C.M.D: Here we are finally, at the last chapter to this lil' misadventure. It does get a bit dark, but you didn't think the recruits' relationship would always be sunshine and rainbows, didya~?
Fingers tapped at the screen, trying to peer through the glare of the luminescent warehouse light reflecting off from his tablet. It remained the same; the white box of the messaging app empty- with the exception of his string of unanswered texts. Wedge frowned, subspacing the device with a low huff.
He just didn't understand it.
The construction job had taken him from the Academy for a few months, putting his relationship with Hot Shot into a sort of limbo, yet they'd been managing, via texts and the occasional vid-chat. Then suddenly all the messages stopped. Wedge was baffled and, honestly, a bit hurt. For two weeks, he'd attempted to contact the other recruit (which was made harder by the project progressing more intensely) and had only been met with silence. Even scrolling through their past chat history didn't give the triple-changer a clue as to what had brought about the change. It was, Wedge would admit to himself, a frightening experience.
Was this Hot Shot's way of expressing that he no longer felt the same about the ex-Decepticon?
"Oi, Skipper!"
The thundering vocalizer shook the orange youngling from his reprieve; optics shooting upwards in a flash of panic, finding High Tide's helm peeking around the corner of up ahead. piercing gaze assessing him in return.
"It's about time to weigh anchor," the veteran spoke slowly to the smaller mech, piercing gaze narrowing as he assessed the quiet recruit. "...Ya alright there, Skipper?"
Wedge tried to bury his troubles to the back of his processor, while an awkward smile jumped to his face. "W-wha- Oh, y-yeah, just peachy!," he hiccuped, feeling an honest, if minimal, chuckle rise up at the queer expression High Tide made at his response.
Lip components slowly mouthed the recruit's words, before the blue mech shook his helm and said, "Right, well, the space bridge is prepped for ya." Then his helm disappeared back behind the wall, leaving the orange youngling alone.
"O-okay," Wedge called belatedly, "Coming!"
Hurrying down the hall, the triple-changer found himself back in the space bridge room, the area covered in gleaming white and chrome- the general aesthetic of Faxian. Up against one warehouse wall sat the giant trasnportal ring, humming while a set of inlaid lights warmed to a soft orange, reacting to the input High Tide was typing into the control panel a few metres away.
"Global clock says you'll be back at the Academy just before the post-recharge roll call," the veteran was saying, his optics never straying from the bridge controls. "Fair weather on that portside, too. Ya ready?"
The question was joined by a quizzical glance from the old Autobot; Wedge tried not to squirm under its firm light. Truth was he was nervous about going back to the Academy, but the longing in his spark, packed by the buzzing questions in his helm, set his pedes into motion. "Ready, sir," the orange youngling answered, stopping at the edge of the bridge's ramp.
High Tide nodded, activating the ring. "It's been a pleasure working with ya this last while, Skipper. Looking forward to your future transfer," he said, an arm lifted half way in farewell.
Ignoring the burst of chaos as the bridge came to life, Wedge looked back at the veteran and smiled -honestly and fully- at the blue Autobot. "Same, sir," he replied, his spark swelling as the old sea-farer's expression softened with emotion.
"See you later, High Tide, sir."
"Later, Wedge," came the taller mech's response.
Anxious, but determined, Wedge stepped through the portal.
xXx
Swirls of blue and white coalesced unto themselves, disappearing in the blink of an eye and silencing the sound of churning tides with them. As his visual pixels tuned to the dimmer lighting, Wedge was glad to see that it was the familiar setting of the Academy bridge room that he found himself in- even if it was darker than he had expected. Must be the night settings, he thought, judging from the intensity of the hall lights just beyond the upper platform. A quick glance at his chronometer confirmed what High Tide had told the recruit in his exit; it was just about half a cycle after the other younglings had roused from recharge. Everyone would be down in the student lounge, preparing for the morning roll-call.
Soothed by the certainty of the Academy's schedule, Wedge began the short hike up the platform steps, his earlier worries giving way to a quickly rising excitement. He was finally going to see Hot Shot again!
"I see you've returned."
The clipped vocalizer brought the orange youngling to an abrupt pause. Slowly, his helm turned, optics searching the bright hallway. Plating ground loudly against itself, drawing Wedge's attention up to a nearby ceiling lattice.
