Meramech @meramech - Tumblr Blog

Jul 21

Make It Real chapter 7! Jazz wakes up and Vortex gets a wake-up call.

Read here or on AO3!

Jazz woke up the next morning wondering where the hell she was.

She blinked a few times and tried to remember. Wherever she was, it was warm and comfortable and the hand on her back was-

She lived alone.

Jazz suddenly snapped to awareness, and it was only when the blurry outline of Prowl’s living room registered that she realised where she was and what must have happened. Prowl was still fast asleep underneath her, breathing deeply and rhythmically. The TV had long turned itself off, and she couldn’t tell where one duvet ended and the other began – they were both swaddled in them, the plump cushions of the sofa softer than any mattress. No wonder she’d fallen asleep – it was like laying on a cloud.

Well. Prowl didn’t. She was laying on Prowl too. Because of course she was – it would have been completely obscene and against the genre she’d apparently found herself in if she wasn’t sprawled out ungainly across the other woman whilst she snored away, blissfully unaware that she was being used as a pillow. Prowl didn’t feel like a cloud, but she felt like something much better.

There wasn’t any way to get out of the situation without waking Prowl up. Jazz both didn’t want to wake her up or get herself out of the situation.

So she let her head sink back down onto her chest and listened to her heartbeat instead. It was rhythmic and steady and predictable – a textbook example of a heartbeat. Jazz still found herself composing a song in her head to the beat of it. Maybe she could get it into something workable and turn it into something real? That would be cute.

A loud knock at the door had the pair jumping out of their skins and abruptly ended the composition in Jazz’s head. Prowl barely had time to assess the situation before she was scrambling to get up as the sound of a key turning in the lock reached them. She quietly hissed a curse as she grabbed her phone and glanced at the screen, marching towards the front door. Her footsteps only hesitated slightly when she read the message before she was almost running. Jazz sat upright, the duvet pooling into her lap, and stretched. Someone important must have turned up.

“You could have given me more warning.” Her voice came from the hall. “I’ve got company.”

“Wow, you’re still in your jim-jams.” A deeper voice returned.

Whoever it was was walking closer. Jazz curiously slipped from the sofa and went to the doorway, curiously peeking through.

Prowl had given her a quick rundown of her family members to prepare them for the party in a weeks time. The man who was walking down the hallway towards her was familiar – it was her brother Barricade. He was taller than her, his hair just as jet black and with that familiar white streak. While Prowl’s was straight, Barricade’s had a wave to it that looked very beachy. He looked at her in surprise before looking her up and down.

“Holy shit, you actually exist.” He was smirking and ripping into a length of jerky. Jazz hid the way it made her feel. Bit early for that, isn’t it?

“In the flesh!” She grinned at him anyway and held out her hand. “Jazz. You’re Barricade, right? Prowl’s spoken about you.”

He took her hand and shook it. “Only good things, I hope.”

“You’ll have to tell me more about the fishing incident.”

“Which one?”

“Which one?” Jazz turned to Prowl. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“It’s not important.” Prowl had her arms folded under her chest, hip cocked, and she shifted her weight to her other leg. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see my big sister.”

“You wanted to snoop.”

“Oh, you caught me.” Barricade raised his hands up in surrender. “No. I came to drop this off,” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and dropped them into Prowl’s waiting hand, “and making sure you had a good cover story.” He glanced at Jazz again. “Looks like I needn’t have worried.”

Prowl sighed. “Tea or coffee?”

“Only if you let me get to know my sister-in-law.”

“That’s for her to decide.”

They hadn’t discussed how familiar Jazz would get with her family. Prowl looked to Jazz, her posture open but her eyes slightly panicked. Jazz reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing it in reassurance, before turning to Barricade with a wide grin.

“You take yours with milk and sugar?”

-------------------------------

“I didn’t get you into any trouble, did I?” Jazz asked the next week in the office. Prowl looked up from her planner over her glasses and shook her head.

“No, none at all.”

“Thank god!” Jazz sighed in relief and sagged down into the chair. “I was worrying about that all weekend.”

“Barricade’s cheeky and pushes his luck, but he’s also very easy to fool.” Prowl replied, turning back to her planner and jotting something down in the margin. “It wont mean much overall, but it definitely helped that he came unannounced and we were very clearly sleeping together.”

