Tea Time

Part 1

He was growing increasingly frustrated.

It built in him over the vorns, slowly increasing into a steady throbbing fire at the back of his mind, creeping into his processor, and he finally snapped after the umpteenth time of being in the brig for something he had no part of.

"That's it!" he snarled, cutting off his brother before he could begin some twisted conversation that was destined to keep them locked in the brig for even more time. No matter how funny it was to begin with, Sideswipe's jokes got old real quick, especially when it was Sunstreaker who ended up sharing the blame when he never did anything (except for that one time a very long time ago that he had actually forgotten about it). After staring at the wall, stewing in unfathomable rage, he had finally decided he had enough.

"Let me speak with Prowl!" he snarled at the guards, internally wincing as he recognized Bluestreak's doorwings and saw them jump when he practically slammed into the bars. Ironhide was less physically responsive, frowning at the yellow soldier from where he sat, out of the mech's visual range.

"Ya can do tha' once y'all's brig tahme is up," he said, engine growling.

He snarled his response, gritting out his words with barely held back rage. He hated having to resort to protocol, of all things, to get out, but he knew Ironhide well enough to know that nothing else was going to get him out of the brig anytime soon, even if Sunstreaker didn't believe it would work. "I have the right to speak with my accuser face-to-face."

"Sunny, what are you doing?" his brother asked softly, uncertainty in his voice as he gazed over at Bluestreak. Sunstreaker ignored him, trying to lock optics with the out of sight Ironhide.

"Ha, so ya finally decided to use yah brain," the Prime's bodyguard said, the chair creaking under his weight as he stood up. He walked in front of the yellow soldier, looking him up and down. "What's brough' this on?"

Sunstreaker would have sneered if that question had come from anyone else (except for maybe Prime and his own brother), but instead he stared back coolly. "That's between me and him."

That earned him a raised optic ridge, and the yellow soldier could tell that the older mech's curiosity was aroused. "…fahne."

Bluestreak looked flabbergasted, and Sideswipe stared in dumbstruck silence. The silence didn't last long, especially when the energy bars rippled and suddenly disappeared.

"Wait, what? You're actually going to let him go?" Bluestreak looked downright incredulous. "You do realize Prowl's not going to change his mind, right? I mean, he might and probably could, but Prowl ever rarely changes his mind of these kind of things, y'know?" His vocalizer died mid protest as he watched Ironhide begin walking towards the door, his face priceless.

Sunstreaker stared at the spot the energon bars had vanished, before looking Ironhide in the optics in what he hoped was a steady look. A part of him hadn't seriously thought the mech would do it, but there the mech was walking towards the door and there was no energon bars in front of him to stop him from following.

"The mech has his rahghts, Blue," Ironhide reminded him, as if he was talking about the weather. "Now stay here and watch Sideswipe."

The red hellion finally got his feet back under him at that comment. "Wait, wait! Don't I get to speak with Prowl, too?"

Ironhide barked out a laugh. "And what exactly would that getcha?" Sunstreaker knew without turning his head that the red mech was pouting, and he snorted at his brother's antics, projecting his sentiments over the bond.

It's your own slagging fault.

Sideswipe pouted all the harder over the bond and Sunstreaker rolled his optics, mentally shoving his brother away.

The officer's deck were a few floors above them, giving Sunstreaker plenty of time to think about his situation… and the more he thought about it, the more and more he didn't like it. Why would Ironhide, of all mechs, agree to take him to Prowl's office? Even someone who knew protocol and the Autobot's rights didn't side with troublemakers. Even Ironhide himself didn't do that. The benefit of the doubt was not something given away freely, especially towards troublemakers who habitually made it to the brig. It just didn't make any sense.

The only answer he could think of was that it was curiosity, pure and simple, but Ironhide had never stuck him as the curious type. That was Prime behavior, not Ironhide behavior.

When Prowl's office came into view, Sunstreaker put those boggling thoughts behind him. Now was the time to make his case, not to wonder about whether Ironhide was damaged in his CPU – he'd leave that to Ratchet. He gathered himself and it must have showed because Ironhide gave him a dark sideways glance.

