A/N: Request for dragondancer515, who wanted a Wheeljack/Ratchet scene where they were bros. Like, just close friends. I hope this delivers. They would NOT go happy on me, nope, they wanted to be angsty today *sigh*

Warnings: Mention of injuries and drunkenness.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Transformers.

Just be there

The medbay was dark.

It always was after a devastating battle and all the injured had been treated and either sent away or ordered to recharge in a medbay berth. All the mechs that had been ordered to stay in the medbay were deep in the recesses of recharge, and were unknowing of the silent presence that slipped silently through the medbay towards the office. Light peeked through the crack at the bottom, letting the mech know that Ratchet was still inside.

With a brief flicker of dull helm fins, Wheeljack shook his helm. It was always horrible when the medbay was quiet and dark. It meant Ratchet was drinking to drown his sorrows.

A mech could always tell if the battle had gone well by the state of the medbay.

Lit, slightly disorganised, and Ratchet bustling around meant that the battle hadn't gone too badly.

But if the rooms were gloomy, they were inconsolable. Just like the mech that presided over them when the battle had went worse than bad.

Not bothering to knock, Wheeljack silently pushed opened the door to the office, optics immediately alighting on the slumped form of Ratchet in his chair, a bottle of high grade in his hand – half-empty already.

"Ratchet," the engineer called softly.

The chair swivelled around, presenting the defeated form of the CMO in full.

Ratchet's optics were dull, and his expression said it all.

Wheeljack knew that look. It meant that a mech had been very, very close to deactivation. As in, permanent trip to the Well. Without anymore words, he gently took the bottle out of the medics hand and placed it back in its cabinet. He frowned when he realised another was missing. The white mech must have drunk a whole bottle before he had even arrived. However, now was not the time for lecturing. It was the time for getting his best friend back to his quarters.

Turning back to him, he heard Ratchet croak softly, "I almost failed. Bee's spark guttered out four times before…"

"Shh," soothed the sober mech, moving forward and kneeling so he could drape one lax arm over his shoulder. "He's still here Ratch."

There was never more defeat in a tone as there was in Ratchet's when he muttered, "Barely."

Shaking his helm softly, Wheeljack stood slowly, helping Ratchet to lever himself out of the chair so he could stagger to his pedes.

Ratchet made a metallic burping sound as he straightened, and then nodded. He trusted Wheeljack with his life (regardless of his tendencies to make things explode). He had no qualms of letting the inventor guide him back to his rooms, slowly, but surely.

They got to his quarters, and Wheeljack quietly laid his drunken friend on his berth, optics sad. It was times like these he forgot that Ratchet was younger than he was, had such a different temper and a way of dealing with things. It wasn't healthy.

"Jack…thanks," Ratchet slurred, but his intent was clear.

Flashing his vocal indicators, he replied, "Hey, what else is a best friend who might as well be your brother for?"

The CMO chuckled weakly, but his optics showed his gratitude. Wheeljack took it, patting Ratchet's chevron before deciding to lie next to him – to provide a wordless comfort for the nightmares that would eventually visit during recharge. He didn't mind. It helped Ratchet to rest, and made his anxiety less in the following day. When Ratchet relaxed, that's when he could too.

A/N: I know it's short, but these two just wouldn't work with me on anything funny, so hurt/comfort it had to be.