27IMPORTANT NOTE: This is completely separate from the sequel, 'Old Acquaintance s.' I just wanted to share some warm, fuzzy drabbling.
I wrote this before I knew how 'Little Femmes' was going to end. I was about to give up on the whole thing, and I was just going to write a couple fun paragraphs to get the juices flowing, and it just didn't stop coming. I figured it's a waste to not tag it onto the end. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
The war had left Earth, but Arcee had not.
At first, she hadn't wanted to leave Jack. She'd known he'd grow up fast, like humans do. Fowler had gotten him into a place called West Point, and he had matured into a capable soldier. She didn't care much for the mate he'd chosen. If pressed, she might have admitted it was because the human femme was too much like herself to get along with.
When they had welcomed their daughter, Arcee had been happy for them, but she'd made Jack move on with his life. She still cared for him and saw them often, but she had her own issues to deal with by then.
The other reason she'd stayed was because Ratchet had told Optimus to make the femme stay where it was safe. It was fine with her since her pride wouldn't have let her stay if she'd been given the option. At least, she wouldn't have before things had gotten complicated.
Arcee had sparked, and only Ratchet knew.
It was Wheeljack's fault – tormenting her with short little visits on repair leave for ridiculous injuries like scrapes and dents. What was she supposed to do when he warned her he might never be coming back, and he wanted to break their bond to save her the misery if he got offlined?
She'd suspected something was up when Ratchet had given him an unheard of three-day leave. Wheeljack had put on a good facade for her, but she'd known what was coming at the end. She knew the feeling in his energy field before he was getting ready to leave for something big.
Arcee wished she'd done it for Cliffjumper or for Tailgate, so she'd swallowed her doubts and fears for once and spent every day they'd had left together making doubly and triply sure the mech's code was set in her matrix.
It wasn't hard to hide it from her energy field early on. Even Ratchet wouldn't have picked up on it for several months if she hadn't told him.
She was glad the medic knew. It would not have been easy alone.
Arcee had requested he not tell Optimus so Optimus wouldn't accidentally tell Wheeljack. A part of her didn't want him to feel obligated to leave the fight for her, but a greater part of her wanted to spite the slag sucker for choosing to go and die a pit-damned hero instead of wanting to stay with her after all the scrap he'd fed her.
It'd been an easy pregnancy cycle at least. Ratchet said she had her health and strength to thank for that. On Cybertron, more pampered femmes had had it a lot worse. She just wished she could get her energy back. At best she felt about half-charged.
It took all of the willpower she had to roll out of her berth that morning – or was it afternoon – to go see Ratchet before the medic started calling her. It seemed after vorns of patching up Autobots' battle injuries, monitoring a new spark's healthy development was a welcome diversion for the medic.
Arcee stretched to pop a kink out of her strut then pulled up the door to the burmmed in munitions storehouse Jack and Agent Fowler had found for her. It was in a secluded and nearly forgotten corner of a several-thousand acre base. She followed an unkempt road for a few miles, unlocked the gate in a conveniently unmonitored section of fence and she was on her way.
Ratchet had needed a much larger base of operations so he could accommodate the injured Autobots that were sent back through the space bridge.
"Coming in," she said over the commlink.
"Just a minute," Ratchet came back quickly.
The femme sat idling irritably. Even though to the casual passerby, Sadie just looked like she'd pulled into a closed-up garage's parking lot to answer her cell phone. Arcee felt like everyone who looked immediately assumed Sadie was either too old or too afraid to ride a real motorcycle.
Not to mention she felt as big as a tractor in her new alt mode. Her sleek two-wheeled form had gotten too tight for her and too unstable according to the good doctor. Arcee wasn't about to take on some huge-afted retirement trike, but she'd had to settle for a very bare-bones Can-Am Spyder.
Now, her self image as well as the cold of the ice and snow were threatening to set her mood for the day.
"Ratchet, just hit the fragging button already," she called. "It's freezing out here."
