Sunstreaker watched as Ratchet puttered around the medibay, gathering out-of-place tools and stowing them away in their appropriate places or setting them aside to be cleaned properly later. His gestation tank jolted from the restless activity within and he rolled to his side in an attempt to put less pressure on whichever of his creations had protested so vehemently.
"You still okay there, Sunny?" Ratchet's optics betrayed his concern.
"Yeah. Just being attacked from within. Wish they'd hurry up and come out already." He heaved a sigh and shifted again.
The medic approached with a scanner. "I would have thought it'd be over by now. You hit the full gestation time for us three weeks ago, and the Swarm gestation as near as we can figure a month before that. All four of the sparklings seem fully developed."
"I'm just not going into labour."
"Right. The sparklings aren't distressed, and while I know you're not comfortable, your frame isn't reacting negatively." Ratchet shook his head. "I hate to admit it, but I'm at a loss. I could induce, but there's the risk that the bitlets aren't as developed as they scan."
Sunstreaker rejected that idea. "I'll just wait a little longer." He lurched under another internal assault. "But not too long," he amended hastily. "I'm tired of being a punching bag."
A soft scrabbling of claws came from under the berth Sunstreaker lay on, accompanied by a plaintive whine. A purple and yellow ball of spiky metal scrambled out from his hiding place and onto the berth, nudging and nuzzling Sunstreaker's belly. Antennae flicked wildly for a moment until the Insecticon assured himself that his mate was fine and he hadn't missed the delivery of his offspring during his sleep.
Bob was pretty sure they should have arrived by now, though. Many sleep times had passed, and while he couldn't be certain, he thought it was too many for his mate to still be carrying their clutch. But who could tell with these mechs. They weren't Swarm, not really; Bob had only adopted them into his own Swarm, small as it was. His golden mate grew larger and more uncomfortable every day, and the sparklings more restless.
They needed to come out.
Now how to communicate this to his healer-mate.
\oOOo/
"Bob! Cut it out!" Sunstreaker snapped at the hovering Insecticon. "They're not coming yet."
Bob looked up at his mate, yellow optics wide at the tone. His antennae flattened to his helm in contrition and he backed off. But only a little. More sleep times had passed, they were back in their healer-mate's domain, and Sunstreaker was no closer to birthing than before. He was also roaring at everyone with increasing frequency. Particularly Bob. He was beginning to worry.
His other mate stared intently at a screen in his hand. He was no happier with the situation than Bob was. Finally he looked up, and Bob chitter-whined at him.
"I'm going to induce labour, Sunny. No arguments this time. It's been too long, and your frame isn't recognising that the sparklings are ready."
Bob sagged in relief, chirping his satisfaction. He didn't understand all the words, but the meaning behind them came through loud and clear.
"Fine," the golden warrior groused. "When?" A new attack almost doubled him over and he growled.
"Now."
\oOOo/
Once Sunstreaker's systems were jump-started, things moved quickly.
Very quickly.
It was almost as though his frame had been primed for the birthing and was just waiting for the signal. Before the first hour was gone, one little frame had been pushed out and another was well on its way. Bob hovered around First Aid as he cleaned up the sparkling and took baseline readings, rather unnerving the younger medic. Two large green optics blinked online and the sparkling chirped, sending Bob into an excited frenzy of running between Sunstreaker's berth and where First Aid stood.
"Fragging Primus, Bob!" Ratchet called out sharply when the Insecticon slipped in a small puddle of birthing fluids that had escaped the clean-up and went careening into another berth. Sunstreaker levelled a glare at both Bob and Ratchet, but couldn't maintain it as the second sparkling emerged and the third began to follow. "Go lay down!"
Bob just climbed back to his feet and shook himself, then, at a much slower pace but with no less enthusiasm, returned to the small warming berth where First Aid was settling the first bitlet. He clicked and chirred to it, and his whole body wiggled in delight when it chirruped back and attempted to turn over to find him. It looked a lot like his mates in conformation, but the colours beginning to shade in on the dull grey plating and the teeny antennae were most certainly Swarm. It flailed at him, squeaking when he brought his helm in for a closer look and smell.
"Bob!"
First Aid's tone was full of fear, and Bob perked his antennae in confusion. The other healer had the next sparkling in his hands, but his attention was focussed on Bob and the first newspark. What did he think Bob was going to do?
"Frag's sake, Aid, he's not gonna eat the thing. Focus. Leave Bob be and get the readings on that one. Next one's coming faster."
Eat it? He shuddered in disgust. No, this was his own offspring. Dead mechs were one thing, but to eat living offspring? He whined, distressed that the other thought so little of him, and climbed up onto the smaller berth. He curled protectively around the sparkling, who trilled and garbled at him.
Barbarians, these back-leg walkers were. He chittered at his sparkling and began a proper grooming.
\oOOo/
"How the frag did you manage to get out of carrying?" Sunstreaker ground out between waves of pushing the fourth and final sparkling out.
