Jazz and Prowl get themselves into a pickle & Thundercracker and Brawl start doing their ridiculous dance.
Read here or on AO3!
“How did your date go?” Optimus asked as Buster and Roller ran around together, excitedly chasing each other and rolling around in the grass.
“Huh?” Thundercracker felt his ears burning. “What- how did you-?”
“I just thought you were both dressed very nicely yesterday is all.” Optimus replied, his arms folded across his broad chest. He had a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at him. “And Brawl didn’t look at you like he does everyone else.”
Butterflies erupted in his stomach.
“We’re just coworkers.” Thundercracker refused to look back at him and studied their dogs carefully instead. “My cousin wanted me to chat to him about a proposal and some wires got crossed when his friend responded to my text for him. That’s all.”
Optimus hummed. “Is that so?”
It stuck in his head for hours afterwards. The stupid little throwaway line. He doesn’t look at everyone else the way he looks at you.
It possessed the rest of his Sunday. He’d sent Brawl a text that morning asking if he’d seen about the special showing they were doing for the film festival but he hadn’t responded yet - which was fine. He didn’t have to, he wasn’t obliged to. He’d already taken up so much of his weekend.
Thundercracker aimlessly scrolled through his social media on his laptop, chin resting in the palm of his hand. It was good to play catch up sometimes - see what his family was up to, see what the latest trends were, find out what had gripped the world that day. And, other times, he’d find out about things that were going on in his local community. Typically he only really had eyes for the culture events like film festivals - like the one he’d asked Brawl about - but that day something else caught his attention.
His eyes fell on the advert for sign language classes. Something in his chest tugged. He wanted to be able to speak with Brawl no matter what. Was it too much if he went? It wasn’t as if he’d lose anything but his time if it ended up being pointless. Maybe he’d even enjoy picking up a new skill.
Signing up was easy. He made a note of the date and time in his calendar along with the address - a community centre it looked like, the one that was by the tram stop with the cat graffiti - and flexed his hands.
Now it was just keeping it quiet from nosey people. Like his cousins.
Starscream had called him the moment she twigged that he was back home the previous day and had demanded to know how it had gone. She hadn’t believed him when he told her what the situation was, that he hadn’t sent the text. Still, she was somewhat pleased that he had actually gone through with it. She was less pleased with the information Brawl had provided that this wasn’t the sort of thing that Onslaught appreciated and had insisted that he try anyway. He wasn’t bright and he missed things, she’d argued, and this was probably one of them.
Lying that he’d squared the time off for writing would be easy. Stealing back scraps of time to make up what he should have been producing was not so easy. Thundercracker knew that it would eat into the time he should have been sleeping, shaving off thirty minutes, an hour, wherever and whenever he could. What he wrote was going to be awful. It was words on a page and it was something he could show if challenged. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The next episode of As the Kitchen Sinks came around first. He just had to. Navigate that.
“Moooorning.” Vortex greeted him the following day, fog sitting thick on the ground. With Vortex, it was an ominous omen. What was she thinking? Wasn’t she the one who sent that text?
“Good morning.” Thundercracker greeted her anyway. “What possessed you to send that text?”
His hand flew to his mouth in shock at himself - he didn’t think he’d actually ask her. Vortex blinked at him for a moment before laughing.
“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it champ. Just doing my buddy a favour, yeah?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Gee, it’s a complete mystery.” She shrugged and put out her cigarette - Thundercracker didn’t even notice it was lit for the fog. “So. Deets, please. Brawl’s being so tight lipped.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to tell?” Thundercracker subtly shifted his weight to lean away from her. Vortex watched him adjust with a look in her eye that he couldn’t decipher.
“Sure there is! He was only meant to be gone what, twenty minutes? I didn’t see him all day! We were supposed to hang out.”
“Sorry I kept him from you.”
“You can make it up to me by giving me some details.”
Thundercracker sighed. She was between him and the door to the building - he wouldn’t be able to get past her, and what the toll would be was obvious.
“We just walked around the park. Went the long way around.” He wasn’t stupid enough to say that they’d met Optimus too, or mention their shared passion for As the Kitchen Sinks.
