Ratchet didn't return for days.
At first, Megatron convinced himself it was good thing. The apartment remained well stocked with amenities. The presence of the medic was not something he needed or wanted. Let the damn fool work himself into stasis.
A few days into his solitary, yet cushioned lifestyle, there came a knock on the door. With no answer, whomever the bot was left within a few cycles but it didn't stop the seed of worry which began to fester and sprout within Megatron's spark. Ratchet could avoid Megatron, but it wasn't like the Autobot medic to neglect a patient.
It was after that encounter that he began researching ways to make up with the medic. Most on the network were romantic suggestions and he didn't want his meaning to be skewed. But it was within his knowledge to make something for the medic. It could be something he could say he wanted.
Back in his gladiator days, making high-grade is what made you 'friends'. Some would make it out of oil but the best and easiest distilling processes were for energon. All you needed was two sheets of metal and heat.
Ratchet's kitchenware looked unused but stocked rather well. Obviously not the medic's choice. Megatron easily felt content to wreck anything he needed to create the concoction.
The first day after the patient knocked on Ratchet's door, Megatron created the still. It wasn't a laborious task, yet he found himself getting distracted often.
The second day, he ran the energon through the first still. He listened to it roil as he watched the city lights. He didn't dare turn lights on at night, better to not alert anyone of his presence. He calmly turned over his options in the white noise of the still and the glow of the city.
The third, he stilled again, lying to himself that it would improve the flavor and it wasn't just to keep busy.
On the fourth day, he left a mess waiting for Ratchet after extracting the distilled energon. Megatron entertained the fantasy that when Ratchet returned he would be irate about the procedure.
The fifth day yielded a slightly red iridescent liquid which was strained several times before Megatron poured it back into an energon cube. He cleaned up his project and waited patiently.
On the fifth night Megatron awoke to a loud clatter. A voice outside of the apartment yelled out, "I'm sorry. I must have forgotten my code in all this mess."
Megatron scrambled up and leaned towards the berthroom before reconsidering and taking up his usual hiding place in the closet. He winced as a dull metal thunk sounded out in his rush to not be seen. He could only hope whomever was with the medic wouldn't mind.
There were the pedfalls of two Autobots and Megatron would give anything to bear witness to what was happening behind that door.
"Let's head to your berthroom."
"No, no I'll be fine on the couch," Ratchet griped.
"Ratchet," Whoever this bot was, it wasn't First Aid. From the crystalline voice, it sounded like a two-wheeler, "Ratchet, no."
Megatron couldn't help his curiosity, but to step out into the room would probably do more harm than good. Instead he was forced to hide in a wheel closet. This kind of predicament was far beyond anything Megatron imagined he would find himself in. Hiding out in a domestic setting like he was the medic's secret intrigue. Any panicked mirth at the thought laminated itself to his spark. When he tracked into Cybertronian space he'd hoped for death and not this farce of survival. Megatron couldn't make an all call without exposing himself to anyone with a Decepticon frequency decoder. And what, he'd call a loyal subject for a ride home?
"Hey Ratchet?"
The voice startled Megatron, the bot went unheard until they spoke out in the kitchen.
"Yes?"
"What's this stuff on the counter?"
An extended pause and pedsteps signaled Ratchet's return from the berthroom to the main rooms. He responded almost too soft for Megatron to hear, "That's high-grade."
"Oh, you know how to make high-grade?"
"I suppose I do."
After a brief silence, the bot chirped, "Well, I'm going to leave. Stop seeing so many patients."
Ratchet laughed and passed off the comment with an insincere promise and a farewell. The outside door closed. He heard another shuffle as Ratchet came over and opened his hiding space door.
They stood in silence, Megatron framed by the door looking down and Ratchet looking up at him.
"You made high-grade?"
Megatron folded his servos, "I did."
Ratchet vented and turned around to return to the kitchen, "Did you energize properly while I was gone?"
"No, I just drank myself into a stupor." Megatron shuffled from the closet.
Questions burned Megatron's processor but he remained silent. He calculated any misstep and Ratchet would leave again rather than stay with his hated patient.
"Did you make it for me?"
Megatron snapped up to look at Ratchet. He responded cautiously, "For the both of us."
"I'm surprised you remembered how," Ratchet admitted, he lifted the cube up to the light to admire its hue.
After being gone so long, the sight of the medic bracing himself against the counter with red light filtering down through the high-grade seemed nostalgic. A strange tightness seized Megatron's spark but he ignored it.
"I remember a lot of things from before the war," Megatron told him. But Ratchet already knew that. They both had wounds which managed to last far beyond the char and wreckage of war.
