Work Text:
The Nemesis, for all of its imposing might, was remarkably easy to sneak through. Between the large vents, the overconfidence of the cons, and Soundwave refraining from calling any guard patrols on him- well, Jazz practically breezed his way in.
Jazz hummed a small tune as he rounded the corner of a vent, partially transforming to squeeze through. When he made it around, he wasted no time in kicking out the grate. It fell out with a clatter and he was quick to follow it.
He landed silently upon the stainless metal of the ship. Soundwave didn't so much as twitch.
Jazz knew the other was aware of his presence. It was a weird game they played, admittedly. Sneak into the opposing bases without the other knowing, get the first hit in battle, leave gifts with the cassettes- it seemed to change every time they saw each other.
A handful of others knew of the game, despite the fact that it was being played by two of the sneakiest mechs on Cybertron. The cassettes, obviously, and OP probably guessed, seeing as Jazz caught him petting Ravage the one time she snuck by to bring Jazz a hardrive of music. The Prime -and Ratchet- weren't allowed to comment given their own fraternizations with the enemy, though. Drift, one of said fraternizations, also knew after the time he walked in, winked, and walked back out.
Point was, Jazz had no need to hide as he sauntered over to where Soundwave stood. Laserbeak perked up and cycled his optics. Apparently not deeming Jazz a threat this orn, he settled back down with a static filled warble.
Soundwave finally glanced over a bit at Laserbeak's reaction, red visor lit up by the large screen. Jazz grinned, lunging forward to wrap his arms around Soundwave's waist before he turned all the way around.
“Hey, Sounders,” Jazz cooed. Laserbeak flapped his wings and hopped down onto Jazz's helm, giving Jazz room to lean up and drop his chin on Soundwave's shoulder plating. “Ya come here often?”
“Jazz: asking unnecessary questions.” The voice modulator was as flat as ever, and the concealed expression gave nothing away, but Jazz knew Soundwave was doing his own teasing in return.
Jazz grinned. Then, keeping an arm around Soundwave, he ducked under the other's arm and hopped backwards onto the control panel, pinning himself between Soundwave's arms and in his way.
“I'm told I'm full of ‘em,” Jazz shot back. He pulled slightly, forcing Soundwave a step closer so they could rest their helms together. Laserbeak squawked in offense. “They're a great way to lull information out of mechs, I found.”
Soundwave tilted his helm, and the sound of scraping metal filled the room. Beneath it, much softer, was a whirling noise Jazz had come to associate with Soundwave recording. A moment later, using Jazz's voice, Soundwave asked, “Jazz- lull information out of- Soundwave?”
“Wouldn't dream of it.” Yes.
Soundwave leaned forward further until their visors clicked together. “Liar,” he remarked. Laserbeak crooned a laugh.
“Me? Nah, never.” Jazz snickered a bit as his optics -hidden by the visor though they were- trailed over Soundwave. Every scuff mark, every patch of slightly darker paint, every dip between plates was all memorized. All of it, down to even the way Soundwave's helm resembled Ravage's.
A thought briefly passed through Jazz's processor, carefully hidden behind a metaphorical steel wall to keep any Autobot secrets from slipping: if Soundwave had finials, would they twitch like Ravage's? Jazz didn't see many twitching finials these days, not with how the war had changed everybody. It was a silly thought, but one that spurred his next, admittedly impulsive action nonetheless.
With one servo still holding Soundwave's waist, his other came up to cup Soundwave's cheek. There was no intake for Jazz to run a digit over, but he made due by scratching beneath it like he did for Ravage, and even Laserbeak and Buzzsaw when they were feeling magnanimous.
Instead of pulling back like Jazz had expected, Soundwave pressed closer to Jazz's servo, all but melting against his touch. Jazz fought a smile as his other servo came up, now allowing him to scratch with them both.
Within klicks, Soundwave's helm was in Jazz's lap as Jazz rubbed his digits along the sides of his helm. Completely pliant, completely defenseless. If it were not for the affection nestled in his spark…
Jazz brushed over the crest of Soundwave's helm, the part that was eerily similar to the Decepticon symbol. And Soundwave, to Jazz's surprise and endless joy, rumbled his engine in a purr.
It was a bit glitchy, but it was definitely a purr. Jazz had heard enough static filled hissing and purring and general cybercat noises from Ravage to know as much. And here Soundwave was, curled up in Jazz's lap, like he was a cybercat himself.
Jazz snapped a handful of captures for later. Then a few more. When he was sufficiently satisfied with his folder of Soundwave images, he bent down slightly to tease, “Comfy, Sounders?”
There was a noise that probably was an acknowledging grunt, which sounded like a cybercat landing on its paws mid meow, and then silence. Jazz ended up losing the battle to his snickering.
“Right,” Jazz drawled, leaning back on a servo while keeping the other one petting. “Enjoy your nap then, sweetspark.”
There was a sharp poke against his thoughts that was probably Soundwave expressing his annoyance. Even so, the purring continued. Jazz huffed another laugh.
Thank Primus for the Nemesis’ poor security. He was definitely doing this again.