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“Megatron, release my Autobots.”
“Optimus,” Megatron sneered.
The two leaders faced off. Bumblebee and the unconscious Windblade were surrounded by Decepticons. And they were on the wrong side of the laser wall.
The commotion was bad timing for Hot Rod. Really bad timing.
Because he was also on the wrong side of the wall. He’d just been sneaking back to Autobot territory from his own unsanctioned escapade. That’s why he’d known Bee was in trouble and had contacted Optimus about it over comms.
He and Bee had each other’s backs. Bee always told Hot Rod when he was heading into Decepticon territory to search for Windblade. And Hot Rod always told Bee when he was going to Decepticon territory to meet up with Soundwave. Bee didn’t judge him. Much.
As Hot Rod peeked around a storage container to get a better view of the confrontation between the two leaders and their entourages, a servo suddenly tugged him back by his door wing.
“Hey!” he yelped, spinning around with weapons heating up.
‘Pipe down,” Soundwave hissed.
Hot Rod wiggled as Soundwave restrained him. “I’ve got to go help Bee and Windblade.”
Soundwave covered Hot Rod’s mouth with his broad blue servo in an attempt to silence him. “The Prime will help them. But who’s going to help you if Megatron–”
“Who’s that hiding over there?” Sky-Byte called out. “Another Autobot treaty violator?”
“Don’t just stand there, bolts-for-brains. Go get ‘em and bring him out!”
Oh scrap.
They were caught.
Soundwave’s grip on his frame tightened. <<Trust me?>>
<<Hm? Uh, I guess…>>
Soundwave abruptly shoved Hot Rod forward. Hot Rod tripped in surprise, kicking up a dust storm that made him cough and hack. He threw a dirty look as Soundwave maintained an iron hold on him.
Hot Rod knew where this was going. It made sense and was probably the best option, at least for Soundwave, but that didn’t mean Hot Rod had to like it.
“Lord Megatron,” Soundwave announced deferentially, dragging Hot Rod closer to the throng of Decepticons.
“Ah, Soundwave. You have captured another filthy infiltrator.” Megatron looked up at Optimus and the other Autobots perched on top of the turret. “Optimus, it appears the yellow scout was not the only Autobot of yours violating our treaty. What do you have to say for yourself? Do you have so little control over your rabble?” Megatron powered up his cannon. “Perhaps I should dispose of your disobedient bots for you.”
Optimus’s expression was stern. Hot Rod could feel his leader’s disappointment wash over him.
“I assure you, Megatron, we will respect the treaty, once you are no longer holding any Autobots hostage. They were looking for Windblade.” Optimus cast a heavy look at Hot Rod and added, “On my orders.”
Hot Rod winced at Optimus covering for him—and Optimus didn’t even know what he was covering for! Hot Rod wondered if Optimus would still cover for him if he knew what Hot Rod had really been up to. Or rather whom…
“I didn't know she was here," Megatron said. He beckoned Soundwave over. "Bring the riffraff here, Soundwave, so I can dispose of him properly."
Soundwave clutched Hot Rod tighter. “No need to trouble yourself, my Lord. I was just taking out the trash.”
<<Wow. Now I’m trash? That’s not what you said when you were licking my– >>
<<Shut up.>>
Soundwave hefted Hot Rod up in his servos and made it as if he was about to toss him over the laser wall back to the Autobot side. To safety.
Megatron roared his displeasure and raised his cannon.
Optimus mirrored him, powering up his own weapons.
Megatron’s frame suddenly drooped, and he lowered his cannons. He spat on the ground. “I have better things to do than discipline your Autobots.” The warlord waved his cannon between Bumblebee and Hot Rod. “The next time you step foot on Decepticon territory again, you’ll be deactivated on sight.”
That must have been the end of it, because the next thing Hot Rod knew, Soundwave was tossing him up into the air to be caught by his fellow Autobots.
Hot Rod didn’t even get a chance to wave goodbye before he, along with Bee and Windblade, were hauled back over the wall.
