#this took forever to get ready because i needed to finish up my tfbb outline & summary

[dramamelon]

For @polyshipweek 2023! ✨

Day 1: Road Trip Day 2: Second Chances Day 3: Bed Sharing

Completing the Connection

Day 4: Soulmates Rating: E (overall, but not until day 5) Characters: Drift, Ratchet, Rodimus, Thunderclash Pairing: thunderdratchrod Fandom: Transformers (IDW1) Tags: Minimal Editing, Romantic Fluff, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Polyamory, Flirting Fic Summary: As a still newly-minted foursome, they've come closer to one another, but one connection hasn't quite fully cemented itself just yet. A surprise retirement announcement from Thunderclash has Rodimus suggesting one last tour on the Exitus for all of them. Really, it's a chance to for a bit of vacation time with his partners on Cybertron's shanix. And maybe it might spur on a little more action between Thunderclash and Drift.

AO3 link in reblog! Sequel to Closest of Friends. :)

If there was one thing they did as a group that was almost perfect, Drift pegged it as the way they complemented each other in the pure ability to move in near-complete synchronicity. He knew the thing that kept them from perfection was himself. It wasn't the first time such a thing lay on his shoulders. It was, however, something that became entirely evident every time he landed in a berth—or on the couch, or on the table, or in the washrack, or on the floor, et cetera—not so inconspicuously nudged into the arms of Thunderclash. Something both Rodimus and Ratchet were guilty of arranging.

So it went, with him now perched astride Thunderclash's middle and his fingers playing along the edges of the frame around Thunderclash's central venting. Beside them on the berth, their partners pretended at being deeply involved with one another, Rodimus settled between Ratchet's thighs already and the two swapping oral lubricant as if the fate of the universe depended on it. However, the groping hands and too loud sexy murmurs were belied by the constant flicker of watching optics in their direction. Drift met Thunderclash's gaze and rolled his optics, smiling as he shook his helm.

"Can you believe the two of them?" he asked, flicking one audial flare in the direction of their berthmates. "It's like neither one of them remembers how romance and attraction works."

The low reverberation of Thunderclash's answering chuckle vibrated through Drift's intimate plating where it sat against the bigger mech's belly. Thunderclash's thick fingers played along the seams of the dark plating on Drift's thighs. It all sent to quiver through Drift's frame as Thunderclash replied, "Oh, absolutely. And both of us are quite well aware they very much know better."

Amusement hummed through Thunderclash's field, the bright tendrils tickling against the edge of Drift's field and pulling a laugh from him, as well. A laugh that grew louder as Rodimus pulled away from Ratchet to give them a pointed look as he said, "If the two of you would just fuck already without us being involved, Ratch and I might stop pestering you about it. Have you considered that?"

He made no attempt at relenting when Thunderclash and Drift both gifted him with pointed looks of their own. The standoff was quickly ended, though, when Ratchet pinched a cluster of wires in Rodimus' hip joint that never failed to have him yelping and begging for mercy. "Apologize, brat."

"No—yowch!" Rodimus squirmed atop Ratchet as their medic twisted those wires just a little bit harder. Drift bit his gloss on the laughter that threatened to escape him as he watched Rodimus curl his golden fingers around the edges of Ratchet's chest plating. With a hiss, Rodimus curled into the deepening pinch, his spoiler wings dancing with complaint matched by a high-pitched whine of static from his vocalizer. "Ratch, come on, babe! Stop it, stop it, stop it! I'm fucking sorry, all right?"

Astoundingly, it wasn't Drift that reached out to settle the tussle between the two of them, but Thunderclash, instead. He laid one big hand on Ratchet's forearm, letting it slip to brush along Rodimus' nearby thigh. "Hey, you two, as amusing as it is, is now really the time?"

Ratchet turned a cranky face on him, though it was much less annoyed than it had been before the touch. "He—"

"He apologized," Thunderclash finished for him, one of his soft smiles gentle on his kind face. Of all the things Drift was familiar with regarding the big mech, that was the one thing that never failed to melt just a little bit more the increasingly smaller part of him that was still hesitant to jump into something meaningful. "Maybe it wasn't the best of apologies, but we are talking about Rodimus."

"Dude!" Rodimus protested, pushing up to sit on his knees and obviously entirely unaware that Ratchet had given up his torture. "I give amazing apologies."

"Oh, really?" Ratchet replied, arching one orbital ridge high.

As Drift watched the bickering continue, something that would continue as long as Ratchet and Rodimus were within any sort of near proximity to one another, he knew he would have it no other way. A soft tapping along his thigh pulled him from his thoughts. It took a moment, but he realized Thunderclash was sweet talking him through chirolinguistics again. Something he often used with Ratchet and Rodimus, neither understanding more than a few words, Drift had never been the recipient himself.

His attention fully earned again, Drift gave Thunderclash an inquisitive look. He tilted his helm a little, audial flares perked in curiosity. Extending one claw, he slipped it between two vent blades, teasing just enough to make those still tapping fingers stutter against his armor. Drift smirked at the sudden widening of Thunderclash's optics and sheathed the talon again before walking his fingers up the long length of Thunderclash's torso. He folded his arms across that broad chest as he leaned down and just took in the shape of the mech's face. It was a good face, warm gold in color and long since healed of the scratches Drift had carved into the paint. His features were heavy and bold, broad and comfortable in a way that none of the rest of them could lay claim to. They were very nice to look at.

