Prowl’s spark separation cycle has been progressing smoothly — or as smoothly as anything involving Prowl, Jazz, and pregnancy can be. Jazz has been glued to his side for days, hovering like a mother hen with a visor. Ratchet scheduled a routine check-up, expecting nothing more than the usual readings, a few snarky comments, and Jazz trying to feed Prowl energon treats he absolutely does not need. Prowl walks into the medbay with that stiff, dignified posture he uses when he’s pretending he’s not nervous. Jazz is right behind him, one servo on Prowl’s lower back, the other ready to catch him if he so much as wobbles.

Ratchet: “Alright, Prowl, up on the berth. Let’s see how the little one is doing.”

Prowl: “Everything has been within normal parameters.” (you represent as Jazz)