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[ops-meister.livejournal.com]

Standing backstage he chuckles with a group of mechs checking his paint over one more time, making sure it's perfect and pristine before he goes out in front of thousands of mechs to do his thing. 

Movement from the side catches his attention and he flashes a brilliant smile in the direction of one of the mechs hired to be his bodyguard for the night. His optics behind his visor scan the large mech, impressed already with what he sees and he extracts himself from the fawning paint mechs.

You must be the new guard. Nice to meet you, name's Jazz.

Which you might have known if you listened to any sort of music station but he doesn't care that his reputation might proceed him; a mech is a mech and he could care less about social standing.

He most certainly has heard of Jazz, as has the rest of the planet. Which is reason enough for mechs of his type to be there, doing what they do. Thankfully, Optimus is not one to become flustered the in face of fame. That would be beyond unprofessional, and he would have to hide it anyway if he did.

...If he were one of the Thirteen, maybe. Otherwise, Jazz simply receives a polite, professional nod, and a subtle gesture up toward the balconies where some other members of the team lay in wait.

Optimus, and it is good to meet you. We have you well covered tonight, and the others are in position. You're good to go whenever you are...ready.

He had been watching the painting curiously when he wasn't needed to watch the surroundings. It seemed like a huge fuss over nothing, even if it did make the mech shine brightly enough to blind in those massive stage lights. ...He hoped the sharp shooters could keep their view despite it.

His gaze flicks towards the balcony, unconcerned with overzealous or jealous fans or his security. Jazz honestly believes it's more of a fuss than is necessary but he's not the sort to argue about it either. He'll just roll with whatever his agent thinks should happen, just to keep the mech happy.

That's good to hear, though I don't expect any problems.

He gives the other mech a longer scan, admiring the strong frame and all those powerful lines. Jazz likes this one, more than most of the mechs that crossed his paths as bodyguards and he wonders what the other is hiding behind that mask, then makes it his mission to find out.

It's been awhile since he's woo'd one of his bodyguards to go home with him.

Well, Optimus, you're in for a treat. Pretty sure you're front row and there are plenty of mechs that'd kill to stand there.

He just nods, very carefully not reacting to the way the other mech is staring at his frame. While the star seems to be a generally pleasant person, and not bad looking either, he doesn't know the mech. He's here to guard him, not serve as hisentertainment as well...no matter what Jazz's manager included in the contract.

He was supposed to have moved beyond all that. Too bad some people could never look past certain functions of a mech.

...Well. Killing for front row seats is rather frowned on. I'm here to prevent that sort of thing, after all.

So it is.

He flashes another smile at the mech, not bothered by the professionalism except in thinking that the mech needs to lighten up a little. Jazz has no idea about any contract, his manager takes care of all of that for him, he just likes the way Optimus looks; no one can fault him for that.

"I'm sure you'll do a remarkable job."

Someone calls for places and he glances behind him before turning his gaze back on the other with a nod. He does really hope that nothing happens. He never wants any of his bodyguards to be injured for him.

I'll see you on the flip-side.

With a final smile he turns and heads for his place at the entrance to the stage.

No, no fault in just looking, of course. But he can't help but worry about the point in time it eventually becomes more than looking. At least the singer's good nature smooths things over a bit.

Thank you, sir.

He nods, motioning to the others as he takes his own place and settles in for the show.

When the guards are all in place he's shoo'd out onto the stage and the fans roar with delight, screaming ecstatically as he waves. It's a thrill to stand in front of all these people, a challenge to entertain them and as always he's going to try his best.

His gaze drifts along the front row with a smile, seeking out the handsome bodyguard he'd spoken to and gives Optimus a slight nod when he finally finds him.

How is everyone tonight?

Screams of delight answer him and he laughs into the mic, gesturing to the musicians to start the song.

♪ I've been looking for a driver who's qualified. So if you think that you're the one step into my ride. I'm a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine with a sunroof top and a gangster lean. ♪

How anyone can actually hear what he's singing over the sheer volume of noise that erupts when he begins the song is beyond him but he doesn't care. His cursory glance over the crowd tells him that everyone is having fun and that's more than enough for him.

♪ So if you feel me let me know, know, know. Come on now what you waiting for, for, for. My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode. So start me up and watch me go, go, go, go. ♪

There isn't much choreography in junction with his singing; it's mostly back up dancers and the the like. He's never been a fan of that sort of showmanship. If someone is talented enough they can entertain simply standing and singing. Jazz doesn't think any singers should have back-up but he rolls with what his manager says the crowd wants and if they want flashy; they'll certainly get it.

