The sun sank lower and lower in the sky and when the atmosphere burned a faint red he knew it was only a matter of time. He sighed standing up again and straightening himself out. The tight unpleasant feeling in his chest had eased up a little. The alone time had allowed him to calm down a little bit. Would he be punished for being so aggressive?

He shook his helm and slowly walked to the door peeking out into the hall and looking around. It had been eerily quiet for a home of this size. He hadn't been bothered by anyone yet but he could smell the meal that was being prepared downstairs. Whatever it was, it was spicy and hearty. It made him hungrier the more he thought about it. He didn't really feel like speaking with Optimus again but he really ought to get something to eat… Optimus had every opportunity to react negatively with the sass and sarcasm he threw at him. Maybe speaking with him wouldn't be all that bad… If he was chastised he could just apologize…

Slowly and carefully he made his way down the stairs and towards the dining room and he was surprised to find it totally empty. Hmm…on second thought maybe he could convince the cook to allow him to take his meal upstairs so that he wouldn't have to converse with Optimus, he thought as he walked towards the kitchen. Maybe while he was here he could inquire about some highgrade… something to distance himself from this asinine situation…

He poked his head through the swinging door and he was shocked to see Optimus standing in the kitchen over the stovetop, stirring something. Ratchet would have given anything to backpedal out of the room but he must have made some sort of noise when he had been surprised because Optimus turned around to see him.

"Ratchet, I was just about to come and get you," He chuckled faintly as he reached up and grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and dished up some of the stew he had been stirring.

He didn't reply as he stared in confusion. He didn't expect to have ever found the Prime doing something so….domestic… It was like spotting a third moon in the sky- it just was like it wasn't supposed to be there.

He watched as he put the bowls on two sizable platters with a few other dishes on them. He grabbed them both with little difficulty and took them out to the table. Ratchet followed somewhat dumbstruck. It was just so odd seeing it…yet it made sense thinking about it. He had yet to see another servant in the home and it had been so quiet. Who else was going to make the meal? But still. Why wouldn't Optimus have someone else prepare the meal if he could…?

He set the platter down in front of two seats on the long table, one on either side right across from each other. He laid out a handful of different pieces of silverware on the platter around the plate before he went across the dining room to a large cabinet. "I think we should crack open a bottle of something. Do you drink?" He asked

He blinked slowly, still mildly unnerved. He wasn't sure how he felt about being constantly surprised by this mech. "Yes," he replied.

"What's your preference. We have a wide selection," he said.

He hummed faintly. "Wine is fine for now. Maybe something stronger after we eat." He replied, watching him carefully.

He merely chuckled at this. "Very well… Sweet or Dry?"

"Sweet." He replied, his optics narrowing a little.

He plucked two wine glasses from the top of the cabinet and retrieved an unopened bottle of a fine Crystal City wine along with a bottle opener. He walked back, placing the glasses down and opening the bottle with a small pop.

He set the cork and the corkscrew aside and poured Ratchet and himself a glass. He watched the dark blue liquid fall into his glass before he looked down at the meal. Ragnock, a spicy gumbo that was commonly known as a peasant dish. A side of Armored Sarabs sautéed with rock salt and iron, and Crystal Croned Salad. Crystal City Cuisine. His home City-State… Optimus was known to be Iaconian; bred, born, and raised in the opposite half of the planet from him. He looked back up at the Prime, trying to figure out if there was a particular reason he was trying to be so kind to him right off the bat. Why go through this much effort for him?

Optimus put the bottle down with a small clink and sat down across the table from Ratchet. He was a fair distance away. If Ratchet were to lay down across the table, he supposed the table would be about the same width as he was tall. A respectable distance, but still close enough to speak to one another without shouting.

"I was wondering why it was so still…" He commented slowly picking up a fork. "Didn't this place come with servants or are you just bent on trying to impress me."

He smiled at this. "It did come with servants, but unlike my sire, I like my privacy and independence over being pampered. I like trying to do as much as I can for myself. As for impressing you, I admit I am attempting to. What gave it away?" He asked, picking up his spoon.

"The food," He replied. "The fact that you cooked it yourself," he replied, taking a sacab with his fork and biting into it, chewing slowly.

