Making up...

                                    

                                          
Chase had packed his things back up. They were waiting in his subspace. He'd also already checked out and was on his way to work. It wasn't odd for him to show up earlier than expected, but it wasn't odd for him to be at least a little late either.
                          
He hurriedly headed off to the building he was ever familiar with; the very station he worked at. It'd been about three days. He was heading back into work, and was going to see Heatwave again. Though he was only going to formally talk with him after they were home. 
                          
He entered the doors, and walked to his desk, greeted by paperwork, files and other things of the sort. However he was almost pleased that there wasn't a case waiting for him. Glad his coworkers dealt with it while he was gone. 
                          
As he rushed through paperwork and tentatively answered questions as normal, he could feel a presence that was expecting and almost dreading at the same time, enter the building. 
                          
"Great... it's him. And of course he's got Blades..." Chase muttered under his breath. 
                          
Feeling that presence his spark envied and craved having closer, overtime get closer to him, he buried himself further in his work. He hissed angrily when he felt it so close. 
                          
He could hear Heatwave's voice. It was a blur in the background, of course. But before he knew it he that feeling was just to close to ignore. He lifted his head up a bit and looked around, finding the yellow and red he loved, but didn't want to see. 
                          
"Hey. Chase?" 
                          
The tentative words were gentle, and cautious. 
                          
"Heatwave." 
                          
Chase was stern. He wasn't going to give him even so much as an inch to work with. 
                          
"Patrol? Or would you prefer paperwork?" The same cautious tone, and off the same tentative tongue. 
                          
Chase was silent. He sat there at his desk. He took a deep sigh. 
                          
"Heatwave, either way, we're not going to talk about the fight, until we're at home. Alright?" 
                          
His response was stern and cold. 
                          
"Oh... okay, then. I guess I can wait, if that's what you want." 
                          
Heatwave's response was warm and understanding, of Chase's terms to talk. 
                          
"Well then, paperwork is preferred, but I feel like going for patrol." Chase continued. 
                          
"Mama!" A small little voice cried, and both mechs turned to where it came from. 
                          
A small orange and white sparkling was hurrying over to Chase. They wasn't very fast, but they were trying. "Ah, hell..." Chase said. 
                          
Heatwave walked to the child and picked them up. "Hey Blades, what'ch'ya need?" He asked. Blades reached out from Heatwave and looked at Chase. 
                          
"Mama!" Blades said, reaching towards Chase with his small little hand. Chase remained silent as he looked at his son. Giving a sigh, the police officer held his arms open. 
                          
"Give him to me." Chase said. While this was one of those very rare moments he didn't exactly want to deal with Blades, or have Blades around, he'd suck it up this once. 
                          
"You're sure, Chase?" Heatwave cautiously asked. "Yes, now just hand him to me, before his flips his shit." Chase said, slightly growling. Heatwave moved over to him and handed Blades to Chase. 
                          
Blades quickly nuzzled against Chase, showing affection and love. "Mama..." He cooed out, tightly holding onto Chase. 
                          
Heatwave chuckled. "What's so funny?" Chase asked, cocking a brow. "Nothing, he's just a very loving three year old, don't you think?" Heatwave replied. 
                          
Chase remained silent, but nodded. Then quickly turned around, and went back to trying to work with his son cuddling him. Heatwave was quiet, and sat down, across from him on the other side of the desk, proceeding to try and help. 
                          
Chase was quiet and let him, but quickly sent a wave of annoyance, anger, and hurt across their bond, and a simple message telepathically, to which was answered with by a nod. 
                          
"We'll talk at home."
                          
~*~*~*~*~*~* ❤️💙 *~*~*~*~*~*~
                          
Later on, once they were back at home, Chase handed Blades to Heatwave, and headed into the kitchen. "Mama?" Blades questioned, sadly. 
                          
"It's alright, baby, mama's just in the kitchen. Let's turn on the TV for you." Heatwave said, comforting Blades. 
                          
Chase listened, and on came the same princessy theme song he had stuck in his head. "We'll be in here. You watch Sofia, okay, Blades?" Heatwave said, before coming into the kitchen.
                          
Chase focused on what he was doing. He was still reconciling the words that he wanted to say. Plus, he needed dinner. 
                          
"Heh, Chase, if you want, I can warm up what I originally made, for a few nights ago, when you said you'd be home." 
                          
"Sure. Whatever. I don't really care." Chase said, sternly. 
                          
"Alright... So... are we actually going to talk? Or... should we wait until Blades is in bed?" Heatwave tentatively asked, pulling out the leftovers from the fridge.
                          
"We can talk now, though I am still reminding myself and reconciling what I want to say. But it's fine, I guess." Was the quick response from the other. 
                          
Heatwave had put the food in a bowl, in the microwave, and started it cooking. "Alright. So... on the things that happened..." Heatwave began. 
                          
"It hurt. You said things, and they hurt. A lot." Chase quickly stated. 
                          
Heatwave was quiet for a moment, not knowing how exactly to respond to it. 
                          
"... I... realize that. I realized that very quickly. And even before you left, I regretted what I said. I still do. I'm sorry." 
                          
Heatwave said, very quickly. He made a quick apology. It was quick and simple, but meant to be deep, as well and created and paved with good intentions. 
                          
"I can understand that, you certainly seemed like you did. And I appreciate that. I'm glad you're telling me. But either way, even if I could say, that's all I need to forgive you, that doesn't take back what you said." Chase levelheadedly responded. 
                          
"... I know that. And I accept it. Completely. But, I take you don't forgive me, for it?" 
                          
"No. It's still going to take more than that, and more than what words can say. As they say, actions speak louder than words, and in this case, it's true." 
                          
"I understand. Should we play for Blades? Or do you just want to deal with it and not even entertain the idea of acting?" 
                          
"Let's not act all lovey dovey, but act to be playing nice at least. Fair enough?" 
                          
"Fair enough." 
                          
They were quiet, and silently exchanged telepathically. 
                          
Then it finally came around, to the subject, they didn't know how, to approach. 
                          
"So..." Heatwave began. "How is our sleeping situation going to be?" He asked. 
                          
"I... I don't know... though..." Chase said, and began to further on his statement. 
                          
"Though?" 
                          
"... admittedly... it was almost miserable, to be sleeping without you..." 
                          
"So you want to sleep together in the same bed?" 
                          
"Yes... I had a hard time sleeping while I was away..." 
                          
"I did too." Heatwave handed Chase the bowl. "Here. It's stroganoff. Hope it's alright." 
                          
"It's fine. Thank you." Chase said quietly, taking the bowl along with a fork and sitting at the dining room table.
                          
They sat in silence, and agreed; Yes, they'd made up, but no, it wasn't forgiven. But, eventually, it would, if that trust was rebuilt. 
                          
So, simply; forgiveness was yet to come, but, they made up.