Techs Fanfictions

Prowl sighed glancing over the crowd on the dance floor, he tapped his credit sticks on the bar counter top.  The officer waited for the cubes of high grade as the latest heavy bass song came out over the speakers in the club.  The colored lights started strobing and the floor lit up in all different colors. The vibrations of the beat heavy song went throughout the quiet mechs frame and the high grade he was transporting for him and a couple of friends.  Prowl waited for the last high grade drink to be placed in front of him before paying and walking off with said cubes.  He passed out the drinks to his friends before sitting at the table with his friends.

“So,” started Prowl. “Why are we here again?” asked the black and white mech.  This had never been Prowls scene.  This was the first time he had set ped in a bar let alone a dance club.

“We’re celebrating Prowl. We’ve all finally graduated and no longer have to learn crap – you know unless we get a job,” answered one of his friends.  

“Yeah, stop being such a party pooper and loosen up, I heard DJ Meister is the best Iacon has to offer,” stated the second friend.

“You don’t have to dance or anything Prowl,” stated the third friend, “Just try to enjoy yourself.”

Prowl hummed uneasily as his friends one by one finished their cubes of high grade and went off to dance with whatever pretty little things they could find.  Prowl remained at the table and pulled out a data pad, a mecha with a holier than thou attitude walked by waving a hand between Prowl and the data pad he had been reading.  Prowl looked up at the mech glaring at him as his slightly drunk stature went and got another cube of high grade.

Prowl made sure to keep a better picture of his surroundings after that mech had invaded his personal space. The music was good, but Prowl would much rather have been in his living room reading on his couch.  He had really only come out tonight to please his friends. They often grew worried about him sitting at home all the time.  If he wasn’t working or in class Prowl was at home being alone.  For some reason that bothered his friends; it didn’t so much bother Prowl.

The crowd was loud and increasing grew sloppier in their dance maneuvers as the Night went on. The guest DJ for the night had been packing up while the regular tracks for the club played on.  Prowl still sat at the table having run out of novels to read on the data pad while waiting for his friends to get done wooing the mechs they had been grinding against.

The Praxian framed mech stared at his group of friends as they desperately attempted another wooing tactic, a bad police officer pick up line before their drunken targets could walk away completely uninterested.  Prowl sighed unamused by his comrades tactics as he heard a new mech join him at the table he was currently occupying.

Prowl continued to suck on his regular grade energon through a straw as he stared at the mech who had taken a seat across from him at the table the officer now considered his territory. The other mecha just stared back at him with the same intensity – it seemed this mech spoke the same language Prowl did.  “Aren’t you the DJ who was playing tonight?” asked the Praxian.

“Yep,” answered the other mech.  “Names Jazz by the way.  DJ Meister is just the work name.”  The blue and white mech was grinning wildly.  “Who might you be?” he asked in a thick polyhexian accent.

“Prowl.  My friends were just celebrating our graduation from the police academy,” stated the Praxian.  He gestured to the group of friends with their arms around complete strangers they had just met on the dance floor tonight as they walked off.

Jazz studied them as they left, “Ah.  I see. Must have been some celebration eh?”

Prowl shrugged and Jazz watched mesmerized by the way the officers door wings moved just as gracefully as his shoulders.  Was the other mech aware that his door wings twitched ever so subtly?  “I… guess?” stated the Praxian as he took another few sips of his regular grade energon.  “I would have much rather been home relaxing than be out here,” admitted Prowl.

Jazz smiled, “I get that. I don’t blame you there are nights where that’s all I want to do too.  Sometimes socializing can just be exhausting.”  The disc jockey looked to one of the workers asking for his cube of regular grade.  If it was up to Jazz he would stay here and talk with Prowl all night long.

Jazz wasn’t sure how but somehow he had convinced the Praxian to stay until the club started really closing down.  Prowl yawned as the owner finally started shooing them out the front doors.  The blue and white mech turned to Prowl and smiled to him, “I don’t mean to be so forward but would you like to go on a date or something?”

“I would like to,” smiled Prowl tiredly.  “Why don’t we meet up somewhere say… next week?  We can make plans then?”

“You know I was being sarcastic, right?” asked Rodimus.

“Sar-sarcastic?” asked Magnus.  He stood dumbfounded in the middle of the rec room having just gotten done performing what his captain had asked.

“Yes, Sarcasm,” started Rodimus.  The hot rod was currently legitimately worried that he had broken the SIC he and Megatron now had to share. “You know the use of irony to mock or convey contempt,” the captain seemed to repeat it from some dictionary so easily.

“So you didn’t want any of this done?” asked Magnus in the middle of the stuff he had just put up.  “You gave a fake order?”

“I-“ Rodimus paused attempting to convey exactly what it was he had done.  He had given a fake order – that much was true but he had wanted to say exactly what it was without getting himself a night in the brig or a scolding from Megatron.  “It was not an order I thought anyone would follow.  So, I was not prepared to find said order being carried out.  It was meant to be funny not followed through on.”

“Fuh-“ Ultra Magnus made several more attempts at repeating the word.  “fu-uaaaaah”

“Just stop,” stated Rodimus shushing him.  “Don’t – don’t hurt yourself.”

