[IDW] Introductions All The Way Around
Jun. 25th, 2020 06:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Introductions All Around
Universe: In the Family Way
Characters: Drift, Ratchet, Sunstreaker, Bob
Rating: K+
Description: Rumors spread all too quickly aboard the Lost Light, so when Drift overheard something about Ratchet’s new sparklings, he knew he needed to find the truth out for himself.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“It’s true! I know what I fragging saw! Don’t call me an idiot.”
“Ratchet wouldn’t do that.”
Drift straightened, attention grabbed from his datanovel by the familiar designation. The table nearby held a group of mechs who’d been rowdy for most of the night, the steady flow of engex only making them louder and more boisterous.
Drift had, for the most part, tuned them out. Until now.
“I didn’t say he did it willingly,” growled one of the mechs. A quick glance identified Crosswise, and with him were Gears, Huffer, and Powerglide. “There isn’t a single mech on this ship who didn’t know Sunstreaker was in love with him. I’ll bet you all my creds he’s behind it.”
Gears scowled, his optics flashing. “He ain’t smart enough to be that dumb.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Huffer. He wobbled in the booth, drifting back and forth, clearly on the last legs of consciousness. He’d always been a lightweight.
“He controls that Insecticon. We all know it.” Crosswise rapped his fist against the table, the dull thud lost to the other noise in Swerve’s. “He made that thing attack Ratchet so he could make Ratchet be with him, and Ratchet’s too embarrassed to admit it.”
Drift narrowed his optics. He saved his datanovel’s state and tucked it into his subspace, focus gone. This was a matter he couldn’t let lie, so he rose from the booth, which he knew would immediately reveal him to the rowdy bunch behind him.
Four sets of mouths clicked shut.
“What’s this I hear about Ratchet and Sunstreaker?” Drift asked, planting a friendly smile on his face. Perhaps he showed more denta than he ought.
These were mechs easily intimidated, whether because of his history as Deadlock or because he served as third-in-command aboard the Lost Light, it didn’t matter. Drift would use both to his advantage.
"Nothing," said Gears and Huffer, almost in tandem, immediately focused on their drinks.
"I don't know anything," said Powerglide, with a glare toward their fourth companion.
Crosswise, however, set his jaw in a mulish huff. "Cowards," he spat, and stared up at Drift, shoulders squared. "I know what I saw, and those sparklings got Insecticon in them."
"You know nothing," Drift said, and rested a hand casually on the hilt of his sword. "Spreading rumors is an act of malicious intent, Crosswise. I do believe that goes against the rules Ultra Magnus set for the ship, doesn't it?"
"It's not rumor, it's the truth!" Crosswise insisted, his armor fluffing out around him.
"Wow, we're late for our shift, aren't we?" said Gears.
"We should go," agreed Huffer.
They stood.
"Sit," said Drift.
They sat.
"Now," Drift continued, thumb stroking the length of his sword's hilt. "I don't care what you think you saw, you will shut your mouth about Sunstreaker and Ratchet and their sparklings."
Crosswise bristled. "I don't think, I know. Those things were half-Insecticon. Don't try and cover it up, sir." He sneered. "Sunstreaker used that freak Insecticon of his to force Ratchet into a relationship. We all know it."
"I don't know anything," Powerglide said.
"We don't know anything either," Gears and Huffer said. "Especially about Ratchet and Sunstreaker and sparklings."
Drift drew himself to his full height. "Ratchet and Sunstreaker's relationship is none of your business, and their sparklings are especially none of your concern," he said, his tone icy, his field flickering out in a sharp slap of chastisement. "If I ever hear any of you saying such things again, it won't be Ultra Magnus' discipline you'll have to worry about. Am I clear?"
"Sir!" Huffer, Gears, and Powerglide all saluted him.
Crosswire, however, set his shoulders and glared into his cup of engex. "Fine," he muttered.
Drift doubted this would be the last time he'd have words with Crosswise, but it would have to do for now. There was little doubt Crosswise had already been elsewhere, spewing his poison. Who knew how many believed the absurd rumor? Folks aboard the Lost Light, Pit in the Autobots period, held a grudge against Sunstreaker. Many of them didn't approve of Ratchet's decision to get involved with him.
