Challenge Response
One Plus One Makes Three
Author: Thalanee
Prompt: Soon their duet will become a trio
Verse: AU-Movieverse
Word count: ca 3000 words
Rating: pg13
Warnings: mech-pregnancy
Disclaimer: I only wish they are mine… if they were do you really think Jazz would have died? Similarities to other fics are not intentional (thought I’d add this since there are a lot of these fics around)
Summary: Prowl has a surprise for Jazz
Author’s Notes: Short but fluffy… I know it’s been done to the death, but I just couldn’t resist. And I know Prowl’s not acting his usual self, but then this is an unusual situation.
XXXXX
There was a sick feeling in his tanks.
It was so bad, the famously stoic Second In Command of the Autobot army, genius tactician, former enforcer of Praxus, the most unflappable and dependable of them all, just couldn’t concentrate on his work.
He’d had a queasy feeling in his tanks for the past few days, but never before had he felt as nauseous as he did this morning. Focusing on the datapad in his white hands the tactician tried again to read the report it held. That particular line he’d read five times already, yet he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it said.
Fingers clenching on the pad when another wave of nausea hit him, Prowl exhaled shakily. After a few steady breaths the feeling had somewhat lessened, though it seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat at his desk.
When the next wave hit, it was all he could do to keep up the tight hold he had on the bond to Jazz, unwilling to bother the saboteur with something that would pass very soon. Besides Jazz wasn’t even here, he was away on a mission and wouldn’t return for several days yet.
The SIC had not been feeling himself for some days now. At first it was little things like drifting off while reading a report, but soon he found it difficult to control his temper (he’d even snapped at poor Optimus, but despite apologizing right after it happened, he still felt guilty about that) or reign in his emotions in general, something the self-controlled tactician deeply resented.
Feeling oddly frustrated the tactician actually threw the datapad at the door, the same moment it opened and a familiar silver form stepped through.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed and ducked under the pad, which landed in the hallway with a mighty clatter. “What’s up with you, nephew?” Sideswipe rolled closer on his wheeled pedes and leaned against the desk, careful not to disrupt the neat stacks of datapads on it. He’d spontaneously decided to barge in on his only and favourite nephew (the swordsmech still had to suppress manic giggles when he remembered just how Bluestreak had let them all know Prowl was his sparkling).
“I don’t know.” Prowl’s answer sounded uncharacteristically small and forlorn considering it was Prowl who had spoken, something which stoked Sideswipe’s strong protective instinct, which now included Prowl. If he was perfectly honest it always had…
The tactician nearly cursed, when a new wave of nausea picked that exact moment to hit him. He actually doubled over at the pain in his abdomen, hissing. On the edge of his awareness he heard the silver mech cursing, but most of his attention was in the sick feeling rising in the back of his throat, nearly making him gag.
He knew that feeling. Desperately reaching for the waste bin, he was about to panic when one silver servo shoved said waste bin in front of him just in time for Prowl to purge into it instead of on the floor.
Whimpering from the burning feeling of half processed energon going where it really shouldn’t and just wasn’t meant to go, he felt absolutely mortified that he did so in front of an audience, especially Sideswipe. He still hadn’t gotten used to seeing Sideswipe as his uncle, he was still the troublemaker and always would be.
The feel of a servo soothingly rubbing his back between his violently twitching door-panels only made it worse somehow and to his ever growing embarrassment Prowl couldn’t keep the tears from falling, not that he was in any shape to try. Sideswipe’s comforting murmurs made him wish that Jazz was on base, not away on a stupid mission, completely out of reach, with their bond blocked as far as possible so the saboteur would not be distracted.
How he wanted Jazz to be here!
Openly sobbing now, he didn’t resist when Sideswipe hugged him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go see the Hatchet so he can have a look alright?” Keeping an arm around the sniffling tactician, the swordsmech gently guided him out of the door and through the hallways, painstakingly taking care that they avoided any of the other bots or humans who were out and about in the corridors of the NEST base. Out in the open he appeared calm and collected, but anyone taking a closer look would have been careful around the warrior.
His cables were taut, movements perfectly calculated, ready to spring into action any moment to defend the black and white mech at his side. If anyone had so much as made a movement to scratch the police cruiser’s paint, he would have flown into a protective rage, even more so than usual.
