Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ratchet works the soreness from his servos as he walks back from a late shift he’d taken in the hope of finishing some clerical work without interruptions from medical emergencies. The work had gotten done but Ratchet had paid for it by missing his usual bedtime routine with his conjunx and he was in the middle of complaining to himself about not letting data work build up like that again when he crossed paths with Rodimus. Evidently, he’d just gotten out of Swerve’s if the smell of high grade was anything to go by. 

Rodimus notices Ratchet a moment later and perks up, “Hey Ratch, you’re out pretty late, huh?” Ratchet sighs, he had hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way back home, let alone his drunk co-captain would talk his audial off the entire time they walked together, which would be most of the way.

“Yeah well, some of us actually try to get our data work done on time Captain.” Ratchet winces slightly; that had come out harsher than he’d intended, since the debacle that was Drift’s exile, he and Rodimus had never quite been able to get back to their former back and forth ‘catty sarcasm’ as Drift liked to put it. Ratchet insists that dry humor was a better way to describe it but only Rodimus backed him up on that, Rodimus who was currently looking put out at the reply he’d gotten. He bounced back quick enough though, “Aw Ratch, being up past your bedtime has you grumpy,” he grins widely at Ratchet, “Just for the record, I have been doing much better at keeping up with my datapads.” Rodimus presses a servo to his chest and shutters his optics, as though recounting some noble deed. 

Ratchet snorts, more amused at Rodimus’s antics than he wants to admit. Rodimus peeks at him with an optic and grins wider, continuing, “I know, I know. I’m amazing, brilliant, a genius even, no need to flatter me.” Ratchet breaks and lets out a brief chuckle, “Sure Captain we’re all stunned by you getting through your to do list.” Rodimus stops posturing and continues walking alongside Ratchet like normal, though Ratchet notes that he seems just slightly unsteady; Rodimus is good at holding his high grade, but he can’t hide every sign.

A few moments pass in silence before Rodimus starts again. “How’s Drift been lately? It’s been a minute since we’ve been able to catch up.” 

Ratchet’s good humor fades at the reminder that it wasn’t just him and Rodimus that hadn’t gone back to how friendly they used to be. Drift had told him that he’d patched things up with Rodimus, but that he didn’t invite him out anywhere near as often, let alone insist on his company, and when they did spend time together they weren’t as close as before, literally, Drift had complained, it used to be that Rodimus would act like he needed to crawl inside of Drift’s plating to be close enough and now he was lucky if Rodimus sat close enough for them to brush legs. Personally, Ratchet thinks that that sound suffocating even if it was him and Drift. Of course, no one has ever accused him of being especially touchy feely. 

Regardless, Drift was once again getting hurt by Rodimus pushing him away and Ratchet would be damned if he stood by and let that happen again. Ratchet stops walking to face Rodimus directly, Rodimus follows suit, spoiler lowering as he picks up on the mood change.

“Well he’d be doing a lot better if you’d make up your mind on if you want him around or not. You took him along on this cross dimensional trip and now you can’t even be bothered to talk to him yourself.” Ratchet feels a pang of guilt as Rodimus’s optics widen with hurt, but he pushes it to the side. “You cannot just yank him around for your own amusement, Captain,” he spits the title like it’s an insult, “Drift deserves better than you picking him up whenever it suits your mood and dropping him when you’re bored.” 

Ratchet watches as Rodimus goes from looking hurt to having anger flash across his face, before that too falls away into pained acceptance as he looks down at the floor of the hallway. “Ratchet… I know. I’m sorry I keep fragging this up,” he drags a servo across his face and looks up, but it’s at the space next to Ratchet’s face into the distance, “I want to do better by Drift, really I do, but I’m starting to think I can’t do anything without ruining it. I get overconfident and I charge ahead even when Drift warns me not to and when that causes a disaster I’m too cowardly not to take the easy way out when Drift offers one.”

Ratchet’s shoulders drop, he doesn’t remember squaring them. This conversation wasn’t going the way he thought it would. “Rodim-” He’s cut off as Rodimus continues as though he never said anything. 

“Honestly, I can’t think of a time when I did anything successfully, not when it actually matters.” As he speaks Rodimus’s voice rises, “I couldn’t get Drift to stay. I couldn’t save Nyon. I got Ironhide killed saving Prowl, and that ended up as a slagshow too.” A humorless laugh. Ratchet stands stiffly in the hall. He isn’t sure Rodimus even remembers that there’s another mech here at all. Rodimus stares at the wall for a moment, optics unfocused. “Pit, I couldn’t even die right. I guess Primus wasn’t through with me yet. I must be his favorite joke if he bothered bringing me back.” 

Ratchet moves to touch Rodimus’s pauldron and the movement jerks him back to the present. Rodimus practically jumps back and looks Ratchet in the face once more. Ratchet tries to begin again, “Rodimus, listen what I said-” He gets cut off again by Rodimus, “Sorry Ratchet, I don’t know where that came from.” He looks so tired it abruptly reminds Ratchet that for all his youthful charisma Rodimus had been in the same war as him for four million years. 

“Look, just forget I said anything ok? I had a little too much at Swerve’s and it’s late. I’m just talking nonsense like usual.” Rodimus sends a strained smile his way, “I gotta get to bed, and you should too. Goodnight Ratchet.” He was already turning away before finishing his sentence, waving over his shoulder without looking back.

Still stopped in the hallway, Ratchet stares after Rodimus, who quickly turns a corner and disappears from sight. “What the fuck?” Ratchet has half a mind to go after Rodimus but decides this was not this was not the kind of conversation that worked with too little sleep and no idea where to even begin to address any of this. Ratchet continues towards his hab, planning idly, he’d need to talk to Drift about this before anything. For the umpteenth time this night Ratchet stops walking and drops his face into his palms, he’s going to have to tell Drift what happened.

Drift wakes up at the sound of the main hab door opening. He leaves his optics shuttered knowing it’s just Ratty getting back from the late shift he said he’d work. His engine purrs at the thought of finally getting some normal rest; his recharge had been fitful alone in the berth when he’d gotten used to having his conjunx there with him. The sound of Ratchet’s pedesteps gets louder as he approaches the berthroom. Drift cracks an optic open at the sound of Ratchet opening the door. He smiles at Ratchet’s backlit silhouette and stretches his arms out to welcome him into the warm berth. 

Ratchet gratefully falls into the open space under the covers and presses his helm into Drift’s collar, breathing in the scent of his polish and incense. “Hey sweetspark, you were out late.” Drift pulls Ratchet in closer. He wasn’t always wanting to cuddle so closely and Drift always took full advantage of the moments when he did. Ratchet’s aura was unsettled though, more than just being bothered at a change to his schedule or missing his conjunx or berth. 

