Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

While there were certainly a lot of benefits to being on Earth opposed to Cybertron (#1 being the significantly lower number of rules here), one of the unfortunate downfalls to being a part of the planet’s Autobot team was, to Sideswipe’s disgruntlement, strategy meetings. Especially when some Autobots made a point of using these meetings to try to ask for more rules and regulations.

“What?! No way, Strongarm! That’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard! We’re already patrolling the area, and running patrols in a “constant, grid-by-grid search pattern” isn’t going to change anything in how we find Decepticons!” Sideswipe scowled at the femme where she was seated a short distance away. “And even if it did, there’s no way anyone is getting me to do that.”

Huffing through her vents, Strongarm glared back at him, draining her cube of energon before answering. “Well, excuse me for attempting to be productive! And according to police academy regulations, when there is a dangerous criminal on the loose, or a convict that had escaped custody, that is the proper protocol for tracking them down! It increases search efficiency and greatly reduces possible escape routes!”

“You know what else it does? Increase boredom and reduce free time!”

“Ok, ok, everyone calm down, and let’s see if we can discuss this calmly, like reasonable Autobots.” Bumblebee sighed, shuttering his optics for a moment before opening them again and glancing around the loose circle they’d all formed on the ground in the main clearing. “Everyone is welcome to make suggestions, and we don’t need to criticize others’ ideas just because we don’t like them.

“Sideswipe, while I agree that it’s not the most exciting search method, it has its uses and can be very effective under specific circumstances. Our current situation, Strongarm, is not exactly one of those circumstances. That type of search pattern is primarily used when the police force knows that a criminal is in a particular city, or a particular part of the city, and they can use that method to box them in. With how far the Decepticons have spread out by now, though, we have no idea where they could be, and we would spend most of our time searching the woods for no reason.”

Strongarm pursed her lips, shifting her gaze to the empty cube she was fiddling with in her lap. “I…guess you have a point, sir.”

Bumblebee nodded. “Of course, though, there may be the occasional time where a grid-by-grid sweep might be useful, so we’ll still make sure everyone knows how to do them. Now, any more ideas for new ways to track down the Alchemor’s escaped inmates? And no, Grimlock, punching Decepticons until they tell us where the other Cons are is not an option.”

As the Dinobot disappointedly put his servo down, and Drift spoke up, talking about the possibility of bugging known Decepticon hideouts, Sideswipe slumped forward, settling his arms on his crossed knees as he groaned. This whole thing seemed pointless. Instead of going out and finding the Decepticons, it seemed like they spent half of their time sitting around, talking about how to do it! While he absolutely enjoyed their free time and getting to laze around the scrapyard, spending that time planning maneuvers, protocols, and formations was not his idea of a good time. When he’d agreed to officially join the team and hunt down escaped Decepticon prisoners, he definitely had not—

His thought process was interrupted by patting on his left leg and a familiar, eager chirp. The feeling of annoyance quickly dissipated as he straightened back up and shifted his gaze down to meet Hot Rod’s bright optics. Immediately perking up at receiving the desired attention, the sparkling chirped again, leaning forward against the Lamborghini’s leg and stretching his servos out, tiny digits immediately making a grasping motion.

Unable to resist the sparkling for long, Sideswipe allowed his mouth to quirk upward into a grin. “What, is this what you want, Roddy?” He lifted the sparkling-sized energon cube he’d patiently been holding, chuckling as Hot Rod’s grasping and clicking quickened. “Alright, alright, here you go. Don’t spill it.”

He made sure not to let go until Hot Rod had a good grip on the cube, and the sparkling grinned happily at him as his trilling shifted into nonsensical babble. He’d been making more and more of those sounds over the last couple of weeks as his voice box continued developing, a sure sign that, in the near future, he was going to start figuring out words—something that Sideswipe couldn’t help but admit he was excited about. He traced a digit along the edge Hot Rod’s spoiler and the sparkling flopped forward contentedly onto his leg as he lifted the cube to his mouth while watching the rest of the team and their discussion.

The more time he spent around Hot Rod, getting to know what it was like taking care of a sparkling, the more he found that sparklings made almost no sense. There were some constants with Hot Rod, and others that could change on a daily or hourly basis. When recharging, he was fine getting a nap with anyone on the team around, even if Sideswipe wasn’t in the scrapyard at the moment. At night, though, he would not recharge without Sideswipe. Even if the team was out on a late mission, the sparkling would sit up on the Lamborghini’s berth, optics drooping as he fought to stay awake, until they got back. When fueling, on the other servo, his preferences changed constantly. Some days he would fuel in 10 minutes, glued to Sideswipe’s side until he was done. Other days, he would take his cube over to wherever he was playing and would take an hour to finish it. Today, for whatever reason, he didn’t want his energon all at once and wanted Sideswipe to hold onto it between fueling. And he literally wanted him to hold it. He’d set it on the ground in front of him the first time the sparkling had handed it back to him, and Hot Rod had gotten thoroughly annoyed and all but shoved it back into his servo. It made zero sense to him what the difference was, but he’d obliged the little bot’s current pickiness and continued to hold it, even as the strategy meeting got underway.

So yes, sparklings definitely made no sense sometimes, but how was he supposed to resist such a bright smile and cheerful em field?

As if sensing his thoughts, Hot Rod scootched himself back up to standing, holding the two-thirds empty cube out insistently. Sideswipe shook his helm and bypassed the proffered cube to lightly tickle the little bot under the chin. “Still not done, Bud? The rest of us have finished ours.” Squealing slightly as he ducked back to escape his digits, Hot Rod huffed and thrust the cube toward him again, babbling. Sideswipe held up a servo in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’ve got it. Go play.” He lowered his servo to accept the sparkling’s fuel, and as soon as he’d plopped the cube in his palm, energon thankfully low enough to not slosh over the side, Hot Rod chirped once before darting off behind him to continue playing.

Taking a brief moment before turning his attention back to the meeting, Sideswipe twisted slightly to look behind him at where Hot Rod had plopped back down next to his current activity. A few weeks back, Denny had used a saw to cut up some planks of wood he’d called “2x4s” into different sized pieces and painted the blocks of wood in a variety of different, bright colors. When asked about it, he said that human kids typically enjoyed a similar type of toy, and with his closeness in behavior to toddlers, he figured that the sparkling might like them too, as long as they were a little more appropriately sized for him. As he predicted, Hot Rod had immediately taken to the bright blocks of wood, and regularly used them in small building projects of questionable stability, although he sometimes instead just stacked them in piles by color or laid them out in nonsensical patterns or lines. Sideswipe wasn’t sure why he seemed to find that enjoyable, but if it kept him content and in one place for a while, who was he to argue with how he played?

Satisfied that Hot Rod was fine for the moment and staying out of trouble, Sideswipe reluctantly tuned back into the team meeting. Bumblebee was apparently in agreement with Drift’s idea for bugging some of the fairly common Decepticon haunts, and Fixit was positive he could rig up some sensors—fairly simple motion sensors, at least—from some of the remaining wreckage of the Alchemor.

“I’d be happy to help with those, too!” Denny knelt on the ground near the center of the circle, spreading out a paper map. “And while I of course don’t know every inch of the area, I do know that several of the nearby caves have multiple entrances and exits, and I should be able to remember where a lot of them are. After all, the more ways in and out we have bugged, the more likely we are to catch any trespassing Cons.”

Bumblebee nodded. “Absolutely. Once we get those sensors built, we’ll have to do some scouting to find the best places to hide them. We obviously don’t want the Decepticons to notice them and get tipped off that we know they’re there, but we also don’t want to risk any possible exploring humans discovering Cybertronian technology.”

Grimlock flashed a grin. “Well, if you need anything hidden way up high, you can count on me!”

“Same here!” Russell jumped to his feet, darting to stand in front of Bee with his hands clasped together pleadingly. “I bet I can figure out great spots where most humans would never think to look or wouldn’t notice anything! So, can I come along to help? Please?!”

Bumblebee chuckled and reached down to ruffle the human boy’s hair. “So long as there are no active Decepticon threats in the area at the time, we’d love to have you along. A human’s perspective could be really helpful.” As Russell ran his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it out again, Bumblebee glanced up at Sideswipe. “I don’t think we’ve heard from you yet, Sideswipe. Any comments on the plan?”

“It sounds fine.” The Lamborghini waved a servo dismissively. Personally, he didn’t really care what they decided to do, so long as it didn’t eat into all his free time. “Putting up sensors to let us know where the Cons are without us leaving the comfort of the scrapyard seems like a great plan to me.” Behind him, he vaguely heard the faint clattering of wood, followed by a whine from Hot Rod. It sounded more like his “annoyed” whine than his “about-to-cry” whine, though, so he figured the sparkling was fine and he didn’t need to check on him.

“Not exactly the attitude I was looking for, but I’m glad you’re on board. Alright, so here’s how we’ll handle this. While Denny and Fixit are working on building the sensors, the rest of us will figure out the most likely spots Decepticons could use as hideouts. Once they’re finished, we’ll—“

“Fwag!”

The scrapyard could not have gone completely silent faster if someone had remotely deactivated all of their voice boxes at once, and they all whipped their helms around in record speed to stare in horror and astonishment at the apparent source of the high-pitched voice that that word absolutely should not have been coming out of. The object of their attention was completely unaware of their staring as he scowled in irritation at the collapsed remains of his block tower, back mostly turned to them.

Bumblebee was the first to find his voice again. “Please tell me that didn’t come out of Hot Rod.”

It took a moment for Sideswipe to force his voice box to work, and even then, finding the proper words for this moment proved to be a challenge. While there was part of him that made his spark want to burst with excitement because that was Hot Rod’s first word!, there was an equal part that made him want to go crawl in a hole because oh, scrud, that was Hot Rod’s first word…. “Um, unless we have a tiny, invisible intruder in the scrapyard…unfortunately.”

Strongarm growled, leveling a glare at him. “Well, fantastic, Sideswipe. I hope you’re proud of yourself, now that Hot Rod’s stuck with that as his first word. What exactly are you teaching him when we’re not around?!”

He whirled around to stare at her in indignation. “Excuse me?! I didn’t teach him that! I’ve never talked like that in front of him!”

“He had to learn it from somewhere, and you’re supposedly his favorite and spend the most time with him, so, by logic, of course it was you!”

“You can make whatever claims you want, but I’m telling you, it wasn’t me! It was probably, like, Fixit!” He quickly jabbed a digit towards the Minicon in accusation.

