I am back, baby!
Private life tried to be different, dressed as a wrestle champion, put my neck in a wringer and started to wipe the floor with me...
I am very sorry that it took me so long to write again... My head isn't quite there at the moment.
My motivation took some breaks and fled to the Netherlands, anyone over there that saw it?
Hope you like the chapter.
Disc: Transformers does not belong to me, nor any of it's features. The small femmespark and some other things are mine, though.
Better thanks BETA, and what an awesome BETA he is^^ Thanks Khalthar^^
Ratchet loved his little femme. His still nameless little ray of orbital light that existed just for him. Since the first time he laid his optics on her small form, his spark beat for her. And he knew that hers was beating for him, sending him everything he could ever wish to feel over the still fragile bond. He and his Dearspark would have to stay near each other for quite some time, so that the bond would strengthen and allow greater distances. In some kind, it was just like the organic cable, -what was it called?-, oh yes, a muscle.
The better exercised and used, the stronger it would get and the more he could interact with his sparkling, even if she wouldn't be on the same planet. At least, he hoped so, nobot had to try an experience like that, yet. And thankfully a scenario like that would still be eons away and he would do anything in his power so that his small one wouldn't have to be without him for a long, long time.
His spark ached fiercely in his chassis, thrumming with phantom pain because he would have to leave her alone, he wouldn't and couldn't take her to some of the surgeries and to the Officer's Meetings. He would have to leave her with somebot else for that times, but it pained his spark to think about that.
But the evil was necessary. Primus be blessed that for now he would still be able to spend time with his Dearspark. Time he would use to the limits.
He loved the feeling of his bond with her, adored every feeling she sent him over it, saved every little giggle and laugh she vocalized. She lit up his cycles with joy and brought him calm.
He couldn't even think about the darker cycles anymore. She was with him, every step of the cycle, everywhere his pedes took him. Every time his processor wandered back into his old memory loops and logic circuits, she would literally flood the bond with love and affection.
It was as if the small femmespark knew what was going through his processors, and he was thankful for that.
He even abstained from drinking too much high-grade anymore, like he had every nightcycle before he bonded with the Dearspark. It was a bad habit, in hindsight, that he really didn't want his small femme to pick up from him.
Now he was sitting on his berth, leaning against the wall and just observing his femme as she looked all over his frame, a small rag getting dragged by her servo as she wiggled and crawled all over his chassis. She was chirping loudly at every glinting spec she could find and Ratchet was even chuckling when she attempted to growl when she found a spec or streak of dirt on his frame. But the growling was not menacing it was just kind of cute and adorable, at least it was to Ratchet.
His Dearspark tried to rub at the dirt on his chassis, twittering and warbling loudly when she got a small part of it off and then she would nudge her small helm to the position the dirt was and send a small jolt of electricity through Ratchets frame. She was `sparkling-kissing´ him softly, and he loved it dearly. This was one of the few reasons he wasn't in the washracks already, his femmespark seemed to love it if she could help him get clean, even if she couldn't go far, just crawl around a bit and dragging her new rag. She would, most surely, do more when she got older and bigger. Ratchet's processor had already started to simulate situations, so sometimes he would see pictures in front of his optics which showed his, slightly older, femmespark with brighter colors as she snuggled into him, chirping his designation and rubbing her rag over his slightly dirtied frame.
He had started purring instantly as his processor forwarded this picture sequence, causing his patient, Wheeljack, to jolt in shock and stare at him, the wings at the side of his helm bright yellow, a sign of shock.
His life was going really well now and he sure as Pit hoped that it would stay that way, even with the war going on and his everlasting worry about his fellow 'bots and friends.
But he had one big Problem. And maybe a few smaller ones as well…
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Ratched sighed loudly to himself as he sat in his medbay, his optics solely focused on the small mechs that sat on one of his berths and the femme of his spark.
(The small yellow and black mech had started to poke the femme, who would then start giggling like mad and wiggle with her pudgy pedes to get away from the mechling. The older mech hovered over the two, making sure that both wouldn't fall off the berth.)
And all the while five pairs of optics were fixed on the small ones.
Prowl sat rigidly on his chair, his doorwings held lowly in a neutral position. Chromia was leaning against her sparkmate, her arms crossed in front of her chassis while Ironhide was relaxing on an unused berth. Jazz stood beside Prowl, a permanent smirk etched on his faceplates. And lastly Ratchet himself, who saved everything that his Dearspark did as a video log in his memory banks.
"So, the question is, how to name them and what to do when no one of us has time for them." Chromia murmured lowly, her head tilted.