She heard the motor kick on, and the door began to roll up. The garage only housed a cloaking device that disguised the ramp down to Ratchet's remote infirmary.
"Sorry," he said, not looking up from his monitor. "I keep telling you, I can just bridge you here."
Arcee transformed so she could shake her head and sit on one of the berths facing him.
"I'd rather drive," she explained. "It helps wake me up a little."
"The fatigue isn't getting better then?" he asked, coming to face her as he tapped a few codes into his built-in scanner.
"No. It's to the point I'm having to shut down every night like a human."
She sat still while he scanned her.
"Everything's still operating within normal limits," he said. "So, it's probably just your matrix making you conserve energy since it's getting down to the wire."
Just thinking about it made her feel drained.
"It wouldn't hurt if you had some higher-grade energon …" he began to suggest, but she waved it off.
"The chronometer says it's just a little over a day. I've made it this long."
Ratchet could have easily gotten high-grade energon from the medical supplies he was sent, but if high-grade started disappearing off of his inventory, someone smart might begin to suspect – someone like Optimus. Even if Wheeljack was gone, she didn't want the prime coddling her or treating her like carrying a spark was some courageous act of heroism.
Ratchet smirked. "Looks like everything's in place," he said, changing the subject and showing her the wireframe rendering on his arm's monitor.
She hadn't been able to make heads or tails of the images since the beginning, and she was a little jealous that Ratchet and his trained optic knew her sparkling better than she did.
"Its spark has settled into its chamber completely. All that's left is to sap all of the energon it can from its carrier and gather its strength."
He smiled reassuringly and offered a hand to pull her to her feet.
"So, I shouldn't pick any fights with Decepticons on the way home, you're saying?" She grinned.
"If you can avoid it."
There hadn't been a 'Con on Earth for close to six years.
"I guess if I don't make it back, I'll call you to come check on us – if the war can spare you for a minute," she said walking back toward the entrance.
"I'll make it make time," he promised.
The femme chuckled at the mental image and turned to go.
"Arcee?"
She looked back at him.
"If … if I find out that Wheeljack is still operational in the future … would you want him to know now?"
She thought about it a moment. "Why?"
"Well ..." he shrugged. "It's just that I've been hearing rumors that there might have been some prisoners at Dalzinus 17."
At last, the femme shook her head. "I knew what I was getting into. Wheeljack's the kind of mech that covets his freedom and wants to be in the fight. I told him the first night I wouldn't hold him down."
"Well, sometimes seeing a femme carrying one's spark can change a mech," he reasoned. "I know it would certainly straighten me out," he added sheepishly.
"Oh yeah?" she chuckled softly. "You into femmes the size of tanks? Wish I'd known that earlier."
"No, that's not what I meant!" he spluttered, shaking his head. "It's just … I mean …"
She smiled and stepped back to face him.
"I know what you mean," she assured, wrapping her arms around him.
The medic struggled with himself a moment longer than vented a sigh and returned the hug.
"You do know you haven't gotten much bigger," he tried to console. "I think it's made you look more mature than anything."
"If your definition of mature is cranky and exhausted – oh wait, I guess it is."
He chuckled and let her go. He was probably right. If she went by a mirror instead of how she felt, the rearrangement of her plating for her new alt mode had changed her appearance more than the swell of her abdomen cradled low in her hips.
"I'll keep my mouth shut," he promised. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."
Arcee smiled and hugged him again. Ratchet looked conflicted still.
"But, he'd want to know," he tried one more time.
"You think so?" she doubted.
"I know so."
She shrugged. "Well, if he shows up one day, he's going to find out," she explained. "But, if he doesn't want to come back, he doesn't need to know."
"So, if he comes back, I can tell him?"
"You can tell him where I'm at if he asks," she haggled.
"Fine."
Arcee snickered. "If it comes out white, maybe I still won't have to tell him," she suggested.
"Now, I put my foot down there," he said sternly and obviously flustered by the idea.
