28 Sojourns
Title: 28 Sojourns
'Verse: IDW Transformers. AU for this fic.
Characters: Prowl. Springer. Ensemble. OC.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
1. Naughty
“Prowl!”
The tactician looked up from his console at the bellow of his name, raising an optic ridge at the green mech stomping into his office. Then he blinked as Springer stopped and slammed both hands onto his desk, looming over it to glare at him.
“Don’t give me that look. I know you had something to do with it!”
“… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you know. You aren’t fooling me, you planned this!”
Prowl interlaced his hands before him, resting them on the tabletop, expression growing annoyed. “I plan a lot of things, Springer. Now if you would care to specify exactly which plan you’re raving about, I might actually be able to own up to whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Fine! I just got thrashed in the training deck, and I know I set the sim to basic spar only! You hacked it, then played puppeteer with the holos just to embarrass me, admit it! What, not mech enough to take me on in person?”
The black and white mech cycled air briefly, then queried. “Springer. Why is it whenever you get your aft handed to you, you immediately blame me?”
A burst of laughter had the SIC looking around Springer to view the entrance to his office, the Wrecker glaring in the same direction at the mech now leaning against the doorway to stay upright.
“He’s got a point, Springer. And before you say it, I came looking for you of my own free will. Prowl had nothing to do with it.”
“Mute it.” The triple changer growled at Scoop as he sauntered into the room, and the smaller mech smirked.
“Now, it’s perfectly alright to admit you think Prowl’s better than you.”
The green mech snarled and made a grab for his team mate, only for Scoop to dance out of his reach, cackling with glee. Prowl sighed as the pair ran circles about his office, stopping them with a sharp ‘Enough!”
They stopped, and the doorwinged mech turned his monitor to face the two Wreckers. Optimus’s bemused visage looked at them from the screen, and they immediately straightened.
“Sir!”
The Autobot SIC spoke, tone dry. “Springer. I have been in conference with the Prime for the past few decabreems. Unless you’re suggesting that I am somehow capable of discussing the war situation and possible tactics with him at the same time as I’m hacking into the training programs, and furthermore ‘thrashing’ you whilst thus occupied…”
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”
“If I could tell you that, my job would be a whole lot easier.”
Scoop sniggered again, and Springer glowered at his team mate, muttering an aggravated “Forget it!” before stalking out, dragging the mech with him. Prowl shook his head as they left, and the moment his door shut and their footsteps faded, he spoke into his comm.
“Sojourner.”
//Yes Prowl?//
As he expected, the reply was far too innocent sounding. Jazz (or any of the other Ops bots for that matter) was definitely not sparkling sitting again anytime soon.
“I suppose you had nothing to do with the reason Springer just stormed my office?” The giggle that answered him prompted the SIC to rest his chevron against a palm in resignation, venting air slowly.
//He had it coming, after what he said to you.//
“Sojourner. In the future, leave the handling of such things to me. You will apologise to Springer the next time you see him.” The youngling immediately sobered at the stern tone (usually all the reprimand Prowl ever needed with his creation) the SIC used.
//Yes sir. I’m sorry.//
The tactician murmured his approval, then had one last exchange with his offspring before he returned to work.
“Sparklet.”
//Yes, creator?//
“Good job, beating Springer.”
//The AI did most of the work, but thanks.// He could hear the smile in his sparkling’s voice, and as his rather entertained commanding officer chuckled, the doorwinged mech smiled as well.
2. Happy
Though young, there were things that Sojourner knew. Facts that delineated the sparkling’s world, information that was important, even if the little bot lacked the processing power to define them just yet.
Energon was good. Comfort was good. Creator was Love. Warmth/safety/affection. Being held near Creator’s spark, secure in Creator’s arms was the best place in the universe.
Being held by other bots was good too, but none of them were as good as Creator. Except for one other.
Sojourner didn’t really know why, and by the time the sparkling developed the ability to ask about such things, the memory of the impression would have faded. But for now, sparkling processors knew that there was another who was also warmth/safety/affection and love, just like Creator. And being held by them made Sojourner happy.
3. Silly
When the news got out, or should it be said, when the news exploded, the base broke into a flurry of hushed speculation. How long had Prowl carried? How had he kept it from notice? When the frag had their SIC had the time to get laid?
And most importantly, with who?
The fact that Prowl hadn’t informed anyone else that they were now amongst the proud members of parenthood set the Autobots to more discussion. The obvious reason had to be to keep the sparkling safe. But by keeping silent, he’d practically eliminated any non-officer from the list of possible co-creators. The Autobot SIC’s sparkling was already a tempting target, naming a common soldier as the other parent wouldn’t change that. But if another ranking bot was involved…
Still, it was hard to believe that Prowl wouldn’t have anticipated such a theory, and likewise, it was hard to believe that the Decepticons wouldn’t have calculated the same possibility, or that their head tactician wouldn’t have predicted that the Decepticons would have expected that, and so on and so forth.
Which left everyone right where they started, only with processor aches in addition to their lack of answers. So they fell to random conjecture, which was as good a method as any.
“… Ratchet.”
“Can’t be. Ratchet’s the only mech busier than Prowl!”
“Mirage?”
“Don’t let Hound hear you say that.”
“Bluestre- Ow!”
“You’re glitched.”
“Sunstreaker and or Sideswipe.”
“… Okay, that one’s possible.”
“But I thought twinned sparks couldn’t start a sparkling?”
“Damn. That’s right. Welp, that’s the two mechs most likely to be willing to jump our SIC’s struts eliminated.”
“Hoist?”
“Now we’re just going through the rosters. C’mon, at least put some effort into it.”
“… Optimus?”
“If you value your plating you will not repeat that guess to anyone, ‘Bot or otherwise. Do you have any idea what the ‘Cons would do to get their hands on Prime’s sparkling?!”
“Plus, Elita-1 would murder you.”
“Going mute now.”
Silence fell as they ran out of plausible options and grew weary of laughing at the implausible ones, until another mech joined them, expression curious as he took a long pull from his cube of energon.
“What’s everyone doing over here?”
“Hey Springer, we’re just-”
“Hey! What if Springer was the sparkling’s co-creator?”
Glowing liquid splattered across the frames of the mechs unfortunate enough to be in front of the Wrecker when that suggestion was made. Glancing wryly at his newly decorated chassis, courtesy of a spit take from the still spluttering triple changer, one of them chuckled.
“Well, can’t get a clearer ‘Pit no’ than that.”
“It was a silly guess anyway. Sorry Springer.”
Springer coughed, wiping his mouth on the back of a hand, still trying to regulate his intakes.
“Yeah. Real silly.”
4. Angsty
Prowl lay offline on one of the berths, the SIC having been placed in stasis while the necessary materials were gathered and forged into a sparkling’s frame so as to avoid stressing both sparks any further. Leaning against one wall, out of the way as Ratchet shouted and commanded and worked like some primeval force of nature, Springer couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid, his processors too occupied by the realisation that was just sinking in that that was his sparkling in there.
His sparklet. His own creation, and for safety’s sake, no one could never know.
5. On-Vacation
He onlined, then bolted upright, only to be pushed back down again by a very annoyed medic.
“Lie still, and don’t talk. I have no interest in listening to your reasons; since I know they will be perfectly logical and reasonable and leave me with no way of countering them. So, you are going to do absolutely nothing but recharge and refuel, medic’s orders, while you recover from your bout of insanity, because I have no other way of explaining the utterly Pit spawned glitching idiocy of what you just did.”