"We can't just name them! Maybe one of the mechlings had a name and wants to hold onto it! We have to wait till they can talk, or start talking again." Ratchet grumbled loudly. The other mechs nodded slowly while Chromia scowled.
(The small femme stared hard at her and then to Ratchet, her face-plates trying to morph into a scowl too, which just caused the bond to be filled with love and adoration because it was just so adorable to her adopted mech-creator.)
"We can not have them in attendance to all of our meetings or when we are working. They would pose to be a significant distraction." Prowl said, skillfully ignoring the heated looks the other bots shot him. Jazz patted his shoulder once and then let his servo stay there.
"I wish we could just do that." Grunted Ironhide as one of his fingers stroked his mechling over the back. The small mech cooed loudly, which caused the femme to try and imitate the coo.
"All of us think that." Ratchet stared wistfully. "But I, for one, don't want my Dearpark with me while I am operating or when everything gets rushed in here. I have to be able to concentrate and I fear my femmespark will distract me quite a bit."
"We don't want the mechling on the battlefield either."
"We needa solution fa dat and fast. Maybe a daycare, but there ain't any bots permanently stationed here. So we'd have ta have a rotatin schedule or somethin like dat." Jazz started pacing slowly around the berth, one of his servos pressed against his face-plates.
"We also should have a fixed room, so that the sparklings don't have to get used to different rooms every time we need them to be watched. And we should take the sparkling sitting duty ourselves. At least the first several times. They know us and Ratchet's femmespark is not that old. The room should be near enough so that he can come over fast and help her out when she is scared." Chromia stated lazily.
(The older mechling froze as the smaller mechling climbed on his lap, cuddling into him and purring loudly to him. The femme started pouting, her optics fixed on him and her small servos making grabbing motions. She couldn't do more than lay on her back and be wrapped in a blanket for warmth.)
The bots were silent for a while, all of them in deep thoughts.
At last Jazz stopped pacing and turned to the group again, one of his servos dangling over the femmespark. (Who almost instantly tried to catch his fingers with her mouth, succeeding after a few moments and then just started suckling on them. Ratchet took another picture.)
"We need ta inform Optimus about dat, but it shouldn' be a problem tha first time. How much trouble can dese little ones be?" he shrugged and shuttered his optics once.
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He had jinxed himself! He had so totally jinxed himself and the others, it wasn't even funny anymore!
He really hoped Prowl wouldn't find the pictures in the security cams before he could delete it all!
For the Pits sake, these were no normal sparklings! They were true hellions from Unicron himself, little fragging pit-spawns from the seventh floor of the everlasting Pit! His own personal torturers and guardian demons! They existed just to make his life so slagging miserable, he was sure of that.
Jazz stared disbelievingly at the sight in front of him and he could feel one of his optic-ridges twitch.
His collection, his whole collection of music was…
All the datapads he had collected, all those hard drives he had saved it on, they were all…
The oldest mechling sat at his desk, one of the datapads in his servo as he scolded the younger mechling with whirrs and warbles and the femmeling was giggling loudly. The datapad was cracked, one side even completely chipped and the casing almost falling off on several places. And this was one of the better pads! The shelf, on which he had stored all his music pads and external drives, was broken down and lay in splinters all over the room!
He had been gone for just one Klick! Just one! He had only answered the door to his quarters for Chromia to deliver some sparkling energon and as soon as the door shut closed again, a loud creaking and ripping sound had reached his audio receptors. He spun around, optics wide behind his visor and instantly dove into action. One servo clamped down on the back of the oldest mechling, his second grabbed onto the small bar on the neck of the younger one. In an artistic work for the Allspark he had shoved the older mechling under him and seamlessly got his servo on the small femme, getting both younger sparks under his frame in time for the shelf to land on top of him and his collection to rain down on him.
And now he was sitting beside the younglings, his spark nearly broken from the loss of his entire music library. He heaved a heavy sigh, his optics shuttering once.
He would have to start collecting from the start again.
One of his digits twitched as a smaller spec of warmth touched him. The femmeling, little rascal, was rubbing her small servo over his digit and chirped at him.
Smiling softly down at her, he grabbed her and sat her in his palm, where she wiggled around and stared at him. She still held onto her, now dirty, rag that her Opi had given to her. He brought her nearer, nuzzling his helm against hers.
She chirped again, this time a bit guilty sounding to his audios, but that was most likely just an interpretation on his part.
He sighed again as the small one in his servo started to rub her rag over his visor, smearing the dirt all over. Then she gave him a small and sweet sparkling-kiss.
He was just happy that he wouldn't have to look after the terrible trio the next cycle.
