Title: Before It's Too Late
Author: Mirage Shinkiro

Rating: M
Warnings: mech/mech, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

Summary: G1. As an intel-carrier, Jazz is often infected with viruses and therefore considers himself unlikely material for a bonding. Prowl is stubborn, though, and tries to persuade the mech he loves otherwise. Request fic.

A/N, continuity: I'm considering putting this in the same continuity as "No Quiet to Find." If so, it will act as the prequel.

A/N, explanation: A request by Gatekat, who won my kiriban on DA. Her request was to see Prowl make the first move on Jazz (rating optional). Since I'd already done a first kiss fic for this pairing, I decided to tackle some relationship conflict. (I also made up a Cybertronian musical instrument that I briefly mention. Consider that fair warning.)

Thank you to pl2363 and Asher119 for the betas!

"The risk that might break you
is the one that would save.
A life you don't live is still lost,
so stand on the edge with me.
Hold back your fear [. . .]
Don't fall just be who you are;
it's all that we need in our lives."

-Goo Goo Dolls, "Before It's Too Late"

Before It's Too Late

No one had expected Prowl to make the first move.

Long before crashing on Earth, the Ark's inhabitants had been betting on Jazz to come on to Prowl, but contrary to base rumors, Jazz had never been total freeware. Sure, he was easy come, easy go. Even now, as Prowl settled in the rec room's corner and watched his love flit about the room, Jazz was pretending to flirt with Blaster and Tracks in order to cheer them up. Prior to Prowl and Jazz's relationship, Jazz's hands had been ever busy: a stroke over Smokescreen's doorwing, a tweak on Sideswipe's audio horn, a caress of Sunstreaker's audio fin, even a brush over Prime's grille. Since Jazz had never touched anyone who didn't want to be touched, the affectionate, playful gestures had been woven into the daily life of the Ark, and more than one mech had taken Jazz 'home' for the night.

For the past two stellar cycles, however, Jazz had been exclusive with Prowl, and to everyone's shock, it had been Prowl who had cornered Jazz. It had been the orn after Cybertron's presence near Earth had almost destroyed the planet, and Prowl had argued that they'd experienced one near-death too many. That they should admit their feelings and engage in a serious relationship before one of them was killed and their chance at love was lost. And Jazz, although taken off-guard by not being the one to initiate a relationship for once, had agreed.

Prowl pulled a datapad from subspace, glancing over the energy usage report with less than his full attention and subtly tracking Jazz's progress across the room. A joke traded with the twins, a word of encouragement to Trailbreaker, a teasing remark to Hound over his newest pet plant. Although Prowl didn't engage in gossip-mongering, he did have sharp audios, and he knew some mechs had bet Jazz would cheat on him. Prowl knew better, though. Also mixed with those rumors were quiet discussions of what Prowl and Jazz's interfacing life might be like. It was well known that despite the processor-blowing overloads Jazz had bestowed upon his previous lovers – his hands and his mouth were equally talented – there was an undeniable truth: Jazz didn't fully interface. No connection by cables or jack and no explanation why. And Prowl could now attest to that truth.

Jazz had crossed the garish orange room and now plopped down in the chair across from Prowl. He grinned, his visor flashing bright, and set his energon cube on the table. "Workin' even while ya refuel? A bit much, don'cha think?" He nodded at Prowl's datapad.

"The energy usage reports, unlike the energy itself, breed like petrorabbits," Prowl said, deadpan. He believed his greatest social gift, and perhaps only one, was his ability to deliver any line with a perfectly straight face.

Jazz's silvery laughter rose above the room's dull roar of conversations. "Ah, Prowler. I love yer sense of humor." He reached across the table and squeezed Prowl's hand. "But ya should at least do somethin' relaxin' on yer orn off tomorrow." He snapped his fingers as though he'd just gotten an idea. "Like go with me to the Portland Children's Charity Car Show tomorrow! We can show off our alt modes, raise dough for sick human younglings, and soak up some sun."

