six
“It’s been four days,”
Rook pauses, briefly weighing his options before deciding any attempt to avoid such conversation would be met with dramatic complaint. “Has it already?”
Groove pivots somewhat, taking a sweeping glance around the room to ensure total privacy before returning to his initial spot, feigning work by typing nonsense into the computer. “I think that’s plenty of time to have waited without an answer. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh.” Rook ex-vents, going back through Groove’s work to correct it. “Is you bringing this up a courtesy thing? You’re just letting me know that you’re on the brink of just asking Streetwise? Or is this you vaguely implying that you’re skipping straight to the source?”
“We have a right to know,” He grumbles, squaring his shoulders. “If I could use my holo-form I’d just go to y/n’s house myself.”
“Yeah, but you can’t.” Hoping to have put the conversation to rest, the SUV glances apologetically towards his friend, but finds that he’s not even an ounce disheartened. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You can.”
Blinking dumbly twice, Rook pulls away from the computer and ex-vents, giving in. “I can do what ?”
“You can go to y/n’s house. That way, I don’t have to ask Streetwise or Hot Spot.” Groove clasps his servos together in a pleading motion, hardly offering any means to escape. “I’ve already tried both their patience in the past week. Please , Roo? I’ll owe you forever.”
Rook would be lying if he didn’t miss your presence already, though, it was nowhere near his place to disobey Hot Spot’s unspoken rule in this regard. Hot Spot as well as Streetwise were likely attempting to sort this out for themselves, and didn’t need their meddling to get in the way of a successful resolution. He was stuck in an onerous spot, torn between remaining in the dark on the subject or disobeying direct orders. A good soldier wouldn’t have even thought of the second option, let alone considered it, but as the state of affairs plummeted into something irreparable, who is he to deny the idea of finding resolutions for themselves?
With a twinge of something in his tone, he presses onward. “Go to their house and do what exactly?”
Obviously, Groove had hoped that his friend wouldn’t pry any further than his inceptive entreaty. Stumped, the motorcycle scoffs, now attempting to backpedal. “You are making this seem like a bad idea.”
“It’s not a terrible idea, but I’m very curious as to how you think this is going to help your case.” Rook replies, his usual sympathy returning to his words.
While Groove had been the troublemaker as of late, it didn’t immediately dispense all of the wariness some still carried in reference to Rook. He understood the prudence heeding to his time on the team, or lack thereof, but it sometimes arrived as a shock in such simple circumstances. Blades didn’t trust him, Streetwise would rather do anything else than allow him to go on solo scouting missions, First Aid was a neutral party, and Hot Spot? He hadn’t figured the leader out just yet, but he was fairly certain such an agreeable nature must be a facade. Nobody could be that easy going the majority of the time.
Not that he wished for Groove to take some of the heat off of him, but his mischievous personality did that without proposal. He didn’t feel it was best to defy orders, but Rook knew he would do pretty much anything for his friend, the only one who gave him the time of day.
“My case?” He feigns surprise, not entirely doing a good job at displaying it.
“Aren’t you finally cool with Streetwise? Why would you backtrack?” A less than benign reminder, but it needed to be said just the same.
The smaller mech stiffens in apprehension, but relaxes shortly after. “Streetwise doesn’t have to know.”
“He’ll know when he realizes I’m gone.”
“And if I cover for you?” Groove implores, knowing he’s pushing Rook a little more than he should.
He’s lost to the motorcycles exhorting, sighing in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go there tonight.”
“You’ll page me on a call?”
Rook glowers down at him, brow furrowed. “No. The last thing I need is to be found out because you forgot to privatize our channel. Again.”
That took less convincing than he initially thought, Groove exhaling in defeat. “Ugh, fine .”
…
Streetwise hasn’t been able to look at Blades in four days.
Not that Blades was particularly approachable to having a discussion about the fight that occurred, but Streetwise held firm in being unable to let this one go. He was far too habitual to having to be the one to let stuff roll off his back, first to concede in idiotic fights and having to retain amity to make compromises. Yet, this time, he couldn’t surrender, far too embarrassed by his actions and an unfamiliar stubbornness suppresses his rational behavior.
Twice since the altercation he’s sat outside your work, tucked away so you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the unmarked sedan. Both times he arrived with the intention to try and apologize, but his discomfiture always crawled back from where he’d momentarily stifled it. Each night you had descended the stairs with an exhausted expression, eyes gingerly scanning the parking lot before heading in the direction of your own vehicle, an undertone of defeat lingering within your body language.
