Chapter 3 – Prime Sitter
Sunday night: 10pm…
After the kids left, Optimus went back to the monitor, bringing up the material Rafael had already gathered. He wanted to look it over more in depth before diving into what made their newfound artifact tick. The sparklings were playing in the middle of the room, still batting around the soccer ball. Every few moments he glanced over to be sure all was okay before going back to his research. The Prime allowed himself just the smallest smile. The sparklings were behaving nicely and it seemed this wouldn't be too difficult a job.
He finished Rafael's information and started running a few tests, disconnecting or attaching new wires to the relic to get different results. Hopefully, one would give a clue as to its operation. He found himself greatly missing Ratchet's input as his fingers worked the keypad. Becoming more involved in his study as the minutes passed, the periodic check-ins became less frequent then he realized.
One of Bulkhead's louder giggles drew his attention. He briefly glanced back before returning to the screen, but something seemed off. He looked again. Blue, green, orange…
"Bumblebee?" he called. His optics made a quick scan of the bunker. No yellow. Putting scans on hold, he moved away and began searching the room more meticulously. The three other sparklings stopped their play to curiously watch the Prime as he hurried about, looking in every corner while calling the mech's name. He checked behind Ratchet's workstation, under the workstation, behind crates, around the platform – even down the tunnel entrance. Still no yellow.
And that's the moment Optimus felt every babysitters worse dread. He had lost the child.
He then expanded his search to the hallway leading to the bots' living chamber, wondering if maybe Bumblebee's young mind remembered enough to go to his berth room. This idea, unfortunately, turned up nothing when he found the scout's quarters empty. So Optimus went through all the rest of the berth rooms, checking each thoroughly while the slow apprehension continued to rise in the Prime's chest.
"Bumblebee?" he called again, a bit more anxiously this time, hoping maybe the sparkling would at least make some kind of a noise in response. His step had quickened, his optics darting to every possible hiding spot. He hurried into another hall and that's where he spied the runaway crawling down past the power generator's chamber and heading towards the armory.
"Bumblebee!" he called in relief. He quickly caught up to the sparkling and scooped him up before he made it to the armory doorway. "I see I'm going to have to keep a closer watch on all of you." Bumblebee only bleeped innocently in reply.
Loud wails suddenly sounded from back down the hall. Optimus quickly hurried back to the main bunker, realizing just how long he had left them unsupervised during his search. He entered to find Ratchet and Arcee in the middle of a tussle over possession of the soccer ball. Angry jabbers of bleeps and clicks came from both sides as each had an unrelenting hold, pulling from either side like a game of tug a war. Again Arcee wailed and Ratchet tried to outdo it with another of his own. They didn't seem to bother Bulkhead any, as the green mech had curled up on the floor in one of his powernaps that Optimus had noticed he seemed to frequently take over the last hour or so.
Optimus set Bumblebee on the floor and knelt down, hesitating a moment as he debated how to handle this. It seemed the most logical course of action was to remove the problem from the equation. With index and thumb, he pinched the ball to take it away. But instead of letting go as he expected, the sparkling were lifted off their treads a few inches. Both refused to let go so they dangled there literally rubbing against each other (which made them more upset at the other), and Optimus was forced to peel the ridiculously strong tiny servos from the soccer ball. But the second they were back on the floor, both began to cry with piercing howls, lubricant tears spilling over and servos reaching out towards the ball.
Optimus looked from one to the other, not sure what to do. It was like fighting a losing battle. If he gave it back the whole squabble would start again, and if he didn't there was no telling how long they would keep this up. He realized he was going to need more than just one toy to keep them occupied. Again he searched the bunker, trying to block out the screams behind him. Bumblebee crawled after the large mech, watching his every movement with great interest. When nothing could be found anywhere else, the Prime resorted to searching through Ratchet's personal workspace and could only hope he be able to avoid the medic's wrath for it later. He began grabbing anything that seemed safe enough, collecting everything in one of the tubs used to wash the sparklings in. Along with the ball, he threw in three funnels, a few large sprockets, bearings of different sizes, a few gears, an exhaust muffler that was probably a spare of Arcee's, and two clevis fasteners.
