Chapter Text
It starts with a puzzle.
Well, in all fairness, this is a lie. It starts with a ton and a half of sparkling tackling him as he waits in the hall.
Jazz has rather advanced sensors for a civilian, but Prowl has dedicated pretty much all three rotations of his short life to learning how to pounce unsuspecting winged mechs -- this is what he was made for.
(This, Seekerer will say later, is also a lie. Prowl was made for the single purpose of being cute, small and cuddly, and taking him to the zoo was a terrible mistake his Cree and Carer will never forgive Nightstalker.
Prowl responds to this by refusing to abandon his new post as a Seeker hat for the rest of the day.)
Jazz doesn't screech, but he does go down with a yelp and a very satisfying thud. Prowl has learnt to take his victories where he can get them, especially after that thing with the Lord Protector.
(Lord Megatron had caught him in mid-air. Prowl had warred between starstruck awe and indignation at being held like a stray cyberkitten, but his captor had only waited for Cree to get distracted with one of his datapads, and then advised Prowl to aim for the back of the neck next time. And he'd let him sit on his shoulder. Prowl liked Lord Megatron.)
The unsuspecting mech of the day is smaller than Prowl's usual fare -- he's only ever seen racers up close a couple of times, but then again, it's a bit hard for any grounders to get into an eyrie without wings. Cree can only manage it because he's a hover and can get to the lift Seekerer made for him halfway up the helices, and Prowl isn't allowed to leave on his own.
Maybe this one climbed, he muses, sitting on top of his confused prey.
Incidentally, said prey is giving him the most questioning look of his life, considering the mech is wearing a visor.
(Shiny, crows the part of Prowl that runs on Seeker code.
The rest of him slaps that side on the hand before it can do anything stupid.)
"Hello", Prowl says politely, because manners are important.
The mech's mouth twitches, and Prowl feels his field shift under him, though he can't really tell what it means. "Hey yourself. How's the weather up there?"
Prowl frowns, wings raising behind him. "Up where?"
"On top of me, mostly, though if you know what it's like in Kaon right now I wouldn't mind knowing."
"Oh." Prowl sits back, tilts his head, and prods a bit at the Grid. "Currently raining, hot, very windy. Travel not advised within the next nine hours on risk of severe to fatal corrosion without atmo-grade shielding. And--" He tilts his right wing, stretches his sensors to check just in case. "There's no meteorological difference between our locations. We're indoors and the climate is artificially controlled."
The mech grins, bright and easy in a way that makes Prowl think of his Seekerer. "Clever, are we? What's your name?"
Prowl is not supposed to talk to strangers. But no strangers get into the eyrie, and he saw Carer tell the mech to wait in the hall. But--
Oh. Loopholes.
"Hunter", he says, and is proud when his wings only twitch a little at the tiny lie.
The mech's face does that funny thing again. "Hunter, is it?"
Prowl doesn't waver, though he probably sounds a bit defensive. "Yes. What's your designation?"
"I'm Jazz", the mech says, no modifiers at all, and Prowl wonders at the myriad of meanings that unravel from the single glyph. Names don't lie, Carer always says. Loopholes, Prowl thinks again. "Are you gonna let me up?"
Prowl considers this. "Will you tell me your name then?"
Jazz laughs, this time, a deep sound that makes his engines rumble under Prowl. He's loud under the unassuming black paint, but it doesn't make Prowl anxious as it usually does.
(He thinks about acceleration and paint transfers, and very determinedly doesn't wince.)
"Tell you what", Jazz says, sitting up just enough to lean on his elbows, but not dislodge Prowl from his place on his chest. "I'll give you something even better."
Prowl looks at him, halfway between curious and wary; he's been tricked before by Cree's brother, and though Jazz doesn't look like a "filthy, filthy cheat", as Seekerer likes to call Siren, one can never be too sure. "How so?"
Fractionation had explained to Prowl two stations ago how most sleights of hand worked -- subspace and diversions, he'd said, demonstrating with Prowl's favourite holo-hex. Prowl's wings still flare with surprise when Jazz twirls his wrist showily, opening his hand to reveal a little brass sphere.
