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The next time Jazz had to make a run to Trailbreaker’s shop for potions and needed help, everybot was busy except Bluestreak. It wasn’t really a problem since Bluestreak agreed to come assist him in carrying his purchases home with puppyish enthusiasm.
Jazz had run out of potions yet again. He felt like he was going to have to start ordering in bulk soon.
They were making their way back to the bar; Bluestreak carrying a crate of potions and Jazz a couple bags of magically infused minerals to test out some new ideas that Bumblebee had brainstormed, when Jazz felt a tingle sweep down his spinal strut.
He paused. A klik later there was a shout behind them and a mech barreled into Jazz. Both he and the mech went down in a tangle of limbs.
“Jazz! Are you okay?” Bluestreak yelped.
Before Jazz could answer, the mech was up on his pedes and running away, leaving Jazz and Bluestreak behind in a sprawling mess. Jazz’s bags had spilled open, sending bottles tumbling out over the street and on top of a gold colored cloak.
Bluestreak knelt and put the crate down to help Jazz into a sitting position and gather up the various little mineral bottles. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
“I’m a’ight, Blue.” Jazz said getting to his knees. He hastily started to gather his purchases. Bluestreak yelled indignantly at the retreating form. “Hey! Why don’t you watch where you’re going! You could hurt somebot! And you left your cloak, dummy. Hey!”
There was the sound of more running pedes. And Bluestreak turned quickly and flared his doorwings to keep whoever it was from running Jazz over again; his optics flickered gold for half a klik.
The two bots slowed as they approached. They had Kaonite frames, with structures similar enough to each other that Jazz reckoned they were related. They were colored gold and red and their fans were working hard. Both their optical sets were riveted on the fine mesh on the ground.
“He stole my cloak.” The gold one panted.
Bluestreak looked down at the fabric and then back up at the bots. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know he was a thief! Lucky thing he dropped it.” Bluestreak said picking it up.
It was then that Jazz noticed a similar cloak worn by the red mech, but colored to match his plating. He also noticed how the two mechs tensed.
Bluestreak handed the cloak up to the mech from where he was still kneeling on the ground from helping Jazz. “There you go. I hope it’s not damaged.” He suddenly froze for a klik and subtly sniffed the air, then his optics flickered with surprise. He pressed the cloak almost urgently into the golden mech’s servos and babbled. “Here! Here’s it back. You should probably go file a report with the Enforcers, you know, because of the thief. The downtown precinct is just a few blocks away.”
The golden mech clutched the cloak to himself as if he was afraid it would be taken again. “Thanks.” He said gruffly. “I… thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Bluestreak chirped with relief, smiling brightly. He then turned to help Jazz get the last of his bottles back in his bags. Thank goodness the bottles were charmed not to break. The two of them quickly got everything back in order. Bluestreak helped Jazz up and then hefted the heavy crate easily. That’s when they discovered that the two Kaonites were still standing there, staring.
“Um, did you need directions to the precinct?” Bluestreak asked in confusion, doorwings flicking back and forth.
“Is your conjunx okay?” The red mech asked carefully.
“What? Oh, you mean Jazz? He’s not my conjunx, but yeah, he’s okay, right?” Bluestreak turned to assess the Polyhexian to assure himself of the fact.
“Ya bet, Blue.” Jazz said cheerfully, secretly questioning the way that the two mechs seemed to shift stances from cautious to interested. “We’d better get back t’ th’ bar an’ get these stocked.”
“Oh right!” Blue gave a smile to the Kaonites. “It was nice to meet you, though I hope you have a better rest of the cycle. Bye!” Then they turned and started walking. “I think Prowl and Nightbeat should be coming back from their meeting with their client. I’m really glad Prowl finally agreed to let Nightbeat be his junior partner in his consulting business.” He chattered.
Jazz felt another tingle down his backstrut and glanced back to see the two mechs standing where they’d left them, staring.
Weird.
“Wha’ was tha’ ‘bout?” He asked when they rounded the corner.
Bluestreak cast his optics around as if to make sure nobot was paying attention to them. He lowered his voice. “I think they were selkies. They smelled like the rust sea and… I don’t know how to explain it, really. Like what beastformers smell like, but different... like magic, sort of. Ah, I’m not explaining it right.”
“So’kay, Blue, I think I get it.” Jazz assured.
Bluestreak smiled gratefully. “I think those cloaks were their chromeseal protomesh. If their protomesh get stolen they have to do whatever the bot who has it wants them to do. It’s pretty awful. I didn’t want that to happen to them if they were selkies. If they weren’t then I guess I just sort of looked like a weirdo, but at least I did a good deed in returning it.”
