ratchet being the dad who Did Not want the pet (humans) but fell in love my beloved
Yup yup Ratchet did NOT want the humans.
He totally doesn't like helping Rafael with his math, or learning Cybertronian glyphs. He absolutely does not enjoy holding the tiny human on his shoulder as he works, or as he explains the details of something complex to the fleshling. He totally could never enjoy having Raf around to light up the room with laughter, making it easier to bear the toils of war.
He absolutely 100% hates listening to Jack offer snide commentary or the odd burst of common sense to a world filled with nonsense. He most certainly despises watching Jack treat Arcee so kindly, giving her something to live for after losing everything. Yes, he must hate speaking with Jack about their shared exhaustion when it comes to the rest of the team and the issues they bring.
He of course loathes dealing with Miko's unending energy and questions, how could he possibly enjoy explaining simple harmless things when all he's done it give bad news for the past millennia? He definitely dislikes watching Miko waste Bulkhead's time with meaningless games and media that make the wrecker smile more than he has in vorns. Indeed, he hates having Miko around to break things by accident before doing everything in her power to make it right.
I went ahead and indulged in an entire comic for the premise of this prompt by @keferon cause ive been thinking alot about ratchet (and i mean Alot, save my friends from my rambling)
+ some extra fun sketches :)
i have other comics cooking up so... stay tuned! Rolling out byeee
Smokescreen angst where he missed Alpha Trion >:).
Coming right up anon! Yall really like seeing my boy Smokey go though The Horrors don't you? Maybe I need to right a horror one shot with him since I've done Bee.
You know what? Imma link this to the previous Smokey angst. Lets make an AU for it. Previous part here.
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The night was longer on Earth. At least, it felt long to Smokescreen when he stood guard.
He hadn't actually been ordered to stand guard, but Smokescreen had taken the job upon himself after arriving on the world of dust and dirt he now found himself walking. Waiting in position was familiar, and comforting. Especially since late at night, he often got the chance to perform his familiar duty of shadowing the Archivist.
"Smokescreen." The Archivist regarded him simply. Smokescreen took that as his cue to join him in his walk to the console. The dim light of the device was soothing in the quiet atmosphere of the base, especially as the Archivist stepped up to his place and sighed. It was deep and tired, the Archivist's vents long worn from millennia of functionality. Smokescreen smiled at the familiarity, especially as the Archivist began to type with speed reserved for those raised within the halls of Iacon's most prestigious institute.
He would have loved to mingle with the Archivist and his fellows back during the golden age. Sure, it had it's problems, but it was a time of learning and change. It was a time and a world he never had the chance to know. In a way, he envied the Archivist for having had the opportunity to live an arguably normal life before the war began in earnest.
He settled himself a few feet away from the console to watch the Archivist and ensure nothing happened to him during his work. His fans slowed and he stood with his arms hung loosely by his side. Before his change of scenery, the Archivist would normally assign him a datapad to read.
He had no such luxuries in his new station.
Still, in the quiet it was easy to forget and imagine that shelves filled with datapads surrounded him as he watched the Archivist work. The tapping of digits on the console, the faint green glow of the device, and the periodical tick of a file completed were all easy for Smokescreen to lose himself in as he stood at attention.
Time passed, and as it did, he found himself longing to request permission to go read something from the fiction section. Conquests and old wars. Heroes and Primes long dead. He always loved those stories. Maybe if he asked kindly, the Archivist would let him wander off for a bit. He looked busy, and his features were largely obscured due to the way the light hit him. Surely he wouldn't notice if Smokescreen fell into a good story for a while. The night was long, and a datapad would keep his tired optics from shuttering until he was released from his watch.
"Hey, Trion, could I read something in the historical section for a bit? It's hard to stay awake standing around like this." He rubbed around his optics, hoping the touch would force his vision to focus. Through blurred optics, the Archivist's plating shone a familiar purple. But as the Archivist turned from his work in confusion and began to approach, Smokescreen saw for the first time that night just who he was looking at.
