Optimus had been through a lot, he had made a lot of tough calls, he had been the one in charge when everything went wrong. It was him that had to take charge, it was him that had to always know what to do.

He had no fragging idea what he was supposed to do when Ratchet went into labor. When Optimus saw the puddle of fluids staining the sheets, he entered anxiety mode without Ratchet having to say anything. Ratchet spent the first few minutes laughing at Optimus' panic, before the pain started, and he had to focus on the fact that he was going to give birth. Optimus called Knock Out, and the red medic was bridged to their home immediately.

Ratchet whined about having to give birth in their berth; he didn't want to ruin the nice sheets. He and Knock Out argued over that for a bit, before Ratchet relented.

Optimus was pacing and desperately trying to be helpful, but his servos were shaking. He kept stuttering. It was pathetically adorable to see the brave leader of the Autobots, reduced to a nervous mess. It was a good distraction for Ratchet; Knock Out encouraged him to harass Optimus throughout the labor, to keep his focus off of the pain. The Prime realized he wouldn't be much help outside of talking to his mate, so he sat beside the berth, holding Ratchet's servo and admiring how damn brave Ratchet was being.

It all went well, and before long, the screech of a newborn filled the room. Knock Out cleaned the sparkling off quickly and passed him off to Optimus so he could finish with Ratchet. Optimus took the tiny life into his servos, and the anxiety and panic was gone, replaced by absolute adoration. The little mech was writhing in his blanket, whining, optics squeezed shut. He was white, with orange and red detailing along his plating. Optimus couldn't describe the wave of joy that passed through him; he was so happy that the sparkling resembled his carrier so much. He watched the newborn's face tighten and slacken as he adjusted to the outside world, before his optics slowly opened. They were out of focus as the little mech tried to take in his surroundings. Optimus found himself looking into optics almost the same as his own. He smiled wide. This is exactly what Ratchet wanted.

"Are you done yet?" Ratchet was snapping at Knock Out.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Knock Out snarked back. "Frag, hand him his sparkling already, before he rips my helm off."

Optimus knelt beside the berth, delicately laying the mech onto Ratchet's sparkchamber. Ratchet's maternal instincts seemed to click in in an instant, and his irritation was gone. He smiled, stroking his sparkling's cheek gently, engines humming a soft tune to soothe him. Optimus didn't even realize that he had been crying, it wasn't until his vision was blurry that he wiped his optics. He sat down on the berth beside Ratchet, draping an arm around him and pulling him close. "You're a sire." Ratchet whispered.

"You're a carrier." Optimus pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"He's so damn cute." His mate laughed quietly. His optics were teary. "I love him." He smiled as the sparkling looked up at him. "Hello there, Sweetspark." The sparkling made a gurgling noise as he pet his helm.

Optimus rested his helm on Ratchet's shoulder, watching Ratchet's gentle servos stroke his sparkling. The two were watching each other, as the sparkling drew the connection to his carrier. Optimus' field wrapped around them protectively, venting happily. The little mech wiggled in surprise at the sensation, wide optics finding Optimus. Ratchet laughed.

"That's your sire, Little One." The medic purred.

Optimus stroked his son with his field affectionately, laying it over him and his carrier like a blanket. The sparkling reacted curiously, squeaking. "You look just like your carrier." He rumbled softly. "You're beautiful, just like him." He reached out to touch his helm.

"His build is similar to yours." Ratchet observed. "And those optics. . . Primus, those optics are killing me."

They stayed like that for some time, watching one another, enjoying the peace.

Bulkhead knocked on the door, his spark racing. He was admittedly panicking. When Optimus called him with the news, he had been overjoyed. A few days later, when Optimus invited him to their home, he had nearly blown a circuit. They hadn't been kidding when they told him he'd be the first to meet the sparkling. He was excited, but he was also very nervous. He had never interacted with a sparkling before. Optimus answered the door, smiling brightly. "Come in, they are in the nursery."

Bulkhead twiddled his thumbs as he marched down the hallway and into the nursery, where Ratchet sat in a chair, a small bundle in his arms. The medic greeted him with a kind smile. "Glad you could make it."