"I'm just kidding, Uncle Ratchet," she teased.
He huffed. "Good." But, he welcomed another hug and even kissed the top of her helm. "I'll come check on you in a few days if I don't hear from you."
She left the way she'd come instead of taking a ground bridge. It was snowing again, but she didn't care. It wasn't cold enough to worry about malfunctions. Lately, it seemed like her matrix made her run hotter anyway, so she welcomed the relief and took the long way home.
An incoming call came up on her HUD.
"Jack? I thought you were at work this time of day."
"I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing."
"Does Dee know you worry more about my pregnancy than you did for hers?"
"Dee's didn't last ten years," he reminded.
"Thank Primus for that," she muttered.
Human gestation was so volatile. Although, she had to admit, the tiny squishy offspring were almost cute enough to be worth it.
"Well, what did Ratchet say?" he pressed.
"I'm a model of carrier health, and I've got the green light to handle this – by myself," she emphasized.
"Are you sure you can't tell me what it is just a little early?"
"You've waited ten years, Jack. What's twenty four more hours?"
Arcee smiled to herself. She'd known her sparkling's gender since before it's spark had began to split from hers. It was something else she'd made Ratchet swear to secrecy. The humans were so impatient.
"You'll have to come see for yourself in a week or so."
"I promise I will. Miko's coming over too, if that's okay."
"No Raf?"
"Later. He's giving finals, but he wants to come."
"I figured. Just don't bring anything metal," she warned again. "It'll be hungry as a scraplet, and I don't want it filling up on a bunch of random junk."
"No party keg. Got it."
"Or buttons, zippers, jewelry, keys, cell phones …" She couldn't think of any more.
June had hassled Fowler into stockpiling trimmings and scrap of military-grade tungsten and titanium since its protoform had started to develop. Once it disconnected from her matrix, its metabolism would go into overdrive. There would only be a brief few months after delivery where it would be without its plating and lethargic from the transition.
"I'll talk to you later, Jack," she said. "I need to relax a bit and probably recharge."
"Alright," he chuckled. "Let me know if you need anything."
She had been shut down all day, she realized with annoyance as the overcast sky began to darken. What was worse was she really could go for a cat nap like she'd told Jack.
Oh well. She took the valley road through the quiet white woods and along the river. It was far from Cybertron, but there were worse planets to raise a sparkling.
She made herself stay out past dark and awake, but before midnight, she was exhausted, cold, and angry from being stuck behind a salt truck. Arcee couldn't wait to get home, hose all of the brine off and curl up on her berth to savor her sparkling's content energy field one last night.
But, when she approached her bunker, she was shocked to see the door open a crack and light under it. Humans never came out here. The buildings were empty. The fighter in her wanted to reclaim her home, but if there was even a chance it was a Decepticon or some reincarnation of MECH, she couldn't risk it.
She summoned her old blaster and crept back toward the road, opening a commlink to Ratchet.
"Arcee?" he sounded surprised. "Are you alright?"
"I need a bridge," she whispered. "Someone's snooping around my bunker."
He was silent for a long moment.
"Ratchet?"
"I'm here. Sorry," he excused. "Did you not take the highway home?"
"What the frag does that matter?" she hissed.
"Hold on."
He sounded irritated. The line disconnected to her disbelief. "Ratchet?"
She hid at the sound of the door being pulled up.
"Arcee?"
Her spark froze. It couldn't be.
"Come on out. Doc snitched on you, so I know you're out here."
She didn't have long to think it over before Ratchet would send him the code for her tracking signal.
Agitated, she switched back to her alt and drove into the light of the bunker's door.
"Let me guess," she accused, "you were hiding at Ratchets."
"No. He space bridged me here a little while ago. What's with the fugly tricycle make-over?
She seethed in annoyance as he bent to look her over.
"What happened to you?"
"Could we talk about it face to face instead of face to angry high-beam?"
Arcee was stubbornly silent.
