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The Perils of Refueling (Part 2)
Title: The Perils of Refueling (Part 2)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing. Crack.
“How’s the interrogation going?”
“Ugh. It’s not. Slagging tactician is in stasis lock.”
Jazz tilted his helm wearily, curled up in the far corner of his cell. Keeping his visor off, he strained to listen in on the conversation.
“I thought Command ordered the mech’s injuries be repaired so he could stand up to the process?”
“We did. The Autobot’s fine, physically, but his energy levels are so low he goes into stasis each time we try to question him. Ditto for whenever anyone jacks into his CPU. Crashed quite a few of us trying.”
“Have you tried actually fuelling him?”
“Have I tried- Idiot! You think we haven’t thought of that? We’ve pumped him full of energon, and all that’s done is kept him barely online.”
“Frag. How do the Autobots deal with it then? He’s their slagging head tactician and Second.”
“That’s why I’m here. To ask the other Autoglitch we got on our hands. He’s neutralised?”
“Yeah. Shockwave ordered this one sapped of most of his energon. Can’t escape if he’s got no energy to move.”
“Well great. Another empty. He’s got enough power to talk?”
“Mech hasn’t so much as twitched since we chucked him inside. He shouldn’t be low enough to go into stasis yet.”
Jazz braced for the kick he knew was coming his way. The impact slammed him against the wall, and he bounced off it to tumble in a heap at the Decepticon’s pedes. He lay there, seemingly unable to muster the strength to do anything else.
“Wake up, slagger. I got questions for you.”
“ ‘Bout Prowl. Heh. Bet he’s… got you tearing out circuits figuring out his deal.”
Another kick. “You’re in no position to make smart comments. Tell us how to keep him online.”
“And… why would I do that? S’kinda stupid move.”
“Fine, you want to be difficult?”
Someone grabbed hold of him and lifted him up, and the Ops mech lit his visor dimly as he was dragged out.
“So… where’re we... goin’? Out to refuel?”
“Mute it.”
“Hope it’s… someplace nice. ‘Derstand if you can’t… afford classy though.”
“I said, mute it!”
“Heard… you the first time. Jus’ not listening.”
“Oh, that’s it.”
The world tilted about Jazz as the Decepticon flung him into another room. On the ground, the visored mech peered up at another black and white bot tied to a berth.
“Y’want me to... talk, then y’want... me to shut up. And you didn’t… even buy me a drink ‘fore... going straight to the kinky stuff. You’re a lousy date.”
The mech snarled, lunging forward only to be held back by his comrades. A sharp command had them all falling into line, and Jazz looked in the direction the order had come from.
“Wow. I rated th’big gun.”
The monopticked mech came over to stand in front of him. In his typical inflectionless manner, Shockwave made his demand. “You will tell us how to bring your SIC online without him going into stasis lock.”
“Or you’ll… kill me? S’gonna happen anyway.”
“We will terminate this mech. If the tactician is useless to us, there is no reason for him continue living.” A blaster was pointed at Prowl’s helm, and Jazz’s visor flashed at the sight.
“Wait.”
“Talk.”
Slowly, haltingly, the Ops mech spoke. “Prowl… uses more energy. Tactical programs and… battle computer. Running… them when... captured, gonna start up right... away, when you online him. Drain him pretty… fast.”
“Illogical. Your SIC has been refuelled.”
“Hs’tanks may... be full, Shocky, but the stuff... in them’s not… giving him all the power he needs.”
“Are you saying the fragger runs on highgrade?” The mech who’d dragged him over burst out incredulously and the Autobot Ops head shrugged, an odd gesture for someone lying on the ground.
“Probably… stronger.”
Shockwave cut in, giving orders to the assembled Decepticons. “Purge the Autobot’s tanks. Refuel him with highgrade and keep a constant infusion going.”
“What about the other one?” The purple mech looked down at the black and white mech, crumpled in a pile, visor going faint with energy deprivation.