They certainly weren't the most exciting of objects, but might at keep them occupied for a time. At least so he could get some work done.
A memory of how the sparklings had liked playing with the rocks in the canyon came to mind. Optimus went to where Ratchet had a collection of different specimen samples near his workstation that he kept around from soon after they'd arrived on Earth. Catching up, Bumblebee plopped himself down and sat watching as the Prime took the clear specimen cases off the shelf that held the largest of plain everyday rocks. With a quick "my apologies" to Ratchet, Optimus dumped all of the chunks into one container, completely filling it, and placed it into the tub. Then, scooping up Bumblebee in one servo while holding the tub with the other arm, the two returned to the entryway.
The two sparkling were still crying. Arcee had calmed to a hiccupping sobbing, but Ratchet was still at it full blast. And Bulkhead …
"Wait, where's…?" The spot where he had last been napping was deserted. Optimus scanned the room and spied the little green mech by the platform. A small red canister in his servos as he chewed on its metal end. The blue optics went wide as the situation registered in Optimus's processors. "Bulkhead! No!" He dropped the tub and it made a terrible clanging as it hit, causing the ball to bounce out and startling the two sparklings momentarily out of their crying fit.
Suddenly everything cut loose. The strong steel jaw bit through and there was an exploding hiss of air and the canister went flying from little servos. All watched as the fire extinguisher shot into the air like a rocket. It hit the wall with an echoing clang, ricocheted, flew across to the other wall, and ricocheted again. Optimus quickly ducked as it shot inches past his helm, shielding Bumblebee who he still held with his other servo. Another metallic bang as the extinguisher bounced off the wall behind and sailed all the way up nearly to the ceiling. It hit a beam which sent it hurtling down, straight for Bulkhead, who pointed at the oncoming projectile with a happy giggle. Still holding Bumblebee, Optimus flung himself and landed prone in a scrapping of metal, his other outstretched servo shielding the green mech. There was a clang as the extinguisher struck his palm instead of the sparkling. In the same astrosecond it unexpectedly changed course.
Optimus gave a sharp "Ouch!" as it struck between the optics with a cringing clank before flying off again. A loud hysterical baby laughter sounded as Arcee nearly rolled over backwards, a little finger pointing at Optimus who painfully opened his optics in a grimace. More clanging told the rampage wasn't over yet. Quickly, he scooped up Bulkhead into the safety of his palm with Bumblebee who greeted his friend with a happy bleep. Optimus leapt over and collected the remaining sparklings as the extinguisher zoomed by again and he fell to both knees and hunkered down; arms wrapped protectively around the little ones as he hugged them to his chest.
Four more times the flying rocket struck or scraped him in various places while on its flight path. Then a moment later the canister clattered to the floor as the pressure inside began to run out. It scuttled crazily across the concrete a few yards, spun around a dozen times or so with a dissipating hiss; then sat still.
Slowly, Optimus raised his helm. Even though it was common knowledge that the extinguisher wasn't going to take back off without pressure, Optimus stared a moment longer to confirm that it was officially "dead". He sat back on his heel struts and checked on the four sparklings in his arms. They looked a bit confused at what had just occurred but were all thankfully unharmed. Bulkhead tossed up little arms with a happy garble, clearly asking to do it again. Ratchet just glared judgingly at the Prime, unamused about being suddenly swept up and stuck in such a tiny spot.
"I begin to grasp Jack's intimations that this is not the simple task I had anticipated," Optimus thought aloud as if speaking to them. His only reply was a soft chirp from Bumblebee.
Carefully, Optimus let them down and they crawled out of his servos one by one like a little train. He then took care of the hydrant, putting it in a corner up on the platform where little servos wouldn't get ahold of it again.
Angry chattering wails blared from behind.
"Already?" came out in half surprise, half sigh.
He turned to find Ratchet and Arcee at it again, having found the ball where it had rolled to after Optimus had dropped the tub. Again he took the ball; and again the flood of lubricant tears started flowing. New things might take their processors off it though and Optimus quickly retrieved the tub where he'd dropped it. He carried it to the middle of the room near the sparklings.
