Parties in the Ark had never been fully approved by the command staff, but had always been ignored as long as the evidence was cleaned up afterwards, and everyone reported for duty the next day. Only Jazz and Blaster, out of the command staff, ever attended, or talked about the parties, while the other officers pretended they just didn't happen. In turn, the party-goers did their best to make sure the events were never brought to their superiors' attentions. They planned them by themselves, supplied them, and set up for and cleaned up after them. It was an established way to deal with the parties, and everyone had become used to it.
So, when Prowl suddenly appeared in the door to the rec room a mere hour into the start of the 'welcome to Earth, suckers!' party, everyone had to do a bit of a double take. Arcee, Hot Rod and Springer, the guests of honor at the party - with Arcee really being the original reason it had been thrown in the first place - didn't seem to understand what was so unusual about the second-in-command's arrival, and called out to him to come join the fun. To the still-growing shock of the others, Prowl took several more steps inside, looking as if doing so went against his very basic programming. He seemed well aware of the stunned silence around him, and with a grimace, his optics scanned the crowd. He seemed irritated when he evidently didn't find who he was looking for, and he made as if to turn and leave, only to have Arcee suddenly grab his arm and drag him over to the table that had been set up to hold the high grade.
"Have a cube, Prowl!" she said with a broad smile, grabbing one and holding it out to the tactician. He grimaced, but took it from her, and, with a defeated sigh, took a sip. Almost immediately, he spit it back into the cube, and turned a baleful glare on the twins, who grinned madly.
"Slaggit! I missed Prowl's first taste of the twins' high grade?!" the disappointed cry from the doorway brought everyone's attention to Jazz's entrance. The saboteur sagged as if disappointed, but the corner of his lips twitched, and there wasn't a single bot in the room who doubted that Jazz was behind Prowl's presence, or that the saboteur had bribed Red Alert for copies of the security footage from the rec room for the night. Sideswipe made a mental note to get his own copies by whatever means necessary.
"There's not much to miss," Prowl deadpanned unexpectedly, and every optic turned back to him in surprise or shock. The tactician stared at Jazz very pointedly for several moments before tilting his head back and downing the cube in one go. There was utter silence all around, and then laughter and whistles erupted when it became clear Prowl wasn't going to purge it all back up again. Jazz himself was howling with laughter in the doorway, while Arcee boldly took the now-empty cube from the tactician and handed him another with a flourish. Prowl took it with a nod, and the party resumed full force, Prowl's presence now accepted, though several mechs were already making plans about getting Jazz to tell them how he'd gotten Prowl to attend. Prowl himself followed Arcee back to Hot Rod and Springer, chatting amiably with the femme and ignoring the still-laughing Jazz.
Hours later, the high grade on the table was almost exhausted, and everyone was thoroughly overcharged. Most of the mini-bots were already out for the count, collapsed in a heap in one corner, along with Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, Tracks, Smokescreen, and Hound, who had been piled on or around one of the tables. The four attending Aerialbots - Silverbolt, as their team leader, was considered part of the command staff - had departed some time ago, claiming early patrols the next day, and the Protectobots had been unable to attend at all.
Now, only the three newly arrived reinforcements from Cybertron, Prowl, Jazz, the twins, Mirage, and Brawn were carrying on the party, though it had calmed down somewhat. Blaster was still somewhat conscious, but had long ago transformed into his alt-mode, his only participation being as a DJ for the remaining partiers. Currently, the partying mostly consisted of sitting around on the couches arranged in front of the TV, laughing as different bots attempted various forms of dance. Jazz was, undoubtedly, the best out of all of them, and for that was banned from attempting. Prowl didn't bother trying, even when Brawn taunted him with the fact that even he'd gotten up and tried (and was promptly banned the same as Jazz, only for being too unbelievably horrible).
"I know a type of dance that not even Jazz can do," Hot Rod said, sounding mildly offended as he flopped himself back onto the couch after making a fool of himself trying to 'breakdance'. According to Jazz, Hot Rod just wasn't made for that kind of dancing, but he'd tried anyways, and been subjected to laughter for his efforts.
"Really now," Jazz drawled.
"Yep," Hot Rod replied with a smirk, and Jazz leaned forward.
"What is it, then?" he asked with an air of determination.
"Lap dancing," Hot Rod said carefully, smirking. Arcee snorted from beside him before anyone else could react, and all optics turned to her.
"Oh, that's easy," she said.
"Oh really? I'd love to see you try," Hot Rod challenged. "No bot is made that flexible."
"Which just shows what you know about femme physiology," Arcee declared, standing to hoots of laughter from the others. Hot Rod scowled, and Arcee stepped over to him and leaned in close, placing a finger lightly against the front of his chassis. "We'll have to see about fixing that gap in your knowledge." she practically purred, then abruptly stood up and headed for Sideswipe, eliciting more laughter as Hot Rod stared after her in surprise and disappointment. The red twin just grinned and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back on the couch, fully prepared to enjoy this. Arcee laughed at him, and glanced over at Blaster as he transformed.
"Gotta see this with my own optics," the red bot said with a smirk, and there was more laughter as the music changed to something with a more sultry, seductive tempo.
