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'Friendly' Persuasion	By : LadyStarscream Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 1991 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, I'm just borrowing the charas long enough to write them! Also, I am not making any profit from these. It's just for fun . Also, many many thanks to LStarrunner who wrote a lot of the content in the later c

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Title: "Friendly" Persuasion, chapter 8
Universe: G1
Category: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: slash, but mostly fluff
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz, hinted Prowl/Soundwave
Summary: Jazz wants to help Prowl regain his memory. But will Prowl let him?

Author’s Notes: this chapter was originally written by LStarrunner. I just rewrote a few things and added a few bits.

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About mid-morning, after cleaning up their quarters and hitting the washracks, himself, Jazz quietly let himself into the repair bay. Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, so Jazz went straight to Prowl's side. He was now supine; the last time Jazz saw him he'd been prone so Ratchet could work on his doors. Jazz was relieved to see Prowl intact: new door-wings, new bumper and grill, new armor panels. Most of his body had been repainted; there was a dryer gently cycling warm, dry air over Prowl so the fumes didn't build up too much.
A few were still dull gray metal, marred with weld-spots, but still would look as good as new once painted. So Jazz reasoned he probably couldn't take him home today. His optics had been replaced and his chevron straightened out. Jazz touched it, as gently as he was able, just to verify it was really there. Someone made a small sound near the door, like clearing the static from their vocalizer. Jazz turned, careful not to jar the table where Prowl lay.

It was Ratchet. "When he wakes up, I want you to help me with him."

Surprised, Jazz gaped at him a moment, then got a grip on himself. "Anything Ratchet." He turned back to his bonded, and sought the white hand to hold it in his black ones.

Ratchet joined him at Prowl's bedside and gently clamped a hand down on the smaller mech's shoulder. He held up a clear plastic case with a tiny chip inside it. "I suspect there are others tucked away inside Prowl." Jazz scowled in concern. Ratchet explained, "Some kind of inhibitor. I found it when I was rewiring his left side last night. I thought there was only one, but it turned out there were more than that. Wheeljack ran some tests on it, I don't think it will have left any permanent damage, but it was tucked into his hip pretty deep. Probably why he couldn't stand. I want you to watch how he moves when I release him from medical and tell me if you think he's compensating for anything."

"Ya mean..." Jazz looked from Ratchet to Prowl and back, "are you sayin' he can come home today?" That was beyond what he'd hoped for, which was just a few minutes with his bonded before being chased out of medical again.

"You'll have to bring him back for some finishing touches, but, yes, you can take him out of here when he's ready. He's just recharging normally. No sedatives."

Jazz felt relief so strong he almost missed the answering echo in his spark. It was faint, but... "Prowl, love, are you with me?" he asked the black and white before him, gently squeezing the hand he held in both his own.

Before Ratchet drifted away, he had one more bit of news for Jazz, "I also talked to Optimus this morning. You are relieved of duty until I declare Prowl himself fit." He held up a hand to stop any comments, "No, don't fraggin' thank me: what I was able to get from his processors was fragmented and jumbled, even thought it was some of the most coherent things he said all night were while he was supposed to be recharging." The medic gave Jazz a small glare. "I don't wanna hear it, the next time he calls your name." And he left the repair bay.

Jazz turned back to his mate, concentrating on that flicker in his spark that was Prowl's. "Prowl, love, come back ta me." He sent all the hope and love he could to that part of his spark.

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Prowl felt like he was floating. Somewhere between light and darkness, yet not quite either. "Am I dead?" flitted through his mind. Then he realized someone had hold of his right hand. No, he was just somewhere between sleep and consciousness. There were two voices talking, but he couldn't process what they were saying. Relief flooded his spark, but he didn't know why. Was Soundwave messing with him again? He recognized Jazz's voice: "Prowl, love, are you with me?" He tried to make his vocalizer work, to on-line his optics and answer but nothing responded. "Why can't I answer him?" passed his CPU.

The other voice spoke, this time he recognized Ratchet. So, he knew he was in medical back at the Ark after all. He listened. "So, I'm not fit for duty. Why would Ratchet need to scan my processors? Why would I be calling out for Jazz?"

"Prowl, love, come back ta me," Jazz said, using the endearment a second time.

