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At First Glance	By : bittereloquence Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2281 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-At First Glance
- 1
A/N: I am so beyond lazy, I am a shame to the slacker community! This was written over a year ago but I am just not getting off my lazy aft and posting my more adult-oriented fics here. No excuses, I am just a lazy bitch.

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.

-- Carl Gustav Jung

Jazz onlined his systems feeling decidedly sluggish and lethargic. The aching in his CPU and the way his equilibrium servos were slightly off-kilter reminded the saboteur he should have known better than to indulge in so much high grade the night before. Jazz hadn't cared at the time. It had been his first true day off-shift in deca-cycles and he'd been intent on enjoying it. Maybe he'd enjoyed it a bit too much. After that last energon bar in lower Iacon, things were a little….fuzzy.

"Oh, my aching servos," a voice groaned from behind him.

It was then that Jazz's sluggish CPU registered the warmth of another chassis pressing against him and the weight of an arm slung over his waist to pull him against another mech's body. The saboteur onlined his visor and shifted to look behind him.

Yep, there was definitely someone sharing the berth with him. Now that he got a chance to look around, he realized this wasn't even his quarters!

"Primus, how much did I drink?" he muttered and started to twist around to get a better look at his berth-mate. Jazz had to admit, he sure was fetching. They shared similar paint-jobs but the other mech had a pale face with a prominent v-shaped chevron adoring his helm. His alt-mode was obviously some kind of ground vehicle, thank Primus. Jazz had made the mistake of picking up a flier only once and the attitude had been enough to turn him off for life.

He wasn't particularly upset to find he was sharing a berth with a strange mech. Primus knew he'd found himself in similar situations in the past, he was more upset over the fact that his memory of the act was so foggy. What was the point of interfacing at all if you were too over-charged to enjoy it? Not to mention remember it the next cycle.

"I don't know how much energon you imbibed but I know it was more than me." The voice was kind of pleasant, a wry baritone tone that managed to enunciate without sounding all stuck-up and snotty like the Towers.

All in all, Jazz wouldn't kick him out for eating energon goodies in the berth. Too bad he couldn't really remember the details of the evening. "So uh, hi," Jazz started awkwardly. "Sorry, I wasn' really myself last night."

"Really? I never would have noticed." A faint, ironic smile curved the other mech's lip components as blue optics slowly powered up to smirk at him. "You were quite out of it."

"Been a long beginnin' to da cycle."

"I understand." His mystery mech started to move and Jazz immediately missed the warmth of his frame draped across his own. For the first time he saw the graceful arch of the mech's elegant door-wings. Even in his sluggish state, Jazz found himself fascinated with them and even reached up to stroke a hand along the top of the metal when it came within reach. His berth-mate shuddered and slanted a heated look at him.

Suddenly, Jazz had an elusive flash of memory. He remembered running his fingers along those door-wings and pressing his mouth to the sensitive metal between them, which caused the other mech's engine to rev and sent him into overload. "Ohhh...things are starin' to come back ta me."

"I noticed," his partner murmured with an amused smirk. The door-wing was gently pulled away and Jazz found himself being kissed with surprising sweetness. "It was fun but I need to get going. Gotta report in today."

"You're in the army?" Jazz was instantly wary. As a general rule, he avoided fraternizing with other Autobots. It just led to uncomfortable situations.

"Yeah, I thought I told you that. Just transferred here." He shrugged it off as if it were unimportant so Jazz didn't make a big deal out of it. "That's the only reason I'm getting up out of this berth. Can't be late for my first day at a new post. Otherwise I'd crawl right back in and try and jog your memory circuits." The black and white mech smirked, leered really.

"Oh sure, jus' tease me," Jazz moaned dramatically.

"Sorry. Here's my comlink. Next time your business brings you to Iacon, look me up and we'll see about that, hmm?" The taller mech kissed him one last time and slipped a data-chit in Jazz's hand before straightening and leaving.

Jazz rolled over and wondered what kind of slag story he'd given the other mech. Business? Eh, he hid the fact that he was in the Autobots more often then not so it wasn't anything to stress over.

Most mechs usually ran away when they learned he was in Special Ops.

The saboteur knew he was still fragged out from the night before if he was actually dwelling on such a pointless thing. Groaning, the he just curled up and snuggled into the recharge berth. For a cheap hotel room it was pretty comfortable.

And without meaning to, Jazz accidentally slipped back into recharge.

The chiming of his comm-unit roused the saboteur next and he shook his head groggily as he fumbled for the comm. "Yeah?"

