Jazz finished mixing what must've been his fourth drink of the night and sat down across from Prowl at the table.

It had been a long night and two drinks weren't enough to settle his nerves, so he opted to have two more upon returning to his hideout. He'd rather not think right now. His thoughts had recently become more conflicting than he liked.

Prowl had his late nights at the station to thank for allowing him to even function at that hour, though the effects of the drug from earlier continued to linger.

He watched Jazz closely with narrowed optics, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs around his wrists. A rather short chain connected to the floor held him in place.

"So what's the story with you and Brawl?" Jazz broke the silence. He casually swirled the drink in his hand, not even looking in Prowl's direction.

"I can't disclose that information."

Jazz chuckled. Prowl was sticking to his stuff. "Ya can't or ya won't?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Irritation laced Prowl's tone. "He's a prominent figure in the criminal realm, like you are, who I frequently encounter because of my position. Our past doesn't concern you."

"Okay, fair. How long have ya known him, then?" Jazz peered over the lip of his glass as he took a sip. "You can answer that. It's not 'sensitive information' or any of that bullshit ya try to claim it is."

Prowl huffed softly.

"Longer than you." He said. Upon seeing Jazz's expression, he scowled. "What, does that bother you?"

"No." Jazz tipped his glass back and finished off his drink. "It doesn't bother me. I just thought I was your first."

"My first what? Enemy? Please, you sound like a bitter ex."

"I bet you have plenty of 'em."

"None as obsessed as you."

Jazz grinned wickedly. "Ya think I'm obsessed?"

Prowl seemed unnerved by the shift in Jazz's demeanor. The line between truth and lies was beginning to blur.

Jazz leaned across the table, his grin never faltering.

"It's true. I am obsessed." He chuckled lowly. "I am very obsessed."

Prowl cleared his throat, trying to ease the awkward tension. "Right. Like I haven't heard that before. Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere particular."

Jazz suddenly stood from his chair and made his way over to the bar. He retrieved a bottle of engex and another glass before returning to the table. There, he filled that cup as well as his own and slid it over to Prowl.

Prowl scrutinized it with his gaze. "Do you think I'm stupid? I'm not going to drink that."

"I don't think you're stupid. You're smart—very smart. Smarter than most." Jazz mused, absentmindedly swirling the bright pink liquid around in his glass. "I just think you need a drink to help ya relax. You saw me pour it. No foul play here, officer~."

I can't tell if he's drunk or just messing with me.

Drunk or not, he had a point. Prowl could really use a drink to ease his nerves, though he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of sharing one with Jazz.

Oh, what the hell. One drink won't hurt.

One drink soon turned into two. Then three. Jazz seemed content with five. The engex he had at the club must not have been as strong as this engex.

A pleasant buzz worked its way through Prowl's systems. While he was by no means totally drunk, he had relaxed enough to partially lower his guard.

"So," Jazz traced the rim of his glass with his index finger. "ya wanna tell me what happened between you and Brawl?"

"Will you fuck off?" Prowl grumbled. "I'm not giving you more ammunition to use against me."

Jazz chuckled, then reached across the table and grabbed Prowl's cuffs. He yanked him forward until his chest collided with the table's edge, his chair screeching across the floor. The links of the chain attached to the cuffs clanked together from the sudden movement, then fell silent as they were strained to their limit.

They were a breath apart. Narrowed blue optics met a gleaming visor.

"Gee, Prowler. I tried to be nice." Jazz's tone was dangerously calm. With his free hand, he gripped Prowl's jaw. "I won't ask this time. Tell me what happened."

Something caused warmth to bloom within Prowl's core. Whether it was the alcohol or the feelings he'd stuffed down, he wasn't sure, but something was affecting him. 

Jazz noticed the slight shift and paused. He studied Prowl's expression, noting the slight tint of color in the mech's cheeks. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

He gently squeezed Prowl's jaw. "Not so tough, are ya?"

Prowl tried to pull away, but wasn't able to break out of Jazz's grip. The warmth inside his core only continued to build.

"What's wrong?" Jazz teased. "Turbofox got ya tongue?"

"...What are you doing?" Prowl managed to grit out, glaring at him.

"Me? I'm not doin' anything, but it sure seems like somethin's happening to you."

"It's happening because of—" Prowl cut himself off, realizing what he would've admitted to.

Jazz's smile widened. "Go on. Finish that sentence."

Prowl averted his gaze.

"Look at you. The prestigious captain of the Iacon police department... flustered! I wonder why that might be..."

"Let me go, Jazz!" Prowl retorted. "I swear to Primus, if I wasn't chained to the goddamn floor I'd cave your pretty fucking face in!"

Jazz tossed his head back in laughter.

He thinks I'm pretty?

"Threats don't really work on me, especially from you." He said, now squeezing Prowl's cheeks.

Prowl finally managed to pull himself free from Jazz's grasp. He stumbled back and quickly steadied himself.

"Don't fucking touch me." He seethed, though the steadily growing blush on his face said otherwise.

Jazz cocked his head to the side, smiling, then stepped around the table and pushed Prowl back into his chair. He loomed over him.

"Or what?"

Prowl's breath hitched in his throat as he stared up at Jazz. Why was he allowing this to happen? More importantly, why did he like it?

It had to be the alcohol, right? Sure, he had conflicting feelings before, but this was different. This was full fledged attraction. Had this always been inside him and he just stifled it so much that it was nearly nonexistent? Or was it a new development after spending an unusual amount of time near Jazz?

Whatever it was, he didn't have nearly enough focus to ponder over it.

Jazz put a hand on his hip.

"No more threats, hm? Shame. You're cute when you're angry." He leaned forward so that he was eye level with Prowl, resting his other hand beside Prowl's head on the back of the chair. "But even cuter when you're flustered."

Prowl was fed up. His cooling fans were seconds away from kicking on, which would further his embarrassment, and Jazz wouldn't stop teasing him. It was hard enough dealing with feelings he wasn't used to. Having no outlet for them was worse.

Jazz studied Prowl, a light blush of his own spreading across his face. Then, he eased himself down to straddle Prowl's lap, nudging his cuffed hands forward to make room. Prowl was speechless, but did nothing to protest.

They stared at each other for a while. The tension continued to build until finally, Jazz made his move. He leaned in and captured Prowl's lips in a kiss, one hand resting on his shoulder.

Prowl stiffened in shock, having not expected Jazz to make such a bold move that was almost uncalled for. The longer it went on, however, the more he grew to enjoy it. He reciprocated the act, allowing his optics to close as pleasure blossomed within his core.

He never thought he'd wind up kissing his nemesis, but there he was. Alcohol or not, there were feelings there—true feelings he could no longer deny.

The kiss soon became desperate, like they'd been waiting their entire lives for it. It was a fantasy. A fairytale. Their own little world in which they could escape the real one and forget about their responsibilities.

But reality set in quick, and Jazz knew this couldn't go on.

He suddenly tore away from Prowl and stood, leaving the police bot reeling. As he stormed off, Prowl called out in confusion, causing him to freeze.

"Jazz?"

Jazz ignored the pang of emotion in his spark. His back was to Prowl. He wished he could face him but he couldn't and it made him angry.

What was stopping him? Fear of rejection? Disgust? Hatred?

"This was a mistake." He uttered. His fists clenched at his sides. "Don't ever speak of it."

Prowl could only watch Jazz leave, stunned into silence yet again. A multitude of emotions swarmed his spark, none of them making any sense. The alcohol in his system didn't help. It only strengthened them all tenfold, adding to the chaos and confusion currently eating him alive.

What now...?