Chapter Text
Seventeen Vorn Ago
Jazz plucked at the guitar he'd rescued from a dumpster and strung with strings he'd scrounged from the same place. He was still missing one, but there were lots of songs he could play without it. Pretty well, anyway. He earned enough shanix to get fuel, at least every couple of days, and he was learning the best places to sleep safely. It wasn't anywhere near as good as living with his creators, but they'd always taught him to be strong, and he knew they'd be proud of him for making it this far.
One mech stopped to listen and stayed after Jazz had finished his song and would normally have packed up. It wasn't always safe to stay in one place for very long. Jazz busied himself gathering up his shanix – ooh, some people had left treats! – hoping the mech would take the hint, but they didn't. He looked up to ask if there was something specific they wanted to hear, which was rare but usually paid well, but the question cancelled itself in his vocalizer's queue. The mech was painted in the Baron's livery, and even a homeless creation of servants recognized him as a knight. Jazz was in the manor's park, which was supposed to be open to the public but risky for someone like him, who obviously didn't belong. Not as young and dirty as he was, and desperately in need of new paint.
"I – I – " he stammered, and the knight smiled.
"You're not in trouble, young one," the knight said gently. "You seem to have done rather well for yourself today."
"Yeah," Jazz said defensively. "I do okay."
"Hm." The knight looked him over. "You look as if you could be doing better. Do your creators know you're out here?"
"Yeah," Jazz lied.
"Really?" The knight held Jazz's gaze until the younger mech fidgeted and looked away. "The truth, now, young one."
"They're dead," Jazz muttered.
"I'm sorry. Was there no one to take care of you?" Jazz shook his head. "No orphanage or foster home?"
Jazz shrugged. "Their master kicked me out." The knight's expression changed, the line of his mouth become unhappy, and Jazz hoped this wasn't about to go very badly for him.
"I see. Well, we'll deal with that later. Why don't you come with me? You can get a shower and some decent fuel in you."
Jazz had heard what happened to young mecha who accepted offers like that and didn't move. He wasn't refusing, just – considering. Maybe…maybe it wouldn't be so bad, at least if the mech kept his promise to fuel him? It would be easier to run away on a full tank if he didn't get hurt too much.
"I won't hurt you," the knight promised softly. "No one will hurt you. No one will demand anything of you. I just want to get you cleaned up and fed."
"That's all?" Jazz asked suspiciously.
"That's all," the knight promised and held out a hand. Jazz didn't take it, but he did stand up.
"Okay."
The knight took Jazz into Petrex Manor itself, walking him through the kitchens and the back halls. Servants areas, which Jazz was familiar with thanks to his previous life. They then emerged out into a decorated hallway, and the knight led him to someone's rooms. Jazz tensed, but the knight only asked a mech with teacher's stripes painted on his chest if Lord Prowl was there. The teacher said yes and disappeared, probably to get this Prowl mech.
"I've asked for a mech your age to help you out," the knight explained. "I thought you might be more comfortable than with an adult."
"Thanks," Jazz mumbled.
The juvenile who came back with the teacher was pre-adolescent, just like Jazz was, and was also painted in black and white. He was in much better repair as well, and Jazz suddenly realized how dingy and shabby he must look. But Lord Prowl, which was what the teacher introduced him as, shook Jazz's hand with as much respect and dignity as if Jazz had been a lord himself.
"Welcome to Petrex Manor, Jazz," Prowl said in a soft, calm voice. "Ser Blacklight has asked me to assist you. Please, allow me to show you to the wash racks."
"Uh – " Jazz didn't have fancy manners, and anyone could tell that. "Sure. Thanks."
"You are welcome."
Prowl led him to the fanciest wash rack Jazz had ever seen, invited him to use anything in there, and then – most importantly – showed him how to lock the door from the inside. Jazz washed thoroughly, trying not to wince at the flecks of paint he could see swirling down the drain. He was in worse shape than he'd thought. Jazz let the automated polishers work him over after, even though it wouldn't help improve his looks much. He spent as much time in the safety of the locked wash rack as he thought he could get away with, then reluctantly went out.
There weren't any adults in sight. Just Prowl, in the living area, waiting at a table with energon on it.
"Come sit, Jazz," the young lord invited. "There's a light blend here for you. Ser Blacklight says this would be best since we don't know how long it had been since you had fuel."
