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If anyone had told Prowl when the war had begun that at some point he would be raising a sparkling with a Prime and the third in command of the autobot army; he would have laughed at them. The entire idea of such a thing ever happening was improbable enough, let alone happen to just another tactician like him; impossible. Granted, he also hadn’t believed when the war had started that he would ever become second in command for the army, and Optimus Prime’s personal advisor. However, life just had its way of keeping you on your toes.
The Praxian wasn’t cut out to be a father, at least, not yet. Maybe once the war was over he would consider raising children. However, during the war that simply didn’t seem feasible. Prowl was playing a major role in keeping the army functional. He was far too busy to consider trying to raise a kid. His partner was Jazz, who was the head of Special Operations, lead morale officer, and third in command of the army. While they may be able to raise a sparkling together, there would be times that they would have to leave the sparkling unattended to.
The sparkling would need to live somewhere close to him, and with the unpredictability of the war, Prowl did his best to never truly settle anywhere. He never knew how long he would be staying at a base, he moved around quite a bit. Jazz was moved around even more than he was. While they both had their own quarters at the capital of the Autobot faction, they were rarely ever there. Resources were scarce, and there was no telling if or when the Decepticons would decide to raid a base. The sparkling in question wouldn’t be safe, so it made no sense to even amuse the idea of him ever raising a sparkling right now. Sparklings were loud and demanding, and Prowl was busy trying to win a war. So really, the idea of him raising a sparkling during this time was out of the picture.
That, of course, is what Prowl had thought for the longest time. However, when Jazz returned from a Spec Ops mission carrying a small sparkling, everything changed. Suddenly he was raising a sparkling alongside his leader, Optimus Prime, and his partner. The trio’s schedule, while undoubtedly busy, could work around each other. Due to the nature of their positions, it was rare for all of them to be in a combat zone at one time, one of them would always be present for the sparkling. Surprisingly, it worked.
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Prowl was busy at work, going through the statistics and possibilities of various missions. He looked over outcomes, reviewing and calculating the probability of success, what might go wrong, the precautions that they would need to take. It was rather mundane work for him, but it was necessary. The humbling work kept his analytical mind amused well enough to keep him from boredom. Optimus was busy at another base, on the front lines of the war, where the Prime spent most of his time. Jazz was out on a Spec Ops mission to gather information and wouldn’t be returning for a few days, or weeks; Prowl never knew. The mech’s schedule was just about as unpredictable as he was. So the responsibility of the sparkling that they all took care of, Bumblebee, had fallen onto his shoulders.
The mechling was usually pretty content with staying in the office with Prowl. He wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the touchpad that unlocked the doors throughout the base. It was a good thing too, keeping the small Autobot out of most trouble and possibly dangerous areas of the base; it wasn’t exactly designed with the safety of a sparkling in mind. The small yellow bot usually found something relatively quiet to amuse himself with, that much Prowl was thankful for; it made it far easier to focus on his work. Prowl blinked as he shifted his attention from one data pad to another,
“Prowl!“ Somebody exclaimed from within the hallway. Prowl felt himself startle at the sudden noise interrupting his precious quiet, his doorwings fluttered slightly. The tactician looked up from the datapad in his hand and up at his door. It had sounded like Ratchet, but the doctor should have been down in the medical bay, not up by the tacticians' department. Prowl looked over at his schedule thinking that he may have missed a meeting or a check-up of some sort. After a quick glance, he concluded that he had no meetings or well visits scheduled. He looked back up at the door as his doorwings picked up the sounds of someone storming down the hallway. The second in command was suddenly very aware of how strangely quiet it was in the room. Bumblebee.
“Prowl!” Ratchet yelled again, this time louder. That was definitely him, and Prowl could already feel the irritation emitting from the medic's EM reader. Prowl shot out of his chair, knocking it to the ground. He stumbled around his desk and reached the office door just as it was swung open by Ratchet. The ex-enforcer stiffened, just narrowly dodging the door, he looked at the red and white mech. Clutched in Ratchet’s red hands was the thrashing yellow form of Bumblebee. Prowl didn’t fail to notice the colorful paint that was scattered across the forms of the two. He wasn’t going to hear the end of this.
