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Do it, Drift told himself firmly as he followed Ratchet down the short path to the beach . Do it now. The day is almost over and you’ll have to return to the ship soon, so stop being such a coward and do it before you miss your chance!
But no matter how many times he repeated those words to himself, Drift couldn’t do it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to--Primus, there was nothing he’d ever wanted more than this. And it wasn’t that he thought it wouldn’t go well if he did manage to work up the bearings to finally force the words out. No, he was almost positive of the reaction he would receive. It was just…
… all right, fine, he could admit it to himself: Drift was absolutely strut-deep terrified to ask Ratchet to be his conjunx endura.
But this really was the ideal time, at the end of the most wonderful, perfect day he’d ever been blessed to experience in his entire functioning. The Lost Light had stopped for supplies and Rodimus and Ultra Magnus had both agreed to dock for two weeks to allow every mecha on board an opportunity to take some much-needed shore leave. Drift and Ratchet had both managed to score passes for the same day, a rare treat all by itself. He hadn’t even had to persuade Ratchet to ask for the time off and that alone was damn near unheard of.
But the medic hadn’t complained about all the work he could be accomplishing instead of “slacking off” planetside, not even once. Instead, he’d clearly been looking forward to it. When their leave day rolled around and Ratchet had suggested a mech-friendly boardwalk overlooking the planet’s famous iridescent ocean, Drift had been happy to agree to spend their day there before he’d even opened the data packet Ratchet pinged him. He would’ve agreed to anything that put that sense of eager anticipation in his lover’s field.
And it had been wonderful, all of it. They’d had to transform and drive for almost two hours to get there, but it had instantly been apparent that it was well worth the effort. For one thing, the distance had dissuaded any of their crewmates from choosing this destination, and Ratchet never relaxed as completely as he did when he was able to put aside the persona of the famous Autobot Chief Medical Officer. Drift himself felt the relief of being away from everyone who knew him, both his past and his current position as third in command. They didn’t get to simply be themselves nearly often enough.
So Drift was already counting the day a resounding success even before he’d gotten his first true look at their destination, but when he had, it had taken his breath away. The sturdy boardwalk was built over one of the most beautiful beaches Drift had ever seen, serving both to keep any of the sand from irritating sensitive joints and also to elevate them enough to fully appreciate the beach itself.
“Wow,” Ratchet breathed, and Drift had been struck too speechless to do more than nod in silence at the wonder before them. The iridescent ocean they’d read about was something of a misnomer--the liquid itself was crystal clear. No, the name referred not to the ocean, but to the way the light played off the sand beneath it. Drift had never seen anything like it, had no idea what the sand was made of, because it was opaque but reflected light in prismatic bands like crystal. They’d stared for long minutes at how it shimmered and seemed to change color as the light of the dual suns shifted across the sky or dipped behind the sparse clouds. The beach was a marvel of multi-hued bands curving away into the distance, constantly shifting.
It had taken Drift quite a while to find his voice again. “The pictures truly did not do this justice,” he said, but that didn’t stop him from taking quite a few image-captures of his own.
“They really, really didn’t,” Ratchet agreed softly. The awe in his tone pulled Drift’s attention from the natural beauty before them and he turned to his companion, already smiling in anticipation of teasing him with an over-the-top comment about Primus’ glory reflected in the worlds He’d made.
But he’d instantly discarded that notion in favor of taking still more image-captures, because he’d never seen Ratchet look quite like this before--lips parted in wonder, optics sparkling, spellbound by what he was seeing. His spark swelled with love and gratitude that he could be so blessed to share a moment like this with the mech he loved. “Primus, sweetspark, you are so beautiful,” Drift whispered before he could stop himself.
Ratchet glanced at him and Drift could have bitten his glossa for letting that comment slip out, but for once, the medic didn’t argue with him or even roll his optics. “Look who’s talking,” was all he said, and then he’d actually smiled, and Drift hadn’t been able to resist kissing him.
