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Complicated.
That's... the easiest word for how things are going.
Hound has decided that he needs to sit and think about things for a while. An activity that has become the slow, steady stripping of the largest flower he could get his servos on. He's sure he's heard of humans doing this... ritual. Whatever it is. Plucking petals and asking them for answers, a coin flip of yes or no between each one as it falls alongside it's comrades. He isn't sure why humans are so sure these flowers hold any answer, but.... well. He's not exactly come up with a brilliant, non complicated one of his own, so.
"Yes... no..."
How could it not be, exactly? There's an active war on. Which is complicated enough, he knows that first hand. Watching his companions trying to find some downtime around the base to spend with each other.
So factor in the fact that the bot he's got his spark in a sputter over is on the other side of the battlefield?
"Yes... No,"
Not to mention that said bot is the damn LEADER of those he'd sworn to defend this planet against-
"Hm,"
It's.... complicated. Stupidly complicated. Or maybe just stupid- he isn't sure. Love isn't meant to be smart, it's just sort of... there. But should it be?? When its' Megatron of all bots that he's struggling not to think about anytime he has a free moment?
"No"
Says the next petal he plucks, and it's no comfort to him as he realises how fast he reaches for the next one for the small- mortifying- comfort of this supposed divination agreeing with his taste in mechs.
How on Earth is he even meant to do this.
Hound would admit that he really didn't care for romance. He'd always been too busy and as much as he got along with his fellow Autobots, he just...couldn't see himself being together with any of them. He didn't even want to try having a relationship if he wasn't completely sure of his feelings. He didn't want to hurt someone he was close to for a "maybe."
It made him feel all the more lost now that he was in this situation. He had ZERO experience in this kind of thing, and NOW he was interested in probably the worst possible choice his spark could've made?!
He decided then, holding the last petal, another "No" that felt heavier than it should given its size compared his servo, that he would put Megatron out of his mind no matter what.
That lasted for all of two days.
Another plot of the Decepticons had to be thwarted and Hound found himself on the outskirts of another battlefield. Starscream had made a plan to steal from nasa.
Which should have, by all means, been a distraction! It's a plot of Starscream's for crying out loud, this should be an easy in and out job. Go in, intercept the Decepticons before they could get their servos on.... whatever it is they're stealing (Do they even know? He isn't sure if they do) and go.
Easy, right?
But instead, Hound finds himself whipping towards not the call of his fellow Autobots, but the sharp, commanding shouts of the last mech he wants to think about right now. Specifically, a bot who is holding his conniving second in command like a ragdoll.
"Who gave you the authority to lead this mission, Starscream??!"
Megatron snaps, clearly less than amused that his own troops had been sent out with him being the last to know about it.
"I- I thought-!!"
Is about as far as Starscream gets before he is dropped quite unceremoniously to the ground. It occurs to Hound at that point that he'd stopped entirely, focused less on this conversation and more on the fact that Megatron had been holding his SIC up one handed.
"THINKING is not what you are any good for!"
He snaps, before turning and shouting to the others to return to his side and forget their prior orders.
An easy win for the Autobots, as the rest of the Decepticons heed the call to return. A job well done!
Another problem for Hound, who is still stuck thinking about how easily he could be picked up like that himself. That didn't even look like it took any *effort*, just... okay, right. Not the time or place for thinking about *that*, he's sure. They have a mindreader for Primus' sake, the LAST thing he needs is-
"Hound? You good?"
It is almost embarrassing how startling it is to hear his own name, helm snapping over to meet- oh.
"Uh-Sorry Bee, just... thinking about how that was a little too easy, huh?"
The minicon glances over to where the rapidly retreating forces had been and can't help but grin at the sight.
"Hah, no kidding! They all just ran like a bunch of newsparks!"
"Huh- OH, yeah! Right!"
THAT is what he meant by *a little too easy*. Obviously. He must have been convincing enough for at least one of them, because Bumblebee seemed content enough with his response to leave with a pat on the arm and a shout to the others checking that yes, they also saw that too. Leaving Hound to handle the brand new images flooding his processor faster than he can shoo them off. The idea of being picked up so easily, maybe carried from the battlefield somewhere more private, perhaps he could even convince Megatron to sit with him and admire the sun going down on the day-
Okay, no. No! His helm shakes as if he's trying to physically eject the soppy thoughts from his mind. If only it were that easy.....
But it isn't. It's complicated, and ridiculous, and as Hound is now realising, significantly harder to ignore than he first thought.