“Prowl, I swear by the Allspark, contain your heathen,” Ratchet growled as he glared at the Praxian as if he was scolding the sparkling himself.
“He was down in the medical bay! ” The mech exclaimed bitterly. “Made a mess of the place!”
“I am so sorry, Ratchet.” Prowl apologized. Ratchet scowled and thrust the squirming sparkling at him. The child thrashed, his small engine revving uselessly. Prowl quickly reached out to take him, doorwings drooping slightly. “I’ll speak with him about this. You have my word--” Prowl shot a seathing look at Bumblebee, filled with the promise of extra painful chores for the foreseeable future-- “it won't happen again. Right Bumblebee?”
Bumblebee eyed Ratchet’s arm contemplatively from Prowl’s hold, entirely unphased by Prowl’s threats.
Prowl frowned. “Bumblebee,” he warned “Right?”
Before Prowl could stop him, Bumblebee lunged and clamped his jaws around Ratchet's forearm. Rachet, who had been eyeing Bumblebee with a truly unhealthy amount of suspicion the entire time, couldn't manage to back away quickly enough and shouted in pain. Prowl’s doorwings lifted in alarm, he looked uselessly at his now empty arms.
"Fragging--PROWL," Ratchet bellowed, uselessly tugging at Bumblebee's now locked jaw. The medic's arm was clearly denting beneath the force of Bumblebee's jaw. How hard could this sparkling bite? This felt a bit unusual to Prowl. "Get your sparkling off me before I turn him into scrap metal!"
Primus, Ratchet would be after his head for months for this. Shaking his head, Prowl stepped forward and did the only thing he could think of—Jazz, forgive me for my poor parenting skills. "Imagine what Jazz would think, Bumblebee," Prowl mused. Bumblebee looked at him in his periphery. "Biting a medical officer, creating a mess—it's almost as if you're disregarding everything he taught you."
Bumblebee seemed to contemplate this for a few moments, still locked onto the medic’s arm. Prowl reached forward, trying to take the sparkling into his own hands. Bumblebee revved his engine again and kicked at Prowl. The sparkling, in an attempt to ensure that Prowl wouldn’t tear him off, had wrapped their arms around Ratchet's arm. Prowl, who was known for his level-headedness and ability to remain calm, couldn’t quite contain his panic as the sparkling that he was supposed to be watching was very aggressively biting another autobot. Prowl managed to grab Bumblebee and tried to pull him off.
"I swear he doesn't usually act like this," Prowl continued as he tugged harder on the sparkling. Ratchet's hand that wasn’t currently threatened by the maw of a sparkling went to assist him, trying to peel off the child's grasp.
“That’s what they all say,” Ratchet grumbled under his breath as he continued his attempt to get the child off of himself, Prowl pretended that he hadn’t heard the remark.
"I don't even know how he got out of here," Prowl commented as tried to tug again. Bumblebee remained latched into the doctor's hand. For a moment he loosened his bite on the other, only to readjust and bite down again harder. The red and white mech grimaced, Prowl’s eyes flicked up to give him an apologetic look before he returned to trying to dislodge the child.
"Bumblebee, let go!" Prowl snapped, pulling once again, the sparkling kicked at Prowl’s hands.
Ratchet huffed irritably, “This is why sparklings shouldn’t be on bases,” he lectured. “They’re nothing but menaces.” The Praxan tried to readjust his grip on the child, hoping to gain some leverage over them.
“You need to learn how to contain your sparkling.” Ratchet glowered at the second in command.
"He's not my sparkling!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he tried to pull the sparkling off the other. The second in command could have sworn he heard the sparkling hiss in response to the words, and the kid sent another small kick in Prowl’s direction.
"Oh please, don't pull that one on me. He's as much your sparkling as Jazz or Optimus’s!" Ratchet replied hotly.
"Well, he doesn't bite people when Jazz is watching him! And definitely not when Optimus is!" Prowl hissed. “Bumblebee, let go or I swear to Primus I’m gonna call Jazz back early!” Prowl threatened. The mechling stilled and looked at Prowl, eyes wide.
“But-“
"Ah-HAH!' Ratchet shoved the yellow sparkling off him and back into Prowl's arms. "You take your brat and keep him far, far away from my medical bay. I can't imagine what would have happened had we needed to use it while it was in such a state."