Judgmental busybodies. It was no one's business but Ratchet's who he chose to love. Besides, anyone with two processor chips to rub together could see those two had been pining after each other for a long time, heat or no heat.
"Good." Drift dropped his hand from his sword. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." He tipped his head in a nod, spun on a heelstrut, and left them to their business.
Gears, Huffer, and Powerglide waited for all of two vents before they scrambled out of the booth, leaving Crosswise to his lonesome. It was probably for the best. Mechs like Crosswise were poison, infecting everyone else with their Pitslag.
Drift, for his part, had little interest in returning to his datapad. Instead, he headed out of Swerve's and aimed straight for the medbay and Ratchet's attached quarters. He hadn't met the sparklings yet, yielding to Ratchet's request for privacy, but this was something he needed to discuss. Crosswise was poison, but he wasn't a liar.
He'd seen something to make him think the sparklings weren't your average bitlet, and Drift wanted to find out for himself. If only to have a better leg to stand on when quashing rumors in the future.
Drift arrived, knocked, and waited patiently. The door slid open only a third of the way, Ratchet peering out with suspicion before it melted into a cautious smile.
"Busy?" Drift asked.
"I have sparklings, of course I'm busy," Ratchet said dryly. His optics were pinched around the edges -- evidence of stress and lack of recharge. "What did you break?"
"Nothing. I swear." Drift held up his hands and turned in a slow circle. "See? No dents, dings, or otherwise. Can't I just stop by and visit an old friend? Finally get to see the sparklings I'm going to steal?"
Ratchet snorted. "Why don't you just admit that you're nosy?"
"You caught me." Drift beamed and projected as much innocence as he could, attempting to channel Tailgate at his most beguiling.
Ratchet arched an orbital ridge. "I don't believe that act for a second." He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and sighed. "Might as well introduce you, I guess. You'll find out sooner or later." He stepped aside, gesturing. "Come on in."
"What am I'm going to find out?" Drift asked.
"You'll see." Ratchet keyed the door shut and locked it. "There's four of them, by the way."
"Four?" Drift nearly choked on a vent. The most he'd ever heard of a Cybertronian successfully carrying to term was two, as in twins.
"Three eggs, four sparklings. Apparently twins spawn twins. Who knew?" Ratchet shrugged, but it was far from casual, as he led Drift toward the berthroom, only to pause just outside the door. "Whatever you do, just listen before you react, all right?"
Drift tilted his head and folded his arms. "So I guess there's some truth to the rumor they look like Insecticons."
"Rumors already?" Ratchet scowled before scrubbing a hand down his face. "It was Crosswise, wasn't it? I had Nightspire with me earlier, and he's the most... Insecticon of the bunch."
"It was Crosswise."
"Fragger." Ratchet's optics flashed with anger. "I'll have words with him."
"Oh, I did already, but feel free to do it again," Drift grinned and tilted his head toward the door. "So can I see the bits or what?"
"You're not going to ask?"
"Should I?"
Ratchet's answer was to turn and palm open the door to the berth room, gesturing Drift ahead of him, as the sound of chirping and Sunstreaker muttering floated out.
"I don't know how you get so dinged up, Wire. I swear you get that from your uncle," Sunstreaker was saying as he had a bright yellow sparkling draped over one leg, a polishing cloth in the other hand.
Said sparkling was giggling and squirming, trying to wriggle away from Sunstreaker's hand, winglets twitching on his back.
Two other sparklings played nearby, rolling a ball back and forth to each other under Bob's watchful optics, their matching and complimentary paint schemes suggesting they were the twins.
A fourth toddled across the floor straight toward them, grinning, arms held up to Ratchet, antennae swaying on their forehead, and little nubs giving the suggestion of future spikes and other protrusions, along with the smaller, secondary pair of arms. Four optics blinked in arrhythmic succession. This must be Nightspire.
Ratchet bent down, scooping him up, and the sparkling giggled, grabbing Ratchet's face to press a kiss to his cheek.
"Nightspire?" Drift asked.
"Yeah." Ratchet sighed, but he had a smile. "I was in heat, and Bob found me. He thought he was helping." He gave Drift a wry look. "I guess technically he did. I certainly didn't put up much of a fight."
