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Drift had just arrived back at their shared hab suite, keying in the access code and walking through the door with his arms stretched above his helm as he let out a long, drawn-out yawn into the dimly-lit room. The cleanser that welled up in Drift's optics as a result of his yawn made everything look out of focus and silly. He made his way over to a blurry blob of red and white that was sitting in front of a blurry table of blurry machine parts, so Drift wiped his optics with his hands as he appeared at Ratchet's side. The medic seemed to be more or less focused on fixing the calibration on a tool that was sitting in front of him, but that didn't mean he didn't take time to acknowledge Drift's presence. He turned his helm around and up to smile tiredly, but sweetly.
"Hey, Drift," he nearly whispered, or maybe Drift was just so tired that he was having trouble focusing?
"Hullo."
Ratchet snorted and went back to his work, but before he could, he pointed to a little tool that sat across the table from them. "Could you pass me that spanner before you go anywhere?"
Drift circled the little table and stood opposite of Ratchet now. His hand was still outstretched from where he was waiting for the spanner to be placed into it. The speedster knew what he must do.
He bent over and dropped his face down into Ratchet's waiting hand.
"Drift, what...?" Ratchet trailed off. Drift just sighed. A little huff of air.
After about five seconds, Ratchet's thumb started stroking lovingly along the soft plating of his cheeks. After fifteen, Ratchet pushed Drift's face upwards and got his hand under his chin, grasping it with gentle pressure. Drift looked at him for a minute before they both broke out in silly grins for absolutely no reason. Since Ratchet's fingers were still wrapped around Drift's face, the poor speedster's cheeks were squished against those fingers as he smiled and he was very sure he looked absolutely ridiculous if the way Ratchet started giggling away was any indication.
"Drift, the spanner." Ratchet shook his head fondly, and Drift was not really too concerned about it at this point.
Drift started making a sleepy-sounding "aaaaaaaah" noise to pretend to drive Ratchet away, but then Ratchet shook his face back and forth with his hand, and all that came out of Drift's mouth was a skewed version of the first sound. "Awawawawa... Watchet, shtawawap," he drawled, making no movements to pull away.
Ratchet was really laughing now, snickering at his squished face and silly noises, and Drift couldn't help but giggle along with him as Ratchet finally released his jaw, instead pulling him in by the sides of his helm and pressing humming little kisses to those blushing cheeks. Drift squealed and squirmed but Ratchet held him in a grip that he felt no desire to escape from, so he had no choice but to (gladly) let Ratchet keep up his little game. Besides, far be it from Drift to stop Ratchet if he was feeling playful tonight.
And speaking of playful, Drift suddenly felt his helm being turned to the side as Ratchet drew in a breath and blew it hard right against Drift's cheek vents, a funny little thing that Ratchet has done a few times before. He remembered Ratchet telling him that humans called it a "raspberry." Drift thrashed his head while both of them laughed away in the dim light of the hab suite, Ratchet's hold eventually loosening but never quite leaving.
Drift put his own hands over Ratchet's on his cheeks and they spent a few quiet moments just admiring each other's faces in this newfound silence between them.
Then Ratchet leaned in.
Optics shuttering on reflex, Drift fully expected Ratchet to kiss him. When that didn't come, Drift peeked over at him.
Tink.
Ratchet had just done something as simple as bonked their helms together and yet he looked into Drift's optics, his own optics twinkling with the wondrous innocence that he feels like the medic had been robbed of after so many years of painful war and suffering. Ratchet looked at him with the level of excitement as though he'd just made a conjunx declaration, and he was hoping that Drift would say yes.
He hadn't asked, of course. But oh, if he had, Drift would've said yes. He'd always say yes to Ratchet. Optics that bright, that precious, that affectionate... it made Drift weak in the knees. He wasn't too rushed to have it happen, however. He'd bonk helms and shake heads every night for the rest of his life so long as Ratchet just never left him.
Honestly, though, it didn't look like the medic had any intention of going any time soon.