Prowl blinked at Ratchet, then turned his helm unerringly to the small form lying a berth away. The medic grumbled, but obligingly carried the newly sparked frame over to the tactician. The SIC cradled the sparkling close, Ratchet marvelling at the faint smile Prowl was exhibiting, before that smile widened very briefly as the doorwinged mech looked at him, then dutifully went offline, still holding onto his creation.
Suspicion circuits long honed by decavorns of being the Autobot CMO, Ratchet frowned, then ran a check on the base network to make sure the mech lying quiet and still before him wasn’t sneaking work on the side, only to stall when he came across the duty rosters and found that Prowl had personally placed himself on leave for the next few cycles. Casting a dry look at the recharging tactician, the medic sighed.
“Figures it’d take something like this to make you take a vacation.”
6. Horny
//You know how I work, Shockwave, and now you know what I am truly capable of when pushed too far. I am willing to consider this incident an unfortunate accident. Do not force me to make things… personal.//
It was no secret that they really, really liked ‘slag that could blow up a small army’. It was just that such slag normally came in the form of big aft weaponry, such as plasma cannons, rail guns, missiles, thermonuclear party tricks and the like.
However, tapping into Prowl’s vid transmission to Shockwave from the Decepticon outpost they’d chased him to, the black and white tactician glowering from the screen, presumably at the mono-opticked mech, with utter devastation at his back (as well as having watched him cause said devastation), the Wreckers were startled to find their engines starting to purr softly.
The Ops mech who’d shown up in the Xantium carrying an offline sparkling (just sedated, he’d assured them, and Topspin had confirmed Jazz’s statement) didn’t even bother hiding his smirk, prompting Whirl to growl at him.
“Not one word. To anyone.”
7. Transforming
Springer passed Xantium’s communications section just in time to hear Topspin ask a bemused looking Prowl over the comm. about Sojourner’s latest check up. That the rest of his crew were standing nearby and just in eavesdropping distance was a mere coincidence, their busy expressions assured him. The SIC caught the green mech’s gaze, not fooled either, but obligingly sent over a data packet for the Wreckers' de facto medic to scrutinise.
“Hey, ‘Journer’s got transformation tech installed already?” At the exclamation, everyone else abandoned all pretence of ‘not listening in, really’ and immediately clustered around the comm. screen.
“A precautionary measure. In case the advantage of an alt form is required.” Prowl’s tone was sober, and the Wreckers glanced at each other, not liking the implications but resigned to them anyway. The black and white mech suddenly disappeared from the field of view, only to return bearing a waving youngling.
“Hey, it’s the bitling! Heard you got a transformation cog, kid.”
“Yeah! I can’t change into anything big yet, but just wait ‘til the next upgrade!”
“Oh?”
“I’m getting Ratchet to make me a triple changer!” Sojourner’s answer sparked roars of laughter, and Sandstorm recovered first, smirking at the rueful expression on the SIC’s faceplates.
“Just like me, Broadside and Springer, huh. Whaddaya gonna be then?”
“A Wrecker and a Dynobot!”
As the other mechs flailed in indignation and tried to change the youngling’s mind, Springer shared a quick look with Prowl, sure that the hand over the tactician’s faceplates wasn’t due to despair like his Wreckers would insist it was (those sensor panels were twitching too much for the mech to be doing anything but laughing). Venting air in amusement, he drawled. “Better watch out for that one, Prowl. Primus.”
8. Excited
Even if Primus himself couldn’t make them say it out loud, for some Autobots, sometimes the best part of reporting to the command base wasn’t the fact that it meant that their missions were completed and they could get some well deserved down time, but the welcome they got from an excited youngling who just about ran them over, overjoyed to see them all safe and (usually mostly) sound.
9. Book-Reading
He peeked into the rec room, and had to grin. Seated in one corner were a black and white tactician and a sparkling, the chevroned mech reading what sounded like a particularly exciting story aloud from the bookfile held in front of the two of them.
But what had Jazz suppressing a laugh was not every other bot in the room surreptitiously listening in and trying very hard not to make it obvious. It was that Prowl clearly knew what they were doing, and was thus speaking loud enough to be heard by most of the occupants of the room.
10. Dancing
Bumblebee had come to his door, a faintly abashed look on his faceplates. Prowl looked up from soothing his fretting creation to ask the purpose of the visit, and the yellow mech cast a glance at Sojourner, then held out a small object to the SIC. He looked at it curiously, clueless as to its purpose. The scout thumbed a switch on the item, and as gentle points of light danced in the air above it, the sparkling in Prowl’s arms quieted, fascinated by the display. At the chevroned mech’s grateful look, Bumblebee shrugged, murmuring in response.
“I had one of these as a sparkling. Thought ‘Journer could use it now.”
11. Jealous
It really wasn’t fair. He’d carried Sojourner until the little bot’s fragment had almost remerged with him, had gotten so accustomed to that secondary sparkbeat he could probably pick out its frequency from across the room. Prowl had done so for barely more than a handful of cycles, and he had spent most of that time offline.
But the tactician was the one caring for the sparkling now. He was the voice lulling Sojourner into recharge, the arms holding the little bot close when comfort was needed and the hands soothing the little hurts and pains an active sparkling picked up as a matter of course. He was the first checkpoint for the innumerable flood of questions from a bright CPU developing at a rate that made Springer undeniably proud, and the one performing all the parental duties the triple changer himself could not.
Logically (and how he hated the word at the moment), Springer knew Prowl would do his best by his sparkling. It still didn’t make the situation any easier to accept.
12. Turned-On
Prowl had tasked him with getting Sojourner to recharge after the tactician had found the youngling nodding off in the rec room, listening to the Wreckers tell story after wild story. Springer was yet undecided as to whether the SIC had intended it as a punishment for corrupting the little bot, or as one of the too few, too brief moments with his sparkling (who was still ignorant of the triple changer’s involvement in that regard) the Wrecker could steal without stirring any suspicion.
Finally reaching the youngling’s quarters, Springer stepped inside and reached for the switch, only to glance down at the smaller frame in his grasp when Sojourner protested.
“Don’t turn on the lights!”
The triple changer blinked, then peered about the youngling’s room, now dimly lit by the light from the corridor, puzzled. “Why not?”
“Just don’t. Please?”
Ah, frag. Springer crumbled so fast, his Wreckers would have been in hysterics if they’d seen it. “Alright. But if I trip and squash you, it’s all your fault, got it?”
Sojourner giggled, snuggling closer. “’Kay.”
He walked towards the berth, feeling the youngling cling tighter to his frame the moment the door slid shut and the room plunged into darkness, barely illuminated by their optics.
“That’s it. I’m getting the lights.”
“No!”
“There’s no shame in needing the light on for a while, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Don’t turn it on, Springer. I’m okay.”
“If you say so.” Still dubious, he nevertheless had the little bot settled quickly, and knelt by Sojourner’s berth side to make sure his sparking was comfortable. “You sure you don’t want even a little light?”
“Yeah.”
“…Why?”
“Because… my other creator can’t protect me from the dark when the lights are turned on.”
Springer blinked, then chuckled, petting the small helm affectionately. “Of course. Silly me.”
Sojourner murmured drowsily in agreement, soon quieting altogether. The green mech watched his creation for a moment, before rising to leave the room. At the doorway, he paused, looking back at the recharging youngling.
“Recharge well, sparklet. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
13. Caring
There was a noise from the berth, and Prowl sighed, coming to sit next to the youngling. The dark still made Sojourner uneasy, which made living on a satellite base rather trying for the young spark at times.
