Okay, so I randomly thought of this while I was sitting in speech class, waiting to give my final.
Here's the little facts you might wanna know.
1)Killswitch is totally an OC. Technically speaking, there wasn't a Lord High Protectorate before Megatron, but I wanted there to be one, so... behold the almighty power of a writer!
2) Before there were the Decepticons, Megatron's "army" was simply called the Defense Force and their sole duty was to defend Cybertron from the attacks of armies of other worlds, and this force only had fifteen members, not including Megatron. Of the mechs mentioned in this fic, Jazz, Prowl, and Stealthdrop were the only mechs not actually in the Defense Force. There were no medical personnel in the Defense Force. These mechs and femmes were added solely for the purpose of being my own amusement. Happy joy, right?
3) This is pre-war
4) This is really fluffy. Jus' sayin.
All-American Girl
song by Carrie Underwood
Since the day they got married,
he'd been prayin' for a little baby boy…
Captain Ironhide grinned as he spun his sparkmate around, holding her close and being careful of the new life she had just told him she was carrying. His spark soared with unbridled joy.
"A sparkling!" Ironhide exclaimed, still at a loss for words. He was going to be a father. Primus! He, a war-hardened, cannon-toting, beast of a mech-wrecker, was going to be a father. He smiled down at Chromia as he set her on her pedes. "It will be a mech," he said confidently.
He was begging Primus for a mechling.
Someone he could take fishing,
throw the football, and be his pride and joy…
Ironhide smile softly as he polished the mini-cannons he had just finished making. They held little shots of de-energized plasma that were completely harmless and useless to older mechs. He couldn't deny that his thoughts were constantly centered on his femme and the mechling he would have soon.
What would his mech be like? Would he prefer racing? It was the pastime of the younger mechs in this generation. Perhaps he would enjoy weapons training, like his mech-creator. Ironhide already had no doubts that the mech would make a huge splash in the Cybertronian defense force. Ironhide would have to practice his puffed-up I-know-my-son-is-the-best look.
The sound of a shattering energon cube brought Ironhide from his thoughts and to his pedes, and Chromia's hesitant voice sent him into a full-out sprint.
"Uhhh, Ironhide? It's time."
"Primus!" the black-armored mech exclaimed as he rushed to his mate's side. "I've got everything in subspace," he continued as he scooped her up into his arms. Chromia squeaked in surprise when Ironhide suddenly dashed out of their quarters and barreled toward the medbay.
"Don't panic," he added as an afterthought, just as they passed the rec room. Multiple heads popped out of the room, and a klik later, a shout of "Ironhide and Chromia's mechling is coming!" rose in the rec room. A cheer rose, and a klik later, there was a stampede of excited mechs following after the eager couple.
"Hey! All mechs in the waiting room!" Flare-up, the medbay nurse, snapped, directing Ironhide to a berth while comming Fixit. The other mechs hesitated, but swiftly obeyed when Fixit arrived with a large arsenal of wrenches. Ironhide joined those waiting outside and was ambushed with congratulations. He was seated beside the Lord High Protectorate himself as they awaited news from the medbay.
He could already see him holdin' that trophy,
takin' his team to state,
but when a nurse walked in with a little pink blanket,
all those big dreams changed.
"Hide? C'n I meet mah bestie yet?" a small mech's voice asked. Attention shifted to the waiting room door, and smiles rose at the sight of the hesitant youngling standing there. Ironhide had made it no secret that he was planning on having a mechling, so Jazz, a mech who was just out of his sparklinghood, had decided, quite verbally, that this new sparkling was going to be his best friend. Jazz was quite tired of being the youngest and was more than willing to show this new mechlet the ropes of being the youngest bot in the military.
"Soon, scraplet," Ironhide promised. Prowl stepped into the room, lifting his creation into his arms as he moved past him. Jazz purred and rubbed a hand affectionately against his opi's chevron as he waited in silent impatience.
A hissing door grabbed all attention, and every pair of optics swiveled to Flare-up as she walked out of the medbay, and wriggling and clicked pink bundle held gently in her arms. Ironhide's spark dropped in disappointment.
It was a femme. No mech.
"Ironhide," Flare-up began, stopping in front of the black mech-wrecker, "you have a little femling." She placed the pink bundle in Ironhide's thick arms and stepped back.
