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“Oh, it’s not that I mind people thinking I’m good at my job,” Ratchet said. “I am good at my job. Pretty damn good, if you ask me. But sometimes you just get the feeling that if we could program the medical droids to do surgery folks wouldn’t miss me. You know?”
“I know that you should be asleep already,” Drift said. “Go on, to bed with you,” He gave Ratchet a playful shove towards the berth, then scooted around him to blow out the candles he’d lit earlier.
“Mm, you’re probably right,” Ratchet said. “If I remember this, morning Ratchet isn’t going to like that I got all mooshy on you.”
Drift followed Ratchet onto the berth, scooting up to snug himself against Ratchet’s chest. “Oh don’t worry, I already knew,” Drift whispered against his plating. “I am your conjunx.”
—
“Hey Ratchet,” Thunderclash said. “How’s it going?”
Ratchet looked around the medibay. Fairly uneventful morning, really. “It’s going. Something up?”
“Oh not medically,” Thunderclash said, holding up his hands apologetically. “I was just - it’s been awhile and I remembered how much I missed playing fullstasis with you. Wondered if we could schedule a game?”
“Oh.” Ratchet smiled. “I can probably squeeze you in sometime.”
—
Whirl flagged Ratchet down in the hallway, which could only mean one of two things: either someone was bleeding out or he needed help tricking Riptide into believing improbable things about Cybertronian anatomy. “Doc! Don’t look so excited to see me,” Whirl drawled.
“What do you need?” Ratchet asked, trying to gauge based on Whirl’s face which of his two options were more likely.
“Nothing, nah I’m good. Just wanted to say thanks for the advice you gave me last week. ‘bout the Hornhead. It was good advice, I owe you one. Remind me that next time we’re in Swerve’s, 'kay?” Whirl sauntered off with a wave of his claw and Ratchet wondered what the hell was happening.
—
“It’s quiet in here,” Ratchet said, looking around the observation lounge. “We planning a surprise party for someone?”
“What, no. Should I be? Is there someone who wants a party?” Rodimus looked around like there might be someone with a deep longing for festive activities lurking behind a pair of chairs. “I know you don’t like parties, Drift informed me that Parties Were Out of The Question.”
“…cool,” Ratchet said, not quite following where this was going. They’d get to the point eventually. Sometimes it just took a bit of vibrating before Rodimus settled down to teh right dimensional plane of conversation. “So, you wanted to meet?”
“Drift tells me people don’t appreciate you enough,” Rodimus said seriously. “But that parties were out of the question. And I know you melted down both of the Rodimus Stars I gave you so I’m a bit stumped here.”
Things were starting to take shape. Ratchet even had a vague and blurry memory of the night before that almost explained things. “Really, it’s fine. You know how Drift is, he blows things out of proportion sometimes - ”
“He’s usually right about you, though.” Rodimus smirked. “Anyway, I don’t think you need to hear it from me, but you’re important to a lot of people for a lot of things and most of them aren’t reattaching limbs. So, uh, thanks. For the advice and the persistent shoves between my shoulder blades when you thought I could do the right thing but I wasn’t sure if I should jump.”
“If I don’t die from terminal embarrassment before I get back to my room, I am going to murder Drift,” Ratchet mumbled into his hands.
“Careful now, that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” Rodimus said. “Anyway, don’t think you have to walk all the way back to your room. Oh! Yeah, nearly forgot - you have tonight off, Velocity and First Aid forgot to comm you.”
A hand brushed up against Ratchet’s side and he startled, then lowered his hands to glare at Drift. Drift beamed at him, throwing a wave over his shoulder at a retreating Rodimus as he draped his arms over Ratchet’s shoulders. “Hey beautiful,” Drift said.
“Don’t tell me you threatened people into being nice to me,” Ratchet said.
“Really? You think I had to get the swords out? People like you, Ratch. They just get the impression from somewhere that you’re not the kind of person who wants affirmation.” Drift pressed a kiss against the corner of Ratchet’s mouth, then leaned back to smile at him. “I don’t know where they get that idea. It might have something to do with this crotchety jerk who throws things when they try to talk feelings.”
“Can’t imagine who you’re talking about.” Ratchet said.
“Mm, I’ll just have to give you some clues,” Drift said. And then he kissed Ratchet again, smile sharp against his lips and hands soft against his helm. Ratchet melted a little, but he didn’t let it show.
Too much.
And if he did, well, Drift was his conjunx, after all.