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“Ratchet…”
“Kid, if you tell me I told you so there's going to be a wrench lodged somewhere in your frame that doesn't have a name yet. They'll name it after you, the afthole.”
“Pretty sure that's already a thing, Ratch.”
“I'm sorry, are you a doctor? Are these your degrees hung on the walls?” Ratchet flung his servo outward, gesturing clumsily to what he's pretty sure is the wall of their habsuite. By the Pits, his processor aches. So do his struts, and his hands, and his optics, and… y’know what? Just rip the glossary out of one of his medical books and file it under “hurts”.
It's been a long time since the CMO got sick, but the runaway virus that's been working its way through the crew has finally wormed its way past his own considerable firewalls, leaving him a miserable, overheating mess sprawled across their berth. He's still too stubborn to admit it, but he's glad Drift talked him into upgrading it, the soft padding offering wonderful support in all the spots he needs it.
His conjunx simply petted his helm, pressing a gentle kiss to the chevron as he tucked a cooling blanket more snugly around his frame. “No, Ratch, those’re yours.”
“Hmph. Good. And don't you forget it.” Ratchet grouched, sighing and shuttering his optics with relief as the blanket soothed his overtaxed systems. He hated how irritable he became when sick, but right now he was nearing the point where he'd calm down and let himself be taken care of for once. He grumbled one last time before onlining his optics, their usual bright blue dimmed and slightly more teal than usual; a quirk of the virus, it had been the first sign of his incoming ordeal.
Drift smiled at him, a smile that says all sorts of things that Ratchet has long since learned to recognize; it says I love you, I'm worried about you, and I'm not going anywhere until you're better. Primus, he loves that smile. “Feeling better?”
Ratchet let out a sigh through his vents before he nodded; he'd made enough of an aft of himself to make up for all of the sappy, clingy behavior he was about to start, and he was loathe to make his conjunx wait any longer to indulge him.
It wasn't often that Ratchet allowed himself to relax the way Drift wanted him to, and Drift was most certainly not going to waste the opportunity. He got to work, his finely tuned engine rumbling happily as he made sure Ratchet had everything he needed and then some, placing cubes of medigrade and sparkling coolant within reach and producing a packet of Ratchet's favorite energon goodies. He dotingly fed a few to his conjunx before placing the bag next to the rest of his fuel and climbed onto the berth, rearranging Ratchet's frame with practiced ease until he was completely cradled in comfort, pillows and rolled up blankets propping him up while still allowing his vents room to cycle air. Ratchet sighed and sank into his nest, offlining his optics as he waited for Drift to snuggle up to his side.
Nearly a breem passed with no purring conjunx against his plating before Ratchet onlined an optic, searching for his lover and finding him staring from his side of the berth. “Well? Anything in particular you're waiting for?”
Drift shook his head sheepishly. “Just… you're already overheating, I don't want to make it worse.”
Ratchet resisted the urge to roll his optics. “C’mere, kid. Doctor's orders.”
“Isn't it against the rules to treat yourself?” Drift teased, slipping close to Ratchet's side and slotting into place like he belonged there; he did belong there, as far as Ratchet was concerned, and he knew that his most loved one shared the sentiment.
“New doctor's orders, don't question the CMO.”
“Yes, sir,” Drift saluted with two fingers, grinning up at him with a mischievous gleam in his optics before he softened, tenderly nuzzling into Ratchet's neck cabling and starting to purr deep in his frame. He reached up, and Ratchet melted into his touch with a content sigh when he resumed petting and stroking his helm. “Love you, Ratty.”
“I know.” Ratchet mumbled, letting his optics offline as he began to sink into recharge. “I love you, too.”