They got back to the manor after nightfall yet again and the lot of them were exhausted, hungry, and irritable. Red had ordered take out. It was a relief for everyone to be outside of the microphones and cameras and nonsense. The interviews had gone on and on for three weeks now. It seemed like everyone who ran a news column wanted an interview.
As they walked back through the doors, Ratchet saw Optimus practically let the pleasant facade he put on practically fall off. He grumbled faintly, slipping the mask off. The way he carried himself was no longer regal and dominating, but more careless and tired. He looked like a mech who had truly been working a hard day. He could see the drain in his optics as Red dumped the several bags on the table. Hide joined them also in a foul mood. He took off the holster from around his waist, dumping it roughly on the table.
"Be careful with that!" Red scolded sharply. "You ought to know better, treating a loaded weapon like that- you're going to shoot someone, you dimwit," he snarked, beginning to sort through everyone's orders, shaking his helm.
"It's fine Red, there's a safety on it for a reason. No need to be a pissant," he snarked right back sitting down in the chair and propping his peds on the table. "Primus be damned my fragging hydraulics are killin' me…" he huffed rubbing at his ankles.
Ratchet huffed, leaning back in his chair rubbing at his temples silently as he watched Elita and Optimus take their own seats. Optimus leaned on the table with a sigh while Elita did the same.
"I could just kill sire for scheduling so many interviews… that last one was awful. Dear Primus…" she muttered, setting the smaller crown that was atop her helm on the table.
Optimus did the same, much rougher however. He rubbed his audials before leaning onto the table and resting his helm. "Finally…" he muttered. "Primus… somewhere quiet… no cameras…," he sighed as Red passed him the equivalence of a burger and fries. "Thanks Red."
"It's no problem.." he sighed tiredly.
"I don't care about the consequences, I'm having strong words with sire about all the asinine reporters. Honestly, what is going through his helm. The Chargebolt? Volt? Us Ornly? When I told him to accept reputable media invitations for interview, I was talking about Cybernetic Central, the Vosian Times, and Iacon Tribune! Pits, even Praxian Post would have been preferable! I'm sick of all these gossip magazines!" Optimus complained as he sat up to unwrap the cheap meal. "Did you see the way they dug into us, 'What's your dynamic in the home like? What a crappy proposal, Optimus.' 'I'm sure you make the berth interesting Optimus,' 'ooh you like wine I didn't know! Had I known I would have provided some! Might get a few extra 'tidbits' huh Optimus!' What a load of slag. Why don't we talk about relevant issues like the protests in Kaon starting to turn into riots? Or maybe the coming energon shortage because of them? How about what I intend to do for conservation efforts? Selfish, self-centered, pompous fools that don't care about what actually matters. Just wait until the fragger finishes his damn reign and I'll fix all the messes he's making, pretending problems didn't arise right under his optics…"
"Indeed, remember to eat Optimus," Red said, finishing passing out everyone's food. "It'll make you less irritated."
Optimus huffed, taking a bite and chewing for a moment. "This is actually quite good…" he muttered looking down at the burger.
"It's practically a biohazard with how unhealthy it is, but you have to admit it's convenient for nights like these," he sighed, digging into his cheap salad, continuing to glance at Optimus every now and then.
The past few weeks have been awkward between the two of them. Going in front of people generally meant displaying a little bit of affection for show. Holding servos, a gentle servo on his shoulder, sitting a little closer together, a few pet names here and there… he had even taken the mask off on occasion and given him a peck on the cheek for the cameras…There was just something about it that made him a little skiddish. It was draining.
They hadn't really tried since that coffee to get any closer to each other. It was mainly Ratchet's fault for declining the occasional offer he extended but something inside him stirred with distrust after witnessing the facade Optimus put on first hand. It felt like he had been lied to somehow, like he was being made a fool of. If only he had proof that the mech he was even speaking with was the 'real' Optimus. Trying to logic it out with himself was draining as well…
Having all the optics on them was draining too. Ratchet could go out freely now, but he almost preferred not to because of all the recognition he got.
