And we continue on. *smacks Deadlock/Drift upside the head* You're hard to write for, buddy.

Chapter 4

"Hot Rod? You here?" Optimus asked, dropping his duffle on the floor next to the door. He had braced himself for impact after ringing the doorbell, but he entered his home without the tackle hug he was expecting. Instead, the house was quiet and that was never a good sign when Hot Rod was at home. His son didn't know the meaning of the word "Quiet." Optimus rubbed the side of his cheek under the bandana. "He knew I was coming home today, right Magnus?"

"Of course," Magnus answered. He placed the rest of Optimus' bags inside the room, and closed the front door. Magnus checked his watch, frowning deeply at the dial. Magnus looked at his brother. "He said he'd be home early from school to greet you."

"Hot Rod!" Optimus called a little louder up the stairs. He leaned on the railing, and listened for a thump on the ground, or some sort of music playing—but he heard nothing. So, Hot Rod hadn't taken a nap waiting and he wasn't listening to anything. Optimus yelled up the stairs again, just in case: "Are you home?"

"Where on earth is that boy," Ultra Magnus said. He pulled down the blinds, and spotted his car still in place in the drive. So he hadn't taken that out. Was he perhaps with Blurr? Magnus shook his head. "He should be here."

"I'll call him," Optimus said, not wanting to waste any more time discussing where his wayward son was or was not. He opened his phone and dialed.

The harsh ringtone blared from Hot Rod's pocket, shocking them both. Deadlock darted his eyes to the playing music and the slight buzz from the phone's vibrate option. It was the police officer's anthem and it dragged Deadlock out of his angry daze. The gun felt ten times heavier in his hand and he pulled it away from the soft red hair. He looked at it and his hand, as if one or both was possessed.

"Ah, what am I doing?" Deadlock asked himself. He got off Hot Rod and wandered a few feet away. He shoved his gun back in his holster and shook his head. Deadlock was confused. Did he want to hurt Hot Rod or didn't he? What made him go for the permanent option first? Deadlock shook his head, burying his hand in his hair. "Why do I always go there?"

Hot Rod didn't move. The weight was gone, and his phone was still blaring loudly, but he couldn't see behind him. He didn't know if Deadlock still had that gun pointed at him or not. Hot Rod turned his head shakily to the side, fingers sliding across the dirt. The other man sat in the dirt, facing away from Hot Rod. Deadlock's shoulders dropped and back was wide open. Hot Rod swallowed, and slowly moved up.

"Sorry," Deadlock said, not turning to face Hot Rod. He rubbed his face, and scratched the side of his thigh with the barrel of his gun. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I just. You make it hard to think."

Hot Rod didn't answer. Deadlock sounded more like he was talking to himself as it was, so an actual answer might not be the best idea. He slowly shifted until he was on his feet. His phone had gone silent, but that was the least of his worries. Hot Rod stood up, and placed one foot behind him, ready to turn and run. Where? He hadn't a clue. But he was positive he'd find a landmark or something once he got off the road.

Hot Rod's phone rang again, but this time he slammed down his finger on the 'Goodbye' button to cancel the call. He didn't catch the name of the caller, but who knew what would set off his captor in the state he was in?

Deadlock moved, stilling Hot Rod. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a jingling set of keys. Deadlock rolled them over in his hand, and turned just enough to throw them at Hot Rod. The kid caught them, and looked down at the small set.

"Your back pack is in the trunk," Deadlock said. His voice was as monotone as he felt. He screwed up. Deadlock screwed up big time. With Hot Rod, and later Turmoil. And Gasket. He'd be so disappointed. Deadlock, sucked in a breath to steady himself. He leaned over, hugging himself. "You can use the car to drive home, since you probably don't want me to give you a lift back."

Hot Rod clenched the keys in his hand. There was something wrong with this man. But unlike before, Hot Rod didn't feel scared. He felt something else digging at his gut. Hot Rod shook his head. What was going on?

"When you leave the lot, take a left and drive about ten minutes. Then take a right, and that road'll drop you off near Maccadam's. I think you can find town from there," Deadlock said. He pulled at a loose piece of red hair buried in his white bangs, and tugged on it. "You can just leave my car at the end of the street or something."

