Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prowl of Praxus had been orphaned at a young age, after his creators had been killed in an accident, leaving him in the rather lax guardianship of his Creator's sibling, Barricade. Barricade made sure every physical need of Prowl's was met – he was clean, fully fuelled, and kept in perfect repair – but as Prowl got older the older mech was absent for 'work' more and more.

Prowl was introverted but still attended gatherings with his friends, and practices or competitions with his junior racing team. He dated occasionally, but the dates he accepted were few and far between, especially after an incident early in his adolescence where he found out he'd been asked out as part of a dare. Prowl could have tried asking someone out, but he'd known most of his classmates most of his life and had little to no romantic interest in them. None of them were, as it was said, his 'type.' Prowl was in no hurry. He was also not entirely sure what he wanted to go into as a career, but it wasn't unusual for a young mech to make several forays into potential careers before settling on one.

Cybertronian schools were designed to teach juveniles facts, sciences, problem-solving, and so forth. They also focused on teaching social interaction and skills. Pre-adolescent juveniles mainly focused on learning soft skills through play, as well as art and music. Adolescents learned harder skills and sciences as well and were meant to be channelled toward a potential career, and would graduate at maturity with a first-level degree. One of the criteria for graduation, in addition to passing grades, was to successfully complete a term-long community service project.

Prowl expected to be placed into something that would require the use of planning or logic. Interning in the archives, a laboratory, or with the city planners or mechaforensics division perhaps. Prowl was, therefore, surprised to find himself assigned to helping out at a juvenile playgroup, nine half-mega-cycles per deca-cycle till the end of the term. Playgroups were for juveniles who were under two meta-cycles and too young for school and were exactly what they sounded like; a few cycles each mega-cycle where juveniles played together in a relatively unstructured environment. Unlike school, they were not mandatory, and creators paid upfront for them, instead of indirectly through taxes as for public schools. Prowl hadn't attended one himself when he was younger. He'd had playdates his creators arranged for him instead, and later his racing team for socialization. Prowl was unclear on why he'd been given the assignment but, as he intended to have a juvenile of his own at some point, he supposed it would be good practice. Prowl did not submit a request to have his assignment switched.

He was nervous the first day of his assignment, but he was given an easy duty: playground monitor. All he had to do was watch the juveniles and make sure no one got hurt or engaged in bullying. He had thought they would be shy around a new person, as he had been at that age, and some of them were, but more of them crowded around him to ask him questions. How old was he? Was he going to be here all the time? When were his creators going to pick him up? Did he like energon goodies? Could he do a somersault and come up in a handstand? (Apparently, their previous playground monitor had been able to do that.)

"I'm thirteen meta-cycles old," Prowl told them. "I'm going to be here for the next few deca-cycles. I can drive home on my own, and yes, I like energon goodies." As for the last one, Prowl had no intention of trying anything so silly and suggested that they show him how instead.

That distracted them nicely until they'd forgotten they'd asked him to do it in the first place.

Prowl got attached to the juveniles in his group, far more than he'd expected to. Prowl kept the little things they gave him on the shelf above his desk in his room and found himself wondering what the little things his own creation would bring home would look like.

Prowl thought about having his own creation a lot, lately.

The usual path after graduation was a trade or post-secondary education, a career, and then a partner and creations for those so inclined. Prowl, after a great deal of consideration, decided to choose a different path.

Prowl had an income courtesy of his creators' estate, and he had saved a significant amount from that, and from the data analysis work that he performed remotely. Prowl's developing spark had demanded a complex and powerful brain module for the structure the spark would power, and his creators had spared no expense providing it. Prowl could simply upload the work, run it in a background processing thread, and do most of a full day's work without devoting even half his capacity to it. Prowl used that ability now to complete a personal analysis: determining whether or not he could afford the construction and other associated costs of raising a juvenile. He would, it turned out, be able to do so well within what he considered acceptable parameters. True, he lacked a partner, but that was not actually an obstacle for a Cybertronian: he could use a recursive hardline and self-spark.

Commonly when a mech wanted a creation and didn't want to use Vector Sigma, they found a partner to donate a copy of their code, which would be merged with a branch of the mech's core operating system to create a newspark. The newspark would spin off into a separate, miniature sparklet that would draw energy from the host parent's spark while it compiled a personality matrix and other required operating software and developed into a full spark. It was also possible for a mech to branch their own core operating system, resulting in a newspark that was a clone of the parent, at least initially. There were random factors to newspark development that could result in even a clone having a very different personality, sometimes even a different alt mode, than their carrier-creator.

Prowl reasoned that if he had his creation now, he would be able to stay home with them and enter university at the same time they entered school, two meta-cycles from now. Breakneck had stayed home with Prowl for those years, and he wanted to give the same to his own creation. That would, he felt, be easier now than when he was mid-career.

Prowl was due for his adult upgrades in half a stellar-cycle and would have another half stellar-cycle after that to adjust to them before he graduated. With those upgrades, his reproductive protocols would be available to bring online. The grace period between upgrades and graduation was designed to give the new adult time to adjust with the presence of teachers and counsellors as guides. Most of his peers would use it for studying, working, or simply enjoying themselves before adult responsibilities came down upon them. Prowl planned to use it to host his sparklet while they developed.

The juveniles he dealt with now crowded around him on his last day, asking him if he'd come back and visit them – Prowl didn't know – and if he could stay. He couldn't, though he would have liked to, because another student was coming in for the next term. Besides, Prowl was going to be busy with his own upgrades and, if everything went according to plan, his creation.

That didn’t mean he wasn't sorry to leave. As he left, he watched the play centre recede through his rear sensors until he turned a corner.

Prowl received his adult upgrades exactly when he'd expected to.

Barricade thumped Prowl on the back in congratulations and gave him some shanix to get himself something. (Barricade's history with picking out presents for anyone meant that this was the preferred outcome.) To celebrate, at least once their new parts and armour had integrated and no longer ached, Prowl went out with a few friends who'd upgraded around the same time.

That same night as the celebration, Prowl went into his systems and activated his reproductive protocols. He waited for a few mega-cycles to ensure the new protocols had installed and integrated correctly and he wouldn't receive error messages before he attempted to create his newspark, to ensure stability and increase success. Prowl was quite aware it might take several tries before he was prompted to initiate a core systems branch, especially since no additional progenitor was involved.

Prowl had to make several attempts over nearly the whole next deca-cycle, but he finally got the prompt on his HUD he'd been waiting for:

// initiate core systems branch CONFIRM/DENY?

Yes, absolutely. Prowl's mind was set as he sent the command.

// CONFIRM

Prowl confirmed and then accepted each successive prompt during the newspark initiation process eagerly. At last, his patience was rewarded, and he saw the readout and widget on his HUD that told him he'd been successful. That he was sparked.

// coreChild now available as newSpark

// initiating host parent protocols

// host parent protocols online

// newSpark monitor widget available on host parent HUD

// input additional code to diversify newSpark coding

// end newSpark initiation procedure

Even as the final line of information scrolled from his HUD, Prowl was sure he could sense the tiny newspark spinning next to his own.

His creation. His.

It was six mega-cycles before Prowl, now sure that the sparklet would not reabsorb, told anyone but his doctor's office about it. He told his uncle about it the day of his appointment, not just because it was time but because he needed Barricade to authorize his absence from his classes that morning.

Prowl did not bother with great fanfare when telling Barricade about the sparklet. He simply walked up to his uncle one morning as Barricade was getting his breakfast from the dispenser and made his announcement.

"Good morning, Barricade."

"Morning, kid," Barricade grunted, dimming his optics unhappily at the sunlight streaming in the kitchen window. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm sparked," Prowl said bluntly. "For the past six mega-cycles."

Barricade fumbled his energon.

"You what? Prowl!" Barricade frowned. "Wait. You're not seeing anyone, and I'm pretty sure you're not fragging casually. Who sparked you up?" Barricade pulled Prowl over to a chair and pressed him down into it. "Mortilus take me, Prowl, you're just a kid. How can you have a kid of your own, especially on your own?" Barricade paused, something else clearly occurring to him. "Did you initiate on purpose?"

A newspark wasn't supposed to ignite unless the host parent confirmed the initiation request, and there were several points where confirmation could be denied. This was not an absolute, of course. For a new adult without their reproductive protocols online, it was less likely, but the protocols could have come online, and an unexpected initiation occurred due to overcharge or corrupted or malfunctioning code.

Prowl lifted his chin. "I did, yes."

Barricade frowned at him. "Who's the progenitor? Someone from school? Do they know about this yet?"

"There is no other progenitor. I sparked myself," Prowl replied. He moved briskly on to the necessities. "I'll require extra energon and will be moving to," he faltered only briefly, "my creators' room so the juvenile can have mine." Hunter and Breakdown's room was better suited to two mecha and Prowl thought he might need that extra space at some point. Just because he didn't have a partner now didn't mean he wouldn't have one in the future.

"Yeah, that's fine, sure, Prowl, just – " Barricade ran a hand over his face. " Okay, well, whatever you say. Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"Not yet," Prowl answered calmly. "I have an appointment this morning, however."

"Good. That's good." Barricade hadn't dropped his cube, just sloshed it around a bit. Now he put it down in front of Prowl. "Drink. You're probably going to need it, sparklets take a lot of energy. I think so, anyway. I wasn't around when Breakneck was hosting your spark, and I was never interested - anyway. Look, Prowl, I was going to tell you this tonight but – I just got a new assignment, and there's a lot of travel involved, some undercover work. I – I might not be around as much anymore. Including when you hit emergence. I'll try, but – "

"I understand," Prowl said, because he did. Breakneck had had to travel semi-frequently during the racing season. Besides, Prowl had planned to do this all on his own anyway; support from other mecha was accounted for in his plans, but still extraneous.

Barricade kept his life relatively separate from Prowl's already, so it was surprising that he accompanied Prowl to his appointment with their doctor, First Aid. They did not talk while they waited. It was early morning, so there weren’t many other patients there, and Prowl got in to see First Aid quickly, while Barricade stayed in the waiting room.

"Okay, Prowl," First Aid said after he'd scanned Prowl thoroughly and spent a few nano-kliks analyzing the results. "You're healthy, and so is your sparklet. You haven't got to worry about anything on that front. As long as you come to regular appointments so I can monitor the sparklet's health, get the recommended amount of energon, and obey your body's demands for rest, I don't foresee any problems at this stage.

"Now, I know you don't have another progenitor and, as I said, that's not a problem in and of itself. But if you want to add additional progenitor coding somewhere down the line, here's a clinic where you can merge anonymized donor code with your sparklet." First Aid pinged him the address. "I'm also going to put you in contact with an organization that will help you fund your sparklet's structure. You're a very practical young mech, so I know you've probably saved and prepared, but," First Aid continued, "don't forget that the sparklet will have its own requirements. Each sparklet writes its own blueprint, and they can sometimes be different from what you expect. There's a certain amount of randomization that takes place during development, and it isn't a certainty the spark will have the structure-type you think they will, even when you've self-sparked. While the spark will eventually use the structure's self-repair protocols to reconstruct it as much as possible if it has to, it's best to give it what it wants from the beginning."

Prowl touched his chest plates, right over his spark chamber, as if he could feel the sparklet inside. "Yes, I was provided with that information in school and when the data files on conception unlocked. I was under the impression it was not that common."

"It's not that uncommon," First Aid pointed out. "You probably don't have to account for that but you should be prepared. I know you want what's best for your sparklet. I'll give you some information and have my admin set up some follow-up appointments to you. Now, don't worry about those, they're just standard procedure so I can monitor both of you. Once I have a few scans in I'll be able to confirm your separation date and get you set up with a clinic that can construct your sparklet's structure and where you can have emergence."

Prowl left First Aid's office loaded down with contacts, information, and another appointment in a deca-cycle's time.

"Everything okay, kid?" Barricade asked as they left First Aid's office. "With you and the, um, other kid?"

"First Aid is satisfied with my condition, yes," Prowl said.

"Okay, well, good." Barricade patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "You're going to be okay, Prowl. You and the bitlet. We'll manage."

Prowl meticulously obeyed all the instructions First Aid had given him, and the monitor widget on his HUD showed everything about and for the newspark in the green. According to his systems, there was nothing to worry about, and Prowl was determined to keep it that way.

First Aid concurred that everything was as it should be with both the sparklet and Prowl. He checked that Prowl had made an appointment with the counsellor he'd recommended (yes) if Prowl intended to add donor code to his sparklet (no), and that Prowl had at least looked into the emergence clinic First Aid had suggested (again, yes).

"Do you have any questions for me, Prowl?" First Aid asked when Prowl was roughly three deca-cycles along.

"Yes. Is it safe for me to look at the sparklet yet?" Prowl asked, hopefully. He'd wanted to, but the safety margin on how long after ignition it was safe to open his spark chamber varied from mech to mech, sparklet to sparklet. Prowl wasn't going to do anything to risk his developing creation.

"Well, it wouldn't be safe to stay open for too long a time, but you can look for a few kliks," First Aid said, a smile evident in his voice. "Go ahead and open up."

Feeling both nervous and anticipatory, Prowl opened his chest plates and exposed his spark chamber, looking into the mirror First Aid held up in front of him. There, in the reflection, he could see the sparklet nestled safely against his own, full-sized, spark. The developing spark was small but shone brilliantly, its light refracting off the crystal of the chamber as it spun quickly, so quickly. Prowl thought he could, just barely, make out the thin stream of plasma connecting his sparklet to his spark, glimmering as the newspark spun off matter and energy from the parent spark so it could grow.

"Oh," Prowl whispered, voice catching with unexpected emotion. "Oh, look at you, little one." He reached out to touch the reflection with shaking fingers. "Oh, First Aid, they're beautiful! They're perfect."

First Aid's visor shone brightly with emotion. "They are. They're lovely and very solidly established. You're going to have a fine creation, Prowl."

"Thank you." Prowl was busy making every moment of this a memory capture. His first time seeing, not just sensing, his little brightspark! He looked for as long as he could, only reluctantly closing his armour again when First Aid said it was time. Prowl couldn't keep a shaky, emotional, smile off his face. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."

It was real. It felt real. His sparklet, now small, healthy, and bright, was going to develop, and grow, and all too soon it would compile and split from Prowl's spark entirely and emerge, ready to be implanted in its structure. Then he could, finally, meet them.

The remaining decacycles couldn't go by fast enough.

Prowl graduated from school at the top of his class, qualified to be class valedictorian had he wanted the honour. He did not, not particularly enjoying the thought of public speaking, especially not in front of a crowd. Prowl did all the things that were expected of a newly graduated adult: attended the ceremony, stood for image captures with his friends and classmates, went to the celebration afterwards. He did find it enjoyable, though not something he would have wanted to do often. All throughout, he kept wondering and thinking about the day his own creation would graduate.

His uncle attended the graduation events along with the creators of Prowl's classmates. Barricade wasn't much for emotional displays, but he did take Prowl aside at one point for a quiet word.

"You did good, Prowl," he said and seemed to fumble for a moment. "Your – Hunter and Breakneck would be proud of you, too."

"Thank you," Prowl said quietly. "And – I know."

For a moment Prowl thought Barricade might say something else but then Tumbler came over with another of their friends and the newly mature mech got drawn into the group. If his uncle had been about to say something, Prowl never found out what it was.

Chapter Text

Prowl was glad he'd finished with school and had work he could perform at any time, so long as he met the submission deadlines. The sparklet had entered its final development phase when it demanded the most energy and processing time. Prowl's higher functions had to shut down periodically to allow the virtual machine powering the sparklet's development to run using his hardware. As a result, Prowl spent much more time than usual recharging. His fuel intake had increased as well, and the extra all went to the sparklet's increasing mass as well as compilation and testing. First Aid assured him that the sparklet was well within expected parameters for this point in development. He also told Prowl how long and how often it was safe to look at the sparklet and Prowl opened his plating as frequently as he could under those restrictions.

Prowl spoke to his creation often, knowing that to do so was illogical and not caring. The sparklet could not hear or understand him, as it lacked any hardware or software with which to receive or interpret sensory input. Sometimes it was hard to remember that, especially when Prowl received his first ping from the sparklet while he was speaking to it.

The ping was just a test by the sparklet's virtual machine, Prowl knew. The VM was testing for a positive response from the host parent, signalling that base coding was complete, and the development of the sparklet's personality matrix was about to begin. The sparklet would not come online until it was installed in and could run on the structure's hardware. Prowl knew that, too, and he didn't care. He returned every ping, murmuring encouragement, even so. Irrational or not, it felt right.

Prowl could no longer transform, his t-cog locked down by his reproductive systems to prevent unnecessary energy expenditure. By the time his projected emergence date was a deca-cycle away, Prowl had to admit that he was more than ready to be done hosting the sparklet, no matter how much he loved them. First Aid assured him that nearly every host parent he'd had as a patient had felt that way.

Prowl was at home alone when his systems notified him that emergence was due to begin in three cycles, Barricade was working undercover and was unavailable for anything except an emergency, and Prowl didn't feel this counted. He'd send a message to let his uncle know, but it would take time to get to him even as a non-emergency priority. Prowl wanted some time alone with his creation first anyway. He sent the message for Barricade, alerted the emergence clinic that he was on his way, summoned a transport, then commed First Aid, who was surprised but still calm and reassuring.

'You're experiencing emergence on the projected date?' the doctor asked. 'That's – not overly common. Are you on your way to the clinic now?'

'I've called a transport, and it will be here shortly,' Prowl told him. 'Emergence is not scheduled to begin for another three cycles, but I remembered your warnings about unpredictability at this point.'

'It's best to plan for the unexpected but don't worry, Prowl,' First Aid soothed. 'You're going to be fine, both of you. Have you heard from the emergence specialist yet?'

'Not yet, but the clinic alerted her when I commed them to let them know I would be there shortly. She's assisting another creator now but will be able to speak with me upon my arrival.' Prowl had thought he would be okay doing this entirely on his own, but now that the day was here he found he wanted someone supportive with him. 'Will you – I would appreciate it if you could be there for at least part of my sparklet's emergence. If possible, of course.'

Warm, reassuring glyphs and markers from First Aid. 'I can't promise anything, Prowl, but I'll do my best. I'm excited to meet your sparklet – though not as much as you are, of course.'

Prowl smiled and trailed his fingers over his chest plates, a gesture that had become habitual. 'I am excited, yes. It feels as if I've wanted a very long time to meet my little brightspark.' His transport arrived, and Prowl headed out to it. 'My transport is here, First Aid. I hope to see you shortly.'

Prowl's sparklet would emerge in a small, private room in the emergence clinic. The juvenile structure he'd had built based on specs provided by the virtual machine, with its simple superstructure and alt, was resting on a medical bed, connected to monitoring devices that were showing zero readings. The readings would remain blank until the sparklet was implanted and brought the structure's systems online for the first time. A separate bed for Prowl, to rest on while the sparklet installed itself in and booted up the structure, was on the device-free side. More monitoring devices sat quietly, disconnected and out of the way, in the background in case there were unforeseen complications for host or sparklet.