So, this order was not meant to see the light of day.  Ultra Magnus was more disappointed in himself at this point for using up what could have been valuable resources on this not-order.

“So what should I do with it now?” asked the large mech.

Bumblebee sighed walking away from the two teens, Grimlock and Fixit watched the two argue.  No one noticed Bumblebee walking away from the scene.  Which was for the better, he rubbed his forehelm trying to stop the processor ache quickly forming.  Two solid weeks of arguing, there were worse then Bulkhead and Breakdown, and they were on opposite sides of the war!  

Once at the gate to the junk yard Bumblebee transformed going for a drive, something that had always put him at ease.   Once your T-cog activated, driving was like nothing else.   Driving was a good way for any Cybertronian to calm down, or flying, frame permitting.  The black and yellow sports car sped a little over the speed limit on the back road, they were surrounded by trees, and he wouldn't have a government liason breathing down his neck to reprimand him.  

He had expected to make this journey on his own.  He was almost ready to contact Knock Out and space bridge them all back to Cybertron so he could finish the job himself.  But Optimus would most likely have a problem with that.  Bumblebee frowned, pulling off into the thick woods, quickly making sure no one was around to see.   He walked through the woods, finding a nice place to sit and think.  

A clearing, probably from one of their battles earlier in the year.   Bumblebee smiled slightly sitting on one of the fallen trunks.  It creaked under his weight it didn't bother Bumblebee much.  Everything in Nevada had seemed to creak under their weight.  Bumblebee leaned against one of the still standing trees, a creaking noise came from that one as well.  

He sighed thinking about how much easier this entire mission would be if it was just him.  After all Bumblebee delivered the last blow to Megatron, there wasn't a con online that he couldn't take.  In his military career Bumblebee had taken on Starscream, Soundwave, Megatron, Breakdown, too many vehicons to count, and plenty of others.  Everything seemed so different now that he was mentoring two teenagers, one who was only on earth because he didn't want to return to Cybertron, too many laws.  The other seemed to be an Ultra Magnus clone with some of Prowls designs.

Both of the teenagers would be safer on Cybertron.  That much was for certain.   Bumblebee should have been able to command them back to Cybertron.  Why it hadn't worked, he may never know.  He didn't remember being so insubordinate as a teenager.  Though When Optimus gave an order you listened, no if, ands, or buts about it.  

Bumblebee stretched, letting his door wings unkink themselves.  Sure the teenagers could be a handful and make Bumblebee want to tear off his paint at times.  But They were good kids, they would make great officers one day.

“Ow!  Sideswipe!  Stop touching me!”

“I'm not touching you!”

“Yes you are!  Sideswipe stop it!”

That is if some one doesn't kill them before they reach adulthood.

Prowl hurt, he couldn't remember why.  His spark was aching, his intake manifold was sore, and he could feel his door-wings throb with his pump.  His optics stung, the enforcer reached out where his mate was supposed to be.

The spot next to him was cool.  There was still some residual warmth, but he had gotten up a while ago.  It was odd, normally he was first one up.  The enforcer slowly boot up his systems, the world spun as he turned over, getting ready to escape the bliss of the recharge berth.  The berth was warm, and comforting, the room was dark and relaxing.  The enforcer really should care what time it was-he did have to go to work, but he couldn't bring himself to.  He was so tired, and sort of hungry.

The enforcer stayed in that position, even as Jazz opened the door a wedge.  “Do you want the light on Prowler?”

“hmm,” hummed Prowl shielding his optics from the harsh light as his mate turned on the lights in their room.  

“You feeling okay?” asked Jazz stepping into the room.  Prowl was never this hard to get up in the morning, by now the enforcer was annoying the rest of the unit in to getting up and not being late to school or work.

Prowl invented deeply, “yes.”  It wasn't a total lie, the world was spinning and his optics hurt.  All he wanted to do was recharge.  “I'll be up shortly.”

“okay, might want to hurry roads are icy, Prowler.”  

With that Jazz left for Prowl to get ready to another long day at the office.  Prowl finally sat up, slowly walking to the door, and out of their apartment.

**

The walk to work had been tiring and his processor felt two steps behind.  The enforcer was extremely grateful that he had a desk job.  

Even just sitting at his desk the world still seemed to spin, or at least that what his fuel tank thought.  The enforcer picked up the first data pad of the day, rigorously going through the actions of the police officers in his jurisdiction.    

His helm hurt, it was something he could work through.  Soon mid-cycle was coming up.  His tank still felt spiny, but growled at the thought of mid-cycle fueling.  

The black and white enforcer slowly walked to the cabinet where he kept small snacks.  He grabbed a packet of energon-o's.  Enough for Prowl to get a snack before getting a real meal.  

The energon-o's seemed to help.  His fuel tank settled, still spun but not at such an alarming rate.  

Mid-cycle turned up quickly, Jazz entered his office, two large cubes of energon in his hands.  Prowl smiled to his mate as he sat across from him, handing one to the enforcer behind the desk.

“I see you broke into your secret stash of goodies, Prowler.”  Jazz glanced to the container of almost empty energon-o's.  “You know that stuff ain't healthy.”

“It's inexpensive and easy to store,” answered Prowl before downing half the cube.  “I really can't afford to keep my stash up to date.”