“Sparklet, you should recharge.” Sojourner’s head shook in refusal as the youngling scrambled into the tactician’s lap, staring wildly at the shadows in the room. A quiet whimper escaped Sojourner’s vocaliser, and the tactician stroked his sparkling’s helm, murmuring soothingly as he did so. Eventually, the youngling settled, then asked.
“Tell me about my other creator? I bet they aren’t afraid of the dark either.”
The doorwinged mech paused, then agreed. “As you wish. Your other creator is a brave mech, if a little headstrong and reckless. As such, he finds trouble with remarkable ease, and sometimes gets in over his head. But he always finds a way to win, because he wants to protect the ones he cares about, even if it takes him away from them, and he fights to keep them out of harm's way, often at his own expense.”
Prowl stopped, because Sojourner had turned to look at him, expression alight with realisation. “Then… the dark shouldn’t scare me. Because he’s out there between it and us.”
The tactician smiled, gently hugging his creation close.
“Exactly.”
14. On-His-Knees
//Springer. If you do not walk through that door in the next astroclick, so help me Primus I will gut you myself.//
Prowl’s fierce statement got him moving, stepping into the room where the tactician and his sparkling were ensconced, the black and white mech sitting on the berth with an upset Sojourner curled up in his lap. When the door slid shut, drawing the youngling’s attention to the Wrecker’s presence, Springer almost cringed when his creation looked up, optics widening almost comically.
“You?! You’re my other creator?”
The triple changer nodded silently, and his youngling stared at him, clearly finding it difficult to process this revelation. “But you hate each other!”
“Don’t listen to what the rest of the Autobots say. We’re not the best of friends or anything, but I do respect Prowl, and he accords me the same courtesy.”
“Then, how’d I…”
“I needed his help one cycle. We didn’t realise what’d happened until-”
The Wrecker stopped when Sojourner started to tremble, and then started when the youngling hissed at him. “Get out.”
“Sojourner!” Prowl’s tone was scolding, and the doorwinged mech was summarily glared back at (Springer’s CPU unhelpfully noting that his youngling had definitely gotten that look from the SIC).
“Sparklet-” Springer tried again, only for the smaller bot to turn on him, intakes working frantically in anger.
“You have no right to call me that! You didn’t want me. Must have been an unpleasant surprise, finding out Prowl was carrying. No wonder you didn’t want me to know. It was never about keeping me safe, was it?!”
He did cringe this time, spark heavy with guilt. Sojourner was correct; he didn’t deserve the privilege of recognising his creation. What creator abandons his own sparkling? Dimly, he noted that Prowl was speaking, low and stern.
“Sojourner. Everything we have done has been for your sake, to keep you from being a bigger target than you already are. While it is true that your creation was not expected, and that Springer and I do not necessarily love each other in the manner typical creator pairs do, regardless of that, never believe that you are not wanted, by either of us.”
A small hand came up to scrub at flickering optics, vision systems fritzing from internal turmoil as the tactician continued, tone growing softer. “Springer was the one who carried you up until a few cycles before you were placed in your own chassis. He did so for so long he thought you’d faded back into his spark, and it killed him to think that you would never have a chance to live because of him.”
“Sparklet. Please.” The Wrecker had gone to his knees, bringing him to optic level with his sparkling. Slowly, the small bot calmed, optics dark as the youngling pressed faceplates against Prowl’s torso, gripping the SIC’s bumper tightly. Intakes hiccupped a few times, then Sojourner turned to face him, expression still hurting. Springer held out his arms in a silent plea, and when his sparkling took that step forward to accept the hug, the green mech practically crushed the smaller bot against him with a sob of his own.
15. Obedient
Had he been a lone mech, Springer was sure he’d have already blasted open the doors and taken off after Prowl. As it was, he remained on base, checked his crew’s supplies and missions list, then boarded Xantium to meet the determined optics of his Wreckers, who growled low and unyielding that they were going after the Pit spawn who’d stooped so low as to take a sparkling, whether Prime gave the okay or not, and if Springer wanted to come, fine by them.
Smiling grimly, he replied. “Well, at least you won't be complaining about following my orders.”
16. Dominant
He wasn’t ignorant of the whispers behind his back, the ones that implied that his effectiveness as a tactician and as the SIC had been diminished by his having a sparkling. They sent messages to Optimus, saying that he would no longer be as focused on the war, would put the needs of his creation over his duties, citing the speed at which the chevroned mech had ‘abandoned’ his post when Sojourner had been abducted.
True, Prowl had other considerations now, ensuring the safety and well being of his offspring had become the dominant focus in his life. But no one had realised that that driving force was in perfect harmony with his duty to the Autobots.
What his detractors failed to consider was that he was the head tactician, and had been for a very long time. He knew, better than anyone else, down to the last circuit in his frame that the only way Sojourner would grow up in any sort of safety, would stand any chance of growing up at all, was if the Autobots gave their all in the fight against the Decepticons. And Prowl would send himself to the Pit first before he did anything less.
17. Naive
Ratchet rebooted his audios. The little bot in front of him had not just said what he thought he heard. Sojourner looked up at the medic, expression trusting and devoid of any mischievous intent. Not that that was any sort of reliable indicator, Ratchet made a note to tell Prowl that the youngling really spent far too time with Jazz and Bumblebee.
“Sojourner. Do you know exactly what you’re asking?”
“Well. I’m not sure either, but Prowl’s in an officers’ meeting, so’s Jazz, the Wreckers are off on a mission, the Dynobots won’t stop laughing, Bluestreak’s on guard duty, the twins are in the brig and I’m not allowed to visit them and Smokescreen said to ask you, because Prowl would terminate him if he told me anything.”
That settled it. There was definitely nothing premeditated on the youngling’s part, just sheer naivety. Ratchet groaned to himself, then motioned the smaller bot inside his office and into a chair.
“Right. Listen closely, because I do not want to have to repeat this. You want to know what interface is? Well…”
18. Drinking-Energon
Staring in dread at the giggling youngling flopped against the base of one of the rec room’s couches, then at the partially consumed too bright cube that Sojourner must have mistaken for regular energon, Cliffjumper turned to Brawn and said. “Tech-chess, best two out of three to see who tells Ratchet, and who goes to Prowl.”
19. Greedy
Springer examined the tiny protoform the medical and engineering bots had managed to put together, then shifted his attention to the monitors displaying readouts and data related to the tiny additional light in Prowl’s chassis. Then the CMO was in the room, shooing him away as the medical team swung into action, leaving the green mech trying to catch a glimpse from the sidelines.
“Springer?”
Frag. First Aid had noticed him. The triple changer shrugged, expression schooled to nonchalance as he explained his presence in the chaos that was the med bay right now. “Heard you lot were going to do the separation this cycle. Thought I’d see this thing through to the end, since I did find Prowl first.”
“Oh. Okay. We’ve detached the new spark, and the transfer went just fine. The spark's taken quite well to the new frame; certainly looked strong enough to survive without one. But that might be because Prowl went and hid this from us for so long.” An aggravated expression crossed the Protectobot’s features, and the Wrecker marvelled at how much Ratchet had rubbed off on his apprentice as First Aid continued. “Anyway, the sparkling will be alright. I can comm. you if you want to be there when the first online occurs.”
Springer hesitated. He shouldn’t. It was too risky. Someone would wonder, would ask questions, would figure him out. But he couldn’t bring himself to say no, wanting, needing to be there for his sparkling during this one thing at least.
