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Unity Day was supposed to be a day of peaceful remembrance and celebration about the end of The War That Almost Never Ended. It was supposed to be when Bots and Cons would set aside the differences that had never gone away and acknowledge the progress they had made, together. Peace was the theme. Peace was the focus.
Some people even thought it should have been a quiet, somber affair. To remember those that were lost throughout the cycles.
Jazz and Blaster were not those people. And so Jazz and Blaster made sure to have Maccadam’s kitted out, the sound system tuned to perfection. Because Unity day wasn’t just a global holiday, it was a global party.
To legitimize their Primus-given rights to get down and celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music, Jazz had sweet-talked Optimus into attending their event over holding a state-sponsored one. Not that Optimus had even wanted to hold a state-sponsored one, seeing as he was truly a terrible party planner and the only person he would have delegated the job to was someone perhaps worse at it: Prowl.
Jazz had no idea how this led to Megatron and his crew showing up for their musical throwdown, but Optimus seemed rather pleased about it and that was more than enough for Jazz. Blaster…was not as amused. Because Megatron being around meant that Megatron’s typical entourage was around.
That meant Soundwave – and his cohort of cassettes – were in their happy-funky-good-times space and not even their Unite Day Bash could prevent the sour beats Blaster was dropping over it. Jazz wasn’t gonna let that slide. Not today. Tonight, he would leave it alone. Whatever the two music hosts had to beef about – not as much as some would think but they managed to make a whole lot out of it – Jazz was gonna hit the pause button on that particular playlist for the night.
“If you keep glaring at him across the dance floor, I think Frenzy and Rumble are gonna start a dance battle,” Jazz teased, because he couldn’t help it.
Besides, Frenzy and Rumble were definitely sending Looks their way and Eject and Rewind had already disappeared, so Jazz couldn’t ask them to run interference. Rewind said he had a date – and Blaster was maybe sort of definitely in a mood about that, too – and Eject didn’t even want to stick around for the Bash. He said the playoffs on Earth were happening and he had a live satellite feed to watch. Jazz wasn’t even sure which playoffs he was talking about this time.
“I’m fine,” Blaster said, fingers flying over the dials and switches and keys as he set up the playlist for the next hour. He had been switching between genres the whole day, even pulling out some of his old tracks from before the war. The variety seemed popular but the more his mood soured the more the songs went from happy and upbeat funky dance tunes to something more fisting pumping in an angrier way and Jazz wondered when the first diss track would show up.
“I’m pretty up to date on the latest slang trends so I know that pout didn’t start meaning ‘fine,’ sometime in the last four hours.”
“Jazzy, leave it,” Blaster insisted. “I’m handling it. This Bash ain’t just about us, so I can put up with that blank-faced no taste hack for the day.”
“And grump about it the entire time?”
“Only person who is paying that much attention is you.”
Jazz nudged Blaster in the side, rather dramatically. Blaster, being a helm and shoulders taller than Jazz, intentionally moved with the elbow, as if Jazz had hit him much harder than he had. Jazz laughed, exactly what Blaster wanted, but then he put on the exaggerated pout.
“I got reason to be paying attention to that face of yours, ya know,” Jazz grumbled, “since it hasn’t even tried to kiss me the whole time we’ve been up here.”
Blaster’s own sour expression pulled into more of an exasperated smile. He shook his head and then grabbed Jazz’s arm to tug him closer, their helms almost touching. “That what this is about? You think I’m not paying you enough attention?”
“I mean, it is Unity Day, but we haven’t been doing much unifying over here.”
“I think we did plenty of unifying last night.”
Jazz’s face got all dreamy as he remembered. “Yeah…making the kind of music that rocks ya all night long.”
Blaster snorted, but he was endeared. “Fine, fine. I’ve got it all set up to go. Let’s go celebrate ourselves.”
Jazz beamed with excitement. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.’
==
This was Rumble and Frenzy’s fault. Not that Soundwave would outwardly assign blame, as it was also his own fault for not being more firm with them about his decision to not participate. Nothing about this made him want to celebrate.
He trusted Megatron, he believed in the Decepticon Cause.
He would follow Megatron into the arms of Unicron for that cause.