“Jeez, Prowler,” started Jazz sipping at his own cube.  “I know you skipped your morning fuel but you're really downing those cubes like it'll be your last one.”

“It's really odd,” started Prowl taking a large gulp of energon.  “I was nauseous this morning.  It's still there honestly but I'm too hungry to care.”  The enforcer finished the cube and set it down on his desk, being careful not to mess with the messy pile of data pads that need reviewing.

“Maybe after work we could get Ratchet to take a look at you.  You were really hard to get up this morning.  That never happens.”  Jazz continued to sip at his cube.

“only if it continues,” stated Prowl, starring at the cube Jazz was sipping.  “I have been under a lot of stress recently.  The city wide drills are coming up, if it continues past the drills I will see Ratchet.”

“Promise, mech?”

“Promise.”  Jazz stood stealing a kiss from his mate.  “I know you left in a hurry, but Bluestreak missed getting his mornin' hug from you before I took him to school.”

“Then I will pick him up from school today and make up for my mistake,” offered Prowl picking up a data pad and running though it.

**

The day seemed to roll by after Jazz left to continue working.  Soon Prowl was packing up any high priority data pads and heading off to pick up his adopted creation.

The school was rather large, creators waited impatiently in the creator pick up line.  Prowl stood on the playground not really in a hurry to head back home.  The enforcer felt good, the warm breeze caressed his door-wings sending gentle static throughout his frame.  This time of year mornings were cold and afternoons were warm pleasant.

His fuel tank growled, signaling he was hungry again.  The enforcer sighed, as the nausea came back, Prowl stayed at the benches, waiting for Bluestreak to come out.

Soon a rush of sparklings and youngling exited the building, some climbing into their creators alt. Modes, others waiting for their creators in line.  The enforcer spotted, small gray door-wings, and small red chevron in the mess of colorful little bodies.  Prowl slowly approached the mass of children hoping to get Bluestreaks attention.

“Prowl!” yelled Bluestreak excitedly, the youngling ran to Prowl clinging to his leg.

“whoa, careful,” smiled Prowl patting the younglings back softly between the door-wings.  “I'm not feeling too well.”

“oh, sorry!” grinned Bluestreak up to his guardian.  The youngling continued to cling to Prowl, seeing as more of the mass of sparklings dwindled.

Prowl waited for a teacher to realize he had his charge before walking over to the playground, “Would you like to go out to eat?  I apologize for not being able to see you before you went to school Bluestreak.”

“It's okay,” smiled Bluestreak.  “Jazz said you weren't feeling well and you didn't want me to get sick.”  though their morning routine had been broken and Bluestreak was a little sad that they hadn't met up before school.  Jazz had helped him get through it though, and Prowl being able to pick him up after school was really great too.

“Did you want to eat out?  I'm starving,” stated Prowl.  The nausea returned full force, Prowl clutched at his abdominal plates attempting to get his tank to stop churning.  

“Are you okay?” asked Bluestreak, “Should I call Jazz?”

“No Blue, I am okay,” the black and white enforcer smiled to his charge, “come on lets go get some fuel.”

Bluestreak walked with Prowl down the street to the burger bot.  Bluestreak going on about the friends he made and the activities he had taken part of in school.  

“I am glad that you enjoy your time at school Bluestreak,” smiled Prowl.  The building was a gentle warm, full of creations and creators, mechlings, adolescences, and adults attempting to get some fuel before they went on with their busy schedules.

“Yeah, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are pretty cool. They're really good at everything!”  smiled Bluestreak continuing to go on about his friends.

The two Praxian framed mechs stood in line, waiting for their turn to order.  The cashier mech greeted them taking their orders, and handing over what they ordered.

“Go find us a place to sit, Bluestreak.”  The larger Praxian followed after the smaller.

Bluestreak slid into a booth, a nice view of the large five lane road connecting the burger bot to the rest of cybertron.  

“Here you go kid,” stated Prowl handing over the meal Bluestreak had ordered.

**

Prowl hadn't realized he had fallen into recharge, his door wings were cramped after being laid on for the last few hours.    His tanks spun as he slowly sat up, paying attention to the youngling show that Bluestreak was watching.  That the enforcer was suppose to be paying attention to as well.

The small gray youngling sat at the coffee table working on homework, and glancing at the program every so often.  Bluestreak had gotten pretty far since Prowl had gone into recharge.

“Which homework are you on now?” asked Prowl looking over the answers that Bluestreak had already written, they were written well.  They were correct.

“Literature,” answered Bluestreak.  “The story was boring though.”

“Was it?” asked Prowl.  The enforcer had that same problem going through literature classes, “They make you read them because they are important, not because they are entertaining.  There are several novels out there that are much more entertaining that what ever ancient mech first imagined those stories.”

Bluestreak smiled up to his guardian.  “Jazz left a message while you were recharging, said he wouldn't be home till late.”

Prowl nodded, “We can handle things with out him for a while.”  

Bluestreaks wings fluttered happily.  

Soon night approached, Bluestreak yawned, and leaned into his Praxian guardian. The smaller mechs frame was lethargic, getting heavier by the nano-click.

“Why don't you head to recharge,” asked Prowl.  “I'll be sure to tell Jazz not to be so late next time.”