“Leave him. He is unable to act. The tactician is the main objective.”
= = =
“I don’t believe this. We’ve burned through a whole cycle’s allocation of highgrade for the entire fragging base already, and all we’ve got is his damn designation and rank! As if we didn’t know that before we nabbed him!”
“That other mech did say this one ran on stronger stuff than highgrade. Can’t we hack him?”
“Just did. His defence programs drained him and sent him straight into stasis again. Now we have to wait until his systems process enough highgrade to bring him online without him crashing straight off.”
“You have to admit, it’s a pretty good failsafe.”
“Yeah. Can’t interrogate a bot who’s offline. We’ll probably have to take his CPU apart to see what we can salvage from it if we can’t keep him online for longer.”
“Where’s Shockwave?”
“Megatron wanted a report. He’s gone to give it.”
“You could at least look like you’re doing your job.”
“What, standing guard over two mostly offline Autobots, one of them tied up? Yeah, real hard work.” The mech scoffed, and his companion shrugged, leaving the room.
“Suit yourself. I got better things to do then stare at almost offline mechs.”
As the door shut, the first Decepticon heard a quiet voice behind him. “Th’thing about mostly offline, mech, is that it means I’m still slightly online.”
As the guard dropped to the ground, deactivated, the saboteur staggered over to where Prowl was, fumbling over the mech’s restraints. Blue optics lit up, and the tactician was immediately assisting in the Ops mech in getting himself free. As the doorwinged mech stood, Jazz leant against him, cycling air wearily.
“Now, you gotta get out of here.”
“Not without you.”
“I’m nearly dry, dealing with the guard and getting you free s’all my backup power cells were good for. I’ll only hold you up.”
“We can make it out together.”
Jazz shook his head at the tactician’s insistence. “Prowler, y’got no time to argue wit’ me. The highgrade the ‘Cons pumped into you will only keep you online long enough to scram, and that’s if you keep your programs held back.”
“They’ll kill you!” The chevroned mech hissed, and the Ops bot chuckled humourlessly.
“I’ll be dead before they find me. Main power’s flat. Spares will be going that way in a couple of breems.”
“Drink.”
Jazz rebooted his optics at the glowing cube Prowl held out to him. “Wha? Didn’t they clear your subspace?”
“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you when we get back home to Iacon. Now drink.”
“But… if that’s what I think it is, you’ll need it more than me.”
“We’re prisoners in a Decepticon base. The only tactics called for right now are ‘blow slag up’ and ‘get the frag out’. I won’t require the full cube, and you won’t be able to handle more than half the volume any way.”
Startled, the visored mech laughed, then took the offered energon. “Well then, here’s to getting our afts out of here.” Jazz toasted Prowl, then cautiously drained a third of the cube.
“By the Pit! It tastes like vorns old slag!”
“I’d turn off my chemosensors before consuming it, but the security risk isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”
“Frag, mech. I’ll hook you up with something to help with that. No one should have to taste this every time they refuel!”
“Thank you. Now, are your energy levels high enough for us to leave?”
The Ops mech went silent, visor flickering. Concerned, the tactician prompted him again.
“Jazz?”
“We’re both probably gonna regret this, aren’t we?”
“We’ll both be alive to do so, and that’s all I can ask for.” Prowl smiled ruefully, then started when Jazz abruptly clutched at him, frame practically vibrating.
“Primus!”
“Time to go then.” The doorwinged mech finished the rest of the energon as the saboteur darted over to a console, releasing something into the base’s network. Judging from the slightly manic giggle starting to issue from the mech, Prowl probably didn’t want to know what.
“C’mon Prowler! Let’s boogie!”
That giggle was louder now, and the tactician lost sight of the other black and white as he bolted out the door. Sighing, he set to work disabling as many systems as he could, taking down the security feeds as well to buy Jazz more time. His doors swivelled back and forth, picking up the frantic footfalls of Decepticons scrambling about as alarms started to sound and the lights started to fail.
