Famiy Ties

by Phantom

Chapter Seven

Hot Rod slapped a few high-fives and shouted a few words of farewell as he left his target-practice class. He was feeling a lot better now that he had put the racing incident behind him. He had done very well in class today – being Galvatron's prime target, pun intended, had honed his skills.

A figure stepped out from the doorway and stopped him. “Whoa, Prime!” he exclaimed. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

Optimus nodded a greeting. “I checked your schedule – finding you was easy. I wanted to know if you had come up with any plans for tonight.”

“Uh, sorry, no.” Hot Rod rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “I couldn't think of anything that I thought you'd enjoy.”

“Well, what do you usually do on a Friday night?”

“I go clubbing with Arcee, Springer, and a few other buds. We've been trying to drag Magnus along, but he's a regular stick in the mud. Not his speed anyway. I don't really think you'd enjoy it either.”

“I may surprise you yet,” Optimus replied, a smug note in his voice. “I used to go clubbing with Alita before the war started. We even went a few times afterward, when we found the time to slip away.” His gaze grew sad and faraway at the mention of her name. “The place was called Danceatron. I still can't believe that Megatron had the gall to create a club with that name on Earth to brainwash humans.”

'Optimus, clubbing? No way!' Hot Rod shook his head. The mental image just didn't jibe. “The Danceatron on Cybertron still exists, actually, but it's a little slow for my tastes. I usually go to Club Cyber.”

Optimus spread his hands. “I'm up for whatever you are. Want to give it a try?”

Hot Rod's face split in an enormous grin. This should be something to see! “Sure! See you at twenty-one-hundred hours. The place really starts hopping after then.”

“I'll see you then, at the shuttle bay.” The two saluted and parted ways, Hot Rod still shaking his head in disbelief. Just wait until he told everyone!

* * * * *

They met at the shuttle bay at the appointed time. Hot Rod couldn't sit still during the short ride and tapped his foot to an internal beat. He hadn't looked forward to something so much in a long time. Club Cyber was da bomb! Almost as good as racing to clear his mind. He glanced sideways at Optimus, who watched his antics with amusement. He just hoped that the Autobot leader wouldn't cramp his style.

“So, Hot Rod,” Optimus said, trying to be conversational, “what have you been doing with yourself lately? Besides running me over, that is.”

“Sorry about that,” the young 'bot said ruefully. “Well, I've been learning how to rappel down the side of Metroplex, and some of the other junior recruits are going to take me space surfing. It's supposed to be really cool. I can't wait!”

Prime's demeanor became a bit disapproving. “Roddy, do you really know what you're getting into? Space surfing can be very dangerous. You could underestimate the gravitational pull of a planet, or worse, get stuck in the pull of a black hole. I'm guessing that these junior recruits you referred to aren't much more experienced than you. You really need a pro if you're going to try it.”

Roddy bit back a scowl. He noticed that his father almost never called him Roddy, and his doing so now seemed to be patronizing. Couldn't he stop being such an overbearing party pooper just once? “I'm a grown 'bot. I can look after myself. Let me worry about it.”

“Talk to Jazz if you don't believe me,” Optimus argued, becoming exasperated. “He nearly got crushed while space surfing when a black hole snared him. If he hadn't managed to sink a grappling hook into his nearby shuttle, he would have been flattened beyond recognition, then ripped to pieces. If Jazz gave up the sport, it must be very dangerous.”

“Fine, I'll speak to him later,” Hot Rod grumbled. He knew deep down that Prime was right, but he just didn't want to admit it. He wanted to go about his carefree existence, not worrying about any risks. Hadn't he done enough worrying as the Prime already?

“Oh, goody, we're here!” he cheered as the shuttle landed. Optimus breathed a sigh and followed the bouncing adolescent to a blazing neon beacon that read “Club Cyber”. His optics flickered slightly as he surveyed the joint. The crowd parted, letting them enter first, but the red Autobot scarcely noticed.

“Isn't it something!” Roddy cried as they stepped inside.

“It's definitely something,” Optimus agreed with far less enthusiasm. This was nothing like his beloved Danceatron. His old haunt had gotten a bit raucous at times, but it at least bore some resemblance of civility. A bit of drinking and wild dancing was to be expected, but this… he had no idea how to deal with this!

Optimus Prime looked around, slack-jawed, at the scene that greeted his optic sensors. As far as he could see, bodies gyrated, pressed together like sardines. He looked away hastily as he saw two robots doing something inconceivable. He had never thought about doing such a thing with Alita, even in private! What was this place, anyway?

Roddy headed straight for the bar like a seasoned pro, elbowing the dancers out of his way as he went. Optimus followed in his wake, as if in a trance. Everywhere he looked, he saw something that shocked his senses. The music was far too loud, the strobe lights hurt his optics, the dancers pressed oppressively close, and the air itself reeked of old fuel and spilt high-grade energon. He had a strong suspicion that some of that energon had been regurgitated.

“Here ya go!” Roddy yelled, thrusting a large container of high-grade energon at him. The lad had already polished off half of his own. “Good stuff!” The flame-colored Autobot bobbed his head to the beat as he drained his glass, then turned to get another one, shoving aside a mech that had passed out on the barstool.

Optimus bobbed his head to the beat as he sipped his beverage, feeling a slight buzz steal over him. At least the buzz made the music tolerable. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning against the bar, feeling the burning optics of the curious patrons focused on him. Primus, how he hated being stared at! He was used to being the center of attention when it came to commanding the Autobots, but here he felt out of place, and the stares were hardly friendly. He realized with a sick feeling that they thought he had come to bust them, or something equally unpleasant. Once they saw him with a drink in his hands they began to whisper to each other, and stare some more. He ducked his head, studying the energon-sticky floor. This really had been a mistake.

