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Rodimus had led them on another one of his escapades, endangering the integrity of the ship and its crew. As much as Ratchet and the others chided him for his rash decisions, Rodimus still kept making unsound decisions. A hull breach had sucked out a few of the crew members, sending parts of the ship into lock down with sealed doors. It took Perceptor and Brainstorm a few joors to override the codes while external patches were put into place.
Luckily the ejected bots were all recovered and had been released from the medbay with strict instructions to rest in their habs. Ultra Magnus had given Rodimus a stern lecture, the co-captain locking himself into his office for the rest of the cycle. Drift had been called in at one point to check in on him, leaving Ratchet to clean up the medbay while First Aid took a break. The medbay crew was already stretched to their limits as is, the crew had been keeping them busy with mishaps long before the current crisis.
Ratchet stood still in the center of the medbay, hooking his thumbs into his hip plating. He took a long invent, willing his frame to settle. He had finished scrubbing down the berths and restocking the carts, ready for the next catastrophe to strike.
Velocity perked up, giving him a concerned look. “Everything alright Ratch?”
“I’m fine. Just need a moment. It's been a long week is all.”
Shut his optics against the bright lights, his frame felt hot and stuffy. There was no way he had picked up a virus, his firewalls were up to date. Rubbing at his optics he started an internal diagnostic, blinking them open to a distorted blue form of Velocity.
“I think you should sit down Ratchet.”
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” He took one step forward, the room spinning suddenly. Made to reach out to balance himself against a berth, missing it entirely and falling face first to the floor.
Ratchet opened his optics to find Drift smiling softly down at him. His helm was resting against several pillows, he recognized the blue sheer curtain Drift had hung around the side of the berth to give an illusion of privacy. Ratchet grew ever more thankful that Drift insisted on such a thick berth pad and the many sheets he kept piling up.
“So that happened.” Ratchet had to reset his vocalizer, his voice full of static.
The smile faded from Drifts face, his expression going serious. “Ratchet, I need to talk to you. Aid left it up to me to tell you.” He reached for one of Ratchets servos, holding it up lightly against his cheek. “He said you’re suffering from a condition called
O L D, I’m so sorry.”
Ratchet frowned, taking a moment to think the phrase over. Realizing the joke he snarled, pressing Drifts helm away. “Drift you brat!”
“Even worse, he said it’s contagious! I have it too!”
Ratchet shoved harder at Drift, the mech falling on top of his chest in a fit of laughter. “Ugh Drift you’re just as old as I am!”
Drift shifted his position and nuzzled against the side of Ratchets jaw. “Aid said you pushed yourself again. He prescribed a day in berth and lots of pampering, something I intend to follow up on. ”
“Oh, did he now? Good luck following through on that order.”
Drift pulled at Ratchets frame until his helm was resting against his chest plating, holding him tight as he rolled them onto their sides. “Don’t fight me on this one Ratch. Both of us are tired, our good captain wearing us both down.”
He listened to Drifts engine rumble, the heat of his spark warm against his cheek. Deft servos stroked him lightly, soothing over his crest and helm. Ratchet reached up and cupped the side of Drifts helm, feeling light vents against his digits. “A day in berth then, with you. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Sometimes I forget I have you all to myself, no war to come in and separate us.”
“Of course you do. Anytime. You could call me in the middle of the night and I would come tuck you in and kiss you until you finally went back to recharge. Which I know you have been avoiding with extra shifts by the way. Or sneak into the back office in the medbay, trying to keep quiet like some newsparks.”
Ratchet laughed softly, remembering an exact scenario of them being discovered in said back room by First Aid. Drift nuzzled his servo, lips brushing against his digits. “I don’t deserve you Drift, how did I make it so long without you.”
“Shut up old man, we have had this argument before. And you just keep forgetting that I was there beside you the whole time. Just too stubborn to realize there was more between us.”
“Both of us are guilty of that one.”
Drift only hummed his reply and reached up to press Ratchets servo against his lips. Starting at his fifth digit he traced it softly, murmuring into it. “A long time ago you set up a little clinic and saved my sorry aft. A few other bots as well.”
“Ah well, look where he ended up in the long run.”
Drift only smiled slightly and closed his optics, moving to his fourth digit. “Then you went to earth and had a few adventures there. Ended up saving some human lives.”
He sighed and closed his optics, enjoying the tingling sensations in his servo. “What a fiasco that was.”
Drift licked up his middle digit, kissing his way back down to his palm. “You saved Sunstreaker and that boy. Not us meeting again in the middle of an insecticon swarm, who would have figured. What did you call Perceptor?”
