Archive of Our Own

Megatron vented as frustration seeped into his field.

It was time for his medical checkup, not that he wanted to go, and Rodimus wouldn't leave him alone about it, saying something about needing to be in “tip top shape” if he truly wanted to help run things on the Lost Light, especially since they had jumped into a new universe. 

They didn't know what awaited them, and Megatron hated that Rodimus was right.

This was the only thing that red mech was right about, though. At least as far as he was concerned. If there was ever anything else….Well, Megatron would never admit to it being correct. The young Prime already had far too big of an ego and helm. It didn’t need to become any larger.

The large, gray mech made his way towards the medbay. Each step he took, he only became more and more lost in his own thoughts until the sound of Ratchet’s voice pulled him back into the moment.

“Well, are you going to sit down or what?”

He shuttered his optics, looking at the medic who’s hip was quirked ever so noticeably, servo resting against his waist as per usual. Giving a simple nod, Megatron moved towards the medberth and took a seat on its edge. His pedes more than easily touched the floor, unlike a lot of others on the ship who, even if their legs didn't dangle, the tips of their pedes barely made contact.

“I do not see the point in these check ups any longer, Ratchet.”

“Are you able to function every cycle without any major issues when using your arm?” The medics' back was turned to him only momentarily as he readied everything that was needed. Then, he sat down in his stool and turned towards Megatron, motioning towards the mech, silently asking him to provide Ratchet with his medical ports.

Megatron scowled, not because he was angry with Ratchet, but because the mech had a point. Some cycles were better than others and some cycles were absolutely horrible. Some cycles, he could do no more than hold a cube of energon and even that was difficult.

Ratchet motioned again, waving his servo between them as he waited and Megatron rolled his optics, holding out his good arm as the panel for his medical ports opened. Silently, Ratchet hooked not only the medberth’s diagnostic cables into Megatron, allowing all of the readouts to show on the screen but he also connected his own diagnostic cable alongside it so he could better feel how certain things affected Megatron. 

“Well, are you going to answer my question or not?”

A low growl left Megatron. Damned, nosey medic. “No, I cannot function well every cycle without some kind of issue.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Ratchet hummed. Megatron watched as the smaller medics servo wrapped around his opposite wrist, pulling his arm into the position that was needed. Then, with a tap, opened the main large panel covering all of Megatron’s sensitive inner workings and set it to the side before he began his digging. 

Megatron hated it. He hated being so open and vulnerable like this. Medic or not, one wrong move - or right move depending on who you were - could cost Megatron the use of his arm forever. He was far too used to Decepticon medics and, though he knew Ratchet would never do something like that, the fear was still ingrained into the back of his processor. 

Despite hating this, he also found himself engrossed in watching. Ratchet’s servos were so nimble, so precise, so delicate…..He really had been blessed by Adaptus.

“I believe a part of my control arm bushing is worn down. When I try to move my arm, especially when holding something, there’s a pain deep in the joint. Once the pain sets in, the joint typically locks up for a few klicks as well.”

Ratchet had paused in his work, but keeping his servos where they were at work in Megatron's arm, he glanced up and shuttered his optics as he looked at the larger mech. Surprise was more than evident in his expression and in his field.

“What’s that look for, doctor?”

“I wouldn’t doubt that you’d know where your pain and issues were radiating from,” Ratchet began, venting softly as he paused and his brow plate furrowed. “But how is it that you know the name of the specific component that is damaged?”

Megatron smirked. “So I am right. It’s my control arm bushing.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right. Now answer my question. How do you know what it’s called? It’s very rare for anyone but a medic to know, especially a joint cushion as small and obscure as that one.”

Megatron hesitated, only for a moment. His optic contact never broke with Ratchet’s, not even when he felt his joint being pried open so Ratchet could replace the joint's cushion.

