Chapter Text
“Bumblebee, I swear by the Allspark,” Jazz muttered as he looked around the abandoned quarters. “Why do you always need to make things difficult?”
He looked at the sleek metal of the front door. It wasn’t open and he hadn’t heard it open, confirming that Bumblebee would be in the room. The mere thought of actually putting in effort to locate the small mech made Jazz feel ten times more worn out. He muttered under his breath, grumbling about how “nothing could ever be easy,” as he reluctantly opened the long list of specialized operations mods he had installed.
He generally didn’t enjoy activating any of his spyware or other special operations mods while off-mission. Other than the ones that he always kept active, regardless of where he was. Not many other mechs were aware of how easy it is to spy on bots, especially when they think they are safely tucked away within their own bases. Jazz would rather deal with the occasionally obnoxious programs than be caught unaware.
Regardless, he engaged a few of his weaker sensors, there was no reason to be extreme. Bumblebee didn’t have the right detecting or jamming applications to prevent getting picked up on the simple scanners that Jazz had chosen for his task. The different information and displays appeared on his visor allowing him to analyze the data. He looked around the room, his scanners and detectors reporting back all kinds of data that Jazz really couldn’t care less about at the time. Within moments the mech had detected the sparkling.
The sparkling had managed to crawl into the small vent that was hidden behind an armchair. He must have previously opened the vent without anyone detecting prior to his attempts to evade bedtime. Jazz quickly switched off his scanners and modifications as he casually turned to face the vent. He crouched down and stared into the well-hidden vent where he could see the sparklings glowing eyes. How he hadn’t noticed them before, Jazz decided not to ponder that.
“Bee, come out of the vent. It’s time for bed,” the agent instructed. The stubborn sparkling remained still. Not even acknowledging what Jazz had said. “C’mon bud. We can’t have a dance party tomorrow if you don’t listen,”
That seemed to get the yellow mechling attention. He looked down at the bottom of the vent, clearly weighing his options. Despite his growing frustration Jazz waited for the sparkling to finish. He could hear Bumblebee vent loudly, as loud as a bot his size could at least. It was adorable and Jazz couldn’t keep his smile contained. Slowly Bumblebee crawled out of the vent and blinked up at Jazz with wide eyes.
“You promise?” he questioned. Jazz nodded.
“Yeah, I promise,” Jazz said in a quiet tone. Bumblebee stood up and dusted off his knees. Jazz watched silently, waiting for the mechling to finish. To no one’s surprise the sparkling spent a few seconds longer doing this than he normally would. Jazz was not looking forward to dealing with this. It was already proving to me a much more difficult task to put the kid to sleep.
“Alright, let's get you in your bed,” Jazz said calmly as she ushered and guided Bumblebee to his berth. On the way in he was sure to close the door behind him. It should act as enough of a barrier to prevent the yellow sparkling from attempting to make another run from it. Jazz turned on a lamp that sat next to the door, the warm yellow light bathed the room. The agent then switched off the lights to the room, allowing the atmosphere to sift within the small room. Bumblebee crawled into his bed and under his large, thick blanket.
“Can you read me a story?” the sparkling peeped from the bed. Jazz smiled softly and vented as he walked over to beside the bed, still cautions of the hazardous toys sprawled on the floor. He pulled a small stool that had found its home against the wall across from the bed and brought it beside the berth. He sat down.
“Yeah, what kind of story are you feeling?” He asked. Bumblebee narrowed his eyes in concentration before looking back up at the other.
“Can you tell me a story about your missions?” Bee asked with an youthful and naive smile. Jazz’s smile was far more strained.
“Ah, well,” Jazz struggled, “maybe tomorrow night,”
“You say that every time,” the yellow mechling pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at Jazz. The agent huffed and rubbed his hand across his forehead.
