Side Burns

AN: sorry for the delay! This week got the better of me! Still battling migraines and back issues.

AN: No, I don't apologize for the last chapter, nor for my dislike of twilight. It wasn't my cup of tea, so to speak. Which means it was open season for riffing and raking over Unicron's tailpipe. LOL I had fun writing it.

Any errors is Wheeljack's fault!

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HUGE THANK YOU to Alexandra L. for her sponsorship. Looking forward to new and exciting adventures!

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"Get me out of here," Sideswipe growled through the energy bars.

"No. You are being punished," Prowl stated. One doorwing gave a flick. Most would have thought it was a natural tick, but those who knew Prowl well, knew it was a sign of amusement.

"I'm grievously injured," Sideswipe countered. "I can't feel my legs and I'm unable to sit down."

Prowl remained impassive to the prone form of the Lamborghini residing in the cell. "The pain is part of your punishment. You are to endure this condition for one week and then Ratchet will be cleared to repair the damage you have brought upon yourself."

"That's cruel! Vindictive! Unjust!" Sideswipe shook his fist at Prowl, but the effect was lost as the frontliner was currently laying face down on the berth inside his cell. "This isn't my fault! Why should I have to suffer the indignity as well as the pain?"

"There is no such thing as dignity concerning you,' Prowl said, wondering why the ruby warrior wasn't accepting his punishment so readily. Usually, he was pretty chipper when being sent to the brig. Perhaps sending him to his cell while injured was a positive step in the mechs rehabilitation for disruptive behavior.

Sideswipe sputtered, indignant.

"There is no one to blame but yourself," Prowl said, then amended. "And Jazz.'

"Not funny, man." Jazz griped from the cell beside of Sideswipe. "I'm the Third in Command. I can't spend a week in the brig!"

"Perhaps you should have considered that before childishly prompting Sideswipe to self harm, merely for your own amusement." Prowl retorted. He wasn't intimidated by the Special ops mech. He had put Jazz in his place many times. Now was no different.

"I'm injured, too," Jazz said, pointing to the blistered plating that adorned the left side of his body. "Slagger hurt me, too."

"Which he would not have done had you not instigated the fact, and caused this pain on the both of you."

"So, I'm to be punished because Sideswipe is an idiot?" Jazz asked incredulously.

"Hey, I'm right here you know," Sideswipe yelled, shaking his fist toward the voices. He wished he could be more intimidating. "And it was all your idea."

"No one held a gun to your head and made you listen to me," Jazz sneered toward Sideswipe's cell.

"It takes no provocation for Sideswipe to do something stupid,' Prowl said with a flat tone but his lip plates were twitching. He was enjoying this way too much.

"Hey, you said it was safe!" Sideswipe barked, his fist clenched in anger.

"I said it was probably safe," Jazz corrected, rolling his optics. "I swear you don't hear everything you're told."

"I do believe Sideswipe has suffered from selective hearing for the entirety of his existence," Prowl put in.

"Not funny, doorwinger," Sideswipe called, making a grasping motion toward Prowl. He had a habit of grabbing Prowl's doorwings at odd moments, usually resulting in Prowl registering a severe breech in sensory data and pinched wires.

"I now have to suffer because of someone else's idiocy?" Jazz barked indignant.

"I'm not alone in my idiocy, or have you forgotten you're in the cells with me?" Sideswipe yelled back. "Besides, I'm gravely injured. I think your sentence should be longer, considering it was your dumb aft idea that got me into this predicament in the first place!"

"You're pride is more damaged than your body," Jazz scoffed, waving a hand airily, though Sideswipe couldn't see the gesture. "I'm the one being punished for having faulty assessments."

"Shall I call for Ratchet and have him to deal with the both of you?" Prowl asked, looking between the two. He knew how to shut them up.

"No," the two guilty mechs chimed in unison.

Ratchet had already run an initial scan and gave both the all clear to serve their sentences before receiving repairs. After granting them a healthy dose of iron supplements, hence their matching helm dents.