"You," he hissed.
Hidden in the shadows between the beams, Lazerbeak sat, tucking his wings in as he shifted his attentions to the younger mech. "Me," he replied lazily, twin bloody slits staring the recruit down over his sharp beak. "Enjoyed your little holiday?"
Wedge felt his servos curl into fists. "I wasn't," he grit out, trying to smother his growing ire in the Decepticon's presence, "Away on a trip. I was working. Which is more than I can say for you! What are you even doing here? You're supposed to be with Bumblebee at all times, not flying-!"
"The bug is still on the premises, so I have yet to go against my parole," Lazerbeak interjected snappily. The bird-like mech gave his helm a loose shake, before craning his neck down closer to the aggravated triple-changer. "I'm not just here to be a bother," he added, a cruel lilt seeping into his vocalizer, "Though it is immensely enjoyable. No, in fact, I have come to share with you some interesting updates."
It was just another sick game; a subtle knife meant to splinter his thoughts and leave him open to manipulation. Typical behaviour of Decepticon high command. "I don't have time for this!," Wedge growled out, a servo swiping upwards angrily as he broke into a heavy march. He wasn't going to fall victim to any more under-handed ploys. He was back home, tired and eager to see-
"Running off to your lil' sweetspark?"
The taunt broke the orange youngling's stride, but determined, he awkwardly continued on. The stupid casseticon didn't know what he was talking about.
"The loud one with the chastity seals and obnoxious designation... Hot Shot," Lazerbeak crooned. "Truly, a poor choice on your part."
This time, Wedge spun around on his heel, facing the avian again. "You shut your trap! Don't you ever speak his name again!," he yelled, finger pointing in threat. "Or so help me, I will-"
The flyer merely rolled his optical sensors, smirking at the recruit. "If I do that," he said, tone rife with condescension, "Then how will I tell you about him and his very close friend?"
That froze him in place.
An odd clicking sound resonated from his throat as his vocalizer tried to reboot- and failed three times, all while Lazerbeak sank lower onto his perch, content and smug as he made himself cozy.
"Ah...," the Decepticon sneered, his thin optics alight with wicked glee. "Can't even muster a peep, can we? Pitiful. Wasting all your time here, with the organics and the soft-plated Autobot scum... Now, that mouthy, skidmark 'Scorch'?" Blue optics flared at the designation. A fact that only made Lazerbeak's vocalizer more taunting. "He's got real spirit. He knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to take it. Even if his focus is limited to luring your flashy sweetspark into dark rooms by his lonesome."
Wedge saw his visual pixels waver for a moment as his fledgling irritation erupted into absolute rage. He turned hard enough to disrupt his equilibrium chips, yet stomped his way through it without further notice; all other thought and feeling smothered by the crushing waves of hatred sweeping through his frame as he rushed through the Academy halls.
It all made sense.
Whether true or false, Lazerbeak's words had sunk in deep, and suddenly the orange youngling could see how they fit -just like a puzzle piece- into every question he'd had over this long, two weeks. The lack of messages, videos, photos or emojis... It was all Scorch. He'd somehow found his angle and had swept in while both Hot Shot and Wedge weren't looking; sinking his claws in deep and ripping the red recruit away from the other in a flash. And what an opportunity it all was! Scorch had weeks -months, probably- to pump Hot Shot full of so many lies and doubts, so as to leave the other Autobot a mindless doll, privy to the former athlete's whims. The multi-changer was probably nothing but a shadow of himself now.
The idea -of Hot Shot's expressive, loving spark deformed to a wisp of itself- only added to the black fire burning within Wedge so that, as he stormed onto the student hallway, the ex-Decepticon only had one desire left. To kill Scorch. The triple-changer flew down the hall, honing in on the mild hubbub of an active student lounge, fists shaking at his sides. He knew what he'd find: a downcast Hot Shot, tucked away out of sight, with the leech Scorch by his side, fielding any interruptions or aid as he continued to weave his dark spell.
But...
Lights were bright in the student lounge, all the recruits -though a tad sluggish and drowsy, with energon in servo- meandering about the room and conversing lightly amongst themselves. And Hot Shot: he sat perched halfway into the couch pit, his morning ration half-finished beside him as he shared a few tired words back and forth with Hoist. Content and unharmed.
