Hey guys. Sorry about the lack of updates for a while. Money's been tight and the stress has been kinda rough. Hard to think about fanfiction and fun stuff when you're worried about paying bills. ^^; But! Managed to squeeze in another chapter since folks have been asking. Hopefully it's a bit of a long one for everyone's patience. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 11
Springer banged on the chipped door, taking a step back after the fourth hit. He scrunched his shoulders, shifting the heavy black jacket. Springer fixed the hood, making sure that it covered his green hair and shifted his feet on the crumbling concrete house porch located in the middle of Kaon's housing complex.
"Come on," he hissed. People gave him odd looks as they passed behind him, but Springer ignored them. Minding your own business was rule number one down here. Springer smacked the door again with the side of his fist. "Answer the damn door already."
Hot Rod wasn't home yet. It was nearing ten o'clock and Hot Rod had missed his curfew. Springer had woken his bed, shocked to find a phone call from Prime asking if Hot Rod had slept over. After assuring his Boss that he hadn't seen Hot Rod, Springer immediately got up and dressed.
He had last seen Hot Rod with Deadlock leaving the school.
Part of him just knew he should have told that to Prime, but he. He couldn't. Hot Rod was hanging out with a 'Con. He was lying. He was twitchy and fighting with his friends. Springer needed to know what was going on before he got the kid's dad involved. If Hot Rod really was in trouble, it'd kill him to see his Dad's disappointed look. Let alone what Elita would do.
Springer banged on the door again. Taking things into his own hands was more his style anyway.
He reached up to hit the door again when he heard the shout of "I'm coming already!"
The door opened and the man with the purple mohawk hissed immediately. "Oh, hell no. You can't be here!"
Springer immediately slammed his foot and arms on the door to keep it from being shut in his face. "Impactor, let me in."
"No," Impactor said, voice low and eyes looking to the side. "You can not be here. Do you know what kind of trouble it'd be if people knew a cop was snooping around here? Do you?"
"I need help. Off the record and personal," Springer said through gritted teeth. He knew exactly how bad it could be for Impactor if there was a cop at his place, but this was an emergency. Springer tugged his hood farther over his face. "You can tell me through the door if you need to."
"No. Get out of here right now," Impactor said back. He continued to try and shut the door in his former friend's face and asked, "What makes you think I want to help you anyway?"
"Because I can make this professional and absolutely promise an official investigation of this entire damn apartment complex," Springer threatened. He shoved his face close to the door until he was near nose to nose with Impactor. "And if you think I'm lying, this is about Hot Rod. He's in over his head and I'll do whatever it takes."
"That damn kid," Impactor said, rolling his eyes. Springer was such a sap for that kid it killed Impactor. And his green haired buddy would most definitely do something that stupid if he thought it would help him. Impactor opened the door and yanked Springer inside before shutting it. "What the hell did he do?"
"He's missing and the only information I have is the last person he was seen with," Springer said, shoving his hands in his pocket.
"Oh? Then why not get your fancy little badge friends to help," Impactor said, still whispering as he leaned against the door. Every second Springer was in his home was a second that he was in trouble. "Why me?"
"Because you're the one with real ins, and like I said, this is personal," Springer said. "The Autobots don't need to get involved."
"So the kid's in actual trouble," Impactor snorted. Of course Hot Rod was in trouble with the law. He was the police chief's kid. Frankly, Impactor was shocked he hadn't started exploring crime sooner. "Next you'll be telling me Arcee is running a brothel. You just attract troubled folks, don't you?"
"Shut up, Impactor," Springer said. He rubbed the back of his head and couldn't believe that he and Impactor used to be best friends in high school. But then again, Springer was here wasn't he? And reluctantly or not, Impactor let him in when it mattered. A rough friendship was still friendship, right? "Look, I'm not here to get you in trouble. I just need to know where someone is and I'll handle the rest all by myself."
"Depends on who that someone is, but I'm listening," Impactor said.
"Hot Rod's been hanging out with some 'Con named Deadlock," Springer said. "He went off in a car with him this afternoon after school and they're not back yet."