“Are you alright? Did something happen at work?” Ratchet lets out a long sigh, “No, afterwards. I ran into Rodimus on the way back. He was coming from Swerve’s.” Drift hums, “And then?” “We had a conversation that didn’t go very well.” A pause while Ratchet decides on how best to relay the last ten or so minutes of his night. “I think I might’ve been a bit harsh.” Ratchet presses his face tight against Drift’s plating and his next glyphs come out so mumbled Drift can’t make them out. “Sorry Ratty, one more time?” Ratchet pulls back a bit and admits, “I know you asked me not to fight with Rodimus on your behalf but when he asked about you like he isn’t on the same damned ship as you I lost it on him.” 

Drift hums sadly. “Oh Ratty, I love when you have my back but I swear it’s really under control, Roddy just needs a bit more time before he figures out he doesn’t need to handle me with so much caution.”

 “I’m not sure. He didn’t shake it off like I thought he would when I told him off. I figured at worst he’d get mad and leave, maybe say something to keep the fight going. Instead he acted like him ruining your friendship again was inevitable.”

Ratchet pulls away enough to look Drift in the optics as he speaks. “It wasn’t just you either, he brought up Ironhide and Nyon. I think he’s been letting a lot just… build up for who knows how long.”

Drift looks troubled. “Nyon even? The whole time I’ve known him I think I could count the number of times he’s talked about Nyon on one servo. I’m gonna comm him, just to check on him.” Ratchet nods and watches Drift’s optics briefly lose focus as he sends a ping to Rodimus. Drift begins to fidget clearly wanting to get up and visit his friend right away. It was one thing for Rodimus to drink a bit more than is advisable, but it was another thing for him to talk about his lost hometown. 

The last time he’d heard Roddy bring up Nyon was when they were in the Wreckers. There had been a battle that ended when Rodimus, no, he’d been Hot Rod then, setting off an explosive trap finishing off the Decepticons they’d been fighting, and afterward Hot Rod had gotten blackout drunk during the usual successful mission celebrations. Drift had helped him lurch back to his hab, already half in recharge, and put him in his berth. As he was about to head back to his own room to rest, Drift heard him mumble the glyphs “just like Nyon” before turning over. He didn’t respond when Drift questioned him about what he was talking about, evidently already offline for the night. Unsettled, Drift had decided to recharge next to him; it didn’t feel right to leave him alone that night.

Rodimus pings him back finally, snapping Drift out of his memories. It was a simple response, little more than an “all good” confirmation. Better than nothing, but Drift wasn’t satisfied leaving it there. He was overdue to have a real conversation with his friend and Drift sends one more ping asking to spar sometime the next day and receives a response, “sure”. 

The pair of brief messages were uncharacteristic for Rodimus, normally he was a chronic multipinger and would often send four or more pings in rapid succession. Something in Drift’s spark remained concerned for Rodimus and he considered getting up and checking on Roddy anyway. He reasons with himself that Roddy wouldn’t have agreed to meet tomorrow if wasn’t planning on being there. 

A thought that shocks Drift enough to flinch and Ratchet whips his helm up to look at him. “Do we need to go? Is he okay?” Drift hesitates, then shakes his helm. “No. Maybe. I don’t know, I just… I had an upsetting thought that’s all.” Ratchet settles back a bit though he doesn’t relax entirely. 

“He pinged back that he was alright and agreed to meet me tomorrow but…” Ratchet furrows his optic ridges more and prompts, “But?” Drift worries at a derma with his denta while thinking. “I just had the thought that… Roddy might not be here in the morning. He wouldn’t do that though, not if he told me we’d spar. It’s probably nothing, just me working myself up.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. Groggily, Ratchet tries to put together Drift's line of thought. “Not be here? Where else would he be-” He snaps his denta shut and he looks at Drift, alarmed now. “You don’t think he’d… do that would he?”

Drift tightly shutters his optics. “I want to say no, but the more I think about it, how distant he’s been and how strange he’s been acting I can’t shake the thought. Looking back, I think maybe he’s been considering it a lot longer than I’ve realized and I just never put it together.” Drift is sure now that Rodimus has been hurting worse for longer than he thought and simultaneously wonders why Rodimus never told him; why he never figured out his best friend felt like this. Ratchet rubs Drift’s pauldron, snapping him out of his thoughts. “If you think there’s a chance he might… hurt himself then we should do something.” 

Right, there’d be time to figure out what had gone wrong and when later. “Yeah you’re right. I’m gonna go check on him. Try and get some recharge okay Ratty?” His conjunx looked exhausted and Drift was aware that either Rodimus wasn’t alright but wouldn’t want to talk openly in front of Ratchet or he was about to get woken up after just getting to sleep and wouldn’t be overjoyed at seeing Ratchet right after a fight with him.

“Right, you’ll ping me if something happens.” It’s not a question.

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be fine and I’ll never hear the end of it when I wake him up.”

“That does sound like him.”

They share a laugh, though it’s closer to a quick exvent before the mood sobers once more. Ratchet releases his hold on Drift running his servos along his sides on the way back and Drift takes a moment to kiss Ratchet goodbye and goodnight before making his way out of the berth and through the door. 

He’s through the threshold when he hears Ratchet say something and he pauses and hums questioningly. Ratchet glances up at him and repeats himself.

“I think he said he died.” Drift’s jaw drops and in a hoarse whisper asks “He what??” 

Chapter Text

Megatron would object to being called an eavesdropper. All he was doing was sitting at his desk, writing poetry, when he happened to overhear the beginning of an argument outside his door. He rolls his optics. He would love to have an entirely uneventful night but his co-captain attracted drama in quantities that rivaled Starscream. Megatron would be generous enough to admit that Rodimus was far better company than Starscream, even at their most combative Megatron rarely worried Rodimus would make an attempt on his functioning.

He continues listening, because really, if you're going to be this loud, this late at night in a hab hallway then you should expect to have an audience. The conversation continues and it becomes clear that this was less of a disagreement and more of a breakdown. Megatron hadn't realized just how damaged Rodimus's self confidence was. He was used to seeing through the Prime's various obfuscations, but somehow hadn't seen through his cocky veneer. 

The clash ends when Rodimus retreats, which is followed shortly by Ratchet's exclamation of some Earthen swear and the sound of him resuming his way to his shared hab, thus leaving Megatron alone with his forgotten poem. He stares at the handful of trinkets on his desk gifted to him by members of the crew, mostly Rodimus who seemed to make cluttering Megatron's hab and office with souvenirs of their travels his personal mission. Thinking more in depth on his co-captain’s self-esteem or lack thereof, now that the commotion was over, Megatron decides his earlier thought wasn't quite accurate.

He had known that Rodimus's confidence wasn't as real as he made it out to be. He had assumed that it was closer to being the usual egotistical all talk no action Autobot leader he’d been contending with for four million years combined with the ego of a mech that was chosen by the matrix. It was a common target of his campaign to undermine Rodimus as captain when Megatron first arrived on the Lost Light. 

