Work Text:
Something was wrong.
Obviously something was wrong, there was a flower. On his desk. That he just coughed up.
But that was impossible, mechs don't just 'cough up' flowers. Not as impossible as he thought, there was a flower on his desk.
This was… just not possible.
But there's nowhere else the flower could come from, on the sheer coincidence that a flower dropped in just as he had a coughing fit (probability: 13% and dropping).
Which just adds to the wrongness. Cybertronians don't have coughing fits. It's just not something they do, unlike organic species.
And he doesn't have flowers in his office. Except for the single crystal flower, but that's one, on the other side of the office, two, a crystal flower, not a cybertronian remembrance flower, (resemblance 94.2%)
Where would one of those blooms even come from? Not his own spark, it was still burning, (probability 33.7%).
Prowl picked up his personal datapad, and logged into the web. Clearly there must be a reason, flowers don't come from nowhere.
Much too long later, his shift must have been over joors ago which meant that he didn't get any work done but that was the least of his worries, he finally found a possible answer.
Spark Flowers.
Flowers that bloomed and grew from a mech's spark, growing and wrapping around their spark-chamber until the spark couldn't support it and gave out. The flowers would overwhelm their chest compartment, hence why they coughed them up, there just wasn't space anymore.
When it got that far, it wasn't good. That was a sign the flowers were getting bigger, the disease progressing. For what could it be but a disease.
As to how these flowers happened, well, it just didn't seem possible. Neither did the flowers themselves, and yet here he is, apparently with a chest full of flowers, constricting around his spark.
Because he was in love.
Him, Prowl, master tactician, notorious for being cold and unfeeling to the point he's rumored to be a drone, in love.
Who exactly it was, well that was the easy part. But that didn't matter, because the natural cure to this is having the object of your affections return them, and Jazz would not love him like that.
Wonderful, loud, caring, secretive, bold, lovable Jazz.
Why couldn't it have been any other mech, any one who Prowl thinks he would have a shot with. Because that's the kicker, Prowl doesn't have a chance with Jazz of all mechs. (46.9% chance Jazz would agree out of pity (that was better than the (89.1%) too high probability of Jazz turning him down))
Pits, if Jazz did, miraculously, also lov enjoy his company, he wouldn't hesitate in asking him out. He's brave like that, unlike Prowl who didn't even realize how much he liked Jazz until it's literally killing him.
Prowl, dying for love. Who would have thought.
There was another solution, however. A surgery, to remove the flowers directly from his spark. But reading further into that caused some hesitation, because forcefully removing the flowers removes any and all feelings for that person.
Prowl thinks back on how things were, before Jazz snuck his way in.
Long shifts, even longer spent working off-hours until someone remembered he wasn't supposed to be there. A quick energon break that lasted until he finished his drink before going back to work, minimal socialization only in absolutely necessary situations. Every mech he interacts with holding him farther away than arms length, only sparing him a few words.
Because it will go back to that, there's no way it won't. Jazz won't stick around once Prowl goes back to treating him with indifference. And, if the accounts of those who received the surgery are to be believed (83.2% of accuracy) then Prowl would only ever feel indifferent towards him.
Prowl wasn't sure how he'd cope with that, with being alone again. Being alone and not being able to do anything about it, because he won't be able to feel.
But he didn't have a choice.
He's the best tactician the autobots have, he can't die. There's a reason he's rarely in the field even when he can hold his own against most decepticons. The bots can't afford to lose him, losing him could cost the war (73.3% the war ends in favor of the 'cons with the complete eradication of the autobots, 29% the autobots win with a 81% increase in autobot deaths not counting-)
The illusion of choice, lose Jazz or lose to the 'cons, losing Jazz in the process.
With a sigh, Prowl sent out a comm to Ratchet.
"You sure you want to do this?"
Ratchet had to make absolutely sure Prowl wanted this. Because if they went through with this, then there would be no going back.
Prowl looked away for a second, his wings flicking back in a nervous tic, before looking Ratchet in the optics.
"Yes, it's the most logical solution."
Ratchet sighed, and looked Prowl over again. His rigid posture juxtaposed with his wings that couldn't seem to stay still. He seemed fine, but Ratchet has experience with spark flowers.
