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quibble-auk · 17 days ago

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@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

I promised fluff and here it is. I know it was ages ago when you asked me why I drew Dropmix without the visor in my little doodle thing, and I finally get around to explaining it. Look at me go! He doesn’t need it all the time anymore.

Help. I suck at writing fluff.

Dropmix finally lets himself heal.

—

It was quiet in the medical bay, as quiet as it ever could be at least. Music still thrummed quietly in the background, lulling and soft. The lack of patients and general chaos seemed to reflect on the war itself.

Things had gotten quieter on Cybertron since the main fronts had moved off-world. Optimus and most of the head officers had boarded the Ark in search of more energy, with Megatron and his troops following closely behind. While there was still fighting on their homeworld, it had slowed down. With resources depleted and contact with the leaders delayed, conflicts had gone from raging battles that left hundreds—if not thousands—dead or wounded to border skirmishes and raids.

It was far from peaceful, but it was quieter than before. It gave the mechs that had been left behind a much needed moment to breathe and grieve over those lost. After millions of years at war, an end to the violence actually seemed feasible. It allowed Jeopardy and other medical officers a moment to step back and relax from the constant influx of wounded.

Jeopardy smiled softly as he looked from the datapad in his hand to the resting form of Dropmix. The large medic breathed deeply and slowly, his form unmoving on the medical berth. He looked peaceful and content. His frame relaxed more than usual, he had taken off some of the larger pieces of armor at Jeopardy’s request. It didn’t really affect the surgery at all, but they both knew he’d be more comfortable if he at least took some of it off. Jeopardy’s smile grew as he watched over the other.

It had been a simple operation, but it had been one long overdue. For years Jeopardy had been offering to help replace his mentor’s missing optic, to officially close that wound. Every time he had mentioned it, Dropmix had declined, dismissing it. Jeopardy never pressed, he didn’t need to, not really. He could see the way the other’s voice grew tight with grief and guilt. He could recognize the look in his remaining eye.

Whatever it was, it was a reminder for Dropmix, something he couldn’t let go of. A punishment to himself for something that he deserved to move on from. Jeopardy never nagged him about it, just reminded the other that when he was ready, all he would need to do was ask and Jeopardy would be there. There was no point in trying to rush the other, he was too stubborn to give in to nagging and even if he did, it wouldn’t have meant anything. He would be doing it to get Jeopardy off of his back instead of finally allowing himself to heal.

The medic had been overjoyed when Dropmix had approached him earlier in the week, ready to finally get it replaced. He had barely been able to contain himself, masking his excitement with a reserved smile and professional agreement. He knew that Dropmix had seen through it—the reserved smile, the professional tone—by the way his gaze had softened.

Dropmix shifted in the berth slightly, drawing Jeopardy’s attention back to the present. The gladiator was stirring. The medic looked down at the datapad in his hand dismissively, he was in the middle of writing a message for Comet—his friend had gone with the twins to the new front, Earth. He had been sending messages out to the other for some time, occasionally getting a short response. He didn’t mind, the other was busy and never had been good at sending messages anyway.

This week's review could wait—Dropmix was waking. Jeopardy leaned over and placed the datapad carefully to the side. His attention shifted to the larger mech as he moved again, a small grumble escaping him as he woke. The gladiator lazily stretched—still clearly dealing with the after effects of the sedatives—and rolled over. Jeopardy flinched as Dropmix fell to the ground off of the small berth, a small yelp escaping the other as they crashed into the ground.

He shot to his feet, looking over the mech on the ground. His hands hovered, unsure of what to do. “Slag! Dropmix are you–”

Jeopardy didn’t finish, he blinked down at his mentor. The berth wasn’t exactly high off the ground, but Jeopardy still winced at the heavy thud of Dropmix’s frame hitting the floor. He barely even reacted—just grumbled, stretched out, and made himself comfortable. Dropmix softly chuffed at him. His remaining eye, the one not replaced, cracked open lazily. Jeopardy fought against the urge to snort, grinning down at the other. Any concern replaced with fond amusement, “Comfy?”