"Jazz?" Ironhide sounded less than pleased. "Where the frag are ya? Ya were s'pposed ta report back a five breems ago."

"Slag!" Thoroughly online now, Jazz all but fell out of the berth. "Slag, slag, slag."

"Yer goin' ta be slag if ya don' get yer tailpipe back ya base now!"

"On my way, 'Hide. Be there in a click!" Cursing himself, cursing the energon and even cursing the delectable mech he'd spent the night with, Jazz raced through the streets of lower Iacon at a reckless pace. He was relatively known by sight alone once he got closer to the base and the Autobot sentries knew better than to hold up the mysterious black and white mech when he was in a hurry. Jazz liked to think he felt guilty for abusing his reputation but he didn't and even with all of his rushing, he was still a breem and a half late for the officer's meeting.

No matter how sneaky Jazz could be, it was almost impossible to pull one on Optimus and the Autobot leader looked directly at the guilty-looking saboteur when he slipped in the briefing room. The gleam in Prime's optics told Jazz his name was mud and he fought not to cringe.

"Jazz, how nice of you to join us," the bearer of the Matrix drawled. He didn't have to glower or shout to make a mech feel like he was two inches tall. Jazz just grimaced and tried not to slouch.

"Sorry sir, there was a..er....holdup," he finished lamely. Normally Jazz could lie glibly but his silver tongue had apparently deserted him in that moment. The mech sitting Prime's at side had stood and turned to face Jazz.

For a moment, Jazz's CPU fritzed and he just stared dumbly at the mech. The fact that the saboteur found himself staring face to face with his one-night stand probably had something to do with his inability to talk, much less think straight.

Yep, that was definitely the same mech he'd shared a recharge berth. Jazz found his anticipation and fondness for the mech plummeting. There was an icy gleam in the other black-and-white's optics that Jazz didn't like. Oh, this was going to complicate things a lot.

Jazz dimly heard Optimus as if from a distance.

"...our new lead tactician, Prowl. He just transferred from Sentinel's unit over in Kaon. Prowl, this is Jazz, our head of the Special Ops unit. You two will be working closely with each other."

"Er...nice to meetcha." Jazz mentally shook himself and hesitantly stretched out one hand to shake the cool-faced tactician's hand in greeting.

Prowl barely let his fingers brush Jazz's before that white hand fell away. "Do you make it a point to be late like this? Or is this just a one-time thing?"

Fragger! Jazz was really not liking him at the moment. "Only a one-time thing, sir. Won't happen again, I promise." There was a grim tone to Jazz's voice and both mech's knew he wasn't just talking about the lateness.

Uneasiness spread through the briefing room as the other Autobots picked up on the tension all but radiating from the two mechs in palpable waves.

"Do you two..er..know each other?" Even Prime seemed at a loss.

"No, sir. Never set optics on him before," Jazz lied glibly and flashed his leader a sunny smile. "What'd I miss?"

"Not much, have a seat and we'll continue with the meeting." Jazz found himself sitting next to Prowl and guiltily admitted most of the meeting passed without him really catching a word of it. He kept getting distracted by those blasted door-wings. Memories of touching and caressing those wings, of wresting impassioned cries from this suddenly cold and emotionless mech made it hard to concentrate.

Every time Prowl seemed to bend his head to make notes on the datapad he carried with him, those tempting door-wings twitched and flickered up and down.

Slaggit, couldn't he stop moving!

Irritation and desire warred within him, leaving the saboteur twitchy and on a hair-trigger. The end of the meeting could not come fast enough and as the various officers started to shuffle out, Prowl lingered and Jazz remained in his seat. He wanted to talk with the slagger but Optimus shot him a look. "Jazz, I'd like to talk to you."

Aw slaggit. This day just kept getting better and better. "Yes, sir." He slunk out behind his leader and shot a glower over one shoulder at the impassive looking Prowl. The walk to Prime's office was long and uncomfortable. By the time they reached it, Jazz couldn't have felt more miserable if he tried. It was only after they were behind closed doors that Optimus turned those solemn optics on Jazz.

"What's going on with you, Jazz?" he rumbled softly. The patient disappointment in Prime's voice just made Jazz shrink further. "This kind of unprofessional behavior is not like you. You don't make it a habit of being late for meetings or not paying attention in a briefing." A long pause. "Nor do you make it a habit of lying to me."

Distressed, Jazz looked up at his leader before dropping his optics. "'I'm sorry, Optimus. I...it's jus' been a rough start ta the orn."

