Word Count: 1,143
AN: This was inspired by snugsbunny's plot bunny over on the pj_paintstreaks lj community. If you're a fan of this pairing, which I am assuming you are since you are reading this story, you should head on over and take a look! If you have a journal, you should definitely join. We are small, but mighty! :D

Also, this bunny is nudging me insistently (read: mauling me) with the idea that it will turn into smut. So, fair warning, this may go up to an "M" rating.

"So," Jazz started slowly, "What I hear you saying, and stop me if I'm wrong, is that we-" he motioned between himself and Prowl with his elbow, "-are stuck this way until you-" he motioned to Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor "-figure out how to get us unstuck."

Wheeljack nodded enthusiastically.

Ratchet felt the urge to run for cover.

"And about how long should this take?"

Ratchet tensed and winced internally as Wheeljack spoke again. "Well, about that..."

Prowl shifted slightly and chimed in. "What about that?" He was obviously Not Amused.

Wheeljack's earfins flashed dimly. "Weeeell. Wedon'tknow."

There was a beat of silence. Perceptor, who had been uncharacteristically silent, spoke up nervously. "It is a matter of finding the proper strength of polarization required to negate the cohesive effect the magnetizer had upon your persons. Unfortunately, we do not have access to the weapon that actually caused such a unique reaction. I mean, stuck together not in one area, but capable of shifting the points of cohesion with extreme effort! It is singular!"

Throughout Perceptor's speech, Wheeljack and Ratchet had been tempted to tackle the microscope to the ground and beat the slag out of him. Ratchet's arm twitched and Wheeljack subtly grabbed the medic's hand.

Jazz and Prowl were silent for a few moments. Ratchet noticed that, though they were connected at awkward locations, (Jazz's hands were connected to the front of Prowl's chassis and Prowl's left thigh strut was stuck to Jazz's right hip. The coup de grace, however, was Prowl's hand attached to Jazz's aft. Sideswipe was sure to have a field day), they had somehow found a way to sit somewhat comfortably. Never mind that that position was Jazz straddling Prowl's lap. It would have been hilarious under any other circumstances (say, if Jazz and Prowl were in a room with no doors and he was observing through an unbreakable window. Or he was far away. Very, very far away.), but the second and third in command were known for their animosity towards one another. It seemed to be a matter of opposites repelling. Ironically, it always made Ratchet think of the effect of forcing opposite ends of two magnets together, but with more insults and sabotage.

"Look at the bright side!" Wheeljack attempted. "At least you aren't stuck to someone horrible. Like Sunstreaker!" The yellow Lamborghini, who was in the medbay recovering from damages sustained in the battle, made an objecting noise. At the deadpan looks he received from the two affected bots, the engineer tried again. "...or Megatron?" The silence continued and Wheeljack slumped in defeat. "Well, you could be dead."

Ratchet steeled himself. "Wheeljack's right. Things could be a lot worse. So suck it up and make do. We'll figure something out as soon as we can, but until then, you're stuck."

Jazz shifted slightly. "Okay, Ratch, I get that. But there're a few problems. Like how are we supposed to recharge?" The saboteur gestured with what he can move of his arms to illustrate his point.

Ratchet shrugged. "Share a berth."

Prowl had been fairly silent throughout the entire explanation, but made a small (and, dare Ratchet say, panicked) sound at this. Jazz spoke up again. "That's not really..." Ratchet's faceplates were shifting into "Shut Up or Face the Consequences" mode, so Jazz wisely changed track. "There's not a berth big enough for th' two of us."

Wheeljack's earfins flashed merrily. "Well, I can take care of that. We've got some pretty big 'bots on the Ark. I'll just fashion one up right quick on a larger scale. It should be ready by the time you two need to 'charge."

Jazz was not deterred. "And our-" Prowl shifted uncomfortably, and the saboteur's next word was slightly higher than usual, "duties?" He rebooted his vocalizer to steady his voice. Really, this was just the perfect time for that fragging emotion to come creeping up. It had obviously brought him nothing but trouble, he wouldn't even had been in this mess if it weren't for that stupid compulsion to keep Prowl out of harm's way, a completely illogical (and now he was starting to sound like the fragger)--

"You both might not be able to be on active field duty, but there are plenty of other things that you are perfectly capable of doing." Ratchet rolled his shoulder struts. "Now, if you are finished...?" Jazz, out of excuses, remained silent. Prowl hadn't spoken since his earlier query and seemed determined to keep his vocalizer muted. Which might be for the best, Jazz mused; hearing the tactician's voice in his ear might have given him ideas, and that would have lead to nothing short of a disaster.

"Get out of my medbay," Ratchet demanded. "I'll let you know as soon as we've made any headway."

The two magnetized Autobots got up from the med berth (with no help from their audience, who failed to stifle sniggers--Jazz would remember that) and awkwardly made their way out of the medbay. Once they exited and the doors cycled shut behind them, they looked at one another.

"So," Jazz started.

"So," Prowl echoed.

There was silence for a few breems. Jazz hated silence. Silence meant that no one was talking, and everyone always expected him, easy going, chill, all around good guy Jazz to fill those silences before they got awkward, including Jazz himself. Because if he didn't start talking, something he would really really regret would come out of his vocalizer and Prowl would look at him with disgust or even pity, and Jazz could handle annoyance, even extreme dislike, but never pity. So he talked.

"Prob'ly you should run a few more battle simulations," Jazz commented snidely, "'cause if you had before, we wouldn't even be in this situation."

Prowl scoffed, something relieved in the sound (though Jazz was probably just imagining it). "It was hardly my actions that got us in this situation. I had everything under control, then you had to-"

Jazz interrupted. "Oh, sure, 'everything under control,' is that what you call bein' in direct line of fire of Megatron's latest mega weapon?"

"I refuse to lower myself to your level, Jazz," Prowl said snippily. "If we are going to get through this, we have to work together." At the last two words, Prowl subtly jerked his left hip strut into Jazz' thigh. What was probably meant to be a snide action caused Jazz's equilibrium program to go haywire (and not in a necessarily bad way), and the smaller black and white lost his balance. In an attempt to stay upright, Jazz tried to windmill his arms, which were still connected to Prowl's chest, and the two went crashing down to the ground.

After the dust settled, Jazz heard a barking laugh from inside the medbay and groaned.

Oh yeah, this was going to go fantastically.

I'm editing chapter two, so it should be up here soon. Reviews are greatly appreciated. ;)