Impactor froze, eyes wide.
Springer knew that wasn't good. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and asked, "What? Why are you freezing up like that?"
"Damn," Impactor said, holding his mouth. He shook his head and grabbed the sides of his head. His fingers nearly touched the purple hair of his mohawk. "No, no. I can't tell you where he is."
"How bad is this, Impactor?" Springer asked, his heart picking up the pace. Just where was Hot Rod? What sort of a guy was Deadlock to scare Impactor?
"There's a good chance that kid of yours is dead," Impactor said. "Let's put it that way."
Springer's heart froze in his chest for all of two seconds before it melted away in a protective rage. Every inch of him was on fire.
He grabbed the front of Impactor's shirt and dragged his underground friend over. Impactor's eyes widened at the sheer ferocity in Springer's eyes. "Tell me everything."
Hot Rod was on Deadlock's bed.
Every fantasy Deadlock had ever had that involved bending the kid over or throwing him against the nearest surface always involved concrete floors or the back of his sports car. Never in a million years did he dare to think about actually having the kid on his back in a bed. That was too good to be true, even for fantasies.
But here he was. The kid's shoes were still on his feet, bunching up the end of his blankets as he sprawled out on Deadlock's bed. His eyes were still half-lidded in his drunken state. Hot Rod giggled every so often and talked nonsense to Deadlock.
Deadlock bit the site of his hand, digging his teeth in to keep from molesting the kid while he was on the bed. Hot Rod refused to get tired or go to sleep, but he was still sort of okay. Nothing to call Gasket about. Deadlock just had to watch Hot Rod and make sure he didn't stop breathing or something. So maybe it was good he was awake.
On the bed.
The clock chimed eleven and Deadlock thought he was doing pretty well staying in his chair on the far aside of the room. He could behave. He could. No matter how much he wanted to push Hot Rod's shirt up and kiss the bruises he'd left. Maybe he'd make some new ones. Deadlock bit the back of his hand harder.
"Hey Deadlock," Hot Rod asked, his head tilted to the side. The kid's hand hung a bit off the bed, his fingers moving. "How come you're so far over there? Come over here."
Screw behaving. Deadlock whined. That was an invite if he'd ever heard one. Deadlock was across the room and straddling Hot Rod on the bed before the kid could barely register that the older man had moved.
Hot Rod tasted amazing.
Deadlock's hands buried themselves in the hair on the back of his head, the back of his neck. Any place they could hold that kept Hot Rod's mouth on his own. The kid whined under him, his legs shifting, but nothing to throw Deadlock off. Hot Rod's hands groped clumsily at the bed sheets and at Deadlock's jacket.
He stuck his tongue in Hot Rod's mouth and moaned.
The younger teen fit perfectly against him. Deadlock allowed one hand to find the small of Hot Rod's back and pull them closer together. Their clothes rubbed against each other and Deadlock slipped his fingers under Hot Rod's shirt to feel his spine.
Deadlock never stopped kissing him. He'd suffocate Hot Rod before he stopped. Not when everything was going so, so right.
Hot Rod pushed at his shoulder and mumbled, "Can't breathe."
Deadlock pulled back, still breathing heavily. Hot Rod's flushed face came into view and he relented that smothering Hot Rod too much meant they couldn't do this again. Deadlock grinned and bit Hot Rod's lip. "I want to eat you."
"Huh?" Hot Rod said, blinking a few times. His eyebrows scrunched together as his groggy mind tried to process the sentence. "Why?"
"You taste good," Deadlock said, laughing. Ah, he needed to figure out what Gasket gave Hot Rod. He'd need to get this kid on it again some time. He was too cute. "Really, really good."
Deadlock kissed Hot Rod again. This time taking appropriate two second breaks every so often to let the kid breathe. He was thinking straight enough to kiss and breathe at the same time. Which was also cute.
When had Deadlock turned into such a sap?
At some point, Hot Rod's arms had twisted around his back, clinging tightly as he pulled closer to Deadlock. It was sloppy, but Hot Rod was kissing back. Deadlock hummed into it, grinding the kid into the mattress with his hips.
