Scent of the Future
Authors note: I'm getting close to finishing this thing shortly, and then I'll go to work on 'Birds and Bumblebees'. All that is yet to be revealed here is a special something pertaining to Jazz, and later, what Jetfire did to Elita (next chapter, I think). I hope you guys are enjoying this. :-) As requested by optimus prime 007 and some other reviewers, there will be another special edition chapter where Elita gives Optimus his 'wash & wax'. Elita will forget all about 'washing' when confronted by her mech's wet body, believe me... ::wink:: This is a MASSIVE chapter, which is fitting, considering what the surprise for Jazz and Prowl is! Enjoy.
For one of the very few times in his tremendously long life, Optimus Prime felt like either ignoring the frantic banging on the door of his and Elita's quarters, or using his rifle to shoot whoever it was through the door plating, an action he would never act upon but it made feel better at the thought of it. He was currently very comfortable, thank-you-very-much. He'd just been washed (sort of), and waxed (not really) - Elita had missed out the bottom half of his body when her admiration of his fine physique got the better of her and she decided there were much better things to do with his giant frame other than 'wax' it - and now he was reclining upon his massive recharge berth with his very-sated and spark-merged femme lying in his arms. What the pit was he needed for that couldn't wait for a cycle or two?!
Sighing, Optimus lowered his head to press a pert kiss with his mouthplates to the head of his recharging mate, affectionately nudging her cheek with his noseplates, then began shifting her slender body gently and carefully away from being entwined with his armor. His internal comlink was also bleeping and flashing at him. Slag it. The Decepticon alert code had not been activated so he already knew whatever was going on had nothing to do with an attack. The fact that Elita hadn't been woken also meant the emergency was not about their sparklings, so really, couldn't his soldiers leave him be for just a while longer...?
"'Bout time you slaggers got up," Ironhide put his fists on his hips and grunted as Optimus drew back the door and glared at him. The black mech glanced downwards, seeing the state of Prime's body and lifting one optic ridge with a smirk, "I think you missed some bits with the wax..."
"Report or go away," Prime rumbled in a controlled tone, Before I ask Magnus to shoot you where wax can't get to!
"We have an incoming Class One shuttle with neutrals aboard due to arrive in one Earth hour, thought you'd like to know," Ironhide responded, experienced enough to get the important details out before continuing to needle Prime about his time with his femme. "You might want to get cuddly with Sunstreaker to get that wax job cleaned up, while Elita is good at some things she obviously isn't so good at detailing."
Optimus stood still, one hand frozen on the doorframe, his expression speaking volumes for what he thought of Ironhide at the moment. Something from the Pit.
"I'll just go and get the other mech's together to make a greeting party, shall I?" Ironhide said abnormally brightly, turning and striding down the hallway, knowing his job of getting up his best friend's aft for the day was done.
The dangerous end of Elita's rifle appeared under Optimus Prime's armpit, pointed in Ironhide's direction. The femme herself was standing behind his hip, looking pissed. "Please, just once, I really think one of us ought to put a blast mark on his crotch," she said from behind him, her optics locked on the black mech as he disappeared around the corner.
Prime smiled, putting a soothing hand palm down on her head, "One of us will do just that before we offline and join the Allspark in our final moments, but until then, I need Ironhide with all of his bits intact." He pushed Elita's rifle down with one large hand, "Put that away, sweetspark."
Elita grimaced, but she obligingly subspaced her weapon. Optimus was the only mech that could issue her an order – and she only obeyed him if she felt agreeable about it. On the battlefield his word was law, off it... he had to bargain with her. She liked nothing more than having him playfully attempt to intimidate her with his height and deep voice into accepting an order, just so she could smile sweetly up at him, tuck her hands behind her back and purr, "No." She'd also learnt the Earth sayings, "As if" and, "talk to the hand" which she put to equal good use.
While Elita moved past him and out into the hallway, Optimus patted himself down, attempting to even out the dried smudged wax where their 'activities' had left impressions. Naughty impressions of Elita's neat little hands on his thighs and hips...
"I'll go and get our teeny botlings from Magnus while you... uh, try and look presentable. I'll meet you outside." Elita smiled at him over shoulder, giving him a wink.
Optimus gave a sigh that lifted up his chestplate armor. He turned back inside their quarters for a quick rubdown to smooth out the wax, muttering, "...Better get cleaned up so the neutrals don't think I'm a slob... or as randy as Ironhide."
