Work Text:
Jazz threw back his helm as he laughed, EM field exploding with humor. Prowl twitched his doorwings, a smile that was fighting its way through his poker face crinkling the edges of his optics as the sudden blast of amusement hit him.
“I fail to understand how my threat was that funny, Jazz.”
“It’s…” Jazz took a deep vent in, mouth still twitching. Prowl’s optics crinkled a little more at the sheer mirth of his conjunx. “Ya really told Sideswipe that ya’d…” Jazz couldn’t finish his sentence, breaking into more cackling, falling across Prowl’s lap as optical fluid flowed from underneath his visor. Prowl’s field filled with fondness as he wiped away the fluid. Jazz reached up and, pushing up on one arm, pulled Prowl down into a kiss as his own field returned the sentiment.
“Yer a terrible, terrible mech, ya know that?” He said as he broke away, leaning his forehelm against Prowl’s chevron.
“I would forget, only you remind me of that on a near daily basis.” Prowl leaned down again, capturing Jazz’s lips once more.
The two mechs settled down (despite Jazz still bursting out in abortive snickers every now and then). Jazz got into a more comfortable position, helm in Prowl’s lap as Prowl picked his book back up. They had found a rare day where neither needed to be on duty all day on the Ark, where the weather was clear, and where the Decepticons were still nursing their wounds from the last skirmish.
As a result, the two had taken one look at each other, stuffed one of Jazz’s many blankets, Prowl’s book, Jazz’s electro-bass, and their daily rations into subspaces, and after dropping Optimus a line to let him know they’d be back that evening, had transformed and raced each other to a hilltop about twenty miles out from the Ark, outside of patrol range but where they could still get back quickly if they needed to. They’d set up the blanket underneath a large tree, and had already spent several hours just sitting here, alternately talking, Jazz playing, and Prowl reading, sometimes out loud.
Jazz couldn’t say that he always cared for Prowl’s biographies, and Prowl sometimes found Jazz’s music a little loud or abrasive, but out here, on the hilltop, none of that really mattered at the moment. Jazz loved the sound of Prowl’s voice, no matter what he was saying, and Prowl admitted the electro-bass had a beautiful echoing sound out here.
The sunshine flickered through the leaves of the tree above them, dappling the two black-and-white mechs in light and dark. A soft breeze rustled the grass as bees buzzed from wildflower to wildflower, completely uninterested in the two mechs stealing what time they could for themselves.
It was, in a word, perfect .
At least it was, until the clouds, previously unnoticed by the pair, rolled in and decided that was the moment to open up the proverbial floodgates. Yelping at the sudden shock of cold, Jazz subspaced his electro-bass and blanket, while Prowl much more calmly, though no less wet (water was already dripping from his doorwings), subspaced his book and their empty cubes.
“If we were still on Cybertron, I would suggest we call a transport, but we will simply have to drive ourselves and get the mud out later.” Prowl’s wings sagged a little as his field filled with resignation . Jazz reached out and took his hand. Prowl, for all his ignoring of his fuel levels and general disinterest in frame maintenance, preferring a more utilitarian polish, did not like being wet.
“Look on th’ bright side, Prowler. Least we’re not on Cybertron, an’ th’ rain here is just water.” Jazz responded, leaning over and kissing Prowl on the cheek.
“That is true.” Prowl conceded.
“An’ I’ll make sure t’ get all th’ mud out when we get back.” Jazz said, kissing Prowl again. “Right now, I want ya t’ dance with m’, Prowler.”
Prowl blinked and confusion crept in. “What?”
Jazz took a step back, still holding Prowl’s hand. “Ya remember tha’ movie tha’ Carly chose for movie night?”
“ Singing in the Rain ?”
Jazz just grinned. “Dance with m’.” He repeated. “Like th’ first time we met.”
Prowl’s wings fluttered again, spraying water everywhere as he allowed Jazz to pull him back toward him, confusion melting away along with resignation as one hand settled on Prowl’s waist as Jazz slowly spun them in a circle, humming an old song from Cybertron. Prowl’s free arm went around Jazz’s shoulder as he recognized it. Their song, the one that had been playing when they’d first crashed into each other in the old dance hall, Jazz a regular patron looking for a little fun, and Prowl a reluctant designated driver. One night had turned into another, and another, and five million more.
Prowl’s wings sprayed water over Jazz as he turned Prowl under his arm, but Jazz just smiled, shaking his helm to clear the water from his visor. Prowl wiped the rest away once he was facing Jazz again, the fondness returning as he lowered his helm to Jazz’s shoulder as they slowly swayed back and forth to the tune that Jazz had switched to his speakers, freeing up his voicebox to quietly sing the lyrics into Prowl’s audial.
“You have the strangest ideas sometimes, Jazz.” Prowl whispered as the song ended, switching to a different old track that both of them remembered.
“Only when I’m with ya, Prowler. Love ya that much.”
“Do you?” Prowl’s field filled with teasing as he lifted his helm off of Jazz’s shoulder. Jazz laughed and kissed the middle of his chevron.
“Loved ya from th’ first time ya got that creep off m’ back.”
Prowl hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his helm back down. “I wonder what happened to him after we went back to my place.”
“Shh, Prowler. Don’t ruin th’ moment.”
Prowl chuckled, but fell silent with a hidden smile. Jazz went back to humming along with the music, the two lost in each other.
The rain kept steadily on, a background beat to the music as the two mechs danced in the downpour, the stolen moments no less perfect for the change in weather and planet.