A sweet little voice stirred Ratchet, his drowsiness slowly fading before coming back, lulling him into stasis once more with a soft groan. He nuzzled into his folded arms, the ridges putting slight dents into his cheekplates without him being conscious of it, and let out an exhale of content.
A small servo patted his leg, the voice now more clear to him because of the rouse. "Amma! Amma, wake up!" His knee plate was being tugged on now, shifting his somewhat comfortable position. With a snort of his intakes, Ratchet jerked, but he still didn't sit up as his CPU slowly booted. Oh, that's right. He was working late again, and had fallen asleep at his desk while tinkering. Datapads full of reports, unfinished projects, and tools littered his desk, which hadn't even been moved out of the way before the medic had passed out. Ever since the gladiator--Megatron, Megatronus, whatever it is now-- made his demands and goals known, small gr