“Sorry about that.”

The corner of Prowl’s lip twitched upwards and her cheeks blushed pink. “I should be the one apologising. I was fully intending on making sure you slept properly.”

“I slept very well, thank you darling.” Jazz let her voice drop down into a purr – the one that had Prowl’s brain melting out of her ears. It always worked like a charm, the woman holding the planner just that bit closer to her face as her ears turned bright red.

“That’s good.” She managed to keep her voice stable. Pity.

“We should discuss logistics for the party this weekend.” Jazz stood and stretched out, Prowl’s eyes naturally drawn to the shape and curve of her body. “Call me when you get home?”

Prowl nodded. “Of course.”

Jazz definitely didn’t wait by her phone for her to call that evening, but she did watch it ring a couple times before picking up so she didn’t look too eager.

“So, the plan is;” Prowl began, “I’ll come by and pick you up at four. Bring your dress – we’ll get ready at mine. Then we’ll head over together – make sure you bring the ring and the earrings. They’ll be expecting some sort of display of affection too.” She sounded like she was rubbing her face in the way she did when she was stressed. “You’re prepared for black tie, aren’t you?”

“Ready for anything, Prowler.” Jazz replied. “I’ve got a dress I’ve been hoping to show off to the world again.” She eyed it up – she’d hung it over the door of her wardrobe to try on and make sure it still fit her right and see how it looked with the accessories, a black and white piece that, for her, ticked every box. Hopefully Prowl would agree.

“Good, I wasn’t sure we’d have time to go shopping for one for you.” Prowl sounded amused. “And I’m not confident mine would fit you – the length would sit weirdly. Okay. Good.”

“Will there be another list of faces to learn?”

“No, I think we’ll get away with it. It’d be a bit weird if you knew everyone’s faces.”

“Fine by me.” Jazz twirled a braid with her finger. “We’re going to that place by the water, aren’t we? I’ve scoped it out a little, found us some good escape routes if things go tits up. Good view, too.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Jazz.”

Jazz’s rice cooker dinged to signal it was ready.

“Oop, rice is done.” She quickly turned it off at the wall and popped the lid, stepping back to let the last of the steam escape and inspecting the grains.

“I’ll let you get to your dinner, then.”

“What’re you having tonight? I’ve got rice, and I’ve got some salmon under the grill and veggies about to come out of the steamer as we speak.” She twisted the knob on her hob to turn off the gas under the saucepan that held her steamer.

“Pasta.”

“And the sauce?”

Prowl hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Just tomato. I didn’t have much time.”

“Oh, Prowler. I’ll make you dinner this week, okay? Poor girl!”

“It’s fine, I just need to manage my time better.”

“Alright, well I’ll make you it anyway, how about that?” She knelt down to quickly check the salmon – perfectly done. “I’d better go – chat later!”

“Okay, chat soon. Bye, I love you.”

“Love you too!” Jazz cheerfully replied before hanging up. She was fluffing the rice with the rice paddle when she realised what they had said and suddenly froze.

The choking sound she made echoed.

-------------------------------

First Aid usually didn’t let the implication that she had to make it up to her patients for any scarring or expected after-effects slide. She was a nurse, not a miracle worker who could override biology. Scars happened when you received injuries. Illnesses left marks. Sickness and disease stamped itself onto bones. It was how the human body worked and it was not something that she could prevent, so the idea that she had to ‘make it up’ to anyone for it was bizarre and frankly insulting.

Vortex suggesting she’d need to make it up to her was a different story, however, because she was curious to see where it would go. It was said in jest. It was said as an invitation. It ended up with Vortex in her bed putting her cigarette out on her tongue.

The day had started out quite normally. She had gotten up, gone to work, and carried out her duties without pause until she had the five minutes that constituted for her lunch break and could check her phone. Vortex had sent her a text - when do you get off of work? - and First Aid had dutifully replied as she crammed as much of her sandwich into her mouth as she could manage.

The next part was a surprise, but not unwelcome.

Perf. See you then.

Something in her stomach tightened and she had to put down her phone.

It was the quickest shower and change she’d ever done in her life. She dumped her scrubs into the laundry and grabbed her bag from her locker and ran. Had she kept her waiting? She hoped not.

