Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Riptide had been awake for a while before his chronometer alarm finally went off. He was in no hurry to report for his shift, and an extra hour or so of lying around wouldn’t hurt anything so long as he showed up on time.

The Lost Light didn’t really need a helmsmech lately: autopilot stayed on most of the time now that they’d charted a proper course. The mechs rotating through helms duty were just a precaution in case something completely unexpected were to happen. He’d probably get away with a scathing memo from Ultra Magnus if he skipped and went to Swerve’s instead.

He and Swerve had spent the last week planning an epic party for today. Some Earth thing, Riptide couldn’t remember what it was called. But Swerve got all cute and excited about the decorations and activities and specially-made fuel blends, so he was down for just about anything. After all, Swerve was always game for his ideas. It was no hardship to return the favor.

On the other hand, if he went to his shift, he could watch the tradeoff between co-captains halfway through. That was always entertaining. It made great content for the Insider, and Swerve always got a kick out of the Insider. He could bring a draft for the bartender to read before publishing.

Thoroughly distracted by his thoughts, Riptide nearly tripped over the box outside his hab suite. Nearly meaning he caught himself before his face hit the floor.

“Scrappin’—huh.”

It had his name on it. Or more accurately, there was a note stuck to the top that had his name on it. Riptide scrambled around to sit against the wall and pull the box into his lap.

His chronometer pinged again. Two minutes to his shift. He was going to be late.

Well, it was a box, so it probably wouldn’t be going anywhere. Although one never knew on this ship. Riptide stowed it in his hab and stuffed the note into his subspace.

Megatron was on deck when he arrived. Riptide averted his optics from the captain on his way to the helms station.

So his essay was a little late. He was working on it! He was just slower with the reading… and the writing… and the thinking… Look, mythology was a lot harder than current events, okay?

He checked the screens around him for new instructions. Autopilot was still on. Great. He took the note from his subspace and held it below the dash to read.

I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but I didn’t want to mess with what we’ve got. You’re a terrific pal, Riptide, always there when people need you and always willing to lend a hand. You’re easygoing and friendly and so sweet, sweet in a way that makes it hard to tell if you do it consciously or if it’s just the way you are, and both of those say something really good about you as a person. And you’re funny. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard in my life as I do with you. You tell the best stories; you link the most mismatched ideas together in ways most people would never think to associate them, and it works brilliantly. You’re brilliant.

So here’s the thing, it seems like this would be the right day to put it out there that… I like you. A lot. Not only as a friend, if you get my drift. I’m happy to stick to being only friends if you don’t feel the same way, but I figured if I can’t say it on this day, when can I?

Because it’s not just all that amazing stuff about your personality and character that I like. It’s your smile, your laugh, the way you forget you’ve got a straw in your mouth and it wags up and down when you talk. It’s the glow of your optics in the low light at the bar. It’s the expression you make when you’re focusing really hard and the tip of your tongue just barely sticks out. It’s your willingness to work hard in Knights Class no matter how much you resent the teacher. It’s your ability to steal every bit of my attention when you walk into a room so I can’t do anything else until I’ve spoken to you and heard you laugh.

You make me feel like the luckiest mech in the world when I make you laugh.

Riptide realized that his mouth was hanging open. He shut it and glanced around. No one was looking his way. He skimmed the letter again.

Someone liked him? Someone liked him. Someone liked him enough to write down reasons for it.

This was a straight-up like letter!

The remainder of his shift floated by. Riptide barely listened to the inevitable co-captain (read: Rodimus) squabble halfway through. He just read and re-read the letter, hoping for some kind of clue to the sender’s identity.

Whoever it was, they had a really nice handwriting style; the glyphs were clean and crisp, and they nearly touched at the edges, they were crammed together so tightly. Were they expecting an answer? How was he supposed to reply if he didn’t know who they were?

He’d never given much thought to what kind of mech he would look for in this, um, this capacity. No one had ever expressed an interest before. Facts of life, you know? But now… He had a feeling that “likes me enough to write a note” wasn’t a qualifier by itself.

So he’d need to have something in mind before he found out who this was. Otherwise he’d freeze up and be extra-awkward trying to figure out an answer on the spot.

What sort of things would he find attractive in someone?

It'd have to be someone nice, for sure. Someone who looked at life like an adventure, who made every day interesting. Someone who laughed a lot. Someone who liked people and hanging out and movie nights and pranks. Someone who inspired that warm feeling he got when they looked up at him with their visor bright and their lips moving even though he'd lost track of what they were saying because wow, what had he done to deserve a friend who could carry the bulk of a conversation when he ran out of things to say and didn't comment on his slowness but just kept elaborating until he understood what they were talking about?

Riptide shook himself, trying to refocus on the task at hand, but the image of that face stuck with him. Swerve was nice. Swerve always made time for him. Swerve was funny, and he loved to laugh. Swerve liked people and hung out with Riptide and knew all the best movies for movie nights and found prank ideas on the Eart intranet that no one would ever see coming.