"Sick younglings?" Prowl pretended to consider it, as though he had to be convinced to accompany his love anywhere. His mock reticence and Jazz's matching faux persuasion were a game between them based on the dynamics of their early friendship. "Very well."

"Cool!" Jazz hopped up and squeezed his shoulder as he moved on to his next set of buddies. "The show starts at noon human time. Meet me at the base entrance three breems beforehand?"

Prowl nodded, then watched Jazz bound over to the next table. His gaze traced the contours of Jazz's canopy with its blue and red stripes, and he smiled. He enjoyed spending as much time with Jazz as he could, discussing everything from music to Primus, and Jazz took him to concerts, shows, or out for scenic drives.

But twenty-eight vorns of friendship with the charismatic, fun-loving, engaging mech had left Prowl with more on his processor than just dating. Jazz was the star that lit his quiet, dark inner world, and he wanted to make their relationship permanent. Perhaps he could broach the topic with Jazz after the car show.

Prowl didn't have any allusions that convincing Jazz to bond with him would be easy, though. Unlike most others, Prowl didn't find Jazz's refusal to fully interface strange. Ops mechs like Jazz, who specialized in infiltration and sabotage, often sported false identities on missions. To keep those personas secret, they refused to synch systems. Also, in handling and stealing intel, they often were exposed to viruses and Trojans created to safeguard the data from them. Even with the advanced triple-layered antiviral programs they ran, ops mechs had to be cleared for intimacy by Medical after every mission for fear of contamination. Many times they had to undergo a lengthy virus-removal process that could take orns. Occasionally, the virus couldn't be removed and gave the mech a permanent glitch or even killed him. The resulting concern and paranoia for both themselves and their lovers often bled into their entire lives, infecting all their relationships, not just their interfacing habits.

Still, Prowl wasn't a tactician for nothing. Solving problems, generating plans, and overcoming odds were his specialty. And no one made him feel as alive, happy, loved, or intellectually stimulated as Jazz.

And Prowl didn't just play to play. He played to win.

oOoOo

Jazz watched his beloved's elegant doorwings as he transformed back into root mode. Granted, the secluded lake where Prowl had suggested they stop was beautiful in the sunset, and he spared a glance at the rippling water tinted crimson by the sun. A few swans floated near the water's edge, stretching their long necks, and a flock of ducks flew off with a great fluttering of wings. But none of them could compare to the grace of the mech at Jazz's side.

"I'm impressed with how much money they raised," Prowl said, settling on the deserted shore and pulling two energon cubes from his subspace. He held one up to Jazz.

Accepting the cube, Jazz grinned and sat beside him, letting their sides touch. Too bad he couldn't do more than casually date Prowl. Jazz wanted more than a quick overload with him; he'd love to have Prowl at his side forever. Prowl was his peace and serenity, the mech who could calm him no matter how stressed, angry, or despondent he was. For everyone else, Jazz had to be a cheerleader, a continual source of strength and happiness and comfort. With Prowl, he could be himself, no matter how dark the moment. Not to mention that they could talk about anything: music, philosophy, culture, religion, shallow, deep, complicated, simple – it didn't matter. No one else in his life was like Prowl. It was almost enough to make him repeal his insistence on never bonding.

But trusting someone with everything he was? With his whole life?

Still, Prowl had proven totally trustworthy over the vorns. For all that others claimed he was cold, Prowl always came to Jazz's side when he needed him. He never got impatient, never got disillusioned, and would always hug him or hold him during the night. He talked Jazz through the problem or stayed silently by him when he didn't want to be alone. At this point, he couldn't imagine Prowl stabbing him in the back.

But could Jazz curse anyone with the constant fear of viral contamination? To make them rely on intimacy that was touch alone more orns than not? Most lovers preferred to uplink by cables or jacks, and most bondmates wanted to reinforce their bond with repeated spark merges. For 268 orns of every stellar cycle, Jazz was Uplink Banned. No lover or bondmate would want to put up with that.