Hot Rod whistled and collapsed onto his berth, flinging a servo over his faceplates. “That was close. Too close.”
“Agreed.”
Hot Rod twisted on the berth and peeked at Soundwave from between his digits. He molded his body into a more provocative position and gave a come-hither gesture. “Well? Get over here.”
“I must go.”
“Go?” Hot Rod sat up so fast it sent his compass gears spinning. “What? Why?”
“I came to tell you that this is over. The risk is too great. Megatron will catch you and deactivate you.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Hot Rod insisted, tugging Soundwave over to stand in the vee of his spread pedes. Hot Rod looked up into Soundwave’s visor and trailed his digits up the glass of his cassette chassis. “And you’re telling me you came all the way here just to end things between us?” He hummed. “Yeah, I don’t buy it.”
Soundwave bristled. “I am not selling anything for you to buy.” At Hot Rod’s laugh, Soundwave grabbed the servos wandering his frame and pushed them away. “I am leaving.”
“Woah, woah, Sounders, wait.” Hot Rod couldn’t let him go like this. “I won’t stop you, but just wait a breem. Let’s talk about this.”
“This…this foolishness must end.”
“Foolishness? Ouch. And I thought we had something special.”
Soundwave grunted. “We work well together.”
Hot Rod took Soundwave’s words as an invitation to sidle up to him again. “Working together is nice, but all work and no play makes Hot Rod a dull bot.”
“Your new paint job says otherwise.”
Hot Rod grinned and struck a pose to model his new red and orange paint job. “Oh? You like it? The black was cool, but I think this suits me better.”
“Agreed.”
Hot Rod’s grin widened even further. “Come on, buddy, you know you can’t resist this Hot Bod.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously sexy, right?”
Soundwave wrapped his servos around Hot Rod. It felt like a victory. Except when Soundwave rested his helm on Hot Rod’s shoulder, it was with a staticky sigh. “I will not be responsible for your deactivation at Megatron’s servos.”
Hot Rod slumped against him. “What crawled up his tailpipe and died, anyway? Multiverse jetlag?”
“Unknown.”
“But you’re his third–” Hot Rod thought about Starscream’s fate as a Quintesson judge and amended himself–“second in command, aren’t you?”
“Negative. Command structure: overturned. Megatron: rules alone.”
Hot Rod patted Soundwave’s frame comfortingly, rubbing his servos up and down his narrow hip struts. Soundwave must’ve been pretty torn up about it to have returned to his old stilted cadence. Hot Rod had gotten used to Soundwave talking to him—okay, ordering him around—in conceited, emphatically uttered full sentences.
“Megatron: no longer trusts…me.”
Hot Rod tutted. “Is it because he knows you got everyone to work together, Autobot and Decepticon, to fight the Quintessons?”
“Yes.”
“That’s slag,” Hot Rod complained. “How can he be mad at you for showing initiative and leadership?”
Soundwave tilted Hot Rod’s chin up and gave him a long, steady look from his unblinking red visor.
“Right. I guess a megalomaniac doesn’t exactly want his underlings showing either of those particular qualities.”
“Nor does he see any value in positive interactions with Autobots.”
“But you do, right?” Hot Rod prompted, needing some reassurance as the conversation veered into awkward territory. Megatron wasn’t the only Decepticon to find cross-factional partnerships distasteful.
“Obviously.”
Hot Rod rolled his optics.
Soundwave elaborated, “You demonstrated your value by contributing to the defeat of the Quintessons. I had to revise my assessment of your worth.”
“Yeah, you tried to have Clobber scrap me as soon as we saved you from the parade.” Hot Rod stabbed a digit at Soundwave’s chestplate “Don’t think I forgot about that.”
“I would not presume your memory circuits to be so faulty.”
Hot Rod closed the remaining distance between them, pressing himself to Soundwave completely until their opposing insignias touched. “Nah, you know I’m too awesome for that. Not to mention my other assets that I’m sure factor into your value assessment of me.”
Soundwave’s digits weren’t idle, instead stroking along Hot Rod’s door wings. “You are fishing for compliments.”