It had only been a cycle or so, but Jazz didn't say that, just "thanks," and sat down. The fuel might have been light, but it was better quality than he'd had in a while.
"Ser Blacklight is honourable, as a knight should be, and sworn to protect the people of Praxus," Prowl said. "You are safe here. I promise."
Jazz didn't trust noble promises, but he needed the fuel, and it didn't hurt to be clean. He could see two or three ways out of the room if he needed them, and he was fast, faster if he had a full tank. Jazz could run on this for a while, which would let him either save up or hide out for a bit if he needed to. There were some treats, too, and if Prowl noticed Jazz sneaking some into his subspace, he didn't say anything.
"Are you going to stay here?" Prowl asked.
Jazz shrugged. "Not sure if that's up to me. 'Sides, what would I do?"
"I – " Prowl looked away shyly. "I don't have anyone my age around. You could be my…companion?"
Jazz was about to scoff at the idea that anyone might need to basically hire a friend, but then he stopped. Not only would it probably be a bad idea to mouth off to a noble like that, even a young one, but how lonely did you have to be to suggest it? Besides, next to the Baron's kid was probably the safest place he was could be. Right?
"Yeah," Jazz said slowly. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I could stay for a while, at least if it's okay with your creator."
Prowl looked excited, behaving like an actual kid instead of a miniature adult for the first time. "I'm going to comm him and ask right away! I'm sure he'll say 'yes.'"
Jazz wasn't as sure as Prowl that a Baron would be okay with his heir adopting a street kid like a lost cyber-kitten. But at least, Jazz thought, he'd be able to fuel up before Prowl got told 'no.' It'd be a good break at least, however long it lasted.
Present Day
Real dating wasn't much different from what fake dating had been, but Jazz definitely felt some difference. He knew what the end game was going to be, of course: Prowl and Mirage would formally bring him into their marriage and wasn't that idea already setting the cyber-cat among the pigeonoids? A lot of the old guard wasn't happy about it, in part because Jazz had decidedly lower-class origins. But a lot more people found it romantic that he'd 'risen from nothing' (their words, not his, and when they'd thought he couldn't hear) won the sparks of not one but two nobles.
"I know what they say," Mirage had murmured to him one night as they took a turn around the floor at some noble or another's ball. "Does it bother you? A few words in the right audials, I can turn it to advantage."
"Probably the question I should be asking you," Jazz replied, keeping his voice down. "M'carrier was a junior clerk, my ignis was a musician. Servant-class, both working for a minor house at that. I should've never got in shouting distance of a knighthood, never mind everything else."
"It doesn't bother me," Mirage assured him. He bent closer to Jazz and almost whispered, "but perhaps I should find a way to prove it to everyone else."
The song came to a close, and Jazz gave his court-mate a kiss – and yeah, he'd been damn right about Mirage being a good kisser, even if this was just a short thing. "Can't wait to see what you come up with, handsome."
It wasn't just Mirage that came up with something, as it turned out. It was Prowl too.
"We want to endow a scholarship in your creators' names," Prowl explained to him, in a meeting in Prowl's private office. "If you approve."
"We want to show we find no need to hide your origins," Mirage added. "That we honour them, in fact."
Jazz sat for a moment, looking between them. Prowl'd never done it, but most upper-class and nobles wanted to pretend the captain of the Baron's guard, maybe on his way to a title of his own, wasn't servant-class. That he hadn't gotten here because one of the previous Baron's knights had taken pity on a kid trying his best to busk in the street with a guitar that was missing a string. Codex and Giacoso might as well never have existed, and Jazz been commissioned for his role from Vector Sigma. Jazz had put up a memorial plaque in the Temple where they'd been smelted back to Cybertron, soon as he could afford it, but this…
"Yeah," Jazz said finally, spark swirling with emotion. "I approve. It's – it's fantastic. It's perfect. It's one hell of a courting gift."
Mirage, sitting closest to him, reached out to take his hand. Prowl, probably nervous about Jazz's reaction, had been sitting behind his desk and using it as a shield. Now, he got up and came around it, also reaching out to Jazz.
"Mirage suggested we might make it more," Prowl said. He took Jazz's hand, and knelt, looking at Jazz anxiously and expectantly. "That it might be better suited as a betrothal gift. Jazz, will you - ?"
