A Night in Paris
Okay. So. I've never written smut before. Um. So. I apologize if this is just, well, not good. It's not entirely without plot, just not within this story. If you want to know why the hell Jazz and Thundercracker are even remotely near each other in the scheme of Bayverse, I would suggest you read my main fanfic this is based within, called Fallout. If you're here because you read Fallout and Fallout: Apocalypse, well, here is some long awaited proof that Jazz and TC are actually together. This is set prior to them meeting Rachel and long before their group of eleven forms. It takes place after "Devotion," for better time reference.
The title probably made me laugh way more than it should have.
Many thanks to my beta Shantastic for looking this over! I also (happily) blame femme4jack and chaitea16 for encouraging me to get this done. ;)
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. I only write this mess.
Warnings: slash, sexual content, tactile, minor size kink (technically?), general apocalypse gloominess, France
The Earth had its merits. Even ex-Decepticon Seekers eventually had to admit that fact. Jazz, however, had always seen the light and he had cherished Earth culture like a dying man would water. Not that his partner ever really understood the need—or the metaphor—but for Jazz, every little bit he could salvage or pretend to have was sweeter than the most prized high-grade.
They were in France, again. It was a huge country and Jazz was sad he had never managed to visit when times were still relatively good for Earth and her native race. Galvatron's legacy, the drones, had torn up the cities and civilizations in Europe just as they had in the Americas and in Asia. But here the humans had not attempted to destroy the drones by attacking their own cities with nuclear weapons, leaving the cities were mostly intact, even if they were vacant. Here, Jazz could pretend to himself that the towns were just sleeping and its people were still there, just… hidden. Safe.
It was still disheartening to walk through the ghost towns, where cars lay abandoned on the roads, and remnants of life hung absently in the air, as if the participants had just stepped away for a moment. There were bread trucks standing open on roadsides, bikes turned over at the edges of bridges, the remnants of laundry still hanging on the lines and open windows high above the streets with ragged curtains that flowed out into the December air like ghosts.
When they had first teamed up, back in the States, Jazz and Thundercracker had agreed to avoid cities and most towns. Although they needed to raid them for gasoline and the occasional spare part, they knew the drones frequented the cities in search of survivors. They still had to be careful, because as much as teaming up had saved them both, they couldn't afford to take the risk that they would run into a group of drones they couldn't defeat.
…Which was why walking straight up to the Arc de Triomphe made Jazz both terrified and gleeful. He had always wanted to visit Europe's most infamous city, but having to look constantly over his shoulder was a bit unnerving. He didn't tell Thundercracker, but he had worked to map their route through Paris to pass various famous locations he had data files on. Just to see them, if never again in his lifetime. He gazed up at the huge arch as they walked through it.
"We should try to find some shelter," Thundercracker said as they continued to make their way eastward, speaking for the first time since they had made their way across the Seine at pont de Neuilly. As they walked, Jazz couldn't keep his optics from wandering to the Eiffel Tower, clearly visible to the south. They were so close…
But it was already dusk and Jazz felt guilty for having dragged out their stay in the city that long. He suspected Thundercracker knew what he'd been doing, but had said nothing. Because Thundercracker was incredibly patient with his desperate attempts to see Earth's lost culture.
Just past the remains of the Opéra de Paris, when Jazz's spark started to ache with the thought that he would never hear music there, Thundercracker pointed them down a side street. Jazz pretended he could see the shadows of busy Parisians going about their lives. He let Thundercracker pick the place; pushing their way through the remains of a bank and into a courtyard behind, they found a half-collapsed storage shed next to a greenhouse. The roof of the shed was caved in and it leaned precariously against the building, but it allowed for the massive Decepticon jet to slip in. Jazz lingered on the edges of the exposed entrance, staring upwards. The sun was finally setting, somewhere behind the other buildings.
"You like this place," Thundercracker said, sounding calm.
Jazz smiled back at him wryly. "Yeah. I do." It was hard not to.
"Hn." The rubble shifted again as Thundercracker moved closer. Jazz turned and saw the larger mech stare at him with a guarded expression. "Come inside."
Normally, Jazz would either teasingly refuse or simply acquiesce to avoid causing a scene. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do now. He wanted to keep watching the skyline and the empty buildings, dreaming that things were different. He wanted to see things spring to life most of all, but he knew that wasn't going to happen.
