Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers, I just like to write about them.

Author's note: This chapter was originally the result of a bunny attack, and was written and posted about a year ago, it was marked as complete because I didn't think I would be coming back to it, but the bunnies came back so I had no choice other than to write a second part, as I was coming back to it I asked the wonderful Daebereth to edit it for me, so it now has grammar and a few errors have been corrected, whether or not it stays like this is in the hands of the mechs.

New fics will begin early next year, and there's not much else for me to say except that my muses and I hope all of you have a fantastic Christmas and an awesome New Year.

First kiss.

Chapter 1

For the first time since he had on-lined on Earth, Jazz was completely relaxed. The Decepticons had crashed into the ocean and Prowl estimated that it would be two or three weeks before they were battle ready again, so the inhabitants of the Ark were safe for a while and most of them were using the time to familiarise themselves with the planet.

With Wheeljack's help he had modified the view-screen in the common room to receive Earth television a few days before, but he'd been too busy with his own interests since then to sit and watch it, as almost the first thing had done when he awoke after the four million year stasis lock caused by their crash landing was to scan the planets radio waves. Within them he had discovered music the like of which he had never heard before and become obsessed.

In the mean time, the television had caused quite a stir within the ranks. Everyone, it seemed, had a preference on what it should display and there had even been a few fights over the remote control, which Prowl had made sure he knew about, and Jazz had found hilarious.

Unsurprisingly, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been the first to come to blows. Both of the twins had discovered cartoons but while Sideswipe preferred the kind where things got squashed, blown up and generally mangled, Sunstreaker appreciated the more artistic kind and things had taken their natural course.

At that point, Ratchet had insisted that the T.V. be disconnected, but Wheeljack had intervened, introduced the medic to murder mysteries and the C.M.O.s demand had been withdrawn.

Prowls first experience hadn't gone so well. He had stormed out of the common room after someone (Jazz suspected Sideswipe) had sat him down in front of a cop show. At Jazz' request the tactician had agreed to give to one more chance and thoroughly enjoyed the documentary he had suggested.

Several other Autobots had also picked their favourites by then. After a mud slide rendered Hound unfit to venture outside the Ark he had found a channel devoted to natural history and all but moved into the common room until he was healed. Bluestreak had become addicted to sit-coms, which had caused a few problems when one of them clashed with a science-fiction show that Wheeljack wanted to watch and even Mirage, who claimed to hate all things that Earth had to offer, had been discovered watching a late night thriller.

Optimus Prime had remained immune for the longest, but had eventually succumbed after a search for Ironhide had brought him out of his office to find his friend watching a western with Sparkplug. The leader of the Autobots' first question when the show had finished had been, "Will there be another soon?" and the rest was history.

It had been Bluestreak who had pointed out to Jazz that while he had been instrumental in finding them their newest source of entertainment, he hadn't had the time to enjoy it for himself, so to keep the young mech happy he had finished his shift and met him in the common room.

To mark the occasion, Bluestreak had brought a canister of high-grade and they had sat down on one of the most comfortable seats in the room to watch a musical. Just the idea of a film with music in it was enough to get Jazz interested and he hadn't been disappointed.

The cast had sung and danced its way through the story line with Jazz tapping his foot to the rhythms most of the time and occasionally both mechs joined in on the choruses much to the amusement of anyone else who happened to be in the room when they burst into song.

Spike had wandered in not long after the movie started and joined them, explaining a few references to Earth cultures that Jazz was unable to, but otherwise remaining quiet despite Jazz' attempts to get him to sing with them.

As the film drew to a close and the music reached a crescendo, the doe-eyed heroine and the burly man that she had been dancing around for some time moved closer and locked lips in a way that neither Jazz or Bluestreak had ever seen before.

The young mech tilted his head in confusion and looked to Spike. "What are they doing?" he asked with a slight slur in his voice caused by the high-grade.

"They're kissing." Spike answered as if that should explain everything but when Bluestreak continued to look at him with a puzzled hue to his optics the young man persisted. "It's how humans display affection to someone they really care about."

"Oh," Bluestreak murmured.

"Well some of the songs I've been listening to make more sense now," Jazz admitted as he helped himself to another glass of energon. "Is kissing enjoyable?" he asked innocently.

"Yes." Spike grinned and blushed at the same time. "Don't tell me that you guys are older than the human race but you've never kissed anyone."

Bluestreak shook his head, then stopped and looked like he wished he hadn't.

"We have different ways of showing others that we care about them," Jazz explained quietly, before he returned his attention back the view-screen where it remained until the credits rolled.

The common room was starting to fill up by then as other mechs came off shift and Jazz decided that it was time to leave before Sunstreaker arrived, as he suspected that the high-grade Bluestreak had given him wasn't really his to give. The saboteur got on well with the golden twin, but good high-grade was a rare treat and Sunstreaker was rather possessive over his stash.

As he left the rec room behind he thought about going to his quarters and listening to some more music, but another idea was forming in his processor, so he changed direction mid-stride and headed for Prowl's office.

As he had assumed, Prowl was still sat at his desk reading a datapad, even though his shift had ended at the same time as Jazz'. His bond-mate glanced up as he entered. "I'll be done soon," he said quietly.

Jazz smiled devilishly and moved closer rather than leaving his partner to it. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly as he perched on the edge of the desk.

Prowl put down the report with deliberate care and met Jazz' optics. "You know I do," he answered. "What makes you ask that?"

"I want to try something," Jazz smirked and he leaned forward so that he and Prowl were only a few inches apart.

A quizzical look crept onto Prowl's faceplate. "Have you been on the high-grade?" he asked in an amused tone.

"That has nothing to do with it," Jazz snapped with mock indigence and before Prowl could form another question he pounced, catching his lover's lip components with his own and forcing him to tilt his head back as he deepened the kiss into a fair imitation of what he had seen a few minutes before.

It seemed to take a second or two for Prowl to realise what was happening to him and what was expected of him but when he did he responded with all the passion and zeal that Jazz had come to expect after their long life together. A moment later the bond (which they had both long ago agreed should be kept off-line when they were on duty) blazed into glorious, and in Jazz' opinion, beautiful life.

"Love you, Prowl," Jazz whispered as he pulled away.

"I love you too, my Jazz," Prowl reciprocated. "But if you don't mind me asking, where did you learn that?"

"Television," Jazz answered as he stood up and smiled again. "Don't work too hard," he warned and without another word he turned and walked out of the room with a grace that Prowl could only sit back and admire.

With his mate gone, Prowl looked down at the report he had been reading. "Oh to the Pit with you," he told it sternly. "It doesn't matter how long you exist, for you only get to live once." By the time he had finished speaking he was out of the room and following Jazz.