Although honestly, he hadn’t tried all that hard.
It only lasted a moment, sweet and gentle, before Ratchet pulled away. The urge to ask Ratchet to be his conjunx hit him hard then, but Drift didn’t get a chance. “Come on, let’s see what we can find here,” Ratchet said, still smiling, and Drift would’ve followed him anywhere.
And after all, they had the whole day. He had plenty of time to ask him, right?
The boardwalk was larger than it had initially looked, a long stretch of games, food and fuel vendors, attractions, shops, and rides, a few of which were even large enough for Cybertronians to ride. It was crowded even at midmorning, and Ratchet had taken his hand as they navigated through the chaos even though the two of them were head and shoulders taller than most of the rest of the crowd. Not that Drift was going to complain about the guidance. Lights flashed and music blared, the air filled with conversations and laughter and a thousand different scents, and he had been nearly overwhelmed by all the sensory input.
Oddly enough, however, Ratchet seemed to know exactly where he was going despite telling Drift that he’d never been to this planet before. He wasn’t going to question it, though, too happy to let Ratchet worry about where they were heading while he tried not to gawk too obviously at everything. By the time he had the sensitivity lowered on his audial flares to a level that minimized most of the sensory overload without sacrificing too much of his awareness of those around them--a habit Drift didn’t think he’d ever lose--Ratchet’s field suddenly lit with excitement and he tugged him toward a certain shop. “Here it is, come on!”
“What’s this?” Drift said as he followed. “I haven’t seen you this excited since the last time we came across a fully-stocked Cybertronian medical supply store, and somehow I doubt this is--”
But his voice had died then, because Ratchet had pulled him inside and was beaming at him as Drift saw exactly what kind of shop this was. Colors and scents and what seemed like a thousand different shapes and textures lined the walls, piled in bins on shelves, just peeking out of brown sacks behind the counter, and his mouth watered as he finally managed to pull his gaze back to his lover’s delighted face. “Wow, Ratchet,” he murmured, lacing their fingers together and trying to gather his thoughts enough to respond coherently. “But I thought that this wasn’t your kind of thing?”
Ratchet chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of candy, but you are, and that’s what matters to me. So look at everything, Drift, because I’m getting you every single thing you want in here and I don’t want to hear a word of argument, got it?”
Drift gaped at him for a moment as the way his lover had led them straight here replayed in his processor. “You… you knew this place was here, didn’t you? You planned this.”
Ratchet’s grin widened and he nodded. He looked so damn proud of himself for this surprise that Drift took another image capture. The medic's glee was just so fragging adorable that he couldn’t stand it. “Yeah, I saw on the brochure that this place has the widest selection of energon treats in this sector of the galaxy and I knew I had to get you in here. You’re about five million years overdue to be a kid in a candy store, so grab a cart and start filling it up. That’s an order,” Ratchet added as though expecting Drift to protest.
No one had ever done anything this purely frivolous just to make Drift happy before. Primus, he loved this mech more than he thought it was possible to love anyone or anything. Ask him, Drift thought, spark aching with love and joy. He opened his mouth to say the words he’d been wanting to say for months now, but instead of Will you be my conjunx endura? what came out was, “Pretty sure I outrank you, Ratch,” and even though Ratchet laughed, Drift could’ve kicked himself for missing another perfect chance.
“Pretty sure I can turn you over my knee, so don’t argue,” Ratchet shot back, and Drift chuckled and held up his hands in surrender as he went to get a cart.
He could ask him after this. He would ask him after this, but for now, he would accept the gift that Ratchet had clearly taken such joy in planning for him.
When they walked out of the candy shop nearly an hour later, both of them were carrying large bags of candy. But that wasn’t even a fraction of what Ratchet had gotten for him. The bulk of their purchases were being packaged up to be delivered directly to the ship, because it was far too much for them to carry.