Silent, creeping on you until it's too late. Their vines wrapping around the spark in symbolism of how your own feelings were killing you. All happening under the plating, hidden away just like the love you harbor.
Eugh, cheesy but accurate. Not that Ratchet's been the one suffering, but back before the war, he's treated a few cases. Both diagnosing a bot who refused treatment, and performed the surgery on those who chose to live.
But the surgery was complex, after all he would be working directly on the spark-chamber and the spark itself. Just because most of his surgeries have been successful doesn't mean there won't be an exception.
"Did you at least try talking to this bot?" Ratchet asked, if there was a way of avoiding this then he'd take it.
"No. I will not subject him to the guilt of not being able to love me back," Prowl replied stiffly.
Ah, so he's one of those then.
"Fine! Fine, I'll do it. Just give me time to put things together and clear my schedule, who knows how long this will take. I'll send you the date, and send word to keep your workload light, can't strain your spark anymore."
Prowl frowned, but nodded.
"Before you leave, I need to see the damage, see what my timeline is. Prowl, if you could open up," Ratchet said, gesturing to Prowl's chassis.
Prowl opened up his chest plates, as requested without hesitating. He stared ahead, refusing to see for himself how bad it was.
Ratchet grimaced, the flowers were extensive. He could barely see the glow of his spark through the roots. The largest blooms were the size of his servo, the smallest a third that size, presumably those were the ones Prowl coughed up.
With the flowers this widespread, he wondered how Prowl only just started having symptoms now, but maybe…
Maybe this was one of those cases where the state of the flowers reflected the feelings. Bigger, abundant, blooms within a 'short' time signified strong feelings, which wasn't good in this case since it meant Prowl was closer to the Well than he was getting better.
He poked one of the flowers that started reaching out, seeing more room to grow. The flower didn't shrink back, in fact, it opened up even more. That wasn't good, it was a sign of 'health' of the flowers. They fed on love, and Prowl seems to have a lot to give.
He's working on a tight deadline, not much time for much. He motioned for Prowl to close up. Prowl's face pinched as he struggled closing his chest plates with the way the flowers wanted out, but he managed.
Ratchet dismissed Prowl with a wave and turned towards his medbay but not looking at anything, lost in thought. Prowl may be the toughest case of spark flowers he has had yet.
First things first, he sent out the 'request', order really, for Prowl to work less. For privacy reasons, he didn't specify why, if they wanted to know, they can ask Prowl directly.
Ratchet looked down when he stepped on something. When he crouched down, he realized it was a flower, Prowl's most likely. It was too big for him to have coughed it up, so it probably fell when he was closing his chest plates.
He picked it up, and looked it over. Had it come from anywhere else, even a field, it would have been a lovely bloom. Unfortunately instead of being a symbol of what was lost, it was a herald of doom.
Oh Prowl, such powerful feelings, a love strong enough to take physical form, and yet he refuses to act on it.
It didn't take a genius to know who these flowers were for. They were practically welded at the hip, especially when one of them ended up in the medbay, ignoring the 'visitor hours', not that anyone actually tried to enforce them.
Ratchet sighed as he turned the flower in his hand. Ultimately he was glad he never caught Spark Flowers but it was never easy to see in another bot.
"Ratchet, I was wondering- is that a flower?"
Thanks to his visit to Ratchet, Prowl was given his next shift off. He wasn't sure why, the disease was fatal, not crippling. It would be, eventually, but he has faith Ratchet will have removed the flowers long before that happens.
He thinks back on the visit. Ratchet's reaction had leaned more towards annoyance rather than nerves or fear so Prowl felt confident in the medic's ability to fix it. Maybe he had prior experience, which was good. His research showed the disease was rare, only 0.00813% mechs caught it. Of that, only 37.6% of mecha survived without the surgery.
Maybe he'll do a bit more research later, although he doesn't have to, given he already found a solution.
What an amazing solution it was, losing any and all emotion he's ever felt towards Jazz. Jazz who worked hard to get to know him, needling him until Prowl let him in, and then refused to leave. He knows it wasn't easy, he's aware how difficult he can be.
