heliopauseentertainments | A Big Fish Story (Reply)

A birthday present for tarklesbehindthescenes on Tumblr

Continuity: G1

Rating: General

Relationship: Galvatron/Hot Rod

Characters: Galvatron, Hot Rod, Grimlock

Summary: In which Hot Rod tries to teach Galvatron how to fish.

Crossposting: AO3 | Tumblr

“What exactly is the point of this activity?”

Making sure to not wiggle the fishing rod too much, Hot Rod shrugged. It was the best answer he could provide.

Apparently that wasn’t good enough for Galvatron, who was huddling next to the park’s artificial oil pond with his own pole and line.

The older mech scoffed, impatiently yanking his line out of the oil. Hot Rod had to lean out of the way to avoid the splatter and magnetic hook.

“Hey, you’re gonna scare the fish if you jerk the line like that!”

The robotic fish had a tendency to be skittish. Whether this was from Hot Rod’s regular disturbances of the stock with his weekly visits or because Grimlock often charged in to fish with his mouth, it was hard to say.

“They should be scared of—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re the ‘scariest guy in the universe,’ sure.”

Hot Rod had heard it millions of times at this point. It was Galvatron’s favorite point of argument whenever they disagreed, which was frequent. Under the ego, there was something genuine that made it all worth it, but, boy, did the ego sure hit first sometimes.

“Whatever, but that won’t catch fish. Scaring them is going to make that harder, okay?”

Galvatron frowned at him, the lure on his line sullenly dripping oil onto the pond’s bank all the while.

“Look, I know this is going to sound bizarre coming from me, but bear with me here.” Hot Rod scooted closer to his partner, setting his own pole down on the bank. He placed a hand gently on one of Galvatron’s. “But the trick here is to be patient and sit still.”

All that got him was a raised optical ridge and displeased scowl.

How to sell this… in a way Galvatron would understand.

Aha!

“Lull them into a false sense of security and then you strike.”

“Hm.” Galvatron seemed to be weighing the “new” information, rephrased to accommodate the fact that he viewed most everything as a contest of wills and dominance. “That is an interesting tactic, Hot Rod. I will have to consider it—“

Something below the pond’s surface yanked on Hot Rod’s line.

“Slag!”

Hot Rod fell to the side, a vain attempt to catch the pole. His arms were still out, hands empty, as the equipment was dragged beneath the surface.

“Not my favorite pole!”

A purple blur in the periphery of his vision dove into the pond with a heavy splash.

Bubbles from whatever “cataclysmic” battle was raging below disrupted the surface as Hot Rod watched. On his knees, he leaned over the edge.

The black, oxidized surface of the oil obscured what was going on below the surface, but Hot Rod could only hope that Galvatron wasn’t trying to fistfight a fish to reclaim his partner’s fishing pole.

Despite the absolute certainty in his processor that was exactly what Galvatron was doing.

After several seconds, a swell in the oil rose up.

The swell burst, a large creature left standing in the midst of the shallow end of the pond.

Grimlock.

Holding the lure of Hot Rod’s fishing pole in his mouth, with Galvatron hanging by the armor of his back on Grimlock’s claws.

Galvatron had the rod of the pole clasped in his hands as he tugged back, trying to free the lure.

“Release that at once, you prehistoric fool! I command you!”

Well, Galvatron had the spirit at least.

He pulled again. The line connecting the lure and pole snapped under the strain.

Hot Rod sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He could always get more fishing line.

“Grim, what were you doing down there?”

Grimlock sheepishly spat the lure out.