Silence. Not a bot spoke. Every bot knew about Ironhide's strong desire for a mech, and not a bot knew what he was thinking or feeling. So silence filled the room, broken only by the curious clicks and squeaks that rose from the infant in the captain's arms. Ironhide stared in awe at the tiny being in his hands. Her baby blue optics were locked with his as she fingered the edge of her blanket.
He was at a loss for words. She was so beautiful. His little femme. His little femme. He stared at her, doing nothing but showering with his love through their brand new bond. The silence was suddenly broken, though, by a loud whisper from the mechling in Prowl's arms.
"C'n I see mah new bestie now?" Chuckles rose from the surrounding mechs, causing little Jazz to scowl. He didn't see why wanting to meet his best friend was in any way humorous. A curious squeak rose from the blanket, and Jazz grinned before clicking back at her. He was still young enough to understand basic sparkling Cybertronian, though he preferred to use adult Cybertronian like his opi and Megatron did. The femlet had greeted him, so he had replied. There were a few beats of silence before a long string of clicks and twitters rose from the pink bundle.
"Yep. Mah bestie," Jazz said proudly, puffing up his chest plating haughtily. He was certain all these other mechs were insanely jealous. Then he paused. "Wha's 'er function?" The room suddenly roared with laughter, gaining a surprised squeak from the newly created femme and a defensive, semi-whiny "Whaaat?" from the mechlet.
"Designation, my mech," Prowl corrected gently. "Her function is to survive and grow."
"And amuse us with her sparkling antics," a pre-adult youngling by the name of Megatron interjected as he moved to Killswitch's side. Killswitch, the reigning Lord High Protectorate, smiled at his growing ward.
"Well, come on, then, Captain. What is her designation to be?" Killswitch prodded as he peered at the sparkling.
"Sparkshot," Ironhide replied with a gentle smile. It wasn't quite the name they planned, but it would work. Chromia had expressed her desire to have the word "spark" in their creation's designation, and Ironhide just wanted something in there to show that he wasn't a complete softspark. It was more of a mech's name, but it would do.
"It is a strong name," Killswitch said with a sagely nod. Ironhide smiled at his High Protectorate with a smile.
"Yes. My Sparkshot," Ironhide crooned to his femlet. Said femlet squealed joyfully at her father's voice.
"An' mah bestie," Jazz added proudly.
And now, he's wrapped around her finger.
She's the center of his whole world.
And his heart belongs to that sweet little
beautiful, wonderful, perfect, all-American girl.
"Jazz, c'mon! We gotta ascape the monster!" a little femme's voice squealed.
"Hurry! 'E's comin'!" a mech's voice added. A beastly roar could be heard, causing the two to let out peals of excited laughter. The rec room ceased activity as two younglings came bursting into the room. The black-clad femme, just a few vorns out of her sparklinghood, led the way. The silver mech, a pre-adult youngling who had just begun his training as a saboteur, was following close behind her. Following close behind them was the future Lord High Protectorate. The soldiers in the rec room knew without a doubt that Megatron was just humoring the two younglings. Though Jazz, who was showing great promise in his training, could possibly get away, little Sparkshot's short and slightly unsteady legs wouldn't stand a chance against the military prince's long and powerful strides. Then again, it was only around the resident femling that the prince seemed almost normal, so perhaps she was safe from his constantly high temper. He had grown much too tempermental in the opinion of most of the mechs on staff.
"Run, run, run, Jazzy!" Sparkshot squealed, rushing past the seated warriors in her dash to the other entrance on the opposite side of the rec room. She glanced back at Jazz for a klik, and suddenly crashed into something hard. She bounced back and landed on her skidplate, holding her servos to her helm. The room went silent as her optics grew wet.
"Oh, slag," a single mech swore as the femling's military red optics went wide in surprise at the pain radiating from the dent on her helm. She sniffled once and promptly started bawling. Not a single mech stayed in their seat as they rushed forward to comfort Ironhide's youngling. Primus forbid the trigger-happy mech find her crying in their presence. The large group of mechs circled around her, each trying to fight over who would stop her tears.
"I should do it!"
"No, I should!"
"She's known me the longest!"
"You'd probably make it worse!"
