Chapter Text
“I can’t believe you’re just going to go along with this.” Ratchet curled tighter around Perceptor as they lay intertwined in satiated bliss. “He’s so young, and you don’t know anything about each other. Not to mention considering who his sire is there’s no way he’s going to be able to blow your fuses the way I just did.”
They both huffed a laugh at that. “Yes, well you’ve had years of practice too, so there’s that.” Perceptor idly traced the transformation seams he could reach along his lover's body while their metal popped and pinged as it cooled. When the silence grew thick, he turned until they faced one another. “I know what you’re not saying Ratchet.” Ratchet wouldn’t hold his gaze, the truth too raw in his optics. “I don’t like this any more than you do, love. But the choice has been made for me and it is out of my hands. I am sorry.”
Ratchet pushed his head under Perceptor’s chin, “There are others in your clan that could be offered. You don’t have to do this.” He clutched harder at the mech he was desperate not to lose. “Let them take Wheeljack or Geode, or Quark or Theorem, I don’t know but not you.”
Perceptor pushed Ratchet away, leaning up on one elbow to look at his lover. “Ratchet, dearest, I love you. Please don’t make this harder. You knew going into this we would not last. You, upon your graduation, are going to go before the Medical Academy Board, recite your oaths and have your medical coding activated, marking me just another patient. Best we could have ever hoped for was you to hold on enough that you could mark me as a permanent Primary Priority patient. And you were fine with that, we were fine with that, but now that it’s my coding that will be activated and you that will be replaced, you wish to fight me at every turn? I never wanted to lose you, Ratchet. Never. But this cannot be undone.”
“It’s just… You didn’t choose this, and the Functionists are furious that your illegitimate speedster is going against their well laid out plans with his very visible military career and bonding to a prominent family.”
“This was the Prime’s decree, and while they may not like it, they are going to have to accept it, just like everyone else will.” And suddenly the very stubborn scientist couldn’t meet his long time friend’s optics. “He and his sire saved the Prime and some very prominent Senators from a vigilante bomber. And while Prime wanted to reward him with a title, the Senate wouldn’t allow it, so instead he gets me, and my family gets back in the Prime’s good graces.”
“I just thought we’d have more time. That we’d actually get sick of each other or something, not this.” Ratchet clutched at Perceptor again, dragging him back in for a kiss.
~oOo~
“This will only hurt more if you don’t sit still.” Ratchet scolded Perceptor again for his fidgeting.
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…” They both got quiet as a Functionist instructor walked by them.
“I know all about the why,” Ratchet fought to keep the sneer out of his voice. “But it doesn’t change the fact that it will hurt if you don’t sit still.”
Drawing out innermost energon was delicate work. Push the needle into the spark chamber too deeply and you would hit the spark. That would cause an explosion from the flare of the spark igniting the innermost energon. Push in too shallow and you might as well be an interrogator for the Senate or The Institute for all the pain you’d caused your patient, and would have to cause again to finish your work. Take too long and the entire chamber would heat up, yet again running the risk of explosion. Either way, Perceptor’s fidgeting was pushing Ratchet’s patience to its end quickly. “I take it your betrothed is coming for a visit then?” Ratchet turned to deposit the energon into a vial; a job made much harder with shaking hands.
Perceptor closed up his chest plates and entertained his hands in his lap. “Yes, the War College is on break, so he asked if he could spend it with me. We’re going to take the time away to visit the Primal menagerie, the Grand Galleries, and… I’m sorry, Ratchet. I know you don’t want to hear this.” He hopped off the berth and embraced Ratchet from behind. “I am sorry, dear one. If the choice were mine, it would be you. It would always be you.”
Ratchet leaned on his friend for just a moment. Soaked in the feeling of the embrace, the heat from Perceptor's frame against his own, the soft words in that cultured voice that danced from his audials straight into his aching spark. “I know, Percy. I know. And if I could, I’d choose to keep you, too. Rotten luck we have, huh? The one who would be your perfect match destined to be nothing more than a dear friend. Primus has a cruel sense of humor.”