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Prowl didn’t mind standing on the sidelines and allowing his Prince to deal with matters of importance. He rather enjoyed it, despite how boring and drab some may say the job was. The Praxian had never been one for being the star of attention and became uncomfortable whenever the spotlight did turn to him. On the other hand, the mech who he had willingly devoted his life to, the Crown Prince, seemed to have a knack for it. Whenever he entered a room he quickly became the center of attention no matter the situation provided. Mech’s and femme’s alike absolutely adored him and many claimed that he was the best heir to the throne and some even said that he could possibly turn out to be the best King who has ruled Polyhex.
He was charismatic and charming at the very least. Handsome at the most. Prowl couldn’t deny the fact that the last remaining Prince of Polyhex was attractive in both looks and personality. Prowl had never told anybody about his secret attraction to the Prince, but it seemed as though many knew despite his secretive nature.
The castle’s main medic had once told him to stop ogling over Prince Jazz and to, in his words, “Go get him boy.”
Prowl had tried his best to avoid becoming injured after that. Sure, Dr. Ratchet may have a good point, but that was never going to happen and Prowl wouldn’t attempt to embarrass himself just because of his invalid emotions. He would rather ignore them, and ignore them he did.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t dream though.
His Royal Highness was ‘invited’—though his presence was required and expected—to a ball that very evening, and once the two had arrived, Jazz had gone off and quickly merged into the crowd. Those already a part of the so-called crowd welcomed him with open arms.
Prowl had his optics on him the whole time but stayed near the sidelines close to the doorway for the most part. Only a few times had he allowed himself to stray, and that had only been because he required a cube in order for his energy levels to stay sufficient.
After all, he didn’t want to be caught off guard should something happen to the Prince. That would be horrible and he would surely get fired.
Prince Jazz and him went back quite a ways. Prowl’s creator had been involved in the royal guard before he had gotten sparked with Prowl, and at a young age, Prowl had shown his desire to follow in his creator’s footsteps. He had known Jazz personally since they were younglings, children, if you would. The two were practically best friends and the friendship had pushed Prowl towards his final decision as well.
Prowl had easily climbed up the ranks, and by that time, Prince Jazz and himself had just gotten their adult upgrades installed. They still clicked as easily as they had when they were younger, and though Prowl didn’t allow himself to get distracted very often, they hung out whenever they could, often talking about anything except their 'jobs'. Prowl didn’t mind his own job, but the Prince Regent became short and tended to clam up whenever Prowl would steer the conversation towards him being that of the Prince of Polyhex. It didn’t really matter anyways; Prowl already knew what Jazz’s day had been like since he had been a part of most, if not all, of it.
Rather, instead of talking about how their day went, they talked more about their dreams and aspirations and anything other than their ‘jobs’. Prince Jazz had expressed his desire to go and explore the world and travel, and Prowl had mentioned to him a few times how dearly he would like to go to his homeland since Prowl had never been. He had been born in Polyhex and had never had the means to get out, but he still was curious about his origin city. He wondered how different it was there, the customs and overall culture.
Admittedly, he would rather enjoy traveling around Cybertron with Jazz, however foolish that may be. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they would be able to meet the King Prime himself and the Lord Protector. Rumors floated around about how they had been the epiphany of the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope and Prowl couldn’t deny the fact that he did take a liking to romance. There were also many great stories about how the two managed to pull Cybertron back together after the Great Civil War many eons ago by their words alone. Simply put, they were both legends in Prowl’s book.
However, for the past few months Prowl had sensed something off in Jazz’s behavior towards him in particular. He seemed almost… nervous around the guard and he evaded Prowl at any given opportunity. Prowl couldn’t quite place his finger on the reason why seeing as he had done nothing different or wrong as far as he was concerned. Jazz would have no reason to no longer trust Prowl, so that certainly couldn’t be the reason. Or, at least, Prowl hoped that that wasn’t the reason.
The royal guard found the behavior suspicious but decided not to pry. It wasn’t his business, after all.
“Prowl.”
The voice of the Prince snapped him out of his thoughts, and Prowl’s optics flickered down to meet Jazz’s own. He blinked, startled, before bowing respectfully at the Prince. He dipped his wings apologetically and offered Prince Jazz a smile. The Prince hadn’t approached him as often in the past months, so it was nice to see that Jazz wasn’t too afraid of him.
“Prince Jazz.”
Prince Jazz returned his guard’s smile, then motioned for Prowl to follow him as he began out the door, “Please, walk with me.”
Prowl’s processor stumbled over the abnormality of the situation, but he knew his Prince wouldn’t do anything to harm either of them, so he loyally followed the Polyhexian heir out the ballroom doors and down the hallway.
Instinctually, as the pair left the ballroom, Prowl opened both his scanner width and kept his doorwings on high alert in case somebody decided to follow them. He wasn’t exactly sure what the Prince wanted, but if it happened to be classified, at least he would know if somebody who wasn’t supposed to be lurking around was there. His doorwings were a powerful tool and sensitive as well, and it was very likely that they would pick up on something amiss way before the scanner ever did.