“I know, I know,” Jazz rubbed his chin, searching for the right words. He and Prowl worked hard to try and give the sparkling the closest to normal upbringing that they could offer. That usually meant they didn’t discuss things involving the war efforts or what their jobs were in front of the child. To their dismay, Bumblebee had always been insistent on knowing everything. Over the years dancing around the topic had become more and more difficult.
“How about this, I’ll tell you when you're older,” Jazz said, his tone firm yet gentle. It was less of a suggestion and more of a hint to drop the topic. Bumblebee caught on, the mechling side eyed him, his small frame visibly deflating with disappointment. He was clearly unhappy with the response that he had received but knew better than to continue to pry. With a resigned vent, Bumblebee turned his gaze to the far corner of the room, his body language a blend of sulky retreat and begrudging acceptance.
“Fine… can you tell me a story about us going on an adventure?” the sparkling asked whilst giving the agent a critical look. Jazz smiled as he began to think up a story to tell. Once he began telling the story it was easy to fall into the rhythm of it. It didn’t take too long for Jazz to finish the creative narrative he had come up with about him and Bumblebee discovering a planet full of organic aliens. The planet was a breathtaking expanse of vibrant greens and thriving ecosystems, a stark contrast to the mechanical world they knew. It was easy to tell it in such a way no one would question if it had really happened or not, despite the bizarre elements of it.
“And then, they all lived happily ever after.” Jazz finally concluded thoughtfully. He was pretty proud of himself; it had definitely been one of his better stories. Bumblebee was staring up at him with a content expresion. The story had proven effective and was clearly making the sparkling somewhat drowsy, if the slightly droopy eyes and reserved energy was anything to go off of. Jazz smiled down at him,
“Alright, you go to sleep now. I’ll be in the other room if you need anything,” Jazz began as he started to stand up and move the stool to its previous position. Unexpectedly, Bumblebee spoke.
“But I can’t sleep,” The sparkling said eagerly, rousing himself from his drowsy state. He effectively undid what Jazz had spent the last fifteen minutes doing.
“Why not?” Jazz asked, trying to remain as patient as possible.
“Sleep is my enemy,” Bumblebee stated with a straight face. Jazz nodded before doing a double take at the sentence. He blinked down at the small sparkling who stared up at him with no further explanation. Jazz opened his mouth before realizing that he would rather not go down that rabbit hole with the child and closed it. He did however sit back down.
“Okay… But you need to sleep. That's how you get bigger,” Jazz tried to convince Bumblebee while hopefully not prompting the sparkling to elaborate any further. Said mech didn’t seem convinced.
“I love you but we seem to have our differences. Sleep is good for you, not me,” the sparkling explained thoughtfully. Jazz stared at the mechling in disbelief before shaking his head and standing up.
“Alright, in that case I will be going to bed and you can sit in your bed quietly,” Jazz said, placing the stool against the wall and walking to the door. Bumblebee let out an upset beep.
“No! That’s boring!” the yellow bot expressed as Jazz reached to turn off the lamp.
“Then sleep,” Jazz deadpanned before turning off the light and opening the door.
“But I don’t want to sleep!” Bumblebee whined. Jazz shook his head as he walked through the door and looked back through it at the small yellow mechling. Something akin to hope sparked in their eyes.
“Goodnight, Bumblebee,” Jazz said in a monotone voice and he saw that hope shatter like glass. The sparkling shook their heads as Jazz began to close the door.
“Wait! What about one more story?” Bumblebee desperately called out as the door finally closed. Jazz vented and leaned against the door. He knew he was being mean to the sparkling to some extent, but some part of him knew that if he hadn’t just walked out he would have been stuck in there for a lot longer. Sometimes parenting meant being a jerk. Jazz was thankful that Prowl wasn’t around, if the tactician was here Jazz didn’t doubt that he would be getting scolded for how he behaved. But Prowl wasn’t so he was fine.