Thundercracker merely stood there, waiting for Jazz's next move. Jazz considered just going inside—
But then, a thought struck him.
…Why the frag not?
The smaller mech peered up at the larger flier, who was tall enough to block out the fading, dim sun beyond them.
"You know, we are in Paris," Jazz said, grinning winningly.
"And?" Thundercracker demanded, not understanding.
Realizing that cultural implications would be unrecognized by the Seeker's processors, Jazz decided to forget the foreplay and get to the action—something even the ex-Decepticon jet would undoubtedly appreciate.
He closed the distance between them with two strides and pressed himself flush against the Decepticon's chestplates, as much as he could reach them. Jazz ran his clawed fingers over the dark blue exterior armor on his sides, dragging them lightly back toward the canopy center. He let them hover just under the jet's forward vents and sent teasing magnetic pulses through the white armor. Jazz craned his neck to stare straight into the red optics now burning into his own faceplates.
Yer move, sweetspark.
In the decade or so they'd spent together, spoken words had become superfluous. Thundercracker rarely used them, and Jazz had learned to get his message across without using them either. Especially in situations like this. Thundercracker… was a smart mech.
Jazz bit back a whine when the larger mech ran heavy hands over his wheel wells and danced his fingers teasingly over armor seams. Their electro-magnetic fields both surged and Jazz's fans raced furiously as the pent up desire he hadn't realized he had made itself known like electrical storms within his wiring.
Larger black armored hands grabbed hold of the smaller mech's shoulders and hauled him straight off the ground. If Jazz had any sense left in his war-addled processors, he would have lashed out, fought to be released.
But he didn't lash out. He scrambled for purchase against anything, his systems already straining. Thundercracker either was too distracted by hooking his hands under armor seams or just didn't care, but somehow Jazz found they were turning and was startled when his back collided with the wall of the building, giving him some kind of traction for his pedes.
"You know?" Jazz rasped, sinking his claws behind the armor on either side of Thundercracker's canopy. Their rusted, serrated edges scraped alongside the sensitive wires underneath, making the jet growl again. "You are…ah…"
"An aft," Jazz snarled. He scrambled up higher as Thundercracker rumbled lowly—a laugh—and the plaster on the wall behind them crumbled as the metal scraped against it.
Tangoing with larger partners had never really been Jazz's thing, but it wasn't like he was about to complain now. Thundercracker seemed to know just where to run his hands, stirring up Jazz's EM field something terrible. He was never rushed. The lust was there, but Thundercracker was eternally patient, dragging things out with enough dexterity and precision to drive the usually coherent spy to near-madness.
It was the surging tide of their EM fields that sent Jazz's systems to their peak. His engine roared as the blanket of Thundercracker washed over him. Electrical sparks danced like stars across their armor.
Clumsy, drunk hands fumbled at Jazz's side, blindly reaching for his interface panel. Jazz struggled to remain upright against the wall as he tried to reach for Thundercracker's own panel on the left side of his forward armor. Without a word of complaint or understanding, Thundercracker hoisted the smaller 'Bot up until they were face to face again, his single arm steadying and supporting Jazz's weight entirely. The sheer strength there was enough to make Jazz's engines rev louder.
Hands free, Jazz grabbed at his mate's interface panel, silver claws digging out the cover that was all too willing to give. Thundercracker shuddered and pressed Jazz further against the wall. The jet's chestplates were hot enough to fog his canopy in the frigid air, right up to Jazz's visor, making the grounder's already cloudy vision darken further.
Jazz barely felt Thundercracker untangle his interface cable as he awkwardly pulled the jet's own cable free. His sensors were on fire and the combination of their rumbling systems made it difficult for Jazz to remain aware of what his heavy limbs were doing. Somehow though, they managed to fumble through their haze of passion; the subtle click of the nodules connecting was like a gunshot.
All at once, his processor spun wildly out of control. Jazz found himself trapped in Thundercracker's optics, the feeling mutual, as their systems tried to collide cohesively when their firewalls were willingly taken down. Jazz didn't wait, sending his feral thoughts across the link, slamming into Thundercracker's mind. The jet growled, and their thoughts and lust tangled in a flurry of vertigo.
