Temerity
Part 27-Collision
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.
Right arm nearly twisted off, he couldn't feel it anymore, ignored the pain from his other wounds. Concentrating on masking his energy signature from the Decepticons, trying to keep a grip on the thing in his good hand, trying to block its call from his mind. Weapons offline, not many options left. But he would not fall, would not give up. Not when he gave his word.
Hot Rod heard the unfamiliar sound, felt the ground shake, saw the shadow looming overhead. He didn't budge as it began to rip apart the rocks where he was hiding. Then it saw him--the purple and green abomination Shockwave named "Devastator." Hot Rod offlined his optics, falling to his knees, waiting for the end to come. But it didn't. The orb in his hand activated, began to glow, searing his hand. He felt compelled to hold it aloft. And everything burned. Devastator pulled back, breaking apart into its separate components, running.
Hot Rod bolted awake, sitting up on his berth, panting from the nightmare. He didn't want to remember--the memory of the combiner was bad enough, but what followed. . .Shockwave finding him, ripping his chest open. . .Hot Rod started to shake.
:Optimus:
:What is it?:
:Can you come? Please?:
Moments later, the door chimed, Hot Rod let Optimus in.
"Another nightmare?" Optimus asked.
"Yes," Hot Rod said.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Hot Rod said.
"It could help," Optimus said.
"Nothing but staying awake will help," Hot Rod said, sitting down on the berth. Optimus sat down beside him.
"But you should rest," Optimus said.
"I know but how can I when I keep having nightmares over and over again?"
"Maybe if you could tell someone about them. . ."
Optimus stopped, seeing the look in Hot Rod's optics.
"I told you, I'm not talking about it," Hot Rod said.
"Then why summon me?" Optimus said, annoyance growing.
"Because you're one of the few things helping me maintain my grip on sanity," Hot Rod said.
"What?" Optimus said.
"You're so calm and grounded. . .even though I know sometimes you don't feel like it, you still manage to hold it together when everything's falling apart. . .and when you're around, it helps," Hot Rod said.
"Is that why you want me around so much?" Optimus said, slight mirth in his eyes.
"No," Hot Rod said. "Just one of the reasons."
"And the others?" Optimus asked, trying to get Hot Rod to think about something other than his nightmares. "Like you care for me?"
"That too," Hot Rod said, glad he could finally make the admission out loud, and not really caring anymore what the consequences would be if it all blew up in his face.
"And would you be surprised to know that over the years I've enjoyed your company as well?" Optimus asked. "You're one of the few that has treated me as something other than Prime, someone who sees who I am aside from being a leader. And that has been much appreciated."
Hot Rod didn't answer immediately, surprised at Optimus' own admission.
"Would you like me to stay a while?" Optimus asked finally.
"Yes, if you want," Hot Rod said.
Optimus nodded, watching Hot Rod lay down on the berth. He laid down beside him, glad when the other mech didn't protest this time as he wrapped his arms around him.
-----
Hot Rod talked with Springer a few minutes before going out on patrol. He'd stopped in ops to get his assignment for the day, surprised at finding Springer on monitor duty, but glad at the same time. Ratchet had finally taken pity on Springer and both of their nerves, letting him out of the med bay on light duty.
Except now he was just pissed off. He'd finally made some headway with Optimus, only to find him gone from his quarters when he woke. And Prowl was riding his ass about changing assignments yet again and he'd nearly gotten his head removed by an angry Ironhide that morning in the rec room. All he'd wanted was to online his weapons and take down Ironhide because he was now itching for a fight, and he'd have one by the end of the day, be it friend or foe, come hell or high water.
--
Also waiting for their morning assignment were the twins and Bluestreak, except Blue was along for the ride more than anything else, and the possibility of finally dragging Jazz and Prowl together to have a little talk about what he saw as their predicament, although at the moment, it was more like his and Jazz's problem, which was Prowl. And that was a pain in the aft because he knew Jazz wanted Prowl and Bluestreak wanted them both and he doubted they'd see him that way even though Jazz knew about it and was being kind and patient and what the hell was Sideswipe saying?
"I dare you," Sideswipe said.
"What are you talking about because I have better things to do like patrol and I need to talk to Jazz and I don't need my aft kicked because of one of your stupid pranks so leave me alone and you dare me to what?" Bluestreak said.
"I dare you to go over and lay one of those things the humans call a kiss on ol' Springer there," Sideswipe said.
"That's Springer," Bluestreak said, with a slight tone of awe in his voice. "Commander of the Valor, one-time leader of the Wreckers and you want me to what?"
"So?" Sideswipe said.
Sunstreaker stood beside them, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, shaking his head, listening to his brother.