Now to see if my efforts bear positive results, he thought hopefully.
When Ratchet saw the tub the large mech carried, his expression went from a pout to defiance, remembering the last time he had seen that and the bath he'd been forced to take. His little frame tensed in preparation to throw a major fit. But instead the tub was dumped and its miscellaneous contents clattered to the floor. Curiosity took over and Ratchet cautiously approached where Arcee was already cooing happily while rummaging through the new items. She let out a happy chatter when she spotted the rocks and instantly dumped them on the floor. Bulkhead seemed very impressed with a clevis and was gnawing on the fastener's curve as though it were a chew toy. Bumblebee was happily batting a bearing back and forth between his legs, treads wiggling in delight with little clicks and bleeps. The way it rolled reminded Optimus of something and gave him another idea.
He quickly hurried off down a hallway, nearly jogging as he didn't want to leave them alone too long. He was quickly learning what repercussions that could produce (his faceplate still ached from the extinguisher). He reappeared a moment later and was relieved when all four colors were present and accounted for. They all looked up as Optimus knelt down and placed two tires down flat on the floor. They were spare ones of Bumblebee's that were kept in the store room along with the rest of the bots' kibbles that Ratchet kept a stock of.
Bulkhead instantly crawled over, bringing his new favorite toy with him, and pulled himself up against a tire's edge, balancing himself on unsteady legs so he could peek inside. After a bit of bouncing and scuffling, the roly-poly sparkling rolled in. A moment of exploring and his helm popped up over the edge, squeaking in happiness while waving his clevis as if inviting the others in. Bumblebee readily complied and chirped playfully as he climbed over to join his friend in the fascinating hole. Arcee was already exploring the second tire and soon began climbing in and out, bringing in all her rocks one at a time until she had all the biggest ones in her little circle fort. She began stacking them and knocking them down or sticking them inside the tire's rims. Ratchet seemed contented where he was, piling all the gears, sprockets, and bearings on top of each other; peeking through each of their holes at his surroundings before adding it to the growing stack in front of him.
Kneeling down, Optimus picked up the now empty container and put it in the tire with Arcee. She blinked, then slowly reached out and picked it up. Not sure what to do with it, she tried to stick her helm inside. With a hint of an amused smile, Optimus took it and replaced it in front of her again. The femme just looked on curiously as he picked up a rock and dropped it inside. It fell to the bottom with a clatter. He showed her twice more before waiting to see what would happen. Arcee processed a moment, then slowly mimicked as she picked up a rock, held it over the opening, and let it fall in. It clattered to the bottom. Violet optics widened in sudden understanding. With a happy squeak she began to fill it quickly using both servos. When it was full she began taking them all back out again one at a time before the whole routine started over again.
Optimus just watched with an expression of satisfaction. At least they were all happy now. Leaving them to their play, he returned to the computer. Finally in a place he was comfortable, he turned his focus to the data on the monitors. His digits once again started working the keypad as the scans resumed.
But if he thought such peace was to last, the Prime was sadly mistaken. He had only had about an hour's study without any crisis when he felt something crawling over his tread and looked down to see a spot of yellow. Bumblebee craned his helm back to look up at the chrome faceplate high above, arms wrapped as far as they could reach around the thick leg. A soft whirr came from the vocolizer. Optimus wasn't sure but the aqua blue baby optics seemed to hold a slight sadness. He picked the little mech up.
"You must stay over here," he instructed gently, placing him back with the others. "I have to continue my research if I am to restore you to your normal selves." He gave the sparkling a light rub on the helm, which made Bumblebee purr in happiness, before returning to his station.
But as time went on they all seemed to become uninterested in play, growing fussier by the minute. They soon abandoned their toys scattered all across the bunker floor. Arcee and Bumblebee were underfoot almost to a dangerous point where Optimus was afraid to even shift his hefty weight for fear they would get crushed. They kept whimpering periodically while trying to crawl atop the large treads as the others restlessly moved from spot to spot beneath the great frame. It was finally evident this could not be ignored any longer.
