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Ratchet walked past Rung and opened up a bottle of high-grade, tossing it in the psychiatrists direction. The little clink followed by an "oof!" was his sign that it was successfully caught.
"Are you going to be drinking tonight, Rung?" He asked, turning slightly in case the orange mech saw it more fitting to communicate physically rather than verbally. He was right to do so. No. It didn't bother him. Really, Ratchet honestly couldn't understand how Rung willingly did his job sometimes. To listen to sometimes ungrateful mechs all day and respond kindly back to them?
If that was his job he'd be needing to see a therapist himself.
He held out a glass that was quickly taken and filled, dusted with something that just looked sweet. What was he going to do to convince the orange mech he really didn't have a sweet tooth? He rolled his optics. Rung looked too happy to share the things he liked with someone else.
Ratchet tilted his head back and downed half of the drink in one go. This, for some reason, always seemed to earn himself an admonishing hit to the side. The thick plating of being a forged medic as well as the general... Rung-ness of the psychiatrist made it less of a hit and more of just a feeling, though he doubted Rung would've tried to hit him hard enough for that.
"What? You've got to use your words. I can't get a read on your EM field- or your face with those fragging glasses." He leaned back into the couch and slung an arm slowly around Rung, giving him room to move away if he wanted.
He tucked himself in closer.
Primus, if he had any sort of base in reality, give him strength.
Rung's vocaliser clicked, once, twice, the familiar whir of it resetting met with an unfamiliar ping. He grumbled, "S-Sorry. One of my patients got a li-ittle violent today." Rung reached past Ratchet to grab at a pack of rust sticks left on the coffee table. "I'd rather y-you enjoy the drink, dear Ratchet." His voice was hiccupping over itself at seemingly random intervals.
Not on Ratchet's watch. He placed a hand firmly on the top of Rung's head, holding the mech still as he ran a scan over him. Along with a slightly damaged vocaliser, he had a few small dents around his neck, and one of his arms. An energon line was pinched in said arm.
"I don't suppose you'd like to share which one?" Ratchet huffed, setting his drink aside in favour of turning Rung around to face him.
"Unfortunately, n-no. Trust me, I was not in a-any danger. The most I will say is that I pushed too far, and caused an unwelcome m-memory to resurface." He'd personally like to push whoever did this into the vacuum of space, but to each their own. Ratchet felt along Rung's neck slowly, sighing to himself as the other tilted his head back for easier access. He mapped out where his vocaliser was pushed slightly out of alignment and applied a soft pressure until it snapped back into it's original position, soothing over the area before moving on.
The sensors in his hands picked out where each dent was, magnetised, and pulled it back. The bigger one that was crimping his energon line took a little more coaxing, hard pulls around the edge of it-- very Whirl in shape-- and back towards the centre. He watched Rung bite his lip and eased off it.
"I'm going to get one of my stronger magnets from my first aid kit, alright?" Ratchet made his way to the cabinet in his wash room.
Rung's voice followed him, "Thank you, for spending your time on me after hours. How was your day, by the way?" And oh frag him he could hear the sweet smile behind those words. Maybe he got it from the candy he ate? Or the genuine happiness that he got from being fretted over, which Ratchet wished he could do more often, made his spark bloom. How anyone could even think of harming such a gentle sparked mech was beyond him.
"It was fine. Ambulon kicked me out for a lunch break. I'm going to work overtime tomorrow just to screw with him." Ratchet said, not quite grinning, but with a slag eating expression that would make most of his patients run away. He returned to the couch and guided Rung to sit in his lap, the injured arm already being presented to him. The trust behind such a simple action- focus.
He placed the magnet at the centre of the dent and gave a swift nod to Rung. The psychiatrist squeezed his optics shut, if the dim glasses were anything to go by, and Ratchet pulled up.
"Mmph-!" Rung grimaced, head pressing into Ratchet's chassis. That beautiful spark of his flared brighter, if even for a moment, and all Ratchet wanted to do was kiss its owner until they were floating. Instead, he pulled him in for a hug, pushing wave after wave of calm reassurance through his field.
"Are you alright?" He tilted his head, noticing Rung getting closer to him, looping his own arms around Ratchet's neck. "I can get some med-grade, if you need?"
"No no, I am quite alright. Thank you, Ratchet." Rung replied easily, nestled neatly into Ratchet. His own field opened up like a delicate bloom greeting the rising sun. It met with every sharp edge and rounded it, every outburst Ratchet had during the day and soothed them. He felt like he was at sea, cradled in a boat that Rung manned.