Bumblebee let out a loud, challenging rev—which was still rather quiet in comparison to a full grown Cybertronian—and glared at the medical officer. Prowl held Bumblebee a little tighter and closer to his chest and glanced at the sparkling. "Right," he agreed. "Again, I am so sorry for all of..." Prowl eyed the new dents in Rachet's arm. "That."
The medic huffed, glaring at the small form currently contained in Prowl’s grasp. Had Ratchet been looking at Prowl that way he would have been fearing for his life. Bumblebee didn’t seem phased, instead he began thrashing in Prowl’s arms, an angry whirr filling the air as he did so. Prowl sternly looked at the sparkling. Bumblebee ignored him and continued thrashing wildly and beeping angrily as they tried to escape the firm grasp of the other.
"Bumblebee, use your words." Prowl sternly warned. The child paused and looked at him for a moment, going completely still. Bumblebee’s blank gaze slowly shifted to Ratchet. After a few beats of silence,
"Bitch." The child proclaimed revving even louder as he struggled. Bumblebee then returned to his wild thrashing. Prowl’s eyes widened and doorwings lifted, he looked at Ratchet, opening his mouth to speak. The medical officer eyed the sparkling and his keeper. Prowl looked back down at the yellow bot in his arms. He knew he needed to scold the sparkling for this behavior, but what was he supposed to say to that? Bumblebee just called a medic a bitch, called Ratchet a bitch. Someone send Megatron to kill him now.
“Ratchet, I am so sorry.” Prowl managed to stumble out, still attempting to recover from his own sparklings behavior. To his surprise, Ratchet seems far less angry then he expected, he seemed less upset than he was before too. The red and white mech was far from friendly looking but Prowl was no longer concerned for his own safety. He looked at Bumblebee,
"Bee, biting people is not okay. Neither is calling someone a bitch." Prowl informed in the most disappointed fatherly tone he could muster. Unfortunately he had to compete with Optimus’s disappointed tone and Prowl didn't think anyone could beat that. The mechling didn't react and continued thrashing like a wild animal caught in a trap
"Can you tell me why you decided that you needed to bite Ratchet?" Prowl asked, trying to get the yellow bot to respond. The child continued to squirm aggressively in his grasp, ignoring his attempts of negotiating. Prowl groaned, doorwings flicking in annoyance.
“I promise he usually doesn’t act this way, I don’t know what’s gotten into him” Prowl sighed, exasperated. Ratchet looked at the two, and shook his head slightly,
“At least it wasn’t Ultra Magnus or Red Alert, they’d probably have the kid’s head by now.” The ambulance sighed, he seemed far more relaxed and composed than before; that Prowl was grateful for. He gave an agreeing nod.
"Just give ‘em a moment to calm down, it's a developmental thing." The medic instructed, eyeing the sparkling warily. Prowl looked at him suspiciously,
“I highly doubt that biting other bots is a developmental thing, Ratchet, or calling people a bitch.” Prowl spoke plainly. The medic shrugged, any irritation long gone.
“Maybe not for Praxians,” Ratchet stated, risking a glance up at Prowl, “but I can think of a few races that go through a--” there was a brief pause-- “biting phase. We don’t know the kid's origin exactly so there's a chance he’s one of ‘em.” The medic finished, leaning back. Prowl remarked the sparkling in his arms, who was surprisingly starting to calm down.
“He still shouldn’t have bitten you, or swore at you. I will make sure he apologies once he has settled down.” Prowl informed, looking back up at the mech, his eyes lingered on the dents,
“I am sorry--” He began, as if he knew what Prowl was going to say, Ratchet interrupted him with a wave.
"Eh, I've dealt with worse." He chuckled
“Have you seen the manners of these bots?” Ratchet gestured outside the door “You would think they were born yesterday. Not to mention the bedside manners of your own partner” The red and white mech teased, Prowl felt his own fans turn on, his face getting hot. There was no denying that Jazz absolutely despised being in the medical bay. Ratchet looked down at his dented plating.
