Laying on his back, Wheeljack quietly mused over the fact he could no longer see his pedes past the bump. He strained his neck up, and could just barely see the tips of his feet peeping over the top. His head dropped back down and he smirked, poking at his belly. "Slag, you're a big one, aren't you?," he mumbled.

Ratchet glanced over his shoulder, data relays forgotten for a moment. "What was that, Wheeljack?"

"Nothin'. Wasn't talking to you, doc." The medic raised an optic ridge, but smiled in bemusement as Wheeljack continued to nudge at his bulging gut.

"My apologies, I'll leave the two of you alone," he chuckled, turning back to his work.

The scans had come through. A lone Sparkling, most likely the same build as its coder, hence the size. His makeshift family had been busy dividing their attention between official business and public organisation, and taking care of a Sparked Wheeljack. He insisted he was quite happy to ride out the pregnancy alone, with regular check ups with Ratchet, but the others wouldn't have it. Evidently they meant to assist him in every part of the life of Optimus Prime's child, even before it had officially begun. The Wrecker had barely gotten five minutes alone since he'd first been told he was carrying.

Ratchet and Knock Out fussed the least. While the others flitted about asking if he was too hot, or too cold, or wanted anything strange to eat, the two medics simply let him relax. Ratchet of course kept a constant vigil, running frequent scans and assisting Wheeljack with physical tasks he was no longer capable of. Knock Out covered the more medicinal side, providing him with non-harmful painkillers for his aches and pains, and even recommending several forms of physical therapy. They were helpful, but that was because they knew what they were doing.

Ultra Magnus was a soldier. Granted, he would have had more experience with Sparked bots than the others, but that apparently didn't amount to much. He was nervous and twitchy around Wheeljack, jumping to do even menial tasks for him like opening doors. The Wrecker had already given up his spot on the labour force, and hadn't transformed in several mega cycles, but he wasn't completely handicapped. Just pregnant. Bulkhead was much the same, only he took it one step further, going so far as offering to carry Wheeljack. He'd put his foot down there, but his big idiot still followed him around like a giant puppy.

Smokescreen seemed genuinely excited to meet Prime's Sparkling. It wasn't all that surprising, but the kid apparently loved kids. Wheeljack occasionally let him stroke his belly or feel the Sparkling kick, which always thrilled him. Bumblebee had begun planning how to fit childcare in with social affairs. Optimus Prime's child would obviously be a significant figure in the community, but exposing him or her to near celebrity status from birth wasn't something any of them liked the idea of. As for Arcee, she had a motherly side that occasionally came out when the time was right, but the idea of newborns apparently made her very uncomfortable. She panicked around Wheeljack, to the point that she was afraid to touch him for fear of hurting the baby.

Wheeljack wriggled on the medical cot, snuggling against the heated padding with a contented sigh. His family were ridiculous. Perhaps the actual birth would give them peace of mind.

.

The alarms woke him up before the yelling, and he immediately regretted sitting up so fast when his back struts screamed at him. Ratchet and Magnus were barking to one another, while Smokescreen was practically running on the spot, waiting for orders. Arcee sprinted to Wheeljack's side, grasping his arm tightly and looking him dead in the eye. "Stay here," she commanded.

"What's happening?" The building shook, as though an explosion had gone off several floors down.

"There's infighting down in the streets," Arcee replied. "We don't know what the fight's about. Bulk and Bee are already on their way down." Magnus yelled her name, and she glanced back at him, then back to Wheeljack. "Please stay here. We'll be back as quick as we can!" Before he could reply, she bolted to the door after the others, Ratchet punching lock codes into the armoured door. He looked back at the Wrecker for a moment, and gave him a quick nod before the doors slammed shut.

Wheeljack was alone in the med bay.

"Scrap," he groaned, laying back down. "Looks like it's just you and me, buddy." His hands ran over the curve of his tummy, and in the back of his mind he imagined them larger, not his own. Warm servos, strong servos. He frowned. "You making me all sentimental with hormones, buddy?," Wheeljack glowered at his bulge. "You lil' slugger..."

He laid his head back, closing his optics and trying to fall into recharge. The rumbles from below made it difficult, but he slipped into a light doze.

He dreamed of some place dark, deep down. He couldn't see the bottom nor the top, floating or falling, he wasn't sure. But he knew it was a bad place to be.

A bright light caught his eye, and he squinted as it hovered closer. For some reason, he just knew it was his child.

"What happened to Moon base one?," he asked, but didn't completely understand why. "It was here just a minute ago."

A loud rumbling startled him, and he looked away from the spark for no more than a second, but when he looked back, it was gone. He began to panic, struggling to find something to grab hold of.

His servos crushed the sides of the berth, optics snapping open. Perspiration dripped down his frame, intakes heavy and fans rattling. He stared at the ceiling, trembling. Then he gulped, closing his optics and forcing himself to calm down. Nightmares wasn't a symptom of pregnancy he'd had so far, but if they continued on like that,he'd make a point of asking Knock Out for sleeping pills.

"That wasn't too fun, buddy," he panted, still shaking. "Could do without another one of those, alright?"