#mecha pilot Jazz au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

typewritingyip · 3 days ago

Text

Arcturus Negative One

“Love is a simple, beautiful thing in the way it helps us feel seen, known, and less alone.” - Topher Kearby

Paraxus: 7 Cycles Before the Attack of New Kaon

———

Transport shuttles were never comfortable rides, they probably could be but the utilitarian ones that they frequented were far from it. His suit was leaned against the wall, head turned just enough to watch the skyline go rushing by through it was most turned to face the better view.

Prowl was reading over a tablet, also standing since the seats were less than optimal for his door-wings but the shuttles that were accommodating didn’t often leave Paraxus anymore.

Smiling softly, Jazz leans his head against the wall, no longer looking out the window and instead gazing at Prowl. Waiting patiently, watching as Prowl’s door-wings flicked once, then twice before he looked up from his tablet. Jazz’s visor lightly some, showing his subtle way of letting Prowl know he was smiling. Prowl’s door-wings flicked again as he attempted to hide a smile, looking back to the tablet.

That was all Jazz needed to almost melt, the subtle acknowledgment. It was still an hour or two till they reached Paraxus and he knew Prowler preferred to work while traveling. Turning his head, he looked back out the window to watch Cybertron rush by. In the last, now five and a half years, he never through for even a second that he’d be so content here as he was now.

Even with the war, even millions of miles from Earth, he felt at home whenever Prowler was around and that was enough for him. Sighing, he closes his eyes, head leaned against the side of the transport.

Prowl was watching him, unable to hide the smile on his face for more than a few seconds.

—

For the first year that he was with Cybertronian’s, the only city that he saw was Iacon. Mostly because he spent the first half of the year in space with Prowler, but everyone says that that didn’t really count as a proper introduction.

What did they know though, those first six months had been thrilling in a way that Jazz hadn’t ever experienced before.

Everything after that, all those long nights in Iacon and the struggle for survival had been enough to cement his place in Prowl’s life and amongst the Cybertronian army. It was almost odd, being a pilot was one thing but being apart of an army was another.

It was after that first year, did he start seeing their world. All of it felt absurdly large at first, vast and mesmerizing. What he got to see of it before it was described.

When it had been described to him, Jazz had been mesmerized by the shining city-state Prowl had once called home. Of course, nothing was the same as it was in memories from before a war that almost destroyed there planet. He knew that first hand from the loss of his own home.

Detroit hadn’t been much, but it had been home.

Paraxus was rebuilding though and there were some who were coming back; Prowl, Smokescreen, and Bluestreak had an apartment towards the city center that Smokey spent the most time at. But for the times like this, Jazz was thankful that they shared it. It made the travel easier, at least that was their shared justification for it.

Made the terrible transport shuttles worth it.

Walking through downtown Paraxus was always a sight though, it was the area with the most rebuilt structures and the done for the crystal gardens was going up slowly. They were able to walk together here, in Iacon the sidewalks were just a little too crowded to stand side by side where as in Paraxus they were designed so two mechs could pass each other even with their door-wings extended. It was almost funny, how the different city-states worked.

The apartment was Jazz’s favorite part though, above the city center and with a window that stared down on the new gardens, in a few years this place would have been unaffordable to any of them, but Prowl had priorities for his family and one of those was ensuring their happiness. Even in this subtle way.

Perched on the windowsill, he was leaned back against it while watching the city. Prowler was off somewhere attending to some business before their assignment in the next few days, a moment of calm before the storm. Chuckling slightly, he snags his water pouch to sip.

He had never really expected snow, it wasn’t on the forecast for the week, let alone he hadn’t expected it to be much of a thing on Cybertron but he’d been proved wrong before. He’d probably be proven wrong again. It was soft flakes, floating down behind the metal made glass.

The door to the apartment slid open and he turned, pausing and gawking.

Prowl was out of breath and he had paint flaking off, there was the tiniest bit of snow that slid off his plating, taking the paint with it, “Acid snow.” And Jazz continued to stare, “Why, why the pit is the water of this planet toxic?” Standing slowly, Jazz sheds the blanket that had been around his shoulders. Prowl shakes off his hands a bit, flicking the water to the floor, “Because we were fools, and there was a 27% chance that the bombs would not make the water acidic.” Jazz’s frowned, sitting down on the edge of the sill.