Then there was a tapping. He on-lined his eyes to see what was offending his relaxation to see its orange origin. Two thin antenna flicked against his chin, almost like a dog's tail wagging. Ratchet would have to show him a Terran movie with one later. He leaned forward and bit the tip of it playfully-
"-Ah!"
Ratchet stared down at Rung who was hurriedly trying to cover his mouth, a sharp twinge of apology rushing to his field before his mouth could form the words. Nope. Ratchet went down again with purpose this time, wrapping his glossa around it and sucking. Oh and the noise that Rung made- he- he- he needed to pause. He wasn't- they both weren't some newbuilds that could just go at it like crazy.
"I'm sorry, Rung. Would you like to...?" Frag him he wasn't usually this nervous to ask the orange mech for some casual interface. There was just something different about tonight. He wanted to slowly come undone alongside him, to worship and cherish everything about him.
Rung shifted out of his lap and yeah he probably ruined everything-
"I would love to, Ratchet. You took care of me, so it's only fair that I return the favour." There was a growing heat coming from deep inside, and in this position, Ratchet couldn't tell if it was from him or Rung.
"You don't owe me anything, Rung. I'm your friend and a medic. I would have helped you regardless." He said, his vents catching with a rub from the psychiatrist. He laced their fingers together and brought Ratchet's hand to his lips- soft soft lips. "Oh-!" He groaned loudly as that segmented glossa traced up the sensors in his hands.
From the base of his palm to the tip of each finger, he watched almost hypnotically as Rung worshipped his hand like it was his salvation. Ratchet fervently reached out with the hand that wasn't being treated to this impromptu spa day and grabbed at the back of Rung's neck, applying just enough pressure to steady him.
Small orange digits started to trace old glyphs of some long dead language into the back of his hand, their owner now trying to deep throat two fingers like they were a pack of his goddamned ruststicks. Ratchet would much rather he be doing this then eating more of those stupid things. He'd been trying to get rid of them subtly but every single time he'd finally managed to dispose of one, another pack would be on Rung's desk by the end of the next shift.
Fragging compartments.
Ratchet's modesty panel folded away with a familiar shnnk and oh, if Rung had his glasses off he might've overloaded just from the devious smirk that got him.
Rung didn't immediately go for his half-pressurised spike, no. He stopped everything at once and returned to that more recognisable, blushing and nervous nerd that hadn't changed, even through the tides of the war.
"Could we swap cables while we do this tonight? I don't mind casually interfacing with you, Ratchet, but I want to feel more of you." He asked, quietly, his thumb mic making a soft staticky sound as he brushed it back and forth with his other.
"Why would I ever say no to that? It makes it easier for me to know how you're feeling once I get you to forget how to do anything but moan my name." Ratchet teased back, pressing a finger right above Rung's spark.
Rung pressed himself forward in response, "If you'll recall my earlier statement, dear Ratchet, I wish to service you." He levelled Ratchet with those ever expressive eyebrows of his. A length of cable was being unspooled from a compartment in his chest, one of those ports that just looked archaic and, if he were more religious, he'd say there was something holy about them.
He traced a finger up Rung's now exposed ports, each highlighted with a biolight in a unique pattern that he'd never seen anywhere else. Two on each side of his chest. Rung gently corrected his wandering hand, taking Ratchet's own-- and when had he transformed his away?-- cable and teasing the end before plugging it in to his left side. He swapped his own, lacking the 'teeth' that newer Cybertronians had to have a better hold on their partner.
Then there was nothing, and everything.
Ratchet gripped onto the table their cubes had been placed onto, the edges denting from the force behind it. His entire being, his entire conscious, was filled with this- this enormity he couldn't even begin to describe with words. All he knew was that he liked it, liked it a lot. It was a pleasant buzzing, and oh he could overload from this alone, maybe he had. He was floating so high, so high and then--
The code for a few firewalls came up in place from Rung, feeling like a shot to the head, and he was back on the couch, fans slamming hot air into the surrounding area. He shakily released the table and tugged Rung closer.
"One of these days, I really h-hope you forget to run the code I gave you. Fuck. You're amazing, have I ever told you that?" Ratchet didn't care how much static was lacing his voice, how desperate he sounded. He wanted. He wanted so badly and he didn't know what he wanted. It was always different connecting to him from the ports on his chest. Obviously his medical ports and the one on the back of his neck served different connections. He would figure out what made these so close to his spark tick one day. Right now? All he wanted was Rung.