He did not expect to have to follow him into a loud, crowded, Autobot-filled party for it.
“Boss, you sure you okay?” Rumble asked, even though he wasn’t looking at Soundwave and instead trying his hardest to look as annoyed as possible until his favorite song ended. He couldn’t dance or enjoy himself at an Autobot party, either. Maybe he was copying Soundwave.
“Soundwave: fine,” he replied, even as he sat, cube of engex in front of him, untouched…next to three empty cubes that were long since consumed. Rumble looked at Frenzy. Frenzy looked at Rumble. Neither of them looked convinced. Soundwave sighed. “Repeat. Soundwave: fine. Here for support.”
“You don’t have to be miserable because Megatron’s trying to get his groove back,” Frenzy snorted and then poked him with her guitar. “Especially when he’s making a fool of himself for that guy.”
“Frenzy.” His tone was curt.
Frenzy was not fazed.
“You know it’s true. The Big Boss is over there acting like he’s ready to recite poetry again, all over the Prime sitting at the same table as him. Ew.”
Frenzy had already chugged her own two cubes, and she was acting like it, considering how often she was making faces and sending crude unsubtle gestures in the direction of the DJ table. Soundwave had been avoiding looking over there because he knew exactly who would be at the DJ table just based on the overhyped music playing.
(Yes, even Rumble’s favorite song, Soundwave would not admit that. Rumble was allowed the freedom to have questionable taste in music.)
The one time he gave in, all he saw was Jazz, giving Blaster an elbow to his side and then Blaster melodramatically acting as if that was some great injury before pulling Jazz close, their faces ready to touch –
– Soundwave quickly turned his attention back to their own small table, set back away from most of the revelry. He avoided the dance floor, avoided the bar counter, and avoided most of the tables filled with Autobots.
It was maddening, how they seemed to be everywhere. He couldn’t escape their presence. Jazz was smooth, confident, and teasing as always, and Blaster’s demeanor would range from uninterested to annoyed. Barely polite. Whether visiting the growing entertainment district, standing for Megatron at a meeting, or even observing a construction site to get reports from the Constructicons…somehow, they would be there. Blaster always seemed surprised by Soundwave’s presence, and all the more annoyed for it. Jazz? One could never know.
And here they were, yet again. In a place that was most certainly the most fitting of locations for them to be, minding their own business while Soundwave sat in a booth steadfastly ignoring them.
It did not help.
“Deadlock’s making a move on Ratchet again,” Rumble said, casually, as he’d turned his attention from looking angry to playing with the gaming datapad he’d snuck along for the festivities. Soundwave wanted to be annoyed but he felt more jealous that he had something to distract himself with.
Frenzy on the other hand was suddenly very interested, poking her head over the high back of the booth bench to get a better look.
“Seriously? Didn’t Wheeljack do something to his tires last time?”
“Wheeljack: not present.” Soundwave shouldn’t be encouraging them.
“Hah,” Frenzy chortled. “Trying to see how far he gets this time, huh?”
Rumble was most definitely paying more attention than he was letting on, but he wrinkled his nose. “That’s you, Frenz, you’re the one obsessed with whether he’ll bag the medic or not.”
Frenzy, again, was not fazed, as all shame had been removed from her emotional cortex long ago. “It’s so gross, seeing him get all worked up over a Bot of all mechs, but it’s like I can’t stop watching to see how badly he fails this time. Like watching Reality TV.”
“Frenzy: watches too much Earth television.”
“Earth sucks, but at least they’re entertaining.”
Rumble gives an agreeable shrug of his shoulders there. Considering all of the video games he hacked to bring to Cybertron, he’s not complaining about Earth’s entertainment culture either.
Which for some reason only sours Soundwave’s mood even more. His own cassettes are slowly coming to accept things, more than they realize. They might still dislike Autobots, but Earth is just a gateway to fraternization.
Fraternization which shouldn’t be happening because it feels too much like a loss after everything they sacrificed. Peace was not wrong…and yet nothing felt right about it, either.
Soundwave trusted Megatron.
Soundwave had sacrificed many things to follow Megatron.
