Special Delivery

Special Delivery


Hot Spot groaned and buried his head into his folded arms.  He was officially ten years old today.  Ten -Earth- years old.  The older mechs had, of course, poked fun at the fact that he was only one decade old while most of them were thousands of decades old.  
Even by human standards he wasn't even old enough to drive; which was something he had been doing since his creation.  Never mind the fact that his four brothers were the same age as he was.  Down to hours apart even.  He was the one who got teased about his age more than all of them put together.

In his quarters, ridiculous balloons with Big Bird and Garfield bounced around the ceiling; all of which sported the “The Big 1-0!” bubble text across them.  Children’s birthday cards lined his desktop, and a large, Autobot size fire truck piñata was hung in the corner nearby.  Nearly all of his so called ‘presents’ were made by Playskool or Hasbro.  One of his loving presents, no doubt from one of his brothers, included a certain purple dinosaur with a firefighter’s cap perched on it’s head.

“Hey, Spotty!” Streetwise called from the door, poking his head into the room Hot Spot currently occupied, otherwise known as his office.  Not that many treated it that way. His brothers, for example, had the habit of using it for personal storage.  Only a week ago Hot Spot accidentally stumbled onto Streetwise’s secret cache of trash novels.   Unfortunately, he had found it the same time Prime chose to look over his shoulder.  

Try explaining that to your commander.

“Streets… I’m not a Dalmatian.  What is it?”

The interceptor only smirked- that knowing smirk that always irked his commander to no end.  It wasn’t a good thing to see that look.  It usually meant that Hot Spot was going to get his aft chewed out for something Streetwise decided looked like fun.    

“Oh nothing…Me and Raid thought we’d bring your present over, that’s all.” Streetwise said lazily, waving his hand dismissingly about the air. “But if you don’t want it…”

“Uh huh. Our party was over hours ago, and you already gave me that Primus-forsaken book and that stuffed animal,” the commander grumbled, as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to tell me there’s something else you ‘forgot’ to give me?”

“I didn’t forget.  I was holding out.”

“Holding out…?”

“Well I had to get it ready, y’ know.  I had to wrap it up real pretty too!” Streetwise beamed.  “I went to a lot of trouble… so did my Eaglet!”

Air Raid.

Oh that wasn’t good… when the two of them got together and ‘made’ something…

“Primus, tell me you didn’t bring a puppy or something in here, Streets!” Hot Spot groaned, “the last time…”

“No, not a puppy.  Not even anything with fur this time, bro!”

Streetwise ducked his head back into the hallway, where no doubt his red and white partner in crime stowed their ‘present’. A moment later, Air Raid entered; behind him a very familiar, wrapped up in ribbon jet- who looked to be more like an awkward cocooned butterfly than a boxed present.

Hot Spot strongly believed that, somewhere, under all that ribbon, Silverbolt was steaming.  Or amused.  Or maybe both.  Despite the fact that they were best friends, not even Hot Spot could guess what the flier was thinking.  Silverbolt kept a lot of his feelings to himself, Hot Spot knew. There was a few times Silverbolt had come to him for help; even come to talk to him for hours. Yet, under it all, Hot Spot still knew there was more that he didn’t know than what he did.

“You wrapped up Silverbolt?! Streetwise, are you insane?” Hot Spot cried, glaring at Streetwise in such a way that made even Air Raid wince.  

Streetwise, on the other hand, looked completely unperturbed.  Much like Wheeljack when Ratchet was throwing a fit.  He was immune.  

“What? We thought you’d _like_ this kind of present.  And he’s way more fun to snuggle than a stuffed animal,” the Aerialbot finally spoke up, who was still trying to hold up his brother to keep the cocooned Silverbolt from hitting the floor face first.

“Both of you get out of here before I tell Prime who really destroyed the cameras in the back bay area,”  the fire engine growled, and pointed to the door.  “How many times do I have to tell you to stop wrapping up commanding officers?!”

“At least four more times.”

“OUT!”

And with that, both red and white mechs scurried out the door, their snickers echoing down the halls.

A job well done.

Silverbolt mumbled something under his bow gag, completely mortified as he wavered unsteadily on his bound feet.  If it had been possible, Hot Spot strongly suspected he’d be blushing bright red and, had he not been tied up, would have already made a break for the door. He probably would have done the same, given the chance really.  A few years ago he had started keeping a personal log- a log that had been hacked by Streetwise several times already. Apparently he figured out the newest password, and found where he hid his log since it had been missing all morning long.  He knew.  He had torn apart his office for hours looking for it as soon as the party was over, but to no avail. Streetwise must have taken off with it last night.

After all, no one but that log knew about his… ’crush’ on Silverbolt.  

