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“Wow.” Jazz peered at the wall of colors, with wide optics behind his visor. Prowl understood the feeling, frankly, because he was fairly certain that he was feeling the same way. “I, uh. Kinda forgot how many colors paint came in. got used to all that Ark orange.”
Prowl nodded. “It is overwhelming.”
“Well, maybe I can help!” A perky sales clerk appeared next to Prowl’s elbow–a wise choice, Jazz likely would have stabbed them–with a bright smile and a data pad. “Believe it or not, a lot of mechs get overwhelmed by the chip wall. Why don’t we narrow things down a little with some questions?”
“Sure,” Jazz agreed amiably. “Can’t hurt, at least.”
Prowl nodded and the clerk’s smile widened. “Great! I’m Ultraviolet, by the way. What can I call the two of you?”
“I am Prowl,” Prowl tapped his chest the way he would have when he introduced himself to a new recruit, and then winced internally when he realized what he had done. This mech (probably) wasn’t that young, and they weren't going to need to be able to pick him out of a crowd later. “My partner is Jazz.”
“Prowl, Jazz, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Ultraviolet’s smile didn’t move, and it was starting to remind him of Jazz’s when he was working a crowd. “Now, let’s get to work. What are your favorite colors?”
“Not orange,” the former Autobots replied in unison. Then Jazz looked away from the color wall and laughed before adding, “And no purple, either.”
Ultraviolet nodded and made a note on their data pad. “Well, it’s good that you know what you don’t like. But it doesn’t exactly narrow the field much.”
“Look, kid, I’m gonna be real honest here.” Jazz sighed. “We’ve gone without for so long that we don’t know what we like anymore, beyond each other.”
Jazz regularly told him he loved him, but that simple statement warmed his spark more than any he could remember recently. They had hidden their relationship out of necessity for millennia, but now Jazz wasn’t afraid to tell total strangers about it.
Prowl reached out and took Jazz’s hand in his with a smile, and squeezed it when his partner startled slightly. “I am fond of the blue used in Jazz’s visor glass.”
“Hmm.” Ultraviolet sounded thoughtful as they peered at Jazz’s visor. Then they tapped a few more buttons on their pad. “Let me put together a few ideas with that and we’ll see what you think. Walls, trims, things like that. Once we figure out your color preferences, we can move on to flooring and furniture.”
“Uh. We aren’t going to need much in the way of furniture,” Jazz said weekly. “Neither one of us has much in the way of possessions.”
“Sure, with the war and all,” Ultraviolet agreed absently, busy arranging their design on the pad. “But what about friends? You want them to be able to sit somewhere, right?”
“Yes,” Prowl agreed quickly, remembering how Bluestreak’s hips had creaked when he stood up from the floor where they had been playing a board game the night before. And the way Optimus’ spine was starting to curve from strain and lack of support. “We would very much like to seat guests comfortably. And perhaps…”
Jazz gave him a quizzical look when he trailed off, so Prowl continued. “Perhaps a kitchenette setup. So that we can fuel them, as well.”
Ultraviolet looked up slowly, then their bright smile returned in force. “I will be more than happy to help you with a whole home solution. How many rooms?”
Prowl had the sudden feeling that he was in over his head, an unusual occurrence, but Jazz squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Just four, right now. But we may build on later.”
“We work with local contractors for things like that, too.” The sale clerk was still smiling. They turned the pad around for them to see the screen, and Prowl was immediately pleased with their ideas. The walls were the bright blue of Jazz’s visor but the trim was rendered in a black that toned its intensity down. “What do you think?”
“I dunno if I like the black,” Jazz replied. “But if you’ve got more ideas, we’ve got time to look.”
And it was true. They had all the time in the universe, now.