“I wouldn’t have to fish for them if you’d offer them freely. You can just tell me I’m hot enough to rev your engines.”
“That would be redundant. You are a fire mech.”
But Soundwave’s engines revved, making his point and also making Hot Rod hot all over. He wanted to feel Soundwave’s touch everywhere, too.
“Do that again,” Hot Rod whispered.
Soundwave did.
Hot Rod kicked his door closed with his pede and drew Soundwave back to berth.
Soundwave hadn’t visited in cycles.
Hot Rod was so anxious and so horny he thought he might combust.
“That’s it. I’m vaulting the laser wall.”
“Hot Rod, no!”
Bee pulled him back before he could finish his transformation sequence.
“Didn’t you promise Soundwave you wouldn’t step a pede in Decepticon territory again?”
“Then I won’t let my treads touch the ground. I’ll let you fly me over there with your new multiverse powers. Soundwave will be impressed by my ingenuity.”
“He won’t be impressed by you reneging your promise on a technicality.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I’m sure he’ll visit here when he can. Megatron must be keeping him pretty busy, that’s all.”
“Nah, Megatron doesn’t give two scraps about him anymore. He’s probably just…” Hot Rod trailed off, grinding his dentae. He was genuinely worried. It was unusual for Soundwave not to reach out at all. Not even a comm. Silent as a scaplet hiding in the walls and just as foreboding. “He probably opened his big mouth and said something stupidly impetuous and got punished for it. I should go over there and spring him out of Deceptijail.”
Bee shook his helm. “I’m sure Soundwave is fine. He can take care of himself. He wouldn’t appreciate anyone sticking their nose in his business, not even you.”
“Are you kidding? He loves having my nose all up in his business! And my glossa. And my–”
“Alright! Ach! Stop!” Bee covered his audials. “I do not want to know!”
“Are you sure? I could give you tips with Windblade.”
“Windblade’s my friend!” Bee protested. “It’s not like that.”
“Soundwave’s my friend, too. I say a good friendship should be open to a little fragging.”
“Ugh, if you’re that hard up that you’re coming on to me, then maybe you should hop the fence after all.”
Hot Rod gave Bee a friendly slap to his back strut. “That’s the spirit. Comm me if anything goes haywire.”
“Wait, wait. Be serious, Roddy. Remember last time? You heard Megatron’s threat. It’s not worth it.”
“Soundwave’s worth it to me,” Hot Rod said, but he frowned and stared at the wall as he said it. Bee had a point. And Hot Rod had promised Soundwave he wouldn’t sneak over again.
Soundwave had been adamant about not wanting Hot Rod in danger because of him. Sure, Soundwave hadn’t exactly said it in the most romantic way, but Hot Rod could read between the lines. Soundwave would be gutted if Hot Rod died on his account. And honestly, Hot Rod felt the same way about Soundwave. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was…something.
“Okay, mechling, you win. I won’t go.”
“Thank Primus.”
“But in the meantime, let me tell you about the time we spent three amazing hours in the wash rack sauna…”
Bee cupped his audials again and stuck his glossa out at him.
Hot Rod knew how to be stealthy when the situation called for it. Sneaking through Decepticon territory looking for Soundwave definitely called for it.
All the same, Laserbeak zeroed in on him like he had a giant homing beacon strapped to his internals. Come to think of it, did Soundwave place a tracking device on him? Hot Rod wouldn’t put it past him. Soundwave could be a conniving glitch sometimes.
Squawk! Squawk!
Hot Rod hushed Laserbeak by stroking his metallic feathers. “Can you guide me to Soundwave?” he whispered.
Laserbeak nodded and squawked again.
Hot Rod transformed and followed the minicon away from the populated area to a more deserted region. Ha. A deserted desert. Go figure.
But it wasn’t completely empty, because twin headlights greeted Hot Rod’s own as he crested the next dune.
Hot Rod transformed back into robot mode and primed his weapons.
The other bot did the same.
“Oh, it’s you.”