Prowl felt awash in love and hope but didn't know why. Confused, his logical mind tried to answer. Nothing responded. He rebooted his battle computer: no change. He rebooted his core processor: nothing. Jazz was talking to him, obviously still holding his right hand and occasionally touching his face. His logic center went on stand-by, leaving his basic CPU on-line.

"What did they do ta ya?" Jazz continued, hope beginning to be tinged by despair despite his best efforts to believe what Ratchet told him.

Prowl felt the change in his spark but couldn't find a source for it within himself. He found he had control of his body again: he brought his optics on-line and squeezed Jazz's hand. "I- I don't know," he said, and felt relief, as if it came from outside himself.

Jazz looked immensely relieved as Prowl tried to sit up. "Thank Primus!" he exclaimed softly, dropping Prowl's hand to draw him into an awkward hug, helping him sit up on the repair table.

Prowl hugged him back, feeling inexplicable waves of love and relief. Was the dream he had last night more than a dream? He couldn't remember a relationship with Jazz, but the dream had felt real, and Ratchet said he'd called out for Jazz in his recharge. It was hard to sort his own emotions out from the alien love and relief that was so strong... Is it coming from Jazz? he mused, I feel...confused, but safe now. He decided to just follow Jazz's lead, who seemed to want him to stand up and go somewhere. Ratchet indicated Jazz was equipped to help him recover from his injuries, so he'd go with it.

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When Prowl's optics lit up dimly, Jazz thought he might be imagining it. He wanted his mate back so much and now, he was awake again! Faintly, he picked up confusion through his spark that had to be coming from Prowl. Prowl spoke to him for the first time since the ordeal and Jazz felt as if the weight of Cybertron were lifted from his shoulders. "Thank Primus!" he said softly, suddenly needing to hold Prowl, to have him in his arms at least. When he realized Prowl was hugging him back, his knees almost buckled. "Let's get you home," he said, and drew back slightly to try to help his mate up.

Prowl cooperated. He moved a bit stiffly, but Jazz suspected that was to be expected from the extensive damage Soundwave had dished out. Jazz supported him as best he could, letting Prowl set the pace of both their contact and their forward motion. At the door to their quarters, Prowl insisted on keying it open himself, but his code didn't work. "That's odd," Prowl said, looking accusingly at the keypad.

Jazz watched his mate clear the entry and try again. 3-4-6-6-4. The energon in his veins felt cold. Prowl shook his head and did it a third time. 3-4-6-6-4. The code to his quarters _before_ he invited Jazz to move in with him. "Prowl, lover, you changed the code. D' you remember? When ya helped me move in with ya, 'cause your quarters were bigger?"

Prowl looked at him, very little expression on his face. Jazz felt a glimmer of something from him over the bond, but it was too faint to name.

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When they got to the door to his quarters, Prowl felt normal, in a place he knew. Grateful that Jazz had brought him here - he'd had a small fear Jazz might be taking him to *his* quarters instead - he was eager to get inside and have some time to himself to clear his processors. He keyed the door, awkwardly supported on his right side by his friend. Or, maybe he was closer with Jazz than that?

What an awkward thing to want to ask someone? "Excuse me," he might say, "but are we lovers? I had the most detailed dream of you last night!" Shaking his head, Prowl tried the keypad again. the code didn't work. He tried it again, the sums of the binary representations of the letters of his name: 3-4-6-6-4. No good. A third time. Concerned, he looked at Jazz, feeling trepidation that didn't originate within himself and thinking it must really be coming from Jazz.

Jazz's words confirmed it: "Prowl, lover, you changed the code. Do you remember? When you helped me move in with you, because your quarters were bigger?"

His logic center reasserted itself and he lost the ability to stand. Jazz caught him and held him up. While his logical mind sorted the new data and came up with a probability of 97.7% that he was missing a large chunk of memory, Jazz valiantly took over for him. Jazz keyed the door open - first try - and half carried, half dragged his slightly larger partner into their quarters. Definitely _their_ quarters: Prowl's optics remained on-line, like his audio receptors, and he noted items in the room that had to belong to Jazz. A stereo system, an illogical painting of the a solar system being created as music from an instrument played by a strange biological being, and a disorganized shelf of blaster parts and oddments declared Jazz's presence. But it was still clearly Prowl's own room, too - his datapads, his computer console, his one memento of Cybertron were all still in their places. Coming up with a 100% probability that Jazz was more to him than he remembered, his logic center went back into standby mode. Just as Jazz got him to his - their! - recharge platform, he regained his motor functions.