Thundercracker pressed his face into Jazz's neck cables, pushing the saboteur's face up in sync with a ragged gasp that somehow escaped from Jazz's vocalizer. Jazz offlined his visor and rested his open mouth against Thundercracker's helm as the shifting of data and swirling of emotions lust love desire dragged his consciousness to another level. Sometimes Jazz wished they were organics, to truly feel the benefits of touch, but—
There was the chaos of the link. It swamped coherency, logic, fears, and doubts. It dragged mechs down into pure emotion that originated from the depth of two sparks, letting everything else just go.
Yeah, organics got nothing on that.
The world shifted, in more ways than one. Jazz stumbled mentally as he was suddenly hit with another data burst, full of sensations that made his wiring sizzle under his superheated armor. The saboteur felt the hand supporting his waist disappear and he scrambled for a moment—mind halfway between two places as he tried to reconcile reality for the one full of Thundercracker—before realizing he was no longer vertical. Thundercracker had lain down, Jazz splayed out over his canopy, and Jazz found himself looking down now at the dark faceplates.
He took advantage of that fact. His hands latched onto the wings now flared out on the ground, his claws scraping along the rivets and scars. Thundercracker let out a snarl and his larger hands closed around Jazz's waist again. His grip was so tight the metal threatened to buckle, but Jazz was far too preoccupied with the increasingly incoherent swirling of pleasure the link was throwing his way to notice any pain, the waves of desire catching him up and pulling him back down.
The swirl of being, the waves of emotions that mirrored each other so finely, it was an overdose of sensation—Jazz shuddered. Reality trembled with blurs of color and the roar of his spark. Thundercracker was always so quiet, but his mind was loud, loud enough to nearly mute the sound of metal scraping metal, of engines roaring, and wires crackling.
He heard the faint roaring and the rumbling whispers of I love you and youareperfection at the edges of his processor where Jazz ended and Thundercracker began. Jazz fought vertigo, if only to keep staring into those darkened optics below him. They were his only tether to the physical world now. Everything else—the drones, the Earth, their losses, the universe itself—failed to matter spectacularly.
Jazz lost sight of them the moment their entwined minds reached the breaking point. A crescendo of sensation swept him from physical reality into a pure state of simply being—no more Jazz, no more Autobot, just them, only them.
Physical feeling came back in dregs, like rain on glass. Jazz heard his engines still racing, a tenor counterpoint to the deep bass rumbling beneath him. He could feel Thundercracker's chestplates heave and crackle as their EM fields fluttered over them in a cloud and their systems cooled. Jazz belatedly realized his claws had sunk down into Thundercracker's shoulders and he tentatively removed them. The jet hissed, but only drew Jazz closer. Through the haze, Jazz could hear the echoes of his own mental apology blend and dissolve with Thundercracker's dismissal.
Grinning, Jazz shakily found the strength to lean up over the golden canopy. Thundercracker peered back and ran lazy hands over the silver Autobot on top of him.
The only lights left in the sky were the strongest of stars fighting through the smog. Jazz felt illuminated where he lay, however, by the intermixing of blue and red optics blazing through the night air between them.
"Haaaa, guess what," Jazz said over the hiss of engines sizzling and the groaning of joints as he shifted on top of the jet. He looked down at the red optics beneath him, which were still hazy, an odd look for the jet in particular.
"What?" Thundercracker grunted. He ran smoothing hands over Jazz's wheel struts and the lingering EM discharge cloud.
Jazz shivered. "We're in Paris," he said, grinning.
The jet stopped moving and scowled. "What does that even mean?" he asked.
"C'est la cité d'amour," Jazz sighed dramatically as he clung closer.
Thundercracker stared at him with a long-suffering look. "You are stupid."
"And yours," Jazz preened, pressing his faceplates into the jet's neck.
The mech beneath him rumbled—Jazz didn't need to be sparkbound to him to know Thundercracker was happy, content, in love—because that's exactly what Jazz was. This was more than something physical. The tangible paled in comparison to the expression of deeper feelings that bound them in a way that transcended the body, the spark.
Earth tied them together with its misery, its despair, but it tied them even closer with something the watery world also gave to all its wayward inhabitants. Jazz missed his home, the long-lost world of Cybertron, but as night fell upon them, he gazed up past his last remaining source of strength and saw the stars gleam down bravely through a broken sky.
He could live with this.
Aaaand now I'm going to sit here and wonder why my brain decided to make this really weird pairing. ;) Hope you enjoyed!