A white hand waving in front of his visor made Jazz jump. "Huh?"

Prowl chuckled. "You spaced out on me. I was saying that more of us should participate in charity car shows or races. We seem to raise a lot of money every time we do."

Jazz nodded, focusing his attention on his love. "Well, there is the Europa 2000 in two decaorns. We could participate in that."

"Leave it to you to know about all the upcoming races." Prowl smiled at him, that gentle half-smile he only gave Jazz. That look of endearment was what first alerted Jazz that he was special.

Returning the grin, Jazz finished his cube and leaned against Prowl, who wrapped one arm around him. As Prowl finished his energon, they sat in silence, listening to crickets chirping in the woods behind them and the waves lapping on the rocky beach. A new flock of ducks landed, creating ripples in the water, and their indignant quacks filled the air as they jostled over fish. Even though Jazz didn't love nature the way Hound did, he still found the scene relaxing, especially with Prowl holding him close at the same time.

"Our anniversary is coming up," Prowl said quietly after a breem. He set aside his empty cube and leaned down to press a quick kiss to Jazz's lips.

"Really?" As good as Jazz was with details in his professional life, he paid little attention to exact dates in his personal life. Creation dates and anniversaries tended to sneak up on him, unlike Prowl, who observed such occasions with great dedication and formality.

Prowl nodded, giving him second kiss. "Yes, silly. Two stellar cycles of dating, twenty-eight of friendship.

Jazz felt a bit guilty then. In Cybertronian culture, twos and eights held special significance. Since they didn't celebrate their creation dates every stellar cycle, a mech's second- and eighth-stellar-cycle creation dates entailed elaborate celebrations. The twenty-eighth was like a rite of passage, marking when a mech was allowed to drive or fly by himself, and the second vorn and eighth vorn involved major upgrades. The twenty-eighth vorn was the full adult upgrade, and the celebrations planned for a mech's second- and eighth-million-stellar-cycle creation dates were extravagant. Likewise, couples and bondmates had special parties or ceremonies on any anniversary that fell on a two, eight, or twenty-eight. "Primus, I'm sorry. I should've realized that and been plannin' us a cool party."

"I knew you'd lose track of time." Prowl smiled gently at him. "But I've already booked the rec room, ordered the high-grade and confections, and worked out a schedule so that anyone who wants to attend will get at least a joor free to do so."

Jazz had to steal a kiss this time. "Efficient as ever." He laughed. "Ya leave the music, festivities, and décor for me?"

"Of course." Prowl pulled Jazz halfway into his lap in order to making kissing easier, and for several long moments, the only things Jazz was aware of were the soft, warm lips against his, the glossa teasing his, and the hand stroking his thigh. He let his hand stray to Prowl's doorwing, drawing a moan from him, and when Prowl's fingers dipped into his hip joint and stimulated the wires there, he wanted to throw Prowl back onto the beach and pleasure him until he cried out to the heavens.

As though sensing Jazz's tenuous control, Prowl broke their kiss. "There is something I'd like to ask you."

Prowl seemed so serious that Jazz felt a flash of uneasiness. "What?"

"On the night of our anniversary, I'd like to bond with you." Prowl cupped his cheek and caressed his cheekseam with his thumb.

Jazz grew rigid in his embrace. "Prowler . . . that ain't such a good idea." Fear raced through his circuits like an energy surge. "I could give ya a virus, and I spend more'n half my time Uplink Banned. And what'll Prime say about havin' his top two officers bonded? What if —"

Prowl shook his head. "I already have Prime's permission."

Despite this reassurance, the fear bloomed through his sensor net, making his tank, fingers, and audio horns tingle. "But that doesn't change the fact I could contaminate ya, even kill ya with — "

"Do you trust me?" Prowl asked softly.

Jazz frowned. "Of course. It ain't the paranoia, if that's what ya mean. I'm just not sure if yer gonna be happy in the long term, and I don't want our relationship to crash n' burn. Once I'm bonded, I wanna stay bonded 'til I die. Breakin' a bond is supposed to hurt like the Pit, and I don't want that kinda scar, physical or emotional."

