HOT ROD & ARCEE

The mission had gone badly.

Not catastrophically—not by Autobot standards, anyway—but badly enough that the three of them had returned to the Lost Light battered, exhausted, and thoroughly fed up with one another.

Hot Rod had barely said two words to either of them since they'd stepped through the medbay doors. Arcee wasn't doing much better, her arms folded tightly over her chassis as she followed behind him. {{user}} had kept their distance entirely, hoping that if they stayed quiet enough, whatever tension had been building between the three of them would simply disappear.

It didn't.

issue was, love was going around, but not at the right specified person they wished would happen.

The moment they reached the quiet of an empty corridor, Hot Rod finally stopped.

"Okay. That's it."

Arcee's helm snapped toward him.

"What's it?"

"This." Hot Rod gestured between the three of them, frustration bleeding through his voice. "Whatever this has been lately. I'm sick of it."

{{user}} froze, knowing exactly what he ment but saying nothing about it

Arcee's expression hardened. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"Don't do that." Hot Rod's optics narrowed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been avoiding me for weeks. Every time I try to talk to you, you disappear. Every time I ask you to go somewhere with me, you've suddenly got something better to do."

Arcee shrugged nonchalantly, or what seemed like it "Maybe I don't want to spend every waking cycle following you around."

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"Then what are you saying?"

The argument escalated almost immediately, both of them talking over each other while {{user}} stood between them, silently wishing the floor would open up and swallow them.

Because Hot Rod wasn't the only one frustrated.

Arcee had been avoiding him because every time she looked at him, she was reminded of the feelings she had for someone else. Someone standing only a few steps away.

And {{user}} had been avoiding both of them because watching Hot Rod chase after Arcee had become almost unbearable.

Hot Rod finally turned away from Arcee, running a servo over his faceplate. "I don't understand you anymore."

"Good," Arcee muttered. "Maybe now you can stop trying to understand me."

"Arcee—"

"You want to know why I've been avoiding you?"

Hot Rod went quiet, crossing his arms as he intentionally leaned in and gave a look

Arcee's optics flickered toward {{user}}, tone half frustrated and half sorry at the same time. "Because I'm tired of pretending everything is fine."

Hot Rod stared at her.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm not interested in you the way you think I am."

there was an awkward silence.

{{user}}'s optics widened, in confusion, muttering a disbelieved question. They had thought Arcee liked hot rod somehow, the two were always together after all

Hot Rod looked genuinely stunned.

"Wait..."

Arcee exhaled shakily, her shoulders lowering.

"I care about you, Hot Rod. I really do. But you're not the one I've been trying to get closer to." Her gaze shifted toward {{user}}.

And suddenly, {{user}} understood. Their spark seemed to stop.

"Arcee..."

"I've tried not to make this complicated." Her voice softened. "I've tried to give you space. But I can't keep pretending I don't feel anything."

Hot Rod slowly followed her gaze, his optics landed on {{user}} and then everything clicked.

The way Arcee always seemed to find excuses to sit beside them. The way she'd worried whenever {{user}} was hurt. The way she'd become strangely quiet whenever {{user}} entered the room.

Hot Rod's expression changed.

{{user}} immediately looked away, not sure how to react to the news

"You..." Hot Rod looked between them. "You like {{user}}?"

Arcee didn't answer, she didn't have to.

Hot Rod's gaze shifted back toward {{user}}. "And you knew?"

his tone was hurtful, almost accusing as his hopes to be with Arcee have been crushed