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Paperwork wasn’t something he despised, but it wasn’t something he particularly liked. It was long, it was boring and most importantly there were so many. Prowl's right doorwing twitched as he signed what seemed like the 500th datapad of the day; the only relief was that his shift was done in five breems.
Prowl was already late getting back home to Jazz; they had planned a movie night filled with treats and goodies, relaxing on their berth and just letting all their stress go. The only thing that conflicted with that was when his partner came waltzing in like he owned the place and dropped a few— more like 10 with tens of hundreds of documents to be signed— on his desk with a short excuse of having something important to do.
Prowl made a note to report it to their superior officer in the morning. That sort of behavior was unprofessional and quite frankly, annoying and rude.
The five breems passed like a drawl, making Prowl want to hurdle the remaining two at the wall and feel the satisfaction of the sounding crash it would make. Though, he was refrained by a minor marjuraine.
As Prowl hurriedly packed up his things, he was glad he had shot Jazz a text he would be a few hours late. His shift ended at 1800, and it was already 2200.
The quick speed walk— he would never admit it was closer to a run— out of the tactical area of the base and into the hallways that were bare and dead this late at night was swift. Prowl didn’t want to waste any time getting back to his berthroom, being able to relax with his bondmate and not having to deal with the rest of the world for a while.
Prowl was also quite looking forward to the polish that Jazz had promised, but he wouldn’t mind skipping that if they were both too tired to do that.
As Prowl stepped into the officers corridor where his and Jazz’s berthroom was located, he slowed to a stop with a barely there frown. His optics tracked around the hallway as his doorwings raised slowly and flickered. The hallway was still as it had always been, but his spark was beating quicker than normal and there was an eerie feeling.
The feeling intensified as his optics tracked a streak of blue..paint, on the right wall leading straight to the berthroom door. It looked suspiciously like energon.
Prowl took the last few steps to the door and entered the code cautiously, staring into complete silence and darkness in the berthroom. He hesitantly took a step in, feeling for the light as the door slammed shut behind him. Prowl flickered it on, and scanned the newly lit room.
Crystals still as they were? Check. The flickering lamp that should’ve been replaced decades ago in the same area? Check. Painting that was on the far wall that was slightly crooked and dented? Check.
Everything looked completely in place, but Prowl couldn’t shake that feeling of wrong .
“Jazz?” He called as he took further steps into their living corridors.
Prowls doorwings relaxed immensely when Jazz responded, “In here!” From their berthroom. Maybe Jazz was just relaxing?
He was proven wrong when he stepped inside, servo still on the doorway when he stared wide-opticed at the ground where Jazz was currently nervously grinning from, surrounded by paints and other materials. Basically the whole berthroom, besides a few areas, we’re covered in streaks of paint and..glitter?
“Heyyy Prowler..” Jazz spoke, slowly placing the bottle down from where he was shaking an unhealthy amount of glue on a Cybertronian sized sweater drizzled with glue.
Prowl took a moment just to take it all in, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to comprehend what exactly he was seeing. “What is this?” He asked.
“Ummm..” Jazz murmured, “a present?” Jazz said with a high pitched laugh and a shrug.
“A present.” Prowl deadpanned.
“Yes.”
They stared at each other for a couple more breems.
“Why?” Prowl asked softly.
Jazz shrugged, shifting on the floor where he was sitting, the grin still plastered on his face.
Prowl slowly nodded and turned around with the intention of walking out and leaving Jazz to..whatever he was doing. He took one step, and heard the panicked shout from Jazz of ‘Wait don’t step there!” before a shower of colours rained down on him, covering his frame helm to pede in brightly coloured circled glitter.
Prowl stood there silent for a breem, the whole room having quiet that could be broken with a knife.
Prowl took a short, slow breath in, “Jazz?” He said so gently, softly like nothing was wrong as he turned to face the sheepishly grinning Jazz.
“Yes baby?” Jazz nervously giggled, visor shining bright as he stopped behind Prowl. He must’ve stood up when Prowl had stepped in the wrong place.
“You are sleeping on the couch tonight.”