Chapter Text
Rodimus woke up on the floor with a stupid ass headache. Or helmache. Whatever.
All he really cared about was being on the floor. And in pain. And the blur of a mech standing over him that kept calling him Hot Rod.
Like, rude. His name was Rodimus.
Also who the heck was poking his face?
Rodimus doubted Ultra Magnus would do it, Megatron wouldn't either. Ratchet would probably have thrown a wrench or something to wake him up. Drift definitely would have poked him.
But Drift isn’t pink. He’s white. And red.
Actually now that Rodimus was thinking about it, he didn’t believe anyone on the Lost Light was pink. Or maybe there was.
“Hot Rod?” The massive pink blurr says as it pokes his cheek. “Can you hear me Hot Rod?”
“Mmhm nmme note ‘ot Rod.” Rodimus mumbles. He was so offended. Like seriously, his name may have been Hot Rod but it's not anymore. Now it’s Rodimus! And he's cooler, taller and with a respectable amount of deco! Unlike his old frame. Eugh his old frame.
Rodimus shuddered.
Even he was embarrassed by the obscene amount of flame deco his old frame had.
The pink blur (now known as Plur) seemed concerned about his response. It poked him again. Oh how he wanted to bite this mech's fingers.
Plur continued to poke him and Rodimus decided he had enough. And very uncoordinatedly slapped Plur’s face.
His arm felt significantly lighter but bulkier at the same. Also what was that obnoxious magenta colour? And those orange servos?
Rodimus blinked slowly. And guess what, his vision finally came to focus!!
Showing him the lovely pale pink face of Plur- or Arcee?
He blinked again. And then screamed.
He mentally dubbed this moment the ‘Plur Jumpscare’.
“Hot rod?” Not-Acree asked. She even sounded like her! Well at least a bit like her. Definitely a resemblance. “Are you okay?”
Rodimus being the clever mech he is, said very not dumbly. “My name isn’t Hot Rod.”
Not-Arcee blinked. Rodimus blinked.
He swore he could hear someone coughing awkwardly as the crickets did whatever crickets did in the background.
Not-Acree very smartly replied. “Huh?”
Rodimus then very smartly decided to sit up and nearly fell onto his face. His frame felt light. Too light. And that's saying something because speed frames are supposed to be light.
So Rodimus decided to look. At least the best he could.
He was met with a lovely body that was not his own, very boxy and a very boring and ugly orange coloured set of legs.
Rodimus patted them slowly.
Well. They were his legs. Not his-his, but they were attached to him. But also not him? Rodimus was confusing himself.
But seriously why is this frame so bulky? Like who did that?
He wants his sleek and sexy frame back!!
Not-Arcee gently placed a servo on his shoulder. “Hot Rod? Let's get you to Ratchet, yeah?”
“Ratchet?” Rodimus tilts his head. Now that he's actually paying attention his voice sounds more…..babyish. “...Sure.”
Not-Arcee-but-maybe-Arcee smiles and offers her servo. Of course he doesn’t take it right away. He stares at the servo for a moment, kinda glaring at it as Not-Arcee’s servo offended him. And then slowly took it. Rodimus internally cringed at the servo that was his-but-not-his.
Not-Arcee then pulled him up very quickly.
Probably a tad too fast for him. Especially when he was busy thinking (yes he does think Magnus, take that!) about….a lot of things.
All of this frame's weighting was off so as soon as he was pulled to his feet, Rodimus very spectacularly and stunningly fell directly back onto his face.
Not-Arcee startled and then laughed quietly into her servo.
Rodimus wished he could melt. Curse his heat resistant frame.
“Here.” Not-Acree says between laughs, once again offering her servo to him. “I’ll pull you up slower this time, ‘kay?”
Honestly Rodimus does not believe she will but he takes her servo again anyway. Not-Arcee does, in fact, pull him up slower this time and he amazingly doesn’t fall.
He still felt incredibly off balance despite this and cursed the owner of this frame. Who was called Hot Rod.
Huh. Maybe Rodimus should copyright his names or something. That would spare him the confusion.
He should also completely erase Hot Rod from everyone in the Lost Lights dictionary. He did not like being called that. It was embarrassing, okay?
Rodimus has the right to be embarrassed about his name.
That whole era was embarrassing now that he thought about it. Who the heck let him get so much flame deco?!
“Hot Rod?” Not-Arcee said, lightly poking his side and disturbing him from his totally necessary train of thought. “You okay?”
“Yup.” Rodimus nods. He so badly wants to say ‘My name's Rodimus! Rawrhfhdj!!’ but he should probably continue to be Hot Rod. At least for now. Until he could figure out where the heckity heck he was…..
Not-Arcee did seem rather pleased with his answer and worried. Had he said the wrong thing??? The suspense was killing him.
Instead of saying anything like he expected her to, Not-Arcee slung Rodimus’ arm over her shoulders and slowly began guiding him.
Rodimus definitely didn’t stumble multiple times. Totally.
If anyone says he did, kill yourself-
Not-Arcee would laugh softly when he stumbled. He was kind of offended some random who looked like someone he knew and could potentially be someone he knew despite not being the same and while he was pretending to be the version of him that she knew-
And he was confusing himself.
Not-Arcee had apparently been saying something because she stopped and nudged him lightly. She seemed worried. Not like theres anything to worry about.
There totally wasn’t some random dude who used to be called Hot Rod pretending to be her Hot Rod.
“Hot Rod?” Not-Arcee said again. Damn, she was really saying his-but-not-his-name a lot today.
“Yeah?” Rodimus replied. He cringed at his voice again. He sounded so annoying, at least by his standards. Primus, he hoped that any other knock-off versions of people he knew didn’t have stupid sounding voices.
Rodimus would actually cry.
He was about to return his focus to Not-Arcee but something caught his attention. A reflection. With a really bulky frame being supported by Not-Arcee.
One thing caught Rodimus’ attention. Only one thing, and in his shock he screamed.
“WHY AM I SO SHORT?!”