At the time, the last thing he cared about was trying to figure out any reason for why the Prime was the way he was. Later he had assumed that anything he'd said had been shaken off long ago. Megatron leans back in his chair and folds his servos in his lap; focus on his writing lost entirely. 

He supposes it had only really been long ago for him. He'd spent over eight hundred years in the Functionalist dimension and when he had time alone to think over his tenure on the Lost Light he regretted his attempt at driving Rodimus out of his position through social manipulations and directly insulting him. He shudders to think of it as such, but he had incorporated a not insignificant amount of Starscream's playbook into his own. 

Lately, he'd been trying to subtly make up for his past actions through his support for Rodimus's more eccentric ideas, things like meteor surfing detours or recreational trips planetside. Judging by tonight's outburst however, he'd need to be more direct, perhaps he could point out that he had succeeded in retrieving the matrix and having it choose him to be a prime; clearly he was doing something right.

Shifting to lean forward on his desk, resting his elbows on its surface, he recalls that Rodimus must have been incredibly lucky to find the matrix at all after the first would-be rescuer had the misfortune of arriving on the day he'd woken from Shockwave's reformatting and had been blasted into space. Finding the matrix after that would've been impossibly difficult. Megatron pauses, it really shouldn't have been possible at all, finding such a small object floating through space would require some kind of miracle. It wasn’t as though that pesky Autobot had enough time to send off any kind of signal to narrow the search; not when their encounter had been so brief that Megatron is certain that the Autobot only had a servoful of seconds to react before being hit point blank with a shot from his cannon. 

Furrowing his brow, Megatron tries to recall what the mech looked like, pesky Autobot was too dismissive of a description for someone that had been so brave if foolhardy. His memory banks from immediately after waking weren't the clearest but with a little focusing he recalls the Autobot being quite small, though most were in comparison to himself, and very red. They'd been quick to hold the matrix in front of their face, perhaps betting that he wouldn't shoot such an important artifact, as such he can't picture their face from the split second they'd faced one another but he does remember them having bright yellow wings. 

Megatron goes very still, not even venting. Ah. A small, red Autobot with yellow ‘wings’. One that would be bold enough to break into a Decepticon base and steal the matrix from around Starscream's neck. He knew someone that fit that description very well, someone that had just implied Primus had brought him back to life. 

He had killed Hot Rod.

Rodimus stumbles into his hab, the sudden rush to get back wasn't agreeing with the high grade in his tanks and he crouches low just behind the door of his hab and puts his head between his knees and breathes through his nose until the wave of nausea passes.

It was a surprisingly comfortable position and he was finally alone in his quarters with no one to perform for so he remained crouched down while he went over the last ten or so minutes of his night. Maybe it hadn’t even been that long, though it felt like an eternity. Rodimus groans, how the Pit did he lose his cool like that. All he needed to do was keep it together while assuring Ratchet he would back off and leave him and Drift alone. Primus knows every relationship he tries to keep blows up sooner or later. He'd mostly figured it out as Hot Rod: working alone was better for him; he couldn’t get anyone else hurt like that. 

He wasn't able to resist befriending Drift though. He'd just looked so lonely back when he'd first been assigned to the Wreckers. 

Most Autobots tended to be from midcaste backgrounds and had difficulty picturing why any mech would ever join up with the Cons and even those that could would usually end their limited sympathy with some version of  ‘not me though, I never would've signed up.’ Hot Rod could understand the draw though, after all he almost had joined up with Megatron four million years ago, probably would've if Bumblebee hadn't been tortured in front of him. 

So Hot Rod didn't have a problem with Drift back then, sure he'd give him some Pit for having stuck around the Cons so long but he kept it light like he'd tease any other teammate’s dumb mistake, sure that Drift had heard it all before and didn’t need anyone else riding his aft about it. It didn't hurt that Drift looked like a discdeer in headlights from something as simple as Hot Rod offering to swap rations when Drift clearly hated the kind he'd been given. 

Millennia later and Rodimus still thinks it would be impossible not to love Drift. Which is why he’s glad he found Ratchet, who was smart and reliable and would be able to help him after Rodimus inevitably fragged everything up again. 

One day he'd run out of whatever it was that was keeping him online, hopefully doing something worthwhile, saving his friends or something sappy like that, and Drift would have Ratchet to help keep him together while he mourned and remind him that there were actually a lot of pros that came from Rodimus dying. Things like how there'd be way fewer instances of: Drift getting his feelings hurt, crew members suffering from impulsive decision-making, Drift getting dragged to events to please Rodimus, the list goes on. 

Rodimus gets a ping.

He really doesn't deserve Drift. It’s the middle of the night, he'd just finished freaking out in front of Ratchet, and having heard all of what that entailed, Drift was still messaging him to see if he's okay. Rodimus let out another groan, his processor was starting to ache and the crouch in the doorway had stopped feeling good several minutes ago. He stands, stretches gingerly, and flops onto his couch. He tries to think of something a well adjusted mech might say to their friend in this scenario. No dice, well adjusted mechs don't end up in these kinds of situations. If he knows Drift, and he does, then he's rapidly running out of time before Drift assumes he choked on his own vomit and died. He crafts the most normal response he can, a single glyph confirming his status, and sends it. Rodimus then grimaces; he never sends single glyph pings, or if he does it's a series of pings to emphasize whatever point he's making. If he's lucky it'll be late enough that Drift doesn't think too hard about it.

How does a mech end up with Primus's favor and no luck whatsoever. Rodimus pulls the throw cover from the back of his couch to cover himself completely and despairs over immediately getting another ping asking for a spar tomorrow. Rodimus gives up any pretense of being normal and pings back an affirmative. He tells himself he'll just play it off as a helmache driving him to keep his responses short. He just has to find a way to spin this by tomorrow so Drift doesn't feel like he needs to keep wasting his time scraping him back together. Maybe even a totally average, forgettable death would benefit his friends more than this.

…

Rodimus rolls his face into the back of the couch. Yeesh, it was definitely time to recharge, things were getting overly morose even by his high standards for what a drunken pity party should be. 

He comes up with a rock solid plan of: recharge, shower, refuel, work. Somewhere in there he needs to come up with a plan on what to say to Drift and Ratchet so they move past this whole incident. Right as he starts the first step of his plan, however, there's an urgent knock at his door.

Chapter Text

The door to Rodimus’s hab opens and relief courses through Drift. He hadn’t realized just how tense he had gotten. Ratchet had clarified he didn’t know anything more about Rodimus offlining, Drift continued his path to Rodimus’s hab, though no part of what he had heard about tonight eased the anxiety he was feeling like seeing Rodimus with his own optics. Though now that Rodimus was standing in his doorway looking exhausted, Drift felt somewhat embarrassed at how worked up he had gotten over his own theorizing. 