Jazz walked across the living room, making sure to turn off the lights and walked to the doorway that led to he and Prowl’s room. The agent spared a glance at the data pad that still lay on the kitchen counter, long forgotten. He vented before opening the door and going into his room without a second thought. That was an issue for future, well-rested Jazz to deal with. He walked to his berth and settled down onto his side of it. He closed his eyes and tried to take a few moments to relax. He should be tired enough that sleep shouldn’t be an issue.
The key word was ‘should’.
He knew better than to assume anything when it came to his sleep schedule. It was almost as unpredictable as he was. Jazz opened his eyes, staring into the dark shadows of his room. All of the exhaustion that he had been feeling ebbed away as the shadows that lined his room shifted and danced across the walls and floor. Jazz strained his vision, trying to see if he could see anything or anyone hidden in them. He hadn’t taken the time to check the room before.
After doing a quick scan of the room he found nothing out of the ordinary. Jazz was just seeing things, he needed to relax. He closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the nagging fear that seemed ever present whenever he closed his eyes. He concluded that it was a lot easier to sleep when Prowl was there and he knew that he had someone to watch his back. Without the Praxian by his side he felt exposed and vulnerable. Jazz shifted restlessly in his berth.
He lay there for who knows how long before sleep finally seemed willing to grace his exhausted mind and worn-out body.
He was on the brink of slipping into a peaceful state of sleep, when he heard the sound of shuffling from the other side of his door. All of a sudden Jazz was back at full alert, he sat up in bed and watched the door. His visor sparked back to life and illuminated the dark room with its dull blue glow. Jazz listened to the shuffling on the other side of the door and his paranoia had a field day. There was someone outside his door.
It was entirely within reason to believe that it was Prowl. A complete and very probable possibility. So probable that most other mechs wouldn’t have even thought that it could possibly be an intruder. Unfortunately, Jazz wasn’t just some other mech and as much as he wanted to believe it was Prowl, it couldn’t be.
If Jazz had counted correctly, whoever was outside the door had already run into three different objects. Prowl’s doorwings would have picked up on the stationary objects, even in the dark. Not to mention that Prowl knew that Jazz got extremely paranoid at night. He had come back late enough times that he had figured out a system. Prowl would announce his return to the room. There had been no such announcement. Jazz knew for certain that it couldn’t be his partner on the other side of the door. He slid out of his bed slowly and quietly. His feet barely made any noise as they came in contact with the carpeted floor.
As Jazz crouched on the ground, now effectively hidden behind the berth if anyone were to come into the room, he opened the secret compartment in his thigh and pulled out his pistol. The weapon sat comfortably in his steady hand. It was almost like second nature to feel the weight in his palm and the cool metal of the trigger against his finger. He was confident in his aim, confident enough that he knew that he would only need a couple charges to handle whoever had entered his quarters.
He engaged his night vision, watching as slowly the images projected from his visor became more and more clear. Once the system was fully functional and he was no longer dealing with any fuzzy images or still frames, he moved. He effortlessly navigated through the room in the dark. The once imposing and menacing shadows offered him shelter and security. Jazz pushed himself against the wall closest to the door and slowly approached it. With his audial pressed against the wall it was easy to hear whoever it was stumbling through the dark towards his room. As he neared it he could hear the door handle being played with. He paused.
Jazz held his breath as the doorknob was fiddled with. He slowly raised his pistol, watching the door expectantly and patiently. He could hear the door slowly open, whoever was opening it was obviously struggling to do so, which was odd. Whoever pushed open the door didn’t initially come in. They stood right out of view of Jazz. The agent had however seen the small hands that had pushed the door open.
He was by no means a fool. Jazz had gone toe to toe with Megatron’s head of security, Soundwave, to know what kind of menace the mech's little cassettes could be. Not only would they gang up on bots and quickly overpower them, but due to their small nature they were perfect spies. They could move through vents with little to no effort and hide within a crowd of much larger bots with little difficulty. If it was one of Soundwave's minions, then there was reason to believe that there were more of them elsewhere.