He sat heavily on the double berth. Feeling a little desperate, he grasped Jazz's hand when he made to move away. "D-don't leave me," he said softly, suddenly embarrassed that he didn't know for sure what their relationship was. He looked up into the blue of Jazz's visor.

Jazz smiled back. Prowl became certain that the strong feelings that came through his spark really were from Jazz. Love and patience, they were, this time. "I'm just gonna lock the door, I'll come right back, promise." Prowl let him go, feeling a little foolish.

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Jazz was relieved that he could feel Prowl's presence for certain now. Confusion and fear that were definitely not his own crackled through his spark. For a moment, when Prowl begged Jazz not to leave him, he was suddenly standing back in that cell where they'd found Prowl, covered in his own fluids and missing half his plating. Jazz tried to smile reassuringly and fill his spark with only love and understanding. "I'm just gonna lock the door. I'll come right back, I promise," and he squeezed Prowl's fingers before slipping away from him.

When he turned back from locking the door and setting it where only Ratchet's override code would open it, Prowl had laid down and moved to the far side of the berth. Jazz's side. Weird.

"I got us a supply of energon and some other fluids in case you need 'em," he said as he returned to his mate. "Can I bring you anything?" Trying to sound as chipper as possible.

Prowl simply shook his head, reaching out to him. "Come here?" The uncertainty that flickered across their link made it almost painful to hear. Prowl, the normally unemotional seemingly-fearless backbone of the Autobot army, nearly whispering. Jazz felt anger and regret, anger towards Soundwave for doing this, and regret at Prowl being hurt so badly. But he swallowed the emotion, and shoved it away, consciously replacing it with his love for his bonded.

"Anything you ever want, love," he answered automatically. He sat carefully on the edge of the berth.

Prowl's body language was that of shrinking away, as far toward the wall at Jazz's side of their berth as possible. But he held out his arms to Jazz in a gesture that Jazz could only read as wanting him near. "I dreamt of you," Prowl said slowly, finally touching Jazz, almost shyly. "I... I dreamt of us." The way he said it and the flicker of desire in his spark left little doubt in Jazz's processor as to what he meant. "You said precisely that in my dream."

Jazz relaxed a little into Prowl's touch on his waist, afraid of getting too close too fast and making Prowl feel trapped against the back wall of their quarters. He reached out one hand and touched Prowl's chevron, trailed it down his face. "I think that's good," he said, "I was afraid you might not want me around anymore."

Prowl leaned his cheek into Jazz's palm and idly ghosted his fingers over the coverplate of Jazz's interface port. Jazz couldn't help but react, optics dimmed behind the visor and body arched just slightly. "I - I think I deleted a lot to... trying to keep Soundwave out, I... want to remember." Jazz's visor brightened and he held very still while Prowl spoke haltingly. "I don't think I'm up to ... what I dreamt of last night. But if... if we are ... lovers, if you are the source of the feelings in my spark... help me remember?"

"Sweet Primus, he doesn't remember we're bonded!" Jazz thought. "Well, at least he hasn't ran away from me yet." he added wryly. He let his hand trail down to Prowl's brand new grill while his other stilled Prowl's teasing of his interface coverplate. "I don't know what you dreamt of last night, but we can recreate as much of it as you like, just tell me what to do."

"Lay down beside me?"

What had Soundwave done to his Prowl, to make him sound this uncertain? Jazz carefully steered his processor away from thoughts of what had happened, tried to maintain only positive, welcoming emotions in his spark knowing Prowl was picking up on them. He left off touching Prowl to lay down carefully, leaving Prowl as much of the berth as he could. Prowl slid closer to him, propping himself up on one elbow and draping the other arm over Jazz's waist.

"Would you take off - would you take your visor off?"

Jazz suppressed a shudder as he connected Prowl's request to the memory he'd played out in his CPU the night before. As he took his visor off and set it gently on the floor, almost precisely as he had when he'd settled down for recharge, he said, "I think your dream had some definite memory in it, Prowl." As he turned back toward Prowl, he noticed his mate shaking violently. "What's the matter, love? Am I too close after all?"

"N-no," Prowl shook his head, optics off. He cycled air more rapidly through his cooling system. "N-no, I just needed to see your optics."

