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"I was almost a Decepticon," Rodimus said, staring at the ceiling. Drift sat at the head of the berth where Rodimus’ head rested. His arms were crossed over his chest. The night was quiet and the ship slept. Rodimus, spread out on his back with a single knee raised, was drunk. His words slurred together as he asked, "You know that?"
"No," Drift said. He leaned over the drowsy captain, and shook his head at the drunken words. "I didn’t."
"After I detonated Nyon, I caught Megatron’s attention," Rodimus mumbled. Drift set his hands on his knees and turned off his optics. He pictured the old city, and the start of the war. Everyone had heard of the destruction of Nyon, though not everyone knew who was at fault. Rodimus continued, "He wanted to meet me. He said I was made of sterner stuff. He was impressed that I was willing to make any sacrifice necessary to stop my enemy. True leaders made decisions without doubt or regret."
"Did you believe him?"
"Orion told me the same," Rodimus said, "so maybe."
Drift could recall his own meeting with the warlord. The day he got a new name and a new purpose. Not many people knew first hand how sugary and subtle Megatron’s words could be. How they could wrap around your spark and make you say ‘Yes’ to things against your better judgement. Drift’s finger reached out and brushed the side of Rodimus’ helm. “What made you say ‘No’?”
"Bumblebee," Rodimus chuckled. His finger tapped lazily against his breast-plate, and turned his head to the side. "Starscream dragged Bee into the room, messed up from an interrogation. Megatron ordered the other Autobots to be executed when he found out Bumblebee wasn’t going to talk. That’s when I knew he was no better than Zeta."
"I see."
"Bumblebee shaming me didn’t hurt either," Rodimus said. A bitter and lazy smile tugged at Rodimus’ face. "He asked if I was proud of myself."
Drift smiled to himself. “The answer was ‘No’ I take it?”
Rodimus hummed in agreement, shuttering off his optics. Drift sat up from the berth as his captain slowed into recharge. He dimmed the hab-suite lights, and picked up the empty glasses on the floor as he prepared to leave for the night.
Drift had finished cleaning, and reached the door when Rodimus called his name.
"Rodimus?" Drift whispered.
"I wasn’t bragging," Rodimus said. His optics remained off, and his systems were slow and sluggish. Drift hung by the door, waiting for the rest. "Just wanted you to know I was there. If Screamer hadn’t dragged in Bee, I would have joined up with Megatron. So, stop feeling so bad about your choice. It was a mistake anybody could have made."
"I’ve come to terms with that," Drift said, unable to stop the tiny smile on his face. Of all the things to concentrate on when drunk. "It’s why I switched sides, remember?"
"You’re a really bad liar, Drift," Rodimus said.
Drift shook his head, and opened the hab-suite door. “Good night, Rodimus.”
Rodimus murmured something in return as Drift closed him in for the night cycle. Drift rested on the closed door, his hand on the sword at his waist.
"Can I join you?" Drift asked Ratchet, standing next to his stool at the bar counter. The doctor shrugged, and Drift took that for a yes. He sat down and ordered a quick drink from Swerve as the minibot passed by with his hands full. "How are First Aid and Ambulon fitting in?"
"Decent as can be, I guess," Ratchet said. He sipped his drink, and rubbed at his hands. "They’re still a little shook up about Pharma, even if they’re good at hiding it."
"That doesn’t seem surprising," Drift said, accepting his drink from Swerve. "I’m sure as they settled down with the crew it’ll fade. Most wounds do."
Ratchet hummed in agreement, sipping his drink. He tapped his fingers and glanced at Drift every so often.
"Something the matter?" Drift asked, attempting to sound casual.
"I’m a little more worried about you than Ambulon or First Aid, I guess," Ratchet said, hesitating a touch with his words.
Drift set his drink down. “What about?”
"I may have seen you leaving Rodimus’ hab-suite last night," Ratchet said. He rolled his shoulders, and passed his glass back and forth between his hands. "And it’s none of my business, I know, but I can’t help but worry he might be taking advantage of you. Or at least trying."
"Ratchet," Drift said. "Rodimus isn’t—"
"Hear me out," Ratchet said, holding up his hand. "I don’t mean on purpose. But you’ve got to remember Rodimus has issues of his own, and he’s not used to having authority over other people. I’m a little concerned he might be abusing it without realizing it."
"You think he’s the type to order people to do personal things for him?" Drift asked, his hand curling around his cup. "Do I have that correct?"
"In a word?" Ratchet asked. "Yes."