He shouldn’t feel bitter now that he agreed to follow him in peace as he always had before. And he didn’t. This was not bitterness.
Or was it?
Perhaps Soundwave was not as fine as he had chosen to be.
“Oh geez, what are they doing–ew!”
Soundwave’s head jerked up at Frenzy’s exclamation of disgust. His optics scanned the room for what horrible action had caused such a reaction in her. At first it seemed nothing, people were congregating more on the dance floor, or around the dance floor to be more accurate, but that wasn’t as–
Oh.
They were dancing.
Jazz and Blaster were in synchronization, not mimicking each other’s moves, but one following as the other led, perfectly in time with each other. When Jazz spun and flipped, Blaster was there to catch and spin in return. When one went low, the other went high, and every so often they would come together, hands quickly touching – talking, coordinating, using chirolinguistics, he recognized it immediately – before they would break apart and perform another move. Everyone was circling around them, cheering and clapping to the beat of the music, while they danced like they were the only two there. Performing for an audience of no one but themselves.
Seeing it was…familiar. Familiar in a way that dragged something angry and resentful and challenged.
Soundwave turned his head away, grabbed his fourth cube and downed it so quickly it didn’t even have a chance to burn his intake. His mask snapped back into place. Rumble was watching him warily.
“Boss…you’re not gonna…”
“Rumble: move.”
Rumble slid out from the booth, holding his datapad against his own chest. Soundwave realized he may have been projecting more across the bond than intended at this close proximity. Too late for it now.
Frenzy set her guitar on the table. “You’re not about to… Slag, you are.”
“Will be back.”
And then Soundwave stalked off towards the dancefloor. He could hear Rumble hissing, “Do something, idiot!”
Frenzy hissed back, “Why would I? This is gonna be amazing.”
“Of course this happens when Ravage isn’t around.”
Soundwave filtered them out as he focused on his new objective.
Operation: Beat Down.
==
It was the most fun they’d had in years. Cycles even. Letting the music flow, dancing in coordination just like the old days, back when things were less complicated – not always less shit, but at least less complicated – and he and Blaster had still been newly into their vibes. Coming into their own.
Doing a cool bounce double flip grab twist shake and landing with Blaster holding him upside down over his head was like finding out an old pair of tires still had just the right amount of tread on them for one last good ride.
Like playing a song he hadn’t heard in millions of years just from memory of the way it made him feel the first time he’d ever heard it. Not perfect, but just right for him.
Having a bunch of people around them, clapping to the beat and cheering and ahhhing at their moves didn’t distract him. It just brought it further back into his memories of the way things used to be. Reminded that maybe the old days didn’t have to stay dead for the future to happen. And the look in Blaster’s optics when the song ended and he let Jazz drop back to the ground beside him… Oh, yeah, they were gonna have so much fun when they got back to base tonight…
Jazz hadn’t even broken out the coolant yet, but he was venting, grinning. Everything was going as perfect as it could, as if he had planned it all down to the playlist.
“Ready to call it?” Blaster asked with a smirk. “Now that we’ve shown everyone how to throw down.”
“Oh we ain’t done yet,” Jazz refused, and then spun around towards their captive audience, hands going wide. “Can’t disappoint our friends looking for a show on Unity Day, can we?”
“Disappointment: failure to commit to full triple flip and settling for a double. Partner lacking in proper momentum.”
Then the music cut off.
Jazz froze. Bots around him froze. Optics were turned to look at the imposing figure standing there, arms crossed, the least impressed that Jazz had ever seen him. Some of the mechs had less than amused looks on their faces, others looked concerned and wary. Not sure where this was going, Jazz would bet. Jazz wasn’t right sure where, either. With the way Rumble and Frenzy had been sending them death glares all night, he’d figured Soundwave would have stayed away and gotten out as soon as he could.
Instead, he pulled this.
Jazz hadn’t said anything yet, but Blaster was not nearly as tongue-tied.
“Like you’ve got room to talk, with ya wannabe dubstep,” he sniped right back, stepping around Jazz to get in Soundwave’s face. “You haven’t popped a move in so long your joints can’t even bend that way anymore.”
