Title: Transformers: Public Service
Universe: G1
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Author's Note: This is for the Flash Fan Fiction Friday theme "Heat." There's two types of heat here, the literal and figurative. Word count: 244
Sunstreaker turned to Sideswipe and held up three fingers. Mouthing the words as he retracted fingers, he began a countdown: three … two … one ….
"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, report to my office. Now."
"I wonder if Prowl does it on purpose," Sunstreaker said, shaking his head, "or if he's unconsciously timing his messages exactly a half-breem apart." After a few summons, the bothers had noticed the pattern. After eight, they'd started predicting when the next one would interrupt their conversation.
"Think he'd get mad if we asked?" Sideswipe asked. He glanced around the cave system they were huddled in. The volcano harboring their fallen ship, the Ark, was riddled with lava tubes – perfect for the two brothers to hide in. "It's not like he can get any more upset."
"True." The yellow Lamborghini rubbed his finger against a dirt smudge. "He should be thankful. We were providing a public service after all, changing the locks on Wheeljack's lab like that. Letting him have free run of his lab? Scary."
Sideswipe smirked. "The public might have appreciated our service more, of course, if Grimlock hadn't tried to get in that door. What a melted mess."
"Grimlock does have a temper. Let's just be thankful nothing inside the lab went 'boom'." Sunstreaker mimed an explosion with his hands.
"Explain that to Prowl."
"He never understands simple logic like that." The yellow mech shook his head in mock sadness.