"Is that supposed to excuse your behavior?" Prime intoned softly.

Jazz grimaced. "No, sir. I'm not makin' excuses fer my behavior, all I can do is apologize and assure ya it won't happen again."

"....very well. I won't ask why you lied to me, Jazz. Knowing you, I'm sure you had your reasons. But don't make a habit of it or I will replace you."

Jazz's spark gave one sharp pulse in its chamber as icy dread flowed through him. "Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Sir," Jazz saluted sharply and fled with his figurative tail between his legs. Once he was out of Prime's overwhelming presence, the tangled mix of anger and bemusement he'd felt ever since clapping optics on Prowl slowly rose again and he stalked through the hallways intent on giving the new tactician a piece of his mind.

It looked like his luck was actually beginning to turn too when he saw Red Alert's familiar shuffle up ahead. "Hey, Red! Wait up!"

The security director paused and shot a puzzled look over his shoulder when Jazz called his name. "Did you need something?"

"The new tactician, Prowl. Ya know where I can find him?"

Red Alert looked understandably suspicious.

"Look, ya know I could hack into th' security 'net an' find out that way," Jazz threatened with an easy-going smile. "Not that ya could prove it of course."

"Hrmph. One day I'll catch you, Jazz," Red Alert promised him direly.

"That'll be the day. So come on, ya gonna tell me where I can find him?"

The red and white mech seemed to think it over for a moment. "You can probably find him in his quarters getting situated."

"But where are those, Red?"

Red Alert just looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Considering we only have one empty berth on the officer's deck at the moment, I'm sure you can figure it out," he put in scathingly.

"Aw, fraggit." Jazz cursed and spun back towards where the officer's deck was. There was only one available berth right now. A lucky Decepticon bomber had managed to take out almost a third of Iacon base's crew quarters. The blast had deactivated almost thirty Autobots including their former lead tactician.

Unfortunately for Jazz, that particular berth happened to be right next to his.

Sure enough, just as he was rounding the corner to the corridor his quarters resided, he saw Prowl walk into the room next door.

"Hey! Wait up!" Jazz shouted and quickened his pace. The saboteur wasn't adept at reading Prowl's body language quite yet but he could guess that the tense up-sweep of his door-wings meant he was less than happy.

"If you need something, I'll be back in my office in two breems." And he promptly slammed the door in Jazz's face.

He was stunned for an astroclick. "Why that slagging son of a--!" The indignant saboteur slammed his palm against Prowl's door.

"FINE!" he shouted loud enough to be heard through the door. "ARE YA ALWAYS THIS MUCH OF A SLAGHEAD AFTER YA INTERFACE WITH SOMEONE!?"

The words had barely left Jazz's vocalizer before the door slammed open and a vengeful looking Prowl grabbed him and yanked him into the room. The door slammed shut with a resounding kick and Jazz found himself faced with one angry looking tactician.

"If you think for one fragging astroclick that you're going to succeed in blackmailing then you're in for one nasty surprise."

"Frag you, ya self-righteous sonnuvah a glitch! I jus' came ta talk to ya and yer th' one who slammed a door in my fragging face!" Jazz's visor flashed with real temper now. "I was comin' here ta apologize and ta tell ya I wasn't goin' to make a big deal 'bout what happened last night!" Well, not really but it sure did have a nice, self-righteous ring to it.

Prowl fell back with a harsh cycling of air through his vents. The hot, angry gleam in his optics was being replaced with that dreadfully cold and remote look. "Fine, is that it?"

"What the slag is yer problem anyway? Because if I gotta worry 'bout you deliberately gunning fer my aft just 'cuz we shared a recharge berth you're in fer a nasty surprise!" Jazz jammed a finger into Prowl's chest and was gratified to feel the tactician flinch away. "Are ya really that slagged off that I lied about not being in the 'bots?"

Yes, but he wasn't going to admit that! Prowl'd had a bad experience with a former lover abusing the fact that he was sharing the SIC's berth to get away with all manner of infractions. By the time Prowl had learned of his duplicity, his reputation with the squad had been damaged. Even terminating his relationship with the slagger hadn't helped and the son of a glitch had even tried to blackmail Prowl afterwards. He'd claimed Prowl had coerced him and used his higher rank to force the trooper into a relationship with him.

That had probably hurt more than anything the son of a glitch had done.

Not that Sentinel had believed him of course. But that had been beside the point. After that, Prowl had sworn off mingling with other Autobots. His brief liaisons had always been with civilians and that had worked for him. At least….it had up until now. So yes, he was a bit fragged off about the whole thing.

