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The acidic rain was relentlessly drumming against each and every surface of the house, filling the quite place up with the different sounds of liquid hitting glass, metal and all the other materials their home was made of. For the mech meditation in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the livingroom, it sounded like a natural symphony, declaring the beginning of a new season.
Most Cybertronians weren’t as thrilled about the pouring rain as Drift was, though. The newsfeeds were filled with complaining mecha who argued why it would be a good idea to use modern techniques to manipulate the weather, changing the location where the acid storms where raining down their load… while scientist tried to explain why it was not a good idea to do such things.
Drift couldn’t care less about the public drama. He had lived so long so far away from Cybertron, from their natural weather, that he enjoyed everything the planet had to offer for them. It helped him to stay grounded, to focus on his core and see everything with a clear spark.
“You’re up early… having nightmares again?” He heard Ratchet’s soft voice from the other side of the room, barely louder than the tapping of the rain. And still, Drift could tell so much from it; the way it still had that raspy reverberation told him that Ratchet wasn’t awake for long, the pitch, deep and careful, caring but not wanting to pressure, offering help without demanding Drift to confess anything he wasn’t ready to share…
And today the swordsmech wasn’t in the mood to talk about his nightly terrors. Didn’t wish to go through old memories, which still hurt like fresh wounds on some days and felt as non-existent as a faded scar on others “How long do you think it will last” he asked instead, onlining his optics but not turning to the medic, yet.
Ratchet walked up to the other and vented softly. “Not that much longer. The winds are picking up again and the temperatures will change within the next few days as well…” The medic stated matter of factly before slowly sitting down besides the racer, shifting around till he finally found a semi-comfortable sitting position on the hard ground.
“You got to help me up later again; I don’t think I’ll be able to get up from here all alone. I’m really getting old…” Ratchet grumbled and glanced to Drift, as the younger mech responded with a short chuckle “Just wait until you reach my age. Then we’ll see if sitting on the ground is something you still enjoy that much…” The medic added without any heat, happy that he could at least lighten his lover’s mood a little.
“So… you say that I effectively trapped you here on the ground?” Drift asked his smirk stretching a little wider, mischief clearly tangible in his emf. Ratchet only raised an optical ridge and snorted as he caught on. “As much as I love you and enjoy being with you, I’m really not young enough to do any love making down here anymore. But you know… we do have a nice soft bed just one room away?”
Drift moved closer and leaned against the other, head resting against Ratchet’s shoulder. “I like it here. The view is beautiful and the acoustics are enticing…” The medic wormed his arm around his lover and drew him even closer. “I’d rather use both words for describing you than the rain…” he whispered softly and looked out as well, trying to see what Drift saw, when he sat here for hours.
They spent a few minutes like that, just basking in each other’s presence while listening and watching the rain fall down, engulf the world around them, slowing down everything with a gentle force only nature itself possessed. Back before the war, Drift hated how powerless he had been against it, how it had forced him to lay low, hoping desperately it would end before he offlined from starvation.
Slowly, digits started to run over plating, servos explored each other and both mechs started to seek out each other’s sweet spots, which they had mapped out long ago during countless nights. At one point Drift tipped his head up and Ratchet wasn’t in need of any words to know what the swordsmech wanted.
Their lips met and they kissed slowly and sensually. Tongues found their way in each other’s mouths, exploring and stroking against one another, still with no intention to move their love making any place further too soon. Drift lay down, relaxing on his back with Ratchet leaning above him, one servo massaging tense cables whenever they found some, still only kissing and touching.
As they parted again, Ratchet looked at his lover for a long moment with a fond smile. Drift smiled back, nearly loosing himself in the skyblue optics of his medic. “You are like the rain” Drift breathed, while careful digits lightly touched Ratchet’s face, tracing the lines and edges there. “You mean I burn mechs plantings off with my sharp comments..?” he asked after a second, not really sure he could follow Drift’s sometimes unusual train of thoughts.
Drift snickered. “That… Fits, too. But what I actually meant is, that you are a force, few dare to stop, and still all you want is to help and heal and make things better, even if it means that you have to force others to understand, too see things in a way they never did before. Many don’t really bother to see past your ‘burning’ exterior and will never learn to appreciate you the way I do… The way you deserve… and still; here you are not changing for anyone or anything”
Drift explained before pulling his lover down again, kissing him for a moment “You are my white noise when everything is too loud and busy, the rainstorm muting my world when everything is just too much. And while you are always there, you always let me vent, let me be me. And I know that I and the things I do, don’t make sense to you all of the time…” Drift gave Ratchet a peck on the lips after the last sentence, twining his arms around the other’s neck, pulling him close.
“I… love you too” Ratchet mumbled into his loves neck, feeling deeply touched by how Drift saw him. “I’m not as good with using pretty words like you do, though…” he added with the slightest hint of remorse.
Drift let go of the medic and pushed him away a little, enough so that they could look at each other properly. “Well… how about I help you up… then we walk over to the bed you mentioned earlier, and you show me?” Ratchet pressed his forehead against Drifts before he breathed a small
“I’d love to”