There was a light still on in the berthroom when Drift finally made it back to quarters. It was ridiculously late; Perceptor should have been in recharge hours ago. He'd commed the scientist when Rodimus called that travesty of a command staff meeting and told him not to wait up.
Maybe he'd fallen asleep with the light on again?
Nope. When Drift tiptoed into the berthroom, he saw Perceptor propped against the wall at the head of the berth, thoroughly engrossed in a datapad. The speedster just smiled and shook his head, then removed the scabbards from his hips and the Great Sword from its resting place on his back. He sat at the foot of the berth as he inspected, cleaned, and polished each blade, falling easily into an almost meditative state with each pass of the cloth over metal.
When he finished, Perceptor was still reading. Drift carefully placed the Great Sword in its brackets on the wall by his side of the berth and the sheathed standard blades in their rack under it. He climbed into the berth and over to his lover, intending to simply give him a goodnight kiss.
Perceptor never looked away from his datapad, but his arm raised, inviting Drift in closer.
Well, who was he to deny cuddles? He snuggled right up to Perceptor's side, helm resting on the larger mech's chest. A glance at the screen told Drift that it was some scientific journal that he wouldn't understand even if Percy explained it to him.
That arm tucked him in close and Perceptor's EM field felt flush with contentment. It warmed Drift to know that he was the cause of at least part of that feeling. He lay there, just listening to his lover's systems as they worked, basking in the comfort that field meshed with his offered, until he eventually slipped into recharge.