“Who dropped them?” Prowl sighed, it was the obvious question, “It’s rather the question of who did it first.” Jazz’s rolled his eyes and slid down the wall with practiced ease, walking towards Prowl, “Prowler, your war sounds terrible.” Prowl, lowering a hand for Jazz, tried not to roll his optics, “It was, as we’ve said a million times before.” Slowly, he lifted Jazz to his shoulder.

A smile reached his face, one that very few things could bring out, one of them being Jazz’s desire to be close. Even when his paint was peeling or in worse situations, Jazz only ever wanted to be close to him. His weight was familiar and comforting.

Once he was settled, Jazz smiled, “So, how was your meeting?” The throbbing in Prowl’s head returned and he groaned, moving to sit on one of the couches Smokey had picked out, “That bad?” Humming deeply, Prowl sat, “I’d rather hear about your day than recount mine.” Shrugging a bit, Jazz laid back against Prowl’s shoulder, looking at the mech with a soft smile, “Better now that you’re home.” He loved the way Prowl’s face would heat up.

It simply made his day every time.

—

Nighttime in Paraxus was beautiful, mostly because you could see the stars without so many of the lights that were in Iacon.

Every part of Jazz ached, having spent the day dispatching the random Quintesson scouts in the area. They still weren’t entirely sure where they were coming from or how they were getting to the edge of the cities.

His suit looked worse for wear, covered in scratches and dents, along with the familiar green gore of the enemy.

Laying back on Prowl was bringing him enough peace though, eyes closed, holding a cooling pack to his bruised eye. One of the hanging cords in his suit had swung around to hit him in the face while climbing out, it was honestly just the icing on the shitty cake that had been today.

Prowl was silently worrying, going through his datapad silently, normally he was able to handle these sort of events but his nerves were frayed after seeing Breakdown stuck in the dark. To hear all the new horrific angles of what it meant to be a pilot in the last several weeks to months.

It was getting harder to try and maintain. Worrying silently, but hoping to bring comfort.

Jazz, the bright light he was in Prowl’s world, rubbed his shoulder with his free hand, “I can hear you thinking too hard, I’m alright Prowler, I swear it.” Prowl glanced, and almost relaxed at the slight smile to Jazz’s face, almost.

”I worry,” Jazz smiled, “I know, but I am alright and I will continue to be alright. I’m not going anywhere.” He sat up slowly and shuffled slightly awkwardly on Prowl’s shoulder till he was up next to his head, leaning against Prowl’s audio sensors carefully, “Prowler, I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere.” He could have melted, instead he cleared his intake, “I love you Jazz, I will worry when I must.” He knew the right words to bring Jazz in closer, to where his almost non-existent EM field would hum with delight.

It could be enough for tonight, them together, worrying for each other.

This had become their routine, one of them would return back to the apartment, whether in Paraxus or in Iacon. More often than not after a painfully long day, whether physically exhausted or mentally overtaxed, they’d find each other. For a while the silences were awkward and Jazz would attempt to worm his way in. It was a while before he realized that they handled the after a mission differently, but like puzzle pieces their routine fit together. At first Jazz had assumed he was talking over the mech, but it turned out Prowl just liked to listen.

It worked for them, talking and listening, venting in their own ways. Loving each other in the simple subtle ways that healthy relationships only could.

They may be unconventional, but they preferred it that way. Both high profile outcasts, it simply worked.

—

Paraxus: Cycle After Attack

Jazz was asleep, not on his shoulder for once and it almost made his spark ache. It was something they’d grown used to, that bit of close connection since both lacked the typical ways of the others’ species. Venting, Prowl frowns down at the datapad in his servos.

The reports had been flooding in for the better part of the day while Jazz was clearing the infestation of scouts and Prowl was attending to the new technicians. Glancing towards Jazz, he thought for a long moment of joining him in recharge. It was always easier to do so when Jazz was snoring close by, but with another vent, he turns on the display.

It didn’t take long for the helm ache to hit like, as Jazz puts it, a ton of bricks. Swiping through the basics, the frown turned into a scowl.

Standing, he quietly left the hab and moved over towards the workstation, fingers itching painfully as the numbers ran through his mind. It took only a moment to call up to command, getting Blaster over comms instead of Soundwave, likely because of the hour.

Blaster’s smile was bright, “Prowl, what can I do for you?” His scowl didn’t waver, “Connect me with the Lord High Protector and with Commander Ironhide.” Blaster winced, “Ah, you’ve heard about the humans.” He hummed darkly. Wincing again, Blaster adjusted, “Connecting now.”