"I will say, he's got quite the bite for such a little bugger. His fangs are sharp as hell." The medic commented casually. “Got some serious moxie too.” Ratchet paused, sighing “And as much as I hate to admit it, it's hard to stay upset with the imp. He’s too cute for his own good." Prowl solemnly nodded. The yellow and black mechling was indeed a master of manipulation, no one was spared.
"Unfortunately, I've gotta head back and clean up that mess, and get this dent out. I wish you the best of luck with that menace you've got." Ratchet remarked before turning and leaving the second in command alone with Bumblebee. The two watched in silence. As the door closed, Prowl looked down at the sparkling in his arms, who had gone still and was staring back up at him with a blank face and intense eyes. Prowl narrowed his eyes at them,
“Why did you bite him? You know better.” He lectured, while less impatient than before, his tone was far from friendly. The child blinked and produced a series of warbled beeping and whirring. Prowl did his best not to roll his eyes at the display,
"Primus, Bee, use your words." He huffed sternly. The mechling blinked when he was interrupted, then glared at the older.
"Fine!" Bumblebee squeaked out, irritation emitting from his EM reader. He threw his arms out before folding them against his chest, displaying his anger. Bee looked down at the floor for a few moments, silent.
"He's scary." Bumblebee proclaimed quickly, quieter than before. He turned away from the mech who was holding him. The yellow bot's fans turned on. Prowl couldn't stop the endearing smile that crept up his face as the sparkling admitted to his fear, he sighed.
"He is kinda scary isn't he?" Prowl admitted quietly, Bee gave a curt nod. The ex-enforcer, still carrying the smaller bot, walked back over to his desk. He quickly eyed the paperwork and battle plans that remained unreviewed. He would return to his work once he got everything sorted with the sparkling. Prowl set Bumblebee onto his desk, making sure he didn't sit on any of the datapads.
"Mhm-mhm" The child nodded as he was set down, obviously feeling justified. His eyes closed and chin lifted slightly. Prowl righted the chair that he had knocked over in his scramble to figure out what was wrong and pulled it to the desk.
"He was yellin' a' me." The mechling stated. The Praxian sat in his chair and faced the child, pinching the bridge of his nose,
"Just because people are scary or are yelling at you doesn't mean you can bite them, or call them names." Prowl informed. Bumblebee scrunched his nose at the information, clearly not convinced. The second in command fought the urge to roll his eyes,
“Does Jazz bite Ratchet or Red Alert when they yell at him?” Prowl asked, Bumblebee contemplated the question,
“Or do the twins bite me when I scold them? What about when Ultra Magnus is upset with me?” He continued. It was quiet for just a few moments as the sparkling pondered the questions. Eventually Bumblebee hunched over a bit and shook his head, eyes averted to the floor in shame.
"Biting people is bad, just like yelling." Prowl gave the sparkling a stern look, finally he started to look like he somewhat regretted biting Ratchet. Prowl’s eyes looked over the younger, assessing the multi colored paint that still covered them,
"And, you made a mess in the medical bay, now Ratchet has to go clean up after you. I ought to send you down there to help him." Prowl threatened as he leaned back in the chair. Bumblebee's eyes widened in shock, horrified of the idea, he let out a frantic beep.
"No!" Bumblebee squeaked in a panic, shaking his head and holding his hands out. Prowl narrowed his eyes, and fell silent, pretending to debate something. The sparkling watched and waited eagerly, fidgeting with his hands.
"I won't, just because you'll probably get in Ratchet's way more than help him. I would rather not have him breathing down my neck for that too." Prowl spoke nonchalantly, the yellow sparkling exhaled deeply and nodded slightly.
"But, you will need to apologize to him." Prowl informed him with a raised finger. Bumblebee looked less thrilled, but relieved nonetheless. He gave another disappointed and reluctant nod, looking boredly around the room.
“Okay.” The sparkling agreed reluctantly. The Praxian nodded and looked at the now closed office door, his doorwings fluttered slightly.
"How did you even get out?" He thought aloud, looking inquisitively at the door as if it held all of the answers. Bee hummed and looked up at him, then at the door.
"I could have sworn you couldn't reach the touchpad to open it." Prowl commented, looking down at Bumblebee, who tried in vain not to look guilty. Unfortunately for the sparkling, Prowl was no fool and quickly caught the guilt radiating from the sparkling’s EM reader.
