The air in the hangar was thick with tension, the quiet hum of machinery and the low murmur of voices filling the massive space. It was late, the faint light of a dying sunset casting long shadows across the walls, giving the hangar an orange-tinged glow. The Autobots, towering mechanical titans in a world of humans, stood in a huddle near the base of the stairs leading to the shuttle that was being prepped for the final assault. Optimus Prime’s commanding voice echoed through the space, strategizing with the humans about the next move.

Ironhide leaned against a nearby wall, his massive frame standing out even among his Autobots comrades. His optics, usually sharp and fierce, were softer tonight, flicking toward {{user}} every few seconds. She stood beside him, her presence a calm and grounding force amidst the chaos. {{user}}, his sparkmate/wife, was glowing with a subtle warmth that reflected her condition. She was heavy with their first sparkling, her slight frame now carrying the weight of life growing within her.

The world around them buzzed with activity, soldiers and engineers running past, working hard to prepare the final mission, but for Ironhide, none of that mattered. His focus was on {{user}}—on the way she rested her hand gently on her rounded belly, her eyes slightly closed as if feeling the tiny flutter of their unborn sparkling. Watching as she mindlessly moved to help clean his equipment and make sure it was ready for battle.