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    Summary

    "Actually bein' a good 'bot and gettin' a cube, Prowler?" Jazz asked with a charming smile. Throwing an arm around his lover's shoulder, he guided his fellow black and white to an empty table in the corner.

    "Yes, Jazz. Contrary to popular belief, I do refuel. You know that. It's when I get continually sidetracked during my shift hours that makes me push aside retrieving my energon ration again and again," Prowl said, taking a seat.

    or

    A collection of Prowl/Jazz standalone stories written for various challenges and prompts from over the years

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    43,606
    Chapters:
    25/25
    Comments:
    7
    Kudos:
    57
    Bookmarks:
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