"JazzJazzJazzJazzJazzJazz!" an enthusiastic femme came running, jumping over crates and humans to get to her friend.

         "WhatWhatWhatWhatWhatWhat?" Jazz chuckled as the delicate and petite femme slid to a stop in front of him.

         "Jazz Hands!" she smiled, shaking her servos in the air slightly, showing the visored mech the new thing she learned from watching the humans from around the N.E.S.T. base. Her antics made the slightly older mech laugh, shaking his helm, and making the adorable femme giggle in her delight to make him laugh.

         "Thanks (Y/D)," he sighed, "I needed a little pick-me-up."

         "Aw, what's wrong?" she asked

This question was asked for two reasons: because he was her friend, and because she specialized in psychology, so she was often looked to as a sort of counselor. Being Ratchet's daughter, most found it surprising that he allowed her to choose such a profession, considering the horror stories she often hears, but his reasoning was sound. Ratchet didn't want her on the field, though she was a proficient medic as well as psychologist.

         "Just a rough recharge," he shrugged.

         "Memory purges again?" she asked quietly, Jazz's information strictly confidential.

He looked to the servo on his shoulder, a small smile appearing on his faceplate. (Y/D) was such a different bot compared to her sire. Kind, sweet, gentle, always ready to listen, always trying to make others feel better. Jazz nodded.

         "I don't want to worry 'bout that now though," he quickly brushed it off to be nothing at the moment, "You go off 'n bug your sire."

(Y/D) sighed before nodding with a small smile, and trodded off with a witty air about her, as she always did, waving to bots and humans alike.

     Ironhide walked up behind Jazz as he watched the femme go.

         "Idiot, she's Ratchet's sparkling."

         "Was' that s'posed to mean?" Jazz turned to face the taller mech.

         "Mean's you've dumped yourself in dangerous waters."

Giving an obvious optic-roll, as he moved his helm, Jazz huffed, his visor turning a tad darker as his mood changed.

         "I ain't going for her man."

         "Well that much was obvious," Ironhide chuckled, "but you sure are falling hard."

He left before Jazz could say any more, though he had many a curse for the mech. The racer had to admit though, (Y/D) was unique, and guessed that just about the entire base had some sort of crush on the femme, both Cybertronian and human. She was quite the sparkling at spark, but she knew when was the time to be kidding, and when to be serious, especially when practicing her profession as a psychologist and counselor.

     The days go by, it's the same routine. Some find it nice, others boring, but all dread, or look forward to, their meeting with (Y/D). For some it's a nightmare, they live through their past and bring back the memories some have worked so hard to forget. And through all of this, (Y/D) is ready to listen. Her unbiased opinion and natural loving personality is an asset most counselors only wished they had at the level the femme was able to achieve. No matter how much grumbling or cold statements the others may have for her, (Y/D) stayed herself, and was able to crack even the hardest of bots.

         "So, what song do you have for me today?" she asked Jazz as they drove through the city. A unique factor in (Y/D)'s technique is that she always brings her patient to the place they feel more comfortable. For Jazz, it was the bustling streets where sidewalk musicians were ever present. They passed a guitarist, he already had a few dollars in his case, but a violinist trumped him by far as he played Bach and others, as well as adapted songs everyone would know, a few hundreds poking from his much smaller case.

         "Just a little ditty," he answered her, "Simple, but cute 's Pit."

Sending her the song, (Y/D) listened for a moment to the song titled "Happy".

         "Aw, how sweet," she giggled, "And what makes you happy?"

Jazz gave the first answer that came into his helm... Okay, the second: Music.

         "I love to compare 'em, all genres, find similarities, differences, all that." He knew she already knew this, but it was nice to talk about something he loved so freely.

         "And what have you found?"

         "Well," Jazz thought for a moment, "Most 'er made according to feeling, though some are j'st plain funny."

They turned around an empty street, the walls covered in bright graffiti that always dazzled the mech. He always laughed when he thought of the blank canvas' often seen in art galleries compared to the art marked as illegal.

         "Hey, someone added a new one," he stopped and transformed near a spray painted area that was already full of other designs. No one else would have noted except the slightly rebellious Autobot.

     This new piece was a common theme, the word simple but ellaborately painted so that it popped off of the red brick that really wasn't red anymore.

         "Love," (Y/D) smiled, looking at the painting, "So many ways to express it," she chuckled.

         "Yeah... uh, ain't it near time ta' head back?" he asked, and the femme nodded. Both transformed, going back to the N.E.S.T. base that was their refuge. When they arrived, Ratchet met them at the gates.

        "Hey," (Y/D) smiled after transforming, "What's up sire?"

