Chapter Text
Jazz hadn’t left Prowl’s side since the medbay doors had slid shut behind him. Ratchet had done everything he could—fixed what could be fixed—but now it was just a waiting game. And Jazz? He wasn’t going anywhere.
Sitting on the edge of Prowl’s berth, Jazz leaned in close, his optics dim, focusing on Prowl’s still form. Prowl was always so composed, every line of his frame sharp and perfect. But now? Dented, scratched, scuffed—so different from the polished officer Jazz had always known.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Prowl was here. Alive.
Jazz reached out, his fingers brushing across Prowl's shoulder plate. "Hey, Prowler," he said softly, his voice warm and affectionate. "You're missin' one hell of a sunset outside. But don't worry, I'll fill ya in when you wake up.
The silence stretched on, but he wasn't expecting an answer yet. He never minded the quiet when it came to Prowl. Jazz was always the one filling the space—words, music—while Prowl’s mind churned with a million thoughts. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, tracing soft patterns along Prowl’s plating with the barest touch. “You always did things the hard way, huh?” Jazz chuckled, though the sound was soft, wistful. “But it’s alright. I got all the time in the world.”
His servo slid up, fingers skimming Prowl’s arm before resting just beneath his neck, where the plating met the sensitive cables at his collar. Jazz’s touch was feather-light, almost reverent, like he could coax Prowl back just with his presence. “We’ve been through worse, you and me,” Jazz said, lowering his voice. “I know you’re fightin’ in there.”
Jazz’s visor dimmed as he lifted Prowl’s servo, cradling it gently against his chest. The steady thrum of Jazz’s spark pulsed through the contact, a lifeline. “Feel that?” His voice softened. “I’m still here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. For as long as you need me.”
A twitch—a small, almost imperceptible movement in Prowl’s servo. Jazz's spark filled with hope. "That's it," he said softly, his lips twisting into a little smile. "I knew you could hear me."
Jazz leaned in closer, his thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of Prowl's servo, ensuring their connection remained steady and unbreakable. He dipped his head and gently kissed the centre of Prowl's chevron. "You've spent so long taking care of everyone else," Jazz said softly, his lips brushing against cool metal. "Now it's your turn to let me take care of you."
There was a flicker in Prowl's optics. Weak but real. Jazz's grin widened, and his spark fluttered with relief. He kissed the chevron again, softer this time, but still full of affection. "There you are," he said quietly and confidently. "That's my mech."
His fingers started moving again, drawing slow lines across Prowl's damaged armor. What mattered was that Prowl was here, fighting, not the dents and scars. Jazz's voice lightened as he proceeded, attempting to bring some warmth into the scene. "I've always said you were the toughest bot I know. "I knew there was nothing that could keep you down for long."
Carefully, Jazz moved closer, still clutching Prowl's servo tightly. He wrapped an arm around Prowl's shoulders, drawing him in, mindful of the fresh welds and bandages. Their frames fit together easily, just as they always have. Jazz gently rested his helm against Prowl's, his spark throbbing with gentle steadiness. "I gotcha," he said softly, full of affection.
The medbay hummed softly in the background, the silence now peaceful. Jazz held Prowl close, unhurried, willing to wait however long it took. “Take all the time you need,” Jazz murmured, his thumb still tracing slow, soothing circles over Prowl’s servo. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Another flicker—stronger this time—and a tug through their bond, fragile but unmistakable. Prowl was there. “That’s it,” Jazz whispered, his visor dimming with quiet affection. “Knew you wouldn’t leave me hangin’.”
He pressed another kiss, tender and lingering, to Prowl’s chevron once more, his spark thrumming with the weight of his emotions. “I love you, Prowler,” he breathed, the words barely more than a whisper. “Always.”
With Prowl held close, their bond humming softly between them, Jazz felt the tension of the past few days finally start to ease. Prowl was here. They were together. For now, that was all Jazz needed.