Prowl walked over to the inert structure and looked down at it. Although the structure's similarities to Prowl were very apparent, randomization had ensured some differences. The structure's faceplate was less an exact copy of Prowl and more like Prowl's sator's. The hands reminded Prowl of his creator's, and the substructure, the struts and internals, looked designed to handle impact, though it wouldn't be evident once the adult superstructure was in place.

Soon, little brightspark, he thought to his sparklet, focussing on how much he loved them in the hope they would feel it in his spark. I'll meet you soon.

Prowl's emergence specialist, Lifeline, painted in white and soothing pale green, came to see him very shortly after he arrived in the emergence room.

"Good morning, Prowl," she said, smiling and scanning him. "You're experiencing emergence right on time, I see. How are you feeling?"

"I'm experiencing no more than the standard discomfort," Prowl replied, reluctantly dropping his hand from his chest plates so she could get a better reading. "I am feeling fatigued, but I understand that to be normal, especially just before emergence."

"Oh, yes. The little one needs a lot of energy at this point. It's because they're about to become self-sustaining. Now, I see here that you were notified to expect emergence in three cycles?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Alright." Lifeline, who was very tactile, put a hand on his arm and ushered him over to the bed meant for the parent. "I'm not scanning anything that would change that, so I'm going to put a monitor on you just in case and have you lie down and try to get some rest."

Prowl obediently lay back and let her magnetize a monitor to his chest plates. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep."

Lifeline smiled. "Probably not, but even just lying there will help you conserve your energy. Power down anything nonessential for me, please. Now, I know you don't have any additional progenitors for your sparklet, but have you changed your mind about having a friend or family member with you during emergence?" she asked.

Prowl powered down what he could, including dimming his optics. "My regular physician, First Aid, will be welcome if he's able to attend. Otherwise, no. I don't have any family members available right now."

"Alright," Lifeline said calmly. Prowl had explained Barricade's possible absence to her at a previous appointment. "We'll let First Aid in if he arrives, but other than that it will just be you, me, and the sparklet."

That was all Prowl wanted. "Thank you."

Lifeline left, promising to check in on him in a half-cycle, and Prowl shut his optics off and laid his hands on his chest plates, careful not to disturb the monitor.

Prowl didn't recharge, but he did fall into a sort of doze where he was aware of Lifeline and a technician coming in and out to check on him but didn't have the energy to respond. Almost three cycles to the klik he received the notification on his HUD that the sparklet was separating and ready for emergence.

Prowl's fuel pulsed hard through his lines. He was excited and apprehensive all at the same time.

The monitor must have sent an alert to the clinic staff, and soon Lifeline and a technician were in the room. The technician tended to the devices that would monitor the newly implanted spark and its structure while Lifeline oversaw Prowl and helped him out if needed.

"Ready?" she asked, standing by to help him if needed as Prowl stood up and moved to stand next to the structure.

"Yes," Prowl said. His spark gave an odd twinge. It wasn't painful, but he hadn't felt anything like that before. He reported it to Lifeline. "Was that - ?"

"Normal," Lifeline soothed. "Your sparklet is separating from your spark. Remember what we talked about, it will feel strange, but you don't need to worry unless it hurts. I'm scanning you constantly, we'll know right away if there's a problem, but everything looks good. Oh," she added, touching the side of her helm to indicate an incoming comm. "First Aid is here. Do you still want him to attend?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright. We have some time. We're going to open the structure's chest plates, but not yet the spark chamber so that the structure is ready once the separation is complete." Lifeline put a hand on Prowl's chest plates, running another scan. "I'd say it won't be too much longer. I think you're going to have a nice, clean, separation here. Remember, it's going to feel strange, but I'll keep a sensor on you and make sure everything goes okay."

First Aid came in, and Prowl thought he must have been conferring with Lifeline over comms because the two didn't verbally exchange information. First Aid took up a place at Prowl's other side, directly opposite Lifeline, and patted Prowl's hand reassuringly.

"How are you feeling, Prowl?" First Aid asked. "Lifeline tells me everything is going well."

"I feel nervous," Prowl admitted, "but excited too." He touched his chest. "I get to meet them, First Aid. I – ah!"

"Pain?" Lifeline asked.

Prowl shook his head. "Not quite, just a–a sharp tug on my spark would be the best description. It was much more intense than the twinges I felt earlier."

"That's supposed to happen. It's the separation starting, nothing to worry about," Lifeline told him. "Okay, Prowl, it's time to open your armour for me."

"You're doing well, Prowl," First Aid murmured, rubbing his arm. "It's going to feel strange, but it's alright. You've got a fine, strong, sparklet in there."

Prowl, caught off guard by another tug on his spark, just nodded as he opened his armour. Sparklight from two sources shimmered into view, reflecting on glass, chrome, plating, and the exposed spark chamber of the structure in front of them. Sparklight refracted off the crystal and scattered light on everything around them.

"Almost there," Lifeline said encouragingly. "I think two, maybe three, tugs, no more. Then we're going to open the spark crystals, yours and theirs, and you'll implant the sparklet into the structure."

"We'll help you if you need it, Prowl," First Aid added. "But you're okay. You're doing very well."

"I – " There was another sharp tug, and Prowl grimaced and clutched at First Aid's hand. It wasn't pain, as he'd said, but it was certainly not comfortable either. "I need to lean over the structure. I need to get ready for the transfer."

"That's right," Lifeline said calmly, hand on his back as he took a step forward. "Go on, lean down. I'm going to help you line up your spark chamber with the structure's, alright? Let me guide you. Just like we talked about."

"Almost there, little one," First Aid crooned to the sparklet. "You can do it!" Prowl wasn't sure if the doctor was speaking to the sparklet, himself, both, or if it even mattered.

Prowl leaned over the structure, letting Lifeline guide him into position, bracing himself with one hand. He might need the other to help guide the newly emerged sparklet on its brief journey from chamber to chamber. First Aid supported him on the other side.

The next tug was the strongest yet, and it ended with a sudden sense of change as if something had shifted inside him. Prowl didn't need Lifeline to tell him separation had completed, and he should open his chamber now. He knew: his little brightspark was no longer connected to his own spark and was ready to move into its structure. Prowl's fuel pumped faster through his lines in anticipation.

The technician and Lifeline opened the structure's spark chamber. They would have assisted Prowl, but it wasn't necessary. He was still coherent and still had enough energy to do so on his own. First Aid rubbed his arm and murmured encouragements. Prowl wasn't sure if they were speaking to him or the sparklet or both.

But he waited for several kliks, and the sparklet seemed to have no intention of moving from the warm, familiar, spark chamber to the new one grown just for it. That couldn't last. Now it had separated from the parent spark, it would need a support system of its own, or it would begin to lose cohesion and risk extinguishing.

"Is anything wrong?" Prowl asked anxiously. "They should have moved by now, shouldn't they?"

"Don't worry, Prowl," Lifeline said calmly. "They're not in the danger zone yet. Your creation is still safe. Remember what we talked about, how sometimes they need encouragement? They need to know where 'home' is now?" She took Prowl's free hand in hers and put it lightly on the spark crystal in the empty structure. "Just tap the crystal, very gently, so they sense its resonance."

The resonance of a spark crystal was one of the few things, along with energy and the host parent spark, that an un-emerged sparklet could sense. Prowl tapped the crystal as he'd been taught and felt a faint quivering in response. He repeated the tapping, and the sparklet shifted as if it were interested. The whole room was silent, except for the sound of Prowl's fingertips drawing sounds from the empty spark chamber, as if everyone were instinctively trying not to confuse the sparklet.

After just a few attempts, Prowl felt more shifting inside his spark chamber. Supported by Lifeline and First Aid, Prowl watched with mixed wonder and sorrow as the little spark, a third the size of Prowl's own, zipped from his spark chamber to the one grown and assembled just for it. Prowl made sure to capture, in high definition, the memory of the bright, small, separate spark as it glowed in the crystal, visible only briefly before protective metal shutters irised shut and the chest plates closed.

"Did it work?" Prowl asked anxiously, ignoring the messages streaming over his HUD. He was watching the structure instead. "Are they alright?"

"It worked." Lifeline smiled brightly, almost looking like she wanted to hug him. "They're fine – they're installing now, and they're perfectly fine. You did an excellent job, Prowl. Close up, now, and have a seat. The newspark is going to take a while to run a final compilation cycle and perform some testing to ensure it can adapt to its frame before it installs itself completely and boots. We're going to monitor them till they come online. All you have to do for the next several cycles is rest."

Prowl relented, not least because he was becoming fatigued and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay awake. "Alright." He kissed the struc – his creation on the forehead and straightened up. "But – "

"You can, and should, rest," Lifeline told him. "It will take a few cycles before your creation boots up for the first time. Their spark has to install and run tests and compile their code one last time." She handed him an energon cube she pulled from her subspace. "Drink this and lie down, try to recharge."

"But – " He was tired, but he still wanted to stay up, to watch them even if he couldn't see anything happening. It was strange, now, to be alone in his own body again.

"They're right there," First Aid reassured him, helping Prowl sit down on the bed reserved for him. "Less than arm's reach away. There isn't a thing you have to worry about, not even falling asleep. Look, there's an alarm that will sound when they start to boot, you'll be woken in plenty of time to greet your brightspark when they come online for the first time."

Prowl gave in, accepting and draining the cube before handing it back and lying down, on his side facing the other bed. Now that his role as host to the sparklet was complete, his energy levels were dropping fast, as his self-repair system began to undo the physiological changes of the past stellar-cycle. A constant scroll of updates in one corner of his HUD, now missing the sparklet monitor widget, showed various programs uninstalling themselves. They had only been in use while he was carrying and weren't needed anymore. If he had another creation this way in future, they would reinstall from his core operating files. Prowl didn't want to sleep, but he couldn't help it, he was exhausted. He didn't shut his optics off, though – not yet.

Prowl fell asleep watching his creation, silhouetted faintly by the lights of the now-active monitors.

Prowl woke before the alarms sounded but with a sense that something had changed. Where his spark chamber had felt uncomfortably full before the sparklet's emergence, it now felt too big for his spark. The feeling of emptiness wasn't a surprise, but it was certainly an odd one, especially after deca-cycles of the sparklet cohabiting with it. It wasn't just because the sparklet was gone; his spark had compressed itself to make room, and it hadn't yet recovered.

Prowl sat up, slowly, swivelling to sit on the edge of the bed. Everything on the devices monitoring the newbuild showed green, but they weren't approaching consciousness. Prowl checked his chronometer and told himself that there was no reason to be concerned. They had not exceeded the projected compilation time.

Prowl stroked their forehead and took their hand in his. He wanted his touch to be the first thing they felt. Their hand felt warm, the warmth of a living mech, unlike the empty structure before implantation.

Lifeline came in to check on them. "How are you feeling?" the doctor asked, running another scan on Prowl.

"Strangely empty," Prowl admitted, absently stroking his creation's fingers with his thumb. "Still tired, but anticipatory. Do you think it'll be much longer now?"

"Not long at all. I expect it to take another half cycle, maybe three quarters. You timed your nap well." Lifeline handed him another cube of energon. "Even if you don't feel like drinking that now, keep it with you. A recovering host parent's self-repair system can be very demanding, focused as it is on restoring your spark. Besides," she chuckled, "it can take some effort to keep up with an energetic, curious newbuild!"

"I'm looking forward to it," Prowl said softly. "Did First Aid leave?"

"He did," Lifeline confirmed. "He said goodbye to you, but you were just about in recharge at the time, so I guess it didn't register. But he wishes you well and says he'll see you both at your first appointment if he can't drop by tomorrow morning before you two go home. In the meantime," she continued, "is there anything you need?"

"No, thank you."

Lifeline promised to come back and check on them when his creation onlined, but she was busy with other new parents: his creation had picked a popular day to emerge, it seemed! Prowl stood by his creation's side and just watched. Prowl counted down the kliks, using the timeframe Lifeline had given him, till his creation began to start up their new hardware and software for the first time. Prowl was pleased to note that they began to online after a third of a cycle, not just half, a sign their spark had integrated well. But after that, it seemed like an age waiting for them to complete their first boot cycle and wake up, even if his chronometer told him otherwise.

"Come on, brightspark," Prowl murmured, kissing the backs of their fingers gently. "I'm so looking forward to meeting you."

Finally, the structure's optics lit, beautiful blue blooming from the center outward, and Prowl's creation looked at him for the first time.

Prowl made a sound of pure joy, smiling broadly. "Hello, brightspark," he managed to say.

"Hello. I know you," Prowl's creation said, looking at him curiously as they pushed themselves into a sitting position. Prowl reached to help them. "You are – You're my Creator?"

Prowl nodded, so overfull of emotion he could barely speak. "Yes. Yes, my love, I am your creator." He wrapped his arms around his creation and hugged them tightly, kissing their helm, their face. "I've wanted to meet you. I love you so much, brightspark. So much. What's your designation, darling? Can you give me an ID ping?"

"I'm Bluestreak," Prowl's creation said, sending the ping as requested after a nanoklik's delay: Bluestreak of Praxus, he/him. "I don't know why because I don't think I have any blue on me, but maybe it has something to do with speed? But it's my designation, and you're Prowl, right? I mean, my datatrax say so, but I've never accessed datatrax before so am I doing it right?"

Prowl stroked Bluestreak's helm, his back, just wanting to touch his creation and know he was real. Bluestreak.

"You're doing it right, Bluestreak," Prowl told him. "Yes, I'm Prowl."

"Prowl," Bluestreak repeated. "Creator." Bluestreak put his arms around Prowl in return and cuddled close. "You're Prowl, my creator, and I'm Bluestreak, and you love me, and I love you too."

Prowl pressed a kiss to the side of Bluestreak's helm, choked on emotion. "Yes, that's right."

"Are you okay, Creator? Is your voice supposed to sound that way?"

Prowl kissed Bluestreak's helm again. "I'm fine, my brightspark, just fine. It's because I'm just so very, very happy you're here at last."

Bluestreak snuggled even closer, head on Prowl's chest, utterly and innocently trusting. "Me too, Creator."

Prowl's spark, which just kliks ago had felt too small for its chamber, now felt over-large with emotion, as if it expanded to fill his whole chest. He shut his optics off and held his brightspark, his Bluestreak, as close as he could for as long as he could. Prowl had his creation, and at that moment, that one, incredible moment, everything was utterly perfect.

Chapter Text

A meta-cycle passed. Bluestreak was a happy, bright, curious, affectionate juvenile – everything Prowl had hoped he would be. Having seen how much the youths he'd monitored had enjoyed their playgroup, Prowl had enrolled Bluestreak in one, and he made friends quickly. The shelves in Prowl's room gathered a collection of crafts and artwork Bluestreak made and presented to him. Prowl treasured every one of them. Bluestreak was the bright joy in Prowl's life.

Time had been less kind to Barricade. Prowl's uncle had gotten caught up – justly or unjustly, Prowl was never sure – in an illegal gambling scandal and to avoid jail time had agreed to a hefty fine to be paid in instalments over several meta-cycles. Despite Barricade's disgrace, he did get the occasional bit of work, and he did sometimes bring in income. It would have helped, when it happened, except that he spent it almost entirely on high-grade and, Prowl suspected, more illegal gambling. Prowl would have been more willing to look past that last one if it had ever wound up benefitting the household in any way. Fortunately, Prowl's projections had included a scenario where Barricade no longer had income, and so he was able to keep the family financially solvent.

Barricade watched what he said and how he acted around Bluestreak, thankfully. Prowl didn't know what he would have done if anything Barricade said or did anything to hurt or upset his juvenile. His uncle was not always so careful around Prowl. Not anymore. Prowl sometimes had the bad feeling that his own position as the primary income earner was the only thing keeping his uncle's temper in check around him. Prowl had tried to suggest his uncle move out, but Barricade had complained that he couldn't afford it and Prowl certainly couldn't physically force him.

Prowl generally avoided his uncle these days, but sometimes he couldn't manage it. The house was a decent size, but it wasn't so big that two mecha could avoid each other forever. For instance, it only had one kitchen.

Prowl was concerned over his uncle's increasingly unstable behaviour and worried about the effect it was having on Bluestreak. An encounter in the kitchen one morning with his uncle, who had either gotten overcharged first thing that morning or was still experiencing the overcharge from the night before, solidified that feeling.

"Prowl," Barricade said, his words slightly slurred and edged with static. "Hey, Prowl. Lend me some shan'x, will ya? I got some stuff I gotta get."

"Put it on the shopping list," Prowl said calmly, gauging the distance between Barricade and the door, relieved that Bluestreak was playing outside before breakfast. "If it's a necessity, I'll make sure to acquire it."

"Yeah, see, what you call a necessity and what I call a necessity are different," Barricade argued. "C'mon, s'not much. Sixty. Could even make do with fifty if you're skint this week."

Prowl forbore from pointing out that it wasn't that he was short of money, or 'skint,' it was that he didn't trust his uncle. Sixty shanix was certainly more than he was willing to lend Barricade, even if he could trust his uncle to really purchase necessities. Prowl knew it was far, far more likely to be spent on high-grade and gambling.

"I can't, Uncle," Prowl said firmly, getting two cubes out of the cupboard. Bluestreak's was smaller since he didn't have an adult superstructure or upgrades to power yet and so needed less fuel.

"But it's necessary," Barricade insisted. "Don'cha trust me?"

No. "If it's a necessity, tell me what it is, and I'll include it when I place the order for the household week." Prowl tamped down his annoyance, knowing that showing it would only goad his uncle. He didn't want to risk Bluestreak overhearing a fight.

"Listen, kid," Barricade tried again, "if you lend it to me, it could help the budget. Y'know what I'm saying?"

Yes, Prowl knew. Gambling, which Barricade was not good enough to do professionally, and which was absolutely not helping Barricade's financial situation. Prowl wouldn't have loaned him the money in that case even if he had had it.

"The answer is still no," Prowl told him and tried to get around him to the energon dispenser.

Barricade got belligerent, both rows of optics narrowing. "Hey! I took care of you. I gave up my life in Petrex to do it!"

"Yes, and that's the only reason you're not homeless now," Prowl shot back, unable to help himself, as he filled Bluestreak's cube. He rarely showed it, but Prowl possessed the family temper in no lesser degree than Barricade. "The deposits from my trust and the income I bring in support this household. Everything you get goes straight to high-grade and gambling losses."

"Gotta do something for fun," Barricade sneered. "Not that you'd know anything about that. You just got work and that kid of yours. Fragging – fragging drone."

"I'm done here," Prowl said, voice clipped. "I am not giving you shanix, and I am not continuing this conversation." He had Bluestreak's energon, he could get his own later, say he wasn't hungry now.

"Done when I say so!" Barricade grabbed his arm and yanked as Prowl tried to turn away. Prowl jerked back instinctively, and Barricade let go at the same time. Prowl fell back against the counter, the adult-sized cube falling from his hand and cracking when it hit the floor.

