Chapter Text
The saturated air had reached its dew point, and speckling his nose, his eyes, his ears, were droplets of water that slowly pulled him from slumber.
Optimus was accustomed to sleeping in wet environments— in any environment, really— but the rainforest was still foreign to him despite his frequent visits. The dew drops were ticklish in a way the submerged feeling of the ocean couldn’t replicate. Still, he welcomed the unfamiliarity of the forest, for it kept him sharp and woke him up.
The second thing he perceived aside from the water was the smaller figure pressed firmly against him, and the up and down movement of its chest as it breathed. It wasn’t a cold feeling, but not a warm one either. He squeezed the dragon tighter in an attempt to amend that. He and Ratchet must have fallen asleep the night prior; that much was evident from the damp scrolls that were strewn around them, any fresh ink now smudged by the elements. He winced at that. Ratchet certainly wouldn’t be happy.
He looked down at the Rainwing. His expression was hardened, his maw open, and his tongue lulled slightly out of his mouth, a line of drool seeping into the thick earth beneath them. Optimus raised his gaze up and, nodding to himself, strained his neck to part one of the branches that stretched above them. It allowed a single band of sunlight to stretch deep into their small hiding spot and graze the side of Ratchet’s face, lighting up white, red, and brown scales with slivers of the sun.
“It’s not my time to wake up yet…” The Rainwing sleepily grumbled, twitching his wings with a huff. “Go away.”
Optimus smiled.
“My apologies,” he said. “I do not wish to wake you.”
He wrapped his tail tighter around the smaller dragon and continued to observe his figure. Ratchet had moved his head so that the light was now shining on his shoulder rather than his face. Optimus followed the band and slowly sank his neck down to the shoulder, gently scuffing the skin with his teeth, searching for any loose scales or stones that might’ve gotten lodged beneath.
Grooming wasn’t something the Seawings tended to do. They had small fish and snails to do the work for them. But he’d read extensively on Rainwing habits since he’d met the grouchy, smaller dragon, and had perused this section longer than he should have. His muzzle moved from his shoulder to his arm, and his teeth clumsily continued picking through scales. He’d never done this before, so he could only assume he lacked the expertise that other dragons held, but Ratchet hadn’t batted him away, at least.
“This isn’t my idea of not waking up,” Ratchet hissed, but didn’t move from the spot. Instead, his arm stretched nearer to Optimus, and his body leaned closer to soak in more warmth. The Seawing smiled.
“Am I doing it right?” He whispered.
Ratchet shrugged, another huff. His eyes were still closed. He’d yet to see the mess before them.
“I must leave today, Ratchet,” he continued. “I have another meeting with Megatron.”
“Why doesn’t that old Icewing ever come visit you?” Ratchet said, a hint of venom in his voice.
“You’re welcome to travel with me.”
“I never fancied the cold,” he replied.
Optimus laughed into his scales, and Ratchet shivered at that. Finally, the Rainwing shook him away, lumbering up onto his arms with a long stretch. A wing hit Optimus’ face, but he only smiled and ducked beneath.
“You know I’ll write.”
Another hiss. The grouchy Rainwing flicked a wing again, this time hitting his friend intentionally, though he’d feign ignorance if asked. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not your little academy girlfriend, you don’t need to reassure me.”
“As you wish, Ratchet,” Optimus said.
He’d been right about the old dragon’s reaction to the scrolls. He aided him in scooping them from the grass and folding them gently into Ratchet’s bag, nodding solemnly to his comments about the lack of good literature in the Rainwing libraries— how some dew had managed to take out half their scrolls— and if Optimus hadn’t known the Rainwing for so long, perhaps his yelling and swearing would be frightening. But instead, he couldn’t help but smile as he so often did in Ratchet’s company, and brush against his friend lightly with a wing.
“When I visit the Ice Kingdom,” he reassured once more, “I will bring you as many scrolls as they’ll allow me. How is that?”
Ratchet flinched, clearly moved by the sentient. But he coughed into a shoulder, that which Optimus had meticulously cleaned, and straightened up thereafter.
“That’s fine. Maybe then I’ll forgive you for damaging my own scrolls.”
They exchanged only a few more goodbyes before departing each other’s company, heading in opposite directions into the forest. When Optimus turned around, hoping to see one last glimpse of his friend, he’d be met with only the sight of the rainforest.