"Let's save it for when we find a way out for you," Ratchet said, tucking the high grade away.
Megatron wanted to protest. He wanted to tell the medic that he didn't make it for a special occasion but rather to apologize, something he wasn't accustomed to. But it wasn't as if Ratchet would take the metaphorical peace offering as something grand, so Megatron refrained.
Megatron shifted, "I haven't been feeling well."
"Oh," Ratchet's optics widened and his brows shot up, "Well hop up on the berth and I'll take a look."
Megatron tracked into the living room and took his place on the medical berth.
"What seems to be the problem?" He asked, pulling a rolling seat from beneath the berth, "You don't need to lie down for the scan."
"Tightness in my chestplating and restlessness," Megatron shifted upright and looked down at the medic.
"It sounds as if your mental condition is effecting your physical one." Ratchet's arm unit beeped as the scan passed over the warbuild, "What did you do while I was gone?"
"Waited for your return."
Ratchet vented and leaned back, studying the scanner results. There was nothing physically wrong with Megatron although he should open him up and give a once over to his healed systems. He looked back up to the warlord, who was now gazing out into the city.
It was a beautiful view. That was one part of the provided quarters even Ratchet could enjoy. Megatron looked at the outside world with a twisted expression. It reminded the medic that Megatron could never truly enjoy this world.
"Thank you for the high grade," Ratchet began, turning over his servos before looking up into Megatron's optics, "I know that our differences and personal history make it difficult for the both of us. I know you didn't ask to be rescued. I thought about it a lot."
Megatron didn't know how to respond. He couldn't deny it and anything he could say would come out harsh.
"You know, actually. I think I will have some high-grade now," Ratchet said flatly, "You want some?"
Megatron veiled his surprise and merely shrugged, "If you'd like."
"I don't even know what I can put them in," Ratchet began as he walked to the kitchen.
"You have some decorative ware," Megatron gestured, "In the cabinet above the refrigeration unit. Don't you know your own things?"
Ratchet shrugged, an action Megatron noted from watching him so carefully from the living room, "They don't feel like mine."
Megatron couldn't argue with that. Ratchet brought over glasses and high grade, "Are you going to drink it on the medical berth?"
Megatron stood and took the proffered glass and reached a servo out for the high grade which Ratchet graciously surrendered.
The liquid sloshed out a little too quickly into his cup and made Megatron wonder if the medic was wary of being social with him. For Megatron, sitting in silence drinking was just as viable an option as making awkward small talk could ever be. Megatron respectfully filled his glass only halfway.
"I'm not sure how strong it is, I've never-"
But it was too late, Ratchet emptied the vessel into his intake like a shot, gulping down the liquid.
"-tested its strength," Megatron finished.
"Never met a batch I didn't like."
Megatron wanted to admire his own handiwork so he sniffed at the glass in his servo before setting the container of high grade on the medical berth, with no other surface in the room that's where it would stay.
"Seems a little strong," Megatron frowned before taking a sip and grimacing, "It is strong."
Ratchet shrugged, "What did you make it with? If it's energon you have to let it mellow out."
"Or what?" Megatron hated to ask.
Ratchet threw up his servos in a very 'I don't know' motion and raised his servos.
Megatron sipped experimentally and realized it was more than just strong, but it wasn't anything either of them couldn't handle.
"Did you just make high grade?"
Megatron swallowed his mouthful of energon, "Yes. The rest of my time went to research."
"Did you figure anything out?"
Megatron didn't like the tone Ratchet used to say that, but he took a drink from his glass, "It was very illuminating."
Ratchet rolled his optics and paced down. Megatron hid a smile behind his cup, trying not to let the Autobot catch his stare.
There was nothing but the pedsteps of Ratchet nervously turning laps in his apartment, "And what brings you back to me, Ratchet?"
Ratchet's optics flickered up to him. Finally, he returned to his unreadable, professional expression, "There was an incident at the hospital."
"What kind of incident?" Megatron couldn't help but think he was being evasive, dramatically so even. Years of working with his second in command made him question ambiguity.
Ratchet vented and walked back to the high-grade cube, pouring himself another full glass.
"Careful," Megatron warned.
Ratchet met his optics fearlessly and took a solid gulp of the stuff. Megatron shook his helm, "There is no need to rebel so thoroughly against me. Nothing hangs in the balance but your own wit."
"Oh good, you'll finally have an advantage," Ratchet quipped back, taking a smaller drink from his glass.
"I am glad you returned, Ratchet."