“… I’d like that. Don’t get to see too many sparks starting in my line. I’m usually more involved in putting them out. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, you should go before Ratchet manages to spare an astroclick to throw something at you.” The younger medic smiled at him understandingly, and the Wrecker wanted to tell him he’d been mistaken, that he’d lied and he really wanted to be there because he was a greedy, selfish mech grasping for what little time he could have with his sparkling before he had to try and keep away. Instead the triple changer pulled on a grin, waving in farewell to the other mech as he left the med bay.
20. Daring
Jazz was feeling good. He’d just returned from a long, drawn out solo recon mission, dropped his report into Prowl’s inbox before the mech had gotten on his case about it, had a whole cycle of recharge in his own berth, uninterrupted, and the head of Ops was now headed for the rec room to get a cube into his tanks and some catching up done before he met the tactician to go over the sensitive data he had to leave out of the report.
But when he walked through the doorway, it was fair to say he hadn’t been expecting every optic to focus on him like turbowolves on a glitch mouse.
“Uh… hi?” His greeting sparked a flood of whispering, and he picked up snippets that only confused him even more.
“… could be him…”
“… possible, you think?”
“… on a mission for so long, maybe that’s why…”
“… and they get along, don’t they?”
Finally, he snapped, crossing his arms and raising an optic ridge at the nearest cluster of bots. “Will someone take a break from the hush hush and clue me in?”
They exchanged wary looks, then one daring spark spoke up.
“Prowl had a sparkling.”
Jazz’s visor flickered, then he rebooted his audios, tapping on them to make sure they were functioning. “Say what?”
“Prowl. Had. A. Sparkling. He won’t say who the other creator is. We think you might be a candidate.”
“Don’t worry, Jazz. It isn’t you.”
The black and white mech turned to look at the bot who’d just come in. Jazz opened his mouth to ask if everyone had gone insane since he’d last been in the base, only to snap it shut when he saw the smaller form in Prowl’s arms. Meeting the tactician’s wry expression, he could only blink, then scratch his helm in astonishment.
“Wow. How long was I gone?”
21. Exploring
The Autobots weren’t sure what would happen first. Their sparks going out from the stress of losing track of Sojourner with alarming regularity, or the youngling finally exploring every last micron of the base’s network of ducts.
22. At The Beach
“Where’s that?”
“The Helide galaxy. Pretty to look at, but nothing much else.”
“And that?”
“That’s Tridici. Desert world. The beings that live there look like big flat circles, and they move about by rolling on their sides.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you, ‘Journer?”
“Yes, Sides. What’s this one?”
“That’s Ylarsn. It’s in the Eudryni system. Sunstreaker didn’t like it much though. Said the sand and water fr- uh… messed up his finish.”
“You look happy there though.”
“It’s a nice planet. Practically one big beach. That’s where a lot of sand meets a lot of water, by the way. Tell you what, one cycle, when everything’s quiet, we’ll steal you from Prowl and go on a holiday there. Soak up some solar radiation, splash Sunstreaker and listen to him whine for cycles. It’ll be fun.”
“Hah. Promise?”
“Yeah, promise.”
23. Bath-Time
Two decabreems, a flooded wash rack, much shrieking and chasing and a trail of suds all through the base later, Bluestreak was sure he would never, ever, ever offer to help get Sojourner clean the next time Prowl was held up with work.
24. Dishevelled
As worn out as they were, the bedraggled little group of bots still tried to enter the base as quietly as possible. They made it to the med bay, carrying their injured comrades, then offlined at Ratchet’s pedes from complete energy drainage, not helped by their maintaining all the concealment measures they had the energy to power, and even some they did not.
When they were conscious again, however, they quickly realised their efforts had been in vain. A small frame draped over the middle of one of their number, deep in recharge, as filthy as they were. An oil and energon stained rag was clutched in one hand, and a much larger finger grasped tightly in the other, as if by keeping a hold on the bot Sojourner could also keep them from deactivating.
25. Exhausted (This one was inspired by ajremix’s drabble By the Numbers)
Prowl made his way slowly towards the living area. The Decepticons had been very active lately, and their long time enemies had recently launched a vicious full scale assault on a whole planetary system, necessitating a long, intense period of warfare, and the tactician’s constant presence coordinating and directing all the Autobot teams sent into the fray.
They’d finally broken through though, and now the only thing left to be done was the mopping up of stray ‘Cons. Prowl had been ordered to his quarters for some rest, and he’d gone quietly, prompting concerned looks (duly ignored, of course) over just how tired the SIC was.
Walking through his door, he found his berth already occupied, Sojourner perched in the middle with a cube of energon and a resolute expression. The black and white mech took the fuel, sipping it as he sat on the platform as well, wrapping an arm about the youngling who curled into him, hands clenched tight about each other.
Eventually, his creation spoke up. “What number was he?”
“By entry, injury or exit?”
“All three.”
“First in. Number seventy two. And he’ll be the last out, as usual.” Prowl recited easily as his doorwings twitched in a brief, resigned shrug. Sojourner sighed, offlining optics to lean against him tiredly.
“As usual.”
26. Well-Shagged
The mech whistled contentedly as he left the room (and the still offline bot within, nothing to boost the ego like such a compliment), only for his good mood to take a flaming dive into an abyss when a pair of curious optics accosted him.
“Smokescreen, why’re you coming out of Trailbreaker’s room?”
27. Kick-Ass
Plan A, scramble after Prowl to keep him from doing something stupid, turned into Plan B, watch Prowl as he demonstrated the consequences of doing something very stupid, using the Decepticons who’d taken his sparkling as an example, in case he needed back up, supplemented by Plan B2, wonder when and how the frag Jazz had gotten out here and then onto their ship with Sojourner, which then turned into Plan C, talk amongst each other until Prowl had expended his displeasure and finished intimidating Shockwave into declaring his sparkling sacrosanct to the rest of the Decepticons, then go rummage through the subspace pockets of the scrap previously known as Decepticons for spare parts and weaponry.
28. Playing With Kids
Autobots watched as the two groups squared off, muttering insults at each other from either side of the training deck. Many of the spectators had bored expressions, for this was a regular occurrence, or anticipatory ones, occasionally glancing over at Smokescreen, leaning against the railing overlooking the arena.
On another section of the viewing deck, another mech groaned, covering his optics with a white hand in aggravation, then reached out to automatically grab hold of the youngling teetering over the edge of the barrier, keeping the younger bot from toppling over the rails. Sojourner looked at him, grinning cheekily, and Prowl sighed, tugging his creation down to stand next to him.
“They’re just like younglings, aren’t they? No wonder the lil’ Jou-bot gets along with them so well.”
The doorwinged mech shot an irritated look at the visored saboteur who’d popped up beside creator and sparkling. “Jazz. Don’t get me started on you. I don’t know why I was ever concerned about Sojourner lacking interaction with individuals of a similar mental development stage.”
“They’re starting!” Sojourner called to the two black and whites, then shouted to the mechs below. “Springer! Grimlock! Good luck!”
As the leaders of both groups glanced up (Springer waving with a grin and Grimlock nodding curtly), Jazz swung the little bot up of his shoulders with a chuckle.
“Up we go, bitlet, let’s get you a better view, hm?”
“Ah. I believe I’ve got the advantage over you there, Jazz.”
The Ops mech looked up, smirked, then duly handed Sojourner over to the Prime. The youngling laughed, and Prowl shook his head at them all.