Drift shifted a hand and traced his fingertip around the curves of Thunderclash's mouth. His lips were soft and malleable under the touch. "You know, I talk a lot of slag," he murmured just loud enough for Thunderclash to hear. He modulated the hue of his optics to match the amused touch of lavender in Thunderclash's at the comment. "It's true. Just ask Ratty. He'll tell you all about it. That's not what I wanted to talk about right now, though."

Curiosity washed across Thunderclash's easy to look at face and his fingers stilled before those big hands slid up to settle around Drift's waist. They were warm and tingled with just the slightest hint of a confidence not quite entirely true. That was an unexpected surprise, but Drift found himself intensely pleased with the revelation. Not that he believed Thunderclash had ever bought into the Greatest Autobot hype, of course. Something of his pleasure must have gotten across Thunderclash, though, as his voice bore no sign of any self-doubt. "And just what subject did you have in mind?"

Casting another glance toward Rodimus and Ratchet, smirking at seeing they'd put aside their quibbles and watched the happenings between himself and Thunderclash. The intensity of their gazes, the brightness of the hope lighting their optics…. He looked back to Thunderclash and felt his spark squeeze in a tight twist and a dizzying dance of flutterwings in his fuel tank. Staring back at him from those vividly scarlet optics was the very same hope blended with a desire that went beyond the physical.

Stretching out his arms, Drift levered himself up to attain a small amount of distance. He rested his weight on his palms, pressed against Thunderclash's chest. Not once did his gaze stray from that of the mech beneath him, his attention quite fully captured. The flutterwings in his belly sent a quiver all through him. "Thunderclash?"

Maybe he couldn't actually read auras, like he so often brought up simply to push Ratchet's buttons in the easiest way possible, but there was something tangible in the swirl of tendrils of electromagnetic fields tangling all around him. Something deep. Thunderclash moved his right hand from Drift's hip upward to rest in the center of his chest, right over the space where his spark lay underneath. Slower than before, Thunderclash's fingers tapped words against his armor. With a soft sigh and an indulgent smile stretching across his face, Drift relaxed as the renewed tension fled his frame. He laid a hand over the top of Thunderclash's, stilling the movement of his fingers.

"You can say it out loud, you know," Drift told him, weaving his fingers between Thunderclash's. Giving a quick tilt of his helm toward Rodimus and Ratchet, he continued, "I'm pretty sure those two wouldn't mind."

Thunderclash's optics flicked to the other two mechs with them, returning a nano-klik later. The look of hope remained, shining perhaps a touch brighter in the realization he hadn't immediately been turned away. "Is it time, then?" Thunderclash asked in a quiet voice. "Have I earned your trust finally that you might consider giving yourself to me, might accept my offers of myself, with and without Rodimus and Ratchet?"

"Well, you've certainly done a better job of selling yourself than some mechs I've met over the vorns," Drift replied with a deeply amused edge to his tone. He guided Thunderclash's hand back down to the hip it had abandoned, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on Thunderclash's chest. Reminiscent of the swirls he'd once drawn in a drunken state across the big mech's face, Drift traced circles through the stylized wings of the technohawk enamel inlay that decorated that impressive stretch of torso. If Thunderclash thought he wouldn't feel the tiny shiver that passed through the plating beneath him, the mech was sorely mistaken. Drift's smile made a slow stretch across his face into a knowing grin, his orbital ridges quirking high with challenge. "Tell me, Thunderclash, do you think we've reached that point?"

"I'd like to think so," Thunderclash said, his hands giving Drift's hips a soft squeeze before slipping around behind to curve over the shape of Drift's backside.

Drift laughed and not so subtly lifted into the touch. Thunderclash had very good hands, big enough to hold him and make him feel small. The sort of feeling that sent waves of heat rising through his own frame and started his fans whirring. "Well, I guess it's good that I have gotten kind of soft on you, then." He dropped his helm low and pressed a kiss to the center of that technohawk. A soft hiss of air preceded a hot wash of interest from the big mech. Drift's smile curled high to one side, giving what he knew was a good flash of fang. It got him the rev of engine he knew it would—his Autobots definitely got off on danger. Those big hands on his aft squeezed a little harder and the thick pelvic span pushed up against him. Undeniably smug, Drift extended his claws on one hand and tapped them over that broad chest.

"Did you hear that? I heard that. I figured you were naughty judging by the company you keep. So glad to know I'm right," Drift said with a purr reminiscent of the other name he wore for so long. "Do you believe in fate, Thunderclash?" He scratched the first line of a complicated glyph into the center of the Autobrand set within the technohawk inlay. "In destiny?" A few more lines were added. "In soulmates?" The final line was added with a particularly deep scratch, lifting a curl of paint.

He watched Thunderclash's optics dash a look down to his chest, the tip of Thunderclash's glossa passing over his lips, before his gaze bounced back up to lock with Drift's. It was invigorating, the reaction one he didn't get from either his conjunx or his best friend. It was the sort of thing he could really get used to. If the depth of Thunderclash's belief didn't delve too deep, anyway. He couldn't take another Wing. Then Thunderclash answered. "No, I don't," the big mech said. "None of those are real. It's all just stories about people in bad situations looking for an easy out that people bored with what they have tell themselves."

Drift relaxed into Thunderclash's hold, letting himself drape over the larger frame, relieved. "Good answer," he said, his own engine throwing a steady hum that matched the pleased echoes in his field. "I might just have to keep you."

They exchanged a wry look and rolled their optics at the cheering from the pair on the other side of the berth.