Prowl grimaced as he adjusted the Transformer sized apron over his chassis, glad that he decided not to go with the full maids outfit – it would have been more embarrassing and mortifying than the situation already was. Sighing, the Praxian realised it was the only way he could make it up to Jazz really. It was all his fault...
Flashback
Prowl was at his desk, halfway through a large stack of datapads, completely determined and absorbed in his work. He didn't even notice when his lover and bondmate Jazz walked through the door with two cubes of energon, whistling a merry tune.
"Hey babe," the saboteur greeted, placing one of the cubes in front of him.
"Hello Jazz. How was your mission?" inquired Prowl, helm not even looking up to speak directly to Jazz, but the other mech didn't mind. Jazz simply grinned, sprawling himself in the chair in front of the desk.
"Too easy. Ya'd think that they'd cova' up the entrances Ah've gone in before, or at least put some sensors or something.' 'Cons are getting' arrogant Ah guess," Jazz chuckled.
Placing another datapad on the finished stack, the chevroned mech allowed himself a wry smile. Even though Jazz had a 98% success rate on all his missions, it didn't stop Prowl from worrying each time. Finally looking up, Prowl replied with a soft smile, "I'm glad you are home Jazz." He accompanied a thought with a pulse of affection through their bond before going back to his work.
"Good ta be back Prowler. Whaddaya say ya ditch the datapads and accompany me to our quarters so Ah can use this new oil on ya? Edible, high-grade flavoured..." Jazz winked his visor, "Ya know ya want to."
"Sorry Jazz, but no, later perhaps," said Prowl firmly, scrolling down his current datapad – a security report form Red Alert.
Maybe it was the mission stress coming back to haunt him, or maybe it was because he had not been intimate with Prowl for the past two weeks because of their schedules, but Jazz sighed heavily, cheerfulness gone as he said, "Ya always say that. They're gonna be there when ya get back, and Ah know ya can do 'em on time. C'mon Prowl, take a break, Ah've missed you."
And maybe for Prowl it was the same: the stress of work, the nights of doing nothing more than recharging with his beloved, that his mood turned sour as well.
"Jazz, I have no time for your silly games now. I said later. Go and recharge," he muttered darkly.
"No! Ah don't want cha babe, Ah need ya. Ya got me achin' for ya!" Jazz protested. He wanted to feel Prowl with him again, within his valve and spark preferably.
"And I need you to leave me alone. I'm sorry if you wanted a bondmate as a booty call whenever you needed it, but I can't be that mech. Now leave me be, and I might see you later," growled Prowl. But as soon as the harsh words were out of his vocaliser, Prowl wished he could swallow them back up again. Jazz's faceplate went from angry to anguished, and the tactician saw a streak of a coolant tear trickle down his face before he turned and fled out the room.
Realising what he had done, Prowl tried to reach through their bond, only to be met with a wall of anger and sorrow.
End Flashback
And for one and a half weeks after that incident, the whole base had been on edge. Jazz was rarely seen, and Prowl had been fruitlessly trying to corner the saboteur to pour out his spark on apologies. It made Prowl feel like the worst bondmate ever, that he had made the love of his life cry like that. So now, he was trying to make up for it – trying to see what Jazz would do if it was the other way around.
The day before, they had met and apologised, and Prowl felt like it hadn't of been enough – Jazz had still not come back to their quarters last night, even if they parted on better terms then they had been on for the past week or so.
