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"You ever just feel… I dunno, broken?" you ask, arms folded beneath your head as you stare up at the ceiling.
"All the time," Drift says honestly. You've missed this. You've missed the two of you, alone in your quarters or his, talking to each other and not pretending to be okay. It had seemed so simple and easy back when you were Hot Rod. It's the hardest thing in the world.
You're lying on the floor next to each other, not quite touching even though you're close enough that you could be, both staring at your blank, gray, boring ceiling. You could paint stars on it. Maybe Rewind has some pictures of the sky from Cybertron, or something. Maybe he'll even have some from the right latitude.
You're not going back. You're never going back. It had seemed like such an easy decision at the time. After that, it had seemed unreal, like you were going to wake up any second with Prowl standing over you and scowling. And now—it hasn't even been that long, but now—
The crew voted unanimously. Even if you could turn around, that would mean Megs would…
"Yeah," you say, because you left Drift hanging. "I—yeah."
In your periphery, he turns his head and looks at you. "Did something happen?"
There's always something happening. "Lug and Anode are leaving."
He doesn't startle, but you can feel his surprise. "They are? When? Why?"
You can't really shrug in this position, so you just hum noncommittally. "Heard it from Swerve. They wanna find somewhere to settle down. I think they're just holding out for, uh. Finding some of this universe's Cybertronians." It stings, a bit, that they still haven't said anything to you. You'll get over it. "I think they might have been thinking about it before the jump."
"Do you want me to talk to them?" Drift asks, voice quiet and grave almost like back then, or maybe you're just imagining it.
"Primus, no," you laugh, trying to bleed some of the tension out of the room. "It's not like they're trapped here, they can leave whenever they want. We'll keep an eye out for planets that look like they'd be nice to settle down on, and I'll ask Megs and Mags to put together some kind of…" You draw a vague shape in the air with your hand. "I dunno, housewarming-slash-goodbye present? Supplies if they need 'em. Long-range communicator so they can keep in touch." Not that they're obligated to, or anything. Just.
He frowns. "So what's wrong, then?"
"I've… been thinking." You can do this. It's nothing you haven't already said in your head a thousand times. "You and Ratchet are gonna want to do that someday too, right?"
Drift does startle this time. "What are you talking about?"
You sit up so you don't have to see his face in the corner of your vision. "Ratchet's been talking about retiring since he came onboard. And First Aid's CMO now, so it's not like there's any reason he's gotta stick around if he doesn't want to." Say it. Make yourself say it, you coward, you owe him this much. "You deserve a quiet life if you want one, you know?"
Drift goes quiet. You cycle your vents and wait, even though you want nothing more than to tell him how much you need him here with you.
"We haven't talked about anything like that yet," he says finally. "I guess it might be nice to settle down eventually, but—" He sits up, puts a hand on your arm. "I just got you back. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."
He's trying to be reassuring, but you can only focus on that anytime soon. He'll leave eventually, and not soon is never long enough.
You don't look at him. "What if he asked you to leave with him tomorrow?" It's not a fair question. Not to Drift, not to Ratchet, not to you. You can't make yourself take it back.
Drift's hand on your arm tenses a little. "I'd tell him you're my best friend, I've fragging missed you, and I'm not leaving you like that."
Not like that. Maybe some other way. "What if he insisted? What if he said he was leaving no matter what, and—"
"Rodimus." He squeezes, not hard enough to hurt but not gently either. "I'm not having a fight with the version of my conjunx that exists in your head."
"Right." Sorry, you don't say. You glance at him so he can see it in your optics instead, and his face is tight. You did that, you put that there. Great job. "I know he wouldn't." Probably wouldn't. Maybe. You hope.
His expression loosens just a little as he studies your optics. He turns to you, takes your hands in his, laces your fingers together. You squeeze back and try not to let how personal the touch feels overwhelm you. "What are you actually trying to ask me?"
"I don't know." Except you do. Everyone's falling in love and planning out how they're going to spend the rest of their lives together, while you're… "I'm scared, I guess."
I'm here, he signs out against your palms. "Yeah?"
It's hard to resist the urge to hide your face in his shoulder, but you manage. "Yeah." You don't think you can say the next part out loud, but you have to tell him the truth, you owe him, you have to.
I don't want to get left behind, you confess, your hands shaky with the movements. I don't want you to leave me behind.
He tips his helm forward to rest it against yours. Good thing I don't want to leave you behind.
You can't help your little huff of amusement in spite of everything. "Flawless logic."
"My logic's always flawless," he agrees. I've lost too many people. I'm not losing you too.
You nod, suddenly overcome by how small and tight and fragile your spark feels in your chest. Okay. Your optics are too hot and you finally give in and bury your face in Drift's neck. I'm holding you to that.
Just promise you won't leave me behind either.
Deal.
I'm holding you to that, he echoes. Despite yourself, you manage a smile.