Rung's flicking antenna drew him back from his thoughts, "Thank you very much. You have uh..." He trailed off, counting something up on his fingers, "complimented me as such on one or two other occasions." Nerd. He hated when Rodimus called him it, but, really. Even in the heat of interface he took every question seriously.
"Not fragging enough." Ratchet decided. He pushed more direct feelings of calm and adoration to Rung through the hardline. The other gave a minute sound of disagreement. Ratchet stilled as Rung went back to exploring his frame, slender hands travelling down his stomach. He swallowed hard. "Spike only... right?" No matter how many times they had done this, no matter how much he trusted Rung, he always had to ask. He felt stupid for it.
Rung quickly nodded his head. "Of course, Ratchet. Unless you tell me otherwise, I will only touch your spike and nothing lower." And there was that ever understanding presence that Rung had to him. Like he'd seen the rise and fall of civilisations and come to know pain as an old friend. There was such a pure honesty to him and- oh he was happy he'd survived the war to reunite with this dumb old mech.
Really, they both were.
Rung continued to travel his lithe body down until his scorching, oh someone help him, panel grinded down against Ratchet's half-pressurised spike. A little questioning glyph came through from the psychiatrist. He gave him a thumbs up. One hand splayed out on Ratchet's abdomen, using it as leverage while his other hand stroked up the thick length, occasionally letting his modesty plating rub against it.
"Sweetspark."
"O-Oh! Yes! Yes?" Rung's focus shot up at the name and it took everything Ratchet had not to laugh. He propped himself up slightly against the armrest and traced Rung's face, his lips, and stopped to tap at his glasses.
"I want to see all of you. Can I take your glasses off?" Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief when Rung made an affirmative hum accompanied by a warm smile. He guided the slighter into a warm kiss, filled with simple love. They could leave all the fast frags to younger bots. What they had? It was like a good bottle of high-grade. It took time to be this good and he wanted it to take as much time as it could, because they had that now.
He found an empty space on the table and carefully placed the optic enhancers there as best as he could with the kiss turning into something more heated. Ratchet found stressed wires along Rung's backstrut and pulled, soothed, and then pulled again. The sounds were desperately eaten and swallowed deep into Ratchet's spark. The simple idea of someone possibly hearing such a wonderful noise if they were to walk past was unacceptable.
His room was soundproofed, though.
"Primus help me. That's wonderful, please, allow me?" Rung gasped as a tangle of wires came loose underneath the careful attention of his medic.
"As long as you say my name next time instead of his, Rung." Ratchet punctuated the psychiatrists designation and watched his whole body shiver with satisfaction. He continued to heavily pet Rung, moving his hands down to roll circles into the softer metal of his abdomen.
Rung slipped his digits into the ever tense wires of Ratchet's shoulders and did something that had him moaning appreciatively. Now that his optics were exposed, that slightly off teal glow reflected off the edges of his face plates. He was so beautiful. The kind of beauty described in old stories, in poetry and song. Rung belonged in those kinds of things.
His hands pulled away, the warmth of his body following next. Ratchet wanted to whine. He wouldn't, but he wanted to. He watched Rung position himself lower on the couch until Ratchet's spike- it was nearly as long as his face- was pressed against said face. He licked it teasingly.
"Is this alright?" He asked.
He really didn't have to. "Yes, yeah. Fuck, Rung. Please."
"I'll have to re-look at what that means when we're done here." Rung smiled. He steadied himself, hands on Ratchet's thighs, and licked all the way from his spike housing to the tip. He laved at the slit, swallowing greedily at the mineral rich transfluid, humming at whatever flavour landed on his glossa pleasantly. Maybe he shouldn't have asked him to take off his glasses. This was dangerous.
Ratchet groaned, the head popping into that deceptively small mouth. He felt teeth gently graze past his tip, glossa finding and pressing all the sensors right below the flare of it. Rung moved some of his weight onto his elbow so his hand could cover the area they both knew wouldn't fit into his intake.
"Are you trying to- ah-! Trying to make me overload before I even get to touch that pretty valve of yours?" Ratchet asked, grinning at the way Rung's ministrations stuttered. "I wanna make it all swollen and needy, watch lubricant drool all messy from you and onto my spike." Oh yeah, now he was getting somewhere. As much as he'd love to indulge Rung in leading this time, he ached to give the other some pleasure as well. Plus, he hadn't said anything to the degree of 'no touching'.
"But, Ratchet. I want to take care of you for once. You do so much for us all, day in and day out. If even for a night, I want to let you relax." Rung looked up at him so earnestly as if his face wasn't shining and wet from their mixed fluids. Compromise.