Not the way Jazz had ever thought of hearing Prowl pop the question, on the rare occasions he'd let himself fantasize about it. Well, except for Prowl going all adorable and shy. Like Jazz was going to give any other answer than the one Prowl wanted to hear.
Jazz leaned forward and pressed his forehelm to Prowl's before the mech could even finish the sentence, tucked Mirage's hand against his chest, over his spark. "Yes."
Prowl gave a little gasp, as if he'd expected to hear Jazz say anything else, and kissed him passionately, dropped his head to rest on Jazz's shoulder when they parted, and Jazz twisted to kiss Mirage, too.
"You really want this, too, huh?" Jazz asked, half-serious and half-teasing.
"Yes," Mirage said with certainty.
"Been pretty quick for you, though, hasn't it?"
Mirage smiled and kissed him again. "I've known you much longer than I knew Prowl when I agreed to marry him. I'm quite looking forward to being wed to both of you."
Prowl, slightly choked with emotion, spoke up, turning his head to look at Mirage. "He's also looking forward to the scandal we'll cause amongst the conservatives, I'm sure."
Mirage winked. "That too."
Jazz chuckled, amused as well as elated over getting to marry his court-mates. "Gotta say, I'm looking forward to that myself."
"Just that?" Mirage teased, reaching across Jazz to take one of Prowl's hands.
"No," Jazz said, putting an arm around Mirage and gently tugging him closer. "Not just that."
"We should celebrate," Prowl commented, not moving.
"In a bit," Mirage said, leaning into Jazz.
"Yeah," Jazz agreed, perfectly happy to sit here cuddling. He wasn't society-born, but he'd been around nobles long enough to know they were going to be on display and the centre of all kinds of attention once they made their announcements. Right now, he wanted some alone time with the mecha he was going to marry. "In a bit."
The last wedding Jazz had dealt with had been Prowl's, and he hadn't exactly been overjoyed about it. Watching the love of his life get married to a stranger? No mech was going to call that a good time! Sure, by then, he'd realized Mirage would be a good match for Prowl and wasn't likely to make Prowl miserable, but still. Jazz sure hadn't even thought about Mirage being a good match for him, too. Mech was beautiful – Towers-built, so no surprise there – smart, and had a surprisingly un-Towers-like sense of humour. Prowl had chosen well when he'd contracted for a spouse, and it turned out that he and Jazz had similar taste in partners. On the transport, Jazz had started to think he'd probably be able to at least get along with Mirage, which was going to be necessary. Jazz was an essential member of Prowl's inner circle and wasn't going anywhere. Even if Mirage had turned out to be just the arm-goodie that a lot of people had expected him to be, Jazz would have had to deal with him at some point.
Mirage had turned out to be much, much better than that. Jazz adored the mech and was not sorry, not one bit that getting to marry Prowl – something he'd given up on barely out of his adult upgrades – meant that he'd marry Mirage as well.
Jazz wasn't going to be a Baron like his spouses-to-be were, though. There was no law preventing someone from having multiple spouses, but tradition ran strong in Praxus, and there had been a lot of grumbling about having three Barons. Prowl would have granted Jazz the title if he'd really wanted it, no matter what some of his court thought, but Jazz was happy without it. Besides, he'd pointed out, it helped show that Jazz was there for Prowl and Mirage and not the title that came with them. Prowl stubbornly insisted he have a title, and Mirage had dug up the title of Lord Consort as a compromise. Jazz already had a small estate thanks to his position as a knight and liegemech to the Baron, but this would give him a more substantial one.
He wasn't Lord Consort yet, though. That was a few joors away. Right now, he was getting polished to a brilliant shine and detailed to within an inch of his life by his new valet, Silverguard. Silverguard had served as Jazz's batman on several campaigns before retiring with an honourable discharge to work in a high-end detailing salon. Jazz would have to look fancy more often than before, so he'd found Silverguard and hired him on. The mech was skilled, and he was discreet, and Jazz knew he could trust him.
Mirage's valet, Iatros, had looked rather impressed with Silverguard as well and not just for his detailing skills. Jazz was going to be curious to see how that played out.
"I don't think I've ever made you this shiny before, ser," Silverguard commented, capping off the polish. That was another reason Jazz liked him; he understood Jazz didn't want him to be subservient. "Feeling nervous at all?"
Jazz flashed him a smile. "Nope. I've been looking forward to this. Besides, you've seen the mecha I'm marrying, right?"
