Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jazz was quickly learning that being the Keeper of Neutral Ground came with a large share of shenanigans. From patrons paying for their drinks with potion ingredients to other-worlders coming out to their mortal lovers in the middle of the bar to his sudden “elevated” position making him a desirable dating candidate.

Prowl was always decidedly unhappy whenever that last one happened. Smoothing the alpha’s ruffled hackles could take quite a while. Though, pulling him in for a quick kiss both distracted Prowl from doing damage to the offending bot and worked as a great deterrent to Jazz’s would-be suitors. Win-win really.

So, small incidents at The Beat were becoming fairly commonplace.

Which is why the thunk! of one of the glass cubes (helpfully enchanted not to break) hitting the floor and somebot yelping only provoked a slight curiosity from the visored mech. To be fair, Jazz was busy carefully measuring the Misty Moonlight potion to put into a drink and was thusly distracted. The sudden cacophony of outraged and surprised yelling did a better job of drawing his attention.

At first, he thought the mechs tumbling out of the booth they’d been occupying had gotten into a disagreement that had spilled over into a physical fight. Jazz silently called the ambient magic of the Neutral Ground to him, ready to step in and break it up if need be. Gold energy crackled up his arms setting the glyphs that had been painted there by the witches alight.

Except, the mechs weren’t fighting. One of them got up and started hopping around almost comically, flailing. “Argh! Get off you little glitch!” With a bellow he shifted to his true form, a mineral and metal gargoyle with large thin-sheet wings. A tiny, irregular yellow form was flung from him with a flash of electricity. It smacked the wall above the booth where he’d just been sitting releasing another shower of sparks, smooshing into a ball and falling to the tabletop. It immediately sprung up on short little legs, chittering and waving long arms. Jagged red slashes where a mouth and optics should be imitated an unapologetic look of vicious glee.

“Little pest!” the gargoyle snarled, bringing his huge fist down onto the table to squish the critter. The metal tabletop snapped in half, but the creature had already zipped away to another table with a zap of static and a high pitched giggle.

A Kremzeek.

In the bar…

Great.

The only reason Jazz even knew what a Kremzeek was, was due to an enterprising engex company that had decided to use the mythical critter as their mascot. Spry and happy little mischief makers.

In reality, they were electricity imps. As the lowest type of demon, it was easy for them to slip out of the Pit every now and then if they found a weak spot in the veil between realms. They were mostly harmless tricksters looking to cause just a touch of mayhem.

Most other-worlders saw them as annoyances. It was expensive to banish demons (which is why most of the higher ranking sentient demons were politely asked to please just fit in to society if they were summoned and couldn’t be sent back), and the Kremzeeks could usually just find another crack in reality to squeeze through, anyway.

The imp was wreaking merry havok, hopping from table to booth, startling bots and knocking over drinks. The gargoyle was still chasing after it causing more destruction as he shoved furniture and bots out of his way.

Acting on instinct more than thought, Jazz stepped out quickly from behind the bar and straight into the path of the fleeing creature. He thought he heard an alarmed sound from Red Alert’s booth, but he ignored it. Gold sparks sizzled and snapped in the air. He barked out a command.

“Stop!”

It echoed through the room like a thundercrack. Light flashed. Everybot stilled, silence falling.

Hovering in front of him, encased in a ball of transparent gold static, the Kremzeek wiggled and squirmed letting out angry squeaks of distress. Behind it, frozen in the same static, was the gargoyle, a comical look of surprise on his face.

Jazz gave the other-worlder an unamused stare. “Calm down, mech, ya’re makin’ a mess.”

“Uh,” he glanced around, seeming to only now realize what he’d been doing. “Um, sorry? I got angry and I just… er, I mean… Sorry Keeper. It won’t happen again.”

Red Alert and Inferno appeared at his side worriedly. After checking to make sure he was undamaged, they offered to sort out cleaning up for him. Red Alert immediately began instructing bots where, exactly, to put the overturned tables and drink containers back. Jazz jerked his chin at the gargoyle.

“Go ‘elp Red an’ Inferno clean up, would ya. I ‘ave t’ figure out wha’ t’ do with ‘im.” He indicated the angry little ball of energy.