"Tada!", Jazz grins. Prowl tilts his head, looking at him expectantly, and the mech huffs a little laugh. "Talk about hard crowds. Know what this is, Hunter?" Prowl shakes his head, can't help but peer at the sphere. "It's called a turnbox. I have a friend who makes puzzles that are very difficult to solve, and he asked me to find someone who can do this one."
Prowl glances between Jazz and the turnbox, barely resisting the urge to make a grab for it. "Have you found it yet?"
"Nope", Jazz says, sounding rather too cheerful about admitting failure. "So, how about this: I'm gonna give you the puzzle, and you're gonna let me up. And", he adds, smiling at Prowl's skeptical look, "if you manage to solve it, I'll tell you my designation proper."
"Oh", Prowl says, sensor wings flicking once. He does like puzzles, especially ones that are hard to solve. Everything gets boring very easily. Although... "You couldn't do it either?"
Jazz smiles again, visor flashing once. Prowl isn't sure what that means. "Does it matter?"
Prowl frowns. "Cree says it's rude to answer a question with another question."
That gets another chuckle out of Jazz, and it only makes Prowl frown harder. "Sorry. I am a little bit rude, I'm afraid."
"Hmph." Then again, Carer has said pouncing strangers is a bit rude, too. Prowl decides not to push his luck. "Alright."
"What was that, sorry?"
"I said alright", Prowl says, drawing out the word, and feels pleased when Jazz laughs again.
"Very well. Your prize, ser", Jazz acquiesces, spinning the turnbox between his fingers and handing it to him. Prowl takes it carefully, noting the weight and feel of it, and the way it fits both his hands where Jazz could hide it in one. There are engravings all over it, a dark burnish against the not-quite-gold of its surface, and when he runs a finger over one of the dots near the center, it clicks, and sinks, and the rest of the layer reconfigures itself around it.
Prowl squeaks, wings flaring behind him; Jazz's visor flashes again before he smiles. "Huh. Who would've thought, maybe it was a good idea to give it to you."
The dot refuses to budge again, but Prowl finds he can slide the thin bands surrounding the puzzle from side to side, different symbols forming as he turns it around. He doesn't know what any of them mean. "What are these for?"
"That's for you to find out", Jazz replies solemnly. "Though if you line it up like that it says 'all hail the glow cloud'." Prowl narrows his optics, but Jazz just grins up at him. "My, that's a lot of suspicion for such a tiny mech. You sure you're not secretly a really grumpy minicon?"
Tiny white wings wiggle pointedly behind Prowl's back, though he can't really keep a giggle off his voice. "I'm a Praxian. I've been bigger than a minicon since I was sparked."
"I wouldn't be so inclined to believe you if you hadn't been crushing me for the past ten minutes", Jazz sighs, letting his upper body flop back dramatically and pretending to struggle under his weight.
Prowl tilts his head, starts to scan Jazz-- and stops a second later, practically hearing Cree's warm, amused voice tell him he seems to have forgotten his manners in his room, and maybe he'd like to go search for them instead of poking their guests.
Still, he's at least moderately sure Jazz's total weight is at least nine times his own, so he can't actually be crushing him, and he nearly tells Jazz as much, until he notices the traces of humour flicking through his field.
"You're laughing at me", he accuses, wings drooping the tiniest bit.
"What? Oh no, no, bitty, it's not like that", Jazz assures him, raising himself again on his elbows. "It's just a silly joke, Hunter. I was trying to laugh with you."
Prowl looks at him for a moment, thinks about his Cree or Seekerer's comments that sometimes confuse him, and make his other carers get upset or quiet.
"Hmph." Prowl says. Jazz looks a bit distressed, and opens his mouth to speak again.
Prowl boops him.
He flicks his wings in a question, after, but Jazz seems to be too busy laughing himself silly to pay attention.
"You're the most confusing thing I have seen this whole rotation", Jazz says, but he's smiling as he says it, and Prowl knows better than anyone that always understanding everything is really, really boring.