“Me?!” Fixit’s helm shot up in shock from where he had been laser focused on his data pad, probably trying to look up what to do in this type of situation. “Why I never! I have spent the last few months diligently researching how best to take care of a sparkling, and I certainly know better than to use that kind of language around Hot Rod!” He propped his servos on his hips, quickly scanning his gaze over the Autobots before whizzing over to the Dinobot and pointing to him. “I think it must have been Grimlock!”

In the middle of the circle of arguing Autobots, Russell walked over to his dad, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the situation. “Well, we know for a fact it was neither of us. I’m pretty sure that was Cybertronian.”

Denny straightened back up, tucking the map he’d been folding into his back pocket. “Oh, for sure. And before you ask,” He put his arm around Russell’s shoulders, cutting him off before the first word could leave his open mouth, “going off of the rough context, if you ever use that word, especially on purpose, you’re grounded for at least two weeks.”

Sagging, Russell sighed dejectedly. “Yeah, I figured….”

Meanwhile, at Fixit’s declaration, Grimlock gasped dramatically, slapping a servo to his chest plates. “How could you say that?! I don’t think I’ve ever even used that word in my life, and besides, I have more important things I’m gonna teach him than that. Like punching! So, maybe, uh, Drift taught him that!” Immediately, the Samurai shot him a look, and Grimlock wilted. “Or, you know, maybe it was Bee!”

“Alright, I’m cutting us off here. This is ridiculous.” Bumblebee crossed his arms and scowled at the circle of Autobots. “At this point, what happened, happened, he knows the word, and we can’t change that. And he may not even have heard it from any of us! It’s possible he overheard it from a Decepticon we’ve recaptured. Regardless, instead of pointlessly playing the blame game, there’s a very simple way to find out the answer. Hot Rod?”

Hot Rod had stood up from his spot on the ground, still glaring down at his blocks, but he immediately turned and cocked his helm at hearing his name. “So, Bud, that word you just said? Any chance you remember where you heard it?”

The sparkling flicked his gaze over them briefly, looking a little bewildered, blinked, then without hesitation, pointed right at Strongarm.

Everyone gasped, and Strongarm reeled back, optics wide. “What?! Me?! I—I wouldn’t—“ She spun to face Bumblebee, servos clasped together. “Sir, you have to believe me! I know not to talk like that in front of a sparkling! I would never say that kind of slag—“ She broke off abruptly, slapping her servos over her mouth. After a moment, she groaned and buried her faceplates in her servos. “I…didn’t mean to say that….

Sideswipe burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this! You had the audacity to accuse me of saying that in front of Hot Rod, and it turns out you were the one with the dirty mouth this whole time! Now who’s the bad influence, huh?! I expect a full apology where—“

“Si’es, he’p!”

Spark skipping a beat, Sideswipe clamped his mouth shut and yanked his attention down to his side where high-pitched, slightly-mispronounced words two and three had come from. Somewhere between his pronouncement of guilt and now, Hot Rod had left his blocks and come over to him, and having finally gotten his attention, the sparkling grabbed his arm and tugged on it. After a second, he chirped and emphatically pointed to his failed building project before repeating, “He’p!”

Sideswipe could only stare at Hot Rod, optics wide, as he sputtered in astonishment, trying to wrap his helm around the fact the the sparkling was talking to him. A few seconds later, Bumblebee spoke up, voice tinged with amusement. “Well, you heard him. He needs help. Best not keep him waiting.”

Looking back over to the others, at least half of them trying to hide grins, Sideswipe finally managed to get out a strangled “Yeah, ok,” and push himself up to his pedes. Chirping cheerfully and completely unaware of how thoroughly he’d stunned all of them, Hot Rod led the way back over to where he was playing and pointed to where he wanted Sideswipe to sit. He sat cross-legged on the ground without protest, careful not to spill the rest of the sparkling’s energon, which he had somehow managed not to make a mess of throughout the whole fiasco. Without pausing, Hot Rod quickly took the energon cube, clutching it to his chest plates with one servo while scooping up his red blocks and giving them to Sideswipe to hold with the other.

Behind them, the rest of the team quickly broke into quiet chatter, the most predominant being Strongarm’s frantic’s apologies to Bumblebee for “improper conduct” in front of a sparkling, and Fixit’s glitch-ridden exclamations of how “Hot Rod shouldn’t be old enough to know that many words!” Drawing in and releasing a deep vent, Sideswipe calmed himself enough to regain control, though he couldn’t completely squash the elation over the fact that Hot Rod was finally talking, earlier than they had thought, and his name was the second thing he’d said! Forcing himself to be serious for a moment, though, he focused back on Hot Rod, who was sorting out blocks by color on the ground.

“Hey, Roddy, can we talk for a minute?” The sparkling looked up and chirped, plopping another red block on his outstretched servo. “Yeah, ok, so, that word you said a couple minutes ago? The one Bumblebee asked you about? That’s kind of a grownup word, and only grownups are really, like, allowed to use it. And I promise you’re not in trouble! You just really can’t say that anymore, alright?” Hot Rod lifted an optic ridge, studying him intently and clearly processing, and thankfully, he didn’t look upset.

“Ok, Rod? No more saying that word?” Hot Rod stared at him for a second more, then, thank Primus, nodded and immediately crouched back down to pick up more blocks. Sideswipe let out a rush of air, slumping in relief. As long as Hot Rod actually listened, it seemed like the crisis was averted, and they wouldn’t have to deal with a swearing sparkling on their servos. That would definitely not look good on his record (Even if he wasn’t the one who taught him that. Take that, Strongarm!)

Sideswipe grinned. “You know, we’re never going to be able to tell anyone else about this, but someday I’m gonna have to tell you about how your first word was a swear word.” He poked the sparkling in a sensitive seam in his side, sending Hot Rod giggling. Feeling his spark flood with warmth at the bright burst of happiness from the little mech’s em field, Sideswipe basked in the feeling for a few seconds before he shook his servo, making the blocks in his grip clatter against each other. “But for now, though, how about we build the best and biggest tower ever!?”

Faceplates bursting into a beaming grin, Hot Rod trilled loudly, hugging his servo for a moment before pouncing on another block on the ground. He chirped and proudly held up the red painted piece of wood. “Si’es!”

“Yeah, that one does look like me, doesn’t it? It looks a little like you, too, because we kind of match. Isn’t that crazy?” He rubbed a servo over Hot Rod’s helm, just a slightly brighter shade of red than his own, and the sparkling preened, leaning into his touch as he chirred. After a moment, he gave another bright smile, took a few steps back, and plopped to the ground, reaching for blocks to start building again.

Leaning forward comfortably, Sideswipe watched Hot Rod fondly, still in disbelief that he had gotten so lucky that he had gotten the chance to look after this little one. And now, they were finally going to be able to talk! Getting to hear what the sparkling was thinking was going to be both fun and incredibly helpful, and Hot Rod was going to be able to understand him better, too. Although, maybe he actually already understood more than he let on….

Sideswipe couldn’t help the sly grin that snuck onto his faceplates, and he leaned closer to Hot Rod, handing him a block as he whispered conspiringly. “Alright, Roddy, since you’re gonna be getting pretty chatty soon, it’s time I teach you the most important things for you to be able to say. Let’s start with, ‘Sides is the very best, and Strongarm is a bossy wet blanket….’”

Chapter Text

“NooOooo!! Sides, save me!” Hot Rod whined pitifully, stretching his arm out as far as he could toward the older Autobot. He scrambled desperately, optics bright and big as he pleaded. “P’ease, p’ease, Sides!”

Were the situation different, Sideswipe would barely have waited for the first cry for help from the distressed sparkling to swoop in with fists flying. During the few times where Hot Rod had ended up in danger (almost always because he’d snuck out after them through the ground bridge when they had a mission), Sideswipe had felt a surge of panic and protectiveness like he’d never felt before the sparkling had come into his life, and he had immediately sprung into action. So ordinarily, Hot Rod’s plea for him to save him would have worked in a second. Today, though, he just crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, nice try. I’m not buying it. You’re perfectly fine, and we both know it.” Freezing at being called out for his overdramatic acting, Hot Rod abruptly cut off his whines and sagged, his wide-opticed, pleading look shifting to a pout. “I don’t know what your problem with this is, Rod. Fixit does this kind of thing all the time.”

Spoiler hiking up in indignation, Hot Rod twisted to look over his shoulder and level a glare at the current object of his ire. “‘S not Fi’sit….”

The sparkling’s captor chuckled and pulled him up to sitting again on the makeshift examination table. “Yes, I am aware that I am not Fixit, and while I understand that new people can scary, you’re hardly in need of saving. And if you think that you’re going to be able to annoy me into letting you go, it’s not going to work. You’re hardly the most difficult patient I’ve had.”

When the team had encountered Ratchet in the forest while on patrol, Sideswipe hadn’t been sure what to think. Bumblebee and Optimus had of course been thrilled to meet up with their old teammate again. (Well, thrilled might be a bit of a strong word for the Prime, but he had at least been happy.) Ratchet was an old bot though, even older than Optimus, and a medic to boot. Sideswipe had braced himself for a cranky, no nonsense bot who would complain about everyone and everything, but incredibly, that didn’t seem to be the case. Yes, Ratchet could apparently be a bit grouchy in certain circumstances, but he carried himself younger than he was and had a take no prisoners attitude that was unexpected. And if, despite being a medic, he was capable of tracking down and capturing Decepticon war criminals, he had to be tough. Maybe there was some truth to the stories about the front-line medics during the war being some of the most hardcore Autobots there were.

Regardless, when they had all arrived back at the scrapyard and Ratchet had met the rest of the team, the moment he caught sight of Hot Rod, he immediately demanded answers as to what a sparkling was doing here on Earth. They had given him the same basic rundown they’d given Optimus, and while Hot Rod had been less skittish this time, Sideswipe had caught the old medic sneaking glances at the sparkling several times over the next couple of hours, even after the discussion had turned to their mission and the new threat of Decepticon Island. When they had drawn up their plan of attack and everyone had begun dispersing to prepare, Ratchet had announced that before they left, he wanted to give Hot Rod a medical exam since he’d never really had a proper one. Fixit was far from offended, since as a Minicon who was more of an engineer, he didn’t have a lot of the tools and scanners that a fully-trained and outfitted medic did. That led them to where they were now, with Ratchet giving Hot Rod a full scanner, servos-on examination, and the sparkling far from pleased about the situation.