"So they're Bob's?"
"And Sunstreaker's." Ratchet tipped Nightspire into his arm and started tickling the bitlet, causing peals of delighted giggles. "I merged with him not long after. It'll probably take years of study to figure out what caused what, not that I want to be a science project."
"Our kids aren't going to be science projects either," Sunstreaker said as he approached, the recently polished sparkling tucked under his arm like a sports ball. "Trade you, Ratchet. I'm done with Livewire."
Ratchet chuckled, and the exchange of sparklings occurred, though Sunstreaker gave Drift a sidelong, suspicious look.
"Mama!" Livewire squealed and made grabby-hands for Ratchet, though his pale blue optics grew big and round when he spied Drift. "Who dis?"
"This," Ratchet corrected. "Who is this?"
"Who is this?" Livewire asked, speaking more slowly and carefully this time.
Drift tried to maintain a sense of decorum, but by Primus, they were adorable. Every single one of them. He itched to pick them up and cuddle them, and it was only Sunstreaker's steady glare which kept him from snatching the nearest bitlet.
“This is Drift,” Ratchet said, and try as he might to be gruff, he couldn’t hide the affection in his tone. “He’s a friend.”
“A best friend,” Drift said with a gentle smile, careful to hide his denta, though he suspected they wouldn’t bother Livewire, one of his genitor’s being an Insecticon and all. Bob’s denta were far more frightening. “And I swear, I will protect you with my spark.” He pressed his hand over his chest, giving the bitlet a little bow.
Ratchet rolled his optics. “It’s not as serious as all that.”
“It is to me.” Drift offered his hand to Livewire, and grinned when Livewire grabbed two of his fingers and squeezed them. “They’re your sparklings, Ratchet. Of course I’d protect them. I don’t care how they came into the universe.”
Livewire beamed at him and squirmed in Ratchet’s hold, both hands reaching toward Drift now and making grabby motions. Drift glanced at Ratchet for permission seconds before the sparkling was tumbled into his arms, impossibly small, and impossibly light. And yes, perhaps Livewire was a bit odd looking for all that he resembled Sunstreaker the most. Drift had difficulty reconciling the idea his sire was Bob and Sunstreaker both somehow.
But.
But Livewire, and his siblings, were Cybertronian in their own right. Accident of birth or no, they had every right to live their lives free of judgment, and to seek their own futures. Hadn’t that been what the Decepticons originally fought to ensure?
There was a tap on his feet.
Drift looked down to see the twins beaming up at him, one patting each of his feet, their identical grins impossibly charming. They had complementary color schemes: the one at his right was mostly red with highlights of silver and black, while the one at his left was mostly silver with highlights of black and red. They both had antennae and nubbins on their back which suggested they might evolve into wings someday.
“Torque and Torrent,” Ratchet said. “My twins.”
“Our twins,” Sunstreaker corrected.
Bob chirped and trundled up, his smaller, secondary pair of hands patting Torque and Torrent on the top of their heads before he looked up at Drift with bright optics and wiggling antennae as if showing off the bitlets.
“Mine, too,” the look seemed to say.
“He’s more sapient than we give him credit for,” Ratchet said, lips curved with a fond amusement. “He might not be able to talk to us, but he gets his point across.”
“I love them all,” Drift said, without thinking. He cuddled Livewire closer as the bitlet squeaked and patted his face. “They’re perfect.”
Ratchet chuckled. “You’re only saying that because you’re not the one trying to get them to recharge at the same time for a moment’s peace.” He bent down, scooped up the twins, and tucked them under his arms like they were lobbing balls. Bob clicked at them and scuttled away to what appeared to be a nest under the table in the corner. “I know mechs are gonna have a lot to say once we finally introduce them.”
“The rumors have already started,” Drift said with a sigh. He tucked Livewire into his arm and tickled the sparkling, who broke into high-pitched squeals of delight. “Might as well get it over with. We’re Cybertronian. We’ve seen weirder.”
“Are we supposed to take that as a compliment?” Sunstreaker demanded as he swapped out Nightspire for both twins -- apparently they had to be polished together.
Drift shrugged. “A statement of fact. It means that fewer people will be bothered than you think.” He tickled Livewire again, his spark warming at the bitlet’s laugh. “If there’s one thing the war made us, it was more adaptable.”
