Rolling to the Rescue

Send 🍑👀 if your muse has checked out my muse's butt

"Thank you." Optimus murmurs back, taking the rag and trying to discreetly rub away at the spot with the hope that no one else has noticed.

Heatwave took the cloth and quickly swiped away an errant streak of glowy blue that Optimus had missed.

Send 🍑👀 if your muse has checked out my muse's butt

Taking a short swig from the bottle in his hand, he smiled at the sound of the door opening, but found the idea of sitting up a little too daunting at the moment.

“Hey handsome, there’s watermelon on the table,” he gestured vaguely to the wobbly little piece of outdoor furniture that had somehow managed to follow him from his apartment into his new life. “And beer in the cooler.”

Since Hunter had to work the previous night, Colt got a little rowdy with the other Jarheads back on base. You know how the Crayola chompers get when they're free to light shit up on purpose. Pausing at the backdoor, he couldn't help but smile as he just watched Hunter for just a few moments before heading out to join him.

Hey handsome... there's watermelon on the table... and beer in the cooler.

"Yer too good ta me. Ya know that, right?"

Bending down at the waist to kiss the relaxing firefighter on the cheek, the Sergeant is quick to grab a cold one before lighting up a cigarette and plopping himself down in an adjacent chair. His baby blues watch as their 4-legged children frolic about the yard. Wesson was currently in the cone of shame. The hound had managed to break his tail by wagging too voraciously and smacking it on the doorframe.

"So... Ah've got some news." He paused a moment to take a drag before continuing on. "In case we get approved, Ah've requested an assignment change. Local high school was lookin' fer a instructor for their JROTC program. Interviewed with tha district. Don't know if Ah got it, but figured it would be helpful in transitionin' to a role that keeps me here. In case we get approved."

Taking his partner's hand into his own, he kisses the tops of his knuckles.

Hunter looked out at their little pack. Wes was laying in the shade, clearly pouting about his predicament, but Blaze and Smith were having a rollicking good time playing tug of war with a toy that had been advertised as indestructible. They’d see about that.

Colt’s voice drew the firefighter’s attention back to the porch. “Some of the band kids were talking about Mr. Ironside leaving the post. Depending on which rumor mill one is plugged into, he’s either going back into active service for the CIA, going undercover as a spy for the FBI, or he’s just switching districts to be closer to his family…” Hunter chuckled and swirled the contents of his bottle before taking another sip. “Frankly, I’m inclined to believe the CIA story.”

His amused smile warmed, “I really hope you do get the job, having you close and safe would mean the world, especially if we get approved.”

The kiss to his knuckles sent a pleasant tingle up his spine, Colt’s affectionate gestures always affected Hunter like that. Moving his hand to brush his fingers along the sergeant’s strong jaw, Hunter considered the previous night.

"Yeah, Ah'm hopin' former operative turned cop turned decorated war hero helps mah case. Though Ah don't got tha education background; jus' years of Uncle Sam kickin' mah ass." Chuckling, he takes a swig of his beer and the last draw from his cig before it gets ashed. "Ah'd do damn near anythin' ta help our chances."

He listens intently as Hunter replays the events of the prior evening. The only part that sounded even remotely enjoyable was the tacos. The world definitely needed more people like Hunter. "Well damn Shug, sounds like ya need a good back rub. Why don't we step inside and Ah'll treat ya to one? S' tha least Ah can do."

Colt doesn't even wait for a reply. He's standing up to toss his empty bottle into the recycling bin before whistling for the mass of dogmanity to go back inside. Grabbing the bowl of watermelon, he's quick to toss a cube into the air to land squarely in his open maw.

He dropped his mock offense and gingerly sat up, arching his back and throwing his arms up over his head in a languid stretch. “A back rub sounds amazing, not as amazing as you, of course, but I’m still ranking it pretty high.”

Draining his beer, the firefighter applauded his husband’s athletic feat with the piece of watermelon then pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps forward, then a giant step back as their pack of pups barreled past him in a race to make it through the door first.

Ya comin’?

Taking a short swig from the bottle in his hand, he smiled at the sound of the door opening, but found the idea of sitting up a little too daunting at the moment.

“Hey handsome, there’s watermelon on the table,” he gestured vaguely to the wobbly little piece of outdoor furniture that had somehow managed to follow him from his apartment into his new life. “And beer in the cooler.”

Since Hunter had to work the previous night, Colt got a little rowdy with the other Jarheads back on base. You know how the Crayola chompers get when they're free to light shit up on purpose. Pausing at the backdoor, he couldn't help but smile as he just watched Hunter for just a few moments before heading out to join him.

Hey handsome... there's watermelon on the table... and beer in the cooler.