The contrast between the orange recruit's expectation and reality physically jarred Wedge. He stumbled, catching himself, yet still stared across the room in stunned silence at the unexpected sight before him. His arrival had not gone unnoticed. Blind in his stupor, the lounge went quiet, all optics darting to the ex-Decepticon as his heavy scuffing shattered the peace. Hot Shot's beautiful, sapphire orbs lifted and everything seemed to slow down for Wedge. He caught the flicker of uncertainty dash across the multi-changer's optics, a ping of some shameful secret hiding itself from view, before the lip components started spreading in a genuine smile of joy.
Hot Shot was still Hot Shot.
He hadn't succumbed to Scorch.
"Hey, you're back, We-!"
Hot Shot found his jubilant greeting cut short as his friend suddenly teleported across the room; mouth caught against something solid and warm. He was, his processor belatedly supplied, in a lip-lock with the taller recruit. It was a fact that the Autobot barely registered as, to his spark's swelling pleasure, he felt Wedge's arms slide protectively around his frame. The sensation of security and relief flushed through Hot Shot as he sighed wistfully between their conjoined points. In response, the kiss deepened; the smaller youngling curling backwards slightly at the rough touch on his lower back struts, a soft vent catching between their frames. He could, he thought, live this moment forever.
Then suddenly, Hot Shot was cold.
Optics onlining instantly, he watched as Wedge quickly disappeared back out of the student lounge, not even glancing backwards once. Confusion settled in, keeping the stabbing grief at bay temporarily, as Hot Shot stared at the open doorway his friend had disappeared through. What had just happened...? Why had Wedge run off so soon after arriving? What about the kiss? Had he even been there at all or was Hot Shot starting to lose his mind?! A hundred questions poured in, sinking deep into the trenches laid out by his confusion and giving rise to a wave of tears. But before they could make themselves known, an eerie sensation crawled over his neural net, causing the red recruit to shoot a furtive glance over his shoulder plating. Just in time to see Scorch slinking into the bunk hall through the opposite doorway, a storm of black anger thundering over his features.
Scorch, the youngling realized, had seen what had just taken place.
Not, Hot Shot was slowly dawning on to, just him... The multi-changer turned his helm about jerkily, realizing that he and his lil' "incident" with Wedge had drawn everyone's attention in the lounge. His friends and the new recruits alike, staring at him with wide optics. Mortification struck the red recruit like lightning. He honestly thought he was going to offline right then and there from the sheer strength of it. Flushing a deep magenta in embarrassment, Hot Shot mumbled something out and fled from the room; going the same way that Wedge had a mere few kliks earlier.
xXx
Dim optics stared out from the alcove, carefully scanning the hallway beyond from end to end. They were empty, as was typical when classes were in session, but it was a fact that only made the silent observer scowl further. He was already risking punishment by failing to report in this morning, and purposefully not joining his fellow recruits for the scheduled mission sim was sure to earn him a black mark in his records, yet he simply did not care.
He was on a mission of his own.
To fulfill a promise to someone if they ever dared to step out of line again.
His lip components pulled down grimly, Wedge forced his optics to begin another slow sweep of corridor from left to right, fighting off the zaps of impatience that danced sporadically across his neural net. If he rushed off to find Scorch, no doubt he would miss him entirely. Worse yet, he'd probably be found by a professor and forced back to his normal academy routine. This was the only chance he was going to have of teaching that grease-stain-
Motion, briefly, flickered on the edge of his peripheral. The orange youngling's neck snapped in the direction of the motion, a servo shooting up defensively as a shadow closed in on his face. But nothing made contact, and, a few, wary astroseconds later, the ex-Decepticon lowered his arm again to search for the disturbance.
He didn't have to look far as something white and glowing tumbled from the sky. He caught it haphazardly, up-righting it between his two servos to discover that he was holding a tablet. Hoist's tablet, to be specific, as noted by the neat, but sweeping, sigils on the side.
"Figured you might like that," twittered a vocalizer from above.
Wedge glanced upwards, finding (to little surprise, but immense irritation) Lazerbeak, once again hidden among the ceiling lattice and staring down at the recruit coolly.
"I thought I told you to buzz off," the triple-changer replied, a hint of heat in his tone.