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Hound smiled as the three sparks were rushing around, or at least the mechlings were while the femmespark was reduced to crawling over the floor, chirping and warbling nonstop but the mechlings ignored her and played on. Hound observed the sparks further and leaned aback against the wall of the room, his holographic generator slowly warming up.
The two mechlings were jumping around, warbling loudly, the younger one desperately trying to catch up to the older one, little doorwings hitched up high in amazement and joy.
A pitiful whimper caught his attention. The femmespark sad dejectedly in front of his pedes, her small optics blown wide and shining with a liquid sheen. After she was sure that she had his attention, a low wailing sound started up, originating from the femmespark in front of him.
Some lone forgotten instinctual coding sprang to life in that instant, spurring him into action so he leaned forwards, lowly keening to her. One of his servos slowly enveloped the femmespark and he brought her to his chassis, a deep rumble sounding from his frame as he tried to calm the sweetspark down again before the CMO would storm through the door, medical tools and his trusty wrench at the ready to avenge his sparkling with all his might.
Hound started rumbling louder as the wailing of the femmespark slowly dwindled down again and she pressed herself against his chassis, clearly still distressed but from what, Hound really hadn't the foggiest idea what had caused her to start wailing. One of his digits slowly rubbed over her back, painting some doodles on her to distract her.
It took a bit of time but the sounds stopped, finally, and Hound was the only one making a sound, still crooning at the femmespark.
The moment it took him to register that the mechlings were not laughing or running anymore, his optics snapped up again, instantly roaming through the room and finally coming to rest on the two mechlings, which were silently standing a few meters away, their optics fixed on the sniffling femmespark.
The older one took a hesitant step towards Hound, his doorwings drooping down and his optics bright. His frame shook once and Hound could hear the shaky intake the youngling took.
"We weren't trying to make her feel left out, because we were just playing. We didn't think about how she might feel left out because she can't keep up with us. We didn't mean to cause her to make those aweful wails with tears and everything. All we were doing is trying to have some fun. But it's not fun if she starts feeling bad because she's not fast enough to play the way we were playing. I don't want her to feel bad and he doesn't either. All of us have doorwings, so that sort of makes us all a family unit doesn't it? It's not fun if we're playing and she starts feeling bad because she's being left out. I don't want her to feel that way and neither does he. All of us should be able to have fun."
Hound, the yellow mechling and the femmespark, who had finally stopped sniffling and hiccupping, were staring at the older youngling, whose doorwings had hitched up as he spoke and were now slowly falling again.
The youngling looked crestfallen for a moment before the femmeling giggled and held her small servos out for him. The older mechling grinned proudly before plucking the only femme from Hounds grasp and cuddling her, crooning and clicking loudly.
Hound was still a bit dumbfounded. With a click, that was only audible for him, he activated his internal communicator and opened a line to Prowl.
:: Oh Prowl! I know something that you don't!:: He singsonged loudly and even over the line, he couldn't hide his smug anticipation.
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Ironhide was frozen in midstep, his optics locked onto the small femmespark, which was, in that moment, crawling into an opened ventilation shaft under his work desk. He could even see a small yellow pede vanishing in the shaft.
"NO! Stop!" he scree- shouted loudly and jumped, skidding forwards on his chest plates under the table, one servo stretched forwards desperately, but it was for naught. The tips of his digits barely touched the small femme before she got hauled up by a yellow servo.
"Ironhide? What is wrong? Why were you shouting like that?" his sweet sparkmate called out to him, her frame slowly coming into view from under the table he was still under. One of her servos held onto a small bottle full of sparkling-energon Ratchet had given them for his femmespark.
"Uhm, 'Hide? Why are you lying under the work table?" Chromia tilted her pretty helm, her keen optics wandering around the room they were in.
"And where are the younglings?"
Ironhide grumbled, scooting backwards from under the tables and pointed one of his digits at the opened ventilation shaft. Chromia shuttered her optics twice, placed the bottle on the table and then let her optics wander up the shaft.
Above them was another vent, still closed, and she could see three pairs of blue optics looking down. Small giggles and clicking sounds reached her audios.
Both mates looked at each other and sighed in unison. The giggles got louder. Without much preamble Ironhide grabbed Chromia's legs, lifting her up without much difficulty. The femme held as still as possible, her arms and servos stretched over her head and her digits grasping the vent, lifting it up as Ironhide stretched himself, making himself longer.
Chromia stuck her head into the vent, her own optics soon facing three amused pairs.
"You little rascals. You just love to give us problems, don't you?" Although she was irritated, her mouth twitched as the femme leaned towards her and pressed a sparkling-kiss to her faceplates.
