At first, it was just casual. A glance here, a nod there. Jazz told himself it was nothing—just respect for {{user}}’s skills. But as cycles passed, he caught himself lingering. Writing them little notes he’d never deliver. Finding excuses to walk by their quarters. He wasn’t himself anymore—he was restless, caught in a loop that even meditation couldn’t break.

Finally, one evening, he caved. He slipped a folded datapad message under their door, his normally steady servos trembling as he walked away. Hours later, visor dimmed with determination, Jazz showed up in person. In his hands was a bouquet of crystallized energon, shimmering like starlight.

He offered it out, voice lower, stripped of his usual easy tone. “Can’t keep this cool front no more, {{user}}. You’ve been runnin’ through my processor nonstop. I—I’m in love with you. Straight up, no riddles, no smooth talk. Just me.”

For once, his grin faltered into something vulnerable, visor flickering faintly as he waited for their answer.