For Swerve, life was an adventure, and every day on the Lost Light was more exciting than the last even though they'd gotten nothing done.

Swerve made his spark go all warm and fluttery when they got too close...

Riptide was an idiot.

Chapter Text

The bar decorations were nearly finished. Swerve had saved the ceiling streamers for last. Even on Ten’s shoulders, he couldn’t quite reach, and there was no way he’d try climbing on the drone’s hand to be lifted up. That was just asking for a trip to the medibay and a wrench to the face. He’d have to ask Riptide to help put them up instead.

Absently, he wondered if the Hydrobot had opened his gift yet. And the note. Swerve’s face heated at the thought of that note. What if he didn’t feel the same? That wouldn’t be too bad unless he also didn’t want to be friends anymore because it might be awkward and what if Swerve had messed it up—

“Ten.”*

Swerve cycled his vents. “Yeah, yeah, I’m probably overthinking it.” Just ‘cause he didn’t understand the big lug didn’t mean he couldn’t guess what was meant. If said big lug had the capacity to mean anything that nuanced.

“Ten ten ten.”**

“Mmhmm, buddy, I hear ya loud and clear.”

If he wasn’t going to dwell on the gift, he'd better find something else to work on while he waited. The announcement was ready to send to Blaster, but he would need a couple more bouncers if this was as popular as he hoped. Swerve brought up a list on his viewscreen of bots who had volunteered in the past. Hmm...

Quick, heavy footsteps clanged down the hall outside. Their owner knocked on the door. Swerve resisted the urge to look up as Ten headed in its direction. Be cool, he reminded himself.

"Thanks, Ten," Riptide's cheerful voice called. His footsteps resumed until he was standing next to the bar. "Hey!"

Swerve glanced up to flash him a smile and couldn't bring himself to look back down at the datapad. "Hey yourself." Gosh, that boat was cute. "Ready to finish our party prep? I've got some streamers that need hanging, if you're up for it."

“Sure thing.” As he climbed up onto a table, he glanced back at Swerve again. "So listen, something weird happened earlier."

Swerve's fuel tank dropped. "What kind of weird?"

"I don't know, um—" Riptide paused to tuck a red streamer end above a crossbeam. "Unexpected weird, I guess. Not bad weird." He crouched to accept the white roll Swerve held up and stood again to add its end beside the red. "Somebody left a box outside my door. And a note."

Somebody? Was he being coy? "What'd it say?"

Riptide's EM field flicked out, a pleased note of embarrassment at its surface. "Um. A lot of stuff. Really nice stuff." He stepped down from that table and climbed onto the next. "They, uh, said they liked me. And I finally opened the box after my shift, and—" He set down the streamer rolls to reach into his subspace. Swerve bit his lip at the sight of his box. Holiday theme or no, the red and pink polka dots seemed like overkill now he was getting a second look. Riptide seemed oblivious to his discomfort, holding the box out and popping the lid off. “Energon jellies. They’re really cute, right? Somebody must’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make ‘em those shapes, too. Remember that time you tried to teach me?”

Oh Primus. He really hadn’t caught on. Swerve wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He settled for vigorously nodding. “Yeah, that’s impressive! They must, uh, they must really like you to do that. Of course, anybody with optics ought to realize you’re worth the—” He faltered as the surprised yellow gaze leveled at him. “—the effort. And a lot more.” He fumbled for a change of focus. “So, are you going to give them a reply?”

Riptide set the box down on the table by his pedes. "I dunno. I'd have to figure out who sent it first, and no matter who they are, the problem is..." His optics brightened as he glanced down at Swerve. "I like someone already."

"Oh." Swerve tried to conceal his disappointment.

"Yeah, see, there's this super funny, super talented, super cute friend I have, and it took a while to realize it, but..." He winked, and Swerve did a double take. "I totally have a crush on him."

Slowly, one of Swerve's fingers rose to point at himself, the question unspoken but obvious.

Riptide just grinned. "It's the human courtship holiday, right? So what better time to tell you?"

"I sent it!" Swerve blurted. He covered his mouth too late.

Yellow optics spiraled wide. "You what?" It took a moment to process, and then he facepalmed. "Oh my stars," he groaned. "I can't believe I didn't see it."

The snigger tore from Swerve's vocalizer before he could stop it. "Get—down—here," he gasped between snorts. Riptide scrambled off of the table, and Swerve took hold of his forearm—the highest he could reach. "You mean it?"

"'Course I do," the hydrobot huffed, broadcasting a flicker of offence that gave way to much stronger apprehension. "...Did you?"

He felt his face break into a wide smile. "C'mere, handsome."

Ten broke into applause when their lips met.

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*“You know, if I were to stand on a pair of chairs, you could reach the ceiling from my shoulders easily.”

**“Unless you are looking for a reason to call Riptide to lend a hand, that is. Which I, for the record, completely support. Your personalities complement one another quite well, and I have high hopes for your future should his reaction be favorable.”