"It's really good to see you. We've all missed you so much while you've been on leave. Knock Out is convinced he is the ultimate medic now." Bulkhead mirrored the smile right back at him. His gaze lowered to the package in Ratchet's arms.

The medic pulled back the blanket a little to reveal a tiny grey face, with big, precious optics. "Would you like to meet him?"

"He's so cute," the Wrecker squeaked. "I shouldn't get close-"

Before he could finish, Optimus had taken the bundle from Ratchet and placed it in his servos. Bulkhead swallowed nervously, gathering his courage before looking down at the little mech with wide optics. The sparkling looked right back up at him curiously, gurgling and chittering. He wiggled in the swaddle. Bulkhead's spark melted right then and there. There was an overwhelming flood of adoration in his chest, and his field was alive with joy. Despite that, his frame was rigid. It was scary, holding something so fragile. With his track record of breaking things, this was a worrying interaction for him.

"He likes you." Optimus encouraged.

"What's his name?" Bulkhead couldn't tear his gaze away from his precious optics.

"Wildflower Pax." Ratchet replied fondly. "Optimus couldn't decide on a flower name, so we settled for vague."

"That's so cute." The wrecker carefully rocked the little mech. His servos stayed deathly still; he was worried about hurting the little one. "I'm so happy for you guys." He laughed as Wildflower squealed. "Everyone is going to love him."

"Rafael and Miko are demanding he be brought to Earth." Optimus rumbled. "When they heard the news, they were ecstatic."

"Once he's developed enough to go through a spacebridge, we'll pay them a visit." Ratchet rose to his pedes, leaning on a cane for support. It was temporary; his pedes were healed for the most part, but still caused him pain. He began folding blankets. "June and Fowler are intrigued. Fowler wants to know how Optimus and I spent all that time on Earth without anyone knowing about us."

"You certainly caught us all by surprise." Bulkhead nodded. "I'm not sure how you never got caught."

"Cliffjumper caught us once." Ratchet remembered out loud. "The fragger walked right into the washracks without knocking. We thought it was all over, you know how he never stopped talking. I think the only thing that kept his mouth shut was the fact that I threatened to burn his spike off."

Bulkhead blushed profusely, laughing. "Yeah, that'll do it."

Wildflower started to whine, high pitched and loud. Bulkhead panicked, figuring that he did something wrong, but Ratchet simply chuckled and scooped him up from Bulkhead's servos. "Someone's hungry." He sat back down, rocking his son and murmuring to him while Optimus disappeared down the hall to retrieve formula. "He's got a scream that can shake the walls." Ratchet kissed the sparkling's forehelm. "You're going to be a little troublemaker, aren't you?" He purred softly as the sparkling whined loudly. Optimus reentered the room and handed his mate a bottle. Ratchet began to feed him, humming softly to him. Wildflower ceased his complaints immediately. It all seemed so. . . Natural. Bulkhead knew that the medic had gentle, careful servos that he trusted with his life. But this was different, this was sweet and loving and special. And the way Optimus just knew what to do to support his mate, running to fetch formula at the sparkling's first cry.

"You've got this parenting thing down."

"For now." Optimus rolled his optics, and Bulkhead was shocked at the expression. "I'm sure he'll throw us through loops."

"He'll turn out great, though. I can't think of better role models." Bulkhead glanced between the two. He had so much admiration for the pair of mechs.

"He's going to pick up a lot of swears from me." Ratchet thought aloud, chuckling. "I don't know how I'm going to watch what I say around him."

"Miko learned a lot from you, in that sense." Bulkhead laughed.

"It's alright, I'll be around to teach him manners." Optimus purred down at his son, optics sparkling affectionately.

Bulkhead, in his spark, felt that they would be wonderful parents. They loved their son, and would work hard to give him the best possible life. He would be raised by two admirable mechs, that had been through Hell and back together. They would bring him up right, and for now, they were building a world where he'd be safe.