Vortex was waiting outside, sat on an idling motorbike. She had just turned the engine off and was taking off her helmet as First Aid came down the steps and tried to not look too eager.

“I’m sorry!” She sounded breathless. She felt breathless - Vortex was dressed head to toe in leather and she’d popped her motorcycle jacket open and revealed the crop top she wore underneath that exposed her stomach and god she felt dizzy because the angels hadn’t lost their wings and she had a happy trail that-

“S’fine, babe.” Vortex was smiling at her. “Need a ride?”

“I. Uhm.” She swallowed hard. “I drove here.”

“Aww, phooey. There goes my hot date idea.”

“It’ll fit in my car if I take the seats down.”

Vortex seemed to brighten at that. “I get to be the passenger princess?”

Driving with Vortex in the car was. Strange. She wasn’t used to having passengers and she was even less used to driving with a whole motorcycle in the back - but the car was more of a truck that her uncle had entrusted her with and it miraculously fit, just like she thought it would.

“What’s a girl like you doing driving something like this?” Vortex patted the dash.

“My uncle gave it to me.” First Aid replied. “What did you think I’d be driving?”

“A Mini Cooper.”

Hmm. She could see the vision.

She parked up outside of her building in her spot in the car park, pulling up the handbrake and turning off the engine. “What did you want me for?” She asked. Vortex leaned forwards, hands resting on the centre console - she could smell her perfume, heady in the way that had her heart thudding in her chest, and tried to not let her eyes flutter down to her stomach again.

“I’m calling in that favour you owe me. Lemme take you out to dinner.”

“Where’s the favour?”

“You be seen out in public with me.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“It is when it’s me, love.”

“I don’t think it is, so let’s just say this is giving you time to think of one. Let me go change.”

Vortex gave First Aid the only bike helmet she had despite her strong protest, and she held on tight with her eyes squeezed shut as they sped through the city. Vortex was grinning widely as she helped her off of the bike, her legs trembling.

“Aww, you just look the cutest.” She teased, easing the helmet off of her head and dumping it onto her bike before wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. “Like a little newborn lamb.”

“Are you sure you weren’t speeding?” First Aid tightly clung on back to her.

“I’d never speed with precious cargo.” Vortex replied.

It had been terrifying. It had been exhilarating. She never wanted to do it again, but knew that she had to if she wanted to make it back home.

Vortex had surprised her with a restaurant on the quay, chairs and tables spilling out onto the boardwalk. It was still too cold to sit outside, but Vortex had located the tables that had the heaters that radiated warmth down to them like they were chicken nuggets under a heat lamp and did a surprisingly wonderful job at keeping the cold away. And, lucky them, blankets were neatly folded and waiting for them.

“What do you want to drink? I’ll go order it for us.”

“I think I’ll need a wine to calm me down.”

Vortex barked her signature laugh, First Aid feeling her knees go weak and that bubbly feeling flitter about in her chest.

“Alright babe - you a white girl? Rosé? A red wildcard?”

“Rosé’s fine. Sweet.”

“Ace. Back in a few.”

First Aid slumped down at the table, flicking the button to activate the heat lamp, before the situation suddenly hit.

This was a date, wasn’t it? You didn’t just take people out to dinner as a favour. Oh. First Aid felt her face heat.

And then suddenly catch a chill as she realised that she hadn’t paid any mind to what she looked like. Quickly grabbing her phone, she turned the camera back to face her and began fussing with her hair. The helmet didn’t help her case any, but other than that it looked okay. It was acceptable. If she’d thought about it a little she’d maybe have defined her curls a little more or made it look more interesting, but this was okay.

She was wearing makeup – thank god – but she hadn’t done anything special about it. It was the bog-standard style that she did for work, with the products that didn’t move for love or for money so it would survive whatever the day threw at her. It just would have been nice if she’d had the opportunity to try and dress up a little bit for her. Vortex looked hot, but then she always did to her. Especially so when she had blood on her. Christ, especially so. She quickly put her phone down and away so she didn’t let that train of thought depart from the station.

Vortex was very well behaved. Surprisingly so - First Aid was impressed. She leaned her chin into her palm as she swirled the last of her wine in her glass - she’d only had just the one, she had work in the morning - and twisted to look at her. They were sat on the same side of the table, a blanket strewn over both of their shoulders. Their knees were pressed together, heat radiating up from the point of connection.