"Do you always make it a point to lie to someone in order to convince them to crawl into your berth?" he asked coldly.

Jazz's visor flashed with annoyance as normally affable features tightened into a frown. "Are you always a slaghead or was I just really that overcharged last night that I couldn't look past the pretty package?"

"Yes, you really were that overcharged last night. It was acceptable for a 'merchant' but for the leader of Special Ops, it was just pathetic."

"Yer really startin' to piss me off, Prowl," Jazz grit out hotly. "What I do on my off-orns has nothing to do with you or the Autobots."

"Hrmph," Prowl made a disgusted sound and turned away from Jazz. Those graceful door-wings were all but vibrating with tension. They betrayed the tacticians agitated mood once again as Prowl stalked across the narrow confines of his quarters and picked up a discarded datapad. "Do you even remember anything from last night?" Prowl tried to sound dismissive but there was a strange tone beneath the obvious derision in his voice.

Jazz wasn't sure how the distance between them melted away but he was suddenly aware of was another flash of touching those trembling appendages as Prowl's husky moan of pleasure rung in his audio sensors. A dark hand rose to grip one of Prowl's door-wings in a firm grip and he dragged his fingers down the familiar line of the appendage without even thinking about it. "I remember this." Where had that come from? When had his voice dropped to such a low, suggestive level and why the slag was his engine revving excitedly all of a sudden?

Prowl made a strangled noise, one that Jazz's memory circuits happily reminded him he'd come to learn all too well the night before. "You shouldn't turn yer back on a Special Ops agent," he murmured into Prowl's audio as his other hand moved to explore the sensitive bundle of wires just beneath the joint of the door-wing he was stroking.

"I'll…keep that in mind next tim-ungh." Prowl cut off mid-sentence and gave an undignified moan. "Primus!" he yelped and tried to squirm away from Jazz but suddenly found himself pressed into the wall from behind by the saboteur.

"Let's see what else I remember, hmm?" Somehow it came out sounding rather sinister.

Prowl tried to twist around but found himself stopped when Jazz's grip on the sensitive appendage tightened fractionally in warning. "Is this your answer to everything?" he needled.

"Since nothing else was working, yes," Jazz admitted honestly as he continued to explore and generally molest the not-quite struggling tactician. Both mechs engines were revving higher than they should have been and Jazz was beginning to remember more and more with each passing moment. When he managed to wring another strangled moan from Prowl by working his fingers into the joint between the two door-wings, he knew he hadn't been imagining what scattered memories he had of his night with Prowl.

"We can't do this," the tactician groaned. He turned darkened and chaotic optics on Jazz. "I don't have these kinds of relationships with my subordinates. It's too dangerous."

"Well, it's good thing I'm not under yer command," Jazz growled and nipped at the edge of Prowl's helm. "Special Ops is their own branch. You might outrank me but you're not my commanding officer. We're jus' s'posed ta work together."

"Oh," Prowl said dully. He really wished he could come up with something more intelligent than that to say but he was having trouble processing things properly at the moment. He knew Jazz's logic was flawed in some painfully obvious way but he could not for the spark of him see where. The saboteur’s fingers kept doing things to his body, things he remembered with painful clarity from the night before. "Let's move this to the berth," he suggested unsteadily.

Jazz made a low, pleased noise and extracted his fingers from the joints. He kept his hold on Prowl's door-wing and even tugged the tactician in the direction of the berth with it. Once he was no longer being pressed into the wall, Prowl turned around heedless of the sharp pain from his door-wing as it was bent too far. The pain registered distantly as he latched his lips onto Jazz's in a passionate kiss.

The sudden aggressive moment started Jazz, especially when he heard metal bend and creak dangerously. He let go of the trapped appendage and returned the kiss with equal fervor. After that, things got a little hazy and before he knew it, Jazz found himself on Prowl's berth with the heavier weight of the bulkier mech pressing down on him. Not one to remain passive, Jazz was exploring and categorizing what made Prowl gasp and which spots caused the tactician to shudder in pleasure.

It was beginning to come back to him now and Jazz was finding his memory of the previous night improving in leaps and bounds. Maybe it was re-mapping all of Prowl's various hot spots but he seemed to recall garnering the exact same reaction last night when he kissed and explored one of Prowl's headlights.

Prowl's hands tightened around Jazz's shoulders, fingers scrapping against the wheel-wells as his head bowed forward. The over-bright way his optics all but burned down at him told Jazz how excited the tactician was and Jazz met his passion with a surprising amount of his own.