"Don't do anything stupid," Ironhide warned, before knocking loudly on the door, raising his voice into a drill Sargent bark. "Prowl, Sunstreaker wants to talk to ya!"

They waited for an overly long silent moment, or at least long according to one impatient bodyguard and one frontliner, before quiet chime answered them and the door whooshed open, vanishing into the ceiling and floors. Ironhide hooked an arm around the openning, like he usually did when entering a potentially dangerous room, and gestured for Sunstreaker to enter with his other servo. Sunstreaker startled when the door shut behind him, announcing his arrival, and he momentarily forgot what he was doing there. He had never done this before.

Prowl stood bent over his desk, analyzing the light blue holographic display of the latest battle, which he customarily did for reasons Sunstreaker barely understood. Sunstreaker recognized the map and winced, remembering how they had barely managed to get out with all their limbs intact, even with Prowl's tactical plans. The twin didn't blame that on Prowl, though, because the Decepticons had an ace up their sleeves which the Special Ops team had failed to report. Besides, it wasn't a total loss, considering that the main Decepticon outpost they had been after was utterly destroyed. But, on the other servo, it hadn't exactly gone according to plan, which no doubt niggled Prowl to no end.

Sunstreaker waited patiently for Prowl to finish, knowing from experience that interrupting Prowl's meditation on past battles only added to his problems further down the road. Prowl was a glitch when it came to payback, especially when his work was interrupted. He'd rather leave it at that.

The tactician made him wait for a full breem before he set aside his work, turned off the display and turned to size the yellow soldier up. His dark blue optics stared hard into Sunstreaker's face, and the yellow mech recognized that look. He had seen it on plenty of other mech's faces, and it reminded him of just how much Prowl's battle computer took out of his systems. Prowl was almost always a tired-looking mech who was too stubborn to quit working the moment his legs started wobbling from lack of energon. Absently, Sunstreaker made note of the lack of energon cube on the desk. Did this mech ever leave his office?

"Sunstreaker," he said, slowly, with the same strength he always seemed to have, "you wished to speak to me?"

Sunstreaker felt his processor jerk at that gentle reminder, his ire suddenly returned, and he slammed his servos onto Prowl's desk in an explosion of anger. "Why do I keep getting blamed for all of Sideswipe's stupid shenanigans?" he practically seethed, every line in his shoulders edged and projecting just how dangerous (he thought) he was. "I didn't partake in any of them. Sure, I may have laughed at them a little bit more loudly than all the other mechs on base, but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with it!" He growled, scrambling to come up with some kind of defense. "He comes up with all those ideas by himself."

Prowl's dark blue optics flashed, but he otherwise did not respond to the mech fuming and ranting above him.

"I may have helped a little in the beginning, but that was a long time ago, before this slagging war got too far underway. I would never jeopardize my paintjob with paintball guns, paint-filled or tar filled balloons, or mice or organic matter, and I would certainly not waste my personal time sneaking around mechs rooms and rigging up devices like in that movie Parent Trap." He emphasized his words with pointed jabs at his own paintjob, which was scuffed and damaged from his time in the brig.

"I don't appreciate being stuck in the brig for something I didn't do, just because of-of a stereotype. I don't like being thrown in there, just because I'm the twin of a prankster. It's not like you get thrown into the brig because your bonded is playing poker in the rec. room every second Saturday, or because your nephew accidentally discharged his weapon at the native lifeforms just because one little beakface startled him. I didn't do anything!"

Sunstreaker paused in his shouting to glare at the mech before him, into those strange staring knowing blue optics, and he suddenly found no more words to speak. He huffed angrily and stomped down the urge to pace around the room, like a youngling who doesn't really want to listen to the lecture that was sure to come. This time, he was going to face that lecture like a mech and tell him what for. Rank be slagged.

"Sunstreaker," Prowl began, in a strange soft tone of voice Sunstreaker had never heard before, "if you did not do it, why did you not say something earlier?"