The Archivist turned Prime. Red and blue bound together in firm plating designed for war and conflict. Bright blue optics that shared the same wisdom as the Archivist Smokescreen was used to serving. Powerful arms and long thin digits perfectly sculpted for handling delicate data.
This Archivist was not Alpha Trion.
"I'm sorry! I got confused for a minute..." He trailed off as those optics met his. The Prime said nothing for a moment. It was a suffocating silence as both of them seemed to stew in the maelstrom of memory that came from their respective times in the Iaconian Archives.
They came from different eras, but they shared one thing in common.
Alpha Trion.
Sweet Primus, he hadn't realized just how much he missed the quiet of the Archives or the thoughtful mumbles of the Master Archivist.
"There is no shame in missing one who you hold dear." Optimus spoke slowly, almost as if he was forcing his voice to remain steady.
"I too miss my master." The Prime vented deeply, and for a moment, Smokescreen saw a younger mech. Optimus seemed so very pained in the dim light of the console. His optics were wider and more emotive. His field was clamped close like all Iaconians, at least according to the records. Even his posture seemed softer, lacking the air of the firm commander long used to death and destruction.
He looked like a simple data clerk.
For a moment, his expression mimicked Smokescreen's.
"He taught me a lot... I miss hearing him ramble on about everything under Luna 1." He found himself opening up as Optimus's field crept around his own, pulling him in. Before he knew it, his frame moved of its own accord until he was only a foot or two away from the towering Prime.
"Alpha Trion was fond of the old tales. I spent many long nights reading accounts from the last generation to have lived before the Quintessons arrived." Optimus stared at the console as his optics cycled wide. He seemed lost in memory as he smiled softly.
"My master was not pleased to see me engrossed in something other than my work." The Prime's digits hovered over the console keyboard, almost in a contemplative manner. Smokescreen found his field opening on instinct. He couldn't help but the sense of companionship that flared in his spark as he watched the mighty Prime speak so freely to him.
"I get that. Trion caught me with my face stuck in a novel all the time." He admitted his own guilt with a quiet laugh. Optimus raised an optical ridge in surprise, but he otherwise remained unreactive. His field rippled in comforting waves, washing Smokescreen's worries away as the Prime questioned him.
"You read novels?"
"Yeah, uh, I like historical fiction." He rubbed the back of his neck guard guiltily.
"Primes, heroes, great champions and all that. I don't think Trion approved of my choice of literature." He fiddled with his digits, unable to meet Optimus's optics. All those vorns in the Archive, wasted reading silly novels. He really should have taken more care back then. But he wouldn't have traded the passing moments he shared with Alpha Trion for anything.
"He never stopped me reading while I was supposed to be on watch, but he did snatch my novel and give me more suitable material a lot." He remembered vividly the way the Master Archivist would sigh and take away the novel he was reading when on duty. Generally speaking, what he was given in return didn't peak his interest. But whatever he read, he remembered. Maybe because the Master Archivist tended to stare daggers at him when he was caught trying to reach for a novel after being caught.
It was a fond memory for him. He didn't expect Optimus to laugh so boldly as he processed what Smokescreen had said.
"That sounds like my master." The Prime smiled wide, and Smokescreen could see the sincerity in his optics as he did so. It stunned him to see such emotion on the normally stoic Prime.
"I cannot count the number of times he shut down the datanet in my sector when he caught me speaking to Megatronus. He always told me that my actions were dangerous and that strangers should not be trusted." Optimus's laughter died off as he reminisced. Smokescreen could hardly comprehend the very idea of Optimus being young and chatting with strangers on the datanet like it was the greatest sin a mech could commit. And yet as he looked at Optimus, he could imagine the Archivist looking around warily before frantically swapping tabs to send a swift message.
He could just as easily imagine Alpha Trion appearing out of the blue to press the power button. Smokescreen had been on the receiving end of such treatment before. Yet another experience they shared.
