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Ratchet flinched away from him when Drift dropped down onto the couch next to him and Drift’s smile fell off his face and his shoulders slumped. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m having trouble reconciling what happened out there today with the mech I was getting to know,” Ratchet replied.
“Oh. I really wish you hadn’t seen that. I don’t… that’s not…” Drift floundered for words until Ratchet reached out and grabbed his hands.
“Hey, we’re all soldiers, even if we shouldn’t be. My internal freakout isn’t about that.” Ratchet squeezed Drift’s hands until the white mech met his optics. “I don’t think less of you, or anything else you might be worrying about. I just have to fit this new information about you into my processor, even though it contradicts everything else I've seen so far.”
“You flinched, Ratch, like you thought I was gonna hurt you.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything just then, actually. I just reacted. It happens sometimes, after a tense battle or a bad day in medbay. I’ve done the same thing to Optimus, Ironhide and Jazz.” Ratchet looked away now, and that made Drift’s spark squeeze with hurt. He hadn’t ever wanted Ratchet to feel like he wasn’t safe around him. “It’s not about any of you, it’s about me. I had a patient turn on me, early in the war.”
“Oh.” Drift pulled his hands out of Ratchet’s grip so that he could pull the medic into a hug. “I still wish you hadn’t seen it, but I think I understand now.”