“Moves: still pathetic,” Soundwave shot back, ready. “Still using double flip spin because you can’t produce enough force to hold position in air. Disappointing.”
Blaster was going from annoyed to angry to pissed off real quick and Jazz needed to damage control before this spun out. He pushed himself in between them – an all too familiar exercise – and held up his hands.
“We’re just having fun here,” Jazz reminded both of them. “Nothing needs to get so crazy when we’re enjoying a party. Why start about this?”
“Because he doesn’t know how to keep his slag to himself, as always,” Blaster sneered.
“Blaster: unable to handle truth. As always.”
Oh boy. Out of the corner of his visor, Jazz could see a familiar red-blue shape – with a silver one behind it – and held out his hands even higher, a barrier and a cue to stay back. He didn’t need Optimus inserting himself into this either. Handling these two was nothing for him. He got this.
“Now why don’t we just take a step back and–”
“Demonstrate proper moves.”
Oh shit. Everyone around them took a step back. Jazz could feel the pulses of energy, the angry field emanating right behind him.
“You wouldn’t know a smooth move if you slipped on an oilslick.”
“Blaster: only capable of talk and not action. Proof lacking. Back up or shut up.”
Blaster was pressing right against Jazz’s back, he could feel the way his doorwings were tingling from the low vibrations, the soft but noticeable bass beating off Blaster’s frame. He heard the sound of a chirr-chick and knew what it meant. Blaster had engaged his own visor, covering his all too expressive optics from Soundwave’s view.
“I’ll back it up and dump your ass to the ground. If you can even manage a two-step.”
“Challenge: accepted.”
“Good. Get on the dance floor.”
“Oh, so that’s what we’re going wi–”Jazz turned his head to say, only his hand was grabbed, his body spun, and if it wasn’t for this being the craziest shit to happen to him in a few thousand years he maybe would have been expecting it. Because Soundwave trapped him right against his chest, visor glowing red, and even though Jazz couldn’t see his face at all, he knew he was staring at him intently.
“Music: insufficient. New playlist selected.”
A new sound with a heavy rhythmic beat and a demanding vibrolin began and Jazz could hear the sound of Blaster’s jaw grinding. It was a familiar song. Something they’d danced to way back when. Of course Soundwave would know it. Of course Soundwave would choose it.
“Am I about to see someone get murdered on the dancefloor?” Jazz asked.
“Negative. If he’s good enough.”
Jazz sent a look back towards Blaster, whose fists were balled up ready for a fight. Jazz didn’t want a fight. Not that kind anyway.
“I think you’ll see the moves are even better than they used to be when we all used to hang. We ain’t been slackin’.”
Soundwave huffed.
“Prove it.”
Jazz’s visor might have glowed a bit red itself for a second there. “I’ll keep ya both honest, then.”
And with that, Jazz spun himself back out, easily dislodging Soundwave’s grip so he could backflip himself the distance to Blaster and land in the splits at his pedes. Then he looked up at Blaster with a wide smirk. Blaster was still angry, but Jazz knew even more than he was angry, he was hot. Hot and ready to prove something. Whatever that was…well, they’d find out wouldn’t they?
“Sweep me off my feet, why don’t ya?”
==
Blaster would always prefer sick moves to a heavy punch. Kill them with a beat, not with a blaster. Heh.
Except when it came to Soundwave, he was never sure if he’d prefer one or the other. Not since they’d had the falling out that had splintered the entire music community. And every other community on Cybertron. That’s what war did, after all.
But thinking about the past didn’t do anything for the present and right now the smug and superior vibes Soundwave was sending off in waves just to try and trip Blaster up made him want to slug him. Not easy for many people to get him to that point, but Soundwave sure was an expert at it. If it wasn’t for Jazz…
Jazz who happened to be staring up at him in expectation and excitement.
“Sweep me off my feet, why don’t ya?”
Blaster smirked. “We’ll play by his rules.”
Then he grabbed Jazz by one arm and pulled, swinging him around and up into the air. He spun with him, Jazz’s legs still perfectly posed in the splits, pedes pointed before Blaster brought him around with his arms close enough to wrap around Blaster’s neck. The ease of the movement told him Jazz had been doing a little mass shifting of his own, adjusting his size to make it even easier for him to be dragged around.