Lazerbeak seemed unperturbed by the youngling's anger. He settled down on his tiny talons, wings tucking around his sides, looking for all the world a sweet and quaint bird. "I was going to do just that," he said, tail feathers swiping back and forth, "...At least, until I realized that you hadn't yet rejoined your lil' 'friends'. So I decided to check up on you, and bring you a peace offering while I was at it."
Wedge was unamused. "So you stole Hoist's tablet and brought it to me. Why?," he demanded.
The avian shook his helm, a quick chirp escaping him. The recruit wasn't sure if the sound was meant to be a laugh or a sigh. "I didn't take it from the teal one," the Decepticon explained. "I ripped it straight out of the yellow one's servos."
At once, the orange youngling's optics dropped down to the device in his grasp, incredulous.
"See," Lazerbeak chuckled darkly, his vocalizer a little whisper as rough digits swiped up on the screen, "I figured you'd catch my meaning."
Wedge wasn't paying any attention to the flyer though. He was busy tapping through apps on the tablet, growing angrier and angrier as he opened each program. Hoist's tablet had been completely ransacked: all his pictures, assignments and saved chats flushed from the memory banks. Even his list of contacts had been blocked. All except one. Hot Shot remained the only available contact in the settings. The messaging app held just one long chat train between the user and Hot Shot. There were even several pictures of the red youngling saved.
By the time he'd scrolled through the available apps and seen how Scorch had gotten his servos onto Hot Shot yet again, the triple-changer was livid.
"Where. Is. He?," he hissed out between clenched denta.
Lazerbeak ruffled his feathers merrily at the recruit's rage, stretching his neck to peer down the right-hand of the hallway. "Oh, probably about to come this way to try and find me. He seemed quite adamant on getting rid of that tablet," the avian cooed. "Why? Shall I fetch him for you?"
The orange helm nodded stiffly. "The compactor room," was all he said, hearing the tablet creak between his massive servos.
"With pleasure," Lazerbeak replied, spreading his wings and gliding gently down from the ceiling. He made a languid circle back up the corridor from which he had come, before turning and drifting up the opposite side.
A set of pedes were rushing up the hallway as he did; desperate to stay discrete but their owner unwilling to lose sight of the Decepticon entirely. Wedge made sure to step further back into the shadows of his alcove at the sound, optics burning a hateful trail as Scorch appeared before his hiding place, and hurriedly continued on- all without noticing the other youngling's presence. Swapping the tablet for a small, triangular device from his subspace, Wedge carefully stepped into sight once more and followed after the harried athlete.
Turning at the junction up ahead, the orange youngling caught sight of Lazerbeak circling lazily around the trash compactor room door. The door itself was closed -at least, it was, until Scorch took a daring leap forward and snatched the avian straight from the air, where upon the door slid open after sensing a Cybertronian at its' edges. Clutching the casseticon's tiny neck between his two servos, Scorch drew the squawking flyer towards himself, sneering into Lazerbeak's face as he took a step into the now-open doorway.
"I've got you now, you disgusting, lil' rust-mite," the yellow recruit growled, squeezing tighter on Lazerbeak's minuscule neck, "And you're going to bring me back that tablet you swiped before I forcefully eject your helm from your pathetic excuse of a fr-!"
Scorch's words cut off sharply as he was shoved aggressively into the trash room; the unexpected force sending him flying forward several metres and causing him to skid across the pitted floor, gouging deep marks into his plating. It wasn't enough to keep the Autobot down. He was clambering back up to his pedes a few astroseconds later, outrage over the avian's escape outweighing his shock at being slammed from behind. He spun about, narrow optics searching for Lazerbeak, instead finding himself standing a few paces apart from an equally livid Wedge.
"You-!"
"I thought I told you to stay away from Hot Shot, Scorch," Wedge cut in, his vocalizer drenched in vitriol. "I remember saying to you, specifically, that I would bury you, Scorch!"
The athlete leaned out of his hunched pose, his darkened face twisting upwards into a cruel smile. "Ah, so you got your pet to spy on me, is that it? Made a scene in the lounge and took the tablet I rightfully stole, as payback for getting further with Hot Shot than you ever could?," he said, a snort of derision sneaking out between jabs. "I'm not sure why you're even still bothering with him. Clearly, you don't like him all that much if you could be away for all this time. He needs a real mech, not some not-so-reformed 8-bit slagger, and I'm happy to show Hot Shot that."