“I used to want to be a medic. Before the war, I mean.” Well, he still wanted to be a medic through its duration but at some point, the desire - the dream - had been lost. At the beginning, he was forced into being an energon miner due to his alt mode. How many cycles had he spent beneath Cybertron’s surface, unable to see the light of the day, much less anything else? Then, it was to the pits of Kaon where he fought and someone else patched him up. All of that was good but some millenia into the war, he realized it would never happen. He was a killer, not a healer.

“You’d make a good medic. Ever thought of becoming one? Even with the war over, we always could use more.” His attention had returned to its work within Megatron's arm while Megatron just stared at the back of the medics helm. It took him three whole klicks to form a sentence and begin speaking once more.

“Who would want me as a medic? I spent the majority of my life breaking these mechs down and killing them. Killing their friends. Everyone wants me dead. They don’t want me to be their medic.”

“That’s not true.” Ratchet grumbled, prying the worn and almost nonexistent bushing from Megatron’s joint and setting it on the table.

“No? Prove it then. Tell me one mech who wouldn't want me offline right now.” He couldn't keep the small growl from his voice as he spoke. Everyone wanted him offline, even Optimus did. The mech would never admit it, not with speaking so highly of giving second chances and all that slag but Megatron knew.

“Me.” 

The simple and short answer caught the larger mech off guard. He straightened his back struts, still staring at the back of Ratchet’s helm as if he were going to bore a hole into it. Did he hear right or were his audial receptors also malfunctioning.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me, Megatron, but for your sake, I’ll say it again.” Megatron cocked his helm slightly, though he didn't know if it were to actually get a look at what the medic was doing in his elbow or if it was to try to look at the medic’s face which, now that he really looked, seemed as if Ratchet was doing what he could to keep his face away from Megatron. “Me. I don’t want you dead. Despite all of the death and destruction I’ve seen come from your servos firsthand, I don't want you offline.” Even still, he could see the light blush that had crept up onto the medic’s face, darkening with each word. “And I think you’d make a damn good medic.”

He was in disbelief. Ratchet wanted him there? The medic that he’d sent Primus knows how many mechs to him, whether offline or barely hanging on, and he wanted Megatron there? No, he was just saying that to make the larger mech feel better. Even still, he found himself hoping it were true.

“Then, would you perhaps teach me how to be a good medic? A medic like you?” His voice was soft and as Ratchet’s helm raised and their optics met, he found himself smiling softly as his spark spun wildly behind his chassis. Up close like this, with a soft blush along his faceplates as his lips shifted into a warm smile of its own, Ratchet was actually pretty handsome.

“I’d be more than happy to teach you, Megatron.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They had decided on his first lesson being in three cycles. That would give Ratchet time to prepare a plan of action for Megatron’s first lesson. Not that he minded, it gave him time to prepare. To find the best spot to have their meeting. He didn’t want to do it in one or the other’s hab for obvious privacy reasons. He didn’t want to do it in the command room or the bridge either. Those areas were for work and, while this was work in a sense, it was also very different from it. That's part of why he decided against the medbay. Knowing Ratchet, he’d get far too caught up in helping patients rather than teaching and spending time with Megatron.

A blush rose to his faceplates as he walked into the observation deck. The first cycle after they’d agreed to do this, he realized he wanted to spend time with Ratchet. He tried to hide it but come today, he was more than happy to admit he wanted to spend some time with the medic. He found it was the only thing he could think about all cycle, and it wasn't just due to the fact that he’d be learning to become a medic, the dream he had long since given up on. No, it had much more to do with the red and white medic himself being there with him.

It had been so long since he’d wanted the company of another and for it to be Ratchet, of all mechs….Well, he wasn't expecting it but honestly, he was happy his spark was choosing this mech of all mechs, to be the one to give him that.

Megatron moved towards the couch, seated towards the center of the room but still had a direct view of the large window. Stars shone through the thick glass, light fluttering against his metal like a small and yet beautiful light show. Checking his internal chronometer, he sat down towards the right side of the couch with a small huff. He still had some time before Ratchet would be free from work. It would give him plenty of time to unwind and relax, especially after having to deal with Rodimus during the morning.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d closed his optics. That he’d fallen into a light recharge. Not until he heard the familiar voice of the medic.