Bluestreak stood slowly holding on to Prowls hand.  “Will you tuck me in?”  It wasn't often that the enforcer was able to tuck him in.  Sure Bluestreak loved Jazz, but there was something about another Praxian that made bed time that much better.

Prowl stood slowly gaining his bearing, the world tipped a bit, his door-wings wiggled to compensate.  Bluestreak lead the way to his room in the two room apartment.  Prowl waited for Bluestreak to get comfortable in his berth.  

Once the youngling was sitting up, arms reaching to Prowl the enforcer leaned down, holding the younglings face in his hands, nuzzling his smaller chevron with his own.  The youngling smiled, the chevron kisses were Praxian in origin, it was part of Praxian culture.  Bluestreak loved that bit of home that Prowl offered.

His coded creators didn't want him, but Prowl and Jazz more than made up for the slack of his original creators.  Iacon was nice, and Prowl was still able to teach him Praxian traditions and holidays.  Jazz was great too, the Polyhexian mech was fun, countering Prowls seriousness.  Jazz could tell the best stories, and played all the time with him, helped keep him busy, and away from some not so fun memories.  Jazz was great but he couldn't give chevron kisses.  The Polyhexian made up for it in other ways.

Prowl sat on Bluestreaks berth, giving the young mech a hug, before the youngling laid down.  The enforcer gently pulled up the sheet, making sure to get the young one snug.  Giving Bluestreak one more chevron kiss before standing tall and heading for the door.

The small mech smiled wide, his optics dimming as Prowl turned in the door way.

“Good night Bluestreak,” stated Prowl turning off the light.

“Love you,” whispered Bluestreak finally shutting down into recharge.

Prowl smiled, “love you too little bit.”  

Prowl slowly made his way back to the living room, watching the news volume low.  The news mechs going on about current events the weather, hot spot activity.  The enforcers world spun, he shouldn't feel nauseous sitting down watching the news.  That much he was certain and he was hungry again.  The food from burger bot should have filled him up, for the rest of the day.

Prowl slowly got up, nausea showing up full force.  Prowl rushed to the sink purging his tanks into the stainless steel.  His whole frame rattled with every heave.  

“Prowler?” asked Jazz closing the door and running to his mate.  “You okay?”

The enforcer grunted, coughing trying to get the taste of unprocessed fuel out of his mouth.  He nodded, “I think so.  But I'm tired and hungry.”

“Then I'll get you something to eat, go wash the vile taste out of your mouth,” stated Jazz going through the cupboards searching for spices to add to Prowls energon cube.  

The black and white mech nodded, walking to the wash racks to rinse his mouth.  Prowl was soon done, the taste out of his mouth, he so tired, the berth room was closer than the kitchen.  Prowl slowly climbed into the berth, falling into recharge instantly.  

Jazz waited several giga-klicks before going to look for Prowl.  He sighed seeing his mates black and white frame recharging haphazardly on their berth.  One ped hanging off the berth, his door-wings slack against his back in such a way that signaled just how tired he was.  

“Prowler,” sighed Jazz.  “If you were that tired ya shoulda let me know.”  

Jazz returned to the kitchen putting the cube back in the storage area, for Prowl to down later.  Jazz climbed into the berth next to his mate, pulling the sheets over the two of them.  

**

The next morning Jazz woke to the sound of his mate purging what ever was in his tanks.  Jazz rolled over, looking to the door that connected their room to the wash racks.  The silhouette of his mate made it look so painful, the door-wings trembling, the sounds, and the forced coughs rattling his whole frame.

“Prowler,” whispered Jazz crawling off the bed and over to his mate.  “I don't think we should wait to see Ratch.”

Prowl looked to Jazz opening his mouth the speak before immediately turning away from his mate and releasing the rest of the contents of his tank on to the wash rack floor.

Prowl took several deep intakes to try and ease his upset systems.  “I was going to retort,” stated Prowl.   “but you are correct, waiting would be ill advised.”

The Polyhexian rubbed his mates back plates, right between his door-wings.  The spot always seemed to tame the Praxian when he gone into one of his stressed out moods.  “I'll bring you something neutral,” offered Jazz.  “At least if its something neutral then you shouldn't purge it back up.”

The key word was 'shouldn't'.  

Jazz returned quickly, shoving a cube in front of him.  Prowl slowly downed the cube, it burned on the way down.  The cool energon settled uneasily in his tank.  His helm ache went away for the most part, his back plates relaxed a bit.

“I'll get Baby Blue off to school then we'll go visit Ratch,” stated Jazz.  “lets get you resting on the Couch with your energon.”  Jazz helped his mate up, supporting most of his frame.  “let me know if I’m' moving too fast.”

Prowl nodded, his peds felt heavy as his mate practically dragged his mate to the couch.  Setting him down gently.  The tension from the enforcers frame bleed at being set on the plush couch.  

**

Bluestreak had trotted off to school, Jazz had returned and the were currently waiting for Ratchet to call them back.  The enforcers processor was still felt two steps behind and he hated it.

He had always been able to see 200 different steps into the next two steps forward.  Being two steps behind threw his cortex through a loop, and he hated every minute of it.  