There had been a few unintended consequences of Optimus choosing to be more public than more primes go for. He was highly regarded as more like a celebrity and there were plenty of people wanting to know more about his personal life. The people who thought of Optimus and Ratchet both as young and handsome and sometimes threw themselves at the two of them was a startling new development that was flustering.
The whole world outside this manor was draining… The whole world inside this manor was confusing. His whole existence right now was tiring.
"So why was sire in charge of handling the scheduling anyway?" Elita asked, swirling the carbonated sugary drink she had gotten along with her meal before taking a sip.
"Because I am only one mech and we made the mistake of trusting Sentinel to help sort through all the invites. I was exhausted and we figured he may be an aft, but surely he cares about the reputation of people Optimus talks to! Evidently he's just a hateful, spiteful, mech full of the furies of the pit," Red spat. "Never again. I'll sort them all myself from now on."
"That mech makes me wanna go to prison," Hide growled. "I had a date tonight ya know… Had to give it up to work around that idiot…" he replied. "Lucky she's awful nice and understanding about it…"
"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," Optimus replied with another bite of the sandwich, having settled down a little bit.
"Yeah, it's a new thing. Never got a chance to bring it up with all the chaos, I guess," he hummed. "Her name's Chromia, works up at the preschool a few blocks away from the archives. Met at the pub one night, and hit it off," he sighed, continuing to fiddle with his ankle.
Ratchet sighed, setting down his plastic fork. "Here, let me see it," he said, standing up and moving around the table to him. He pulled up the chair immediately next to him and sat down to examine his ped.
Hide stared at him for a moment before reluctantly allowing him to. Ratchet took his ped rolling it around the joint for a moment. "Hmm… is this a recurring issue?" He asked him.
"I mean yeah, but it always goes away after a bit of staying off of it and proppin' 'em up..."
"You remember when it started?" He asked.
"Um… probably an orn ago. I saw a doctor about it already and he said it was just age," he huffed. "Been thinking about goin' in again since it's starting to get worse…"
"Well, I outrank that doctor and if it were your age you would be experiencing joint fatigue, which is a hydraulic problem. You slipped a gear and it's easily fixable. Watch," he chuffed, tilting his ped.
Hide gave him a small confused look. "I'm sorry wha-" Ratchet pulled on it and it gave a rather nasty sounding crack before being popped into place again.
Hide's optics widened and the rest of his body tense up for a moment before deciding that he seemed to be alright and relaxed. He hummed, rolling his ped around. "Wow… it don't hurt that much anymore…"
Ratchet huffed. "That's the goal, yes," he replied, standing back up and returning to his salad. "Easy to misdiagnose, but it can be dangerous. Sometimes bots go cycles with a misaligned or slipped component and they just continue walking on it or using it, unaware they're wearing it down. A wrong step, or you're just a little too rough with it and it can break. Suddenly you need a minor surgery and a replacement part."
"Well, regardless, thanks a lot," he chuckled.
"It's no problem, just try and be easy on it for a few days while it recalibrates, and ice it if it starts aching," he replied, taking another bite of salad.
A moment of silence passed before Red looked over at him. "Hm, so you're an actual doctor."
Ratchet raised an optic ridge at him. "Naturally? What made you think otherwise?" He asked.
"Yeah Red, he's literally the most noted person in the medical field currently… Cyberton's CMO? Author of academy level texts?" Elita huffed.
"Oh well, the title doctor goes to anyone with a doctorate level education. I knew you had research to your name and I just figured you were a renowned professor that was really focused on your health." He replied, gesturing to the salad. "It must have gone right over my helm that you actively are a medic. In my defense, having a doctorate in political science and law makes a bit more sense given the context. I mean you're known as a Senator."
