Chapter Text
Hot Shot grumbled to himself as he kicked a can lying on the usually clean floors of the academy, walking purposefully slow as some sort of incentive.
He'd usually just shrug off the typical scolding of a teacher or being unable to complete a training exercise, but this was not something he would like to spend his afternoon doing. The scenario was normal at first, just another holo-training in the hero hall, and again the mission's failure was on Hot Shot's shoulders.
Wedge had gotten pretty upset over his incompetence, and Hot Shot could hardly blame him, it was pretty embarrassing for them all. The shouting match eventually turned into a physical one, and he may or may not have thrown Wedge out of the holographic projector and directly into the control panel. And Heatwave was there to witness ALL of it.
"HOT SHOT!"
Primus, Heatwave was scary, no, downright terrifying when he got angry. Heatwave was a good teacher and a good friend but man did his emotions get the better of him.
"Meet me in my office! Unless you have any objections."
Hot Shot shook his head furiously, and Heatwave stomped off with the theoretical flames coming out of his plates. The other recruits looked psyched out as well, even though they weren't the ones getting yelled at. Even Wedge looked a little sorry.
Whatever, Hot Shot didn't want their pity, he made a mistake and he would repent for it. That's what made him a better bot, right?
Heatwave's door seemed so much more intimidating this time around, even though he'd been in his office a plethora in the past. Shallowly venting a puff of hot air, he pushed the metal frame open.
Heatwave sat at his desk as usual, flipping through some sort of data pad, hardly acknowledging Hot Shot's presence. Somehow that made him more nervous for something so mundane.
"...uhhm, sir?-"
"Sit."
The single word sounding more demanding than angry, he supposed that was better than the latter. Hot Shot sat at the seat in front of the desk, like a principal's office in one of those human movies.
Heatwave continued looking through the data pad, and he nervously fiddled his digits and looked up to his teacher. Obviously Heatwave was expecting Hot Shot to say something, and he was at a complete loss for words. All he could do was shamefully dip his head and try to avoid eye contact.
A sigh was heard from the Rescue Bot, and finally put the data pad down. The frown he gave Hot Shot was soul crushing for some instinctual reason, like he failed to impress someone he cared about, which was completely correct.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
The sentence shocked Hot Shot out of his daze and he jumped his gaze back to the fire truck. A familiar string of words began to stumble out of his mouth on reflex.
"I'm s-so so sorry sir I really didn't mean to completely wreck the hero hall panel I just I mean we got pretty heated there and the mission kind of was all my fault that's not really helping but I won't do it ever again I've learned my lesson and I-" Heatwave raised a silencing hand and Hot Shot immediately shut up. Another disappointed sigh, great.
"You say you have learned your lesson, but I have a hard time believing that." Said Heatwave, and the urge to disprove that was too great to stop himself.
"But sir, I really have this time! I swear to Cybertron and back that I will never allow something like this to happen!" The red Rescue bot looks at him with a disbelieving look, obviously not impressed no matter how hard Hot Shot tried to bluff.
"Really."
"Yes really!"
Heatwave hummed and lifted his brow, Hot Shot didn't know what he was thinking, which was awfully odd for the very expressive Rescue Bot. He put a digit to his chin, looking thoughtful as the recruit gazed nervously.
"You know, that control panel is going to take at least a week to fully repair."
"...I know, and I'm sorry for me breaking it. I can, uhm, help repair it if that makes you less mad!" Said Hot Shot in a slightly joking tone, Heatwave was still not amused.
"I admire that suggestion, especially coming from you. But I need to be sure that you will never do something like that again."
That was a bit ominous, thought Hot Shot as he sweat non-existent bullets.
"No matter how much I scold you or give you some valuable life lesson, you always go back to your roots and screw something up all over again." Said Heatwave, getting up from his chair and the beginnings of a stride form.
"I believe a different kind of discipline is going to be necessary for your actions."
Sheesh, if it didn't sound ominous before. Hot Shot slouched in the oversized chair as Heatwave grew near. Some deep rooted fear inside of him expected the Rescue Bot to hit him, or something worse, and flinched internally as he closed his eyes.
He didn't expect to be gently lifted from the seat and placed on one of Heatwave's legs as he sat in his once spot.
Well, this was odd. He'd forgotten how huge Heatwave was compared to himself, he was probably shorter than the red bot's torso.
A hand was placed on his back, securing him to the knee, while his head rested on the calm grey metal of Heatwave's thigh.
"Uhh…Heatwave, what are you doing?"
It was a bit harder to look up at the teach's face in this angle, but Hot Shot could still see the disappointed look, ouch.
"Sorry 'bout this kid." That was the final warning Hot Shot was given.
A powerful hand swiftly came down and struck his aft square and true, and Hot Shot shouted like no other.
"WHAT THE FRAG?!"
"Language cadet."
"Sorry sir-" Hot Shot couldn't properly finish that as another strike showered down and he yelped again.
Good Primus did that bloody hurt. It's not that the aft was a particularly sensitive part of the body, it's just that Heatwave's fist was RELENTLESS in its barrage.
The worst part was the pause in between strikes, the pain was getting time to settle in only to immediately be reset by another powerful slap.
Whatever this punishment was, it was beyond humiliating along with the pain. It was worsened by the fact that it was Heatwave doing this, Hot Shot was completely mortified at the pathetic cries and whimpers he made. He could barely even open his eyes to look up at his tormentor.
The strikes were swift and brutal, each one managed to bring some sort of reaction from the troubled recruit, and it felt like it would last forever .
After seemingly ages of this punishment, Heatwave ceased his abuse on the poor bot's aft, and was left with a shivering mess in his lap.
Heatwave did feel pretty bad about the whole ordeal, but it had to be done, otherwise Hot Shot would run free to cause more trouble for everyone else. And, he did have some anger taken out of it.
The Rescue Bot picked up the silent sobbing mech off of his knee and cradled him up to his chest. A punishment without meaning would only serve to scare the recruit. Though fear was a big part of it.
Hot Shot was still gripping past the pain foreseen to his aft, and a steady stream of coolant was already flowing down his optics, dripping onto Heatwave's front windows.
He'd gone through a lot of pain and injuries in his life, especially with his cube career (a sport known to have very serious dangers within it), but for some reason this felt the worst out of everything. It was mainly the humiliation above it all, though he couldn't explain it.
Hot Shot suddenly felt very tired, despite the hurt in his aft as Heatwave held him to his chest with it. The crying stopped at least.
"Come on recruit, I think you've had enough for today."
-
"Hi Hot Shot! Did Heatwave shout at you again? Did his face turn all red like a to-ma-too?" Said Whirl, who was sitting at the center living area of the dorms, watching the tele with the others.
"I think it's called a to-mae-to" Said Hoist.
"Nuh uh, it's totally a to-ma-too!"
Hot Shot didn't really pay attention, rubbing his aft occasionally while hoping the pain would numb, walking to his dorm sadly.
"You feeling alright man?" Wedge said, a real concern in his phrasing. He would feel the worst if Hot Shot were to say what happened, so unlike everything he had known, he did not speak of it.
"I'm heading off to recharge. Have fun you guys."
The wording he'd put it in was strange and stilted, of course the others looked at him weirdly. Hot Shot didn't care though, he just wanted to go to his room and think about what the frag happened to him.