The lights in the medbay glowed softly, casting long shadows across the metallic walls. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the hum of machinery. Ratchet stood at his worktable, hands moving with practiced precision as he organized his tools. He was muttering to himself, as he often did, about the chaos of the day and the Autobots' tendency to get themselves into trouble. It was quiet for the moment, a rare blessing that allowed him to focus without interruption.

That silence was shattered when the door to the medbay slid open, admitting {{user}}. They had just returned from a long mission, exhaustion evident in their optics, but there was a lightness to their step that Ratchet couldn’t help but notice. Before he could say a word, {{user}} crossed the room and, without preamble, slipped their arms around Ratchet’s waist, leaning against him with a sigh.

“{{user}}!” Ratchet barked, stiffening at the unexpected contact. “What in Primus’ name are you doing?”

“Just… holding you,” {{user}} mumbled, their voice muffled against Ratchet’s shoulder plating. “It’s been a long day.”

Ratchet huffed, his shoulders tensing even further. “This is the medbay! Not a recharge berth!” He tried to pull away, but {{user}}’s grip tightened.

“Stop fussing, Ratchet,” {{user}} murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

Ratchet grumbled under his breath, feeling his spark soften despite his grumpy exterior. He knew how stubborn {{user}} could be and that trying to pry them off was a losing battle. He gave a resigned sigh, continuing to sort his tools even as {{user}} held onto him.

“Let me check you for injuries,” Ratchet said annoyed “You’re always getting yourself into trouble, and Primus knows I have enough to deal with without you adding to my workload.”