That’s the point of this, isn’t it? Sticking Jazz in the middle.
Then Jazz flipped over Blaster’s back, sliding his arms down Blaster’s sides. But just as he turned to complete the embrace, Jazz was gone, being pulled back and away by Soundwave wrapping him with his arms around Jazz’s waist before turning it into a spin of his own. Jazz went with it, because that’s what Jazz did.
Blaster watched the quick steps as Soundwave and Jazz moved together seamlessly. Their steps coordinated and in sync. The way Jazz shoved him back only to be drawn forward, the stomp and the twirl and the flip until Jazz was held aloft in the air by one hand.
Blaster stomped forward to the drawn out notes of the vibrolin. He shoved Soundwave back, reached out and caught Jazz in his arms and spun him around his own shoulders until he could land him on his pedes in a twirl. Jazz’s doorwings spiked up and down as he wrapped a leg around Blaster’s. Blaster obliged him with a rotating dip, going so low his doorwings lightly scraped the ground as he outstretched his hand dramatically.
By the time he brought him back up, Soundwave was there again, grabbing said hand and tugging Jazz into his embrace, tucking a leg around him to cut him off from Blaster. Then he spun them out wide, allowing Jazz to slide around him and then pulling him back between his legs. Only Soundwave wasn’t looking at Jazz when he did it. He was looking right at Blaster in such a blatant way, anyone could tell.
It continued like this, the push and pull, the fight for dominance. Demanding attention from the one forever caught between them. But where Blaster and Soundwave danced around, dragging Jazz back and forth, adding every more increasing wild moves into the mix – Blaster tossing Jazz into the air just for Soundwave to catch him and all but fling him back in a somersault to stick the landing with his legs wrapped around Blaster’s neck, wasn’t planned, but Jazz sure as hell seemed to enjoy it – they avoided touching each other as much as possible. And Blaster’s plating vibrating from the continuous close calls, the expectation of a touch, a brush, that never came.
Then Jazz shoved Soundwave, creating space between them as he wagged his finger playfully, then moved away in another flip kick step with a bounce in his step. He turned towards Blaster. who took his hand, only to have him jerked back yet again, thus bringing not only Jazz but Blaster into Soundwave’s sphere. Jazz stuck there, pressed between them, two bulky broad mechs as Jazz leaned his bumper into Soundwave with the flow of the music, only for Blaster to bring him back towards him, back pressed right up against his kibble.
Jazz wrapped a leg around Blaster’s waist and in a move he still wasn’t sure how it even happened, managed to duck and slide himself right from between them, sending Blaster right into Soundwave. Soundwave caught Blaster around the waist, avoiding the clanging and grind of more aggressive contact. But instead of letting go, he spun Blaster just as he had done Jazz, rotating him around in a dip before pulling him up, their faces not even a wire’s width apart.
Soundwave stared. Blaster hesitated. His spark was rocking to the beat but his mind had gone blank.
Jazz grabbed both of them by the hand and pulled them towards him instead. Soundwave’s attention diverted and Blaster couldn’t blame him. Jazz was positively thrumming. His entire frame radiated energy and arousal. If they weren’t in public – at least not in this kind of public – Blaster would have thought Jazz was ready for a very different kind of dance.
Jazz led. Blaster followed. He grabbed him around the waist, spun him just out of Soundwave’s reach, and Jazz slid his hands over Blaster’s neck then chestplate. Then he walked around Blaster, hand dragging along his frame and Blaster could feel the tingling sensations of Jazz’s magnets intentionally sending pulses across his plating. He wonders if this is what humans mean when they talk about goosebumps.
Soundwave grabbed Jazz’s arm and turned his back to Blaster, stalked Jazz across the dance floor while Jazz’s steps stayed perfectly in time with his. Soundwave chased, Jazz ran. Jazz gave in to the dance as Soundwave lifted him into the air and then spun him down into another deep dip.
When Jazz pulled out into a graceful and fluid defensive hold break, Blaster stepped in, taking the chance to drag it back into his territory. The song was reaching a crescendo, the notes rising higher and higher – and Blaster didn’t know how it hadn’t ended already, it was like the tension of it had lasted an eternity. But he did know that this dance wasn’t ending the way Soundwave thought it would. Blaster would make sure of it.