All the while, Sparkshot kept crying, wanting nothing more than for the pain to go away. Gentle claws lifted her up and cuddled her close to a warm chassis. Silence broke over the room, and all optics turned to Killswitch as he gently rocked the youngling in his arms. The same mech that slaughtered Cybertron's enemies without mercy changed so swiftly whenever he was around young bots. He had been the same with Jazz, and he was, without a doubt, the children's favorite caretaker.
"Megatron, Jazz," Killswitch called out. The two mechs appeared from the crowd. "Take Sparkshot to Fixit to get her helm looked at. Ironhide is already there. Jazz, I believe you are due in the training arena." Jazz's optics widened considerably.
"Slag!" he exclaimed. He spun on his heel, flicking down his self-proclaimed "cool-mech sabotage visor" as he rushed to the training arena. Killswitch shook his helm in amusement as he handed the whimpering black femling over to his ward. Megatron cradled her to his chassis gingerly. With a nod to his predecessor, he turned and moved in the direction of the medbay.
"Meggy?" she whispered. Megatron smiled gently and looked down at her. Bright red optics stared up at him with child-like hero-worship. "What'd I run into?"
"Brawl's leg," Megatron replied with a laugh.
"Oh," Sparkshot replied with a frown. "His leg hurts," she informed him as she snuggled up to his chassis, listening to his strong spark and deep chuckles. Megatron smiled fondly at the femling. She was the only bot worth his time in this Primus-forsaken base, and he loved spending his time with her. Then again, who wouldn't like spending their time with a femling who thought you were the best thing since sweetened energon? Spending time with Sparkshot meant multiple compliments and statements of uncontained awe, and when he was with her, he got to feel like an older brother, something he never got with Optimus, seeing as the lucky slagger was a full vorn older than him.
"Meggy?" Sparkshot asked, grabbing Megatron's attention.
"Yes, sweetspark?" he replied softly.
"We'll be friends forever, right?" A gentle rumble from deep in his chassis made Sparkshot vibrate on his chest and giggle.
"I don't know. Forever is a long time, and very few things last forever," Megatron replied to her innocent question.
"Oh… will you tell me when we can't be friends anymore?" she questioned. Megatron frowned. He would have to be careful answering this. His master and mentor, the Fallen Prime, was currently explaining how he could possibly take power from his weak and noble brother. There was a lot of life lost. Still, he could be careful to keep her alive. He might even be able to turn her to his side.
"Yes, Sparky. I will inform you when the time comes," Megatron promised as he approached the medbay.
"Okay," Sparkshot replied as she rested her helm against the black chest armor. The medbay doors opened, and immediately, Ironhide was there, lifting Sparkshot into his servos. "Opi!" she squealed.
"Now, now, sparklet," Ironhide said in a playfully chiding voice. "What did you do to get yourself hurt this time?"
"I ran into Brawl's foot!" she informed him cheerfully. Ironhide gave a snort and handed her over to Fixit.
"Well, doc, she's all yours. Thanks, Megatron."
"No problem, Ironhide. I must go speak with my mentor," Megatron replied. They didn't need to know which mentor he was planning to visit. The last thing they needed to know was that the Fallen Prime was still very much alive. He needed the Fallen to help him conquer the world.
Sixteen short years later,
She was falling for the senior football star.
Sparkshot waited impatiently for Jazz to leave the training arena. He was at the top of his class, and he showed so much promise. Because of this, Stealthdrop had decided to start teaching him the advance things. Sadly, though, he had to do this once he finished with the lesson for the rest of the class. Needless to say, Sparkshot did not enjoy waiting outside the training arena for breems on end, yet she found that it was worth it when Jazz walked out. Speaking of which…
Jazz slumped out of the room, optics dimmed in exhaustion and coolant covering his protoform. He needed a nice long shower, then he was planning on collapsing onto his berth and not getting up for an orn. He was turning toward the washracks when an angelic voice called out his name.
"Hey, Jazz!" Sparkshot called out, smiling brightly as she trotted to Jazz's side. She frowned when she reached him. "Oh, you look tired," she murmured. Jazz managed a saucy grin.
"Naw, I jus' need a showuh, then we c'n hang," he replied. Sparkshot shook her helm at him.
