I've had this idea for a while now, And I've had most of it written for a while too. I just haven't known how to finish it, so I decided to change it to human AU. That said, the time frame is the same as Cybertronian, but if I miss any anatomical terms, don't hate me.
Prompt: I found a picture somewhere that said something along the lines of "Why do people in horror movies always call out when they think the bad guy's in their house? What are they gonna say, 'Yeah, I'm in the kitchen. Want a sandwich?'" Or something.
If I owned them, they'd kill me so that I didn't.
Update 3/4: Thank you for noticing and pointing out the mistake RangerBlack. I've fixed it now.
Prowl was relieved when he finally reached the door of his apartment. It had been a long, stressful day at the precinct with several cases at standstills, not to mention Bluestreak's antics. He just wanted to flop onto his nice, comfy Praxian berth, close his eyes, and not move for a whole groon. That would be phenomenal.
But he had an early shift tomorrow. And he had to pick Bluestreak up from Smokescreen's and drop him off at the learning center. And he had to track down Ratchet for the autopsy report on the latest victim. Not to mention tracking down several suspects to actually get some of the cases moving again. Basically, tomorrow was not going to be fun in any way.
The keypad beeped admittance when he swiped his keycard, then again after the seven digit entry code. Most apartments only required the use of a keycard, but Prowl was an enforcer. He had seen too many cases of robbery-turned-murder to not be cautious, even when his caution bordered on paranoia. It was worth it to be safe, if one ignored the 'Red Alert's lost twin' jokes.
He stepped inside and the door slid shut behind him, making a perfect spot to lean on for just a few seconds. Finally. Peace and quiet. With a sigh Prowl pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards his office door. Then he froze, and looked back at the coffee table in front of the couch. Or rather, at the data pads on top of the table. When he had left at the start of the cycle, they had been in neat, orderly stacks, as per the norm in Prowl's apartment. Now, they were strewn across the surface as though a very small child had handled them. One was even on the floor, for Primus' sake!
Perhaps Smokscreen had visited? But Smokescreen knew how Prowl was about tidiness, and so did Bluestreak. Besides, Smokescreen had said he was showing Bluestreak the Iaconian Crystal Gardens (which were in no way as beautiful as those in Praxus, but still rather lovely), and that he wouldn't be back until very late tonight. Hence why Prowl had to pick him up early the next cycle.
According to his strong sense of logic, there was only one other possibility.
"Hello?" Prowl's voice came out soft, and he cleared his throat before calling again, more strongly this time, "Hello? Anyone there?"
He did not expect an answer of course. Criminals would never give away their presence like that. So the amused-sounding voice that answered had Prowl nearly jumping out of his skin.
"Yeah, Ah'm in the kitchen. Want a sandwich?"
Prowl whirled around to find a lean man with olive skin and blue-tinted reflective sunglasses leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, smirking at him. His enforcer training and instincts tried to kick in, demanding that he pull his handgun, find some cover, tackle the man, do something, but current state of shock overrode all of that and all he could manage was a weak, "What..?"
The smirk widened into a grin and the glasses flashed in the light. "A sandwich. 'S got roas' beef on it, an' fresh lettuce, and otha' stuff." Some part of Prowl's mind noticed that this man's accent was Polyhexan, and that he really didn't pronounce the letter "r" so much as leave an audial fill-in-the-blank. The rest of Prowl's mind was furiously trying to figure out precisely how this man got into his home without a keycard, much less the passcode, who this man was, what he was doing here with...a roast beef sandwich?
The man in question tilted his head, and his smile became a frown. "Ah gotcha some cappuccino too." Odd, the man's voice was quieter now. A small downward motion of his head only added to the man's slight air of dejection. "Thought ya'd like it."
Finally, Prowl's mind snapped away from exactly why there was a strange man in his apartment that had brought a roast beef sandwich and...cappuccino. Prowl loved cappuccino. And roast beef sandwiches.
But that was irrelevant!
With his mind back in focus, Prowl's self-defense training kicked in, and in two seconds, the other was lying with his face pushed into the hard tile floor of the kitchen.
But instead of jumping with surprise or struggling to free himself, which would have been the polite response to being tackled and having a handgun pressed against the back of one's head, this man just laughed. Laughed. Oddly enough, to Prowl's ears, the sound was laced with a hint of relief. "Ya could'a just asked, Prowler. Ah got it fo' you." Something told Prowl that the man beneath him was not too concerned with the expected politeness of such a situation. That, or he simply always attempted to do something unexpected. Prowl didn't want to think about it. He was already experiencing a dull throb in the front of his head from the earlier surprise and shock.
He really didn't want to think about how the man already knew his name. He hadn't introduced himself. He especially didn't want to think about how this man knew his favourite sandwich type (because yes, he did have a favourite sandwich type and anyone who said that was weird could keep walking), or how this man knew of his addiction to caffeine in the form of cappuccino. He would instead focus on more important things.
"How did you get in? There are no signs of breaking and entering, so it wasn't by force." It was true. Prowl had always been attuned to detail, so if there were any signs, he would have noticed them. "And my name is Prowl." Finally, Prowl's voice was cooperating with him! Unfortunately, the man beneath him wasn't. His low, threatening growl was met with yet another laugh, and the man easily rolled onto his back despite having the full weight of another man pinning him down. The action nearly threw Prowl off, but thankfully he was able to shift so that his knee was pressing into the man's abdominal area.
That had to hurt, but the man didn't show any sins of discomfort and he was still wearing that infuriating smirk. "Yo' apartment? Accordin' to th' residence log, this is our apartment."
"What?" Normally, Prowl would never have allowed his voice to jump like that, but this man was really getting under his skin. Plus he was still fighting off the telltale sharp stabbing in his head. "What do you mean, 'our apartment?'"
The mech laughed again. "See fo' yo'self." He had somehow managed to situate himself so that he could pull a datapad from the pocket on his black-and-white jacket.
Prowl moved so that the gun was pressed against the man's chest. He wasn't about to put it away. So he had to use the hand that had been supporting him against the kitchen tile to accept the datapad. Unfortunately, that meant he also had to straddle the man for security reasons, and just like he had suspected, the man gave a cheeky grin at the change in positions.
The grin was met with a glare, but the mystery man just chuckled in response to his response. How incredibly inconsiderate.
Managing with just one hand, Prowl booted up the 'pad, which actually did hold a copy of the apartment complex's residence log.
And there it was. Apartment C-591 displayed Prowl's designation, along with the name 'Jazz.'
It was too much. Prowl was both physically and mentally exhausted, and his strong sense of logic couldn't handle it. He felt the sharpness in his mind intensify so much as to nearly blind him.
The last thing Prowl saw before everything went dark was the man, Jazz, he was assuming, grinning widely at him. And he had been so close to beating his record, too.
Soooooooo...like? I don't know if I'm going to add any more to this. I could, but I could also let this stand alone. Idk. *shrugs*