Ratchet's optics telescoped and he side-eyed blank space with his usual harrumph. It was almost like he wanted to say something in his usual sardonic tone but refrained at Megatron's rarely kind word.
Megatron sipped in silence as Ratchet paced the floor yet again, taking long sips from his own glass.
"So, the whole thing is First Aid's fault."
"What is?"
"The patient flipping out. It's his fault."
"The incident?" Megatron recalled from earlier.
"Yes," Ratchet squared his arms to punctuate his story, "All he had to do was listen. To. Me. And could he do that one task? No. Primus forbid he actually drag his helm from his tailpipe to do his job instead of flirt with the interns."
Megatron hid a smile akin to amusement at the coming rage. He'd grown used to such noise and rampant insults from a certain lecherous mech at his side, but Ratchet's was brand new and not at him for once. It was for him, because Megatron had seemingly been foolish enough to inquire. He wondered if just anyone would be privy to the drunken rant had they been there as well.
"A patient came in and right there in his file" the doctor said, finger in his palm, "Was a specific instruction not to hook him up to a regulator because he had a field problem." Ratchet managed to speak clearly despite his fledgling intoxication. "What does First Aid do?"
Megatron raised an optic ridge, "Hooks him up to a regulator?"
"He hooks him up to a regulator," the medical unit echoed, making another round while Megatron watched, no longer keeping the bemused expression from his faceplate. "So of course, turns out he can emit violent magnetic pulses and he thinks he's under attack by four Autobot medics. But to him they aren't medics. Medicon."
Ratchet angrily turned to him, "Meditron just sits there and doesn't know what to do and I'm left to fight this titanic son of a glitch alone."
Megatron chuckled.
"This doesn't mean you're right," Ratchet countered, growing insecure as the high-grade fuzzed his otherwise capable functions, "He isn't my patient."
Megatron looked over his glass to see the Autobot had interrupted himself with another long draught from his own. Ratchet looked positive and happy as he ambled back over to the berth to pour himself another cup.
Megatron closed his claws over top of the glass before Ratchet could swallow its contents whole. He almost told the medic to slow down, take it easy, but that would probably add fuel to the fire. Megatron instead held out his own glass for the medic to fill.
"Anyway," Ratchet rocked back a little. "He knocked out half the hospital with an EM pulse."
Megatron did his best to look grave, as if the story made sense, "Did he harm you?"
"No, I never disengage my RF generator," Ratchet shrugged, "No sense in scaring people."
Megatron couldn't question the decision. It was his own command to use the Autobots' emotions against them. With the help of the strong high-grade and the knowledge that Ratchet was further gone than he, Megatron let his inner thoughts to crawl out, "Where did you think you'd be when the war ended?"
"Dead," Ratchet said without missing a beat, "Offlining was the ideal outcome."
Megatron laughed, "How hypocritical of you, doctor."
Ratchet turned those energon-blue optics his way, "Tell me then. What would you have done with me if I survived?"
Megatron couldn't say the multitude of plans he had for the medic if the war was won and the Autobots surrendered. It was far too shameful now. "I would utilize your skills same as the council."
Ratchet made another disbelieving noise and returned to his pacing up and down the floor. Megatron wondered if he could hide the high grade so Ratchet would not worsen his condition. Still, it didn't hurt to retire the liquid. Rather than draw attention by a jaunt to the kitchen, Megatron slide the cube closed and tucked it under the medical berth.
"Granted, I wouldn't give you such luxurious quarters, unless they were my own." Normally, Megatron guarded his tongue. But he'd been in Ratchet's drunk company before and he was a high energy. Distracting him with such a comment would be sure to veil the missing high-grade. Plus, when the Autobot lost his buzz he didn't care much to bring up what was said and done.
When Ratchet made no mention or response Megatron looked for one. Silence from the medic was never a good omen. He stared at the lights of Cybertron glittering out in the world.
"When this all began, I'd thought it'd be you and Orion."
This was new. Megatron set his glass on the medical berth, as if it was a distraction from what the medic said.
"How irregular." Megatron had his own indecencies he wanted to spew but he'd wait until the medic had his piece.
Ratchet turned to the ex-warlord, "You and Orion had a true friendship. Ours was based on impedance."
"Remind me again of what that is," Megatron hadn't heard the phrase in millions of years.
"Our sparks had the same energy, same amount," Ratchet gestured to the world, "I don't think you realize how rare that is, to have total impedance with another Cybertronian. To not be afraid of hurting them when you're charged."
