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Jazz had been on Cybertron for so long that it was almost strange to be talking in English about Earth gossip like he was simply back at a MECHA base, but here he was, standing on a table while he chatted with Swerve. Swerve! Of all people! Sure he didn't look like the human engineer he remembered, but he still sounded like him and he could make a projection of the familiar safety goggle wearing redhead. Though he wasn't doing it right now, the mech was currently sitting to refuel at the table Jazz was on.
"So do you know if they ever went through with that crazy idea to stick a medic into Vortex?"
"Oh they definitely went through with it. The fact he managed to crawl outta that thing alive when he wasn't even supposed to be piloting pretty much set it in stone as far as the higher ups were concerned."
Jazz felt his shoulders sag at that news. "Damn... Poor Felix." It was a miracle if anybody managed to come outta that mecha alive, even after just one trip, and if they managed to live a second then their minds were usually shredded from the nueral uplink.
Swerve paused in drinking his energon as he watched Jazz. For all he was familiar with human mannerisms, it was so different observing it now while he was so much larger than them. "He's still alive. Or... at least, last I knew he was."
"Wait. For real!?"
"Yeah, call sign First Aid. He's now the most successful pilot of Vortex since... well, since the original pilot that is. Gossip on base is that he comes out wrecked sometimes, but he comes out in one piece and not a gibbering mess."
"Holy shit."
Jazz found himself pacing as he tried to wrap his head around the idea of Felix- First Aid, being able to handle piloting that death machine. It just didn't add up. Sure he'd heard the kid had been on probation for something, but he still couldn't think of anything about him other than being timid. Or maybe that was just Aid keeping his head down?
"Yeah... Everybody's honestly waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to get chewed up like every other pilot for Vortex." Swerve snorted, "Not that command cares I bet. It's win win either way for them. If First Aid keeps working out, then their most powerful suit is back in the field. If Vortex kills yet another pilot, then they can finally scrap it for parts to start building newer and better things." The engineer's been finding himself missing a lot of things from Earth since waking back up to himself here on Cybertron, but the shady ass upper MECHA command and the investors was not one of them.
Jazz had paused to look back at Swerve and had been just about to reply when he heard another voice snap in Neocybex, he's pretty sure it roughly translated to...
"Hey! You're in the way!"
There wasn't even time to turn around before something slammed into him and sent the human quickly tumbling across the metal table top. His side burns from impact and his ears are ringing when he finally comes to a stop. Vaguely he thinks he can hear laughter, but also an angry shout. He flinches when large metal hands come around him, but they're gentle and mostly seem to just be trying to shield him. Swerve was standing, energon forgotten as he practically hovered over Jazz and shouted at some other mech. Swerve wasn't talking in English anymore and it was taking the human a minute to translate.
"The Pit is wrong with you!? You can NOT handle humans like that!"
"He was in the way! I barely tapped him!"
"Maybe it'd be a tap if he were a deployer, but he's not made of metal like us! Human bones BREAK under just a few thousand newtons of force!"
Groaning, Jazz slowly brought a hand up to his throbbing head and tried to will the world to stop spinning. "Can we please stop shoutin'....?"
"Jazz!" Swerve's attention had quickly snapped back to the human, his visor bright and panicked.
Jazz appreciated the worry, but the volume still made him wince, "What did I say 'bout the shoutin'?"
"Sorry," the white and red mech fretted, "Are you okay? Can you tell if anything's broken?"
There was a moment where Jazz just breathed slow as he considered that question. As he thinks and assesses himself he absently notes how quiet the lounge is right now, maybe an uncomfortable murmur from somewhere in the room.
"Don't think nothin's broken, but I'ma certainly be all bruised to hell an' back," he grunted uncomfortably as he carefully began to trying to get himself back up.
"See? He said nothing's broken, he's fine," came a mutter from a mech Jazz couldn't see beyond those white hands.
Swerve snapped again. "Just because he wasn't hit hard enough to break any of his internal structural support doesn't mean he isn't damaged and hurt!"
Jazz cringed as the loud indignant sound the other mech made likely meant the arguing was gonna start again and his head was still pounding.
And then came the voice of an angel.
"What is going on in here!?"
