Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

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(Inspiration kicked me for the wrong fic, but I'm getting there... This is the only other update this fic will get. Enjoy! Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed or faved!)

Prowl was hiding under a Rec-Room table, carefully trying to do his work.

Optimus was glued to the roof by his pedes glowering down at them for being cowards.

Ironhide was cowering in the corner nursing the recently reattached arm which had been torn off by a fellow Autobot in a fit of unpredicted and sudden rage.

Ratchet was standing at the entrance to the room, brandishing a wrench wearily at the calm TIC sitting drinking his special medical energon as he sidestepped towards the energon dispenser.

All in all, it was a usual start to the cycle in the Iacon Autobot base ever since Jazz now had, in Ratchet's flattering terms, an energon goodie in the oven thanks to their resident SIC who was being careful to not make optic contact with anyone.

"Prowl, dearest?" Jazz asked with a soft purr as he finished his energon, the SIC poking his helm out from under the table to look up at his mate from where he was hiding across the room.

"Yes, Jazz?" the Praxian asked almost nervously abandoning his work under the shelter of the table to focus his attention on his bondmate.

"Would you prefer a mech or a femme?" his mate asked caressing his chest, rubbing the area over his spark tenderly, Ratchet giving Prowl a warning look to distract the Head of Special Operations while he got their Prime down from the roof.

"I'm sure the sparkling will be lovely no matter the gender" Prowl said professionally slithering out of his hiding place and carefully getting in the way of his mate's view of the dangling Optimus who was silently waving his servos around in the air frantically, trying to dissuade Ratchet from disabling his pain receptors and cutting off his pedes again.

"I'd like a femme" Jazz said dreamily reaching out to suddenly hug the startled Prowl who was silently begging Primus to speed up the growth of the sparklet Jazz was currently nurturing so he wouldn't have to deal with these random bursts of mischievousness, anger and affection respectively, his poor battle computer was running on its last un-fried logic chip as it was.

"That's nice Jazzy" Prowl soothed coaxing his partner up onto his pedes and steering him towards the door as a flailing Optimus fell to the floor with a loud yelp and thunderous clang, a snickering Ratchet still standing on the Rec-Room table where the Matrix Barer's pedes were still stuck to the roof with the industrial strength glue. "And what if it's a mech?"

"Then he'll be my special little mechling" Jazz cooed nuzzling Prowl's shoulder, reaching up to caress a doorwing as the black and white tactician pulled his carrying mate towards the Special Operations Barracks where they found Mirage loitering, waiting for Hound so that they could start their shift.

"Ah, Mirage" Prowl announced, the Noble mech giving a flinch as he suddenly found himself surrounded in a random hug from Jazz. "Please watch Jazz for a few joors, I need to help Ratchet carry Optimus to the Medbay again."

"But sir!" the blue and white mech protested as Jazz grinned at the his mate waving him off.

"Oh, go on Prowler, me and Mirage here will have tons of fun together while you're working hard!" the TIC waved dragging his subordinate away towards the training room, leaving Prowl to sigh in exasperation.

===Rec-Room===

"Remind me to never spark Jazz up again" Prowl grumbled as he helped shift the heavy weight of the Autobot Leader from the Rec-Room floor, who clearly wasn't helping in the slightest by leaning his dead weight on the Praxian and the now grumbling Ratchet.

"I'll gladly neuter you" Ratchet scowled his vents huffing exertion as they half dragged, half carried their pedeless Prime towards the Medbay, passing a hallway now full of bots awakening from their recharge cycles to attend to their day shifts to see the usual early morning sight, which had long lost its novelty.

"I'll personally give you to Megatron with a note of all the reasons why you should be his problem," Optimus snapped moodily "When I became Prime, no one said there would be a brooding carrier that has it out for me every time he feels the urge to do something mischievous!"

"You clearly weren't around when Ironhide got his arm ripped off" Ratchet and Prowl chorused as they finally towed the Matrix Barer into the relative safety of the Medbay where the resident engineer, Wheeljack was busily, sorting through a box of spare parts.

"Hi Ratchet! Can I borrow this doohicky and the servo?" the crackpot inventor asked lofting up a discarded spare servo and an odd looking tool that had brightly coloured buttons flashing on it.

"Fine," the red and white medic nodded, leaving Prowl to struggle under their leader's weight as he turned to threaten his best friend with his favourite wrench. "But only if I don't see you in here for the rest of the cycle."

"Done!" Wheeljack cheered, his helm fins flashing a cheerful yellow before bouncing out of the Medbay ignoring their Prime now sitting on the berth, his tactician and SIC, Prowl flopped on the floor in exhaustion, vent heaving as he huffed.

"Why do they have to make you Prime's so fragging heavy? Even Sentinel was a heavy slagger and he was a helm smaller than you!"

"Consider it punishment for impregnating your mate." Optimus snarked down at the elder Officer crossing his arms across his chest plates clearly pouting behind his mask. "I'm stuck in a base full of lunatics…"

All the bots in the Medbay jumped as Red Alert's voice shrieked through the base tannoy. "Ratchet! Jazz is having his sparkling!"

Prowl groaned still spread eagled on the floor, tired from carting the pedeless Prime to the Medbay as Ratchet rushed from the room to retrieve the TIC from wherever he had wandered off to and was currently in labour, "Give me five minutes!"

===Present Day===

"And that's how you were berthed," Prowl finished, eyeing his son who was staring at him in a mixture of disbelief, pity and embarrassment as Jazz cackled from his spot at the other side of the merged tables where an epic game of 'Spin the Enlarged Beer Bottle and Tell a Funny Story' was taking place with most of the members of the ARK. "Sorry Bluestreak, but Prime is really, really heavy. Why do you think we always get Skyfire to airlift him now, if he is injured?" With a smug look at the glowering Prime; Prowl span the giant bottle.