Vorns of training in his multiple specialized fields had taught Jazz to not be surprised or taken off guard by anything, no matter how unexpected, but still - his visor brightened fractionally and flickered yet again in surprise before he turned his head to meet Tracks' gaze and knowing expression. Huh. "How long ago did 'ya figure it out?" he had to ask.
"You have a very unique voice, Jazz. It wasn't that hard." The blue and white mech shrugged. "Besides, you clearly didn't want to be identified, so when I finally met you when I was in decent shape and realized you were the one from that orn, I didn't say anything. I just wish I'd been able to see you in action back then. I bet Razorclaw's still hurting."
Jazz barked out a laugh and turned back to the skyline. "I doubt that, but I thank 'ya for the vote of confidence anyway." His grin found its way back on his face as he watched the stars beyond the broken spires of the city. "It's not that I didn't wanna be identified - I jus' figured what I said would sink in better an' stick with 'ya if there wasn't a name to go with it."
"Well, it did that," Tracks admitted, and Jazz started to respond, but he cut himself off when he felt something brush against his back, glancing quickly to his side to see that Tracks had moved. "But because I felt I couldn't approach you about it before, I never got a chance to properly thank you for saving my life."
"And 'ya decided now was better?" Jazz asked, but he did not pull away from the fingers working their way under the plating of his lower back. "One of yer superior officers could come out here any time, y'know."
"You're one of my superior officers," Tracks' voice smoothed over Jazz's sensor horn as his fingers found a bundle of wires to thread through. "Tell me to stop."
Jazz shifted his stance so he could pull away from Tracks' hand without getting the other mech's fingers tangled in his wiring, and once he was sure that would not happen, he turned around to face Tracks, leaning back against the balcony and propping himself against it with his elbows. "Technically, we're even anyway," Jazz pointed out, but even if the grin had not given away his superior's consent of the situation, the amused tone in his voice would have. "I got 'ya outta there, and 'ya made the fight later on easier for me by plowin' into Divebomb and leavin' me with just Razorclaw to deal with."
Tracks leaned in with his hands on the balcony edge on either side of Jazz, optics to visor, hoods almost touching. "That doesn't count," he chided the white mech. "Besides, I want to make sure I thank you thoroughly." When the last micron of space between them closed and hood scraped softly against hood, there was not much telling whose engine gave off the first purr - maybe it was simultaneous. "Now, are you going to let me show my gratitude or not?"
"Well..." Jazz's grin widened as the glow of his visor darkened. "If you insist."
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branchandroot
2/2
Date: 2009-06-18 03:05 am (UTC)"You have a very unique voice, Jazz. It wasn't that hard." The blue and white mech shrugged. "Besides, you clearly didn't want to be identified, so when I finally met you when I was in decent shape and realized you were the one from that orn, I didn't say anything. I just wish I'd been able to see you in action back then. I bet Razorclaw's still hurting."
Jazz barked out a laugh and turned back to the skyline. "I doubt that, but I thank 'ya for the vote of confidence anyway." His grin found its way back on his face as he watched the stars beyond the broken spires of the city. "It's not that I didn't wanna be identified - I jus' figured what I said would sink in better an' stick with 'ya if there wasn't a name to go with it."
"Well, it did that," Tracks admitted, and Jazz started to respond, but he cut himself off when he felt something brush against his back, glancing quickly to his side to see that Tracks had moved. "But because I felt I couldn't approach you about it before, I never got a chance to properly thank you for saving my life."
"And 'ya decided now was better?" Jazz asked, but he did not pull away from the fingers working their way under the plating of his lower back. "One of yer superior officers could come out here any time, y'know."
"You're one of my superior officers," Tracks' voice smoothed over Jazz's sensor horn as his fingers found a bundle of wires to thread through. "Tell me to stop."
Jazz shifted his stance so he could pull away from Tracks' hand without getting the other mech's fingers tangled in his wiring, and once he was sure that would not happen, he turned around to face Tracks, leaning back against the balcony and propping himself against it with his elbows. "Technically, we're even anyway," Jazz pointed out, but even if the grin had not given away his superior's consent of the situation, the amused tone in his voice would have. "I got 'ya outta there, and 'ya made the fight later on easier for me by plowin' into Divebomb and leavin' me with just Razorclaw to deal with."
Tracks leaned in with his hands on the balcony edge on either side of Jazz, optics to visor, hoods almost touching. "That doesn't count," he chided the white mech. "Besides, I want to make sure I thank you thoroughly." When the last micron of space between them closed and hood scraped softly against hood, there was not much telling whose engine gave off the first purr - maybe it was simultaneous. "Now, are you going to let me show my gratitude or not?"
"Well..." Jazz's grin widened as the glow of his visor darkened. "If you insist."