Dropmix furrowed his brows at the other, disoriented no doubt, as he struggled to make sense of Jeopardy’s words. After a second he seemingly gave up with a huff, his eyes closing again. He started talking in an ancient Koanite language—one that Jeopardy had heard him muttering in a few times previously—his voice deep and words slurred.

The white and red mech shook his head, still smiling fondly. It was rare for him to see the other like this, relaxed and unguarded. He laughed gently, “I don’t know what you're saying, but alright.”

Obviously, Jeopardy must have agreed to something without realizing it. Dropmix reached for him with a large hand, gently grabbing one of the other’s still outreached wrists and tugging him down onto the floor with him. “Hey, wait–”

Jeopardy was pulled to the ground, falling ungracefully on top of the other. Jeopardy cringed away, concern rising again as he feared he might have hurt Dropmix. The mech in question reacted like he had to everything since waking up, he didn’t. He grumbled again as he reoriented himself around Jeopardy, pulling the smaller mech to his chest. His large arms wrapped protectively around the other and he gently nuzzled his forehead against the other’s head.

The gladiator settled, leaning against the white mech.

“Dropmix...” Jeopardy murmured, feeling a brief wave of panic before he simply gave into the quiet warmth of the embrace. It was rare, this kind of unguarded affection. It was a reminder of how deeply the older medic cared, even if he didn’t always show it.

Jeopardy blinked a few times before laughing quietly. He sighed and shifted slightly to get into a more comfortable position himself. There would be no easy way for him to escape the other’s grasp, and it wasn’t like he really minded. No one actively needed the two for anything, he could lay on the floor for a bit until Dropmix finally became aware enough to release him.

The gladiator muttered something else as Jeopardy leaned into the other’s warmth, once again in a language that Jeopardy wasn’t familiar with. He found himself simply enjoying the quiet moment, the gentle pressure of Dropmix’s arms around him, knowing that the world outside could wait a little longer. The music still hummed gently to them, soothing and relaxing. Jeopardy let himself close his eyes, drifting into a place between sleep and awareness for a while.

The deep gravelly voice of Dropmix pulled him out of it, still slurred and groggy but still a little bit clearer. His voice rumbled as he pressed his chin against Jeopardy’s head, “Mmnn…Jeo..?”

“Yeah, Dropmix?” Jeopardy murmured, lifting his head and opening his eyes. It took a moment for him to fully bring himself into awareness again, sighing deeply as he felt the warm presence of his mentor. Dropmix’s large hand tightened slightly around Jeopardy, pulling him in closer, like an instinctive gesture of comfort.

Dropmix chuffed gently, eyes still closed, before something in his posture shifted. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything—just the soft pressure of his hand, tightening slightly around Jeopardy. As if he had simply been confirming who it was he was holding. When he did speak his voice was thick with emotion, “Thank you.”

Jeopardy blinked, taken aback by the simplicity and weight of Dropmix's words. He hadn’t expected this—certainly not now. The medic tilted his head, trying to focus on Dropmix, who still seemed half-dazed and fighting the remnants of the sedatives. But there was something in his voice, a soft edge of vulnerability that Jeopardy wasn’t used to hearing. Something deep and personal.

He couldn’t help the confusion that washed over him, “Thank you?” Jeopardy repeated, his voice softer than usual, “You… You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

The gladiator grumbled at his response, moving his cheek to press against the back of Jeopardy’s head. It took a moment for him to speak again, a gruff fondness in his voice, though his weary and groggy tone remained, “You’re just like him… I ever told you that? Yeah… You're just like him sometimes…”

He let out a dramatic and exasperated sigh, “Just… accept the damn gratitude or something.”

It took a moment for Jeopardy to sort out what was happening exactly. Dropmix was still under the effect of the sedatives and medications from the surgery. He was mindlessly rambling to him. Jeopardy couldn’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. It meant something to know that Dropmix was content and unguarded enough with him, even if drugs may have played a minor role in it all, to mindlessly ramble to him.

