If the Fates Allow
Chapter 3–If We Make It Through December
Disclaimer: I don't own the Transfomers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara.
Mid-morning. Prowl's day was slow so far, but he needed to check up on his Prime.
Prowl saw a familiar box on his Prime's desk, a box which Prowl and Bluestreak had filled with some of their special Solstice energon goodies.
"Early gift?" the Praxian asked, nodding at the box.
"Yes. Unexpected, but appreciated, considering the source," Optimus said. "Megatron quite liked them as well."
The Prime noticed how Prowl's doorwings twitched ever so slightly. Huh.
"Aren't you supposed to be off duty?" the Prime asked, changing the subject.
"I have an hour left until Ratchet comes looking for me, but I wanted to check up on you, and drop off Hot Rod's proposal on refugee resettlement," Prowl said, handing Optimus a data pad. "His recommendations for resource allocation and resettlement are quite good and I think we should implement them."
"That's high praise, coming from you," Optimus said, glancing at the data pad.
"Hot Rod's thinking is unorthodox, but he dhe a remarkable job on his proposal in a short amount of time. Did you know he's been staying up late working on the treaty and his proposal instead of recharging?" Prowl asked. "I'm quite proud of him, and you should be, too."
"Who says I'm not?" Optimus said.
Prowl's smile faded from his face.
"If you are, you should tell him, Optimus," Prowl admonished. "He hasn't had an easy time of it and Hot Rod honestly thinks you consider him a great disappointment."
"But I don't. . ."
"Then tell him," Prowl repeated, taking his leave of his Prime.
Optimus watched him go, thinking. The Autobot leader was disappointed, but in how he acted. He was annoyed. Tried to keep his distance because there was no way the fiery mech could be interested in *him.*
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Jazz's office. Prowl let himself in, sealing the door shut behind him.
"We have a problem," Prowl said, sitting down.
Jazz's head snapped up from the data pad he was reading.
"Is it the bitlet?"
"No. We're both all right," Prowl said. "This is a more imminent problem and slightly disturbing development."
He filled in Jazz with the issue with the goodies, their intended target and the one who gave them. Prowl didn't speculate on any possibilities, but his battle computer was running all the angles while he talked. And he ignored the outcome. Numbers could be wrong.
Jazz thought the same. "No way in the Pit Prime's got it bad for ol' buckethead," he said. "I'll do some checking around. You go check on the kid."
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Hot Rod wanted to ignore the ringing door chime, but the comm ping from Prowl he didn't ignore, letting the SIC into his quarters.
"What?" Hot Rod asked, trying to ignore the mix of sympathy and concern on Prowl's face.
"I saw the box on Prime's desk," Prowl said. "He also mentioned how much Megatron enjoyed the goodies."
Hot Rod rolled his optics. Of course.
"If you say you're sorry. . ."
"I wasn't going to," Prowl said, sitting down. It's just. . ."
"Prime. And Megatron. You gotta admit it makes a twisted sort of sense," Hot Rod said. "Really–nine million years of pent up frustration and longing, and they finally have a chance."
"Surely not," Prowl said.
"Not like anyone would know except maybe Optimus' closest friends," Hot Rod said.
"Prime keeps his private life private and there hasn't been anyone else since Elita-1," Prowl said. "Of that I can assure you."
"Yeah, because Optimus wouldn't date anyone from among the rank and file because he has to set an example, and like it or not, Megatron is his equal," Hot Rod said.
Prowl did have to concede. The mech did have a point, flawed as his logic was.
"I think Optimus has more sense than that, and I believe too much enmity has passed between himself and Megatron over the vorns to ever be anything more than friends, if that's possible," Prowl said.
"I hope you're right," Hot Rod said
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Ten days to Christmas Eve
Ironhide stuck his head into Prowl's office. His errant kid was sitting at Prowl's desk, a data pad in hand, and chewing on the end of his stylus.
"I thought you'd be long gone by now," Ironhide said.
Hot Rod looked up, frowning at his sire. "Got work to do."
"It's a Friday, and did you forget you've got a social function tonight?" Ironhide asked, watching as his son's expression changed from frown to confusion. So the kid had let it slip his mind. "You're supposed to pick up Daniel by 1800 and go looking at Christmas lights."
"Frag," Hot Rod said, standing. "I. . ."
"Hold your horses, hot shot," Ironhide said. "It's only 1730, but it is starting to snow, and you better refuel before you leave. What're you doing working anyway? Jazz said Prowl let you off several hours ago."
Hot Rod shrugged. "Didn't have much else to do," he said. "And I did forget about Daniel. Thanks for reminding me, 'Hide."
Ironhide smiled, throwing an arm around his youngest creation. "No problem. Now get going," he said.
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Daniel Witwicky stood by his grandfather's front door, watching the snow come down, waiting for Hot Rod. He checked his backpack again, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. A Thermos of hot chocolate and packages of his favorite snacks filled his bag instead of the usual laptop and books.
The boy grinned as he saw the familiar sleek form of his Autobot friend pull into the driveway, and he ran out the front door, greeting the Cybertronian.
