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They were sitting in a tavern, in a town that Jazz hadn’t caught the name of which was not like him but he was fragging tired, and Prowl was paying for their dinner by entertaining the room for the night. Bluestreak was already passed out asleep against his side and Smokescreen was across the table and about to pass out too, but the light and the crowd were comforting after the darkness and unnatural quiet of the cavern they had raided–and subsequently cleared of an infestation of undead that neither he nor Prowl had been able to identify–and he wasn’t ready to give it up to make sure the younglings got to bed safely. Not yet.
Prowl’s playing was soothing, too. He smiled as he remembered the night the bard had composed it, sitting around the campfire with the younglings and a few other thieves from their guild after he’d rescued them from a chimera and then cooked dinner for everyone. It had been a pretty good night, all things considered, and he had enjoyed getting to observe the other half of Prowl’s bardcraft.
Remembering that night was probably the only reason he opened his mouth and started singing after Prowl finished the intro. The words came back to him without hesitation, upbeat and cheerful as they retold a classic heroic tale of victory over Unicron in the Age of Primus.
Around them, the tavern fell quiet as everyone turned to look at him. Even poor, exhausted Smokescreen lifted his head to stare at him. It was enough to almost make him feel self-conscious, but he was too tired for the feeling to really take hold.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Smokescreen said in awe after the ballad concluded.
“Uh, yeah.” Jazz blinked and looked around the room as everyone continued to stare. “Guess you never heard me before, cause Prowl’s always composing or practicing when we’re together.”
“It sounded good,” Bluestreak murmured sleepily, making Jazz feel bad for waking the youngling. “I like it when you sing.”
“Good to know,” Jazz squeezed Blue gently, “Since you’ve gotten a few lullabies.”
“How come I don’t get lullabies?” Smokescreen asked, forgetting his awe in a flash of jealousy.
“Cause you always sleep with Prowl when we travel,” he replied. “But if Prowl’ll play another song I know, I could be persuaded to sing for you again tonight.”
The crowd immediately began murmuring in approval at the idea and Smokescreen grinned and nodded. “Okay!”
Near the fireplace, Prowl was smiling just a little. “How could I deny such an offer? Perhaps the Lich of Petrex?”
That drew a laugh out of him. Jazz did love the ballad about the night they’d met. “Sounds good to me, Prowl.”