And yet, he's about to destroy all that progress, because Jazz managed to quite literally worm his way into his spark.
Prowl ended up back in his hab since there's a (78.6%) chance he's not going to be allowed back in his office for today, and he doesn't really go anywhere else.
When Ratchet gives you the shift off, you're not allowed anywhere else that isn't your hab or the rec room. Prowl doesn't feel like playing nice with other mechs, so he's in his hab.
Once he's locked the door behind him, he hesitantly opens up his chest panels. He didn't want to see when Ratchet was looking him over, there's no need for him to see since he wouldn't know what's bad and what's fine. Sure he looked at images, but a lot looked fake (41% guaranteed fake) and it is still personal to look at another mecha's spark regardless of the medical reason.
With a deep vent to calm his processor, he looked.
Well, that explained Ratchet's reaction once he saw.
Giant flowers, everywhere, vines and roots twisting and covering everything. If Prowl didn't know how he was supposed to look like, he'd assume it's one of those organic gardens Hound is so fond of.
With a shaky servo, he poked one of the blooms crawling up his shoulder. His wings drooped low, this was worse than he's originally assumed. None of the images he saw looked anywhere near this bad.
He couldn't stop himself as he yanked on the flower before immediately letting go with a yelp. Primus that hurt. He's never felt pain like that, and he used to be an enforcer on Praxus.
It wasn't until his hands were on the floor, stabilizing him, that he realized he keeled over. He didn't get up. Slowly he just curled up on the floor, as the reality of the situation hit him.
It hadn't felt real when he coughed up a literal flower, when he had researched it, or when he had discussed the situation with Ratchet. It had so far remained mostly theoretical, but now, faced with proof, Prowl was forced to admit the truth.
He was dying, choked by flowers growing from his spark. He was going to di-
"Heya, Prowler, I was lookin' for ya- Primus, you ok?" As if summoned, Jazz had just barged into his hab.
Prowl's head darted up, eyes wide. Jazz, the last person he wanted to see him like this. No, no why did he have to come in now?
He stayed crouched, even as he saw Jazz approach, he can't let him see. Jazz is clever, he'll put two and two together.
Nonetheless, he didn't stop Jazz, allowing him to approach. Jazz knelt next to him, and reach out.
He felt Jazz's hand wrap around him, mindful of his wings, and pull him into a hug. From this angle, he faintly registered that Jazz wouldn't be able to see, good.
He melted into the embrace, trying to drown himself in Jazz. This might be the last time he gets this kind of affection in a long time.
If he could, he would've hugged Jazz back. As it was, he could only lean into him, but oh, it felt so nice, a bit of comfort after his spiral.
He lost track of time after, (exactly 25 kl) only distantly aware of what's happening. Eventually, he felt Jazz nudge him, so he would sit up (79% possibility of Jazz intending to move him to his berth).
Without thinking it through, he did, forgetting he hadn't closed his chest plates during all of this. Due to their proximity, he felt more than he heard Jazz's shock when he noticed, his grip around him tightening momentarily.
"Primus… Prowl are you ok? That's…" a deep vent, "y'know what, not important right know, up you go,"
Jazz pulled Prowl up, and politely turned the other way to let Prowl close his chest compartment.
"I would argue that it is very important," Prowl countered, and nudged Jazz with a wing to let him know it's ok to look now.
"It's not like you'll die right here and now, is it?" Jazz teased as he turned around and slung his arm over Prowl's shoulder to drag him to his berth.
"Well, not right here and now, or ever." Prowl replied, internally pleased he was able to guess what Jazz would do.
Jazz froze, and Prowl turned to look, only for Jazz to start walking again, and deposit him on his berth.
"Jazz?" Prowl asked, confused on the other's reaction. Did he say the wrong thing? He thought Jazz would be reassured he wasn't going to die?
"Ever?" Was the only thing Jazz said.
Prowl looked away, his wings drooping low. Of course Jazz picked up on that. The only sure way to know one would survive this would be the surgery.
