If the Fates Allow
Chapter 2–We Need A Little Christmas
Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara.
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Hot Rod was early for duty the next day. Prowl did a double take as he watched the younger mech place a stack of data pads beside a fresh cube of energon.
"Hey Prowl, I typed up the notes from the negotiations yesterday, and included the relevant parts from the Tyrest Accords which relate to the topics discussed. I also outlined the topics where Megatron will not compromise," Hot Rod said. "I also forwarded you Ratchet's concerns about combining our medical corps with the Decepticons. It's a short read."
Prowl's jaw was hanging open with surprise.
"I know it's a lot," Hot Rod said.
"When did you find time to complete all this?" Prowl asked.
"Stayed up late last night," Hot Rod said, shrugging.
"While the hard work is appreciated, you need to take time for yourself," Prowl said.
"You and the bitlet need the rest more than I do," Hot Rod said. "Besides, it's not like I have anything else to do."
"Spend time with your family and friends, take time to enjoy the holiday festivities," Prowl replied. "You've more than earned yourself some time off."
"Some mechs won't see it that way," Hot Rod muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing," Hot Rod said.
"Hot Rod as I said, your hard work is more than appreciated," Prowl said. "Thank you. I'll go through these pads, and you can pass my recommendations back to Prime and Magnus. Now, would you mind getting started on the notes from yesterday regarding the resettlement of refugees?"
Hot Rod nodded, sitting down across from Prowl, grabbing a data pad and stylus.
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A mid-afternoon break in negotiations and Optimus and Megatron were taking a walk around Autobot City.
"I can't believe you built this place in such a short time," Megatron said.
"The humans helped," Optimus replied.
"No doubt after you convinced them it would be to your mutual benefit," Megatron said. "Speaking of, it would be in everyone's best interests if the treaty negotiations wrapped up as soon as possible. On that note, I'll concede to your latest version of the treaty on one condition, Prime."
"Which is?"
"That you officiate Starscream's bonding ceremony," Megatron said.
"You jest," Optimus said.
"I do not," Megatron said. "Take it or leave it, Prime. This is my last and only offer."
Optimus offered his hand. "I accept," he said, as the two leaders clasped hands in agreement.
The two enjoyed a companionable silence, and Optimus was relieved. The damn war was finally over. Until Megatron had to go and ruin a moment nine million years in the making.
"Where's your fiery assistant? Or is he your bodyguard now also?" the now former Decepticon asked.
"I assume he's helping Prowl. He's been assigned as his temporary assistant," Optimus said.
Megatron hmphed. "He must drive the tactician mad. Rodimus is the youngest spawn of Kup and Ironhide, is he not?"
"Yes," Optimus said. "I apologize again for. . ."
"Don't–at least he's honest, and that's a rare quality these days," Megatron said.
"Hot Rod doesn't know the meaning of tact," Optimus said.
"Then perhaps you should teach Rodimus," Megatron said.
"Why do you call him Rodimus? You know how. . ."
"He'll react? He's a Prime, and he should have the name of one," Megatron said. "Or have you forgotten?"
"How can I ever forget?" Optimus said.
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Optimus popped into Prowl's office after the Decepticon delegation departed. The SIC welcomed him with a smile while Hot Rod glared.
"Megatron and I have come to a formal agreement," Optimus said. "He accepted the latest draft of the treaty."
"Oh thank Primus," Prowl said, setting down his data pad. "Have you told Magnus yet?
"No," Optimus said.
"Then go tell him," Prowl said, winking at Hot Rod. "Shoo."
The Praxian waited for his Prime to leave, then stood. "Hot Rod, we're done for the day. Enjoy your time off."
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After wandering around the city for a while, Hot Rod settled on Lookout Mountain. The sun was setting, and the lights from the city below made for a cheery atmosphere, if one was so inclined. Hah. Cheer. An emotion Hot Rod was out of touch with of late. And it wasn't just because of the Decepticons. Well, one in particular. Megatron.
The aft was spending a lot of time with Optimus, and it was making the young bot jumpy for many reasons. Jealousy was one, and he tamped down on the thought quickly. He was not jealous of the time Megatron was spending with Optimus. No. Never. Frag. That was a lie. The seemingly easy rapport the two were developing was another. What in the Pit?
Scraplets. He had an evening off, and he was spending it worrying about the Prime's personal life. Well, his own, where it intersected with Optimus', and unfortunately, Megatron, too. The three of them made up three sides of a strange pyramid, and hopefully the future they'd all seen had been averted.
Optimus and Alpha Trion seemed to think so, and though Hot Rod had his issues with the mech, he trusted Optimus on that matter. Because he didn't want that future to come to pass–Optimus dead, himself Prime, and Megatron made into something far, far worse than his present self. And oh yeah, let's not forget the presence of the Unmaker himself, Hot Rod reflected.
Ugh. He needed a break. Something to get his head out of his aft, and cheer up himself. It was almost Solstice and Christmas. . .
"You're gettin' predictable, kid."
Hot Rod groaned, hearing his sire coming up behind him, and he couldn't escape as Ironhide sat down beside him.
"What's bothering ya?" Ironhide asked.
Hot Rod exvented in annoyance. "Nothing," he said, turning away from his sire.
"Optimus bust your chops yet for calling Megatron names?" Ironhide said.
"No," Hot Rod said.
"He'll be fair, at least," Ironhide said.
Hot Rod rolled his optics. "I don't need advice, guidance or anything else you're peddling," he said. "I want to be left alone."
He stood, walking away from Ironhide.
