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Things were not going well for one Rodimus Prime. Okay, not technically Prime, sort of, anymore, whatever, but that didn’t change the fact that things were not going well for him. Made it worse, actually.
He was sitting at the bar at Swerve’s, his third glass of engex in his servos and a frustrated look on his faceplate. It was stupid. It was STUPID! He should not be getting this upset over something so stupid.
It was stupid.
Ratchet and Drift had finally gotten over themselves and gotten together, even if they hadn’t conjunxed yet. It was about time, Rodimus knew half the crew was waiting on it. The betting pool was probably worth as much as the ship itself.
But. The thing. Was.
He may or may not have a tiny crush. On both of them.
It was stupid, but who could blame him! They were always so sweet to him, always including him in whatever they did, always telling him how much they loved him. It wasn’t his fault that they were both so pretty…and caring…and hot…and Primus, he needed to get over himself. There was no way either of them would fall for him, especially now that they had each other.
The worst part was that they hadn’t even made it public. They just started holding servos, going on dates, publicly displaying their affection…Rodimus had even seen Drift tell Ratchet that he loved him, and the medic had just laughed and kissed him! In public! That was insane, he could've never imagined the medic doing that before.
He could’ve never imagined the medic doing that to him. Or Drift doing the same, for that matter. They rarely touched him as it was.
So he sat at Swerve’s, pointedly avoiding the couple’s offer for him to hang out in their hab. It was nothing on them, he just didn’t know how much more he could stand before he did something stupid.
He called for another drink.
…
This was absurd. And Ratchet had seen his fair share of absurd things as a medic during a four million year long war. Still, this managed to be a new level.
Rodimus was distancing himself.
Sure, Rodimus had always been skittish. He didn’t seem to like touch, and he was quick to excuse himself when things got too heated. Ratchet couldn’t count the amount of times he and Drift had been about to ask the speedster if he wanted to stay the night, only for him to quickly excuse himself.
But recently, he always seemed to have an excuse. Oh, Brainstorm needed a test subject for his newest invention! Oh, karaoke night was tonight, and Swerve had begged him to lead it! Oh, he just needed to attend this meeting with Ultra Magnus, even though he always said he’d “rather be shot from the airlock than deal with another rant about captain’s responsibilities.”
And the worst part was that it was a lie. Two joors after he had supposedly gone to the meeting, Drift had headed over to his hab, and reported back that he wasn’t there. Two and a half joors after the meeting, Ratchet had decided to go to Magnus himself and demand some answers.
Of course, he rarely needed to “demand” anything from the ship’s second in command, who was all too happy to explain that the two of them hadn't had a meeting for the last several cycles.
Which meant Rodimus had lied to them to…get out of hanging out? That was ridiculous. It hadn’t even been a particularly good lie, for that matter.
“Last I saw him, he was on his way to Swerve’s. Which, if you could remind him, even off shift, captains are permitted no more than one mechaliter of engex per ton of root-mode weight.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks Magnus. I’ll be sure to.”
…
Drift was worried.
He knew Ratchet was too, even if the medic loathed to show it. Most would assume the feelings radiating off him—both in his expression and field—to be anger, but Drift knew better. He knew worry.
That worry only got worse as they entered Swerve’s, and Drift’s optics automatically locked on a familiar orange and gold plated mech. Specifically, a familiar orange and gold plated mech currently sitting at the bar, back turned towards them. A small crowd of random bots had surrounded him, listening to whatever he had to say while laughing at his antics.
Immediately, Ratchet began to stock towards him like a hunting turbofox, and Drift was close behind. That was, at least, until Rodimus continued whatever rant he had been on, easily loud enough for both of them to hear.
“And then! And then—you won’t believe this—they invite me to their hab for the evening! So I say no way, I’m not a part of this!” Drift saw Ratchet’s optics narrow at Rodimus’ slurred tone, and then felt anger—real anger this time, not worry—bleed into his field as he realized what the captain was talking about.
Until he continued.
“I mean, just look at ‘em! They’re both obviously in love with each other, but they insist on acting like they care about me! Like I’m not just their tacked-on buddy they feel bad about!”
A mech patted Rodimus on the shoulder, and he leaned into it, in a way he never had with Drift or Ratchet. He practically yelled out, “They think I’m pathetic! And they’re right! I’m just a loser of a prime who always messes everything up! They could never love me! Sooner or later I’ll tell them how I feel and mess this up too!”
“What?” Drift couldn’t stop the word from escaping his intake, feeling as though all of the energon in his lines had gone cold. Did Roddy really think that?
Did he really think they didn’t love him?
He saw Ratchet steel himself next to him, but caught a similar flare of alarm from his field.
At his voice, Rodimus spun around in his stool, nearly falling off of it. His field was a mess as the two of them approached, sadness and anger and stress all bundled up. “Oh, look who showed up! You finally come to tell me you're done with me? That I’m a pathetic mess you can’t take care of anymore!?”