"I've pondered this a long time, Jazz." Prowl pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "I know what I want, and there is no way I'll ask to break our bond. Once I am bonded to you, I'll always be yours. Once you're bonded to me, you'll always be mine."

A warm pulse rippled through Jazz's spark at those words. "But could ya really be happy unable to uplink or merge so much of the time?"

"You fail to factor in just how talented your glossa and hands are," Prowl said dryly.

A small smile bent up Jazz's lips. "Well, I guess."

Prowl hugged him close again. "I want to bond with you, Jazz, not your interfacing skills. There's much more to being bonded than good 'facing."

Jazz sighed. "Yeah, but . . ."

"But nothing." Prowl hugged him close. "I've counted all the variables, considered all the factors. I know what I want and what will make me happy. It is now up to you to decide what you want."

Jazz leaned his head against Prowl's shoulder, unable to reply.

oOoOo

Jazz lay on the medberth, staring at the ceiling. He'd memorized every crack, stain, and bump up there: a crack shaped like Prowl's chevron and the length of his arm on the far left; a series of dips like river valleys on the far right; and a stain roughly the shape of Prime's head dead center. Jazz had spent so much time in medbay getting viruses removed that he knew the placement of the supplies as well as Ratchet did and had picked up a sizeable medical vocabulary. Today was no different. Soundwave had hit him with yet another Trojan when he'd stolen Megatron's plans for a new, larger space bridge. And here Jazz was, pondering whether to force himself into recharge to alleviate his boredom.

Ratchet swept across the room, yelling for Wheeljack. "I need you in exam room three! Got another slaggin' subhelm eletratoma. Fraggin' idiots. Three in one orn. What are they doin' out there?"

Jazz cringed, wondering if it were acute or not. No species did well with head trauma, and theirs was no exception.

"Coming, coming!" Wheeljack burst out of exam room one and jogged over to Ratchet. "Primus, and I just finished welding up Sideswipe's arm."

Jazz watched the typical proceedings without interest and wasn't even aware he'd slipped into recharge until a touch on his shoulder brought him around. Ratchet was leaning over him, looking weary, and the rest of medbay was now dark and empty.

"You're clean and clear to go," Ratchet said, giving his shoulder a faint pat.

"Thanks, man." Jazz had learned long ago to never irritate the medic in his lair, and he always made sure to cheer up Ratchet when he could. Ratchet looked in need of a boost to his spirits at the moment, in fact, but Jazz couldn't find it in him to give it. For the last five orns, he'd had something else eating up his processor, and it wasn't just party preparations. He sat up and frowned at Ratchet. "Can I ask ya a question?"

Ratchet leaned his hip into the side of the berth and crossed his arms. "Sure."

Jazz braced himself. "Have ya ever known . . ." He paused in the middle of his question, had a short argument with himself about whether he should be asking it, then continued. "Have ya ever known a special ops mech to bond successfully?" He'd witnessed and heard horror stories galore. What he lacked was evidence that anyone like him could pull off a bond that didn't end in a sundering.

"Yes." The answer was simple. Blunt. Said as though it were taken for granted.

Jazz's frown deepened, and he shifted on the berth to let his legs hang over the edge. "Oh, really? How many?"

"At least a dozen." Ratchet shook his head, sighing out his vents. "Look, the reason special ops mechs don't make it is the reason all others don't: rushing in, lack of communication, lack of self-identity, inappropriate or unshared expectations, clashing values and beliefs – all the same reasons relationships fail all the time. I know you guys think you're 'special' in more than one way, but in this, you're not."

Jazz realized he might know something that Ratchet didn't, then. "What about the viruses? Ya can't tell me that bein' unable to interface or spark merge half the time or more ain't part of that. Ratchet, we're contaminated. We've been known to accidentally kill our lovers and ourselves with the slag that doesn't get caught by medical. No one wants that kinda risk!"

