Archive of Our Own

Surprisingly, the kinks in Ratchet joints weren't killing him. Despite his short recharge on the crappiest berth on the dingiest shuttle he'd ever seen, Ratchet had been able to recharge so well he didn't even notice the long time ache in his spinal strut.

It just might have been because of his company before recharge. Drift had been showing him one of the datapads he'd filled with an old Earth show long ago. It had been Drift's since Earth, and he'd admitted to Ratchet he'd seen it so many times he memorized most of the lines. Ratchet hadn't believed him until they'd sat down together, and Drift had done his best (intentionally horrible) impressions of each of the characters. Ratchet had been able to ignore him at first, until Drift kept on doing it, randomly and sometimes right in the middle of a tense moment, over exaggerating accents and the voices of the actors. By the end of the night, Ratchet was sore from laughing, and he was sure Drift wasn't better off.

He wasn't unaware of the smile slowly forming on his faceplate until he lifted up his cup of energon and had to stop smiling just to take a sip. Ratchet dropped the smile as he put the cup down, trying to erase it by rubbing his faceplates with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his energon.

By now, he knew he was in too deep. After leaving, he knew he wanted to make it up to Drift. The exile, letting Rodimus use him as an excuse, letting him leave without a friend to help him. Be more of a friend to Drift than he had been.

Now there was no use in denying that he liked Drift more than he had first thought, even than he thought he when he left. The thought made his spark stutter and flare, Ratchet ran a hand over his faceplate to hide to flush of energon. Last night he'd been close to kissing Drift- taking that smile and pulling him down and doing a lot things to that temptational, smooth, curved armor- but he'd resisted. He didn't want to betray Drift's friendship with him. He'd never seen Drift so happy and relaxed. Even on the Lost Light, Drift had seemed tense. Ratchet had thought it was because Drift was expecting anything, out in space, on the danger-magnet that was the Lost Light and its crew. But here Drift was, showing a whole new side of himself to Ratchet that was making it increasingly hard to resist.

Which was why Ratchet was surprised to see Drift walk in as if he'd been recharging on the thrusters instead of the softer berth of the shuttle. His optics glowed dimly, and he leaned against the wall gracelessly as he held a cup to the dispenser on the wall. He looked like he was falling back offline, and soon enough his optics were closed. His hands relaxed, and the cup tilted and spilled energon all over Drift's hand. The mech woke up with a start and a curse, trading off the cup to the other hand as he tried to lick up the energon quickly. Still cursing quietly, Drift turned.

Ratchet raised an eyebrow at Drift's wide optics and tongue halfway to his hand. He chuckled and hid his smile by taking another chug of his energon. When he pulled his cup down, Drift has frantically trying clean himself up and would have looked more irritated if he still didn't look half asleep. "Good morning," Ratchet smirked.

Drift shot him a look as he sat down, steadfastly ignoring the medic by taking a swig.

"What'd you do? Berth too soft, had to sleep on the thrusters?"

Despite Ratchet's good-natured, teasing tone, Drift continued go glare. "I couldn't sleep."

Ratchet sobered up at the mood and leaned forward. "What's wrong?"

Drift looked away finally and shrugged. He spun his cup on the table and Ratchet couldn't tell if he was trying to figure out what to say or if he was going to stay silent, and Ratchet would have to pry it out of him. But Drift surprised him again by venting suddenly and looking up at Ratchet. "Can we talk for a bit?"

Ratchet felt his spark pulse. Something was bothering Drift, obviously, maybe it was for all the right reasons. Maybe Drift was having a hard time resisting too. "About what?" He tried to keep the hopeful note out of his voice.

"Maybe," Drift murmured, biting his lip, "maybe we don't need to go back to the Lost Light."

Not exactly what Ratchet was hoping for, but it was concerning all the same. "You don't want to go back?" Ratchet tried to laugh, despite the sudden tension in the room. He'd never told Drift about his conversation with Rodimus, he'd been just trying to keep Drift distracted from returning. Maybe this was just his lucky day. But Ratchet didn't believe in luck "Didn't expect you to turn into me. Thought I was the one who 'needed a vacation'," he teased, hiding his anxiety.

Drift propped his elbow up on the table and let his head rest in his hand. "It's not that. I just don't want to go back. Not yet, at least."

"Not yet?"