He clicked his tongue, "We both do, sweetspark. I can't imagine how difficult your job is sometimes, but you always do it with a smile. That's more than I can say for myself." He made a throwing motion with his hand. Rung's laughter, quiet and as full as dew drops from an early morning mist, filling the air.
Was it bad that he wanted to keep those sounds for himself too?
Ratchet tugged gently at Rung, testing to see if he'd let him move him. Rung followed. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, planting his pedes on the floor. Rung quickly caught on and straddled his lap, pearly white thighs a warm cream in the dim lights, spread out to either side of Ratchet's hips. He tapped gently at Rung's warming panel and was greeted with it quickly transforming away.
His spark was so beautiful from this angle.
He slid his fingers through those pretty white lips, warm and plush from arousal, slicking them up. He held Rung with a hand on his hip. If he were a little bigger, he could easily cover half of it. Ratchet went slowly, lighting up every biolight he found and gently pressing on that blinking anterior node, sighing. This was his element. Taking care of others.
Slowly, his finger was slicked enough that he could tease it just past the entrance. Rung's hands had doubled down on their earlier efforts, tracing over every transformation seam that he could, mouthing messily at Ratchet's cables with every aborted little twitch of his hips. It was a battle of who could come undone first at this point. Rung may have the higher libido, but Ratchet was a very patient mech.
"R-Ratchet." Rung spoke his name with so little of the composure he usually had. He revved his engine at a higher key and Rung jumped. "Please, may I ride you?"
Who was Ratchet to say no to the valve that was so eagerly sucking on his finger? He gently pulled the two of them further back on the couch, sliding a second finger in with the first. All the sensors on them were lighting up with the charge flickering through the conductive lubricant that was dripping from Rung's valve. His always carried a more golden hue than the standard pink, but tests had come back negative for anything bad that could have been causing it. He continued pumping his fingers at their slow pace, in and out, thumb rubbing at that alluring anterior node.
"Go ahead. I don't think you're going to last much longer like this." He leaned down to whisper into Rung's audial.
He gasped, "If memory serves, you were about to coat my intake with your transfluid not minutes ago." Ratchet only hummed in response, too focused now on how Rung lifted his hips. He held his spike still, grasping Rung's hand with his free servo to give him something to squeeze. And maybe because Ratchet just enjoyed holding his hand.
Slowly, tantalisingly, those swollen lips parted around the tip of his spike. Immediately he was filled with the licks of charge racing through Rung's body, now eager to find something to ground themselves in. They danced across their plating, gently shocking where they were connected by their wires.
It all felt so good, and he made sure to convey that through the hardline and through his field, wrapping it around Rung like a protective blanket. Thick and heavy. He was wrapped in an impossible warmth, like the molten core of a planet welcoming him deep inside of itself. Primus. Drift would probably describe this like a religious experience but he was--
Pain cut through the hardline and was just as quickly shut off and channeled towards something else, but Ratchet hadn't been a medic as long as he had without being able to notice things. He opened his eyes- when had he closed them? - and looked at the pinched expression on Rung's. His brows were furrowed deeply, eyes focused down and lip being worried to the point that some energon had begun to bead up.
He was still moving down Ratchet's spike, but the tight pressure wasn't his calipers squeezing down for his own pleasure, no.
"Rung. Rung, Rodion!" Ratchet grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back, earning him a hiss of probably pain from the other. Rung didn't fight him, quickly disconnecting his wires from Ratchet's chassis and sliding off his spike. Strings of lubricant taunted the medic to come back to that warm hole, to bury himself to the hilt and pound.
He was patient.
"Are you okay, Ratchet? Did I move too fast?" Rung asked so tenderly, standing now, already getting out some stuff he kept at the ready for when Ratchet would call the safe word, for any reason. Oil that smelled like plants on Earth, a cooling pack but no- he hadn't called it for him. Not because he was over-stressed or because all the fluid reminded him of some gory detail from work. Rung's lubricant being far from the colour of energon usually helped with that. Not what was important at the moment, though.
"I should be asking you that. If it hurt why didn't you slow down? Ask for my help preparing you more?" He stood up now, backing Rung against the table.
"Because tonight my focus is on you, Ratchet. I've already said that. It was only minor discomfort anyways." He waved off Ratchet's concern, wiping away some oral fluid at the medic's neck with his other hand.