Jazz held very still, afraid he was spooking Prowl somehow. "The visor's gone, lover, just my tiny, uncalibratible optics," he listed his reasons for wearing the visor. That would normally get a chuckle from Prowl at least, who insisted Jazz's optics suited his facial structure perfectly and that Ratchet would calibrate them if Jazz let him.

Prowl on-lined his own optics and sighed in relief. "Gold," he said in wonder, reaching out to touch Jazz's forehead, optic ridge, his nose, "beautiful gold-colored optics." He leaned over Jazz slowly and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his chin, chastely. "Interface with me?" he breathed against Jazz's audio.

Jazz allowed the coverplate of his interface port to slide open, watching as Prowl, with shaking hands, sought the cable. Prowl hesitated slightly, but Jazz just gave him as seductive a look as possible. It was a given that Prowl wanted his touch, normally, even if he protested he was too busy. He wondered if he should continue with his hands wandering about Prowl's chassis. Still shaking, Prowl nodded. Circuits screaming with want, Jazz forced himself to move only slowly. He turned on his side to face his mate, gently caressing his new bumper and grill, his replaced plating. Even the coverplate of his interface port was new, unpainted.

Prowl stopped moving.

Jazz felt a flicker of fear in his spark that had to be from Prowl. He stopped as well. "Prowl? Should I stop?"

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As he gently felt for Jazz's interface cable, Prowl felt waves of desire, some of which were his own, but some were from Jazz. "This is how it should be", flickered through his processor.

"Is.. it okay if I touch you?" Jazz asked. An overwhelming uncertainty mixed with the desire, and this time Prowl wasn't the source of the confusion: he knew what his mate wanted. Maybe he was just trying to make sure Prowl felt like he was in control of the situation. He nodded, and the uncertainty departed, replaced with want bordering on need. Jazz turned toward him, touching his new parts gently, and Prowl felt appreciation, desire tinged with regret, and love. Jazz touched the cover of his interface port.

A vision of Soundwave flashed through Prowl's CPU and he stopped. Stopped processing, stopped moving, stopped cycling air. Fear filled his spark. Soundwave was in his processor, giving him this beautiful fantasy to get what he wanted.

Jazz held still, too. "Prowl?" he asked, "Should I stop?"

A little fear came to Prowl that wasn't his own, but it was accompanied by concern and love. Soundwave can't mimic that! flickered through Prowl's processor. He looked into his lover's bright gold optics, rimmed with light reddish that glowed with concern. Not the demonic-red of the lover in his dream. No, the gold-colored optics of the Autobot-created-neutral that everyone knew, and the mech Prowl loved. There was no emotion from him at all, when he... did what he did to me! Not even hatred or enjoyment, just coercion. He cycled air through his cooling system. "No," he said after a long moment, "don't stop, Jazz." And he slid the coverplate back, registering the slight discomfort of the friction on the unpainted surface. "I'll have to let Ratchet paint that soon," he said, trying to relax.

Jazz touched him again, oh so gently, and grasped the small cable with fingers that trembled. "Are you sure you want this, so soon after...?" and his voice shook.

Prowl leaned down and kissed his lip components, first reassuringly, then lustily, then desperately, moving his body closer to Jazz's to bring the connectors into contact. "I need this, need you," he whispered when he broke the kiss to look into Jazz's gold optics again. Gold, not the hellish Decepticon red of his dream. "Help me remember." He made the connection himself, pulling Jazz's connector firmly into his own, that Jazz held so tenderly.

Two fields flared and mingled into one. Two entities mingled in two processors. Two sparks flickered together. Prowl saw their relationship through Jazz's eyes, saw the parallel between his dream and Jazz's memory. He perceived their bond through Jazz, and consciously found it again, on his own side. Bodies barely touching, they lay still.

"I love you.", Prowl said directly in Jazz's processor. "Thank you for finding me again." So completely blended were they that Jazz knew exactly how much Prowl meant by that, not just the rescue from Soundwave, but everything since. "I love you, too.", he said in Prowl's CPU, "I won't ever not find you." He reached for Prowl and rolled them over so Prowl's weight rested on top of him. "Not even a thousand devastators could keep us apart."

Prowl heard him, and chuckled in his thoughts. "Only you would say something so...illogical." Prowl returned, leaning down to kiss him.

Jazz grinned. "Wanna carry out the rest of that dream?"

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Late that evening, the Lamborginis stopped by. Sideswipe rang the door buzzer and Sunstreaker looked impatient. After the second ring, Sideswipe looked at his brother. "Do you think they're all right in there?"