"I want to keep helping people," Drift spoke more confidently but his gaze was still trained on the table. "I know finding the Knights is huge, and should be, especially for me, but I just feel like I need to, to keep doing what I was trying to do before you showed up. And maybe finding the Knights would help a lot of people, but I just don't know if… we even could."

Ratchet held his hand out to Drift, ignoring the small flare of heat in his spark when Drift took it. Looking at Drift's dim optics, Ratchet had a feeling that it wasn't just his crush. Guilt was pouring through his spark. Suddenly, it didn't feel right, to keep Drift away from their home.

Drift didn't need to prove himself. He shouldn't have to. And Ratchet's spark ached at the thought all this time he'd been keeping Drift from what he really needed. "What about Rodimus, your best friend?" Ratchet reminded him. "Your other friends? Perceptor, Magnus-"

"Magnus only ever tolerated me." Drift interrupted sharply, his hand gripping Ratchet's for a moment. "I never really had any friends on the Lost Light, Ratchet."

Then Drift looked at him with the expression he had walked in wearing, and it was enough to make Ratchet reach out and cup his other hand around theirs. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Drift beat him.

"You know its true, Ratchet. I was never an Autobot to them. I never really was an Autobot," he muttered.

"Bullscrap," Ratchet growled and clutched at Drift's hand. "You're as much as an Autobot as anyone else on that crew. You've met Whirl, you've seen the slag Brainstorm gets up to. Even Rodimus has his own dark secrets. Hell, look what Megatron's wearing."

Before Drift could say anything to that, and with the look on his face Ratchet knew he was pushing all the wrong buttons. "But Drift, listen to me. Does that make them any less Autobot?"

Drift blinked. His optics dimmed as he thought about it, and Ratchet felt a surge of triumph. Drift didn't see what Ratchet saw, and honestly? Drift was a lot more deserving of the title than a lot mechs Ratchet had met. And even if he wasn't totally virtuous, not every mech could be Thunderclash. At least Drift tried, which is more than what Ratchet could say for some other Autobots.

'But Ratchet," Drift objected, and Ratchet had to hold back a groan, "you remember Delphi. That bot that… almost touched Pipes."

Of course Ratchet remembered. He don't think he'd ever forget what happened at Delphi, even if it seemed like a disconnected dream in his memories. Unconsciously shifting his hands, he nodded for Drift to continue.

"And you've seen me in a fight." Ratchet had, and even if he hated watching his friends in danger, at least he knew Drift could definitely protect himself. Most of the time, he added to himself.

"Yes…" Ratchet agreed when Drift didn't say anything else.

"I look like Deadlock," Drift growled suddenly. "I feel like Deadlock. I go back to that time and I do what-… the only thing I'm good at. And worst of all, Ratchet, is that I feel good doing it."

"Drift," Ratchet bit out, a little more forcefully than he wanted, but it got Drift's attention. "Just because you're good at it, that does not mean that's all you are good for. You're more than that Drift."

Drift lifted his optics ridges as his optics narrowed. Ratchet continued before he could. "And, Drift, it's okay."

"No, it isn't," Drift spat, more surprised than angry. "You're saying it's okay to feel that rush when I get the kill? When I can get that one hit and they go down?"

"Drift, that's who you are."

"That's even worse!"

"No, no, no that's not what I meant," Ratchet insisted, closing his optics as he flinched at hsi bad choice of words. He held Drift's hands tighter as if that could quiet him. "Maybe you can't control that, but you can control who you fight for. What you do with your gift. And Drift, what you're doing right now, what you just said you wanted to do, makes you a good mech."

Drift stared up at him with his jaw slack, and Ratchet felt that triumphant flare return with a streak like fire. He had Drift's attention, he just hoped Drift believed what he said. And as Drift lifted his hand not trapped in Ratchets' and wiped a bit of coolant leaking in his optic as he let his head hang down. The silence of the room after his little speech was interrupted a moment after by the sound of Drift's vents seizing.

"Drift?" Ratchet questioned, worried.

"Sorry," Drift laughed, settling Ratchet's spark. "It's just, you know, no one's said that to me before. And coming from you, it means a lot to me."

Ratchet smiled, and found himself running his thumbs over the hand he held in his. "You're more than good enough to be with the Autobots."

Apparently that hadn't been the right thing to say. In fact Drift winced and stared back down at his cup.

"You still don't want to go back," Ratchet guessed.