On the Chorus he struts a little, all part of the scene and makes sure to do it in the direction of the bodyguard. Optics behind his visor flicking once over the crowd before he catches the mech's optics.

♪ Got you where you wanna go if you know what I mean. Got a ride that smoother than a limosine. Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights? If you can baby boy then we can go all night. ♪

His visor cheerfully flashes at the mech in something akin to a wink before he returns his attention to the crowd.

♪ Cos I'm 0 to 60 in three point five. Baby you got the keys- Now shut up and drive. ♪

...what.

Oh for the love of- He can't stop himself in time to keep from pressing a palm to his faceplates, no matter how it momentarily prevents him from keeping watch. The scant amusement pales in comparison to the embarrassment - and dread, if he's honest with himself - curling in his fuel tanks.

That is definitely more than looking. That is a very, very large hint, and one that Optimus can only hope the manager doesn't pick up on.

...If Jazz hadn't wanted his guards contracts drawn up that way in the first place, that is. He simply doesn't know, and that thought...does not help.

Shaking his head, Optimus returns his focus to where it should be - watching the stands and guarding the celebrity. And carefully does not meet the mech's optics again for the rest of the concert.

The rest of the concert goes smoothly and his optics had drifted to Optimus several times through the rest of the performance, but somehow never manage to catch the large bodyguard's optics. Jazz isn't really worried about it; the other mech has a job to do after all.

He waves to the crowd as he finishes and heads off stage, shaking his head at the cry for an encore. His vocalizer is strained enough as it is and while he would love to go back out there for them, in thanks for their support, he doesn't know if he can manage another song tonight. He'd given it everything, like he always does.

Jazz speaks briefly with his manager, ironing out details for the next day and weaves his way through the mechs backstage to find his bodyguards. If he's going to get through the crowd outside then he's going to need them. Hopefully he can convince his handsome new guard to join him for a little celebration back in his quarters, otherwise he'll just drag one of his groupies along.

He grins as he approaches where Optimus is standing and when he speaks his voice hoarse but it doesn't really bother him.

How'd you like the show?

Optimus is already in position, in communication with the other guards as they plan their exit from the auditorium. The celebrity's approach is expected, though not likely entirely welcome. The guard keeps his expression stoic, though.

It was a good performance. Are you ready to go back to your hotel, sir? We are clearing the exit now.

Woah, no need for the sir. He laughs and waves a hand. And yes, I'm ready to go.

Jazz is surprised by the sudden extreme professionalism emanating from the other mech and he watches him out of the side of his visor as they start towards the exit. He certainly hadn't meant to drive the mech off; it'd just been a little song to express his interest.

That stiffness isn't going to stop him from putting out a few more feelers in the hopes it's just awkwardness. Jazz has no problem with being turned down but he wants to be sure before he finds someone else. He doesn't want to connive anyone into doing something they aren't interested in, that'd just be an abuse of his fame and he's not that sort of mech.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Right. Jazz, then. He nods to some of the others, who move into position, before gesturing to to the mech as the exit doors open. The lights of cameras and headlights shine in amongst the screams of fans. The guards outside hold the line, though. 

It was...nice. Very loud. And we're ready when you are.

Not the concert going type? 

He grins at the mech and doesn't wait for an answer as he's ushered out the door.

Outside he waves amicably to the crowd again and is more than happy to cross to the line and start signing things people shove in his direction. Jazz crouches to get optic level with a few sparklings and sign the things they have.

He would spend all night signing things if his guards would let him.

He follows without answering, and then begins the additional headache of keeping back a crowd of screaming, excited fans who want nothing more than to get a piece of the star - sometimes literally.

He doesn't know if Jazz notices, but the guards have to stop at least three different people after they shoved through the line, or were clearly glitching their circuits out.

But they stick with it, only slowly encouraging the mech along toward the street and freedom. It's their job to let him do as he wants...except when it puts him in danger or when the manager gets grumpy.

Some of his guards are more adamant about moving him along and he does speed up minutely. Without all of these mechs that come to the concerts, that buy his songs discs and whatever else they sell related to him now--he wouldn't have a livelihood; the least he can do is sign a few autographs after the concert.

Whether Jazz looks it or not, he is capable of holding his own and he is highly observant. He sees the mechs his guards stop but he tries not to let it bother him. A few crazy mechs shouldn't be an example for thousands even if his manager freaks out about them. Jazz will likely get a list of every mech that tried to get within reaching distance as proof he shouldn't be so lax but it'll go in the garbage bin just like every other one has.