Upon reaching medbay, Sideswipe made sure there was no one else but Ratchet around. The chartreuse mech was bent over a worktable, hammering away at spare parts meant for the recently arrived mech lovingly dubbed walking explosion hazard by the medic, otherwise known as Wheeljack.
Hearing the mechs enter and looking up to see a quietly crying Prowl clinging to a scowling Sideswipe, he shot up out of his seat opening his mouth to berate the silver twin for whatever he had done this time, only to have Sideswipe growl at him.
“Alright, what happened?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, fix it!” Sideswipe demanded, feeling helpless in the face of a foe he didn’t know how to defeat. If there was a Decepticon attacking he knew exactly what to do, but with an illness there was no physical source he could fight. It made him nervous.
“Alright, Prowl, lie down on that berth and tell me what your symptoms are.” The medic was uncharacteristically gentle, since this was the second time he saw the tactician cry in the whole time they had known each other, since Prowl was a sparkling in fact. The only other time was when Prowl had been told about Jazz’s death.
Prowl complied without protest, something else that worried the medic. Usually Prowl would grab any excuse to leave medbay, he would physically fight having to lie down and argue every step along the way. Never mind that the way the stubborn tactician wouldn’t enter the medbay of his own free will missing a doorwing or other limb.
“I have trouble controlling my emotional responses. For about a week now I felt sick every morning, which would usually pass a couple of hours later, but today I had to purge.” Prowl did his best to appear his usual stoic self, but none of the two others were fooled. Still they pretended not to notice so Prowl would feel more comfortable.
Ratchet frowned, there was a diagnosis that had come to mind as soon as he heard Prowl describe his symptoms, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. Not that it was impossible, but still…
Yet when his normal scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, he reluctantly pulled out a scanner he hadn’t had to use in a very long time, longer than he cared to remember actually. When the scanner showed the results, Ratchet did what he always did when surprised.
He cursed.
“Slag me to the pit, back up and down again.” Both tactician and swordsmech eyed him warily.
“Ratchet?” The cruisers tone was hesitant almost to the point of fearful. If it made Ratchet curse like that, it had to be bad, didn’t it?
“You and Jazz just had to do this to me! You couldn’t have told me first, now, you just had to go ahead and do it anyway!” Ratchet knew they probably hadn’t done this on purpose, but he wouldn’t let them get away with it anyway!
“What are you talking about, Hatchet?” Sideswipe interjected, sounding as confused as Prowl looked.
“I’m talking about something that hasn’t happened in hundreds of vorns. Prowl,” he pointed at the SIC triumphantly, “You are carrying.”
Total silence descended onto Ratchet’s medbay. Until…
“WHAT?” Prowl shrieked. “But how..? That’s impossible!”
“Yes, you are.” Grinning evilly the medic seemed to enjoy the spectacle of a flustered prowl way too much. Sideswipe was still busy gaping. “As for how, I’m sure I don’t need to explain that to you, considering what I saw in the wash racks just before Jazz left.”
Prowl cringed. Sideswipe stared. Ratchet cackled.
“And it’s not impossible as you well know. Just highly unlikely if you’re not actively trying, but not impossible.” Watching as Prowl raised a hand to his chassis and laid it where the sparkling was Ratchet explained further.
“You’ll be carrying for about an Earth year and I will pull you off battle duty effective immediately. There’s no way I’ll risk you and the sparkling like that.” Fierce protectiveness radiated from Prowl at those words. Seemed like Prowl wouldn’t argue this time, something the medic appreciated. “I’ll give you medical grade energon you should drink along with the usual, it should help against the sickness and has all the nutrients you need. As you know you’ll get the mood swings, cravings and slight aches in your joints. I’ll give you something to read so you can prepare yourself for the birth.”
He continued in this manner, noting the way Sideswipe had positioned himself between Prowl and the door. Finishing his lecture he handed Prowl the first cube of a greenish-blue glowing medical grade energon.
Thanking the medic a still slightly shell-shocked Prowl left medbay with Sideswipe in tow. The medic’s last comment made him feel strangely content with the world at large. “Oh, by the way, congratulations, Prowl!”
XXXXX
“My little sparkling is all grown up!” Bluestreak exclaimed, hugging the life out of Prowl. “I remember, it’s like yesterday, when you were born and you were all huge golden optics and little white wings and you were so smart always trying to figure things out. By sticking them in your mouth and nibbling at them and you were so cute doing that, and you were crawling around and walking so soon, you were the fastest little sparkling and when you started to talk you never stopped asking questions and now you’re all grown up and having a sparkling of your own and I’m so proud of you!”