"Yer too good ta me. Ya know that, right?"

Bending down at the waist to kiss the relaxing firefighter on the cheek, the Sergeant is quick to grab a cold one before lighting up a cigarette and plopping himself down in an adjacent chair. His baby blues watch as their 4-legged children frolic about the yard. Wesson was currently in the cone of shame. The hound had managed to break his tail by wagging too voraciously and smacking it on the doorframe.

"So... Ah've got some news." He paused a moment to take a drag before continuing on. "In case we get approved, Ah've requested an assignment change. Local high school was lookin' fer a instructor for their JROTC program. Interviewed with tha district. Don't know if Ah got it, but figured it would be helpful in transitionin' to a role that keeps me here. In case we get approved."

Taking his partner's hand into his own, he kisses the tops of his knuckles.

Hunter looked out at their little pack. Wes was laying in the shade, clearly pouting about his predicament, but Blaze and Smith were having a rollicking good time playing tug of war with a toy that had been advertised as indestructible. They’d see about that.

Colt’s voice drew the firefighter’s attention back to the porch. “Some of the band kids were talking about Mr. Ironside leaving the post. Depending on which rumor mill one is plugged into, he’s either going back into active service for the CIA, going undercover as a spy for the FBI, or he’s just switching districts to be closer to his family…” Hunter chuckled and swirled the contents of his bottle before taking another sip. “Frankly, I’m inclined to believe the CIA story.”

His amused smile warmed, “I really hope you do get the job, having you close and safe would mean the world, especially if we get approved.”

The kiss to his knuckles sent a pleasant tingle up his spine, Colt’s affectionate gestures always affected Hunter like that. Moving his hand to brush his fingers along the sergeant’s strong jaw, Hunter considered the previous night.

The last few weeks have been wild; school starting back up, emergency calls left, right, and center, and stormy weather disrupting it all.

"Sounds good. I will go back to town and get these delivered. I will see you all back at the firehouse." she states.

Heatwave looked up from the datapad the was recording his report on when Kade set his phone down with a loud clack. “Well?”

The fire fighter leaned against the opposite wall, “They’re keeping him overnight for observation, but expect to be able to release him in the morning.”

The storm was abating slowly and she heard from her mentor that she was returning to the ferry parking just in case she could catch a ride over before it stopped operations.

Falling silent as he hears the cut off sentence. Obviously someone is contacting him. Even a pregnant lead Rescue Bot couldn't slack from his job. He keeps rubbing though and letting his warm frame relax the firebot until he gets that little smile from Heatwave.

“Yeah. Apparently a bunch of moose are blocking the mountain road and no one else is available to try and convince them to head back into the forest.”

Heatwave activated his siren as they left the firehouse, it was technically an emergency after all. If someone tried to get around the moose and ended up getting charged, who knew what kind of damage the rescue team would have to deal with.

Arriving at the scene, he saw several younger moose and their mothers calmly stripping fresh leaves and twigs from the trees on either side of the road. A large bull moose, however, had planted himself squarely broadside in the middle of the road and hardly reacted to the noisy approach of the two vehicles.

Adding honking to the already earsplitting cacophony only resulted in a snort and a warning stomp.

At that point there was a loud bellow of challenge from the bull moose, apparently he’d grown tired of the ‘intruders’ and stepped toward them with his antlers lowered.

“—Hang back and make sure none of them panic and break away.”

Transforming into his dinomode, Heatwave roared back at the moose who quickly reconsidered his challenge and turned to lead his herd back into the roadside woods.

He watches the other moose in the area and takes note that the bull decided best not to challenge the dino mode the other mech possessed.

Heatwave watched until the moose herd was completely out of sight before lowering his helm to Robustus’s height. “I think Boulder is right, we really shou—“ A sudden wave of static shorted his vocoder, reducing the rest of his sentence to a threatening growl.

The thought of being a co-creator was terrifying. And while he wasn't the carrier, Sire-hood was equally as daunting. He didn't regret their decision in the slightest bit. He was beyond excited about their little one, but he feared failure.

As a soldier, a member of the Elite guard, a Wrecker, a mentor, a partner... failure was not an option. Ever. But he didn't fear messing up in his other ventures. He was to be partially responsible for an entirely new life. Part of his coding would remain when he was long gone. But what if.

What if his progeny hates him, the way he hated his old mech? What if his vices mess everything up? What if he kicks the bucket too soon? He wasn't exactly a spring chicken these days... What if something horrible happens to their bitty? Or to Heatwave? He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Cue the waterworks, it's all catching up to the old mech.

He sorted out the packages and envelopes addressed to the other occupants of the firehouse and set them aside before carrying the big box addressed to ‘The Expecting Parents’ to the bunker.