Optimus looked down at them, at the monitor, at them, back at the monitor; then, with a heavy vent, paused the scans and picked up the sparklings. They squirmed in his arms, looking up with sad optics. He carried them to the middle of the room and put them down with their toys. But all efforts to get them to play were in vein as they just kept crawling back to him.
Ratchet had nearly become even more of a crank as a sparkling then a grown mech (if that was possible). When Optimus offered him the pile of gears and bearings, he roughly pushed them away with a scowling huff. Then, sitting with a hard thud, Ratchet let out such a howl that made the Prime wince and his audials ring. Little arms began flapping now and again as if demanding something.
Not knowing what else to do, Optimus rubbed a finger just behind Ratchet's chevron on his helm, like he had done Bumblebee, in an effort to calm him. The large mech started a bit when the sparkling suddenly grabbed his finger in little servos and began sucking viciously on the end of the digit.
"Of course," he murmured with soft understanding. "All little ones need nourishment."
That's why they were fussy. They were simply hungry.
Then Optimus faced a new dilemma. They had plenty of energon, but the sparklings couldn't drink from cubes the way grown Cybertronian's did. Their instinct was to suckle and they needed a method that would give them that; though sparkling care products were not something the team simply had on hand. Optimus thought hard. His optics happened to land on where Arcee had abandoned her container of rocks and an idea formed in his processors. He hurried back to the workspace, being careful not to step on sparklings on the way. He emptied four more containers, dumping their contents of soils and rocks onto the workspace (but each in their own pile so they could be replaced later), and also found some rubber tubing in a box of miscellaneous parts. After rinsing them out, he placed the containers in a row on workspace along with their lids. With a sharp tool, Optimus punched a small hole in top of each lid, though it took a bit of effort as they were designed not to be easily broken. As he worked, the little bots below climbed on and around his treads, continued to clamor with little bleeps and clicks as if asking him to hurry. Optimus then cut four short pieces off the tubing a few inches long, putting the rest aside. He took a moment to file down the rough edges where he'd cut, making sure the rubber was smooth so not to hurt sensitive little mouths. He wedged one of these into each of the holes and used an adhesive glue to make sure they would stay in place and also to fill any gaps to prevent leakage.
Now all was left was their contents. He left and came back a smaller cube of low-grade energon in his servos; with his little train of yellow, blue, green, and orange following him all the way to the store room and back again. He hesitated a moment as he began to pour. Something seemed to tell him there was something different about this part. Neural diodes worked hard, but he couldn't clearly recall what and the wails from below made it hard to process. Hoping for the best, he filled each of his bottles with the luminescent liquid and tightly screwed on the modified lids. Optimus surveyed his work. He now had four homemade baby bottles, crude but they would have to do.
He herded the sparkling away from the work area and knelt down as the whimpering little sparklings gathered around expectantly, eyeing the bottles in the Prime's arm. He handed the first one to Bulkhead, as he was closest. The green sparkling grabbed it, but didn't seem to know what to do with it. He tried to bite into the side which Optimus quickly stopped, not wanting a similar experience of the fire extinguisher happening again. He gently stuck the rubber nub into the little mouth while tilting the container up. Round optics went wide as the taste of food met his pallet and Bulkhead seized the bottle in both servos and began sucking furiously. But before the rest of the containers could be passed out, the others, seeing someone else eating, were all over the poor mech in an instant. Bulkhead lost his grip with a complaining whine as the container rolled away leaking a trail of blue. He immediately began to cry and it didn't help the others were still clamoring over him.
Quickly, Optimus retrieved the container, realizing that this simply wasn't going to work in the orderly manner he'd hoped. He freed Bulkhead, picking the others off him by their metal scruffs and setting them each a good distance from one another; then, as quickly as he could, he passed out the bottles before another dog pile could happen. Success this time. Like before, he had to help each understand how to use them, but moments later a blessed silence filled the bunker as all sparklings suckled, their little servos tightly gripping the bottles. At least it was quiet until Ratchet began choking from gulping his dinner too rapidly. It took a moment of coughing and pats on the back before the mech had it under control.