"Prowl, that's forever…" Jazz put his hand up when Prowl was going to speak up, "But this is your choice, and I'm not gonna stop ya,"
"I… thanks Jazz," Prowl breathed out, encouraged by Jazz's support that this really is the best option. Or well, that he knows what he's doing, which he does so technically Jazz is agreeing.
Jazz took a seat next to Prowl, just quietly sitting there for a moment, presumably properly taking in the situation.
"So, did you try confessing?" Jazz broke the silence with his question, before chuckling at Prowl's confused and distraught expression.
"Huh?"
"Y'know, tell 'em ya like-like whoever it is that got ya spouting flowers?" Jazz clarified.
"I know what 'confessing' is Jazz!" Prowl sputtered, "That's not what I meant, and you know it,"
Jazz just laughed. After all it isn't everyday he gets one over Prowl. Which could mean he's pretty bad off, but Jazz likes to think he managed to get the Prowl off-guard.
"I know, but that look on your face. Nah, seriously though, you actually try that, or went straight for surgery?"
"I- Why would I confess if that doesn't guarantee anything? The only thing that would achieve would be the other person feeling bad they don't love me enough to save me,"
Jazz just looked at him. Did he say something wrong?
But he wasn't wrong, and he would never subject Jazz to that, not when he already shoulders so much responsibility and sorrow.
"Prowl, how long you got left?"
Prowl startled, not expecting the question. He didn't answer, mostly because he didn't bother asking Ratchet for a timeline, trusting the medic to fix it.
"Did you know you're able to slow the progress of the flowers by confessing? Regardless of the other person's response? And let me tell ya, as someone who's seen this happen to others, your case looks like you need all the time y'can get," Jazz explained, looking down at his hands instead of Prowl as he talked, before finally looking at Prowl in the eyes.
"The first flower was from last orn, it's should still be in the early stages of spark-takeover," Prowl said, feeling like he had to justify his case. But… 'all the time y'can get'. That means it's bad, but it shouldn't be that bad, right?
"Primus Prowl, can't make anything easy, can ya?"
"Excuse me?" Prowl was offended, what was that supposed to mean? As if he had a choice in all of this.
"Your… flowers," Jazz started, gesturing to his chassis, "Are kinda big for someone who just started coughing, normally ya don't lose the spark till you're on the edge of the Well,"
Prowl blinked. That was…
"You're kidding," There was no way it was that advanced already, was there?
"Wouldn't joke bout this, lost some friends to it 'fore the war,"
"I'm… I'm sorry,"
" 'S cool, long time ago. But that just means I know what I'm talking about because that thing 'round your spark? Is gonna kill you faster than ya think it will,"
"It won't. Ratchet is preparing everything, and soon I won't worry about it anymore,"
"Okay, and you're sure you don't wanna tell anyone something? Y'know, before your personality takes a 180 and ya ditch them?"
"No."
And that had been the end of that conversation. Neither had any problem switching the topic to something lighter, even when the tension of Prowl's problem didn't go away.
Prow was, not for the first time, grateful for Jazz's innate, or perhaps learned (37% likelier to be ingrained from spec-ops) ability to control the conversation into what he wants, or away from what he doesn't.
Now, why couldn't he have that same ability, to stop, oh maybe Bluestreak from talking about certain subjects Prowl absolutely did not want him finding out about?
"Are you really sick? Is it contagious? Does anything hurt? Oh Primus are you gonna die?" Bluestreak asked as soon as Prowl stepped into his office, his personal office, which only mecha that outrank him have access to.
An office Prowl technically shouldn't be in yet, but nobot's stopped him. In his defense, he'll be taking the time off after the surgery, which is so close and yet so far from right now.
Prowl sighed, and walked around Blue so he could reach his desk. Great. The last thing he needs is Bluestreak on his case.
"Relax Blue, he's not gonna die, right Prowl?" Smokescreen asked from his position near Prowl's shelf, behind Blue.
Scratch that, the last thing he needs is Blue and Smokes on his case.
"I'm not dying-"
"See, I told ya!"
"However I would appreciate it if you two didn't butt into my business," Prowl spoke over Smokescreen, who pouted at his response, his wings dipping comically low before fanning out in mirth.