He pushed it away, shaking his head, "Rung, this is a mutual thing. If I wanted to just get some charge out I've got plenty of toys. There's only one of you." He leaned down and captured his lips in a chaste kiss. "Interfacing, between us, at least, I always thought was more about the intimacy part of it."
"It is! I like going slowly and just relaxing into it with you it's just that- oh Ratchet this is going to sound terribly silly."
"It probably will." He teased, guiding Rung to sit on the table while he knelt between his legs. He kissed at his thighs, the easy look of those gentle curves. Then his mouth was on his node and Rung was throwing his head back and moaning so wonderfully.
"Ratch- ah- et! You're impossible!" He grabbed at his shoulder and squeezed with purpose.
Ratchet only shrugged, "I'm just warming you up while you tell me something dumb, or, sorry, something that you came up with overthinking things again?" That got him a swift kick to the back. He chucked and swiped his glossa through his valve lips. Oh, that was a winner. He could feel the entrance clenching on nothing.
"A bit of overthinking, m-maybe." He pushed Ratchet's face away from the sweet tang of his valve and levelled his gaze with him. "I just... I can't help but feel a little worried, as of late. This ship really does seem a death sentence of sorts." Ratchet stayed quiet, slowly easing off to rest his head on Rung's thigh. A rare treat was being given to him, one more delicious than any sort of pleasure.
Rung was willingly sharing his feelings.
"My head has been blown off, there was the spark eater incident, and just- so many of our crew have gone, Ratchet. I'm just scared, I suppose, that today, or tomorrow, maybe in the next few minutes, our time will be taken away." He stared at Ratchet, optics soft with a pain he would never fully understand and a smile so mournful it would bring Mortilus to his feet. Trying to paint the canvas of his face. "I want more time."
"Oh, Rung." Ratchet started softly, reaching up to cup Rung's cheek and wipe away those tears. Tears shed for him, for himself, for mech's that couldn't even remember his name. "Thinking like that's what makes me know you've got a good spark."
Rung snorted. "Really? Are you sure it's just not a bright one?" He said, his voice drawing out with a tease.
"Yeah, really. Look, I watch mechs lose their time everyday, it's part of my job. It's also my job to make sure that they have as much of it as possible, in a way." Ratchet said a little softer, dimming his optics at the memories of holding mech's hands, young and old, as their sparks gave out. He held Rung's hand. Looked at the warm and vibrant colour of it. "You can't stop things from happening, Primus himself couldn't." That felt so odd to say. Religious scrap.
"Oh dear, I've got you mentioning religion." Rung said, that teasing edge still there in his gentle tone. He pushed Ratchet back onto the couch and they slowly fit themselves chest to chest, laying across it, a puzzle with no real solution.
Ratchet pinched his nose lightly as they got settled. "Shut it, you." He melted at Rung's playful grin. "What I'm saying is... you should try living in the now. At least, for a little while?"
"...I think I can do that." Rung answered quietly after a few moments of genuine contemplation.
Ratchet swore he would kill anyone that tried to get with this mech if they weren't up to his standards, because, Rung's own were in the Pits. He sat up and placed Rung's hands on his thighs, rocking his spike through the folds of his valve experimentally. "Good, now keep your hands there."
"What?! But- Ratchet, I can't touch you like that." Rung replied, but kept his hands politely where Ratchet had placed them. The medic watched him look down at the thickness of his spike peeking through the lips of his valve.
"And that's the point, let me take care of you. You'd be surprised, but I actually do like doing that." Ratchet said with a grin, slicking up two fingers and pushing them back inside him. The reaction was almost immediate as he wasted no time finding a cluster of sensors near the front lining and curling his digits against them again and again.
Rung bit his lip and gave Ratchet a heated look. "Fine fine, I'm taking the lead next time, though. Let me hold you?" He asked, his fans so quiet compared to the rev of Ratchet's engine and his own fans dialing up again as he pulled one sweet moan after another from Rung's vocaliser. Never was he more thankful to his past self for fixing it immediately than right now.
"Of course, to both."
Ratchet worked him open until three fingers were sliding in and out with ease, Rung held perfectly on the edge of an overload. He hummed in appreciation at the sight of the calm and collected neutrality Rung usually held shattered as he rocked his hips against Ratchet's pumping fingers, seeking a release that was carefully denied from him. He squeezed Ratchet's shoulders with a groan.
