#praxian

Prowl managed to resist the urge to flip the table. This was why Prowl never should've slept with the saboteur in the first place. He had emotionally compromised himself and now the entirety of the Autobots and their species could pay the price for his selfishness. Today it was the data-pad. Tomorrow, one wrong move could result in the entire army being broken into piece.

Biting down the building anger, Prowl forced his energy into finding a new datapad. He reached into his desk draws for a replacement.

Despite the organised appearance of the rest of his office, the draws below Prowl's desk were a dumping ground of mess. He rummaged through old forgotten sweets, out of date notes and confiscated contraband. Just as his tips of his servos stroked the hard screen of a datapad, the back brushed against the feeling of an something wrapped in tarp. In an instant, Prowl's completer supplied him with the knowledge of what it could be.

Prowl had forgotten about the present that Jazz had gifted him all those months ago, back when they had barely been acquaintances, let alone anything more. Back when Prowl had hated his existence and the idea of sleeping with him, let alone fall for him would have been considered of sign of insanity.

In the present, Prowl carefully pulled out the parcel. Its tarp wrapping was slightly frayed around the edges, but other than that it looked as unassuming as the day Jazz had left it on his desk.

Aware that this was the last piece of Jazz may ever be able to have, and still not entirely convinced it wasn't some sort of prank, Prowl slowly opened it.

Inside was a bookend made from a sheet of slick black metal, curved exactly at a ninety-degree angle. On the angled side was the engravement of a figure with wide wings and a chevron crown falling from the surface of Luna-2. A scene from the legend of how Praxian's lost their wings. Although due to the way it had been drawn, it almost looked as the bot was rising instead of falling. A twist the usual tale, as though the loss of flight was not a curse, but instead a gift. The bookend had to have been handmade. Factories for frivolous gifts such as bookends had been shut down eons ago. But the detail of the design made it appear professional.

Prowl placed it on his shelf, propping up his datapads in an even line. He couldn't help but admire how it fit perfectly. The bookend was practical yet stylish. A sentiment that could have described the one who created it.

It was no wonder then that Jazz had not taken a liking to Prowl. Who could never have been described as stylish, only blunt and void of life. They were simply too different. It was foolish for Prowl to ever think that a mech like Jazz could have felt anything more towards him than pity.

The door to Prowl's office burst open. For a moment, Prowl's spark betrayed him with a traitorous soar of hope that Jazz had once again broken in to his office.

Instead it was one of the few who had gifted the code.

"Do you want me to kill them for you?" Bluestreak beamed as she bounced over to his desk.

"What?" Prowl said eloquently, his tact net for once having no idea what his sister was talking about.

"Obviously I could shoot him with a sniper." Bluestreak yammered on as though this all made complete sense. "You know, make it look like an accident. But if you wanted something more painful then Sunstreaker showed me how to gut a mech alive. Plus he and his brother have already said they'd help me if I ever wanted to hide a body! And I know Bumblebee would be upset at first but I'm sure he'd get over it eventually!"

"Who's body?"

"Jazz."

Prowl sighed, sitting back down behind his desk.

"Why would I want to kill Jazz?"

Bluestreak stared at him like he was the one talking crazy.

"For breaking your spark."

Whatever explanation Prowl had been expecting Bluestreak to say it most certainly had not been that.

"He did not break my spark." Prowl then leant forward, his tact next soon catching up to the implications of those words. "And why would you think that he had?"

Bluestreak bit down on her lip in an attempt to physically stop herself from talking.

"Bluestreak." Prowl warned which was all it took to burst the damn.

"Okay so don't be mad but I may have snuck out of the medbay to see you after you came to talk to me the first time because I could tell you were still pretty upset. So I went to your room but then I saw Jazz head inside and I thought that maybe he was going to drop off some last minute paperwork or prepare for a mission or whatever. So I waited for him to leave and I waited and waited and waited.. and then he didn't."

Prowl opened his mouth, his battle computer having already started convicting excuses for why Jazz would be spending the night in his berth, before his logic circuits soon cut it off, concluding that it would be pointless.

"We were not … in a relationship." Was all he said instead.

Bluestreak scrunched up her nose.

"That was so not what I meant when I said that I thought it would benefit you to make friends but still, I think he was good for you. These past few months have been the happiest I've ever seen you. Actually from what Bumblebee's told me, I think you were both good for each other." She stated, again sounded so much wiser beyond her years.

A moment later, that brightness was back as she perked up with an idea.

"Wait you' guys were doing … all that before Blackout came back right? You've made me read through the Autobot rule book like a million times so I know that if a relationship starts before a promotion or demotion then as long as you declare it to your superiors then its all good! Plus you love paperwork so why don't you just do that!"

"Jazz made it very clear that he did not want that." Prowl replied unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"You sure you don't want me to kill him?" She asked.

"No."

"Fine." Bluestreak crossed her arms over her chest. "I was going to offer to kill Blackout as an alternative but I'm going to assume you don't want me to kill her either?"

"You would be correct."

Bluestreak uncrossed her arms.

"Look, I didn't just come here to offer an assassination."

She placed a cube of energon on his desk.

It wasn't until the cube was in front of him that Prowl realised how low his levels had gotten. But it he drunk it now, then Bluestreak would know that she had been right to be worried. He looked back up to her optics to find himself fixed by her stare. She must have figured out his chain of logic. Sometimes it was annoying how well she understood him.

Reluctantly, Prowl took the cube.

Bluestreak sighed. Prowl couldn't tell if it was in annoyance or relief.

"I can't take care of you like I used to as a sparkling. I've got missions now. I'm not going to be on base forever. And without Jazz to bring you your fuel I know you haven't been getting enough because I haven't seen you in the rec room since Blackout came back."

He hadn't seen it that way. But now realised that until she had left for boot-camp, Bluestreak had always been there, waiting in their quarters of bothering them at their desk to make him sleep and eat. It would explain why the rate of his crashes had increased exponentially after she'd gone.

"I should have been the one taking care of you." He stated.

Bluestreak smiled in response.

"It was the only responsibility I could have as a kid. I enjoyed having something to do on those bases instead of being a burden. But that's not what I'm hear to talk about. My point is that just because Jazz is an idiot for shutting you out, that doesn't mean you have to shut yourself from everyone else. You made friends with Red Alert, you actually interacted in the rec-room and you refuelled the amount that your supposed to. You are brave and smart and loyal. Jazz can go fuck himself. You deserve to be with someone who sees how amazing you are."

The pure pride in Bluestreak's voice brought a warmth to Prowl's spark he thought he had lost the ability to feel.

"Thank you." He told her, even though the words felt inadequate to express the amount of gratitude and love he felt.

But Bluestreak had always been able to understand what he struggled to show. Practically climbing over the desk as she pulled Prowl into a hug he could have never refused. Because he would do anything for her. And as usual she was right.

What he'd had with Jazz had made him happy. But it wasn't just that. It was how over the past months, Red Alert had come to trust him enough to use his own chess set, it was how mechs in corridor actually said hello to him instead of whispering behind his back and how he let himself make music even without purpose or even a need to be good, only a need to express.

Eventually, Bluestreak let him go, skipping back to the door to return to whatever chore she'd sneaked off from.

Just before Bluestreak could shut the door, she poked her head in one last time.

"Are you sure you don't want me to kill him?"

"Yes." Prowl sighed.

"Okay!"

Bluestreak said with a wave before leaving his office.