Jazz waited, not willing to move in case he would reveal his position. And yet, as the seconds turned to minutes, no one entered the room. Jazz could see the slight shadow they cast even in the dark, they were there. They however made no move to enter the room. Since opening the door Jazz hadn’t been able to hear them move at all. It intensified his unease, plunging him into a deeper, more unsettling realm of fear. Every shadow seemed to whisper, and every sound felt like a looming threat. Once comforting sounds that served to remind him that he was on base and not out on the field became menacing and distracting. The slight ticking of a fan blowing through the vents sounded far too similar to the ticking of a bomb.
The agent was not fond of this waiting game that the other mech seemed to be playing with him. Usually, he didn’t mind waiting for his target to show up but for some unknown reason to him this entire situation unsettled him far more than he would like to admit. Had he hallucinated the entire scenario? Had there really been no one out there and he had managed to convince himself there was someone? Jazz blinked, he needed to stay focused, if there really was someone waiting, he could not afford to zone out.
“Dad?” The timid voice pierced through the darkness, barely more than a whisper. To Jazz’s dismay, the small noise was almost enough to get him to pull the trigger of his pistol. He could feel his finger flinch against the no longer cold metal, the weight of the weapon was suddenly too real. He tensed up, jolting back when he heard the clear voice of Bumblebee.
The realization that he could have reacted with deadly force, mistaking the sparkling for a threat, plunged him into a deep, gut-wrenching dread. What if the sparkling had walked in and Jazz’s instincts took over before he had been able to properly identify it as Bee? The thought of what could have happened filled him with an overwhelming sense of guilt and panic. For the first time that he could recall, his usually steady hand betrayed him, trembling.
“Dad? Are you awake?” Bumblebee called out a little louder. Jazz didn’t dare open his voice, he couldn’t will himself to move. The weight of what could have happened rested heavily on his shoulders and chest. It made him feel sick and much too hot. He could have killed Bumblebee. The notion gnawed at him relentlessly, leaving him with a profound sense of dread and a crushing, suffocating guilt.
It felt a different kind of horror overtake him when Bumblebee finally did walk into the room, confirming the chilling reality of what he had almost done. It was deep and shameful, making him wish that he could just crawl into bed and ignore what was happening. As the yellow sparkling slowly stepped into the room Jazz felt urgency rise within him.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he fumbled with the gun. He almost dropped the firearm in his haste to get the cursed object away. The heavy metal burned his hands the longer he held it, each second dragging him deeper into his own hell. Just as bumblebee turned to face the source of movement Jazz was able to slide the weapon under the nearby small sofa.
Jazz smiled but it felt grotesquely unnatural, a mask of normalcy that only highlighted his inner turmoil. In the darkness he prayed that Bumblebee wouldn’t be able to see the tension in him, or the poorly concealed pistol. The sick feelling did not go away when the younger one looked at him. It only got worse when Bumblebee seemed to visibly relax upon seeing his father’s frame. Jazz knew that this moment would be one he would never be able to forget and would forever eat at him. He had almost shot Bumblebee.
“Bumblebee,” Jazz began, nearly sounding breathless. The mechling blinked, sensing something was off but unable to pinpoint it. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I was too tired to sleep,” Bumblebee attempted to justify his presence with a blend of honesty and innocent confidence. His chest puffed out slightly as he spoke, unaware of the gravity of the situation. Jazz let out a shaky laugh, it sounded borderline hysterical. The sparkling wouldn’t know the difference. Bumblebee, unaware of the edge in his father’s voice, merely watched as Jazz struggled to regain his composure.
“Really?” Jazz managed to ask, his voice regaining some semblance of normalcy as he finally stifled his unsettling laughter. The effort to mask his fear was evident, but Bumblebee remained blissfully unaware, his innocent gaze fixed on his father.
“Yup," Bumblebee said matter-of-factly, his tone unaffected by the tension in the room. A curt nod followed the simple word.
