Transformers Prime: A Sparkling Issue

Chapter 7 - Sleep Issues, Toys ... and a Grenade

Wednesday night...

The only research that really got done the rest of the evening was Jack and Rafael's designs for the new toys. Optimus and Miko were kept busy keeping the sparklings contained, not an easy task as they were all not in the best of moods. Whenever Bumblebee wasn't zooming about the place, he was being clingy, wanting the Prime to pick him up with little whines and grabby servos. Ratchet was fussier than usual and wasn't really interested in playing or the action movie Miko put on the TV; whenever a commercial came on he tended to wander off and finally lost all interest after a while. The Prime even let Arcee play with her rattle more than his audios appreciated. She hugged it, shook it, chased it, threw it; but at least it kept her busy, and he decided to take the helmache over continuously chasing the femme down hallways. Bulkhead didn't seem to know what he wanted to; always hugging his stuffy, letting out a little melancholy coo once in a while as he picked through the play things while aimlessly wondering about.

The boys had finished their project designs by the time they had to head home. Goodnights were said and Miko had to hug every sparkling before they left through the ground bridge. Optimus truly missed their help when he was unable to do any research, now that he had to contend with them by himself. Ratchet had turned into an even bigger grump from just being bored and Optimus had to break up a few tiffs that the little mech started with Arcee. Once he tried to take her rattle and Optimus's already abused audials found out just how high the femme could screech. Ratchet had then spent the next twenty minutes in the "time-out" box.

All up until their bedtime; there was at least one whining, one wanting attention, one making any loud random noise, and one wondering off – and each seemed to be taking turns at doing all four. Optimus was more than ready to head to his berth room after giving the sparklings their dinner and emptying their waste chambers, hoping some recharge would make them more personable in the morning.

But as the Prime's luck would have it, none of them were settling down tonight. It was evident they were tired, but they kept wiggling around, chattering to each other over the sides of their beds, and even trying to climb out. Nothing Optimus did seemed to be helping, and their moods were not improving. Even Bumblebee and Bulkhead were easily irritated by anything, the first still being clingy. All the while they kept rubbing at their optics as if fighting off pre-recharge.

Finally, desperate for a solution, Optimus could only think of one thing to do.

Gathering up the sparklings, he carried all four back out to the main entrance. The room was in disarray with play things still strewn about as he hadn't taken the time to clean up. Optimus set them down among the mess and flicked the soccer ball, making it roll off with little bounces. It caught the sparklings' attention and they halfheartedly made their way after it. Optimus just hoped it would give him the time he needed.

The mech went straight to the monitors. For one tiny astrosecond he debated whether he really wanted to do this, noting the late hour, but desperation – and the lingering helmache – won out. He punched in some numbers and waited as a trilling sounded a few times. Then a click and a drowsy voice answered.

"//Hello? Jack Darby.//"

...

Jack stretched with a yawn as he came back from brushing his teeth, pajamas already on. Bare feet pattered across the cool wood floor of his room as he made his way to the bed, detouring long enough to switch off the lamp. The room was instantly draped in shadowed darkness with only a beam of pale moonlight stretched upon the floor from the open window. The curtains barely moved with the comfortably warm breeze that blew in. It was one of those perfect nights, and Jack slipped under his cool comforter and snuggled down into the soft pillow with a contented sigh. It didn't take long before the soft sounds of the night brought on drifting sleep.