"Good." Prowl looked from Jazz, who fumed on the other side of the energy bars, to Sideswipe, who was immobile, face down on the berth. "Both of you are remain in the brig for one week. Upon your release, you will report to sick bay, where Ratchet may do whatever he wishes to you're sorry carcasses."

Prowl smirked to himself knowing Ratchet was going to inflict all kinds of punishment on the two idiotic mechs.

"Slagger's gonna terminate me,' Sideswipe wailed, knowing Ratchet hated working on the Lamborghini form. The parts were difficult to find and the replacement surgeries sometimes required extensive hours and Ratchet's total concentration. He was always in a brusque mood after that. More so than usual. Even Prime would have his plating scalded by Ratchet's temper.

"Alright, then if I am confined to the brig, I'm not doing any paperwork," Jazz said, crossing his arms over his chassis and glaring at Prowl. Some friend. He was going to skip that Praxian's aft plates over a gravel road one of these days.

"Actually, while you are incarcerated, part of your punishment is to do all of your paperwork," Prowl said. "The fact that you rarely see fit to perform this duty has given you quite the backlog. I believe this respite from socializing will give you the opportunity to get caught up."

"Man, since when do we need so much slagging paperwork, anyway?" Jazz griped. "Never needed this much tedious desk work while on Cybertron."

"We have limited supplies, dwindling numbers, organic natives to consider, and technically are settled on someone else's designated property. There are many things that require attention that was not available on Cybertron."

Jazz scowled. Oh yes, there was definitely going to be a Praxian tailpipe skipping down a gravel road. Maybe a dirt road. One that was rutted, pitted, full of jagged rocks and partially overgrown with sludge like vegetations. Jazz reigned in his evil grin at the thought of enacting revenge for this humiliation.

"As added punishment, neither of you will be able to access the wireless connections." Prowl informed the two jailbirds.

"What!" Both screeched.

"Wheeljack has lined the cells with dampening fields. There will be no unauthorized connection to human satellites, media, or news feeds. No radio waves, and most definitely no time spent chatting with truck drivers."

Sideswipe grinned against the berth. "Hey, those truckers enjoy talking to me!"

"Then you may do so on your own free time and not while you are being punished, attending monitor duty, performing patrols, and most certainly not in the middle of official meetings."

Sideswipe's laugh was muffled by the cushion of the berth. "Oh Primus, that was hilarious! All those semi's showing up outside the Ark, and Red fritzing like a television with a bad tube."

"It was not funny," Prowl said, anger tingeing his voice.

Red Alert was on medical leave for two months after that fiasco. Course it was nice of the truckers to participate in a local charity race. Big rigs weren't allowed in city limits, at least not for extended parking. So the truckers had parked at the ARK, creating a vast trailer-village, like one would see one a movie set.

Prime had even volunteered to assist with payloads for some of the more overworked drivers. He had gone across country on three runs, ensuring merchandise was delivered in a timely manner, and the sickly driver could still earn a full paycheck.

"So, what are we supposed to do, if you took our away our radio, tv, and comms?" Sideswipe asked, suddenly finding the cell cold and foreboding.

"Think about what you have done," Prowl said.

"I did. Now what?" Sideswipe said, moaning when his plating started to burn again. The sensation came and went, the nanites clearly overtaxed with the repairs that Ratchet could have fixed up in a few short hours.

"I think the pain will be a good teacher, and this time will give you the opportunity to realize your actions have consequences," Prowl said, studiously ignoring the mutinous expression on Jazz's face. He wasn't gong to let this incident go. It was rubbing his plates the wrong way. Prowl wasn't deterred.

"Prowl, you're not my creator!" Sideswipe snapped. The idea of remaining idle, immobile, and suffering from a grievous wound was already making him antsy. It was going to be a very LONG week.