Jazz came to the door. "Oh, hi guys," he said quietly, looking back inside his room before stepping out and letting the door close behind him. Just as quietly, he continued, "What's up?"

"We came to ask you that, Jazz, haven't seen or heard tell of you all day." Sideswipe looked Jazz up and down. He certainly looked better than he had the night before, but different, somehow. Sideswipe couldn't put his finger on it. "How's he doin'?"

Jazz looked down at his feet, an oddly coy expression on his faceplates. "Remarkably well, I think," he said, body language uncharacteristically shy. "I figured I'd be sleepin' on the floor, if I was lucky enough to stay with him at all, but he seems to be... pretty okay. He's resting now." He shifted weight from one foot to the other, then said, "Thanks for stoppin' by, guys, but I gotta go." And he turned quickly and disappeared back into the quarters he shared with Prowl, where Prowl was resting.

"That's the oddest," Sideswipe said as they walked away.

"Yeah, never saw Jazz without the visor before," Sunstreaker had caught it.

"No! I knew he looked different, younger somehow, but, no visor? How did I not notice that?" Sideswipe turned to look at his brother.

"You need things to hit you upside the head to get your attention, Sides," Sunstreaker said playfully, and gently whacked him across the back of the helmet to demonstrate. "Bet you didn't notice the ozone and the interface port, either."

"Ozone!" Sideswipe said, too loudly since they were approaching a cross-corridor that might be populated. "You smelled ozone in the air?" he repeated more quietly, "Interface port? As in open. So Prowl really is okay then?"

"Probably had to prove to himself that he can still enjoy it," Sunstreaker said sagely, nearly whispering to his brother. "Not a bad idea, if you ask me. Seeing him torn up like that even got to me, you know?"

"Ratchet's good at what he does, bro'," Sideswipe replied happily.

"Yeah, but some things, you just have to do for yourself."

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"Good work," Ratchet offered them rare praise the following afternoon. Jazz and Prowl had found two more chips inside Prowl's plating: one as suspected in his right leg, but if it had started out in his hip like the one Ratchet found, it had migrated down into his knee, inhibiting only some of his motor control of his right foot; the other between his logic center and his motor control center. When Ratchet asked how they found it, Prowl told him he didn't want to know and Ratchet took him at his word.

Jazz, he might have pressed for an answer, but if Prowl didn't want to talk about it, Ratchet would let it go. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Prowl," Ratchet had offered, grasping his forearm firmly, right hand to right hand, in the old fighters' handshake. "I wouldn't have let you out of medical if there'd been anything left I could find as easily as you could, you know."

"I know, Ratchet," Prowl answered, "and looking for them gave us an excuse to get reacquainted." He watched Jazz, knowing he was feeling coy about it, but the visor prevented anyone but the two of them knowing it. "I deleted a portion of my recent memory, trying to keep Soundwave from getting something. I even deleted the keycode to our quarters."

"Any chance he got somethin' useful from you?" Ratchet was serious as a cracked casing for once.

"Of course. So we told Optimus. The access codes are all being changed now, and we're going to shift the duty roster around for a while, just in case."

"And yer not gonna run off to answer any calls from the state police any time soon," Jazz added emphatically.

Ratchet laughed as Prowl looked at his bonded, only a flicker of ... was that amusement? ... crossing his faceplates. Quite recovered from the frightened, purely emotional creature he'd driven into his repair bay after the rescue. "Nope, not fit for duty yet, and there's nothing I can do to make you fit faster, so get outta my repair bay," Ratchet dismissed them.

"Not fit for duty?" Prowl asked, incredulous. "Why not? What am I supposed to do for another day?"

"Recover. Finish gettin' reacquainted," Ratchet thought he showed great restraint in not elaborating on that, nevertheless complaining about Prowl talking in his sleep. "Now git!"

~End

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Final End Notes: I know, I got the optic color thing wrong. It was originally written that Jazz's optics were blue, but I don't believe that, and changed it. I'm gonna have to figure out how to do something about that comparison.... Also, in Prowl's 'nightmare dream' (chapter 7) Jazz's optics were supposed to be ruby-red, not red-gold, in comparison to this chapter, which they were just gold in. It's not much of a difference, I know. I'm gonna have to change that.

Oh well. It's been a fun fanfic to write, but it had to end sometime.
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'Friendly' Persuasion