Ratchet currently had his servos gently cupped under Hot Rod’s helm, feeling the joints and cabling in his neck, and the little bot gave another whine, turning as much as the medic would allow to give Sideswipe the most miserable look he could muster. Huffing a sigh through his vents, Ratchet released him and straightened up, activating a holoscreen on his wrist to enter whatever medical information he’d been collecting on the sparkling. “Alright, alright, I’m done. You’re free.” Pausing for a moment at the sudden lack of confinement, Hot Rod slowly and cautiously slid himself backward, watching the medic like a cyber hawk, and Ratchet rolled his optics. “Primus, are you dramatic. Go on. I’m finished examining you.”

At Ratchet’s clear gesture of dismissal, Hot Rod rocketed into motion, scrambling to his pedes and all but launching himself off the table towards Sideswipe. The Lamborghini dutifully scooped him up and settled him against his chest plates, where the sparkling immediately pulled himself up to bury his faceplates in his neck. Hot Rod made a trailing sound of discontent at the back of his throat, and Sideswipe shook his helm and slid a servo under the little bot’s spoiler to rub his back. “Oh no, a medic checked you out to make sure you’re healthy and that everything’s working properly. Whatever will you do?” Hot Rod just heaved a sigh and tightened his grip.

“Well, he’s fortunate I don’t need to do anything more invasive. He’d really dislike me then.” Ratchet scanned briefly through what looked like a medical file, then brought his attention back to Sideswipe. “All things considering, though, he’s looking very healthy. My scans are all coming back with the exact kind of readings I’d hope to see in a sparkling of his age and build, and I’m seeing no negative effects from him being sparked on a planet other than Cybertron or being completely on his own for the first two days of his life, doing Primus only knows what.”

Sideswipe jostled Hot Rod slightly in his arms. “Yeah, any chance you can remember anything about those days yet, Bud?”

Hot Rod shook his helm, voice muffled from how tightly he was pressed against him. “Just scar’d, then you.”

The sparkling’s answer hadn’t changed from the last time they’d asked, hoping if they could figure out exactly where he’d been sparked, or if he’d heard or felt anything during that time, they could maybe learn how or why he’d been sparked here on Earth. Hot Rod remembered nothing from the two days before Sideswipe had found him, though, likely just from the fact that he had been so little, according to Fixit’s research. It wasn’t really that important, however, and Ratchet hadn’t seemed all that concerned about it earlier, so Sideswipe didn’t want to push the issue.

Shutting down the holoscreen, Ratchet propped a servo on his waist and focused back on the sparkling. “Well, that should be about all I need. What do you think, little one? Not as bad as you thought?”

In response, Hot Rod twisted his helm just enough to give the medic a dirty look and hissed.

“Whoa, ok, we’re not doing that.” Sideswipe tugged at the bottom edge of Hot Rod’s chest plate, cutting off the sparkling and drawing his attention back. The little bot directed a pouty glare at him for a moment before huffing and burrowing back against his chest plates without a word. “Yeah, I know you’re annoyed at Ratchet, but the proper response isn’t to hiss at him. You can talk, Rod. You don’t need to hiss like an animal. Or a Dinobot. Oh Primus, please don’t start acting like a Dinobot….”

Ratchet shook his helm, an amused smirk settling on his faceplates. “To be fair, it’s hardly the worst response I’ve gotten from a sparkling. I’ve been straight up bit before, so anything else hardly even fazes me. And very few sparklings are particularly pleased about their first examinations, which is why-“ at this, he reached into a small, hidden compartment at his waist, “I always come prepared with a peace offering.”

After a moment of hesitation, Hot Rod turned his helm to see what Ratchet was offering, two digits stuck in his mouth as he stared at the small, faintly glowing square in the medic’s grasp. He studied it for a few seconds, then twisted back to glance up at Sideswipe “Wha’s dat?” he asked around the digits in his mouth.

Sideswipe grinned. Oh, Hot Rod was going to love this. “That’s an energon goodie! They’re like regular energon, but more solid, and some of them can have different flavors! Think like-“ he paused, trying to come up with a good comparison for the sparkling. “Oh, you remember how Russell will have candy sometimes? This is kind of the same thing for Cybertronians.”

The sparkling definitely perked up at the mention of candy (an irresistible temptation that he couldn’t have), and after a moment of silent consideration, he popped his digits out of his mouth and held out his servo for the treat. Ratchet handed it over without protest, and Hot Rod immediately started inspecting it, feeling the sticky square squish against his digits, sniffing it cautiously, then finally, gingerly licking it. Sideswipe saw the exact moment when it registered. Hot Rod’s optics widened, and he shoved the entire thing in his mouth, an excited trill escaping him.

Sideswipe laughed as the sparkling broke into a full-frame wiggle. “Is that good, Roddy?”

“Mhm!” Hot Rod shook his servo in excitement, the look on his faceplates switching from pure bliss to concentration at figuring out the new sensation of chewing and back again.

Ratchet chuckled. “Energon goodies work every time. I’ve yet to meet a sparkling who can resist them. So, little one, what do we think? Am I forgiven?”

Pausing, Hot Rod stared at the medic with a calculating look. After a quick glance back up at Sideswipe, he brought his attention back to Ratchet and held out his servo again, offering up one of his sweetest, most “look how innocent and adorable I am” smiles. “More?”

Ratchet let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes! You’re going to be quite the little charmer when you’re older, aren’t you, Hot Rod? Cheeky little thing.” He shook his helm again, but pulled out a second energon goodie. “Alright, here you go. Only because that last one was obviously your first one ever.”

“I would have given him some if we had any.” Sideswipe quickly adjusted his hold on Hot Rod as the sparkling stretched out to reach for the treat, immediately shoving it in his mouth and letting out a contented hum. “All we have is what they originally put on the Alchemor, and they didn’t exactly think it a priority to stock energon goodies on a prison ship. As it is, Fixit had to repurpose an energon filtration unit to make sparkling grade for Hot Rod.”

The medic quickly waved a servo. “No, no, I wasn’t meaning to judge. It was just an observation. All things considered, he’s doing remarkably well. Had you asked me before today how a sparkling would do having spent their entire life thus far on a planet other than Cybertron with almost no medical care and no interaction with others their age, I would have been sure that they would have multiple nutrient deficiencies, perhaps have picked up some sort of illness, and been skittish and behind developmentally. Hot Rod, clearly, is none of those.” Ratchet shifted his optics to meet his, giving him a sincere look. “You’ve done a remarkable job with him.”

A rush of heat flooding his systems, Sideswipe looked away, trying to put on an air of indifference. “I mean, it wasn’t like it was hard. When he’s not trying to follow us out on a mission, Hot Rod’s pretty easy to—whoa! Easy, Rod!” He scrambled to grab the sparkling attempting to climb out of his arms, tugging him close again before he could fall and hurt himself. “What are you doing?!”

“Bu’fly!” Hot Rod excitedly pointed to a small, winged Earth creature fluttering by one of the scrapyard’s stacks of junk and pushed against Sideswipe’s chest plates, trying to free himself. “Down, Sides, p’ease!”

“Ok, ok! Primus! Just don’t hurt yourself!” Sideswipe quickly set Hot Rod on the ground and the sparkling immediately took off after his organic target.

Sideswipe let out a heavy vent of exasperation, and Ratchet walked up beside him, crossing his arms over his chest plates. “Sparklings are really something, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, that’s about the word I’d use. Just when I think I have a handle on him, he decides to, you know, throw himself off the closest tall object, or change his mind every other night about something. Drives me crazy, but-“ Sideswipe glanced back over at Hot Rod, who was crouched halfway down the aisle, giggling over the the tiny creature who had landed on his digit tips, probably tasting the stickiness left by the energon goodies. A small smile escaped him. “At the end of the day, it’s all worth it.”

“I’m sure most Cybertronians would agree with you. Sparklings are hard to resist, but not just anyone has what it takes to take care of them. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve been an excellent guardian for Hot Rod so far.”

Sideswipe felt his processor screech to a halt, and he whipped his helm around to stare at the medic. It took a few tries to get his voice box working again. “Wha-I-no-I’m not Hot Rod’s guardian! He’s been here his whole life, and the Cybertron Youth Centers don’t even know he exists to be available for guardianship! And even if he was-“ he broke off, his spark twisting, and he allowed himself a brief glance toward the sparkling. “-all the caretakers and heads of the Youth Centers would have to do is take one look at my record, and I’d be laughed out of the building. There’s no way I’d ever be approved to be a guardian….”

He could feel the weight of Ratchet’s gaze on him, but he couldn’t make himself meet the medic’s optics, em field clutched close as his spark clenched with the feelings of guilt and embarrassment. Whatever praise the older bot had previously offered was no doubt being mentally retracted now that he had more or less admitted to the kind of bot he was—used to be—or whatever he was. It of course didn’t change the fact that Hot Rod was clearly being well cared for, but Ratchet was probably agreeing with what just about every other Autobot on Cybertron would—

“Forgive me, I should have thought about the fact that Hot Rod had never been to Cybertron and that Youth Centers don’t know he exists. To look at the two of you, though, you certainly act like it, and I’d be willing to wager that other Cybertronians would assume that you’re his guardian, as well.” Ratchet paused for a moment, then continued. “But regardless of his legal status back on Cybertron, or whatever I or others might think, Hot Rod thinks you’re his guardian.”

“What?” Sideswipe jerked his helm back up, optics wide. “There’s no way that’s true. We’ve never used that word around him, and he has no idea what a guardian is!”

Ratchet shook his helm. “That’s not what I meant. If you’re not his legal guardian, obviously he wouldn’t have heard about guardianship. Whatever word he’s decided on up here-“ at this, he rapped his helm “-to describe what you are to him, he clearly thinks you’re his guardian in here.” He moved his servo down to tap it against his chest plates.

Sideswipe stared at him for a minute, trying to logic out the medic’s statement, before giving up. “Yeah, you lost me.”

“You’re fine. It’s not particularly a secret, but it’s not exactly wide-spread knowledge. Any medic would know it, though, because it’s technically a medical thing.”

“I thought you said he was fine?”

“He is fine; it’s not a “problem” medical thing. A Cybertronian’s normal system functions are medical things. What I’m talking about is a medical phenomenon that happens in sparklings being raised by a guardian. Medics aren’t quite sure how it happens, but we know that it does and definitely has benefits. In simple terms, when a sparkling has a guardian, over time, we can see their spark rate and rhythm start to change to match their guardian’s. Again, we don’t know what causes it, whether it be a reaction to extended time in proximity to one particular spark, a line of code that’s triggered by a certain state of mind, or something else entirely.