Optimus watched as he ate, his expression unreadable, but pleasant. It irked him to find that it was actually quite good and it reminded him of him. He hummed, taking another bite.

"I hope I did alright. I thought I might have burnt the scarabs but I also know that they're supposed to look a little charred," he commented, beginning to eat as well.

"They're fine," he muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear. The tightness in his chest returned all too quickly.

"I'm glad." He chuckled.

The silence swallowed the rest of the room as the two of them ate. Eventually Optimus spoke again. "You're a very accomplished doctor. That must have been an awful lot of schooling," he commented.

He took a slow and long sip of the wine before looking back up at him. Perhaps the alcohol was an excellent call. Something to ease his racing mind and spark. "It was."

"What was it like?" He asked

"Busy. Lots of reading, and double the amount of scrambling to get hands-on experience." He replied.

"You're creators must be quite proud," he commented.

"Painfully so," he replied.

"Oh…?" He asked.

"My creators are very supportive of my endeavors and I am thankful for that support but I am their only child. They are proud of me but they are also very much in the market for grandchildren. Especially with how far I've rose through the ranks. They wish for me to settle down and they are very pestering about it, borderline invasive. They might just die from excitement when they learn that I'll likely end up with children AND I'll rise another few ranks once I'm bonded to you…" he replied dully taking another bite.

Optimus sputtered and coughed into his wine, seeming surprised with the remark. Ratchet looked up at him with a cocked optic ridge. "I am correct in the fact that you are in need of an heir at some point in the future, yes? The whole Primehood things must go on?"

"Well… yes… I'm just surprised that you seem so casual about it. Often than not it's one of the most dreaded things in this kind of arrangement," he replied wiping his mouth and chin with a napkin. "But, if we truly do not want younglings then we don't have to have them. I'm not bent on the next Prime being my child. My younger sister has already continued the lineage. She's currently carrying, we got the news a few weeks ago."

"Oh. Well that's good news. I hope she has a healthy carrying term," Ratchet replied sounded bored.

"Indeed… we're just hoping that the press will leave her alone for a while more. You've seen how they can get I'm sure," he replied.

"Yes… I have…" He grumbled. "I'm not looking forward to facing the press with the news. Speaking of news, will my family get to find out with the rest of Cybertron I'm betrothed to a Prime or will I be allowed to tell them privately?" He asked

"Privately. I was actually meaning to speak with you about that… If you could give me a list of your family that you wish to introduce to me, Red Alert is putting together a small pre-engagement party for us. He thinks it will be the best way for your family to meet my family…"

Ratchet put his glass down with a sigh. "Ah…. That sounds wonderful. My family will be most surprised… I grew up with my carrier nagging at me that I would never ever find a sparkmate because I had too short a temper and too sharp a tongue. Even if it's arranged it's going to be hilarious to see his face when he sees me engaged to you," he chuffed, swirling his soup with a spoon.

"Well regardless, I find I'm enjoying your short temper and sharp tongue," the mech on the opposite side of the table commented.

Ratchet stopped stirring his soup, looking back up at him. That wine was definitely helping because surely he had misheard that.

Optimus chuckled. "Everyone I've ever met walks on glass around me. I've never had anyone speak to me the way you do, and I've never had a meaningful conversation with anyone. It's interesting."

"Interesting," Ratchet parroted back as he watched him take the rest of his glass in one long sip before he continued.

"Yes. Interesting. Because you are the first real person that has ever spoken to me. You don't want to pander to me. You don't want to censor your mind or your mouth from me; and you don't appear to be afraid of offending me," he smiled tilting his head. "I'm dreadfully apologetic of whatever situation forced your hand into signing yourself up for this but I'm still glad I've met you. You're the most authentic person I've ever met and you intrigue me."

Ratchet didn't know how to feel about that. He lowered his gaze, sipping at his wine again, running out of it, and setting the glass down. Optimus picked up the bottle, filling his glass up again, along with his own.

"I'm sorry to bring it up, but we do have to begin thinking about the ceremony and I'd rather speak with you about it before I do anyone else. So what do you want to do?"

