Chapter Text
It had been a while since Drift and Rodimus had seen each other—despite all those promises to keep in touch. Drift could guess they had both been busy, but he had long since stopped lying to himself. Not anymore, and never again.
He couldn’t speak for Rodimus, but for himself, the bright mech—despite holding utter significance in the course of his life—had been a painful reminder of bygone days. Only when Drift was sure he wouldn't be projecting old grudges and disappointments onto the ex-captain was he able to show up in his life with an easy spark.
It was selfish, in a way. It was clear that Rodimus wasn’t doing well—his drinking had worsened, he looked scuffed and worn, and he was serving under someone he clearly had no respect for. His entire presence seemed to be begging for companionship. But Drift hadn’t been ready to give it. If there was one thing time with Ratchet had taught him, it was to put himself first—to choose himself first.
Finding Rodimus’ current location had been more difficult than expected. He was living outside the city, which was unusual for him. A small villa, not even a skyscraper, with some kind of garden? It looked well cared for, dotted with little trinkets, but Drift could hardly imagine the Rodimus he had known on Lost Light being content in a place like this. What was he doing here? Hiding from the consequences of yet another reckless adventure?
Stranger still, the property wasn’t even registered under Rodimus’ official identification. Something about the way the contract had been forged and stored in the database was suspicious—it had taken a fortune just to track it down.
Of course, it would have been easier to just ping Rodimus directly. But even his frequency had been changed.
With some trepidation, Drift pressed the doorbell, uncertain of what he would find inside. Probably not Rodimus—this didn’t seem like his kind of place at all. Maybe there had been a mistake—
The gate suddenly creaked open, just enough to reveal a small figure peeking out warily from the other side.
Drift’s processor lagged for a moment. A sparkling.
Venting softly, the tiny frame shifted, its plating plump and new. It had the unmistakable youthful glow of a young spark.
"Who are you?" the sparkling asked, its tone cautious. Despite its size, its field held a surprising protectiveness.
Something in Drift’s circuits combusted with overwhelming cute aggression. The sparkling was healthy, its soft plating primarily red with streaks of gray. And that expression on its tiny face—Drift's spark clenched. Something about it reminded him of someone long gone, in a way so sweet and innocent that it nearly knocked him offline.
He softened immediately, suddenly hyper-aware of how he might look—his usual ceremonial swords, the grief markings, his general aura of random creepy mech.
"I—"
"Solflare, how many times have I told you not to open the door to strangers?!"
A familiar voice—frustrated but warm—came from behind the sparkling. Then, a pair of orange servos scooped the sparkling up protectively, pressing them against the chest.
Drift blinked, slowly lifting his gaze.
Orange servos?
His optics traced up, and recognition struck like a bolt of lightning.
Red and orange—colors that had haunted his recharge cycles for so many worns. The shape was familiar, yet altered. The sharp extensions of Rodimus’ spoilers were gone, giving him a sleeker, softer silhouette—probably to ensure the sparkling wouldn’t get hurt when handled. His colors remained, but the flame decals had disappeared. Instead, delicate gold strokes traced the lines of his biolights, leading down to his chest—where the Autobot insignia no longer resided.
Rodimus stared at him, his expression shocked.
"Drift?" he vented, his grip on the sparkling loosening instinctively, because of course—Rodimus knew Drift would never harm them.
The voice was still the same. But it was milder now, changed by time. By whatever had happened here. By being gentle with the sparkling, perhaps.
"Rodimus."
The weight secretly pressing on Drift’s chest lifted, just a little, as he saw the gentle smile brewing on Rodimus’ lips. And in that moment, he had no choice but to smile back.