Streetwise had toyed with the idea of just pretending like they never met you. It wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, but it’s one he could live with knowing that you’d escaped this chaos mostly unscathed. For once, Hot Spot hadn’t offered any comforting advice, only instilling the fact that Streetwise likely had caused irreparable damage this time, disappointed in him and his inability to keep a calm composure. Why Blades was never included in this blame was beyond him, hence the reason why he had a million better things to do than shake hands and call it like it never happened.
Except he can’t pretend like it never occurred, not when you bore witness to his susceptibility and inability to keep his composure. He understood he knew better than how he acted, unsure as to why he’d lost his cool so effortlessly when the whole crew had done much more than that to push his buttons. Perhaps he wanted this to work so badly that visibly watching Blades ruin it snapped something within him.
“Remind me again,” Streetwise ex-vents, leaning up against the wall in the medbay as First Aid moves around the room. “Before I try to rectify this and look like a total dumbaft, y/n really wasn’t mad?”
The resident medic pauses his inventory check, turning slightly whilst shooting him a look of ‘really ?’ “We’ve been over this three times in four days, Streetwise. I promise you, they were more concerned than mad,”
“Concerned?” That’s the first time he’s used that word in reference to your feelings. “For who?”
First Aid rolls his optics, but his delivery was just as gentle as always. “ You , Streetwise.”
…
You weren’t home. That nagging thought trampled his spirits, screaming that this plan was built to fail, feeling an intrusive rise of defeat settle within his frame.
This was the only address that was saved in the computer, as Streetwise remained the only one to know your work location after First Aid revealed the crew knew the password.
He could return back to base, but if caught, the plan really would all be in vain. The longer he sat up against the curb only fueled the suspicion that someone was watching, feeling tremendously overexposed even as he remained in alt-mode.
“Rook?”
So lost in thought, he hadn’t caught that you’d pulled up beside him, rolling down your window. You hadn’t seen his vehicle mode before, but he surmises it was a fair enough guess given the blue and white paint job.
Somewhat startled, he matches the gesture, rolling his passenger window down. “ Long time no see, ” Though an obvious and stupid greeting, he can’t find anything else to say.
“Hi! I’m so happy to see you!” You smile, waving enthusiastically.
“ I’ve never heard that before. ” And he means it, though offers it with a jesting tone.
Your smile wavers momentarily, in doubt of what he means. “Do you have time? Can we chat?”
“ That’s actually why I’m here. ” He rejoins. “ But only if you have a moment, y/n. I’m the one who showed up unannounced. ”
To his surprise once more, you laugh softly. “Please. If anything, I insist.”
Rook reluctantly pulls into your driveway per your request. He feels somewhat bad about it, your car now on the street, but if anything it satiates his nerve to some degree about being surveyed.
When you approach his passenger-side door, he gently pops it open to provide a choice. He’d rather you sit in his cabin to talk, but would never vocalize such sentiments.
To Rook’s content, your fingers grasp and curl around the handle and open the door all the way, stepping up and sliding into the leather of the seat. Simultaneously, the window travels upward and the egress closes over, leaving you entirely confined to the SUV’s interior.
“ Are you returning home from work? ” Small talk is awkward, but it doesn’t feel right to jump directly into Groove’s list of questions.
Gingerly, you nod. “Yeah. I’m glad today’s over, I have off tomorrow,”
“ That’s good. You’ve certainly earned that. ” Rook feels helpless to his impulses, his rearview mirror guiltlessly tilting in your direction.
“How is everyone doing?” You blurt out, hands clenching in and out of soft fists. “I’ve been worried the past couple of days.”
It doesn’t come as a bombshell that no one has contacted you since the altercation, but it still is a ridiculous revelation nonetheless. Streetwise, of all mechs could have apologized , instead, he avoided consequences and left you to fret all this time instead.
Rook briefly wonders how Groove was right in this situation, but shelves that notion for a better circumstance.
“ I won’t lie, it’s been…problematic. I think everybody’s a little thrown in trying to find the best way to approach the situation. ” Rook makes a short, muffed noise of frustration, seemingly unable to find the right words. “ I’m not even supposed to be here right now, but Groove said he would come if I didn’t, and the last thing he needs is to get in any more trouble. That being said, I’m sorry, again. I wanted some answers just as much as you likely do. ”
“It’s okay. I assumed that and didn’t want to cross any boundaries. I figured someone would get in contact if the agreement was still on the table,” You riposte, settling back against the seat. “I wasn’t upset or anything- surprised, sure, but nobody did anything wrong.”
He tries to put forth some level of understanding, albeit in disagreement. “ I have to disagree. I wasn’t even in the room for the whole ordeal to know that both Streetwise and Blades were out of line. ”
In turn, you speak in such a small voice that Rook has to convince himself you ever uttered it. “Does that mean that this is over?”