His carrier’s enthusiasm was as great as always. Bluestreak had been ecstatic when Prowl had told him he’s be a grand-creator soon and had been rambling for a while now, something Prowl found very soothing. It reminded him of the times when an adoring Bluestreak had talked to his little creation to comfort him or praise him. It meant family, safety.
“Thank you.” His hand was resting on his chassis right over his sparkling. “But how am I going to tell Jazz? We wanted a family, but not so soon. The war has not ended yet! What if Jazz doesn’t want a sparkling right now?” The thought of Jazz rejecting the sparkling made Prowl quiver. He was aware he wasn’t thinking very clearly right now, also that this fear was most likely unfounded, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“Aw, it will be alright.” Bluestreak pressed a gentle kiss to his creation’s red chevron. “This is Jazz we’re talking about here. He’ll be as ecstatic as your sire was when I told him about you, and he’ll help you through your carrying cycle, furnish the little one’s room with you, argue about what you’re going to name the little one, you’ll design the frame and care for the little one. Don’t you worry, you’re both going to be great creators!”
As Bluestreak rambled on, Prowl resolved to tell Jazz as soon as he was back and out of the obligatory post-mission meeting with Optimus right after his return. He just hoped his carrier was right.
Especially when he realized he could feel the little spark right next to his own.
XXXXX
The indomitable SIC had never felt so nervous before.
Jazz was finally back from his mission, unharmed and in a good mood. It had eveidently gone well and right now Jazz was giving a report to Optimus Prime, himself and the ever present Ironhide. Not that Prowl was capable of paying any attention to what the saboteur was talking about. He was too busy holding on to every ounce of courage for what was about to come.
Thanking Primus that the strange energon Ratchet had given him prevented him from feeling sick again, Prowl approached the saboteur once the meeting was over, and Optimus and Ironhide had retreated to the far end of the room, where unbeknownst to Prowl they were keeping an optic on the two lovers having been forewarned by Ratchet that there might be trouble.
“Hey Sparkles!” the silver mech exclaimed happily, bouncing over to embrace the tactician and softly nuzzle his helmet with his own. Grateful Prowl returned the embrace and looped his arms around Jazz neck, reveling in the feeling of being held, the pulse and warmth of Jazz’s spark soothing his frayed nerves.
“I missed you.” He sighed. “That was too long.”
“I’ve only been gone for two weeks,” the silver Solstice pointed out, “we’ve been separated for longer.” He chuckled, that was usually Prowl’s standard response. “Why’s it feel like we switched roles?”
Prowl’s lips curved in a small smile. “Maybe we should switch roles for a while just to see the other’s reactions.” He suggested impishly.
“Ya’ve been spendin’ time with Sideswipe much? He’s beginning to rub off on ya, not that I mind. I love ya diabolical processors at work, but we should give the bots some time for the shock of ya last prank ta wear of.” The saboteur had very much enjoyed the way his Prowl had turned the tables against the twins a few months ago, just before their bonding. It had made for some highly entertaining blackmail material…
Prowl squirmed a little, that was his cue. “A propos shock…”
Directing a questioning look at his bondmate, when Prowl hesitated, he encouraged him. “Ya already planning ya next prank?”
“Not as such, no.” He paused before continuing, scraping together every last inch of courage he had left. “You remember when we talked about having a family someday?”
“Yeah, why?” Jazz was genuinely puzzled. He could feel his mate’s discomfort and reached out to run a servo along a twitching doorwing to calm his mech down.
“Well, it seems that ‘someday’ is closer than we thought…” He took a deep breath before blurting out: “I’m carrying.”
Jazz stiffened and stared.
He wasn’t sure he had heard right. Did Prowl say he was carrying? As in carrying Jazz’s sparkling? Their sparkling?
Absently Jazz remembered the time shortly after their bonding, when they had talked about the family they someday wished to have once the war was over and it was safe to raise a sparkling. Not on Cybertron, but maybe here on Earth. They both wished for a big, tight knit family, something both had never had. Prowl only had Bluestreak and Jazz only had one sibling.
But that was something they had both agreed would wait until the war was over. Later.
Seemed like later was now…
He stiffened. He made choking noises. And then he fainted.