"Hey, come back here," he said, following after, grabbing his son by the shoulder, turning him around to face him.
"I know this hasn't been easy, and. . ." Ironhide said.
"No, it hasn't, and I don't resent you. This is just weird and awkward," Hot Rod said. "You weren't there, now we're here, and it's taking some getting used to."
He didn't add for his entire life, Ironhide was only a story, someone he was never going to meet, like Optimus Prime. (Except Optimus was so much better than all the stories, and as frustrating as hell. And he wasn't gonna share that thought with anyone. Ever.)
"Kup's arguing with Red Alert, which is why I'm here," Ironhide said, changing the subject to something stupid. And so much safer. "So, what do you and your brother want for Christmas?"
He threw an arm around his son, walking him back toward the observation deck. Maybe there was hope for them after all.
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Ironhide let himself out of Hot Rod's quarters, and as he walked back to his own, the ancient mech considered his youngest creation. Hot Rod was more like Kup in many ways, but he was his, also. The temper and brash behavior Kup blamed on his influence all the time. (He didn't wanna point out once upon a time Kup was just as brash, maybe even more so.)
The kid was like Springer, and they mostly complemented each other, but Springer inherited his sire's stubbornness and jovial nature. Springer also had CHromia's no nonsense nature and her lack of dealing with emotions.
So far, Springer was being the easy kid to deal with. Hot Rod, not so much. Ironhide figured his youngest would come clean to someone eventually about what was bothering him. He wasn't as clueless as Kup sometimes accused. Being bonded to Kup helped change that aspect of himself. He wasn't as stupid or blind as his mate sometimes accused during their worst moments. He was aware *something* was bothering Hot Rod. (Being confronted with a grown Springer was one thing, but the other mech was a surprise when Ultra Magnus and his crew arrived on Earth.)
Frag. He'd give the kid a few more days to set himself to rights before saying something to Kup. Hell, Kup probably knew all about it already. Now all he could do was wait.
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The next day, Hot Rod found himself with a day off after Prowl said he didn't have anything pressing for him to do. A day he spent hiding from his overly concerned sire. Kup hadn't come looking for him yet, choosing instead, like usual, to let him have his space. Up to a point. He didn't know how long Ironhide was going to continue pushing his boundaries. Ah, happy thoughts. Hot Rod needed a distraction, so he racked up a series of increasingly outrageous speeding tickets mainly out of boredom, and to piss off Prime.
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Prowl escorted Hot Rod into his Prime's office, giving the younger mech a look of sympathy as he departed. And Hot Rod rolled his optics as the Prime started to speak.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Optimus asked.
Hot Rod shrugged. "Seems like you've always got plenty to say."
A slight frown crossed the Prime's features, but he ignored the jab.
"You have much potential, yet you keep squandering it on stupidity," he said.
"We all can't be Magnus, or Prowl, sorry to be such a disappointment," Hot Rod said, storming from the office, and nearly getting flattened by Megatron.
"Watch where you're going, scrap heap," Hot Rod said.
"You should watch where you're going, brat," Megatron said.
Hot Rod's field snapped with annoyance and anger, and Megatron bit back a smile.
"I have a name," Hot Rod said.
"Rodimus, isn't it?"
Optimus stuck his head out of his office, hoping to diffuse another incident.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked.
Hot Rod bolted, both leaders watching him disappear down the corridor.
"I'm sorry for that," Optimus apologized.
"He must keep things interesting," Megatron said.
"You got to see him storm out of his own disciplinary meeting," Optimus said.
"For what?" Megatron asked.
"Insubordination for what he said to you before and a stack of speeding tickets," Optimus replied.
"I wish that was the least of my worries," Megatron said.
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OK. So he was now three for three on pissing off Optimus Prime. Not like Hot Rod had spent much time around the other mech since his failed discipline hearing and telling off Megatron again. There was just something about the mech which made him lose his already limited ability to keep himself from running his mouth. Plus the fact he just did not like Megatron.
He did harbor a healthy respect for what the mech could do, but that was about as far as anything resembling politeness and courtesy would go. He just didn't like Megatron. How the frag could he? Again, jealousy rearing its ugly head. Scrap. Maybe thinking or doing something positive would make him feel better, so he called in a favor.
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Hot Rod considered the box in his hands as he stood outside his Prime's quarters. A peace offering. Not a Christmas gift. He could just set it down in front of Optimus' door and hope for the best. Or he could hand the box over himself. He hit the chime and waited.
Megatron answered. "Oh, it's you."
"Who is it?"
"Rodimus," Megatron answered, stepping aside for the Prime to see.
Hot Rod shoved the box into Prime's hands, and bolted without a word, leaving Optimus and Megatron staring at the pretty decorated box.
"I think I might need to take this down to the med bay to make sure it isn't a bomb," Optimus said, eying the box.
"It's obviously a gift," Megatron said. "From the looks of it. Open it."
Optimus opened it, and both peered at the contents inside.
"Energon goodies," Megatron said, grabbing one and popping it into his mouth. "Not bad. I'll take these off your hands if you don't want them."
Optimus slammed shut the box, hugging it to himself. "No. I'll have to sample them myself, but then again, you could have questionable taste."
"Oh, Prime, I don't. I recognize these treats. Cadmium with cobalt shavings? Sold at Maccadam's during the winter solstice season? The maker is obviously one of your Autobots, but who?"
Prime remembered those treats and all the other confections which changed with the seasons, treats he hadn't had in vorns. Why would Hot Rod present him with such a gift?
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