He doesn’t want to believe that it’s even a topic for discourse, frightened for an outcome that he couldn’t bear. Rook can’t even imagine the tremendous tenacity that you’ve put forth, all for it to be brought back to square one because they fought like idiots .
“ As much as I want to say no, I have to be realistic. I don’t know. ” Rook hadn’t felt it was his place to bring the matter up with Streetwise, even if all of them had a right to know what was going on.
You swallow thickly, unsure of how to proceed. Just as you gather the courage to ask what that means, a static buzz hums through his radio, before a familiar voice barrels through.
“Rook? Why are you no longer on base?”
To mild dismay, Rook groans, knowing that he has to respond to such a stacked question. “ Fragging Groove. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“Do you want me to leave?” You gesture to the door, but he replies easily.
“ No, that’s okay. You’re fine to stay.”
A button sinks in on the dash, and he mumbles something before acknowledging who you fairly assume is Hot Spot. “ I’m nearby. Do you need me for something?”
“How far away are you? I am not picking up your coordinates.” Hot Spot rumbles, nearly a whisper if a mech his size could speak so softly.
Rook was awfully talented at bending the truth, straightforwardly providing solutions as if he had planned to be found out. “ About fifteen kliks, give or take. I went for a walk, I didn’t realize how out of the way I was. I don’t know if it would pick up my coordinates.”
“ I see. ” Nothing in those two words convinced either of you that he truly believed that, as Hot Spot was far smarter than such an indiscreet ploy.
“ Am I being asked to return to base?” Rook challenges, looking for a direct comeback.
The leader pauses, weighing his options. “I would appreciate it if you returned in a timely manner. I am not asking you to rush, but there is something I would like to address, and I need the whole team present.”
“ Heard, loud and clear. On my way.” Rook responds, albeit with some reluctance.
With apparent relief, Hot Spot responds. “Thank you. I shall see you shortly.”
You assume the line clicks dead when Rook then addresses you, disinclination apparent. “ Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now.”
He didn’t get much groundbreaking information, and it’s very plausible that you didn’t receive any either. Rook probably hurt your feelings further and retreating earlier than intended only bogged his processor down even further.
You hum in solemn acknowledgement, disheartened to agree. “Oh, I do have an idea, just before you go? It will only take a second.”
…
“ You got what?! ”
Rook sinks an elbow into the motorcycle’s torso, his hushed tone even far too loud in the room. Hot Spot called them all to the command center, and unable to contain his excitement, Groove began interrogating Rook before the leader arrived. At his exclamation, Streetwise turns toward the pair, brow raised dourly.
“What are you guys talking about?” He entreats, arms now crossed over his chest.
Sensing the chance that this could be headed nowhere good, Rook promptly interjects and answers before any other poorly explained information is provided. “Groove lost a bet with me. That’s all.”
“What was the bet?”
To addled surprise, the four of them turn to find that Blades was sitting in the chair in front of the computer, legs crossed and posed in an unconcerned manner. Why he cared, Rook could only assume it was to either find a hole in his lie or just blatant curiosity, unsure which it truly was.
“How many days we were going to go without talking about this.” Groove covers, much to Rook’s relief.
“Talking about what?” First Aid looks past Streetwise, only to address Groove. “You know what this is about?”
Blades laughs out loud but doesn’t put forward any sort of retort.
“You don’t?” Genuinely nonplused, Rook tilts his helm towards the medic.
“I have an idea, sure. But if you guys are really betting on it, that’s a little immature.”
Streetwise scoffs, unintentionally drawing attention back to himself. “Did you all think this was going to be amended overnight?”
“No,” To everyone’s surprise, it’s Groove who replies to the proffered question. “But you both broke the peace, and I think what we all thought was that you two would try a little harder to fix it.”
Before anyone could argue, the sound of the interior door moving over grasps all five of their attention simultaneously. Upon Hot Spot’s entry, he regards them all warily, a familiar enervation settling over his large frame.
“Ah, Rook, you’ve returned. Welcome back.” It wasn’t presented condescendingly, more so in relief, but all Rook can scramble together is a clumsy nod in reply. “The reason for this meeting is to instill that I am prohibiting anyone from leaving, only for the next few hours.”
Reactions scattered throughout the room, yet Streetwise’s pronounced bewilderment shocks most of them. He would never challenge Hot Spot, but he would unequivocally ask for clarification. “This might be somewhat obvious, so then no patrols tonight?”
“I will take care of that. The five of you are to remain here, and any who do not heed my one request will face consequences. Understood?”
“Loud and clear.” First Aid recovers first, nodding once. With no objections, Hot Spot moves from the command center and exits the base, the exterior door closing over with a muffled thud .