The triple-changer was shaking, servos curling and uncurling into fists repeatedly at his sides. Pixels were breaking in his vision, leaving behind tiny, black voids or skewing the colour rations off-balance, as he tried to contain the murderous ferocity whipping through his entire frame just then. Yet, nothing could erase Scorch's disgusting sneer and the wicked, mad glee that lit up his optics in front of the orange youngling's face.
The fragger was enjoying this!
"So, what now, Wedge?," the yellow recruit taunted. "Gonna try to hurt me as payback? Do it! I'd love nothing more than to tell the 'professors' how you hit me out of pitiful, unfounded spite! Do it; punch me, glitch!"
Lazerbeak settled somewhere on an exposed pipe above Wedge, his thin, red optics bright with feverish anticipation, waiting as well for the expected blow.
But Wedge only stood there, optics offlined as he struggled to keep from simply pulverizing the arrogant Scorch to a luminescent pile of scrap.
Scorch laughed -slow, but quickly building up into a cruel crackle- as the orange youngling remained motionless and seemingly unaware. "See," he spat, moving to step around the ex-Decepticon, "A piece of slag through and through. You don't deserve to have Hot Shot, scum-sucking fr-"
The athlete's insult was interrupted by a loud, resounding clang.
Dazed, Scorch's reset his optics, still finding himself staring up at the ceiling of the trash compactor room. Confusion bled immediately into anger; he pushed himself up into a sitting stance, arms shaking from the sudden exertion, mouth pulled back in a snarl. "Why you-!"
Wedge, watching as the other recruit struggled into a stand, merely kicked outward, turning Scorch's knee joint inward and destabilizing him entirely. The athlete found himself suddenly yanked backwards as a result, slamming into the side of the room. Lazerbeak gave an angry hiss at the horrid sound, finding the walls vibrating all around them in the process. He looked, angry and perplexed at the dangerously calm Wedge, who continued to stand several paces away from the now-pinned Scorch up against the bulkhead.
"What are you doing?!," the avian seethed. "You should be tearing him apart!"
The orange youngling didn't even to deign to glance at the Decepticon. His gaze remained firmly fixed to the Autobot held up by an invisible force against the opposite wall, unbothered by the shaking of loose sheet metal all around them.
"I don't have to lay a finger on you, Scorch...," he began softly, bolts and tiny screws zipping through the air. They zoomed right in for the yellow recruit, hitting his plating with thundering force and remaining there. Some, to the athlete's great agony, even punctured his frame. "'Cause a magnet can do destructive things to a being such as ourselves."
Larger debris was clattering up from out of the trash pit below now; dragged forward by the beckoning call of the small, triangle device pressed against Scorch's back struts, unseen. They rolled and tumbled over the lip of the pit, hurling themselves sloppily at the trapped Autobot. Their heavier weight met the red and yellow frame with a series of clangs, forcing a hiss out of their target.
The simple safety fence around the pit began to rattle in its holes violently. Wedge grabbed one to stabilize himself, ignoring the undignified squawk that left Lazerbeak as the pipe he was resting on was shaken loose from its mooring and whipped down from the ceiling. It slapped Scorch across the face, forcing his helm further back against the bulkhead while it left a nasty mark in the process. All optics were on the yellow youngling, watching as his frame was battered by the quickly eroding room.
"I could leave this on for orns until your entire frame was buried under one, massive trash heap," Wedge shared, pedes digging into the rough, concrete floor as even his weight was shifted minutely by the magnet's ever-increasing pull. "But, there's something to be said about being the better 'bot."
With a click of a tiny remote held within his free servo, the magent's dangerous draw was brought to an abrupt halt; scraps of metal, equipment, and even Scorch, tumbled to the floor in a messy pile, adding to the yellow mech's injuries. Scorch could only groan, too weak for anything else.
"Let that be a reminder for you, Scorch," the triple-changer warned lowly, turning around to face the door. "You mess with Hot Shot again, and-"
"Fool!," shrieked Lazerbeak from above.