“Of all the varied reactions I had prepared myself for, that was the most unexpected.” Prowl’s voice sounded relieved, stressed, angry and amused at the same time. Jazz absently wondered how bots came to think the tactician was emotionless, when nothing could be further from the truth. His emotions were clearly visible to anyone proficient in doorwing-language and audible to anyone with a keen sense for melody.
Well, Jazz wasn’t going to complain, since it meant the tactician was his and his alone to court when they first met. And now he was bonded to his beautiful Prowler… who… was carrying…their sparkling.
Jazz shot up from the floor he’d been laid out on, barely avoiding a collision with a smirking Ironhide who’d been bent over him, right past Prime who had been comforting Prowl, to grab the tactician around the middle, lift the smaller up effortlessly and press an audio to the black and white’s chestplates right above the spark that was his.
“Jazz, what…?” Prowl began, only to fall quiet, as Jazz’s intent drifted over their bond.
Perfectly still the saboteur upped the sensitivity of his audial fins, tuning in onto the melody of Prowl’s spark. A melody that was slightly off now, albeit in a wonderful way. It was off, because there was another beat, another melody mixed with Prowl’s in perfect tune. It was the sound of their child’s spark.
“Hey there, little one.” Jazz whispered, still listening to what he instantly declared the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, his tone betraying his awe and wonder, while Prowl gently hugged him, reassured that all was right.
The broadest, happiest grin adorned Jazz face when he could finally bring himself to remove his audios from Prowl’s chassis. For a short moment Prowl was afraid his bondmate’s face might break.
“A sparkling,” Jazz uttered again, to which Prowl answered with a smile. Spinning Prowl around happily he proclaimed with loud laughter: “A sparkling, we’re having a sparkling!” before dipping Prowl down and kissing his mate, to which the doorwinger responded eagerly, both not caring about their audience.
Having righted themselves the giddy saboteur practically jumped onto Optimus’ chassis, crowing and squealing in joy, the only discernable words being “Prowl” and “sparkling” afterward jumping Ironhide in a similar manner, literally bouncing off the walls and ceiling. The last Optimus and Ironhide saw of them for the rest of that day was Jazz carrying Prowl, who was giggling in an undignified manner, out of the room.
The last they heard of them for the rest of that day was Jazz’s declaration over the base’s speakers that his and Prowl’s duet soon would become a trio.
The End.
Review please! Tell me what you think ^^
Author: Thalanee
Prompt: Soon their duet will become a trio
Verse: AU-Movieverse
Word count: ca 3000 words
Rating: pg13
Warnings: mech-pregnancy
Disclaimer: I only wish they are mine… if they were do you really think Jazz would have died? Similarities to other fics are not intentional (thought I’d add this since there are a lot of these fics around)
Summary: Prowl has a surprise for Jazz
Author’s Notes: Short but fluffy… I know it’s been done to the death, but I just couldn’t resist. And I know Prowl’s not acting his usual self, but then this is an unusual situation.
XXXXX
There was a sick feeling in his tanks.
It was so bad, the famously stoic Second In Command of the Autobot army, genius tactician, former enforcer of Praxus, the most unflappable and dependable of them all, just couldn’t concentrate on his work.
He’d had a queasy feeling in his tanks for the past few days, but never before had he felt as nauseous as he did this morning. Focusing on the datapad in his white hands the tactician tried again to read the report it held. That particular line he’d read five times already, yet he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it said.
Fingers clenching on the pad when another wave of nausea hit him, Prowl exhaled shakily. After a few steady breaths the feeling had somewhat lessened, though it seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat at his desk.
When the next wave hit, it was all he could do to keep up the tight hold he had on the bond to Jazz, unwilling to bother the saboteur with something that would pass very soon. Besides Jazz wasn’t even here, he was away on a mission and wouldn’t return for several days yet.
The SIC had not been feeling himself for some days now. At first it was little things like drifting off while reading a report, but soon he found it difficult to control his temper (he’d even snapped at poor Optimus, but despite apologizing right after it happened, he still felt guilty about that) or reign in his emotions in general, something the self-controlled tactician deeply resented.
Feeling oddly frustrated the tactician actually threw the datapad at the door, the same moment it opened and a familiar silver form stepped through.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed and ducked under the pad, which landed in the hallway with a mighty clatter. “What’s up with you, nephew?” Sideswipe rolled closer on his wheeled pedes and leaned against the desk, careful not to disrupt the neat stacks of datapads on it. He’d spontaneously decided to barge in on his only and favourite nephew (the swordsmech still had to suppress manic giggles when he remembered just how Bluestreak had let them all know Prowl was his sparkling).