"No, you need to rest. I don't want you to be this tired at tomorrow's cession," she admonished. "You shower, and I'll meet you at your quarters with some energon. You look like you could use it." Jazz noticed the blue hue that grew slightly under her cheek plating and grinned at her.
"Sho'e. Mee'cha there," Jazz agreed. Sparkshot gave him another dazzling smile before walking off toward the rec room. He watched her dreamily as she walked away up until she disappeared. He turned then and walked into the mech's side of the washracks. He sighed lightly as he turned on the shower and stepped into the waterfall of cleaning solution.
"Oooooh, I heard that, Jazz!" a voice came from beside him. Jazz glanced over at Swindle with narrowed optics. "I bet you've found some femme, haven't ya? Only a pretty femme would drag out a long sigh like that."
"Or a long trainin' cession wi' Stealthdrop," Jazz said flatly. Swindle was one of the few mechs Jazz despised. He was always searching for a way to get into other bots' business to make a profit for himself. Jazz, being an ops bot, automatically disliked nosy bots. They put him on edge.
"Ah, so you're not interested in Sparkshot?" Swindle asked nonchalantly. Jazz's engine revved irritably, and Swindle held up his servos in surrender. "Whoa, now, mech. I'm just wanting to know which femme's available and which one isn't."
"Sparkshot is taken," Jazz snapped, his red optics flashing angrily.
"There, now. No harm done. Ya know, I could get you some nice pictures of her. Something to hang over your recharge berth and give ya good recharge projections," Swindle offered with a gleam in his optic.
"If I need pictures of my femme, I'll take them myself, slagger," Jazz snarled. He stepped from the shower flow and moved to the drying room. He stepped underneath the flow of warm air and fought back the comfortable smile that tried to rise on his faceplates. Once he was certain he was dry, he moved from the room and all but dashed down the hall in the direction of his room. He slowed to a suave saunter as he approached his hallway, and he pulled up a charming grin.
She was waiting at his doorway with two cubes of energon. She turned when she felt his energy signal and gave him another brilliant smile. Jazz almost missed a step when his processor faltered and spark rate shot up. Sparkshot stepped back as he pressed his passcode into the keypad. The door hissed open, and Jazz motioned for Sparkshot to move in first. She grinned as she walked in.
"Not very big," she giggled as she looked around the small quarters. He was lucky that he didn't have to share. He had a single berth, a few shelves, a waste receptacle, and a chair and desk. The shelves were filled with random odds and ends that would make a packrat green with envy, and the desk held a single photo holo-block that was currently offline, but Sparkshot knew it only held pictures of her and Jazz together through the vorns.
"Nah, I'm a grunt still. Give meh a few vorns, an' I'll 'ave a room the size a' ya creators' room," Jazz boasted. Sparkshot sent him a grin over her shoulder as she approached the desk.
"Yeah, good luck with that," she said cheekily. Jazz crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight as he smiled at her.
"Jus' you wait. B'fo'e long, I'll b' the bes' saboteur on the team. I'll be the bot they send on all the missions," he continued. He paused, though, when he saw Sparkshot's face. "Hey, now. Wha's wrong?" he asked as he approached his best friend and current love interest. She sighed as she set the energon cubes on his cluttered desk.
"Jazz, what am I gonna do when you graduate training?" Sparkshot questioned, her back still turned. Jazz frowned.
"Hopef'lly, ya finish yo'r own trainin'. Ya gonna be the bes' sharpshootuh, righ'?" Jazz replied. Sparkshot's shoulder's drooped a little.
"I'll barely ever see you. I'll be out on the front, and you'll be behind the scenes," Sparkshot claimed lowly. Something about her being on the frontline made Jazz's spark shudder.
"I though' you were trainin' wi' a snipuh rifle," Jazz questioned.
"Jazz, there are going to be battles where I won't have any sniping vantage spots. I'm gonna have to fight on the front eventually. Skywarp is gonna start training me in an orn on battlefront battling."
"No," Jazz whispered, feeling a keen sense of foreboding. She couldn't start fighting on the front. He wouldn't be there to guard her.
"I'll be fine, Jazz. I just don't like that I won't see you as often," Sparkshot said as she turned to face her friend. Jazz grinned.
"Then how 'bout we hang out next solar cycle? We c'n go t' Iacon fo' the day," Jazz offered. Sparkshot's optics widened.