“For their sake, I hope so.” Ratchet’s gaze softened in a way Drift hadn’t seen in quite a while. “I want them to be as spoiled as the others.”
‘The others’ meaning Whirl’s, and Perceptor’s, and Ultra Magnus’. There were more sparklings on the Lost Light than Drift thought he’d ever see in his lifetime, and he considered it a sign the war was truly behind them.
“They will be.” Drift was sure of it. Part-Insecticon or not, they were all adorable.
He watched Sunstreaker wrestle with Torque and Torrent, corralling both bitlets in his lap, keeping one in place with an elbow while he tried to polish the other. They giggled and babbled at each other, and Sunstreaker made affectionate, exasperated sounds, looking the most relaxed Drift had ever seen him.
Bob watched from nearby, like the best guardian a sparkling could ask for.
It was a weird situation, but not a terrible one.
“If you want, I can explain to Ultra Magnus and Roddy. Soften the blow,” Drift said as Livewire grabbed his hand and started gnawing on his finger with -- ow -- sharper denta than Drift would have expected.
Chew toys, he thought, would be a good newspark gift.
“I’m not a coward. I can do it.” Ratchet scowled. “Call them up now.”
Drift swallowed a chuckle. He hadn’t meant to poke the beast, but he’d gone and done it anyway. Challenging Ratchet was a surefire way to ensure Ratchet would stop dithering around.
“It’s going to be fine, I promise,” Drift said as he bent down and put Livewire back on the floor, though it nearly broke his spark to do so.
Livewire looked up at him with such betrayal, Drift itched to pick him back up. But then Bob chirped, and Livewire’s optics lit up. He scampered across the floor, diving into the nest beneath the table and into Bob’s protective embrace. Bob chittered at him, rolling Livewire around with his secondary arms, the sparkling giggling with delight.
“I’ll be right back,” Drift said, patting Ratchet on the shoulder, before he stepped out of the berthroom to make the call.
He had every confidence in both Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. Perhaps a little less confidence in the crew at large, but they’d make do. Either way, Drift knew he’d protect those sparklings with every beat of his spark.
***
Universe: In the Family Way
Characters: Drift, Ratchet, Sunstreaker, Bob
Rating: K+
Description: Rumors spread all too quickly aboard the Lost Light, so when Drift overheard something about Ratchet’s new sparklings, he knew he needed to find the truth out for himself.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“It’s true! I know what I fragging saw! Don’t call me an idiot.”
“Ratchet wouldn’t do that.”
Drift straightened, attention grabbed from his datanovel by the familiar designation. The table nearby held a group of mechs who’d been rowdy for most of the night, the steady flow of engex only making them louder and more boisterous.
Drift had, for the most part, tuned them out. Until now.
“I didn’t say he did it willingly,” growled one of the mechs. A quick glance identified Crosswise, and with him were Gears, Huffer, and Powerglide. “There isn’t a single mech on this ship who didn’t know Sunstreaker was in love with him. I’ll bet you all my creds he’s behind it.”
Gears scowled, his optics flashing. “He ain’t smart enough to be that dumb.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Huffer. He wobbled in the booth, drifting back and forth, clearly on the last legs of consciousness. He’d always been a lightweight.
“He controls that Insecticon. We all know it.” Crosswise rapped his fist against the table, the dull thud lost to the other noise in Swerve’s. “He made that thing attack Ratchet so he could make Ratchet be with him, and Ratchet’s too embarrassed to admit it.”
Drift narrowed his optics. He saved his datanovel’s state and tucked it into his subspace, focus gone. This was a matter he couldn’t let lie, so he rose from the booth, which he knew would immediately reveal him to the rowdy bunch behind him.
Four sets of mouths clicked shut.
“What’s this I hear about Ratchet and Sunstreaker?” Drift asked, planting a friendly smile on his face. Perhaps he showed more denta than he ought.
These were mechs easily intimidated, whether because of his history as Deadlock or because he served as third-in-command aboard the Lost Light, it didn’t matter. Drift would use both to his advantage.
"Nothing," said Gears and Huffer, almost in tandem, immediately focused on their drinks.