“Hey Drift, I’m excited about sparring too, but it’s a little early for me.” Rodimus offers a smile that doesn’t reach his optics. Something in Drift’s spark resolves itself in that moment. No more putting this off hoping it’ll work itself out; he is getting to the root of it tonight. “I’m worried about you Roddy. You’ve been acting strange for ages now and your aura is off, then Ratchet told me about what happened tonight and I needed to check on you.” Rodimus gets a tight look on his face at this, like something within him ached. “Sorry about that, I had a couple more than I should’ve at the bar and you know how I get. I’m already feeling way better. I’ll be just fine by the morning” Drift can’t recall a time he’s seen Rodimus lie worse. “Is that true?”

“What are you trying to say, Drift?” There’s an edge to Rodimus’s voice now and his expression closes off. It was what Drift expected. He has never known Rodimus to be vulnerable without trying to fight or retreat first. He presses forward and takes Rodimus’s servos into his own, startling Rodimus out of his hostility. “Can I come in? I think we really need to talk. Please.” Rodimus’s whole frame seems to give in to Drift's earnest concern and his lowered finials. He can neither bring himself to snap at his friend or to pull his servos free and shut the door. “Yeah… Alright.” His spoiler lowers in defeat as they move in tandem to step back through the threshold.

Drift appears apprehensive for a moment after the door closes behind him, then he steels himself and cuts to the chase. “Roddy, do you want to die?” Thrown, Rodimus sputters trying to find the right glyphs. “Drift that’s- I- Come on-” He tries a carefree smile like Drift is being ridiculous, but Drift’s expression doesn’t change, he still looks as grimly determined as he did when he asked, like he already knows the answer. Rodimus weakly tries to tug his servos away. It wouldn't be hard to pull free, Drift’s hold is firm but not tight, but he can’t muster the will to separate from the point of contact. Rodimus sighs and shutters his optics briefly, “Want is a strong word for it. It’s just that it’s going to happen sometime. Sooner than later for me probably, but I’m not trying to die alright?” Drift isn’t convinced, he recognizes the signs of his friend’s emotional state now. “Are you sure you aren’t? That every time you do something reckless and heroic you’re hoping that it will-” Rodimus cuts him off, agitated. “Would that be so bad?” His temper flares, making the temperature around Rodimus suddenly shoot up, “If I could trade my life for others would that really be the worst thing?” He says it like the answer is obvious.

Drift’s temper flares in kind and his finials pin back in anger. “YES! It would be one of the worst things that could happen to me! You are my best friend Roddy!” His mood shifts, closer to despair now, at how shocked Rodimus looked. “Do you know why I was so mad when we met back up on Necroworld?” He was almost pleading that Rodimus understood. 

Evidently he didn’t, judging from the way he deflated and looked immensely guilty. “Because I was a huge afthole when I exiled you and then you had to bail me out again.” Drift takes a steadying vent, “It’s because I missed you Roddy. I thought you’d have come to get me sooner than that. I was angry because I thought you’d moved on like we were never friends and you didn’t think I was worth coming after.” 

Rodimus was staring at him with wide optics looking like he’d never even considered that was an option. Drift squeezes his servos a little tighter, “I missed you,” it bore repeating seeing as Rodimus still looked slightly unconvinced. “Didn’t you miss me?”

Rodimus snaps out of his stunned silence and rushes to assure him. “Yes! Primus Drift, I missed you so much! There were so many times that I would see something that made me think of you or want to see your reaction and you wouldn’t be there and it was my fault. Drift, I’m so sorry, I just- I thought you were better off without me and I knew you wanted to leave or you wouldn’t have pushed so hard for me to exile you, and then Ratchet went to go get you and I knew he’d be better to you than I ever could and-” Drift cuts him off before he could spiral any further. 

“Stop saying that I don’t need you Roddy, I do, I need you to be here with me. I would never be better off without you. Can’t I need both you and Ratchet?” Drift can feel his servos trembling and Rodimus looks like his knees are about to give out. 

“But I keep hurting you Drift, I keep fragging things up and needing you to bail me out.” His voice is thick as he says it, clearly on the verge of tears now. Drift shakes his helm and as he begins guiding them both to Rodimus’s couch to sit he keeps reasoning with Rodimus. “I was the same back when we first met, remember? I’d lash out with my words and even my servos, at you and everyone else around me. And you did the same for me then, so let me return the favor ok?” 

Sitting with Drift, Rodimus turns to face him as he tries to convince Drift of his guilt. “It’s different, Drift; you were changing for the better but I’ve been destroying everything that matters for so long. I destroyed Nyon, and the Matrix, and our friendship.” His venting was uneven now and Drift can see his optics shining. 

“Our friendship isn’t destroyed, Roddy! You apologized and I forgave you! It happens okay? We’ll hurt each other and say sorry and we’ll keep being friends. Here, I should’ve said this ages ago,” Drift takes a vent and quickly gathers himself, “I’m sorry that I started treating you differently after you got the Matrix. I treated you like a superior and went along with things I should’ve fought harder on, things I would have fought you harder on when you were Hot Rod. I put you on a pedestal and for that I am so sorry Roddy.” 

“Drift, no I-” Rodimus looked like he was about to start pleading with Drift to stop. The tears welling up in his optics, on the verge of spilling over.

“I’m not done. I’m also sorry I didn’t see how badly you were hurting our whole friendship and I’m sorry you didn’t feel like it was something you could tell me.” Rodimus was fully crying now. His vents hitch and his engine runs hotter still. “Drift please… That wasn’t your fault. I should’ve said something or just realized. Please, you don’t need to be sorry.” 

Drift softens in the face of Rodimus’s distress. He can’t remember having ever seen him cry before tonight. He’d gotten close, but never actually shed any tears. Drift pulls his friend into a hug and Rodimus begins to outright sob as he clutches back and hides his face in Drift’s neck. “Oh Roddy… I don’t think I could imagine you not being an important part of my life. Whether you make me laugh, or cry, or piss me off, you’re still my best friend. You aren’t replaceable, I don’t want another best friend and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we don’t want another captain or, Primus forbid, just Megatron in charge.” Rodimus laughs wetly and sniffles as he tightens the hug. 

He is all but sitting in Drift’s lap. Objectively, it was uncomfortable to sit with a fully grown mech like this. Rodimus was heavier than he looked, his plating was pointed in many places, and his outlier made his frame hot to the touch. Not to mention he had gotten the seams between his neck and collar faring wet with tears. Drift would be hard pressed to name somewhere else he’d rather be at this moment. 