As mechs neared his position (why they were screaming something about their optics and needing to scrub out their CPUs, the Autobot SIC didn’t dare ponder), Prowl left and ran in the opposite direction, ducking into an empty room as several paint covered bots passed by, swearing up a storm.
Red emergency lights flickered on, and in the distance, the tactician heard Jazz’s giggles morph into full blown Pitspawn cackling, punctuated with explosions. Tracking his comrade by the sounds (and avoiding the strange cloud of purple smoke that wafted from several mechs, their intakes hiccupping frantically as they flailed about trying to escape or disperse the fumes), he eventually found the Ops mech perched atop a shelving unit, snickering at the desperate efforts of Shockwave to shake off the attentions of several strangely amorous drones. The visored bot looked down to spot Prowl, the tactician’s arms folded across his front.
“Jazz. We need to go.”
“Awww.”
“Jazz.”
“But I was just starting to have fun! Spoilsport.”
The chevroned bot sighed again, then smirked up at the saboteur, who looked quizzically back.
“Prowler?”
“Race you!”
And Prowl turned and ran through the chaos of the Decepticon base, closely followed by a gleefully laughing Jazz.
“You slagging cheater you!”
= = =
Jazz caught up with Prowl outside the base, both mechs making it up a short rise and ducking behind the cover of a burnt out structure. Catching the tactician about the waist, he twirled them around a couple of times, then hugged the chevroned mech close, stifling his giggles in a white shoulder.
“Caught you. And now I’m claiming my prize.”
“Oh? I don’t recall setting any terms for our race.” Prowl chuckled, playing along.
“Hah. Since you cheated at the start, I’m cheating now and saying I get a prize.”
“And what would that prize be?”
“This.”
Leaning up, Jazz stole a kiss from the surprised tactician. As Prowl rebooted his optics at the other black and white, the Ops mech purred, nuzzling the SIC’s cheek, murmuring softly into his audio.
“Been wanting to do that for a while now. You’re a fragging good looking mech, Prowler, and I like you, a lot.”
Before the doorwinged mech could respond, a little further off, something else went ‘boom’, and both mechs peered out from behind their shelter to watch the Decepticon base go up in flames. Jazz sighed, wrapping an arm about Prowl. Engines sounded above them, and both looked up with some foreboding, only to relax when they recognised the scout craft touching down as an Autobot one.
“Looks like our ride’s here.”
Ops mech smirked sloppily at SIC, then his visor went dim and Prowl had to catch hold of him as he fell unconscious.
= = =
Jazz onlined, and immediately wished he hadn’t. His head hurt, processors and circuits buzzing and warnings popping up all over. A groan escaped his vocaliser, and suddenly, a gentle hand was running over his helm, soothing some of the pain away.
“Keep your optics off until I can get the lights.”
Obediently, he did as told, recognising that quiet voice as Prowl’s.
“… Where?” He croaked, and heard the tactician’s faint answer.
“Your quarters, Iacon Central. Ratchet says you’ll have a massive hangover until your systems can recover from handling all that energy at once, so you’re going to have to stay in here where your specially soundproofed walls will keep you from wanting to ‘remove your CPU with your bare hands’. You can online your optics now.”
“Oh.” As he regained his vision, Jazz sat up and cast about the darkened room, making a distressed noise as that first sudden movement caused the walls to shift about him. Prowl approached, lit by the glow of his optics and a cube that the saboteur eyed warily.
“It’s normal energon. I doubt you’ll want my particular poison again any time soon.”
“Heh, got that right. The buzz is one thing, but frag if this isn’t the hangover fit to make the Unmaker himself beg for mercy.”
Prowl smiled wryly at Jazz as he sat beside the Ops mech, helping him sip the pink liquid. “You did say we’d both regret it.”