A nurse came and called Prowls name, the enforcer walked into the back.  The nurse getting his weight and height.   Prowl sighed as he noticed how much the nurse was writing down, how could he weight more than the 4 seater version of his frame type?  Prowl was beginning to think he really did need the diet Ratchet had suggested he start.  

The nurse led him to a room, private, taking his oil pressure, and plugging into his internal diagnostic computer and reading any errors present.

“Have you been ignoring your check engine lights again?”  asked the nurse.  Ratchet must have put it on his file.

Prowl shook his helm, “no I have not.  My check engine light has not come on since I last visited Ratchet.”

The nurse nodded, writing down what he enforcer had said.  Also writing down his oil pressure.  “Your oil pressure is a little low.”  The nurse finished up their part and stood, setting Prowls medical file on the shelf screwed into the door.  “Ratchet will by by in a bit.”

Prowl nodded sitting awkwardly on the examination table.  He used to be able to sit still, why was he fidgeting now?  He really needed to figure out what was wrong.  Prowl could only hope it was fixable.

Ratchet entered not too long later, still the waiting time to Prowl had seemed to drag on.  

“Did I threaten you to come in today?” asked Ratchet surprised that he had seen Prowls file in the door.    The medic looked over the file waiting for the enforcers answer.

“No,” stated Prowl,  “I came because for the past few days I have needed more recharge than normal and have purged a few times in the past few cycles.”  

“Oh,” stated Ratchet, really surprised.  “That's good.  Not the purging bit the coming with out me forcing you to.”  Ratchet skimmed through the data pad, filled with messy hand writing and notes on his special condition.  “It looks like your oil pressure is lower than normal.  Whats your diet consist of the past few deca-cycles?”

“The normal stuff,” stated Prowl, “yesterday I took Blue to a burger bot.”

Ratchet hummed, “Have you been under the regular amount of stress?” Again Prowl nodded, nothing had changed from any of the past check ups, same job, same idiot subordinates, same youngling, and same mate.  “Alright lay back,” stated Ratchet getting up setting the pad down and helping Prowl lay down.  “I'm going to do a general scan and see whats going on.  But since you're not running a fever nor is your coolant low, so It unlike you are sick.”

“But not impossible,” stated Prowl, laying back and attempting to relax as Ratchet scanned his entire frame looking for abnormalities.  

“Right,” stated Ratchet.  The medic scanned the Praxians frame, going over the scans on the data pad.  

Prowl watched as the medic looked over his scans, curious as to what the medic saw.

“There's one thing I'd like to check out,” started Ratchet.  He went into a drawer and pulled out a stick with a male port sticking out.  “This will test your spark and gestation chamber.  Please open your medical port.”  The enforcer did, Ratchet stuck the test stick into Prowls female medical hub.  

Prowl relaxed against the examination table letting the test do it things.  He attempted to keep still feeling the device probe his systems harmlessly.  He listened to his own systems run trying not to let the anxiety get the better of him.

Ratchet pulled the test out of his medical hub after what felt like an eternity.  “Now we wait,” stated Ratchet.  “Did you want me to grab Jazz?”

Prowl nodded silently, this would be either devastating or a miracle depending on the test results.  But no matter what the test results said it was likely that the enforcer would need Jazz.  

“Alright,” stated Ratchet standing and bringing Jazz back to Prowls room.  “I'll be back before the test finishes.”

Jazz took the seat next to where Prowl was sitting.  Watching as Ratchet left to do Primus knows what.   The Polyhexian looked over to his mate, “whats going on?  Is it life threatening?”

“Not necessarily,” stated Prowl.  “He thinks I could be carrying.”

Jazz's face split in a wide grin, “Really?  But I thought -”

“Don't get your hopes up,” said Prowl holding on to his mates hand.  “It could very well be my systems glitching.”

“Or it could be a nibblet,” smiled Jazz.  The blue, black and white mech rubbed his thumb on his mates hand, talking quietly with his mate.  

Ratchet returned after a while, holding up a data pad and the testing stick.  The medic sat at his chair, “Well the test is done.  It has confirmed that you are carrying Prowl.”

The first question he had wanted to ask was how, both he and Jazz had been told they would not be able to have sparklings.  Though that had been when Prowl had been trying to spark Jazz – not the other way around.  The Enforcer found it funny, He had been trying to spark Jazz since before they had adopted Bluestreak, Jazz tops once and get the enforcer to carry the first time.

“Now,” started Ratchet.  “If you decide to keep the sparkling, there are somethings I should warn you about.”  Both of the black and whites went silent.  “Prowl is high maintenance, medical wise.  His Stress levels are going to have to be reduced to miniscule levels, no glitches.”

Jazz seemed to deflate a little, why not ask him to cure world hunger and rebuild Luna 1?

“I can understand that eliminating Stress is impossible, but reducing stress is possible.”  Ratchet gather another few data pads.  “One of these is for you Prowl, and this one is for Jazz, Then this pad is general things the both of you need to know,” stated Ratchet handing each one to Jazz.  “It would be beneficial if you probably took leave from work, get lots of rest, intake much more energon, additives will be provided to you from my clinic.  You'll need to set up an appointment for the next time you see me.”

**

Prowl stared at the print out on the data pad.  It was their sparkling, a combination of both their CNA, something the other thought that he could never give to his mate.  So in that realization that they just weren't meant to have sparklings of their own they adopted Bluestreak.  Who became their own.  The little Praxian was as much theirs as this little one would be.  