“What am I going to do with you?” Jazz chuckled, trying to distance himself from the persistent horror that plagued him. Bumblebee’s large eyes scanned over his father. Something seemed to click behind the sparkling’s eyes.
“Are you alright?” Bumblebee asked in an innocent tone, his question cutting through the haze of Jazz’s distress. Jazz could still feel the slight tremble in his hands and couldn’t quite recall when he had sat down on the ground. His already stained smile became far more tense as he tried to laugh it off.
“Oh, yes, I’m alright,” the lie flowed from his mouth so easily, like second nature, “You just startled me, that’s all.”
Pride swelled within the short frame of Bumblebee; some sense of accomplishment evident in the way he held himself. His chin tilted upwards, and his hands found their way to his hips. The child seemed satisfied to hear that he had finally managed to startle one of his parents. Jazz doubted that he understood the full gravity of that statement.
“Ha! I did it! I scared you!” Bumblebee said victoriously. Jazz shook his head,
“That you did,” He couldn’t hide the dark tone in his words. Bumblebee paused, looking at him,
“Does this mean I don’t have to go to bed?” He asked simply, blinking up at his father.
“Nah, you’ve still gotta sleep,” Jazz raised his eyebrows in a mock-serious expression, forgetting for a moment that the gesture would be lost due to his visor. Bumblebee’s face fell, his small frame slumping as he pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. The sparkling’s defiant stance was almost comical, and Jazz couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“I don’t wanna,” The sparkling whined, his voice carrying a note of exaggerated despair. “I don’t like sleep.”
“Can I ask why?” Jazz inquired in the most patient tone he could muster. Bumblebee seemed to think about the question for a moment. The small mech’s eyes narrowed as he pondered.
Eventually he looked back up at Jazz, “Sleep is boring,” Bumblebee deadpanned. Jazz rolled his eyes under the visor, resisting the urge to groan. Instead, he just vented deeply at the statement.
“You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” Jazz said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. Bumblebee blinked up at him, pausing as he tried to process the meaning behind his father’s words. His tiny face scrunched up in concentration, clearly dissecting the comment with the seriousness only a sparkling could muster. Bumblebee’s expression brightened.
“That’s okay,” the sparkling began, “I will still grow up.”
Jazz’s laughter bubbled up, a genuine reaction to the sparkling’s unexpected and innocent logic. Something only a sparkling could think of. He was almost offended with how bright and cheery Bumblebee’s tone was. It was a perspective only a sparkling could have, and Jazz found himself both amused and slightly exasperated by the contrast between his own weariness and Bumblebee’s unshakeable cheer.
“Okay, well, mister ‘it's alright if you die’, we need to get some sleep.” Jazz said, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection. There was some sternness in his words, but it was far from harsh. The sparkling sagged, head dropping as he stared at the ground. The agent smiled gently, venting.
“How about you sleep in my berth, with me?” Jazz suggested, trying to find a way to ease the both of them. Bumblebee looked up at him, face lighting up. It had been some time since Bumblebee had outgrown sleeping in the same berth as Prowl and Jazz. The sparkling smiled eagerly, wide eyes shining.
“Really?” He asked. Jazz nodded.
“I see why not,” He confirmed. Bumblebee beeped happily as he made his way to the much larger berth and climbed in. Jazz followed closely, his heart lighter at the sight of Bumblebee’s eager anticipation. As he settled into the berth beside the sparkling, his gaze momentarily flickered back to the discarded pistol hidden under the sofa. He looked back at the mechling and settled in next to him.
Bumblebee snuggled quickly into Jazz’s side, humming contentedly as he settled against his father. Jazz vented as he wrapped an arm around the small yellow form. He took a deep, shuddering vent, feeling the weight of the discarded pistol and the gnawing guilt and fear in the back of his mind like a stray dog at a restaurant. These concerns would have to wait until morning. As he held the sparkling close, he would just focus on Bumblebee. The world outside, with its worries and shadows, felt a little more distant as he cuddled with his sparkling.