“Whatever it is, it creates a type of spark bond between the guardian and their charge, and that bond allows the pair to be able to read each other’s em fields more closely and have a better sense for each other’s feelings and emotions than any other Cybertronian would be able to, even with a fully open field. The earlier the guardianship starts, the sooner the sparkling’s spark starts changing to match their guardian’s, and the closer the sync, the stronger the bond and their ability to read each other will be. And you and Hot Rod-“ Ratchet turned to focus on him, optics steady. “-are in perfect sync.”

Thoughts flailing and spark racing, Sideswipe took a staggering step back, a garble of nonsensical sound the only thing he could force from his voice box at the moment. It took a few seconds to let the burst of static in his processor pass, and a few more before he could could get actual words out, still stumbling, but understandable. “But-I-I-I’m not-he-why would-“ He drew in a deep vent and let it out as a groan, sinking to sit on the ground and press his faceplates into his servos. “I don’t understand! Why would he do that?! And-and how do you even know our sparks are in sync? You’ve never scanned me before.”

“I did actually. On the way here to the scrapyard.” At Sideswipe’s incredulous look, Ratchet huffed slightly and settled his arms more firmly across his chest plates. “It’s an old habit from the war, from times when I would meet up with Autobots I hadn’t seen recently or had never met before. As a medic, I would want to know any possible treatment or repairs the soldiers, or, in the rare case, civilians might need as soon as possible, so I would perform a short, low-intensity burst scan that would pick up vitals and some medical warnings from any Cybertronians in my immediate proximity, and they would never even notice. For all of you, I had no idea of what your medical status could be, so I wanted to be sure no one needed immediate attention. When I saw how you and Hot Rod interacted, I was suspicious that you were his guardian, and when I scanned him and was able to compare your spark readings, that seemed to confirm it for me. Of course, though, your and Hot Rod’s situation is a little more…unique.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

“And as far as your other question, he didn’t “do it” on purpose. It’s a completely automatic and subconscious process, and he’s not even aware there’s anything special between you.”

Sideswipe didn’t respond right away, slowly shifting his position to sit cross-legged, slumping forward as he tried to process everything. He and Hot Rod really had a spark bond? The kind that apparently only formed between a sparkling and their guardian?! As much as he adored Hot Rod and probably thought about and cared for him no different than he would if he was actually his legal guardian, the idea that Hot Rod had actually latched onto him so tightly that his very spark had changed to match the tempo of his own was a little…overwhelming. Somehow, the weight of responsibility he had for the little bot felt like it had doubled, and he was almost afraid to find out the repercussions of accidentally gaining a spark bond with a sparkling he wasn’t the guardian too. Would there be legal issues? Medical ones?

Sitting quietly, he glanced up to watch Hot Rod for a moment, the sparkling having climbed up a few shelves a few dozen feet down the aisle and plopped down, inspecting something as he babbled contentedly to himself on his perch. Finally, Sideswipe asked in a small voice, “Is it a problem?”

Ratchet looked down at him in surprise. “Is what a problem?”

“Us having some sort of whatever-you-call-it kind of bond. Since I’m not, you know, actually his guardian.” He looked up, trying to keep his tone and expression neutral, but he couldn’t stop his voice from faltering for a moment. “Do you need to break it, or something? If it’s what’s best for Hot Rod, I-I won’t—what?!”

The medic’s look of surprise had morphed to one of complete bafflement, and he uncrossed his arms to put them on his hips, glancing away for a moment before turning back to him. “I’m sorry, did you ask if I need to break a spark bond?”

“Um, yeah? Is that like, illegal or something? I’m not exactly an expert on the subject or anything.”

Ratchet let out a short laugh, shaking his helm. “It’s not illegal, it’s just impossible! Medics can’t do anything regarding a spark bond except be able to sometimes tell that a bot has one. The only way to actually break a spark bond is for one of the bots with the bond to die.” He must have made a face, because the medic’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Exactly. That’s not really something anyone wants to happen, especially with you and Hot Rod. And as far as need, I don’t see why.” He shifted his attention to look toward the sparkling, who had for the moment disappeared from sight. “There’s certainly nothing dangerous about it, and it allows him to feel your em field better, which I’m sure is comforting for him, even if he doesn’t realize why you feel any different from the rest of the team. And even if you weren’t aware of it, I’m sure it’s helped you as well with judging his moods, his emotions in certain circumstances, and other things much more closely than the others can.”

Sideswipe hummed quietly, fiddling with his digits in his lap. “He does always seem to be really uncannily aware of whatever I’m thinking or feeling at the moment. And I just thought he was just really, really open with his field! Or maybe that it was just a sparkling thing! I had no idea the others weren’t picking up as much as me.”

“It’s understandable. If you weren’t aware it was even a thing, you wouldn’t have had any idea to look for the signs of it.” Ratchet went quiet for a moment, then sighed and patted his shoulder where he was sitting on the ground. “Well, I should get back to helping the others prepare for the mission tonight. Hot Rod’s in good health, and I don’t see any current concerns for that changing. I’ll leave the two of you to find your way back to wherever the others are when you’re ready.”

He walked away, and Sideswipe was about to allow himself to drift off in thought when Ratchet spoke up again. “And Sideswipe?” He glanced up to meet the medic’s optics. “Whatever his current legal status is, and whatever your past looks like, you’ve been good for him. Keep up the good work.”

Ratchet walked away, and Sideswipe let himself watch the older bot go, emotions twisting in heavy turmoil under his chest plates. He appreciated the encouragement, but whatever the medic thought about their bond, it still felt wrong to him, like he was cheating at some game and being handed some sort of award he didn’t deserve. And if they ever got Hot Rod to Cybertron…what would happen then? Would the Youth Centers demand he hand the sparkling over, or would they take their history into account at all and—

“Where Rat’set go?”

Sideswipe jolted and yelped, spinning back around to find that Hot Rod, who hadn’t even been in his line of sight a minute ago, had all but spawned right in front of him and was slowly grinning at the realization that he’d startled the older bot. Sideswipe scowled slightly and poked Hot Rod in the chest plates, making him giggle. “Would you stop doing that? We need to put a bell on you or something, or else I’m going to have a spark attack some day.”

Hot Rod laughed and climbed into his lap. “No, you won’t!”

“Oh, yes, I will! Wait, I think I feel one coming on right now!” He threw a servo to his chest plates and started making gagging sounds, tipping himself backward until he dramatically fell on his back and sent Hot Rod sprawling from his lap onto his abdomen.

A yelp followed by a burst of laughter escaping him, Hot Rod scrambled to his servos and knees and climbed up to Sideswipe’s chest plates to pat his faceplates. “Sides, Sides, you ok?”

He kept his optics closed, mouth almost twitching as he fought a grin. “Nope, too busy having a spark attack. Try coming back again later.” When the sparkling didn’t respond immediately, he paused in his play to crack open an optic to peek at Hot Rod. The sparkling had gone uncharacteristically serious as he stared at him, optic ridges furrowed slightly in concentration, concern, or a mix of both. “Hey, what’s wrong, Roddy?”

“You ok, Sides? Feel funny.”

Sideswipe sighed and opened both optics, reaching up to gently rub Hot Rod’s helm. After his discussion with Ratchet, these sorts of situations, where the sparkling seemed to have a sixth sense about whatever he was feeling, made a lot more sense, but it meant he was definitely going to need to be a lot more careful if he wanted to keep Hot Rod from worrying whenever he was stressed or upset. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a lot on my processor right now.”

The sparkling immediately looked suspicious. “Rat’set say something bad?”

“No, he just—told me some stuff I didn’t know. None of it’s bad. I promise.” When Hot Rod didn’t look completely convinced, Sideswipe gently tugged on the sparkling’s spoiler. “Hey, don’t you trust me?”

The concerned expression on Hot Rod’s faceplates immediately eased, and he vented, flopping down onto his belly and nodding. “Mhm. A’ways.”

Sideswipe let them lay there for a minute, Hot Rod cuddled against his chest plates, as he took one last moment to collect his thoughts and shove the ones that threatened to send him spiraling in a panic in a back corner of his processor. When he felt in control again, he slowly drew in and released a deep vent, then looked back at Hot Rod and let his faceplates quirk up in a grin.

Moving quickly so he didn’t tip Hot Rod off to what he was doing, Sideswipe threw an arm behind the sparkling’s back, simultaneously rolling sideways and onto his knees in one smooth movement while (gently) dumping Hot Rod on the ground. The sparkling shrieked at the initial movement, but immediately burst into giggles with a bright grin as he lay on his spoiler on the ground, arms spread to either side of him.

Sideswipe couldn’t help grinning too, chuckling as he sat up on his knees. “Alright, goofy bot, I think we’d better go help the others get ready for the mission before I get scolded for slacking off. And I can only use you as an excuse for so long. Maybe if we hurry, there will still be something you can help with.”

Hot Rod’s optics brightened, and he scrambled to his pedes. “Yeah! Wanna help!”

He took off toward the command center, and Sideswipe pushed himself back to his pedes and followed. Watching the sparkling’s retreating back, a wave of fondness swept over him. Yes, the knowledge that he and Hot Rod shared a spark bond was still a little overwhelming, but Hot Rod wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and if that bond gave the sparkling comfort and made him better at taking care of the little Cybertronian, who was he to deny them that? He’d worry about Hot Rod’s future when it came and for now, just focus on the present and the sparkling who’s very spark had become interwoven with his own.

Chapter Text

The day had started out great. It had been a few weeks since they had finally taken down the Stunticons, they’d finally mastered transforming into their Combiner form, and Drift had left with Optimus for his “special mission.” Since then, everything had been pretty quiet, and there had been no sign of Decepticons causing chaos. The team had been appreciating some well-deserved down time, and Sideswipe in particular had been reveling in the chance to just hang for a while, a lot of it spent with Hot Rod as they caught up with some of the sparkling’s unofficial “lessons”. (He’d been on a kick lately of wanting to learn to read in English in addition to Cybertronian, so Sideswipe had been relying on his auto-translator a lot.) Today, while Hot Rod had been napping, he’d finally gotten the chance to try out that new, super glossy wax he’d gotten his servos on a couple of months ago, and he was feeling great.

Of course, that’s when the shooting started.

