[ THE "DRIFT GOT HECKED UP BY TARN" CATCH-ALL POST ]

[auramatic]

Who: Drift, Rodimus, Ratchet, Megatron and whoever else wants to chime in
What: the inevitable fallout of the fucked up shit Tarn just did to Drift
Where: Red Alert's clinic
When: starting a few days after Tarn beat the shit out of Drift
Warnings: a lot of sad. a lot of gay

jk i'm lazy, thread starters below

Comments

[rodders]

Ratchet warned him about Drift's loss of voice in the three seconds he had before Rodimus had rushed into the clinic; it doesn't particularly bother him this second. But voice or not, he's not shoving him away; Rodimus will take any sign of Drift's acknowledgment he can. It helps calm the frantic, panicked whirring of his spark regardless. Resting his face on the plating at the base of Drift's neck, Rodimus finally begins to relax, joints unlocking for the first time since he'd spotted Drift outside the city. It's not over; won't be over until he's punched the mask right off of Tarn's face, but it's something.

"You're going to be okay." It's as much to reassure himself as it is to comfort Drift, promise clear in his tone - he will make it okay if he has to. He just needs Drift to know.

[auramatic]

Yeah...yeah, he'll be okay. Drift knows it, just in the way Rodimus relaxes against him even as he holds on tight, even as his spark still flares and whirs in his chest. Better him than Rodimus, he thinks -- Rodimus is lucky, only losing an arm. He got it reattached straight away, anyway. Drift lets his head tip back slightly, slowly lifting his other hand to cup the back of Rodimus' helm. He can't speak, and he's certain Rodimus isn't even remotely chirolingual -- but right here, it's not like they need words. Drift thinks the warmth flooding his aura speaks for itself. He'd like to believe Rodimus can feel it. Drift curls his fingers around the back of Rodimus' helm, his other hand rubbing in slow, loose circles over the other mech's back, and he vents out slowly. Yeah, he'll be okay.