“I don’t know.” Prowl’s answer sounded uncharacteristically small and forlorn considering it was Prowl who had spoken, something which stoked Sideswipe’s strong protective instinct, which now included Prowl. If he was perfectly honest it always had…
The tactician nearly cursed, when a new wave of nausea picked that exact moment to hit him. He actually doubled over at the pain in his abdomen, hissing. On the edge of his awareness he heard the silver mech cursing, but most of his attention was in the sick feeling rising in the back of his throat, nearly making him gag.
He knew that feeling. Desperately reaching for the waste bin, he was about to panic when one silver servo shoved said waste bin in front of him just in time for Prowl to purge into it instead of on the floor.
Whimpering from the burning feeling of half processed energon going where it really shouldn’t and just wasn’t meant to go, he felt absolutely mortified that he did so in front of an audience, especially Sideswipe. He still hadn’t gotten used to seeing Sideswipe as his uncle, he was still the troublemaker and always would be.
The feel of a servo soothingly rubbing his back between his violently twitching door-panels only made it worse somehow and to his ever growing embarrassment Prowl couldn’t keep the tears from falling, not that he was in any shape to try. Sideswipe’s comforting murmurs made him wish that Jazz was on base, not away on a stupid mission, completely out of reach, with their bond blocked as far as possible so the saboteur would not be distracted.
How he wanted Jazz to be here!
Openly sobbing now, he didn’t resist when Sideswipe hugged him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go see the Hatchet so he can have a look alright?” Keeping an arm around the sniffling tactician, the swordsmech gently guided him out of the door and through the hallways, painstakingly taking care that they avoided any of the other bots or humans who were out and about in the corridors of the NEST base. Out in the open he appeared calm and collected, but anyone taking a closer look would have been careful around the warrior.
His cables were taut, movements perfectly calculated, ready to spring into action any moment to defend the black and white mech at his side. If anyone had so much as made a movement to scratch the police cruiser’s paint, he would have flown into a protective rage, even more so than usual.
Upon reaching medbay, Sideswipe made sure there was no one else but Ratchet around. The chartreuse mech was bent over a worktable, hammering away at spare parts meant for the recently arrived mech lovingly dubbed walking explosion hazard by the medic, otherwise known as Wheeljack.
Hearing the mechs enter and looking up to see a quietly crying Prowl clinging to a scowling Sideswipe, he shot up out of his seat opening his mouth to berate the silver twin for whatever he had done this time, only to have Sideswipe growl at him.
“Alright, what happened?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, fix it!” Sideswipe demanded, feeling helpless in the face of a foe he didn’t know how to defeat. If there was a Decepticon attacking he knew exactly what to do, but with an illness there was no physical source he could fight. It made him nervous.
“Alright, Prowl, lie down on that berth and tell me what your symptoms are.” The medic was uncharacteristically gentle, since this was the second time he saw the tactician cry in the whole time they had known each other, since Prowl was a sparkling in fact. The only other time was when Prowl had been told about Jazz’s death.
Prowl complied without protest, something else that worried the medic. Usually Prowl would grab any excuse to leave medbay, he would physically fight having to lie down and argue every step along the way. Never mind that the way the stubborn tactician wouldn’t enter the medbay of his own free will missing a doorwing or other limb.
“I have trouble controlling my emotional responses. For about a week now I felt sick every morning, which would usually pass a couple of hours later, but today I had to purge.” Prowl did his best to appear his usual stoic self, but none of the two others were fooled. Still they pretended not to notice so Prowl would feel more comfortable.
Ratchet frowned, there was a diagnosis that had come to mind as soon as he heard Prowl describe his symptoms, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. Not that it was impossible, but still…
Yet when his normal scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, he reluctantly pulled out a scanner he hadn’t had to use in a very long time, longer than he cared to remember actually. When the scanner showed the results, Ratchet did what he always did when surprised.
He cursed.
“Slag me to the pit, back up and down again.” Both tactician and swordsmech eyed him warily.
“Ratchet?” The cruisers tone was hesitant almost to the point of fearful. If it made Ratchet curse like that, it had to be bad, didn’t it?
“You and Jazz just had to do this to me! You couldn’t have told me first, now, you just had to go ahead and do it anyway!” Ratchet knew they probably hadn’t done this on purpose, but he wouldn’t let them get away with it anyway!