“So, will you forgive me, Roddy?” Drift prompts softly while he finds a way to rest his helm on top of Rodimus without getting stabbed by his crest. “Obviously. Not that I think there’s anything to forgive,” Rodimus mumbles, a little miffed his friend had won the argument, though he was also glad he couldn’t sway Drift into regretting caring for him. “Glad to hear it.” Drift hadn’t realized how much it had worried him even with how little time had passed since he had found out the severity of their lack of communication. 

“Hey Drift? I’m sorry I wasn’t letting you in. Thanks for being there anyways.” Drift sniffles and tries to pull him closer, laws of physics and geometry be damned. “Obviously I forgive you,” Drift parrots back to him, fondness coating his voice. “Anytime. Will you try to take care of yourself? For all of us, if not yourself?” Rodimus stays quiet for a moment. “I mean I’ll try, but honestly Drift, I really never thought of it like that, like I was choosing anything.” Drift exvents heavily, “I can work with trying. Want me to sleepover tonight?” “I’d like that,” Rodimus begins carefully moving away from Drift to make sure he doesn’t catch him with the points of his crest, “You sure you don’t mind? I don’t wanna keep you from your own berth or from Ratchet.” “Nah, and I’ll ping Ratty that everything is okay so he doesn’t worry,” Drift pauses, “He was worried about you too you know. Told me he missed snarking at people with you.” Rodimus looks at Drift with a raised optic ridge, “Your conjunx, Ratchet? The former CMO? You're sure he said that?” Drift laughs, “Maybe not in so many glyphs, but I could see it in his aura. He likes to be difficult about feelings. Kinda like some other mech I know.” Rodimus laughs at the pointed look Drift sends his way, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.” He looks hopefully at Drift, “You mean it though? He doesn’t hate me or anything?” “‘Course not, he’s a softspark when it comes down to it. He can be really sweet sometimes.” Rodimus rolls his optics, though the wriggle of his spoiler gives away his lifted mood. “Sure, sure. Go recharge lovermech, I’m gonna get cleaned up.” Drift laughs as he gets playfully shoved down the hall. 

Drift fixes the covers of the berth from how Rodimus had clearly left them in a nest-like shape from when he rolled out of berth that morning. He puts together a quick ping for Ratchet as he does. ‘Hey Ratty, everything is good here, see you in the morning!’ He adds on a few spark emojis for good measure. He gets a return ping within a minute and chuckles at the quick response time; clearly Ratty had been just as concerned as Drift thought. He hopes that his conjunx and his friend use this opportunity to rekindle their friendship and decides to make some changes to his crystal altar to help them along, and perhaps give them some more nudges in the right direction. It really had been a pain to have both of his favorite people so determined to avoid one another.

Rodimus returns with steaming plating; Drift remembers jumping into a shower right after Rodimus had gotten out and the solvent had been so hot it left his plating sensitive for the next couple hours and Rodimus’s plating retained a similar level of heat for longer than Drift felt most mechs’ normally would. He knew from experience though that a layer of berth covers between them would turn Rodimus from a burn hazard into an excellent space heater though. 

A thought occurs to Drift as he climbs onto the far side of the berth. “Ratchet mentioned that you implied that you died before. Is it a bad time to ask about that?” Rodimus grimaces for a moment and glances away. “You don’t have to, but I thought I should ask, and I was curious about how it never came up before is all.” Rodimus looks back at him, “I guess there’s just not a lot to say about it. I mean, I told Optimus about it but the main event was over with by the time I met anyone I’d want to tell.” Rodimus joins him in the berth and his warmth begins to suffuse into the covers. 

He looks Drift in the optics, “I don’t mind telling you but you gotta promise to act normal and not do anything crazy alright?” The drowsiness Drift had been feeling is replaced by foreboding. He plays it off though, “Yeah of course, not a problem.” Rodimus looks dubiously at him but goes on. “Okay, so you know how I took Mags’s ship to get the Matrix back? Well, I did grab it right off of Screamer’s neck. It was very heroic and cool of me.” Drift nods along, amusement bubbling up at his friend’s retelling.

“I was heading back with it but I guess Megatron was less out of commission than I thought.” Rodimus’s plating draws tighter against his protoform in unconscious anxiety. 

The amusement leaves as quickly as it came and Dread rises up in its wake. “No. He didn’t-” Rodimus carries on without pause.

“Totally snuck up on me, big guy's real stealthy when he wants to be. And then kinda shotmeinthechassiswithhisfissioncannonandIdied. But I got better! And we went on an adventure and we’re buddies or whatever now so there’s nothing to worry about!” 

Rodimus shoots Drift a strained smile and wiggles his servos in the air in a motion Swerve called ‘Jazz Hands’ and insists is very cool. 

It did not seem to help distract Drift who looked like he was about to crash. “Roddy,” There was no inflection in his voice, “Megatron killed you?” Nervous, Rodimus’s optics dart away from Drift. “Yeah but we’re cool now like I just told you!” Drift stares at him in disbelief. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get my swords?” Rodimus shakes his helm, “I’m sure.” Drift lets out a long-suffering groan and lightly thumps his helm onto Rodimus’s pauldron a few times. “This is kind of a big thing to have never said anything about until now.” 

Rodimus grins sheepishly, “It’s kind of an awkward thing to work into a conversation. Really though Drift, it’s fine, I mean neither of us ever brought it up, but like, that’s something, because we used to fight all the time and he never held back on anything except that, which makes it kind of a mutually agreed upon no mech’s land.” Drift was now the one sending dubious looks. 

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you, because if you want to do something like… I don’t know. A restraining order or something-” 

“A restraining order?” Rodimus asks incredulously. 

“Or something!” Drift defends. 

Rodimus shakes his head. “No, but thanks for being worried, but I really would prefer to keep this to as few people as possible.” Drift sighs again, still agitated over the revelation. “...Okay, but if you change your mind I’m sure everyone would support you.” Rodimus hums affirmatively, “I know, thanks but I think telling you is enough,” Rodimus adds on, “You can tell Ratch though, ‘cause he already kinda knows.” Drift nods and relaxes once more. “Alright, I’ll drop it, and I’ll even try to act normal around him tomorrow, but I won’t make any promises.” Rodimus quirks an optic ridge at Drift, “Drift, you already glare at him half the time and avoid him the rest of the time.” Drift sniffs, feigning offense, “Well it’s doubly personal now so who knows what I’ll do. I oughta get a Rodimus Star for not waking him up with an act of violence right now.” 

Rodimus’s plating relaxes from being tightly drawn against his protoform and he smiles at him, “Thank you Drift, I do appreciate you being mad for me. I’ll make sure your star is extra nice.” 

Rodimus stares at his hab’s ceiling and decides now is as good a time as any to be more open with his friend. “I just… it’s hard to feel anything aside from being disappointed at how things went from there. I really thought the Matrix might’ve, I don’t know, fixed me, made me into someone that can save people.” 

