If there was one thing that Swiftstrike and Jetcloud were well aware of, it was that raising sparklings wasn't easy in the least. Sparklings were energetic, loud and, moreover, very susceptible to viruses. And Prowl wasn't an exception to that rule.

Swiftstrike leaned over the sparkling-sized berth, where Prowl was curled on his side. She caressed his back soothingly, her light fingers stroking the little one's door-panels.

"Prowl? Are you feeling any better?"

Prowl rolled over on his back weakly, lifting his gaze listlessly to his mother. "No," he said, his voice almost failing him.

Swiftstrike sighed and picked up Prowl gently. She winced when she felt the sparkling's overheated forehead, but there wasn't much she could do. The medic told her that, though the particular virus wasn't dangerous, it was very complicated too. That meant it would take some time before he could create another firewall for Prowl, so he advised Swiftstrike and Jetcloud to keep the sparkling as comfortable as possible until he came back with the cure. Hopefully, by the end of the week, Prowl would be up and about once again. Swiftstrike just hoped that the medic was right.

"Here, I brought you the special energon," Jetcloud said, holding an energon-filled cube in his hand. "How is he?"

"Same as before," she replied sadly. She took the cube and held it close to Prowl's lips. "Here you go, Prowl. Have a sip of this."

Prowl let out a whining noise and tried to push the cube away.

Swiftstrike heaved another sigh. This was going to prove difficult.

"Prowl, we've already talked about this. You need to eat, and the good doctor said that this is the only kind of energon that won't upset your insides," she said. "Now go on. If you drank it once, you can drink it again."

Prowl pursed his lips stubbornly and shook his head.

"Prowl…" Swiftstrike said in a warning tone.

"It tastes like slag!" the sparkling exclaimed indignantly.

Swiftstrike stared at her son incredulously.

"Where did you pick up that kind of language?" she asked. "Certainly not from your mother." She turned to Jetcloud, shooting him a very angry glare.

The black and golden mech grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

She shook her head and pressed the cube close to Prowl's lips once more. "Prowl, I'm not going to say it again. You have to drink this."

Prowl looked at her, frustration written all over his young features. Swiftstrike and Jetcloud exchanged a glance, both reaching to the same decision.

"All right, Prowl. If your father and I drink some of this energon, will you drink the rest?"

Prowl blinked a bit, trying to decide. Eventually, he nodded his agreement.

"Good." With that, Swiftstrike held up the cube and took a sip.

She froze, feeling her optics widening.

"Swiftstrike? Is everything all right?" Jetcloud asked.

"Perfect," she replied sweetly, passing the cube to Jetcloud. "Your turn, dear."

Jetcloud frowned a bit, but he figured there was no point in not keeping his promise. At the next moment, his optics widened as well and they locked on his bondmate. However, he quickly composed himself and handed the cube back to her.

Swiftstrike faced Prowl, forcing a smile. "See? Now it's time for you to drink."

Prowl scowled, nevertheless he complied. Once he emptied the cube, Swiftstrike placed Prowl back in his berth for some necessary recharge and, soon enough, the little one was asleep.

Swiftstrike and Jetcloud slipped out of the room without any noise, letting the door close automatically behind them.

"It really tastes like slag," Jetcloud declared mournfully.

"I'll let this one slide only because you're right," Swiftstrike said. She wiped her lip components in a disgusted manner. "Ugh… I'm going to wash my mouth."

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A/n: Why yes, I enjoy torturing Prowl's parents. Why do you ask? :p