By the time he made it outside after briefing SecDef Keller about the imminent arrival, the whole base was standing outside in the cool of the evening, waiting for the shuttle to begin its descent. He joined Elita with their sparklings. Safire was making 'phhht' noises and intently playing with Elita's shoulder armor, while Sabre was standing on Bumblebee's shoulder and looking up into the sky (with Bee's hands holding him in place).
"Magnus, you want to take Sabby back? You're taller than me," Bumblebee asked the big mech on his other side.
Ultra Magnus held his hands up in surrender, his optics flaring, "No, no, he's fine where he is... I've had him all afternoon, he's yours now."
"Aww, Sabby, what did you do to Uncle Magnus? He doesn't want you back!" Bumblebee cooed in his scratchy voice. Sabre didn't pay any attention. He'd been through arrivals before, he knew that this time there was a ship coming down as well. He'd never seen one before and he was very excited.
Prowl came quietly up to stand on the opposite side of Optimus. "They're almost through the atmosphere, ETA for landing is three-point-six-two Earth minutes. Everything is going smoothly."
Jazz made a sour expression. He'd been listening in on the conversations between Prowl and the new arrivals. From the sound of it, if the shuttle landed on the ground in one piece he'd declare he was a femme and ask the others to call him 'Daisy'. Wherever the neutrals ('neuts') had obtained that ship from, only Primus knew how they had ever made it to Earth. It was a right shocker of a ship. From what Prowl had conveyed to his mate, the neuts had a special cargo they were intent on delivering to Optimus Prime. Wouldn't say what it was, just that they were eager to land, offload their gift, repair their falling apart ship, and take off again. The neutrals weren't staying.
Optimus nodded, "Thank you, Prowl."
Ironhide had chosen to place himself between Sunstreaker and Ratchet. There was a 'disagreement' happening between the CMO and the golden Lamborghini. Neither party would elaborate. Chromia thought it was hilarious, and was giving both mechs cheeky looks. Sideswipe; caught in the middle; was trying to broker a peace deal. Not happening.
"Here it comes!" Wheeljack yelled.
Optimus Prime's optics widened. As did most of the other bots. Some began swearing to Primus.
The small shuttle was only big enough to comfortably handle no more than half a dozen bots. The 'ship' looked older than Optimus was. It was covered in mis-matching exterior plating, some parts black, others grey, a handful painted white. Laser fire marks decorated the entire ship from nose to tail... and one of the rear thrusters was trailing long plumes of white and orange smoke. As the ship got closer, the 'orange' was made out to be a thin flame.
The Autobot Commander's optic covers blinked rapidly. He looked shocked. "Primus... WHEELJACK!!"
"Already on it, Boss," 'Jack shouted back, stepping forward and transforming the armor on his left arm to reveal a fire suppression system. Ratchet had hinted at installing one, then suggested, then demanded, then wrestled Wheeljack onto a medbench and threatened him. So now, the explosions-prone mech was also a firefighter.
"I'm ready for casualties," The CMO said grimly, watching. If the ship couldn't make a safe landing, he would be up to his elbow struts in casualties.
Sideswipe had scrunched up his faceplates at the ship. "'Bro, that is hideous. How is is staying in the air?"
Ultra Magnus moved himself up next to Optimus, making sure Elita was caught between their sheltering bodies. Ready for anything. Prime hastily thought it hadn't been a good idea to bring Elita and their sparklings outside, but then, the Neuts had not indicated they were more likely to crash than perform a safe landing.
Sabre clicked and pointed eagerly, his small hand up in the air. "Bee! BEE!"
"I see it, Sabby. Just a shame your first ship has to be, er, that awful," Bumblebee said sadly. "Oh dear." He removed Sabre from his shoulder - getting an angry round of clicks from Prime's son – and held him in one arm. He wanted to be ready to run and shield the little bot if necessary.
"That's not a ship that's a junkpile," Elita murmured, holding Safire protectively up against the hollow between the rose red armor of her neck and her shoulder, appearing wary. "Optimus?"
Her mech narrowed his optics, swiftly calculating all the most likely scenarios, "It isn't landing near us, thank Primus."
"Landing?! Crashing is more like it!" Ironhide snorted. He'd tried moving Chromia behind him like a good mech should, but she had hissed at him and punched him in the hip plate. She did not need protecting.