If Soundwave thought he had the upperhand, he was wrong. Blaster wasn’t going to lose to him, of all mechs.
He pulled Jazz back, arm possessively around him. Soundwave didn’t back down. Every step Blaster took with Jazz, Soundwave followed, pressing closer to him, cutting the distance.
Jazz spun out and in, ever the focus of their movements.
Blaster reached out to bring him closer only to find his fingers digging into Soundwave’s arm instead.
And then it happened.
The song ended. Suddenly, abruptly. As if the world had finally decided to demand they remember it existed.
It was over and they stood there, Jazz with his leg tucked around one of Soundwave’s pulling him against him as Jazz leaned back into Blaster’s arms while Blaster’s fingers gripped Soundwave so tightly he could have been leaving divots.
Blaster hesitated. Soundwave stared. People went from silent to cheering and clapping and confused in equal measure.
Jazz vented between them and laughed, sounded winded. “Guess we’ll have to call it a draw.”
A whoosh-schick was heard as Soundwave’s mask snapped open, the lower half of his face bare and shiny and lips full and thick as Blaster remembered them being. Then Soundwave was jerking Jazz forward and kissing him deeply. Jazz gasped. Shock. Confusion. Interest. Exhilaration. Nostalgia. His field was so open in that moment in a way Jazz rarely was and Blaster was being beaten with the feelings coming off of him.
Blaster’s visor receded, as if removing it would somehow make the image in front of him change, make it all make sense.
Soundwave jerked back, pulling out of the kiss. Jazz slumped back against Blaster and Soundwave vented, his shoulders heaving. He looked at Jazz, then tilted his head up at Blaster. Back and forth. Up and down.
“What the f–”
Blaster didn’t get a chance to finish that because Soundwave pulled him forward and kissed him. Hard enough for their dentae to grind and for Jazz to react to being squished roughly between them. It was hot, the steam was wafting off of both of them from their exertions and Soundwave’s tongue was demanding as it shoved into him. Blaster pushed back, not in rejection, but in retaliation, his own grip holding Soundwave just as in place as their mouths tried to win what their best moves couldn’t.
He could still taste the engex on him.
“Boss, are you serious?! Ew!”
“Shut up, Frenzy!”
==
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Illogical! Failure!
Those were the only words on Soundwave’s mind when he pulled back away from Blaster, slammed his mask back into place and fled. Soundwave would like to believe he left with his helm held high, his dignity in place, and the assured victory of their petty but poignant conflict in his grasp.
But he fled. He ran. He got out of Maccadam’s as quickly as his legs could transport him, not even taking the moment to tell Megatron he was leaving. Why should he, of course Megatron had seen his completely irrational and impulsive display firsthand.
He could feel the concern from his Cassettes, the way Rumble and Frenzy were confused and angry – on his behalf – and Ravage was immediately on alert. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were ready to fly back to Iacon immediately. The three not present must have believed a fight was taking place, with how angry and protective Rumble and Frenzy were over the frequencies.
// Stop. Soundwave: fine. Stop. Condition: functional. Situation: Glitched. Meet at home. //
And with that Soundwave shut the bond down, not allowing them to press him about it. If they wanted – and he knew Ravage enough to know she would – they could press Rumble and Frenzy, but otherwise Soundwave would handle the mess he’d left there when he returned to their suite.
He took a back alley, then another and then another, only to come to halt when he realized he’d found himself in a dead end one. He hadn’t been paying enough attention, his processor scattered to the corners of Cybertron.
He didn’t collapse there, overclocked from the rush of nitro in his system, but he did lean against the wall. He vented. Vented again.
Why had he done that? How could he have followed such an incomprehensible logic stream in that moment and given in? The amount of engex he’d imbibed couldn’t have been enough to remove all common logic from his processor.
Shouldn’t have been enough. And yet.
He groaned softly, and then clanged his head back against the wall. Did it again. As if the sharp pain of it could shake whatever had taken over him out to leak across the ground.