“Hi, Dead End.”
Dead End raised his voice, calling out to the gently lit building behind him. “Soundwave, your boyfriend’s here.”
Hot Rod chuckled, powering down his weapons.
Soundwave stomped out into the desert night, frame stiff and visor burning red. He pointed at Dead End. “You: get back on patrol. You,” he pointed at Hot Rod, “get inside.”
“Delighted to, thanks for asking,” Hot Rod razzed as he sauntered inside, Soundwave at his heels. “Such great manners you’ve developed out here as a hermit out here–woah!”
Hot Rod found himself flipped around and slammed against the door, which was barely able to hold his weight much less both of them.
“What. Are. You. Doing here?”
Hot Rod quirked his lips, striving for a pouty smirk, even though energon was racing through his lines with a mix of anxiousness and excitement. Soundwave was a dangerous mech with a short fuse. But that danger was part of the charm, in Hot Rod’s opinion. “Looking for you, sweet spark.”
Soundwave growled and shoved him against the door again.
Hot Rod grinned and pushed him back.
It turned into a wrestling match.
Soundwave wanted to grapple? That was fine by Hot Rod. Rolling around on the ground together brought back tank-fluttering memories of their first kiss, which Hot Rod had pressed to Soundwave’s visor in triumph after subduing him in a surprise chokehold. Soundwave had been too stunned to react at first. But then he had emitted a harmonic whine before tumbling them both over until he wound up on straddling Hot Rod’s hips. He’d leaned down and demanded, ‘Do that again,’ in his stupidly-sexy bossy tone, and Hot Rod had been eager to comply…
Distracted by the memory, and not as interested in winning as in getting onto the next thing, Hot Rod didn’t even bother to power up his flames. He found himself on his back struts with Soundwave looming over him. “That’s it,” he murmured, forgetting the fight entirely in favor of more pleasurable conquests. “Hold me down and frag me.”
“Hot Rod.”
Soundwave captured his wrists and pinned them above his helm.
“Hot Rod.”
“Mm?”
“You think you can defy my orders and then get what you want?”
“Uh, yeah?”
Soundwave grumbled static.
“In fact,” Hot Rod said, “I may not have your advanced statistics module, but I’m pretty sure my sassing you is like 90% of your attraction to me.”
“72%.”
“Really? Oh, I’m flattered. I’m–”
“–in serious trouble.”
Hot Rod wiggled under the delicious weight of Soundwave on top of him. “Sure, punish me with your big–”
“Stop squirming.”
“Stop playing hard to get.”
Soundwave lowered his helm close enough for Hot Rod to lick the tellingly overheated plating around his visor.
“We have a limited window of time before they are onto us.”
“Mhm.” Hot Rod spread his pedes and darted his servos between their frames, flicking over open ports and seeking sensitive hot spots he’d mapped during previous encounters. “Long enough for this?”
“Only if we hurry.”
Hot Rod grinned. “Soundwave, babe, you’re with me. Speed won’t be a problem. I promise we won’t be found in a compromising position.”
Dead End burst into the room when they were in a rather compromising position.
“You idiots!” he screeched.
Laserbeak was at his heels, squawking at them, too.
Hot Rod scrambled to detach their frames everywhere they were connected. That could take a while.
And then the small room became even smaller as more Decepticons filed in, menacing and intimidating, none more so than Megatron himself.
Soundwave clambered to his pedes, still enmeshed with Hot Rod in a mess of tangled limbs and cables. “My Lord.”
Slag. Soundwave couldn’t pretend to have captured Hot Rod this time. Even Megatron couldn’t be blind to what he was seeing.
“This is the company you prefer to keep these days, Soundwave?” Megatron asked.
Hot Rod wasn’t dead yet from cannon fire yet, so he hastily finished separating them and got to his pedes, spark thrumming in his chest. Soundwave, predictably, stepped in front of him, placing his larger frame between Hot Rod and all the Decepticons. It was a nice but useless gesture.