Jazz looked at the tactician, then down at his hands, suddenly going quiet. “… I’m sorry.”
“For what? Single handedly traumatising a base full of Decepticons and destroying said base soon after?”
“For the kiss. And… after.”
The cube of energon was put away and Prowl knelt before the other black and white.
“That... would be the one part of this whole affair that I don’t wish never happened. I was told something I never thought I’d have the privilege of hearing.”
“I…” Jazz shot the mech a desperate look before turning away again. “… We should use that stuff on the ‘Cons we manage to capture. It’s better than anything at getting bots to spill their internals.”
“I’d imagine the hangovers they’d end up with would be grounds to charge us for cruel and unethical treatment of prisoners.”
The visored mech chuckled weakly at that, and the SIC leant forward, tilting Jazz’s helm up towards him.
“Prowl?”
“You took something from me. I’m just getting it back.”
And then Prowl kissed him.
= = =
“Just so you know. I don’t regret it.”
“Oh?”
“The headache is one thing. But the other stuff that came with it more than evened things out.”
A soft laugh, and a pale hand resumed petting his helm. Smiling, Jazz pressed a little closer, letting Prowl’s touch and the sound of his systems chase away the lingering effects of his hangover.
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing. Crack.
“How’s the interrogation going?”
“Ugh. It’s not. Slagging tactician is in stasis lock.”
Jazz tilted his helm wearily, curled up in the far corner of his cell. Keeping his visor off, he strained to listen in on the conversation.
“I thought Command ordered the mech’s injuries be repaired so he could stand up to the process?”
“We did. The Autobot’s fine, physically, but his energy levels are so low he goes into stasis each time we try to question him. Ditto for whenever anyone jacks into his CPU. Crashed quite a few of us trying.”
“Have you tried actually fuelling him?”
“Have I tried- Idiot! You think we haven’t thought of that? We’ve pumped him full of energon, and all that’s done is kept him barely online.”
“Frag. How do the Autobots deal with it then? He’s their slagging head tactician and Second.”
“That’s why I’m here. To ask the other Autoglitch we got on our hands. He’s neutralised?”
“Yeah. Shockwave ordered this one sapped of most of his energon. Can’t escape if he’s got no energy to move.”
“Well great. Another empty. He’s got enough power to talk?”
“Mech hasn’t so much as twitched since we chucked him inside. He shouldn’t be low enough to go into stasis yet.”
Jazz braced for the kick he knew was coming his way. The impact slammed him against the wall, and he bounced off it to tumble in a heap at the Decepticon’s pedes. He lay there, seemingly unable to muster the strength to do anything else.
“Wake up, slagger. I got questions for you.”
“ ‘Bout Prowl. Heh. Bet he’s… got you tearing out circuits figuring out his deal.”
Another kick. “You’re in no position to make smart comments. Tell us how to keep him online.”
“And… why would I do that? S’kinda stupid move.”
“Fine, you want to be difficult?”
Someone grabbed hold of him and lifted him up, and the Ops mech lit his visor dimly as he was dragged out.
“So… where’re we... goin’? Out to refuel?”
“Mute it.”
“Hope it’s… someplace nice. ‘Derstand if you can’t… afford classy though.”
“I said, mute it!”
“Heard… you the first time. Jus’ not listening.”
“Oh, that’s it.”
The world tilted about Jazz as the Decepticon flung him into another room. On the ground, the visored mech peered up at another black and white bot tied to a berth.
“Y’want me to... talk, then y’want... me to shut up. And you didn’t… even buy me a drink ‘fore... going straight to the kinky stuff. You’re a lousy date.”
The mech snarled, lunging forward only to be held back by his comrades. A sharp command had them all falling into line, and Jazz looked in the direction the order had come from.
“Wow. I rated th’big gun.”
The monopticked mech came over to stand in front of him. In his typical inflectionless manner, Shockwave made his demand. “You will tell us how to bring your SIC online without him going into stasis lock.”