Megatron was far too old to find fascination with Ratchet's sudden divulgence of he and Optimus' relationship. Of course, in his gladiator days he suspected that Orion and Ratchet maintained the "friends with benefits" kind of relationship. Orion did sleep with at least Alpha Trion and Megatron, so he didn't put it past the young librarian to be shacking up with Ratchet as well. "So, what does that mean?"
Ratchet vented out a sigh, "Optimus usually had to be on the bottom in his relationships prior."
"I recall."
Ratchet shot him a glare, "I was much the same, until Orion. He and I had a friendship that knew no measure after that. But I always felt it had no real substance. But he didn't talk to anyone like he did me. Until a gladiator named Megatronus came along."
It was odd hearing Ratchet talk about him like he wasn't there. But he was out of highgrade, so the medic ambled over for more. Not wanting to deny him as he divulged the unknown, Megatron handed his own glass over and watched the Autobot take a drink. Without the social lubricant, he might stop.
Ratchet began to walk away, but Megatron caught his servo, "Please continue."
He looked irritated but didn't pull away, "I came to Kaon with Orion because of his interest in you. You were his mentor, his everything. When they made them Prime I was sure you'd be right with him during that. He was having such a hard time and I told him, I lied to him 'don't worry, Megatron will help you through this'. I was sure that he would be the kind, gentle figurehead for Cybertron and you would be the true heart of policy. I thought that it was over. He just wanted your guidance and you called him your enemy. And the war began."
"Tell me more about you and Orion," Megatron was being too demanding.
Ratchet changed the subject, "C'mere for a second I wanna show you something."
Megatron didn't mind the subject switch much. If it was somewhat easy the first time, he'd try again if the next opportunity presented itself. He followed the medic without a word to the berthroom.
"If you wanna know why I don't use some of the luxuries I have, I'll show you."
Megatron didn't point out to the intoxicated medic that he could just tell him about whatever it was he wished to show him.
Ratchet went from the berthroom to the washroom and Megatron raised an optic ridge but followed him again. He didn't offer assistance as Ratchet slid into the wide tube and Megatron realized exactly why in short time.
Ratchet fit fully into the wide basin. Only his optics peeked out angrily above the rim, "This apartment wasn't made for me. It was a cast off for some official. They gave it to me to shut me up or something. I'll need some help getting out, by the way."
Megatron reached a single servo down and lifted Ratchet up and out of the tub basin by his servo. He ignored Ratchet's desperate clutch at his digits as he set him gingerly down. The medic swayed ever so slightly and Megatron wondered if he would fall completely.
"Optimus missed you a lot. I never thought he would be content with just me. I know it was my own insecurity, but he was always taken with you," Ratchet spoke in a lonely tone to the floor.
Something clawed at Megatron's spark and he roughly grabbed Ratchet's chin and wrenched it up, glaring into his clear blue optics, "I pursued you because I knew you were Optimus' precious medic. I loathed his lapdog as voraciously as I did the Prime. It would hit his spark the worst for me to have you. If you still harbor a grudge over my perceived theft of Pax, why did you save me?"
Ratchet jerked away and walked to the door, "It's what Optimus would have wanted."
"What did you want, Ratchet?" Megatron asked, following him into the other room.
Ratchet vented and flopped onto the berth, rubbing his optics with his servos, "I don't know what I wanted."
"Did you want me offline?"
"No," Ratchet vented out, "It's going to sound dumb, Megatron. I'm going to sound utterly ridiculous in front of some mech who could kill me should I sound so stupid in front of him."
On a whim Megatron sat next to him on the berth and Ratchet peeked out from behind his servos, "Come closer."
Megatron rolled his optics before leaning in close to Ratchet.
"Don't judge me," Ratchet whispered loudly, "But I thought…given everything that's happened maybe a little bit of Optimus managed to survive in you. You had that change of spark. …I thought maybe if you survived a little bit of him would too."
Megatron felt his spark swirl with a great deal of emotion. He wasn't anything like Optimus, but he understood what Ratchet spoke of.
"I think a little bit of Optimus lives in you as well, Ratchet." Megatron said gently, allowing himself to blame the small amount of high grade for his actions. Megatron reached out a clawed servo to stroke the side of Ratchet faceplate.
The medic blinked but only tensed at the touch, not pulling away. After a few gentle strokes, Megatron took Ratchet's chin in his digits, this time a little softer. He pulled the medic closer pushing his own faceplate daringly close. He could feel the medic's heated breath but he stopped short. He studied the medic, as if trying to find some answer etched on his faceplate.
Ratchet closed the distance between them, pushing his helm up to connect their lips. Megatron saw sparks fly as he pressed feverishly on the medic. His spark fluxed at the idea that Ratchet would soon push him away but he was eager to experience him.