“Whoa! What is this?! Did someone forget to pay the electric bill?!” He dodged out of the way of one laser blast, just to immediately leap to avoid another. As a short range missile impacted with the rock surrounding the ramp to the command center, Sideswipe kicked off the hillside, flipping over and down to the ground as the air reverberated with the force of the explosion. He glanced over to the hastily constructed barriers he’d thrown up in front of the Alchemor, immediately zeroing in on the bright spot of color in the growing haze of smoke and dust. Thankfully, Hot Rod had stayed put where Sideswipe had told him to, huddled against the back of the thick sheets of metal he had jammed into the ground as cover, faceplates tucked into his knees, and arms wrapped around his legs. While Sideswipe hated seeing Hot Rod scared, at least he had enough sense not to be his usual “afraid of absolutely nothing” self right now.

“Sideswipe! Situation report!” He looked up to find Bumblebee and Grimlock charging his way through the smoke, and he jumped over his current cover to meet them.

Squinting against the glare of the sun still getting through the growing haze, he pointed toward the massive rock structure visible past the far end of the scrapyard. “Best I can figure, they’re on the cliff!”

As Bumblebee raised a servo to shield his optics, attention turned in the indicated direction, there was a sudden flare from the top of the cliff, and Grimlock, with the best vision of all of them, let out a yelp. “Incoming!” The missile didn’t seem to be aimed at them this time, thankfully, instead hitting the overhang shielding the Alchemor. The explosion sent out a concussive shockwave, knocking them all off their pedes and crashing to the ground.

Sideswipe groaned, turning himself over onto his front and shaking his helm to try to rid himself of the dizziness. The ringing in his audials finally faded, only to be immediately replaced by a terrified, trailing wail. He immediately clambered back to his pedes, vaulting over the barriers he’d hastily constructed and crouching down by Hot Rod. He was vaguely aware of Bumblebee and Grimlock following, but the distressed sparkling required his full attention right now.

“Hot Rod! Rod, are you ok?! Are you hurt?!” He put a servo on Hot Rod’s shoulder, intent on tugging the sparkling out of the ball he’d curled himself into, but Hot Rod didn’t give a chance, untucking himself and absolutely lunging for Sideswipe, wrapping arms as tightly as he could around around the older bot’s. His optics were absolutely blown wide in terror, lubricant running in a steady stream down his faceplates. His chest plates heaved, vents working overtime trying to pull in air around his broken sobs.

“Sides! Make-make it sto-oo-o-p!” He broke down again, burying his faceplates against Sideswipe’s arm as he shook.

Sideswipe let out a heavy vent, clenching his own rising panic down tight as he sent wave after wave of reassurance to the sparkling. Ok, not hurt, just terrified. “I know you’re scared, Rod! We’re-we’re working on it!” What in the name of Primus could they even do, though?! Their attackers had the high ground, and if anyone on the team tried to go after them, they’d be picked off before they even got halfway from the scrapyard to the cliff side. But if they stayed much longer in the scrapyard, they were going to run out of cover and get blasted anyway!

Thankfully, though, they had Bumblebee leading the team, and he had apparently come to the same conclusion.

“This is no good! We have to evac!” Sideswipe suddenly found himself with Bumblebee’s blaster thrust into his servos, and he fumbled the unfamiliar weapon for a moment before getting a good grip on it, just barely catching Bee’s order to cover him. He hadn’t had much practice with blaster-type weapons, but he was more than capable of aiming and shooting, so he did his best to try to hit something up on the hill, or at least make them dodge and throw off their aim.

The blaster was growing warm under his digits by the time the familiar crackle of energy from the ground bridge sparked to life on his left. Bumblebee immediately started calling “Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go!”, and Grimlock dodged behind him and headed for the bridge just as Strongarm came roaring into the clearing with Denny, Russell, and Fixit. Sideswipe laid down more cover fire, shifting his position to be ready to grab Hot Rod and run. At the edge of his vision, he saw Strongarm and Grimlock vanish through the ground bridge, and finally, Bumblebee called his name.

“Right behind you!” He fired off a last few shots, then crouched down to scoop up Hot Rod. “Alright, Rod, let’s—“ He broke off, ice flooding his lines, upon discovering that the sparkling was gone. Fighting the urge to completely break down in a panic, Sideswipe jerked his helm up, scanning the nearby area. “Hot Rod! Roddy, where are you?!” Hot Rod had been right there! Where in the name of Primus could he have gone?! A laser blast nearly grazed his shoulder and he dodged to the side, rolling to his pedes and resuming his increasingly frantic search as he avoided the shooting that seemed to have focused on him now. He avoided them half-instinctually, trying desperately to remember if Hot Rod had run past him to the ground bridge. Had Grimlock grabbed the sparkling for him when he had headed that way?! “Hot Rod!” The ground bridge was still alight in the corner of his vision, but he ignored it. Hot Rod had to still be here, and there was no way he was leaving without him!

Before he could make a move to search further, an explosion caught him off guard, the shockwave knocking him halfway across the clearing as the heat from it scorched his plating. He tumbled helm over pedes, barely managing to grab the ground and slide to a stop on his knees before he could slam into something. Shaking off the disorientation, he glanced up and froze, a half-strangled gasp escaping him.

Bumblebee, presumably having charged into the space bridge just after he voiced his intentions to be right behind him, was gone. And the space bridge, their way to safety, was a smoking, crumpled wreck.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Panic threatened to rise and suffocate him, but he was momentarily snapped out of it as another laser blast whizzed inches from his helm and he dove to the ground, instantly scrambling back up and taking off for the better cover of the stacks of the scrapyard as the shooting focused back on him with new intensity now that he was very possibly the last one here.

The knowledge of that simmered just shy of paralyzing as he ran, dodging explosions and shots from the attackers. “Hot Rod!” Debris littered the aisles, sending him stumbling more than once as he hunted for someplace at all shielded from the blaster fire, and the sparkling, who had to be around here somewhere! Hot Rod wouldn’t have left without him, right? Maybe the others had left, but it hadn’t been intentional to leave him behind. It was just an accident. He was part of the team! Sure, he wasn’t as disciplined, or trained, or good at following orders as the others were, but they wouldn’t just—abandon him….

He drew in a ragged vent, darting past the falling, burning contents of a shelf, servo flying to his comm. “Bumblebee! Strongarm! Grimlock?! Can you hear me?! Anyone?!? Come in!” The comm crackled, whether damaged or just not picking up any answering signals, and a surge of distress raced through his spark at the idea that the team could be ignoring his call. “Hot Rod!!”

“Sides!”

He wasn’t sure if he felt more terrified or relieved at the petrified voice calling his name over the boom of explosions, but he immediately raced for the next aisle over to find, finally, Hot Rod running toward him as fast as his tiny legs would allow, something clutched tightly to his chest plates. The sparkling’s field latched onto his with frantic intensity, terror easing a fraction as relief immediately flooded in upon catching sight of him. Sideswipe’s own panic ebbed a few degrees as well, but jumped again as a loud creak suddenly sounded. Hot Rod stumbled to a halt, helm whipping around to stare at the contents of the shelf next to him, tumbling right for his frozen form as the severely damaged shelf finally gave way.

“Hot Rod!” Sideswipe raced toward the sparkling who was in imminent danger of being crushed, not moving, not moving, why wasn’t he moving! He was always moving! At the last possible second, he dove forward, snatching Hot Rod mid-motion as he rolled, landing on his knees just as the piles of scrap crashed to the ground right behind him. Venting heavily, his spark racing, he clutched the trembling sparkling tightly for a moment, releasing him after a few seconds to frantically look him over. “Are you ok?! Are you hurt?! Where were you?!”

Hot Rod didn’t say anything for a moment, optics wide with terror and chest plates rapidly rising and falling. A nearby explosion reverberated through the scrapyard, making the sparkling flinch, and like a switch being flipped, his optics flooded with lubricant, his expression crumpled, and he let himself fall forward into Sideswipe’s chest plates with a wail. Amidst the blaster fire that rang out around them, Sideswipe hugged Hot Rod close, doing his best to soothe the turmoil that was the sparkling’s field while the tiny Cybertronian latched onto his plating with a death grip with one servo. In the other, he clutched a piece of fabric that Sideswipe finally recognized.

The red and black blanket had been a gift from Denny and Russell while the away team had been on their mission (which he still felt kind of guilty about), and while most Cybertronians didn’t use fabric items very much, the blanket had become a source of comfort to Hot Rod while he had been gone, and that hadn’t changed in the months since. So of course, when Bumblebee had made the call to evacuate—with Hot Rod probably the only sparkling currently in existence who knew what that term meant—he’d run to get his blanket because he didn’t want to leave it behind.

Sideswipe shifted Hot Rod a little higher, tightening his grip incrementally as he ran a servo over his spoiler. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, Roddy. I’m here. It’s gonna be ok.” Their attackers must have adjusted their position, because the laser blasts got dangerously close again, and Sideswipe launched himself to his pedes, holding the crying sparkling close as he ran. “Don’t worry! I’m gonna get you out of here!” The fact that their way out was destroyed and that they’d been left behind by the rest of the team re-surged to the front of his processor, and he did his best to clamp down the panic that threatened to overtake him again now that he wasn’t focused on finding Hot Rod.

He didn’t have time to panic, even if the boom of explosions was nearly constant now, and the blaster fire was getting harder and harder to dodge as his cover was methodically being destroyed. His priority was getting Hot Rod to safety, even if meant taking him somewhere on his own, with no clue where the team was. The sparkling sobbed against his chest plates, and Sideswipe twisted quickly to shield him against the spray of debris from another explosion, far too close for comfort. Darting around another stack as another round of laser fire barely missed him, he tried his comm again.

“Bee?! Fixit?! Guys?! I have Hot Rod, but we’re pinned down! Come in! Please!” There continued to be no response, and that had to prove that either his comms were damaged or their attackers were blocking the signal, because the team wouldn’t leave Hot Rod behind. Even if they would leave him—and they wouldn’t, he was part of the team, and they wouldn’t leave him—there was no way they’d abandon a sparkling. They weren’t those kinds of Cybertronians. They wouldn’t leave them behind, no matter how big of a screw-up he could be, and no matter how much Hot Rod acted like him.

They wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t abandon them.

They wouldn’t abandon him.

Not again.

It couldn’t happen again.