“A clown with a gun.” Ratchet huffed against Drifts chest, the memory of the scientist reinventing himself had bothered him at the time. But now Perceptor had grown into his new role, still cold and calculating, but with a side of occasional humor. Fangs gazed slightly against his digit, pulling Ratchet out of his thoughts. “And who pieced the Prime back together?”
“Wheeljack helped, but that was a bitch too.”
Drift playfully tapped his helm at the curse, feeling Ratchet smile against his plating. Nibbled along his pointer digit, focusing on the second knuckle. “And then that whole ordeal with Galvatron, not to mention Delphi. We have to stop meeting like this Ratchet.”
“Oh? Who stabbed themselves with a sword? And then cut off Pharmas hands after begging me to put them out of their misery if the DJD came?”
Fangs pressed lightly against his digit, down into the joint. Ratchet hissed with the pleasure it brought, the pain and tingling sensation mixing together. “Wouldn’t be here chewing on them if I hadn’t cut them off.”
Ratchet opened his optics slightly, looking up to meet Drifts. His frame jerked when his thumb was taken into Drifts mouth, glossa running over it. He sucked lightly, smiling around the digit. “And then we boarded this ship and danced around each other, until one day I had to leave. Thankfully a certain someone came to their senses and came after me.”
Ratchet shifted and pulled Drifts helm closer, kissing him soundly. Their glossas tangled, warm vents ghosting over Ratchets cheeks. “Don’t you dare leave me again Drift. You decide to split I'm going with you.”
Kisses along the side of his jaw and down his neck, Ratchet dropping his helm back to give Drift better access. Glossa laved at his cables, fangs nipping the cabling gently. “Didn’t plan on it Ratch, I think you are stuck with me.”
Drift rolled him onto his front, shifting pillows around so that Ratchet was supported. Slowly got him to raise his hips and widen his knees, another pillow shoved under his abdominal plating so that his weight wasn’t resting on one particular spot. “My pillow princess, how does Ratchet want it?”
Ratchet smiled softly, his cheeks flushing. “I’m an old princess, a tired one. If only there was some handsome prince that could come along and treat me nice?” He sighed when servos rubbed along the back of his neck and down his back and sides, frame relaxing against Drifts touch. Sometimes he liked it rough, Drift folding him and pounding into him until he ached for cycles afterwards.
Today he just wanted to be filled, let his charge crest and slip off into recharge. Knowing Drift would ease him into it, the mech could be just as sweet to him if he asked for it. Shut his optics and felt his frame go lax as servos ran along his aft and panels, the silent questions being responded to with a soft click. Drift palmed his spike lightly, bringing it to full attention. Warm vents ghosted over his valve, glossa lightly running up the slit.
Ratchet arched his back slightly, encouraging Drift. Those slender digits were rubbing along the sides and bottom of his spike, lighting up his nodes as he brushed against them. Drift was lapping at his entrance, glossa going a bit deeper with each pass. Ratchet flushed deeper, pressing his face into the pillow. He could get off easily this way, Drift had brought him to overload this exact way many times. The mech had an oral fixation, particularly when it came to Ratchet. Some nights he would just lick and suck on his valve all night, the medic trembling with the multiple overloads. That look in his blue optics as Ratchet spilled transfluid down his intake, those fangs and glossa were one potent combination.
Ratchet reached down with a servo, brushing against the one resting against his thigh. “Nnn Drift. I want you.” A hard lick against his anterior node, a twisting motion at the head of his spike. Ratchet grabbed onto that servo and tried to pull Drift up, glossa delving deep into his entrance. Such a brat, he knew how to work him up sometimes. “Frag it, give me your spike you idiot.”
Got a hard suck in response, his frame shivering in response. Drift finally pulled away enough to pant against his valve, licking the outside mesh. “But my princess tastes so good.”
“Your princess needs a good spiking so they can take a nap. Doctors orders remember?”
Felt more than heard Drifts chuckle, the sound of his own panel retracting. A few digits slid up through his valve and collected the lubricant leaking down, a slick sound as Drift prepped himself. Ratchet mumbled into the pillow when his servo was free, pulling it up to wrap around the pillow under his helm. Felt the frame behind him shift, a digit spreading him open and a warm spike rubbing against him. Ratchet could picture Drift staring, he had a tendency to watch, especially when Ratchet spiked him. Pressed back slightly, forcing that spike head into his entrance.
“Thought you wanted me to be nice?”