Sunstreaker opened his mouth, shut it and opened it again. Such a thing had never occurred to the soldier simply because…

"I didn't think you'd believe me if I told you."

The black and white simply stared at the soldier, their optics locked for more than a few long seconds, searching for some measure of understanding that words could not help either one gain.

Prowl sighed, his authoritative posture cracking for a moment. "Sit down."

It was said like an order and so Sunstreaker obeyed it like one, resisting the urge to twiddle his thumbs while he shifted into the chair. For some reason he could not fathom, Prowl's posture had a way of being subconsciously projected onto anyone else in the room, and Sunstreaker found himself sitting up ramrod straight without even realizing he was doing it. He might have noticed if his brother had been there to tease him about it, or there to put his feet on the desk and to remind him to break all social formalities.

"Sunstreaker," Prowl began, pausing, "you are aware of your rights as an Autobot soldier, are you not?"

"Yes," he said, frowning at the question but deciding to go through the motions for now. He had already said so many things that should have gotten him thrown in the brig had the situation had been so out of the ordinary. He'd rather not add to that list, thank you very much.

"And that those rights include the freedom of speech, the right to face an accuser, and the right to bring evidence forward in your defense?"

He shifted again. "Yes."

The tactician promptly pulled out a datapad and pushed it towards the soldier, giving the yellow mech a few moments to absorb the file.

Sunstreaker stared at the video file as if it had jumped up and done the hoola. When he finally found his voice, it was loud, high and incredulous. "You had this here? All this time!?" He suddenly looked up. "And you still put me in the brig!?"

"You said you knew protocol," he said, calmly, his optics suddenly narrow, which Sunstreaker guiltily noticed. "Am I to believe that you, in fact, did not?"

Suddenly realizing he was standing with his servos balled into fists, Sunstreaker slowly sat down.

"We record and file everything," Prowl said, since evidently Sunstreaker did not know protocol, "including evidence surrounding your deeds. We do not, however, have the right to review those files until the accused decides to defend themselves against the accuser. Files are then reviewed and evidence is brought forward to reveal the truth."

Sunstreaker tried to say something but thought better of it. Arguing with Prowl was like arguing with the Incinerator. Regardless of what you said, you were still slagged. Give up while you still had body parts and neural networks intact. He decided to simply accept whatever was going on here and take the way out as quick as he could. "So, I can leave?"

"You can leave…"

The yellow warrior was halfway to the door before Prowl could finish his statement.

"…or you could stay."

Halting more at tone than anything else, Sunstreaker gave an incredulous snorted at that, but stayed at the door, confused. His processor raced to understand what the SIC was saying. Prowl didn't bring something up unless there was a reason for it – a lesson the entire Autobot army had learned at one point or another.

He was the head tactician for a reason and when that reason became apparent, even Prime put on his obedience helm and fell in line with everyone else.

"Why?"

The black and white mech tilted his head in contemplation.

"I am sure Sideswipe has dragged you into his pranks on more than one occasion," he said, pointing at the video compilation which was stored on the file that Sunstreaker had left behind. Another security cliip was playing about one of his brother's past exploits, muted by a gentle reminder of something his brother did but he got blamed for."His escapades do not just affect the victims."

He gave a slow nod, yellow optics narrowing. "What's your point?"

"Would you like to get back at him?"

Those words made him forget his desire to leave this and the brig far behind him. When Prowl plotted revenge, it always turned out to be spectacular, and that fact made his interest perk much more than it would have otherwise.

"What makes you think I want to end up a victim to one of my brother's pranks?" Because, let's face it, Sideswipe didn't discriminate when it came to pranking mecha. They both knew Sunstreaker would never go too far when it came to retaliation for getting into trouble because that would only cause a prank war, one which the Ark might not survive. There was no win-win situation here.

Unless…

A ghost of a smile crossed the Praxian's faceplates.

"You have not left yet."

Sunstreaker's yellow optics glanced towards the door absently, already knowing Prowl was right. He sighed.

"No, I have not."

He had a bad feeling that he was going to regret it, too.