“Which one of you pissed him off?” Groove breaks the silence, revealing what they were all thinking.
…
Upon stepping outside, Hot Spot realizes he hasn’t used his alt-mode in a long while.
It’s begun to rain, droplets making contact with his plating, turning into rivers that run down his paint. It feels gratifying, a refreshing sensation that eases some of the tension that’s wormed its way up and through his joints.
He wishes for better direction, praying for guidance that hasn’t arrived in years in a one-sided stalemate. Presently, he can’t trust Streetwise to make such a verdict, his second in command wound too tight over the circumstances and comfortless. While he was contrite of his behavior, there was an urgency required that he just couldn’t afford the time he needed to get over such actions.
Selfishly, Hot Spot needed this to work, or he was doomed to face burnout, crimson stare faintly illuminating the now dark and damp environment. While he was always one for formality and manners, some rare scenarios called for more forward and penitent exchanges. He never pictured himself in the middle of this upon Streetwise’s pleas to make it work, but seeing how off-track this has become, perhaps he should have steered it from the beginning.
You aren’t a pawn . While you may be needed for basic survival needs, your companionship clearly solved most of their internal problems. Blades can’t be helped sometimes, not that Hot Spot would ever defend his behavior, especially after they both had unsettled you with such a dramatic and ignorant exhibit. Their actions were understandable, but not acceptable.
While he has to fight the notion of unfairness, it’s his responsibility as the leader to clean up the mess. You are owed an apology, and then one final approach to petition your assistance. Either way it goes, Hot Spot will accept the consequences and still do everything in his power to ensure your safety is their top priority. He needed you a lot more than any of them imagined, not entirely for endurance, but for his own sanity as its dwindling began to burden him more than he could bear.
The asphalt feels strange, a slippery map that leads him to the highway. A short sense of repose finds him when he discovers that the roads are mostly void of life, several cars here and there, though not enough to question his appearance. With some distraction, he inputs your home address and clicks the radio on, Paul McCartney and Wings Band on the Run humming through his well-worn speakers.
…
“ You got y/n’s channel code? ”
After the duo had retreated to their shared room, Groove had triple checked the door was locked before turning to Rook. “They just gave it to you?”
“It’s not a channel code, it’s a phone number I have to figure out how to connect it to my comm link,” Rook whispers, hoping nobody is in the hallway. “What, did you think I asked for it? I’m not that forward, Groove.”
He seriously considers it for a moment, bypassing the idea as if it could never be true. “Right. Of course not.”
Rook rolls his optics playfully before retrieving the small slip of paper from his sub-space, placing it on the desk in the middle of the room. “Shut up and help me figure it out.”
About twenty minutes in, the shifts in frequency had Rook battling frustration, and while Groove was some help, they still had no idea how to get the set of numbers to work.
“Blades would be so much better at trying to get this to work.”
Jolting, Rook quickly shuts down such suggestions. “Absolutely not. He would also be the first to snitch that I went to y/n’s house.”
“I’m not saying we’re asking him, I’m just saying it would be faster.” Groove mumbles, looking back at the slip of paper. “Maybe it’s not the frequency that matters. It might be the range.”
“Range? Dude, you are not suggesting we disobey orders for the second time today.” The SUV deadpans, unimpressed by even a vague suggestion of the sort.
With a small smile, his friend returns with an even worse counteroffer. “We could always go and ask y/n how to set it up.”
“Great idea. You’re setting me up to get in trouble again.”
…
Whilst getting ready to relax on the couch, you just about move to sit down when a lingering set of headlights seep into the room past your blinds. They aren’t obnoxious, but definitely stronger than First Aid’s or Streetwise’s, a louder hum of an engine audible now as the vehicle parked up against the curb by your mailbox.
Heavily bemused for the second time today, you change gears and now begin making your way over to the front door. After Rook’s indeterminate description of the state of affairs, you weren’t so confident that you would find rectification soon, let alone on the same day. Upon tugging the door open, you’re still left stumped, but no longer vastly shocked.
Grabbing your raincoat off the hook, you slide your arms through before tossing the hood up, carefully stepping outside before pattering down the stairs. Before you’re even halfway there, the passenger door swings open in full, not minding the rain that trickles off the roof and into the cabin.
“ I apologize for showing up unannounced. ” Hot Spot’s baritone voice sends a chill up the length of your spine, speaking just as you approach the soaked grass on the curb. “ Perhaps if I could borrow a moment of your time, I could clarify some things.”
To both his and your delight, you wordlessly accept his offer and take the two steps up into his cabin, a small smile on your face.
“Hi, Hot Spot.”