Drift was speechless as he stared at Rodimus. The captain was all but swaying in his seat, very obviously drunk, but it was clear to anyone with half a processor that this wasn’t coming out of nowhere.
Ratchet broke the silence, glaring at the small crowd that had gathered. “Everyone mind your business and find something else to do, or so help me I will make you learn why they used to call me the Hatchet, and you won’t like it!” He raised his voice at the end, to ensure that all of the watching bots scattered. Rodimus stared at him, obviously confused, especially when the medic grabbed him by the arm.
“Alright kid, we’re going back to our hab, and you are sleeping this off. And then we are having a conversation.”
Rodimus’ voice turned weak. “But…but I don’t wanna intrude, or…” Whatever nonsense he was about to mumble was interrupted by Ratchet scooping him up and nodding for Drift to follow him out of the bar.
By the time they got back to their room, Rodimus had already fallen into recharge.
…
Rodimus did not wake up in his hab.
Hell, he didn’t even wake up on the floor of the bar.
Instead, he woke up in a much bigger berth. He blinked a couple times, trying to get a feel for where he was. An overflowing desk opposite from him, half covered in datapads…a few crystals hanging from the ceiling…
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Immediately he was moving, practically throwing himself off the berth, before someone grabbed his arm. A very familiar servo, connected to a very familiar Drift. He practically shone in the low light of the hab, those optics that were bluer than Earth skies glowing brightly. He was magical.
Unattainable.
“Rodimus? Are you okay?”
No, he had definitely messed this up, how, exactly, he couldn’t remember. But there was no doubt in his processor that he had.
“Yep! Fine! You know, I think I forgot something at my hab, if you don’t mind—” He was interrupted by Drift’s expression, something…sad? He didn’t get much time to process it before the swordsmech looked over to Rodimus’ other side, and his eyes followed.
Because there sat Ratchet. Because apparently, he had gone for the ruin-two-for-one special. Great.
The medic was sitting up, blinking the recharge from his optics. His plating reminded Rodimus of soil, a little dull but painfully comforting.
“I’m not kidding, I really gotta go, so if you’d just—”
“We didn’t interface last night, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ratchet said matter-of-factly. Getting straight to the point then. Still didn’t explain why he was in their habsuite though.
“Then why am I here?” He asked, neon optics blinking in confusion.
“Because we care about you.” Drift said, with the same tone that Ratchet had used. Like it was a fact of life. “Roddy, we love you.”
“Uh, yeah, I know. Love you guys too.”
Ratchet sighed. Primus, he must have really messed something up. “Kid, listen to me. Last night you were in the bar, spouting all this slag about how you were pathetic and we could never love you. Nonsense like that.”
Oh yeah, that sounded about right. He tended to lose his confidence when he got a bit too much high-grade in his systems.
Still, he had hinted at what he really wanted. And they couldn’t know that. They couldn’t.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I just meant romantically! I know you guys love me!
Drift and Ratchet stared at each other, in a way that typically meant they couldn’t believe whatever absurd plan he had cooked up this time. Ratchet spoke first, turning back to him with a cold expression.
“Rodimus. We do love you romantically.”
What.
“What?”
“Oh Primus.” Drift whispered, optics wide. “You really didn’t know.”
Rodimus had never been so lost for words. And it was rare he didn’t have something to say. Still, he was quick to defend himself. “But you’ve never told me you love me!”
Ratchet sighed. “We didn’t think you were ready yet.”
“But you—I don’t know, you never touch me! You’re super affectionate with each other but you aren’t with me!”
“Primus, Roddy, we thought you didn’t like physical affection! You’re always trying to get out of it!” Drift shot back.
“That’s because if I don’t I’ll do something I’ll regret!” Rodimus snapped, and immediately tried to backpedal, especially with the stern look Ratchet leveled at him.
“Like admitting you love us romantically?”
That stopped him in his tracks.
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, Drift rushed forward, throwing his arms around the captain, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry you thought that! We do love you! We love you so much! We do!”
Meanwhile, Rodimus was frozen, even as Ratchet adjusted his position on the berth to join the hug. They really weren’t lying, were they?
He felt tears prick in his optics as the two pulled back.
“Kid, Drift wasn’t kidding. We love you. As much as we love each other.” Ratchet said, before pulling the other two down. “Come on. I think we all need a proper cuddle after that.”
Rodimus complied, squished between them. There was no place in any universe he’d rather be.
Ratchet interrupted the silence.
“And we’re getting you some visits with Rung. Don’t think I forgot about you saying you were pathetic.”
“Aww…” But in this moment Rodimus didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was the two mechs surrounding him.
“I love you guys too.”
He felt a kiss on his left cheek, then his right.
He didn’t need to imagine any longer.