“This is a date, isn’t it.” She asked. The pizza they’d shared sat between them, trace remnants of it the only thing left behind. Vortex mirrored her posture.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Makes me feel less awkward about the way I want you.” Her hand slipped onto her thigh, a thrill going through First Aid at how the tips of her fingers dug in. She did the only thing she could think of and kissed her. Vortex, initially surprised, promptly kissed her back.

The kiss didn’t feel like it ended until they fell through the doorway of her apartment - First Aid barely remembered the ride back. The door locked behind them as it closed, spit connecting them. Their hands were buried in the others hair, holding the other close.

“You okay with where this is going?” First Aid breathlessly asked. Vortex responded by picking her up, wrapping her thighs around her waist and leaning forwards to whisper into her ear.

“Tell me where you want me.”

First Aid felt dizzy and pointed to her bedroom.

-------------------------------

Vortex didn’t turn up the next week. This was normal - Vortex simply rotated through locations with the rest of her team. She did it regularly and it wasn’t the first time. First Aid didn’t know what to expect, though. Maybe that she’d say something to her now? They had each other’s numbers. They’d messaged each other before. And, dare she say it, they had both enjoyed a very wonderful evening together.

Two weeks. Nothing.

First Aid had the sinking feeling that maybe Vortex had just seen her as a conquest and she had put too much thought and investment into it. Just because they’d had sex it didn’t mean anything. She could have just been a one night stand, a passing stranger who’d caught her eye only enough to make for an interesting story to tell at parties.

Three. Still nothing.

She had only cried about it a little bit over a bottle of wine. Had she been too easy? God, she was useless.

It was a stupid slip of the tongue that gave away the fact she was working as an unlicensed medic on the side. Ratchet found out about the fighting ring when her parents asked her if she was free to come to a family get together, and when he was sat next to her she had said that she was busy working. Her uncle had frowned at her and said that she wasn’t on the rota. First Aid couldn’t come up with lies about a second job fast enough.

A heated argument between her and Ratchet promptly followed, leading to an explosive one between Ratchet and Pharma at the hospital. First Aid had listened to it from outside the door, heart pounding in her chest and palms sweating profusely. Ratchet spoke about her medical licence being at risk. Pharma had replied that it wasn’t his concern.

Four. Her landlord had also decided that maybe he should make repairs to the building, and she’d been temporarily moved whilst they took place. While she appreciated not being made homeless, she still felt aggravated that she didn’t know how long said repairs would take.

It was pissing it down after she finished work that day. She sat in the car for a moment and listened to the rain hitting the roof, noisily drumming away on the metal. The hospital had been hell on Earth. It felt like every idiot in the city had decided to get themselves into such a situation that they needed A&E. It felt like half of the city had turned up that day on top of their frequent fliers. She felt awful for feeling that way – truly, it was a privilege that they had access to the care that they did and people only went for help when they felt they needed it, of course everyone deserved the care and the attention they provided and she wanted them to feel better, but. God. She was so tired. She was exhausted. And she didn’t know when the axe was going to fall and she’d find herself without a job.

The new building was admittedly much nicer than her old one, but also felt much more temporary. The hallways were more external walkways, with wooden bannisters and wooden flooring and a roof that kept the weather away to a certain extent. It looked a lot like the kind of apartment complexes you’d get at hotels and resorts, only instead of luxury rooms they were small not-so-luxury flats. They didn’t have cracks or holes in the walls. She didn’t have to stuff newspaper into the gaps. There wasn’t a random breeze or suspicious stains. So First Aid liked them.

She was pretty sure she’d seen Vortex. Someone was talking to her on the street and she was laughing and smiling and tucking her hair behind her ear. It was down for once too - she’d only ever seen it forced into two twin plaits, and seeing it out and loose had her heart skipping a beat even as it sunk deep in her chest and an ache radiated out. So she was still around, then. Part of her wanted to give her excuses. Reasons why she may have been giving her radio silence. It was ridiculous and stupid. Vortex had gotten what she’d wanted from her, and probably in record time too. The world’s fastest fuck. Brilliant.