“Or you’ll… kill me? S’gonna happen anyway.”
“We will terminate this mech. If the tactician is useless to us, there is no reason for him continue living.” A blaster was pointed at Prowl’s helm, and Jazz’s visor flashed at the sight.
“Wait.”
“Talk.”
Slowly, haltingly, the Ops mech spoke. “Prowl… uses more energy. Tactical programs and… battle computer. Running… them when... captured, gonna start up right... away, when you online him. Drain him pretty… fast.”
“Illogical. Your SIC has been refuelled.”
“Hs’tanks may... be full, Shocky, but the stuff... in them’s not… giving him all the power he needs.”
“Are you saying the fragger runs on highgrade?” The mech who’d dragged him over burst out incredulously and the Autobot Ops head shrugged, an odd gesture for someone lying on the ground.
“Probably… stronger.”
Shockwave cut in, giving orders to the assembled Decepticons. “Purge the Autobot’s tanks. Refuel him with highgrade and keep a constant infusion going.”
“What about the other one?” The purple mech looked down at the black and white mech, crumpled in a pile, visor going faint with energy deprivation.
“Leave him. He is unable to act. The tactician is the main objective.”
= = =
“I don’t believe this. We’ve burned through a whole cycle’s allocation of highgrade for the entire fragging base already, and all we’ve got is his damn designation and rank! As if we didn’t know that before we nabbed him!”
“That other mech did say this one ran on stronger stuff than highgrade. Can’t we hack him?”
“Just did. His defence programs drained him and sent him straight into stasis again. Now we have to wait until his systems process enough highgrade to bring him online without him crashing straight off.”
“You have to admit, it’s a pretty good failsafe.”
“Yeah. Can’t interrogate a bot who’s offline. We’ll probably have to take his CPU apart to see what we can salvage from it if we can’t keep him online for longer.”
“Where’s Shockwave?”
“Megatron wanted a report. He’s gone to give it.”
“You could at least look like you’re doing your job.”
“What, standing guard over two mostly offline Autobots, one of them tied up? Yeah, real hard work.” The mech scoffed, and his companion shrugged, leaving the room.
“Suit yourself. I got better things to do then stare at almost offline mechs.”
As the door shut, the first Decepticon heard a quiet voice behind him. “Th’thing about mostly offline, mech, is that it means I’m still slightly online.”
As the guard dropped to the ground, deactivated, the saboteur staggered over to where Prowl was, fumbling over the mech’s restraints. Blue optics lit up, and the tactician was immediately assisting in the Ops mech in getting himself free. As the doorwinged mech stood, Jazz leant against him, cycling air wearily.
“Now, you gotta get out of here.”
“Not without you.”
“I’m nearly dry, dealing with the guard and getting you free s’all my backup power cells were good for. I’ll only hold you up.”
“We can make it out together.”
Jazz shook his head at the tactician’s insistence. “Prowler, y’got no time to argue wit’ me. The highgrade the ‘Cons pumped into you will only keep you online long enough to scram, and that’s if you keep your programs held back.”
“They’ll kill you!” The chevroned mech hissed, and the Ops bot chuckled humourlessly.
“I’ll be dead before they find me. Main power’s flat. Spares will be going that way in a couple of breems.”
“Drink.”
Jazz rebooted his optics at the glowing cube Prowl held out to him. “Wha? Didn’t they clear your subspace?”
“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you when we get back home to Iacon. Now drink.”
“But… if that’s what I think it is, you’ll need it more than me.”
“We’re prisoners in a Decepticon base. The only tactics called for right now are ‘blow slag up’ and ‘get the frag out’. I won’t require the full cube, and you won’t be able to handle more than half the volume any way.”
Startled, the visored mech laughed, then took the offered energon. “Well then, here’s to getting our afts out of here.” Jazz toasted Prowl, then cautiously drained a third of the cube.
“By the Pit! It tastes like vorns old slag!”