Shocked still and silent, they both just stared at each other for a moment. It had been building, but neither mech had really expected it to happen. Prowl recovered first, pushing himself upright.

"If you ever touch Bluestreak," Prowl said flatly, a terrible calm in his voice, "I will kill you."

Barricade seemed to have sobered, possibly a result of hearing the pure cold rage in Prowl's voice. "Prowl, I – "

"Get out." Prowl's voice dropped into a growl. "Now."

Barricade went, though Prowl was under no illusions that that was the last time something like that would happen if he permitted his uncle to stay. They'd gone over that extensively in the dryly named Interpersonal Relations classes he'd attended throughout school: abuse didn't stop on its own, it only got worse. Prowl had been able to convince himself that Barricade's neglect of him didn't really count, but he couldn't deny the problem in the face of what had just happened.

Prowl heard Bluestreak enter the house and come toward the kitchen.

"Creator?" Bluestreak called. "Do you have breakfast yet? I'm hungry."

"I'm getting it now, Bluestreak," Prowl answered, setting Bluestreak's cube on the kitchen table and crouching to pick up the one he'd dropped. It was too damaged to repair, and he was putting it into the disposal when Bluestreak walked in.

"What happened?" Bluestreak asked, frowning.

"I dropped the cube, and it cracked," Prowl told him, mostly truthfully. "That's all."

"Was it because of Great-Uncle Barricade?" Bluestreak asked, far too perceptively.

Prowl managed not to flinch. "It was an accident, brightspark." He rose and went back to the cupboard for a new adult-sized cube, filled it. "Nothing to worry about. Do you want to have breakfast outside today?"

Bluestreak brightened. "Yeah!"

Prowl finished filling his cube and followed his creation out to the terrace. Hopefully, he'd distracted Bluestreak sufficiently for now, but the fact that Bluestreak had even thought to ask the question…

Prowl had to do something, and soon.

Barricade didn't come home for his evening fuel, which wasn't surprising and was, Prowl felt, for the best. Perhaps his uncle was doing some long-overdue hard thinking. Either way, knowing such behaviour only escalated, Prowl was going to have to evict his uncle. Maybe Barricade would even be reasonable and leave on request. Prowl didn't get his hopes up though.

Bluestreak didn't ask where Barricade was that night, which only served to make Prowl worry about what else he was failing to hide from his creation. As a distraction, Prowl played a game designed to foster spatial relations ability with Bluestreak after refuelling.  Once Bluestreak was in bed, Prowl sat down at his desk to get as much work done as he could before he had to recharge as well.

His work had been going well, and Prowl had just become confident that he would exceed the daily quota he had set for himself when a call came in via the house's comm suite. The ident showed it was from the local Enforcer's precinct.

Prowl nearly swore out loud, something he seldom did. It had to be about Barricade and, whatever this was, it was the last thing he needed. He answered the call anyway.

The call was from an Enforcer, ID ping: Nightstalker of Praxus, constable, they/them pronouns. Nightstalker managed to look both professional and vaguely apologetic. Prowl thought he recognized them from meta-cycles back. One of Hunter's former partners? Barricade's?

"Prowl of Praxus?" Nightstalker asked.

"Yes, Constable," Prowl answered politely, with an ID ping of his own. "How may I help you?" What has my uncle done now?

"You're listed as the emergency contact for one Barricade of Petrex," Nightstalker said. "You're his nibling, correct?"

May Unicron take you, Barricade! Prowl thought furiously. He did not need this. He didn't need to deal with it, and he didn't need or want to explain it to Bluestreak in the morning. Your great-uncle's been arrested. Don't mention it at playgroup.

"Yes, that's right," Prowl replied, hiding his frustration and anger.

"We've arrested him for causing a disturbance," Nightstalker told him. "Are you willing or able to cover the cost of recognizance?"

Prowl looked at the link included with the comm that would permit him to pay the five hundred shanix recognizance fee. He didn't have five hundred shanix to pull out of the household emergency budget, not after having to have the energon dispenser repaired a few mega-cycles ago. There were certain sacrifices he could have made, but after that morning, leaving Barricade in jail was the best option for Prowl.

"I am not able to cover the cost." Nor willing, truth be told, but that was another matter entirely.

Nightstalker didn't look unsympathetic but stayed professional. "Do you have assets valued at a collective minimum of five hundred shanix that you would be willing to let stand surety in their place?"

Nightstalker's phrasing let Prowl answer the question honestly. Prowl had a few assets, mostly his Sator's racing memorabilia, that would reach that value, but he wasn't willing to risk them for Barricade.

"No, I do not," Prowl answered.

Nightstalker nodded. "The final option is for your uncle to agree to an Undertaking to an Officer in Charge. He would have to abstain from intoxication and any further criminal activity and agree to appear in court on a date to be specified at a later time. Do you believe Barricade would abide by those terms?"

Prowl didn't like the way his uncle had been acting recently, didn't want him back in the house, but even so, the words scorched like acid as they queued for his vocalizer. Hunter and Breakneck would not have had to abandon a family member like this. They also would have made their creation's safety their primary concern.

"No. I do not," Prowl said, genuinely regretful. Perhaps the Barricade he'd met after his creators died would have, but not the Barricade of the past meta-cycle.

"In that event, Barricade will be held in jail until a hearing can be convened," Nightstalker informed him. "Do you plan to attend the hearing?"

Not if I don't have to. "I'm unsure," Prowl said out loud. "It will depend on the date and time of the hearing, and my ability to find someone to care for my juvenile for the duration of it."

Nightstalker nodded. "It might help your uncle's standing if he has family present at the hearing, but of course, your juvenile comes first."

"I'll see what I can do," Prowl lied evenly.

At least with Barricade in lockup Prowl would have some time to plan. Perhaps that same time would help his uncle with his growing alcohol dependency, but Prowl didn't intend to pin his hopes on that. Unless Barricade was convicted his stay in jail would not be long enough to really dry him out. It almost certainly would not be long enough for him to change his behaviour. Prowl was still going to have to fix the problem of living with Barricade.

After some thought, Prowl decided to ask Codicil, the lawyer managing his creator's estate, for advice and possibly assistance removing Barricade from the house. Barricade was not going to move out on his own.

"I'm sorry to hear about your uncle," Codicil said once they had exchanged greetings and Prowl had explained the change in his circumstances. "I can recommend a good criminal attorney if you need one."

"I wouldn't do that for my uncle as it stands," Prowl said bluntly. "Barricade can take some of the money he spends on high-grade and hire his own attorney." Or use one appointed by the Court. Prowl hesitated, if only briefly. "Codicil, Barricade grabbed me violently yesterday. Not hard enough to damage me, and not in sight of Bluestreak, but you must know that behaviour only escalates. I need a way to remove him from the family home and keep him out. I fully expect Barricade to be convicted, which gives me thirty days to change our living situation." Prowl let his cooling system cycle. "I greatly appreciate anything you can do."

"I can file for a restraining order on your behalf, forcing him to move, and, as the house and estate are still held in trust, have the trustees remove your uncle as guardian. If you're worried about future violence in the home," Codicil continued, "I strongly urge you to file a report with the proper authorities."

"Thank you," Prowl said, and meant it. It solved the problem of Bluestreak's safety. Barricade could take care of his own problems from now on. "Please keep me apprised."

"Of course."

Explaining what had happened to Barricade to Bluestreak had been hard, though not in terms of getting his point across. Bluestreak was a bright creation and had seemed to understand all too well why Barricade might have done something wrong enough to garner the attention of the police. Prowl was forced to wonder what else Bluestreak had picked up on, what else Prowl had failed to protect him from. That part of it had hurt. That wasn't Barricade's failure, that was Prowl's.

Bluestreak, a very empathetic child, picked up on Prowl's emotions and hugged his creator, trying to comfort.

"It'll be okay," Bluestreak had said, arms around him, cuddling down on Prowl's shoulder. "I know it will, Creator."

Prowl had hugged Bluestreak back, and kissed the younger mech's helm, and buried his own worry deep, deep within his spark, wishing he shared his creation's innocent certainty. He wished he had as much faith in himself as Bluestreak did.

Prowl spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with Bluestreak, playing with him and giving him basic lessons on a variety of topics. He ran more work than he usually did on background processing threads to help cover any of Codicil's expenses that weren't covered by the estate. Plus, removing one adult from the residence hadn't lowered the utility bills too much and, as little as it had been, Barricade had occasionally contributed financially to the household. They could use the buffer, especially if not all of Codicil's fees were covered by the retainer from Prowl's creators' estate. But Prowl could worry about that later. For now, sitting in the sunlight and watching his creation beam with pride as he got lesson after lesson right, with the promise of safety around the corner, Prowl was content.

Prowl's contentment lasted until the deca-cycle Bluestreak's playgroup went on hiatus and Prowl found himself without another adult to talk to. True, he didn't have a lot in common with the parents of the other juveniles, but he had enough to maintain a conversation while their children played. His work assignments came through text and, while Bluestreak was intelligent and talkative, his creation was still very young. Prowl was surprised to find that he missed adult companionship. He did reach out to some of Bluestreak's friends' creators, began to meet with some regularly for energon or to take their creations on playdates in the park. That was pleasant but, as much as he liked the casual friendships, he felt he wanted something else. Prowl began to think about starting to date again, with the intent of finding a permanent relationship.

Prowl approached the idea as logically as he could: a romantic partner would provide him with adult companionship, and they would also contribute to the household finances. It would give Prowl someone he could trust to look after Bluestreak.  When Prowl returned to school and later worked outside the home, a second caretaker would be useful and help save on juvenile-care fees.

If he were fortunate, he would even find the kind of partnership his creators had enjoyed. He could remember Hunter and Breakneck kissing and telling each other how lucky they were.

Prowl had several physically appealing mecha in his immediate circle, but either they were already involved, or he didn't feel an attraction to them, or at least not one strong enough for a long-term relationship. Besides, if things didn't work out, it might become awkward and might adversely affect Bluestreak, as many of the mecha in question were the creators of his friends. Prowl decided it would be best to look outside the group of mecha he knew, and so he turned to one of the numerous dating applications available through the DataNet.

Perusing the various profiles, Prowl realized he neither knew enough to create one of his own that would be sufficiently appealing, nor to determine which offers were valid and which were not. An attempt that failed to attract a potential candidate was an attempt that had been wasted. He would be best served by using the services of a matchmaker, and so he sent a message to the highest-rated matchmakers who worked on a commission that he could find.

Prowl disregarded the matchmakers who used automatically generated responses and chose the one who had bothered to write a unique reply. The matchmaker's name was Accord, which Prowl rather suspected was not the name he had been sparked with but was amazingly on-point if he had. They scheduled a meeting so Accord could get the best sense of Prowl and how to match him. Prowl was relieved that the matchmaker was kind enough to set it up during a time Bluestreak was at his playgroup. Prowl wouldn't have to use that much more fuel or worry about finding someone to care for Bluestreak.

"Are you going on a date?" Bluestreak asked at breakfast the day of the meeting when Prowl told him that he wouldn't be in the parent's room while Bluestreak played with his friends.

"It's a meeting, not a date," Prowl corrected, setting Bluestreak's energon down in front of him. "Sit up straight, please. Why do you ask if I'm going on a date?"

"Smokescreen's creator goes on dates." Bluestreak drank from his cube, looking Prowl over the edge of it. "How come you don't?"

"I just haven't felt like dating," Prowl said, sitting down across from Bluestreak with his own cube. "Sometimes people don't, or don't ever feel like dating at all, and that's alright."

"Oh. Okay."

Bluestreak seemed satisfied with that answer, but Prowl felt he should be honest with his creation.

"I plan to date in the future," Prowl said carefully. "Would you be alright with that?"

Bluestreak nodded. "Uh-huh. But," he advised gravely, "if you date someone, you have to be sure they're cool. You have to, Creator."

Prowl had swiftly discovered that the ability to hide one's reaction to something one's juvenile said or did was an essential part of raising them. He wasn't sure Bluestreak had even been a full mega-cycle old before he'd had to figure that out.

"That's important, is it?" Prowl asked, hiding his expression behind his breakfast cube.

Bluestreak nodded again. "Uh-huh. Smokescreen said it's important anyone your creator dates is cool, and they like you, and they'll maybe let you get away with stuff."

Prowl briefly debated the wisdom of pointing out that he would not date anyone that would let Bluestreak 'get away with stuff' then decided it wasn't a battle to be fought right now. 'Pick your battles' was another lesson Prowl had learned early in Bluestreak's life. Bluestreak was a reasonably easy-going juvenile, but he was a juvenile and sometimes acted out when Prowl wouldn't let him do as he wanted.

"I wouldn't date anyone who didn't like you, Bluestreak," Prowl promised. "You come first."

"I know," Bluestreak said confidently. "'Cause we love each other more than anything, right?"

Prowl's spark never failed to warm when Bluestreak said he loved Prowl or acknowledged Prowl's love for him.

"That's right, we do," Prowl said gently, reaching out to lay a hand over Bluestreak's. "More than anything, my brightspark."

Chapter Text

The matchmaker, Accord, was a slender mech, painted in pastel greens and medium grays, and his office looked more like a living room. His assistant ushered Prowl in and offered him some warm, spiced, energon, which Prowl accepted and received only a klik or so before he was called in.

Accord sat Prowl down and interviewed him thoroughly on his expectations, hobbies, beliefs, interests, and more. By the end of the interview, Accord had his data and Prowl had begun to think that selecting a matchmaker was a wise choice if only so that he didn't have to navigate these same things with potential partner after potential partner. Accord also had some pictures taken of Prowl to include with the profile along with a handful of more casual images Prowl had submitted himself.

"Okay then," Accord said briskly when they were finished, and stood. "Thank you, Prowl. I'll put together your profile, draft some offers to be posted on your behalf for your approval and sort out some contracts for you to review. If I need to meet with you again, is this day and time alright?"

"Yes, it's fine," Prowl said. "Thank you, Accord."

"You're welcome," Accord said as he showed him out. "Don't worry, Prowl, I'll be able to find a match for you. You've got a lot going for you! Just relax and leave it with me."

Accord sent over the documents, as promised, within two mega-cycles. Prowl felt the profile, meant to attract potential suitors, made him sound much more interesting than he was. On the other hand, Prowl supposed, Accord did this professionally, and it was after all what Prowl had hired him for. Prowl did request some revisions, just to tone things down a little. Accord agreed to the edits, which made Prowl wonder if he'd overemphasized things on purpose expecting Prowl's request. Again, this was Accord's business. Prowl just hoped anyone who replied to them and met him in person wouldn't be disappointed.

Accord was prompt in running the approved profile through whatever system he used to find matches. Indeed, there were more suggested offers than Prowl had really expected, an even dozen within the first few mega-cycles. It felt like he read through them as many times each, trying to make a selection. He supposed there was nothing overtly objectionable in them, but with most of them, there was little that attracted him either.

Prowl finally settled on a potential candidate whose profile Accord sent over by itself after Prowl rejected the others, one Jazz of Polyhex. A performer by trade, Jazz's profile did not initially catch Prowl's interest, but as he read on, he found himself more and more intrigued. Jazz didn't seem like the kind of mech Prowl had always thought was his 'type' but perhaps it was true that opposites attracted? It certainly would not hurt to meet this Jazz and go on a date or two. That was hardly a declaration of permanent commitment, after all. And at the very least, Prowl thought with a smile, as a musician, Jazz would surely meet Bluestreak's requirement for 'cool.'

In the end, Prowl settled on a minimum of three trial dates. He felt that that should be sufficient to determine whether or not it was worth continuing the courtship – it had indeed been enough to decide against the few relationships he'd attempted in school.

Prowl made sure to sit down with Bluestreak, side by side on a couch in the living room, and explain to him what was going to happen before Prowl went out with anyone.

Bluestreak was happier with Barricade gone, making Prowl feel both relieved that pressure had been lifted from his creation and guilty that he'd let it go on so long. That he'd brought Bluestreak into that situation in the first place, even though Prowl could not possibly have foreseen the scandal and everything that would result from it. Barricade hadn't been the most attentive of guardians, but Prowl had never expected he'd become physically abusive. Perhaps Prowl had simply been too accustomed to the environment to truly understand its negativity. It made Prowl that much more determined to vet his potential partners carefully to avoid a repeat of that experience.

"So you're going to start going on dates?" Bluestreak asked once Prowl had told him.

"Yes," Prowl said, carefully observing Bluestreak's reaction. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah, I guess, just…" Bluestreak worried his bottom lip a little and Prowl made an encouraging sound. "What if they don't like me? Or-or I don't like them?"

Prowl pulled Bluestreak in and kissed his forehead lovingly. "Oh, Bluestreak. I would never, never, date someone who didn't like you, my brightspark. I wouldn't date someone you didn't like. No one will ever be more important to me than you are."

"Okay." Clearly relieved, Bluestreak snuggled up to his creator. "No one's ever going to be more important to me than you, either."

Prowl smiled fondly, stroking Bluestreak's helm affectionately. "No? Not even if you choose to start dating yourself? What if you have a creation of your own when you're an adult? What if, someday, someone becomes equally important?"

"Like a sator?" Bluestreak was too young to really think in terms of romantic attachments. "If you date someone long enough, will they be my sator? Will I have to call them that?"

"It's too early for me to know if I'll date anyone long enough to know if become your sator, darling," Prowl told him. "But I can tell you now that you don't ever have to call anyone 'sator' if you don't want to."

"Okay. Am I going to meet them?"

"It would depend on how I feel about them, so I don't know yet," Prowl said truthfully since he didn't know if he'd like anyone well enough that would be necessary, "but I hope so. After all," he added mock-gravely, "I need you to tell me if they're cool enough, don't I?"

Bluestreak giggled and relaxed. "Yeah. Okay, Creator. I guess I don't mind you dating then."

"Thank you, Bluestreak," Prowl said sincerely. "That means a lot."

Jazz had arrived in Praxus earlier than expected and had already checked into his short-term, furnished, apartment, made a note of a few promising nightclubs, and scoped out the places he was going with the mech the matchmaker had found him. Jazz hadn't used a matchmaker before, but two of his creators - his Accendo and his Carrier - had met that way, and that had turned out really well. Jazz sure wasn't finding anything permanent on the bar scene, even if he did have plenty of fun, so he figured it was worth a try. It wasn't like he didn't have lots of time to explore his options if this didn't work out.

At first glance, Prowl hadn't seemed like the kind of mech Jazz would typically go for but after a second read through - and a longer look at Prowl's image - there'd been something. Something Jazz thought he could learn to like very much indeed. Jazz even liked the fact that Prowl already had a kid. Like many Polyhexians, Jazz came from a large extended family and he'd always loved looking after the younger family members. He just hoped that when – if – he got to meet the kid they'd get along. Kids almost always liked Jazz, but he'd never dated anyone's creator before, and that could make a difference. Jazz had grown up in a large extended family, all living together in the same complex, and he'd seen the friction that could come along with blending a family. He was willing to put in the work to smooth it out, though, and had already thought about which relatives to ask for advice.

