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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

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Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

#borked my computer trying to update the graphics card #have a thing #steven harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #this is part of an almost finished one shot #eventual #steve/eddie/chrissy #eddie is a dork #100% this oneshot focuses on how dorky his ass is #well that and putting two jocks back together after bad relationships and monster's details both their lives #i called it patchworks because its written to ne weaved through the shows plot and is mostly compliant until vecna #hurt/comfort #breakup

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notsodailycake · 27 days ago

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Ok, this was originally done as an apology for my angsty drabble about Shockwave controlling Prowl then straight up killing Jazz at the end lmao.

Now, with the added fic made from it, I feel like we fans will be needing some fluff, so i bestow yall with this little drabble.

This was based off of a little something that me and my sister have talked about few times. Laughter, and how much that can spiral out of control heh.

Hope this makes yall laugh as much as it made us while writing this (seriously, we ended up going on our own spiral of laughter while trying to get the ideas out to write).

To give the very deserved credits to my sister @saltynsassy31 who wrote down some of the parts of this fic herself, so give your praises to her as well for it!

Mecha pilot au belongs to @keferon

Now onto the fic:

------

"Human laughter scares me"

It had been a normal and quiet afternoon, how did it escalate to this?! That's all Prowl could think of when trying to rationalise this situation, currently holding a wheezing human on his palm.

...

Jazz was out of his suit, needing a break, by Prowl's insistance, to eat something. Despite not being an organic himself, he seems the one most concerned about the condition of his partner. Humans were so fragile, yet somehow very much not, it baffled the mech.

So many things worked against the survival of a human, their own bodies sometimes, the more he learned about it, yet somehow they prevailed.

But he was not about to take any chances, so, in turn, he made sure Jazz would be taken care properly, if not by himself, then by Prowl.

Jazz was sitting down on Prowl's desk, just telling a story from his home planet while the mech listened, the little human insisting that if he needed a break, so did Prowl, and his leader was not opposed to the idea.

As he went on about a random story of his childhood, the human seemed to remember something branching from that train of thought and when he tried to get to the point of the story, something odd happaned.

He snorted a little. That, Prowl has seen the human do a few times, even heard him do this strange noise when he was just seen as the mecha suit itself. He learned quickly that was simply how humans sometimes held their laughter, to try and compose themselves.

But that only seemed to be the start of it. As little by little, Jazz struggled to utter out a single word as he snorted and wheezed slightly the at words.

"Did you- heheh- Did you- Hahaha-"

And as Jazz attempted to say whatever it was he wanted to say, it was as if his body refused and rejected the word, air being sucked in hard with a wheeze before being pushed out even harder that it made a gutteral noise rip out of the human's throat. And if Prowl thought that was all he needed to push out the words he wanted, he was sorely mistaken, as this was only the start.

Jazz suddenly got up from his previous sitted position, wheezing a little as he lifted a trembling hand up to point at the mech, seeming to think that could help with his inability to speak out his thoughts. Instead that just caused him to let out a audial piercing screech. He moved his hands around more, trying to somehow convey whatever it was that caused this reaction, but the way they frantically moved did little to help and actually made whatever was happening to Jazz worse, if that was even possible.

And it was, because suddenly Jazz was clutching at his stomach and throwing himself backward as his voice became a cacophony of scratchy noises and incoherent mumbling, and what alarmed Prowl the most was how Jazz seemed to start getting dizzy and stumbling around, throwing one hand to try and catch anything as he stumbled forward but only swatted at air. Which, Prowl may add, seemed to be something that the human was struggling to take in.

And, if his memory serves him right, he needed that.

Quickly Prowl moved his servo over to Jazz, looming over him to catch him if he were to fall, or even just to serve as support. Jazz seemed to have taken on the offer, leaning a hand over the palm while his other hand clutched at his stomach.

That didn't last long though, as quickly as he made move to look at Prowl's servo, something clicked in his head, and quickly he stumbled back, letting out more uncomfortable and uncontrolled wheezed laughter.

Prowl got intensely more worried at his partner's condition, now deciding to call him out on it. "Jazz, what's wrong? Is everything alright??"

