Tattoo

Author: Thalanee

Verse: A World Gone Crazy (AU-Bayverse)

Word Count: ca. 1500 words

Rating: nc17 (because I'm paranoid that way)

Warnings: Ratchet cursing, Jazz obsessing, crack by the ton… need I say more? No eating or drinking, for the sake of your poor keyboard, ok? Just in case…

Disclaimer: Sadly, they still don't belong to me.

Summary: To say that Jazz loved Prowl's new alt mode would have been the understatement of the vorn, but there was one detail about it, he just couldn't get enough of.

Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from… If you want to see more of this verse, pm me or say so in a review, give me a prompt of some kind, and I will see if the bunnies are biting :D I can't promise anything but I'll try.

This takes place just after Prowl's arrival on Earth and before their bonding. Not much of a plot, I know, but the bunny wouldn't leave me alone.

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Jazz was in heaven.

Dreamily he let his optics wander over the new armour now hugging Prowl's frame in the most irresistible way. The SIC had been beautiful before, but now he was positively gorgeous and he was all Jazz's.

An appreciative sigh escaped the saboteur as he committed every single detail of the black and white chassis to memory. The tactician was mostly white with black hips, forearms and pedes, his chest armour a ruby red, all of it accentuated here and there with a splash of gold. And then there were so many details that captured Jazz's attention again and again, like the red chevron with the gold base, that drew the viewer's attention to the unusual golden optics, or the regal, pristinely white wings perfectly poised to make the tactician look more intimidating. A tiny red arrow was placed dead centre on Prowl's hips, making Jazz's servos itch to touch.

It was all similar to what Prowl had looked like on Cybertron, but Jazz had to admit humans really knew how to built cars, because the tactician's alt mode, a Chevrolet Camaro police racer, made Jazz's mouth water and he wasn't even a human!

But the detail he loved the most were the white letters on the black hips spelling "To Protect and Serve". White letters on black hips, now if that wasn't distracting. Azure visor flaring and engine revving Jazz imagined tracing every single one of the delightful letters…

"You did not hear a single word of what I said, did you."

Snapping out of his haze, Jazz registered the faint giggles and not really suppressed snorts from the other bots who were also attending this meeting, as well as their human partners' laughter. All of them were looking on expectantly, waiting to see what would happen next. The Cybertronian equivalent of someone clearing their throat brought his attention back to the speaker. When had Prowl moved to stand right in front of him and how come he hadn't noticed the tactician obviously trying to get his attention? Oh right, all of his attention had been focused on something else…

Grinning roguishly, Jazz replied. "Ah'm wounded, Sparkles, and there Ah was paying attention to every little detail." True. It might not have been the meeting he was supposed to have focused on, but he had paid attention.

The tactician arched an optic ridge. "In that case I am positive you will not mind my asking for your expertise on the matter." Arms folded across his chest plates, Prowl shifted his weight to one ped.

The motion was the saboteur's undoing, because it meant that the doorwinger was unconsciously pushing out his hips a little as part of it, drawing Jazz's gaze once again to the white letters now glinting prettily in the light in the saboteur's humble opinion. Riveted as he was by the sight he just mumbled his consent to Prowl's request.

Shifting again, Prowl narrowed his golden optics at Jazz. He just knew his lover was drifting of and now he would catch him in the act. "How about we just waltz into the Nemesis through the front door?"

No protest, just a nod, so Prowl continued. "Maybe we should Wheeljack have a go at those doors with his most unstable explosives." Even the mentions of explosives the saboteur usually loved so much didn't garner more than a hum and another nod. It was time for desperate measures it seemed. Deliberately ignoring the guffawing and sniggering in the background, Prowl continued.

"Of course the plan also involves painting Megatron pink and capturing Starscream so we can use him as the base's new alarm siren. The old one isn't quite screechy enough." Muffled laughter erupted from somewhere behind him as someone probably pictured the scene… but no reaction from Jazz, apart from a dreamy smile Prowl was somehow sure had nothing to do with what he'd just said. What was Jazz looking at anyway?