"But Prooowl, you never miss work and Ratchet had to come in personally to threaten Smokescreen to make sure you wouldn't be given work for the next few shifts," Bluestreak whined, now leaning on Prowl's desk, knocking over a stack of datapads.
Prowl's wings twitched in irritation. He glared up at Bluestreak, who's wings and expression dipped in apology. At least that explains what they're doing in his office.
"That doesn't make it your business, Blue," Prowl snapped, before sighing, "Listen, I understand your concern, both of yours, but I'm not dying, it's just a passing problem that'll get fixed soon."
"So you are sick," Smokescreen guessed, taking a moment to look over Prowl. He didn't look sick, except for the rigid way he held his wings whenever something was wrong and he didn't want to give anything away.
"Yes, but Ratchet will fix it, so it's not something either of you need to be concerned over," Prowl soothed, not wanting them to jump to conclusions… again.
He didn't expect them to be this worried over him, or even realize something really was wrong. He didn't expect Smokescreen to be this observant, not like Jazz-
He suddenly bent over, coughing because something was stuck in his throat and hey this feels familiar-
"Oh my Primus is that a flower? No wait, three flowers? Prowl you just coughed up three flowers, that's not normal! Or is it? Smokes please tell me that's not normal," Bluestreak rambled, very much shocked by the revelation, his wings flapping wildly, forcing the other two to lean away.
"No Blue, coughing up remembrance flowers isn't normal," Smokescreen answered, analyzing Prowl closer.
Prowl grimaced. He didn't expect this. At least Blue didn't realize what this is, Smokescreen on the other hand…
"I'm fine Blue, it'll go away soon, remember?" Prowl tried to reassure, not sure how effective it'd be given he still hasn't let go of his desk, his wings dipped low before he forcibly rose them back up into neutral position.
"How are you so confident it'll go away?" Smokescreen asked, before it visibly clicked. "You're removing them, aren't you."
It wasn't a question, and they both knew it. Prowl held Smokescreen's gaze steadily, refusing to back down. Both of them flaring out their wings and plating.
It's his frame, his choice. Even if he didn't expect Smokescreen to understand just why he had to remove them instead of any other wild alternative he could come up with.
Bluestreak looked between them, his eyes darting from one to the other. He still didn't understand what was happening, just that it was serious and something to do with the flowers… Prowl just… coughed up…
"You have the spark flowers?!" Bluestreak exclaimed, jolting the other two out of their staring contest, his wings fluttering in agitation.
Prowl eyed Bluestreak nervously. It was one thing for Smokescreen to know, it was another for Blue. He's too soft, he wouldn't understand.
However, Bluestreak asked him a question, and he deserved an answer even if Prowl really didn't want to give it.
"Yes, I do. But it won't be a problem for much longer," Prowl emphasized the last part, knowing that a main concern is the affected bot dying.
"But Smokey just said you're removing the flowers! Prowl you can't do that, then you won't love anymore!" Bluestreak objected, his wings fluttering from anxiety.
"No Blue, he will still love us, it's Jazz we should be worried about," Smokescreen corrected, arms crossed and wings raised high, glaring at Prowl.
"Jazz?"
Prowl flinched, his grip on the desk tightened, his wings fluttering even as they dipped low.
"What I chose to do is none of your concern. I have already calculated-"
"It is my concern when it's gonna ruin one of your only friendships!"
"Jazz is gonna be devastated once you leave him, you can't do that to Jazz! It's Jazz, you love Jazz-"
"And that's the problem!" Prowl huffed, slamming his hands down on the desk as he stood up, wings flaring out.
"You know Jazz l-"
"Doesn't love me enough, that's why I'm in this situation in the first place!"
Blue and Smokes flinched back, Blue's wings dipping in apology and submission, Smokescreen's flaring in annoyance and frustration.
But neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet vents they were taking, having gotten heated up during the argument.
Prowl wilted, hunching over his desk, his wings falling behind him, no longer having the energy to keep them up.
"He doesn't- Jazz doesn't… Not me, he-"
Blue quietly stepped around the desk, and pulled Prowl into a side embrace, wanting to comfort him. He's never seen him like this before, it was concerning.