“What are you talking about, Hatchet?” Sideswipe interjected, sounding as confused as Prowl looked.
“I’m talking about something that hasn’t happened in hundreds of vorns. Prowl,” he pointed at the SIC triumphantly, “You are carrying.”
Total silence descended onto Ratchet’s medbay. Until…
“WHAT?” Prowl shrieked. “But how..? That’s impossible!”
“Yes, you are.” Grinning evilly the medic seemed to enjoy the spectacle of a flustered prowl way too much. Sideswipe was still busy gaping. “As for how, I’m sure I don’t need to explain that to you, considering what I saw in the wash racks just before Jazz left.”
Prowl cringed. Sideswipe stared. Ratchet cackled.
“And it’s not impossible as you well know. Just highly unlikely if you’re not actively trying, but not impossible.” Watching as Prowl raised a hand to his chassis and laid it where the sparkling was Ratchet explained further.
“You’ll be carrying for about an Earth year and I will pull you off battle duty effective immediately. There’s no way I’ll risk you and the sparkling like that.” Fierce protectiveness radiated from Prowl at those words. Seemed like Prowl wouldn’t argue this time, something the medic appreciated. “I’ll give you medical grade energon you should drink along with the usual, it should help against the sickness and has all the nutrients you need. As you know you’ll get the mood swings, cravings and slight aches in your joints. I’ll give you something to read so you can prepare yourself for the birth.”
He continued in this manner, noting the way Sideswipe had positioned himself between Prowl and the door. Finishing his lecture he handed Prowl the first cube of a greenish-blue glowing medical grade energon.
Thanking the medic a still slightly shell-shocked Prowl left medbay with Sideswipe in tow. The medic’s last comment made him feel strangely content with the world at large. “Oh, by the way, congratulations, Prowl!”
XXXXX
“My little sparkling is all grown up!” Bluestreak exclaimed, hugging the life out of Prowl. “I remember, it’s like yesterday, when you were born and you were all huge golden optics and little white wings and you were so smart always trying to figure things out. By sticking them in your mouth and nibbling at them and you were so cute doing that, and you were crawling around and walking so soon, you were the fastest little sparkling and when you started to talk you never stopped asking questions and now you’re all grown up and having a sparkling of your own and I’m so proud of you!”
His carrier’s enthusiasm was as great as always. Bluestreak had been ecstatic when Prowl had told him he’s be a grand-creator soon and had been rambling for a while now, something Prowl found very soothing. It reminded him of the times when an adoring Bluestreak had talked to his little creation to comfort him or praise him. It meant family, safety.
“Thank you.” His hand was resting on his chassis right over his sparkling. “But how am I going to tell Jazz? We wanted a family, but not so soon. The war has not ended yet! What if Jazz doesn’t want a sparkling right now?” The thought of Jazz rejecting the sparkling made Prowl quiver. He was aware he wasn’t thinking very clearly right now, also that this fear was most likely unfounded, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“Aw, it will be alright.” Bluestreak pressed a gentle kiss to his creation’s red chevron. “This is Jazz we’re talking about here. He’ll be as ecstatic as your sire was when I told him about you, and he’ll help you through your carrying cycle, furnish the little one’s room with you, argue about what you’re going to name the little one, you’ll design the frame and care for the little one. Don’t you worry, you’re both going to be great creators!”
As Bluestreak rambled on, Prowl resolved to tell Jazz as soon as he was back and out of the obligatory post-mission meeting with Optimus right after his return. He just hoped his carrier was right.
Especially when he realized he could feel the little spark right next to his own.
XXXXX
The indomitable SIC had never felt so nervous before.
Jazz was finally back from his mission, unharmed and in a good mood. It had eveidently gone well and right now Jazz was giving a report to Optimus Prime, himself and the ever present Ironhide. Not that Prowl was capable of paying any attention to what the saboteur was talking about. He was too busy holding on to every ounce of courage for what was about to come.
Thanking Primus that the strange energon Ratchet had given him prevented him from feeling sick again, Prowl approached the saboteur once the meeting was over, and Optimus and Ironhide had retreated to the far end of the room, where unbeknownst to Prowl they were keeping an optic on the two lovers having been forewarned by Ratchet that there might be trouble.
“Hey Sparkles!” the silver mech exclaimed happily, bouncing over to embrace the tactician and softly nuzzle his helmet with his own. Grateful Prowl returned the embrace and looped his arms around Jazz neck, reveling in the feeling of being held, the pulse and warmth of Jazz’s spark soothing his frayed nerves.