"I actually have a handful of degrees… " he replied, eating a bit more. "Most people can't afford so much education. I scraped and nearly killed myself to get my first degree but after I got it everything got easier. I increased my caste rank and I got scholarships for it. I kept going and getting more and more degrees and scholarships each year because of my immaculate transcript. I'm very intelligent, I pride myself on it," Ratchet replied dully. "Because I'm very intelligent, I plan on putting my mind to work trying to weed out the things in life that make it hard for people who aren't as smart, resourceful, or lucky as me to live. Take that clinic I own, for example. If I wasn't so smart it wouldn't exist, leaving thousands without affordable healthcare…"
"See, this is exactly why change is needed," Optimus huffed as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "It's garbage like this. People dying because they can't choose between feeding their children or fixing a firewall virus. I swear, once I'm through the rest of the hurdles that oaf put in front of me I'm going to topple everything in front of him," he said, his optics burning a hole through the table as he took another bite.
Ratchet's fork hovered in the air as he made contact with Optimus's optics. There was that flame, oh so familiar. That flame of passion that reflected his own. His spark spun funnily in his chest again. He looked down, feeding the bite into his mouth.
A few agreements were muttered as they pittered out for the night, too drained to speak about anything relevant.
Later that night, Ratchet lay awake in berth. The room was dark, quiet, and cozy. He had grown to find this room more familiar over the orn since he had set foot in the manor.
Reflecting back on the conversations they had had. The pleasant conversation they had been having. The subtle ways that Optimus had made room for him to have as much space as possible with the arrangement they had.
The first day here, when he had lashed out, out of stress and spite for those higher than him… 'That sounds perfectly reasonable… I don't wish for you to pander to me.'
When his carrier inquired about his comfort and happiness… 'If Ratchet is truly unhappy I will fully consent to him seeing other people should he find someone else.'
The way he had spoken to the public that day…'will you allow me the honor of being your mate?'
'You intrigue me…"
He huffed turning onto his side fitfully.
Those damn words. That dual personality of his, hot and cold they were. Day and night.
It was a simple concept, but then why was it all so complicated…
All he had wanted was to try and do some good in the world and he ended up here. Alas, no good deed goes unpunished. Hmf.
He turned onto his back again staring blankly into the darkness that surrounded him. What was real and what was not. Was Optimus actually letting him see what he truly believed or was this a farce. What was there to gain if it wasn't true?
Nothing came to mind in particular… The whole family dynamic was all too real, he found. So at least that wasn't a lie. Sentinel has been consistently irritable with Optimus. He had been very open with the small group of his disapproval with his father, so that lined up.
It was becoming less and less likely that Optimus was feigning the warmer demeanor towards him. That ought to make him happy, but then why was he still so conflicted?
Those optics came back into his vision. It's hard to fake a fire like that. It really is. And why would he?
In conclusion Optimus isn't hiding any true colors. That he can see… maybe…
He groaned covering his optics as his spark flickered uncomfortably in his chest. But then why did he feel so strange about this whole situation all over again? Friendship had always been a little more difficult for him. Let alone whatever this was… he refused to call it a relationship… especially with the whole confusing mask Optimus had.
There's no use in trying to fall asleep, he supposed. Maybe a walk would help…
Sighing, Ratchet sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the berth. He slung a smaller blanket around his shoulders and stood up walking out the door careful to be quiet.
He wandered the halls, the only light sources were his own optics and the twin moons pouring light through every window in the corridor. He sighed faintly, turning to look out at the gardens. The city's dull radiance shining in the distance, ever noisy. It was times like this when he missed home, just a little bit. This grand home still felt closer to a pretty bird cage than a home.
He turned and continued walking hoping to calm his ever active mind.
Today was just packed with nonsense. It was reasonable to be all jittery from all the attention they were garnering, right? No, more irritable than jittery. All of it was nonsense anyway. All those froufrou people gossiping rather than pay attention to the world around them. And he hated that he had to pander to them a little bit.
