Oneshot: The Art of Winning
Sep. 25th, 2012 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silberstreif
prowlxjazz the anniversary challenge 2012Prompt: Cheater
Beta: Starfire201 (thank you!)
Author note: After writing angst and drama... I needed fluff. Much fluff.
The Art of Winning
When Prowl arrived (as always on such occasions as late as possible), the party was already in full swing. With a sigh, he entered the spacious apartment from which he had already heard the deep bass from the street and nearly walked out backwards again. It was hot, loud and so very full. He pulled up his wings and used all his self-control to stay and try to find his brother in the crowd of dancing mechs and femmes and some other more exotic frames. The twilight, only broken by a green laser, made the task harder, and the vibrations started to hurt his wings after only a breem. The desire just to turn around and go hit him again with full force, when a obviously drunken minibot stopped in front of him and frowned.
"Hey, are you Smoky... something? You know, the bot who throws this party?"
"No." Prowl tried to get around the mech, but a surprisingly strong hand captured his arm.
"But they said he was a sweet Praxian, and you are one..."
"I'm his brother." Unfortunately. Sometimes he wondered how they even belonged to the same family, not to mention to even had the same creators.
"Oh..." The mech blinked stupidly, then smiled. "Awesome. Tell him the party is burning hot, yeah?"
Prowl nodded, resigned. Anything to get this sticky hand off his arm. "I will."
"Thanks, mech! You're a cool bot, really!"
With a bow, the mech joined the dancing crowd again. Relieved, Prowl tried to cross the living room without another incident and was, to his immense surprise, successful. Reaching the kitchen, he found a huge mess of energon and drunken mechs on the floor to greet him. He abruptly turned with a grimace and tried to enter the next room, the sleeping room – only to not even dare to open the door when he heard more than suggestive noises from the inside. His brother seemed to be busy. Or it was one of the guests. Whoever it was, he wouldn't go in. With his luck, they would invite him to join.
Again, he observed the dancing crowd in the spacious living room, now only searching for a quiet place where he could look for his brother and wait until this orn was finally over. There was none. Instead, he saw an open door which led outside into the garden. With new hope, he carved another way through all those insanely happy people, ignoring every time his pede stepped into something too soft or too sticky or something entirely undefinable, and finally stepped outside.
The noise dropped by a significant amount, the air was cooler, and for a moment he relaxed.
"Hey, you there. Are you a player?" A green bot was approaching him from the right with a big scowl on the face.
"Player?"
"Yeah, only players can get into the garden." The stranger stopped in front of Prowl. "We play different games, Poker, Zureke, One Screw, and others... Interested?"
Of course, Smokescreen would make his own garden into a casino. He should have expected this. Really. But he would sooner play a game of luck, than go back into this pit of a party.
"Zureke would be fine," he answered. "How many players are here?"
"Good. Come with me." The green mech led him through the bright crystals. "Around eight, I think."
"And how much money is in?"
"Don't know, don't care." The mech grinned. "But I know that everyone who played the game this night lost. Well, everyone but Jazz."
Prowl frowned. "Jazz?"
"Yep. Won every single round. I tell you, he cheats, but no one can prove anything. He's just that good." They entered a small clearing. "Here we are. I have to go back now, so have fun!"
"Thank you."
He slowly moved closer to the table. There were indeed eight players, a black and white one with a stylish visor was grinning, the others were more along the lines of frowning. The huge stack of chips in only one place of the table was telling as well.
"And Ah win again," said Jazz. "Thanks for playing!"
"This is impossible," argued one mech and another joined the muttering, "You have to cheat."
"Hey, hey mechs, Ah don't cheat, Ah'm just very lucky," defended Jazz, but even he didn't manage to sound very convincing. "Who wants to play another round?"
"I'm out, you've got nearly all my credits and I'm not that stupid to risk losing even more," said one of the mechs who previously complained, stood up and walked past Prowl. Their arms brushed for a small second and the mech winked. "If you join the game, Praxian, good luck."
