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"So if that's it, then?" Jazz asked.
Prowl looked up from the report at the newly-appointed Special Operations Commander, who was somehow sitting with his legs crossed in the standard-sized chair on the other side of his desk. "Yes, that is all I need," he said. "Thank you for getting this to me."
"You mean, 'Thank you for getting this to me ... finally,'" Jazz said with a grin as he pushed himself up, untangling his legs. "I know, I know, heard all about you an' the reports, mech."
"As I have heard and seen all about you and reports," Prowl responded calmly even as he wondered how this mech could infuriate and enchant him, often within the same breem.
"Next one'll be on time, cross my spark," Jazz said as he stood and stretched. "Or at least," he added just before he was out the door, "Closer!"
Prowl shuttered his optics for a moment and x-vented as the door closed. He waited one-half klik, then logged into the security network and began tracking Jazz through the base.
A few metacycles ago, during a systems audit, he'd noticed a one-nanoklik discrepancy between a recording of Jazz returning to base and the physical sensor of the door he'd used.
In his system, discrepancies were not tolerated and, as far as Prowl was aware, simply did not happen.
So before ordering maintenance to check the door’s sensors he confirmed how often the discrepancy happened and to which mecha. It only happened with Jazz and it wasn't every time.
So he checked where Mirage was in those moments and found that he could not be the cause for most.
Only then did he send the order to maintenance to check the door. They could not locate any mechanical issues, and upon hearing that, Prowl began to watch Jazz very closely. Just because the mech was of high rank didn't mean he couldn't be a traitor. Prowl's predecessor was proof of that.
The first thing Prowl noticed was, for a mech who supposedly hated reports and office work, he sometimes spent a lot of time in his office. And the most extended periods correlated with the security discrepancies.
There could still be innocent explanations for all of it, though, so Prowl hadn't yet voiced his concerns to the Prime. Instead, he had worked out a regular pattern, and today, cleared his schedule to physically follow the mech. If this was legitimate it would go no further and Prowl would probably tell him what he needed to improve. If it wasn't, well, he'd deal with it, depending on how bad it was.
He closed down his workspace, still watching Jazz through the cameras, linked in from multiple angles in case any of them were changed, and headed into the base. It didn't take long to catch up just close enough to physically spot Jazz. From there he kept back and took the first opportunity he got with no one physically watching to fold his doorwings under his roof and trigger his chromates to shift from his distinctive black and white default to a gray and black pattern. It wouldn't fool anyone who knew him who got a good look but it would conceal his ID from a glance and help him hide in the shadows better.
For the first few joors, Jazz's movements were normal. Visiting his mecha in medbay, stopping to chat in the halls at a frequency that Prowl frankly found bewildering but that also explained a lot about report timeliness, refueling in the mess hall. All perfectly normal behavior.
After refueling, Jazz headed into the SpecOps underworld, where following him became significantly more difficult, but Prowl found a certain thrill in it. It hardly mattered that he wasn't really in danger if caught. It had been ages since his stealth had been tested like this and even longer since he'd tried to track a worthy target.
That glyph caused him to pause and carefully scrub the thought trail that led to it being attached to Jazz.
Jazz was not a target. It was dangerous to have a thought like that.
No matter what his behavior might be leading Prowl to suspect, there were countless reasons a SpecOps mech might have to cover his tracks.
Most of the ones Prowl could think of weren't good, but there were some.
His spark pulses quickened as Jazz took a turn towards the door that had first alerted Prowl to the unusual behavior. So far, he had no hard evidence of subterfuge, but something told him that was about to change.
When Jazz exited, the video feeds were normal. Then, as Prowl watched, the door opened again from the outside, at the same moment as video of Jazz reentering clipped into the live feed.
Only, Prowl was watching the door, and Jazz hadn't reentered. Time to find out why.
He waited an additional half klik, lowered a built in visor that he almost never used as an Autobot and set it to infrared as he walked out with his helm up and frame relaxed. Every bit of him was tense and every outward signal said the opposite. His posture was appropriately self aware while he carefully walked and scanned the ground for the residual heat of Jazz's pede prints to casually follow. He hoped that Jazz didn't know he was being tailed but he did not believe he was perfect at this anymore and Jazz was an active SpecOps agent.
