I Am A Box

Loco the Exclaimer

X.x.X.x.X

It was something small, brown, cardboard, square. It was something commonplace, average, everyday. It was something you'll find around the house any time, if you look. In short, it was something boring.

And it was something no normal creature would be so fascinated with.

But then, Ratchet hadn't had the fortune of falling in love with any normal creature.

"Hey, Chett, look!"

Furthermore, he had developed this irritating habit of calling the medic "Chett".

"Wreck-Gar…" He growled, turning.

Oblivious to the other mech's irritation, Wreck-Gar shook his head, pointing to the cardboard box on his head.

"I am not Wreck-Gar! I am a box!" He stated cheerfully.

"Wreck-Gar—" Ratchet began to try a second time, but was quickly cut off.

"I told you! I am not Wreck-Gar! I am a box!"

Ratchet sighed as Wreck-Gar, who was still Wreck-Gar no matter what the box insisted, sat down nearby, chattering on cheerfully about what it was like to be a box, and getting worryingly and irritatingly in-character. The older 'bot put up with it for a while, but after several mega-cycles of this, he began to become worried that Wreck-Gar would never take the box off and admit to being Wreck-Gar again.

"Wreck—I mean, Box?" He began slowly, picking his words carefully. Wreck-Gar spun around to face Ratchet, and the medic could only assume that the younger 'bot was grinning broadly behind his "mask".

"Yes, Ratchet?" It kind of felt weird to have Wreck-Gar not calling him "Chett", to be honest.

"Well, I was just thinking about Wreck-Gar." He continued, sighing thoughtfully.

"What about him?" Wreck-Gar asked, sounding a bit concerned.

"I wish he'd come back."

"Why?"

"It feels really lonely without him around."

"Oh." Wreck-Gar said. He now fell silent, considering this, before speaking again. "…I guess I could be Wreck-Gar again, if you wanted me to. But you'd have to give me a kiss."

Ratchet chuckled, reaching forward to take the box off of Wreck-Gar's head. He then gave the delighted garbage 'bot a light kiss, feeling relieved.

Today's disaster was over. At least until Wreck-Gar decided to investigate whatever had been in the box.

Ratchet could only pray to Primus, the Allspark, and whoever was listening that it wasn't the rest of the high-grade.