Stepping closer he tried to follow Jazz's gaze, the task made harder by that inscrutable visor. Moving about slightly he followed the subtle movements of Jazz's head, until he was reasonable sure that Jazz was staring… at his hips? Testing the theory he shifted his stance slightly, and surely, Jazz's visor followed the most miniscule movement as if tied to Prowl's hips by an invisible thread.

Sideswipe hadn't painted or stuck anything on him, had he? Throwing a look at the silver twin who was giddily watching the show he looked down at his hips to check. He wouldn't put it past the troublemaker. However there was nothing there that shouldn't be. Moving this way and that he checked again. Still nothing.

Except for the writing that was part of his alt mode. Absently tracing a finger over the letters he couldn't have missed the sudden revving of Jazz's engines even if he hadn't listened. Scowling Prowl moved closer and waved a hand in front of his mate's face, once again snapping him out of his daydreams.

"Would you care to enlighten me as to what is so fascinating about a piece of decoration belonging to my altmode?"

"Just enjoying the view, Sparkles. Never thought ya'd ever get a tattoo." He made a movement to touch said "tattoo", but the tactician stepped back just out of reach of Jazz's questing servos.

"I do not have a tattoo, as you well know, Jazz. It is a human method of decorating one's exterior not applicable to Cybertronians."

"Ah beg ta differ. A tattoo is a marking on the skin, in our case armour, for decorative purposes, an' that writing is purely decoration. Gorgeous decoration Ah might add. That white on black…" Purring Jazz reached out again to snag Prowl, only to have his query sidestep him again.

"You mean to tell me that every time you drifted off in this meeting it was because you were busy staring at some lines of writing?" Prowl still did not understand what was so fascinating about those letters. He had kept them, because the motto summed up his beliefs and reasons for joining the Autobots, but he'd never have thought his mate would be so fascinated by them.

"Not some lines o' writin', Prowler," Jazz tut-tuted. "Your tattoo." Looking at it again, Jazz reached out again, murmuring. "Just lemme touch…"

"As fascinating as this discussion is, if you want to frag each other, go get a room." Ratchet called.

The two mates froze and turned to the chartreuse medic, intending to tell him to stay out of it, but stopped when their surroundings fully registered. Their audience was rather large, it seemed like every single bot and human currently on base was there, watching them.

Only now they noticed that some bots and humans had obviously distributed what looked like human popcorn and … energon goodies eerily reminiscent of the previously mentioned human food. And why was Smokescreen paying Optimus, Ironhide and Ratchet? Never mind that, what was Sideswipe doing with a human camera?

"Have you ever heard of tact, Ratchet?" Prowl inquired pointedly.

"Nope, can't say I have." The medic smirked.

"In that case I suggest you look up the term in the dictionary I presented you with for that very purpose."

"Where would be the fun in that?" Ratchet retorted. Pit, arguing with the tactician was fun.

"Now," the Prime's deep voice interrupted their snarking match before it could get started (Primus knew, once they did get started, they could keep going for hours), "enough entertainment for today, my friends. Why don't we continue this meeting, so we can finish."

Groans and less than enthusiastic mutters greeted the proposal but soon enough everyone was back in their seats. Satisfied, Prowl nodded and moved to sit down in his own chair, never noticing his mate kicking away his chair and swinging into its place in one fluid motion, only realizing what had happened when he found himself right in the saboteur's lap and one of Jazz's arms snaked around his waist.

Throwing his mate a look Prowl only got an unrepentant grin in answer. Resigning himself to his fate, Prowl went back to concentrate on the meeting, a task made all the more difficult, because Jazz's fingers were busy ghosting over the white lines of Prowl's tattoo.

Yes, Jazz was in heaven.

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To Be Continued Or Not…

I can't help but picture Jazz like a cat with a ball of yarn XD

Funny? Not funny? The ending was a bit sudden I know… Let me know ^^ Constructive criticism is more than welcome.