"Easy now little one," Optimus crooned and gave him the bottle back. "Slow and steady now. That's right." Having downed nearly half the contents by now, Ratchet began eating slower this time.
Bumblebee had been quietly enjoying his meal but Optimus now saw the spot of yellow crawling towards him, bottle hanging from his mouth that was clamped tightly on the rubber nub (as the vocalizer guard had been removed to allow him to eat). He plopped down and reached up towards the large mech, little servos making grabbing motions in the most adorable manner. The Prime couldn't help but get the message. He knew enough to know it was common for some sparklings to want to be held while eating. Gently he scooped up the yellow mech and placed him in the crook of his arm joint. Bumblebee wiggled down comfortably with his bottle, leaning his helm against the broad chest plates. A contented whirring bleep and he went back to his meal, optic lids drooped slightly.
Optimus looked down at the small sparkling as he waited for him to finish. He could feel the soft metal against his and the close warmth radiating from it; feel the light pattering of tiny treads bumping against his chest. In the quiet, sharp audials could hear the soft suckling sounds as the little mech filled his hungry tank. They all had an almost calming effect somehow, and Optimus was surprised how as ease he felt after the events of the day. All the while, the relaxed baby optics looked up at their caretaker, exploring the chrome faceplate with their innocent gaze. An upward curve pulled at the corner of the Autobot leader's mouth. The bottle was nearly empty and he used a digit to push it more upright so Bumblebee didn't suck air. The others were about done as well and it seemed as though the situation was going to run smoothly to the end.
That is until a tiny moan from below quickly caught the Prime's attention. The orange and white sparkling put down his bottle, only a little of the energon remaining in the bottom, his countenance one of discomfort. His helm was lowered slightly, little frame slumped. Optimus put a servo down to him, rubbing a finger against Ratchet's back struts.
"What is the matter, little one?" he asked softly. "Do you not feel well?"
Another little whirr and Ratchet leaned against the digit limply, seeking comfort. Optimus gently brought him to his chest where the little mech curled up against him. Bumblebee was still snuggled in his other arm, sucking down the last drops. Ratchet still looked as if he was in some kind of distress and Optimus wasn't sure what to do. He hoped it was simply a case of having ate too fast, but he couldn't help the concern rising within as nothing changed after a few minutes. Then he noticed Bulkhead and Arcee acting the same, slumped with pained expressions in their miserable optics.
What have I done wrong? he thought, going over everything he had done up to that point. Optimus didn't know whether to feel guilty or alarmed or both. Was this his fault or not? It didn't seem right that this would be normal. Then again he was no expert, but still … his processors were rambling.
The situation was getting no better. Then to his shock – and horror – Ratchet retched, then gave a type of baby belch and all his dinner came gushing out. It splattered all down the sparkling's front and all over his arms and legs – not to mention all over Optimus.
The Prime was in shock. The smell of partially digest energon filled his olfactory receptors with a repugnant stench. He could feel the mucky liquid, warmed from the sparkling's tanks, rolling down his chassis and dripping through his fingers. Eons of never once hesitating in battle after battle, never once letting the unexpected slow his actions; and yet now, at something so inconsiderable, the mighty Autobot leader froze. It was like all processors were in lock-up, unable to compute what had just happened. This he had not anticipated.
Ratchet looked up and blinked. Blue dribbled down his chin and dripped from little servos. He gave a questioning garble that seemed to indicate he felt better. But if he thought that was bad, seconds later Optimus dolefully watched as both Arcee and Bulkhead did the same, but at least their dinners ended up on the floor and not him. Shock twisted to dismay as he looked at the clean-up job that now awaited him.