“And? What else? That doesn’t make up hours.”
“Nun’ya business.” Brawl growled, emerging from the fog to grab her by the ear and start walking.
“Ow!”
They immediately started bickering over each other - Thundercracker couldn’t pick out more than a stray word or phrase and he gave them a moment to get ahead before following them into the building. The two seemed to bypass the cafeteria - thank god, he didn’t think he could stay clear of them if they had - and he stepped in to make his morning coffee. He pulled his scarf up higher over his face to hide the expression he was pulling - he wasn’t sure what it was. A smirk? Embarrassment?
There was a queue. Good – even more time for them to get ahead of him.
His laptop bag was starting to dig into his shoulder when he finally got to the front, and without knowing why he ordered two drinks;
A latte and a cappuccino.
Why had he done that? He didn’t really know. He just. Brawl.
Hmm.
The door opened as he watched them foam the milk, and he glanced up out of habit - Vortex. She was grinning at him, her ear looking particularly red and swollen. Apparently she hadn’t learned anything as she promptly skipped over to Thundercracker humming a jaunty tune.
“Got him to crack - you’ve got plans later this week? You sly dog!” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Careful now - he’s a big boy, but I’m sure you can handle it.”
There was something in the way she said it that had Thundercracker feeling his face turn bright red. “I- wha?” He almost dropped his wallet. “Vortex! No!”
Her eyes brightened when two coffees were placed down in front of him and Thundercracker looked skyward in resignation. Yup. Okay. She was practically a gleaming beacon next to him now, and the woman behind the till was starting to look invested now and-
“Ooooh? Don’t tell me you got one for him too!”
“Eager for your ears to match, are we?”
“Quivering in my boots. Promise, look – they’re shaking!”
They weren’t and he hated himself for looking.
The office was revealed to him past a double set of security doors that he unlocked by slapping his pass up against the scanner at just the right angle – any different and it didn’t register the pass. Too fast and it didn’t register – too slow and it spat back an error with an aggressive red light that flashed at you angrily. A large pane of frosted glass spanned over one wall, split into regular and even segments. It was meant to be the physical manifestation of order, but to Thundercracker it made him think of division. The final set of doors lay ahead – clear glass with bold handles that stood out – which in itself told a story – and their logo etched onto the glass. Thundercracker pushed them open, Vortex long behind him in the cafeteria – she hadn’t been allowed to skip the queue and was relegated to the back to wait her turn with the rest of them – and looked down at the two drinks in his hands.
He’d done it on impulse. He didn’t know why.
It was going to get cold if he dropped off his things first, so instead of turning to walk down to where his desk was he instead turned and walked down to where Finance sat. They were slightly isolated on the other side of the building – a long walk to get there, but it meant that people didn’t tend to pop in for a quick chat if they had to make a particular effort to do so. It kept it quiet and distraction free – a good thing when working with the kind of data and numbers that they were. Without a free hand to knock on the door with, he just had to clear his throat in the open doorway and hope that Brawl heard.
He was in the middle of taking his coat off, the tops of his ears burning red. He looked surprised as he looked up, shrugging the thick outerwear from his shoulders.
“TC?”
So we’re on nicknames now? He felt something twitch in his gut. Probably hunger – his breakfast still waited for him in his bag.
“Here – Cappuccino.” He handed the coffee out to him.
“Oh, thanks.” Brawl took it for him and held it in his hand for a moment. “Did Vortex make you play delivery boy?” He scowled.
“Uh-” He could lie. It would have been easy to lie. “No, I. I got it for you.”
“Oh.”
The why was unspoken but hung heavy in the air between them. Thundercracker didn’t have an answer for him.
“I’d better get to my desk before Starscream sends out a search party.”
“Right. See you later.”
If anyone saw him run-
No, they didn’t.
---------------------------------------- The cappuccino offering was matched the following day with an iced latte. The cafeteria in the building didn’t do iced drinks - Brawl had to get it from somewhere else on his way in. He must have left the house early to make it on time and he’d sacrificed his pre-work cigarette outside with the others. Thundercracker felt guilty.
“You didn’t have to!” He took it anyway, the tips of Brawl’s fingers red from the cold.