"I don't know anything," said Powerglide, with a glare toward their fourth companion.
Crosswise, however, set his jaw in a mulish huff. "Cowards," he spat, and stared up at Drift, shoulders squared. "I know what I saw, and those sparklings got Insecticon in them."
"You know nothing," Drift said, and rested a hand casually on the hilt of his sword. "Spreading rumors is an act of malicious intent, Crosswise. I do believe that goes against the rules Ultra Magnus set for the ship, doesn't it?"
"It's not rumor, it's the truth!" Crosswise insisted, his armor fluffing out around him.
"Wow, we're late for our shift, aren't we?" said Gears.
"We should go," agreed Huffer.
They stood.
"Sit," said Drift.
They sat.
"Now," Drift continued, thumb stroking the length of his sword's hilt. "I don't care what you think you saw, you will shut your mouth about Sunstreaker and Ratchet and their sparklings."
Crosswise bristled. "I don't think, I know. Those things were half-Insecticon. Don't try and cover it up, sir." He sneered. "Sunstreaker used that freak Insecticon of his to force Ratchet into a relationship. We all know it."
"I don't know anything," Powerglide said.
"We don't know anything either," Gears and Huffer said. "Especially about Ratchet and Sunstreaker and sparklings."
Drift drew himself to his full height. "Ratchet and Sunstreaker's relationship is none of your business, and their sparklings are especially none of your concern," he said, his tone icy, his field flickering out in a sharp slap of chastisement. "If I ever hear any of you saying such things again, it won't be Ultra Magnus' discipline you'll have to worry about. Am I clear?"
"Sir!" Huffer, Gears, and Powerglide all saluted him.
Crosswire, however, set his shoulders and glared into his cup of engex. "Fine," he muttered.
Drift doubted this would be the last time he'd have words with Crosswise, but it would have to do for now. There was little doubt Crosswise had already been elsewhere, spewing his poison. Who knew how many believed the absurd rumor? Folks aboard the Lost Light, Pit in the Autobots period, held a grudge against Sunstreaker. Many of them didn't approve of Ratchet's decision to get involved with him.
Judgmental busybodies. It was no one's business but Ratchet's who he chose to love. Besides, anyone with two processor chips to rub together could see those two had been pining after each other for a long time, heat or no heat.
"Good." Drift dropped his hand from his sword. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." He tipped his head in a nod, spun on a heelstrut, and left them to their business.
Gears, Huffer, and Powerglide waited for all of two vents before they scrambled out of the booth, leaving Crosswise to his lonesome. It was probably for the best. Mechs like Crosswise were poison, infecting everyone else with their Pitslag.
Drift, for his part, had little interest in returning to his datapad. Instead, he headed out of Swerve's and aimed straight for the medbay and Ratchet's attached quarters. He hadn't met the sparklings yet, yielding to Ratchet's request for privacy, but this was something he needed to discuss. Crosswise was poison, but he wasn't a liar.
He'd seen something to make him think the sparklings weren't your average bitlet, and Drift wanted to find out for himself. If only to have a better leg to stand on when quashing rumors in the future.
Drift arrived, knocked, and waited patiently. The door slid open only a third of the way, Ratchet peering out with suspicion before it melted into a cautious smile.
"Busy?" Drift asked.
"I have sparklings, of course I'm busy," Ratchet said dryly. His optics were pinched around the edges -- evidence of stress and lack of recharge. "What did you break?"
"Nothing. I swear." Drift held up his hands and turned in a slow circle. "See? No dents, dings, or otherwise. Can't I just stop by and visit an old friend? Finally get to see the sparklings I'm going to steal?"
Ratchet snorted. "Why don't you just admit that you're nosy?"
"You caught me." Drift beamed and projected as much innocence as he could, attempting to channel Tailgate at his most beguiling.
Ratchet arched an orbital ridge. "I don't believe that act for a second." He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and sighed. "Might as well introduce you, I guess. You'll find out sooner or later." He stepped aside, gesturing. "Come on in."
"What am I'm going to find out?" Drift asked.
"You'll see." Ratchet keyed the door shut and locked it. "There's four of them, by the way."
"Four?" Drift nearly choked on a vent. The most he'd ever heard of a Cybertronian successfully carrying to term was two, as in twins.