The gargoyle’s faceplates darkened, “I can take care of that pest for you.”

Jazz frowned. “Pretty sure tha’s wha started this in th’ first place. Go. Clean.”

The gargoyle gave him a cowed look as the gold static around him faded and went off to be instructed by the picky vampire.

The visored mech turned his attention to the imp. It had started bouncing off the entrapping magic like a pinball. Jazz sighed.

“What are you going to do with it?” Bluestreak approached cautiously. He was the only one of Prowl’s pack who was present this dark-cycle. That was likely a good thing; Jazz’s stunt probably would have given the alpha a spark attack. He hoped Bluestreak wouldn’t tell the other pack members.

Oh who was he kidding? The grey beastformer was probably calling the others as they spoke.

“Hmm.” Jazz tilted his helm consideringly. The way the Kremzeek was acting sort of reminded him of a feral felida that he and Ricochet had slowly tamed as younglings. The mecha-animal had started off shy and fearful around them, lashing out with angry hisses, until they’d coaxed it into trusting them with fuel and friendliness.

Slowly Jazz took the ball of gold into his arms. The magic obligingly reshaped itself around the imp until it was just the size of the creature, moving as it moved so Jazz could hold it without fear of being shocked. The Kremzeek tried to use its new found freedom to escape, struggling in Jazz’s arms and letting out little zaps of electricity. When that didn’t work it tried to bite him, but again, the magic protected Jazz; not letting it get any purchase. It chittered and squeaked and squawked.

Jazz took it to an empty booth, away from the bustle of the middle of the room and settled it in his lap as he sat down. He ran his servo lightly over the top of its head.

“Easy now. Ain’t nothin’ t’ be so upset ‘bout.”

The creature froze. It didn’t seem to know how to respond to being gently “petted”. The “mouth” shrunk little by little from its angry grimace until it disappeared completely. The two crimson spots that acted as its optics flickered in and out of sight as if it was blinking in bewilderment.

After a while, as Jazz continued to card his digits through the static while overseeing the bar clean-up, it hesitantly started to trill.

“Poor lil guy,” Jazz crooned, “ya’ve never been shown any kindness ‘ave ya?”

The high-pitched little purr answered him.

He could probably convince Ricochet to let him keep it pretty easily.

Prowl and the pack would be a harder sell.

Chapter Text

Prowl was most certainly not jealous of a tiny demon.

He was just… wary. Yes, that was it. He didn’t trust the creature from the Pit.

Jazz had started calling it Sparky. It liked being near him while he worked, so he’d made it a little nest out of a glass bowl filled with steel-wool that he set on the corner of the counter behind the bar. It was there now, nestled among the slightly sparking metal mesh as Jazz flitted around the room from customer to customer checking up on them.

Prowl (seated at the bar) and it were currently in the middle of a staring contest. His instincts were bristling as the Kremzeek refused to look away in acknowledgement of his dominance. Even when his optics bled from blue to gold. He refused to give voice to his annoyance, a growl lodged in his throat. He could feel the pack’s amusement at his expense along the pack bond. None of them were as perturbed by the presence of the demon as he was.

Traitors, the lot of them.

“Everything a’ight? Ya ‘aven’t touched yar drink.” Jazz spoke as he put his servo on Prowl’s arm.

Prowl considered the staring contest a draw since both he and the Pit-spawn broke optic contact at the same time to look at the visored mech.

“I am fine. Just thinking.” Prowl murmured, suppressing an annoyed flare of his EMF when the Kremzeek started chittering for Jazz’s attention. He took a sip of his mixed energon. “This is delicious, as always.”

Jazz smiled at him sweetly, “Thanks, darlin’.” Then he fished around in his subspace and pulled out a small power cell. “And are you behaving, Sparky?”

The imp chirped and Jazz gently tossed the power cell to it. The jagged red mouth caught the power cell and swallowed it down in one gulp. The energy of its form flickered brightly for a klik and it let out a purr.

“You spoil it.” Prowl frowned, a burst of possessiveness escaping into his field before he could stop it.