Well, Bluestreak wasn't sure he would be any better if he found out he was dying because the twins didn't love him. In fact, he'd probably be much worse off, so maybe Prowl was actually handling this situation pretty well.
"I'm sorry," Blue mumbled, not knowing how to put into words that it's okay, he understands, and that the situation just sucks all around.
Blue looked over at Smokescreen, who's wings were flared out on shock. His eyes were wide, taking in the drop of his wings, which never happened. Prowl was too collected and professional to do that, even when they were kids.
Slowly, Smokescreen made his way around the other side of the desk, and mindful of the wings, embraced him.
Oh Prowl, what have you gotten into?
Smokescreen sighed quietly when he felt Prowl's frame start shaking minutely. Prowl always was a silent crier.
This wasn't fair, Prowl didn't deserve to go through this, to be forced to pick between dying or destroying a friendship he worked hard on building. All because he wasn't loved and cared for to the same extreme as he loved Jazz.
Frag it all, Prowl didn't deserve to suffer like this. If Smokescreen could do anything to make it all better, he would. But the only thing he can do is hold Prowl as he breaks, knowing he's about to lose one of the most important bots in his life.
If only there was a way to stop this, to get rid of the flowers without repercussions or guilting Jazz because he couldn't love Prowl. Without anyone getting hurt.
Jazz was worried.
Not that he'd tell Prowl that, he's got too much on his plate as it is.
But dealing with flowers is never easy, even with surgery. Actually, especially with surgery.
It can't be easy choosing the option to live knowing that in exchange you will lose the person you care about the most. He doesn't know how Prowl does it.
Or, he does but he doesn't want to look too closely.
Jazz pities the poor spark who will lose Prowl. Not that he knows who it is. He knows who it's not, not who it is.
Not him, because Prowl knows just how much he cares about him and he would have no problem telling him so. There's no way it's actually Jazz.
Not Bluestreak or Smokescreen either.
Prowl's been with them since forever, the flowers wouldn't bloom now. Besides, Jazz knows how much Blue and Smokes care about Prowl and vice-versa.
It has to be someone he's met 'recently'.
He would guess Sideswipe, or maybe even Ultra Magnus, except 1. the twins have a thing for Blue and 2. Prowl leans more towards respect and admiration rather than affection for Ultra Magnus.
And those are literally the bots Prowl is closest to outside of Jazz and his brothers.
But that's not important, what's important is to be there for Prowl.
Jazz has known his fair share of bots with flowers, and a few went with the surgery. So he knows how out of sorts a bot feels afterwards, which is why he needs to be at his best. For Prowl.
But that doesn't stop him from worrying, having lost bots to spark surgery gone wrong. He knows that logically it'll be fine, after all Ratchet is the best doc around.
Jazz took a deep vent to center himself, before he made his way to Prowl's hab to set up for post-surgery recovery.
Another deep vent sent him into a coughing fit- What?
Jazz choked, doubling over on the floor, there was something lodged in his throat somehow and he needed it out!
One of his hands wrapped around his throat, the other around his mouth as he fervently tried to spit out whatever's inside.
After what felt like forever, Jazz was finally able to sit up and vent, because Primus that was exhausting. Whatever was in his throat was now in his hand, and he hesitantly opened up to see…
"No fragging way,"
But this shouldn't be possible, not every case of unrequited love resulted in spark flowers, otherwise there'd be a ton more dead mechs.
But why, why him why now. He already knows Prowl doesn't love him, he has his own case of flowers, and pretty serious too. It's not like they're contagious either.
What are the odds, Jazz getting a case of flowers right when Prowl is…
No… There's no way, right?
Without a second thought, Jazz bolts to the medbay, praying desperately to Primus and whoever's listening he makes it there on time.
As he ran away, a single spark flower flitted softly to the ground.
Slowly, Prowl came back online. It always took a bit longer than he would like, but at least he's safe in… the medbay?
Right, flowers, surgery, all that.
Huh, he doesn't feel any different. Maybe that's a sign of a good job?
"Hey, ya back with me?" Jazz asked, from where he was sitting next to him.
Prowl felt his spark spin at seeing Jazz checking up on him before the panic set in.