"Three eggs, four sparklings. Apparently twins spawn twins. Who knew?" Ratchet shrugged, but it was far from casual, as he led Drift toward the berthroom, only to pause just outside the door. "Whatever you do, just listen before you react, all right?"
Drift tilted his head and folded his arms. "So I guess there's some truth to the rumor they look like Insecticons."
"Rumors already?" Ratchet scowled before scrubbing a hand down his face. "It was Crosswise, wasn't it? I had Nightspire with me earlier, and he's the most... Insecticon of the bunch."
"It was Crosswise."
"Fragger." Ratchet's optics flashed with anger. "I'll have words with him."
"Oh, I did already, but feel free to do it again," Drift grinned and tilted his head toward the door. "So can I see the bits or what?"
"You're not going to ask?"
"Should I?"
Ratchet's answer was to turn and palm open the door to the berth room, gesturing Drift ahead of him, as the sound of chirping and Sunstreaker muttering floated out.
"I don't know how you get so dinged up, Wire. I swear you get that from your uncle," Sunstreaker was saying as he had a bright yellow sparkling draped over one leg, a polishing cloth in the other hand.
Said sparkling was giggling and squirming, trying to wriggle away from Sunstreaker's hand, winglets twitching on his back.
Two other sparklings played nearby, rolling a ball back and forth to each other under Bob's watchful optics, their matching and complimentary paint schemes suggesting they were the twins.
A fourth toddled across the floor straight toward them, grinning, arms held up to Ratchet, antennae swaying on their forehead, and little nubs giving the suggestion of future spikes and other protrusions, along with the smaller, secondary pair of arms. Four optics blinked in arrhythmic succession. This must be Nightspire.
Ratchet bent down, scooping him up, and the sparkling giggled, grabbing Ratchet's face to press a kiss to his cheek.
"Nightspire?" Drift asked.
"Yeah." Ratchet sighed, but he had a smile. "I was in heat, and Bob found me. He thought he was helping." He gave Drift a wry look. "I guess technically he did. I certainly didn't put up much of a fight."
"So they're Bob's?"
"And Sunstreaker's." Ratchet tipped Nightspire into his arm and started tickling the bitlet, causing peals of delighted giggles. "I merged with him not long after. It'll probably take years of study to figure out what caused what, not that I want to be a science project."
"Our kids aren't going to be science projects either," Sunstreaker said as he approached, the recently polished sparkling tucked under his arm like a sports ball. "Trade you, Ratchet. I'm done with Livewire."
Ratchet chuckled, and the exchange of sparklings occurred, though Sunstreaker gave Drift a sidelong, suspicious look.
"Mama!" Livewire squealed and made grabby-hands for Ratchet, though his pale blue optics grew big and round when he spied Drift. "Who dis?"
"This," Ratchet corrected. "Who is this?"
"Who is this?" Livewire asked, speaking more slowly and carefully this time.
Drift tried to maintain a sense of decorum, but by Primus, they were adorable. Every single one of them. He itched to pick them up and cuddle them, and it was only Sunstreaker's steady glare which kept him from snatching the nearest bitlet.
“This is Drift,” Ratchet said, and try as he might to be gruff, he couldn’t hide the affection in his tone. “He’s a friend.”
“A best friend,” Drift said with a gentle smile, careful to hide his denta, though he suspected they wouldn’t bother Livewire, one of his genitor’s being an Insecticon and all. Bob’s denta were far more frightening. “And I swear, I will protect you with my spark.” He pressed his hand over his chest, giving the bitlet a little bow.
Ratchet rolled his optics. “It’s not as serious as all that.”
“It is to me.” Drift offered his hand to Livewire, and grinned when Livewire grabbed two of his fingers and squeezed them. “They’re your sparklings, Ratchet. Of course I’d protect them. I don’t care how they came into the universe.”
Livewire beamed at him and squirmed in Ratchet’s hold, both hands reaching toward Drift now and making grabby motions. Drift glanced at Ratchet for permission seconds before the sparkling was tumbled into his arms, impossibly small, and impossibly light. And yes, perhaps Livewire was a bit odd looking for all that he resembled Sunstreaker the most. Drift had difficulty reconciling the idea his sire was Bob and Sunstreaker both somehow.