All they had to do was wait for the youngling to come home.  Jazz had gone to go get him, they should be back soon.  Prowl continued to look at the image, it was just beginning to develop the general outline of a helm and body.  Prowl couldn't wait, Bluestreak would have a younger sibling, and they would have a sparkling.  Prowl just couldn't believe how far along he was. 9 Deca-cycles, already starting to develop a helm.

Jazz and Bluestreak entered the apartment, the youngling excited to be home, hugging his adoptive Creator and going on about what friends he had made.  Jazz and Prowl listened carefully as the youngling rambled on, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe doing something ridiculous while he had watched and told them not to.

Once the youngling had run out of things to talk about the youngling noticed that Prowl was indeed home, normally he was at work.  It was rare for the Enforcer to be home this earlier never mind being home early twice in one deca-cycle.

“Hey?  Why are you home?” asked Bluestreak.  “Aren't you supposed to be workin'?”

“That's sorta what we wanted to talk to ya 'bout,” stated Jazz sitting next to his mate and pulling his youngling up onto the couch. “We got some news for ya.”

The youngling looked to Jazz and Prowl both seemed happy, so the news wasn't bad.  He waited for Prowl or Jazz to speak before he did anything.

Jazz was the first to speak, “well baby Blue, Prowlers going to have a sparkling.”  

“Whats it going to be?  Is he going to take after Jazz or you?” asked the youngling leaning into Prowl likely to see if he could hear the sparklings systems.  

“Well right now it looks a little like a blob,” stated Jazz showing Bluestreak the data pad with the image of the new sparks developing frame.

“He does kinda look like a blob!” smiled Bluestreak.

“As soon as we know,” started Prowl. “We'll let you know.”

Bluestreak grinned asking a billion more questions and talking about the different things that he and his new sibling will be doing as soon as he was ready.

**

Carrying had been hard, his spark casing had felt three sizes two small.  His Frame had been bent, and his struts will no doubt permanently be sore from the extra weight he had carried for almost a vorn.  He had gotten so bored from not being able to work, painfully bored.  He had gotten to know his youngling well though, Bluestreak was a wonderful kid and Prowl was glad he got to know the young Praxian.

Carrying may have been hard but this pit fragging labor was worse.  6 mega-klicks in and the sparkling still wasn't ready to emerge from the dark interior of his carriers systems.  Jazz had been at his side for the same past 6 hours leaving only once to grab a cube.  It was early in the morning, the enforcer was tired and wanted to recharge more now than he had ever wanted to in his life.

Prowl could only hope that this sparkling would be worth the 6 mega-klicks and counting labor pains.  

Ratchet had been in and out, checking on Prowl as often as he could.  The enforcer was finally ready to emerge the sparkling after 8 mega-klicks.  At that point Prowl was both ready for the sparkling to come out and done with the entire thing.  

Bluestreak was outside with Prowls brother, another enforcer from Praxus – Barricade.  The two had come to the hospital as soon as the youngling had woken up.  They had been in the cafeteria grabbing food with Jazz after not having any in so long before returning to Prowl.  Not too long after Barricade had gotten them kicked out for table surfing.  Prowl would blow a fuse and Barricade knew it.

After the cafeteria incident they had gone into the waiting room where they would be called for once Bluestreaks little brother had finally graced Cybertron.  Barricade had introduced the youngling to the wild game of blackjack, then after the youngling got bored war.

It seemed to take forever before a nurse came to get them.  Both of them hurried after the nurse and were excited to see and exhausted Prowl and a dented Jazz, with the smallest family member gracing Cybertron.

“Its about time,” stated Barricade.  “You never do anything quickly do you?”

“Ratchet said it was pretty quick time for a first time carrier,” stated Jazz.  “Any way, Barricade, baby Blue, meet Chase.”

Prowl had angled the new spark so Bluestreak could see his younger brother.  Jazz helped the youngling up onto Prowls medical berth.  

“Whoa,” whispered Bluestreak.  The little sparkling was blue and white with a frame that took after Jazz's.  “He's so small.”

“Yes he is,” stated Jazz, “and his armor is soft so we need to be careful with him.”

“All sparklings start off soft and in a few Deca-cycles his armor will start to harden” explained Prowl.

The new spark gurgled and whined, not liking what was going on at all.  “Soon we'll get to go home and be comfortable,” stated Jazz, letting the sparkling hold onto his digit.

**

Chase had been home for a deca-cycle.  His armor had started hardening, but still required padding when being set down.  Prowl was still sore and kept most of his attention on both Chase and Bluestreak.  The Enforcers only trips to the outside had been to take Bluestreak to school while he had been carrying and now that he had delivered it was no longer his only trip outside.  Prowl had started taking Chase with him to the precinct, only working half days.  

He had to catch up on a vorn and a Deca-cycle of work, and the enforcers needed him and they enjoyed seeing little Chase.

The little mech had woken both him and Jazz up at odd hours of the night, keeping them up for an amazing amount of time.  Chase had a set of speakers, much like his Sire, and when he didn't like something he let his creators know.  