Drift stares at Rodimus’s profile. “That’s not how I think of you at all. It’s your first instinct to try and help and you already have helped so many mechs.” Drift hesitates for a moment, fearing he’s about to prod an open wound before moving ahead. “I think after Nyon you started hating Hot Rod and you tried to leave him behind after you died, but I think that a big part of you is still Hot Rod and it isn’t a bad thing.” 

Rodimus goes incredibly still and quiet for so long Drift starts to worry he’d crossed a line, then Rodimus takes a ragged invent and rubs roughly at his optics. “Are you trying to make me cry again?” A wet sniffle sounds through the berthroom and Drift catches his servo and holds it, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know if the situation necessitated a condolence or an apology more. 

“Don’t be. I’d hate if anyone else said that to me but you mean it. You knew Hot R-” He stops abruptly and starts again, “You knew me better than anyone; you loved me back then.” Drift gives his servo a gentle squeeze, “I still do Roddy, I loved you as Hot Rod and I love you now as Rodimus; you’re my best friend. I mean it.” Rodimus sniffles again and puts his free arm over his optics, “Thanks.” His voice is thick with emotion. Drift hums his acknowledgement and rubs his thumb over the back of Rodimus’s servo while Rodimus reigns in his tears and steadies his venting.

A couple minutes pass before Rodimus’s voice cuts through. He’s fighting to keep his optics unshuttered, “Sorry, I’m falling into recharge here, it’s been a day.” Drift shakes his helm, “Yeah don’t worry about it. I’ll wake you up before I leave, okay?” Rodimus’s response is slurred as he settles in for what remained of the night, “mmkay th’ks.” They both enter recharge with a sense that something misaligned had finally been settled into place.

Chapter Text

Morning arrives all too soon and Drift sits up groggily. He had not gotten anywhere near enough recharge. He glances over to the side and watches Rodimus recharge for a moment. He was sprawled out in a way that looked less like he had laid down to rest and more like he had been knocked out and tossed onto the berth. That was pretty normal for him. 

Drift was tempted briefly to let Rodimus continue resting; if he was this tired then Rodimus must be as well, but leaving him to wake up alone after the difficult night they had would be worse, so he reaches out and gently shakes Rodimus by the pauldron. Rodimus’s optics unshutter, still dull from recharge. 

“Mmmn?”

Drift grins at his difficulty waking. 

“Hey Roddy, good morning. I’m about to head out okay?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Drift climbs out of the berth and leans down to press their crests together in parting. Rodimus returns the affectionate gesture and when Drift pulls away, rolls over into the still warm spot Drift had left behind and goes back to recharging.

Ratchet was already up and having breakfast when Drift got back. “Welcome back kid, long night?” He gestures to the extra energon he set on the table. Gratefully, Drift sinks into his usual chair at the table and drinks. “Yeah, but I think things are going to go back to normal now.” Drift pauses thoughtfully. “Better than before even.” 

Ratchet nods. “Good to hear. He was making you miserable with his back and forth on whether he wanted to be close or not. Glad he’s finally done playing with your feelings.” Drift gives him a knowing look. “Not nice Ratty. Besides, the issue was more that he was overthinking about my feelings. And yours too. I know you were worried about him and you’ve all but told me you miss being friends with him. You should really consider telling him that outright or else he’s going to keep thinking you hate him.” 

Ratchet goes wide opticed for a moment before going back to his preferred pinched expression. “Obviously, I never hated him, I was mad at him.” Drift shakes his helm. “I fear that might only be obvious to you and me, Ratty.” Ratchet groans and leans back in his chair looking up at the ceiling. “Oh Primus.” 

Drift pats his servo where it was left on the table, “I know you and emotional conversations don’t always get along but I think you’d be happier if you did.” Ratchet can hear the teasing smile on Drift’s face without even looking. Drift keeps talking. “Even if you two don’t end up as close as before, talking it out would help.” Ratchet rights his posture and gives in, if for no other reason than it would make Drift happy. “Fine. I will consider spelling all of this out to him. Are there any other bombshells I should know about in advance?” 

Drift’s finials perk up at the concession, and he thinks through last night’s conversation. His mood drops as he recalls the detail he was specifically told he could bring up to Ratchet. A change Ratchet picks up on and looks apprehensive about, before he can tell Drift that he doesn’t necessarily need to know Drift had already begun speaking. “I asked Roddy how he died last night.” Ah, Ratchet thinks, right that bombshell. 

Drift keeps going. “He told me Megatron shot him when he went to get the Matrix.” Ratchet stares at him, slackjawed. “Megatron shot him? Co-captain Megatron?” Ratchet scrubs his servos over his face. “Frag. No wonder Rodimus made himself so scarce after Megatron got onboard.” 

Drift looked off into the distance. Ratchet breaks out of his own thoughts of the past to chide Drift. “Hey. Quit wishing you’d have been there. Then both of you would’ve been miserable and Rodimus still wouldn't have told you anything relevant, seeing as how, apparently, he’s allergic to saying anything to prevent people from assuming the worst about him.” 

Drift snaps out of his thoughts but still looks unhappy. Ratchet stands up and rounds the table to hug Drift tightly where he sits. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done kid, so just focus on what you can do now.” Drift returns the embrace and nods. 

“I know, you’re right. I just keep thinking about how much Megatron changed my life. Naming me Deadlock and encouraging me to kill for him, the fact that I did kill for him for so long, and now I find out that he was so close to taking Roddy away. And then Rodimus doesn’t want to do anything about it.” Drift tilts his helm to look up at Ratchet, he looks like a kicked turbopuppy with tears welling in his optics. “Ratty, I don’t get it. How can Roddy forgive him and be friends with him after that but I’m still so angry over it?” 

Ratchet sighs and lends down to kiss Drift’s helm. “I don’t know, sweetspark; that kid’s decisions are baffling at the best of times. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you being angry about any of that.” 

Ratchet sighs and rubs Drift’s back until he takes a deep vent and lets it out. “Okay, I’m alright now, thank you Ratty.” He moves to stand and Ratchet moves back. “You’ve got a shift soon, yeah?” Ratchet nods. “I can call out though, it’s not an issue. First Aid keeps telling me that I’m in the med-bay too much anyway.” Drift shakes his head, “He does have a point about that but you don’t need to call out for me right now. I think I need some time to meditate before my shift.” 

Ratchet stares him down, clearly searching for any sign that he wasn’t being totally honest, and concedes with a sigh when he can’t find one. “Alright, I’ll go. I’ll see you for dinner.” Drift smiles softly at him. “Of course.”