Despite the flames, smoke and mis-matching parts, the shuttle did in fact land without too much effort. The pilot had some idea what he was doing, because he abandoned the brakes on the sorry-looking landing wheels early once he was on the ground and dropped the stubby nose down into the sandy desert floor instead. It seemed to work. The shuttle slid, jolted and bumped into awkward immobility.
Safire didn't like all the noise and commotion. She put her fist into her mouthplates and started to cry softly into Elita's shoulder. Optimus wanted to help comfort her, but he knew that keeping control of the situation with the ship was the best thing he could do at the moment. He sent soothing love through his sibling bond with her as best he could, and his spark twisted itself up for her. Elita would have to handle it for the time being.
Wheeljack sprinted to the side of the shuttle (once he had determined that nothing was going to explode in his face) and covered the over-heated thrusters in thick foam. Ratchet stood outside of what he thought was the shuttle door, wondering whether he should rip it off or wait. The decision was made for him when it was abruptly yanked off its hinges and thrown outwards by one of the inner occupants, landing at Ratchet's armor-clad yellow feet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker took off to cover the other side of the shuttle. The other mechs stood spread out in a semi-circle behind their Commander. If this was some sort of strange attack, they needed to spread out and keep alert.
The thick and rough burst of Cybertronian bellowed at the Autobots had some of them reaching for their rifles.
Placing a quick comforting hand on Elita's back, Optimus strode forwards and halted next to Ratchet. He upped the power of his chest-mounted headlights so the shuttle opening was bathed in light.
"I am Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots. Please identify yourselves and relinquish any weapons you may be carrying to my officers. We are armed and ready to protect ourselves with deadly force if you make a wrong move."
A heavily built dark green mech stood in the opening, sizing up the impressive and shiny Autobot Commander. "Well, ain't you a sight to see. Never thought I'd ever get the chance to meet you." The mech took a step out of the door and fully into the light. Two other mech's – one orange, one blue – came out behind him. All of them were thickly built with massive arms and clunky legs. "We've only got one weapon, and it doesn't really work but you can have it it you want it. I'm Spinner." He nodded at the two mechs behind him, "And this is Klaxxon and Wedge."
Standing behind Ratchet with his cannons primed and ready to rock, Ironhide made a disgusted face at the mech's statement. Only one weapon and it 'didn't really work'?! No wonder neutrals were rare. They didn't take defending themselves very seriously.
The green mech, Spinner, approached Optimus carefully. On his part, Prime stood with his arms at his sides, allowing the green mech to approach, his hands relaxed and ready to take on anything or anyone that came his way. He was relying on his heavy armor to deflect a first strike attack as he often did. At his side, Ultra Magnus was ready to throw his considerable weight into action as well, his body taut and optics sharp, his rifle attached to his thigh where he could grab it easily. These mechs claimed they were neutrals, and they did appear to be just that, but Optimus hadn't survived as long as he had and kept his Autobots safe by being anything else but prepared.
Ratchet was the first to notice that the orange mech – the smallest – was carrying something. Holding it to his chestplates.
"What in the pit..." Ratchet gasped, his chartreuse frame going stiff, unable to process what he was seeing and his first whisper light scan was telling him. "Give her to me!"
Darting forward and holding out his hands, the orange mech was more than happy to hand over his cargo. The CMO drew the little bundle to him, standing on rigid long legs and running rapid scans from his wrist analysers.
Optimus was just starting to catch on to what was happening. "Ratchet...? Is that a... sparkling?"
Ratchet ignored his Leader, intent on his subject. "Humph, you're lucky. Nothing wrong a little more energon won't fix." He looked up, scrutinising the three foreign mechs in front of him. "Who does she belong to?"
Spinner grunted, looking nervous, "Er, no one. Not us, at least. She's why we're here. Found her in the Cigil galaxy on a mining planet a couple of hundred light years from Cybertron." His optics looked up warily at the towering Optimus Prime. "We heard your message and wondered if you would be willing to take her in. Her female unit is dead. Couldn't find her male progenitor. No one else claimed her." He looked sheepishly at his ragtag crew, both of them and himself obviously built as heavy workers for manual labor. "I think you can guess that we're not really a suitable family unit for the little darling."
Optimus stared in shock at the tiny femme sparkling cuddled up in a thermal blanket in Ratchet's determined embrace. Bright blue optics – they looked like Autobot optics to his gaze - blinking up at Ratchet's looming face. "A.. sparkling? This is the cargo for me?"
Ultra Magnus relaxed upon seeing what all the fuss was about. He turned to look at Optimus, "You not only have your own sparklings, but they're being delivered to you as well?"