Still, the path seemed fairly straightforward, and it wasn't long before Prowl was within visual range, in time to watch Jazz slip into an ally behind a row of apartments.
Prowl hurried to look around the corner and saw a door closing. He padded up to it and pressed his audial to the door.
"...this time, I'm sorry. This should cover you for a while, though. They're going to notice if I take much more from medbay."
"Every bit is a help," a voice Prowl didn't know replied. "We'll manage. He's growing strong and so fast. Can you stay a while?"
"Always," Jazz's voice answered. "Lemme just get this all put away, yeah?"
"Of course. I'll let him out," the unknown voice replied and two sets of pede steps moved away.
Prowl listened to movement inside for another quarter-klik and was just about to move and look for a window into the home when the sound of a vocalizer being purposefully reset had him spin around on reflex, crouching in a combat stance with claws exposed and a snarl on his features.
Jazz was there, standing just out of reach, with an armed pistol pointed directly at his spark. "Listen, my mech," he said, "I don't know what you're doin' here, but you picked the wrong mecha t' mess with. Got about two nanokliks t' scram before I change my mind on bein' nice."
Prowl was already relaxing however as his chromates shifted to default and he stood straighter with his doorwings unfolded. "I wouldn't advise firing. You do have explaining to do, however."
"What the--" Jazz's optics widened and brightened, before he muttered a curse and disarmed his pistol, then pushed past Prowl to get to the door. He keyed a code into the lock before grabbing Prowl's arm and shoving him inside. Bemused, Prowl allowed it.
"Jazz?" asked the same voice Prowl had heard before, as he looked around the small entryway while Jazz rearmed the lock behind him. A mech appeared in the doorway. "Is that--oh!"
"Ah, 's okay!" Jazz called, and ducked under one of Prowl's doorwings, popping back up with a bright grin. "Just a friend I gotta chat with, promise."
The mech--smaller, somewhere between a standard frame and a minibot, with faded paint--was staring at Prowl. "...Okay. He's okay?"
"He's okay," Jazz said, and slung an arm around Prowl's shoulders. "Just kinda..." He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in towards the mech. "Y'know, clingy."
The mech nodded once, slowly, and stepped aside for Jazz to pull Prowl along with him. Prowl briefly saw a small living space before Jazz drew him into a berthroom and closed the door.
"Are you fragging serious," he hissed. "What are you doing here?"
As angry as his voice was, Prowl couldn't feel it in his teek. Instead, Jazz was afraid.
"Tracking you," Prowl answered calmly with the truth. "Your behavior lately has been concerning enough I needed to find out why."
"You--" Jazz said, then paused, and looked Prowl up and down. "You," he repeated after a moment, "Were tracking me."
"Yes," Prowl said, with an affirmative cant.
"You weren't a standard-issue Enforcer, were you," Jazz said.
"No," Prowl confirmed.
Jazz gave him another look. "When did you start trailing me?"
"When you left my office," Prowl said with a shrug. "It was quite informative even if I didn't learn why you keep sneaking out."
"How did you realize I was sneaking out?"
"You cannot expect me to answer that before I know what you've been doing and where your loyalties lie, if ever," Prowl said, raising an optic ridge.
Jazz gave a short, huffed laugh. "Nah, I really can't," he said. He sighed and put his hands on his hips, tilting his helm back and looking at the ceiling. "Alright. No point in trying to hide it from you at this point." He looked back at Prowl and gestured towards the living room with his helm. "I got a bitlet in there that I'm takin' care of. Energon, supplements an' such."
Prowl softened noticeably. "Is his caretaker his other creator?" he asked gently.
"Other--oh!" Jazz said, and shook his helm. "No, no. Carrier was my sister, mech out there's just a friend. I heard the sire's designation once but I don't know where she is or if she's even functioning."
"And your sister?"
Jazz shook his helm.
Prowl held silent for a long moment, only extending his field to express his support and his very personal understanding. "Why not claim him? There's support on base and you wouldn't need to sneak around." He asked even though he was sure he knew. He needed to know Jazz's reasons.
"Mech, I don't get to have personal weaknesses," Jazz said. "I claim him, an' it gets out an' then 'Cons know." He tapped his helm. "I got a virus ready t' go that wipes the memory if anyone tries t' get past my firewalls. No chances, not with the bit."