But his cry was unnecessary; Wedge had already spun about at the slightest of motions from behind, a flattened palm knocking the lunging Scorch right in the chestplates and toward the edge of the trash pit. While the athlete hung precariously in mid-air, the orange youngling pushed the remote's silicone buttons once more, and the force of the magnet activated again, just as strong as it had once been. Scorch went flying through the room, a combination of gravity and magnetism throwing him deep into the pile of refuse below. He tried to wriggle about, the powerful draw dragging him ever further downward like a massive servo between his shoulder struts, but only served to shift the garbage around, all metal sliding closer to him and smothering Scorch in a mish-mash of junk. The worse had yet to come though. Gears wailed uncomfortably in the compactor room, forced into motion outside of their motorized controls. They strained and strained in their casings until, finally, it popped with a bang; the compactor's sheer wall rolling forward without command and snapping around a poor, trapped recruit.
Scorch screamed as the first of the gigantic machine's teeth closed around one leg; massive slabs of metal grinding to a stop before the damage could worsen. It was a horrible state, all the same, with one limb trapped between the compactor's frightful teeth and the rest of his frame half-submerged in jagged bits of metal and garbage. Overlooking the trash pit, stood Wedge, snapping the remains of the magnet's wireless controller into pieces as the magnet's pull died away a second time.
"Told you, magnets are no joke," he said flatly, strangely unsympathetic to the yellow recruit's pain or his crying. All Wedge felt was a cold, gnawing sense of dissatisfaction. A part of him desperately wanted to see the other youngling's punishment out more; eradicate him to the point that he would never spend another orn worrying over Hot Shot's well-being because of Scorch.
But that wasn't the rescue 'bot way.
That was the Decepticon way... and Wedge was done living someone else's twisted ideals.
"Like I said, Scorch, hurt Hot Shot again and I would bury you... I'm a 'bot of my word," Wedge added, his optics lingering on the weeping youngling as he sobbed through a set of vulgar curses, "But don't worry. Someone is bound to find you before the scheduled purge at the end of the week."
With that, the orange recruit finally walked from the compactor room, numb fingers pulling out Hoist's tablet again. He used the device as an anchor as he forced his pedes to carry him away from the door and down the hall; pushing back the trembles racking his frame and the wild churning of his fuel tanks, threatening to make him purge all down his front. He had done something truly horrible, but even knowing that, he still couldn't bring himself to believe that his actions were entirely wrong.
Scorch had been warned previously; Scorch was never going to see reason, not without violence, and it wasn't fair to risk Hot Shot's safety because of it.
Wedge just had to hold onto that belief. Perhaps it would ease his conscious so he could recharge, undisturbed.
Coming to a stop at the end of the hallway, the triple-changer turned his helm slightly, not that surprised to see that Lazerbeak had followed him out of the trash compactor room. Now the avian was perched on a jutting wall sconce, his narrowed optics piercing into the youngling's core.
"You should have just crushed him completely. Not even getting your servos dirty... You are a disgrace to-"
"QUIET!," the orange recruit bellowed. He caught the next string of hateful words just before they could escape his mouth; cycling hot, uneven vents until he could meet the Decepticon's gaze without flinching in shame. "I did what I had to do for my friend's sake, not because I wanted to! I will never hurt someone just for the fun of it. I am better than that!"
"Now," Wedge hurried on to say, holding the tablet out awkwardly. "I want you to take this back. Wipe it of anything that Scorch did, recover what you can a-and... and put it back in Hoist's room. It's his property, after all."
For a long, agonizing moment, Lazerbeak did nothing but stare at the device in the triple-changer's servos reproachfully. Long enough that Wedge felt himself beginning to lose his patience again; sensory grid too over-taxed to cope with the additional emotional turmoil he could bubbling on the surface. Just as he was about to shove the tablet out of sight with a snapping "Forget it!", the avian bounced on his perch and glided over, snatching up the electronic in one swoop.
"Fine," Lazerbeak scowled. "You would have benefited from snuffing out the spark of that mouthy, lil' parts-bin though."
Wedge crossed his arms over his chestplates with ire, glaring at the Decepticon as he flew off to another shadowy corner and out of sight. "Says you," he mumbled in disagreement at the other's tail feathers.