"Yeah..." Spinner got nervous. "Could you take her? We call her Missy, don't know what her real name was or anything. She's a pretty little thing. Quiet."
The sparkling was a bit distressed by the harsh landing the shuttle had made, and she was staring at the new mech holding her, both of her hands screwed up and held to her chest. Optics wide and flinching.
"Optimus... Primus, she's got an Autobot symbol. Look." Ratchet's finger pointed at the shoulder of the little femme. By focusing his optics, the big Leader could just make out the tiny red symbol. She was an Autobot. Only Primus knew what had happened to her progenitors. The Decepticons were a good guess. The sparkling was lucky she had missed in the probable slaughter of her parents.
Missy blinked at Ratchet's finger hovering in front of her face. Without thinking about it, she extended her hand and grasped his finger, hanging onto it comfortably and sighing.
Optimus took in the surprised expression on the CMO's face. "Looks like you've got yet another femme admirer there, Ratchet," he said quietly with a smile. The smile got even bigger when he saw Ratchet struggle to keep his composure and not snark back at Prime when he had a sparkling in his arms to take care of.
"Optimus?" Elita came up behind Prime, she had made her way over to the small group after leaving Safire with Bumblebee and Jazz. "What's this about a sparkling?"
"Oh, hey, you've got sparklings already! And femmes! Well then! All sorted! She can stay with you. Shouldn't be that much more work, eh?" Spinner said hopefully, putting a wobbly smile on his faceplates. "Right?"
The big Prime met the optics of his sparkmate while Ratchet continued to comfortably hold the orphan sparkling. "We have two sparklings - a femme and a mech. Both mine."
Optimus watched as Elita stood on the tips of her feet and peered down at the femme sparkling nestled to Ratchet's thick chest, pulling back the edge of the silver blanket so she could see her face. Prime's spark was hit by a wave of sadness and simultaneous instant love from his female sparkmate. In his slanted opinion, Elita was the perfect 'mother'. If there was a sparkling in need...
"Oh hey, that's great! You'll take her, right? Won't you?" Spinner was beginning to sound desperate, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together. The rough and beaten metal of his faceplates was tight with worry.
Standing behind Spinner, the orange mech Wedge watched the Autobots carefully. He was kinda attached to Missy. He knew they couldn't keep her, they weren't properly equipped to care for a sparkling and nor did they have a stable working environment, but all the same, he would miss the tiny femme.
Optimus stood still in thought. The Autobot Commander could only make one decision. He would never leave a sparkling to fend for itself. Never.
"We will indeed, Spinner. You made the right decision to come here, thank you. She will stay with us, we would love to take care of her," Optimus formally accepted the sparkling, bowing his head marginally in Spinners direction. His optics slid to glance behind him, looking at Ironhide and then Chromia. Making plans.... then he caught the calculating expression of deep processor thinking on the face of his Second-In-Command standing two steps behind him. Prowl had been standing there with his hands tucked behind his back, his optics dimmed, not saying a word during the exchange with the miners. Prowl was often quiet and thoughtful, but this seemed different somehow.
Optimus lifted an optic ridge when he felt the 'ping' of Prowl requesting a conversation over his private internal comlink.
Prowl's stance and expression didn't change one iota. He was giving away nothing. He was as inscrutable and solid as his black-and-white armor. ::Sir, I would like to request that the female sparkling be placed into the care of Jazz and I, if no one else objects.::
Optimus Prime's large frame stiffened with surprise. He knew Jazz wanted a sparkling - pit, didn't everyone? - but he'd always thought Prowl was dead against any such thing. What had changed? He commed Prowl back. ::Have you discussed this with your partner?::
Prowl tilted his head slightly, the only giveaway that he was communicating with someone. ::Not directly, but I have recently communicated to Jazz that I am not as negative towards the idea of having a sparkling around as I once may have been. He was happy with my decision. Of course, neither of us knew that this was going to happen...::
The Autobot Commander didn't bother to hide his smile. The words Prowl had just sent over the comlink were indirect Prowl-speak for 'Yes, I would like a sparkling'. He turned around fully to stare at Jazz. The Saboteur was helping Bumblebee to calm down an upset Safire. He was sweet talking Prime's daughter into not crying and insisting that she join him in clapping hands and making merry, getting her to giggle shyly at him and bat at his clapping hands. After a rapid blink-and-you'd-miss-it internal conversation with Elita about the new sparkling, Prime pivoted back to face the waiting Prowl.