“I missed you.” He sighed. “That was too long.”
“I’ve only been gone for two weeks,” the silver Solstice pointed out, “we’ve been separated for longer.” He chuckled, that was usually Prowl’s standard response. “Why’s it feel like we switched roles?”
Prowl’s lips curved in a small smile. “Maybe we should switch roles for a while just to see the other’s reactions.” He suggested impishly.
“Ya’ve been spendin’ time with Sideswipe much? He’s beginning to rub off on ya, not that I mind. I love ya diabolical processors at work, but we should give the bots some time for the shock of ya last prank ta wear of.” The saboteur had very much enjoyed the way his Prowl had turned the tables against the twins a few months ago, just before their bonding. It had made for some highly entertaining blackmail material…
Prowl squirmed a little, that was his cue. “A propos shock…”
Directing a questioning look at his bondmate, when Prowl hesitated, he encouraged him. “Ya already planning ya next prank?”
“Not as such, no.” He paused before continuing, scraping together every last inch of courage he had left. “You remember when we talked about having a family someday?”
“Yeah, why?” Jazz was genuinely puzzled. He could feel his mate’s discomfort and reached out to run a servo along a twitching doorwing to calm his mech down.
“Well, it seems that ‘someday’ is closer than we thought…” He took a deep breath before blurting out: “I’m carrying.”
Jazz stiffened and stared.
He wasn’t sure he had heard right. Did Prowl say he was carrying? As in carrying Jazz’s sparkling? Their sparkling?
Absently Jazz remembered the time shortly after their bonding, when they had talked about the family they someday wished to have once the war was over and it was safe to raise a sparkling. Not on Cybertron, but maybe here on Earth. They both wished for a big, tight knit family, something both had never had. Prowl only had Bluestreak and Jazz only had one sibling.
But that was something they had both agreed would wait until the war was over. Later.
Seemed like later was now…
He stiffened. He made choking noises. And then he fainted.
“Of all the varied reactions I had prepared myself for, that was the most unexpected.” Prowl’s voice sounded relieved, stressed, angry and amused at the same time. Jazz absently wondered how bots came to think the tactician was emotionless, when nothing could be further from the truth. His emotions were clearly visible to anyone proficient in doorwing-language and audible to anyone with a keen sense for melody.
Well, Jazz wasn’t going to complain, since it meant the tactician was his and his alone to court when they first met. And now he was bonded to his beautiful Prowler… who… was carrying…their sparkling.
Jazz shot up from the floor he’d been laid out on, barely avoiding a collision with a smirking Ironhide who’d been bent over him, right past Prime who had been comforting Prowl, to grab the tactician around the middle, lift the smaller up effortlessly and press an audio to the black and white’s chestplates right above the spark that was his.
“Jazz, what…?” Prowl began, only to fall quiet, as Jazz’s intent drifted over their bond.
Perfectly still the saboteur upped the sensitivity of his audial fins, tuning in onto the melody of Prowl’s spark. A melody that was slightly off now, albeit in a wonderful way. It was off, because there was another beat, another melody mixed with Prowl’s in perfect tune. It was the sound of their child’s spark.
“Hey there, little one.” Jazz whispered, still listening to what he instantly declared the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, his tone betraying his awe and wonder, while Prowl gently hugged him, reassured that all was right.
The broadest, happiest grin adorned Jazz face when he could finally bring himself to remove his audios from Prowl’s chassis. For a short moment Prowl was afraid his bondmate’s face might break.
“A sparkling,” Jazz uttered again, to which Prowl answered with a smile. Spinning Prowl around happily he proclaimed with loud laughter: “A sparkling, we’re having a sparkling!” before dipping Prowl down and kissing his mate, to which the doorwinger responded eagerly, both not caring about their audience.
Having righted themselves the giddy saboteur practically jumped onto Optimus’ chassis, crowing and squealing in joy, the only discernable words being “Prowl” and “sparkling” afterward jumping Ironhide in a similar manner, literally bouncing off the walls and ceiling. The last Optimus and Ironhide saw of them for the rest of that day was Jazz carrying Prowl, who was giggling in an undignified manner, out of the room.
The last they heard of them for the rest of that day was Jazz’s declaration over the base’s speakers that his and Prowl’s duet soon would become a trio.
The End.
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