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Jazz had taken the Decepticon tactician Prowl – now the former Decepticon tactician – prisoner nearly a stellar-cycle ago when he'd found him injured and alone on the battlefield. Prowl had agreed to help Jazz navigate Decepticon territory in exchange for medical care. The former Con had expected Megatron to ransom him and had spent most of a meta-cycle cooling his heels in the stockade waiting for that to happen. It hadn't. Instead, without his primary strat-tact mech, Megatron's attacks had become more chaotic and less purposeful. Then, Megatron had made his biggest mistake, levelling Praxus.
Prowl had been constructed in Praxus. Its destruction made him furious and vengeful, and he'd sworn to kill Megatron. He'd also promised to help the Autobots if they gave him the tools to do it, though he hadn't defected, not precisely. He occupied an odd niche: no longer a Decepticon, not an Autobot, but not quite a Neutral either. Mech was unique and, frankly, good-looking.
On the other hand, he was also sarcastic, often demanding, and blunt, and a few of the junior tacticians flat-out refused to work with him in person any more. That meant Jazz wound up acting like an intermediary most of the time, hashing things out with Prowl and then taking his final version to the tac mecha to be, well, toned down a bit. Optimus liked a bit of a lower casualty rate than Prowl seemed comfortable with.
Jazz was pretty sure Prowl was making his plans more ruthless than they needed to be in anticipation of the Autobots altering them. Prowl had to be getting what he wanted, or Jazz was sure he'd have taken off to try and kill Megatron on his own. Sure, he used the Autobot for stuff like fuel and weapons, but Jazz wouldn't have put shanix on Prowl going Empty if he didn't have it. And, Jazz hated to admit it, even to himself, but in a twisty way, he liked the verbal sparring Prowl kept goading him into. Like now, when they were in the middle of a debate over whether searching for and destroying the remains of Project Trypticon would be worth it.
"According to all our intel, Megatron's abandoned Project Trypticon," Jazz was arguing. "It ain't worth going after, not when we've got Cons incoming on so many other fronts."
"Would you rather wait until the conversion is complete, and Trypticon is in orbit above Iacon with functional weapon platforms?"
Jazz snorted. "Thought the entire point of that incursion into Polyhex was to make sure they didn't have enough energon to do that?"
"It was," Prowl agreed, which Jazz knew meant he was about to start arguing again. "But we both agreed – "
"No, you agreed."
" – that it would be at best a temporary measure. Trypticon is too great of a prize to leave on the scrap pile." Prowl leaned over the table and stared intently into Jazz's face. It was a little too close for comfort, even if it was a good view. "If Prime didn't know – "
"I'm not keeping stuff from Optimus."
Prowl snorted, gaze still fixed on Jazz. "Your Prime is too soft to do what needs to be done. There are some decisions he should give over to those who understand the need to be hard."
"What, like you?" Jazz demanded.
"And you." Prowl ran a finger over Jazz's jaw, and Jazz nearly jerked back in shock. "You're not as far from being a Decepticon as you'd like to be. Are you?"
Jazz grasped Prowl's hand and forced it away from his face. "Point is, I'm not a Decepticon."
"You're not as far away as you'd like everyone to think." Prowl glanced downward briefly, then back up. "And you haven't let go of my hand."
Jazz still didn't let go. "Don't trust what you'd do with it."
"You only got one, though," Prowl pointed out.
"Yeah? What're you planning to do with the other one?"
"Whatever you want me to."
"Well, you better tell me what it is you think I want you to do," Jazz said. "'Cause I can't tell if you're spoiling for a fight or what."
"You see, this is another problem with Prime's ideas on ending the war," Prowl remarked conversationally. "The idea that it stops, and somehow we all begin living in this happy, unified version of Cybertron. He's not taking into account the ideology that started it, or the way Autobot and Decepticon might separate into two entirely different cultures."
"Prowl…"
"Or, have you not meant to flirt with me?"
Jazz stared at him. "Have I not what?"
"Is that a 'no?' Because you spend a lot of time with me, every conversation is a verbal challenge – "
"Mech, all you do is argue!"
"Of course I do," Prowl said. "And why do you think I've offered so many plans that align with your specific interests? I'm not allowed out of the base, I've no way to acquire upgrades or weapons or even engex for you after all."
"So, wait," Jazz said, thinking back on everything Prowl had given them. Yeah, there were quite a few that benefitted Jazz or Jazz's team, specifically. "Operations Octagon, Torch, Carte Blanche, those were all courting gifts?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't just say something outright because…?"
"You might have said 'no.' Or stopped spending so much time with me, and quite frankly, I enjoy our conversations whether you reciprocate or not." Prowl tilted his head slightly and considered Jazz. "Are you reciprocating?"
"Yeah, well, given I didn't know what was going on, I don't know if I am or not, do I?" Prowl was probably going to count that as verbal sparring, but either way, Jazz felt he had a good point.
Prowl shrugged and released him, straightening up. "I suppose not."
"I'm not saying 'no,'" Jazz said slowly, aware he was teetering on the edge of making a bad decision, "'least, not yet."
Prowl considered him for a moment. "I suppose that's fair. Back to business?"
"Okay, attacking Project Trypticon I am definitely saying 'no' to."
Jazz's spark wasn't really in the ensuing argument, but at least it made a good distraction.
Prowl didn't say anything more about it, and Jazz spent a few cycles thinking it over. It probably wasn't a good idea – no, scratch that, it definitely wasn't a good idea, but Prowl did tick an awful lot of Jazz's boxes. Smart, quick, good-looking, cunning, and probably going to make a disaster out of Jazz's personal life. It wasn't a good idea; it'd probably create professional problems too if it got out, but – Jazz supposed he could argue that it was an incentive to defect all the way. Of course, that just meant it could go really wrong if they broke up, but that was a problem for future-Jazz.
"Ah, what the hell?" Jazz said aloud to his quarters. At least it'd be fun while it lasted, right?
It wasn't a powerful knife as vibro-blades went, but Jazz wasn’t' going to break the rule that said Prowl could only have basic weapons. It was more for the gesture than anything else.
Prowl answered his door looking just as he always did, but Jazz thought he caught a faint flicker of surprise when Jazz held out the box. Prowl opened it, then looked up at Jazz while he ran his fingers over the hilt.
"Answer's 'yes,'" Jazz said.
For the first time since they'd met, Jazz saw Prowl smile.
"I'll make sure you don't regret it."