"Tarn's," Ratchet says, his ventilations still a hair unsteady. "He came back here half out of his mind looking to pick a fight. I kind of had to give him one." He shakes his head, rubbing the palm not covered in energon up to his wrist roughly over his face. "He grabbed me and pulled too close and I got him in the throat. He won't be talking anybody to death for a while and he left after that, cut his losses."

He looks around at the medibay helplessly, trying not to lean into Ironhide's hands on his arms, or press his face to Ironhide's shoulder again, or do anything else embarrassing. He shivers a little with the effort.

"I figured we could use a little backup, just in case," he says, his mouth crooking in a weak half-smile as he manages to look up at Ironhide's face. "And some help cleaning up, since Tarn's gone and half-wrecked the place again and I'm next to useless picking stuff up. And--" He stops, bereft of other excuses for him calling Ironhide here in a panic before he feels suddenly and extremely foolish for even needing them in the first place. He swallows, words sticking thick in his throat, surprisingly difficult to say.

"And I wanted to see you," he says simply, but he leans in against Ironhide again and his helm clanks gently to the flat plate of Ironhide's shoulder, his shoulders slumping in.