"Uh, thank you?"
But then the other was already past him and out of the clearing.
"Oh, a newcomer!" said Jazz and stood up as well. "Do you want to join us? A seat has just become free!"
Prowl hesitated for a second, but the music he could still hear made the decision for him. Better to lose money than to go back. "Yes." He took the seat. "How much money do you play with?"
"Not much," answered Jazz.
"Ten credits is one chip," explained another mech. "Not much is relatively."
It was indeed. Ten credits a chip wasn't much for a noble, but for a poor miner? It could mean the difference between hunger and a comfortable life. Luckily, Prowl was a well-off bot.
"I'm in," he said.
"Great." Jazz gave him a smile and Prowl felt uncomfortably reminded of a predator.
He remembered the warning that Jazz was a cheater. Probably a professional one, too. Well, Prowl wasn't too bad himself. Maybe he could win.
A round later, he had to admit it to himself – he wasn't an ounce better than the other six losers on the table. With a sigh, he handed over his money to Jazz. This would be one expensive evening.
It followed round after round and Jazz won and won. Slowly the other players left the table, until only three were left. And when the last bot stood with an angry curse, Prowl knew that this had come down to a game of two. Something that fit him very well. With each person less, he could feel himself relax more.
As soon as they were alone, Jazz, instead of giving out a new round, looked at him and asked, "Don't ya wanna go too? Here is no winning for ya this night."
Prowl found himself smiling. "I'm not here to win."
"No?" Jazz cocked his head aside in obvious confusion. "Why then?"
"I simply want to avoid the party, and this seems to be the most quiet place." Indeed, even the music seemed now quite far. It was nearly peaceful among the crystals.
Jazz seemed surprised. "Not a party bot?"
"Not at all."
"So why are ya here then?" Jazz put the cards aside and leant back in his chair. "Surely ya knew what to expect."
Prowl snorted. "Of course I knew. But my brother didn't relent until I agreed to come."
"Your brother... And who is that?"
Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Can't you guess? I'm told we look quite similar."
Jazz stared at him for a moment, than shook his head. "No way. Smokey?"
"Yes, he's my younger brother." Prowl made himself comfortable as well. "It's his birthday party to celebrate his 400th vorn and if all he wishes for is that I come..."
"Ya'll come. Despite all." There was a warm note in Jazz's voice.
"Despite all." Now he looked at Jazz with new interest. "You seem, in contrast to some other guests, familiar with Smokescreen. How did you meet?"
Jazz laughed. "If he's ya brother and ya played with me the last three joors, do ya really need to ask?"
Prowl felt his wings flutter in amusement, well aware of Smokescreen's gambling tendencies. "I suppose not. Does he win against you?"
"When Ah play fairly, occassionally."
"So you admit you cheated?"
The smaller mech grinned. "Never."
"Pity. I would be interested in learning your tricks..." For a moment, Prowl himself was surprised by his sentence, then he admitted that it was the truth. Not only had he been very unsuccessful with discovering the trick, he wanted to try it against Smokescreen. Just once, of course. Maybe twice. Or at least the next time his brother forced him to play some stupid game again.
Jazz perked up at his words. "Really? Wouldn't have expected that from a stuffy mech like ya."
"Oh, I thought I already told you Smokescreen is my brother... did you really expect me to be helpless when he tries to cheat?"
A soft laughter. "Poor ya. Then Ah have to teach ya how to defend yaself from the evil plans of ya brother, what?"
Prowl found himself smiling broadly. "Of course. It's your duty as an upstanding citizen."
"Upstanding! Ah never thought anybot would ever call me that." With a flash of pure amusement across his visor, he took the cards into his servo again. "Then, watch pretty bot, Ah'm not the most patient of teachers."
"Don't worry. I'm a fast learner."
A mere breem later Prowl was staring at the cards. "That was it? That was how you knew which cards would come?"
"Yep."
"By their smell?!"
"Sure. What did ya expect?"
Yes, what did he expect? He had already eliminated the chance of any markings on the cards. "I don't know..."