He glances to see if his handsome new bodyguard is surviving the crowd of mechs and signs several more autographs before he's waving again to everyone, then heading the rest of the way to the road to transform into his sleek, sexy alt-mode.

Optimus maintains his position as a living wall between Jazz and the more crazed sections of the crowd until the star hits the road; then he too transforms and takes his place after him.

::Ready to roll out.::

A quick comm later, and the other guards file out, adding themselves to the convoy and forming a protective wall around Jazz.

The one thing Jazz dislikes about his guards is his lack of freedom to just hit the open road and floor it, racing nothing but time itself. Jazz's alt-mode is sleek and built for speed; he had picked it for that very purpose. He misses that, though he loves what he does, sometimes he yearns for the simple things.

His engine revs but he knows better than to take off without his guard and instead focuses his sensors on his bodyguard; the new found formality of the mech is strange. Most would jump at the chance to be his guard and even those he propositioned understood they could turn him down, several had, though in all honesty he can't remember if they ever returned.

Still, it can't hurt to try right? Hopefully, at the very least, it lightens Optimus up a little.

::Want to race?::

Damn him, he can't help but chuckle over the comms at that.

::...That, I am actually tempted by. Anything to get out of this mess more quickly.::

He makes no move to speed up though, even if his vents give an eager huff.

::But I could never keep up with you - nor could half the convoy. Which would defeat the purpose of us being here.::

Misison accomplished then! It's a lot more entertaining to have guards when they're in a good mood and not all businesslike.

Jazz laughs, weaving idly on the road between his guards.

::There aren't many mechs on Cybertron who can.::

He likes cheerful Optimus much better than bodyguard Optimus.

::Sometime I'll have to show you what I can really do.::

Innuendo? What's that?

He simply goes quiet again with a tiny sigh. He doesn't give up, does he?

::...Perhaps.::

He doesn't exactly sound enthusiastic, sorry. Instead he refocuses on the road, and surrounding areas, silently communicating with the rest of the convoy.

Nope, he has to try all his angles before he gives up and he's disappointed to get that reaction from the mech.

Jazz continues his weaving, likely looking like a scolded youngling and is glad the hotel is finally in sight. He wonders if he should apologize for being so forward but sometimes coming on obviously is the only way mechs actually believe it's honest. Most mechs assume he naturally flirts with everyone which makes it hard for them to believe that someone like Jazz would hit on them.

For him, it's pretty frustrating, especially when he really is interested in someone.

::Finally, man this trip takes forever with you slowpokes.::

Jazz chuckles as he good-naturedly teases them.

::Perhaps, but we wouldn't be able to keep watch on you otherwise.::

His reply is distracted; he's also in communication with the other guards as they fan out and secure the area, and he himself is putting his scanners to good use on the small crowd that has already begun to gather.

::...You're clear to go up whenever you like.::

::Yeah, I know.::

Transforming as they pull up to the hotel he only gives the gathering a brief wave and leaves them to his guards. He's tired after the the concert and he knows better than to linger while his guards are distracted.

Jazz pops in the elevator, putting in the code for the private suite that's reserved for him and leans against the the wall as it takes him up. There's a short corridor when he gets upstairs and only two side by side rooms. One is his and the other is for his guards, one of whom is recharging outside his door.

He just shakes his head as he steps inside, only to be hit hard from the side by a large mech that shouldn't have been there and as he's pushed deeper into the suite his hand reaches out, grasping for something to hold onto. Instead, the vase on the nearby table shatters and he winces as it slices his hand but tries to gain his bearings to grapple with the mech assaulting him.

Guards!

His call goes out both verbally and as a short burst over the comm. Jazz isn't bad at hand-to-hand but he's startled and it takes him a moment to retaliate with a nice, solid punch to other mech's faceplates.

Optimus slowly meandered his way upstairs, conferring with the other guards, checking patrol schedules, chuckling at the occasional joke about the most frantic fans spotted during the concert...trusting that the guards that had watched the rooms and cleared Jazz's path up had done their jobs.

He's getting off the elevator when the call goes out. The sleeping guard starts in his seat, but Optimus is already charging down the hall.

Open it!

The slacking guard fumbles for his key guard, swiping it - and gets a negative buzz in reply. Failure on his part, or is the celebrity's 'visitor' is three steps ahead...?

Either way, the truck isn't stopping. Who needs that door, anyway?

His attention is entirely on the mech attacking him and he cries out as the--stalker? kidnapper? Jazz doesn't even know at this point--delivers a punch of his own.