It took only a kilk before the scenes of Megatron’s typical command center came into view from two different angles, Ironhide filling one screen looking tired and Megatron filling the other, looking pissed off.

“It was written. In bold. On the front of the document.” Prowl’s voice didn’t waver, he was glaring at the screen. Megatron dragged a hand down his face and Ironhide sighed, “How did I know this would be about the humans?” His glare didn’t waiver.

His jaw was set, “I wrote the document for their safety and for yours, and now look at where you both are at. It was bad enough that Breakdown was hurt before it could be finalized.” Megatron rested his head on the desk and Ironhide was shaking his head, “I mean no offense Prowl, but do you know how many mecha just toss out your reports? The number is a little high.” Ironhide almost shrunk under the glare.

Prowl took a vent, “I put it on the first page.” Nodding slowly, Ironhide shifted on either a crate or stool given the height, 87% chance it was a crate with a dwindling 23% chance of it being a stool, “Yeah, well, uh. I had other things that were requiring my immediate attention.” He cleared his vocalizer lightly.

Nodding slowly, Prowl folded his hands carefully, while Ironhide shrunk back, “And now Sunstreaker has a shattered visor, which is being replaced. And you.” Prowl turned slightly to look at Megatron, scowl depending at the pathetic state of the Lord High Protector.

Megatron shifts slightly on his seat, finally lifting his head, “I received the report while in conference when I first arrived on New Kaon, I was slightly occupied with ensuring Hound would not get lost.” Which was much more reasonable of an excuse, but still an excuse.

“I can assure you, he was not the one you needed to worry about wandering off.” His optic twitched, suppressing anger, to think that Hound would just run off for a fun day in the city was absurd.

Clearing his own vocalizer, Megatron shifts on his stool (76% with a 9% chance at it being a crate), “And then we became engaged for the foreseeable future. Hound more often out of my sight than in it.”

Prowl honestly wished to take his shoulders and shake them while screaming in his face, “That’s the concern! One of the primary listings in the document says, if it is quiet then something is wrong.” He rested his hands on the table, trying not to peel the fresh paint Jazz had been kind enough to assist with.

“I assumed Mirage was taking care of it, since Hound would only speak with him.” Megatron’s voice was tired and Prowl’s optic twitched again, “Mirage?” Off-lining his optics, Megatron rubbed his face, it did sound just as stupid to him as it was to Prowl then.

After a moment, Prowl was hitting his helm on the desk, “And now you have seen their version of a crash, more violent and more deadly. They aren’t built to withstand it. As much as we may hate their higher-ups, this is a fact of their life. One we cannot avoid or preach at.” He looked back to Megatron specifically, Ironhide almost hiding in the call.

He was thankful the Civi only shattered his visor rather than whatever Hound was going through, though he knew that it was only a matter of time before there would be a big meeting on new regulations for weapons around humans.

Megatron’s expression darkened, “They should have never been built into these pilots if they can not physically handle it.” His claws screeched against his palms when his hands balled into fists.

Prowl vented, “Jazz told me they were never meant to be like this, they were not designed for this at their inception. Their new forms were an act of desperation as you’ve heard.” He takes a slow vent, “When I asked him what their species' original purpose was, he said that he did not know and each person had a different assumption.” The memory almost brought a smile to his face plates, “His was of thought and art. It’s why they send their music and stories to the stars. They hoped someone would hear them.” It was heartbreaking.

“Just the wrong species did first.” Megatron’s voice was low, dangerous.

Nodding slowly, Prowl looked towards the hab, “Unfortunately.” Taking a moment, he stared towards where Jazz was sleeping and felt so tired now. Venting again, he looks back, “We will continue this conversation in the morning, when the humans safety is assured and I am not too tired to not yell or explain.” He didn’t even give them a chance to argue before disconnecting.

Shutting down the terminal for the night cycle, he looked back and stood, making his way back into the hab. Silent, listening to Jazz’s quiet snores.

He got to settle himself on his berth, offlining his optics next to the human that he loved.

———

A/N

So, this is not part 36, mainly because that part will probably be painfully long and I did not have a ton of time to write this week. My best friend is in town for her spring break and I wanted to spend time with her. :)

Anyways, part 36 might be out on Monday but I doubt it, probably Tuesday at the earliest so enjoy my attempt at writing JazzProwl. I promise my other romances wont seem so pained.