"I am thrilled to attest that I'm not responsible for your sparking," Prowl quipped, taking the bold step of smirking at the Lamborghini. He turned on his pede and started down the hall without a backward glance. "Your rations will arrive on their usual schedule. Jazz, your datapads will be brought to you within the hour. I will expect your reports first thing tomorrow morning."

Jazz glowered, curling his hand into a fist and smacking the energy bars. They flickered, surging with power to prevent their captor's escape. Jazz winced, flicking his burnt hand and cursing the Praxian lineage.

Jazz must have been voicing his thoughts, because Sideswipe began to add to the tirade, flourishing the potential retribution. Sideswipe's verbal echo was enough to redirect Jazz's attention, and like polar opposites, the two began to argue. Lewdly, violently, and gaining in strength, like a building natural disaster.

Prowl was glad there was a wall dividing the two brewing storms, lest their combined violence destroy the base entirely.

Prime greeted Prowl in the hall, his gaze directed toward the cells and the building catastrophe.

"Are you sure it is a good idea they are in neighboring cells?"

"Sideswipe is immobile," Prowl said with a one sided shrug. "I would be more concerned if it were the other way around. Jazz may be good, but Sideswipe is ruthless and relentless, willing to suffer physical damage to ensure his goal."

"Jazz is the more responsible one," Prime muttered, joining Prowl as he walked back to the main command center.

"That statement isn't always correct," Prowl mused. He sighed through his vents, shaking his helm.

Prime offered a hum of agreement. "Jazz should have known better."

"Sideswipe should have known better. Neither is exempt from displaying intelligence."

"Think they'll learn?" Prime asked as the two continued down the hall. He couldn't believe how much time his crew spent in the cells. He vaguely wondered if Megatron had such a disruptive group of soldiers. Then he remembered Starscream was on their side and the answer was obvious.

"I hope so," Prowl sighed. "Both acted recklessly and without thought. Not only sustaining damage to themselves, but potentially endangering humans who may have been nearby."

"Sometimes I wonder if the crew sustained damaged processors from the war, or Ratchet." Prime wasn't exempt from receiving a dose of medicinal iron. Ratchet made sure all were given healthy doses to ensure their health.

"Both," Prowl said, having received numerous hits to the helm. All of them due to Ratchet's aim. The mech was a sharpshooter with a wrench. "Maybe this time will allow them a chance to think about what they've done, and think twice before attempting foolhardiness again."

"At least the area was cleared of any more mines," Prime said. "It was lucky we found the first one."

"Yes, lucky," Prowl parroted, though he himself didn't believe in luck.

"Jazz should have never dared Sideswipe to sit on that landmine."

"Sideswipe shouldn't have listened to Jazz." Prowl corrected his leader. "It was his own fault he blew his aft plates off."

"And their injuries?" Prime prompted. He didn't like the idea of his soldiers suffering, but no one knew the protocols better than Prowl. Prime trusted his judgment.

"Ratchet said the repairs would take him a few hours, barring any neural wires that need to be replaced." Prowl offered a twisted smirk, making him resemble the Pit Maker. Prime faltered in his step but quickly recovered. "When they get out, Ratchet has free reign to do whatever he likes to them."

"That's sadistic." Prime commented, knowing his medical officer was a vicious as they come. Even the frontliners carried a certain amount of fear for the medical demon. Prime himself wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Ratchet's temper when he was truly enraged.

"They're idiotic. One of these days it may cost a teammate their spark." Prowl argued. He stood by his decision on punishment.

Prime frowned, realizing Prowl had a point.

"Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have reports that need attention." Prowl gave a formal dip of his helm and retreated to his office, where he could openly laugh his axles off at the craziness of his companions. He still worried over their lack of sound judgment, but their antics were amusing. Now, both would have to suffer the consequences…and blistered aft plates.

At least, until Ratchet got a hold of them.

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As always, reviews are loved! *even if they are disapproving and chastising* I get a sadistic kind of kick out torturing some characters/genres.

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