She was depressed enough to want to sleep in her car just for the change of scenery, but the temperature was dropping and she didn’t have anything warm there. Zipping up her coat and throwing up her hood, she ducked out and clasped her bag tightly to her chest as she made a beeline for the stairs. The puddles were already deep and completely unavoidable, water splashing up her legs as she power walked. Her backside was still wet from where she’d slipped in the car park at work and she wasn’t keen on a repeat.

There was someone stood on the walkway. First Aid internally sighed as she hoped it wasn’t her neighbour – she was sure that they were very lovely but they always wanted to chat for hours and she was just not in the mood for it today. She took the stairs carefully, the wood slick, and quickly glanced at them – they were sopping wet and taller than the neighbour was. So it wasn’t them – thank goodness. She just wanted to curl up in bed and mope. The last month had sucked.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me. Do you-?”

That voice was awfully familiar. First Aid had already stopped when they’d started speaking to her, but when the other person had registered her face they’d both stopped and stared at each other in silence for a moment.

Vortex.

Her heart twisted.

“I finally found you.” Vortex was shivering.

She looked like a sopping wet cat. Water dripped from her hair, saturated and heavy and beginning to curl. Her clothes glistened. She wiped at her face and tried to dry it as best as she could.

“Can I come in?”

She always did find it hard to say no.

“Go shower.” First Aid instructed as she opened the door. “You must be freezing.”

As Vortex showered, she rummaged through her clothes to try and find her something to wear. She was bigger than she was - stronger, taller, more built. She liked oversized tops so that wouldn’t have been much of an issue, but bottoms-wise…

First Aid couldn’t find anything. She grabbed a dressing gown instead and hoped it would be enough.

Vortex stepped out of the bathroom, squeezing the ends of her hair with a towel and running her finger through to detangle it.

“Aid?” She called.

“In here.” First Aid called back.

Seconds later she appeared, walking in and coming to a stop on the other side of the sofa. First Aid stood up, not sure what to do. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her there because she did and she had missed her so terribly, but she was still so upset with her. After a month of no contact what was she supposed to think? She couldn’t let her think that was okay or that she was fine with just being a casual fuck whenever she felt like it, because she wasn’t. Vortex stared at her for a moment before speaking.

“You didn’t tell me you’d moved.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d changed rings.”

It was petty. Very petty. But Vortex had just used her - even if she had been a very enthusiastic participant - and she felt strung along and very much taken for a ride. All that interest she’d shown her for weeks and it had simply evaporated the moment she’d opened her legs. Typical.

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

“Likewise, then.”

Vortex was frowning at her. “I sense I’ve done something wrong.”

“I think we had different expectations for where things were going. Your clothes are drying now,” she nodded her head to the kitchen door where a humming noise was coming from, “so you’ll need to wait for an hour, if that’s okay?”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to see me any more?” She sounded absolutely gutted and it was enough to make First Aid reassess. Was she serious?

“I didn’t think you were interested in me?”

Vortex looked flabbergasted. “What?”

“It’s been a month since I last heard from you.” She fidgeted with the hem of her jumper, suddenly hyper-aware of herself. She didn’t know why she felt so self conscious when Vortex was stood in her living room with just a t-shirt on, her dressing gown slung over her shoulders. Her legs were bare. She could see her underwear. “Complete radio silence after you got what you wanted from me. What else am I supposed to think?”

“Ah. Right. I see my error.” Vortex at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Yeahhhh.”

First Aid had had a long day and her already worn thin patience was beginning to fray. What she was saying and how she was acting simply weren’t compatible with each other. Was she just looking for a convenient fuck? Scoping out the easiest lay on her roster? It had already worked on her once. It wasn’t going to happen again. If she didn’t step out now she was going to end up snapping at her.

“Glad we got that sorted, then.” She tersely said. “Just stay here and don’t touch anything, okay? I’m going to get changed.” Her own clothes were still wet from the rain and she quite wanted to get out of them.

“Wait, Aid,” Vortex stepped out to grab her wrist as she went by, the berth she gave her not quite wide enough. “I’m sorry, yeah? I’m not. Uhm.” She was going a most wonderful shade of pink. “I like you a lot and I don't know what I'm doing, and I…”

She wanted to believe her. She really, really did.

“And your first instinct was to pretend I didn’t exist?”

“Not my finest.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

She wasn’t doing this when she could feel her trousers sticking to her legs. Snatching her wrist back, she marched to her bedroom and began the task of peeling off her wet clothes. They sat in a pile on her floor as she got her pyjamas on, and she scooped them up to dump them straight into the laundry basket to go into the washing machine as soon as the dryer was done.