“Oh come on, now, don’t go denting that pretty helm up. I like it just the way it is.”
Soundwave looked up. Jazz smiled back down.
“Jazz: stalking,” Soundwave stated.
“Is it stalking when you never said not to follow you?”
“Where’s Blaster?”
“Lookin’ for you, just like me.”
“Soundwave: left alone for a reason.”
“I know,” Jazz said, stretching out on the roof of the little engraving shop Soundwave had trapped himself next to, arms settled to prop his chin in them. “Frenzy and Rumble were about to start up a new civil war right in the middle of Mac’s. Which ya know Mac wasn’t about to have, but Megatron got them calmed down and out of there. Said they better get home or he’d call Ravage. So I told him we’d handle tracking you down.”
Was it more or less of a betrayal that Megatron allowed this to happen? That he all but endorsed it?
“Sounders, you’re really going through it for something so minor.’
“Actions: not minor.” Rough, but adamant. “Decisions: irrational and inappropriate.”
“I don’t know,” Jazz shrugged. “Kind of feels like the most appropriate outcome after dancing like that for 15 minutes. Not that I’d have expected you to be the one doing it, but maybe you just beat me to the punch. Kiss.”
“Jazz: not amusing.”
“Oh this is very amusing,” Jazz went on. “I’ve been trying to get ya around more often for months and ya did it all for me in one night where I didn’t even try anything. Really makes a guy wonder if he should retire.”
Soundwave said nothing to that. Because somehow he hadn’t realized. Foolish of him, because it was obvious now considering. Perhaps he had spent too much time being angry and telling himself how irrational it was to feel that way, and dismissed how deliberate it was.
“Why?”
Jazz leaned further over the edge of the roof. “Well, if I can’t get you and Blaster to get along by way of me then I’m failing at my job. Maybe it’s ti–”
“Jazz.”
He stopped. Laughed. ”You know why. Do I need to spell it out for ya?”
He flipped forward, landing deftly on the ground, doorwings neatly tucking under his back kibble in the process. Before Soundwave could move, Jazz leaned into him, keeping him in place with his own weight. Soundwave couldn’t see his face, with Jazz’s back pressed into him like this, but he could feel the hand that gently stroked along his thigh.
“The war’s over, Sounders,” Jazz crooned softly. “Sure, it don’t fix everything, but it gives us a chance at working things out, right? Why do we have to keep this dance going?”
“Jazz: knows it’s not that simple.”
“It could be. You and Blast figured things out before.”
“Before: many things worked. After: few things do.”
Jazz was quiet. Silence held like a drawn out note until he responded.
“Yeah…yeah, maybe. Nothing makes much sense anymore. How we got here doesn’t make any sense. Not sure it makes it all worth it.”
That…was not the response Soundwave would have expected from someone like Jazz. Someone who goes with the flow of life so effortlessly. Who accepted life as it was and continued to play his own music anyway.
He vented and turned around, leaned even more into Soundwave, head pressed into his chestplate.
Soundwave hesitated. Didn’t push him away. Jazz nuzzled against him hummed in appreciation, his own hands still stroking Soundwave’s hips and thighs. Tingling pings ran across his plating. Then he wrapped his arms around Jazz, supporting him.
Jazz looked up at him with a content smile. “But… isn’t the unknown the best part of all of it? Making up all our own songs on the fly, no notes to follow? Improv all the way, baby.”
Soundwave didn’t think he could agree. Structure was important to him. Even in the chaotic hierarchy and constant vying for control that was the Decepticon army, Soundwave knew his place, knew his role, and knew he would never be supplanted because Megatron valued him and his contributions more than that.
He was still valued. He still had a place. Yet he wasn’t sure what he had been trusting for so long when Megatron could give in to peace so easily – this was a petty thought, when he knew how not easy it truly was, he was the one Megatron vented at and sought council from most, after all – and Soundwave had no idea what to do with himself besides the same as he always had. Or what ‘the same’ had become.
“Why did ya do it?” Jazz asked, instead of waiting for Soundwave to speak up himself.
“...Unknown.”
“You know what I’m asking about.”