"This will not get you out of trouble."
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Ratchet stared at the door. It had slight singe marks and more or less faded black markings around the frame. The sweetspark in his servo chirped at him, her optics large and shining bright. Behind Ratchet, Chromia shifted, pressing the yellow and black youngling against her chassis and crooning at him.
Prowl took one glance at the door, staggered once as his processor stalled for a moment, hoisted his youngling on his hip, his doorwings aggressively raised high and trotted off. Jazz nearly sprinting after him.
Ratchet huffed loudly and turned away.
No chance in the Pit that he would let his smallspark in any room that the walking disaster and two-bit-processor walked in. Wheeljack would most probably find a way to let the toys explode in different colors and in that situation would most likely lose one or two arms, shock the sparklings for the rest of their existence and cause nightmares and many cycles without recharge for the caretakers.
This would happen if Primus did a table dance in the Pit for Unicron with nothing more than his protoform, colored in a very hot pink.
He must have said the last thought out loud, because Chromia laughed and followed him.
They would find a new place and caretaker for this cycle. Maybe Cliffjumper would be willing, or maybe Blaster. Heck, Ratchet would even choose Red Alert over Wheeljack!
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It was quiet, so unbelievably quiet.
It was not what Ratchet expected, not what Jazz, Hound, Chromia and Ironhide expected.
Nobot knew what Prowl expected because the mech was silently following the rest of the group as they trudged on. All of their respective shifts had ended not long ago, but the caretaker for the sparklings this cycle, Jolt, hadn't met them at the designated spot so that Ratchet, Chromia and Prowl could get their younglings.
Hound and Jazz had met the rest of the group and because the two hadn't seen the small Dearsparks this cycle, they decided to tag along.
Ratchet was a bit worried, he couldn't feel his femmespark very well at the moment, the bond was muted but filled with content and warmth that pulsated in a steady rhythm. It felt very calm and reassuring.
"I hope those three didn't give Jolt too much trouble. He is the youngest of us and I had some worries about him handling the three. But all I felt the whole cycle were amusement, contentment and something warm and fuzzy." Chromia stated out loud and shrugged with her left shoulder plate.
"Same here. My Dearspark was very calm and happy." Prowl nodded after Ratchet's statement, his doorwings fluttering slightly.
After some more steps they finally reached the right door and Hound typed in the right code Jolt had given them the cycle before. The door swished open and the small group of 'bots entered the room.
It was still too quiet. Ratchet expected more noise when two mechlings, one femmeling and one young Cybertronian were involved. He thought they would find some crying Dearsparks or a frazzled Jolt, but all that greeted them was the sound of fabric that got rustled and deep intakes and exhales.
Ratchet instantly took a picture as he turned around a corner and found the source of the soft noises. Chromia beside him 'awwed' at the scene, Prowls optics lit up for a moment, Hound kneeled down to get a better look and Jazz was softly laughing in the background.
Three extra thick and fuzzy blankets were on the ground. On those blankets lay Jolt, his optics offlined and his posture relaxed and still. His arms were spread to the side, his legs slightly opened and drawn in to his body. On his chassis lay a datapad, still glowing softly and indicating that it was still online. Curled up on Jolt's left side was Prowl's mechling, his helm and upper frame laying on the adult mech. His small doorwings fluttered with every vent he took.
Chromia's and Ironhide's youngling had fallen into recharge between Jolt's opened legs, his small frame cuddled against the warm legs and his own pedes propped up on Jolt's codpiece. (Jazz made sure to take many pictures, from every angle he could manage. Blackmail was a very sweet thing.)
Ratchet had only optics for his femmespark, who was cuddled up against Jolt's throat, her small helm nuzzling his neck-cables and one of her servos pressed against the older mech's jawline.
It was relaxing to look at it, at least for Ratchet. Moments like this were few and far in between, and they would only decline as long as that fragging war was still going on.
"At least we know who ta ask ta keep an optic on em when we're busy. Can't think o' someone better off tha top o' mah head." Jazz murmured, one of his arms slung over Prowls shoulders, minding his sensitive doorwings.
None of the members of the small pile on the ground gave some signs of waking up, they even cuddled closer to one another. The group left as silently as they could, closing the metal door behind them.
They would come back later, none of them wanting to wake up the rambunctious sparklings.
The peace inside the base would have to hold just a bit longer.
I quite liked it. My most favorite is the last scene with Jolt, in my head it was really really cute and adorkable^^
Critics? Something to say?
I am here. But please, no flames. Summer is warm enough here^^