Fragger.

He sweeps the mech's pedes out from under him at the same moment Optimus bursts the door but that doesn't deter the mech on the floor from anything, leaping back to his pedes and at Jazz again.

The door pops out of the frame with a crunch, and Optimus is only slowed down for a moment. Taking in the situation in an instant, he continues charging forward, tackling the intruder around the waist and sending them both tumbling into a flailing heap, smashing a spindly chair in the process.

He stops in mid-motion, one arm still thrown up to ward off the next blow and watches as his newest bodyguard takes over. Jazz is immensely impressed with the sheer strength Optimus is showing, suddenly very aware of the size and build of the other mech and pleased with what he sees. 

Jazz staggers backwards to get out of the way, flicking energon on the floor from his hand, now is not the time to be noticing how perfect his bodyguard looks or about how much he really wants to get him in the berth. It's life or death here, though it looks like the other mech is getting it under control; it's no wonder if he is, considering there are very few mechs that size...

Do you need help?

He can drag more guards in here if so.

Optimus' grunt sounds vaguely negative as he wrestles with the attacker - the mech has a number of offensive mods, and clearly knows how to fight. But Optimus still has sheer bulk and weight on the assault vehicle, and by the time the other guards come rushing in anyway, he has the attacker pinned.

Then he whips out the energon cuffs. Pulling his arms behind him, he quickly has the mech skillfully tied in a oddly...creative manner. Not that Optimus seems to notice. It does the job, right?

When he's signaled no, Jazz just decides to stay out of the way and watch. His grin turns just a little sly when he sees how his attacker is tied up and he brushes off the guard that comes to check on him. His injuries are minor; he wants to be sure that Optimus is alright before he deals with himself.

Do all of his guards carry energon cuffs?

Jazz doesn't remember anyone else on the team carrying them, or being able to use them so effectively. As soon as things seem relatively calmed down, even if the attacker is still pinned on the floor he moves forward.

Optimus, are you alright?

Optimus straightens up, stretching; he's a bit scuffed up with a new dent or two but otherwise fine, and readily hands off the attacker to the other guards who belatedly swarm the room. The guards are quickly followed by whatever members of Jazz's entourage that might have been hanging around, clogging up the room.

...I'm fine. Are you alright?

He looks Jazz over, professional despite the obvious battle-purr coming from his engine.

You might need a medic for that hand - you're leaking. He did a bit of a number on your faceplates, too.

Can't have the star looking battered, can they?

I'm fine, it's all just cosmetic. They'll have it fixed in no time.

His entourage are all twittering worriedly and he waves off the couple that manage to get past the guards. His optics on his guard through the visor.

My medic will see to any injuries in my room. He gestures that direction, hoping that Optimus will accept the underlying invitation but if the rest of the night is anything to go by that isn't going to happen. If not, he'll just drag one of the other lingering mechs.

For once, he doesn't even notice or expect the hidden hint. He simply nods, too keyed up from the brief struggle to be worried, instead he's simply grateful for the apparent offer of a medic, and follows the directions past the crowd into Jazz's quarters.

His energy is high right now, still on edge and Jazz is just a little a shaken now that everything is said and done. He would definitely prefer not to be alone tonight and it'd be even better if this bodyguard would be the one sharing his bed.

The offer of the medic is an honest one though and they fawn over Jazz despite his protests to check out Optimus first. His faceplates come first, checking to be sure the metal is reshaped to the point his autorepairs will fix the rest and the wound in his hand is carefully welded back together, then he shoves the medic in his bodyguard's direction.

I'm fine, check him over.

He almost decides to wave them off, but in the end he sits and allows them to efficiently fix his dents and scuffs. The worst ding is a lightly leaking scratch above an optic, and it is quickly patched, thankfully with a complete lack of the dithering fawning that happened when they were working on Jazz.

It's a good thing Optimus doesn't try to wave them off because Jazz would hate to have to be adamant that the larger mech get looked over. It is sort of his fault that he got hurt, the most the singer can do is be sure that he's taken care of after right?

He shoos the medics out after their done and eyes the bodyguard. Finally! They're alone.

I'll have the mech at the door fired. Sorry, you were hurt.

Jazz reaches out and just barely brushes a thumb over where the scratch had been.


He lets the medics work with a minimum of fuss, taking the time to cool down from the short fight. He couldn't help it if his programming made physical confrontations a bit more...heavy than they needed to be.

Of course, by the time the medics are pointedly removed, he is suddenly well aware of what the situation has become. Jazz and himself. Alone again.

Scrap.

