drift & wing
"I ruined you, you know."
Drift turned his gaze from the span of clouds and sky above to the mech beside him, narrowing his optics. Wing was smiling, but it wasn't happy.
"I was supposed to be helping you. Finding the spark I know that is hidden away in you. So much for setting you on the right path. This wasn't exactly in the curriculum," Wing dropped his head a bit, chuckling. Drift frowned, then leaned, shoulder to shoulder with the other mech. They sat for a long while, in each others' haze, before Drift spoke.
"This is about second chances, isn't it?" Drift asked quietly, looking at his palms. "Every little thing that I understand now has to count more than it ever did. Second chances are for gaining things you didn't have before," Drift turned, reaching and picking Wing's head up to face him, "and cherishing them."
Wing shuttered his optics, savoring the embrace that came, the warmth, the sensation of Drift, not Deadlock, against him, and it quelled the tightness in his spark.
"I don't regret this. You shouldn't either," Drift said against Wing's lips, hand dropping to rest in the center of Wing's chest. "I'd say that the lessons are going well."