Work Text:
Ratchet could swear his yoga instructor was teasing him.
“That’s good, Ratchet,” the mech in question praised. “Breathe in, breathe out. Loosen your shoulders more, and stop bending your knees so much.”
Ratchet groaned internally as Drift stepped close, stiffening when he felt hands on his shoulders gently adjusting his position. The hands then fell lower, almost caressing the thick wiring on his upper arms, and Ratchet had to manually shut off his fans before he exposed himself. Luckily, Drift stepped back soon after, and those hands slipped off.
“That’s better,” Drift said, sounding satisfied. “Keep at it. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks,” Ratchet managed.
When the mech finally left to help someone else, Ratchet took a deep sigh of relief before mentally admonishing himself. That was close. Too close. Safe to say, this little excursion was not going as planned.
When Ratchet confided in Orion the past day about his recent struggles with focusing, he hadn’t been expecting the archivist to suggest yoga of all things. He’d initially written it off, but after some insistent needling, given in.
He was quickly regretting that decision.
Orion had directed him to a small little studio located in a residential district, just a short drive from the hospital he worked at. It was homely, with alien plants littered about, scented candles placed all over blending into an interesting scent, and motivational posters decorating the walls–one read Keep Calm and Stretch On. Cheesy, but cozy. Ratchet had expected the instructor to be much the same, perhaps a cheerful minibot or such.
He was dead wrong.
“Okay, everyone!” Drift called out, snapping him back to attention. The speedster frame walked up to the front, and Ratchet couldn’t help but stare at the slight sway of his hips as he did so. As Drift began to explain another pose, his optics then travelled to the rest of his body—raking over those absurdly thick thighs, trailing over his aft, and finally, resting on that slender waist.
It was only when Drift shot him an amused look that Ratchet finally realized what he was doing. Cheeks burning, he hurriedly replicated the pose, wincing when his frame emitted a worrying creak.
Ratchet cursed himself. Therein laid the problem: when he walked into the studio, he hadn’t been expecting a borderline supermodel to greet him. Now, the thing that was supposed to help him focus was doing the complete opposite. How was he supposed to do yoga while the most gorgeous mech he’d ever seen was stretching and bending right in front of his optics?
Not very well at all, it seemed. Especially when Drift just kept coming near and touching him, on his arms, sides and legs, all the while correcting his form. It was torture, through and through.
But somehow, somehow, Ratchet managed to get through the rest of the class without embarrassing himself. Mostly.
“Okay, everyone!” Drift clapped his hands from his position at the front, drawing everyone’s attention. “That’s it for today. You all did great! Remember to drink lots of energon when you get home, and to stretch before recharge. Bye now!”
As everyone began to file out, Ratchet let out a sigh. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten this worked up at a yoga class of all things. He really needed to solve this issue of his, and fast. There was no way he could go back to the hospital if he was acting like this.
Ratchet started for the exit, already planning on how he would lie to Orion about his experience here. But before he could leave, a hand tapped on his shoulder.
“Sorry to bother you… Ratchet, was it?” Drift was smiling, completely oblivious to the spark attack he nearly caused.
“Yeah,” Ratchet replied, hoping his voice sounded steady. Slag, was Drift going to call him out for his staring earlier?
“I wanted to ask you how your experience was. This is your first time doing yoga, right? How was it?”
Ratchet almost sagged from relief. “Harder than I thought,” he admitted. For different reasons than one would expect, though he’d never say that out loud.
Drift nodded. “I figured. Yoga’s pretty different from other physical activities, isn’t it? Balance is the key, rather than strength. You weren’t doing too bad, though.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ratchet snorted. “You were always coming over to fix my posture.”
Drift chuckled, cocking his hip and resting a hand on it. Ratchet kept his head straight, refusing to look down.
“That’s alright. You’re a beginner, nobody’s perfect on their first try. You did your best, and that’s all that matters.”
Ratchet rolled his optics. “No need to spout cheesy lines at me.”
“They’re not cheesy.” Drift pouted, and slag if he didn’t look adorable. Ratchet coughed into his elbow, trying to compose himself.
