"Prime!" yelled Agent Fowler's voice over the computer. Wheeljack, Ironelle, Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Optimus, the twins, and Ratchet looked at the screen.
"What is it Agent Fowler?" asked Optimus, Nova and Luna clinging tightly to his legs.
"Take a look." Fowler switched the camera reveling snow falling lightly in Death Valley.
"It's not supposed to be snowing there, right?" Ironelle turned to Bulkhead and Wheeljack, who shook their heads.
"Oh," she ran out of the room, a servo clamped over her mouth.
"There she goes again," said Ratchet.
"Did the Cons build a weather machine?"
"We weren't aware of any Decepticon plans Agent Fowler, but we will start investigating."
Ironelle walked into an empty main room.
"Where is everybo—" she got distracted by Scrappy, the little tame scraplet that the bots, but mostly the humans, had adopted as their 'pet'.
"Over here Ironelle." It was Ratchet and she walked over to the med-bay, Scrappy chasing her all the way.
"Where is everybody Ratch?"
"Out on a mission, Shadow's recharging in Bulkhead and Wheeljack's quarters, and Nova and Luna are playing quietly over there." The medic pointed to the side where the twins were playing with magnetic blocks. Ironelle sat on the berth, right behind her and rubbed her aching abdomen.
"Want me to give you a checkup?"
"Could ya?"
"Lay down I'll give you a quick checkup." Ratchet walked over with his scanner and scanned her abdomen, where it hurt, and her spark, to make sure nothing was wrong with her spark. He looked over at her face. It was gentle and relaxed. The medic couldn't help but smile and he leaned over and kissed her gently. She smiled and kissed back, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ironelle pulled away and they blushed deeply.
"I love you Ratchet," her servo cradled his chin and her fingers slightly touched his lip plates.
"You're beautiful," Ratchet whispered, "and I wish I didn't have to break this but..."
"But what?"
"You're sparked." She stared at him wordlessly.
"I'm what?"
"You're sparked. I sparked you." His servo trailed down her chest plate.
"Ratchet don't do that!" she swatted his servo away.
"I thought you used protection! I did! Get the frag off me Ratchet!" She kicked his abdomen and rolled off the berth.
"Ironelle!" said Ratchet, holding a servo over the spot she had kicked him.
"Leave me alone!" She ran out of the room and he sighed.
"A typical femme, always run when something they think bad happens."
