Author's Note: This story wasn't originally intended to have a second chapter but after some of the reviews I got I just couldn't resist. I hope it hits the mark. =D
"Don't you think this joke is wearing a bit thin, Sideswipe?"
The red Lamborghini, instinctively donning his most innocent face, looked up from his energon to see Tracks standing there with his arms crossed, looking tremendously irritated.
"It wasn't even that funny to begin with," the Corvette went on, "and this is the fifth time. Don't you have better things to do?"
Sideswipe quickly went over his mental list of ongoing prank projects but drew a blank as to how any of them could possibly be affecting Tracks.
"Um, not entirely sure what you're referring to," he said with, for once, completely genuine incomprehension.
"These!" Tracks huffed, pulling something from subspace and dropping it on the table in front of the red twin.
Sideswipe stared at the object for all of three seconds before he began to chuckle.
"It's not funny!" the red-faced mech snarled.
"Yes, it is," Sideswipe countered, not bothering to hide his amusement, which seemed to irritate the other mech even further. "Where'd you find it?"
"In my quarters when I got off shift, as well you know! I demand you stop these childish antics immediately!"
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Tracks, but it wasn't me. I've been on long range patrol with Windcharger all day."
"You could have bribed someone into helping you!"
Sideswipe sighed and rolled his optics.
"Yeah, I suppose I could, but as a matter of fact I didn't. I'll confess I did consider something like this, but Smokescreen talked me out of it. Said it would be much more fun to wait a bit, letting you think we'd forgotten. Looks like he stole my idea, though, the fragger."
Tracks carefully studied the face of the notorious prankster, obviously trying to decide whether to trust him or not. Then finally he gave a small nod.
"Smokescreen, then?"
"Looks like it."
Without further comments Tracks spun around and marched out of the rec room.
"Hey, Tracks!" Sideswipe called after him, unable to stop himself. "You forgot your gift."
Left behind on the table, wrapped in black and white satin ribbons forming an elegant bow, was a brick.
"Smokescreen!"
The colourful Praxian stopped just outside his office and turned towards the caller.
"Tracks," he said, giving the mech a nod in greeting, "what can I do for you?"
"You can stop breaking into my quarters and leave bricks all over the place!"
Vorns of training and gambling experience allowed the diversionary tactician to keep a perfectly straight face even though he was grinning inside at the sight of the exasperated Corvette.
"I'm not in the habit of entering other mechs' quarters uninvited," he said mildly. "That would be Sideswipe's department."
"It wasn't him this time," Tracks replied, "I already checked it and his alibi holds, unless both Windcharger and Red Alert are in on it, which I doubt. He said he did mention his plans to you, though."
The unspoken accusation was very obvious and Smokescreen decided to be straightforward.
"He did, and I advised against it."
"You advised him to wait and strike later for better impact!"
Smokescreen sighed.
"Seriously, have you ever tried to talk Sideswipe out of doing something? It doesn't work, it just makes him all the more eager to do it. By phrasing it the way I did and postponing the whole thing I was hoping he might have lost interest by the time it was 'time to strike."
Tracks eyed the brightly coloured Praxian with suspicion, knowing the mech had an even better poker face than Sideswipe. On the other hand, Smokescreen was not usually mixed up in the minor prank wars that regularly raged their base, he just observed and took bets on who would win.
"So, not Sideswipe and not you," he finally said. "Who, then?"
"Could be just about anyone. Most will have heard about your little… blunder by now. My bet would be – indeed, is – on Jazz, though."
"Jazz?"
"Well, you did call his lover unattractive and boring, remember?"
Tracks at least had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.
Two shifts later the Corvette sat in an out-of-the-way corner of the rec room, furtively observing the third in command of the Autobot forces, who was currently immersed in a discussion with Blaster at a table across the room. Even though he had been mulling over the problem ever since his talk with Smokescreen, Tracks had still to figure out a way of confronting the mech about the… issue with the bricks.
It would have been so much easier if he'd actually known it was Jazz who was the culprit, but as things stood he didn't have a single shred of evidence or even a hint pointing in the Porsche's direction, apart from Smokescreen's suspicions and, well, a good motive. If Jazz wasn't behind the prank Tracks would make an utter fool of himself (again) by confronting him and that was something the red-faced mech wanted to avoid at any cost. Accusing Sideswipe or Smokescreen was one thing, but Jazz… Not only was he an officer, but it was his partner Tracks had offended with that infernal remark that now had come back to bite him in the aft.