Idly, Jazz wondered what it would be like to grow up in a house where finding a playmate was more complicated than just running across the hall or the courtyard to chime at a cousin's door. It must just need more planning than what Jazz had been used to when he'd been that age, like a playgroup or hanging out with neighbourhood kids or something. Maybe that'd be one of the things he asked Prowl during their date. If there was one thing creators liked to talk about, he knew, it was their creations.

Jazz arrived early at the café where he was to meet Prowl, and he didn't have long to wait. Prowl, also early, walked in, instantly recognizable from his picture and even better looking. Images were one thing, but the reality was another. The mech was fine. Jazz had known that from Accord's profile, of course, but the photos hadn't conveyed how Prowl stood, walked, moved. They hadn't expressed his quiet confidence.

Jazz got up and crossed the room to greet Prowl, meeting him roughly halfway.

"Hey, there, Prowl," he said smoothly as his hand closed around Prowl's. "I'm Jazz of Polyhex. Good to meet you at last."

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl responded, in a voice just as appealing as the rest of him. "It's good to meet you, too."

"Thanks. That semi-gloss finish looks amazing on you, by the way." Jazz reluctantly let go and gestured Prowl over to the table he'd claimed earlier. "Is here okay? Thought you might like the window, it's got a good view of the little park across the way." The view was always a neutral starter subject.

Prowl seemed pleased by Jazz's suggestion. "Yes, thank you, Jazz. It's an enjoyable park, I've been there a few times. Have you ordered yet? I can recommend some things if you haven't."

Jazz hadn't, and he ended up ordering the same thing Prowl did. It was a little sweeter than he would typically have ordered for himself, but hey, it didn't hurt him to try it. While they waited for the server – the place was upscale enough not to use drones – Prowl volunteered the information that he sometimes took his creation to the park in question.

"I know I'd like to be a creator someday," Jazz said, meaning it. It didn't matter if the kid was sparked by him or not, either. "I used to help look after my younger cousins back home."

"I haven't got any cousins," Prowl said, a touch wistfully. "I've always wondered what it was like."

"It's fun," Jazz said and added, truthfully, "aggravating, sometimes, especially when I was younger and hanging out with instead of looking after. But mostly fun. I still talk to them a lot, over comms, and visit when I go back home. Some of my older cousins have juveniles of their own, now, so I'm always on the lookout for stuff the kids might like, toys and games and such."

Prowl asked how old Jazz's youngest cousin was, and it turned out they were roughly the same age as Bluestreak. Prowl suggested a few things Jazz might pick up in Praxus that his cousin might enjoy and from there the conversation picked up and flowed smoothly. Prowl was easy to talk to, and Jazz was genuinely sorry when Prowl had to break things off to go pick up Bluestreak from playgroup.

"I would stay if I could," Prowl said as they left. Jazz couldn't walk him to his door, but he could walk him to the transformation lane. "But…I'll see you in a few megacycles, at dinner?"

Jazz had no intention of missing it, not at all. "Absolutely, m'mech. In the meantime," he pinged Prowl his comm code. "Just in case."

"Thank you." Prowl looked like he wanted to say more, but they were in that 'have to go don't wanna' phase that even Jazz found awkward. Unlike Jazz, it seemed Prowl didn't know how to end it, so Jazz took the initiative and gave the mech an out.

"See you soon, Prowl," Jazz said, smiling, touching Prowl's arm lightly. Would it be too pushy to suggest they grab a quick drink between now and the next scheduled date, he wondered? Probably. Besides, Jazz had already sent him his comm. "Go get your bitlet."

"Of course." Prowl dipped his chin. "I look forward to seeing you again."

"I'll be waiting," Jazz promised. "See you soon, Prowl."

Jazz watched Prowl as he drove away, really wishing he could have stayed. It had been fun talking with Prowl, coaxing information out of him, being rewarded by those shy little smiles. But Jazz saw something there, below the shyness, and he hoped he'd be able to draw Prowl further out on their next date.

Or, if he was lucky, on a comm call sometime between now and then.

Turned out, he was lucky. Two nights later, he was at home, in the middle of practice, when his internal comm chimed with an incoming transmission tagged with Prowl's ID. Jazz grinned, pleased Prowl had taken the initiative. He'd wondered if that would happen since the mech was kind of shy.

'Hey, Prowl! How's it hanging?'

'Hello, Jazz. I hope I'm not interrupting you?'

Jazz set his instrument aside. 'Prowl,' he said, meaning it, 'for you, I've got time.'

It had been pretty apparent on their date that Prowl wasn't used to casual conversations about anything other than his creation, but that was okay. Jazz didn't mind hearing stories about the bitlet, and besides, he was good at getting people to talk. It didn't take long for Jazz to get Prowl to open up. It was maybe a half-cycle into the conversation when Jazz put his electro-bass away since he figured he was going to be talking to Prowl till late. No more practice tonight.

Jazz was good with that.

They'd picked their conversation up about where they'd left off in the café, just chatting. Jazz wished he could see Prowl over a vid-call, instead of just internal comms but he hadn't given Prowl the code for his comm suite. Jazz could have transferred the call, but he was kind of getting the feeling Prowl preferred it this way, at least for now. Besides, internal comms were probably the best bet for a private conversation when really young juveniles were around. Jazz had been interrupted enough times by various young cousins to get that.

Jazz talked about his family – big, loud, loving, present – for a while and Prowl talked about Bluestreak in turn. Prowl mentioned his creators once, sounding wistful and a little sad, and an uncle. He clammed up after he brought up the uncle, and Jazz just knew there were bad vibes there. When Prowl talked about his creation and his creators, he sounded happy, and it was apparent he loved them very much. The uncle was another matter. Prowl's voice flattened a bit whenever he mentioned him. Jazz hoped the dude wasn't causing problems for Prowl and Bluestreak. He didn't ask, though. Prowl would either tell him when he got comfortable enough, or he wouldn't, and pushing wasn't going to help. Besides, Jazz wanted to know about Prowl, and a whole lot more than just the 'shy,' and 'smart' bits that were pretty obvious.

They had to end the call too soon for Jazz's liking, though for Prowl it probably was getting late. At least it'd finished with another date for tomorrow, at a different café around lunchtime. Prowl had hesitantly asked if Jazz wanted to meet before their next 'official' date and of course, Jazz had said 'yes.' They'd hung on for a while after that, even, and only reluctantly closed the call when Prowl admitted he couldn't stay longer because Bluestreak liked to get up early. If Prowl weren't up and about by a specific time, his creation would come to get him.

Jazz had been the creation who did that, and he got it. (Plus, if Bluestreak was anything like Jazz had been at that age, if he didn't come to get Prowl it was very likely he was into something he shouldn't be. Jazz remembered what he'd been like, and not just because his creators sometimes wouldn't let him forget, teasing him about things deci-vorns later. He would never have fallen off that chair if his cousin hadn't surprised him! No one ever teased Stepper, though.)

Jazz kept thinking about Prowl for the rest of the evening, and the other mech's quiet, warm,  'goodnight' stayed with Jazz for a while before he dropped off.

Jazz met Prowl the next day, noting that this café was near another, slightly larger, park. The park had a small, juvenile-sized, racetrack in it and Jazz guessed Prowl brought Bluestreak there from time to time. Juveniles were using it now, their basic and very similar alts looping at top juvenile speeds, which really weren't all that high. Jazz remembered being restricted like that and chafing at it. He'd wanted to go faster since the mega-cycle he'd come online and had bugged his creators for a faster alt all the way up to his adult upgrades when he'd finally gotten it. Jazz still fondly remembered the first time he'd gotten to really race. If Bluestreak was into racing at all, Jazz just knew the kid was going to be thrilled the first time he got to drive at an adult speed.

"So, does Bluestreak like to race?" Jazz asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the park, once they'd been seated and placed their orders. Prowl's Sator had been a racer and Prowl had mentioned racing as a juvenile so it sounded like something that might run in the family.

Prowl smiled, happy to talk about his favourite subject. "Oh, yes. I often take him to that park after playgroup and let him spend some time on the track. He's already begun to research what kind of adult alt mode he wants and argues reasons why he should be able to go faster, sooner."

Jazz chuckled. "Sounds like a determined kid. Does he just look through catalogues, or does he compare with his projected stats first?"

"He checks against his own stats – mostly."

"Smart kid." Especially since, if Bluestreak was still attending a playgroup instead of a school, he had to be less than two meta-cycles old. Most juveniles that age weren't that focused.

"Thank you. Yes, he is." Prowl sounded pleased and proud.

Their conversation wandered from topic to topic after that, until once again, it was time for Prowl to go get his creation.

"Would you like to meet him?" Prowl offered, as they stood by the transformation lane. "His playgroup is just up the street. I-I know it's soon but…well, I'd like to get an idea of how you two will get along." Prowl added more quietly as if answering a question he expected before it could be asked, "you don't need to worry he'll feel like you're trying to replace another progenitor. It's always been he and I."

Right, the potential step-creator issue. Jazz had seen that in action a few times with some of his cousins when their creator or creators brought in someone new. Jazz nodded.

"I know he might not be hood over wheels for me, especially not right away," Jazz said. "It's okay. Yeah, I'd love to meet Bluestreak."

Bluestreak's playgroup was just a couple of blocks away, given away by the sound of running, shouting, racing, playing juveniles. Prowl must have pinged one of the attendants because they had barely arrived before a youth who looked a lot like Prowl was trotting across the playground and out into the waiting area. Prowl got caught up in a hug, which he affectionately returned before he could even try to introduce Jazz.

"Did you have fun today, brightspark?" Prowl asked.

"Uh-huh." Bluestreak pulled back and looked at his creator. Jazz was struck by the strong resemblance between them. "Did you?"

"I did." Prowl smiled down at his creation. "In fact, I brought Jazz to meet you."

"Oh?" Bluestreak looked over and saw Jazz. "Oh! Hi! Wow, you're Creator's date?"

"Manners, Bluestreak," Prowl reminded his creation gently. "Remember?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Bluestreak held out a hand and Jazz took it. "It's nice to meet you, Jazz," he recited, "I'm Bluestreak."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Bluestreak m'mech," Jazz said, taking an instant liking to the juvenile. "Your creator talks about you a lot."

"I know," Bluestreak said with innocent confidence. "Are you two going steady now? Smokescreen says his creator says that's important, and Skids' creators didn't introduce him to their date until they started going steady."

"That hasn't been decided," Prowl said, not meeting Jazz's optics. "I wanted you two to meet and spend some time together first."

"Oh." Bluestreak considered that with who knew what going through his mind. Juveniles could be unpredictable. "Can we all go to the park?"

"Sure, I got time if Prowl does," Jazz agreed.

Prowl tried to hide his amusement. "Do you want to visit the park so you can get to know Jazz a little better or so you can get on the racetrack?"

"Both?" Bluestreak asked hopefully, turning wide blue optics on his creator.

Prowl traded glances with Jazz, then smiled indulgently. "Very well. Both."

Bluestreak was going to be a racer, Jazz was pretty sure, and even if he didn't go pro would probably still race recreationally. The juvenile liked to move, didn't so much walk as bounce, and he would occasionally dart ahead to look at something then come back and report on it. Mostly it turned out to be different types of cyber-or-dynametal ducks. Once he told them about a pair of vesper swans, just barely visible in their nest under a little bridge over a streamlet. Jazz asked Bluestreak a few questions about the park, remembering Prowl mentioning Bluestreak liked the outdoors and had been here before. Bluestreak was more than happy to tell Jazz all about his favourite places and things he'd seen and done there. Prowl seemed content to let Bluestreak and Jazz monopolize the conversation, either because he was naturally quiet or because he wanted to give Bluestreak and Jazz time to interact.

Well, it was mostly Bluestreak. Jazz didn't mind. The kid was likeable, friendly, probably going to be a hit at school once he started going.

When they got near the racetrack, Bluestreak asked if he could race for a little bit, promising to do his chores right away when they got home, and Prowl allowed it. Jazz and Prowl sat in the stands while Bluestreak took a few spins around the track.

"Thank you again for paying his entrance fee," Prowl said.

It hadn't been expensive, but Jazz didn't say so. That hadn't been the point. "No problem, Prowl. I wanted to treat the kid."

"Mhm." Prowl gave him a bit of a sidelong glance. "And a little bit of bribery?"

Jazz suppressed a grin. "Well, yeah. Sorry?"

"Not at all. It's a very effective parenting tool, at times."

"Don't worry, I won't spoil him." Jazz leaned back. "Bluestreak's a sweet kid. You're doing a good job with him."

"Thank you. He's not a difficult juvenile at all, I'm very fortunate." A few nano-kliks passed before Prowl asked, "you said creations are something you want?"

"Oh yeah," Jazz said, watching Bluestreak swing into another lap. "Like I said, I come from a big family, plenty of blended families in the extended, too. I don't have any siblings, though, or at least not yet."

"I'm an only creation as well," Prowl volunteered. "I haven't decided if I want any more after Bluestreak."

Seemed like Prowl was picking up what Jazz was putting down alright. "I don't feel like I've gotta be a progenitor or carry or even visit Vector Sigma to be a parent to a kid."

Prowl let the subject drop but seemed to relax a little bit. Jazz had obviously given the right answer. Good. Jazz settled in to watch Bluestreak finish his laps.

Chapter Text

"So, my brightspark," Prowl began once he'd gotten Bluestreak home and settled at the kitchen table with a small cube and a couple of rust sticks, "you liked Jazz, did you?"

"Yeah!" Bluestreak bounced in excitement, or perhaps enthusiasm, nearly spilling his energon. "He's nice, and he's cool."

Ah, yes, two of Bluestreak's primary criteria, as provided by the ever-helpful Smokescreen. At least Jazz hadn't shown any sign of the third, letting him get away with stuff. Jazz had indulged Bluestreak with a second set of laps at the track but so did Prowl on occasion and he had checked with Prowl first.

Prowl stroked an affectionate hand over Bluestreak's helm. "I can tell he likes you too. So, you won't be uncomfortable if I continue to see him?"

Bluestreak shook his head, experimentally dipping a rust stick in his energon. "No, I don't mind. Do you think you two will take me racing again sometime?"

"Perhaps," Prowl allowed. He caressed Bluestreak's helm again. "Did I tell you that I used to race when I was younger? On a team as well as for fun."

Bluestreak's attention fixed on him instantly, no longer divided between his parent and his fuel. "You did?"

"Yes. My Sator – your First Sator – was a racer as well, remember?" Prowl had told Bluestreak about his First Creators, but he was young enough that his data retrieval protocols were still chaotic.

"Oh, yeah!"

"Is racing something you might like to do when you're older?" Prowl split off a processing thread to plan out how to afford it if Bluestreak did, even though he had a few stellar-cycles before Bluestreak was old enough to qualify for a racing team. He was reasonably confident of Bluestreak's answer.

"Yes! When?" Bluestreak didn't wait for an answer though, he was off and running on his new favourite topic. "Does Jazz race? His alt mode looks fast like yours."

"I don't know if he races," Prowl answered, taking a seat across the table from his creation, "but I can ask him."

"Okay. When are you going to see Jazz again?" Bluestreak wanted to know.

"Jazz and I are having dinner together in a few megacycles," Prowl reminded him. "You're going to Skids' for the evening the same night." Not the whole night; Prowl had asked Skids' creators if they could watch Bluestreak for the evening before he'd even met Jazz and had, once again, made sure he had an out.

"Oh yeah." Bluestreak considered something for a moment. "Do you think you'll ever have two partners like Skids' creator has?"

"It isn't an impossibility," Prowl didn't know if that were something either he or Jazz wanted yet, "but let's see how it goes acquiring one, first."

"You've got to start somewhere," Bluestreak said sagely, and Prowl had to control his expression to keep from chuckling. Unsurprisingly, that turned out to be advice from Smokescreen's creator.

Later that night, in the middle of putting a puzzle together as a means of getting Bluestreak settled before bed, the younger mech came around to the topic of Jazz again.

"Are you going to introduce Jazz to Great-Uncle Barricade?" Bluestreak asked, not looking at his creator. "When he gets out of jail?"

Prowl had not hidden anything about what had happened to Barricade from Bluestreak, apart from the incident where Barricade had grabbed Prowl. Prowl had explained what happened in simplified terms, of course, the same way he had told Bluestreak that Barricade would not be returning to their home. Barricade hadn't really interacted with Bluestreak, despite living in the same house, and Bluestreak didn't seem to have much of an emotional attachment to him.

"I don't know," Prowl said truthfully. Prowl didn't want anything to do with Barricade but at the same time he was Prowl's last living connection to his creator and his presence had let Prowl stay in his own home and school. Prowl's feelings about his uncle were confusing. "I will tell Jazz about Barricade but your great-uncle is the one who's going to have to choose if he wants to be part of our lives."

Bluestreak pushed a puzzle piece around without really trying to fit it anywhere. "But he still can't come back, right?"

"That's right. Barricade has to stay away from the house, at least for a while, and I won't let him move back." The restraining order was temporary, but Barricade's eviction was permanent. Prowl leaned over the puzzle, tipped Bluestreak's chin up so he could look his creation in the optics. "Bluestreak, is something wrong?"

"I don't want Great-Uncle Barricade to move back in," Bluestreak said and Prowl's fuel pump seized in fear and guilt.

"He won't, he won't," Prowl soothed him, hoping none of his own upset feelings showed through. "I made sure of it. Bluestreak, brightspark, did something happen when Great-Uncle Barricade lived here?"

"Uh-uh." Bluestreak shook his head. "It just wasn't good when he was here. He made you sad."

Prowl got up and sat next to Bluestreak, pulling the young mech into his arms. "He won't move back in, Bluestreak. I won't let him come back, and especially not if he makes you feel bad in any way at all."

"Okay." Bluestreak nestled against him. "It was because he made you sad. I don't like it when you're sad, Creator."

"There's nothing wrong with feeling sad," Prowl reminded him. "But thank you."

"I know, but I like it better when you're happy."

Prowl kissed his helm. "Well, when I want to be happy, I can just think about you, my love."

"Or Jazz," Bluestreak added mischievously.

Prowl let that one drop. "I'm glad you like Jazz. I like him too." Prowl brushed a kiss over Bluestreak's helm again. "Come on, let's finish our puzzle and then it's time for you to go to bed."

"Aww."

"Yes, it is," Prowl said firmly. "Come on. You know how important it is to keep to a schedule."

Bluestreak sighed. "'Kay. Tell Jazz I said 'hi' if you comm him tonight."

"I will," Prowl promised.

"Well, tell the kiddo I said 'hi' back," was Jazz's reply when Prowl spoke to him next. They were talking over a vid-call that night, so Prowl could see every grin and every flirtatious expression that crossed the handsome face. "Good to know he's not upset you're seeing someone. We've got a few blended families back home, and sometimes it isn't easy, kids think the new mech's tryin' to replace a creator."