He had been in love with the flier for years now, following along behind him like a lost puppy.  Anyone with a brain could have figured it out- aside from Silverbolt who was too busy to really notice.  Or at least that’s what Hot Spot told himself, unwilling to accept that Silverbolt simply didn’t feel the same way for him. Then if it had been so obvious he was head over heels for the Aerialbot leader, maybe Streetwise had figured it out on his own.  Or both.  Either possibility was likely knowing his brother.

Hot Spot sighed, gingerly pulling back the big pink bow across the Aerialbot’s mouth.  “Er… you okay there, ‘Bolt? I can’t believe he did this… I had no idea.”

Silverbolt gagged and coughed upon his mouth being freed again.  “N-no, I didn’t think you did have anything to do with this, Hot Spot.  I’m afraid our brothers ambushed me when I was in recharge earlier.  Something about playing Cupid again, saying that I’d be good for you,”  the jet mumbled again, the embarrassment showing in his voice more than he cared to admit.  

“Err…yeah…” the Protectobot murmured quietly.

Awkward silence passed over the two of them while the blue mech tried valiantly to undo all the ribbon.  There never seemed to be an end to all the miles of ribbon Streetwise and Air Raid managed to bind the commander with.  How, Hot Spot wondered to himself, did these two get Silverbolt to sit still for all this? This couldn’t have been just an ambushed attack on their part- all this ribbon had to have taken time.  Had Silverbolt agreed to this?

But then that was probably just his own selfish dream.  

There was no way Silverbolt would have agreed to something of this magnitude.  Of course, if that wasn’t the case, then how did they do this?

“Alright, I think I got most of it.  Try to lift your foot out of it and-” Hot Spot gave the ribbon a tug and down went Silverbolt.  With a thud, Hot Spot toppled backward onto his back, while Silverbolt fell forward.  They had landed face to face, one on top of the other in an awkward sandwich.  

The mortified Aerialbot gathered his wits first, practically launching himself off Hot Spot as if he were on fire.  Trying to act busy, he went to work frantically on what was left of the ribbon on his feet.  “Umm… sorry about that.  I didn’t expect that and I… er… are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.  You…want some help with that?” Hot Spot asked, scuffling to get back on his feet. Silverbolt’s hands were working so frantically that they kept loosing their grip.  In fact, if Hot Spot didn’t know better himself, they also looked like they were trembling.  

“N-no… I got it.”

“You’re making it worse though- let me help you.”

“No, really, I have it.”  

“It’s stuck around your wing now- just let me…”

With a quiet mumble from Silverbolt, the two pulled off the last of the ribbon off his feet; however awkward the silence was. Silverbolt was going to kill his brother for all this when he got back.  Then, so would Hot Spot once he found Streetwise again.

By the time they had pulled off all the ribbon, the office was in shambles.  Not that it wasn’t a mess before, but the mass of ribbons at their feet didn’t help much either. Silverbolt shook his head. It was amazing how Hot Spot could be so dedicated to his job as a Protectobot, and so little in keeping a clean office.  Surely his brothers didn’t help any.  For once, Silverbolt was glad his own brothers had less interest in him than Hot Spot’s brothers seemed to have in their own older brother.

“Don’t worry about the mess, Silverbolt.” Hot Spot said, interrupting the jet’s thoughts.  “I’ll just clean it up later.  Ribbon isn’t going to change the look of the whole room after all.”

“Yes but…”

The Protectobot sighed and gently nudged him toward the door.  The last thing he wanted was the Aerialbot to stick around any more than he already had.  As if this meeting could be anymore awkward if they tried anyway. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could look for his log in peace- and hope that Streetwise hadn’t gotten a hold of it after all.  With any luck it was just buried somewhere under all the junk that his lovely brothers had stacked in his office.  

“I can really take care of things on my own, ‘Bolt. You worry too much.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Very.”

Silverbolt gave a small shrug and started to walk to the door, only to pause about half way there.  He was silent for a moment, mulling over his thoughts for what Hot Spot thought felt like eternity. He looked so confused, as if battling himself in some private area that only the Aerialbot could see.  

“Well… then I’ll leave you to clean,” he murmured at length, pausing again to reach into his subspace. Again, he paused, looking over whatever it was he held in his hand.  His fingers smoothed over it’s surface like it was a precious treasure, his optics never leaving it’s sight.

“…but, before I go… I think you lost this,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I thought I would tell you too… before I go…I agree.”

Silverbolt didn’t say another word.  He simply set the disk in the Protectobot’s hands and left.  No words, no and no other emotion on his face.

In his clenched hand lay his personal log, opened to the very last entry.