A red sparkling was happily playing with the seeker toys his adoptive creator had given him.  The small red sparkling made the fighter jet fly around the apartments living room.  His bigger adopted sibling was quietly sitting on the couch tapping on the data pad in his hands.  His game taking priority over playing with his paints.

Orion watched from the table covered in data pads, stylus almost flat from all the writing he had been doing.  Tax time was always horrible – the planet was finally getting the reformat it needed.  His mate his other gladiator brothers were free, their debts paid.  Everyone could choose, every one was represented.  Now Orion needed to figure out what Megatron needed to pay in taxes.

Orion sighed wanting to go and hang out with the sparklings he and his mate had adopted straight out of the pits.  Being a responsible adult sucked, and Librarians though paid modestly weren't paid much.  Megatron had it much worse, going from earning winnings any where from a few credits to 6 figures in one night.  Now he was unemployed, and still had none of the six figure credits that he used to pay off his debt and pay for his living expenses.

The silver mech had gone off in search of a job much like he did almost every day that Orion was home.  Most of the time he came home with disappointment.  There was still deep rooted hatred of the once known as lower caste.  Just because the government as a whole was being reformed to rid the caste system didn't mean that every one else would be so tolerant.  Megatrons job hunts were proof enough.  

The Librarian looked over the form once more, they had spent so much credits with in the last ano-cycle.  So far they owed the government six hundred creds.  Orion was beginning to doubt the thought of bringing another sparkling into their world.  2 sparklings already took a lot of energy and resources, with another one on the way, he really hoped that he was misunderstanding this form.

Orion sighed finally giving up on the tax form, nine hundred credits was a ridiculous amount to owe.  He commed Ultra Magnus demanding he come over and do his taxes.  Once he had figured out who was going to do his taxes he went to relax with his sparklings.  

Soon the sparklings had moved on playing a game on the vid screen, something about painting Iacon in different colors, the one who paints more of the city wins that round.  Ultra Magnus and the Librarian were working hard on the taxes that Orion had attempted to work on earlier.  

“The government owes you five hundred credits,” stated Ultra Magnus.  “I think that’s better than the 900 you owed earlier.”

“Definitely,” smiled Orion.

The sparklings ran to the door hearing their adoptive sire open the door and step in.  Both had run top speed to the silver mech, clinging to him as he attempted to walk into the apartment.

“Thanks Magnus,” stated Orion.  “We really appreciate it.”

“My Pleasure,” stated Ultra Magnus taking his leave and going back to his own home.  

Megatron let the sparklings cling to his legs, by now Knock Out and Breakdown were making it part of a game.  See who could stay on longer.

Orion carefully approached his mate, “so how did it go?”

“I got a night guard position at a warehouse,” stated Megatron.

BOOM!

The entire ark rumbled and shook in the aftermath of the noise.  Wheeljack reset his optics expecting to reboot to a half charred ceiling and his frame in pain.  It was odd, he wasn't in pain and his experiment was still intact.

“That wasn't my explosion.”  stated Wheeljack to himself, looking around to make sure none of his other experiment, unfinished or finished had exploded.    “Ha-ha!” laughed Wheeljack, “THAT WASN'T MY EXPLOSION!”  The engineer was excited, for once Ratchet wasn't going to yell at him for blowing himself up.

But speaking of that catastrophe not being his fault, who did cause that explosion?  The proximity alarms would have gone off if it was the Decepticons.  Wheeljack set his tools down on his work bench slowly packing up his lab for a short break.  The center of the explosion had been close to the labs.  It was either Skyfire, Perceptor, or Brainstorm.  

The microscope was way too careful to have caused in explosion.  So that left Skyfire and Brainstorm – both had the same lab space, both would be easy to check up on.

Wheeljack locked his lab, and walked over to Skyfires.  The door opened rather quickly, revealing the large flier working on something.  Brainstorm was over in his corner, working on his latest and greatest gun.  Something Ironhide would have been proud of.  

Skyfire turned over to the door, “Shouldn't you be in medical?”

“That was not my explosion,” stated Wheeljack proudly.  Almost too proudly, “But if it wasn't you guys either it must have been Percy.”

Wheeljack left after saying goodbye, stopping by medical to see if Perceptor was okay.  Medical was eerily quiet.  Ratchet must have been done working on Perceptor.  Wheeljack noticed how Ratchet talked to Perceptor, explanation calm, what the mech needed to do in order to keep the wounds from rusting over.  Drift listened carefully as well wanting to help Percy through keeping the wounds clean and help them heal.

Ratchet left the room, surprised to see Wheeljack, “You didn't get yourself blown up too did you?”

“No,” stated Wheeljack.  “Why don't I get Percys treatment huh?  I get a wrench and yelling?”

BETA READER

Even if its only for one fic I would really enjoy your help.  I'm always looking for ways to better my writing and english in general.  Though I have the worst memory there are several ways you will get credit (unless you don't want to - then let me know and I wont.... if that is a thing.)  A link to your account on my BETAS page, A link to your tumblr/FF.net/AO3/etc. (what ever you want linked) before the read more of the post, (in the places I CAN put links).  Other means of credit can be negotiated as well. 

FUTURE WEBSITE

I plan on opening a website for not only for posting these stories, but for polls and stuff as well.  I will post an update as soon as I get the site up and running.