"He didn't interact with my uncle much at all so, really, it's always been just Bluestreak and me," Prowl said. "I don't expect he'll feel that way."

"He might and he might not, but – I get it if he does. I'm willing to work on it, though," Jazz promised. "If we get there."

"Well, just tonight he asked me if I would have two partners like one of his friend's creators has, so I think he's going to be fairly accepting. Oh, and he wants to know if you race," Prowl added.

"Oh yeah, but just for fun these days," Jazz replied. "I'll give you some stories to pass on if you want."

"Please. I'd like to hear more about you," Prowl told him shyly. It earned him another grin and then Jazz launched into a story about some trouble he'd gotten into as a juvenile, racing with his cousins. Prowl shared back a story about his own time on a junior racing team and talked a little more about his creators, and their loss.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said gently. "Can't even imagine how hard that must have been on you, just a young bit."

"It was. I lived with my uncle after that. He was staying here with us until fairly recently, in fact. He, um," Prowl sighed softly and looked down. "My uncle was arrested on a disorderly conduct charge, convicted, and is presently in jail serving out a thirty megacycle sentence." Of which there were approximately twenty-five mega-cycles left. "He won't be coming back to live here, either. I won't permit it."

"You don't seem like the type to toss a relative out just for a mistake or even two," Jazz observed. "Sounds like things were bad there."

"They were going to be," Prowl admitted. "He was never the best guardian and we had an argument – he grabbed me fairly hard, the day of his arrest, so I would have had him removed from the house regardless. The thought of that behaviour escalating with Bluestreak in the house, well…it was enough I…"

"'S okay," Jazz said gently. "Can tell me if you want, but you don't have to. I'm not gonna turn away 'cause of what your uncle did, Prowler."

"Thank you," Prowl murmured, not sure what else to say. "I'm only sorry I didn't tell you this in person."

"I'm thinking it was easier for you this way. It's okay," Jazz reassured him. "Sounds like you've had things hard enough, this past meta-cycle."

"Yes, well…Others have had it worse."

"Had it better, too," Jazz countered. "Just 'cause someone else has it worse doesn't mean you can't feel bad about what happened to you."

"Thank you," Prowl said again, softly. Jazz was understanding and kind and it only made him more attractive to the young creator.

"Wish I was there," Jazz said after a few nano-kliks of silence. "You look like a mech needs a hug."

"It's late," Prowl said, which he knew wasn't quite an answer.

"Yeah, it is," Jazz agreed regretfully. "Well, tomorrow when you tell Blue I said 'hi,' and he can give you a hug for me, okay?"

Prowl was not nearly ready to commit to Jazz yet, of course, but if Jazz were like this all the time, that alone would make him an appropriate choice. That he had a large, apparently affectionate, family and steady employment and could help provide a stable environment for Prowl and Bluestreak just added to his appeal. Being handsome and charming was the icing on the oil-cake.

From then on, Prowl talked to Jazz every night after Bluestreak went to bed, and his attraction to the musician only grew. Prowl looked forward to their dinner, to seeing Jazz in person again. Prowl wished, every night, he and Jazz could talk longer than they did, but he still had to work, and sleep, and be up in time to look after Bluestreak. Bluestreak would no doubt happily play by himself for an extra cycle or two in the evenings, and Prowl could always call Jazz but but Prowl felt that evening was his and Bluestreak's time together. It always had been, and Prowl wanted to keep up the tradition because when Bluestreak went to school and Prowl went to university, it would be some of the only time they had to spend together.

Prowl didn't regret his decision to have Bluestreak before pursuing higher education. It was not easy, he hadn't expected it to be, but if he had to do it over again, he would make the same choice.

The night of his second scheduled date with Jazz came at last. Prowl used the same semi-gloss polish he'd used on their first date, remembering Jazz had complimented it. He dropped Bluestreak off at Skids' house and briefly chatted with Skids' creators before going to meet Jazz at the restaurant. The restaurant was reasonably upscale but not overly expensive, the kind he'd not been to since before he'd had Bluestreak. Jazz, handsome and graceful, met him on the sidewalk in front, bestowing a brilliant smile on him the nano-klik he saw Prowl. Warmth bloomed in Prowl's spark, a tiny thrill of charge flickered in his data ports, and he walked a little faster.

Prowl took the other mech's outstretched hands, smiling back at him. "Jazz. Hello again."

"Hey there, Prowler." Jazz's gaze flickered appreciatively over Prowl's body. "Good to see you in the metal again."

"And you." Prowl felt oddly shy, face-to-face without a screen in between them for the first time in a while. "I know we've talked over comms, but it isn't the same."

"No, it isn't." They stood and looked at each other for a while before Jazz said, "I could stand here and look at you all night, handsome, but people would ask questions."

Prowl laughed. "Yes, I imagine they would. Let's go in."

The table reserved for them, again through Accord, was clearly meant for romantic encounters. It was in a small, intimate, alcove partially hidden from the majority of diners in the room. Prowl felt more relaxed, knowing he was somewhat out of the public eye.

"You're not much of one for direct attention, are you?" Jazz asked as they waited for their server. The restaurant was upscale enough it used actual mecha to take and deliver orders, as opposed to patrons placing orders through the table and having them delivered by drones.

"Not particularly," Prowl replied. "But I'm sure, as a performer, you don't mind it."

Jazz laughed. "Mech, I thrive on it. Haven't always though, just ask my creators. Hard to get away with stuff if you're always being watched – and like I said I have a big family, so there was always an optic on me, one of my creators or not."

They had established on one of their calls that Prowl didn't mind Jazz talking about his creators – all five of them – or his family. Prowl had even begun to open up more about his early life.

"Bluestreak is a fairly easy juvenile to raise, I think, but there are times an extra optic on him would be useful," Prowl admitted. "I don't worry about leaving him to play on his own, but I don't want to do that too much. He's old enough to get into things and young enough not to understand what things he shouldn't do and why he shouldn't do them."

Jazz nodded. "Yeah. Oh yeah, I remember being there. Got a couple cousins at that stage right now, too. One decided a while back he wanted to be a painter. You should've seen what he did to the wall on the back of my uncles' section of the house…"

Jazz told Prowl a story about his cousin finding a box of nearly-empty spray cans, not the kind of paint that was for exterior household use and deciding to paint a mural. Without permission, proper materials, or any real idea how to draw, let alone paint. The result had been impressive, but for all the wrong reasons and Jazz's uncles had come outside to find their creation covered in nearly as much paint as the wall.

"But I bet you never did anything like that as a kid," Jazz said after they'd finished laughing. "Always good, always proper, following the rules?"

"My Creator was an Enforcer, and I wanted to follow in his tracks," Prowl explained. "I still do. He always said I had the mindset for it. I plan to enroll in a mechaforensics program for my second degree once Bluestreak enters school."

"That one of the reasons you're looking for a partner now?" Jazz asked. "To have someone you can depend on around while you're in school?"

"Yes, one of them. Does that sound…?" Prowl wasn't sure how to describe it.

"Sounds sensible," Jazz said. "Besides, it's not like everyone has to go the same route in life. You don't wanna go 'school, college, job, partner," Jazz used an undertone that could denote either singular or plural, "'creation,' and then maybe another creation, you want to mix it up, that's fine. The real question is, Prowler, are you happy?"

"I – " Prowl stopped and thought about it. There was still Barricade to deal with, but that would come later. Barricade was still in jail, the restraining order was in effect, and his possessions were boxed and ready for transport to wherever he wound up living. That might be an argument but it was one for another time. "Yes. I am."

"That's good." Jazz reached across the table and took Prowl's hand. "I want you to be happy."

Prowl squeezed Jazz's hand, smiling shyly. "I'm happy when I'm with you."

"Yeah," Jazz said fondly, optics soft. "Me too."

The evening went by far too fast for Prowl's liking, and it was all too soon that the reminder to retrieve Bluestreak popped up on his HUD. He even ran a brief diagnostic to make sure his chronometer and his reminder app hadn't malfunctioned.

"I am sorry to have to go so soon," Prowl apologized. "I have to get Bluestreak. But…would you like to come with me? He'll be going to bed almost as soon as we get home, and we could spend some more time together."

Jazz smiled, fingers still curled around Prowl's. "I'd like that."

Bluestreak was thrilled to see Jazz, giving him a hug as soon as they transformed back at Prowl and Bluestreak's house. (Prowl had gotten his hug at Skids' house; Jazz hadn't transformed there.) Jazz hugged him in return, and Prowl could see the musician smiling fondly.

"Jazz? Are you staying here overnight?" Bluestreak asked innocently. Prowl wondered if they were about to get more third-hand advice from Smokescreen's creator.

"Didn't plan on it, bitlet," Jazz answered, glancing at Prowl. "Just gonna hang with your creator for a while. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Yeah!"

After that, it took some time to get Bluestreak settled enough to go to bed, but Jazz backed Prowl up, thereby failing Bluestreak's 'lets you get away with stuff' requirement. Prowl was quite alright with that.

"He won't even try to sleep, at least not for a while," Prowl said ruefully as he and Jazz went to the living room. Prowl's furniture was older, but clean, mended, and serviceable. "But he should stay in his room. And, about his asking if you were staying the night…I don't think he really understood what he was asking yet."

Jazz chuckled. "Least he wasn't asking something embarrassing. It is a bit early to ask, though. I haven't even kissed you."

Oh. Prowl hesitantly slipped his hand into Jazz's again. "Would you like to?"

"Oh, mech." Jazz brushed a kiss over Prowl's knuckles. "Prowler. You've got no idea how much."

Prowl's spark gave a little fluttery spin. "Will you? Please?"

"Can't think of anything I'd like more right now, Prowler. C'mere." Jazz stepped close into Prowl's space, drew him in and kissed him, chaste and undemanding, soft and sweet. Prowl's spark flutter-spun again.

"Good?" Prowl asked shyly when they separated – but not too far.

"Yeah," Jazz said, smiling and keeping his arms around Prowl. "Yeah, really good. Think you'd like me to kiss you some more?"

"I would, very much," Prowl told him and kissed him again.

"It's late," Prowl murmured nearly two mega-cycles later, reluctantly pulling free of Jazz's hands on his structure and the musician's mouth on his throat cables. "I want to keep going, but…"

"Work, schedules, looking after Bluestreak the early riser," Jazz finished, sitting back on the couch where they'd been making out. "Yeah." He was still gently petting Prowl's arm like he couldn't stand to draw away completely. "I get it. Don't wanna call it a night either, but I get it." He kissed Prowl's fingers again and stood. "You let me know when, okay?"

"Yes." Prowl hoped it would be soon. He stood as well. "I have a guest room if you don't want to drive back to your apartment tonight?"

"Thanks, but I'd just like awake all night hoping you'd join me if I knew you were just down the hall. I'm gonna go, but we can talk on comms and I'll see you in a few days for that concert?" Jazz reluctantly started toward the door and Prowl accompanied him.

"At the least," Prowl agreed. "If you have the time during the intervening days – "

"I'll try."

" – and you don't mind a juvenile chaperone, perhaps we can see each other again before that?" Prowl finished.

"I'll see what I can do," Jazz promised. "Primus knows I'd love to see you and Blue again."

"We'd love to see you too," Prowl said. "I – " He looked at the door, not wanting to open it. He did anyway. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Yeah," Jazz said softly, thumb brushing over Prowl's lips. "Me too."

They managed to keep their good-night kisses down to just two, and Prowl watched while Jazz backed away and drove off. He only went back inside once the other mech's taillights had receded into the distance.

Chapter Text

Jazz was performing for the following several nights, subbing for another performer during the day, and they could only talk over comms late at night once he got back from the show. The times he was available, Prowl had conflicting appointments. He was either hosting Bluestreak's playdates with his friends or remotely attending meetings his employers had suddenly decided should be mandatory. Once he had an information session for creators of juveniles who would begin to attend school next meta-cycle. Prowl found it hard to believe it was coming that soon. Bluestreak, who knew school was coming, seemed to think of it as an extended playgroup session and looked forward to it.

"Will there be kids I don't know there?" Bluestreak wanted to know, lying on the floor colouring on a tablet while he quizzed Prowl about school. "Or will it just be all the kids from my playgroup like Smokescreen and Skids and everyone?"

"There will be juveniles you don't know at school, yes," Prowl told him. Schools drew in juveniles from a larger area than the playgroups did. "You'll meet many other young ones you've probably never seen before."

"And they'll all be my age?" Bluestreak wondered.

"They'll all be two metacycles old, yes. None of them will be more than two and a half metacycles." Prowl had been trying to read, but Bluestreak had had other ideas. Of course, Prowl hadn't told Bluestreak that this was quiet time and it wasn't a time Bluestreak would typically expect Prowl to not want to be disturbed. "Some of them may even have the same systems startup day you do. The emergence clinic was very busy the megacycle you emerged."

"Cool." Bluestreak considered his colouring, then changed the colours in several areas. "Jazz doesn't have any creations, right?"

"No, Jazz doesn't. Why do you ask?"

Bluestreak tapped at his drawing with the stylus a couple of more times, then pushed the pen aimlessly across the surface of the tablet. "Does he want them? I know he likes me but is that just 'cause he likes kids or 'cause he wants to be a creator? Would he want me to call him Sator?"

Prowl put his book down and gave Bluestreak his full attention. "Jazz likes you for you, Bluestreak. He knows how important you are to me. And yes, he does want to be a creator, he told me that early on. He also told me he'd care for a creation whether it's one he sparks, or requests from Vector Sigma, or one he adopts. But," Prowl reminded Bluestreak, "you don't have to try to think of him as a creator or call him one that if it isn't what you feel. Alright?"

Prowl didn't think Bluestreak was worried about how Prowl's relationship with Jazz would affect him. It sounded more like Bluestreak just wanted to know how things might work out. Prowl was pleased he felt secure enough to ask.

"Yeah, okay. I remember you said that before," Bluestreak said, idly filling a line drawing of an Omega Sentinel in with a lurid and historically inaccurate purple. His next questions were about snacks and Prowl gathered that his curiosity about Jazz had been satisfied for now.

When Prowl met Jazz at the park for their third pre-scheduled date, the concert, they hadn't seen each other in person since the night at Prowl's house. They had talked over comms, of course, pushing the time they cut the call later and later as the conversation got more heated. It wasn't the same as being together in person, but Prowl had to accept the substitute until they could find time together. He knew it was wearing on Jazz, too, especially the lack of physical contact after the way they'd left each other last time. They'd had extensive conversations on what they wanted to do the next time they were together. Put shortly, Prowl was very glad one of Bluestreak's friend's creators had been willing to let him stay overnight tonight.

"Prowler," Jazz said affectionately and greeted him with a kiss that Prowl drew out maybe longer than was strictly appropriate in public. "Primus, I've missed seeing you in the metal."

"And I've missed you too," Prowl told him, with another, quicker, kiss. "And, you should know, that Bluestreak's having a sleepover with Smokescreen tonight. I don't have to pick him up until midmorning."

"Oh?" Jazz said with a pleased smile, immediately picking up on Prowl's intent. "I like the sound of that. We have the whole night to ourselves, huh?"

"Yes, we do," Prowl confirmed. He wanted to kiss Jazz again, but the crowd was thickening and starting to move toward their seats, and so he settled for holding the musician's hand instead.

If he had been asked afterwards, Prowl couldn't have said for the life of him if he'd enjoyed the music or not. He was more aware of Jazz's touch and warmth, of the musician's presence beside him. During the intermission, Prowl had to quell the urge to find someplace secluded and pick up where they'd left off on the couch.

"I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go out for a drink after this," Jazz murmured at the end, as the audience got up to leave around them, "way back when we set it up. I wasn't sure how well things would be going by this point."

"Neither was I," Prowl confessed. He certainly hadn't thought they'd be going this well. His original plan had been to introduce Jazz and Bluestreak at this point if things were going well. Instead, he'd made that one of the first things he'd done, not wanting to become attached if there were friction between them. Prowl was glad he hadn't waited, now. He'd have spent all this time worrying otherwise. "Do you still want to ask me out for a drink?"

"Well, if that's what you want, of course I'll go," Jazz said. "But, I've been thinking, maybe we could go somewhere more intimate than a bar?"

Prowl's vocalizer did not seem to want to work correctly. He wanted to say half a dozen things all at once. He managed a "yes," that he hoped didn't sound too strangled.

It must have sounded all right; Jazz's voice was practically a purr as he asked, "your place or mine?"

Prowl had never been to Jazz's habsuite, but he did know the area where it was located. It was closer and probably didn't have toys and art supplies scattered through it. "I'd prefer yours this time."

Jazz was staying in a furnished habsuite near the venue where he performed. The building was mid-range; modern, tidy, appealing, and moderately priced. It was near the entertainment district and catered to performers and business-mecha, renting by the week and the month. Jazz's habsuite was of medium size, with a kitchenette, living/dining room, wash racks, and a single bedroom. Jazz had turned one corner of the living room into a practice area; his electro-bass was on its stand in one corner, in front of a chair. A handful of other instrument cases were put neatly away on shelves next to the loveseat.

"Home sweet temporary home," Jazz said, upbeat, as he set the apartment's comm system to 'do not disturb.' "Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, but not high-grade, please. I want to stay sober."

"No problem, Prowler," Jazz said agreeably. "Sober's good. Have a seat or take a look around while I grab those drinks for us, okay?"

A little uncomfortable with the idea of wandering around someone else's home, Prowl chose to sit. Jazz's couch was far newer than the one at Prowl's house, nearly as firm as it had been when it had been delivered from the manufacturer. Prowl's furniture wasn't shabby, but it had yield and give, having been shaped by at least three generations of mecha using it. Prowl wondered what Jazz's choice in furnishings would look like – had he chosen this habsuite because it matched his tastes or because it was affordable? The only things Prowl could see that suggested individual taste were a couple of statuettes of stylized mecha in dance poses. The style was distinctly Polyhexian, stylized curves and angles.

"Here you go," Jazz said, coming over with the promised drinks in his hands. "I put some nickel in it – is that okay? I don't have any copper, but they're pretty close."

"Thank you," Prowl said, accepting his drink. "That sounds very good."

"Good." Jazz leaned down and kissed him before sitting down. "So, guess this is the part where we talk about what we want?"

Prowl, suddenly nervous, was glad he had the drink if only to use it as a prop. His grip tightened around it. "Yes."

Jazz seemed to pick up on Prowl's mood. "Hey," he said, taking one of Prowl's hands gently, "it's okay to be a little shy right now. Totally okay with a new partner. One more thing, even though I know you know this, I'm gonna repeat it anyway: nothing happens unless we both want it to and I stop if you wanna stop."

"I know you will." He had before, after all. "I will, too, I promise. It's not that. I want to be here. I want to be with you. It's just," Prowl fixed his gaze on the wall, past Jazz's shoulder, so he wasn't quite looking at him. "Bluestreak was self-sparked, via recursive hardline. I haven't interfaced with someone before."