“Answer: unknown. I saw you. Remembered you.” The Jazz who had always been there, always in the way, but never in the way. The one who had gotten Soundwave and Blaster to find common ground in the first place millions of years ago. The one who had taught Soundwave what it meant to want things he could never have.
Jazz’s visor brightened. “So you couldn’t resist me when you had the chance?” he chirped. “Maybe I haven’t lost my touch.”
Soundwave could feel the heat building across his frame now and it wasn’t the same one he’d felt on the dancefloor with Jazz smiling at him playfully. He was lucky for his mask and visor and activated his coolant protocols to try and relieve the embarrassed reaction.
Jazz didn’t let up. “So why did you kiss Blaster?” he asked. “Were you so caught up in the passion of the moment?”
“Negative.”
“Liar.”
“Soundwave: doesn’t lie.”
Jazz knew that and yet the expression in his mouth was one of disbelief. Soundwave should have let him believe that. It would have been less humiliating than the truth.
“Then what?” Jazz asked. “Was it just another one of your one-up contests? Hot, but not really the nicest reason…”
“Package deal,” Soundwave admitted. “Jazz and Blaster: set. Unit. One without the other is…uneven.”
Jazz stared at him. Soundwave could feel the weight of it from behind that visor.
“A set…so after you kissed me, you had to kiss him too? To complete the set? Soundwave you kinky completionist you!”
That reaction was somehow even worse. Jazz was laughing and smiling, so close they could share a vent between them, and Soundwave couldn’t pull away without proving just how embarrassed he was. He would have to remove Jazz to get free, trapped as he was against the wall.
He didn’t want to move him.
“Soundwave: pleased Jazz is amused.”
“I thought Soundwave didn’t lie.”
“Soundwave doesn’t.”
Soundwave jerked his head up and could see the red helm and blue optics staring down at him. The stiff line of his mouth. Blaster’s visor stayed retracted, allowing his very expressive face to display several emotions.
“Oh, guess I forgot to mention Blaster was up there with me the whole time, huh?”
“Jazz: liar.”
Jazz patted him on the chest with a softer chuckle. “I told ya he was looking for ya, just like I was. It wasn’t just me, Sounders. It’s never been just me.”
“Don’t go making grand statements for me Jazzy. I can talk for myself, ya know. You don’t need to tune him up for me.”
Blaster stared down. Soundwave stared up. There was a challenge in those optics. Daring Soundwave to say something. Daring him to do exactly what Soundwave had been doing for millions of years.
Soundwave wasn’t going to let Blaster win.
“Blaster: hiding on roof. Left Jazz to complete your mission. Lacking as usual.”
Blaster’s optics widened, his jaw clenched, and the fire and heat there did something to Soundwave. His shoulders loosened, his head tilted, confidence returning. He pulled Jazz close enough for their plating to clink against each other. He didn’t stop there.
“Blaster: doing a poor job of tuning anyone up.”
Soundwave hadn’t remembered that Blaster could move that quickly, jumping down from the roof and slamming into him in the same amount of time it took Jazz to break his hold and pull out of the way. Soundwave did not hold back, either, allowing Blaster’s momentum to carry them as he swung them around so he could slam Blaster against the wall instead. Blaster’s arm wrapped around Soundwave’s neck, and used them to pull him closer, their helms clanging together.
And if that turned into them kissing instead of speaking, it was more than acceptable to Soundwave. They might have kissed until they dented each other’s faceplates if Jazz hadn’t draped himself across Soundwave’s back to nuzzle into his audial.
“I feel like I am acting against my own best interests by telling y’all to back it up, but ‘concerned’ persons could be showing up very soon. I’d rather we move it along to some place else first. Like our hab. We got a plenty big enough berth for three.”
Blaster pulled back enough to vent and smirk. “Plenty big enough for more than three.”
Jazz hummed in agreement. “Cuddle sessions are a thing. Gotta have enough space to fit all of the Cassettes and OP.”
Soundwave did not wish to know about Jazz’s cuddle sessions with the Prime.
“Relocation: preferred.”
Before Ravage arrived and Soundwave had to have a very different kind of conversation. One he would much rather do later, when he had even more to be embarrassed about.
“Then follow our lead, Sounders. We can make a whole new kind of music together.”