FUTURE POLLS

With the above noted future update there will also be polls every now and then where I take one of the most interesting drabble you found and I expand on it.  So if the most people like 001 (the Heatwave Red Alert/Inferno one) then I would expand on it with more fluff and maybe some grody, depending on how I feel at the time. Of course the poll would only include fic options that I have ideas for (like 001 and 004 among others).  SO let me know what you think about the poll idea.

Preview of 014/365 Gratitude

You guys are awesome so please take this preview as a gift for your kindness!

“I see you broke into your secret stash of goodies, Prowler.” Jazz glanced to the container of almost empty energon-o's. “You know that stuff ain't healthy.” “It's inexpensive and easy to store,” answered Prowl before downing half the cube. “I really can't afford to keep my stash up to date.” “Jeez, Prowler,” started Jazz sipping at his own cube. “I know you skipped your morning fuel but you're really downing those cubes like it'll be your last one.” “It's really odd,” started Prowl taking a large gulp of energon. “I was nauseous this morning. It's still there honestly but I'm too hungry to care.” The enforcer finished the cube and set it down on his desk, being careful not to mess with the messy pile of data pads that need reviewing. “Maybe after work we could get Ratchet to take a look at you. You were really hard to get up this morning. That never happens.” Jazz continued to sip at his cube. “only if it continues,” stated Prowl, starring at the cube Jazz was sipping. “I have been under a lot of stress recently. The city wide drills are coming up, if it continues past the drills I will see Ratchet.” “Promise, mech?” “Promise.” Jazz stood stealing a kiss from his mate. “I know you left in a hurry, but Bluestreak missed getting his mornin' hug from you before I took him to school.”

He had heard Breakdown leave, quietly though quickly. He had given the recharging mech a soft kiss on his helm finals and walked out of their quarters attached to the medical bay. No doubt it was a mission for Lord Megatron, it had happened before.

Knock Out hadn't been too worried, Breakdown had suffered under the wrath of M.E.C.H. but he had pulled through and the brute was stronger for it too. He didn't know the specifics on the mission, only that he was with Dreadwing – the only other officer not on the ship at the time. Breakdown had good back up and MECH wouldn't be able to take with Dreadwing watching his back. That eased the Aston Martins stress about the armored trucks bad luck on missions.

Knock Out found the medical bay empty with out his assistant to share in the boredom with. The drone didn't tend to stop by for repairs, and the officers didn't get slagged too often. Even if they did they rarely came to medical with nothing less than a missing limb or spark failure.

By the time his midday fueling came around he started to worry. How long would this mission take anyway? Was it recon? Was he trying to find a mine? Was he gathering intel? Did MECH get him? He dismissed the paranoid thoughts as Dreadwing attempting to be through. Its not like two big mechs like Breakdown and Dreadwing would be fast.

Knock Out remained in the rec room for longer than normal hoping to have a conversation with any one. Soundwave wasn't much for conversation and Megatron refueled privately. Breakdown had been friends with many of the Vehicons – though Knock Out didn't really care much for any of the drones. Breakdown could tell most of them apart and knew their names.

The Aston Martin never understood how he could do it. To him they all looked the same. After all they were clones – identical. But Breakdown was able to tell.

Eventually Knock Out gave up on a little conversational adventure, and headed back to medical bay. Running system scans on the medical tech. Making sure it was in top shape, cleaning tools, and cleaning his rims.

Soon everything had been cleaned and rigorously tested into top shape. It was late now and Knock Out was growing restless. Why wasn't he back yet? He really couldn't dismiss his worries this time. It had been almost 24 hours. Where was Breakdown? Dreadwing wouldn't demand to stay out this long in the name of perfection. Only Knock Out demanded himself be that perfect, and Breakdown tolerated it.

Knock Out paced the medical bay, debating if he should talk to Megatron or Soundwave about his partners extended mission. Showing such insecurities though, was frowned upon. It represented weakness.

The medical bay doors chimed, a large blue frame walked in slowly. Not any worse for ware than when they had first met. Sure there were a few scratches, but nothing life threatening. He hadn't taken the fighter jet to take his finish so seriously. Breakdown must have been debriefing with Soundwave and Megatron.

“Knock Out,” started Dreadwing. Knock Out could tell that Dreadwing didn't want to say what he was going to say next. Just saying the red mechs name seemed to send a wave of despair through out the fliers whole frame. “I am sorry to inform you that Breakdown had been killed in action.”

Knock Outs processor stopped. His Optics had grown wide, his systems skipped several gears as his processor attempted to keep up with information. He could head his own transmission grind and whine, and make all sorts of unhealthy noises.

“Arachnid had been too much, she dismembered him, his spark guttered out before I had been able to find what was left of him.” Dreadwing slowly turned around leaving the medical bay. He had done what he needed to do, now it was time for the flier to move on, and tell Megatron of his failure and why he failed.

Knock Out just stood there his engine whining, hiccuping, and sputtering. After everything they had been through, the mech just up and dies on him. After their affair while Breakdown had still been part of the Wreckers, through Velocitron, and through Starscream short term reign over the Decepticons.

Knock Out hadn't felt the fluids running down his face, he hadn't even remembered walking into their-his quarters. He didn't even remember trashing the place.