"He cared deeply for each of his students." Optimus's voice was soft, wistful. Smokescreen's spark panged in loss. Optimus really was the perfect student. He could imagine how much Alpha Trion cared for the Prime. Sure, he'd done some things in his youth, but he was wise, powerful, and more knowledgeable than half the Autobots combined. How could he not be Alpha Trion's favorite?
"I bet he really cared about you. After all, you did become Prime." His tone was more bitter than anticipated. He was going to apologize, but a firm servo on his shoulder stopped him before he could.
"Do not sell yourself short, Smokescreen. I can tell my master cared for you as well." A smile greeted him, and Smokescreen remained stunned as the Prime leaned down to mostly match his height.
"The ease in which you carry yourself, the knowledge you possess, and the fondness in your tone tells me that he treated you kindly." The Prime's field wrapped around him warmly, like a hug from the gentlest of giants. Tears gathered in his optics against his will as the Prime met his gaze with understanding.
"Our master did not offer his affection easily." His venting hitched as he registered Optimus's words. The Prime brought him in for a hug as sobs overcame him. To know that Alpha Trion cared? It eased an ache he didn't know he suffered from.
He missed the Master Archivist. He missed the quiet moments they shared and the reprimands he received for slacking off. He regretted being unable to save him, for both his and Optimus's sake.
By the time he calmed, Optimus had been humming a soft tune for a while. It felt familiar, likely from the Archive. He appreciated it.
"I still carry a few novels in my hab. If you would like them, I will give them to you." The offer came gently as Optimus pulled away. He Prime kept his servo on Smokescreen's shoulder, guiding him toward the hallway leading back to the team's habs. Smokescreen could break away if he wished, but the offer was there, and he found himself eager to follow the Prime as Optimus edged in the direction of the hall.
"You read novels too?" He could hardly believe it, and yet based on what he now knew about the Prime, it seemed in character for him to indulge in stories rather than documents cycle in and cycle out. Every mech needed a chance to unwind, even Primes.
"You are not the first student that Alpha Trion had to steal unregistered reading material from." Optimus smiled again, and this time, Smokescreen smiled with him as he followed the Prime dutifully. Their fields mingled in a companionable way and he relished in the joy of being with a fellow student of Alpha Trion, no matter how great the age difference.
"I have a small collection of works I saved from the datanet before it fell apart. One of my favorite series is amongst my small collection." Optimus's voice was filled with joy as he walked the halls, Smokescreen at his right side taking long strides to keep up.
"What's it called?" He asked, eagerness filling his field. How long had it been since he'd read a novel? He was sure that it had been a few centuries at least, even if most of that time was spent in stasis.
"Sunburst, Explorer of Crystal City." The Prime seemed truly excited to share his work as he entered his hab and pulled a box out from under his berth. Smokescreen hovered around, watching as the box was placed on the hard surface and its contents revealed. There were at least a dozen scuffed up datapads all arranged in alphabetical order just like Alpha Trion always preferred his work to be organized.
"Historical fiction?" He guessed hopefully. Optimus smiled knowingly as he pulled out what Smokescreen could only assume was the first datapad in the series.
"Yes. It is written from the perspective of a scientist attempting to find old relics within the abandoned city of the Primes. It is quite a fascinating read. I think you may enjoy it." The datapad was pressed into his waiting servos, and Smokescreen did not hesitate to smile as widely as he could. His spark flared in joy at the familiar surface of the datapad, and he didn't feel at all awkward when Optimus pulled him out a chair to sit on.
Optimus felt more like a friend as they sat together, Optimus on his berth and Smokescreen on a chair, both reading novels written in an age without war. There was probably work they could both be doing, but as the night continued on, neither of them made to move. They were content.
And just for a little while, Smokescreen was happy to pretend he was back in the Archive, resting and relaxing with a friend while he waited for Alpha Trion to come snatch his datapad away.
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