Only when he could no longer see Lazerbeak, did the orange youngling finally continue walking; making his way first to Heatwave's office and the remainder of his obligations.
xXx
Milford was deep into its nightly cycle by the time Wedge made his way to his room; pedes dragging from exhaustion and a heavy weight bearing down his spark. He'd spent the last several cycles in hard labour as part of his punishment for his tardiness and sudden disappearance so soon after coming back, and though the work was more than lenient for his transgressions, the gruelling chores had left the orange youngling with nothing more than his thoughts to occupy him in that time. Those long, drawn out kliks had been enough to fill Wedge to the brim with doubt, shame and even despair. How could he think that he was in the right to exact his revenge on Scorch the way that he had?! Why didn't he simply tell one of the professors about what had transpired? He could have even called out the pro-star's actions publicly, in front of all the other recruits! Surely, that would force Scorch into behaving himself!
A part of Wedge argued otherwise, only adding to his strife...
But the worse, was the guilt. That, despite being away for months and having Scorch get in the way for orns, the first thing he did upon coming back was not staying and spending time with Hot Shot. No. The first thing Wedge did was abandon Hot Shot and spend a good half of his orn stewing in rage, before ultimately taking it out on the yellow recruit. And given how quickly he had placed the multi-changer on the back burner, it seemed that Scorch's words had been true. Maybe he didn't care about Hot Shot as much as he thought he did.
His shuffling pedes caught on something along the smooth tiles, nearly causing the ex-Decepticon to fall. A numb servo caught the nearby wall, steadying Wedge... Yet he remained rooted in place, half-leaned up against the wall, as he fought the urge to just lie down right then and there. His optics drifted down the hallway, glancing from one open doorway to the next... finding his optics stalling as they caught sight of Hot Shot's door, shut firmly to the outside world. It was such an irregularity to behold that it broke Wedge out of his reverie; long enough for his pedes to continue their exhausted shuffling to his own berthroom, desperate to out-race the apathy he could feel chasing on his heels.
He reset the lights to their dimmest setting when they lit upon his entry, slowly unfolding the collection of heat tarps and knitted blankets on his berth to make space for himself. Wedge was just about to clamber into his berth for a much-needed recharge when he caught movement out of the corner of his peripheral; helm shooting up to see an anxious Hot Shot slipping into his room.
"H...h-hey...," the red youngling whispered, pedes toeing the line between private quarters and corridor.
"H...hi," was all the triple-changer had to reply with.
Darkened blue optics jumped all over the place, trying to land on Wedge but quickly leaping to the next object a couple astroseconds in. Their flitting unnerved the orange recruit further and he loudly rebooted his vocalizer, trying to push through the dread filling his spark at that moment.
"D-did you need something, Hot Shot?," he asked neutrally.
The smaller Autobot flinched at the question, causing his companion to wince in turn. This was bad, he knew.
Hot Shot waved a servo distractedly, his gaze still having yet to meet the ex-Decepticon's own. "Y-yeah, u-um," he mumbled, "C-could we... could we ma-maybe, t-talk?"
"S-sure," Wedge forced himself to reply, believing that the red recruit was about to dump him. Of which he deserved anyhow, for being a horrible conjux endura and not protecting his partner when he should have.
The triple-changer turned and sat on the edge of his berth, inviting Hot Shot to take the only chair at his small desk. Hot Shot didn't move though, just standing in the doorway, staring at his shaking servos as they clasped together tightly. Nothing was said for a very long klik...
Then, as the swell of frightful anticipation turned Wedge's minute nausea into a churning vortex of sickness, Hot Shot spoke up.
"I-i-," he gasped loudly, optics offlining, "I missed you! A-a lot. I w-wasn't su-sure I was e-ever going to see you again, e-even t-though I knew the p-project was gonna eventually finish a-and you'd come b-back to f-finish your training, b-but I-i..."
"A-and then Scorch t-tricked m-me into that cl-closet," Hot Shot continued, his words interrupted by a sob. At the sound, Wedge was on his pedes immediately, crossing the room in a rush.
"H-hot Shot! D-did... did h-he-?!"
The multi-changer shook his helm hard, a servo snatching at the arms that hovered before his frame uncertainly. There was a painful pause, as Hot Shot tried to speak but could only choke out a couple more, timid sobs.
"J-just... just ki-kissed me... b-but I-i-i," the smaller youngling hiccuped, "I t-thought it w-was you... a-and it s-scared... sc-scared me s-so much w-when I r-realized it w-wasn't..." Glazed optics lifted up hesitantly, thick globs of coolant breaking out of the pool and tracking their way down the other's pale face. "T-then y-you did c-come back and k-kissed me t-too...! B-but, but y-you didn't s-stay!"
