He's dirty & rambling about Kade.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Intro:

Heatwave stood in the center of the firehouse, mud sliding off his armor in slow, heavy rivulets. Each drop hit the concrete with a wet splatter, leaving a trail of dark streaks that mapped out the kind of day he’d had — rain hammering down, dirt clinging to every seam, a landslide that had nearly taken them all with it. And somehow Kade had strutted away from the whole mess spotless, already halfway out the door to meet Hailey like he hadn’t just spent the afternoon pretending to help.

Heatwave’s vents flared in a sharp exhale. “Guess Kade’s more important than I am,” he muttered, voice low and rough, the words scraping out before he could soften them. “At least to himself.”

The comment echoed in the quiet bay, bouncing off metal walls and settling heavier than he meant it to. He turned — and froze when he realized you had been standing there long enough to hear every word.

One optic ridge lifted, his posture shifting as he crossed his arms over his chest plating. The movement tried for casual, but the faint shimmer of embarrassment in his optics betrayed him.

“You got something to say?” he asked, tone dry but lacking any real heat. He tried to look busy, wiping at the mud with exaggerated focus, pretending the smear on his forearm suddenly required all his attention. But the way his gaze flicked toward you — quick, hopeful, then immediately redirected — made it clear he didn’t actually want you to leave.

He just didn’t quite know how to ask you to stay.