TFSC PJ Left behind

(Yes, this is a new story. Yes, I'm still working on the tentacles one. It's giving me lots of problems and I'd be really grateful for some help. The bunny for that story ran away, so writing the second part is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. I've written half of the second part, and though I intend to finish the fic, I'm not so sure when that will be so… yeah. :/ In the meantime, have more kinky PJ)

Pairing: Prowl X Jazz
Universe: G1, or whatever you like
Warnings: Kinky? I don't want to spoil it ;)
Notes: I'm not so sure who makes up the Autobot command team, but I wrote it as Optimus Prime (leader), Prowl (SIC/Head Tactitian), Jazz (TIC/Head of Special Ops/Black Ops), Ironhide (Prime's best friend/I'm not saying Weapons Specialist because that title doesn't earn you a spot on the command team), Wheeljack (Head of Science), Ratchet (Chief Medical Officer), Red Alert (Security Chief), Blaster (Head of Communications)
Is that correct? Differing opinions are welcome.

It was a quiet, peaceful Sunday morning. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the bots on the night shift were just about done. Most bots were sleeping, Prowl and Jazz included. It was one of the rare times that Prowl wasn't up before his alarm, and after such a wild (and kinky) night with Jazz the previous night, it wasn't much of a surprise. All in all, it was a nice, quiet morning, and... It was the perfect morning for the Ark's resident prankster to strike.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of noise. Over the ship-wide PA system came a female voice screaming "OH MY GOD!" followed by dubstep of insane decibels. There were various shouts of fright, followed by cursing and swearing, and general annoyance from the bots who were rudely awakened.

Prowl jerked awake, sitting up so violently that Jazz was thrown off him.

"Sideswipe," he growled, mood immediately souring. He swept out of the room, and Jazz entertained himself for a moment by imagining a storm cloud around Prowl's head. With a chuckle, he sat up groggily and surveyed their room.

It was a complete mess. Chains, cuffs, collars, whips, empty energon cubes and more were scattered everywhere. Prowl would usually clear up, but seeing that he was currently indisposed, Jazz sighed and got down to work.

Once he'd managed to tell his processor to deal with the dubstep like it was background music, Jazz was done not too long after. Everything was stowed away in their proper cases and he was just about to stuff the lot back under the berth when he knocked his knuckles on something. Groping around, he found a remote. Funny, he thought. I don't remember this one. He stood and swept another look across the room. Maybe it's Prowls, but whatever it is, I can't find the case... Or the vibrator. It must have rolled under somewhere...

Just then, blessed silence fell and bots could be heard cheering through the bulkhead. The silence was short-lived, however, as Prowl's voice came over the comm. system.

"Officers," he said, voice a controlled calm. "I am assembling a meeting now." Ooh, Jazz thought. He's using his scary voice. He must be really pissed off. "Meet in the conference room in two minutes. Prowl out."

With a sigh, Jazz slipped the remote into subspace and headed out the door.

Unsurprisingly, Prowl slapped his palms down on the table and started his rant with "Something has to be done about Sideswipe."

These kinds of meetings didn't happen regularly enough to say they happened often, but they did happen often enough that Autobot High Command was pretty much used to it. These meetings happened when Sideswipe pushed Prowl's patience too far, and they mostly consisted of Prowl ranting about Sideswipe till he ran out of steam. And Prowl had a lot of stamina.

Everyone settled in for a long and unpleasant 'meeting'. It wasn't long before Wheeljack began to fiddle with something under the table, and Optimus started nudging Ironhide when the latter began to fall into recharge, and for Red Alert started getting twitchy about not sitting in front of his precious security camera feed screens. Usually, Jazz would arrange himself into a position that suggested he was listening, keep his visor on and fall into recharge, but it was still early in the day and he began to grow restless.

He dug around in subspace to find something to play with, and his fingers closed around a familiar object. Jazz leaned forward, and as casually as possible, he slipped it into his hands and wedged his hands between his knees.

It was a relatively simple design. There was an on/off button, and a dial to adjust strength. For the lack of something better to do, he began to twiddle the dial, then he depressed the on button.

"And just last week. He-" Prowl froze abruptly, hand lifted in mid-gesture, optic twitching slightly. The silence was deafening. A chair creaked as Ratchet leaned forward.

"Prowl," he said carefully. "Are you alright?" Prowl didn't respond. Just when Ratchet considered scanning him, Prowl snapped upright and jerked a nod.

"Yes," he said rather stiffly. "I am. Fine."

Prowl dragged in a deep vent of air. Jazz switched the vibrator off and Prowl visibly relaxed. Prowl cast a cursory glance around the room before letting his gaze linger on Jazz, optics narrowing.

Jazz bit his tongue to forcibly quash a growing grin. Don't tell me... It's in him? Jazz let a crooked smirk through. Oh, this meeting is gonna be fun.

Jazz switched on the vibrator and set it to low, continuing to smirk back. Prowl's optics narrowed further. The game was on.

Optimus looked to Jazz, who had wiped the grin off his face. Jazz shrugged, the perfect picture of innocence, and Optimus turned back to Prowl. "Prowl? Are you-"

"I assure you, sir, I am fine. Now moving on..."

Prowl was trying to wrap up the meeting as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible. Jazz was having none of that.

"So we'll leave him in the brig for longer this time and see if it works. Meeting adjourned-"

"Prowl," Jazz drawled, tipping his seat back on two legs and lazily sticking his hand in the air. Prowl flinched. "I have a suggestion." Jazz grinned, bringing the strength of the vibrator up a notch, the remote safely concealed in his other palm. Prowl's mouth flattened into a hard line, but otherwise, he showed no reaction. Ooh, he's good.