Then he remembered one he had forgotten in a wave of dread. "Bumblebee!" Maybe if he put him down now…
But as the name left his vocalizer, Bumblebee buzzed a whine as he too retched up his dinner. Optimus grimaced as the foul smelling stuff splattered all down the other side his frame. It only got worse when the sparkling spit up yet again, this time covering his arm. Still convincing himself that this had really happened, Optimus gave a deep vent as he looked at the sparkling. Bumblebee still held his bottle, yellow frame now covered in mucky blue, looking a bit confused yet completely unaware of the trouble he and the others had just caused. He wasn't sure why, but he felt better now and that's all he knew. They all seemed to be acting better.
Suddenly it came back. "That's what it was," Optimus muttered. Now he remembered what he couldn't before about what was different with the energon.
Ages ago, when he still worked as a clerk on Cybertron, he'd been at a friend's house who had a sparkling at the time and had seen her mix up a special formula consisting of half oil and half energon. His friend had explained to the curious clerk that pure energon was too harsh on a newborn sparkling's digestive chamber. The mixture of oil reduced friction by creating a protective film on the still developing parts, allowing it to process easier. Later as the sparkling grew, less oil would be needed as internal mechanisms strengthened and straight energon could be ingested.
The clerk, now turned Prime, sighed. "Of course the memory would return after all is done."
Honestly, he didn't know why he didn't think of it before (although screaming sparklings might have had something to do with it). Oil in energon wasn't uncommon even among adult Cybertronians. Back on Cybertron the older would often be seen mixing the lubricant with their drinks to keep their aging parts from groaning or binding up. He had even heard Ratchet on more than one occasion suggest that a mixture be taken every so often to help prevent wear and tear on any bot's inner works and to maintain smooth operation. Said it saved him work.
But reminiscing had to wait as the chain of troubles was far from over. Tanks now empty again, the sparklings began to cry for more food, holding their bottles out with little shakes. Optimus set the sparklings he held on the floor, taking a quick glance at himself with light digested. He couldn't just make up more energon and leave them like this, covered in their own spit-up. He put things in an order of how to proceed: First he would clean them up as much as he could, then himself, then make up more but this time using the formula, then while they ate he would clean up what had been expelled on the floor. But he was sure a rag would only get the majority of it off them. Which meant in order to do the job right…
Then, the realization of what he was going to have to do. All the sparklings were going to need another bath. Only this time he would be handling it all alone. But as that was last on the list, he focused on his problems one at a time.
He got one of the towels the kids had put out to dry after the sparklings' first baths and wiped his servos so the blue muck wouldn't keep spreading to everything he touched. Then he picked up each one at a time and cleaned them off as best he could. During which Optimus had some trouble trying to keep them out of what was still on the floor and wondered why little ones' have a fascination of wanting to crawl through such things (especially after getting cleaned). Once while wiping Arcee, the femme began giggling hysterically as the towel tickled her sensitive mid-section and he made sure to have a gentler touch after that. When done, he set the towel aside as he would use it to clean the floor later. The train of sparklings again followed him all the way to the storeroom and back, whimpering excitedly up at the tall mech when they saw the glowing cube in his servos.
Again, Optimus set out the bottles in a row, but this time with a canister of oil nearby. He filled each half full with new low-grade energon and then capped them off with half oil. He screwed on the lids and shook each one thoroughly (though he did find out you must cover the nub with a finger to keep it from squirting out). Oil may not mix with much else, it does actually combination with energon, just making it a bit darker in appearance. Herding all to a clean area, Optimus passed out the bottles which were eagerly taken and made sure all were eating properly. Bumblebee did stop to watch with saddened optics at the large mech walked away, wanting to be held again. But seeing it wasn't going to happen this time, he went back to drinking with a whirring sigh.
Optimus filled one of the other tubs with water and fetched some of the soap to suds it up. Taking it and the towel he'd put aside, the Prime got down on servos and knee plates and started scrubbing the evidence of his diminutive babysitting knowledge from the floor. As he squeezed out the towel of murky blue water, he wondered what his friends back on Cybertron would say if they could see him now.