He's excited to see Jazz? Did the surgery fail? Is he actually gonna die?
No, he can't there's no way. This should've worked, it always worked, why did it not-
"Vent, I can see you overthinking everything, relax and I'll explain," Jazz spoke softy, laying a hand on Prowl's arm to draw his attention.
Prowl's eyes darted between Jazz's hand and up to Jazz's visor. Taking a shaky vent, he nodded. Right, he has to calm down, there's no problem here at all, and if there is Jazz can fix it, it'll be fine.
Once Prowl was visibly more calm, Jazz took his hand back and settled down in the chair properly.
"Ya know I care 'lot bout ya, right Prowl?" Jazz opened up, and Prowl flinched.
Of course he objectively knew Jazz cared, why bring it up now? Either way, he nodded in lieu of a verbal response, not trusting himself to speak.
"Do you really?" Jazz asked. Prowl felt pinned to the bed with the way Jazz was staring him down.
Yes he knew, how could he now? Jazz was always so free with his affection, once he successfully won Prowl over, that is. It was exactly what had landed him in this very predicament, in fact.
"Because if you did, this whole thing," Jazz gestured between them, and towards Prowl's chassis, "Wouldn't have had to happen at all, y'know,"
Prowl frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Jazz couldn't possibly be referring to what Prowl is desperately hoping he is, could he?
Jazz quieted down for a moment, subconsciously taking Prowl's hand, periodically squeezing it and drawing patterns with his finger.
"I almost lost ya," Jazz whispered, "I would've lost ya forever and never known why. You know that can destroy a mech?"
Prowl looked away. Bluestreak had told him the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Jazz when there was a literal physical manifestation of the fact Jazz just didn't love him.
Either way, that would not have been fair to Jazz. To tell him he's gonna sever their friendship because Jazz just didn't love him was cruel, and Prowl is many things, but needlessly cruel isn't one of them.
"I love ya, Prowl. I need you to know that, I love ya with all my spark, and I would be devastated if anything happened ta ya, especially if I could've fixed it," Jazz admitted, his visor dimming.
He had almost been too late.
When he had barged into the surgery room, after carefully evading Ambulon, Ratchet had just gotten started.
"What in Primus' name are you doing in here? Open spark surgery is delicate you can't just-"
"It's me. Prowl's flowers are for me, you can't cut the out."
"Jazz, you know it's-"
"Please Ratchet... I have them too, for Prowl. You wanna deal with two cases back to back?"
Ratchet had stormed out, muttering something about 'young bots in love being fragging idiots'. But he had stopped, he closed Prowl up and set him up in the recovery room.
And here they were.
"Jazz I-"
"I know your flowers were for me, and I'm honestly hurt you didn't tell me. I… Did you know spark flowers are contagious under very specific situations? I know I didn't, until you went under that is." Jazz mentioned casually, and Prowl frowned.
No they weren't, that would imply something drastic must've happened for love to suddenly be gone, like…
"Oh," was all Prowl could say.
What could he possibly say? He was apparently too dense to realize that Jazz really did love him, and Prowl almost doomed them both because of that.
Jazz just chuckled once it clicked for Prowl.
"Only you, Prowl," Jazz smirked at Prowl.
"Well, you could've said something sooner yourself," Prowl replied, settling back into their usual banter. It was a lot to process.
"Mhmm. except I did. Ask anybot around, you're the one for me," Jazz teased, before bringing Prowl's hand, which was still in his hold, up to his lips for a chaste kiss.
Before either could speak, the machine monitoring Prowl's spark started beeping madly. Which caused First Aid to rush in to see what was wrong.
They had to talk First Aid down, insisting it wasn't anything serious, they were just messing around. Soon enough he took his leave, with the threat that he's keeping an eye on them and he's not above telling on them to Ratchet to ensure Prowl makes a full recovery.
Once he was gone, they had both laughed. About the current situation, in relief it's over, the odds of this happening, about what almost happened but didn't.
Once they settled again, Prowl decided he was going to be brave for once. He gently took Jazz hand, causing Jazz to look over at him.
"Jazz, I… I love you too,"