"Okay," Jazz said simply, still holding Prowl's hand. There was no surprise or judgment in his tone, merely acceptance.

"'Okay?'" Prowl echoed, mildly surprised. "To which part?"

"Both of them. Why, did someone say something to you about the way Bluestreak was sparked?" Jazz asked, frowning slightly.

Prowl shook his head. "No, though I don't often mention it – not because I'm hiding it but because I don't see the need. But while I haven't encountered it myself," possibly because he rarely mentioned it, "I know there are some people who don’t exactly approve of self-sparking."

"Yeah, well, some people got rust up their tailpipes," Jazz retorted, making Prowl laugh. "As for the other, it's okay too. Don't need experience to tell me what you'd like. Not having 'faced before doesn't mean you don't know what you want. And even if you don't, that's still alright, we'll work it out. So long as you want to…?"

"I want to," Prowl confirmed, smiling. "I want to very much."

"Same here," Jazz said. He rubbed Prowl's arm reassuringly. "How about you tell me what you want, first, gorgeous? The first time you 'faced someone, what'd you want to happen? Doesn't gotta be step-by-step – exploring's half the fun – but I want to know what you want so I can make sure you get it."

Prowl let his knee press against Jazz's. "Will you tell me what you want, in turn?"

Jazz smiled. "I will, yeah. I'll show you, too."

Prowl moved a little closer. "You could show me while I tell you, perhaps?"

"Yeah," Jazz murmured, setting his drink down so he could touch Prowl with both hands. "Yeah, I can do that. Go on, babe. Tell me what you want."

"I want us to go slowly," Prowl told him, turning his face to kiss the palm caressing his cheek. "Taking our time, kissing, touching, working ourselves up until we can't stand it, we have to connect. I want to negotiate permissions quickly, but after that…" Prowl gasped and tipped his head back as Jazz's lips found his throat.

"Yeah," Jazz breathed. "Yeah, what after that?"

"M-more tactile, in concert with data transfer of-of…oh!"

"Yeah," Jazz said, pulling back to look at Prowl's face. "Yeah, I can give you that. I wanna give you that. Prowl…"

It should have been a passionate kiss, but one or both of them misjudged the other's motion, tipping part of Prowl's drink into Jazz's lap. They jerked apart, startled, and Prowl nearly swore out loud. Jazz just chuckled.

"Yeah, and sometimes stuff like that happens," he said, subspacing a cloth and mopping high-grade off himself and the vinyl of the couch. "It's okay."

"I am so sorry," Prowl apologized, subspacing a cloth of his own and wiping off the glass before setting it down on a coaster on the low table in front of the couch and cleaning his fingers. "I should have put it down."

"It's okay," Jazz repeated. "You were distracted. But, maybe we should move this somewhere else. Are you comfortable with moving to the bedroom, babe?"

Prowl's fuel rushed through his lines. "Oh yes."

Prowl let Jazz lead him to the bedroom, which was done in warm tones and softly lit. The bed was just broad enough for two, even taking Prowl's doors into account.

"How do you want me?" Prowl asked, not unaware of the double meaning of his words.

"Come sit down with me again for starters," Jazz said, drawing him over to the bed. "Gotta say, I've got a bit of a fantasy about kissing you senseless and tipping you back into bed. Rather show you than tell you, though."

"I'd rather that as well," Prowl said, sitting down on the bed with Jazz. "I certainly liked what you were showing me up until the drink spilled – and I apologize in advance for any future clumsiness on my part."

Jazz smiled, settling a little closer to Prowl. "I'll probably be clumsy too. We've just gotta get used to each other, that's all. Might have to get the mood back a couple of times. It's all okay, it happens.  You were telling me you wanted data transfer and tactile at the same time, and…? Do you still want to go slowly from there?"

"Yes," Prowl agreed. "Slowly, and light on data transfer. I want to let things build up over an open network, mostly."

"Mmm, kinky," Jazz teased gently. "I do like the sound of that, though."

"I want to try active data transfer as well," Prowl said, putting a hand on Jazz's knee. "Just…later. If that's alright."

"We can try pretty much anything you want," Jazz promised. "But let's start with slow and light, hm?"

"Can we start where we left off when the drink spilled?" Prowl offered, gently rubbing Jazz's arm with his free hand.

"Yeah," Jazz agreed, leaning in to kiss him. "Yeah, we can." His fingers drifted along the underside of Prowl's bumper. "Tell me what you want, Prowler."

"I," Prowl's optics dimmed a little in pleasure. "I want you to do that again. Please?"

"I like that too," Jazz said, doing as Prowl had asked.  "Headlights are good too – don't be shy 'bout touching me, lover."

"Lover," Prowl repeated, circling the rims of Jazz's headlights. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah," Jazz agreed, drawing Prowl in for a kiss. "Me too."

Any worries Prowl had about 'getting the mood back' soon vanished under Jazz's mouth and hands. By the time Jazz tipped him back onto the bed, anything but his lover was completely forgotten.

"Primus, you're gorgeous," Jazz whispered, leaning over Prowl and staring down hungrily. "Prowler, lover, are you ready to connect?" In answer, Prowl spiralled his data ports open, hips and chest, and Jazz shivered with desire. "Want to hear you say it, lover, okay? Want to be sure you're sure."

Prowl moaned with need. "Yes! I want you, Jazz, please, I need you!"

"Need you too, lover." Prowl could see Jazz's hands trembling as he drew out his jacks. "Still going slow, though."

Prowl had jacked into himself to initiate a code branch and spark Bluestreak, so the feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar as they connected, one jack at a time. But that had been mirroring his own core code, and it was nothing like a closed-loop with another mech. Jazz gave Prowl control of negotiating the network, and after one false start, Prowl made short work of it. They held back on pushing data packets over the connection, letting the pleasure drift slowly back and forth between them instead.

"It's good?" Prowl asked, and gasped when Jazz stroked the join of his hip and thigh.

"Amazing," Jazz told him, leaning into Prowl's touch. "Active transfer?"

"No." Prowl arched up, clutching. "Ah! No, not yet, let it – I want – yes, like that! Like that!"

Jazz kissed him again, and Prowl stroked his hands down his lover's body, finding the places he knew Jazz liked, seeking out new ones. Jazz kissed his mouth, his throat, scattered more kisses over his hood, straddled Prowl's hips so he could use both hands on him. They didn't transfer data packets of sensory information over the network yet, just let sensation mirror back and forth over their connection. Jazz was a vocal lover, and he praised Prowl, told him how gorgeous he was, how amazing he felt, and Prowl arched and basked in the adoration.

"Don't stop," Prowl said against Jazz's mouth, catching his lover close. "Don't stop, I want more. I want – I want – "

Jazz offered up a sensory packet over the network, not pushing it across, just making it available if Prowl wanted it. "This? Active?"

"Yes!" Prowl gasped, accepting the packet eagerly. "Yes, active, I'm ready. Jazz! Please…"

"Oh yeah," Jazz murmured, transferring more data, accepting what Prowl sent him. "So ready. Look at you. Primus!"

Prowl unpacked the data, cried out at the rush of what Jazz felt. His thoughts scattered, he couldn't think how to send it back. His automatic protocols were slow to run as his systems tried to cope, flooded with this new experience. He managed, but his first attempt was clumsy, poorly compressed, nowhere near the quality of what Jazz had sent him, even once his automatic systems caught up. It didn't matter to Jazz, who moaned into his mouth and called him beautiful before sending back more, and more, and more…

Bright blue static skittered over their armour as their charge built beyond what their cabling could contain. Prowl had a moment of stunning clarity, where he realized he was about to climax. Startled, he gasped out, "I'm coming!" then the overload rushed through him, and his thoughts dissolved into static. Sensing Jazz's climax through the network brought Prowl off again, gave Jazz a second, smaller, overload, reflecting back and forth until their charges were spent.

Lying limp and blissed-out afterward, Prowl was distantly aware of Jazz slumping down beside him, groaning in satisfaction. Prowl managed to roll onto his side and press close to his lover. Jazz put an arm over him and kissed Prowl's helm affectionately.

"You good, Prowler?" Jazz asked. Prowl hummed in what he hoped was an affirmative way. "Yeah," Jazz said softly and kissed him between the prongs of his chevron. "Me too."

Warm, sated, and happy, Prowl drifted off in his lover's arms.

Prowl woke up slowly and stretched languidly, still feeling content. They'd woken up and made love a second time sometime in the early cycles of the morning, then slept again. The memory of Jazz's touch echoed faintly through Prowl's structure, and the data-ghosts of Jazz's pleasure hadn't yet faded from his processor.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jazz, lying on his side next to Prowl, said softly.

Prowl smiled and lazily rolled to face his lover, greeting him with a kiss. "Good morning to you, too."

Jazz kissed him back, hand on his waist. "How're you feeling?"

Prowl moved closer, lifting himself briefly to let Jazz slide an arm under him, and nestled down against Jazz's chest. "I feel wonderful. I feel…" Prowl hesitated, but he trusted Jazz not to tease him about this, "cherished."

"'Cherished,'" Jazz repeated, and Prowl could hear the smile in his voice. "Good, because you are."

Prowl smiled, pleased to hear it and to have his trust rewarded. "As are you. This – you are one of the best things ever to happen to me."

"And you to me," Jazz murmured, kissing Prowl's helm. "Glad I can give you that, make you happy like that. It's good to see, and you deserve it. You deserve all the good things, Prowler."

"Mmm." Prowl pressed his audial to Jazz's chest, listening to the spin of the other mech's spark, the counterpoint beat of his fuel pump. "I certainly have one of them right here."

"Yeah," Jazz said softly. "Yeah, so do I."

Chapter Text

Jazz was pretty sure he was falling for the quiet mech Accord had found for him. He couldn't stop thinking about Prowl, loved the time they spent together, and even enjoyed the time they spent on comms not talking but just looking at each other. Because Bluestreak was too young to be left alone for long periods, it was hard for Prowl to come to Jazz's place. It was far easier for Jazz to stay with Prowl since Jazz only had himself to look after, and Jazz found himself spending a lot of time there. He was a little concerned about Bluestreak's reaction the first time he spent the night because that was probably different than having someone date your creator. Jazz had worried that his overnight visits might change things in Bluestreak's optics, and not for the better. Maybe it was because Bluestreak had only ever had one parent, perhaps it was just because Blue was a sweet kid, but that hadn't happened. Bluestreak was starting to give Jazz attitude at times, which Prowl – despite being embarrassed – assured Jazz was really a sign of trust. It meant that Bluestreak trusted Jazz wouldn't leave or stop caring for him. Jazz, who remembered being a juvenile himself, understood and was pleased. It didn't make him happy to deal with things when Bluestreak acted out, but he wanted Bluestreak's trust and acceptance, and it seemed like he was earning it.

Jazz kept picturing himself in Prowl's life, living with him full time and helping raise Bluestreak, spoiling his lover with romantic little gestures and doing everyday domestic things – and, yeah, the bad stuff too. Unfortunately, Prowl's uncle, released from jail just after Prowl and Jazz had really started getting serious, was not as happy with Jazz's presence. Barricade kept trying to convince Prowl to let him move back in, to give him money or fuel and Prowl kept having to steadfastly refuse. Jazz could see how it was wearing on him, and it hurt that someone like Barricade was Prowl's only family. Prowl and Bluestreak deserved better. Jazz compared it to his own big, loving, supportive family and couldn't stop himself from thinking how they could be there, with Jazz, for the little family he hoped he was becoming a part of.

"You have got it baaaad," his Aedifex, Half-step, teased him one night when he called home to talk to his creators (and whatever aunts, uncles, cousins might wander by for a visit). "Don’t ya, kiddo?"

Jazz smiled fondly, thinking about Prowl. "Yeah, really bad. Prowler's just – he's amazing. Kinda shy but really amazing. And Blue's a great kid. I told you he's into racing, right?"

"Several times," his Creator, Chorale, put in. She was perched on the lap of Jazz's Accendo, Crosscut. They were both smiling indulgently at their creation. "And you're enjoying being a – what term are you using? Sator?"

"I'm not his Sator," Jazz corrected.

"No, that's up to Bluestreak," Crosscut agreed. Jazz had meant – well, never mind. "But it's good you don't intend to push for it."

"Yeah, I don't wanna push," Jazz said. "I really, really don't want to screw this up. 'Sides, Bluestreak's only got one creator, and I don't know how he feels about the idea of two. I'm going to wait for him to bring it up."

"Good," Chorale approved. "Do you think you'll bring them here to meet us soon?"

"Don't know," Jazz said. "I don't have time off for a visit between now and the end of my contract. Maybe then. Or maybe you could come and visit? Prowl's never had a big family, he doesn't like crowds much, and I don't know how he'll feel about being dropped in the middle of all of us."

"When you bring them, if Prowl needs time away from the group, it's cool," Half-step told him. "He can talk to me if he wants – I remember what meeting all your relatives was like the first time. And I like crowds."

Crosscut chuckled. "Yet, you stayed."

"Yeah, well, there was already this whole thing where I was in love with all of you."

"Okay," Jazz said when Half-step leaned over for kisses from his spouses. "I think this is about to turn into something young visors don't wanna see, so I'm gonna go. Besides, Prowler's gonna call soon." Prowl called slightly earlier these days so Bluestreak could say 'goodnight,' then put Jazz on hold while he got Bluestreak settled for the night.

"Got it so bad," Half-step murmured, visor glinting with amusement. "All right, all right. Go talk to your sweetspark."

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Jazz said, spark warming at the thought of speaking with Prowl again. "Tell Carrier and Sator I said 'Hi,' and I love you all."

Jazz's frequent visits to Prowl's house – he had his own shelf in the washracks now – also meant that Prowl could have free time now and then while Jazz looked after Bluestreak. Jazz rarely had dinner with them, since he worked evenings, but he was around in the afternoons. One day he brought a simple guitar with him to see if Bluestreak might be interested in learning how to play. Of course, Bluestreak was a curious juvenile and seeing the instrument set off a series of questions instead of a lesson. Jazz was cool with that: there was plenty of time for Bluestreak to decide if he were interested. Bluestreak asked him about how he'd learned to play, and why, and when. Because Jazz's creators were involved in the performing arts, that brought the juvenile around to asking about Jazz's family.

"Do you have one two creators like Smokescreen?" Bluestreak asked as the stream of words started to slow to a trickle. "Or two and their partner who came in later like Skids?"

"None of the above, kiddo," Jazz said. "I have five."

Bluestreak stared at Jazz with wide optics. "You have five creators?"

Jazz winked at him. "Sure do. Accendo, Carrier, Creator, Sator, and Aedifex."

"How?" Bluestreak wanted to know.

Jazz had been brought up to believe that if a kid was old enough to ask a question, they were old enough to get it answered, at least to some degree. Fortunately, he and Prowl had had a 'how to parent Bluestreak' talk long before this and Jazz knew his lover held the same belief. So he answered Bluestreak's question.

"You know how a sparklet is generated when core code is branched off from one or more mecha and merged together, right?" Bluestreak, all curious audios and big optics, nodded. "Okay, well, in my case, five different mecha donated code to the merge that made my spark." Jazz listed them off: "Accendo's the one who triggered the code that let my spark be struck, Carrier's the one whose spark mine spun off of, Creator and Sator are primary code donors, and Aedifex is the one I got most of my structural specs from. That's the meaning behind the fancy titles, anyway." Jazz shrugged. "When you get right down into the ore of it, how a spark gets put together from multiple mecha ain't that clear-cut, and you're usually just assigning titles to make it easier to tell people apart. I got one friend who just calls all his creators 'Creator' plus their designation. Doesn't matter, I love 'em all, and they all love me."

Bluestreak was quiet for several nanokliks, clearly both working that out and thinking about something. Bluestreak was more talkative and outgoing than Prowl, but his neural net was virtually identical to his creator's. Bluestreak was scary smart, just like his creator and Jazz couldn't wait to start bragging about his kid's grades.

"But, with me, with juveniles like me, it is that clear-cut because I only have one code donor," Bluestreak said slowly. "So, Creator is all of those at once. Right?"

"That's right," Jazz answered, careful to keep his voice neutral because he wasn't sure where Bluestreak was going with this. For now, he didn't seem to be going anywhere, because he just nodded and kept asking questions.

"Do you have any siblings?" Bluestreak wanted to know.

"No, or at least not yet," Jazz answered. "Got a lot of cousins, though, and we all live together in one big building, kind of like a short apartment building, with a big common area outside. Me, my creators, their siblings, my cousins, everyone, we all live there. There's always someone to hang with."

Bluestreak nodded, taking this in, but surprisingly not as curious about the cousins as Jazz had expected. "If you commit to my creator, are your creators going to be my First Creators like Hunter and Breakneck were? And will your cousins be my cousins too?"

"If that happens, then yes and yes," Jazz answered. "But Prowl and I got a ways to go before that's likely to happen."

"Do I – would I call you 'Sator' if that happened?" Bluestreak asked shyly.

Jazz was thrown by a vision of getting called 'Sator!' while on the receiving end of one of Bluestreak's enthusiastic hugs, the way Prowl got called 'Creator!' But even distracted by that image he was still reaching out to pull Bluestreak into his arms.

"You'd call me whatever you were comfortable with," Jazz said gently. "It could be 'Sator,' or just 'Jazz,' or 'hey, you.'" Bluestreak giggled. "Just don't call me late to dinner," Jazz joked.

Bluestreak groaned and flopped backward out of Jazz's embrace, with one arm thrown theatrically over his optics. "Ja-aazz!" he protested, and Jazz kind of had to admit that joke deserved it.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Jazz repeated fondly, and meant every word of it. Gonna be there no matter what, he promised silently. For both of you.

Prowl got home a little later than he'd expected, thanks to a road being unexpectedly closed for maintenance, and didn't get to spend much time with his lover before Jazz had to head out. Bluestreak had a racing playdate with a friend, and he was eager and demanding both adults' attention. Prowl didn't have time for much more than a quick kiss from Jazz, who promised to come back when he was done work. Prowl remembered his creators having moments like that. Hunter had referred to it as 'ships passing in the night,' the etymology of which had given a young Prowl a brief fascination with ocean-going ships. Prowl still had a few of the movies he'd acquired at that point and, in a moment of nostalgia, decided to sit down and watch one with Bluestreak.

Half-way through the film, Bluestreak asked for a snack and Prowl left him watching the movie and went to get it for him. In the kitchen, he became aware of the sound of an engine idling outside. Prowl got a sinking feeling and set down Bluestreak's snack, then reluctantly looked out the window. His property backed onto the street behind and not into another backyard so he could clearly see sitting at the curb, in vehicle mode, Barricade.