"You want it, don't you?" Deadlock whispered into Hot Rod's lips. He rubbed Hot Rod's waist and the kid whimpered. Deadlock kissed his neck, nipping the side. He could feel the heat through their clothes. All that want. "Finally."
Deadlock dropped his hand to the front and his fingers found the buttons of Hot Rod's jeans.
The door to his room slammed open. The door knob smacked so hard into the wall that the drywall cracked. The intruder roared, "Get your hands off him!"
Deadlock leaned up and pivoted on his hip to turn around.
He saw murder in blue eyes.
Hot Rod stared at the ceiling, feeling oddly light.
There had been a wonderful weight on his chest and something warm all around him. He tried to focus on the ceiling. Where did it go? And what was all that noise? Hot Rod sat up in the bed, staring at the open door where all the sound was coming from.
"I'm going to kill you," Springer promised, throwing another punch into the side of Deadlock's face. The satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking wasn't enough. "Do you hear me?"
"Little hard with my ears ringing, but yeah," Deadlock laughed, pushing himself off the floor and tackling Springer's legs.
The other man hit the ground hard, but didn't give up the fight. Deadlock caught the next fist that flew at him, twisting the arm back around. He had to hold Springer down or knock him out before he got too into this fight. Springer was out for blood and that sort of lust was contagious. The cop tried to stand up and Deadlock felt his body shift.
Deadlock hated it when he couldn't kill his opponents.
"What's a cop like you doing in a place like this?" Deadlock asked, twisting around until his face was near the ground so that he could kick Springer in the jaw. It knocked the man off and into the nearest table. The equipment rattled. Deadlock laughed. Couldn't kill the guy, but roughing him up was a-okay! "Little bit out of your neck of the woods isn't it?"
Springer grabbed a beaker heating stand off the table and made a swing for Deadlock's face.
"Not in a talking mood," Deadlock said, leaning back to avoid the swing. He pulled his arm up and smacked it into the side of Springer's arm to knock the utensil out of his grip and twisted to elbow him in the gut. "I get that."
Springer was the bigger guy of the two of them, a good head and some taller over Deadlock. And he put it to good use as he recovered from each hit and tackled Deadlock into the side table. A beaker rolled off the edge and shattered on the ground, its contents spilling across the floor in a smoking hiss.
"Be careful with that stuff," Deadlock added, wondering if Gasket had woken up with all this racket yet. He'll probably be pissed there was a fight with a cop in his lab. And home. Deadlock groaned. "It's expensive."
"Do I really look like I care?" Springer asked, taking advantage of Deadlock's distraction to shove the smaller man against a counter.
He wrapped his hands around Deadlock's throat and began to choke the man. Images of Hot Rod squirming under this little rat refused to leave his mind. It was on repeat: Deadlock molesting Hot Rod. Deadlock kissing Hot Rod. His baby brother Hot Rod with his pants open under a monster like this. All those thoughts mixed with the horrible nightmares he'd thought up on the drive here after the things Impactor had told him, making it all the worse.
Springer squeezed until Deadlock's hands were banging the counter as he struggled to get free and breathe. Springer snarled, "Going to kill you."
Deadlock grunted, squirming under Springer's hold. He was serious about that and Deadlock had no intention of dying tonight. He groped the cabinet behind him, fingers pulling open a drawer. Gasket had a gun in here. Deadlock would get it, shoot Springer, and dump the body before Hot Rod noticed.
Easy.
Springer kept squeezing, ready to watch the light disappear from Deadlock's eyes when the small body crashed into his side and grabbed his arm.
"Hot Rod?" Springer asked, too stunned to stop the teenager from yanking his hand away from Deadlock's throat.
"Stop it!" Hot Rod shouted, clinging desperately to Springer's arm. He couldn't focus where he was looking and all he saw was Springer and Deadlock and it had to stop. Hot Rod threw himself in Springer's arms and squeezed around his waist. "Stop, stop, stop. You're hurting him."
Deadlock choked as he breathed again. Springer was totally off guard with Hot Rod distracting him and it wouldn't take anything to—Hot Rod was crying.