That seemed to have been the wrong move, as although the other had momentarily stopped to look at the mech with tear filled eyes and a strained smile, it quickly devolved to even more incomprehensible laughter and struggle to convey any words. Jazz tried his very best to form any words that would explain the situation, but it only came out as puffed wheezes following a rhythm that Prowl could only guess were the vowls of what he wanted to say, but he could distinguish none of them as he was not all that familiar with the language.

The human quickly fell to his knees, his hands clutched into fits as his knuckles turned white from the pressure and he slammed them on the desk's surface, as yet another strange attempt to bring air into his lungs.

Before Prowl could try and resson any sort of an appropriate action to this, Jazz let out a scream. Much less screechy than before, and much more like a war cry. Prowl wouldn't be surprised if somebot came in questioning what all the commotion was for.

"Jazz!!" Prowl called out exasperated and yet again, that was another wrong move, causing the human to start rolling on the surface of the table as maniacal laughter dripped from his intake, hands flailing around and slamming hard against the table as if that would somehow force his body to breath properly.

Jazz began to stutter, and sometimes his mouth would stay open yet not a single noise would cone out of it, neither did he seem to be taking in or exhaling any air, like he was frozen in the moment before an audial peircing noise ripped from the human's throat after a big gasp of air.

He had flipped over to his side before trying to lift himself up, body trembling with strain, before he suddenly dropped his head and slammed his forehead against the table and reached to place his hands over right behind his audials ears and shakily exclaim "it hurts!" While still smiling. It sent Prowl mixed signals.

The mech sat there in abstant horror as he processed what was being desplayed infront of him. In delayed reaction, Prowl could only mutter one word.

"What?"

And for the third time that was, once again, the wrong reaction as Jazz let out a howling screech at that with more breathless laughter.

Prowl was left clueless as to what he should try and do to help his partner, simply reaching out and gently picking up the tiny, breathless human to see if he could do something to ease the possible pain.

He moved his cupped servo close to his face to try and analyse Jazz's condition. Maybe he should take him to one of the medics who had been helping them so far with organic knowledge, but as far as he knew, this wasn't supposed to be harmful, it was simple human laughter! To express joy or humour to something, and clearly there was a lot of it to cause Jazz to get like this. But he was clearly struggling to breath with this, so it has to be something serious.

Could humans die from something as simple and supposedly joyful as laughter?

Before Prowl could open his intake, Jazz had seemed to have sensed his partner's internal struggle and need to understand it, and quickly placed a tiny hand on his dermas. Although it might have been quite aggressive, and hurt the regular human with its strength, it felt nothing but a pinch to Prowl.

"Don't-" he wheezed out, barely audible to Prowl, the second word lost to another wheezed breath, mouth only mimicking the movement it was supposed to take. Though, this time, the mech understood quite well what he ment.

So he did as instructed, and didn't utter a single word, hoping his optics did the job to deliver his thoughts.

That was the fouth time, and counting, the mech did something wrong, because it seems like his worried glance were funny to the little human. That his concerns for his health were humorous to him. And honestly, Prowl wasn't sure if he should take offence to that or not.

At this point, Prowl could do nothing else other than to sit there, dumbfounded, which was not a situation he felt pleased being in (and didn’t find himself often in, until this human came crashing into his life), as his partner laughed off uncontrollably, slamming his hands over his own knees, or sometimes at the palm of the servo holding him, while clutching his stomach in what seemed to be strained pain.

Prowl made move to get up now, thoroughly done with this and ready to deliver the troubled human to a medic. He was losing too much air at this point and it could very much fatal.

But just as he did, before he could even fully stand from his seat, the mech caught a glance over to Jazz who, despite his struggles with breathing at the moment, waved over an arm in signal for Prowl to stop moving. Prowl raised a questioning brow, which was the fifth wrong move (he might as well just assume everything he does that expresses concern will be a wrong move at this point), as Jazz quickly fell into more laugher, but the exhaustion was clear to any bot as he gasped far more aggressively for air in attempt to stop his uncontrolled laugh.

"Sit." He breathed out, gagging a little at the word before attempting to speak once more. "Don't- haha- move." After more strained giggles, he uttered one more word he deemed necessary; "please."