And, to be honest, what difference would it make in the end if Jazz was indeed behind the prank or not, he asked himself? By acknowledging that it annoyed him Tracks would also indirectly have to officially admit that his remark about Prowl had been both stupid and out of line. Maybe that was what the mech was waiting for, a reason to order Tracks to apologize for the insult as publically as it had been uttered?
And wouldn't that be all colours of awkward?
Maybe it would be better to just drop the whole thing? Not do anything to draw further attention to himself. If the bricks kept appearing… well, he'd just have to keep throwing them away, it wasn't that big an issue. Not really. Much. The prankster would eventually grow tired of his game and then it would stop anyway, without an embarrassing circus.
Yeah, that was a much better course of action, Tracks told himself as he saw Jazz get up and leave the room. No confrontation, no further dents in his pride. Win-win.
Still, he couldn't help but wondering…
Jazz carefully hid his smile until he was clear of the rec room. The way Tracks had been staring at him for the past couple of breems had been difficult to miss for someone as observant as the head of Special Operations and he had a fairly good idea of what had been going on in the Corvette's mind. The fact that the mech had neither called him over nor followed him as he left was also quite telling, of course. For half a moment the Porsche had been tempted to walk over to the other mech and strike up a conversation just for the frag of it but in the end he decided against it. After all, he had a bondmate (bondmate!) to go and drag out of his office.
Walking briskly through the corridors his smile got wider the closer he got to his destination. He was looking forward to the upcoming conversation. As he reached the door of his bondmate's office he entered without announcing his arrival as per usual but once inside he stood attention and waited to be acknowledged, just like someone of significantly lower rank would have been expected to do.
Prowl looked up from his data pad with an expression of equal parts amusement and suspicion at the uncharacteristic and completely uncalled for formality. He could clearly feel over the bond that his mate was up to something but as yet there was no hint as to what kind of something it might be.
"Yes?" he said, a trace of wariness in his voice.
"Sir, Ah would like to report a case of misconduct of a fellow Autobot against another."
Normally that would have been a serious issue but considering his bondmate's behaviour and obvious good mood – not to mention the fact that Jazz, as an officer, hardly had a reason to report such things to him like this – Prowl was convinced this was about something altogether different.
"I see," he said, still wary. "What is the nature of the offence?"
"Repeated cases of unauthorised entry in a mech's personal quarters in his absence, in purpose of leaving certain items intended to cause said mech emotional discomfort."
"I see," Prowl said again, even more warily. "And the offended party would be?"
"Autobot Tracks, sir."
"And the offender?"
"Unknown at this time, sir," Jazz went on, face perfectly straight.
"But you have suspicions, I presume," Prowl pressed.
"Yes, sir."
"Any hard evidence?"
"No, sir"
"Any circumstantial evidence?"
"Some, sir, but not enough to press charges."
"I see," Prowl said yet again, his face just as perfectly straight as Jazz's. "Suggested cause of action?"
"Ah intend to keep the suspect under close surveillance until Ah have proof of his guilt."
"And if the suspect, let us suppose, has been made aware of your suspicions and decides not to pursue the issue further?"
"Then Ah would consider lettin' him off the hook, this once. If, as ya suggest, he is made aware of mah suspicions Ah think that would be enough to deter him from relapsin' into such unbecomin' behaviour again."
Prowl couldn't help it. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Very well," he said, finally putting down the data pad he'd been holding and instead folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "And the injured party?"
"Ah'd say he would prefer to let the matter rest, assumin' there's no further harassment."
"You are convinced of this fact? You don't think one of us should talk to him?"
"Ah wouldn't recommend it," Jazz said, finally letting his face split in a slag-eating grin. "Ya never know, he might decide to make a fuss about it an' Ah'm not sure the rest of the crew can handle any more out-of-character behaviour from ya at the moment, love."
"Me?" Prowl said mildly, looking supremely innocent. "I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Of course not," Jazz countered as he finally dropped all semblance of formality, went over to his bondmate and unceremoniously made himself comfortable on his lap. "Mah mistake."
And then he kissed him.