"But you have training!" she exclaimed. Jazz just kept grinning.
"Slag tha'. I need a vacation anyways. Ain't nobot gonna miss us," Jazz said jovially as he wrapped Sparkshot in his arms. "It'll be fun."
"I don't wanna get you in trouble," Sparkshot stated hesitantly. Jazz shook his helm as he held her out at arm's length.
"Femme, jus' agree. It'll be fun," Jazz promised. Sparkshot allowed a small smile.
"Okay. If you're sure," she agreed. Jazz nodded and pulled her into his arms one last time.
"Good. Now go ge' s'me recharge, an' don' tell anybot. I don' wan' somebot tellin' on us," Jazz ordered. Sparkshot grinned.
"Course not! See you next solar cycle," Sparkshot said as she moved to the door. Jazz nodded.
"Be here early. The las' thing we need is Ir'nhide to catch us."
"True. See ya."
"See ya." Sparkshot left, and Jazz couldn't help the dreamy smile that rose to his lips as he dropped onto his berth. He would have to make next solar cycle perfect for her. He had to show her how great being bonded to him would be. After all, the second he got the permission from Ironhide, he was going to ask her for her spark forever. The dreamy smile remained on his lips as he dropped into a peaceful recharge.
Before you knew he was dropping passes,
skipping practice just to spend more time with her.
"Jazz, this is so cool," Sparkshot exclaimed as she looked around Iacon Square. Shops and small restaurants filled the surrounding area, and street vendors advertised their wares as she passed them, tempting her with beautiful metals and colorful paints. Jazz followed behind her, ignoring the shocked looks they were receiving from the blue-opticed mechs around them. It was no secret that Iacon was mainly a political and science city-state. Therefore, it was no surprise that Jazz and Sparkshot were the only bots with red optics, rather than the yellow of politicians or the blue of scientists. Military bots were common knowledge in Iacon, but they were rarely seen there, as most spent their time in Kaon, Tarn, or Vos, where the price of living was slightly lower.
"Jazz, look at these!" Sparkshot exclaimed, pulling her crush toward a street vendor selling cybercats and petrohounds. Jazz didn't miss the amused and envious looks from the surrounding mechs as they watched his femme drag him around, and he saw the jealous looks from the femmes around him that wished their mechs looked as good as him and were as tolerant of their whims as he appeared to be.
"Those are nice, Sparky, bu' ya opi would shoot meh if I bough' ya one," Jazz claimed with a grin as he peered at the cybercats.
"I'd protect you," Sparkshot promised with a smile, wrapping her servos around his neck as she looked up at him. Sparkshot had inherited her mother's height, even if it was balanced out a bit by her opiluk's height. She stood only four feet taller than her danniluk at thirteen feet, but that meant she was shorter than Jazz, something the mech greatly enjoyed. However, in instances like this, where everybot in the vicinity was over twenty feet tall, their shared shortness became a nuisance.
"C'mon, Spark. Le's ge' s'me sweeten energon. I 'eard 'bout a nice li'l café," Jazz said, flicking down his visor to hide his semi-dazed optics.
"Yeah! I haven't had sweetened energon in a vorn!" Jazz chuckled at her exaggeration. "But are you sure we can afford it?"
"Don' worry 'bout tha'. I go' ev'rythin' we need," Jazz assured her, wrapping an arm around her waist when he saw another mech eyeing her form. "Sides, we gotta go back soon, so we might as well make it worth it." Sparkshot smiled at him and allowed herself to be pulled away.
The coach said, "Hey, son, what's your problem?
Tell me, have you lost your mind?"
Daddy said, "You'll lose your free ride to college.
Boy, you better tell her goodbye."
Jazz and Sparkshot giggled as they moved through the Defense Force base towards Sparkshot's room. Jazz knew that, as a gentlemech, he should see her to her room, so that was their first stop. Then he planned to go by Ironhide and Chromia's quarters to ask for permission to bond with their creation.
"I had fun, Jazz," Sparkshot claimed as they approached her quarters. Jazz grinned as they stopped in front of her door and faced each other. "It was worth it."
"Tha's good. I was aimin' ta please," Jazz murmured as he dropped his forehelm to rest on hers. His visor flicked up so that he could look into those beautiful red optics without obstruction. Primus, she was so beautiful. "Spark? There was one mo'e thing I wanted ta tell ya." Sparkshot waited for a klik.
