed to end.
It took Jazz several moments to realize he'd completely lost his listener's attention, and only seconds after that for him to realize that the source of the distraction was behind him. Slowly, he turned around, coming face to face with Prowl, who pinned him with a heated look. The tactician was vaguely aware of a growing silence around them as the various mechs realized what was going on and turned to see what Prowl's inevitable revenge was going to be. Prowl didn't know what they suspected, but he doubted that any of them, Jazz least of all, expected him to lean in, until he and Jazz were almost nose-to-nose.
"Jazz," he practically purred, low enough that he doubted anyone besides Jazz could hear, even though they were all trying.
"Yes Prowl?" Jazz asked, and Prowl was extremely satisfied to hear the unsteadiness in the saboteur's voice.
"Either put out or stop teasing." Prowl growled, then promptly stepped back, turned around, and walked out, leaving a stunned Jazz behind. The tactician was halfway down the hall before he heard the chatter of the party resume, and he'd actually managed to make it all the way to his quarters before he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Prowl wavered for a moment over whether or not he should wait, and in the end, decided this might as well be finished tonight, one way or another. So he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for Jazz to appear.
He wasn't disappointed - the saboteur came around the corner at a jog, only to stop short when he saw Prowl. Prowl waited as Jazz stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face, and then the saboteur stalked towards him, coming to a stop only a few inches away. Then, a surprisingly tentative black hand came up to slide along a seam in Prowl's armour. The tactician stiffened involuntarily, then relaxed almost immediately afterwards.
Without looking away from Jazz, Prowl pushed away from the wall and reached over to the panel beside his door and punched in the code to unlock it. The door hissed open, the lights automatically coming on at a low setting, as Prowl had programmed them to. Jazz glanced into the room, then looked back at Prowl, and this time, his look was almost predatory. Prowl smirked, then slipped past the saboteur into his room. Jazz followed, the door hissing shut behind him.
- THE END -