"What was it like?" Cosmos asked.

Soundwave paused his lazy stroking of Cosmos' thigh, looking down at him in surprise. It took a few moments of that long look, something Cosmos had gotten used to, before he answered. "Carriage?"

Cosmos' visor flickered in surprise, but he nodded. "You always know what I'm going to ask."

At the berth's edge, Sonata lay curled in a ball, a thermoblanket tucked tightly around him. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had brought him some minutes ago, when assured by Soundwave that he and Cosmos were decent again. They were, of course, and Soundwave's newspark had been much too sleepy to notice anything amiss. (It had been funny, watching two little avians push a tiny mech onto the berth and arrange him so carefully, but Cosmos would never say that out loud.)

There had been no judgment from Soundwave's little cadre, not about Cosmos's night visits. Not to his face, anyway. He often found one of the birds watching him, but whether it was on Soundwave's orders or to gossip among themselves, he couldn't say. Probably a bit of both. Soundwave gave Cosmos' thigh a small squeeze, and Cosmos twitched. (If the others aboard the Ark could see this...ideally, they never would.)

"Difficult," Soundwave said finally. Normally he answered much faster. "Lonely. I built the frame myself." Sonata's optics flickered online, for just a moment, before he curled up tighter, back into recharge. Soundwave's edges seemed to soften when he looked his son's way. "The blue optics were a shock." His hand reached up, to stroke Cosmos' cheek. "Maybe not to a little Autobot."

Cosmos allowed another pleasant shiver at the touch. He had learned to enjoy these nights far too much. It almost made him want to keep hiding what he'd come tonight to discuss, before Soundwave's hands had been on him and they had been...rather distracted.

"Blue is more common on our side, yes," he said. "It's one time where you just take what Primus gives you."

For all the time Soundwave spent with Sonata, the baby strapped snugly to his front, Cosmos had rarely seen him up close. The cassettes were devoted sitters when the need arose, and Cosmos hadn't seen a shred of indignation about it from any of them. Even Rumble and Frenzy, who probably needed sitters themselves, made much of the little one. For now, in his carrier's presence, the newspark made a soft sound. Sleepily, he curled his fingers.

"Do you think a newspark should know their sire?" Cosmos asked softly. Soundwave didn't stiffen—but he wanted to, Cosmos was sure. It wasn't a question Soundwave was fond of.

"You are full of prying questions, little Autobot," Soundwave said. "And, no. Not if the sire isn't worthy of their offspring." His red visor glowed very bright, still looking down at Cosmos. It was always as if Soundwave could see everything within him, without even having to think about it, and it was as unsettling as it was fascinating.

(It had to be Megatron, anyway. Sonata's sire wouldn't be some random mech—not for baring his spark, not for bringing this second, tiny spark online. It didn't explain his interest in Cosmos, but...well. Not much did.)

Soundwave's hand rested on Cosmos's chest, and he jumped. Right away Soundwave had stiffened, but he pressed a finger to Cosmos's mask firmly. "Quietly. My son sleeps."

Cosmos's spark seemed to freeze as Soundwave's fingers spread, pressing against the spark chamber they'd only just closed back up. Soundwave, ever composed, even during interfacing, even facing down the angriest and largest of his new Decepticons, was shaking, almost imperceptibly. Cosmos would not have noticed it, if not for Soundwave's fingers clattering softly against his chest.

"How long?" Soundwave murmured. At Cosmos's tilted head, he his optics pulsed a darker red. "Your carriage. How long have you guessed?"

"W-what-" Right away, Cosmos was shrinking back from Soundwave's hand. "Carriage?! What makes you think I'm carrying?"

"Your questions. Your worry." Soundwave pressed his hand down, just a fraction harder. "How your spark hums like new." He snatched his hand back suddenly, as if he'd been burned, and right away he'd hopped off the berth. Fast enough for Cosmos not to be able to rush after him, so the berth shook with the relief of pressure. Sonata made a small sound, and Cosmos's hands reached out partway, then stopped. Soundwave had never let him touch his son.

Soundwave had a scanner (medical-grade, expensive looking) pressed against Cosmos before he could say another word. "I am a not a doctor," he said, his words suddenly a rush, "and neither are you. But this scanner—this one found Sonata, and it will find—ah. There."

Cosmos felt his tanks churn. Not that Soundwave gave him much time to stew on his feelings, as he pulled Cosmos close and pressed his audial against his chest.

"Yes, there they are," Soundwave said, voice suddenly very soft. Cosmos seemed frozen to the berth. "I hear you. I hear you, little one."

"Soundwave-" Cosmos began. He finally paused, looking up slowly. "I was going to say...that I thought I might be carrying. Because it's yours—of course it's yours, who else would I be interfacing with?" He laughed out the last part, on the edge of hysterical. The whole situation was hysterical. "So you had to know. What should we do?"