...It's fine. Just doing my job. If everyone had been doing their jobs you wouldn't have been injured at all. I'm sure the company will offer their own apologies tomorrow.

He keeps himself stone-still under the touch, not leaning away and most certainly not leaning into it. If Jazz is going to try and get him to do this, he is going to have to make it completely clear, fraggit all.

Probably. 

After a brief moment of hesitation he draws his hand back, aware of the stiffness of the other mech at his touch and Jazz frowns slightly. Was it just awkwardness, uncertainty or was the mech really not interested in what he was offering? Optimus hadn't said anything or reacted in an obvious no sort of way, even if he was hinting at it.

Since everyone's fine I'm not too worried about it.

His visor dims slightly, debating with himself. He would feel safer if the bodyguard stayed with him but if the mech isn't interested he doesn't want to force the issue. Jazz decides it's best to just come out with it; it's unlikely to be a surprise considering the hints he's been dropping all night.

Would you like to stay?

...Well. That settles it. It's all he needs. 

And almost like a switch has been thrown, he forces the tension to ease, allowing a small flicker of a smile to cross his face plates.

...Of course. I can see why you might be worried, but I think they should have the door frame repaired soon.

Obfuscating stupidity. He's doomed but he's not out yet.

His head tips, eyeing the mech and wondering if he's being obtuse on purpose or if he still really didn't understand every signal that Jazz had given him over the course of the evening. No one could be that oblivious. Could they?

He is worried, but not terribly so, the rest of his guards will likely be on high alert for the next few days but he'll still rest easier knowing one of them is right there. Of course, he also would like some company in his berth to relieve the stress of everything and he wonders how far he should push it to make it absolutely clear what he is asking.

That's not... the only reason I asked you to stay.

Jazz hesitates--what if he really hadn't noticed?--and then leans forward to brush his lips lightly over the mask the other wears.

With only a small delay, the mask automatically slid back at the contact, lips nearly brushing, and displaying a calm, slightly wry smile that completely countered Optimus' actual internal mood of resignation.

You did not survive going along with programming that went against your spark by destroying yourself with distress each time. ...And he was a professional, dammit. No sign of his displeasure would show now that the client had made his desires clear.

Ah. ...Another sort of comfort, then?

He gazed up at Jazz, head tilting as though he had just figured it out - the corner of his mouth twitching in false amusement, as though did not find the idea entirely disagreeable.

...I wouldn't exactly be able to protect you very well so distracted, of course.

I have other guards and they'll be more alert than usual tonight. 

A brief hand wave and Jazz really is staring at Optimus' features, happily surprised by what he sees. The mech really is just that dense? Not that he cares, now that the other has consented and seems to be rather into the idea. It's almost a complete turn around from earlier.

Sounds like a good idea to me.

Jazz reaches up and slides his hands across the broad, strong chassis, then kisses the other mech properly without the mask in the way.

...They damn well better be, after all that.

He makes a face, muttering, still displeased about that to the point that it breaks his facade for a moment. He wasn't in charge of the guards, but he had done what he could to coordinate them and was disappointed at the failure.

Then, his client kisses him, and he slips smoothly back into his role. Pressing into the touch, he gently kisses back, head tilting, while allowing Jazz control. It's up to him to decide what he wants or how fast he wishes to proceed.

Jazz breaks the kiss, though he stays in close and he caught the muttering.

Not your fault.

Then he is on the other mech again, another deep kiss and he lightly nudges the other backwards onto the berth, hoping that he'll comply. Jazz doesn't know how far to take this yet but every other time he's had a mech come back to the room with him they've been willing to go all the way; it's implied in his request. 

Still, the mech had been pretty oblivious so he'll just take his time and see where it goes. Spontaneity can be better than planning everything out in advance sometimes.

Hnn.

The reassurance is nice to have, even if he doesn't entirely agree. He takes his job seriously.

Which is part of the reason why he readily leans back, propped up on an elbow and stretching back on the berth. It's fairly obvious what the celebrity wants. His free hand goes to the smaller mech's jaw both deepening the kiss and encouraging him with gentle pressure.

He grins as he follows, visor bright with excitement as he straddles the larger mech and kisses him back. Jazz is thrilled with this turn events, considering only a few clicks ago he thought he would have to find one of his usual berthmates. 

This is better, way better.

How had he gotten so lucky to get a mech that's just his type as a guard? Jazz quickly shoves that line of thought aside; he doesn't want to ruin anything by thinking too hard about it.

One hand drifts up curiously to stroke at one of Optimus' antenna.