"'Sides, he'll get his aft handed to him," Sunstreaker said. Usually he was all for a joke, but he didn't exactly want to be one-half of the reason for another Autobot to end up in the med bay. "And I don't think it's that mech Bluestreak wants to be uh. . ."
"Fine. I'll do it myself," Sideswipe said.
Bluestreak stopped talking, and Sunstreaker grinned as he watched his brother walk over to Springer, who had only just become disengaged from a conversation with Hot Rod.
Springer tried hard not to pay attention to the conversation. He knew it probably involved him, considering how animated Sideswipe was, and how he and Bluestreak, the young sniper, kept looking his way. He was on monitor duty, and was grateful for any duty at all that got him out of the med bay. Although it looked this morning like Sideswipe had chosen him as his latest target for whatever he had in mind. Not that he minded. Much. The twins wreaked merry hell on the base's occupants, Cybertronian and human alike. It drove Prime nuts, sometimes, but generally kept morale up.
Sideswipe had a lot going through his head at this particular moment. Like how big Springer was, how *he* could get his own aft very literally handed back to him in the next few seconds, but it could be potentially worth it in so many ways. He considered that Springer was a usually affable mech. He was a respected commander in his own right, and he was well-liked. And the fact that of late Springer was one of the few the overconfident to the point of arrogance Hot Rod accepted was a plus in his favor. Or, one of the few mechs on base that kept him operating on a near-sane level since his arrival to Earth.
Sideswipe pushed it from his mind as he closed the distance to Springer's station.
Springer didn't look up as Sideswipe sidled up.
"So, how's it going?" Sideswipe asked.
"Slow," Springer said. "What do you want, Sideswipe?"
Springer gave the red twin a sidelong glance, noticing he was grinning back at his brother. Then, he felt Sideswipe's hands grab his face, and he leaned down, planting a kiss on his lips. Before he could react, Sideswipe transformed and sped away, nearly flattening Capt. Lennox, again.
It took a few seconds to regain his composure, and when he did, he turned the opposite direction, where he heard laughter, and was greeted by the sight of Sunstreaker draped over Bluestreak for support, both mechs laughing their afts off.
The look Springer gave the two silenced Bluestreak, but only made Sunstreaker laugh harder. Maybe I should have stayed in the med bay, Springer thought.
--
Lennox was just inside ops, going to see how Springer was doing when he saw *it*--what would later become known as the "Springer incident." Although at the moment it really didn't register along with all the other named incidents on base because this one was definitely new. Unexpected. He felt the wind blow by as Sideswipe sped past him, turned, walking out of ops and straight into Prime's office.
The Autobot leader raised an optic ridge, seeing the human walk into his office, switching to concern once he saw the look on his face.
"Capt. Lennox, what is the matter?" he asked.
"Sideswipe," Lennox said.
"What did he do now?" Prime said, standing.
"Public display of affection," Lennox said, not quite able to bring himself to say it. Yet.
Prime strode from the office, into ops, where he saw Prowl dragging Sideswipe back. And he was on a roll.
". . .and what were you hoping to accomplish with that little show? Springer is on duty, where you should be and if I catch you doing that again in ops while ANYONE is on duty, I'll hand your aft to Ratchet," Prowl said. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Sideswipe said. "Although if I were you. . .wow, you're dense, you know that, Prowl? And everyone thinks I'm stupid. . ."
Optimus flinched, offlined his optics, hearing the sound of a fist hitting metal, the crunch that followed. He onlined his optics, surprised to see Bluestreak standing over Sideswipe.
"Don't EVER call him stupid again," Blue said.
Before Prowl could react, Sideswipe was up and running down the corridor this time.
Sunstreaker walked past Prime. "Don't worry--I'll bring him back," he said.
Prime nodded, walked over, grabbed Bluestreak by the arm.
"My office. Now," he said.
Bluestreak nodded, but didn't move. Prime pulled gently, leading the young gunner to his office. He shut the door, shoved Blue in a chair, leaned against his desk, arms crossed.
"To what do I owe that uncharacteristic display of violence?" Prime asked.
Blue muttered something unintelligible, staring at the floor.
"Blue, it's all right. You can talk to me. My door is always open," Prime said.
Blue looked up at that.
"Really?"
"Last time I checked, it always has been," Prime said.
"It's just that. . ."
"Just that Prowl's blind and Jazz isn't and no one will say or do anything, correct?" Prime asked gently.
"Yes," Blue said. "And I'm sick of being treated like a sparkling when I'm almost the same age as Springer and Hot Rod and they're not treated like sparklings even though they both act like it sometimes and Prowl is a stubborn pain in the aft and Jazz won't talk to me about Prowl and what we can do about it and it's driving me crazy and if you say I should go talk to Ratchet I might shoot you then myself because I shot Prime and when all I just want to do is shoot both of THEM. . ."
Prime placed a hand on Blue's shoulder.