Prowl stood there staring out at his uncle for half a nano-klik, fighting back the urge to go out there and demand to know what he thought he was doing. But Bluestreak might come looking for him, and Prowl didn't want his juvenile to overhear the argument. Besides, there was another way to deal with this, since Barricade was in violation of the restraining order. Prowl took an image capture of his uncle, polarized the windows so no one could see in, and contacted the Enforcers. He included the image capture, with the raw data to prove it was not falsified, as evidence. The next thing he did was send a message to Jazz, even though he knew it would be queued and the musician wouldn't see it till after the performance, asking him to come home right away. Then, he quietly picked up Bluestreak's snack again and went back to the living room to pretend everything was normal.

The movie was nearly over when the door chime sounded. Bluestreak looked at him, frowning.

"It's late. Who is that, Creator?" he asked.

Prowl put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go see sweetspark. Wait here, and if the movie finishes before I get back, you can put on one of your cartoons."

There was a pair of Enforcers waiting at the door. Prowl stepped outside and let the door slide closed behind him; Bluestreak would be alright on his own for a few kliks. They confirmed his call, that they had seen and arrested Barricade for violating the restraining order, then discussed options with him. Prowl was tired, worried about Bluestreak becoming worried if he was left alone too long, and didn't particularly want to deal with it just then. He was relieved when Jazz pulled in and transformed and briefly excused himself to the Enforcers to explain things to his lover.

"Babe?" Jazz asked anxiously as they met. "What's wrong? Are you and Blue okay?"

"We're fine, we're fine," Prowl reassured him, taking his hands. "Barricade was sitting outside the house, watching. I called the Enforcers. They're following up with me now."

"Okay, but you're safe? Both of you?" Jazz asked.

"Yes. Bluestreak doesn't even know what happened yet," Prowl told him. "I'm going to tell him when I get in. I left him watching a movie. He's probably getting worried by now. Can you go and distract him till I'm done, please?"

"Yeah, of course," Jazz said. "I'll keep him busy till you get in, 'course I will."

"Thank you," Prowl said with genuine gratitude. "I'll be in soon."

Jazz walked into the living room, doing his best to shake off his worry because Bluestreak would pick up on it. As it was, the juvenile frowned a little when Jazz walked in, which was definitely not his usual greeting for the musician.

"Where's Creator?" Bluestreak wanted to know. "He's been gone a long time."

"Creator's outside talking to someone," Jazz told him. "He's going to be back shortly."

"Who's he talking to?" Bluestreak asked anxiously. "It's really late. No one ever comes to the door this late."

"Hey, now," Jazz said, sitting down next to Bluestreak. "It's okay, little spark. Prowl will talk to you about it when he gets back in."

It didn't help; Bluestreak's anxiety was climbing. "But-but why can't I know now?"

"It's okay," Jazz repeated gently and held out his arms. "Come here, kiddo."

Bluestreak didn't move. "I want Creator."

"He'll be here," Jazz promised.

"But - !" Bluestreak seemed to be struggling to put together what he wanted to say. Fair enough, he was young and didn't have a lot of experience with being worried or unhappy.

"You want your creator, I know," Jazz said. "'Course you do, and that's not me. I know that too. But you're upset, and I want to comfort you. Will you let me?"

"Yeah..." Bluestreak let Jazz hug him. The juvenile did relax some, and he didn't try to pull away until they heard Prowl come back in. Then Jazz let him go, and he ran over to his creator, who hugged him tightly.

"Everything's okay now, Bluestreak," Prowl told him. "You don't need to worry, brightspark. Come sit down and I'll tell you what happened. Turn off the cartoon, please."

"Okay." Bluestreak did what he was told, then came back and sat down between Prowl and Jazz. "Who was at the door, Creator?"

Prowl sighed, and Jazz knew he wished he didn't have to tell his juvenile this. But Prowl was always honest with Bluestreak.

"It was a pair of Enforcers," Prowl said, arm around Bluestreak. "Do you remember when I went to get your snack?"

"Yeah…?"

"I saw your Great-Uncle Barricade parked out back of the house. I called the Enforcers because he is not allowed to be near us," Prowl said. "They took him away and then they came to talk to me about what happened. That's where I've been."

Bluestreak frowned. "You said you wouldn't let him come back. You said."

"I won't," Prowl promised. "I didn't. He isn't allowed to be near us, and he broke the rules by coming here. He's been arrested again because he did that."

"Is he going to go to jail again?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yes."

Jazz thought there was more to it than just a simple 'yes,' but he wasn't going to push it while Bluestreak was there and worrying.

"Is it going to be okay?" Bluestreak asked, looking between the adults.

"I'm going to work very hard to make it okay," Prowl promised. He looked at Jazz. 'Both of us?' he asked hopefully over comms.

"We both will, Bluestreak," Jazz said aloud in answer. He stroked Bluestreak's helm like he'd seen Prowl do. "You can count on me."

"I know." Bluestreak transferred from Prowl's arms to Jazz's. "I'm sorry I didn't want you to hug me before."

"That's okay, sparklet." Jazz hugged Bluestreak close and gently kissed his helm. Jazz reached out to tug Prowl into the embrace as well. Bluestreak wasn't the only mech here who wanted comfort. "It's all okay now."

Prowl had thirty megacycles to decide how to handle Barricade's violation of the restraining order. He could press or drop the charges or request Barricade undergo therapy as part of a restorative justice program. Prowl didn't want anything to do with his uncle, but neither did he particularly want to be responsible for one of his very few family members being imprisoned. He chose the program, conditional on Barricade's agreement to attend which was fortunately given but got an extension on the restraining order, just in case.

"Will it make him better?" Bluestreak wanted to know when Prowl explained this to him.

"I hope so, brightspark."

"You're very kind," was Jazz's response.

"I don't feel kind," Prowl said honestly. "This is just – none of the options felt right. This route has a slightly higher success rate for offenders who have committed less severe offences. I don't intend to let him back into our lives but – I just want to be done with it. I don't want revenge."

"You've done what you thought was best," Jazz said. "It's up to Barricade now."

"Even if he does succeed in the program, is it wrong of me if I don't forgive him?" Prowl asked hesitantly.

Jazz shook his head. "No. You don't owe him forgiveness, but you can choose whether or not to give it to him."

Prowl bumped his forehelm against Jazz's, optics off. "I'm so glad you're here with me through this."

"Anything you need, Prowler," Jazz vowed. "You and Bluestreak. Anything you need."

When Prowl had contracted with Accord to find a partner he'd been worried that his uncle might be a stumbling block, or even a deal-breaker, for a relationship. He'd also worried about how Bluestreak would react and that a potential step-creator might try to push that relationship on the juvenile. He was very grateful that his fears had been misplaced – very much so. Prowl had dreamed of finding the kind of partnership his creators had enjoyed, and he believed – he hoped – that he had found it. Jazz was warm, caring, and supportive, and Prowl was not at all surprised to realize he was in love with the handsome musician. Prowl wanted Jazz to know, he just had to find the right time to tell him.

When it came, it felt natural and was also on a night that was anything but romantic. A project that Prowl had been looking forward to working on, not least because it involved more responsibility and higher pay, was cancelled. Bluestreak had gotten into a disagreement with a friend at playgroup over something and had been stroppy all day because of it, wearing on Prowl's nerves. A dozen other, minor, things went wrong, none of them overly frustrating by themselves but very much so when they came one after the other. By the time he'd gotten a protesting Bluestreak into bed, late, and caught up on the work that had been delayed by petty problems, Prowl had a headache. Jazz came home to find him sitting on the couch in the living room, rubbing the space between his optics and his doors high and flattened forward in stress.

"Hey, babe," Jazz said gently, just walking over and putting his arms around Prowl. "You wanna talk about it?"

Prowl sighed into Jazz's hood, debated briefly whether he wanted to dump his problems on his partner, and then told him everything.

"My poor Prowler," Jazz said sympathetically. "No wonder you've got a headache. Want me to run you a hot oil bath, you can soak as long as you want, have some you-time? You don't need it, but maybe a polish afterward, or rub your hinges till you fall asleep?"

Prowl groaned. "That sounds wonderful. You'd do that for me?"

"'Course, lover." Jazz hugged him. "I'm here for you. You don't have to handle everything alone, not anymore."

Prowl looked up at him. "You're wonderful," he told Jazz, who smiled at him. Prowl hadn't meant to say it, not then, not after the day he'd had, but it slipped out anyway. "I love you."

Prowl didn't have to wait for his lover to react. Jazz immediately looked absolutely delighted, and his hands became very gentle on Prowl's structure. He bent down and kissed the tired mech sweetly. "I love you too."

Prowl's spark warmed, and his headache receded. He kissed Jazz again. "Darling, I – " He couldn't finish. The only time Prowl had been more filled with emotion was the day Bluestreak had emerged.

"S'okay, love," Jazz reassured him. "I know." He tucked Prowl into his arms again. "I know."

Chapter Text

Jazz's contract in Praxus had been for a stellar-cycle, and when he was asked to renew it, he agreed eagerly. He'd wanted to stay in Praxus anyway, he enjoyed the job, and, best of all, he had Prowl and Bluestreak. Prowl was everything he'd hoped for when he'd contacted Accord, and more, and Bluestreak was just a fantastic kid. Jazz had always wanted a family, and here, he'd had a perfect one virtually handed to him. Jazz had already decided he wanted to renew the contract. He told Prowl on an outing to the park one day, while they sat in the stands at the juvenile's track, watching Bluestreak race.

"I've been offered a renewal on my contract here in Praxus, and I'm going to take it," Jazz told him, feeling Prowl's fingers shift in his when he did. "Another half-stellar-cycle, at least. I'll look for something in Praxus if they don't offer me a renewal after that."

"Good," Prowl said quietly. "I was afraid you'd have to leave. I-I wasn't looking forward to attempting a long-distance relationship. I know people manage them, but I would miss you so badly."

"Good thing we don't have to worry about that then. Speaking of long-distance," Jazz rubbed Prowl's fingers with his thumb. "I get ten megacycles off between contracts. I was wondering if maybe you and Bluestreak would like to come home with me for a visit? I know that for you it'd probably have to be a working vacation, but that's fine. Everyone would understand. There are a lot of us, but none of us are rich, we're just cautious about managing the household accounts." Each family kept their own accounts and contributed a certain amount to a central fund designed to maintain the home and lands in which they lived.

"Oh," Prowl said, surprised. "I hadn't thought about taking a vacation longer than a couple of megacycles anytime soon. I thought I would have to finish school and work for a meta-cycle or two before I could." He looked out over the track, focusing on his creation, who was joyously speeding along, and hopefully tiring himself out. "It would certainly be good for Bluestreak as well. I was never interested in such things when I was a juvenile, but Bluestreak isn't like me. He's far more extroverted than I ever was."

"You're a great creator, lover," Jazz said gently. "Bluestreak's happy, he's fuelled, cared for, has all his needs met. Gets as much love and positive attention as any kid could ever want or need."

"Thank you." Prowl fell silent, looking out over the track as he processed. Bluestreak had the lead, his friend Smokescreen running a close second behind him. "My only concern is, well, Barricade. While he's been compliant with the restraining order and his program so far as I'm aware, I can't help worrying about what might happen if the house is left empty for a long time. I know it's not entirely rational, but – "

"But it's still worrying you," Jazz finished. He tapped an irregular rhythm on the bench with his free hand, thinking. "Babe, d'you trust me? Trust my judgment, I mean?"

"Yes, Jazz. What are you thinking?"

Jazz continued. "I've got a friend, good guy, wouldn't hurt an insecatron, but he's big, strong, works as a bouncer a lot. Name's Trailbreaker, and he might be willing to house sit for you. Barricade the kind of mech who'd back off if someone bigger than him was around?"

"Yes," Prowl said slowly. "Yes, he is. As for bigger, Barricade and I have similar structure-types and are of a height."

"Okay, then. Trailbreaker's about head and shoulders taller than you so that'd probably be enough. Want me to set up a meet?" Jazz offered. Prowl might trust Jazz's judgment but meeting someone who might stay in your house was just a wise precaution and Prowl was nothing if not cautious.

"Yes, please," Prowl said gratefully. "I hope this works out because I would very much like to meet your family, Jazz."

"I'll set it up then," Jazz promised. "Don't worry, Prowler love. Bluestreak will be a hit, and they're just gonna love you. 'Cause you're too sweet for them not to."

Prowl smiled shyly, still not used to compliments. "Sap."

"Yep. C'mere."

The kiss was quickly interrupted.

'Creator! Jazz! You're not watching!'

Trailbreaker turned out to be a friendly, likeable mech, who was thoughtful enough to bring references with him for Prowl to check. He had worked as private security before as well as been a bouncer, and just looking at him told Prowl his presence would probably be enough to make Barricade think twice. Prowl didn't like having to explain to Trailbreaker that it was a relative Prowl wanted to be deterred, but it was vital for him to know at least a partial history. To his credit, Trailbreaker was understanding when Prowl explained.

"Family can be tough," Trailbreaker said sympathetically. "You should make sure there's some kind of official notice somewhere about who's allowed in and who isn't. Those extra patrols wouldn't be a bad idea either if you can get 'em.

"What about when I'm at work? Do you have someone I can call for backup?" Trailbreaker continued. "Because if not, I have a friend or two who can watch the place for me. They don't have to come inside, they can just hang out on the terrace or cruise by every so often."

"I would appreciate that Trailbreaker," Prowl said, grateful for the assistance. "Thank you."

"Any friend of Jazz's," Trailbreaker told him cheerfully and soon after it was settled. Prowl, Bluestreak, and Jazz were going on vacation.

Seeing as travelling with a juvenile could be challenging, especially once they got tired, the three of them took a shuttle from Praxus to Polyhex. Bluestreak, who had a great deal of focus when he chose to use it, stayed glued to the window the entire way.

Walking through the shuttle terminal, Bluestreak clung to his creator's hand and looked around them with wide optics. To Jazz, who travelled pretty often, one shuttle terminal or train station looked pretty much like another. To Bluestreak, it was all new, and Jazz tried to see the familiar building like he hadn't seen it before either. Where Praxus tended to flowing, asymmetrical patterns, undulating lines, and tones that were taken from their famous crystals, Polyhexian style used bold, geometric designs with clearly defined lines, and vibrant colours.

"It's so cool!" Bluestreak exclaimed, spinning partway around while he looked up at the ceiling lights. Prowl steered him carefully around a bank of seats. "Creator, can I have lights like that in my room? And-and stencils on the walls?"

"I thought you wanted a racing theme?" Prowl reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Jazz." Bluestreak let go of Prowl's hand just long enough to squeeze himself between the two adults. He retook Prowl's hand, and Jazz's as well with the casual confidence of a juvenile. "Jazz, can we go racing while we're here?"

Jazz smiled at him. "Sure can, Blue. First, though, we've gotta go to my family's place and meet everyone. Still cool with that?"

"Yeah!"

Even though it had only been a half-stellar-cycle since Jazz had left Polyhex, the moment he saw the gates ahead of them, he couldn't hold back a happy rev of his engine. Home! He pinged the security system, and the gates slid open to let them through.

'Why do you have a fence?' Bluestreak wanted to know.

'It's a big property,' Jazz told him. 'Hard to keep an optic on all of it all the time. There's anywhere from thirty to fifty of us living here at any time.'

'Wow! How many juveniles?'

'Depending on how many of us are here, and the mix of juveniles, adolescents, and adults, anywhere upward of seven.' The average ratio of juveniles to adult Cybertronians planet-wide was about one to six, putting Jazz's family ratio slightly above average. 'There were ten of us, including me, when I was your age.'

'So you had five creators and nine cousins and all their creators too?'

'Yup! And I was only counting the juvenile cousins, there are more adult ones.' Jazz could see some of them now, as they approached the large front entryway, flanking his creators. 'You're gonna meet a lot of 'em in just a few nano-kliks.'

Jazz pulled into the transformation section of the driveway and switched smoothly from alt to root without stopping, moving to greet his creators. Pulse, his carrier, was first, scooping Jazz into his arms and kissing his cheek affectionately. Between Jazz's travelling schedule and Pulse's, they hadn't seen each other in person in almost two meta-cycles.

"Jazz, little spark!" Pulse crooned, even though that term hadn't applied to Jazz in a long time. "Oh, it's good to see you again!"

"Missed you too, Carrier." Jazz hugged Pulse back and was released only to be swept into Crosscut's embrace and greeted joyously by his Accendo.

"And you must be Prowl and Bluestreak," Crosscut said in his deep voice, looking at them over Jazz's head. Prowl got a handshake as he greeted Jazz's Accendo, but Bluestreak wasn't shy about giving the bigger mech a hug.

"Oh, he's just as sweet as you said," Jazz's Sator, the mini-bot Chorale, said admiringly, peeking around Jazz's torso even as she claimed her hug from her creation. "Do you have a hug for me, too, young one?"

"Yeah!"

Jazz's Creator and his Aedifex followed their first three partners, hugging Jazz, greeting Prowl, and getting enthusiastic hugs from Bluestreak. When Jazz was finished with creator-greetings, he took a step back and put an arm around Prowl's waist, sensing that Prowl was becoming nervous and could use the support before the rest of the relatives set in. Prowl relaxed, if only fractionally, into Jazz's arm. Half-step noticed and stepped in.

"Let's get Prowl and Bluestreak – " He glanced around and saw that Bluestreak had already been absorbed into the small group of young cousins and was chattering away to his new friends. "Well, let's get Prowl settled and show him where Bluestreak will be staying, anyway. We were going to put you in with Jazz, Prowl unless you'd be more comfortable with Bluestreak, or in your own room?"

"With Jazz is fine," Prowl said. "Thank you."

'You're doing good, babe,' Jazz reassured him. 'I know it was a lot. We'll take a few minutes in my – our room to unwind if you want?'

'Yes, thank you.'

Jazz's room was clean and tidy but had the style of a space that had been occupied by a single person for a very long time and the air of one not recently used. Half-step had shown them in, told them that Bluestreak was going to be in the room across the hall, and left to let them get settled.

"Half-step is very understanding," Prowl offered softly, standing in the middle of the room as if he was unsure of where to go.

"Yeah, 'Fex is good with people," Jazz said, wandering his room and running his fingers over surfaces, refreshing his memory. "He's the one who taught me to read an audience. Plus, he was the last one in to the quintet of my creators so he'd be the one who remembers best how it feels to meet the whole family all at once."

"At least Bluestreak wasn't overwhelmed," Prowl said ruefully. Jazz's family's home was a large building, shaped like a square missing one side. It enclosed a courtyard and Prowl could see his creation out there, engaged in a game of mecha-soccer with rather more enthusiasm than skill.

"He's been looking forward to it. Been excited about it for megacycles."

"Yes." Prowl smiled warmly down at his creation. "He's so unlike me in so many ways."

Jazz's circuit of the room brought him over to Prowl, and he wrapped his arms around the other mech, leaning back to look at him. "He's like you in a lot of ways, too. Kind, loving, super-smart."