"No," Drift admitted. "Not with Megatron as captain now, too."

Ratchet frowned. He can't fault Drift for that. After having to tell him what happened to Megatron, and remembering Drift's reaction, Ratchet didn't think he be too keen on returning. He had thought Drift's want to return to his friends would outweigh the threat of his old commander. But Drift didn't think he had anyone to return to. He doesn't know what to say to that.

"Hey," Drift said gently, bringing Ratchet out of his thoughts. He smiled softly, but his weariness still showed through. "You don't have to stay. You can go back."

Ratchet scoffed. That's the last thing he wanted to do, and he wished Drift knew why. Instead of telling him, he gripes, "And waste all the time and energon it took to get here? After all that trouble I went through to make sure you're safe."

"You didn't waste it," Drift reassured him. "I'm here, I'm safe. You did your job, and I'll pay you back this time."

That cut off Ratchet's retort before it could fully form in his mind. "Drift, it's not about that…"

"It really is," Drift pressed. "You don't have to stay, and, you know, make sure."

"That's not it, I need to make sure you stay safe."

"And you need to make sure everyone else on the Lost Light is safe. I'm sure First Aid is a great doctor but you're still Ratchet: they need you."

"They need you too!"

"But not as much as their Chief Medical Officer."

"Dammit Drift! If I was that worried about how much they need me I wouldn't have left in the first place!"

"You were more worried about me than them?" Drift's optics narrowed, and Ratchet felt his spark do a flip and the rush of energon up to his faceplates.

That was it, really. Ratchet wanted Drift to know someone was on his side. He wanted Drift to know he was sorry. He wanted to make sure he wasn't dead yet. Really, he was worried that Drift had been alone and hurting, and he had been late in realizing what he needed to do.

Ratchet coughed and looked away, hesitant. Anything he said here could incriminate him; he'd already let more out in one sentence than he had since their first day here. That hadn't turned out as badly as he had feared, but it gave him little hope now. Drift was still scrutinizing him. But, at the same time, he came all this way for a little more than worry. For Drift. He thought it had been obvious how he felt since their first day on the shuttle, but despite that nothing had happened.

And Ratchet was almost sure now, with his hand around Drift's and the amount of trust Drift had placed in him shown just by their little discussion now, that he loved Drift, and he was going to explode if he resisted any longer.

"I couldn't live knowing you were alone," Ratchet murmured. "That you'd left without a friend, that you were used as a cover up. That you might be hurt, out there. So that's why I came," he looked at Drift, whose optics grew brighter and wider. "I was worried about you, and I couldn't stand knowing you were out there alone."

Ratchet shut his mouth quickly as Drift's dropped open and his faceplates flushed brightly. There it was, all out on the table. Almost quite literally. As exposed as he felt all of a sudden, Ratchet was immediately conscious of their hands touching. He started pulling away but Drift clasped their hands together with his other and pulled them back. Ratchet blushed as he looked back at Drift again, whose mouth is closed, and for awhile they traded nervous glances and aborted half-starts.

Finally, Ratchet pulled air into his vents and steadied himself. "So... Hate to break it to you, but this ship doesn't have any much more gas to spend on drifting around. We've got no choice but to go home."

Drift laughed out loud, startling Ratchet. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice, because he aimed a spark-stoppingly sweet smile at Ratchet. "Are you kidding me?" his little smirk is just as sparkbreaking. "Ratchet, can I ask you something?"

The medic frowned and raised an eye ridge. "Go on," he permitted, suspicious of the glint in Drift's optics, and what his little change of attitude did to his spark.

"I wanted to get a new space ship," Drift grinned. "A new one, not like this piece of junk. One with a nice warp drive, and a real cargo hold. A kitchen, and a big washracks, big enough for two mecha. And I want you to come with me."

Ratchet's spark is beyond funny feelings. It all but pulsed out of his chest, as Drift's smile tore through it and his fingers splayed over his hands and supercharged the fuel in his lines.

"Would you come with me?"

Drift's lips were too beautiful, that little smile. That's what Ratchet blamed, as he pulled Drift close by their joined hands and muttered against them, "You'd have a hard time keeping me away."

The little moan and hard, reciprocating press of Drift's lips against his is well worth the temptation he'd endured.

And now he wouldn't have to. He'd have Drift all to himself, for a long, long time.