"Not to mention all of the other touchpads that are out of your reach on the way to the medical bay." Prowl continued to ponder, there was no way he could have climbed up to the touchpads; at least not all of them. At some point someone would have seen the unattended Sparkling and put a stop to his wandering. Bumblebee played with his hands, staring at his lap. The ex-enforcer scanned the office space around him. His eyes landed on a small vent located to the left of the door, within the reach of the mechling before him and just large enough for Bumblebee to fit into. The grate was hanging off of it by a single screw. Prowl slowly looked at the sparkling again,
"The vent?" He asked plainly, no emotion or tell in his voice. Prowl wasn't sure if he was angry with the kid or impressed. Bumblebee nodded timidly, unsure and unable to read the other. The tactician bobbed his head a bit.
"How did you know how to open it?" He asked, looking back at the vent. Prowl had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the answer would be.
"Jazz showed me." Bumblebee muttered quietly, eyes still downcast. Prowl suppressed a sigh, he would need to have a conversation with his partner when he returned. If he returned, Prowl shook his head, a morbid thought he would have to entertain later.
"How am I not surprised?" Prowl sighed, pinching the bride of his nose. There were moments he questioned the logic of his partner. Bumblebee shrugged, looking boredly around the room.
"What'd you use to unscrew it?" The ex-enforcer asked. Bumblebee was quiet again before he slowly lifted his hand. He tapped his wrist and a small toolbox opened up. The sparkling had been given upgrades by someone. Prowl gazed at the small tools with an unimpressed expression,
"Jazz?" He asked plainly, the child nodded hesitantly,
"Please don’t be mad at Dad." Bumblebee timidly asked, eyes finally looking up to meet Prowl's. Pleadingly he looked at the Praxian,"I wasn't supposed to show anyone."
"I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to use it to escape my office either." Prowl retorted, amusement hidden in his otherwise neutral tone. Bumblebee was silent once again, looking away from Prowl and offering a small shrug. The sparkling closed the small toolbox and fiddled with the thin seam of the opening.
“I’m sorry.” Bumblebee spoke quietly, Prowl might have missed it without the aid of his doorwings.
“You need to be telling Ratchet, not me.” The second in command remarked, Bumblebee shook his head,
“I’m sorry for escaping.” He clarified, eyes averted. Prowl exhaled and smiled lightly
“It's okay, just don't do it again, alright?” He asked,
"I won’t." The sparkling nodded, looking back at him. The tactician extended a pinky towards the younger bot,
"Pinky promise?" He offered, Bumblebee smiled, touching his own small pinky to Prowl's much larger finger.
"Pinky promise." Bee exclaimed, suddenly full of energy once again. The small bot stood up on the desk and carefully hopped off of it, landing on Prowl's lap. The much smaller mechling did their best to hug Prowl, though his small arms couldn't quite reach around the larger mech. The tactician was quick to return the simple gesture. After a moment Bumblebee pulled away, looking up at Prowl with a sly expression,
"Can I have rust sticks?" He asked with a grin. Prowl huffed out a small laugh at the sparklings antics and nodded.
"Yeah, you can have rust sticks.” Prowl paused, looking over and examining the sparklings multi colored, hand done, paint job.
“After I get you cleaned up." Prowl said, Bumblebee seemed less thrilled about getting cleaned off. Regardless, Prowl lifted the small bot into his arms and up to sit on his shoulder as he stood up from the chair. The mechling whooped as he sat on Prowl's shoulder.
"Thanks Pa." He thanked as they walked out of the office, data pads long forgotten on the desk. As they made their way through the door Prowl paused,
“Who did you learn the word ‘bitch’ from?” The tactician asked as turned his head to look at Bumblebee. A mischievous grin creased their face, and they gave a guilty shrug, looking off to the side,
“I promised I wouldn’t tell.” He said smugly. Bumblebee leaned forward, eyes meeting Prowl’s,
“It was a pinky promise.” He whispered, eyes alight with childlike mischief.
“Was it Jazz?” Prowl deadpanned. Bumblebee’s grin grew wider as he shook his head,
“Nope.” The yellow mech popped the ‘p’. The tactician blinked before ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth the fight and resuming his walk to his own quarters to retrieve a snack for the two of them.
(it was Optimus)