So Prowl sat down, and watched as Jazz let out whatever was left in his system. To his relief, it seemed like that had been the first correct move Prowl has done over the past joor, as Jazz was finally starting to calm down, fallen flat on his back by now, as he let out exhausted breaths.

It was quiet for a moment, Prowl wasn't sure how long, but slowly Jazz started to move himself from his fallen position to sit back up, using trembling hands to hold himself from the back. It took a little more of breathing before the human decided to speak again, hesitantly, as if to test for himself if it was safe to speak.

"S-sorry about....that"

Prowl was unsure if he should speak up himself, but deemed appropriate enough by now. "Care to....explain, all of that?"

Jazz let out another snort at that, which caused the mech to panic that he might have caused the human to spiral down once more. But he just shook his head while bitting down on his bottom lip, as if to hold his smile from growing.

"I just....lost control."

"Lost control?" Prowl raised a questioning brow, Jazz just kept looking away as if he knew just looking at the mech would cause trouble once more.

"Y-yeah."

Prowl had so many questions about how that was even possible, one such question being whether there could be a system override for such an occasion, but his processor quickly screamed back in reminder that that was not possible.

They sat in silence once more as Jazz caught up with all the air he missed out during his fit, and Prowl contemplated on what or if he should ask something. Finally, after maybe a klik or so, Prowl finally inquired on something.

"Jazz, you looked like you were about to die-"

"Sure felt like it" the human chuckled, Prowl did not find humour on that.

"I'm serious Jazz, could such a simple thing as laughter really kill you?" The most demanding question on his processors, slipping out without a second to stop it. That seemed to have caught his partner off guard, and, thank Primus, such concern was not left for the human's humour as he looked genuinely guilty and possibly conflicted over the question.

"Weeellll..." As he made move to rotate one of his hands, as if to try and roll out a proper answer, the answer itself seemed to click for Prowl.

"Oh my Primus it can." The mech looked utterly horrified at the revelation. "You could have died Jazz-"

"NO! Wait Prowl, stop!" Jazz panicked, quickly trying to console his giant partner. "I would have been fine! It would take alot more to kill me!" That did not seem to comfort the mech.

"How much?!"

"Uhm, ok, 'm honestly not sure." Prowl raised his brows, looking very much not pleased with that answer, but Jazz continued before Prowl could, "but I know that worse case scenario I would've just passed out, but would be able to breath normally again. You'd just have to wait till I woke up again!"

The mech seemed to contemplate whether that was a satisfactory answer or not. He seemed to have landed in the middle.

"You seemed to be in genuine pain though, so pardon my concerns about it."

"'S cuz I was."

"Then why didn't you stop?"

"I just couldn't, 'nd I don't have the answer as to why honestly, so sorry to disappoint. Sometimes we humans just start laughing and it gets out of control, to the point where everything's funny, even a pencil drop could cause the spiral to worsen."

"Or a concerned partner's face?" Prowl mused

Jazz chuckled, "yeah."

After a few seconds, Prowl decided to muse a bit on something. "So, what was it that you wanted to try and tell me earlier?" He smirked down at his partner.

The human just shook his head, chuckling slightly, but not falling down exasperated laughter. "I'm not even gonna try that again."

-----

Final notes. I added a little moment of Jazz pressing the back area of the ears, idk what they're called, while exclaiming he's hurt, and it's from my own personal experience of laughing so much that area would start to hurt from smiling so much, and I'd have to scream out "it hurts!" To try and stop it.

Not sure if anyone else experienced that, so yeah. Either way, thought it be funny to have this happen with Jazz, as I dont think cybertronians can necessarily go through the same issue of laughing so much in insanity because of lack of air. And also, yeah, it can be deadly, but it would take alot for that...as far as I know-

#this was shared in asks and it probably got lost somewhere #but I've been a bit embarrassed to share it for that reason #but like i really enjoyed writing this so like #i thought I'd share it anyways to anyone who might be needing some fluff between the two dorks #cake writes #mecha pilot jazz au #jazzprowl #tf jazz #tf prowl #transformers

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