"Blue, it's all right. I understand. I know Prowl's been. . .difficult lately, but these things take time," Prime said.
Blue raised an optic ridge. "Time? I've been waiting for that aft-head slagger Prowl to wise up for a very long time," Blue said.
"I know," Prime said. "Be patient Blue, it's all I can offer. Like I said, these things take time. If you want them both, they're worth waiting for, but does Jazz know how you feel?"
"He thinks it's just Prowl," Blue said. "And that's why he won't talk to me about it."
Prime pinched the bridge of his nose. "He won't talk to you about this at all?"
"No," Blue said. "And I can't get Prowl to talk about anything but tactics and duty."
"My friend, you have your work cut out for you," Prime said.
"Is there anything you can do?" Blue asked, turning wide, innocent sparkling optics on Prime.
Prime reached up again, this time pinching the bridge of his nose harder.
"Bluestreak, I'll make no promises, but I'll see what I can do," he said.
Blue stood, hugged Optimus, then ran from the office, late for his shift.
-----
Kup looked up, seeing Optimus standing at his door.
"We have a problem," Prime said.
"What did Hot Rod do now?" Kup asked.
"It's not Hot Rod," Prime said. "Blue flattened Sideswipe a while ago."
Kup leaned back in his chair. "Can't say I'm surprised," he said. "Why?"
"He called Prowl 'stupid,'" Prime said.
"Well, that explains that," Kup said. "I'm surprised Jazz just hasn't flat out told him how they feel."
"That's the problem--Jazz won't talk to Blue about it and though Blue has tried to talk to Prowl, he's had little success," Prime said.
"You thinking about helping things along?"
"I told Blue these things take time, but I'd see what I could do," Prime said.
"You planning on talking to Prowl?" Kup said.
"I don't know what to do. I feel it isn't proper to meddle, although I fear in their case, matters are quickly going to come to a head," Prime said.
"Unlike you, I have no problems with 'meddling,' as you put it," Kup said. "Leave it to me. Might take a while, but I'll see what I can do to help things along."
"Thanks, old friend," Prime said.
-----
It was late. Hot Rod found himself out, alone, which he was not supposed to be. He was still angry, although it faded a bit after taking a piece or two out of Smokescreen in the rec room a few hours before. He felt some remorse, but not much. Smug son of a bitch decided to prod a little too much. Now, Hot Rod found himself knowing he should head home, but on the other hand, he'd end up in the brig, now they had one.
So, for once, he did the right thing.
-----
Optimus sat in the rec room, angry as hell. He didn't show it on his face, but as the evening wore on, most of the Autobots abandoned the rec room as his anger level ratcheted up. And he was broadcasting, his energy field making anyone thinking about coming into the room have second thoughts. He hadn't been there for the fight, but he'd heard about it, and was now camped out waiting for Hot Rod to show. And he was rewarded a little later when he saw him walking by, headed for the living quarters.
Prime stood, following, finally catching up with Hot Rod at the door to his quarters. He grabbed the smaller mech by the arm, started to haul him down the corridor.
"Don't even try to get away from me," Prime said, dragging him toward his own quarters.
Once there, he punched in the access code, shoved Hot Rod inside, following.
"What is the matter with you?" Optimus asked, not bothering to hide his anger anymore. "One minute you're doing as you should, the next you're attacking a fellow Autobot."
"I don't have to explain myself to anyone," Hot Rod said, trying to shove past Optimus, but the larger mech grabbed him again.
"Take your hands off me."
Prime didn't listen. He slammed the younger mech into the wall, bringing his hands together over his head at the same time, using his bigger, heavier bulk to immobilize Hot Rod.
"Are you going to listen to reason now?" he said, voice low and dangerous.
Hot Rod shuttered his optics a few times before nodding. Optimus felt the tension and anger drain from the orange and black frame, and he relaxed against him.
"You know you can talk to me," Optimus said. "What's wrong?"
"It's just that sometimes there's so much running through my head and I think about everything that's happened and what I can't remember and I just want it all to go away. . ." Hot Rod said.
"It's all right," Optimus said. "It's in the past."
"Not far enough in the past for me," Hot Rod said. "You can let go of me now."
Optimus released Hot Rod's hands, letting them fall to his sides.
"You should go," Optimus said.
"What if I don't want to?" Hot Rod asked, reaching out for Optimus' hand, twining his fingers in his. He pulled him back towards the berth, hoping the bigger mech wouldn't throw him out on his aft.
"Hot Rod, this is. . .inappropriate. . ."