What was his goal in pandering to them anyway? Right… public appeal was part of it. The more people liked him, the more they listened to what he had to say. The more they listened, the more they could react to what he was saying. The more they reacted, the more force he had to create a movement. The more movement the more change, and change is the goal.
The goal was to uproot corruption by abolishing the caste system. The system that ranked citizens by how much they were worth based on funds, property, family, and education. Getting rid of the caste system would allow the more common mech better access to getting into a position in the Senate and by extension the Council because there wouldn't be a rank in society attached to their name, leading to legislation that was more practical and applicable to the masses. A better representation of Cybertron as a whole. That was the goal.
And his part in the plan is using his situation to gain better traction. The more optics on him the more people his ideas spread to and thus why he needed to be liked by the people. Yes… This was necessary.
His ped steps halted as he looked up to see where he was. Lost in thoughts yet again, he found. Out of the corner of his optic he saw a light at the end of the corridor. Optimus's study. The soft baritone of his voice carried faintly down the hall. He was talking…
He really shouldn't… but oh he wanted to. Could this be the proof he was needing to prove who was the mask and who was the mech? What if he got caught and it tainted the results… His curiosity easily won over his judgement and he carefully crept closer to the cracked open door. As he crept closer Optimus's voice began to become audible. Who was he talking to?
He slowly peered through the crack, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. If he was however… well he would burn that bridge when and if he got to it at this rate.
"…I have a few options, but taking into consideration that I've never actually had anyone actively dislike me that I care to change that fact…" He sighed looking down at the small potted Crystal that sat in front of him on his desk. It shone a soft purple hue, reflecting its nocturnal luminescence.
He sighed sitting back in his office chair. "I'm trying to drop hints that I really am on his side… of course maybe I'm not being obvious enough."
He pulled his helm back to look at the ceiling. "I might have ruined any chance of him actually thinking I'm honest. Is he right to not trust politicians? Of course. I didn't exactly ask for this position…. But I have to remember that it doesn't exactly matter, does it?"
He looked back down at the crystal as it glowed up at him. "It's keeping me up at night. I don't know how to get him to believe me. Perhaps I'm being impatient?"
A beat of silence followed. "It has only been a handful of weeks…but I don't want him to hate me forever and letting things fester is never a good idea," he muttered. "I really do admire him, even if this is arranged. He's far more bold than I'll ever be… I'm a little jealous. I try to speak out like he's done and I just can't seem to do it…So how do I communicate that?" He asked.
"I suppose I just could come out and say it… Ratchet, I admire your personality."
Another beat of silence followed before he groaned, slouching over a little bit. "No, no, no. Too forceful." he sighed dragging his servos down his face. "That sounds so rehearsed, no wonder he doesn't think anything I say to him is authentic…" he sat up again looking down at the crystal. "How did Elita learn so late in life…"
"Okay what's something that's a little more casual but still gets the point across bluntly… maybe… I really do enjoy you? I'm sorry for putting you in such a compromising position? If I had just bit the bullet and wasn't so rebellious neither of us would be in this position? Hmmm…. Yeah I wouldn't be a fan of me either if I were him… I want to be transparent but I don't want to make him even more uncomfortable…" he replied to himself. "Look at me now, I'm sure he'd think I'm pretty weird for talking to a potted crystal about my social ineptitudes… regardless I suppose it helps to just think out loud…"
He sighed leaning against his servo. "I'm starting to think that everything I've done to try and spell out that I genuinely want to try and at least be friends to make this as comfortable as possible; Did the opposite… I was trying to insinuate that I thought he was interesting and that I enjoyed his interests but now I'm beginning to think that I may have said something to offend him… He's rejected all my offers to spend time with him recently… I just wish I knew what I did wrong," he sighed running his digit over the gem.
Ratchet bit his lip looking down at the ground, his spark flipping uncomfortably in its chamber. He had an idea, somewhere in his head, something screamed at him to pretend like he'd never been here. He couldn't help it. He was too curious. Carefully he put his hand on the door and slowly pushed.