Another explosion rocked the scrapyard, and Sideswipe raced around a corner, searching desperately for the exit, utterly lost in the now unrecognizable burning stacks. Before he could get far, a missile took out the shelving on his left, completely blocking his path back the way he’d come. He had hardly taken a step in the opposite direction when a second explosion sent the stacks on his opposite side crashing down, boxing him in. He was surrounded on all sides, piles of junk higher than his helm looming over him, rocking dangerously as laser blasts zeroed in on his location. Hot Rod wailed louder, and Sideswipe felt the panic swell and drown out every bit of attempt to focus on the moment he had left as his spark pounded beneath his chest plates and his vents working faster and faster in an attempt to keep up.

The piles of crumpled, burning scrap surrounding him suddenly melted away and were replaced by claustrophobic metal walls.

Every boom of an explosion was the pounding of fists on a solid, unmovable door.

And the shriek of blaster fire was the cry of a young voice,

begging for forgiveness,

promising to do better….

Hot Rod’s field lashed against his, terrified and searching desperately for comfort, and he clung to the older bot’s plating like it was his only lifeline. Sideswipe was aware of the sparkling’s sobs, but all he could was hold him tighter, trying hopelessly to shove down the panic flooding his spark. He was only half-aware of flinching away from laser blasts finding gaps in the walls of broken wood and steel surrounding him, and in one of the brief moments that a gasp of air gave him control of his voice box back, he cried out, unsure of who he was calling to. Because he was alone, alone, alone—

“Help! Anyone!” A barely choked off sob escaped him, and he dropped to the ground, curling around Hot Rod. “Come back! Please!”

Half suffocating in the clutches of fear, Sideswipe didn’t hear the heavy groan over the explosions until Hot Rod shrieked. He snapped his helm up to find Denny’s large crane falling straight for them, shelves crunching, crumbling, in the wake of its path, and he clutched the sparkling closer and attempted to leap clear. His distraction had proved to be detrimental, though, because his dash was cut short as a heavy weight slammed onto his lower leg, and he crashed to the ground, one arm wrapped around Hot Rod as he tried to break his fall with the other.

He gasped at the flare of pain in his leg, twisting to look back as soon as the dust cleared to find that he was absolutely pinned. He scrambled at the ground, trying to pull himself free, but his limb didn’t give at all under the weight of the broken crane. A desperate half-groan, half-whine escaped him, and Hot Rod took the opportunity to wiggle free from underneath him, leaving the blanket in Sideswipe’s grip. He immediately spotted where he was trapped and let out a cry of distress.

“Sides!” Hot Rod clambered over his free leg and rushed toward where he was pinned, grabbing the underside of the toppled crane and heaving upward as much as his tiny frame would allow. His pedes slid against the ground, and he whined, tugging harder as he tried to free Sideswipe, even though there was no possible way the sparkling could ever hope to even budge the piece of heavy machinery.

“Hot Rod, stop!” Sideswipe shakily drew in a deep vent of air, letting it out slowly as he forced himself to refocus. Hot Rod needed him to be the adult here, and he couldn’t afford to let himself continue to panic. Right now, it was a matter of life or death. “You-you need to run, Hot Rod! You have to get out of here! Go find the front gate and find somewhere safe to hide until the team comes back for you!”

Whirling around to stare at him, lubricant streaking down his faceplates, Hot Rod gave him the fiercest, most stubborn glare he could manage. “No!”

Primus, this was not the time for the sparkling to be arguing with him! “I’m serious, Roddy! Go! Get out of here!”

“No! Not leaving you!”

His spark constricted, a complicated mix of alarm and endearment twisting under his chest plates. Oh, he loved Hot Rod, and the sentiment chased away a tremendous amount of the anguish he’d been feeling since the space bridge went dark, but he’d never forgive himself if he let the sparkling die. He spun back around, prepared to double down on trying to wrench himself free from the crane, but he froze as several points of light settled on his faceplates.

He was trapped, there was nothing he could do, he was going to die here, and he had no idea what was going to happen to Hot Rod. All he could do was clench his optics shut, silently beg for forgiveness, and brace himself for the burning pain.

“Bee! Help!”

The weight on his leg suddenly released, and Sideswipe snapped his optics open and spun around to find that Bumblebee of all bots was standing there, having lifted the crane from where it was pinning him. The blaster fire picked up out of no where, likely after Bumblebee now that the team leader had made a reappearance, and Sideswipe wasted no time in pushing himself back to his pedes, grabbing Hot Rod, and transforming around the sparkling as he dropped him and his blanket in the passenger seat. Bumblebee transformed behind him, and the two of them raced through the scrapyard as the laser blasts and explosions followed with new intensity. Finally, the reached the front gate and streaked onto the road, gunning it away from the scrapyard as fast as possible. And finally, finally, as they left their wrecked base behind them, they got out of range of their attackers and the shooting stopped.

It took a minute of driving before Sideswipe could make his spark stop racing enough to get words out without shaking. Mostly. “I-I thought you left.”

“The blast that took out the ground bridge threw me into the cliff. Took me a while to find you with my comm down.” For having just escaped a massive attack on their base, Bumblebee sounded remarkably composed. Although, having lived through the war, maybe this was nothing to him. “Are you two ok?”

“Yeah.” He pulled in a steady vent, letting the feeling of the road beneath his tires calm him. “I-yeah, I’m fine. Hot Rod?” He turned his attention inward to the sparkling curled in his seat, blanket clutched tightly as he buried his faceplates in it. “You alright, Rod?”

After a few seconds, Hot Rod lifted his helm, flicking his gaze to his dashboard. “Not hurt.” The words were mumbled, and he immediately buried his faceplates again and curled more tightly into the seat, but the sparkling showed no outward sign of being in pain.

“He’s ok. Pretty freaked out, but not hurt.”

“That’s understandable. I think everyone will feel better once we have some temporary shelter and a plan for moving ahead. Now come on! We’d better meet up with the others before they start worrying too much.”

He gunned it, and Sideswipe followed close behind. With the attack over, Hot Rod safe, and the knowledge that Bumblebee hadn’t left him there and had actually come for him, he was able to shove the anxiety down low enough that the threat of needing to pull over and purge slowly eased, with just a low churning in his fuel tank left that he couldn’t quite settle. Things would be better once they found the others, though, because even if they had been all but forced from their base, and currently had no way to take it back, the day couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?

Sideswipe couldn’t stop shaking.

This was stupid. It was so, so stupid. The fight was over! They’d won! He’d personally taken Steeljaw out of the fight and stopped the dam from bursting, and Bumblebee and the rest of the team had been right there, just like Bee had promised. Everything had felt pretty good on the drive back to the caves they’d decided on as their temporary base, but in the middle of debriefing, as the adrenaline from the day’s events had finished settling down, tendrils of the panic from earlier had suddenly started to leak from the dark corner he’d manage to crush it down into, and he couldn’t stop it. All he could do was keep his em field pulled in as tight as possible and fight to keep his ventilations slow and steady so he wouldn’t alert the others, feeling his extremities start to tremble the longer he held it in. As soon as they’d finished debriefing and started to draw up a plan for what to do next, Sideswipe had slipped away as quickly and silently as he could, found a chamber of the cave system out of hearing distance from the others, and all but collapsed against the wall. A dry sob, held in for far too long, escaped him, and he’d been here ever since, shaking, vents struggling to pull in air, and emotions and images flashing, unbidden, across his spark and processor.

In all fairness, this wasn’t the first time these feelings had cropped up since he’d first arrived on Earth. Blurr showing up and immediately doing so much better than him had almost spent him spiraling, but things hadn’t turned out like he’d expected. He hadn’t been kicked out, and everything had been fine. After they’d been captured by Nightstrike, way back in the fairly early days of the team, he’d spent the rest of the night sitting up awake, because he knew that there was no way he would successfully be able to recharge. And even if by some miracle he could, he would only be plagued by nightmares.

Today, though? Nothing had hit him as hard as today had in years. Not since long before he’d met the team. Long before he’d made his way to Kaon City. Even long before his most recent upgrades. He had thought that he was over this by now, and he should have been! He was older, it had happened a long time ago, and things were different now. He had a team, and he was helping them make a difference here on Earth. Getting left in the scrapyard today was an accident! They hadn’t left him behind on purpose, and he hadn’t actually even been alone! Hot Rod had been there, and Bumblebee had actively put himself in harm’s way to free him when he’d been trapped. No one had abandoned him, and he wasn’t—he hadn’t—

His vents hitched again, and he curled in tighter, faceplates pressed against his knees. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine, he was freaking out about nothing, he was fine—

He was startled from his thoughts by a sudden scraping on rock, and he jerked his helm up, hastily scrubbing a servo over his faceplates to wipe away any stray moisture. The last thing he needed was one of his teammates catching him crying. He didn’t think he’d gone quite that far, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Blinking rapidly to refocus his optics, he glanced up toward where the sound had come from only to find that no one was there. The only thing out of place in the cave, sitting innocently on the ground next to a cluster of rocks, was an energon cube.

Okay…that was weird. Maybe one of the others had come by to bring him a cube, saw he was upset, and didn’t want to disturb him? That would make sense, except for the fact that, after a second look, he realized that it was one of Hot Rod’s energon cubes. Maybe someone thought the sparkling was in here with him? If that was the case, where was Hot Rod? Because he definitely wasn’t with him.

Most of his questions were answered a moment later when a small servo suddenly reached out from behind the rocks on the ground and slid the cube out a few more inches before quickly pulling back out of sight. Sideswipe vented, shaking his helm before drawing in another, shakier vent in an attempt to compose himself and pushing himself to his pedes. He crossed the short distance and leaned against the top of the stones, looking over them at his tiny shadow. “Can I help you?”

Hot Rod startled, letting out a gasp as he snapped his helm back to meet Sideswipe’s gaze. Optics wide, he stared for a minute, servos gripping the blanket he held against his chest plates, before pressing his mouth firmly closed and shaking his helm. Sideswipe narrowed his optics, studying the sparkling carefully. “You sure? You don’t need anything?”

Pulling his gaze away, Hot Rod silently curled himself into a ball, wringing the fabric of the blanket in his digits as he shook his helm again.

The sparkling’s uncharacteristic quietness unsettling him, Sideswipe stepped around to kneel in front of Hot Rod, who immediately scootched himself to be angled away from him, refusing to meet his optics. And when Sideswipe reached out with his field, for the first time since he’d first met the sparkling, he retreated from him. Concern for Hot Rod superseding his anxiety over his own problems, he crouched lower, softening his voice. “Hey, what’s going on, Roddy?” The tiny Cybertronian didn’t answer, only twisting the blanket harder, bunching the fabric tighter and tighter around his servos. “Are you mad at me?” He shook his helm quickly, still not looking at him, but at least responding.