That was because even though Drift had tried to keep his selections to a reasonable level, Ratchet had shaken his head and sternly blocked him from taking his modest amount of candy to the register. “Nope, not enough. I told you to get everything you want, love, and you haven’t even seen the other half the store!” he’d said the first time. Drift had put in a few more boxes and once more Ratchet hadn’t let him go to the checkout line. “No, Drift, I’ve seen you go through candy, and this won’t last you a week. Get your pretty aft back over to those shelves and get everything you want, all right?”
“Ratch, really, this is plenty,” Drift had protested, but when Ratchet merely crossed his arms over his chest in a familiar stubborn pose, he’d felt the hint of hurt in his lover’s field. Realizing that Ratchet thought he was rejecting his gift, Drift flushed and admitted, “It’s just, I don’t know what most of these things are and… well, you know how much it bothers me to throw away fuel. I just don’t want to waste your time or money if I accidentally pick out something that we don’t end up liking, that’s all.”
That had been the wrong thing to say to dissuade Ratchet, though. His scowl vanished and he’d given Drift a smile so bright that it had momentarily stunned him. “You’re trying new things that you might like, and that’s not a waste of anything. And there are more than two hundred other mecha on that fragging ship--if you don’t like something, someone else will. I promise you that not one single piece of this will get thrown away, so let’s get all your favorites and everything you haven’t tried before. Here, I’ll help!” he’d said happily, and the next thing the swordsmech knew, what seemed like half the store was piled in his cart. He’d never seen Ratchet so enthusiastic, and even when the total was rung up and it was enough to make Drift’s optics widen, the medic’s field remained filled with delight as if nothing could make him happier than buying Drift a metric ton of candy.
As they walked out, Ratchet reached into the bag he held and pulled out a treat to offer Drift, but he moved it out of reach when Drift held out his hand for it. “Nope. Open up,” he said, and Drift blushed as he parted his lips to allow the medic to slip the little candy into his mouth.
He caught Ratchet’s wrist and held him still so he could lick his fingertips clean, holding his gaze the whole time. Ratchet vented in sharply and heat flickered through his field before Drift finally released him. “Delicious,” he murmured, hardly aware of the candy on his glossa.
Ratchet pressed closer in the crowd and nuzzled Drift’s cheek. “Keep that up and you’re gonna get us arrested for public indecency, love,” he said hoarsely.
“I don’t think me licking your fingers counts as indecent, even on a world where they know about medic hands,” he laughed, but Ratchet tilted his helm and stole a kiss that lost none of its passion for its brevity.
“I’m talking about what I’ll do if you don’t watch yourself,” Ratchet purred, and this was something Drift definitely wanted to hear more about, but the crowd had jostled them and drawn Ratchet’s attention back to their surroundings before Drift could ask for more details… or perhaps a hands-on demonstration. Ratchet pulled away as the desire in his field was replaced by a pang of regret. “Come on, I think we can ride that rollercoaster we passed a little way back.”
They hadn’t been able to ride that one, but they could ride the giant bumper cars. They both got a kick out of driving the cars, and Drift discovered that Ratchet was absolutely vicious behind the wheel. They were both giggling like younglings afterward and rode it three times in a row before moving on to the skill games.
By the time they’d reached the end of the game section, Drift’s subspace was absolutely packed full of the silly prizes his lover had won for him. Ratchet was truly a crack shot, even with the purposefully inaccurate targeting on the guns the games used, and he won nearly everything he tried. Drift hadn’t done so badly himself, scoring a win on the ring toss on his first try and doing so well on the dart game that the proprietor had banned him from playing any more. Ratchet had given away most of the toys that Drift won for him to the gang of wide-eyed organic younglings that had gathered to watch them play, but when Drift managed to beat a nearly-impossible balance game that involved ringing a bell at the top of an unstable rope bridge and won a plush ambulance for him, Ratchet had laughed himself to tears and carried the thing proudly with them for the rest of the day.
