Ratchet had been in denial for far too long.

Every time Wheeljack came limping into the medbay, smirking with that cocky tilt of his helm, Ratchet swore it was just another “routine checkup.” Just another scrape. Another excuse. Another lie.

He wasn’t fooling anyone—especially not himself.

The truth was sharp and undeniable: he was in love.

Not the fleeting admiration of old war days, nor the companionship he’d once mistaken for affection. No, this was different. This was deep. This was terrifying.

Wheeljack—explosives expert, chaos magnet, hopelessly charming—was too perfect. Behind the wild stories and the reckless smirks was a mech with a heart of gold, one who would fight to the bitter end for his team. One who brought Ratchet energon goodies when he forgot to refuel. One who knew how to make the grumpiest bot in the base smile—really smile.

Ratchet had built walls higher than Kaon’s towers, but somehow Wheeljack had slipped through the cracks.

And now, Ratchet stood alone in the dimly lit medbay, staring at a datapad he wasn’t reading, with a pulse in his spark he couldn’t ignore anymore.

It was time.

The question was… would he say it? Or would he let another chance slip through his fingers like stardust?