Sitting back slightly with a heavy vent to consider his next step, Sideswipe glanced down at his side and tapped the rim of the energon cube. “Do you wanna tell me what this is about?”

Hot Rod shifted just enough to peek back at the cube before curling back into his previous position. “‘S for you.”

“Rod, this is yours.”

“Don’ wan’ it.”

Sideswipe blinked, taken aback. “You…don’t want it? Hot Rod, you haven’t fueled since this morning, and you have to be hungry. Why don’t you want your energon? Are you not feeling good?” The sparkling didn’t respond again, and Sideswipe put a gentle servo on his shoulder. “Hey, can you look at me?” After a few seconds, Hot Rod finally lifted his helm and met his gaze, optics a little overly bright and a faint tremble running through his frame. Sideswipe sent out a soft pulse, hoping it brought whatever reassurance the sparkling needed right now. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t know how to help.”

The sparkling stared at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before his vents hitched. Then, faceplates falling into the most crestfallen look he’d ever seen, Hot Rod whimpered in the softest, most broken voice he’d ever heard the little Cybertronian use, “‘M sorry….”

Taken aback, all Sideswipe could do was gape at him. “What?”

Hot Rod’s next vent escaped him as a sob, and he immediately dissolved into tears. He pulled himself out of the ball he’d wrapped himself in and reached for Sideswipe, and he didn’t even hesitate as he scooped the sparkling up and held him close, wondering what in the name of Primus could have happened as Hot Rod buried his faceplates in his neck, shaking as his crying shifted to all out sobbing. Sideswipe quickly stood up and made his way back to the wall he’d been sitting against a little while ago, sinking to the ground next to the cool stone and pulling his knees up. He wrapped his arms around the distraught sparkling, holding him as tightly as possible without hurting him.

“Shhh…shhh…it’s ok, Hot Rod. It’s ok, Bud. Take it easy, you’re alright. Shhh….”

The sparkling’s field was a mess, awash with anguish and guilt, and Sideswipe couldn’t begin to imagine where it was coming from. His wails were muffled in the crook of his neck, trails of lubricant dripping from the sparkling’s chin onto his cabling and the blanket he still clung to. Between each sob, words catching on his stuttering vents, he gasped “Sorry…sorry…sorry…” over and over again. A full frame shudder ran through his frame, and Sideswipe hugged him incrementally tighter, gently stroking the back of his helm.

“Easy, Roddy, calm down, Bud. It’s ok, it’s ok…” The tiny Cybertronian’s frame was definitely beginning to run hot as a result of his heaving vents, and Sideswipe knew he had to calm him down before he started overheating. He was at a loss, having never had to deal with a meltdown this bad before. All he could was hold him tight and wrap the sparkling’s field in as much love and comfort as he could manage.

After a few minutes, Hot Rod finally started to calm down. He hadn’t stopped crying, but it had eased in intensity and he was drawing in deeper, albeit shaky, vents. Sideswipe let him lay there for a little bit, rubbing a servo over his spoiler, before speaking. “Can we talk now, Roddy?” The sparkling made a non-committal churr, and Sideswipe took the opportunity to gently tug Hot Rod up to sitting against his propped up knees. He looked miserable, lubricant still dripping down his faceplates, and Sideswipe quietly wiped the liquid from his cheeks, Hot Rod scrubbing at his optics immediately after. “There you go, that’s better. Alright, it’s been a really rough day for everyone, and I don’t blame you for needing a good cry. But what are you apologizing for, Bud?”

Hot Rod flinched, glancing away. He was silent for a moment, vents hitching slightly, before looking back up at him with fresh tears in his optics. “Ran off, and you were scar’d.”

Sideswipe blinked in confusion. “You mean…back in the scrapyard? When you went to find your blanket before we left?”

The sparkling nodded, gripping the fore-mentioned fabric tighter. “Found you ‘gain, you were really, really scar’d….” His faceplates scrunched up, and another trail of lubricant trickled down his cheek. “Di’nt—di’nt mean to make you scar’d!”

Oh, PRIMUS. Sideswipe felt a flood of guilt surge through his spark as he realized what Hot Rod was talking about. Back in the scrapyard, he had been absolutely terrified, and the emotions he usually kept pretty well under control had come rushing to the surface in force. He had been in such a panic over trying to find Hot Rod and feeling the trauma of the past taking over that his em field had been on full display, and he’d assumed that the sparkling had been too distracted by everything going on to pay any attention to it. But clearly he had, and he had come to the conclusion that Sideswipe’s panic back in the base had been all his fault.

“Oh, no, no, no!” He grasped the sides of Hot Rod’s helm, wiping away the tears running down his faceplates. “No, Hot Rod, no. That wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? Not your fault.”

The flow of lubricant didn’t stop, and Hot Rod shook his helm as best he could with it held in Sideswipe’s servos. “Yes, i’ was! You were scar’d ‘cause you couldn’ find me!”

Sideswipe vented, adjusting his hold to cup Hot Rod’s faceplates better. “Yes, I was worried because I didn’t know where you were, and I was scared you would get hurt, but as soon as I found you, that went away. Me being really, really scared was because the ground bridge got destroyed and I got left behind. And that’s not your fault.”

“But-but-but-if I di’nt go ‘way, you wouldn’ have been left!”

“Maybe! Or maybe not! We don’t know what could have happened. Maybe I still wouldn’t have made it to the ground bridge before it got blown up even if you’d still been right there. I don’t know. All I know is that me being afraid when I got left behind in the scrapyard wasn’t your fault.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehelm to the sparkling’s and shuttering his optics. “Hot Rod, I’m so, so sorry. I never thought you would think any of that was your fault, and if I had known, I would have said something as soon as we got here earlier. But please, please don’t blame yourself for something that scared me because of something that happened years and years before you were even sparked.” Hot Rod released a shaky vent and reached up to grasp his faceplates, pressing himself tighter against him. “Ok, Rod? It’s not your fault. It’s Not. Your. Fault.”

After a moment of hesitation, Hot Rod quietly chirped, and Sideswipe pulled back, wiping the last few traces of tears from the sparkling’s faceplates. “You gonna be ok, Bud? Do you believe me?”

He nodded, tugging his blanket more securely into his arms again. He was quiet for a second before murmuring, “Di’nt like you being scar’d.”

Sideswipe let out an airy vent, the closest he could get to a laugh when he was this emotionally spent. “Yeah, I don’t really like being scared either. And I haven’t been that scared about that kind of thing in a really long time. It’s been so long that I didn’t think something like that would bother me anymore. I-I guess I wasn’t as over it as I thought….”

Hot Rod immediately looked concerned. “Was a ‘Cepticon mean t’ you?”

He paused, throat constricting as he debated how best to handle the question. After a few seconds, he answered quietly, “Not all bad guys are Decepticons, Hot Rod.”

The sparkling’s field flared in confusion and worry, and Sideswipe looked away, spark twisting in anxiety. His past and his problems were not something that Hot Rod needed to know about, and honestly not something any sparkling should have any knowledge of. The last thing he wanted to do was traumatize Hot Rod with stuff that had messed him up so badly that he had dissolved into a complete panic when he thought he had been left behind at the scrapyard. It was his problem, and no one needed to know about it. He could handle it, today was just a fluke, he was fine, it had been stupid, he had freaked out over nothing, he was fine—

The brush of Hot Rod’s field was unexpected, and it jolted him out of his spiral, comfort and warmth washing over his spark, even if there was still a hint of confusion behind it, tinged with lingering guilt. He twisted to look back at Hot Rod, who he found staring at him with furrowed optic ridges. As soon as the sparkling saw he had his attention, he reached out for him, and when he leaned forward, the tiny Cybertronian wrapped his arms around his faceplates in another hug, not saying a word. Sideswipe’s vents hitched, and he pulled Hot Rod into a hug of his own, soaking in warmth of the sparkling’s embrace. They sat there for a couple of minutes, fields entangled, before Sideswipe pulled back, a decision settling in his processor.

“Hot Rod?” He drew and released a deep vent, collecting his nerve before lost his resolve. “I’m—I’m gonna tell you about what happened to me a long time ago. That…thing that made me really, really scared in the scrapyard this morning. And I’m only telling you so you understand why it couldn’t have been your fault and stop feeling guilty, and so if I ever do or say something that doesn’t make sense, you know why. But you have to promise me two things.” He gently grasped the sparkling’s arms, focusing on Hot Rod’s wide optics. “First, you have to promise you won’t get scared, because I promise it’ll never happen to you. And second, you have to promise to keep it a secret.”

Hot Rod cocked his helm. “Like…robots in disguise?”

“Yeah, kind of like that. Except the only ones who will know this secret are you and me. Not Bee, not Strongarm, not Denny or Russell. You can’t tell anyone about it, ok? Can you promise me those two things?”

The sparkling glanced away for a moment, field swirling as he thought, before looking back and nodding determinedly. “P’omise, Sides.”

“Ok….” Sideswipe vented again, letting it out in a rush. “Ok…ok….” He shuttered his optics, focusing on calming his racing spark as he considered how best to explain everything. “First of all, I guess, this happened back when I was a first frame youngling.”

“Wha’s that?”

“That’s—you know what that is. I’ve told you about it before. As a Cybertronian gets older, we’re called different things. We all start as sparklings, like you, then we’re first frame younglings, then second frame younglings, then adults. As a first frame youngling, I think I was about…maybe twice your height?”

“You were little!”

Sideswipe chuckled, rubbing Hot Rod’s helm. “Yeah, I was still pretty small. That meant there was…a lot of stuff I can do now that I couldn’t back then.” He paused, then continued. “Anyway, back on Cybertron, I didn’t really grow up the same way you are. I grew up in a Youth Center with a lot of others my age, up until we all became first frame younglings. And on Cybertron, when we reach that age, we’re all expected to figure out what we want to do with our lives. Pick our future jobs, start learning the skills we would need to do those jobs, and stuff like that.

“A lot of younglings knew exactly what job they wanted to do, but I wasn’t one of them. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I had to pick something, so I ended up deciding to try being a pilot. I figured it sounded cool, so I went off to a flying academy, but I…I wasn’t there very long. The instructors at the academy said I was too impatient and reckless, which made me dangerous as a pilot, so I got sent back to the Youngling Center. It was disappointing, but not all younglings got their first choice in career, so I decided to try engineering. We found out pretty quickly that I wasn’t very good at that.