And after every new perfect moment, Drift thought, Ask him, come on, stop being a coward and just ask him!
And every time, he couldn’t force the words past his lips.
By the time the binary suns were approaching the horizon and he and Ratchet had moved away from the crowds to watch the dual sunset before heading back to the shuttle, Drift was feeling more than a little anxious. No, if he was honest, panicked was a better word. This day had been perfect, completely perfect from start to finish, and there would never be a better time to propose to his lover than this. He’d lived long enough to know that he couldn’t count on another day like this one coming around. Some things truly were once-in-a-lifetime amazing, and this day was one of them. He wanted to be Ratchet’s conjunx more than anything in the universe. He needed to ask him.
… but what if Ratchet said no?
Drift tried to convince himself that Ratchet wouldn’t say no. They’d been friends for a long time even by their kind’s standards, and the change from friends to lovers had felt almost unbelievably natural. They’d moved in together quite a while ago now and while every couple had the occasional argument, they’d worked through all of them and had come out of them stronger and even more committed to each other. He had no doubts that Ratchet truly loved him and was happy with the relationship they’d built. In his spark, Drift knew that there was no one else he would ever love like this. Ratchet was it for him--the other half of his spark, the mech he wanted to spend the rest of his functioning with, the only mech he had ever or would ever want to take the Rite with. There wasn’t a single doubt in his processor.
And there also wasn’t a single doubt in his processor that it would crush him if he asked and Ratchet said no.
But there was no way to get the outcome he wanted so desperately without risking the one he dreaded so badly. There was no way around it. He was just going to have to do it. He vented in deeply and barely felt Ratchet take his hand, too focused on bracing himself as he turned to face his lover, determined that this time he was going to do it, he was going to say it, he was finally going to ask--
--but instead he found Ratchet gazing at him with his optics so full of love that Drift’s vents completely stalled and his processor nearly ground to a halt. For the second time today, he was utterly blindsided by just how fragging beautiful his lover was.
And then Ratchet spoke and wiped even that from his mind.
“Drift,” he said softly as his fingers trembled ever so slightly around Drift’s, “today has been everything I wished it would be, perfect beyond anything I could ever have hoped for, and it has only made me more certain of how lucky I am to be with you. You are amazing, love--so brave and strong and determined and smart and driven. But you’re also funny, and sweet, and loyal, and protective, and gentle… not to mention that you’re the most gorgeous mech I’ve ever known and you're slagging amazing in the berth, too,” he added with a twinkle in his optics that made Drift’s faceplates heat. “You’re so much more than I deserve, but even so, I need to ask you a question.”
“Ratchet,” he whispered, optics widening, because hearing Ratchet say all of this was something out of a fantasy, and the suns were setting behind him in a blaze of light, and his field was overflowing with adoration, and oh Primus, now Ratchet was going down on one knee and Drift couldn’t move, couldn’t even vent, couldn’t do anything but pray with all his might, please let this not be a dream, oh Primus please, please let this be real--
And Ratchet squeezed his hand and said, “Drift, I love you with all my spark. Will you take the Rite with me? Will you be my conjunx endura?” and Drift wasn’t waking up, this was really happening!
So he’d better answer, hadn’t he?
Drift tried to make his reply come out steady and sure, but it actually took him two tries to get any sound out of his vocalizer at all. When he finally did manage to force out a single glyph, it emerged as a squeak that made his face burn with embarrassment.
“Yes!”
But it didn’t matter because Ratchet whooped with pure happiness and then he was surging to his feet and lifting Drift high and spinning with him, elation and love saturating his field. And now Ratchet let him slide down his frame until he could kiss him, tender and passionate and joyful and incredible, absolutely the best kiss of Drift's entire life, and his faceplates were wet and he wasn’t sure whose tears he felt and he didn’t care because this was real.
It was perfect, and it was real, and he was never going to let Ratchet go.