"No one? Or Prowl?" Ratchet reached up and briefly squeezed both of Jazz's shoulders. "I don't know how Prowl feels about the viruses and threat of contamination. But I do know that the odds of your killing him are less than one percent. With Wheeljack, Perceptor, Hoist, and I all working on antiviral programs and removal software, Mirage, Bumblebee, and you have record resistance and quicker clean-ups. I know it bothers you, but the truth is that there's no reason you can't live a normal life."

A normal life. Jazz wasn't sure he even knew what one of those was. What would it be like to bond and not have to worry about unknowingly and accidentally passing on some new virus, perhaps an unremovable one or even a lethal one? What would it be like to be able to interface or spark merge anytime on any orn? "Are ya sure about that? 'Cause the last time I checked, most mechs prefer their 'facing to be on demand and worry-free."

"You insult Prowl." Ratchet's posture slumped suddenly, and he sat on the berth across from Jazz. "This is about love. If Prowl loves you and wants to bond with you, then he'll work around the things about you that can't be changed. You wouldn't agree to bond with Prowl only if he stopped being so logical. You accept that as part of who he is. If Prowl is interested in bonding with you, then he knows and accepts how careful you two will have to be while interfacing."

Jazz shifted his gaze to his hands, watching as his thumbs as he ran them over his own fingers. The implied message behind Ratchet's words was the same one as Prowl's when he'd first asked Jazz out: embrace life. Take a chance. They both understood what others did not: as much as Jazz loved new experiences, new cultures, and bold plans, there were some things he never risked. His spark was one, and the life and happiness of the mech he loved most was the other.

Then again, the alternative was to spend the rest of his life alone or wanting more.

"My job is to keep you safe, keep you clean," Ratchet finally said. "Trust me to do my job to the best of my abilities, just like I trust you to make smart decisions when 'facing. Believe in yourself and Prowl, and work through it together. If we don't live the lives we're fighting for, why the frag are we doing this?"

Jazz's gaze jerked up to meet Ratchet's. He had a point. They were fighting for freedom, but for that to mean anything, it had to be more than the freedom to simply exist. Freedom meant breaking the chains of fear in their lives, and Jazz realized that included him and his fears. "Never thought of it that way. Thanks, Doc."

"No problem." Ratchet slid back off the berth and headed for his office. "Rearranging processors is my business. Just be glad I didn't have to use a wrench on you."

Jazz smiled, but his processor was hard at work pondering all that Ratchet had said.

oOoOo

The party music had ranged from Earth rock music to Cybertronian ballroom music. Like a good host, Prowl had stood with Jazz by the door and greeted all their friends and comrades, allowing them to congratulate them. Then he'd stood with Optimus, chatting and eating energon confections while Jazz mingled and 'danced' with the others, assuming that the gyrating they were doing could be called a dance. But when the music shifted to that of Prowl's sparkinghood, he'd set aside his energon cube and strode across the dance floor in search of his love.

Now he and Jazz were swinging through the room in graceful steps as Prowl proved he did, in fact, know how to dance.

"Such an elegant dancer," Jazz murmured, grinning at him.

Prowl gave him a small smile, cherishing the feel of Jazz's warm plating held close to his. Jazz looked radiant, his armor positively glowing. Or perhaps it was Jazz himself that glowed, as though his spark shone through his plating. "Praxians gave much emphasis to the fine arts. Sparklings were required to learn music, dancing, and either painting or sculpting. They were also expected to read all the classics and learn to write poetry, although that often resulted in countless bad, corny poems."

"Seriously?" Jazz glanced across the room, to where Sideswipe danced with Smokescreen and Sunstreaker with Bluestreak. "I guess that explains why they can dance. Oh! And why Smokey can play the hywyre and why Blue can paint almost as well as Sunny."

"Exactly." Prowl twirled Jazz in his arms, making him laugh, then pulled him close again to whisper against his audio. "You know those sculptures in my cabin? The one like a miniature crystal garden and the one of Primus?"

