#mate prowl

Not a chance, not a chance. (Normally I go with non-valve related deliveries but for lions it just suits better so ya, that would hurt like hell and be very, very messy).

The dam has more fight than Jazz gave him credit for. When Jazz tries to roll him, he bites into his shoulder, getting a mouth full of mane, and a chunk of Jazz's protoform. Nice. He should have anticipated that. Ori's going to kill him for this but as he fight to get control over the dam, Jazz rips stained linen from the berth and ties his wrists and then his ankles. Now, he can lift the dam who frantically tries to hold onto his newlings while he's restrained.

Jazz is careful, thinking of the newlings pinned to their originator's wells, and he carries Prowl out to where his kinsmech are taking stock of their reclaimed home. They smell the dam before they see either him or Jazz. Ori stands slowly and Jazz knows he's going to get it.

"I had to get'm outta there, Ori," he makes his case quickly. "He bled all o'er the berth. They ain't even been cleaned."

"Take 'em to the bath," Punch says, ire not at all diminished by refocused for now. "I'll bathe 'em."

"I knew ya'd take care o'em," Jazz purrs and his originator gives him a scathing look.

"Don't ya dare jostle 'em," Punch warns. "Are ya bleedin'? Did he get ya?"

"Oh ya, he got me."

Prowl's white mane is stained and matted with mechfluid, like the rest of him. The emergence was a nasty, bloody mess. If he had been able to stand he would have moved to one of the abandoned alcoves, but he is exhausted. Just exhausted. He does not need to know who this black maned mech is. He stinks of death.

Obviously *I* don’t expect him to harm any cubs, but *Prowl* would be expecting it. And Prowl is a good mama.

(If you aren’t into lions, maybe this could be finagled into some kind of barbarian AU?)

I am into lions. I am picturing Polys with fluffy manes and I am living for it.

Note to self, learn to draw. XD

Reclaiming his progenitors' pride (town) feels incredible. Jazz has not been home to Staniz since his ori had taken him and his brother and fled into the darkness. The screams of murdered cubs and grief stricken dams had followed after them. Much of Straxus' harem has fled and that makes life easier for Jazz. He knows what he is supposed to do with them but fragging this progenitors' murder's mates is a revolting concept.

There's a scent of energon hanging in the air when Jazz enters what had been Straxis harem and he follows it, exploring empty alcoves where Straxis' mates and cubs had recharged. When he pulls back the curtains of the last alcove, he expects to find a corpse, a mate who chose to follow him to the Pit. But he does not find a corpse, but rather a hissing Praxian, optics brilliant blue, denta bared and claws extended. It's a pitiful display, the berth is soaked with mechfluid, two fresh cubs still sticky with afterbirth suck on his bared wells.

Bite his face off, rip his guts out, try at least. Punch is less and less angry at Jazz because he understands it was in Prowl's best interest to get out of the soiled berth. He's distressed to learn how Jazz offered himself when his intimate circuitry so desperately needs a chance to heal. Prowl's tired, very tired and Punch holds him so he's sitting up in his lap, helm resting on the edge of the bath, bitlets drinking from his wells again. He rests his helm on Jazz's lap when Jazz wriggles in behind him and Jazz washes him mane. His optics are a little glassy but he knows that its Jazz. He lets it up and relaxes a little.

Prowl stirs enough to help dry his own bitties. They are shiny and clean and perfect. One has a helm like Straxus and neither has taken after Prowl's frame but he thinks they are the prettiest little cubs. Punch is taken with them too. Jazz doesn't try to touch, and Prowl is relieved because Punch may not appreciate Prowl biting off his creation's servo.

Jazz is not smart. Or maybe he is and he's just willing to get mauled a little. He follows behind Ori, carrying the dam to the large public bath everyone in the pride uses. Straxus' allies have all fled and it's empty. There's no need to fill it, the bath is filled by a natural spring, the bubbly energon has minerals that will help the new ori heal from his ordeal.

Punch climbs in first and hold his arms out for the Praxian lion. He's tense as a girder in Jazz's arms. Jazz needs and then carefully slides him into Ori's waiting arms, laying his palm flat against the newlings' backs, ensuring they're safe. The dam hisses as warm energon covers his abused protoform but he settles in Punch's grasp. Divested of his burden, Jazz slides into the pool. He's covered in the mech's fluids and not ones Jazz enjoys.

"That's it, Love," Punch croons at the dam. "Ya just rest in this lil nook 'n I'll get ya clean... Just gotta get these rags off ya first. My creation's an aft."

"I didn't wanna get blinded tryin' to get'em outta there," Jazz feels the need to defend himself. Ori hisses. Yep, he's on his slag list for sure.

"Serves ya right even goin' near 'em," Punch scolds him. "Knowin' what ya are to'm."

"I couldn't leave 'm in that filth," Jazz replies. "He mighta got rust or somethin'."

"Won't be filthy when 'm done," Punch assures the dam who looks back and forth between them as though he doesn't know who to watch more.

Jazz passes ori a cloth and solvent and tends to himself. The dam watches him approach and holds his newlings tightly. Punch purrs at him, reassuringly. The bite in his shoulder isn't awful, neither are the scratches on his arms. Straxus must have kept the dam's claws filed because they did not have near as much of an edge as they should have.

"Did ya pass the afterbirth?" Punch asks the dam.

"Yes."

"Good," Punch replies. "I know ya feel awful sore now but y'll heal o'er the quartex or so. After y're all clean with get ya settled in a soft berth 'n ya can focus on the cubs."

"They look good, don't they Ori?" Jazz asked. "Healthy?"

"They look perfect," Punch agreed and the dam looks down at his cubs. "Do ya have designations for 'em yet?"

"No..."

"What about ya, Love? What do we call ya?"