He only mumbled again into the pillow, that spike slowly inching its way in. Ratchet didn’t mind the slight burn of stretch, there was a digit rubbing at his anterior node to distract him. His knees slid wider and his weight was pressed down onto the pillow below, trapping his spike against it. Drift snickered above him again, pressing that last few inches until his plating was firm against Ratchets. Resting a servo on the small of Ratchets back he began thrusting shallowly, working his calipers open. His answer was the sound of Ratchets fans clicking on, moans muffled in the pillow.
Drift leaned forward slightly, spike head brushing up against a cluster of nodes that he knew Ratchet would enjoy. He felt the frame below him shudder and those calipers squeeze down, knowing he had struck true. Closed his optics and targeted that spot, striking it repeatedly. He could hear Ratchet crying out into the pillow, noises he reserved just for Drift. Switched his touch against the anterior node to Ratchets spike, palming the head and rubbing at the node just below it. Feeling the change in Ratchets frame he slowed down, letting the charge cool before ramping his pace back up again. Repeated it several times, Ratchet stretching out beneath him and grabbing the front edge of the berth with both servos. As much as he enjoyed Ratchet taking control, there were times he wanted to do the same to Ratchet. Blocking out the voices and harsh feelings and just focusing on his medic, pushing himself to make sure Ratchet reached his own needs long before his own.
Ran his servos against his sides and back again, resting his own weight against a servo on Ratchets back, Drift gave more power into his thrusts. His own fans spooling, he heard Ratchets click to a higher speed, a slight tension returning to his frame. “You go and overload whenever you want Ratch. Just relax and let go.” Drift watched red and white shoulders tense up, helm pressing down harder into the pillow. Their hip plating was clacking as Drift thrust into him harder, striking those ceiling nodes. Panting with the exertion he held back his own release as he felt Ratchet overload, charge passing into his frame and hot transfluid coating his servo. Fucked him softly through it, that frame shuddering with each thrust. Unlike his own, Ratchets overloads were drawn out, Drift would work hard to make sure he felt good as his frame dispelled the built up charge.
When he felt that frame go lax he pulled out and stroked himself to completion, Ratchets silver transfluid on his servo mixing with the pink lubricant on his spike. He grit his denta and vented out of his nose, grunting with release against the back of Ratchets thigh. Sat back on his knees and stroked himself until it hurt before releasing himself and holding out his servo, helm tossed back and steam escaping his vents. He wasn’t supposed to do that, there was no reason to purposely hurt himself for reaching overload. Finally collecting himself he shook his helm and sat back up, Ratchet watching him over his shoulder.
“Drift, you know better.”
“I know. I stopped.” Hissing as he tucked his spike away he leaned forward and opened the nightstand next to their berth, pulling out some wet wipes. Wiped his own servos off before cleaning up Ratchet, touch soft and slow.
Coaxed him onto his side and tossed the soiled pillow to deal with later, checking Ratchet over for paint transfers or missed fluids before helping him close his own panels. Drift reached up and toggled the hab lights off, the string lights he had hung up around their berth coming on. A servo grabbed at his collar faring and pulled him down, kissing him. Drift broke free and peppered his face with softer kisses, stroking alongside his helm and up his crest. “Sleep. I’ll frag you again later.”
“You better, don't know how else to stay in berth all day.” Ratchets optics were closed again, frame relaxing under those touches against his crest.
“Fine I'll just be a heavy blanket and make sure you don't move. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Ratchet smiled softly as Drift draped himself over his side, reaching up to rub at a finial.
"Can't believe you called me old."
"Alright Grandma, guess I'll be Grandpa then." Drift laughed softly against his shoulder, Ratchet tapping his digits against the finial he had been rubbing. Scrunching up his face he frowned and turned his helm into the pillow, hiding it from Drift. "Does that make Rodimus our grandkid?"
"Get out! Get out of my berth! Either be my blanket and be quiet or go into the other room and explain to First Aid how you couldn't take care of me!" Drift laughed louder, frame shaking along Ratchets. Reaching for the other pillow he hit Drift repeatedly with it until he started laughing himself, using the second pillow to cover his helm. Drift only squeezed him tighter and rested his own helm on the new pillow, humming to himself.
"Don't seem tired out yet to me, guess I'll have to frag you again right now."
Ratchet only rolled out from under his hold, tucking his knees under him and tucking both pillows under his chin. "I asked for a prince to come and treat me nicely, but all I got was a spoiled brat." Reached out and swatted blindly at Drift, the mech rolling away from his reach with a chuckle. "Get over here and try again Drift."