A/N: Here it is, the final instalment of this little series. This one is cute and bittersweet fluff.

Song Inspirations: 'Never gonna leave this bed' and 'Secret'

Rating: Nc-17

Verse: Pre-war G1 and G1

Warnings: Implied sticky, mech/mech slash, sparkbonding

Disclaimer: No, Transformers is not mine.

Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 10 – Secret & Never gonna leave this bed

Iacon.

Before the war, a beautiful sprawling metal city, characterised by the grand buildings that all knew it by. The grand golden courthouse, where judges presided over the common mechs and femmes, the council chambers, and also, the picturesque residence of the Prime, Prime Palace. The city was home to millions of mecha, from the smallest sparkling right up to the largest shuttle.

It was a pleasant day on Iacon before everything went to pieces.

The first indication that something was terribly wrong was that a black and white mech was worried, alone in the spacious apartment he shared with his bondmate. His bondmate was late.

The trip to Praxus to finalise the transfer from the enforcers in Praxus to the enforcers in Iacon shouldn't have taken as long as it obviously was currently. Jazz couldn't relax. His bondmate was out of range, but he could detect he was still alive. It was right to be concerned. He had heard whisperings that Cybertron was about to undergo a historical change, that mecha were feeling rebellious against the current government – the Council, and Sentinel Prime. Usually, Jazz wouldn't put any credence into rumours. But when that rumour was echoed from the gilded palace of the Prime right down to the lowest gutter in Kaon, it was based more on truth than anything.

Jazz looked out the window, over the suburbia. He and his bondmate were happy. War, if it happened, would test this. He and his Praxian had discussed the possibilities that such activity – if it became reality – would cause them both to have to adapt to the situation. They had a plan.

But then again, Prowl, more often than not, had a plan.

Jazz sighed, rubbing his optics. Iacon looked so peaceful. Why would someone want to take it down, destroy, just for the sake of changing the ruling bodies? While he agreed that the system was corrupt in the Council, not helped along by their aloof Prime, he would never justify it by innocents being killed.

He had heard of such happening down in Kaon. Slow, but sure, fuelling the rumours.

The horned mech was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped, startled, when the door to the apartment cycled open with a crash.

He turned to see his bondmate there, blackened and shivering, something small wrapped up in his arms. Jazz gasped and ran forward, forcing the bond open between them as he gathered his poor mech up and held him close.

"What happened Prowler?"

"P-p-praxus…is…gone," Prowl choked out, coughing to clear the dust and grit from his intakes.

Jazz froze in his shock, optics going wide. "….what?" he asked quietly, leading the dented, doorwinged mech to their couch, setting him down and clutching him closer, feeding wave after wave of calm and love and support through their bond. Prowl looked a mess, both physically and mentally.

The chevroned mech leaned against his mech, fighting the urge to keen his anguish at the horrifying sights he had seen. "I had just finished the p-p-*cough* datawork for my transfer here to Iacon. It was approved. I left the enforcers building just as it blew up behind me." There was a cold feeling of dread through their bond as Prowl re-lived the event. "They all died instantly. I remember the screaming. It…it increased as more buildings began to explode. The c-crystal gardens. They're gone. The beautiful glass bridge over the oil falls, destroyed. And then…the Decepticons came."

"Decepticons?" Jazz asked, unable to hide his horror at what had happened.

"What the rebels are calling themselves now. Led by a mech as grey as the plains, a gladiator they call Megatron," replied Prowl, calmed slightly by his lover's presence. "They killed. No mercy. They kept shouting that this was 'a message' to Iacon. I ran, using my old back tracks. That's how I got out. I transformed and sped out of there, having to hide and wait until it was safe. I got back here as fast as I could. War…war has begun now…surely."

The slightly smaller mech pondered on this, unable to stop an energon tear from escaping from an optic in his shared sorrow. Through their bond, he knew Prowl had sobbed already on his way back to their home, and was now focussed on bringing justice to the rebels.

Jazz was about to see if his mate need energon when a small, snuffling cry drew his attention.

Prowl shifted to look down at the bundle of blankets in the crook of his arm. It moved, and then a little hand shot out, waving around.

"Prowl…is that a-"

"A sparkling. I snatched him from his carrier's dying frame as I ran. Apparently his name is Bluestreak," the doorwinger replied softly, sitting up and facing his bondmate so that he could reveal the precious package he had. Tender hands revealed the grey sparkling with red highlights. Jazz was silent as he took in the little being, looking so similar to Prowl. Same frame type.

The little sparkling opened his optics, showing their baby blue colouring, and looked around. Silent.

"Hi. Can ya talk?"

Bluestreak cocked his helm for a second before he burst forth with sparkling clicks, chirps, and whistles in a seemingly never ending stream, becoming animated quickly.

Prowl and Jazz chuckled lightly at the innocence, a breath of fresh air after the tidings of tragedy.

While the sparkling was happily chatting to himself, the bondmates looked at each other, realising what this outbreak of war would mean for them.

Now.

Jazz felt more tears prick his optics as Prowl conveyed acknowledgement of what they would have to do, of what they would have to sacrifice in order to bring justice to those that murdered a city of innocents. However, he fought the tears actually falling. He knew it would make Prowl hesitate and falter.

"We must act quickly," the chevroned mech murmured solemnly, pressing his forehelm close to his mates. "Once we are with the Autobot army…we must never reveal that we are bonded. If we are revealed, I fear for the both of us. I love you too much for this venture to end in further tragedy."

"I love ya too," Jazz replied, kissing him, knowing it would be the last kiss he would have for a while. Prowl had a plan. He would follow it.