"See?" Jazz smiled proudly. "After recognising the scent, it's all just a matter of training. Simple."
"Simple, yet genius," muttered Prowl.
"Thank ya." Jazz stood and walked playfully over to the Praxian. "So, now that Ah told ya my secret, how do ya think of paying me?"
"Paying?" Prowl frowned, but felt a very different kind of excitement stirring up inside. "I'm afraid you already nearly robbed me of all my money."
"Ah did?" Jazz leant over and gently touched the pointed edge of Prowl's wing. "Then Ah suppose ya have to pay differently..."
His wing fluttered with every gentle contact. "Demand your price."
Another soft laugh, which Prowl thought he really started to like, and a finger trailing along the whole edge. "What can Ah demand? Everything?"
The Praxian felt his body heating up. Jazz was good, just teasing, making him longing for more. "As long as I'm willing to give it..."
"Ah would want much from ya..." A hot breath of air on his audios. "But maybe we should begin simple. Tell me your designation."
Such a small request. He couldn't believe he hadn't given it yet. "Prowl," he said with a smile. "And you're Jazz."
A hummed answer and a second hand started to copy the movements on the other wing. "That Ah am. What to demand now... mmh, how about ya spread your wings, Prowler?"
"Prowler?" he muttered, but then did as he was told. It had been a long time anybot had been this careful and loving with his wings. With him.
"Sure, somehow you're a Prowler to me. Dark, elegant, intelligent..." Jazz voice turned lower and lower, until every word was nearly vibrating on his wing. "A bot has to pray to Primus to be able to touch ya, Ah sure as pit are...ya're so beautiful..."
Prowl nearly moaned.
"Prowl!" yelled a familar voice. Both black and white bots flinched and turned to see a drunken Smokescreen stumbling into the clearing. "Prowl, Jazz? What are you two doing...?" Realisation dawned on his faceplate. "Oh. Eh, sorry, you know? Shall I go?"
Prowl wanted to scream 'Yes!' in frustration, but the moment was gone and wouldn't return. He shared a look of disappointment with Jazz and then stood up. "No, no, stay Smokescreen. I've already searched for you before. I wanted to congratulate you."
"Sorry." Smokescreen grinned sheepishly. "There was this bot I know and he really wanted..."
Prowl lifted a hand. "No need for details."
"Still a prude, what?" Then, he looked between Jazz and Prowl and his wings shook in silent laughter. "Well, maybe not as much as I thought..."
If Smokescreen had come in two breems later, who knew what would have happened. Suddenly, Prowl was quite glad that his brother had decided to search for him right now. "Be that as it may, congratulations on reaching your 400th vorn."
"Thank you!" Smokescreen hugged him. "You even came! You're the best bro a mech can have."
Prowl felt himself blushing. "Of course I came. I love you."
"And I you." Smokescreen stepped back. "Come on, go back inside. The gift giving will start soon and I'm sure you haven't drunken anything yet." The black and white Praxian hesitated. "Now go. Jazz and I need to discuss his part in the coming performance. You know, it's his band that's going to play later. Isn't that cool?"
Prowl sighed. "I'm going. Will I see you all later?" He spoke as much to his brother as to Jazz.
"We sure will," said Jazz, while Smokescreen nodded.
When Prowl left the clearing, the good cheer vanished abruptly from Smokescreen's face. "What in Unicron's name was that, Jazz?"
His friend winced. "Nothing..."
"Slag, it was everything but nothing!" Smokescreen's wings pushed up high, and in a clear V-position, the ultimate sign of anger of a Praxian frame. "You're my friend Jazz, and I really like you, but I know you and your bad sides. You're a cheater, a liar and a berth-hopper. Everything that Prowl isn't."
"Hey, Smokey, Ah get that he's ya brother, but aren't ya going a bit far?" said Jazz while holding up his servos in a peace gesture. "Ah mean, he's the older one and more than capable of making his own decisions."