Brawl prodded his forehead. “Now we’re even.”
“Mmhm.” Thundercracker felt that random twinge of hunger in his stomach again. “Thanks.”
“What time did you want me over tomorrow?”
“It starts at half seven, doesn’t it? So… should we say seven-ish? Does that give you enough time to eat beforehand?”
“Seven’s fine.”
“Perfect!” Thundercracker worried he was smiling too wide as he looked up at him. “See you then.”
He said good morning to everyone he passed without really taking much notice of who they were.
Thundercracker felt guilty, but it was the best coffee he’d ever had.
“Where’d you get that from?” Starscream asked when she came into their office later, plonking herself down at her desk. “Did they finally start making iced coffee?”
“Got it on my way in.” He replied. Not exactly a lie - he was on his way into their little office when Brawl had given it to him.
“Hmm.” Starscream inspected the logo. “That coffee shop’s a bit of a detour for you.”
“It is.” Thundercracker agreed.
“What convinced you to get up earlier to go there?”
“Just felt like it.”
She eyed him suspiciously, clearly not quite buying it.
“Right.”
He’d take it, honestly. At least she wasn’t pressing for more – her laptop dinged with an incoming email and it took her full attention away from him and scrutinising his morning caffeination habits. She loudly tutted as she read it.
“We are surrounded by fools.” She muttered to herself as she got to work.
Thundercracker felt inclined to agree, but it was a bit worrying when he found that he’d put himself squarely into that category.
Working through the days tasks, Thundercracker tried to not let his mind wander too much. Tomorrow was the day his colleague that he had impulsively invited over was going to be there. He’d have to endure the whole day of it hanging over his head on top of the agonising over it that he was currently doing. Him and his stupid mouth, him and his impulsive nature. Why didn’t he learn to keep his mouth shut? Skywarp couldn’t keep her thoughts from leaking out either – why hadn’t he learned from the hoops she’d had to jump and leap through to clear her name each time it got her into trouble? It wasn’t like him to do things like this. Why now?
He put the answer into the same drawer he seemed to be shoving everything into this past week and put a reminder into his diary to remind himself to go to lunch.
It had slowly been starting to warm up. While the mornings were still quite cold – he felt his stomach twist in that weird hungry feeling when he thought of how freezing Brawl’s hands must have been carrying his iced latte in this morning – once the day had gotten started and the sun had been given some time to get to work, the day was rather pleasant and somewhat mild. Thundercracker liked to sit outside on the picnic benches out in the staff courtyard and usually ate his sandwich with a book. It was a routine that he’d given himself and he considered it sacred – on the days when he couldn’t get this time everything felt wrong and his afternoon was ruined. In the winter he endured it under the heatlamps, often alone – not many others liked to brave it.
The smoking area was right next to it, the only thing dividing them a line of bushes that were planning to flower in a months time. Typically he didn’t pay it any mind. In the past he only found it vaguely annoying when the wind blew in the wrong direction and the smoke made it over and into the courtyard, but otherwise he didn’t really acknowledge it other than nodding his head at the group who congregated there at lunch time.
A group that he now realised included Brawl. Thundercracker almost fell down the stairs when he suddenly came to a stop with the realisation. Brawl was there.
That’s not an issue! He crossly told himself as he resumed descending the stairs. Why are we suddenly being so weird about him now? It’s not like anything’s going to happen!
He opened the door that lead to the courtyard and paused for a moment too long in the doorway, feeling a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when he saw Brawl light his cigarette, one hand protecting it from the wind while the other coaxed a dying lighter to life. Typical greeting completely forgotten, he quickly turned and went to go and sit under the heat lamp and eat his sandwich and not think about how warm his face felt or about how the image of Brawl lighting his cigarette seemed to have stayed with him and followed him along like a child holding a balloon.
I’m just excited about a new friend. It’ll go away soon.
---------------------------------------
The dynamic had changed.
Where before Jazz had seen someone cold, calculating, and difficult to approach, she now saw an awkward woman who wanted to build connections that she didn’t know how to and had relegated herself to the sidelines. She saw the teenager who listened to her music alone in her bedroom to escape a world she found inhospitable to her.