Ratchet ignored the question, putting all of his focus on the emerging sparkling. This one wasn't coming as quickly or as easily as the others and it was beginning to worry him. Sunstreaker was losing energy fast, becoming more lethargic with each push. Despite the line they'd put him on, he'd need energon and a good long rest when this was over. Aid was just finishing up with the third bitlet, warily settling it with the others in Bob's protective presence. The trio chirped and whistled at each other and their sire, who happily responded in kind. It was all rather adorable.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" Sunstreaker demanded, still tetchy despite his clear exhaustion.
"No."
"Liar," he groaned, and pushed at Ratchet's command. "You just don't want to answer the question."
"Not a good time, Sunny. Ask me again when everything's calmed down here."
"I'm asking now to try to get my mind off this slag. Fragging hurts and I'm tired. Talk to me."
Ratchet sighed. "I didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Didn't get out of carrying. It's just not his." He jerked his helm in Bob's direction. "Only one, and it's yours."
"Huh."
"That's all you can say? 'Huh'?"
Sunstreaker pulled a face. "You'll forgive me if I'm not thinking right. I've had a long and painful day, and it's not over yet. Figured if you were knocked up, it'd be by the mech you've fragged more. Insecticon sparklings show fast."
"They're multiples. Of course they show fast."
It was quiet for a while except for Ratchet's directions and Sunstreaker's heavy ventilations, occasionally punctuated by sharper noises of pain or discomfort. The sparkling was still moving slowly, but at least it was moving.
"Wanna do it again," the golden mech whispered.
Ratchet's helm snapped up. "Do what, exactly?"
"Carry. For Bob, for you. Sire another one on you. You think Bob can carry? Don't even know if he has a valve. Only ever seen his spike."
"Oh, he definitely has a valve; think the slagger was trying to entice me with it last time he fragged you. Probably safe to say he's got a gestation chamber, too."
Sunstreaker's optics flared. "Please tell me you took him up on it."
Ratchet flinched, but managed to suppress it enough that the golden mech didn't see. "No, I didn't."
Sunstreaker slumped. Then froze up as his lower frame seized and clenched. "Ratch?" His voice was small and possibly on the edge of panic.
"Shit. Sunny, no panicking." He checked the portable scanner and got nothing useful.
"The sparkling's stuck and Sunstreaker doesn't have the strength or energy to keep it moving any more," First Aid reported from the main diagnostic console.
"What!" Definitely on the edge of panic now.
"Sunny. Sunny, calm down. You're going to upset Bob and the sparklings. We'll get it out, don't worry."
"How?"
"Just calm down. Aid, get one of those blockers." The sensory block was set in place and activated. The lack of sensation from his lower half only caused more distress from Sunstreaker, and Ratchet had his hands full trying to alleviate what was shaping up to be a full-blown panic attack.
Shrill chirps and distressed squeaks filled the air as Bob clambered from the warming berth and over to Sunstreaker's. His optics were brightened to an almost lemon colour as he determined what was causing his mate such fear.
His white mate was far calmer, though he tried to forcibly remove Bob from the berth while rumbling noises at him that sounded remarkably like the ones the rest of the swarm found offensive. Bob wasn't about to go, though, and he clung stubbornly to the metal under his yellow mate, chitter-growling at both medics.
The problem wasn't uncommon among the Swarm. If his second mate would let go of him, it would be easy enough to correct. Well, if he'd just stop pulling on him, anyway. All he needed was enough time to reach in his mate's valve and carefully pull the last sparkling out. He'd helped with other carriers before he was outcast.
Ratchet heaved and Bob let go and they both spilled to the deck with a crash. Bob popped up and scrambled back to the berth between Sunstreaker's legs, using his secondary hands to find the valve's entrance then reach inside.
"You daffy bug," Ratchet grumbled as he picked himself up. Bob probably had the better hands for the job, though, as small as they were. Less of an intrusion.
The Insecticon stilled when he felt the small frame of the stuck sparkling. He reached further, tiny gentle pats letting him know how the sparkling was positioned. He turned it just a little with one hand, pushing it backward the tiniest bit to free it completely from the gestation chamber, and began to guide it out.
The sparkling was very still when it finally cleared Sunstreaker's frame. It still didn't move when Ratchet carefully took it from Bob. The Insecticon looked torn between staying with the sparkling or remaining behind to calm Sunstreaker while Ratchet took over care of the tiny frame. Eventually he decided to stay with his mate, curled up beside him as best as he could while Sunstreaker railed weakly at Ratchet and First Aid attempted to clean him up. Bob shifted and laid across his mate's chest, rumbling purr vibrating through him and into the golden mech. Gradually, Sunstreaker fell into blessed unconsciousness.
The sparkling in Ratchet's hands chirped, the sound barely audible, then again, louder. One little antenna wiggled, then both, and soon the medic had his hands full of wriggling, complaining sparkling. He turned toward Sunstreaker's berth with a relieved smile, but only Bob looked back with bright optics. His back half wiggled excitedly, but he didn't move from where he lay.
He watched the sparkling he held chew on the back of his finger with an exasperated smile and fetched the filtered energon. "Aid. When you're finished there, come help me feed these buglets."