         "Arcee's gone with her sisters on a small mission," he informed her, "And Optimus said that you haven't recharged for awhile."

         "Sire, I'm fine," (Y/D) insisted, "I'll see you later Jazz."

The mech gave a half smiled and a nervous salute as he escaped the firm gaze of a worried sire.

         "What's more is that you're spending a lot of time with Jazz."

         "Primus Sire, we were behind by two minutes and suddenly we're marked as suspicious?"

         "Not you too, just Jazz," he said, arms crossed.

         "Yes, 'cause he's fragging me in two minutes."

         "I didn't say that!"

         "You know that's what you meant." she pointed a digit at him, and he hated that she was half right, but mostly he hated that she knew him so well, just like her carrier. She looked like her, acted like her and took up psychology, of which both loved. The only thing she seemed to inherit from the mech was his bull-helmed ways.

         "That aside," the old mech huffed, "He's a bad influence."

         "So is every other bot here." (Y/D) gave an equally as agitated huff.

Knowing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, Ratchet let his daughter go, and she stomped off.

         "JazzJazzJazz!" (Y/D) called a few hours later, startling the mech from his current task of cleaning the hangar. Punishment for messing with the amps Crosshairs was building for... something. In truth the green mech was probably bored.

         "Ain't it my little pun master," he chuckled "Whatcha got for me?"

She padded up to him, a servo clasped around something.

         "Look at what I found!" she giggled, and unclasped her servo. In it was a triangular rock, about the size of a human. It was flat, and fit perfectly in her servo.

         "Hey, that looks like a guitar pick!" Jazz chuckled.

         "It's for rock music."

The mech was dying of laughter, said laugh being quite contagious as (Y/D) began to laugh too. When their fun was over, (Y/D) left with a small wave, bouncing away as her natural happy self made others smile. Jazz felt a servo on his shoulder.

         "If you don't bond with her, I will," Ironhide chuckled.

         "Not to long ago you was say'in she's dangerous 'cause of Ratchet." Jazz deadpanned.

         "And when did you listen to me?"

Jazz only shook his helm and continued to clean, his thoughts wandering to the enthusiastic femme.

         Said femme was humming the newest song Jazz had shown her, called 'Lions', by Skillet, and she enjoyed it. She enjoyed all the songs Jazz had introduced her to, keeping them in her own personal file. Of course, she had noticed a small trend that seemed to warm her spark. She reached her quarters, still humming, and turned on the computer she had made herself. The screen came to life, a few pixels lagging, but that was an easy fix. She typed in a code, and the computer switched to a more personal setting from the usual glowing translucent green. The background transitioned to a picture of Jazz, giving off one of his less-seen, soft, comfortable smiles that (Y/D) soon came to adore. Opening a file, she downloaded the newest song, and went through the history. Going back to her first session with Jazz, she gave a soft chuckle at the song, 'Welcome to my Life'. It was spiteful, and showed Jazz's anger at the world, and was the first song he had shown her. Then (Y/D) went through the rest of them, noting that, slowly, the hate seemed to dissipate, and songs like 'You are my Sunshine' and a few classical pieces started to show themselves. The femme giggled at one called, 'They Call it a Streak'. Jazz made her laugh, cry and feel the bittersweet emotions of remembering Cybertron before the war. Perhaps if or when they get to go back home, they can be more than just teammates, and she more than just his counselor.

         "Don't get ahead of yerself there darling."

         "Slag," (Y/D) jumped up, hiding the screen of her computer with her frame, "I said that out loud?"

         "Yeh," the mech chuckled, leaning on the large doorway. It was agreed that (Y/D) would have her own room, since Ratchet claimed she was too young to be with the others yet, and that she needed a space to work privately with the personal information she was often given, "Ain't you 'sposed to be impartial to the rest of us?"

         "Well," she shuffled a pede, "Yes, but that's when I'm working...If you know me well enough you know I don't let personal matters affect my work." The femme was quite proud of this fact as she stood a little taller, only to find that she still came up a bit short as she saw Jazz just in front of her.

He peered behind her, seeing his picture, and smirked.

         "Quite the fan base you have there."

(Y/D) lost the flustered feeling of butterflies in her tanks, and mimicked his smirk.

         "Don't think you're so special Jazz, all my secret files have a rare picture of the bot they're about."

         "That so?"

(Y/D) nodded, her pride of holding such pictures showing through.

         "Any rare pics' of you?"

         "JAZZ!"

Jazz should have heeded Ironhide's previous warnings of (Y/D) being Ratchet's heir, their next counseling session being in the med bay.

(Just something kinda cute I came up with X3)