Somewhere along the way, Prowl moved to connect data-cables and Jazz suddenly had a much more intimate insight into the tactician. He was flat-out shocked to learn they'd actually truly interfaced the night before. Usually, Jazz didn't move beyond just simple tactile stimulation. Actually jacking into someone was usually too intimate for his tastes but he discovered his systems had already been keyed and synchronized with Prowl's already and his firewalls configured to let the tactician have access to his systems.

That surprised echoed through the uplink and Prowl stared down at Jazz with over-bright optics. "You told me you didn't normally 'jack in on a first date. So that wasn't a lie?"

"Frag no. It's dangerous," Jazz whispered dully. Sensations were beginning to pass back and forth between them as pleasure echoed through the bridge between their processors. It was getting hard to think clearly, especially when it was so much easier to just surrender to the sensation and feel what was passing between them. It was unnerving and overwhelming all at the same time. This was why Jazz didn't like to 'jack into someone. It made it hard to hold onto himself, to not loose himself in the mirrored emotions and personalities. For a mech like Jazz, loss of identity was truly a terrifying thing.

"Shh..." With aching tenderness, Prowl stroked one pale hand across Jazz's faceplates before settling his palm against the saboteur's cheek. "It'll be alright."

Jazz had not expected such comfort to come from the seemingly uncaring tactician and he looked up at Prowl with a wary look on his face.

"I'm not a completely sparkless fragger, you know," he teased gently. "You reacted the same way last night, I thought it might have been the energon but I guess it's something a bit deeper." Prowl shifted his weight and moved to disconnect his data-cable from Jazz's port only to be stopped by dark fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist.

"You stop now and I'll havta kill ya," Jazz warned with a low growl. Irritation flashed across Prowl's features and through the link.

"Make up your mind, Jazz. I'm not going to force you into something you're not comfortable with."

"Do you hear me complain'?" Jazz groused and laced his fingers between Prowl's before pulling them away from the jack. "Rules are meant ta be broken, ain't they?" When Prowl still hesitated, Jazz yanked him down for another kiss and released his hand so he could explore those deliciously sensitive door-wings.

Prowl seemed to fall into line after that and the two mechs continued to interface uninterrupted for a few more pleasurable breems. Engines rumbled and grew in pitch as the two flooded the link between themselves with echoes of pleasure and sensation. Soon enough, their processors were flashing warnings as their cooling systems couldn’t keep up. Their overwhelmed systems overloaded with an audible click and optical displays went white with static before fading to black.

Primary systems rebooted with the tired whine of over-worked fans. Their shell programs and personality systems ran through their syschecks next and soon enough, they were moving. Albeit slowly and gingerly.

When he powered up his optics, Prowl could see the display telling him he was still connected to Jazz’s and that they were exchanging packets back and forth. This was the most dangerous time, in Prowl’s opinion, because their systems were still rebooting and firewalls were at their weakest. This was when information got transmitted without conscious thought so Prowl hastily ran his security software and felt Jazz do the same.

Just because they were sharing a berth currently didn’t mean they trusted one another.

“See? Some rules are jus’ meant ta be broken,” Jazz murmured lazily as he disconnected his data-cable from Prowl. Once they were both disconnected, the saboteur rolled onto his back and just lounged across Prowl and the berth without a hint of shame.

“Hmn…perhaps,” Prowl murmured and tried to find a comfortable way to lay without his door-wings getting in the way.

“Well, I personally thin’ this is more pr’ductive then us at each other’s throats.” Jazz smirked in a self-satisfied way and folded one hand beneath his helmet.

Prowl made an indelicate noise and was moving to kiss the smirking Jazz when the saboteur’s comm-link chirruped at him.

“Yo?”

“Jazz? Where the frag are you?!” For the second time in one day, Ironhide’s annoyed voice came across the comm. “You were supposed to meet up with us three breems ago for the new weapons class.”

“Fraggit!” Jazz rolled off the bunk with a curse, much to Prowl’s amusement. “Not one word.” He shot the tactician an annoyed look.

“What?” Prowl asked with feigned innocence.

“You know what. I don’ normally make it a habit of bein’ late everywhere, fraggit.”

Prowl just smirked at him.

Jazz shot him an annoyed look then paused. He stooped down to mash his lips to Prowl’s in a hard, hurried kiss before pulling away with a grin. “Gotta go but we’ll finish this conversation later.”

“Indeed we shall,” Prowl promised quietly as the saboteur raced out of his quarters.
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At First Glance