Silverguard chuckled and began to set out brushes and ceremonial paints. "Yes, the Barons are both very handsome indeed, ser. And I know you and Baron Prowl have been quite close for some time."
"Yeah," Jazz said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Since we were kids. I sure didn't look like this when we met, though."
Silverguard nodded, carefully painting glyphs on Jazz's pauldrons. "I recall you told me a little of your early history. And of course, with the recent endowment in your creators' names I can guess a little more." He added, gently, "I know you don't have a family crest, but – would you like me to add a design with your creators' designations in its place?"
"That – " Jazz reset his vocalizer. He'd wanted to include his creators somehow but hadn't been able to think of a way beyond holding them in his mind. "That'd be fantastic. Thanks, Silver."
"You're very welcome, ser."
Jazz walked down the aisle without attendants and waited at the altar for his betrothed to join him. He could feel the optics of courtiers, friends, and nobles on him, but he wasn't nervous. Besides, once he saw Prowl and Mirage enter the hall, hand in hand, he forgot about everyone else.
'Primus, you look gorgeous,' he told them both via comms. 'Both of you. Can't believe I'm gonna marry you.'
'You're lovely as well, my Jazz,' Prowl said, smiling as if he'd forgotten everyone in the room but his lovers as well.
'You look stunning,' Mirage added. 'How do you feel?'
Jazz reached out and took their hands as they joined him. 'Like it's one of the best days of my life.'
This wedding was the total opposite of the last one Jazz had been to. His spark felt too big for its chamber, he couldn't stop smiling, and he was sure not going to get blitzed to try and forget afterward. He'd never meant anything so sincerely as the vows he spoke binding him to Prowl and to Mirage. Jazz had been afraid his hands would shake as he painted the marriage stripes on his new spouse's arms, but they were steady. The lines he drew were even, perfect, just like the ones they put on him. Mirage updated his RFID with his new rank, and Prowl attached the chain and clasps that would more obviously denote it to his formal cloak. Jazz waited impatiently for them to finish, then claimed his kisses from both of them, kisses that were far too short.
'Later,' Prowl promised, though he lingered in the kiss too, and then they were done, and the priest was presenting them to the assembly as 'Barons Praxus and the Lord Consort Jazz!'
"So," Mirage said as the doors to the baronial apartments closed behind them much, much later that night, "shall I leave you two alone on this wedding night as well?"
Jazz recognized the teasing in his voice and optics and grabbed his hand when Mirage playfully made to move away.
"No, you don't, lover," Jazz said, chuckling. "You're not sleeping alone on this wedding night! I wanna celebrate with both of you."
"Yes," Prowl added, taking Mirage's other hand. "So do I."
Smiling, Mirage didn't resist as Prowl and Jazz tugged him toward the bedroom.
In the morning, the new Lord Consort brought his sleepy, still-sated spouses breakfast in bed. Jazz had extracted himself from between them, and it seemed like they'd wasted no time in snuggling up together.
Adorable, Jazz thought and set the tray down on the bedside table. Mirage was awake enough to look up at him with a sleepy smile.
"Good morning, darling."
"Morning, beautiful," Jazz answered and bent down for a kiss. Prowl stirred, lifting his head and, well, Jazz just had to kiss him too. "Fuel?"
That got Prowl perked up, and he pushed himself into a sitting position. Mirage, apparently feeling lazy, curled onto his side and rested his head on Prowl's thigh.
"Room for me?" Jazz joked, even as he settled himself next to them, and Prowl put an arm around his shoulders.
"There's always room for you, my love," Prowl answered and smiled. He transferred the smile to Mirage, stroking the mech's cheek. "For both of my loves."
It was the first time Prowl had said he loved both of them, though they'd known he certainly cared deeply for Mirage.
"Both of us, huh?" Jazz asked, claiming a kiss from Prowl while Mirage pushed himself into a sitting position. "That's pretty good because I just so happen to be in love with the two of you as well."
"I did not expect to find love here," Mirage said, looking between Prowl and Jazz. "Or to love in return, let alone twice over, but I did, and I do. You're both so much more than I expected, and I cannot thank you enough for allowing me into your lives."
Jazz smiled at him, reached for fuel and handed it out. "I'm really happy we did, love." Half-joking, half-seriously he raised his cube as for a toast. "To us."
His new spouses returned the toast, laughing, and they spent the morning in bed, toasting and loving and eagerly anticipating their new lives together.