“Sparklings, every last one of them.”
'Verse: IDW Transformers. AU for this fic.
Characters: Prowl. Springer. Ensemble. OC.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
1. Naughty
“Prowl!”
The tactician looked up from his console at the bellow of his name, raising an optic ridge at the green mech stomping into his office. Then he blinked as Springer stopped and slammed both hands onto his desk, looming over it to glare at him.
“Don’t give me that look. I know you had something to do with it!”
“… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you know. You aren’t fooling me, you planned this!”
Prowl interlaced his hands before him, resting them on the tabletop, expression growing annoyed. “I plan a lot of things, Springer. Now if you would care to specify exactly which plan you’re raving about, I might actually be able to own up to whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Fine! I just got thrashed in the training deck, and I know I set the sim to basic spar only! You hacked it, then played puppeteer with the holos just to embarrass me, admit it! What, not mech enough to take me on in person?”
The black and white mech cycled air briefly, then queried. “Springer. Why is it whenever you get your aft handed to you, you immediately blame me?”
A burst of laughter had the SIC looking around Springer to view the entrance to his office, the Wrecker glaring in the same direction at the mech now leaning against the doorway to stay upright.
“He’s got a point, Springer. And before you say it, I came looking for you of my own free will. Prowl had nothing to do with it.”
“Mute it.” The triple changer growled at Scoop as he sauntered into the room, and the smaller mech smirked.
“Now, it’s perfectly alright to admit you think Prowl’s better than you.”
The green mech snarled and made a grab for his team mate, only for Scoop to dance out of his reach, cackling with glee. Prowl sighed as the pair ran circles about his office, stopping them with a sharp ‘Enough!”
They stopped, and the doorwinged mech turned his monitor to face the two Wreckers. Optimus’s bemused visage looked at them from the screen, and they immediately straightened.
“Sir!”
The Autobot SIC spoke, tone dry. “Springer. I have been in conference with the Prime for the past few decabreems. Unless you’re suggesting that I am somehow capable of discussing the war situation and possible tactics with him at the same time as I’m hacking into the training programs, and furthermore ‘thrashing’ you whilst thus occupied…”
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”
“If I could tell you that, my job would be a whole lot easier.”
Scoop sniggered again, and Springer glowered at his team mate, muttering an aggravated “Forget it!” before stalking out, dragging the mech with him. Prowl shook his head as they left, and the moment his door shut and their footsteps faded, he spoke into his comm.
“Sojourner.”
//Yes Prowl?//
As he expected, the reply was far too innocent sounding. Jazz (or any of the other Ops bots for that matter) was definitely not sparkling sitting again anytime soon.
“I suppose you had nothing to do with the reason Springer just stormed my office?” The giggle that answered him prompted the SIC to rest his chevron against a palm in resignation, venting air slowly.
//He had it coming, after what he said to you.//
“Sojourner. In the future, leave the handling of such things to me. You will apologise to Springer the next time you see him.” The youngling immediately sobered at the stern tone (usually all the reprimand Prowl ever needed with his creation) the SIC used.
//Yes sir. I’m sorry.//
The tactician murmured his approval, then had one last exchange with his offspring before he returned to work.
“Sparklet.”
//Yes, creator?//
“Good job, beating Springer.”
//The AI did most of the work, but thanks.// He could hear the smile in his sparkling’s voice, and as his rather entertained commanding officer chuckled, the doorwinged mech smiled as well.
2. Happy
Though young, there were things that Sojourner knew. Facts that delineated the sparkling’s world, information that was important, even if the little bot lacked the processing power to define them just yet.
Energon was good. Comfort was good. Creator was Love. Warmth/safety/affection. Being held near Creator’s spark, secure in Creator’s arms was the best place in the universe.
Being held by other bots was good too, but none of them were as good as Creator. Except for one other.
Sojourner didn’t really know why, and by the time the sparkling developed the ability to ask about such things, the memory of the impression would have faded. But for now, sparkling processors knew that there was another who was also warmth/safety/affection and love, just like Creator. And being held by them made Sojourner happy.
3. Silly
When the news got out, or should it be said, when the news exploded, the base broke into a flurry of hushed speculation. How long had Prowl carried? How had he kept it from notice? When the frag had their SIC had the time to get laid?
And most importantly, with who?
The fact that Prowl hadn’t informed anyone else that they were now amongst the proud members of parenthood set the Autobots to more discussion. The obvious reason had to be to keep the sparkling safe. But by keeping silent, he’d practically eliminated any non-officer from the list of possible co-creators. The Autobot SIC’s sparkling was already a tempting target, naming a common soldier as the other parent wouldn’t change that. But if another ranking bot was involved…
Still, it was hard to believe that Prowl wouldn’t have anticipated such a theory, and likewise, it was hard to believe that the Decepticons wouldn’t have calculated the same possibility, or that their head tactician wouldn’t have predicted that the Decepticons would have expected that, and so on and so forth.
Which left everyone right where they started, only with processor aches in addition to their lack of answers. So they fell to random conjecture, which was as good a method as any.
“… Ratchet.”
“Can’t be. Ratchet’s the only mech busier than Prowl!”
“Mirage?”
“Don’t let Hound hear you say that.”
“Bluestre- Ow!”
“You’re glitched.”
“Sunstreaker and or Sideswipe.”
“… Okay, that one’s possible.”
“But I thought twinned sparks couldn’t start a sparkling?”
“Damn. That’s right. Welp, that’s the two mechs most likely to be willing to jump our SIC’s struts eliminated.”
“Hoist?”
“Now we’re just going through the rosters. C’mon, at least put some effort into it.”
“… Optimus?”
“If you value your plating you will not repeat that guess to anyone, ‘Bot or otherwise. Do you have any idea what the ‘Cons would do to get their hands on Prime’s sparkling?!”
“Plus, Elita-1 would murder you.”
“Going mute now.”
Silence fell as they ran out of plausible options and grew weary of laughing at the implausible ones, until another mech joined them, expression curious as he took a long pull from his cube of energon.
“What’s everyone doing over here?”
“Hey Springer, we’re just-”
“Hey! What if Springer was the sparkling’s co-creator?”
Glowing liquid splattered across the frames of the mechs unfortunate enough to be in front of the Wrecker when that suggestion was made. Glancing wryly at his newly decorated chassis, courtesy of a spit take from the still spluttering triple changer, one of them chuckled.
“Well, can’t get a clearer ‘Pit no’ than that.”
“It was a silly guess anyway. Sorry Springer.”
Springer coughed, wiping his mouth on the back of a hand, still trying to regulate his intakes.
“Yeah. Real silly.”
4. Angsty
Prowl lay offline on one of the berths, the SIC having been placed in stasis while the necessary materials were gathered and forged into a sparkling’s frame so as to avoid stressing both sparks any further. Leaning against one wall, out of the way as Ratchet shouted and commanded and worked like some primeval force of nature, Springer couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid, his processors too occupied by the realisation that was just sinking in that that was his sparkling in there.
His sparklet. His own creation, and for safety’s sake, no one could never know.
5. On-Vacation
He onlined, then bolted upright, only to be pushed back down again by a very annoyed medic.
“Lie still, and don’t talk. I have no interest in listening to your reasons; since I know they will be perfectly logical and reasonable and leave me with no way of countering them. So, you are going to do absolutely nothing but recharge and refuel, medic’s orders, while you recover from your bout of insanity, because I have no other way of explaining the utterly Pit spawned glitching idiocy of what you just did.”
