losing my destination in my present location
transformers ;; dratchet ;; wc: 1761 ;; TFA dratchet au, around the middle of season 2.
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Hiding in a storage closet was not ideal, but it was almost better than dealing with the Elite Guard.
“I know they’re annoying,” Ratchet huffed, “just play nice for now, okay? The more you play nice the sooner you can get out of here.”
Drift leaned back against the medical berth, tsk-ing. “I can play nice. I know how to play nice. I just very seriously hate all of them and would like to never ever speak to or associate with any of them ever again.”
“Open,” Ratchet commanded, tapping a panel on the swordsmech’s side, and a second later it snapped back. “I thought you got all light of the allspark, but you’re still throwing around the word hate. Ain’t that a bit of a strong word for a mech like you?”
“Shut up,” Drift groans, and twitches as he feels his internals moving, feeling the sparks from the welder jump out between him and Ratchet. “Recognizing The Allspark as powerful and as the source of Cybertronian life doesn’t mean I’m incapable of hating people.”
“No, just means that you’re full of scrap.” Ratchet tugged at one of Drift’s wires gently, causing the speedster to jump.
“Will you stop?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“Stop doing your job.”
“Gladly.” He said that, but continued poking and prodding with his tools. “Anyway. Who knows, maybe the allspark will spontaneously offline Sentinel one day, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“I don’t think it can do that.”
“Seems like it can do whatever it wants,” the medic replied gruffly, backing away from Drift. “Close that side, open the other one.”
Drift did as instructed, and Ratchet made his way to the other side of the medical berth. “I don’t necessarily want Sentinel– or any of the guard, really– to offline. I don’t care if they do, but I’m not praying for it.” He grit his dentae as the poking and prodding resumed. “I don’t even really care that he’s so high-up in the Autobots. Your entire command structure was doomed the minute you put Ultra Magnus in charge.”
Ratchet barked a laugh. “Kid, Ultra Magnus has been in charge since before either of us were constructed.”
“My point still stands!” Drift gesticulated with one servo as he spoke. “Maybe if someone more competent was in charge, the war could’ve been avoided in the first place.”
“Someone like Megatron?” Ratchet asked, a look of bafflement on his faceplates.
“Not necessarily!” Drift continued, still gesticulating. “Clearly I don’t really believe in his cause anymore, or I wouldn’t be here right now. Just– someone more competent than Magnus. It’s not a high bar. The bar is in the pits.”
“Close that one. Open your chest plating.”
Drift did so, and Ratchet leaned over him, closer. “The war could’ve been completely avoided. You have to see that. You have to see that the acting Magnus is a moron.” Drift tilted his helm slightly, looking at the medic. “Wouldn’t you have wanted something different? Wouldn’t you have rathered if it didn’t happen?” He paused. “Things could have been different for both of us.”
Ratchet stared down at his internals, careful around his spark casing. “I’m not sure where I’d be if I wasn’t fixing wounds all day, to be honest.”
Drift leaned his helm back, staring up at the ceiling. “Doing something more worth your time, that doesn’t make you wanna rip your own plating off. Maybe even having fun for once.”
Ratchet glared at him, and pinched two wires together.
“Ow! Careful!”
“Did you just tell a medic to be careful?” Another pinch.
“Ratchet!”
“You deserve that.”
Drift huffed. “My point is that I hate the entire Elite Guard and I think they’re all idiots and I would like to no longer work with them ever again please.”
Ratchet chuckled, lifting up and away from the swordsmech. “Hopefully they’ll get off your case soon enough. You can close up, you’re all good to go.” The panel snapped shut, and Drift sat up in the berth. Ratchet moved to put away the tools he’d been using. “I’m sure you’re desperate to get off this planet. Get back to your vigilantism.”
“I don’t hate everything here,” Drift elaborated, resetting his vocalizer. “I like talking to you.”
Ratchet paused for a moment before returning to his action. “Maybe you should lay back down, actually, I should check your optics. And your processor.”
Drift exvented the smallest laugh. “Really, I mean it.” He paused. “Not everything is bad here.”
“Just the Elite Guard.”
“They’re bad everywhere.”
Ratchet smiled the smallest bit. “Of course.”