Chapter Text
Orion hates to intervene, not because he doesn't want to, but because Ratchet gonna yell at him all day for doing so.
Even so, he approaches the mound of people surrounding Ratchet like starving animals. Ratchet is about to hit them with her book to get them to let her pass.
"Ratchet!" he shouts. "Finally, I found you." He speaks loudly as he pushes through the crowd.
"Orion," her voice holds a hint of venom; he knows it's tiredness.
"Alpha Trion needed you for something." He reaches for Ratchet's shoulder, and Ratchet sighs.
The crowd moves aside at the sound of the scholar's name.
"Really?" the orange-haired woman questions. "Come on." She's brusque and ends up being the one to pull him away from the crowd.
"Alpha Trion doesn't need me, right?" She says, moving away from the crowd.
"No, but I've stopped you from taking students to the infirmary," he smiles at her.
She grunts and sits down on the nearest bench.
"Everyone's stupid," she complains, ducking her head. "I hate finals week, and I don't even have finals!"
"I know," she sits down next to him. "The library is crazy."
Ratchet rests his head on her shoulder. They both sit still for a long moment, enjoying the silence.
"What are you doing for your birthday?" he asks, smiling.
Ratchet closes her eyes and makes an annoyed noise.
"Get drunk if I have a free shift," she replies tiredly.
"You're not supposed to drink," he replies, looking at her with concern.
"I'm not supposed to get paid so little that I have to work as a helper in this place."
He sighs; he can't argue with that. He knows that the meager payment Ratchet receives is part of the Senate's dirty tricks, due to the girl's constant refusal to become a society lady. What they didn't expect was for Ratchet to decide to work at the university to earn the money she needed. Orion wants to intervene, but knows he can't.
"There's a circus coming around the time," Orion says. "We could go, then get something to eat, and then go to the observatory."
"I want to get drunk, Orion."
"You're not old enough," he retorts.
"But I'm old enough to be a medical advisor to the Prime Idiots." She sees him, lifts her legs onto the bench, bringing her knees to her chest, and snuggles up against him. "I'm tired, Orion, exhausted and wasted; I look old."
"You don't look old," she replies, stroking Ratchet's hair.
"I look old. They think I'm 30!" She leans closer. "I'm 17, damn it!"
"I know," he smiles at her, but she doesn't. "They think the same thing about me. I barely turned twenty and everyone calls me sir, even the seniors."
"Brainless idiots," she decides to step away and then dramatically throws herself on his side. "My ex-classmates tell everyone I can help anyone pass."
"Yeah..."
"I can't help brainless idiots who decide to study during finals week!" She clenches her hands. "I want to choke them and yell at them and give them some serious hits with a rule, the kind that make you unable to sit properly." The last thing is whispered.
"Ratchet..."
"Some hits would help them learn," she complains. "I mean... what the hell am I talking about?" – she loses all her energy and closes her eyes –“ They're idiots, they should study weeks beforehand, everyone knows that.”
He straightens up. Ratchet almost falls, but he catches her, and she looks at him with a grimace. He wants to tell her so many things. He can see that the girl is searching for something to say, an excuse, an attempt to change the subject.
"Did they hit you?" he asks with concern, before she can deny everything.
"Only when I messed up." She agrees, but she doesn't see him.
"Rachet, no one deserves to be hit." He gently holds her face, returning her gaze to his.
"That doesn't happen anymore, don't worry." She takes his hand away and leans against the back of the bench.
"You're a wonderful person. They'd be blind if they called you old or ugly. If I knew they were hitting you, I would have hit them." He smiles at her, but Ratchet doesn't see him.
Rachet doesn't say anything; he just looks at the university courtyard. She bends down and plucks flowers from the side of the bench, peels off the petals, and scoops out the center, the nectar. She offers him the nectar. Orion doesn't know what to do with this new information that explains so many things about his shared childhood with Ratchet, but he knows what to do with his best friend's silences. Accept it and be there.
He takes the nectar, puts it in his mouth, and watches as she does the same.
"The circus sounds like a good idea, but we can go to the museum instead of the observatory."
He smiles and leans into her; she smiles, a little unsure but real.