Prowl tightly gripped the strap of her bag, fussing with her hair with her other hand as she neatened it in her reflection in a shop window. She was pausing to assess herself with a pout before shaking her head and trying again.
So cute.
“You look perfect, Prowler.”
“It’s been so unmanageable recently. People must think I look like I was raised in a barn.”
“But look at how cute it is!” Jazz leaned against her, wrapping her arm around her and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “That flyaway hair - so romantic!”
“Like I’ve been dragged through a bush. Kicking and screaming.”
“Or a passionate embrace with your love!” Jazz swooned.
“Pssht.”
Prowl let Jazz drag her away, forcing herself to accept that she didn’t look perfect and put together, and the two of them went on to their destination: a theme park.
It had been Jazz’s idea. A way for them to both spend time together and to come up with something to show Prowl’s family to prove that they’d been spending quality time together. The photos would be perfect; they were going to be even better once they knew where the cameras were. They could pose at just the right moment.
“Where do you want to go first?” Jazz asked as she studied the map. Prowl leaned over her shoulder to peer at it, eyes quickly scanning the page. Jazz suddenly felt self-conscious. Was her perfume okay? Was it too strong? She wasn’t sweaty, was she? Subconsciously she held her breath, just in case it trembled with the proximity of the other woman.
Maybe I really, really wasn’t as over that crush as I thought.
“We should start up here,” She pointed to the furthest area from the entrance on the map, “And work our way back down. Make sense?”
“Perfect!” Jazz folded the map up and tucked it away into her bag. “Let’s go.”
It was a quiet day at the themepark. Being midweek none of the usual guests were able to go, and being as cold as it was that day the themepark wasn’t exactly a big draw. The queues went by quickly enough that they could get off the ride, walk back around to the front, and be back on it again in under ten minutes. They figured out a system – they’d ride once to locate the camera, and then give themselves two tries for a good photo. So far it had worked well – they only had a couple of rides where they just couldn’t get the camera at all, but those photos served well as a buffer to make the others look much more natural and less forced. It was weird if every single photo featured them being lovey-dovey with each other. Nobody rode rides like that.
The best photo of the day ended up being a candid one. They hadn’t expected the camera and they were soaked through, the ponchos they’d bought doing little good for them on the water rides. They were both clinging onto the same handle on the big rubber dinghy, leaning into each other and mid-laugh.
All good things couldn’t last. The scales demanded to be rebalanced.
They were soaked on a cold early spring day.
“Okay,” Jazz’s teeth were chattering, “I know we still have another section to do but I am not being dramatic when I say I think I might die.” It hurt. She could feel her limbs starting to feel heavy and exhaustion creeping in – she knew next to nothing about hypothermia or handling the extreme cold, but she knew enough that if she felt the urge to go to sleep it was a very bad thing.
Prowl was already walking towards the exit, her own teeth chattering together too. “No complaints here.”
The heating on Prowls car was on full blast the whole drive, something Jazz was grateful for. She curled up into herself and breathed on her hands to warm them up a little, Prowl’s warming on the heated steering wheel.
“Sorry that didn’t end as anticipated.” Prowl said, her teeth no longer banging together.
“S’fine. Gives us a fun little anecdote, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll take you to mine, is that okay? Let’s order in.”
“You had me at ‘mine’.”
Jazz enjoyed the way it made Prowl’s cheeks turn bright red.
Prowl drove them back to her house, quickly pulling up into the driveway and taking a deep breath to steel herself before opening the car door.
“Shit!” She hissed as the cold air suddenly hit, the drive not quite enough to have made much of a dent. Jazz crossed herself before she did the same, the two quickly running to the front door. Prowl quickly unlocked the door and pushed Jazz inside first before following after her, sticking her arm out the door to lock the car before quickly closing it.
“Jeeze!” Jazz laughed. “Whose idea was it to go on a water ride!”
“You can have a bath.” Prowl did her best to take off her sodden shoes. Jazz did the same, the two pairs going straight on the doormat. “I’ll put our shoes in the airing cupboard, that shouldn’t damage them too much.”