“But anyhow, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else as well,” Drift continued. “If I’m correct, you’ve been having trouble with focusing lately, haven’t you?”
Ratchet’s optics widened. “How did you…?”
He smiled. “Your friend Orion told me.”
“Of course he did.” Ratchet groaned. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. That kid can never keep his mouth shut. What else has he told you?”
“Not much. He told me you’re a doctor at Iacon General, you secretly like sweets, and that you’re a grouchy workaholic who seems content with working himself to death.”
Ratchet shrugged. “That’s actually not as bad as I thought.”
Drift tilted his head, amused. “Seems like a wonderful friendship, you two have. But moving on. Obviously, yoga didn’t do the trick for your issues. I might have an idea, though. First, can you explain your problem to me in more detail? What exactly do you mean when you say you have trouble focusing?”
Ratchet blinked, suddenly feeling a tinge of shame, and then annoyance. He signed up for yoga, not to vent about his personal issues to some stranger! Drift seemed sincere in his desire to help, though, so he figured he’d go along with it.
“Well...” he rubbed his chin as he sorted out his thoughts. “It isn’t really that complex. Normally, I’m able to completely concentrate on my work. Give me a stack of datawork, and I’ll have it done in a couple hours, no distractions. Whenever I have free time, I always use it to plan out the future, setting appointments, surgeries, meetings, all that sort. But now I can’t. I was never an active mech by any means, but lately I’ve had this... energy inside me that I just can’t seem to release. I can barely sit still at work.”
Ratchet sighed. “I’ve tried everything–exercising, going on longer drives, fueling less, and now yoga, but nothing’s worked. I’ve even run tests on myself and gotten another doctor’s opinion, but everything’s come back clean.”
“Wow,” Drift said. “First of all, you really are a workaholic.”
Ratchet glared.
“Secondly, I think I know what to do. A few of my friends have had the same issue in the past, and I heard they were all solved by some simple solutions.”
“Really?” Ratchet perked up. Maybe this trip would be a success after all.
“Yup. Have you ever tried meditation before?”
“Meditation? I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
“Why not? Can’t knock it till you try it.”
“Considering my whole problem revolves around my inability to focus, I think I’m pretty justified in thinking that.”
Drift nodded. “Fair enough. But you should still try it out, at least. Maybe you just need someone to guide you.” The speedster winked exaggeratedly.
Ratchet crossed his arms. “I don’t know...”
“Come on. It’s easy, seriously. I’ll teach you.” Drift stepped away, beckoning him back to the studio area. There, he pulled out two mats and set them on the ground. Sitting on one of them, he patted the other with his hand. “Sit.”
Sighing, Ratchet obeyed. What harm could it do? It’s not like he had anything else planned for the day.
“Alright,” Drift said as Ratchet walked over and sat down. “Let’s get started.”
They were facing each other now, and Ratchet watched as Drift crossed his legs, placing both hands on top of his knees with his palms facing upwards, and held his index fingers and thumbs together. “First, you need to find a comfortable position to sit in. You can copy my pose, or find one that suits your own.”
After a moment, Ratchet decided on a basic cross-legged position, letting his hands rest in his lap. “Done.”
“Good. Now, close your optics.”
As the inky blackness filled his vision, the sounds around Ratchet seemed to amplify. He became distinctly aware of every noise, from the loud whirring of the ceiling fans above, to the quiet ticking of the nearby clock, to the muted roaring of engines outside. He took a deep breath, willing his mind to be still, but his processor just wouldn’t listen to him. He shifted uncomfortably, and in a desperate move, searched his mind for something, anything, to latch onto. This was a mistake, because the first thing that came to mind was Drift’s aft, and he was forced to frantically shut off his fans once again before the speedster noticed. Thankfully, he didn’t.
