Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers

Nesting

Hound was content as usual after spending hours upon hours of time with the local wildlife. It appeared as if things went well for the tracker if the grin on his faceplate was anything to go by.

Jazz, pedes up on his desk as he sipped a cube of energon, slid a datapad over to the newly arrived bot. "Yer next mission."

Hound took the offered datapad, gaze dropping to it as he looked through the contents.

"So how'd it go?" Jazz casually questioned, "Learn anythin' interesting?"

Hound subspaced the datapad in favor of talking to his commander. "I watched birds find mates."

"Really? Why don't ya sit down and tell meh what ya learned?" Jazz suggested, taking his pedes off his desk that way he could get a better view of the tracker.

Getting comfortable as Hound left his office, Jazz started thinking over what the tracker had told him.

He was having difficulty in catching Prowl's attention. Engaging in a conversation with the Tactical Commander for something work related was easy, but that wasn't what he was after. No, Jazz wanted to be in a relationship with the Praxian.

From what he knew, Prowl was single and had been so for a very, very long time. That and his charms didn't affect the Praxian.

That really got Jazz thinking.

Polyhexians and Praxians had different traditions and protocols, especially in the ways of finding a lover.

Prowl probably didn't even realize that Jazz had been trying to court him.

But it still didn't solve the problem. In all honesty, he should just ask Bluestreak or Smokescreen, but this was something he wanted to figure out on his own. Which led to his own muses on how similar birds and Praxians were.

Prowl jerked in surprise, startled out of his thoughts, dropping the datapad he had been working on.

It was a nice song, it really was, but why was Jazz here, in his office, singing?

Prowl abruptly got up and hurried out of his office.

What Jazz was doing was inappropriate, especially to a higher up. Prowl had duties to attend to, just like Jazz did. They couldn't afford to be in this situation during a war.

Jazz frowned, watching Prowl leave the room yet again as he followed closely by, singing the entire time. He even tried a mixture of songs, hoping to find the right one. It didn't make much sense, usually Prowl said something or at least acknowledged his presence and then ignored him.

He hadn't even gotten a 'what are you doing?'

Jazz knew he was affecting Prowl, but he didn't know how and the Praxian wouldn't tell him.

If Prowl was going to be stubborn, Jazz would be even more so.

A decacycle had passed and Prowl could only get work done late at night and only if he smuggled them into his room.

Jazz would leave the Praxian alone at night, but during the day, the singing would start back up again.

Every time Prowl walked past Smokescreen and Bluestreak with Jazz not far behind, Smokescreen would burst into laughter while Bluestreak chattered excitedly with any bot close enough to listen.

Prowl reentered his office for the seventh time that cycle and sat down, a determined look on his faceplate as he attempted to ignore the saboteur and do his work.

Jazz decided to change songs once again. He was surprised to see Prowl relaxing this time, doorwings fluttering happily in time with the song.

That was new.

Jazz was so entranced in the fluttering doorwings that he found himself unprepared for Prowl's next move.

He found himself face to face with Prowl, the Praxian's hands on either side of his helm as Jazz was pulled into a kiss. As quickly as it started, it was over. Prowl was back at his desk acting as if the last decacycle hadn't happened.

Confused, Jazz stumbled out of the office.

Jazz was getting concerned about Prowl. It had been a few cycles since he was last seen by anyone on base.

As Jazz made his way towards the Praxian's office, he noticed large, empty boxes littering the hallways.

He hacked the door, a grin on his faceplate as the door flawlessly slid open. The sight, however, wasn't anything like he ever expected, especially in Prowl's office.

Jazz looked around the room, cautiously taking a few steps inside. He jumped at the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him.

Prowl's desk and chair had been moved off to the side. To the other side was a rather large supply of energon. In the center of the room was a large mound of sticky notes.

It looked like an oversized nest.

Without making a sound, Prowl showed himself from the inside of the nest, a few sticky note pads in hand.

"Prowler, what is this all about?"

Completely deadpan, Prowl replied, "I want sparklings."

It was then that Jazz knew this had been a bad idea. He really should have asked for advice from the other Praxians instead of accidentally activating Prowl's Mating Protocols. Everything made sense now.

Jazz took a cautious step back, keeping eye contact with Prowl as he attempted to escape.

Needless to say, the Autobots haven't seen their second and third in command in quite some time.