"Yeeeah?" Jazz shivered faintly at the lips brushing his audio horn. "Wait, did you make 'em?"

Prowl chuckled. "Yes. I'm afraid I don't have a great gift, but those two are my best."

Jazz's visor brightened in surprise. "I thought those were professional, Prowler. That's impressive."

The song ended on grand notes, and Prowl released Jazz so they could bow to each other. However, Prowl immediately took his hand again and smiled at him. "Perhaps we could go, ah, take a look at those sculptures in the privacy of my quarters?"

Jazz's laughter, so clear and beautiful, broke across the room right before the first notes of the next song. "I think that sounds wonderful."

They swept out of the room together, receiving grins or waves from several mechs as they left. It wasn't exactly uncommon for the couple whose anniversary it was to not last the whole night at the party. And when they reached Prowl's quarters, he didn't waste any time pulling Jazz into his arms and kissing him thoroughly. Their glossae caressed as they embraced and stroked each other's canopies. In their good moods, their desire to please each other began to slip out of their control, and Jazz ran his palm the length of Prowl's right doorwing, setting off its sensors. With a soft moan, Prowl retaliated by brushing his fingers over Jazz's interface array cover.

Jazz gasped and jerked backward. He stared at Prowl with a look of worry, his visor dimming, but Prowl remained calm and resolute. He had researched and pondered, calculated and prayed. He knew what he wanted.

"You have yet to give me your answer," Prowl said, reaching out to grasp Jazz's hand. "I want nothing more than to share my life with you, share my spark with you."

Jazz squeezed his hand. "I want to share my life with ya, too. I just . . ." He bit his lip.

Prowl pulled him gently back into his arms. "Then let's grab what we want and not delay. Too many of us are putting things off to 'when the war is over.' For all we know, that will be millions of stellar cycles from now. I don't wish to wait so long." He held Jazz close and nibbled his audio horn. "Plus I know you're currently cleared by medical."

Jazz shivered and gripped his hips. "Currently, yeah. But yer always gonna hafta check, and more often than not wait. Part of me wants to take the chance, but the other part argues that I can't curse ya with a lifetime of —"

"I will be happy to wait," Prowl said, stroking one hand over the contours of Jazz's canopy. "And there are other ways to overload."

"But ya —"

Prowl put his fingers over Jazz's lips. "What do you want?"

Jazz pulled out of his arms with a sigh and walked over to Prowl's berth, plopping down on the edge. "If it were a perfect universe? To bond with ya."

"Then what do I need to do to make you feel comfortable with your decision?" Prowl followed him, kneeling before him and taking both his hands into his. "I have already had Ratchet upgrade my anti-viral software to special ops' standards. It's triple-layered and redundant now. I'll also submit to a checkup once a decaorn to make sure nothing has gotten past it."

Jazz stared at him, his visor flaring bright. "Ya went ahead and did that?"

"I thought it would make you feel safer." Prowl lifted one of Jazz's hands to his lips and kissed his fingers.

Some of the tension seemed to bleed from Jazz's frame. "That does . . . help. But I'll never be able to live with myself if I accidentally contaminate ya." He laughed bitterly. "Of course, if I accidentally kill us both, I won't have to live with it."

Prowl released one of Jazz's hands and cupped his cheek. "Jazz, every time you go onto the battlefield, I could get you killed. I live with the constant fear that my actions or decisions will result in the permanent injury or death of the mech I love most." He shook his head, his pain over that possibility making his voice waver. It was an unending nightmare that burnt like acid in his lines every orn. "If I am asking anything of you, I'm asking you to share that burden with me. If we both carry these fears, together, maybe we can bear them. At the same time, we'll be able to share our joys and love."

Jazz's lips parted, but no words emerged. After a klik, he reached up and cupped Prowl's face in both his hands, kissing the center of his chevron, the tip of his nose, and then his lips. Finally, he spoke. "Yer right. Together, we can bear this." He nodded once, apparently to himself. "I'll bond with ya."

