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Cybertron, Gilded Age
Ratchet watched as Orion looked intently at his datapad. He stared silently while the archivist reread the paragraph he was on for atleast a couple kliks longer than he normally would've. His optics flicked back and forth and his brow ridge scrunched up in concentration. Ratchet was sure he had the most dopey expression one could possibly make, he thanked Primus that Pharma wasn't in the dorm. He couldn't help himself and did nothing to stop the small grin that made his faceplate start to ache from how long he had been holding it.
"If you stare any harder you might burn a hole in my helm, doctor," Orion said flatly. He aimed for a more scolding tone but with the pout (though he would deny it) that followed afterwards it came out more like a whine than he had initially hoped.
"I'm not a doctor just yet Orion. Who knows, maybe I really will drop out this year," Ratchet said with a smirk.
They both knew he wouldn't. Still, Orion gave a disapproving glare that held no heat.
"Shouldn't you be studying for exam?" Orion asked with a raised brow.
"I'll be fine, you already made me memorize all thirty-eight cables in the servo and the corresponding digits and sensors last night," Ratchet rolled his optics. The annoyance was only partially real, a sappier part of himself melted at the thought of Orion taking the time out of his day to help him study. By the Allspark he was absolutely besotted for this bot.
Orion hummed an noncommittal response, going back to staring at the datapad.
It was Ratchet's turn to pout. In the back of his processor he realized feeling jealousy over a datapad was pathetic but he wasn't going to unpack that right now. He continued to watch Orion with renewed vigor. Orion tapped his pen in frustration, the metal clinking rhythmically against the smooth glass surface of the desk. The ting of the pen seemed to annoy him more and with a frustrated grunt he opted to start chewing the end of it instead.
Ratchet's gaze lingered on the other bot's dermas. The way his dentes peeked out with every bite made him suppress a shudder. It was fascinating for Ratchet when he first realized Orion had sharper canines reminiscent of that of a beastformer. Orion had vehicle mode like most Iaconians yet there was something about him that seemed almost feral. A sharper glint in his optics that couldn't be ignored. Maybe it was his oddities or perhaps something else that drew people into him. It was more likely that there was something deeply wrong with Ratchet to think that his dentes of all things had an alluring pull to them.
And really all Orion did was pull him in and Ratchet, in his idiocracy, pushed away. Some long dormant base coding warning him to run, that something was going to go horribly wrong. And he listened.
Orion asking if he wanted to join him through a stroll in the gardens. He accepted.
A tug and a stumble forward.
Orion waiting for him after class and walking him back home. Getting distracted new store and having to sneak back into the dorm past their designated curfew.
Another tug, another step forward.
Orion tentatively asking him if he had plans the upcoming break. Yet another tug. Ratchet looking away and telling him he had a project due at the end of it. Not telling him that he was already nearly done with it.
A step back.
Orion masking his disappointment with far too much understanding.
A standstill.
As much as Ratchet wanted, he couldn't bring himself to actually touch. A sickening gray area of his own making. Safety in distance, but even then he was already too close for it to make any real sense. He was just a coward.
Ratchet sighed silently and dragged himself out of his thoughts, opting to continue stare at the pen and Orion. Would asking to see his dentes be a weird request? He could probably mask it with saying that it was for class, ignoring the fact that he wasn't into cosmetology and had no real reason to do so.
It took him a couple kliks to realize the biting had stopped completely, the pen idly sitting between Orion's dentes. Ratchet's brows scrunched in confusion, how long had he stopped? He gave a quick glance up, his spark nearly stopping when his optics met Orion's.
The two stared at each other silently, neither of them wanting to break the tension. Ratchet sat still on his berth. He swore he could hear both of their sparks humming behind their plates, the small mechanical clicks of the gears in his optics, and the rushing flow of energon in his lines. The bustling life of Iacon below them seemed to quiet and the filtered glow of the city illuminated Orion from the back.
Ratchet quieted his stuttering breath. His tanks clenched tightly while his systems warned him of increased stress. He dismissed them quickly, fearing that Orion could hear the nagging pings and shatter the trance they were both caught in.
With a slow and hesitant motion, the archivist stood up. Neither of them so much as blinking while Orion approached the berth. Ratchet craned his head up while Orion looked down. Their height difference was never really that noticeable when they stood up. Ratchet only had a couple units on him and no one could really tell, Orion's thinner frame making him seem taller. So looking up at Orion like this, all lithe and beautiful in the soft glow of the window and lamp besides them, it left Ratchet speechless. Carefully, he placed the pen besides Ratchet, the med student didn't dare to look exactly where. He was sure that if he'd died then and there and they opened him up for an autopsy, there would be nothing but molten metal in the place of actual organs. Orion stood silently above Ratchet, his optics blown wide and small wisps of smoke escaped his vents.
A pull, Ratchet noted distantly.
He gulped as Orion bent down to level their gazes.
Another pull.
A slow lean forward, optics shuttering slightly, Orion gave Ratchet space to push away.
Ratchet tried to think of excuses, any reason to dig his way out of this. Orion clearly gave him the opportunity to do so, yet in that moment his mind blanked completely. Another rejection sat heavily on his glossa, the rushing fear in his lines screaming at him to push it out. But Ratchet couldn't bring himself to say it. His spark hurt even thinking about it, he wanted this so terribly bad. Was the false safety he drew between them really worth the crushed look on Orion's face? Could he even handle another step back? With a sharp invent, Ratchet gave into the pull. Tentatively, he leaned closer, his own optics shuttering. Their dermas brushed against each other and Primus be damned Ratchet felt as though his chassis would shatter-
"Ratchet I'm home, you better be decent in there," Pharma's voice cut through the fragile silence.