He may not fully understand who or what he was talking about, but Jeopardy wasn’t going to disagree with him.

Jeopardy leaned back into him, closing his eyes gently again. He took a deep breath, letting himself settle, the floor was far from comfortable but he was happy to be with his mentor. “Okay then, you're welcome.”

Dropmix huffed lightly in response. He went quiet for a few moments more, basking in the warmth of the other in his hold. Then he spoke again, tone still gruff, “Good… See? Wasn’t too hard.”

The medic couldn’t stifle the small chuckle that escaped him, earning a small grumble from Dropmix. He shifted slightly, nestling further into the older medic’s protective embrace. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and tender.

“Primus,” Dropmix began, fondness seeping into his gruff tone, he shook his head as he pressed it into Jeopardy’s more. He spoke again, slipping into that language that the younger didn’t understand.

Jeopardy smiled softly, though it was laced with a bit of melancholy. He still didn’t know what Dropmix was saying, but the words were calming in their familiarity. There was something oddly comforting about the rhythm of the older mech’s voice, even when he didn’t understand the meaning behind it. It didn’t stop himself from wishing he could have understood though. It was becoming more clear that this was his mentor’s native dialect, it was almost sad how Jeopardy hadn’t realized that until now.

It just served as a reminder that there was still so much he didn’t know about Dropmix.

“Mind repeating that last part for me?” Jeopardy asked gently, trying not to linger on the more solemn thoughts and instead on the moment with the other.

Dropmix chuckled lightly, humming lightly, “It’s nothing… you're just… just…”

He trailed off, grip tightening on Jeopardy as he pulled him closed, nuzzling into him more. He chuffed quietly as he let out a deep shaky sigh, emotions brewing. Dropmix struggled to find the words for a few minutes, going between loosening his grip and tightening it as he contemplated. Finally his voice returned, soft and tired, “You’re you.”

Jeopardy was still for a moment, the weight of Dropmix’s words settling in. There was something in the way the larger medic spoke, something so raw and vulnerable despite the exhaustion in his voice. It made Jeopardy feel both humbled and touched, but it also tugged at something deep within him. Words failed to come to him, he just leaned back, gently pressing his head against Dropmix’s head, returning the pressure.

Dropmix’s arms tightened once more, the gesture soft, almost reluctant. The larger medic remained quiet for a while, as if trying to understand his own emotions before speaking again. His voice was quieter this time, almost a whisper, “You… You remind me of things I lost… of someone. But…”

The large mech huffed again, a deep rumble in his chest for a moment, “But you're still you… You’re not him… Yeah… Yeah, you're something else.”

The quiet moment between Jeopardy and Dropmix lingered, like a soft, fragile thread connecting them. Jeopardy listened to the deep rumblings of Dropmix’s voice, feeling the warmth and weight of his embrace. It wasn’t often that he saw his mentor this unguarded—this raw. The older mech’s words, though half-coherent and laced with sedatives, carried an undeniable weight. Then he spoke again.

“I’m grateful for that… for you.” Dropmix’s voice was deep and weary, sleep once again slurring the words as he was tugged off into unconsciousness.

Jeopardy stayed still in the quiet room, feeling the warmth of Dropmix's embrace, his frame gently held by the larger mech. The older medic's words, though muddled by sedation, had hit him harder than he expected. They weren’t the typical gruff words of a hardened, brutally honest gladiator or the playful teasing that defined most of their relationship. They were vulnerable, raw in a way that made Jeopardy’s chest tighten, his own thoughts swirling.

He stayed close, eyes closed again, the hum of the soft background music mingling with the gentle sound of Dropmix's breathing. The medical bay felt almost sacred in its calm, as if the world outside was momentarily forgotten. It was a rare moment of peace, and Jeopardy could feel it, deep in his spark.

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