Ultra Magnus had arrived early to his shift on the bridge as is his usual routine, and he was in the middle of his inspection when he got a ping from Megatron. ‘Please meet me in my office at your earliest convenience. I have a concern I need your opinion on.’ Ultra Magnus would’ve preferred the ping to be less vague than just being about a ‘concern’ but most mechs tended to be less detailed than he prefers so he sends a ping in return. ‘Understood. I will finish my bridge inspection and make my way to your office in ten minutes.’ He then does exactly that.

...

Of all the topics Ultra Magnus thought Megatron would need his thoughts on this certainly was not one of them. The recounting of the overheard confrontation and subsequent revelation meant his morning had gone from ‘Perfectly Routine’ to ‘In Dire Straits’, particularly considering he now had to advise Megatron on what to do now.

He stands stiffly in front of Megatron's desk, before moving to take the seat he had been offered when he first came in and refused as standing was his preference generally. He sits heavily.

Megatron rests his folded servos on the desk. “So you can see why I needed to talk to you?” Ultra Magnus sat stiffly, contemplating everything that had led up to this encounter. “Well Captain, I can see why you would want to speak to someone regarding this but, I am not known for being an expert in…” Ultra Magnus trails off trying to find the right way to describe ‘remembering that you shot your co-captain to death years after the fact.’ “...emotional matters.” That was appropriately diplomatic. Megatron frowns slightly. “Normally, I would ask… I can’t remember who it was, that’s odd…” He shakes it off and restarts. “I would ask Rodimus for his input as he has solid advice on these kinds of issues,” after giving him a hard time, Megatron thinks to himself, “but for obvious reasons, I can’t ask him about this.” 

Ultra Magnus sighs and tries to think of anyone else better equipped for this conversation. “Drift knows Rodimus better than just about anyone-” Ultra Magnus cuts himself off; Drift already had a fraught relationship with Megatron and telling him about this would not help the situation. Megatron nods. “Yes, I had the same line of thought.” They both sit in silence for a while

“Perhaps you should approach the matter directly. There is little use trying to talk around it.” Megatron looks frustrated; Ultra Magnus couldn’t tell if it was more at him or Megatron himself. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry for killing you and forgetting about it. It was just something I did so regularly that I never even thought twice about it until now?’” Megatron sighs woefully and pinches the bridge of his nose.  

“Optimus Prime would’ve known what to do.” 

“Optimus Prime made you his co-captain. I would wager that he knew when he did.”

“...That’s not what I would’ve expected from him.”

“His decisions can be… intriguing.”

Another silence falls. 

“Bumblebee would’ve known what to say.”

Ultra Magnus stifles a groan; this conversation was going nowhere and he still had a full day’s itinerary to go through. He begins considering what to do instead of wishing for someone emotionally competent to appear out of thin air. “I would advise you to simply apologize and go from there. We’ve both established Rodimus is better at handling these situations than either of us and I know for a fact Rodimus rarely holds grudges for so long or bothers disguising them. It is likely that the worst that would happen is for him to be angry with you for a while before moving past it before the week is out.” 

Ultra Magnus really looks at Megatron then. His appearance is tired and wane, regret clear on his face. Ultra Magnus knew Megatron had changed from who he was when he first arrived on their ship, but it was moments like these, when the extent of what he had done weighs on him fully and he makes no attempt at reasoning his way out of it, that remind Ultra Magnus just how far he’s come. 

Ultra Magnus stands up out of his seat. Megatron’s expression falters and settles into resignation. “Right, I’m sure you have a lot to do today. I appreciate your time, Ultra Magnus.” He did have many plans for the day but he decides that they aren’t so important they cannot be adjusted for this; it was time to take a page from Rodimus’s playbook and act on instinct. Megatron startles when Ultra Magnus’s heavy pedesteps move towards him rather than through the door. “I am not an expert with things like this but,” Ultra Magnus stiltedly raises his arms, “I believe this is one of the times one should offer comfort.” 

Megatron sits and stares at him just long enough that Ultra Magnus begins to second guess himself. As he goes to lower his arms Megatron finds his voice once more. “Wait!” He clears his intake, not intending to have spoken so loudly, “Wait. I- You’re right. I think I would appreciate the… hug.” He stands and hesitatingly wraps his arms around Ultra Magnus who does the same. 

The whole situation was novel to Megatron, both the hug and being the smaller mech in a hug. He can’t recall having ever been surrounded by another mech like this. It was nice. Megatron sighs and relaxes; he had been extremely stiff initially. 

Ultra Magnus relaxes as well, glad that it was working and makes a note to himself to recall how Rodimus initiated the group hugs he started as he didn’t remember them beginning so awkwardly. He still counts this as a success however.

Megatron was resting his chin in the space between Ultra Magnus’s head and his shoulder stacks. “You’re right. I should just talk to him. He deserves some kind of closure.” He feels Ultra Magnus nod against the side of his own helm. “It’s a sound plan, Megatron. I think it will go better than you fear.” Ultra Magnus was lucky he was a good hugger or Megatron might have had something to say about calling him afraid. 

Instead, Megatron lingers a while longer before moving away. Now separated, Megatron glances to the side. “Right, as I said earlier, thank you for your input Ultra Magnus, I’ll take it under advisement.” He begins to fuss with the data pads on his desk. Ultra Magnus smiles slightly. “Of course, Captain. I’m always happy to be of assistance.” Then he makes his way back out of the office, adjusting his plans to account for the slight delay, but satisfied nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Ratchet wraps up his last appointment of the day earlier than he expected. There were several more hours before Drift took his break and they could have dinner together. He leans back in his chair and looks at his cleared desk. “Guess I didn’t need to stay late last night. Could’ve spared myself that whole mess.” He stands and stacks a few datapads. Drift did seem overall happier this morning, like a weight had been lifted off of him. 

Ratchet sighs, maybe he had jumped to conclusions when he assumed Drift’s melancholy after spending time around Rodimus meant that Rodimus was doing something wrong. He puts the stack of datapads down with more force than he intended to. 

No, more likely it had been that Drift was noticing things that Ratchet had overlooked, simply because it had been Rodimus. Things like how his plating was duller than it used to be; not by much but when Ratchet thinks back to before Drift’s exile the Rodimus in his memory shone under the ceiling lights more vibrantly than he had after. 

Ratchet sends First Aid a notice that he was clocking out and goes to pick up some energon. 

If his fool conjunx was going to hinge his emotional well being on how well Rodimus may or may not be doing then Ratchet is going to have to do his part in making sure the little bastard took care of himself. And if there was a part of Ratchet that was concerned because the little bastard was also his friend, well that was his business. 

The door to Rodimus’s office slides open and Ratchet steps through, holding an energon cube. Rodimus snaps to attention; he had been listening to one of Ultra Magnus’s reports on two times speed while carving into his desk. 

