re_alignment_logs

Entry tags:

Remedy

WHO: Wing and First Aid (as Wing wakes up), then anyone who decides to come by...
WHERE: Ratchet's Medibay
WHEN: Now. After this, and this, this, this.
WHAT: Wing wakes up in medibay, mostly recovered from the accident with Soundwave.
WARNINGS: None yet. Probably lots of FEELS though?

The accident with Soundwave's nightmare had taken them all by surprise, none more than Wing himself of course. He'd been out for a few days, and though he'd woken long enough for the medics to determine there was no permanent damage, the ache in his cortex was such that returning to blissful unconsciousness during recovery was better all around.

The anomalous activity of Wing's spark had been quiet for a few days now, the readings more within normal range, and the spike in brain activity also gone now that his own set of nightmares had ceased.

When the repair status of his systems reached certain tolerances, he's coaxed back to the waking world. Wing comes online slowly, step by step, diagnostics held in temporary check thanks to treatment protocols, to be run manually later after full system boot.

Amber light flickered from behind the shuttered optics, opening slowly to take in his surroundings. A groan as he put a hand to his helm instinctively. He raised up onto an elbow, trying to push through the disorientation and get his bearings.

~~~

A short time later, he'll be sitting on the med berth, still achy, disorientated and perhaps a touch distressed, but capable enough to carry on a conversation with anyone who comes by.

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"I will. I'm okay, really. Just, still a few kinks to work out." He shifts his feet, rotating an ankle experimentally. "We will. Soundwave is going to look for help. To get control of it."

Wing is thankful for Drift's support and reluctant to give it up, drawing more from the touch, the nearness, than the physical aid.

He laughs softly, his tone a bit chiding. "Not like that. I have far more pleasant things to offer you know."

"And until then?" Drift really wants to wrap you in bubblewrap and keep Soundwave about a half mile away from you right now. No offense to Soundwave. Well. Not much. He'll apologize later.

Drift's in no rush to move away, not when Wing could get any use from him.

"I...." Really am not good with words. His voice quavers. "Whatever you want to give me."

"I'll...minimize contact with him if you want." Though it would prevent him from directly helping Soundwave with his problem, Wing's not certain what else he can offer that would bring true piece of mind. "No nap-sitting that's for certain."

And Wing can't help but lean into Drift's space, as if drawn there naturally, his eyes and voice softening.

"Wonderful things Drift." One hand floats up, fingers hovering beside Drift's face. _{"Things I've offered to no one else."}

Drift frowns. In his mind he wants Soundwave in one temple and Wing in another and about fifty steel walls between them. But he knows he'll lose if he argues. Wing is, in his own way, headstrong. The only thing he does allow himself to say is a quiet, "...please."

He ventilates sharply, less startled by Wing's lean than wanting to take him all in, sight and sound and smell. "A-are you sure?" Because this can't be happening. He must be the one dreaming here but instead of a nightmare it's the opposite: everything he's always wanted but thought he'd never have.

Wing gives a slow, sincere nod. "I don't want to worry you, Drift. I'll take care."

Though Wing lacks most all of the luxuries of his Crystal City home, he still manages to keep his frame well maintained. Junk Pile forays meant frequent washings, leaving the jet smelling of wind and new rain.

Wing's hand alights on Drift's face, cupping the jaw in his dark palm, thumb attempting to smooth out the lingering lines of that frown. "Yes Drift, I am more than certain." A hopeful smile. _{"If you'll have me?"}

"It's not about worrying me. It's about....I can't lose you again." He twitches back, because that was too much. "I-I mean. I don't own you and you can do what makes you happy. I just don't want you hurt."

He lets his head be tipped up, trying to smile into the brush on his cheek. His optics flicker with emotion, blue and liquid, at Wing's words. "I'll do my best to be worthy of you."

"Drift, you don't own me...but if you wanted to lay some claim...I wouldn't be opposed." Wing meets Drift's eyes as he speaks, so Drift can see the truth in them, but then they flicker briefly away, paired with a modest smile. Maybe it was bit early for such talk, or maybe it wasn't. Either way, the last thing Wing wants is to scare Drift off, so it's an open offer made with no demand for response.

That flicker, even moreso than Drift's words, touches Wing's spark which answers with a flutter. "Drift, you already are." Wing's head tilts as he leans in, lips parted, brushing against Drift's in a gentle offering.

"I...." am speechless, more or less. "M-maybe you shouldn't, you know, make such an offer, right now. You're not, you know, maybe you should be all better first." He's trying to protect you, Wing, to give you a way out.

.....up until Wing kisses him. Right. All those nice manners and chivalry he's trying to be all noble and such kind of get pitched out the window, his arms moving to wrap around Wing's shoulders.

Wing knows what we wants, he's already fielded uncertainty and moved past it, which is why there's no hesitation in this.

He's scarcely aware of it, but his feet slide forward as his weight falls against Drift, circled by those arms. The kiss is as tender and affirming as their first was needy and insistent. It's an expression, a promise of everything Wing wants to give, unconditional, fostered by a heady affection for all that Drift is. Emotion raw and sweet, wells from his spark in ways he can't describe except here, like this, in the hopes that Drift will believe.

Drift wants to believe, Wing, but the weight of the gutters, and the long list of his deeds as Deadlock, erect a translucent wall, like seaglass, between Drift and what he most ardently wants.

Still, he's not going to waste this moment. He won't have Wing for long, but he won't let that sour the crystalline sweetness of this moment.

In a perfect, beautiful world one could simply do this all night with only the moon as a witness. And Wing is so lost in the depth of the moment that it's tempting. But it's been a long day for him, and even more so for Drift, so in the end he pulls reluctantly out of the kiss.