Wildflower, after a couple minutes of feeding, decided that he was bored, and proceeded to spit a mouthful of formula right back onto Ratchet. The medic sighed, pulling the bottle away. "Done with that, are we?" He smiled as the sparkling giggled. "You're out of control. What am I going to do with you?" He teased, stroking his cheek.

Bulkhead didn't hide his disappointment as Wheeljack pinged him. "Damn, I have to get back to the construction site." He looked between them. "It was really great seeing you, thank you for letting me meet him."

He left the mates to it, returning to his work. Before he left, Optimus gave him a picture of the sparkling to show to everyone, to hold them off until they got to meet the real one.

Wildflower was laid down for a nap, once he was all cleaned up.

Optimus drew a warm bath for his mate, pouring different sweet smelling solvents into the oil. Ratchet entered the washracks, setting the cane against the wall and sighing. "I'm over these damn burn wounds." He muttered.

"I know, Sweetspark. You're almost there." Optimus took his servo and pulled him over to the tub. He scooped Ratchet up and stepped into the warm oil, lowering down into it. "He made a mess of you." He observed.

Ratchet glanced down at his chest. It was caked in dried formula. "He's lucky he's so damn cute." He shook his helm, laughing. "Not unlike you."

Optimus leaned forward and caught his lips. After a moment, however, he pulled away, laughing. "You. . . You taste like formula."

"I'm not fragging surprised, it's all over me." Ratchet's ventilations hitched at the way Optimus laughed, covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. He didn't get to hear that very often. He reached forward and cupped his helm. "I don't deserve you, Optimus. Scrap, you're just so damn handsome."

The Prime shifted to lay beside him, burying his face into Ratchet's neck cabling. The solvent in the oil made him smell nice. He vented happily.

Everything turned out just fine.

Megatron found himself dipping into Cybertron's galaxy every year or two, to glimpse what was being done with the planet. It was flourishing. He would never admit this, but Optimus had done a wonderful job bringing Cybertron back to life.

It had been twelve years since Megatron had actually set foot on its surface. He wanted nothing to do with Optimus and his empire, he was a symbol of war and oppression. He had no place there, not anymore. He was strong enough to accept that.

But something about this driveby made him hesitate. A certain curiosity.

Megatron landed his ship in the very first city, admiring how much it had grown. It glowed, tall office and apartment buildings, sweet little housing units, playgrounds, energon dispensaries, crystal gardens. . . It possessed the necessities. But even in its simplicity, it was grand.

He pulled a cloak over his helm and shoulders. All he wanted was a brief walk, a look. He wasn't sure what reactions he would find if he just marched out of his ship. He'd look sketchy and suspicious under a cloak, but at least others wouldn't know it was him.

Slowly, leisurely, he followed a path through the beautiful town, admiring the craftsmanship of the walkway, the small fences surrounding the housing units, everything. It was so full of love and care. High pitched shrieks announced the presence of children. He wasn't surprised, but he was intrigued. He hadn't seen a Cybertronian child since long before the war.

Megatron stopped to observe a playground. Mechlings and femlings were running around, shouting, tumbling down slides, pushing one another on the swingset, enjoying the sunny day. He watched the pleasant sight, enjoying the peace it instilled in him.

Something hit his pede. He startled, looking down to find a ball that had escaped the fun. A mechling was jogging towards him.

"Excuse me, may I have that please?" The mech asked politely.

Megatron was late to responding, he was caught by the child's optics. He found himself looking right into the face of Orion Pax, only. . . His colors were white, red and orange. Had he simply seen the mech's body, he wouldn't have spared a second glance, but those optics. . .

This had to be Optimus' son. Megatron finally reached down and plucked up the ball, handing it to the young mech wordlessly.

"Thank you!"

Megatron watched him run back to a small group of other kids, where they gathered in a circle and began kicking the ball back and forth. The little mech was laughing brightly, in a way that resembled Orion Pax. Megatron felt like he was looking into the past, where his old friend's colors had just been a little different.

This was enough exploring for him. Megatron traveled back to his ship silently, ignoring the strange looks he received. He wondered if his signal popped up on the Nemesis. He wondered if Optimus even cared that he was around.

He left Cybertron, once again.