But.
But Livewire, and his siblings, were Cybertronian in their own right. Accident of birth or no, they had every right to live their lives free of judgment, and to seek their own futures. Hadn’t that been what the Decepticons originally fought to ensure?
There was a tap on his feet.
Drift looked down to see the twins beaming up at him, one patting each of his feet, their identical grins impossibly charming. They had complementary color schemes: the one at his right was mostly red with highlights of silver and black, while the one at his left was mostly silver with highlights of black and red. They both had antennae and nubbins on their back which suggested they might evolve into wings someday.
“Torque and Torrent,” Ratchet said. “My twins.”
“Our twins,” Sunstreaker corrected.
Bob chirped and trundled up, his smaller, secondary pair of hands patting Torque and Torrent on the top of their heads before he looked up at Drift with bright optics and wiggling antennae as if showing off the bitlets.
“Mine, too,” the look seemed to say.
“He’s more sapient than we give him credit for,” Ratchet said, lips curved with a fond amusement. “He might not be able to talk to us, but he gets his point across.”
“I love them all,” Drift said, without thinking. He cuddled Livewire closer as the bitlet squeaked and patted his face. “They’re perfect.”
Ratchet chuckled. “You’re only saying that because you’re not the one trying to get them to recharge at the same time for a moment’s peace.” He bent down, scooped up the twins, and tucked them under his arms like they were lobbing balls. Bob clicked at them and scuttled away to what appeared to be a nest under the table in the corner. “I know mechs are gonna have a lot to say once we finally introduce them.”
“The rumors have already started,” Drift said with a sigh. He tucked Livewire into his arm and tickled the sparkling, who broke into high-pitched squeals of delight. “Might as well get it over with. We’re Cybertronian. We’ve seen weirder.”
“Are we supposed to take that as a compliment?” Sunstreaker demanded as he swapped out Nightspire for both twins -- apparently they had to be polished together.
Drift shrugged. “A statement of fact. It means that fewer people will be bothered than you think.” He tickled Livewire again, his spark warming at the bitlet’s laugh. “If there’s one thing the war made us, it was more adaptable.”
“For their sake, I hope so.” Ratchet’s gaze softened in a way Drift hadn’t seen in quite a while. “I want them to be as spoiled as the others.”
‘The others’ meaning Whirl’s, and Perceptor’s, and Ultra Magnus’. There were more sparklings on the Lost Light than Drift thought he’d ever see in his lifetime, and he considered it a sign the war was truly behind them.
“They will be.” Drift was sure of it. Part-Insecticon or not, they were all adorable.
He watched Sunstreaker wrestle with Torque and Torrent, corralling both bitlets in his lap, keeping one in place with an elbow while he tried to polish the other. They giggled and babbled at each other, and Sunstreaker made affectionate, exasperated sounds, looking the most relaxed Drift had ever seen him.
Bob watched from nearby, like the best guardian a sparkling could ask for.
It was a weird situation, but not a terrible one.
“If you want, I can explain to Ultra Magnus and Roddy. Soften the blow,” Drift said as Livewire grabbed his hand and started gnawing on his finger with -- ow -- sharper denta than Drift would have expected.
Chew toys, he thought, would be a good newspark gift.
“I’m not a coward. I can do it.” Ratchet scowled. “Call them up now.”
Drift swallowed a chuckle. He hadn’t meant to poke the beast, but he’d gone and done it anyway. Challenging Ratchet was a surefire way to ensure Ratchet would stop dithering around.
“It’s going to be fine, I promise,” Drift said as he bent down and put Livewire back on the floor, though it nearly broke his spark to do so.
Livewire looked up at him with such betrayal, Drift itched to pick him back up. But then Bob chirped, and Livewire’s optics lit up. He scampered across the floor, diving into the nest beneath the table and into Bob’s protective embrace. Bob chittered at him, rolling Livewire around with his secondary arms, the sparkling giggling with delight.
“I’ll be right back,” Drift said, patting Ratchet on the shoulder, before he stepped out of the berthroom to make the call.
He had every confidence in both Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. Perhaps a little less confidence in the crew at large, but they’d make do. Either way, Drift knew he’d protect those sparklings with every beat of his spark.