Hot Rod slowly walked a wide circle around the sitting Deadlock. He kept his eyes on the depressed man, inching toward the car. He wasn't going to turn down a ride if he could help it. But. Hot Rod looked around the empty field and at the defeated looking kidnapper. Hot Rod licked his lips, and asked against his better judgement: "Do you have a ride back?"

Deadlock shrugged. He didn't, because there was no way he was calling Turmoil or Gasket for a ride. But that was maybe for the better. The walk might do him some good. Help clear his head of red hair and bright blue eyes. He'd taken the kid out here to get to know him better and he'd shoved a gun barrel into his hair. Maybe this was why Turmoil and Gasket discouraged him having friends. Deadlock smiled weakly, "I'll be okay."

Hot Rod looked between the man and the car, biting his lip. Deadlock had harassed him, kidnapped him, and then put a gun to his head. But, Hot Rod thought, he looked so wretchedly lonely sitting in the dirt. He was like a kicked puppy.

Maybe all this crazy guy wanted really was a friend.

The teenager bit his lip, whatever the case, he couldn't leave the guy here all alone. Not looking like that and with a gun, anyway. Who knows what he'd do.

"If you leave the gun here," Hot Rod began, standing on the other side of the car. It was his shield between the two just in case. He sucked in a breath and did the stupidest thing he'd done all week, though he couldn't shake the feeling it was the right thing to do: "I'll drive you back."

Deadlock looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. "Huh?"

Hot Rod asked, "Do you want a ride back or not?"

"Yes," Deadlock said, a flicker of hope dancing in his chest like a spark. He Slipped off his gun harness and walked over to the furniture. He shoved it under the low lawn chair and walked over to the car. He looked Hot Rod in the eye, and sucked in a breath. "Thank you."

They both knew those words weren't in regards to the ride.

Deadlock opened the car door and sat down, putting his hands in his lap. Hot Rod waited a full minute, his heart beating loudly enough for Deadlock to hear it. The boy opened the door and slid into the black leather seat, sitting next to his stalker and now kidnapper. Deadlock didn't move an inch, or say anything as Hot Rod put the keys in the ignition and twisted. The car roared to life, and his trembling hand grasped the stick.

They drove for a good five minutes before Hot Rod broke the silence. "You always kidnap people you want to get to know?"

"No," Deadlock said. He bit the edge of his thumb. Which was true. People who caught his interest barely lived long enough to get to this stage of a relationship. At least he had confirmed one thing: He didn't want to shoot Hot Rod. Deadlock wasn't sure what that left him with. "This is a first."

"Okay," Hot Rod said. He slumped his shoulders and pressed on the gas harder. His fear seemed to have slipped away, but he almost preferred that to this awkwardness between them. Hot Rod glanced down at the bare side where his holster used to hang. "Why'd you have a gun?"

"I live in the lower district of Kaon," Deadlock said, glancing over at Hot Rod.

"Enough said," Hot Rod sighed. He knew that area as the place that he 'should never go under any circumstances' from every relative and friend he had. No wonder Deadlock was crazy, growing up in a place like that. "Living there, it'd be weirder if you didn't have a concealed weapon."

"Something like that," Deadlock said, slumping in his seat. This was too surreal. How did he have such amazing luck with this boy?

Hot Rod licked his lips as the conversation died out again. It was going to be a long drive home.

"Where is that boy?" Optimus asked himself, staring at his phone. Hot Rod missed the first call, but his second had been sent straight to voice mail. So either his son had turned his phone off after the first call or he'd been screened.

Neither did a thing for the sense of worry that overwhelmed him.

Optimus clutched at the phone, staring at the screen that read "Hot Rod" and "Missed Call." Was his son in trouble? Did Megatron finally make a move? He hadn't been missing long enough to file an official report, but Optimus was playing with the idea of abusing his power. He could call Springer and have him look around.

"If Hot Rod isn't home in another fifteen minutes, I'm sending out the Wreckers for him, orders or not," Kup snarled to himself on the couch. His arms were crossed and though he was looking at the television he wasn't watching. "And then I'm tanning his hide for making us worry."