"He asked me to make sure he didn’t leave his room if he got drunk," Drift said. He steeled his voice, and kept it quiet. Ratchet could keep his mouth shut, though the other people milling about the bar could not. "Swerve gave him a new mix of high grade to test, and he wasn’t sure how strong it was. That’s all."
"So he made you babysit a drunk?"
"He asked a favor as my friend, and I said yes," Drift answered. He narrowed his optics at Ratchet, and tilted his head. "It was my choice, not an order."
"What would have happened if you told him no?" Ratchet asked.
Drift concentrated on the bottle on the back wall. “I’m sure he would have asked someone else.”
"Who?"
Drift pulled his fingers back from his cup and tightened them into a fist.
"Exactly," Ratchet huffed. "He knew that you’d never be okay with the Captain walking around drunk, and worse yet, Ultra Magnus would have never let it go if he found out you avoided your duty to the Captain as the 3rd in charge and allowed him to embarrass himself that way. He knew you’d never say ‘No,’ didn’t he? You didn’t have any choice at all. Am I right?"
"I’ll see you later, Ratchet," Drift said. He downed his energon and dropped his glass on the table, cracking the bottom of the glass.
"Later, kid," Ratchet said.
Drift’s hand twisted around his sword handle.
"I’m sorry about last night," Rodimus said, lifting data pad off his desk.
Drift looked over from his own report, standing across the room. Rodimus shifted in his seat, shoulders dropped. “For what?”
"The night’s a little fuzzy, so I guess anything I did that I don’t remember from last night," Rodimus said. He laughed and dug his finger into a groove on his desk. He flicked a splinter out into the middle of the room. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy to tell me if I was being an aft while I was drunk. So, I’m sorry."
"You weren’t an aft. If anything, you fell asleep faster," Drift said. He walked to the desk and tapped the side with his data pad. He relaxed his shoulders, and smiled as comforting as possible. "It wasn’t a problem. I was happy to help."
"I know, I’m just sorry I had to ask you in the first place," Rodimus said. He rubbed his hand behind his head, and avoided looking Drift in the optics. He looked shamed.
Drift touched the end of his sword handle, and his head dipped. “Did Ratchet say something to you?”
Rodimus’ fingers froze on the data pad, a single second of hesitation.
"He did, didn’t he?" Drift confirmed.
"He may have mentioned being concerned," Rodimus said, biting the edge of his lip.
"He’s wrong," Drift said. He pressed the data pad flat into the table. "You’re free to ask anything of me, and I mean that. I’m happy to do anything for you."
"And you don’t see anything wrong with that?" Rodimus asked, turning his chair so that he faced Drift. He moved to stand, but the ex-Decepticon strode forward and pushed him back into the seat by the shoulder. Rodimus looked up. "What are you doing?"
"I want to make something clear," Drift said. His arms fell straight as his sides and he stood at attention. "When I came aboard this ship and accepted you as my captain, I made a choice: I’d follow you anywhere."
"Drift," Rodimus said.
"Let me finish," Drift said. "You were one of the first to vocally defend me as an Autobot. I watched your faith shine through when the Dead Universe was threatening us all. You’re the one who supported my request to search for the Knights of Cybertron. You’re the one I’ve chosen to follow."
"You’re getting a little intense," Rodimus said. He shifted in his chair, and his normal confidence faded away. He looked like a scared child, eyes wide and unsure. Drift’s smile evened. Rodimus held his hands up. "This really isn’t necessary. We’re friends, Drift."
"You’re much more to me than a friend," Drift said. He knelt down, placing his hands on Rodimus’ knees. He slipped them up to mid thigh. Rodimus shivered. "I meant what I said. I’d do anything for you. So never hesitate to ask, no matter how grand or menial the task."
"I don’t think I’m comfortable with this," Rodimus said. He put his hands on Drift’s and slowly pushed them off his legs. He didn’t let go, though. He held Drift’s hands as a friend. "So just promise me if you don’t want to do something, you’ll tell me."
Drift leaned forward, and kissed the top of Rodimus’ thigh. “Alright.”
"Good, good," Rodimus said. He hurried out of his chair, pushing Drift gently aside. He wiped the side of his face, and headed for the door as fast as his limbs could take him. "I think I’m going to go find Magnus. I’ll see you later, Drift."
Drift stood slowly, one hand around the handle of his sword. He leaned heavily on the desk, and brushed Rodimus’ knife marks with his finger tips. He traced them, eyes on the door where Rodimus had escaped.