He sighed. "I got captured – like I knew I would. I just didn't think they'd hang on to my stasis pod. It was long enough for Prime to pull off a miracle."
"So, you just now woke up?"
"Well, no …" he confessed. "I came back right after I got out, but Ratchet said he didn't know where you were. I could tell he was lying … so I just assumed you were still pretty hot over me leaving."
"I was, but he never told me you came."
Wheeljack shrugged. "I told him not to. Figured it'd be better to just give you a few more years."
Arcee didn't think a few more decades would've been enough if she'd known that, but had she treated Wheeljack any better?
"So, he called you back today?"
"Said you really needed me," he said. "So, here I am."
Him and his fragging heroics, she thought angrily.
Too late now. Ratchet had painted her into a corner.
At last, she transformed and ducked into the bunker, past the dumbfounded mech.
"Well, come in and get out of the snow."
She closed the door behind his back.
"Arcee?"
She faced him, arms crossed over her chest.
"You … you're … how?"
The femme couldn't help but feel a little satisfied and smirked. She spread her arms, turned for him, and let them drop again.
"You said you were leaving and never coming back," she reminded. "I asked myself what I would've done if I'd had that much warning from Tailgate or Cliffjumper."
Wheeljack looked caged and uneasy. It made her spark sink, but she shook it off. Ratchet had been wrong this time.
"I told Ratchet to not tell you, but he pried it out of me today. I wish I'd stuck to my guns now."
"So, you didn't want me to come back?" he asked carefully.
Arcee tried to get angry. Part of her wanted to cut him deep and make him hurt for leaving, but the rest of her wanted something else entirely.
"Or course I wanted you to, but … I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been ready to do it alone," she said levelly. "Go back to Ratchet. Tell him I didn't come out. You never saw me. I'll tell him the same," she planned out.
Wheeljack studied her a long moment. It made her plating feel uncomfortable, and she fought the urge to cover her growing sparkling.
"Sorry," he finally said, breaking the silence. "If I'd know what I was getting into, I would've had a speech or something ready."
Arcee grinned. "It was kind of dirty the way Ratchet did it," she agreed. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it. You never knew."
He looked away and began pacing along the door. She could tell he was guarding his energy field and was avoiding coming close. She ignored it, retreating to the back of the small building where she could work on getting clean as she watched and waited for him to make up his mind.
"Wheeljack …" He met her optics again. "There isn't a right or wrong answer."
"I know what you're saying," he dismissed, "and what you're offering." He shook his head at himself. "To be honest, I'm a little insulted you put the idea in my processor."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
The mech's expression softened, and he vented a sigh. "I don't deserve it."
"Well, that's just your moronic opinion," she excused. "Too late now."
"I know. And, that's why I don't know what to tell you."
Frustrated, she just finished knocking off the worst of the salt. He watched her step close, and Arcee let her energy field go so she wouldn't have to explain how she felt scared, alone, and angry. But, at the same time he'd be able to feel that she was excited from it all and happy and relieved to see him.
Wheeljack relaxed, lowering himself to his knees for her.
She wished she could have suppressed her urgent hunger to get their bond reestablished, but it was a package deal. Arcee restrained herself to one sweet kiss and felt immense relief when the mech tried to pursue her when she broke away. She felt Wheeljack's own relief and knew he'd let his field go too.
As easy as that, it all made sense to them.
"I missed you," he whispered as he embraced the femme. "I'm sorry stasis let me get out of five years more than you went through. It made me miss a lot of things."
He brushed his fingertips against the side of her abdomen. Arcee pressed his hand against her completely and grinned up at him.
"You probably would've preferred stasis for most of it," she admitted. "But, poor Ratchet weathered out the worst of it with me whether I wanted him or not."
Wheeljack smiled. "So, I should be hugging him, you're saying?"
Arcee chuckled as he bent to nuzzle at her neck. It made her spark ache she craved him so much.