"Yes?" she prodded. Unfortunately, Jazz's processor had momentarily frozen. How did he tell her? Should he drop to a knee? No, that was for asking for her spark. Should he recite some corny poem? Femmes liked that, right? Slag slag slag!
"Umm… Jazz?" she asked hesitantly.
" 'M in love wit'cha," Jazz admitted in a rush. Then he grimaced. Not quite what he was thinking. Why was all that smooth thinking disappeared when he most nee–
All thoughts stopped when Sparkshot launched herself into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck. His wrapped around her on instinct as he felt her lip components press to his own. Once again, thoughts disappeared when he realized what was happening. She was kissing him! He only had a klik of thought before she forced his thoughts to fritz again by saying four small one-syllable words.
"I love you, too." Jazz gave a happy whoop before bringing their lips back together. Jazz and Sparkshot separated and stared at each other for a few kliks.
"I'll ask your opi for permission to bond tomorrow," Jazz promised. Sparkshot grinned as she keyed in her passcode.
"This is amazing, Jazz. I can't wait to tell Opiluk and Danniluk!" Sparkshot exclaimed as she pulled Jazz into another kiss.
"Well, since I'm here, why don't ya just tell me now?" came a furious voice from inside Sparkshot's room. Jazz and Sparkshot jumped away from each other as they looked into her room. Ironhide sat in the middle of the room in Sparkshot's desk chair facing the door, polishing his left plasma cannon. "In fact, let's have a nice long talk about this," Ironhide added, as he subspaced his polishing rag and onlined both cannons.
"Oh, slag," Jazz muttered. Ironhide growled as he stood.
" 'Oh, slag' is right. Now where the frag have you been with my daughter, you pitspawn," Ironhide roared.
"Opi, this is unnecessary. Jazz and I simply went to Iacon for the cycle," Sparkshot interceded. "And we've decided to bond," she added, glancing over at Jazz.
"Like Pit you will! What do you think Megatron will say when he finds out that you two skipped training last cycle?" Ironhide demanded. "In fact, Jazz, I believe Stealthdrop and Prowl are waiting for you in Stealthdrop's office. You are dismissed."
"But, Sparkshot an' I –"
"You are dismissed!" Ironhide repeated with a fair bit of acid in his voice. "Sparkshot and I need to have a spark-to-spark," he snarled. Jazz pulled Sparkshot close and whispered, "Ev'rythin' will work ou'. I promise," in her audio receptor. Sparkshot nodded and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before he left.
"Now, femme," Ironhide said in a more gentle voice once Jazz was gone and the door was close. "Tell me what's going on."
-o0o-
"Jazz, this is not like you! Sneaking off base with Sparkshot! Do you think at all? Did you not consider her punishment as well as your own?" Prowl demanded, irritated by his creation's lack of responsibility. Stealthdrop nodded in agreement.
"What's your problem, kid?" Stealthdrop asked. "You show so much potential, and you choose to waste it like this? Have you lost your processor?"
"'Ey, I got off base withou' getting' caught," Jazz said, trying to brush off the accusations. Prowl scowled at him.
"Jazz, Stealthdrop has said it himself. You have so much potential, but this recklessness is going to keep that potential at bay, and you will lose any chance in the commanding ranks of the army. Jazz, I think it's time you told Sparkshot 'goodbye'," Prowl stated harshly. Now, it was Jazz's turn to scowl.
"Slag, no!" he snapped.
"Jazz, list –"
"No! I ain't gonna list'n t' you tell meh wha' I c'n do wi' mah life. It's mah life!" Jazz glared at Stealthdrop and Prowl in turn. "Now you list'n ta meh. I love Sparkshot, an' I'm gonna bond with 'er. You two can't stop tha', compute?" With that, Jazz spun in his foot and left his two superiors behind with shocked expressions that slowly melted into easy smiles. Jazz wasn't a youngling anymore, and neither was Sparkshot.
"Does this make you feel old?" Stealthdrop asked in a flat voice.
"Like you wouldn't believe."
But now, he's wrapped around her finger,
She's the center of his whole world.