"I almost thought you weren't coming," Daniel said, getting into the driver's seat.
"I almost didn't," Hot Rod answered. "Seatbelt, kid, or your mom will never let you come with me again. Don't wanna poke that bear, do we?"
"No," Daniel said. "What do you mean, you almost didn't come?"
"I forgot," Hot Rod said. "I didn't mean to, and Ironhide reminded me. I've just been so busy with the treaty negotiations and my other duties. . ."
"Enough about work. Let's go. We've got all of Central City and the outlying areas to cover, and only four hours to do it," Daniel said.
"Did you eat real food before meeting me?" Hot Rod asked.
"Yeah. Granddad fed me," Daniel said. "But I do have snacks for later, and hot chocolate."
"OK then. Let's go!" Hot Rod said, accelerating, and fishtailing through the snow.
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Kup was enjoying the relative peace of the evening. Ironhide had gone off somewhere for a bit, with a promise he'd be back soon. Still, it was pleasant in their quarters. The lights were dimmed, and holiday lights were strung on every available surface, courtesy of Hot Rod and Springer. The two idiots had made a contest out of decorating their creators' quarters, trying to see who could hang the most lights and decorations the fastest. Juvenile, but it was good to be able to have something so. . .stupid, and well, normal.
Kup heard the door open, and he saw Ironhide heading his way with a cube of high grade and a smaller container in his other hand.
"The high grade is for later, but you've gotta try these," Ironhide said, handing the smaller box to Kup.
The blue mech opened the box, revealing several types of energon goodies. He looked up at Ironhide. "I hope Wheeljack didn't make these."
"'Course not," Ironhide said. "Starscream did."
"That's almost as bad," Kup said, popping one in his mouth. "Huh. These are good."
"Told ya," Ironhide said, sitting down by his bond-mate, and Kup scooted closer to him. Yes, peaceful indeed. Until Ironhide had to go and ruin what was turning into a nice, quiet evening.
"You think Hot Rod's been acting kind of off lately?" Ironhide asked.
"You're just now noticing?" Kup said, incredulous.
"No. I know I'm oblivious sometimes, but I've had lots of time to watch our kid while standing around acting like I'm providing security for the negotiations," Ironhide said.
He had spent plenty of time watching Hot Rod glare at Optimus Prime. An interesting development, that. One he hadn't brought up to Kup yet.
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Daniel had Christmas music streaming softly in the background on his phone while they drove around looking at lights. Both Autobot and human had their favorites, and were enjoying their rare evening together.
"How's school?" Hot Rod asked.
Daniel snorted. "How's the treaty going?"
"Don't tell anyone, but the negotiations are over," Hot Rod said.
"Really?" Daniel asked.
"Yeah," Hot Rod said. "How late can you stay out?"
"Reasonably late, according to Granddad," Daniel said.
"What's 'reasonable?'" Hot Rod asked.
"Midnight, if we're gonna be real late," Daniel said. "Or something where we're both not having to lie to my mom."
"OK," Hot Rod said. "How is your mom?"
"Tired all the time, and I don't know why she insisted on going to that party tonight," Daniel said.
Hot Rod figured growing a new human was probably a tiring ordeal, but he didn't mention his thoughts on the subject.
"She and Dad finally got the nursery done, and now it's just a matter of time," Daniel said.
"Still excited about being a big brother?" Hot Rod said.
"I don't know," Daniel said. "It's gonna change things, but Dad and Granddad are over the moon."
Hot Rod had heard this litany many times over the past six months. Carly Witwicky was pregnant with a second child, a girl.
"Hey, are you OK?" Daniel asked, changing the subject.
"Daniel, I'm fine," Hot Rod said.
"Hey–fine doesn't mean OK," Daniel said. "You've just seemed really sad lately."
"It's nothing, Danny. I'll be OK."
"If you wanna talk, you know I'll listen. Or if you don't wanna talk to me. . ."
"Ironhide offered, and Prowl is aware something is bothering me, and he's been treating me decent," Hot Rod said. "Kup probably knows, but he's biding his time. But thank you for the offer. It means alot. Enough with the feelings. Want another go around downtown?"
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Danny was almost asleep by the time Hot Rod got him back to Sparkplug's. The night was quiet on the way back to Autobot City, and the falling snow muted the bright holiday lights. Hot Rod had enjoyed his night out with his human best friend. A 12-year-old human probably wasn't the appropriate choice to discuss his issues with., but at least the kid understood. Humans, even the young ones, were so damn perceptive. Maybe it was their short lives, but in Hot Rod's experience, they were empathetic, and sympathetic. (The ones he knew, and considered friends, anyway. Some of the high-ups from the EDC could get fragged, though.)
It was much later than he anticipated getting back to the city, but the young mech made his way to one of his favorite courtyards. Too late to go up to Lookout Mountain, but he could sit and enjoy the snow and lights before turning in. Except when he turned the corner into the park area he saw Optimus Prime and Megatron talking.
Hot Rod couldn't hear because he was too far away, but he watched as Optimus pulled the silver mech into a hug. The sight in front of the young Autobot told him everything he needed to know–he had no chance at all. Not like he ever did to begin with.