“You served the cause well for many vorns,” Megatron addressed Soundwave, ignoring Hot Rod entirely. Megatron sounded almost dispassionate, which was eerily unlike him. “But it seems now you are more interested in serving your own desires. Very well,” Megatron said, not giving Soundwave a chance to respond. “Go, and take your pet with you. Do not return.”
“What.” Soundwave’s response was flat.
Hot Rod cautiously tugged on Soundwave’s elbow joint. This was the time to flee, not ask questions about severance or whatever. Hot Rod had a feeling that forced banishment from the Decepticons didn’t come with any retirement benefits.
“You enjoy spending time with the pathetic Autobot so much—and yes I recognize him as the one who orchestrated the Quintesson resistance with you—I’m simply making the arrangement permanent.”
“Lord Megatron, no, that’s not–”
Megatron grabbed Soundwave with both servos and held him up. “You dare question my orders?”
“N-n-no, my Lord. But–”
“Then, go!”
Megatron threw Soundwave bodily out of the window, which shattered on impact. Soundwave transformed in mid-air and revved his breaks to weather the hard landing.
Hot Rod used the Decepticons’ distraction to escape through the door. He transformed, too. “Soundwave, come on!”
To Hot Rod’s horror, Soundwave transformed back into root mode and planted his pedes. His servos were clenched into fists as he faced Megatron, who stepped outside with the rest of the Decepticons fanning out behind him.
The warlord powered up his cannon and aimed it at Soundwave. “I gave the Autobots one warning. I give you the same, Soundwave. The next time you step foot on Decepticon territory, you’ll be deactivated on sight.”
Soundwave stood still as if in stasis lock. It was the faulty parade ejectment sequence all over again.
Scrap.
Hot Rod cursed to himself then zoomed back to Soundwave’s side. Even in his alt mode, he could feel the frozen mech vibrating with indignant anger. Anger? Really? Hot Rod couldn’t relate. Megatron was letting them go. That was great! Soundwave should be relieved.
But Soundwave didn’t want to defect. He didn’t want to abandon the Decepticon cause. Hot Rod knew it.
Hot Rod nudged Soundwave with his bumper and revved his engine warningly.
“This isn't over!” Soundwave called out to Megatron and the other Decepticons. Then he transformed.
He and Hot Rod took off into the night.
When they got further away, Laserbeak joined them.
Soundwave drove and drove, and Hot Rod followed at a close clip, tires and processor both racing.
Soundwave was scarily silent. Hot Rod didn’t know what to say either. Sorry Megatron banished you instead of killing me or both of us? I know how much being a Decepticon meant to you? Ugh. Soundwave would assume he was being sarcastic. Regardless of what he said or didn’t say, Soundwave was going to resent him for this.
When Soundwave finally pulled over and transformed near a crystalline oasis, Hot Rod realized they were nowhere near Autobot territory.
“Uh, Soundwave? Where are we?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you back to your Autobots the long way around.”
“I didn’t say I was worried. I just wanted to know where we were.”
“We are on the outskirts of Iacon in the crystalline flats. I stored some supplies here that I need to retrieve.”
“Supplies. Sure. What for, though? The Autobots have plenty of supplies. You’re coming with me, right? Not to be presumptuous or anything, but…” Hot Rod gave a short laugh, but his spark wasn’t in it. This didn’t seem like the time for jokes.
Soundwave was rummaging through a large chest that he’d excavated from the bottom of the oasis pool. He removed what looked like an artifact in the shape of an enormous trident. Huh. Cool.
“I am not joining the Autobots,” Soundwave said matter-of-factly. He brandished the trident, which came to life in his servo, glowing and humming with power. He looked dangerous and determined, and the combination was definitely doing something for Hot Rod, making his circuits flare with appreciative interest. “I’m going to take over command of the Decepticons.”
Hot Rod bit his lip plates. He felt a brief pang of disappointment—barely-formed fantasies of Soundwave as the hottest but most infuriating roommate deflating—but it was overrun by a mix of resignation and morbid curiosity. Because who was he kidding? This was Soundwave. “Yeah? Can I watch?”