"I'm happy the two of you love each other," Prowl said. "There's nothing more important to me than the two of you." He looked down a little, not quite meeting Jazz's optics. "I hope to get along with your family, even half as well as you get along with mine."

Jazz kissed him reassuringly. "They're going to adore you, babe, even more than they do already." He grinned. "Pretty sure Blue's at least half-way to adopted First-creation already and the two of you are a package deal. Besides," Jazz ran his hands up Prowl's back, "you're pretty fantastic all on your own." The light of his visor softened. "They're gonna love you, Prowler. 'Cause I love you."

Prowl relaxed almost completely and smiled back at him. "And I love you, Jazz."

Jazz kissed him tenderly, let his hands slip just to the edge of Prowl's door's hinges. Prowl pressed back against the hands in welcome, and their kisses gained heat.

"We have some time before my creators expect us back," Jazz reminded him suggestively. "Everyone's outside, we're in a nice private room…"

"So we are." Prowl claimed another kiss. "We'd have to be quick, though."

"Yup," Jazz agreed, backing toward the bed and drawing Prowl with him. "I'm okay with that."

"Well, then." Jazz sat, and Prowl straddled his lap. "Polarize the windows and lock the doors and we'll make the most of it."

"You got it, Prowler."

By the time Prowl and Jazz got down to the courtyard, the mecha-soccer game had been finished and long tables set up in its place. Dinner today was a family-and-guests affair, and everyone was eating communally it seemed. There was a separate table for the juveniles and Bluestreak was already there, once again – or still – excitedly chattering away to his new friends. Prowl pinged him briefly for acknowledgement and Bluestreak turned to give him a distracted wave before going back to his conversation.

Being surrounded by Jazz's entire clan was a new experience for Prowl, who'd simply never had that large of a family. Barricade had been a minimal presence in his life up until his creator's deaths, and his uncle hadn't exactly been the family dinner type after that. Prowl and Bluestreak almost always ate together. Jazz usually worked in the evenings or at night, since he was a musician, but he joined them whenever he could.

Jazz hadn't been understating things when he'd said his family was big, loud, and present, nor when he'd assured Prowl they'd be welcoming. No one seemed to mind that Prowl was quiet and a little nervous about being surrounded by so many people, even though he was sure that last was apparent. But the longer Prowl sat there, surrounded by them, the more at ease he became. He wasn't entirely at ease, of course, since it was still a crowd but the nervousness of being surrounded by so many new, unknown people ebbed. It helped that he had Jazz buffering him on one side and the understanding Half-step on the other.

"You're doing great, babe," Jazz murmured after dinner had broken up and the socializing was well underway. He gave Prowl a glass of high-grade – a mild one since Prowl didn't often indulge, not liking the lack of control even a minor overcharge created. For once, though, Prowl felt he could use it to help him relax. "Feeling okay?"

"Mostly," Prowl admitted. "It's gotten a bit easier as I grow accustomed to so many people."

He was being given a respectful amount of space as well, which helped considerably. He admired their balancing act of giving him space and yet not appearing to avoid him – which they weren't. Jazz's family was more than happy to talk to him. Prowl spent a good while telling Chorale and Pulse stories about Bluestreak that would surely embarrass the juvenile once he reached adolescence. In return, Chorale and Pulse told him stories about Jazz, who groaned into Prowl's shoulder with exaggerated embarrassment at their gentle teasing.

Prowl did worry a bit about what Bluestreak might be up to, especially since he couldn't always see his creation and Bluestreak was sometimes too distracted by whatever he was doing to immediately respond to pings. Nor did Prowl want to ping him too often, since he wanted Bluestreak to be independent. (Just…not so much he wasn't Prowl's sparklet any more.)

"Someone will have an optic on him," Jazz promised him when Prowl mentioned this during a moment of relative privacy. "Take a look: wherever the juveniles are, there's always a couple of adults nearby. They might be talking to each other instead of guiding 'cause we're big on free play here, but they'll step in if there's a problem. Doesn’t matter whose kids are involved." He petted Prowl's arm reassuringly. "Someone will come to get you if there's a real problem. Or when he needs to be steered to bed, whichever comes first."

"Is it always like that?" Prowl asked a little wistfully.

"There's always someone nearby if you need help, or support, or a sitter, yeah," Jazz told him. "Or a sympathetic audial. I mean, it isn't perfect, we get on each other's nerve fibres at times, there are arguments, points where Mech A isn't speaking to Mech B, differences over who should contribute what."

"But it's normal family disagreements," Prowl said softly, thinking of Barricade.

"It is in my family, yeah, even as big as it is," Jazz said, taking Prowl's hand. "Though I gotta say, there are things about a small family that really appeal as well."

Prowl smiled. "I'm already in love with you, you know," he murmured.

"I'm in love with you, too," Jazz searched Prowl's face for a handful of nano-kliks, checking his comfort level. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"I – " Prowl broke off, attention caught by someone over Jazz's shoulder. "I'd say 'yes,' but Bluestreak is coming and I think he's going to try for a late bedtime. Later?"

"Later," Jazz agreed, looking forward to it.

Prowl's instincts were right: Bluestreak did want to stay up late. Since no one had a commitment next day and they were on vacation Prowl permitted it. He let Bluestreak stay up well past his bedtime until the juvenile's optics were starting to dim and he was leaning into his creator for support. Prowl had begun to feel emotionally exhausted a while ago, but he hadn't wanted to retire and take Jazz and Bluestreak away when they were enjoying themselves. Now, though, he had a reason to politely withdraw. Jazz accompanied him, helping him guide Bluestreak around people, corners, and furniture and up the unfamiliar ramps.

"Hope you like the room, Blue," Jazz said, palming it open for Bluestreak and Prowl. "Your creator and I are just across the hall if you need anything."

"'Kay," Bluestreak said, though Prowl wasn't sure he really processed the words. Still, he could always contact Prowl over comms if he needed anything in the night. Prowl gently steered him to bed, adjusting Bluestreak's pillow as he lay down. "Love you, Creator. G'night."

"Love you, my brightspark. Sleep well," Prowl said gently and kissed him goodnight.

"Jazz too," Bluestreak demanded in a sleepy mumble, reaching out. Jazz worked most nights and got home late, so Bluestreak usually only had Prowl to put him to bed.

Jazz's whole expression softened. He leaned down and kissed Bluestreak gently on the forehelm. "Goodnight, Bluestreak."

"Night," Bluestreak said, voice trailing off. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jazz said. He stroked Bluestreak's helm affectionately, and Prowl watched them both, spark full of emotion. "Sleep well, little spark."

Bluestreak was asleep before Prowl and Jazz left the room.

"Think I should put you to bed, too," Jazz said, glancing over at Prowl as their bedroom door closed behind them. "Don't worry, tomorrow it will be quieter. Just us and my creators. Unless they've scared you off and you want to head out, I mean."

Prowl managed a tired chuckle, sitting down on the bed. "No, love, not at all. I like your family, I'm simply not used to one this size."

"Do you think you could?" Jazz asked. "Get used to it, I mean?

Prowl lay back, smiling up at Jazz despite his exhaustion, and held out his arms for his lover to join him, which Jazz did. "I have every intention of it."

Chapter Text

It took only a couple of mega-cycles for Prowl to feel at home with Jazz's family. Bluestreak, though, might have lived his whole life at Jazz's family home, playing with the other juveniles and being doted on by Jazz's creators. Half-step taught him light-harp and Pulse and Downbeat how to make energon goodies. Crosscut showed him how and where to sit quietly enough he could watch lithium-larks in the crystal trees without startling them. Chorale included him in the small classes where she taught the cousins how to sing and gave him individual attention as well.

"Bluestreak is so happy to be here," Prowl noted, walking hand-in-hand with Jazz through the courtyard one afternoon.

Bluestreak was involved in some kind of friendly wrestling competition with some of the juvenile cousins. Whether it was training or just a game, Bluestreak looked to be enjoying himself. They were being watched over by one of the adult relatives. Prowl still wasn't exactly sure how everyone fitted into the family, but it didn't seem to matter. Everyone took a turn looking after the juveniles, or preparing fuel, or whatever other chores there were.

"Are you?" Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded. "I am, very much so. Your family is very welcoming."

"Oh, yeah, they adore you both," Jazz said happily. "Accendo's asked me twice already when I'm going to bring you back, and Creator's probably got years worth of system startup gifts planned out already. They'll love it if you come to visit again."

"I would very much like to come back," Prowl told him. "However, Bluestreak starts school next meta-cycle, and I plan to start university at the same time. I'll have less time than I do now."

"Oh, what, cause of all that studying you'll have to do?" Jazz asked teasingly. "C'mon, Prowler, you could read the textbooks, not show up for the rest of the year, and ace the exams. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Thank you, darling, but classes occur during the day, and you work nights. I love you, Jazz," it was still wonderful to say that, "but I'm worried about being able to divide my attention fairly between you, Bluestreak, and school."

"I love you too, babe. And don't worry about balancing Bluestreak, school, and me. You'll manage," Jazz assured him, and squeezed his hand. "I'll help you. Plus, I'm thinking you've already got a logical plan on how to handle it, right?"

"That's correct. To maximize our time together, the three of us, I think it would be best if," Prowl hesitated only for a moment, "you moved in with us. If you want to."

"Wake up next to you every day, put Bluestreak to bed every night I can?" Jazz asked. "Prowler, yeah, of course, I'll move in with you! I'd love to. Yes!"

Prowl let go of Jazz's hand only so he could put an arm around his waist. "Thank you, sweetspark."

"Anything for you, babe."

Living with Prowl was a pretty strong commitment but Jazz…Jazz wanted to offer him more, and he wanted the offer to be special. Fortunately, the family property was large enough that even with dozens of mecha running around there were still places that were secluded, private. He put the word in with his Aedifex that he wanted one of them to himself for a bit and when and let Half-step do the rest.

"Hey, Prowler," he began one day after evening fuel while they went on what had become their regular post-dinner walk. "That question you asked me the other day, about moving in with you?" He freed his hand just long enough to stroke Prowl's inner wrist. "Well, I've got a question for you, too, babe. Wanna show you someplace first, though. C'mon."

Jazz brought Prowl to a little grove of crystal trees surrounding a pond of mercury. It was near the back of the property, quiet, lovely, and romantic, especially in the light of the setting sun.

"I think I have some idea of your question," Prowl said softly as Jazz took his hands. "At least, I hope my conclusion didn't start from a flawed premise."

"Well, I'm really sure it didn't," Jazz said, a lot less nervously than he felt, he hoped. "Not if I've been doing things right, anyway. Prowler, I know you weren't looking for a conjunx, at least not yet. That still right?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes, that's correct. I want a relationship, but I'm not ready to have one at that level, yet. Spark bonds are – I love you, but I don't know yet if that's something I want."

"That's fine, I get it," Jazz assured him. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope you will, someday, but I ain't there yet either. But I love you, and I love Bluestreak, and I want to do something to show that. You've had a lot of change and uncertainty in your life over the past few meta-cycles, and I want to give you something steady."

"You do," Prowl pointed out, hardly hearing the gentle chiming of crystals in the soft breeze. "Everything's felt much more stable since you came into my life. Into our lives."

"And I want to keep doing it." Jazz drew Prowl a little bit closer. "Prowler. While I was busy looking at your handsome face on that profile Accord sent me, one thing that did get through was you were looking for a five meta-cycle contract. If that's still what you want, I want to sign that contract with you but, I gotta warn you, I'm sure I'm gonna want to renew it after that, and after that and after that…" Jazz gently bumped their forehelms together. "So, will you, Prowl?"

Prowl freed a hand and brought it up to cup Jazz's jaw. "I will, Jazz, yes." He kissed Jazz, very tenderly. "I want to be with you, and when I am ready for a conjunx, I hope very much you'll still want that too."

"Oh, babe," Jazz said warmly, "you should see what I'm gonna put together for that proposal. It is gonna be a show."

"I look forward to it," Prowl murmured and kissed him again.

Five Meta-Cycles Later

Jazz had officially moved in with Prowl on their return from their vacation. Learning to live together hadn't been seamless, but it hadn't been too rocky either. They learned to balance their careers, relationship, and raising Bluestreak – they were still learning that and probably always would be.

Prowl's uncle Barricade had completed his program and had had some measure of success. He had at least stabilized enough to get back into the career he'd had before Prowl's creators died, and spent a lot of time travelling. It didn’t mean they never heard from him; he still tried to wheedle shanix out of Prowl on occasion, but that was happening less and less. Jazz thought that Prowl having more support around him now made him less appealing as a mark, but he kept that thought to himself.

Prowl had finished university, at the top of his class, and immediately entered the Academy of Cybertronian Law Enforcement at Praxus. He'd just graduated from ACLE Praxus, again at the top of his class, and Jazz's creators and a large contingent of their extended family were due at their home any klik for a celebration. Prowl and Jazz were hosting some of the cousins, to Bluestreak's especial delight. Half-step, Crosscut, Pulse, Downbeat, and Chorale and everyone else found accommodation at hotels, friends' houses, or friends of friends' houses. Jazz's family seemed to know people everywhere, though one connection or another. It had been five meta-cycles of calls and messages and visits during summer breaks and Prowl no longer felt overwhelmed during clan gatherings.

Big, loud, present, and loving, Jazz had called his family when he and Prowl had just been getting to know each other. Prowl and Bluestreak were a part of that family now. Prowl was already fielding questions from relatives about and offers to help with Bluestreak's adolescent upgrades. Prowl had enough put aside to cover high-quality components, but family members assisting with maturity upgrades was traditional in Polyhex, and it was one more sign of their acceptance.

"These look good on you, babe," Jazz said admiringly, running his hands over the new Enforcer emblems on Prowl's doors. They were waiting on the terrace, decorated with strings of lights and glittering crystals, for their guests to arrive. "You earned 'em, I know you put a lot of hard work into this."

"Thank you for putting up with the times I had to work late," Prowl said, as he had many times already. "Or was away training."

"Anything to make you happy, lover," Jazz said and kissed him. Prowl kissed him back, and things were started to get a little heated before they were interrupted by Bluestreak and one of the cousins clattering through the terrace doors.

"Oh, Primus, you two," Bluestreak said, adolescent exasperation in his voice despite not technically being an adolescent yet. "Bad enough I walk in on my creators inside the house."

Jazz still got a glow in his visor when Bluestreak referred to him as one of his creators and Prowl smiled at it as they broke their embrace.

"Just congratulating your creator again," Jazz told him, smiling.

"Yeah, okay." Bluestreak spotted the tables, laden with fuel and snacks, around the perimeter and zeroed in on his target, adults already forgotten, tugging his cousin with him.

"Leave some for the guests!" Jazz called after him. "Kid'll eat anything that looks like fuel if it doesn't try to eat him first," he grumbled good-naturedly to Prowl. Bluestreak's spark was putting on mass in preparation for its adolescent growth surge, meaning that lately, he was always hungry.

"You still enjoy every part of helping to raise him," Prowl pointed out.

"Yeah," Jazz said fondly. "Yeah, I do. Oh, hey, I hear engines, I think the party's about to start."

The rest of the evening passed, for Prowl, in a blur of hugs, toasts, and congratulations – and teasing about Enforcing his own party when he made them keep the music below a specific decibel level.

Halfway through the night, Bluestreak pulled his creator aside and into the kitchen for a moment of privacy – as much as you could get with a houseful of family, anyway.

"You should ask him," Bluestreak said, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard.

"Ask who what, Bluestreak?" Prowl inquired though he had a fairly good idea who and what his creation was asking about.

"You know what, Creator," Bluestreak said with a touch of impatience. "I overheard you and Jazz talking about it. Your contract is coming up for renewal and – and you want to, right? Renew it?"

Prowl rubbed Bluestreak's arm reassuringly. "We do, brightspark, yes. Very much. Do you think I should ask him in front of the family?"

Bluestreak shrugged but looked hopeful. "If you want? I mean, it's your party."

"I don't mind making it a double celebration," Prowl said cautiously. "But let's ask Jazz: he may not want to be surprised by that question in front of everyone."

Bluestreak gave him A Look. "Have you met your partner?"

Prowl chose not to respond to that and commed Jazz to come to the kitchen for a moment. Bluestreak leaned against his side and Prowl wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Everything alright, babe?" Jazz asked when he arrived. "Hey, Blue."

"Creator wants to ask you something," Bluestreak said eagerly.

"Oh yeah?" Jazz looked between Bluestreak and Prowl, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Think I've got a pretty good idea of what that is."

"Yes, well," Prowl looked around to see who else was nearby. They were, surprisingly, alone in the kitchen corner for the moment. "Bluestreak thinks I should ask you in front of everyone."

Jazz nodded understandingly. "And you want to make sure I'll say 'yes.'" Prowl nodded. Jazz kissed him gently, and Bluestreak didn't even comment. "'Course I will, Prowler. But you don't have to do it tonight if it makes you uncomfortable. Although," he added mischievously, "doing it tonight would get you out of being the centre of attention a second time."

Bluestreak giggled. "Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"You're both terrible," Prowl said affectionately, hugging Bluestreak against his side. "So, since you would say 'yes' to-to renewing the contract, are you ready to say yes to more? If I were to ask?"

Bluestreak squeaked in joy and pressed closer to his creator, reaching out to Jazz, who looked stunned in all the best ways. Prowl wrapped his other arm around Jazz as the musician joined the group hug and kissed him lovingly.

"Yes, Prowler, love," Jazz said softly, looking deep into Prowl's optics. "The answer's 'yes' to the whole deal."

Even with Jazz's prior agreement, Prowl was still nervous when they went out to the terrace and called everyone's attention to them. The clan could count just as well as the rest of them and were probably expecting it, but they still fell silent. Bluestreak was gathered into the cluster of Jazz's creators where Accord put his hands on his shoulders, presumably to keep him from distracting anyone.

Even though he knew, loved, and was loved by everyone there, Prowl had a moment of shyness. His voice box locked, briefly, as silence fell and Jazz sent him a quick, reassuring comm.

'I gotcha, babe. I'm right here with you.'

"As," Prowl's voice came out too softly for everyone to hear, so he paused and started again. "As you no doubt recall, Jazz and I have our contract coming up for renewal. You also know that Jazz loves a show." A ripple of fond laughter went through the crowd and Jazz grinned. "Because of that and because we have you all here I'm taking this moment to ask him," he took both of Jazz's hands in his, trying not to smile at the comm Jazz sent him approving of the dramatic pause, "Jazz, will you be my conjunx endura?"

"I love you, and I love Bluestreak," Jazz said, gripping Prowl's hands. "I can't think of anything I want more than being in your lives forever. Yes, Prowl, I will."

Prowl completely forgot the crowd and kissed his conjunx-to-be. "Thank you. Thank you," he murmured when the kiss ended. "Oh, love. You gave me exactly what you said you would."

Jazz didn't seem to want to stop kissing him. It made talking difficult, but Prowl didn't care. "Oh yeah?"

"Love, family, happiness." Prowl smiled and kissed him again. "All the good things."