Inappropriate was an understatement. He, the leader, in his quarters, in his own berth, in a compromising situation with a subordinate. Prowl's battle computer would go down like the human Titanic. Optimus was trying to come up with a reason to slow down, stop, throw Hot Rod out, but couldn't. To him, they were moving too fast but at the same time, he couldn't remember the last time he'd given into something so strong--something he wanted, but wasn't quite ready to admit to himself, let alone Hot Rod. Rational thought wasn't exactly something he could concentrate on at the moment, not with Hot Rod's roving hands.
"You need. . ."
"What I need is of little consequence at this moment," Optimus said.
"Then I want. . ." Hot Rod said, reaching up, drawing Optimus' face close to his own. Hot Rod pressed in close, placing a kiss on Optimus' lips. He started to jerk back, but Hot Rod kept him from pulling away. It was a human gesture, alien to a Cybetronian, but it had the desired effect. Optimus pressed against Hot Rod, twining the fingers of his free hand with the younger mech. Hot Rod smiled into the kiss, but Optimus broke it off.
"You want this?" Optimus asked.
Hot Rod nodded.
Satisfied, Optimus reached down, caressing Hot Rod's face plates with his thumbs, tracing the line of his cheeks under the optics, the jaw. Hot Rod reached up, beginning to explore with his own fingers. He traced the glyph on the front of Prime's helm, then moved to the glyphs aligned in a circle around each audio.
"Do you know what these mean?" Hot Rod asked.
"I know there meaning, but do you?" Optimus said.
"I could tell you. I read and speak Ancient," Hot Rod said.
"You?"
"Kup made sure it was part of my training. He tried to get Springer to learn, but he wasn't interested. I actually surpassed Kup in its fluency. He said you'd never know when it could come in handy. . ."
Optimus chuckled, frame heaving gently against Hot Rod.
"What do they mean?"
Hot Rod's fingers again moved to his helm. He traced it gently.
"This one means strength," Hot Rod said.
"And the others?"
He moved to the audios. "Compassion. Loyalty. Trust. Courage. Unity."
"Do you have any?" Optimus asked.
"Just one, the same as this one," Hot Rod said, going back to the glyph on Prime's helm.
"Where?"
Hot Rod pointed to a seam in his armor, right before his shoulder.
"Here," he said. "I was branded with it after I earned my command. It was Kup's idea. All of the tacu leaders he's ever trained have it."
The mark wasn't big, but Optimus reached to touch it, following Hot Rod's lead, tracing it with his fingers, then trailing them down the black rally stripes on Hot Rod's chest.
"Do you know what you're asking?" Optimus said.
"Yes," Hot Rod answered.
"Have you ever. . ."
"No."
"Again, are you sure you want to continue?"
"I finish what I start," Hot Rod said, a defiant look in his optics. He stared up at Optimus, unflinching, waiting, until the other nodded in acceptance.
It was Optimus' turn to reach down, to kiss Hot Rod. He responded, moving his hands to caress the struts on each of Optimus' shoulders. The bigger mech groaned in pleasure, reaching down to stroke along Hot Rod's chest and mid-section, causing him to arch against him.
Prime pulled away, and Hot Rod started to protest.
"Open to me," Optimus said.
Hot Rod complied, willing his armor to part, revealing his spark. He waited as Prime raised himself up on his elbows, parting his own armor. He lay still, trying not to fidget. He knew, theoretically, what came next. Serving in a military unit, one heard things, but nothing could prepare him for the reality of it.
Optimus leaned in, bringing their frames into contact. Hot Rod felt the warmth of the chassis on his own, then as their sparks met, a gentle yet insistent tug. Then panic as he felt the sensation of being yanked from his own body.
It dissipated quickly, replaced by a presence. . .then the loss of all physical sense completely as his spark merged with Optimus'. Shock at first, then joy, and awe. He could feel Optimus, and for a moment, Hot Rod couldn't tell where he ended and Optimus began. Then came the first aftershock, wracking his body, Prime pulling him close as overload ripped through them both, ebbing and flowing until there was nothing left but surrender.
--
Hot Rod was wrapped around Optimus when he woke, arms around him, the bulk of the more slender frame pressed against him. Prime checked his internal chronometer. 7:30 a.m. local. Time to get up. He move to wrest himself from the younger mech's grip.
"Five more minutes," came the quiet response.
"You should go back to your own quarters."
"If you were afraid of someone seeing me leave yours, you should have thought of that before now," Hot Rod said.
Prime sighed. Of all the mechs to pick. . .
"All right. You can stay," Prime said.
All the response he received was Hot Rod settling himself in closer, moving to rest his chin on his shoulder, audio to audio. Optimus sighed, resigning himself to the situation. He patted one of Hot Rod's hands with his own, earning a contented venting of air. The younger mech settled back into recharge quickly, and Prime considered it. Waking him from a much-needed rest would serve no purpose, and as there was so far nothing pressing requiring his attention, he decided it would hurt nothing to stay as he was for a while longer.