28 Hot Rods

Part 2 Daring

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

The argument with Arcee after the battle left Hot Rod cold. She could sure pick her moments, he thought. He hadn't been to the med bay to see Springer because he hadn't a chance. She wouldn't accept that. Yes, Springer was his best friend, but they had an understanding. Friendship was important, but sometimes duty came first. Like now. And he'd known Springer longer than she.

Hot Rod cared about Arcee, knew the potential existed for them to be more than friends, but sometimes, she was a wedge driven between him and his best friend. They'd been together a long time before Kup found them, barely surviving--the last two members of the Autbot resistance on Quintus.

After the fight, he'd gone to Kup's office, shutting the door, hoping to get some recharge, but Arcee sought him out there, too. She'd mumbled an apology, but he'd driven her away

He'd eventually found himself in the med bay, to check on Springer, but he was in recharge. And finding himself unable to rest himself, Hot Rod chose to wander the corridors of the city, and hopefully find some solace in solitude.

But it was not to be.

A restless Optimus Prime also walked the halls. Hot Rod came upon him staring out the window on the observation deck in the west quadrant, staring out at the night sky.

"I'm sorry," he said, stumbling upon his leader.

Seeing who it was, and realizing he hadn't had a chance to check up on the post-battle status of this particular mech, Optimus asked.

"You're unharmed?"

"Nothing that can't wait until morning," Hot Rod said.

"Ratchet will have your head and mine if he finds out you didn't get immediate repairs and I didn't drag you there myself, like I should, considering I'm your commander," Prime said.

"You won't find Ratchet in any condition to fix anyone, let alone himself," Hot Rod said.

Prime raised an optic, questioningly.

"I was in there a while ago to see Springer. Ratchet was face down at his desk surrounded by empty high-grade cubes," Hot Rod said. "Wheeljack wasn't in much better shape."

"How is Springer?"

"Spring's going to be OK."

"I'm pleased. He took considerable damage."

"He's had worse," Hot Rod said, letting slide any comments about damage he himself had taken in the past.

"Well.. ." Prime said, taking his leave.

"Yeah. . ."

Hot Rod watched Optimus turn to go.

"Wait," he said, reaching out at the same time, taking hold of the bigger mech's wrist.

Prime stopped.

"You. . .want to talk?" Hot Rod said. "I know it's late, but we're both awake but if you want to talk, I'll listen."

Prime nodded.

Hot Rod let his hand slide from Prime's wrist to his hand, leading him to his quarters.

---

Hot Rod sat on his berth, back against the wall, one foot on the berth, with his arm resting on his knee. He swirled his container of energon, enjoying the companionable silence with his leader. Prime sat in the chair from Hot Rod's desk, looking more relaxed than Hot Rod had seen him in a long time. Optimus refused a drink, which was fine with Hot Rod. Just having him near was enough.

"I should let you get some rest," Prime said finally, rising to leave.

Hot Rod shot up, dropping his container of energon, not realizing he had unconsciously put himself in his leader's path.

"Hot Rod, if you'll step aside, I'll leave you to your recharge."

Hot Rod didn't know if it was the energon, his nerves, or he'd finally snapped, but he couldn't believe it when the words came out of his mouth. Not in this moment would he confuse his usual boldness with the sheer stupidity and impossibility of it.

"You don't have to go."

Prime blinked.

Again, he didn't pull away when Hot Rod reached for him, this time pulling him down with him to the berth.

Prime, taking it upon himself to be the voice of reason, tried to think of a good reason to go.

"Hot Rod, it's been a very long time. . ." he said, ignoring the younger mech's roving hands.

"So?" Hot Rod said, pulling Prime's head down near his own, trailing a hand over a sensitive node in the other's neck. "Try never."

Optimus snapped back at that, raising himself up on his elbows, staring down into the face of the other.

Hot Rod brought up a reassuring hand, caressing Prime's jaw with a finger.

"It's all right. I'm not afraid. Let me do this. . ."

Prime continued to stare down at Hot Rod, torn between giving in and walking away.

He was Prime, the one who always gave of himself, never expecting anything in return. And here was one making a willing offer to him.

He gave in, sinking into Hot Rod's embrace.