"If he'll let you," she said with a smile, kissing his audio receptor.
"Maybe tomorrow," he dismissed, his hands slipping behind her hips to pull her against him.
Not even half a year ago, Arcee would've hooked up with Megatron to scratch the itch and probably could have went until he begged for mercy. Now that she knew Wheeljack had come looking for her, it explained where Ratchet's willpower's last stand had come from after she'd synced up with him and gotten as far as his access panel. She probably would have shot him if he wasn't her sparkling's doctor.
Wheeljack was very aware of the return of just a fraction of that old hunger, but now Arcee was a little more in control of her emotions.
"Maybe we could wait a day?" she suggested.
His mouth stilled, and he withdrew to look down at her. "Huh?" Why?"
"For one, I feel as big as a backhoe. I'll be back to my old self tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?!"
She kissed his jaw. "Why did you think Ratchet called you now?" she smiled.
"A couple days to let the news sink in would've been a nice courtesy."
"Secondly," she continued, ignoring his protests, "I'm fighting to keep my optics on."
"But, I won't have you to myself by then," he sulked.
Arcee snickered and tugged free of him to walk back to her berth. She turned the lights down to a low ambiance.
"So, are you staying or going?" she asked.
He knew that she wasn't just referring to staying the night, but he shrugged and stepped away from the door.
"Recharging on a medical berth still gives me nightmares," he excused, slipping his hand around hers.
It felt amazing to be lying between the mech and the wall again. The sparkling even felt the difference in her energy field and fluttered with anticipation. Wheeljack rested his hand over it, and she felt his mouth at the nape of her neck. For a few moments she felt completely relaxed.
His hand slid to the open joint of her hip to tickle the sensitive juncture, and his mouth moved to a lax winglet. She shivered, her spark burning for more, but she rolled over to face him and deny him access.
"If you're not going to recharge …" she tried to scold, but couldn't help smiling as he pulled her closer.
Arcee surrendered a kiss then another, then he was teasing her glossa with is lips.
"Wheeljack!"
She made herself pull away.
"Arcee, guess what," he whispered.
"What?" she sighed.
"I'm not tired." He grinned at her when she sat up. "But, I know a quick way to get me to power down."
He sat up with her.
"No," she said firmly but didn't resist when he caught her mouth again.
His hands found her waist and shifted her to his lap. Arcee brought her hands to his face to pull him to her more firmly.
"I mean it," she panted when he let her go in order to redirect her hands to the tips of his wing fins. He gave an unsteady laugh as she caressed them.
"Isn't it supposed to be easier for you if you're with the mech you've bonded to?" he reasoned when he found his voice again.
"One screw is not going to bond us," she chided.
"Well no, but we've got all night."
Arcee forgot she was tired and sparked.
She woke up from what felt like stasis, tucked halfway under Wheeljack, listening to the familiar sound of solenoids clicking through his recharge cycle. It wasn't as strong a bond as they'd broken, but he'd made an admirable effort for one night.
The sparkling shifted and rolled. She needed energon to replace what it had taken during her recharge.
The mech didn't wake when she slipped free.
Ratchet had insisted she take one cube of high-grade for this day at least, so she savored it. Arcee had planned to deliver her sparkling here for a decade, but she hadn't been prepared for Wheeljack to be here.
She looked out a window in the door. The snow had gotten deep overnight, and it was still coming down heavily. Arcee doubted she would be able to find another place in … forty five minutes?! Primus. How long had she slept?
Her commlink announced Ratchet was calling. He must have been waiting for her to power up. Kind of creepy, but she dismissed it.
"Yeah?"
"Arcee, is Wheeljack with you?"
"Nope. I offlined him," she shrugged.
"I wouldn't have been surprised," the medic admitted. "Sorry for all the secrecy, but you two are just impossible."
"Your spark was in the right place, but I hadn't planned on Wheeljack being here. Bickering with him while I'm trying to deliver will not end well."
"I can send a ground bridge if you'd like, but having him moping around here won't be any better."
