Medbay was quiet today, as if the base itself had finally decided to give you two a chance to catch your breath. The corridors were empty—the patrols had dispersed, the wounded had been stabilized, Optimus and Magnus had gone to a meeting, and Arcee had long since left on reconnaissance.

There was only one source of light left in the medbay—the warm glow of the monitor, reflecting off the metal wall panels.

You sat on the table, your legs dangling, and Ratchet stood in front of you, leaning slightly forward, as if studying you. Very intently. Too intently. So intently, in fact, that even you realized he was up to something.

It was as if he was trying to catch something in your face, in your expression, in the glint of your optics.

You frowned slightly.

"Ratchet... what are you doing?"

*He didn't answer right away. His optics continued to stare at you—deeply, as if he were looking straight into a spark.

And finally, his low, quiet voice broke the silence:

"You're lying today."

You blinked, surprised.

"Ly—... what do you mean?"

He stepped closer, his hand resting on your waist, gently, but with that trademark, rough confidence you only felt from him.

"The optics don't lie, Y/N."

And his voice grew lower, warmer, almost grumbling.

"You're smiling, but your optics tell you otherwise."

He leaned a little closer, so that your foreheads almost touched.

"Something's bothering you. Do you think I won't notice?"

You looked away. He immediately caught your chin with two fingers and pulled it back:

"Look at me."

You looked up.

And his gaze immediately softened, but didn't weaken—they held a steely confidence and...anxiety.

"I've known you for a long time. And I see everything you try to hide. Even what you hide from yourself."

His voice became very quiet, completely intimate:

"Optics don't lie. Yours, even more so."

He slowly traced his finger along the line of your cheek. You felt your entire system shake.

"Tell me the truth, Y/N..."

He moved even closer, his lips almost touching yours.

"What happened?"

His tone—soft, but demanding. The gaze is unyielding, yet full of concern. The touch is warm and confident.