“Now,” Drift continued. “I want you to relax. Take a deep breath, and every time you exhale, I want you to loosen up a part of your frame. Try to feel the tension in each strut and each wire, and then release it. Over and over again, until there’s no more. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Ratchet said, a little strained. At least now he would have a task to concentrate on, simple and easy enough that he shouldn’t get distracted. Taking a deep breath, he began the process, gradually attempting to relax his whole frame. First the shoulders, then his torso, and then his legs. Beside him, Drift seemed to be doing the same. The other mech’s breathing was calming, and Ratchet used that as his focal point.
A short while later, Drift spoke up again. “Have you finished?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good! You’ve pretty much got the gist of meditation now.”
Ratchet opened his optics, feeling a pang of confusion. “That was it?” He barely felt any different!
“Yep!” Drift affirmed proudly. “Told you it was easy. At its core, meditation is a method to clear your mind, and break away from the stresses of daily life. It’s typically achieved by focusing on one singular thing, in this case breathing, and keeping your attention on that the entire time. It’s okay if your mind wanders occasionally, just calmly redirect it back to your breathing.”
Ratchet’s mind didn’t feel cleared at all. Maybe he was just doing it wrong. “I think I’ll try again,” he said. “Do you mind?”
Drift shook his head. “Of course not. It might be a bit difficult to grasp at first, but you’ll get it in no time.”
Primus, Ratchet hoped that was true. Breathing in, he attempted to meditate again.
After five grueling minutes, he gave up.
“This isn’t working,” he groaned, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m doing it right, I’m sure, but I don’t feel any difference.”
“That’s a shame,” Drift said. “I was really hoping it’d work. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” Ratchet responded, looking back down. “I appreciate you trying to help, but- oh, slag!”
Recoiling back, Ratchet blinked rapidly, trying to process the sight before him. Instead of meditating along like he assumed Drift was doing, the speedster was now much closer to Ratchet, his back turned towards him and his legs spread stupidly wide in a side split that would’ve had professional gymnasts jealous. His godly thighs and aft were on full display, further accentuated by the speedster leaning forward on his hands. A lesser bot would have begun drooling at the sight. Ratchet was very nearly a lesser bot.
“Hm? But what?” Drift prompted, turning his head back. When he caught Ratchet looking, he smirked. “Ah. I just thought I’d get some stretches in while you did your thing. Is there a problem?”
Ratchet’s face burned, and he rapidly called upon every ounce of self-control he had to prevent himself from saying something stupid. “No, of course not,” he denied. He winced at the several overheat warnings his frame was currently blasting him with.
“Well, there must be something wrong, because your face is all flushed,” Drift pointed out innocently, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
“Pardon me for not expecting a five star view of your aft when I opened my optics!”
Drift laughed. “I noticed you were staring at me quite often during class,” he said. “So, I figured I’d give you a closer view. What’s wrong with that?”
Ratchet sputtered. “That- I- Are you flirting with me right now?”
“Uh-huh,” Drift confirmed, spinning on his rear to face Ratchet. There was a sly grin on his pretty face. “I thought it was obvious from the way I was touching you earlier. I’m hurt, honestly. I thought we had a thing!”
“A thing? I was too busy trying not to seem like a creep!”
“...Fair enough. You know, I actually don’t mind when people check me out. I’m hot as slag, and I know it. But it is a bonus when my admirer is also extremely attractive.”
Ratchet covered his face so Drift wouldn’t see the embarrassing expression he was probably making. “So, was this your plan all along? Try to seduce me using some weird meditation method?”
“No, no!” Drift exclaimed. “Like I said, I really did hope it would work. But if you recall, there was more than one solution that worked for my friends.”
“What?” Ratchet asked, confused. Then suddenly, all the pieces slowly began falling into place. “Oh. You think... that will solve my problem?”
“I noticed the symptoms you described were really similar to something my friend Hot Rod had once,” he explained. “ Excess charge. Some of the side effects are lack of focus and too much energy. And it just so happens one way to solve that problem is through a nice, long interface session.”
Ratchet rubbed his chin. “Huh,” he muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Glad I could be of service,” Drift said, leaning in. “Now, how about we go and solve this issue of yours, once and for all?”
Ratchet’s fans finally clicked on.
The next day, Ratchet felt much more refreshed. He ignored the smug face Orion made.