Jazz was quiet as he walked down the desolate hallway, the sounds of laughter and the soft music that had once enveloped them slowly bled away into the background. Prowl wasn’t one to initiate conversation so he remained silent as well. If his Royal Highness wanted to talk, he would, otherwise, Prowl didn’t particularly mind the silence.
The Head Royal Guard’s doorwings flickered in confusion as Jazz led them out to a balcony that overlooked the gardens of the Palace. The stars shimmered and glistened above them and, were it not for the strange behavior his Prince was exhibiting, Prowl may even say that they were beautiful.
What was the Prince up to? Perhaps this was the reason for his strange behavior.
Prowl knew Prince Jazz very well and for him to abandon a party such as the one inside was unusual and something to be called into question. Prowl just couldn’t come to the answer to why he left said party.
Once the Prince realized that Prowl had paused at the threshold to the balcony, he turned and smiled softly at the guard. He sat down on the stone bench provided by the Palace so mech’s could look out at the gardens in peace.
“Would it kill you to relax?” The Polyhexian Prince teased the guard as he gestured for Prowl to sit next to him.
The familiarity of joking around managed to calm the guard down somewhat, enough for him to take up Prince Jazz’s offer, seeing as he had no choice. Prowl shook his helm and attempted a joke in return, “Probably,” he replied, a subtle teasing glyph to his tone, “Likely it would kill you too. That’s rather the point, don’t you think?”
Jazz heaved a sigh and his gaze turned upwards to look at the dancing stars above them. Prowl shifted a bit in his seat, wondering if his reply had brought down the mood. That hadn’t been his intention, but there was no turning back now. It seemed as though the Prince wanted to get down to whatever business he had in store.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Prince Jazz’s gaze returned back to Prowl’s as he seemed to be debating something within himself. He considered his options for several nanokliks before, he spoke, “I seem to fall more and more everyday.”
Prowl’s processor spun at the words as he tried to figure out what his Prince was referring to. Did he mean he trips quite a lot everyday? Highly improbable since Jazz was quite agile and elegant on his pedes. That, and Prowl followed him virtually everywhere he went. Perhaps he meant that he falls off the balcony everyday? Wait. No, no, that made less sense than his earlier assumption.
After considering many unlikely scenarios, Prowl eventually gave up and his curiosity got the best of him. He asked, “May I ask you to clarify that statement, Prince Jazz?”
Jazz seemed amused by the question but didn’t comment on it. “Ah, my apologies,” he chuckled at Prowl’s puzzled nature. “I will reinstate my previous sentence; I seem to be falling in love with somebot more and more each day.”
The Praxian’s entire thought process made a one-eighty as he allowed the words to sink in. A million questions and concerns filled him to the brim. Jazz was in love with somebody? But who? The Prince had never displayed any signs of attachment or attraction to anyone, mech or femme. In fact, he had seemed quite distant in any reactions with potential bondmates. And Prowl always followed the Prince around, so how did something as big as this manage to slip under his fingertips? Was he that horrible of a guard that he didn’t notice Jazz falling in love with someone?
And who is the one in question? How did Jazz even meet them? It was highly unlikely that Jazz’s own creator’s set him up with someone. As far as Prowl was aware, Jazz’s creators had found one another in their own time without anybody pushing them towards each other or being betrothed and they held the same reasoning for their creations as well.
The two sovereigns had only set the Prince up on a few ‘dates’, as far as Prowl knew, and once they both realized that Jazz was uninterested, they laid off on him and allowed him to do whatever he wished.
A part of Prowl, one that he did his best to ignore and push to the side, grieved at the lost opportunity. When Prowl was younger and not very wise—or smart, for that matter—he had had a small crush on the Prince. Though, it became quickly apparent that the Prince didn’t feel the same way he did, and even if he had, the two could never be together because that wasn’t how it worked. Now Prowl understood his role and what he was to the Polyhexian and he wouldn’t allow himself to fall under those falsehoods yet again.
“Who?” Prowl found himself blurting out, then blushed at how abrupt he was being. He immediately reeled himself back in, reminding himself that this was, in fact, the Prince he was talking to. “I apologize for my outburst, your Royal Highness. I only meant to ask to sate my own curiosity.”
The Prince seemed to lock up at the question though, and Prowl became fearful. He had overstepped his boundaries, hadn’t he? The Prince was going to fire him for being such a horrible personal guard and friend to him. Prowl couldn’t even imagine his life without Jazz in it, he hadn’t even thought of what would happen should they have a falling out. Prowl’s doorwings lowered in shame and submission and he began to apologize yet again before Jazz beat him to it.