“I’d turn off my chemosensors before consuming it, but the security risk isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”
“Frag, mech. I’ll hook you up with something to help with that. No one should have to taste this every time they refuel!”
“Thank you. Now, are your energy levels high enough for us to leave?”
The Ops mech went silent, visor flickering. Concerned, the tactician prompted him again.
“Jazz?”
“We’re both probably gonna regret this, aren’t we?”
“We’ll both be alive to do so, and that’s all I can ask for.” Prowl smiled ruefully, then started when Jazz abruptly clutched at him, frame practically vibrating.
“Primus!”
“Time to go then.” The doorwinged mech finished the rest of the energon as the saboteur darted over to a console, releasing something into the base’s network. Judging from the slightly manic giggle starting to issue from the mech, Prowl probably didn’t want to know what.
“C’mon Prowler! Let’s boogie!”
That giggle was louder now, and the tactician lost sight of the other black and white as he bolted out the door. Sighing, he set to work disabling as many systems as he could, taking down the security feeds as well to buy Jazz more time. His doors swivelled back and forth, picking up the frantic footfalls of Decepticons scrambling about as alarms started to sound and the lights started to fail.
As mechs neared his position (why they were screaming something about their optics and needing to scrub out their CPUs, the Autobot SIC didn’t dare ponder), Prowl left and ran in the opposite direction, ducking into an empty room as several paint covered bots passed by, swearing up a storm.
Red emergency lights flickered on, and in the distance, the tactician heard Jazz’s giggles morph into full blown Pitspawn cackling, punctuated with explosions. Tracking his comrade by the sounds (and avoiding the strange cloud of purple smoke that wafted from several mechs, their intakes hiccupping frantically as they flailed about trying to escape or disperse the fumes), he eventually found the Ops mech perched atop a shelving unit, snickering at the desperate efforts of Shockwave to shake off the attentions of several strangely amorous drones. The visored bot looked down to spot Prowl, the tactician’s arms folded across his front.
“Jazz. We need to go.”
“Awww.”
“Jazz.”
“But I was just starting to have fun! Spoilsport.”
The chevroned bot sighed again, then smirked up at the saboteur, who looked quizzically back.
“Prowler?”
“Race you!”
And Prowl turned and ran through the chaos of the Decepticon base, closely followed by a gleefully laughing Jazz.
“You slagging cheater you!”
= = =
Jazz caught up with Prowl outside the base, both mechs making it up a short rise and ducking behind the cover of a burnt out structure. Catching the tactician about the waist, he twirled them around a couple of times, then hugged the chevroned mech close, stifling his giggles in a white shoulder.
“Caught you. And now I’m claiming my prize.”
“Oh? I don’t recall setting any terms for our race.” Prowl chuckled, playing along.
“Hah. Since you cheated at the start, I’m cheating now and saying I get a prize.”
“And what would that prize be?”
“This.”
Leaning up, Jazz stole a kiss from the surprised tactician. As Prowl rebooted his optics at the other black and white, the Ops mech purred, nuzzling the SIC’s cheek, murmuring softly into his audio.
“Been wanting to do that for a while now. You’re a fragging good looking mech, Prowler, and I like you, a lot.”
Before the doorwinged mech could respond, a little further off, something else went ‘boom’, and both mechs peered out from behind their shelter to watch the Decepticon base go up in flames. Jazz sighed, wrapping an arm about Prowl. Engines sounded above them, and both looked up with some foreboding, only to relax when they recognised the scout craft touching down as an Autobot one.
“Looks like our ride’s here.”
Ops mech smirked sloppily at SIC, then his visor went dim and Prowl had to catch hold of him as he fell unconscious.
= = =
Jazz onlined, and immediately wished he hadn’t. His head hurt, processors and circuits buzzing and warnings popping up all over. A groan escaped his vocaliser, and suddenly, a gentle hand was running over his helm, soothing some of the pain away.
