Settlement - Chapter 7

[heliopauseentertainments]

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Starscream/Prowl, past Megatron/Starscream

Characters: Prowl, Starscream

Warnings: No major warnings apply. Please see AO3 entry for full applicable tag

AU: Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage

Summary: In which, as part of a peace treaty, Prowl and Starscream are caught in a very, very unwanted arranged marriage.

Crossposting: Tumblr (first chapter only) | AO3 (ongoing) | DW (first chapter)

Chapter under cut. Please see AO3 for further chapters and the most up-to-date versions. Crossposting to DW takes longer.

Inspired by a series of cracky drabbles on Tumblr.

 

A window inched closer as Prowl waited on the window-washing platform. Soon he would be able to peer inside and hopefully snap some photographs for evidence. While he doubted Starscream would be foolish enough to leave contraband out in the open to be seen by everyone and Primus, Prowl had hopes he could at least get a lead on what he was smuggling for Megatron. Or a lead on anything really.

At this point, all he had was a suspiciously empty apartment, knickknacks, an uncomfortably friendly photo of Starscream, and hunches. That wasn’t much to go on.

Hell, it wouldn’t even get him a search warrant from the most lenient of judges. He’d be laughed out of the judge’s chambers. What Prowl needed was more to sink his teeth into, more to pull himself along the trail set in motion by that ridiculous peace treaty/conjunxual union paperwork. If only he could get his hands on that documentation and destroy it, render the whole thing void. Sure, it would force Rodimus and Megatron back to the negotiation table, but that was less weird than thinking of himself as no longer technically a bachelor. For now, Prowl was doing his damned best to ignore that particular issue.

As the window he was waiting for slowly slid into view, Prowl activated the camera software in his optics. He knew that no matter what it was he found, he would need to document it with greater detail than simple experiential memory would allow. He needed data that couldn’t fade or distort through the rewrite process of simple recall, one of the unfortunate flaws of their mechanical bodies.

Soon, he would have a view into whatever secrets Starscream was sequestering in this overpriced apartment—all on Prowl’s tab no less.

Prowl slapped the button on the winch controls to halt the platform when he came optic level with the bottom of the window, which was cracked slightly open for ventilation. He didn’t need to be fully in view, just enough. This, of course, wouldn’t be suspicious. Leaning forward with a squeegee in hand to complete the ruse, Prowl peered through the glass.

What greeted him was the view of a well-appointed apartment. The decorations were expensive, but tasteful. A large holonet screen was mounted to one of the walls. Digitally-rendered landscapes were hung about, some small sculptures of clearly Vosnian design were set on various surfaces. A photograph sat on a mantle of what looked to be a Cube team, though he couldn’t tell which one from here. It was too far away for Prowl to see too much detail other than it was a similar layout to the promotional materials that used to be produced for Cube teams before the War.

This was not the gaudy den of some wastrel like he’d expected, with the exception of an entire pack of turbofoxes also calling this place home. Given the lack of furnishing destruction, they must have been fairly well trained. Several lounged in purpose-made beds on the floor. Two were wrestling and playfully nipping at each other’s ears.

Though the purposefully-placed decor was tasteful, that didn’t stop the room he could see from also being… rather lived in. It wasn’t messy exactly, but Prowl would call it disorganized. Things that were clearly used regularly, like bottles of polish, pots of wax, and datapads were everywhere one might thoughtlessly set something aside when finished with it.

“Now, is that included in my subletting services contract for Thunderhoof or is that separate for this location?”

Starscream’s high-pitched voice caught his attention, drawing his optic to the corner of the room where the seeker stood by the apartment’s front door with… that purple mech from before, from the advertisements.

Cyclonus of Tetrahex. That was his name, yes.

Another mech stood nearby, a white minibot, arms crossed while Cyclonus calmly perused something on a datapad in his hand. Prowl didn’t know that minibot’s designation, but he recalled his face from that advertisement. Another one of Whirl’s hooligan friends, no doubt.

“Yes,” Cyclonus started, looking up from whatever he had been reading, “that would be separate because it is a separate location, but seeing as you already have a contract in good-standing through our firm, we can offer a 30% discount on security services for your primary residence.”

A turbofox, with dark green, almost black plating, approached the minibot, who reached out a hand for the mechanimal to sniff.

“Well, now, aren’t you friendly?” he said, scratching behind the turbofox’s ears after being given a happy bark. “What’s his name?”

“Bruticus,” Starscream answered, not visibly bothered by the interaction. Perhaps he didn’t care if one of his vicious creatures took off someone’s arm or maybe his turbofoxes were, in fact, as tame as they looked.

“Aw, what a shame. I was hoping it would be Mr. Mittens.” The minibot shrugged. “Good boy, Bruticus, what a good boy.”

Cyclonus cleared his vocalizer with a cough, presumably to bring the focus back to the transaction.

“I was hoping for more than 30% but that is already a sizable discount. Well, I suppose I’ll take what I can get. You’ve got a deal.”

Red optics suddenly looked towards the window. Prowl tried to duck but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid being seen, his gaze locking momentarily with Starscream’s.

“Do you mind starting immediately? It seems I have a peeping tom problem.”

“Of course,” Cyclonus said, jotting something down on the datapad before pointing at the window. “Tailgate, if you would please.”

“No problem!” The minibot, who must have been this “Tailgate,” smacked a fist into the opposite hand before running over to the window.

Smacking his chevron on the edge of the window in his haste to hide, Prowl dunked the squeegee into a bucket of window cleaning solution. Maybe he could fend off the little bastard with it, he thought. Before he could lift it out of the bucket again, the window was slammed open. A solid punch cracked against his cheek and knocked Prowl clean off the platform. A loud crunch announced that the platform would be following him in his free-fall to the street below.