Thankfully, this time all dinners stayed where they should, and the sparklings quickly downed the entire containers. By the time he'd finished mopping up the floor, Optimus had to refill them all again as they demanded more before going to work on cleaning himself. It isn't the easiest task for a Cybertronian to clean oneself while in bot mode which was why they had special showers for that back on Cybertron; here Earth had no such luxuries. But Optimus managed to get off all the blue that had crusted to his metal plating and rinsed himself down with the hose. All the while he kept an optic on the sparklings, but they were content to sit still as they all drank their contented fill. Optimus had just finished drying off when Bulkhead put his empty bottle down with a coo and let out a burp.
Optimus knelt down, rubbing a digit against the green helm. "Are you fully satisfied now?" He smiled when Bulkhead purred with optics happily closed as he enjoyed the sensation. "I am glad." He gathered up the bottles and placed them aside for the next feeding. He came back carrying a tub and placed it near the sparklings.
When Ratchet saw he became excited, thinking it full of more toys to play with. What howls of disappointment and rage he gave when he was instead gently picked up in large servos and placed in warm sudsy water. Optimus was almost positive he heard the word "traitor!" in with the mix. It wasn't long before water was everywhere and with no help from Jack this time, it was a challenging task to keep the little mech in the tub. The others didn't care as they had gone back to their toys that were scattered around, Arcee returning to her little tire fort with her rocks and Bulkhead had found his clevis chew toy again. Bumblebee found it more entertaining to quietly sit and watch their guardian wrangle the fussy sparkling. Optimus let out a vent of relief when Ratchet was finally done and dried (who then crawled off in a grouchy huff to his pile of gears after giving the Prime one last baby-eyed dagger glare). Optimus moved on to the next three, who behaved much better which was a relief. The upside was they didn't need the scrubbing they'd received before as there was no stuck-on paint to remove this time. The smelly energon came off fairly easy, even where it had dried in thinner spots. The difficult part was making sure every metal plating fold had been washed out. Optimus was glad when the last sparkling was clean and dried and the tub dumped out.
He noticed Arcee shuffling around her rocks as if not very interested, then saw the drooping optic lids. At the same moment Bulkhead stretched little arms with a yawning vent, ending in a tired coo. Out of curiosity, Optimus checked his internal chronometer. He was shocked. It was after two in the morning! He had no idea it had taken that long to clean everything – and every bot – up. He glanced at the computer, still paused in the middle of a scan, and the relic sitting there just beckoning to be studied. But wisdom knew what must be prioritized.
"I suppose it will wait until morning." Optimus looked at the sleepy little ones. "You're welfare takes precedence and you all need rest after such a day as this. As do I." He could feel the drain on his systems as well. His energy wasn't at its highest especially after the battle that afternoon, and he was probably low on energon as well. But he would put the sparklings down to recharge before taking care of his own needs.
But first he needed a place to put them. Optimus found four smaller empty crates in one of the rooms and meticulously padded each with blankets. Not wanting to leave them in a room by themselves he carried them to his own quarters where he set them on the floor near his berth in a neat row. He then carefully gathered up the sparklings, who were nearly going into recharge over their toys, in his arms, trying not to jostle them. They gave little garbles and curious chirps as they were each placed in their own separate "bed". Except for Bulkhead. The green mech was already nearly shut down and instantly cuddled up with the loose blanket Optimus had placed in each crate, holding it like a child would their favorite teddy bear.
"There now, little ones. You shall stay here with me at nights and I will watch over you as you recharge. Bumblebee, lie down. Very good. Ratchet, you must stay in your own crate." He gently laid the orange and white mech back down who had been curiously peeking over into Arcee's bed.
Ratchet gave a little whine but his tired systems didn't let him complain about it all that hard. After a few tries, Optimus found that Ratchet preferred not to be covered with his blanket but liked lay on top. Arcee on the other hand purred contentedly when the large servos tucked it tightly around her curled body and snuggled into its warmth. Bumblebee was the classic baby picture, laying on his back with the blanket up to his chin. He clicked a chirp as he poked out a servo with grabbing motions and patted at his helm. Optimus obliged and rubbed the yellow helm which brought a flood of purrs from the little mech. Bumblebee wiggled comfortably as his lids drooped shut under the gentle stroking, tiny servos clutching the top edge of the blanket.