"I know. But you break sparks like it's a hobby." Smokescreen vented deeply, trying to quell his protective anger. "He's the only family I have left, and he..." Smokescreen lost the words for a moment, then he continued: "He cares deeply. Really deep. There is nothing casual for him."
Jazz blinked. "Nothing?"
"Nothing." Smokescreen looked hard at his friend. "So only persuade him if you're serious, got it?"
For a moment Jazz was very, very still. Then he nodded slowly. "Ah got it."
"Good." Smokescreen turned. "Then let's go back."
They walked quietly back through the garden path, and when they passed the last crystal, Jazz said quietly: "He played Zureke with us. Played and stayed, even though he was losing every round and knew that Ah was cheating... He said he wasn't there to win, when we were alone. Wasn't angry that Ah cheated, or that he lost all the money. Instead, he only asked me how Ah did it and was nice and funny..."
Smokescreen stopped with a dark look on his faceplate. "Get to the point, Jazz."
The cheater shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. "Ah guess, all Ah want to say is, that he's different."
The Praxian looked towards the house in which his party continued on as if he could see his brother through the thick walls. "I know. He's a good mech, Jazz, one of the best."
"Yes." Jazz was quiet for a moment. "So, if Ah'm serious, ya won't jump between us again?"
Smokescreen was quiet for a long moment, searching the face of the cardshark for something. Then, he slowly answered: "I suppose."
Jazz grinned. "Thanks!"
The Praxian nodded and started walking again. "But Jazz... if you break his spark or worse, ever cheat on him..."
"Ah get it, my friend. Really."
They entered the house and the party. The crowd was moving, the beat contagious, and Smokescreen again a small sun of joy, but Jazz didn't care. Not anymore. He searched for another Praxian in the room, one who wouldn't stand in the middle of the dance floor, who wouldn't call out to get attention on himself. One who laughed with him and had a smile Jazz wanted to see again.
He searched, and finally saw a white wing on the bar. With a smile, he sauntered over.
"Found ya, Prowler," he whispered next to the audio of the unaware mech. Prowl flinched and turned, but when he recognized the other mech, he smiled.
"That you did. I thought you were busy with your band?"
"Later," admitted Jazz. "But now Ah wanted to ask if ya want to dance...?"
Prowl hesitated. Normally, he really wasn't a mech for dancing or music in general. But then, what was he doing here so far? Just standing at the bar, being bored and hoping that it was over soon. Jazz was infinitely more interesting then that. Pit, when he remembered those hands on his wings...
"Sure," he said and in a bold move took Jazz's servo into his own. "And afterwards maybe we can talk some more?"
The relief that Prowl agreed, that he wanted to talk further with him was nearly unreal. "Ah would love to," said Jazz and the smile on his face was bright and real and completely true.
Maybe this really was different as he had confessed to Smokescreen. Something warm and strong bloomed in Jazz's chest as he led Prowl to the dance floor and put an arm around his shoulders. Maybe this was right.
Prowl felt the arm, the music and the sparkbeat of Jazz, who was so near to him that their chassis nearly touched all the way. Carefully and with a surprising patience, Jazz led a clumsy Prowl to the rhythm of the song, and slowly he was moving with the beat. With slight surprise, he realised that his wings didn't hurt anymore, now that he didn't hold them stiff on his back, but let them flutter freely. It was nice. Very nice. He sighed and moved closer to Jazz. He felt happy, and for a moment the whole world, the hated party and even his brother stopped mattering as he danced chassis to chassis with Jazz. His last coherent thought before he let it all go was the deep wonder that he had found perfection and peace in a place like this.
Aside from the dance floor, Smokescreen had observed how his friend had approached his brother, how they talked and how to his utter surprise proper, stiff Prowl was led to the dance floor.
The next time he looked, they were still dancing in a tight embrace, moving together as if they had never done anything else, both with a soft smile on their so often closed-off faces, having forgotten the whole world around them.
Smokescreen didn't look again, certain that he had seen the beginning of something special between the cheater and his brother:
True love.
