1/1/2017

One day I'll have to find alternative titles to these chapters. I'm sorry I left you all on a cliffhanger last year! But spoiler alert, I like happy endings and did this chapter in a rush. BTW, it's rained in my city on New Year's morning/12AM for two years in a row. What's up with that?

Happy New Year's! (My resolution is to post more. What's yours?)

Nobody poked fun at Jazz for the insistent nearness, not when they were trying to do the same thing. The object of their attentions was confused but not enough to protest where they could hear. Currently said object was in medical for a checkup and Jazz wasn't with him.

"Buddy!" Blaster swung an arm over Jazz's shoulders, "How is he?" Worry shone in his optics.

Jazz smiled tiredly. "Ratch' is doing an in-depth checkup on him. He looks good though." He collapsed on the giant couch with a squeak of his joints.

"Sounds like you might need a checkup, yourself," the orange bot teased as he sat beside Jazz.

"Naw!" Jazz crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his helm down. "I'm just fine."

The banter continued and other bots joined in, playfully ribbing Jazz for not keeping up with the local gossip. In his defense, he protested, he'd been busy. When, later, a hush fell upon the mechs near the front of the rec room, Jazz paused in a story he'd been telling and turned. His breath caught in his throat.

He'd never seen a sight more beautiful than Prowl creeping through the door looking as if the bots in the rec room were all sharkticons about to pounce. Although granted, Jazz was sure they looked like them.

He scrambled over the back of the couch and nearly faceplanted into the floor in his haste to meet the mech.

"Prowl!" he chirped, happy enough he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed over the sparkling-like sound. How many hours had the mech been in Ratchet's care? He skidded to a stop in front of the other black and white with inches to spare as he looked Prowl over. No marks anywhere. They'd had plenty of time to clean him during the past… too long.

Ratchet quirked an optic ridge at Jazz's hovering. "You can make sure he's all right now."

Glancing between medic and tactician, a wide opticked turbokitten look took over his faceplates and he flung himself at Prowl. Prowl held his arms out from his sides as Jazz squeezed his chest, and for all Jazz was much too excited to see him again after only a couple hours, the hug was remarkably gentle.

Prowl rubbed Jazz's audios and wrapped his other arm around his waist. "Let's go sit," he murmured. Jazz leant his helm against his chest and nodded, and somehow they got to a chair that really only fit Prowl. However, master contortionist Jazz fit perfectly in Prowl's lap save for one ankle tossed over the arm of the chair. Once Jazz had been still for several long seconds, bots crept closer. Everyone shifted and looked at each other.

Finally, Sideswipe spoke up, "How are you feeling?" Four short words summed up the entire rec room's worries.

Prowl looked up from where he'd rested his helm against Jazz's. Silence reigned for several minutes while he thought of what to say.

"I am…" Tired and achy for no reason. Several unpleasant adjectives. His lips pursed as he pondered. "…feeling as if I missed the fireworks."

Someone started laughing and the rest of the room followed suit. While most Autobots didn't like the noise, the lightshow was remarkable and Prowl had indeed missed them. Jazz peered up from his cuddling and commented, "I got a box—" and by box that meant one big, Cybertronian sized box, "—in my room. Let's light up the sky when Prowl's up to it!"