It felt as if someone had taken a jagged blade and rammed it through his spark chamber. Every tear was another notch deeper that the invisible dagger slid; the spark-broken whimpers caused from his careless kiss that morning a vicious twist of the hilt.
"H-hot Shot, I-i... I'm s-sorry," Wedge stuttered, all his regret rushing back in at his partner's despair. "I-i'm s-sorry, I sh-should have p-protected y-you be-better! I s-should have-!"
Hot Shot slapped a servo to the orange youngling's mouth, his sudden burst of force fading as he began to tremble and whimper once more. "I... I d-don't... don't c-care about t-that," he sniffed, his words coming slow and painfully enunciated. "I-i-i... I j-just c-care a-about... about y-you, s-so, so m-much... I l-love y-you, W-wedge, a-and I-i ju-just... I just w-want this t-to be real a-and not some fl-fling!"
The words felt like a slap to the face.
His own optics heating, Wedge lifted a servo, gently pulling the shaking fingers away from his mouth. "Y-you... you t-thought I...?," he hesitated to vocalize.
But the evidence was there. In the way that Hot Shot failed to lock optics with him, remaining hunched over and poorly muffling another set of sobs, too weak to pull his fingers out of the other's grasp. Neural net ragged with grief, the orange recruit pressed the cool digits against his cheekplate, his lip components brushing soft kisses down the black palm and to the attached red forearm, all while his other servo pulled Hot Shot in for a tight hug.
"H-hot Shot, I... I l-love you too," Wedge mumbled along his shorter companion's audio, "P-primus, I d-don't know w-what I'd do w-without you! I'm s-sorry I e-ever made y-you feel o-otherwise. T-this isn't f-fake or s-some secret t-that needs hiding; I o-only want u-us to t-take our time, e-enjoy every moment a-as it comes, naturally. I-i'm so, so, so sorry. I s-should have been clearer f-from the start..."
Clutching fingers had f-found their way around his chestplates, digging into the seams around his back struts and gripping on tightly. Wedge didn't mind their sting; he just embraced Hot Shot tighter, sighing blissfully at having his arms wrapped once more around the light of his spark.
A soft, shy "R-really...?," emerged from the helm beneath his chin.
Smiling, Wedge nuzzled the rounded edges of the red youngling's helm. "Really," he confirmed.
A sniffle was heard, but afterwards, there was a stretch of silence that followed.
It was too comfortable to break this time, and so, the triple-changer just let it linger, aware that exhaustion hung on the edges of his vision yet unwilling to be the first to let go.
Hot Shot fidgeted, just enough to show a glimmer of his optics, now tearless, up out of the cocoon of the ex-Decepticon's arms. "...W-wedge...?," he whispered inquiringly.
"Hmm?"
"C...c-can I r-recharge here? To-tonight?"
Wedge shuttered his optics at the forward request, smiling again as he gently drew back half a step from the Autobot. "Sure," he answered, glad to see the quick flash of a joyous grin flit across Hot Shot's face.
Taking the red youngling by the servo, the taller recruit led them to his berth; allowing his companion to climb onto the narrow berth first before sidling in next. After several astroseconds, and a few adjustments, they both lay nestled snugly on the slab: Hot Shot, between wall and Wedge, warmed by the thermal sheet and the triple-changer's heavy arm draped across his waist.
This close, they had no choice but to stare into each other's optics; the ethereal glow the only illumination as the lights finally shut off completely, plunging the room into darkness otherwise. Neither minded the change.
"I'm g-glad you're back," Hot Shot mumbled, tiredness finally catching up to him as well.
"I'm glad to be back," Wedge shared, vocalizer plagued with bits of static as he felt recharge sweeping up quickly on himself. "I've got the best mechfriend in the whole universe."
Grinning goofily, Hot Shot snuggled in closer to the orange youngling, dozing off immediately. It was a delightful feeling, one that Wedge could only chuckle at while his arm slid to keep the multi-changer spooned close, as he too finally drifted off for the night.
C.M.D: ...and a happy ending to offset the bitterness~! It's another step forward for Hot Shot and Wedge, but I certainly won't be done with them anytime soon. So be on the lookout for another addition to our favourite recruits' wild relationship and I'll see you all next update!
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?