life made you bitter, i can make you tender
transformers ;; dratchet ;; wc: 1446 ;; TFA dratchet au, around the end of season 2.
back to writing! read it on tumblr!
“Drift’s set to leave soon, isn’t he?”
Prowl was not asking for any malicious reason. Prowl was genuinely just curious. He has this– this processor malfunction, where everything he says sounds kind of blunt and he doesn’t understand how to ask things politely. It still makes Ratchet clench his welder tighter, and it still makes his optics twitch.
“Yes, I suppose he is.”
Prowl nods. “His ship is almost done being repaired. Bulkhead has been helping him with it.”
Ratchet notes that Prowl is trying to talk to him, which is a good thing, because it means Prowl is coming out of that weird cyber-ninja-bubble he’d been in since they met. Ratchet also notes that he really wishes Prowl was talking to someone else about this. Like maybe Optimus. Or Bumblebee. Or a wall. “That’s nice.”
Again, Prowl nods. “It’s going to be quieter without him around. Are you going to miss him?”
At that, the medic turns, and just kind of looks at Prowl for a second, because what is he supposed to say? Yes, I’m actually kinda really disappointed about it? Yes, he’s made this entire experience so much more bearable? Yes, he makes me feel like I still have a purpose, a reason to keep working? Yes, the workload doesn’t matter as long as he’s around? After a moment of silence, all he can think to do is shrug, and say “I’ve gotten used to him.”
Prowl hums, nods a third time, watches Ratchet work for a second, and then leaves. Ratchet heaves a sigh of relief when the medbay doors close behind him.
That night, the official announcement is made; Drift is set to leave three days from now. Ratchet watches from the doors of his medbay as Drift explains to the rest of the crew how thankful he is to have been taken in and given a place to stay. How he appreciates it more than they could ever know, how he’ll never forget this kindness. Sari gives his leg a hug, talks about how it was so totally cool to meet a samurai (or something,) and they all resolve to make the most of the time he has left on Earth.
Ratchet, in the midst of the jeering, returns to his medbay.
He’s keeping himself occupied, for the most part, small work to keep his hands busy. Just trying not to think about it. He is gonna miss Drift, is the thing. He’s gonna miss the extra work. He’s gonna miss his laugh, and his smile, and the way his finials twitch and jerk and poke upright. He’s gonna miss feeling like he has a purpose. He’s gonna miss feeling like he matters. He’s gonna miss how Drift would flash his fangs in a smirk, a remnant of his original Decepticon frame, and how he would say “I’ll be alright, won’t I, docbot?” in a way that made it seem like Drift really thought he could fix anything. He’s gonna miss that.
It’s approximately 3:16 AM when the medbay doors slide open. No one should be awake at this hour. Really, Ratchet also should be recharging right now. Sari has gone off to sleep, certainly, and he suspects that everyone else is in recharge, or patrolling. Probably someone back from patrol. He doesn’t turn around.
“You didn’t come to my little announcement,” Drift says.
Ratchet sighs, sets down his tools. He does not turn around. “I saw. Thought you bots had special training to know when someone’s behind you.”
Drift exvents. “I’d hoped I would get to see you, when I told everyone.”
“Why?” Ratchet asks, “Does it really matter to you? You’re leaving, I get it. I’m aware of that. Isn’t that enough?”
There’s a moment of quiet. “I suppose I just wanted to know how you felt, on the matter.”
Ratchet huffs out an exvent. “Can you guess, now?”
“It’d be easier if you would actually look at me.”
Ratchet grinds his dentae. He does, then, turn fully, looking up at Drift, unable to mask his expression. He can’t imagine how he looks– some combination of frustrated, sad, upset, worried, frustrated, frustrated. “Can you tell now?”
“Ratchet,” Drift says, stepping closer, and it’s then that Ratchet recognizes a few things. One, he’s being petulant. Two, Drift is wearing an expression of something not far from grief. Three, in this low light, he doesn’t look all too different from how he did back then.
“I’m not happy about it, Drift. I’m not happy that you’re leaving. Is that what you wanna hear?” Ratchet grits out, “I’m not happy that you get to go back to your heroism, your vigilante justice, and I’m stuck here, doing nothing. I’m not happy that I thought you were dead for a few million years and now you’re gonna go and I’m gonna think you’re dead again. I’m not happy that you’ve made yourself such an active presence in my life only to leave it again. You wanna know how I feel on the matter? I feel–” and he stops there, cutting himself off.
He didn’t really mean to say all that. It all came out in a rush, all at once, and it’s only now that he realizes just how much he let out.
“You’re unhappy,” Drift finishes for him.
He exvents. “Yes, Drift, I’m unhappy.”
Drift approaches him, and leans down, onto his knees, so that he’s optic-level with the medic. “You could come with me,” he says, voice gentle, and Ratchet can’t help but scoff.
“I could come with you?”
“You could. You don’t need to stay here,” Drift tells him. “You said yourself that you aren’t doing anything here. And I– I see it, Ratch, you aren’t respected here. Your skills aren’t valued or put to use here like they could be elsewhere.” By elsewhere, he definitely means with him. Ratchet chooses not to point that out. “You could come with me. We could help people, together.”
Ratchet’s hands shake. They’ve been glitching, recently. Right now, he isn’t certain if it’s the glitching or the anxiety. “Be serious, Drift, would you want that? I’ve got one pede in the scrapheap already. I’d be dead weight on your ship.”
“Don’t say that,” Drift says, firm, “don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Because you care so much.”
“I do care so much!” Drift shouts, then, definitely a bit loud for how late into the night it is. “Ratchet, I’m not leaving because I don’t care about you. I’m leaving because there’s more to the universe than Cybertron and Earth. I’m leaving because I want to help, anywhere I can. And I want you to come with me because I care about you.” He pauses, and takes hold of one of Ratchet’s servos. “I’ve always cared about you.”
Ratchet looks down. “Even…”
“Especially,” Drift finishes for him, smiling softly. “You saved my life. I’ve never forgotten that. I never will forget that. You’re– I, very literally, would not be here without you. You showed me a level of respect I never got from any other Autobot. You didn’t care if I was a ‘con. You saved me anyway.” In this dark light, the pink that dusts his face is immediately visible. “Of course I fell in love.”
Ratchet stalls. Love. Love? “Is that what it is?” He asks, before even realizing he’s done so out loud.
“It is,” Drift tells him, leaning a bit closer. Drift is inches away from him. “I love you.”
“I–” Ratchet hesitates. He’d never even considered that word to describe it before, but now that he is considering it, it makes complete sense. Of course it’s love. What else could possibly describe it? “I love you too.”
Drift runs his thumb over the joints on Ratchet’s servo. “My offer–” he starts, “you don’t need to answer right now. I’m still not going for a few days. But I want you to at least consider it, if nothing else.”
“I will,” Ratchet tells him, resetting his vocals. They’re still so close together. There’s a slight heat radiating from Drift’s plating– not too intense, but enough to tell Ratchet that yes, he does also recognize that this is very close. “Drift–”
“I can go, if you’d like me to,” Drift starts, and Ratchet damn near smacks him in the head.
“That’s not it at all,” the medic grumbles. “I– will you– can we. Can we–”
Drift chuckles lightly, and a servo carefully, slowly, softly, with claws that don’t scratch, moves to cup the back of Ratchet’s helm. “Yes,” Drift lets out, voice quiet and soft. “Yes, we can.”
Ratchet wraps an arm around Drift’s neck, and melts into it.