“None o’ tha’ now,” Jazz said laughingly, “ya’re still my favorite beastformer.” He pressed a kiss to the middle of Prowl’s chevron.

“That was never in question.” Prowl said mulishly, though the sentiment did much to mollify his instincts.

Jazz fondly stroked the alpha’s helmvent, then picked up a pitcher of mixed fuel and headed out to the room again.

Prowl felt his plating prickle and look back to find the Kremzeek staring at him again. One edge of his dermas lifted in a silent snarl showing off an extended fang. The imp manipulated its form, a ribbon of energy extending from its mouth that looked like a glossa. It let out a buzzing burr of static.

His claws transformed without his consent, digging into the cube he was holding and the top of the bar. Fortunately, he was broken out of his contemplation of how to leap over the bar to take a swipe at the demon by Smokescreen laughing and sitting down next to him, nudging his shoulder.

“Annoying little aft, isn’t he?”

“Extremely.” Prowl huffed.

“Aw, but Jazz likes him, so he can’t be too bad, right?”

“Up until now I had thought Jazz was an excellent judge of character.” The alpha said in a deadpan, taking another sip of his drink.

Smokescreen just laughed again.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. The Kremzeek was ignoring Prowl now, it had settled down into its nest after having gotten its point across. But not for long.

It suddenly jerked upright, staring out into the room, mouth pulled down in a facsimile of a frown. Curiously, Prowl followed its gaze. This time he couldn’t stop the growl that trickled from his vocalizer.

There was a mech smiling charmingly at Jazz. He had that overly careful way of moving that told Prowl he was quite overcharged. His servo was on the visored mech’s arm, keeping him from walking away from his booth. Jazz had that slightly strained smile on his face that meant he was being polite because he had to.

As Prowl watched, he saw Jazz try to pull away and the unknown mech’s servo tighten, his optics going a strange sickly green color. Manipulation magic.

The alpha stood quickly. Just as he took a step towards them, his plating registered a small static build up pass by. A glowing yellow form swiftly darted across the room, springboarding off surfaces until it landed on top of the offending bot’s helm. The mech went faceplates first into his cube. The Kremzeek bounced once more on the back of his helm for good measure, ensuring that he let go of his captive, before springing up to sit on Jazz’s shoulder with a happy trill. It sent Prowl almost an… expectant look.

Well then… Hmmm…

Maybe a small reevaluation on the imp’s usefulness was in order.

Prowl walked over to the scene, near silent under the sputtering of the bamboozled other-worlder. He stood behind them, waiting.

“What the frag?!” The mech yelled trying to wipe off the splattered fuel from his faceplates.

“Sorry,” Jazz said unrepentantly, scritching the demon on the head, “I think you upset Sparky. He’s a little protective of me.”

The Kremzeek squawked angrily at the mech. He squeaked, “You have a demon for a pet?!”

“An’ my beau,” Jazz continued blithely as if he hadn’t spoken. “‘E’s a lot protective of me.” He smiled at Prowl over the mech’s helm.

Prowl could see the way the mech’s entire frame froze except for some slight twitching of his digits. The mech slowly looked over his shoulder and then up at the Praxian standing over him. Prowl fanned out his doorwings to their most extended stance and let his optics turn gold. The mech swallowed nervously.

He slowly turned back to Jazz and the chittering Kremzeek. “M-my apologies,” he stammered.

“Accepted,” Jazz said easily. “But I think ya’ve ‘ad enough this evening, yeah? Why don’ ya head ‘ome t’ recharge it off. I’ll jus’ put it on yar tab fo’ next time.”

The mech nodded, helm bobbing comically fast. “Yeah! Yes! I’ll do that. Thank you! Uh, good dark-cycle.” He hastily got up, only stumbling once on his way to the door and left.

The other patrons around laughed and clapped when the “show” was over with extra raucous whoops coming from his pack.

“My heroes,” Jazz chuckled. He fed the Kremzeek another power cell and then leaned up to give Prowl a quick kiss.

“I’m certain you could have handled it on your own, but Sparky is far more impulsive than I, apparently.” Prowl said innocently.

The imp made another buzzing sound at him.

Hmph. The Pit-spawn could stay for now.