"Understandable, since you'll only be seeing it once, younglings, so pay attention!" Arcee said teasingly even as she began to sway to the music. She turned her optics to Sideswipe, then, and moved until she was standing right in front of him, her much more supple femme build moving with the music in away none of the mechs could. Laughter stopped as the mechs watched with appreciation, no few jealous of Sideswipe as the femme closed the distance to the red twin, her body moving within inches of his, but never quite touching. The laughter seemed to have left Sideswipe, as well, and he watched Arcee with appreciative optics, his arms loosening behind his head.
Unfortunately, Arcee was more than a little overcharged, and as much as she focused on the dance, eventually her co-ordination was just a little bit off, and she brushed against Sideswipe with a scrape of armor on armor that was far from pleasant. Sideswipe yelped, and Arcee lost her balance and went tumbling backwards onto the floor, where she began giggling. The other mechs laughed with her, only Jazz noticing that Prowl didn't join in. The tactician eyed Arcee thoughtfully, then grinned to himself in apparent amusement, going back to his drink. Jazz considered very carefully - for about two seconds - as to whether or not he wanted to voice his next comment, and as Arcee stood and brushed off the laughter with an 'as if any of you could do any better,' the saboteur decided it would be well worth it.
"You look like you think you could do better, Prowl," Jazz drawled, and everyone quieted, even Blaster and his music, as they turned to stare incredulously at first Jazz, and then the silent Prowl. The tactician stopped sipping his energon once he had everyone's attention, and looked thoughtfully from Sideswipe, to Arcee, and then Jazz. There was a pause before he spoke in carefully modulated tones.
"Femmes do not have a monopoly on frames that can move in such a manner."
"But just because you can move that way doesn't mean you can do the dance," Arcee said, giving Prowl a challenging look.
"Actually," Prowl said, gingerly setting his cube of high grade off to the side before looking back at Arcee with equal challenge in his optics, "I can." There was dead silence before everyone but Prowl and Arcee burst out laughing again, only to stop at Arcee's response:
"Prove it," she said with a smirk, apparently firm in her belief that Prowl couldn't or wouldn't. To her surprise, Prowl slowly stood.
"Very well," he stated. More silence as everyone gaped at him in disbelief. Prowl's gaze swept the bots until it settled on Jazz, sitting curled up on one corner of the couch. "Jazz?" Prowl practically purred, and the saboteur just stared at him dumbly for a few moments before realizing what the tactician wanted.
"What?!" Jazz's voice was several octaves higher than normal, eliciting several snickers.
"I hardly think this would be appropriate with anyone other than a fellow officer, and as Blaster has to supply the music..." Prowl said, arching an optic ridge, and there were more snickers.
"As if lap dances are ever appropriate!" Springer hooted.
"Unless you think I should go wake Prime?" Prowl said blandly to prompt the saboteur, ignoring Springer, and there were more howls of laughter.
"Alright, alright!" Jazz conceded loudly, and with a wry look to Prowl, unfolded on the couch, adopting a position similar to Sideswipe earlier. "I think I understand now why you said you don't get overcharged very often."
"You have only yourself to blame," Prowl stated as Blaster, grinning, restarted the song he had played for Arcee. The other mechs, and femme, watched in a mixture of horror, amusement, and astonishment as the second-in-command began to sway to the music, his optics shutting off momentarily as he got a feel for it. Then they flipped on again, and the others watched as Jazz's face was instantly wiped clear of all amusement. The saboteur seemed pinned to his seat as Prowl advanced on him, swaying seductively to the music, an honest-to-Primus seductive smirk on his face.
Blaster's music was the only sound in the rec room as Prowl brought his body close to Jazz's. He didn't touch, stayed only a fraction of an inch away, as he practically straddled Jazz's lap, using the back of the couch as support, and moved in a way that should have been impossible. As the song continued, Prowl drew back, only to turn around and close to the same distance, still not touching. His body moved with precision, never faltering, matching the rhythm and beat of the music, and the audience - and Jazz - were left gaping as the song came to an end. Prowl stood almost immediately, and he glanced around at the others in amusement. He didn't have to say anything as he returned to his seat, still smirking, and picked up his cube of high grade again.
"Primus!" Jazz's curse broke the silence as he turned to stare at Prowl. "Where in the slagging Pits did you learn that?!" Prowl thought for a moment.
"Elita One," he replied finally with a shrug. "During one of the early lulls in the war, she got bored, and decided to explore incognito. Since it would be suspicious for both of them to go missing, Optimus couldn't go with her, but he sent me along instead. Suffice it to say that, in order to avoid recognition, we went to some rather...interesting establishments. I never thought accompanying your commander's bond mate when she learned how to lap dance would be part of my job as second-in-command, but Elita and Optimus are, to say the least, full of surprises." There was a pause, and then Arcee spoke up.
"Wait, are you saying that my commander knows how to do that, too?" she asked, and Prowl nodded.
"She's better than me, actually," he said amiably. "Shocked the slag out of Optimus, too, though I'm sure he enjoyed it once I left and locked the door."
"Oh Primus!" Sideswipe suddenly snickered, "Prowl, you're welcome at any party!" And with that, all of the party-goers collapsed into laughter, save for the still-dazed Jazz.