“Aw, Prowler, there ain’t nothin’ you’ve done wrong.” The Polyhexian allowed his tongue and accent to slip out into his speech. He didn’t do it very often, only on rare cycles did he allow himself to slip out of his proper tone and it usually was when he became exceedingly emotional or bothered over something. It had taken Prowl a few vorns to get used to him switching between such a proper and improper accent, usually only when they were alone, but he eventually became familiar with it and it no longer surprised him.
The Prince tugged Prowl closer to him, and shamefully, Prowl allowed himself to be brought closer to his Prince if only to fill his personal fantasy. If this was the last time he would be able to see Jazz, then he’d allow himself to bask in the feel of the Prince’s touch.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with askin’ me tha’. I jus'… I’m nervous ‘cause the mech who I like a whole lot is sittin’ righ’ here with me.”
Prowl froze and immediately scanned for any other life signals, using his sensory panels as his main source of information. He hadn’t realized somebody else was here with them, listening and watching them. What a guard he turned out to be, Jazz was definitely going to fire him now—oh.
The results of his scans were quite evident; there wasn’t anybody else within a couple hundred foot radius of them let alone in the balcony or the room next to the balcony. He was perplexed, and his processor led him to the only probable scenario given the Prince’s own words.
“Wait, you mean—“
“Yes, the mech who I like is you, Prowler.”
Prowl’s doorwings flared out in shock, and he pulled away from the Prince’s hold to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Or hearing them, for that matter. Perhaps this was the Prince’s way of a cruel joke? No, Jazz had never tampered with those sorts of things.
“Are you feeling well, Prince Jazz?” he asked, concerned. Because how could the Prince of Polyhex manage to fall in love with somebody such as himself? He wasn’t anything special by no means, and Jazz could do so much better for himself…
The Prince chuckled at the question and nodded, “I’m feeling more than well, Prowl. I’m feeling quite… exuberant this cycle.”
At Prowl’s hardened stare, Jazz’s own softened and he grabbed ahold of Prowl’s servo before he had the chance to object. He squeezed it lightly, and it seemed to be in an attempt to calm the Praxian down. It helped, somewhat, but Prowl was still on edge and baffled over everything. He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? This had to be a joke of some kind.
“No, but really. Prowl, I dunno how to say this without it soundin’ corny, bu’ I’ve had a crush on you since we first met. All those presents I gave you when I was younger? They were courting gifts,” Jazz blushed deeply and his optics flickered down to the ground. “I don’ think you saw it tha’ way though, ya probably thought tha’ I was jus’ bein’ kind.”
And Prowl had. He couldn’t even fathom the idea that Jazz’s gifts were courting gifts, let alone that Jazz even liked him.
“Bu’ I can understand if ya don’ feel the same way, Prowler. I ain’t gonna force myself on ya, bu’ I jus’ couldn’t deal with keepin’ the secret any longer, y’know? ‘Specially when I’m around ya 24/7. Bu’ I jus’ thought ya should know jus’ in case, I dunno—“
Prowl cut off the Prince by doing what he had desired so badly in the past, connecting their lips together in a kiss.
Maybe it had been presumptuous of him to do so, but he found that he no longer could help himself. And, well, maybe the Prince was actually serious about what he was saying.
Prowl knew one thing for sure, Jazz was not one to be called a liar or anything similar to that of one. He was as honest of a mech as you could come by and Prowl truly doubted that Prince Jazz would break that record just to prank him.
Jazz grunted in surprise, but he immediately reciprocated and the innocent kiss quickly turned heated as the two mech’s who had craved one another for so long were finally able to let out all of the pent up frustration and tension and want into the kiss.
The Praxian growled possessively as he took control and pushed Jazz lightly back onto the bench. Once the Prince was laying flat on his back, Prowl took it upon himself to slide one of his knees in between Jazz’s thighs and the Prince let out a yelp of surprise. The other leg partially straddled Jazz as the two continued their makeout session.
Eventually, once Prowl figured enough was enough, he pulled away from Jazz’s lips. The Prince’s lips were glistening with saliva and he seductively ran his glossa over his lips as he panted against the guard. Prowl’s engine purred in delight and need and he was about to go in for a second round before the Prince smirked at him, catching him off guard and momentarily stunning him.
“So, I’m gonna guess tha’ you’ve liked me for a while too?”
Prowl blinked as his processor stalled. Finally figuring out what the Prince was saying, Prowl allowed a light smile to play across his lip plates. “You have no idea.”
Jazz smirked and reached down to pull the Praxian’s knee even closer to his heated panel, optics dark and hazy with lust. Prowl yelped in a very undignified manner. He hadn’t realized just how much of a tease Jazz was, but he wasn’t going to complain. He found it sexy.
“Maybe we should continue this little makeout session in my quarters, mmm?”
Prowl’s engine purred once again at the suggestion and he nodded, already beginning to get off of the bench. He dusted himself off to look more presentable, then offered a hand to the Prince. “That does sound ideal, Prince Jazz, so long as you will be alright with your prime guard being… distracted.”
Jazz smirked at his guard and grabbed ahold of Prowl’s offered hand. “I’ll risk it.”