"Prepare, of course," Soundwave said. Again, he spread his fingers out over Cosmos's chestplate. "The frame cannot be standard, of course—a mech your size will produce a very small spark. There is the matter of expenses, care..." He seemed to regard Cosmos carefully. "What else would we do?"

He was speaking so much. Normally Soundwave was so careful with his words, as careful as he was in all things, but something had stirred in him to make him think less straight. With Sonata, maybe he hadn't been able to share that excitement. Cosmos sat up, leaning against the wall.

"I was only thinking...I don't have a lot of experience with this," Cosmos said. "Most people don't, though you do, which is lucky, and..."

"I learned," Soundwave said softly. His hand reached up, to tip Cosmos's face towards Soundwave's. "You will too. And," he added, gesturing to the newspark still peacefully recharging, "you have an example to learn from."

Cosmos hadn't thought he even had the right to come near Sonata—no one else did. His visor dimmed, and right away Soundwave had moved closer.

"I will not terminate," Soundwave said suddenly. Cosmos nearly jumped. How had he known-

"I plead with you," Soundwave said, pressing his palm again to Cosmos's chest. "Do not leave. Not to do such a thing. We value life, here on Sanctuary. Decepticons value life. Whatever the Autobots may have taught you, Cosmos, I promise you that."

He hung his head, suddenly ashamed. Carriages happened, of course. Rarely, but the medics had all done their share of terminations. If an Autobot wished, badly, to keep their offspring, they were taken aside and encouraged to end it before it was impossible. Wars were no place for sparklets, especially when most didn't know a thing about them anyway. A few chose neutral worlds instead, with mechanical races that raised their own offspring. Cosmos was unsure of what happened to the rest.

Those were all stories, anyway. He had never met a carrier, not before all this. Cosmos brought his small hand up to cover Soundwave's.

"It's only that..." Cosmos began, clearing his vocalizer to find the words. "It's only that I thought you might not want another sparklet here on Sanctuary. With Sonata so young, and me being a little Autobot."

Soundwave was silent. After his excitable state only moments before, Cosmos felt a sharp, sudden wave of sick terror. Maybe implying that he wouldn't want his own offspring was the ultimate insult—oh, Primus, especially after Sonata's obvious lack of a sire.

Instead, both of Soundwave's hands rested on Cosmos's face. He nearly squeaked as Soundwave came forward, to press their helms gently together.

"I have spent a long time causing things to fall apart," Soundwave said softly. Cosmos felt frozen. "Far from the Decepticon way. I am trying to recreate that here, in this peaceful place, but...to create life, little Autobot. It helps."

Maybe Cosmos should have expected this. Spending time with Soundwave had caused him to start planning for the unexpected, for the character who lurked under Soundwave's exterior. The mech had more surprises than cassettes (there were more than the handful here, on missions or long gone), so he ought to have just tacked this up with them.

He would have answered, but for one of Sonata's small sounds turning into a cry. Right away Soundwave sat up, and had turned to pull the fussing, wriggling newspark into his arms. He always treated his son with great gentleness—something necessary for such thin, easily bruised plating, but another of Soundwave's arsenal of surprises nonetheless. Gentle and Soundwave were not words that went together in your average Cybertronian's processor.

"'m tired," Sonata mumbled, once he had been settled. Cosmos leaned forward in surprise. He had seen Sonata toddle (from Buzzsaw, to Laserbeak, then to Soundwave's leg), but not yet heard him speak.

"Then you must recharge," Soundwave replied, a tinge of amusement in his voice. "We are doing the same."

Sonata's wide blue optics gave Cosmos one look, before he turned towards Soundwave's chestplate. He hiccuped out another sob, as if being awake was the worst thing he'd ever been through, and Cosmos suppressed a laugh. They were funny, babies. Even from a distance you noticed.

When Soundwave dimmed the lights all the way down, and settled in, he pulled Cosmos in against him. Cosmos didn't protest, though he was surprised. If Sonata was recharging here too, he normally bid Soundwave goodnight and hightailed it out, and had never heard protests about it. Perhaps being a carrier too made things different. The word family crossed Cosmos's mind, and he swiftly stamped it out.

"Goodnight, Cosmos," Soundwave said softly. Cosmos shivered—he was so more used to little Autobot by now. "I rise early, but you ought to sleep late."

Would he expect him to babysit Sonata? Probably not—if Soundwave didn't have him, a cassette did. He had never been this close to the sparklet, close enough that Sonata's little shoulder brushed Cosmos's arm.

It would do him and the spark no good to dwell. Recharge, he told himself. It'll be easier tomorrow.

That was a comforting lie, but it wouldn't help him sleep. Not tonight.

If you clicked on this, congratulations, this is what I like to call "rarepair hell" and it is a warm place without shame. I hope you enjoyed this short piece-will probably not add more, but it was a nice thing to write about the world's silliest exRiD ship.