“What about you?” Jazz asked, taking off her jacket next. It was next to useless anyway – she actually felt a bit better without it.
“I’ll be fine, I can change my clothes. I’ll get you something to wear too.”
“I’ll feel bad if it’s just me! You go first, it’s fine, I don’t mind!”
“You’re much colder than I am, Jazz.” Prowl held her hand and started walking towards the stairs. “I don’t want you catching a chill because I didn’t think things through.”
Jazz obediently followed and watched the water as it filled the bathtub while Prowl went off to source her a towel and a change of clothes. She left her wet clothes in a pile outside as Prowl had requested and sighed as she sunk into the steaming hot tub, cold instantly fleeing her bones. While she didn’t quite agree with her that she didn’t need to have a bath and warm up, she did like the feeling it left in her chest. Spoiled, maybe? It warmed her faster than the hot water did. Prowl had been surprising her a lot lately and she found that she liked it.
Prowl rapped the back of her knuckles on the bathroom door. “I’ve got a towel and a change of clothes for you – do you want me to leave them outside?”
Jazz reached up and promptly drew the shower curtain. “You can come in!”
Prowl hesitated for a moment and Jazz had to bite her bottom lip.
“A-are you sure?”
“Curtain’s closed.” She called back.
The door clicked as it opened. She heard the sound of slippers on tile and closed her eyes to listen, imagining Prowl coming in bright red and not sure where to look.
“I’ve left the towel on the toilet and the clothes by the door so you don’t accidentally get them wet.” She said. Jazz felt a thrum go through her at the proximity of her voice and the situation they were in – Prowl must have been aware of it too. Her usually confident voice had wavered. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Yeah – while you’re here, what were you thinking about dinner?”
“We can have a look when you’re out of the bath.”
Spoilsport.
“Fiiiine.”
Her slippers sounded her retreat and the door clicked behind her signalling that she had left. Jazz stared up at the ceiling, head resting on the edge of the bath, and wondered how long her clothes would take to dry.
Prowl had left her two towels and the fluffiest pyjamas she could find. Jazz slipped them on whilst humming a happy tune, cuffing the hem of the trousers and the shirt, and hung the towel over the edge of the bath. Prowl had left her a pair of thick socks too – she put them on before leaving the bathroom and padding back downstairs. She could hear Prowl down there typing away on her laptop, and she peeked down through the bannister to see her on the sofa in the living room, the screen bright and casting a shadow on the wall behind her.
“Heya.” Jazz dropped down onto the sofa opposite her. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” Prowl replied, not taking her eyes from the screen. “Our photos are available now, I’m just sending them over to you.”
“Ooooh, from today?” Jazz asked, slipping from the sofa to kneel down next to her and have a look. “We should set matching photos on socials.”
Prowl suddenly went pink. “Maybe this one?” She clicked on a thumbnail to enlarge it and turned it around.
It was the one of them on the water ride that had sent them home.
“That’s perfect, Prowler!”
Dinner ended up being pizza. Simple, warm, and full of carbs. Prowl had brought down duvets from the bedrooms (Jazz discovered then that she had two – a guest room that was used near exclusively by family when they were in the area, and her own bedroom) and it was then that they discovered a shared appreciation for detective dramas.
“Oh, you’re watching that?” Jazz said as she popped open her pizza box. Prowl had just started to flick through her Netflix and begin their quest to find something to watch before they finished eating their pizza.
“I started last night. You know it?”
“I’m on episode six – let’s watch it together! I don’t mind watching it again, it was good.”
The show began to run, and without the distraction of the unknown Jazz found herself focusing squarely on herself and her proximity (or lack thereof) to Prowl. They had a duvet cover each – complete overkill given they were both for double beds, but it meant they were both swaddled. She couldn’t reach out with her foot and ‘accidentally’ brush against Prowl, it had to be a concerted effort that was sure to be noticed. Prowl was captured by the screen, watching intently, her eyes focused and sharp like they were at work when she was taking in every single detail and processing it all. Suddenly, they flicked to her.
“I felt my face burning.” She said, corner of her lip twitching upwards.
Jazz didn’t look away.