“Megatron, I’m so sorry for taking so long. We had an emergency in the medbay and I had to get the patient stable before I could leave.”

Megatron’s helm turned towards Ratchet, watching as the medic walked towards him, datapads held between his chassis and his arms. He was tired, Megatron could tell. It was evident in his voice. Evident in the way his optics were dimmed and had light bags beneath them. “Don’t apologize for that.” He looked at his chronometer again and noticed it was three joors after they had planned on meeting. 

I suppose my recharge was deeper than I first thought.

“Are you alright to do this today? You look tired. We can reschedule for another cycle.”

“No, no, no. There’s no need for that.” Ratchet hushed him as he moved to sit in the empty spot next to Megatron. He’d thought there would be a good amount of room for the both of them but now with Ratchet there, thigh touching his own, he realized that the couch was a bit smaller than he’d first thought. That or he just took up more room than he’d originally thought he would.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you-”

“I said we’re fine, Megatron.” Ratchet’s voice was harsh, probably harsher than he’d meant because a nanosecond later he sighed and looked at Megatron. A soft smile played on his lips as he set the data pads down in his lap and with his now free servo, he gave Megatron’s thigh a soft little pat before resting it on the metal. “I promise. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t alright to do this.”

Megatron hummed. He knew how much Ratchet pushed himself and he was sure today was no different. He also knew that there was no arguing with the medic. If he said he was okay to do something, that’s how it would be until he was finished.

“Very well. Where will we be starting today?”

Ratchet’s smile only warmed as his attention turned back to the datapads in his lap. He grabbed the one on the top and powered it on, then leaned closer to Megatron’s side as he handed it over to the larger mech.

“We’ll start with the basics, as one should.”

Megatron became lost in Ratchet’s teachings. Both because he was excited to finally be learning these things so he could help instead of hurt, and also because he loved hearing Ratchet’s voice. He found himself asking more questions than probably necessary just to hear the medic talk more but Ratchet didn’t seem to mind. No. Instead, he seemed to be genuinely happy that Megatron was asking questions.

It had become lost on him that, with each passing klik, Ratchet had become more tired. That the medic had begun to lean against his frame more. That, at some point, Ratchet had stopped talking and Megatron was left silently reading the datapad currently in servo to himself.

He vented, shuttering his optics as his attention turned towards Ratchet. The medic was relaxed and leaning completely on him. Datapads were currently in danger of hanging off of his lap but that seemed to go unnoticed as the medic’s optics were closed. His chassis rose and fell evenly as he vented. He had fallen asleep.

Megaton laughed softly, collecting the datapads the best he could without stirring Ratchet and setting them aside. He knew the medic was tired but even still, he wasn’t completely expecting the mech to fall into recharge against him on the couch.

At first, he was thinking of waking Ratchet up and ending their session, turning the medic to go back to his hab and get some rest but soon after, he thought better. He really didn’t want to wake Ratchet up. The medic needed as much rest as he could get but then, what could he do?

As he thought, he felt Ratchet pressing harder against him, incoherently mumbling something beneath his breath. He found himself wondering what it was the medic was saying. Was it about him? No, it was more likely that it had to do with work and the medbay. Though, he couldn't help but hope that the medics' thoughts had settled on him.

Shaking his helm gently, he cleared those thoughts from his processor the best he could as his arm shifted carefully so as to not wake Ratchet. “I suppose it’s time for both of us to get some rest.” His arm snaked itself between Ratchet's back and the couch, around his waist, and pulled him close. The larger mech’s engine gave a soft rumble that steadily climbed in volume, which he had to force down as Ratchet’s arm hooked around the front of his own waist as the medic cuddled closer, pressing his face against Megatron’s chassis.

“Sleep well, Ratchet.”

Closing his optics, Megatron vented softly and found himself hoping that Ratchet wouldn’t be upset when he awoke to find Megatron holding him close.