Prowl blinked at Ratchet, then turned his helm unerringly to the small form lying a berth away. The medic grumbled, but obligingly carried the newly sparked frame over to the tactician. The SIC cradled the sparkling close, Ratchet marvelling at the faint smile Prowl was exhibiting, before that smile widened very briefly as the doorwinged mech looked at him, then dutifully went offline, still holding onto his creation.
Suspicion circuits long honed by decavorns of being the Autobot CMO, Ratchet frowned, then ran a check on the base network to make sure the mech lying quiet and still before him wasn’t sneaking work on the side, only to stall when he came across the duty rosters and found that Prowl had personally placed himself on leave for the next few cycles. Casting a dry look at the recharging tactician, the medic sighed.
“Figures it’d take something like this to make you take a vacation.”
6. Horny
//You know how I work, Shockwave, and now you know what I am truly capable of when pushed too far. I am willing to consider this incident an unfortunate accident. Do not force me to make things… personal.//
It was no secret that they really, really liked ‘slag that could blow up a small army’. It was just that such slag normally came in the form of big aft weaponry, such as plasma cannons, rail guns, missiles, thermonuclear party tricks and the like.
However, tapping into Prowl’s vid transmission to Shockwave from the Decepticon outpost they’d chased him to, the black and white tactician glowering from the screen, presumably at the mono-opticked mech, with utter devastation at his back (as well as having watched him cause said devastation), the Wreckers were startled to find their engines starting to purr softly.
The Ops mech who’d shown up in the Xantium carrying an offline sparkling (just sedated, he’d assured them, and Topspin had confirmed Jazz’s statement) didn’t even bother hiding his smirk, prompting Whirl to growl at him.
“Not one word. To anyone.”
7. Transforming
Springer passed Xantium’s communications section just in time to hear Topspin ask a bemused looking Prowl over the comm. about Sojourner’s latest check up. That the rest of his crew were standing nearby and just in eavesdropping distance was a mere coincidence, their busy expressions assured him. The SIC caught the green mech’s gaze, not fooled either, but obligingly sent over a data packet for the Wreckers' de facto medic to scrutinise.
“Hey, ‘Journer’s got transformation tech installed already?” At the exclamation, everyone else abandoned all pretence of ‘not listening in, really’ and immediately clustered around the comm. screen.
“A precautionary measure. In case the advantage of an alt form is required.” Prowl’s tone was sober, and the Wreckers glanced at each other, not liking the implications but resigned to them anyway. The black and white mech suddenly disappeared from the field of view, only to return bearing a waving youngling.
“Hey, it’s the bitling! Heard you got a transformation cog, kid.”
“Yeah! I can’t change into anything big yet, but just wait ‘til the next upgrade!”
“Oh?”
“I’m getting Ratchet to make me a triple changer!” Sojourner’s answer sparked roars of laughter, and Sandstorm recovered first, smirking at the rueful expression on the SIC’s faceplates.
“Just like me, Broadside and Springer, huh. Whaddaya gonna be then?”
“A Wrecker and a Dynobot!”
As the other mechs flailed in indignation and tried to change the youngling’s mind, Springer shared a quick look with Prowl, sure that the hand over the tactician’s faceplates wasn’t due to despair like his Wreckers would insist it was (those sensor panels were twitching too much for the mech to be doing anything but laughing). Venting air in amusement, he drawled. “Better watch out for that one, Prowl. Primus.”
8. Excited
Even if Primus himself couldn’t make them say it out loud, for some Autobots, sometimes the best part of reporting to the command base wasn’t the fact that it meant that their missions were completed and they could get some well deserved down time, but the welcome they got from an excited youngling who just about ran them over, overjoyed to see them all safe and (usually mostly) sound.
9. Book-Reading
He peeked into the rec room, and had to grin. Seated in one corner were a black and white tactician and a sparkling, the chevroned mech reading what sounded like a particularly exciting story aloud from the bookfile held in front of the two of them.
But what had Jazz suppressing a laugh was not every other bot in the room surreptitiously listening in and trying very hard not to make it obvious. It was that Prowl clearly knew what they were doing, and was thus speaking loud enough to be heard by most of the occupants of the room.
10. Dancing
Bumblebee had come to his door, a faintly abashed look on his faceplates. Prowl looked up from soothing his fretting creation to ask the purpose of the visit, and the yellow mech cast a glance at Sojourner, then held out a small object to the SIC. He looked at it curiously, clueless as to its purpose. The scout thumbed a switch on the item, and as gentle points of light danced in the air above it, the sparkling in Prowl’s arms quieted, fascinated by the display. At the chevroned mech’s grateful look, Bumblebee shrugged, murmuring in response.
“I had one of these as a sparkling. Thought ‘Journer could use it now.”
11. Jealous
It really wasn’t fair. He’d carried Sojourner until the little bot’s fragment had almost remerged with him, had gotten so accustomed to that secondary sparkbeat he could probably pick out its frequency from across the room. Prowl had done so for barely more than a handful of cycles, and he had spent most of that time offline.
But the tactician was the one caring for the sparkling now. He was the voice lulling Sojourner into recharge, the arms holding the little bot close when comfort was needed and the hands soothing the little hurts and pains an active sparkling picked up as a matter of course. He was the first checkpoint for the innumerable flood of questions from a bright CPU developing at a rate that made Springer undeniably proud, and the one performing all the parental duties the triple changer himself could not.
Logically (and how he hated the word at the moment), Springer knew Prowl would do his best by his sparkling. It still didn’t make the situation any easier to accept.
12. Turned-On
Prowl had tasked him with getting Sojourner to recharge after the tactician had found the youngling nodding off in the rec room, listening to the Wreckers tell story after wild story. Springer was yet undecided as to whether the SIC had intended it as a punishment for corrupting the little bot, or as one of the too few, too brief moments with his sparkling (who was still ignorant of the triple changer’s involvement in that regard) the Wrecker could steal without stirring any suspicion.
Finally reaching the youngling’s quarters, Springer stepped inside and reached for the switch, only to glance down at the smaller frame in his grasp when Sojourner protested.
“Don’t turn on the lights!”
The triple changer blinked, then peered about the youngling’s room, now dimly lit by the light from the corridor, puzzled. “Why not?”
“Just don’t. Please?”
Ah, frag. Springer crumbled so fast, his Wreckers would have been in hysterics if they’d seen it. “Alright. But if I trip and squash you, it’s all your fault, got it?”
Sojourner giggled, snuggling closer. “’Kay.”
He walked towards the berth, feeling the youngling cling tighter to his frame the moment the door slid shut and the room plunged into darkness, barely illuminated by their optics.
“That’s it. I’m getting the lights.”
“No!”
“There’s no shame in needing the light on for a while, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Don’t turn it on, Springer. I’m okay.”
“If you say so.” Still dubious, he nevertheless had the little bot settled quickly, and knelt by Sojourner’s berth side to make sure his sparking was comfortable. “You sure you don’t want even a little light?”
“Yeah.”
“…Why?”
“Because… my other creator can’t protect me from the dark when the lights are turned on.”
Springer blinked, then chuckled, petting the small helm affectionately. “Of course. Silly me.”
Sojourner murmured drowsily in agreement, soon quieting altogether. The green mech watched his creation for a moment, before rising to leave the room. At the doorway, he paused, looking back at the recharging youngling.
“Recharge well, sparklet. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
13. Caring
There was a noise from the berth, and Prowl sighed, coming to sit next to the youngling. The dark still made Sojourner uneasy, which made living on a satellite base rather trying for the young spark at times.