“They started just sending me from academy to academy, from apprenticeship to apprenticeship, and they all turned out the same way. I was too reckless, I didn’t have a knack for it, I made a dumb mistake. Every time I got sent back to the Youth Center, it got more and more humiliating, and I started feeling like I’d never find the right job. Finally, though, I thought I had it. An Autobot came to the Youth Center looking for a fast youngling to train to become a racer, and he picked me.”

Hot Rod immediately perked up. “You were gonna be a racer?!”

Sideswipe couldn’t help a small grin at the sparkling’s enthusiasm. Primus, he was absolutely going to scan a sports car when he was old enough for his first vehicle mode. “Yeah, I was gonna be a racer. I’d never been so excited about a possible job before, and I was determined to be the fastest one on the tracks. The Autobot started training me, taking me out to the racetracks to practice, and I loved it. Then, I finally got to be in my first race, and I didn’t do great, but it was the most fun I’d ever had, and I was sure I would do better next time. I was in another race, and another, and another, and…I…didn’t get much better. I wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t as fast, or as skilled as some of the other racers in the youngling races, and I wasn’t even getting close to winning. My trainer was getting frustrated, and he had me out practicing constantly, probably way longer than I should have been. It was exhausting, and he’d—he’d yell at me if I made a bad turn, or didn’t accelerate fast enough. It was getting less and less fun, but all I could do was keep trying.”

He hesitated, taking a moment before continuing. “There was another race, and my trainer had basically grilled into me that he’d poured so much time into training me that I had no excuse not to win. I got out there, and I raced like I’d never raced before. It was the best driving I’d ever done, and I was so excited for my trainer to tell me how proud of me he was that I’d finally won. And then—then…I…didn’t win.

“I’d never seen my trainer so mad. He didn’t say anything there at the racetrack, of course, but when we got back to our habsuite, I…he….” His spark clenched painfully, and he shuttered his optics, trying to keep his vents under control. When one faltered, rattling under his plating, Hot Rod suddenly scootched forward, quietly climbing onto his chest plates and settling down on his front, curling up slightly and tucking a servo under the edge of his armor. Sideswipe lifted a servo to loosely hold him, and with the sparkling’s warm weight against him and his field lingering at the edge of his own, it steadied him enough to continue. “When we got back to our hab, he…tore into me pretty badly, yelling that I was a waste of space and energon, and that he never should have taken a chance on a youngling who was a failure in pretty much everything else. He hauled me to a small storage closet and shoved me in, telling me that I could stay in there for a few days and think about if I wanted to start taking things seriously and earning my keep. He locked me in there, and no matter how much I yelled, begged, or pounded on the door, he wouldn’t come back.

“I was in that small, dark closet for—I’m not even sure. Several days, at least. By the time he finally let me out, I was terrified and starving, and I was desperate to not go through that a second time, so I promised that I wouldn’t mess up again, that I would earn my keep. Of course, though, I couldn’t guarantee that, because if I couldn’t win when I was driving my absolute best, I don’t know if I ever would have won. The next time he took me out to the track to practice, I was scared out of my processor of what would happen if I couldn’t do what he wanted, and in a moment of courage or stupidity, when I had a brief break during practice, I—I ran away.”

Hot Rod shifted slightly, tightening his grip on his plating, and Sideswipe ran his servo over the sparkling’s spoiler. “I hung around the city for a while, hiding out from the police, or anyone else who might see a youngling out on his own and try to figure out where I belonged. I scrounged for energon, avoided any bots that looked shady, and just…waited. Maybe it was really dumb, but there was part of me that hoped that my trainer would realize that he’d make a mistake and come find me, and maybe things would be…better. I waited for a month, and at the end of that, there was another youngling level race, and when they announced the winner, he was some bot I’d never heard of before, but his…his trainer was the very same Autobot who had been training me. He must have replaced me the minute I ran away, and he’d found someone who was everything I couldn’t be. He probably didn’t even care if I was laying offline in an alley somewhere.”

He paused and drew and released another vent before continuing. “After that, I just…didn’t care anymore. I could have curled up and cried and felt sorry for myself, but I knew that wouldn’t help me. I refused to go back to the Youth Center, so I just left the city and headed out on my own. I decided that I wasn’t gonna let anyone else boss me around anymore, and I was going to do whatever I wanted to do, so I just traveled from city to city, having fun, working the odd job to earn some credits whenever someone would hire me, and just doing whatever I wanted. I got into trouble, raced, looked out for myself, and eventually, made my way to Kaon City where I ended up getting dragged along for the ride to Earth.” Finished, they sat in silence for a few moments before Sideswipe pushed a tinge of false cheerfulness into his voice. “Well, that’s about it. Not as exciting or fun as your usual stories, huh, Rod?”

The sparkling was quiet for a few more seconds before he tipped his helm back to look at Sideswipe, lubricant gathered in the corners of his optics. “Why was he so mean, Sides?”

Sideswipe shook his helm, dropping the forced grin as he stroked Hot Rod’s helm. “I don’t know, Roddy. Some bots are just demanding and selfish, and they only care about what you can do for them. This Autobot was like that, because he was nice when he thought I had potential, and just needed to train a little more, but when I wasn’t winning, that changed. I guess he only really cared about my speed, and not just…me, and when I couldn’t give him what he wanted, all of a sudden, he didn’t want me any more.”

“But tha’s mean!”

“Yeah, I agree, but we can’t always change that in everybody.”

“We need to ‘rrest him!”

The sparkling’s faceplates were so adorably fierce and determined that Sideswipe couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped him. “That’s—I appreciate the thought, Rod, but there are certain rules about who you can arrest and how you can do it, and I’m pretty sure that Autobot won’t fit in those rules.”

“Tha’s ‘tupid.” Hot Rod heaved a dramatic vent and flopped more loosely across Sideswipe’s chest plates, tucking a corner of his blanket more under his chin. Sideswipe pulled the loose edge over the sparkling, letting the fabric drape over his spoiler and lower back as Hot Rod churred softly. He relaxed for a little while, digits kneading at the blanket, before he spoke up again. “Think he was a ‘Cepticon p’tending to be a Autobot.”

“You think that? Maybe. I guess we might find out someday.” Sideswipe adjusted his position slightly before starting to trace small circles on the back of Hot Rod’s helm to start settling him down for what was definitely approaching much needed recharge. “For now, we’ll just worry about fighting the bad guys that we know are Decepticons and finding a way to get our base back. How’s that sound?”

Hot Rod hummed faintly at the back of his throat, rapidly losing the battle with recharge. He stretched briefly before sinking back down, cheek pressed against his chest plates and optics shuttering. “Love you….”

“Love you, too.” Sideswipe allowed himself a small smile as he looked fondly down at the sparkling, stilling his movements to let him recharge peacefully. He didn’t know what the future held for them, but no matter what it was, he was determined to keep looking out for Hot Rod and make sure nothing anything like what happened to him happened to the sparkling.

He rested his helm back against the wall and shuttered his optics, focusing on his controlled vents. Somehow, after finally telling someone his past, he almost felt…better. The pain from what had happened was still there, but it was like the tight ball of shame and fear that had been coiled tightly under his chest plates for all these years was less…tangled up. More manageable, at least. That didn’t mean he was going to start talking to the rest of the team about it to see if that helped any more, but maybe letting someone in on it, even if it was Hot Rod, was the right call.

“Sides?”

He opened his optics and looked down at the sparkling who he’d thought was in recharge. “Yeah, Roddy?”

Hot Rod was barely awake, his digits curling slowly against his armor as his voice slurred slightly in sleepiness. “I want you….”

Sideswipe in-vented sharply, letting it out again in a soft hiss so as not to disturb the sparkling who’d finally dropped off. Unsure for a moment for how to respond, when, somehow, Hot Rod had managed to make three small words resound so deeply in his spark, he finally just shook his helm slightly and stroked the sparkling’s spoiler through the blanket. “Thank you, Bud. Same here.”

They sat there in silence for a while, faint echoes of dripping water and the quiet hiss of their ex-vents the only sounds in the cave. Sideswipe shuttered his optics, the soft purr of Hot Rod’s engine against his chest plates threatening to lull him into recharge as well, and he only stirred from his half-awake state at the sound of the scuff of metal on rock near where he’d first come into this chamber of the cave system. When he blearily opened his optics, it took him a few seconds to recognize the silhouette who had disturbed his near-recharge. “Hey, Bee….”

Bumblebee startled slightly, looking sheepish once he realized he’d been caught. “Sorry, Sideswipe. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Drawing in a deep vent, Sideswipe let his systems that had settled into idle mode power back up. “No, no, I wasn’t in recharge. Just…resting my optics. Do you need something?”

Shaking his helm, Bumblebee picked up Hot Rod’s forgotten energon cube, and walked closer. “No, everything’s fine. Everyone else is settling down to recharge, and I realized we hadn’t seen you and Hot Rod in a while, so I thought I’d check up on you. Bring this, too.” He set an energon cube down next to him, then Hot Rod’s beside it. After a pause, Bee glanced over him and the sparkling, expression soft. “Everything alright?”

Sideswipe hesitated, shifting his optics down to Hot Rod and gently pulling his blanket up to cover his shoulders more. “Yeah, we’re all good. Today’s just been a lot.”

“Definitely. I’m just glad everyone got through it all with nothing worse than some minor scrapes and laser burns, and some pretty rattled nerves.” He vented and straightened up again. “Well, I’m going to head back to the main chamber and keep watch. You’re welcome to come join us if you want, but you’re fine here, too.” He started walking away, but stopped and looked back, a look of concern flickering over his faceplates. “Look, Sideswipe, I know there’s a lot you don’t like talking about, but if you ever need someone to talk to, about anything, I’m willing to listen, even if an open audial is all you need.”

Warmth settling in his spark, Sideswipe offered a small smile. “I’m alright for now, but I’ll-I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

Bumblebee mirrored his smile and nodded. “Of course. Oh, and by the way, good work out there today.”

As the team leader left, Sideswipe settled back down against the wall, curling himself around the sparkling and shuttering his optics again. With Hot Rod’s field already nestled against his, he reached out cautiously, feeling the rest of the teams’ in the main part of the cave, most already hazy and simmering low in recharge, but still there.

Maybe the past was still difficult, and the pain of it would probably never fully go away, but with a team who had his back, and a sparkling who had made it clear almost from day one that he wasn’t letting him go, maybe the future didn’t look so bad.