"You'll have to get in line, I believe his how the saying goes," Ultra Magnus said. He tapped his finger against his arm in time with the second hand on the clock. "And if he's just out joyriding with Blurr, then I'll be sure to let you have your turn after."

"Let's all calm down," Optimus said. "I for one would be happy if driving around with his friend and losing tack of the time is all that happened."

"I suppose you're right," Ultra Magnus said. He took a heavy seat on the couch next to Kup. He wiped his face with his hands and sighed. "He's still in trouble."

"Oh, no question there," Optimus said. He clicked open his phone and stared hard at the 'missed call' screen.

Hot Rod was in so much trouble.

The teenager parked Deadlock's car at the end of the street around the corner. It was within easy walking distance of the house, but his uncle and father wouldn't be able to see Deadlock's ride from here. Hot Rod pulled the keys out of the ignition as the clock blinked 'eight' at him. He held them in his lap and considered his other options to going home. His dad was going to kill him when he got into that house.

"Why'd we stop here?" Deadlock asked. He was slouched into the side of the car, glancing at Hot Rod from the corner of his eye. He'd been pretty quiet since their conversation about his gun, and wasn't looking forward to the inevitable. "Your house is at the end of the street."

Hot Rod should drive all the way up, run inside and tell his dad the crazy in the car kidnapped him and that's why he was late.

Deadlock would be arrested and probably sent to trial and jail. Hot Rod'd be off the hook. Easy.

That's what a sane person would do.

It was the rational thing to do.

Hot Rod twisted one of the keys on the simple chain. He didn't know why, but he wanted to give this man the benefit of the doubt. Deadlock had backed off. It had taken a distraction, but he'd stopped. Hot Rod sucked in a breath. Deadlock was lonely. He was also crazy. But loneliness did that to people. It would be rational to turn Deadlock in and let him face the consequences of his actions.

Hot Rod had never been all that rational.

"Don't ever do that again," Hot Rod said, thrusting the keys into Deadlock's limp hands. Their fingers brushed, and Deadlocks' skin felt like ice. Hot Rod's resolve strengthened, and he sucked in a breath. He caught the man's red eyes and glared. "Ever."

Deadlock slowly sat up straight, his hands curling around the keys. His face opened into innocent confusion, mouth agape and eyes wide. "What?"

"And," Hot Rod continued, swallowing deeply. He needed to do this right. A real test to see if Deadlock was sincere about the whole friend thing, and just confused, or if he was a real threat. Hot Rod gripped the door handle. "If you promise to leave me alone for one week, and I mean that! No stalking, no texts, no nothing! If you can do that for a week, then maybe. Maybe. We can hang out or something at the mall, or shopping or something. How does that sound?"

Deadlock dove forward, bracing himself on the dashboard and Hot Rod's seat. He cornered the teenager, his eyes wild and breath quick. Deadlock asked, "Do you mean that?"

"Yes," Hot Rod said, averting his gaze. Deadlock's body was cool, and it made his own feel a hundred times warmer in the close contact. Hot Rod leaned back into the door, and repeated his terms: "One whole week, though! I so much as catch sight of you, and it's off!"

"Okay," Deadlock said. He nodded and a smile started to spread on his face. Deadlock was getting a second chance. He never got second chances. Deadlock's heart picked up it's pace, and he felt good things coming. Hot Rod was the one. He knew this kid was special. He knew it! Deadlock smiled. "One week. I can do that."

"Alright," Hot Rod said.

The Prime's son shifted in his seat, and after a few more awkward moments of breathing the same air, he pulled open the door. He stepped out of the car, and left Deadlock inside, smiling like crazy. Hot Rod worked his way around the car to the trunk, and tapped on it. Deadlock clicked the trunk release and he retrieved his backpack.

By the time Hot Rod made it to the front of the car, Deadlock had moved into the passenger seat. He leaned on the open window and smiled dumbly at Hot Rod.

"See you in a week," Deadlock said as Hot Rod walked by.

"Yeah, a week," Hot Rod confirmed. "A full week."

He shifted from one foot to the other before giving up and waving shyly. He half skipped a few feet away before sprinting around the corner toward home, leaving Deadlock and his car far behind.

Hot Rod hoped he didn't regret this.