He smiles broadly at Ratchet. “Hey Ratch! What’s up?” Ratchet holds the cube out. “Your plating is dull. You’re not getting enough energon.” Rodimus tilts his head to one side, still smiling. “Aww Ratch, you do care!” Rodimus accepts it and takes a sip. Ratchet pointedly ignores him and sits in one of the chairs across from him.

“I know neither of us likes talking about feelings,” Ratchet begins. Rodimus freezes in place mid-sip and sets the cube down. “So I’m going to get this over with in one go. I still want to be your friend. You like beating the same dead equinoid over and over with me about whatever catches our attention. Don’t let this go to your helm, but I think you’re fun to talk to and watching you decide to out jackaft anyone that tries to start something is really entertaining. So I am formally telling you to quit avoiding me because you think I’m still mad.”

Rodimus looks at him with surprise. “I thought you were always just tolerating having me around. I- I’m really happy that you liked being around me too. Means a lot, Ratch.” Rodimus beams at him, his spoiler flutters happily along with him. 

Ratchet stares at him for a long moment; he looks like a different mech smiling at him so earnestly, and for a moment Ratchet would swear he was seeing Rodimus through Drift’s optics. The sudden rush of affection spurs Ratchet to continue, even though less than a minute ago he would’ve sworn he had said his piece.

“You’re not the first prime I’ve been friends with that did something stupid that started a fight. Optimus and I used to be close. I don’t know when that stopped being true,” Ratchet pauses, feeling a pang of grief for a lost friendship, “I couldn’t help Optimus when trying to be some infallible savior of Cybertron crushed what was left of my friend, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.” 

Rodimus’s smile falls away and he looks like Ratchet just told him his turbopuppy died. “Ratchet, I’m not Optimus. I’m not fit to be his replacement in any way. You’d only be disappointed with me if I tried.”

Ratchet grits his denta. “That is not what I was saying. What I was hoping you’d get from that is that Drift and I know that you’re more than just some Matrix bearer, and when you need someone to see you for you, then you should come to us. We know who you are and we like it.”

The miserable look on Rodimus’s face was replaced by a wide-opticed look of shock. “Oh.” Rodimus glances bashfully around his office. “That’s really nice of you. I’ll, uh, I’ll take you up on that sometime.” Ratchet rolls his optics watching Rodimus get flustered. “You’d better.” Ratchet catches sight of the mostly full cube still sitting on the desk, “Finish your damn energon while you’re at it.”

Rodimus takes a long drink just to have something to do while he puts together a more competent response. He doesn’t get the chance as Ratchet apparently meant what he said about covering everything in one go.

Ratchet had been quietly sitting while Rodimus refueled before he started again, “Drift caught me up on the Megatron situation.” Rodimus had just gone to take another drink and looked at Ratchet with wide optics and a mouthful of energon. Ratchet keeps talking before Rodimus can swallow and object to the new topic. “I wish you’d have told me, at any point really. I was your medic when we were on the ship back after you delivered the Matrix- Pit Rodimus, I’ve been your medic this whole time!” 

Rodimus’s expression was sour. “It’s not something I like to bring up, okay? That was one of the worst times of my life, Ratchet.”

“And not bringing it up has only made your life harder! If you had told me I could’ve at least kept your murderer from bringing you in to look at your own dead frame without warning!” 

“Oh so it’s my fault?” Rodimus’s derma curls into a half snarl, pressing his palms into the edge of the desk as if he were about to lunge over the desk. Ratchet opens his mouth to let out a sharp retort before Rodimus lowers his shoulders and all emotion leaves his face. “Whatever, I deserved it either way, so if you’re just angry because you feel guilty, don’t.” 

“Don’t what, Rodimus? Feel guilty? Because I do you aft! If I’d have known I could’ve…” Ratchet’s voice catches in his intake, what would he have done.

“What?” Rodimus smiles ruefully, “You wouldn’t have gone to Drift? Would’ve felt bad about leaving? If that’s the case then I’m glad I didn’t tell you.”

Ratchet hates the way he accepts anything but sympathy. “You’re right. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything important, but maybe you wouldn’t have been so alone, especially those days right after Megatron was made co-captain.”

Rodimus actually looks appalled by that. “Because you would have pitied me so much you set aside everything else I did? That’s worse! I don’t want anyone pitying me; I earned what I got.” He says it the way someone justifies having huge amounts of wealth, like what he got wasn’t actual psychological warfare. It pisses Ratchet off.

“Stop saying that! I was mad at you and you earned that!” Ratchet points directly at him. “Not getting forced onto a ship with your killer constantly tearing you down!”

“Primus Ratchet, what do you want from me?” Rodimus throws his servos into the air. “You’re mad at me because apparently having Megatron mock my every decision was fine until it turns out he killed me?”

“You are impossible! That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time! You having died changes things to the people that care about you! What is so wrong with your friends hating that you were miserable?” Ratchet’s final sentence isn’t heated; it was a genuine question.

Rodimus loses the will to keep the fight going and rests his chin in his servo, palm covering part of his mouth. “...I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles.

That was what he suspected, luckily, Ratchet deals in facts and correcting people. “Tough. Getting loved isn’t something you earn or deserve. It just happens.” He pauses; it didn’t feel right to leave it at that. “You do deserve being loved though. I can’t change the past, but I want you to know that I wish I had done a little more to make some of what happened easier.” 

Rodimus had his palm pressed fully against his mouth now and was shuttering his optics rapidly, fighting tears. Ratchet decides against calling attention to that and finishes, “I still do and I know Drift does too, so just… Remember what I said earlier about coming to us because that offer still stands, even if you’re a stubborn aft that doesn’t know what’s good for him.” 

Rodimus nods but won’t look at him, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so difficult.” His voice is tight.

“It’s alright. I figured this wouldn’t be easy. It’s worth it though.” Ratchet stands to leave and Rodimus abruptly stands with him, moving around the desk, and clears his intake, reigning in his emotions. “Thank you, Ratch. Really, I mean it.” If it weren’t for the shine in his optics Ratchet would have thought he imagined him being so close to crying.

Rodimus holds out a servo and Ratchet raises an optic ridge at that, clearly he was far more thrown by the conversation than he’s letting on if he’s fumbling around for the correct way to see him off. 

“Oh Primus, just come here.” He grabs the offered servo and pulls Rodimus into a hug. “Quit being a stranger, kid. I didn’t tell you we were friends again just to shake your servo when I leave.” He feels Rodimus return the hug, pressing tight before they pull back. Rodimus smiles, “We should catch up soon. Like, normally, with less fighting.” 

Ratchet doublechecks the time and smiles back, “I was only leaving because I figured you must be tired of me being in here. I’ve got a couple hours before I need to be somewhere if you want to talk now.” Rodimus’s smile widens, “Yeah? I’m done with the pressing reports for today, I could take a break.” Ratchet snorts, “Slacker.” He sits back down and they laugh.