“Sparklet, you should recharge.” Sojourner’s head shook in refusal as the youngling scrambled into the tactician’s lap, staring wildly at the shadows in the room. A quiet whimper escaped Sojourner’s vocaliser, and the tactician stroked his sparkling’s helm, murmuring soothingly as he did so. Eventually, the youngling settled, then asked.
“Tell me about my other creator? I bet they aren’t afraid of the dark either.”
The doorwinged mech paused, then agreed. “As you wish. Your other creator is a brave mech, if a little headstrong and reckless. As such, he finds trouble with remarkable ease, and sometimes gets in over his head. But he always finds a way to win, because he wants to protect the ones he cares about, even if it takes him away from them, and he fights to keep them out of harm's way, often at his own expense.”
Prowl stopped, because Sojourner had turned to look at him, expression alight with realisation. “Then… the dark shouldn’t scare me. Because he’s out there between it and us.”
The tactician smiled, gently hugging his creation close.
“Exactly.”
14. On-His-Knees
//Springer. If you do not walk through that door in the next astroclick, so help me Primus I will gut you myself.//
Prowl’s fierce statement got him moving, stepping into the room where the tactician and his sparkling were ensconced, the black and white mech sitting on the berth with an upset Sojourner curled up in his lap. When the door slid shut, drawing the youngling’s attention to the Wrecker’s presence, Springer almost cringed when his creation looked up, optics widening almost comically.
“You?! You’re my other creator?”
The triple changer nodded silently, and his youngling stared at him, clearly finding it difficult to process this revelation. “But you hate each other!”
“Don’t listen to what the rest of the Autobots say. We’re not the best of friends or anything, but I do respect Prowl, and he accords me the same courtesy.”
“Then, how’d I…”
“I needed his help one cycle. We didn’t realise what’d happened until-”
The Wrecker stopped when Sojourner started to tremble, and then started when the youngling hissed at him. “Get out.”
“Sojourner!” Prowl’s tone was scolding, and the doorwinged mech was summarily glared back at (Springer’s CPU unhelpfully noting that his youngling had definitely gotten that look from the SIC).
“Sparklet-” Springer tried again, only for the smaller bot to turn on him, intakes working frantically in anger.
“You have no right to call me that! You didn’t want me. Must have been an unpleasant surprise, finding out Prowl was carrying. No wonder you didn’t want me to know. It was never about keeping me safe, was it?!”
He did cringe this time, spark heavy with guilt. Sojourner was correct; he didn’t deserve the privilege of recognising his creation. What creator abandons his own sparkling? Dimly, he noted that Prowl was speaking, low and stern.
“Sojourner. Everything we have done has been for your sake, to keep you from being a bigger target than you already are. While it is true that your creation was not expected, and that Springer and I do not necessarily love each other in the manner typical creator pairs do, regardless of that, never believe that you are not wanted, by either of us.”
A small hand came up to scrub at flickering optics, vision systems fritzing from internal turmoil as the tactician continued, tone growing softer. “Springer was the one who carried you up until a few cycles before you were placed in your own chassis. He did so for so long he thought you’d faded back into his spark, and it killed him to think that you would never have a chance to live because of him.”
“Sparklet. Please.” The Wrecker had gone to his knees, bringing him to optic level with his sparkling. Slowly, the small bot calmed, optics dark as the youngling pressed faceplates against Prowl’s torso, gripping the SIC’s bumper tightly. Intakes hiccupped a few times, then Sojourner turned to face him, expression still hurting. Springer held out his arms in a silent plea, and when his sparkling took that step forward to accept the hug, the green mech practically crushed the smaller bot against him with a sob of his own.
15. Obedient
Had he been a lone mech, Springer was sure he’d have already blasted open the doors and taken off after Prowl. As it was, he remained on base, checked his crew’s supplies and missions list, then boarded Xantium to meet the determined optics of his Wreckers, who growled low and unyielding that they were going after the Pit spawn who’d stooped so low as to take a sparkling, whether Prime gave the okay or not, and if Springer wanted to come, fine by them.
Smiling grimly, he replied. “Well, at least you won't be complaining about following my orders.”
16. Dominant
He wasn’t ignorant of the whispers behind his back, the ones that implied that his effectiveness as a tactician and as the SIC had been diminished by his having a sparkling. They sent messages to Optimus, saying that he would no longer be as focused on the war, would put the needs of his creation over his duties, citing the speed at which the chevroned mech had ‘abandoned’ his post when Sojourner had been abducted.
True, Prowl had other considerations now, ensuring the safety and well being of his offspring had become the dominant focus in his life. But no one had realised that that driving force was in perfect harmony with his duty to the Autobots.
What his detractors failed to consider was that he was the head tactician, and had been for a very long time. He knew, better than anyone else, down to the last circuit in his frame that the only way Sojourner would grow up in any sort of safety, would stand any chance of growing up at all, was if the Autobots gave their all in the fight against the Decepticons. And Prowl would send himself to the Pit first before he did anything less.
17. Naive
Ratchet rebooted his audios. The little bot in front of him had not just said what he thought he heard. Sojourner looked up at the medic, expression trusting and devoid of any mischievous intent. Not that that was any sort of reliable indicator, Ratchet made a note to tell Prowl that the youngling really spent far too time with Jazz and Bumblebee.
“Sojourner. Do you know exactly what you’re asking?”
“Well. I’m not sure either, but Prowl’s in an officers’ meeting, so’s Jazz, the Wreckers are off on a mission, the Dynobots won’t stop laughing, Bluestreak’s on guard duty, the twins are in the brig and I’m not allowed to visit them and Smokescreen said to ask you, because Prowl would terminate him if he told me anything.”
That settled it. There was definitely nothing premeditated on the youngling’s part, just sheer naivety. Ratchet groaned to himself, then motioned the smaller bot inside his office and into a chair.
“Right. Listen closely, because I do not want to have to repeat this. You want to know what interface is? Well…”
18. Drinking-Energon
Staring in dread at the giggling youngling flopped against the base of one of the rec room’s couches, then at the partially consumed too bright cube that Sojourner must have mistaken for regular energon, Cliffjumper turned to Brawn and said. “Tech-chess, best two out of three to see who tells Ratchet, and who goes to Prowl.”
19. Greedy
Springer examined the tiny protoform the medical and engineering bots had managed to put together, then shifted his attention to the monitors displaying readouts and data related to the tiny additional light in Prowl’s chassis. Then the CMO was in the room, shooing him away as the medical team swung into action, leaving the green mech trying to catch a glimpse from the sidelines.
“Springer?”
Frag. First Aid had noticed him. The triple changer shrugged, expression schooled to nonchalance as he explained his presence in the chaos that was the med bay right now. “Heard you lot were going to do the separation this cycle. Thought I’d see this thing through to the end, since I did find Prowl first.”
“Oh. Okay. We’ve detached the new spark, and the transfer went just fine. The spark's taken quite well to the new frame; certainly looked strong enough to survive without one. But that might be because Prowl went and hid this from us for so long.” An aggravated expression crossed the Protectobot’s features, and the Wrecker marvelled at how much Ratchet had rubbed off on his apprentice as First Aid continued. “Anyway, the sparkling will be alright. I can comm. you if you want to be there when the first online occurs.”
Springer hesitated. He shouldn’t. It was too risky. Someone would wonder, would ask questions, would figure him out. But he couldn’t bring himself to say no, wanting, needing to be there for his sparkling during this one thing at least.