"Please- I'm so close- you keep missing right-" Rung stopped, cut off with a shout Ratchet greedily swallowed as he finally pressed at a cluster of sensors deep inside he'd been purposefully avoiding and pushing a little roughly at that swollen anterior node. Rung overloaded messily, he always did, writhing in Ratchet's hold as he held him still and massaged his insides to draw it out as long as possible. Electricity eagerly ground into Ratchet's sturdy frame before dissipating across the couch.
He broke the kiss to let Rung cool off a little easier, watching. He loved watching him almost as much as he loved hearing him, as he came down from his high, that wonderful teal hue returning to his optics, his hands easing over the strips of paint he scraped from Ratchet's shoulders.
Rung grinned. Something bordering a wild look on his face. "Spike me now?"
"Gladly." Ratchet replied and smoothly pushed his length in with the next breath Rung took. Halfway in until he met any resistance, and that was easily given away with a few soft strokes. Rung rolled his hips on top of Ratchet's spike, both of them moving until they found their rhythm.
He fed him his spike until the housing was pressed nicely against Rung's puffy lips. The tight heat of it all was incredible.
They moved with each other, now more steadily. When Rung's hips began to falter and Ratchet could hear the strain in them, he placed his hands there and helped Rung to keep moving. Kept his optics open despite how much the pleasure made him want to close them, because he needed to watch Rung. So beautiful like this. So unapologetically there.
Ratchet could feel his spike throbbing, aching hard. "Mmm... Ratchet? My friend, can we finish this on the berth?" Rung asked, always knew when he was close.
"Frag yes." He sighed. Riding was always good. Riding was frankly his second favourite position. But, right now? He wanted to have Rung under him. Ratchet stood up slowly, snorting at the shout that he got from Rung as he did. "Sorry, can I walk you there still on my spike?"
"Who am I to say no to that? Please." Rung chuckled back. He carefully wrapped those blocky legs of his around Ratchet while the medic cupped his aft to support his weight. Ratchet waited until he received a thumbs up. He kissed his cheek when his arms wrapped around his neck, basking in the closeness.
He loved- liked laying Rung down on his berth when they'd do this. Gently letting his weight be cradled by the pad, being able to gaze down at his spark. It was an indulgence he craved. Ratchet leaned down and pressed his frame over Rung's, resting his head beside his, and watching. Watching as he started to thrust again and how the other mechs hands went above his helm to grip the sheets. Traced his hands down the contours of his face and bathed himself in the warmth of the smile that turned to him.
He loved him.
Not that he would say it. Could say it.
Ratchet moved back up again, placing one hand on his hip, the other beside his head. "Gonna fill you up, yeah?" A way of asking permission if Rung wanted it inside or not. Rung moaned softly in response, reaching down and spreading his valve lips all for Ratchet's optics only. He swallowed hard.
"Please, Ratchet. I want it all." Rung gasped as his hand was pushed away and Ratchet's thumb was pressing down on his anterior node. He arched his back as they overloaded together. Ratchet could feel every pulse of that hot valve clenching around his spike, pulling everything out of him. Not that he needed much convincing.
Their fields meshed together, overwhelming in the best ways. A hand, someone's hand, reached out. And then they were kissing, glossa's intertwining, words unspoken were passed between their locked mouths like a secret. The kiss broke after a bit, hot vents of air visible between them. Rung's hand, he realised, pulled him back down until their foreheads were pressed together, a buzz running through them.
Ratchet started laughing first. Was that weird? Maybe, but, at least he was weird with Rung. They hugged each other and just laughed. He got onto the berth a little more and rolled onto his side, his thumb stroking Rung's cheek.
"Hey, brightspark, you come here often?" Ratchet whispered, afraid to break the little world they'd made for themselves with anything louder.
"When the mood catches me, I suppose." Rung smiled back. Slowly, he disentangled himself from Ratchet, much to his disappointment. He sat up with Rung and pulled out a few rags from his subspace. One was plucked from his grasp and then they fell into another sweet silence. Cleaning each other, closing panels, kissing. Lots of kissing. Pecks to the cheek, to the chest, hands soothing over tired frames.
Ratchet caught himself when he realised he'd been staring into Rung's merciless gaze for too long. "Shower in the morning? Don't feel like doing all that right now." He gruffly said, collecting the dirty rags and tossing them somewhere hopefully near his laundry bin.
"I'm agreeable to that. Come on, then. It's getting cold." A hand teased at his chin, flicking it up. Cheeky. Ratchet grinned, though with how little he smiled, it looked more like a grimace. He wrapped his arms around Rung and brought him down again, the other deftly pulling the blanket over them. "Ratchet?"
"Mmm?" He rested his head against Rung's spark window.
"Thank you."