"I'm interesting", he says, which seems to be an appropriate response, because it makes Jazz grin again.
"That you are."
Prowl nods, satisfied, then swings off Jazz's chest. There's a big white scratch on his shiny black paint, and a bunch of smaller scuffs, and he's pretty certain he'll get scolded for pouncing on visitors again, but...
Well, it's kind of hard to be too worried when he's already dying to figure out his new puzzle.
"Primus, do forgive me, I'm afraid with Nightstalker off-planet and Atlas going back and forth to Iacon, I don't know where half of everything is", Carer apologises, returning to the hall with a datapad and a box roughly of Prowl's size. "It's a wonder we haven't lost-- oh, hi there, sweetspark, I thought you had gone to the terrace."
"Snacktime", Prowl says, then adds, maybe a bit too pleased with himself, "I ate all the purple jellies."
Jazz snorts, and Carer laughs, crouching down to hand Jazz the box. Prowl scampers up onto Carer's shoulder as they discuss whatever it is Jazz is taking, burrows into the little dip that serves as one of Carer's smaller turbines in altmode and Prowl's favourite snuggling spot the rest of the time. As soon as Carer's mind is free of whatever concern he had about deliveries, however, he seems to notice the white transfers on Jazz's chest.
Prowl can literally feel the moment he's in trouble.
"Sweetspark", Carer says slowly, and Prowl wishes they were the same shade of white so he could blend in with his carer's frame. "Were you pouncing on visitors again?"
"Um", he says, trying and failing not to fidget. "Maybe?" Then, because he's immediately assaulted with a terrible, overwhelming guilt, "Yes, Carer."
Carer sighs, wings drooping slightly, and Prowl shrinks a tiny bit into himself. "And what have we said about it?"
"...nottadoetannapologise."
"Pardon?"
"Not do it anymore", Prowl mumbles, only a bit more intelligibly. "And to apologise." He glances at Jazz from his perch, hugs his turnbox closer to his chest. "I'm sorry for streaking your paint." Jazz's mouth twitches, but Carer clicks at Prowl and doesn't seem particularly impressed by his embarrassed whirs, though he does let him hide a bit further down into his shoulder. "And I'm sorry for pouncing you at all."
He hears Jazz chuckle, and peeks at him from behind Carer's shoulder. He's smiling again. "It's no problem. Though you might like to listen to your creator when he says no to something."
"I thoroughly agree, you know?", Carer stage-whispers, and Prowl flickers his wings, bumping his chevron against Carer's cheekguard a bit sheepishly.
"I can try?", he offers, and Carer laughs, so he figures it's a good enough answer.
"Do forgive us", Carer smiles ruefully to Jazz. "I'm afraid he takes far too much after his Seekerer for anyone's peace."
"Eh, don't worry. You should've seen the kinds of merry hell I raised at his age", Jazz says, cheerfully waving away the apology with a flick of his hand. "I better get on with this, though", he adds, pointedly lifting the box on his other arm. "If that'll be all, at least."
"Yes, quite. Let me show you down, if you will. Prowl?", Carer asks, and Prowl shakes his head, staying in place. The turnbox can wait a bit, if only for the sake of getting a ride groundside and back up.
Jazz's visor flashes, though, and a grin spreads slowly over his face. "Prowl?"
Prowl instinctively looks Jazz's way at the mention of his name, then drops his head onto Carer's shoulder again, barely resisting the urge to whine. Busted.
Carer just smiles though, affection clear in his voice, unaware that Jazz isn't just amused at the coincidence. "Well, as much as I think he's a sweetspark, his actual designation seems to fit him just well, don't you think?"
"Oh, definitely", Jazz agrees, vocals lilting with laughter. "He's a little hunter alright."
Prowl narrows his optics, looks at him reproachfully from his spot, but in the end Jazz's grin is so contagious he can't help but smile back, just a little bit.
(It's only later, when he's back in his room working on the turnbox, that Prowl realises he never asked how to find Jazz to tell him he solved the puzzle.)