And his heart belongs to that sweet little
Beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American
Jazz grinned as Sparkshot moved around the furniture in their new quarters. Again. The war had begun, and the enemy never ceased to shock them. Megatron. Their best friend, Megatron, the mech who was supposed to defend all of Cybertron, had started a war against the science division of Cybertron. He had started a war against his own brother, and he had announced the war only joors after Jazz and Sparkshot's bonding ceremony. Sparkshot and Jazz had changed over to the Autobots almost immediately, along with Stealthdrop, Prowl, Ironhide, Chromia, and almost every medical bot. Jazz and Sparkshot had applied for combined quarters immediately, and they had received it with multiple taunts and plenty of teasing. Jazz wasn't quite certain what had caused Sparkshot's sudden restlessness, but it was beginning to irritate him. Sure, he didn't mind change, but she had moved his music files. His music files! What was worse, she reorganized them! Why, Primus? WHY!
At the moment, Jazz was waiting for her to finish moving the couch to the spot right in front of their holoprojector that they never used. Jazz wanted nothing more than to help her move it, but the last time he had tried to help, Sparkshot had launched into a long spiel on how a femme didn't always need a mech to do every little thing, and how she was strong enough to move the furniture by herself. Then, she had proceeded to threaten him with sleeping in the rec room if he didn't stop insulting her strength or lack thereof. Jazz had wisely stepped back and resumed his writing his report on a recent mission in Kaon.
"Jazz?" Sparkshot called over. Jazz looked up and immediately shot to his pedes. Sparkshot was currently curled up on the couch, tucking herself into a fetal position as her face contorted in pain.
"Swee'spark!" he exclaimed as he knelt down to where she was. Sparkshot whimpered as she held her fists against her chassis. "Jus' a klik, mah spark."
::Ratchet, ge' ta mah quarters now! S'methin's wrong wi' Sparkshot.:: -Jazz
::Give me some symptoms. I'm on my way.:: -Ratchet
"Swee'spark, wha' hurts?" Jazz asked gently. Sparkshot vented heavily as her cooling fans flicked on.
"Spark," Sparkshot whined. "Jazz, my spark hurts."
::Slag! Ratchet, it's 'er spark!:: -Jazz
::Get your afts down to my medbay now, and make sure you don't jostle her too much!:: - Ratchet
"C'mon, swee'spark. I need ya ta be prepared, cuz I gotta lift ya up," Jazz murmured. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and an arm underneath her knees.
"No!" Sparkshot screeched in pain when her sparkmate lifted her up. Coolant rose in her optics as she curled into Jazz's warm grip. "It hurts. It hurts," she whimpered, coolant flowing from her optics.
"I know, swee'spark, but I gotta get'cha t' Ratchet," Jazz said in an apologetic voice as he rushed from the room. "Move it! Clear a way! Injured femme an' sparkmate comin' through!" Jazz yelled as he barreled down the hall. The Autobots in the hall parted, and optics locked onto Captain Jazz as he rushed past.
"Jazz, what's wrong?" Ironhide exclaimed as they rushed past the firing range. Jazz ignored him and kept moving. Ratchet was waiting for them when they moved into the medbay.
"Set her here," Ratchet ordered. Sparkshot cried out again when Jazz laid her out on the berth for Ratchet to examine. "There, now, sparklet," Ratchet crooned as he scanned her spark chamber.
"It hurts," she whimpered.
"I know, I –" Ratchet suddenly broke off. He looked at Jazz and suddenly broke into a smile. "Captain Jazz, you don't need to be worried about Sparkshot. Leave her here for a breem so I can give her some painkillers. It appears this pain is coming from the sparkling that just completed the budding process off of her own spark and transferred to her sparkling chamber."
"You mean…?" Jazz asked slowly, his optics wide and shocked.
"Yes, Jazz."
And when they got married and decided to have one of their own…
"Yahaaaa!" Jazz whooped as he dashed down the hall toward the rec room. The second he moved into the rec room, which was currently filled to the brim with weary mechs, every pair of optics turned to face the silver saboteur, who was grinning like he had just single-handedly won the war.
"IMMA HAVE A SPARKLIN'!" he announced. There was a beat of silence before a roar rose from the rec room. Jazz grinned as he accepted the congratulations from the multiple mechs and femmes around him. Optimus shared a private smile with Elita-One before they rose to congratulate the smaller mech. They were hoping for a sparkling of their own soon.