“Keep your optics off until I can get the lights.”
Obediently, he did as told, recognising that quiet voice as Prowl’s.
“… Where?” He croaked, and heard the tactician’s faint answer.
“Your quarters, Iacon Central. Ratchet says you’ll have a massive hangover until your systems can recover from handling all that energy at once, so you’re going to have to stay in here where your specially soundproofed walls will keep you from wanting to ‘remove your CPU with your bare hands’. You can online your optics now.”
“Oh.” As he regained his vision, Jazz sat up and cast about the darkened room, making a distressed noise as that first sudden movement caused the walls to shift about him. Prowl approached, lit by the glow of his optics and a cube that the saboteur eyed warily.
“It’s normal energon. I doubt you’ll want my particular poison again any time soon.”
“Heh, got that right. The buzz is one thing, but frag if this isn’t the hangover fit to make the Unmaker himself beg for mercy.”
Prowl smiled wryly at Jazz as he sat beside the Ops mech, helping him sip the pink liquid. “You did say we’d both regret it.”
Jazz looked at the tactician, then down at his hands, suddenly going quiet. “… I’m sorry.”
“For what? Single handedly traumatising a base full of Decepticons and destroying said base soon after?”
“For the kiss. And… after.”
The cube of energon was put away and Prowl knelt before the other black and white.
“That... would be the one part of this whole affair that I don’t wish never happened. I was told something I never thought I’d have the privilege of hearing.”
“I…” Jazz shot the mech a desperate look before turning away again. “… We should use that stuff on the ‘Cons we manage to capture. It’s better than anything at getting bots to spill their internals.”
“I’d imagine the hangovers they’d end up with would be grounds to charge us for cruel and unethical treatment of prisoners.”
The visored mech chuckled weakly at that, and the SIC leant forward, tilting Jazz’s helm up towards him.
“Prowl?”
“You took something from me. I’m just getting it back.”
And then Prowl kissed him.
= = =
“Just so you know. I don’t regret it.”
“Oh?”
“The headache is one thing. But the other stuff that came with it more than evened things out.”
A soft laugh, and a pale hand resumed petting his helm. Smiling, Jazz pressed a little closer, letting Prowl’s touch and the sound of his systems chase away the lingering effects of his hangover.
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I love Jazz over energized! And Prowl taken care of Jazz afterward...adorable!
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Thanks for
giving in to your fansthe prequel! I really enjoyed it.no subject
Glad you like.
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I'm so glad you found our little corner of the world and write for us...you're one of the shining stars in my little universe. I love reading your stories. :)
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(Anonymous) 2009-06-21 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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Seriously, if it weren't for the hangover, I'd suggest that they overcharge Jazz with Prowl's brew and drop him in Decepticon HQ, finish the war off right then and there. I don't even wanna know where he got the stuff that made the purple smoke. XD
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*Melts into incoherent babbling goo out of pure joy*
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Thanks for giving us this gem, and all the others.
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With that said, this is great! Jazz on a Prowl-grade rush, his kiss and confession of his feelings for Prowl, and Prowl being with him after the crash and getting a kiss back from Jazz.
But I can't help but wonder, what was it that Jazz had shown the 'Cons that had them screaming about their optics and wanting to scrub out their CPUs?
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Glad you like this. Knowing Jazz? I don't want to know.
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well, that answered it then.... @_@ ..... amorous Drones !! poor.. poor poor Shockwave. That's an image that will traumatize the surviving Deceptiocons for a long time.... makes me wonder if Shockwave isn't going to become slightly paranoid concerning his drones... (Imagines poor threapist (hmmm Smokescreen before he joined the Autobots) having to listen to Shockwaves vivid descriptions)
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Really Jazz, the hangover couldn't have been that bad, you didn't even purge your tank! :P
*flees from the irate Porshe*
Seriously though, this was awesome!
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Glad you like =D
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Glad you like ^_^