"For you, maybe," she scoffed.
"Maybe I could trade him places. I've done this enough to know the femme is better company than the mech."
She smiled. "I'll manage. Talk to you tomorrow."
She turned it off so there wouldn't be half a dozen humans trying to check on her and returned to her energon. It tasted warm and tingly and made her shiver. Good thing the sparkling would be gone by the time it cycled through her system.
Arcee sat beside Wheeljack and tried to enjoy the peace and quiet until her matrix's clock finally ticked over. Her HUD felt strangely empty after ten years of the constant display.
She hadn't known what to expect when it hit zero, but more waiting wasn't what she'd planned on.
Her back ached from sitting so long. She considered laying down again, but the energon was making her restless. Besides, getting up again would just be a chore. So, Arcee paced.
Moving felt good, but it didn't help her back, only made it hurt in a different way, and the room was beginning to feel confined and hot enough to kick her fans on. Anxiety and aggravation escalated to borderline claustrophobia.
Why was this taking so long? She wanted out of here in the cool air, on the road going as fast as she could. Just the thought made her plating shift with want for transformation and speed.
There was time. This process was taking too long anyway. Maybe she could drive to Ratchet's and make sure nothing was wrong.
Arcee slipped out quietly. She'd be back before Wheeljack powered up. Primus. No more high-grade for her if this was what it caused, she thought, practically jogging to the road. Thankfully, it had been cleared of snow, and when she finally got her wheels on the ground, the transformation felt like it had let all of the pressure out.
It was still so hot though – like her coolant wasn't moving. Desperate for relief, she took the road through the bottom lands where it was straight and flatter for more miles than it wasn't. It felt good, but it wasn't cool enough. Something was wrong.
"Ratchet!" She opened a commlink without waiting for him to answer.
"Arcee? Where are you?"
"I …" She looked around at her surroundings and didn't know. How far from home was she? She checked her HUD and was surprised to find she was pushing 100mph. "I don't know."
She tried to do the math, but she didn't know how long she'd been driving.
"I'm overheating," Arcee said urgently. "Something was wrong with that energon!"
"Calm down," Ratchet coaxed. "I found your signal. You need to get on the interstate a couple miles southwest of you."
"And come back to you?"
"No," he stated. "Nothing's wrong unless you're getting any warnings."
Arcee realized she wasn't.
"Every femme does this a little different, so I didn't know what to tell you to expect."
"Then why are you telling me to get on the highway?"
"Because you have to do what feels right. If speed's what you're craving, then you need to go faster."
"And deliver on the interstate with every state trooper in the county around me?!" she snapped.
"I'm contacting Agent Fowler now," he explained. "Improvise."
Improvise!
At least it was the middle of the day, and the snow was keeping most of the people who weren't at work off the roads. Arcee hit the on-ramp already well over the 70mph limit. Weaving through traffic felt surreal – like the rest of the universe was standing still. If it wasn't for the urgency in her sparkling's energy field, it would've been the best she'd felt since fighting the last 'Cons.
She'd just passed out of dangerous and into reckless speeds when she saw the first flash of red and blue in her mirrors. So much for her perfect driving record.
"Catch me if you can," she said to herself.
Her alt mode's speedometer was already snug against the needle at 200mph. But, at least she was cool and relaxed. She could've gone for hours like this. Then, the first real pain nearly threw her off balance. Arcee panicked. There were three sets of lights behind her, and two more were cutting across the median ahead of her from the westbound lane.
Scrap. Couldn't they just leave her alone? The police would cause an accident trying to chase her before Arcee would do any harm. The ones ahead were going to try blocking the road. Stupid. They were going to cause a pileup.
She didn't know if she could recover if she went off into the snow. But, just as she considered slowing down, something faster than her roared past. Arcee recognized that ugly white aft anywhere.
"Fowler's up ahead," Wheeljack said, cutting in front of her. "These guys just haven't gotten the message. You alright?"
