Prompt: #21 La Douleur Exquise (French) - The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have. (Centers on the one whose love is not returned)
Verse: G1 (although it's vague enough that it can fit anywhere, really)
Contains: Very brief self-stimulation and lots of angst.
Summary: Jazz held the gravitational sway of a star and like most bodies of matter that drifted too close, Prowl was caught in his field.
Notes: Done for prowlxjazz's 2012 Anniversary Challenge.
It was like trying to look fully at a sun, Prowl had once thought. The briefest glance left behind afterimages that lingered long after you turned your gaze away and threatened to blind if your sight stayed too long on its brilliance.
Prowl couldn’t help but look, steal little glances at Jazz’s radiance whenever he could get away with doing so. The charisma that Jazz leaked was impossible to ignore. Prowl knew he wasn’t the only one to fall sway to it; no matter where Jazz went, infatuations followed in his wake. But while he was a master at collecting crushes, Jazz was equally skilled at diffusing them into friendship.
Prowl desperately wished that his feelings would change into something more platonic. His…attraction towards Jazz was inconvenient at the best of times. It was downright dangerous when it flared up, pushed past the countless tactical datastreams Prowl used as a shield and made him wonder how Jazz would react when a slick glossa was applied to his audio horns.
Those thoughts, once they broke through his carefully constructed partitions, were not easy to put down. If Jazz was anyone else, was not so beautiful in his random complexity and stylish paint, Prowl knew that he could dismiss his feelings, bury them underneath heaps of tactical data and eventually forget about them. Jazz was so much more than a pretty looking face, however. His mercurial thinking and truly honest nature was keeping Prowl’s spark tethered surely as any chain.
That didn’t make it any easier to bear when he woke up shaking, his vents furiously cycling to cool down his dangerously high core body temperature as condensation slickened his frame and, ‘Do you like that Prowl?’ whispered in his audios. He had to forcefully mute his pleasured cries as his hands became another’s and flirted with seams and wires. He imagined what Jazz might do and his hands followed sensitive pathways that lead to a brilliant overload.
As his body slowly cooled down afterwards, Prowl stared out into the dark of his quarters and hated himself a little.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Jazz didn’t know of his feelings. Unlike the various distant stars that Cybertron passed in its continual drifting, Jazz was well aware of the mechs that followed after him. Prowl had done his best to keep his feelings locked out of sight but Jazz had pieced together what scant clues he had accidentally let slip. The sad, almost pitying smile that had graced Jazz’s face had Prowl’s spark shattering all over again.
And if that initial knowing smile hadn’t been painful enough, Jazz’s continued attempts at brokering peace gracelessly stomped allover what remained of Prowl’s spark. Prowl knew that the continued torture was unintended - Jazz was trying to save him from the unique pain of one-sided love, not prolong it - but his spark wouldn‘t listen to logic.
“Jazz, stop. Please,” Prowl said when it finally became too much.
“I know what you’re trying to do and I…appreciate it. I do,” Prowl determinedly went on even though his words were lacking in their usual calm composure. “But I can’t stop loving you anymore than you can stop loving -- ” he fumbled over the designation when he finally managed to bite it out, “-- so please, stop. It won’t do any good.”
Jazz frowned at him, and for half of a nano-klik Prowl wished he had remained silent. Then Jazz smiled that same damned pitiful smile, agreed with him and that was that.
Afterwards, catching sight of Jazz outside of meetings and planning sessions became a rare occurrence. While his spark continued to yearn for Jazz, Prowl could better deal with the ache with Jazz deliberately avoiding him. The added space, while it did nothing to curb his feelings, would ensure that Prowl wouldn’t lose himself in his desire to be with Jazz. It was safer to long from a distance than straying too close and being burned from his indifferent brilliance.