Damn, the kid was crying.
The Cleaner closed the drawer and stood up straight. He rubbed the side of his nose and huffed as he leaned against the counter, watching Springer hug Hot Rod.
"What'd you do to him?" Springer asked, venom lacing every word. Hot Rod wasn't acting normal. His pupils were too large, his voice was slurred, and Springer could kill Deadlock later. Right now his top priority was the kid in front of him. "Did you drug him?"
Deadlock shifted, eyes on the ground. It was better not to admit to anything.
"He overdosed on a neural booster he found. Some idiot left their stash out and he got curious about what it was," Gasket said, coming into the room. Now that the fight had stilled, there might be a chance to salvage this night. "Kid had no idea what he was holding before someone knocked into him and he jabbed himself in the thigh. If Deadlock hadn't rushed him over here where I could give him something to counteract it, that kid would be dead."
Springer's arms tightened around Hot Rod, the air leaving his lungs. Hot Rod could have been dead. His worst fear. He squeezed Hot Rod even tighter as he swallowed and asked, "And right now?"
"He had a bad reaction to the counter drug, so we were keeping him overnight to make sure it went out of his system okay," Gasket said. He walked over to the spilled chemicals and frowned before grabbing a mop. "He's drugged up, but things are looking okay once it works its way through his system."
Deadlock owed Gasket everything. Anything he wanted. Any time. The man and come up with the perfect lie that made Deadlock the hero and absolved him of all blame. Gasket was amazing.
"Then why was Deadlock shoving his tongue down Hot Rod's throat? You call that observing?" Springer asked, glaring at the Cleaner's direction.
"He was doing what!" Gasket yelled. He swung the mop handle at Deadlock and smacked him in the side of the arm. "Just when I think you can't get any stupider!"
Deadlock took back a small portion of his gratitude as Gasket proceeded to continue beating Deadlock with the broom.
"And just who are you, anyway?" Gasket asked, pointing at the green haired man. Hot Rod was clinging to him like a lifeline, so they had to know each other somehow.
"Big brother," Hot Rod slurred. He leaned back and tugged on Springer's jacket and said again. "My big brother."
"Family, huh?" Gasket rolled his eyes, and rubbed the side of his face. This was going to be trouble later, but for right now he needed to defuse the situation, and that meant getting on the big brother's good side. He shook Deadlock's shoulder and admitted, "Well, that explains why you were trying to kill this idiot."
"Kid liked it," Deadlock huffed, thinking of the way Hot Rod had asked him over. How he'd kissed back. "So I don't know why you're so mad."
"Why you." Springer took a step forward before Hot Rod whined and squeezed his waist tighter. "Hot Rod?"
"My head hurts," Hot Rod said. Everything was in too many colors. Hot Rod was cold and wanted Springer and Deadlock to stop fighting. "It's too loud."
"Look, I'm saying this for both of your sakes," Gasket said, pointing between the two of them. "Put the kid back in bed so he can rest, and you two call it a truce. Neither of you wants the kid to be miserable, so stop thinking of yourselves for five minutes and sit quietly for his sake."
Springer and Deadlock both looked noticeably scolded and Gasket decided he said the right thing.
"And before you start up about taking him home, the reason he's being observed here is because if something happens I've got the medicine to help," Gasket added, pointing his finger at the big guy. "So get ready to stay the night if you're going to watch him."
"I'm not leaving," Springer said. He pulled over a chair and helped Hot Rod into it. Springer sat down next to him and let Hot Rod use his side as a pillow. He nodded his head at Deadlock before putting an arm around Hot Rod's shoulder. "But there's no way I'm letting him get back in that bed with that guy around."
"Fair enough," Gasket said. He rubbed his face and headed back to his bedroom. "Play nice, you two."
Deadlock took a seat across from Springer, using a table as a back rest. He spread his legs and got comfortable, glaring at the two of them. Hot Rod looked too comfortable, half asleep against Springer's side and calm now that no one was shouting. Deadlock met Springer's gaze and bit the side of his thumb.
Springer had to go.