"No," she admitted.
The barricade didn't feel up to playing chicken with Wheeljack, but he still clipped both cars before they could get out of the road.
Arcee steadied her wheels through another wave of pain as unused hydraulics ached to life. Thank Primus Ratchet told her to pick a three-wheeled alt mode.
"Arcee?"
"Keep going," she said quickly.
"You just pick an exit whenever you're ready. Fowler will block it off, and Ratchet will bridge you home."
She resisted the impulse to pull of immediately since driving was probably helping. But, it wasn't many more exits before her engine cut out.
Wheeljack slowed to let her coast ahead, and he pushed her up and off-ramp where army helicopters where blocking traffic a mile on either side of a ground bridge.
Arcee expected the heat to come back right away, but all she felt was exhaustion and constant pain. She'd waited too long, she thought, struggling to shift back to her true form.
"Hey! Let's get through the bridge first."
Wheeljack transformed to take her under the arms, but he had to pause to let her purge what was left of the high-grade in her tanks.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"Are you kidding? I'm so turned on right now," she heard him smile.
"Come on people!" Fowler ordered. "Let's move it before the new choppers get here!"
Arcee got her feet under her, but another sharp wave of pain made her head spin unsteadily. Wheeljack scooped her up, and the sky swirled above her into the ceiling of Ratchet's infirmary.
"She's fine," Ratchet assured. "Just put her down."
The femme sat up before he could finish scanning her, panting through her fans and extending her winglets to try to catch more air as the pain peaked.
"Can you get another bridge going?" Wheeljack suggested.
"There's no time," the medic explained hurriedly, giving her a cylinder of energon directly. "It's already coming."
Wheeljack wrapped her arm around his neck, and she felt his energy field, warm with worry and concern but also excitement and pride.
She jumped feeling Ratchet's hands against her.
"Stay still," he grumbled. "There's the problem …"
Arcee felt a sharp pain tighten then quickly dull as the hydraulic let go. She gasped at the flood of relief and her free hand caught Ratchet's shoulder plating so she wouldn't strangle Wheeljack.
"Almost there," the medic promised.
Arcee hadn't realized she was still in pain until it was suddenly gone, and she very nearly went into shut down with relief.
"Stay awake," Wheeljack teased in her audio.
Ratchet pried her fingers off of him so he could put it in her arm.
Finally.
Arcee slumped against her mate.
"Blue and white, huh?" You sure Smokescreen's not been visiting?"
She smacked the back of his helm with a clang.
"He doesn't look anything like Smokescreen!" she snapped weakly. "Primus, he barely looks like me."
She should have guessed Wheeljack's coding would override hers. At least the blue optics that tired to focus on her face were like hers, only lacking her lavender irises.
Wheeljack touched the tip of his finger to the back of a tiny hand that was clasping Arcee's bracer. A hard blue ridge of plating was barely beginning to show through it's dark gray protoform. So many other buds and ridges were white instead.
The sparkling's head lolled to face his mother's familiar energy field.
"Well, I'm glad you guys let me in on your secret," Wheeljack whispered. "If I'd denied having kids, any mech that saw him would've hunted me down and beat the sludge out of my engine."
Arcee smirked, freeing her other arm to cradle her son. She'd worried she wouldn't know what to feel or do, but she was glad to be wrong.
"I need to get him home," she said.
She kissed the warm blue ridge that would develop into a helm over the next few years.
"I hardly have anything in my modifier for him."
He didn't know what hunger was yet, but she could feel it in his otherwise tired and content energy field.
Wheeljack watched her walk to the ground bridge and look back at him expectantly. He vented a pained sigh and met Ratchet's optics. The medic looked up from his best attempt at blending into the background.
"Are you sending another bridge for me in a few hours?"
Ratchet frowned but shook his head. "I can probably come up with something that would require extending you leave for another forty eight hours," he reasoned. "But, more than that will require some convincing physical damage."
fin
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