The sparklings were tired out after their strange day and it didn't take long until their shallow vents became soft and regular. Only after waiting a good period of time did Optimus allow himself to leave long enough to get himself a cube of energon which he quickly made short work of, not realizing until now just how empty his tank was. And after such a day, even treating himself to a second helping. He returned to find all sparklings just as he had left them and recharging soundly. He dimmed the light but not all the way. Even if bots could see in almost total darkness, if something did happen during the night he didn't want to worry about switching to night vision as it took their optics a few seconds to adjust to the right settings for clear imaging. This way he would be able to see everything instantly. Only after one last check, did Optimus finally allow himself to lie down on his berth and close his optics. It hadn't been easy, but he had made it through and he was sure things would be easier tomorrow.
Little did he know.
It felt as if recharge had only just set in when his alert programming jerked him awake. Wondering what had triggered it he listened, and the sound of soft whimperings came through his audials. With a sudden cydrenaline rush, Optimus was instantly up on his treads and hurried to the crates. He knelt down as he looked in the little beds and saw that all four sparklings were awake and sitting up, squirming restlessly as though uncomfortable. Arcee whined up at the mech as if trying to tell him the cause of her pain.
Optimus frowned as he stroked her back struts. "What is wrong?" He observed the femme's servos clutched low under her mid-section. The others were in similar positions. Then Optimus noticed the wet blankets and the oily smell emanating from them. The blue helm slowly tilted back with optics closed.
Of course. What goes in; must eventually come out. How could he have forgotten? Just when he thought he was getting things under control too.
Their digestive chambers couldn't use every single bit of energon and oil, so the leftover was deposited in a special compartment along with any other used up body fluids or lubricants. When this chamber became full it had to be flushed out. If it wasn't taken care of, it would become extremely uncomfortable as the pressure built and would even begin to leak. In simple terms; they had wet the beds. And they had wet them a lot.
With a sighing vent, Optimus gathered the sparklings in his arms and carried them out to one of the bunker's flood drains where they could empty themselves. He had to help them by opening the small drain plugs under the sparklings' lower region plating (which was nearly as bad as the spit-up incident as they were so full it just started coming out all over his servos). Optimus just bared it though as he held each one over the drain in turn. When they had all finished lubricating, they were much happier again and jabbered their gibberish chirps and clicks of thanks to the large mech. But because of their accident, their shells now smelled like the blankets did with a thick fetid oily smell.
With a long low vent that could have very well been a moan, Optimus and went to fill the tubs – again.
…
Monday morning: 6am…
Optimus emerged from the hallway back to the main bunker room with his arms loaded with the dirtied blankets. He dropped the load next to a tub of soapy water.
The baths had gone rather rotten. Even if bubbles were fun, the sparklings were tired of getting washed and had all been fussy. Thankfully all that was required was a quick washing as it had all been fresh and came off easily. But just as he was about to take them back to bed, they had begun to cry while reaching for the bottles they could see sitting on the workspace above. Another feeding had followed with the sparklings draining down two bottles each, during which Optimus had taken the chance to replace the beds with new clean padding.
They had nearly fallen into recharge in the Prime's arms before he got them back to his berth room. Now all clean and tanks filled to their sparks' content, the sparklings were once more in a sound recharge, cuddled up in their fresh beds.
But for Optimus there was no rest yet, and he doubted there would be the rest of the night. He didn't want to leave the smelly blankets overnight for when the kids came next afternoon; so he now began washing them out one by one, scrubbing them between his servos basically like a washboard. He then rinsed them in a second tub filled with just water before wringing them out and laying them on some metal paneling he had set upright in one corner that served as a type of drying rack. By the time he finished here the sparklings would probably have woken up and be demanding their breakfast. Then another day of botsitting would begin again, hopefully without the mishaps of the night before.
As Optimus scrubbed the blankets between frothy servos, he couldn't believe it had only been less than twelve hours since he had fought his epic battle with Megatron on that ledge. And now here he was – doing laundry. What a switch. Honestly, an all-out fight was starting to sound pretty tame to the Prime right about now.