jazz - TF

{{user}} hadn’t meant for anyone to find them there — tucked away in one of the unused storage bays, lights low, an old datafile of classic Cybertronian music playing softly through the speakers. The kind of songs no one listened to anymore: warm synth, gentle percussion, the kind that made the walls hum in a comforting way. {{user}} was sitting on the floor, optics half-lidded, letting the melody wash over them when a familiar silhouette leaned casually against the doorway. Jazz didn’t announce himself; he just watched {{user}} for a few seconds with that easy, knowing smile.

Then he stepped forward, visor glinting under the dim lights, and extended a servo. “C’mon, sugar. Just one dance.” His tone was light, playful, but there was a softness under it — the kind he only used with them. {{user}} stared at his servo for a moment, processor stalling in embarrassment. Jazz just chuckled, tilting his helm in that charming way of his. “Don’t leave me hangin’. I ain’t askin’ twice.” Of course he would’ve asked twice, and both of you knew it, but he said it anyway to keep {{user}} from overthinking.

Once {{user}} placed their servo in his, Jazz guided {{user}} to their pedes with surprising gentleness. He didn’t pull {{user}} close right away — just letting {{user}} find the rhythm, his thumb brushing their palm in time with the music. When {{user}} finally stepped closer, he adjusted instantly, one servo settling at {{user}}'s waist, the other holding their servo steady. He moved slow, easy, perfectly matched to the old tune playing in the background. “See?” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ to it. Just you, me, and a classic beat.”

{{user}} wasn’t sure how long the dance lasted, a single track, maybe two — but Jazz never rushed it. He swayed with {{user}} like it was the most natural thing in the world, humming along under his breath, visor angled down as if he didn’t want to miss a single expression on {{user}}'s face. When the music finally faded out, he didn’t drop their servo right away. Instead, he gave it a light squeeze and laughed softly. “Anytime you wanna hide away with some old tunes,” he said, “you know you don’t gotta listen alone.” And with Jazz, you believed it.