Prowl nodded his doorwings. "I would like to meet him, since I know. Then we can discuss what tipped me off in my office, or yours."
"Might as well," Jazz agreed. "...Hey, could you, show me that disguise again?"
Prowl nodded and triggered his chromites and then the minor transformations. "It's less a disguise and more camouflage."
Under good lighting, it would be easy for Jazz to tell who he was. His face and helm hadn't changed, but the overall darker colors and lack of visible doorwings always changed his profile noticeably. What really seemed to catch Jazz's attention was the moment that Prowl shifted his posture. He knew from watching Jazz that it was nearly as extreme a shift as the SpecOps commander’s when he moved from friendly Autobot to saboteur on a mission.
"Pits below," Jazz said, and gave a low whistle, not trying to hide his thorough look-over of Prowl's entire frame. "If that ain't one of the most smeltingly hot things I've ever seen. The frag were you doin' in tactical, mech?"
Prowl's doorwings rose even further than his optic ridge, but there was no offense in any of it, merely curiosity and surprise. "Because tactical is where I am expected to do the most good in the long run."
"I could think of some better uses," Jazz said. "Tracked me through SpecOps, huh?"
"I did."
"Then I got some work t' do, looks like."
"I would agree with that."
"Right," Jazz said. His gaze was lingering somewhere around Prowl's middle. "So. Whatcha want me t' call you, out there?"
Prowl paused and cocked his helm, his doorwings at a thoughtful angle. "How untraceable a designation should it be? I did go by another designation as a hunter, but it would not take much work by Soundwave to trace that to me. What should I call you around them?" He paused briefly. "You truly find this look so much more desirable?"
"They know me as Jazz," Jazz said. "Wasn't plannin' on my designation ever bein' noteworthy and they've known me since I was Stepper's age. Turns out I'm just really good at sneakin' around and now somehow I'm important. I'll think of something for you." He paused, finally meeting Prowl's optics after what felt like the most thorough inspection of Prowl's existence. "Ain't the look, mech, it's the whole aesthetic."
"The hunter," Prowl nodded his understanding. "I was Pantera then, if you care to refer to this by the designation that used it the most."
"Nah, not just the hunter," Jazz said. He took a step closer. "The whole aesthetic. Hey, since we're off base, this could be considered off-duty, yeah?"
"Yes," Prowl answered with a hint of tension as he attempted to calculate just what Jazz was planning.
"Good, 'cause I never been known for my impulse control," Jazz said, and before Prowl could fully calculate the next set of movements, Jazz's mouth was on his. Conflicting protocols froze Prowl for a moment, then he kissed back, hard, hungry and commanding as he turned them around to push Jazz against the wall.
Jazz's answering rev was surprised, delighted, and he tugged Prowl closer by the shoulders. When the kiss finally broke it was when Prowl tugged Jazz's right leg up and ground their panels together.
"Frag," Jazz said, with a gasping laugh. "You don't do half measures, do ya."
"Not when I know what I want," Prowl's rumble was nearly a growl as he slid his free hand down Jazz's side to stroke his valve cover from behind. "I've been watching you for vorns. If I'd realized you'd want this I would have acted long ago."
"Oh," Jazz said, his optics bright beneath his visor. "Oh. Um. I'm, ah, I'm sorry..." He glanced down, and his next x-vent was hot, "So sorry. But I don't get a lot of time with the bit..."
Prowl silenced a curse as he backed off and focused on calming his frame. "Right. Your bit. We'll get back to this later. And talk."
"Yeah, yeah, 'course," Jazz said, resetting his vocalizer a few times and settling his armor. He cycled his vents and something in his frame shifted, and he was back to his relaxed posture, the previous tension vanished. "Hopefully in that order, if I can be bold."
"Yes," Prowl purred before shifting back to his black and white coloring and look. "For now, introduce us and I will leave you to your family time."
"Mm." One corner of Jazz's mouth turned up. "Right, introductions." He spun and opened the door, stepping out.
"Jazz!" A sparkling was hugging one of Jazz's legs before he'd finished his second step.
"Hey, bitlet!" Jazz said, scooping him up. "I want you to meet a friend of mine..." He glanced over his shoulder at Prowl, who nodded his own greetings. "...Sparkles."