Ratchet jerked back while Orion stood up straight. Smoke billowed out from his vents and his faceplate was stained a deep blue. Ratchet glared at the door with fury (embarrassment, he was embarrassed) while Orion quickly moved back to his seat at the desk.
"Shut-" Ratchet cleared the static from his voice, "Shut up!"
The mood was ruined and not for the last time Ratchet cursed Pharma's name to the Pits. He stood up from the berth and muttered curses as he walked to the door, forcing himself not to look back at Orion as he stepped out.
He didn't see the embarrassed flicking of the archivist's finials nor the twisted expression of agony that made its home on Orion's face.
There would be another chance, Orion thought to himself. Even if he had to wait forever.
_________________________________________
Earth, 2013
The hangar was silent, save perhaps the
whirring and beeps of the main console. Out beyond the doors, cicadas buzzed and the stars nearly poured down from the sky from the lack of light pollution. A certain medic leaned against the hangar doors admiring it all.
Ratchet would never admit it, but he had grown a fondness to the disgusting mud ball of a planet. It may have been Unicron's spawn but damn it, it was charming in its own right.
"Tsk, Optimus and his sentimentality, it's rubbing off on me," he muttered to himself.
"I'm glad to hear that I have such an influence, old friend," The bot in question chuckled from behind.
With a jolt, Ratchet whipped around with a scowl. Optimus gave the medic a tired smile.
"Real funny is it?" Ratchet snapped. Still, Ratchet shifted slightly and Optimus slit himself in the given space.
The two stood in comfortable silence, enjoying the other's company and the world around them. It was rare for such a quiet night, Decepticon activity keeping everyone on high alert and their last true battle came too close for comfort. Ratchet knew that this reprieve was the closest thing they would have to peace.
"You are too pessimistic, Ratchet," Optimus scolded softly. Ratchet hadn't realized he said that out loud.
"Am I wrong? Our former base has been compromised, our supplies are dwindling, and you nearly-" Ratchet's vents stuttered, "Optimus, I- we can't lose you," he said gravely.
Any semblance of ease was gone, a heavy blanket of familiar grief settling over them instead. Ratchet dug his digits into his arms, guilt seeping into his field over souring the mood. For a moment, they stood silently together, listening to the cicadas that screamed in the desert night.
"What you have said is true, old friend," Optimus started slowly, "But have we not gained new allies? Has the Forge not given me new life? Is there not discord amongst the Decepticon ranks? They too are facing the same energon crisis we are. The tides of war have shifted, we are at the precipice of change. It is what we do now that will determine the future," Optimus asserted, his optics glimmering with hope.
He didn't know when his servo had drifted down to the medic's pauldron. The touch felt like fire and a familiar pang rippled in his tanks. Optimus's gaze flicked down and quickly he removed his servo, a light blue dusting his face.
Ratchet looked deeply into those optics, yet again Optimus had been his rock. He had remained firm and grounded him, and yet again Ratchet felt himself drift towards his light. Tomorrow was never guaranteed, and Ratchet was too old and too tired of arbitrary steps. Heartbreak was inevitable, and maybe something terrible would happen but it wouldn't be worth doing nothing and dying with the regret. So, with a newfound determination Ratchet took the lead.
Ratchet faced Optimus with an invent. A step forward.
Optimus looked back with tired, pleading, optics. A pull.
Ratchet reached for Optimus' servo. Placing it softly on his own helm. Another step forward.
The two looked at each other with bated breaths. A standstill.
Optimus leaned down, his expression tight and vulnerable. A pull.
Ratchet intertwines their other servos. Yet another step forward.
Ratchet leans in. A pull.
Optimus' breath hitched, he stops. His servos shake and he begins to pull away. A step back.
Ratchet tightens his grip. A standstill.
"Is this how you felt, Ratchet?" Optimus whispered quietly. His steady baritone voice trembled.
"Yeah," Ratchet replies dumbly.
Ratchet loosened his servo. A choice.
Optimus stood still. He took in a vent and tightened his grip. A step forward.
He leaned in and their dermas brushed against each other. A dash forward.
Finally, Ratchet's patience wore thin, his servos freed themselves from the hold and reached out desperately for the back of Optimus's helm. Their dermas crashing into each other in a messy uncoordinated kiss. Ratchet groaned into the kiss and his optics sprouted emotionally charged tears. A satisfied sigh tore through Optimus, his own servos reaching blindly for Ratchet's back. Their tight embrace leaving paint transfers on each other's chassis.
In the morning the team would surely give odd glances, but in the moment, the two could hardly care. After millions of cycles, change was inevitable, from their frames to even the steps of this dance they had performed over the millennia. But the two found solace in the knowledge that at least this change had led them somewhere sweeter. It gave them hope that the uncertainty that lied ahead would lead them to somewhere better.
"Ratchet I-" Optimus began.
"I know. I'm sorry it took so long," Ratchet smiled. He wiped away a stray tear from the Prime's face.
"Let me say it anyways?" Optimus asked.
Ratchet nodded with a chuckle.
"I love you."