Vortex was in the kitchen, crouched in front of the dryer and watching her clothes spin. She seemed to be sulking, but First Aid couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. It still stung.

“I live with a bunch of emotionally stunted men, you know. I thought I was different. ‘As long as I’m not like them I’m fine’, yanno? And then I’m just the same? Man, that bites.”

She didn’t know what to do. If she continued to give her the cold shoulder then they’d never sort out whatever it was that they had going on with each other. If she extended an olive branch, it would just tell her that she could do it again and all would be forgiven.

She knelt down on the floor next to her and joined her in watching the clothes go around. Vortex had looked so pathetic when she’d found her, soaked through and shaking with pale lips and pallid skin. How long had she been out there for? The shower had helped, colour had returned to her face and her flat was warm enough that she didn’t seem to mind only her core being warmed. Was she being polite because she knew she was already on thin ice?

“Did you want to try again?” First Aid asked. Fine. One chance - she’d give her one chance.

Vortex was careful to protect her head so she didn’t catch it on the handles of the kitchen cupboards as she kissed her.

Waking up the next morning seemed like an almost impossible task. There was a warm and pleasant weight strewn over her and she didn’t much want to come out from underneath it. She curled into it instead, the lump groaning and twisting to press its face into her neck. Lips brushed against the tender skin and she sighed happily, head tilting back into her pillow to allow for better access.

“What time is it?” Vortex’s voice was still thick with sleep as she sat up, eyes narrowed as she looked for her phone. The t-shirt she’d given her was rumpled and pulled down too far at the front, exposing her collar and the red marks that were peppered along it. Oops.

“Mm. I don’t know.” First Aid rolled over to be on her front and stretched. There was a deep, pleasant ache that permeated everything. The curtains were still drawn, the soft glow of an early morning sun shining through. Apparently yesterday’s storm had passed, the sun managing to break through the clouds.

Vortex located her phone and tersely tutted. “Six missed calls? That’s a bit excessive.”

“Who’s calling you?”

“Ons.” She yawned and stretched, falling back down into bed again and settling in as if going back to sleep. “Ugh. I don’t wanna get up.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Mmhm.” Vortex miserably replied. She cracked an eye open and looked at her. “Wanna pull a sickie?”

“Tragically I can’t either.” First Aid sighed. “I need to keep up my hours.”

“Shame.”

Vortex took her clothes from the dryer - they’d never gotten round to taking them out last night - and got changed in the bedroom. First Aid thought she must have been doing it on purpose - making her watch her undress and slowly pull her clothes back on again, making her eyes follow the lines her nails had raked across her back and the marks she’d left at her throat.

She checked the time on her phone and hummed.

“I’ve got time.”

“I can quickly make you a coffee-?” First Aid began to offer, too distracted to think of it earlier, when Vortex was kneeling down on the bed and pushing the duvet out of the way, pulling her closer by the thighs and leaning into her as she kissed her. First Aid’s hands tangled in her hair as she rolled her hips up into hers, gasping and moaning and-

Vortex’s phone loudly vibrated on the bedside table. She pulled away and rolled her eyes, blindly grabbing it and checking the caller ID.

Onslaught. She sighed and sat back, First Aid’s thighs still wrapped around her hips, and answered.

“Yell’ow?”

It was quiet, but First Aid could hear Onslaught on the other end.

“Where the hell are you? We were about to start checking ditches.”

“I’m fine. About to head to the office, actually.” She ran her free hand over First Aid’s thigh and squeezed. Onslaughts reply was obscured by the pounding of her heart in her ears and how she wanted that hand to go higher, please go higher my god-

Vortex laughed and dragged her nails along her inner thigh and First Aid had to bite her hand. Shit! Oh, she was never going to forgive her if she went radio silent again. She was never going to forget her.

The call must have ended because both of her hands were on her thighs again.

“What’re you doing tomorrow evening?”

You, hopefully.

She’d had to give the thought a moment to pass so she didn’t say it out loud.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Good! I’ll call you. Make sure you pick up.”

Her head spun as she nodded.

#transformers #texaid #jazzprowl #writing #shaking this vigorously like a chew toy