Disclaimer - We do not own Transformers, no matter how nice it would be. Not to mention, I think that Jazz and Prowl might have something to say about it.

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"Um, Jazz?"

Jazz blinked, slowly waking up from his position sprawled out on the couch. He glanced over at his bondmate, and blinked. "Prowler, why're ya still in alt mode?" he asked, a bit sleepily.

"I have – a problem."

Now he had Jazz's full attention. "A problem?" He stood up and walked over to Prowl, looking him over. "I don' see a problem, Prowler. Ya look pretty good ta me."

"Pervert." Prowl shot back. "Look at my passenger side."

Jazz did – and gaped. "H-how? Honestly – how did ya get yer seat stuck like that?" he demanded, opening the passenger door to get a better look. Prowl's passenger seat had been folded forward, which wasn't unusual, but it was also stuck underneath his dash.

Prowl shifted sheepishly. "It was a transformation on the fly – I wasn't paying attention to where my seats were!"

"Clearly." Jazz started chuckling.

"Don't laugh – it fragging hurts."

"Sorry. Don' ya think ya should go see Ratch 'bout this?"

"No! This is fragging embarrassing." Prowl muttered. "Now, can you help me out, please?"

Jazz tentatively touched the seat, and glanced at Prowl. "Ya realize it's gonna hurt, right?"

"It hurts now!" Prowl protested. "How much more can it hurt?"

"Dunno. Ya sure ya wanna find out?"

"Just get the fragging thing unstuck!"

"Wow, ya really are in pain – yer actually cursin' up a storm." Jazz teased, working his fingers between the seat and the dash.

"Jazz – "

"All right, shuttin' up now!"

"Thank you!"

Jazz gave the seat an experimental tug, wincing a bit at Prowl's sudden flurry of cursing. "Told ya." Jazz muttered. "An it didn' budge. C'n we see Ratch now?"

"You didn't even try!"

"Well, it's stuck, and I don' wanna hurt ya!" Jazz protested. "How'd ya do this one, Prowler? I can' even do that on my best day!"

Prowl hesitated at that, and Jazz tried again with the seat. Once again, no luck. "You tried this before?" Prowl demanded.

"It was a dare."

"High grade was involved." Prowl deadpanned.

Jazz smirked. "So git off meh." He frowned at the seat. "I was dared ta do this an' couldn'. First time I ever failed a dare. How'd ya get so lucky?"

"You want the luck back?"

"Nope. Ya c'n keep that."

"Gee, thanks." Prowl's frame shuddered. "Okay – try again, and if it doesn't work, I'll go to Ratchet. Okay?"

Jazz nodded. "I c'n do this." He wrapped his fingers around the seat and tugged.

With a snap, the seat came free.

"Shit!"

"I'm sorry!" Jazz immediately let go of Prowl, putting a few feet of distance between himself and Prowl. "Ya okay?"

"Fine." Prowl ground out.

"Tha' don' sound like 'fine' ta me." Jazz pointed out. Prowl transformed back into mech mode and massaged his shoulder. Jazz immediately backed away, putting the couch between them. Prowl blinked at him.

"I'm not going to hit you." he muttered. "Not when I asked you to do it."

"Ya sure?" Jazz asked warily.

"Please. You make me sound abusive."

"Ya are!" Jazz teased. "Sides, ya didn' hear yer tone."

Prowl chuckled. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "At least now you can tell the mech who dared you that your mate could pull off sober what you couldn't do drunk."

Jazz grinned. "Ya really want Sunny knowin' that?"

Prowl blinked. By the time that information sank in, Jazz was already gone.

"JAZZ!"

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AN: We have no excuses. We simply blame the Barricade toy that got the seats stuck like that. How the crap that happened to a toy, we may never know.