She said, "Be honest. Tell me what you want,"
And he said, "Honey, you ought'a know.
Jazz smiled as he rested his helm over his femme's spark chamber as they laid comfortably on their berth. He could hear two distinct thrums: one that belonged to his precious femme and one that belonged to his unborn femme. Yes, he wanted a femme.
"Jazz, darling?" Sparkshot murmured, rubbing a hand idly over his antenna. Jazz's engine purred lightly at the gentle attention.
"Yes, my spark?" Jazz hummed.
"Be honest. What do you want? Mech or femme?" Jazz smiled lifted himself up on his forearms to peer down at her.
"Mah spark, ya ought'a know by now," he claimed in a sweet, teasing voice. "Sweet, li'l, beautiful. One jus' like you."
Sweet, little, beautiful.
Oh, one just like you."
Oh, beautiful, wonder, perfect all-American.
"Move it! Pregnant femme comin' through!" Jazz screeched as he barreled down the halls of the Autobot base. He rushed past the rec room as he yelled for mechs in the hall to get out of his way. A few helms popped out of the rec room. The helms disappeared, and a klik later, a yell of "Spark's having her sparkling!" rose from the rec room, followed by an excited cheer. An excited stampede of Autobots rushed after the eager couple as everyone made their way to the medbay.
"Hey, hey!" Moonracer exclaimed as she shoved the errant Autobots back. "Sparkling ejection is not a thing for mechs to deal with! Any mech that doesn't have a medic's certificate, scat!"
"But –" Jazz began.
"Get," Moonracer snapped. Every mech shuffled into the waiting room as Jazz set Sparkshot onto a berth in the medbay. He gave her a reassuring smile before backing into the waiting room. Jazz suffered through the slaps on the back, the lewd comments, and the congratulations as he shuffled around anxiously. Primus, was sparkling ejection supposed to take this long? Something wasn't wrong, was it? He hummed nervously to himself as he checked his internal chronometer. Primus! It had only been a breem? It felt like a slaggin' vorn!
"Jazz, my friend, come have a seat," Optimus called from where he was seated. Jazz glanced apprehensively at the medbay door before abandoning his restless pacing. "Calm yourself, Captain. She is fine."
"I know, it's jus'… A sparklin'. Imma have… a sparklin'." Jazz gave Prime a smile filled with child-like wonder. "Imma be a fathuh, Prime. A fathuh."
"Indeed, and a great father you will make," Optimus said graciously.
"An' mah li'l femme will b' the bes' a' the bes'! I'm tellin' ya, she's gonna b' the strongest femme 'ere!"
"I'm sure she will, Jazz." Jazz turned his attention back to the medbay door just as Moonracer walked through it. Her arms held a lively pink bundle that clicked and chirped loudly as it wiggled around.
"Yeah, this is Jazz's child, alright," Moonracer grumbled as she held the pink bundle out to the captain. Jazz lifted the bundle with care, and his faceplates held a look of awe as he cradled her close to his chassis, allowing her to take from his body heat. The second she laid optics on her opiluk, she went quiet, only letting out a few curious clicks as she prodded the bond that told her who this mech was. Her developing armor was already turning a nice shade of blue that appeared to glow, something that would accent her azure optics perfectly.
"Hey, Limelight. I'm ya opi, an' Imma des'gnate ya Limelight, cuz fo' the rest a' ya life, ya gonna be well-known, cuz ya gonna shine like the very sta's in the sky," Jazz whispered to his femlet. Limelight squealed joyfully up at her new opi, absolutely loving the deep sound of his voice and the low rumble in his chassis. He smiled down at her, revving his engine in an attempt to send her to a much-needed recharge. His little femme.
Now he's wrapped around her finger.
She's the center of his whole world.
And his heart belongs to that sweet little
Beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl.
Jazz smiled down at his little family. He was leaning up against the foot of their couch, knees bent and legs apart as he snuggled Sparkshot into his chassis, little Limelight cuddled up in between them. Limelight was out like a light, and Sparkshot was rather close to falling asleep. She smiled languidly up at her mech, and he bent down to place a tender kiss to her lips.
"I love you, my spark."
"I love you, too, my mech."
All-American girl.
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