Jazz smiled, “It was a good deed either way, Blue.”
By the time they’d returned to The Beat and gotten everything put away, Jazz had put the whole encounter out of his processor. He’s also been quite thoroughly distracted when Prowl and Nightbeat did arrive. The alpha had been feeling affectionate after a productive cycle and had “lured” Jazz up to his apartment for some canoodling before it was time to open for business.
So when the two Kaonites walked through the door of the bar later that evening, Jazz was honestly surprised.
If they were surprised to see Jazz, they didn’t show it. They walked up to the bar and nodded to him, but he wasn’t their target. They zeroed in on Bluestreak who was seated at the bar with Nightbeat and Prowl.
They casually took up position on either side of the young Praxian, leaning on the countertop.
“Hello.” The red one said with a friendly smile. “I don’t think we were introduced properly earlier. I’m Sideswipe and that’s my twin Sunstreaker.”
Bluestreak twisted his helm back and forth, looking at one and then the other, unsure of where to focus his attention. He seemed confused by their sudden appearance and interest. “Um, hi again? I’m Bluestreak. Did you make it to the precinct? Were the Enforcers able to help?”
Sunstreaker shrugged, shoulder pauldrons ruffling his cloak, “There’s no need to involve them. You did all the work.”
“But I didn’t do anything?”
Sunstreaker leaned forward, far into the beastformer’s personal space. Bluestreak tried to lean away, but Sideswipe was right there in the way. The gold mech smirked. “You do know what we are, don’t you, little turbowolf?”
Bluestreak stuttered. “W-well I think I do, but I wasn’t going to ask because just asking is kind of rude. Also, we were in the middle of the street when we met. I just let other-worlders tell me if they want to.” Bluestreaks sensor panels were jerking up and down fretfully now.
A growl sounded from Prowl’s vocalizer, causing the twins to look over at him. His doorwings were hiked up confrontationally. To his other side, Nightbeat’s doorwings were at a similar level of agitation.
“Back away from my packmate.” Prowl asserted. “You are distressing him.”
Sideswipe put up his servos in a calming gesture while Sunstreaker moved so he was standing next to his twin. They were smart enough to make it appear, at least, like they weren’t boxing Bluestreak in. “We’re not here to pick a fight with your packmate. Just to talk.”
There was a flirtatious little sub-glyph on the last word that carried a salacious promise. It made Bluestreak freeze in surprise, having never been propositioned before.
If anything, Prowl’s glower intensified, optic bleeding gold. “Then allow me to revise my statement: Back away from my little brother.”
“What if we don’t want to?” the golden mech challenged.
Prowl’s engine rumbled ominously.
Bluestreak’s optics met Jazz’s visor from across the bar, silently asking for help.
Oh dear.
Jazz stepped over. Sparky hopped up onto his shoulder a bit gleefully, perhaps sensing the possibility of a brawl (cute little thing was still a demon, after all). Jazz glared at the other staring patrons who suddenly all seemed to be very interested in something else than the miniature drama at the bar.
He reached across the bartop and grabbed Prowl’s servo, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Easy, fellas. Don’t be startin’ anythin’. I don’ wanna have’t’ kick ya’ll out.” It was unclear who he was speaking to on purpose. Sparky gave a soft warning hiss.
Prowl’s optics snapped to him and Jazz gave a reassuring smile. Prowl’s plating relaxed; doorwings still alert, but less aggressive; optics switching back to blue. Nightbeat followed his alpha’s example. Jazz turned his visor on the twins with an expectant look.
They both took a half step back, though Sunstreaker tried to affect a nonchalant attitude. “We weren’t going to start anything in Neutral Ground. We’re not stupid. We just…” He looked off to the side, seemingly frustrated by running out of words.
“We just wanted to thank Bluestreak,” Sideswipe jumped in. He addressed the aforementioned mech. “Sorry if it came off wrong. It’s just… nobot has ever done something like that for us, and… well,” His optics flickered over the grey Praxian coyly, “you’re very cute. We’d like to buy you a drink. Maybe get to know you better.”
“Yeah.” Sunstreaker smirked again. “I’d like to get to know the mech who proposed to me.”
Prowl made a disgruntled sound deep in his engine, sending a searing glare at the twins while Bluestreak started sputtering adorably.
Jazz had a terrible feeling that he was going to have to sit on Prowl for the rest of the evening.