They parted, slowly dampening each end of the bond until they could just feel each other. They both whimpered, knowing they needed the contact in a time of hurt, but if Prowl's tactical predictions were right, then things were going to get much worse from here.

"Our records were most likely destroyed in Praxus. I'll go to the Prime tonight and let him know. From there…well, you know," Prowl said softly, his optics holding his mate's, savouring each moment now.

Jazz nodded. He looked towards a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"I'll wear Obscure. It'll make me look different."

Prowl agreed.

The moment was upon them. With a final embrace, Prowl left, and Jazz forced the sadness away. It was a time for action. He stood, walking towards the cabinet and opening it. A gleaming azure visor sat there, freshly made, designed for him and him only. He called it Obscure.

For it would obscure the real reason why he was going to fight in this war.

For Prowl.

Millennia Later

So much time had passed since Prowl and Jazz's vow to pretend not to be bondmates for the good of Cybertron.

They were on a new planet. They had become SIC and TIC of the Autobot army, serving under a new Prime, a fairer Prime: Optimus Prime.

And it was becoming harder, day by day, to pretend they didn't mean anything to each other apart from good friends. They had the rare opportunity to connect before it was gone. A late night frag in Prowl's office, a quick kiss in an unmonitored corridor, a 'mission' to a neighbouring state so they could refresh their bond by hours of interfacing and sparkmerging, whispering litanies of love to make sure the strain of being apart didn't show.

Getting out of a meeting, they shared a quick, knowing glance as Jazz pulsed over their bond.

They needed again. Tonight.

They turned away as if nothing happened, the saboteur to his special ops mechs, the tactician to his office and the inevitable datapads.

Later that night, almost spent after two hot, passionate rounds of interfacing their processors out, Prowl half curled himself around Jazz, who was awfully quiet and shrinking slightly from his touch. "Jazz?"

A small sniffle. "It's nothin' babe."

"Look at me, my Jazz."

The visored mech turned to face his bondmate, clicking up his visor so the Praxian could look into those tearful sapphire optics. His spark clenched, and he pulled the other black and white closer to him, cooing to him. "I love you. Tell me what's wrong."

"I hate lyin' to the world! I want everyone to know ya belong to and love me, and that I belong to and love ya too!" he blurted, frustrated.

For a second, Prowl was silent, comprehending what Jazz had said, before he suddenly, strangely, burst out into laughter, much to his bondmate's surprise.

"Did I say somethin' funny?" Jazz asked flatly.

The tactician chuckled, capturing his love's lips in a sweet kiss before pulling back and explaining, "And I thought I was having trouble holding all of it in. Oh how I've wanted to break, to claim you publically so all knew, to live with you here in the Ark so we could finally be one. I wanted it for so long but feared that war would tear us apart soon after."

The saboteur smiled brilliantly then, scooting closer to his love and holding him tight. "Does that mean…"

"Yes. I never want to leave you again in this berth. Not anymore. It's too lonely for the both of us. We have sacrificed enough. It is time that all knew," Prowl whispered in reply, clasping the lithe form in his arms, glorying in the warmth, the knowledge that he was determined to make sure that this would be his greeting for every night of recharge they took.

Jazz purred happily, snuggling close. "I'm glad. Ya know how I get awful lonely."

"I know."

Jazz pulsed through their bond and rolled on top of his bondmate, nuzzling his neck and kissing him. Prowl understood what he needed, what they needed, and unlocked his chestplates, sliding them apart just enough so the brilliance of his spark shone through. He moaned lowly as lips teased sensitive cables in his neck, working down to his chest and kissing over the part in his chestplates reverently. It was a beautiful thing, Jazz's kisses.

"Want," the horned black and white whispered hoarsely, his own chestplates sliding open, only fully displaying his spark to his mate, unhindered by the casing as it slid away.

"Shu," shushed the doorwinger, content to bask in the overwhelming euphoria and pure love emanating from his mate.

Jazz growled lowly, attacking his lover's mouth with a ferocious, needy kiss, abruptly changing Prowl's mind. No longer was he content to feel the whispers of a sparkmerge. Like Jazz, now he wanted. The barriers to his spark slid away with sharp snaps, leaving their sparks bared, so close to each other. He shuttered his optics and hissed, hearing Jazz do the same, caught in the net of feeling. Their sparks licked out at one another, electric tendrils unfurling from each single spark to reach for its partner, for the other half itself. The tendrils wove around each other as the pair sunk back into the berth, chests coming into closer contact as their mouths joined in a heated passion.

"Please," they gasped together, euphoria rising.

The horned mech lowered his chest the rest of the way, curling forward into his keening mate as full connection was established, their sparks intertwining together, becoming that perfect sensation of one.

Love at the forefront.

Devotion a close second, passion, lust, longing, and a myriad of other emotions flooded the intimate link they shared. Prowl pulled his mate ever closer, their moans and cries joining in tandem as the energies built, running hot, burning, intense.

The spark was whole, smooth, and blindingly white as the sparkmerge hit its pinnacle, the writhing black and white frames crying out their joy as overload swept them away.

They lay, panting, one over the other, as their sparks gently pulled away from each other, each spark returning back fully to its individual spark housing.

"Love," Prowl whispered, tenderly stroking over the sensitive black horns on his mate's helm, kissing his cheek.

"Mmm…warm again," mumbled Jazz in complete contentment, feeling so full and light after their merge, a feeling echoed by the tactician.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

A/N: WHOO-HOO! This is done! EEEE! Please review, and let me know if you liked it. Thank you to all who reviewed and favourite and alerted this story. It means a lot to me guys!