Perfect.
Drift had taken Ratchet's hand and had stood up, guiding Ratchet up with him by a gentle tug on those sensitive fingers, and there they stood, Ratchet leaning back against the edge of the table and Drift pressed up against his body from waist to shoulder. They were smiling, just gazing at each other. That pretty medic held Drift's waist and squeezed.
"You didn't get me the spanner," Ratchet noted with a snicker.
"Are you still hung up on that?"
"You just never listen."
"I listen when it counts," Drift countered, curling his arms around his lover's neck and flashing him a cheeky grin. His field was playfully brushing against Ratchet's, making him hum thoughtfully. He had sort of a dreamy look in those deep blue optics of his, and quite honestly, it was making Drift a little bit giddy. Ratchet didn't often express very much emotion, couldn't express very much emotion... but that glimmer of wonder in his softly-focused optics- optics that were trained on him, no less- made Drift feel safe and loved and absolutely blissful.
"Like... when I tell you how much I love you?" Ratchet had pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the table, hooking his heels across the back of Drift's thighs to pull him in between his thighs. Drift went willingly, even pushing a little bit closer. The speedster had crowded Ratchet so much that he'd pushed them over so that they were laying down on the table, before Drift had planted his hands on the hard surface beside Ratchet's head. Ratchet had lifted his own hands to hold onto Drift's wrists, holding him in a very gentle grip while he stroked along the white plating of his forearms. Occasionally, he'd slip his fingers into the wheel wells by his elbows, causing the speedster to let out shuddering breaths.
"Times like those... times like these... I've never been so focused on one person in my entire life. I love you way too damn much." Drift felt like his spark casing was tightening, as if the spark itself was expanding with how much love he had for Ratchet. He certainly felt it as if it were that way. And oh, with the way Ratchet was gazing up at him, a small smile spreading across those lips, optics wide and with the same sparkling-like wonder that made him look so, so much younger, Drift was... Drift was...
Drift was happy. Happy to be here with him and just as happy never to do anything else ever, as long as him and Ratchet never got split up again. The future looked pretty promising now, whatever it may entail, but he was sure that him and Ratchet would get through it as a team. Drift smirked at his medic's sparkling optics, and couldn't resist the urge to rub the tips of their noses together while Ratchet was laid out so gorgeously on the table like that.
Ratchet snickered at the ticklish sensation and those pretty optics closed into glowing crescents as he displayed a full-on grin, something already too rare in his life, if you asked Drift. The fact that he was the one who brought this beautiful mech that much joy and comfort to express himself made Drift legitimately proud of himself, so he didn't even bother trying to hide his own silly smile even as their lips met in a lazy kiss. Ratchet slid his hands up Drift's arms, across his shoulders and then ended up being cupped around the speedster's jawline, holding him just how he wanted him while his glossa played at those parted lips.
When they finally, reluctantly parted for air after several minutes, Ratchet was still grinning wider than Drift had ever seen. "What?" Drift asked, equal parts curious and amused. He didn't know what put that look on his lover's face, but whatever it was, he hoped it never stopped. Ratchet deserves every good thing in existence and Drift would fight the universe itself to get it for him.
"Just... happy," Ratchet replied hesitantly, as if the words just happy and Ratchet didn't belong in a sentence together. Drift snorted at the expression he made. Confusion and adoration all wrapped up in a perfect blue glow and a stunning smile. "Very happy."
Drift's spark sang at his words. He leaned down, nuzzling Ratchet's cheek and planting sweet little kisses around his faceplates as he gathered his medic's helm in his hands, tilting it around to expose more of his throat. He kissed and licked his way down the column of Ratchet's throat, appreciative moans escaping his vocalizer when he bit down lightly.
"I'm glad. Let me make it worth your while, then."
He didn't even try to ignore the rev in Ratchet's engine, nor the spike of arousal and love and excitement in his field as they made love for the rest of the night just by staring into each other's optics.