"Prowl, if you would like to bring Jazz forth and formally make your request, I will be very happy to give you my final answer," Optimus said softly out loud, an expectant expression on his regal face.
Prowl nodded sharply, keeping his cool. He walked over to his mate, feeling the appraising optics of both Optimus and Elita on him. He had no doubt that Prime had been communicating with Elita about this possibility at the same time as he was talking to him. Optimus could be a sneaky slagger when he wanted to be.
With a firm request, Prowl did some wrangling and managed to get Jazz to leave Safire alone with Bee and Sabre, then directed his protesting partner to stand in front of Optimus Prime.
"Wha... Prowler, what are ya doing? What's going on?" Jazz insisted, his optics roving over the ragtag collection of miner mechs and Ratchet standing and holding something in his arms. "Wait-a-moment – hey, Ratch, what are ya holding, that looks like a-"
Prowl forcefully interrupted his chin-wagging curious sparkmate, raising his voice, "Optimus, I would like to request that the orphan femme sparkling be placed into the care of Jazz and I. If you see fit to place her with us, I promise upon my spark that she will receive the best care and love we can provide for her as long as she desires it for the rest of her life."
Elita One squeaked and covered her face with her hands, her optics shining with glee over the top of her fingers. Ratchet dipped his head down with a grin, busying himself with running yet another scan on the little femme he was still holding, knowing how slagging brilliant this moment was. Jazz didn't have a freaking clue what was going on. It was a rare treat that ANYONE managed to go one-up on Jazz. Ironhide bumped his fist softly into Chromia's shoulder, the warrior femme latching onto it with her own hand and squeezing it, both of them smiling. Bumblebee was struggling to keep tabs on Sabre playing at his feet while holding a not-so-happy squirming Safire in his arms. Wheeljack had the same silly grin he'd started off the whole caper with, and Sunny and Sides stood around looking alternately bored and innocently happy. Ultra Magnus sighed ruefully, shaking his head, wondering just how many more times he would be used for impromptu sparkling duty, and maybe it would help if he downloaded some databytes from Ratchet about young ones.
Jazz didn't think he'd processed Prowl's words correctly for a microsecond, and he had a confused expression on his faceplates as he was playing back his mate's little speech at high speed in his CPU to try and work out what his stiff and cordial mech mate was yakking about.
Then he finally got it.
Prowl stayed composed at Jazz's out of control shocked shriek, waiting for Prime's answer.
"Well now..." Optimus rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, drawing the moment out, shifting his weight from one hip to the other as he thought, "as long as no other bot or bonded pair has any objections...", the other Autobots stayed mercifully silent, except for Chromia giving a choked happy laugh, and Elita snorting, "then I am extremely pleased to announce that I give you and Jazz full custody of our newest Autobot femme – Missy the sparkling."
Prowl let loose with a rarely seen smirk and turned to face his glitching partner, lovingly placing his hands on the smaller mechs upper arms. "Come now Jazz, surely you have some other words to say other than 'what', hmm?"
"Yes Jazz," Prowl said with legendary patience at his hyper silver-toned lover, "you know, one of those cute little things produced by Optimus and Elita that you love to play with? Exactly like that. Look," Prowl directed Jazz to stare over at Ratchet, turning him around with his hands on his shoulders, "she's over there. All ours. Optimus said so himself."
"That is correct," Prime offered gently, "Jazz, these mechs rescued an Autobot sparkling they found in the Cigil sector. Her female unit is deceased and no male unit could be found, presumed to be also deceased. She needs a family."
Taking that as his cue, Ratchet moved closer to them both, carefully pulling back the thermal blanket covering Missy to show her to Jazz. The small silver mech took one look at Missy with wide optics and began to wobble unsteadily on his feet, leaning dangerously backwards. The visor covering his optics could not hide the flaring of his visual sensors. Prowl put one steady hand to his back strut for support, easily flexing his bicep cables to take Jazz's lighter weight.
Jazz squeaked and hastily put his trembling four-fingered hands over his mouthplates to silence himself. Missy had fallen into recharge cuddled up to Ratchet's warm chestplates. Her teeny hands were clenched into fists and held up under her chin with her mouth open. To him, she looked like a gift from Primus himself. Jazz couldn't believe this was happening.
"She's about four Earth months old, Jazz," Ratchet said quietly, for once showing no sign of sarcasm or crankiness, "she should have no trouble at all imprinting on you and Prowl. I'll give you all the help and advice you need."
