Chapter Text
The feeling of the instrument in his servos is incredibly familiar. He recognizes every small imperfection in the instrument. Every scratch or small dent. Frankly, he should have replaced it by now. But, it’s somewhat sentimental to him. He knows everything about this instrument, and his digits glide across it so easily.
It was one of the few gifts he actually still has, one from his creators too. While they disagree on many levels about him and his lifestyle, he can’t help the swell of happiness and pride when he sees how happy they are to see him practice on this, even happier to see him play.
Apparently it makes others happy as well, or he wouldn’t make anything as a street performer. A busker. His creators were very clear in their feelings about this particular… choice of his.
“Jazz we would gladly pay for you to go to the best academy- study wherever you want! But this? This is nonsense! Just a hobby! Nothing will come of it!” He remembers his carrier yelling at him, her optics narrowed. Seething.
“Dear Primus, Jazz! You’re so smart- but I swear you’re the biggest dumbaft I know! When you can actually focus on your work- on your studies, you get such high marks. You could do so well if you actually put your processor to something. You were taking courses- you did so well! Why did you drop them? You could pick them up again! Instead you choose to waste that and pursue…” His sire had gestured to his instrument, lying in its case.
“It’s foolish!”
It’s not like he listened.
“At least don’t move from Polyhex, Jazz. You can stay here with us, in case something happens.” His carrier had given him a pointed look. Her body language, facial expression, everything screamed that if he chose to stay, she would do her absolute best to talk him out of it.
“I’ve already arranged for everything, carrier. Plus, I have somewhere to stay.” Jazz had grinned at his creators, though it had faltered when their looks had only grown sterner.
The last song finishes, and he grins at the remaining, small, crowd. He takes a quick bow and packs up before starting to walk home. Oh yes. His creators had been very disappointed in his decision to move to Praxus.
“You’ll have no support system up there! You won’t have us- or your friends here!”
“I’ll be in contact if I need anything- and you know perfectly well who I have to support me in Praxus.”
“And?! What if he ends up hurting you? You won’t be able to go sobbing to your abus-”
“That’s enough! Prowl would never hurt me! Not on purpose!”
Jazz doesn’t entirely remember everything that was said after he yelled at his creators. Maybe some ‘how dare you yell at his when we are just looking out for our precious son’? Whatever was said, he remembers going upstairs to his room, and breaking down. He remembers calling Prowl hours later, and venting.
He very clearly remembers the soft response from the normally stern mech.
“I can’t wait for you to move here.”
Jazz hums softly as he unlocks the door and swings it open, listening for any signs of life in Prowl’s- their home. He grins hearing the other get up and heads to the living room. He pushes Prowl down onto the couch and practically drops onto the other’s lap.
“Miss me, Prowler?”
The other looks incredibly amused by him, his cheeky grin. The playful, fun side of Jazz. The one that absolutely everyone adores, the carefree nature.
He just needs to remember to keep that up. This is the only side Prowl deserves to see.
“I always do.” Prowl answers after a moment, wrapping his arms around Jazz gently. “Did you have fun?” He pauses a moment, hesitating. “I know I’ve brought this up before but you honestly don’t need to do this- I do make enough to support us both.”
‘Your contributions aren’t enough to matter.’
Those thoughts are brushed aside as quickly as they enter his processor.
“I know, Prowler. But this makes my creators feel better about me being here, ya know? I have a source of income and some personal savings. I’m not saying something will go wrong, but well, ‘tors are convinced something will. It puts them at ease knowing I at least have something.” Jazz looks up at him, and smiles. “Plus, I like doing it.”
Prowl nods in understanding, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Alright.” He looks at Jazz, quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to do everything to please them, you know?”
“I know, but I want to make them proud of me. Primus knows I’m already a disappointment for not doing something worthwhile– hey don’t look at me like that, these are their words not mine.” His explanation is met with a doubtful look. “They were worried enough about me coming out here, And oh you know they reacted when I dropped out.”
“... You dropped out for your own mental health, Jazz.” He says for a moment.
“I dropped out because I couldn’t handle the course work.”
There’s a moment of silence as Prowl searches his optics. He feels the other’s grip tighten on him a moment before relaxing. The other ex-vents. “I won’t push… but you should go to therapy.”
“Prowler, that slag’s expensive. I know you would pay but you really don’t have to do that for me.” Jazz quickly adds, “Sooo dinner?”
The Praxian seems as though he wants to say more, to push. Instead, his doorwings drop ever so slightly. He nods. “I’m happy to go wherever you drag me.”
‘Drag me… he doesn’t want to be with you. He knows how much of a waste of energy you are. You should never have come here. You do not deserve him.’
It’s harder to push those thoughts from his processor.
“Yeah- dinner sounds great! Okay so I know you know a lot of the really good places around her because duh you grew up here- but like, let me try to find somewhere to take you to! Somewhere you’ve never been!” He grins up at Prowl, spark skipping a beat when he sees the faint smile.
“Sounds like a fun challenge.”