“… I’d like that. Don’t get to see too many sparks starting in my line. I’m usually more involved in putting them out. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, you should go before Ratchet manages to spare an astroclick to throw something at you.” The younger medic smiled at him understandingly, and the Wrecker wanted to tell him he’d been mistaken, that he’d lied and he really wanted to be there because he was a greedy, selfish mech grasping for what little time he could have with his sparkling before he had to try and keep away. Instead the triple changer pulled on a grin, waving in farewell to the other mech as he left the med bay.
20. Daring
Jazz was feeling good. He’d just returned from a long, drawn out solo recon mission, dropped his report into Prowl’s inbox before the mech had gotten on his case about it, had a whole cycle of recharge in his own berth, uninterrupted, and the head of Ops was now headed for the rec room to get a cube into his tanks and some catching up done before he met the tactician to go over the sensitive data he had to leave out of the report.
But when he walked through the doorway, it was fair to say he hadn’t been expecting every optic to focus on him like turbowolves on a glitch mouse.
“Uh… hi?” His greeting sparked a flood of whispering, and he picked up snippets that only confused him even more.
“… could be him…”
“… possible, you think?”
“… on a mission for so long, maybe that’s why…”
“… and they get along, don’t they?”
Finally, he snapped, crossing his arms and raising an optic ridge at the nearest cluster of bots. “Will someone take a break from the hush hush and clue me in?”
They exchanged wary looks, then one daring spark spoke up.
“Prowl had a sparkling.”
Jazz’s visor flickered, then he rebooted his audios, tapping on them to make sure they were functioning. “Say what?”
“Prowl. Had. A. Sparkling. He won’t say who the other creator is. We think you might be a candidate.”
“Don’t worry, Jazz. It isn’t you.”
The black and white mech turned to look at the bot who’d just come in. Jazz opened his mouth to ask if everyone had gone insane since he’d last been in the base, only to snap it shut when he saw the smaller form in Prowl’s arms. Meeting the tactician’s wry expression, he could only blink, then scratch his helm in astonishment.
“Wow. How long was I gone?”
21. Exploring
The Autobots weren’t sure what would happen first. Their sparks going out from the stress of losing track of Sojourner with alarming regularity, or the youngling finally exploring every last micron of the base’s network of ducts.
22. At The Beach
“Where’s that?”
“The Helide galaxy. Pretty to look at, but nothing much else.”
“And that?”
“That’s Tridici. Desert world. The beings that live there look like big flat circles, and they move about by rolling on their sides.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you, ‘Journer?”
“Yes, Sides. What’s this one?”
“That’s Ylarsn. It’s in the Eudryni system. Sunstreaker didn’t like it much though. Said the sand and water fr- uh… messed up his finish.”
“You look happy there though.”
“It’s a nice planet. Practically one big beach. That’s where a lot of sand meets a lot of water, by the way. Tell you what, one cycle, when everything’s quiet, we’ll steal you from Prowl and go on a holiday there. Soak up some solar radiation, splash Sunstreaker and listen to him whine for cycles. It’ll be fun.”
“Hah. Promise?”
“Yeah, promise.”
23. Bath-Time
Two decabreems, a flooded wash rack, much shrieking and chasing and a trail of suds all through the base later, Bluestreak was sure he would never, ever, ever offer to help get Sojourner clean the next time Prowl was held up with work.
24. Dishevelled
As worn out as they were, the bedraggled little group of bots still tried to enter the base as quietly as possible. They made it to the med bay, carrying their injured comrades, then offlined at Ratchet’s pedes from complete energy drainage, not helped by their maintaining all the concealment measures they had the energy to power, and even some they did not.
When they were conscious again, however, they quickly realised their efforts had been in vain. A small frame draped over the middle of one of their number, deep in recharge, as filthy as they were. An oil and energon stained rag was clutched in one hand, and a much larger finger grasped tightly in the other, as if by keeping a hold on the bot Sojourner could also keep them from deactivating.
25. Exhausted (This one was inspired by ajremix’s drabble By the Numbers)
Prowl made his way slowly towards the living area. The Decepticons had been very active lately, and their long time enemies had recently launched a vicious full scale assault on a whole planetary system, necessitating a long, intense period of warfare, and the tactician’s constant presence coordinating and directing all the Autobot teams sent into the fray.
They’d finally broken through though, and now the only thing left to be done was the mopping up of stray ‘Cons. Prowl had been ordered to his quarters for some rest, and he’d gone quietly, prompting concerned looks (duly ignored, of course) over just how tired the SIC was.
Walking through his door, he found his berth already occupied, Sojourner perched in the middle with a cube of energon and a resolute expression. The black and white mech took the fuel, sipping it as he sat on the platform as well, wrapping an arm about the youngling who curled into him, hands clenched tight about each other.
Eventually, his creation spoke up. “What number was he?”
“By entry, injury or exit?”
“All three.”
“First in. Number seventy two. And he’ll be the last out, as usual.” Prowl recited easily as his doorwings twitched in a brief, resigned shrug. Sojourner sighed, offlining optics to lean against him tiredly.
“As usual.”
26. Well-Shagged
The mech whistled contentedly as he left the room (and the still offline bot within, nothing to boost the ego like such a compliment), only for his good mood to take a flaming dive into an abyss when a pair of curious optics accosted him.
“Smokescreen, why’re you coming out of Trailbreaker’s room?”
27. Kick-Ass
Plan A, scramble after Prowl to keep him from doing something stupid, turned into Plan B, watch Prowl as he demonstrated the consequences of doing something very stupid, using the Decepticons who’d taken his sparkling as an example, in case he needed back up, supplemented by Plan B2, wonder when and how the frag Jazz had gotten out here and then onto their ship with Sojourner, which then turned into Plan C, talk amongst each other until Prowl had expended his displeasure and finished intimidating Shockwave into declaring his sparkling sacrosanct to the rest of the Decepticons, then go rummage through the subspace pockets of the scrap previously known as Decepticons for spare parts and weaponry.
28. Playing With Kids
Autobots watched as the two groups squared off, muttering insults at each other from either side of the training deck. Many of the spectators had bored expressions, for this was a regular occurrence, or anticipatory ones, occasionally glancing over at Smokescreen, leaning against the railing overlooking the arena.
On another section of the viewing deck, another mech groaned, covering his optics with a white hand in aggravation, then reached out to automatically grab hold of the youngling teetering over the edge of the barrier, keeping the younger bot from toppling over the rails. Sojourner looked at him, grinning cheekily, and Prowl sighed, tugging his creation down to stand next to him.
“They’re just like younglings, aren’t they? No wonder the lil’ Jou-bot gets along with them so well.”
The doorwinged mech shot an irritated look at the visored saboteur who’d popped up beside creator and sparkling. “Jazz. Don’t get me started on you. I don’t know why I was ever concerned about Sojourner lacking interaction with individuals of a similar mental development stage.”
“They’re starting!” Sojourner called to the two black and whites, then shouted to the mechs below. “Springer! Grimlock! Good luck!”
As the leaders of both groups glanced up (Springer waving with a grin and Grimlock nodding curtly), Jazz swung the little bot up of his shoulders with a chuckle.
“Up we go, bitlet, let’s get you a better view, hm?”
“Ah. I believe I’ve got the advantage over you there, Jazz.”
The Ops mech looked up, smirked, then duly handed Sojourner over to the Prime. The youngling laughed, and Prowl shook his head at them all.
“Sparklings, every last one of them.”