And All I Need Is ~ 21

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
2ND POV
7-30-18
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   I knew he would do something reckless, you thought, so why didn't I try to stop him?

   You focused on using your servo welder to fix up a crack on the armor of Wheeljack's forearm. He sat on the floor and was also quite focused on your work, neither of you speaking a word. You must've accidentally allowed a sigh to escape your derma though, because your reckless friend began speaking.

   "I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered. You finished up and started working on a crack on his chassis. You were kneeling in front of him, in a grumpy mood akin to your sire's usual demeanor. You eyed his bruises, making note to lend him your buffer.

   "You went on a stupid revenge quest and nearly offline yourself in the process. You're lucky Miko didn't get injured or else you might've gotten yourself banned from the base!" You ranted, momentarily throwing your servos in the air. "Sorry doesn't cut it." He stopped looking up at you apologetically and suddenly found the ground very interesting.

"Your Insecticons nearly killed my friend."

"My apologies."

"Apologies?"

You snapped yourself out of your daze and continued working. Screw Megatron for popping into your helm a third time that day. Screw the memory too. You couldn't help but be reminded of the situation, the conversation.

Your gaze flicked upwards towards Jackie's face, his scarred lips, and back down on his chassis.

You moved onto a crack on his foreleg.

The almost-kiss. You remembered his scarred and slightly parted derma inching closer to your own. The distance between you disappearing as he bent downwards to get to you. You were on your pedes, both your optics slowly drawing themselves closed . . .

You sucked in a breath as you welded the Wrecker's armor. Primus fragging damn it all to the Pits! You had a crush on the slagging Decepticon warlord. You nearly shared an intimate, romantic moment with the mech who indirectly caused the fatal injuries of Bulkhead.

"Y/N?" Wheeljack asked. You perked up and stared at him, realizing your derma was quivering. You were so depressed, and upset, and angry at life, tears were threatening to pour from your optics.

Just like when you confronted Megatron about his avoidance of you.

When that thought worked it's way into your helm, you immediately wished he'd just run into base and shoot you with his cannon.

"Wheeljack, you know how I worry," you told him, replacing the anger towards yourself with your concern for your friends. "I get all worked up, I panic, I have nightmares. I'm not strong."

"Yes you are. You care, it's one of the things that make you strong. You and Ratchet are the best medics I know; maybe your not quite Wrecker material, but you are Team Prime material. Your alive, and better yet, not a Decepticon, so when you say those things about yourself, you're wrong." A tear leaked from one of your widen-open optics.

"Okay," You replied in a whisper. You wiped the tear off of your faceplates and continued working, determined to finish up quickly (but not rush yourself) so you could assist Ratchet with the other Wrecker. You would also, in turn, have time to sort out your thoughts in solitude. When you occasionally glanced up at him, making optic contact, you were greeted with a lazy, reassuring smile. It was better than nothing.

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