The fire and brimstone kind of angel given the tone in Prowl's voice. He could feel the vibrations of Prowl's approach as he got himself up and sitting again, leaning against one of Swerve's hands. Voices weren't raised, but there's definitely a not so happy conversation going on over his head that he's feeling a little too tired to try and translate right now. He's pretty sure he's got the gist of it though. Official reprimand, yada yada, incident report...? Assignment of punishment maybe...? Again he ain't paying too close attention, he's not even sure when he let his eyes close until somebody's calling his name gently in English.
"Jazz?"
Prowl's face is free of the scowl he'd worn upon entering the room, his features now soft and concerned as he bent down for Jazz to more easily see him without having to crane his neck.
"Hey, Prowler," he smiled tiredly.
"Are you alright?"
"Pretty bruised, but I'll bounce back."
With that honest answer he could see the corners of Prowl's mouth tug in concern and worry. Slowly the black and white mech extended his hands, but purposefully paused before reaching Jazz.
"May I pick you up?"
Jazz swears he felt his heart melt a little at how sweet this mech was with asking instead of just assuming. He definitely feels the smile spread across his face.
"Yeah. I'd appreciate the lift actually."
With a wince and the help of Swerve's hand for support, Jazz got himself up. With a steadying breath he looked back to the white and red mech with a grin.
"Thanks for the cover back there, Swerve."
"Yeah... no problem. Just wish I'd seen it coming so I could have prevented it." He tired returning that smile, but he still felt bad that Jazz had gotten hurt.... Hurt by one of them.
With a pat to the mech's hand, Jazz took a couple limping steps away and towards Prowl before his giant metal angel moved those big beautiful hands to meet him and gently took his weight. As Prowl slowly stood back up straight and gently positioned Jazz, he turned towards Swerve and nodded.
"Swerve. Thank you for assisting Jazz. I hope you enjoy the rest of your off-shift." It was formal, but genuine from the tactical officer.
"Uh, sure... Like I said, no problem... Sir."
Jazz chuckled at the awkward interaction, he could tell these two didn't normally deal with each other. Guess he'd be changing that. Not that he'd force them to be friends or anything, but he had every plan to continue hanging out with Swerve for some good old Earth style contact. He loved Prowl, but it was still nice to talk about his home with somebody who'd been there.
Then they were moving, taking the familiar path back towards their quarters. For a moment he wondered which one Prowl would take him to. Probably Jazz's. If just so the mech could properly fuss over him with whatever medical supplies he had in his mecha.
Prowl didn't even jostle him when he shifted his hold to work the door controls and stepped inside. A couple strides more and he was gently being lowered onto a desk next to the berth his mecha was laid out on.
"I will fetch your medical kit. Do you require assistance with your armor?"
Jazz hissed as he put weight on one of his legs and felt Prowl's hand stop, letting Jazz use it for support. "Nah, I can handle it."
".... Would you like me to remain as support as you shed the outer layer?"
"You know, that'd be great actually. Thanks, Prowler."
With steady hands and some careful maneuvering, it wasn't long before his armor was off and Jazz found himself down to his jumpsuit and situated as comfortably as possible on a foam slab amid a pile of fabric. Quietly he sat as Prowl slowly wrapped his slightly swollen ankle in a compression bandage and as he watched, it dawned on him. Jazz finally realized just how agonizingly careful Prowl has been with him. So painfully aware how easily he could hurt Jazz.... A care and awareness apparently not shared amongst the rest of Cybertronians. Swerve got it, but Swerve had lived with humans. Prowl had no such frame of reference.
".... Thank you," he said quietly, looking at this wonderful, beautiful being in yet another new light. Prowl just kept surprising him again and again. There was a momentary pause in the mech's work, but he didn't take his optics off what his hands were doing as he finished securing the bandage.
"You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me for helping you. I care about your health and wish to see you well."
Jazz gives a brief laugh at that matter of fact response. "Nah, I mean, yeah, thanks for that too, but.... No. Thank you. For being so careful with me."
He smiled as he saw those doorwings twitch upwards in attention as Prowl's gaze flicked to Jazz's face. That smile spread as he saw the look on the mech's face, guess he wasn't the only one still being surprised.
"I don't think it ever really occurred to me 'till now just exactly how gentle you been bein' with me. Not once have I ever felt uncomfortable or unsafe in your hands and I guess, I just thought that was the default. I'm sorry for not seein' it wasn't. So, yeah, thank you, for puttin' in so much effort for me."
Slowly, Prowl bent down and leaned in closer, those gentle hands cupping around Jazz.
"You will always be worth the effort, Jazz."