Jazz finally shifted his gaze from being locked on little Missy to staring up at his handsome sparkmate.
Prowl offered him a gentle smile and an awkward shrug of his wide 'POLICE' symbol covered shoulders, the lettering 'to serve and protect' glittering under the headlights from Prime's chest. "What do you say, Jazz, would you like us to adopt her? I would like to, but the final say is yours," he asked.
Jazz shuddered, and reached out with his arms to slide them around Prowl's waist, the expression on his face beginning to breakdown as his head slowly lowered to rest upon the sleek hood on Prowl's chest. His voice was muffled by his position, "Yes... oh, yes." He looked like he was about to cry, if that were possible. Prowl hugged him back, turning his head to rest it cheek down on the top of Jazz's head armor, relaxing into the embrace, for once he was not upset at his mate for showing him affection in public. He welcomed the PDA. Although Jazz was cuddled into his chest so he did have his armored back facing the others...
When Jazz's head turned to stare at the bundle in Ratchet's arms, Prowl prised Jazz's hands off his body, standing the short mech upright by himself. "Do you want to go and say hello? Her name is Missy."
"Uh, we don't know what her real designation was, we sort of use that as her pet name," Wedge offered, "you can call her something else if you want to."
Jazz blinked at him and smiled. "Missy... yeah, Missy sounds good. I wouldn't change it."
Prowl rested his hand on Jazz's shoulder, "Then we won't. Missy it is."
Elita placed a hand on Prime's hip from the side, smiling as she watched the two mechs stand in front of Ratchet, peering down at their brand new sparkling. She looked up at her own mate, realising how lucky she was that the tall, handsome and gentle mech she called her own had helped her produce her own sparklings. She couldn't think of a better sire than Optimus – not just because he was a Prime, but because of the very spark that inhabited his chest. Yes, she loved his looks and interfacing appeal, but it was his essence that gave him his best qualities; his kindness, freely given love, concern, his caring attitude, intelligence, and his ability to see the good points in whatever mech or femme crossed his path, no matter how twisted they appeared on the outside.
As if that impressive list of his qualities wasn't enough, she added the 'naughtier' things she liked about him. His immense strength, the outright sexiness of his flaming armor, the small grunts and groans he made when they were on their berth interfacing together, the way he brushed his fingertips over the curves of her body when they were connected together and he was nestled between her thighs... and the size of his mech interface equipment. She grinned.
Optimus looked down at her with a curious expression, his mouthplates twitching, "What are you thinking, femme?" he enquired softly.
"... a few things about you that I can't say in public," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest with a very self-satisfied expression.
Prime stiffened up at that. His optic shutters blinked rapidly. "Oh. Er...tell me later?"
"I'll demonstrate later, if you like," she replied, and ran a slender fingertip over his hip armor – and down over his thick crotch.
Optimus clamped his jaw tight to stop himself from groaning, and crossed his arms gingerly over his protruding chest to keep from giving her a few indecent touches of his own. A better distraction for him came in the form of watching Jazz accepting Missy into his arms from Ratchet.
"We're doing the right thing," he murmured, his optics dimming with satisfaction at seeing Jazz and Prowl with their spark's desire – a sparkling of their own. "What Primus takes away with one hand, he gives back with the other. Missy lost her parental units, but gained a new pair. And while Jazz and Prowl may have thought they would never have a sparkling because they are both mechs, look at what has transpired." He laughed at the frightened expression on Prowl's face when Jazz handed over Missy to him to hold for the first time. Prowl looked terrified of dropping or damaging his new daughter, but he slowly relaxed, his optics looking down at Missy as if she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.
"I know someone else who had that same expression when HE was given his sparkling to hold for the first time," Elita commented, getting an evil grin from Ratchet.
"Femme, do not go causing trouble," Prime rumbled, unfolding one arm and giving her a poke with his index finger.
"Yes, I think I caused enough trouble for the universe when I helped you reproduce," Elita said slyly, watching Wheeljack move to help the miner mechs inspect their sad-looking shuttle and work out what repairs it required to get airborne again.
Optimus chose to keep quiet about that one, if he made any more comments they would be fuel for Elita's sharp wit. He couldn't keep up. He'd need his CPU intact enough to handle yet another new sparkling in the base. It was a miracle to see his beloved Autobots beginning to find their feet once again. They now had two femmes and three sparklings. Things were definitely looking up.