"Go on, Jazz. We don't have all day." Prowl was using his Not Amused voice, and his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. Optimus and Ratchet exchanged suspicious glances.

"Well." Jazz let his chair drop back on all four legs with a clang. "You know how you've been saying that Sideswipe is perpetually naughty; doing stuff like swapping the car shampoo with paint stripper, or spiking the energon, or rigging the energon dispenser to spray energon at bots, or-"

"Yes," Prowl cut in. "We've already discussed this. If you have nothing further to add-"

"Oh but I do," Jazz took his own sweet time to ease the words out. Prowl's control was pretty darn good, but it wasn't perfect. Jazz just needed it to crack. He turned the vibrator up another notch. "Generally your solution is to chuck him in the brig and hope that it would make some significant difference to his personality and that he would emerge from his stint in the brig a completely different mech. Obviously, this isn't the case. Just ask anyone. He's the same since the day he was sparked, isn't he-"

"Jazz," Prowl ground out. "Get. To. The. Point."

"So, my point is," and here he paused for dramatic effect, "why don't we try something... Different?"

"Hm. Do tell." Ratchet seemed intrigued.

"Something... More creative." Another notch up.

Prowl's cooling fans kicked into high gear. They sputtered for a moment, then stilled completely as he forcibly shut them off.

Everyone was about to stare at Prowl, but Jazz diverted their attention. "Perhaps... Getting him to clean the rec room floor with a toothbrush." Jazz twiddled the dial, creating a pulsing rhythm. Prowl twitched, thighs trembling. "Or lock him up with the Dinobots."

"Jazz." Prowl interrupted, striding up to the table, fingers curling too tightly around the ledge. "I really have... Matters to attend to. Perhaps we can continue this discussion later-"

"But Prowl." Jazz grinned lazily, practically tasting the victory. Prowl was coming in front of the whole command team and there was nothing he could do about it. His dignity would not let him flee or beg. "I think I have a fantastic idea that will work."

"Jazz-"

"I propose popping him in stasis cuffs and handing him over to me to suffer my... Special treatment." Jazz felt truly evil, but it was completely worth it. Prowl made a sort of strangled gasp, fingers screeching against the table's surface. His optics flashed white, mouth dropping open, and his doorwings trembled, reflections from the ceiling lights jittering crazily over the glossy panels. Jazz saw none of that, though. He'd seen Prowl overload enough times already. Instead, his attention was on everyone else.

Wheeljack looked confused. So did Optimus, but Optimus looked more worried than Wheeljack did. Ratchet and Ironhide recognised what was happening to Prowl, and both wore identical horrified expressions. Red Alert almost went on a fritz, immediately suspecting 'con involvement. Blaster looked shocked, but he recovered quickly and looked around with a thoughtful smile. Jazz was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and when he caught Blaster's gaze, he quickly tamed his grin, but Blaster quirked an enigmatic smile and looked back at Prowl.

There was a crack and a hiss and a building whine as Prowl's coolant system submitted to the strain of his overheated body and he allowed his cooling fans back on. Prowl lifted his head, and when Jazz met his murderous gaze, the grin was wiped off his face. Steam began to billow out of Prowl's vents and he manually vented a gust of air, the hot clouds wisping around his cheeks. Prowl straightened. A loud crack echoed in the room as his spinal column realigned. Even Red Alert had fallen silent.

Prowl wasn't a large mech, but the way he stood, with his doorwings held high and wide, fists clenched tight and frame shrouded in mist, made his presence fill the room. The light from the ceiling behind his head cast his face in shadows.

'You are so dead,' Blaster informed Jazz over a private channel. Jazz was about to reply but Prowl moved.

He was a lightning white blur as he leapt onto the table and launched off to tackle Jazz. Pure instinct saved the saboteur as he flung himself out of the chair and towards the door. Prowl compensated for Jazz's movement, using his momentum to tip the vacated chair over and to flip back onto his two feet. Jazz bolted. Prowl followed, for all intents and purposes to kill and main Jazz as his tanto blades slipped into his palms. Gradually, the sound of running footsteps faded, then there were twin sounds of screeching tyres, followed by wailing police sirens. That, too, eventually faded and all was quiet within the meeting room.

Optimus broke the silence. "What just happened?" He sounded dazed.

Blaster leaned down and scooped the remote off the floor, which Jazz had dropped in his haste to flee Prowl's wrath. Popping it into his subspace, he quirked a grin. "I think Jazz just lost the game."

Jazz was not seen or heard of since that day. Prowl was back to normal the next day, but Jazz had simply vanished. Not even Red Alert could locate him, and this frustrated the Security Director. But in order to find Jazz, Red Alert would have to speak to Prowl, and... He didn't really want to do that. Prowl quietly took on Jazz's duties in addition to his own, and he acted as if nothing had happened. The same went for the rest of the command team. The rest of the crew was told that Jazz was currently indisposed and any other information was classified. Then, out of the blue about a week later, Jazz came back and fit himself back into everyone's lives. But something had changed. With other bots, he was his usual friendly and outgoing self. Around Prowl... He was noticeably more subdued. He spoke quietly to Prowl, not meeting the tactician's gaze. Since they rarely appeared as a pair in public, nobody noticed. The command team did notice, but they weren't sure they wanted to know what happened to Jazz. Whatever it was, they didn't ask and Prowl didn't tell…

A/N: so you know how I like to do my stories in two parts and ask you a question. ;) so. Question is... What happened to Jazz? And what will Prowl and Jazz to do Sideswipe? Ooh, it's only gonna get better.

Cookies to whoever knows the dubstep Sideswipe was blasting over the PA system. Also, tanto blades are short Japanese daggers. This is a reference to Prowl's TFA to: MACROBUTTON HTML Send