Misaligned Sensors (dratchet, Transformers)

[farre385]

“There, that’s your nose all set. Now, before you go anywhere, I have to reset some of the sensors Rodimus knocked out of alignment.” 

Drift nods, going comically cross-eyed trying to see what Ratchet had done to his nose. Ratchet, still plugged into Drift’s medical port, adjusts the levels of the first sensor without warning. 

Drift gasps, but before he can sneeze, Ratchet presses a finger to the underside of his nose. “Nggh? Ratty, I gotta—“

“Don’t sneeze,” Ratchet says firmly. “It’ll knock everything back out of alignment.” 

Drift whines, nostrils flaring against Ratchet’s finger as he adjusts the next sensor. There are six more, which should give him plenty of time to work Drift up into a panting mess.

Sure enough, by sensor four, Drift is struggling to hold back. His lip is curled, exposing one of those gorgeous fangs, and the noises he makes are half-hitches, half-snarls. Beautiful. Ratchet takes his finger out from under Drift’s nose to rub the bridge of it instead, a touch he knows Drift finds equal parts soothing and irritating. Drift moans softly, pressing his face forward into Ratchet’s hand.

By sensor eight, Drift is hardly hanging on. “Ih’hehh Ratch’hhet I’m gonna sneh-ihh! Sneeze!”

“One more,” Ratchet promises. “And then you can sneeze.” He switches again from rubbing Drift’s nose to pressing the flat of his palm against the tip.

Drift hitches desperately into the palm of Ratchet’s hand. “Ratchet, please.”

“One second. Don’t sneeze.” The final adjustment is minor, and then he’s done. “Okay. You can sneeze now.”

But as desperate as he’s been, Drift doesn’t sneeze. He just keeps hitching, nose twitching against Ratchet’s palm, optics wide and vacant. “Ratty! Stuh-uhh… stuck!” 

“Relax,” Ratchet soothes. “I’ll give you what you need.” And he does. One quick pulse of charge through all the sensors in Drift’s nose has Drift sneezing sharply into Ratchet’s hand.

“Eh’tchhuh!” Drift’s face clears into relieved bliss. For a moment, the only sounds in the medbay are their vents and Drift’s quiet, contented purring. Then, Rodimus clears his throat.

“Uh, Ratchet? I think I might have a few misaligned sensors, too.”