Wing leaves one last kiss on the corner of Drift's mouth before meeting the deep azure optics for a long moment. "You really don't know how special you are, do you?" It's mostly rhetorical, and he punctuates the statement with a nudge of his nasal plate against Drift's cheek.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?"

Drift gives a soft almost-whimper as Wing pulls away, even as he acknowledges that it's for the best. Neither of them were in any shape, and this was not the place, to let it go any further. This was enough.

And in a way, going further would diminish the power of this moment, making it one step of many tonight instead of one beautiful, magnificent event. He gives a yearning brush that flirts with the edges of Wing's flightpanels, before skimming down the jet's arms, stepping away and just...letting himself look.

"_{if you want}."

Gold optics shutter slightly at the soft touches over his limbs. A similar sound is drawn from him as Drift leaves his space, the ache of that lack apparent immediately.

"Please Drift...if you would?" There's a small, weary smile on his face, and within it resides a plea. _{"I just want to be near you for a while."} To touch the warmth in your living frame, to feel the pulse of your spark under my hand, to hear the gentle hum of your systems near mine. Somewhere calm and safe.

Wing backs up two steps and rests one hand on edge of the medberth behind him, his other hand outstretched into the space between them.

Drift should probably put up more of a protest or objection, but the idea of leaving Wing, now that he knows the jet is all right, hurts. He hesitates, for barely a moment, almost just to take in the spectacle of Wing, his beautiful frame limned in the moonlight, before stepping forward.

"Yes." He looks around for some place he can sit, to be near Wing. If nothing else, the floor will do.

Maybe the berth is not exactly meant for two unless they were cozy, but that suits Wing just fine. And he hopes beyond hope, that Drift will feel the same.

He reaches out, fingers moving over Drift's forearm as the swordmech steps closer, Wing's helm canting slightly to the side as he smiles. "There's room here for the both of us."

Drift has spent enough time--more than enough, if you ask him--on a Medibay berth. He knows exactly how big they are. And so Wing might spot the slightly aroused nervous gulp as Drift figures out what Wing is asking of him. His arm trembles under Wing's touch, moving closer. He doesn't trust himself to do more than nod.

It's hard not to miss that gulp, and for a moment Wing hesitates. Not in the offering, certainly, but in that perhaps he's asking too much of Drift, wondering if he's being too selfish. It'd been a difficult day...knowing he'd come so close to losing Drift again and had been helpless to do anything about it. He really just wants to draw the other mech down, curl up on his chassis and spend the rest of the night knowing that Drift is safe and secure. There would be other, better days when they could explore deeper intimacy.

Wing's hand strokes Drift's arm reassuringly, his field full of gentle affirmation and affection. "We could always push two berths together, if you think that'd be more comfortable," he offers.

"N-no. That, uh, that won't be necessary." Shake it off, Drift. Seriously. Giant spiders, the Swarm, Turmoil, and you have not a trace of fear. Wing wanting to cuddle? TERRIFYING.

Mostly because Drift doesn't trust himself. Well, would anyone really if they had the most beautiful and perfect creature they could desire wanting to lie down with them? He doesn't trust his hands, or his EM field, or his mouth, or, well, anything.

Right. Put action to words, Drift. Actions always speak louder. He nods to himself, and then moves closer, shifting his weight to rest one hip on the edge. "You first."

Wing had been fully prepared to respect Drift's decision, but now that it's made he doesn't hide his good cheer. With a warm grin he climbs onto medberth, sliding over and arranging himself as comfortably as possible while still allowing some space for Drift.

He looks up with a winsome smile and open arms. "I hope this is okay?"

Drift gives a wry sort of snort. 'Okay'. Right. "It's fine," he mumbles, and then decides to, you know, shut up. He levers onto the berth, gingerly, as though afraid any motion transfer would snap Wing in half.

This is...awfully close. And he hates that he's getting, you know, ideas. He forces them back, with effort, and wriggles against the jet, trying to ignore the plush lap of the EM field against his.

Wing is patient as Drift gets settled, charmed by the amount of care the other swordmech is taking. He takes equal care as he lays an arm around Drift's shoulder, so close he can feel the heat emanating from the active auto repair on the damaged chestplate.

And Wing had been doing pretty good, until the wriggling started. Now he's getting an idea or two as well. And one of them sneaks out as a giggle. He bites his lip to keep the rest back, ducking his head a moment until a smile breaks over his face again. _"Sorry..." It comes out sounding more bemused than sheepish really. He bumps the forecrest of his helm against Drift's, "Thank you."

Drift forces himself still, trying to master his EM field, which desperately wanted to knit itself with Wing's.

It does not obey very well especially not when Wing giggles into his shoulder.

The wriggle turns to an embarrassed squirm. "It's nothing."

It's not something that Wing minds, since in his spark he wants to be as close to this mech as he can, and connect with him in all ways possible.

He's doing his best to be patient though, and the exhaustion slowly overtaking him is somewhat aiding that.

Wing makes a soft noise of contentment, giving Drift's chin an affectionate nuzzle. _{"It means something to me."}

Drift has no answer to that, not really, trying too hard to keep himself still and calm under all this contact. He tips his head, placing a chaste kiss on the center of Wing's helm crest. "You should rest. And...no bad dreams." It's an order, of sorts.

It's hard to miss the slightly anxious undercurrent in Drift's field, so Wing tries to fill his with all the peaceful contentment he's feeling now. He keeps the idle of his engines at a low, comforting hum, their warmth encouraging repose.

_{"No. No more bad dreams."} Not like this. Which is only the most perfect thing he can think of that's happened in the past two weeks.

Wing relaxes into the partial embrace, tucking his helm under Drift's chin and simply breathing him in. At this rate, slipping into recharge will be easy.

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