“Hey, Op!” a voice bellowed in his audial sensor. He turned to see Hot Rod grinning with a voluptuous femme on his arm. “I'm going to dance, okay?”

“Sure, fine!” Optimus yelled back, gesturing toward the dance floor. 'I think I'll just stay here and get drunk. Then maybe this place will become bearable,' he thought glumly. He turned to order another drink, feeling the stares of the clubgoers burning holes in his back. Primus, why wouldn't they leave him alone? He felt a small spark of anger. It wasn't as if he was performing some perverted act, like a growing percentage of those on the dance floor. He just wanted a drink, that was all. He had always tried to set a good example for his troops, but he wasn't a saint! Not that anyone cared – to them he was a glorified god. Wasn't he allowed to have a bit of fun and relax? Nobody was staring at Hot Rod, that was for sure. This sort of behavior was expected of him.

Optimus focused his attention on his drink, polishing it off in record time. He set the container down on the bar a bit unsteadily and wondered whether it was wise to order another. He had never been a big drinker, and despite his size, he was already feeling the effects of the alcoholic beverages. He was rapidly crossing the line between buzzed and flat-out drunk. 'No need to totally debase myself,' he thought with a bit of effort. 'I really don't think I can handle another drink.'

“Hi there,” a feminine voice purred in his audial. He turned in surprise to see a lovely purple femme with ample curves eyeing him. He was struck dumb for a moment – he hadn't even been approached by a femme outside of his job since his resurrection.

“Uh, hello,” he said slowly, making sure that he spoke clearly.

“Haven't seen you here before,” the femme said, pressing closer, taking his arm. Optimus stiffened and strongly resisted the urge to pull away. He hated being touched, especially by someone he didn't know. “I would have noticed such a handsome specimen for sure. My name's Lilac.”

'Fitting name,' the Autobot leader observed. She actually had the coloring of the tiny Earthen flower. “My name is Optimus Prime,” he told her.

She threw her head back and laughed, a little longer than necessary. 'Yep, she's sauced too,' Optimus observed. “I know who you are, silly!” she giggled. “Everyone does. Never thought I'd see you in this place though. To be honest, I always thought you were a bit too stuffy. But I can see I was wrong.” She eyed him with a hungry look that made the mech distinctly uncomfortable. “Wanna dance?” She batted her optics at him flirtatiously.

“Erm, no, thank you,” the Autobot leader declined politely. “I'm not a good dancer under normal circumstances, and I'm afraid I'd be quite uncoordinated after the drinks that I've had. I wouldn't want to stomp all over your feet.”

Lilac winked at him. “Oh, we don't have to dance really. Just look at that crowd – how many of them are actually dancing out there? There are better things to do.”

Optimus cringed and shrank away as she began to caress his chestplate. This was definitely more than he had bargained for. He couldn't stomach the thought of being with another femme – the loss of Alita was still too fresh for him. Besides, he was decidedly *not* attracted to this Lilac. He pushed her away, gently but firmly. “I have got to get out of here!” he groaned.

His optics scanned the tightly packed gyrating crowd for a flame-colored frame. He finally spotted his companion in the hoard, pressed tightly against the femme that he had snared. He appeared to be doing something to her chassis…. Oh, no, he wasn't! He couldn't be – in front of all those people! That was the absolute last straw!

Optimus stormed over to Hot Rod and grabbed his arm roughly. “I've had enough of this place!” he growled. “We are leaving, right now!”

Hot Rod pulled away and massaged his dented arm. “What is your damage?” he hissed. He swayed a bit, and Optimus realized that the young robot was seriously drunk. “Just because you're a stick in the mud doesn't mean that you have to spoil my fun. Get lost!”

Optimus grabbed his son again, even rougher than before. “Listen, Roddy,” he snarled, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You are making a fool of yourself! You're drunk and cavorting with some femme that you've never even met before! See, people are staring!” He gestured to the crowd that was indeed beginning to stare.

“They're staring at *you*, you old fool!” Roddy yelled in his face. “I'm not behaving any differently than anyone else here. You're the one that sticks out! You're ruining everyone's fun! Go and take your party pooper mentality somewhere else and leave me out of it! I don't tell you how to live your life or how to have fun, so don't tell me!”

“Fine then!” Optimus yelled right back, throwing Hot Rod's arm back at him. “You just go ahead and make a spectacle of yourself. You'll come crawling back to the base tomorrow, reeking horribly, with a massive hangover and a pounding head. You'll only be getting what you deserve. Well, I'm not staying around this hellhole any longer. At least I have some dignity! Goodbye, Roddy – you can find your own way home.” He spun on his heel, fighting his way through the crowd until they parted before him and let him out into the fresh air. He drew big gulps of it into his auxiliary air intakes, cooling his overheated system.

The large Autobot clutched his pounding head and rubbed his optics wearily. Gods, what a terrible night. He would likely have a headache and hangover of his own tomorrow. Whatever had possessed him to want to go there? What made Roddy want to go there, anyway? Maybe he and Hot Rod were incompatible after all. Maybe all those millions of years apart had driven a wedge between them that couldn't be breached. Optimus breathed a great sigh and set off towards the shuttle bay. He really wasn't cut out for this father bit. Maybe he should just stop trying.


end of Chapter Seven

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