Ratchet stared quizzically at the Prime for a moment, his features softening a little. "You're asking me?" He asked

"Naturally. You are the other half of the ceremony. So what do you want to do?" He asked again, taking another sip as he pushed his plate forwards a little ways before leaning on the table.

Ratchet hummed. "I suppose if I had one request, it's that we don't have a public merge…" He replied softly. 'Not that that will ever happen..' he thought bitterly.

"Done. We won't have one."

Ratchet stared at him for a bit longer. "You don't mean that…"

"I do."

"Just like that?" He hummed.

"Just like that," the Prime chuckled. "I'd rather you be comfortable. If my dead ancestors transform in their graves over it, so be it. What are they going to do about it? Haunt the estate?" He chuffed.

"Are you sure that's not just the wine talking?" He quipped lowly, swirling his own.

"Doctor I may be inebriated but I'm still fully capable of coherent thought. I'm not slurring my words yet am I?" He chuckled.

Ratchet couldn't help but chuckle a little at this. "Well, I'm very glad that we appear to be on the same page then," he sighed, slipping more sarcasm into his voice.

Optimus nodded. "Anything else you could think of?" He hummed.

"I dunno… I've never really stopped to think about it before. I've always been focused on school and my projects," he replied.

"Hmm. How do you feel about having it during the warm season?" He asked. "The solstice at sundown? It would give us nearly a full orbital cycle to plan and prepare."

He thought for a moment. "I don't have any objections to that," he replied. "When are we supposed to announce the engagement?"

Optimus sighed, swirling his glass again. "I believe we're planning on doing it two weeks from now…" He replied. "I can see if I can push it back but I'm not sure how that would go."

"Hmm it's fine… the sooner we get it over with the better," he sighed, his cheeks beginning to feel rather warm. "I think that wine is a little strong."

"I agree. I should have looked at the label before…" he muttered looking down at the mostly empty bottle. These are 16 ounce glasses…. Hmmm. Perhaps I should have only had one… Well I'm not going anywhere tonight anyway… care for some dessert?" He asked slowly, standing and gathering his dishes.

"Hmmm I wouldn't mind something sweet," he sighed, picking up his dishes and following Optimus. He noticed a faint sway in his step but he was kind enough not to say anything out loud about it.

He placed the dishes in one side of the sink before walking across the kitchen to the refrigerator and pulled out half of a delicious looking Ironoil Cake with creamy smooth frosting. Okay, that was definitely worth a little bit more attention. He grabbed two more small plates and two more small forks.

Optimus sighed, cutting it down the center and putting one half on either plate before setting the dish in the sink too. "I know you don't like me, but can I ask a question that's going to sound rich and snobbish?" He asked, leaning on the island counter and taking a bite of the cake.

"Sure, I don't see why not," he replied with a soft scoff.

"Is proper table setting placement not common knowledge among normal people?" He asked, tilting his head.

Ratchet stared at him for a long time. "I'm sorry, but…absolutely not?" He chuffed.

"Ah… that makes sense…" he murmured. "I was wondering all night why you kept changing your glass placement and why you ate the salad with an oyster fork, the scarabs with a dinner fork, and the soup with a dessert spoon… Then you didn't correct me when I handed you a dinner fork rather than a dessert fork. It just occurred to me that perhaps you didn't actually know which one was what…."

He couldn't help but slowly dissolve into giggles as he slouched against the island. "You…. You thought that commoners practiced proper tableware placement..?" He giggled.

"I mean- yes? I don't know, I've never really eaten anywhere besides high class meetings and summits and every time they had the same tableware placement as I had been taught was proper," he chuckled.

"That prim and proper shit is to impress you, you know. People take the time to learn the difference to look high class and impressive," he snorted.

"Huh…So how do you set a table?" He asked.

"This. This is it," he said gesturing to the remaining cake on his plate with a fork propped up on it. "No extra nonsense for more dishes to wash. It's just a plate with the needed things to eat the dish."

"Is that so… well now I guess we know that all of our creators lied to us…."

Ratchet laughed at this, shaking his head a little bit. He had to admit to himself, this wasn't horrible. Maybe it wouldn't ever be horrible either. It wasn't the worst situation at least, but maybe that was just the wine talking to him.