Consequences

Part 7-Vexation

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

"I've taken my beating, I've shared what I made

I'm strong on the surface, not all the way through

I've never been perfect, but neither have you"

--Leave Out All the Rest, Linkin Park

"I knew I'd find you here," Springer said.

Hot Rod sat at Kup's desk, looking up from the data pad he was reading. "I needed to finish these," he said.

"Yeah, because you obviously didn't last night," Springer said. "Sideswipe said you took off on your own, and you were late for your shift. Care to explain that?"

Hot Rod threw down the data pad. "I needed to get away for a while."

"You know, if you're just trying to slag him off, you're doing your job, but there are better ways to get his attention," Springer said.

"Whatever," Hot Rod said, dismissing the comment.

"Hey--I'm just trying to cover your aft, same as always. It's gotten harder, if you haven't noticed," Springer said. "And going off on your own is not a good idea. They're out there, looking for something, and it's only a matter of time before they come here."

"I know," Hot Rod said, leaning back in his chair.

"Then use your head," Springer said, sitting down in the chair opposite Hot Rod.

"I will when you do," Hot Rod said. "Why is Sideswipe keeping an eye on me all of a sudden?"

"As a favor to me," Springer said, ignoring Hot Rod's dig about his relationship with the twins. "Somebody has to do it. But you have to admit, putting you on night shift has worked, hasn't it?"

Hot Rod had to concede that. In the beginning, the reasoning behind his assignment to night shift was fewer mechs to piss off. But of late, answering directly to Jazz and working with a smaller crew tended to suit him, given his past loner tendencies.

"I know none of this has been easy," Springer said. "But I've still got your back, no matter what happens. You've got mine. That hasn't changed. So, are you going to go do something stupid and brash anytime soon?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Hot Rod said, grinning.

"You end up in the med bay again and I'll finish Ratchet's job for him," Springer said.

Hot Rod steepled his fingers. He was thinking. Not a good sign, Springer reflected. The orange and black mech sat that way, several seconds, composing his thoughts.

"I'm sure he'll have plenty to say on the subject of your current relationship when he finds out," Hot Rod said.

"You wouldn't. . ."

"No," Hot Rod said, crossing his arms, giving Springer another grin. "It'll be so much more fun when he figures it out for himself."

Time to turn the tables, Springer thought.

"Speaking of relationships, you've been recharging in your own quarters. Alone," Springer said.

"As opposed to?" Hot Rod said. "Hey--I don't see you spending too many nights in your own lately, so just lay off, Spring."

Springer answered with a grin.

"Things are going just fine," he said. "Nothing I can't handle."

--

Springer left Hot Rod to finish his report. The fact his friend was working on a day off, a Saturday no less, tilted his world a little sideways. Then again, the past few weeks Hot Rod had grown up a little, was willing to take more responsibility, both for himself and his actions. Springer mused the bond had a little to do something to do with it, and the more decisive factor was probably a desire to not let down one mech in particular, a need to prove himself.

The drive to be alone was still there, but the other. . .tendency seemed to be waning. No matter how much Hot Rod denied it, Springer knew it was there, had been since that one mission went so terribly wrong. Prime seemed to snap him out of it, helped restore his faith in himself. That Hot Rod was still alive and functioning was all that mattered. And if no one else seemed to notice how much of a difference the bond had made in both Hot Rod and Optimus, they could slag off as far as Springer was concerned. Sure, Optimus was being a stubborn pain in the aft, but the bond was new, and and the pair had some adjustments to make. But it was better than the alternative. Anything was. Prime hadn't, and couldn't let Hot Rod give up. And for that, Springer would be eternally grateful.