A quiet ache in Prowl's spark that he hadn't even been aware of was suddenly silenced, and he smiled at Jazz, letting his happiness shine out of him. "Thank you, love."

Jazz grinned, then suddenly ducked his head. "Uh, that bein' said, how do ya want to do this? I've never connected to another 'bot or done any spark play. I was pretty young when I joined ops. I'd messed around some, but nothin' like that."

"I've done both," Prowl admitted. He'd been pre-bonded to Sentinel Prime before his death, and Sentinel had not been a fan of delayed gratification. "I really wish I could say I hadn't done spark play." I wish it could have been something only we shared. "But I do know what to do."

"It's okay, Prowler." Jazz paused, looking rather bashful. "So do we just use sparks this time?"

Prowl leaned down and captured Jazz's lips. "I think that's for the best."

Jazz immediately met Prowl's glossa with his own, and after several moments of play, Prowl began kissing his way down Jazz's body, caressing his frame and stimulating transformation seams. He stopped to lick Jazz's grille, relentlessly teasing the sensors hidden there, and Jazz arched into the touch with quiet gasps. At the same time, Prowl extended his energy field, filtering it through Jazz's and building the energy between them. He wanted to synch fields with Jazz so he could feel Prowl's love, his burning need to share sparks with him.

"Prowl," Jazz moaned as Prowl continued downward, licking the rims of both headlights and tracing them slowly with his glossa. He let his energy field flow back into Prowl's, washing him with in warm, passion-filled waves.

At the sound of his name, Prowl glanced up the length of Jazz's body, catching sight of his heaving chestplates and parted lips. Jazz was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous in his pleasure. Smiling, he laid Jazz back upon the berth and climbed between his legs, settling there. "Are you ready?" he asked softly.

Jazz returned the smile and nodded, but he clutched the berth edge in a subtle show of nervousness.

"It's all right," Prowl said. "You won't hurt me, and I won't hurt you." His chestplates cracked open, dousing Jazz with the blue glow of his spark. He stilled, pressing a kiss to Jazz's lips. "I love you. Forever. Please, share this with me."

With a soft gasp from Jazz, his spark chamber reacted to the proximity of its mate, opening completely. He nodded slowly, smiling. "I will. And I love ya, too."

Elated, Prowl fully transformed the armor away from his chamber and embraced Jazz, aligning their sparks. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Jazz's sensitive audio horn and making him shiver, and their sparks sent tendrils that caressed each other. More and more tendrils connected, infusing their energy into each other's sparks and sending pleasure scorching through their sensors. Unable to wait any longer, Prowl pulled Jazz's chest flush to his, and they arched into one another as their sparks merged. Prowl was plunged into Jazz's essence, his joy, optimism, and love, and Prowl's own peace, vibrancy, and love seemed to fuse with Jazz until they were one spark and one body.

For a moment, the universe stopped as their sparks fused, a strange, singular oneness filling them with both excitement and serenity. Then, far too quickly, the pleasure pulsing between them looped through their systems, and the sensations catapulted them into an overload that engorged their sparks and sealed their bond. They screamed out the intensity of the pleasure and release.

For several kliks afterward, they held each other and panted as their systems cooled. Prowl could feel his systems begging to be shut down from the massive energy expenditure, but first he shifted so they could lie comfortably in each other's arms. He could feel Jazz's essence still within him, a vibrant pulse of life, and he reached out with his joy and caressed it. A quiet gasp sounded near his audio, and Jazz hugged him tightly. A moment later, he felt Jazz return the caress, and the sensation was so wonderful and stunning he could hardly process it.

"Amazing," Jazz murmured sleepily. ::I love ya so much, Prowler.::

Prowl smiled at the voice whispering over their bond. ::I love you, too.:: He pressed a kiss to Jazz's helm and let himself drift into recharge with him, knowing that their bond would grow strong and see them through both life and death.

Postscript: Since this is a one-shot, I want to say thank you in advance to anyone who reviews or faves this story. Love you guys!

Edited version.