Chapter Text
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For the very first time, Bumblebee was going to have a babysitter.
Elita and Optimus were both going to be busy with meetings and prep work for the next raid on Decepticon forces, and neither could save the time to watch their son for the next day and a half. When Optimus made the mistake of mentioning his and Elita's time constraints with tending to Bumblebee, at least half of the bots in the cafeteria rushed the Prime while bellowing out their individual pleads to babysit the sparkling. Ultra Magnus nearly put the base in lockdown from all the chaos, thinking an assassin had taken a chance at snuffing the Autobot leader.
The SIC, for once, understood the circumstances leading up to the mob and was cheeky enough to put in a good word for himself after the fact.
"If anything, Sir, I believe my skills would serve well in your offered position as Bumblebee's temporary caretaker. I am capable of keeping my emotions at bay, thus I won't be at risk of forming attachments that may cloud my judgment in the foreseeable future."
Optimus held back a sigh. "I will...keep that in mind when I pick someone, Ultra Magnus."
His SIC was most definitely not a candidate, after hearing that.
The only bot that didn't poke him for a chance at babysitting was Jazz. The even-tempered cheif saboteur of the Autobots wasn't one to beg for an opportunity, as he believed that great things come to those who wait.
Said mech was currently playing his speakers quietly while sorting through a mess of datapads on his desk, oblivious to the Prime's appearance in his office entrance. The saboteur glanced down at a silver bassinet, smiling at the occupant.
Optimus knew he could count on his TIC to keep an eye (and a hidden camera) on the youngest member of the Autobots.
Bumblebee cackled in delight when Jazz gave him attention, his gummy smile ever present. The baby bot took no notice of the older bots' greeting eachother, too distracted by the discovery of his left hand. He popped the tiny servo into his mouth, sucking on each digit curiously.
"I wanted to check in with Bumblebee. I hope his antics have not been too much of a distraction." The Prime continued. Though he knew his old friend could handle more than what a sparkling could throw at him, he still remained considerate.
Of course, Jazz laughed at the thought of Bumblebee being a distraction. "To tell you the truth, Prime. Bumblebee here's been my little cheerleader ever since the Missus Commander dropped him off. Ain't that right, lil' babe? You like helpin' me with my work?" The saboteur and the Prime gazed down at Bumblebee.
"BEH!" The baby laid on his large pillow in the bassinet, chewing on his pede before he was addressed. He stretched his arms out to Optimus.
"Uh! Uh! Dada!"
Optimus understood the gesture and carefully picked up his son with tender hands, thumbing away a drool stain from the youngling's cheek. "There," he hummed, only to get his finger caught by tiny hands right after. He let Bumblebee chew on his digit, chuckling to himself. "What am I to do with you, little one?"
"Good question, 'specially with everyone wanting to babysit him while you and Elita work that triple shift."
"Do not remind me." The Prime held Bumblebee in the crook of his arm, his opposite hand still trapped in the baby's maw. "I have had endless mobs of both recruits and higher-ups throwing themselves at me."
"Be less of a pain if that mob consisted of femmes." Jazz teased, earning a flat look from the usually neutral-faced leader. It was the Prime's way of showing slight amusement.
"What concerns me is that not many of these mechs have even seen a sparkling before, much less know how to care for one."
"I can understand your reluctance. Never had any kids myself, but I've had some run-ins with them back when...." Jazz's visor brightened suddenly. "HEY!"
Bumblebee jumped in Optimus' arm, the Prime's own spark skipping a beat when the saboteur shouted.
"Why didn't I think of it sooner?! I can watch the lil' tyke for you and Elita!" He exclaimed, pointing to himself with a thumb to his chassis.
"Uu...uu...uhn! UHN!" Bumblebee began to whimper, signaling to the mechs that someone was about to cry.
Jazz grimaced while Optimus tried bouncing his son. "Work must be frying my processor if it took you of all mechs to point that out to me." The Prime heard a mocking gasp.
"Aw, ya cut me deep, Orion!" The TIC feigned offense. "But you can count on me to keep your boy safe and sound!"
Optimus heard his comm go off, indicating an officer needed his assistance. "I am glad to hear that, old friend. Because I have a task for you already." The Prime held up his quibbling son, giving him a quick nuzzle of their forehelms together.
"What is it?" Jazz beamed, suddenly given the upset sparkling.
"Attempt to soothe Bumblebee."
"Whu--!" Jazz stammered, not realizing how upset Bumblebee had been from being startled. The little one was even more distressed as he watched his father leave the office. He whimpered and reached out with his arms, squealing to summon the Prime back.
"I will return, little spark." Optimus spoke over his shoulder as he disappeared behind sliding doors.
"Hey now, Daddy'll be back soon." Jazz crooned to the quibbling infant, only to receive an aggravated squeal. Bumblebee wasn't having it.
The saboteur decided to let his speakers work their musical magic, a feint click and a turn of a few frequencies summoned a quiet melody consisting of soft string instruments joined with the chimes of metallic precussion.
The lullaby seemed to soothe Bumblebee, making his impending meltdown downgrade to crocodile tears. The baby pressed his face into the crook of Jazz's neck, sobbing to himself.
The saboteur sighed, his own bond link reaching out to Bumblebee's quivering spark. Despite not being related to him, Jazz had developed a guardian bond with the child. He was one of the few bots blessed with the title of godparent to Bumblebee, the others being Ratchet, Ironhide, and Arcee. Cherished comrades they all were, and each were honored to be given the title.
"We'll be spending more time together soon, lil' bug. Better get used to my hold. 'S not as comforting as your Momma's or your Old Mech's, but ya gotta comprise in war."
The soft tunes eased Bumblebee into a lull for the rest of the shift. Jazz only got a quarter of his paperwork done, but shushing and carrying his godson around was so much more fulfilling. And important. Babies can't wait like office work can.
Jazz recived a comm notification from Optimus that very evening when he locked up, Bumblebee hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder as he slept.
"I am afraid neither I nor Elita can put Bumblebee down for the cycle. I have no right in asking, but can your job start tonight?"
Jazz simply chuckled. "You know this is just one big vacation for me, Prime. Don't think you're pushing me to my limit now, Uncle J's got it!" Jazz commed back, suddenly becoming aware of an all too content Bumblebee.
Looking down at the baby he adjusted to lay in his arms, Jazz immediately grimaced when he smelled something stale waifing up from Bumblebee.
"You gotta be kiddin' me, lil' dude. I haven't even fed you yet." The TIC groaned, watching Bumblebee's optics gleam with cheekiness. The little guy did this to Ratchet all the time, and he knew he could get away with it.
Jazz snickered. "You nasty." He poked Bumblebee's cheek, earning a giggle from the infant.
Though the infant didn't like what happened next; getting his tank cover changed. He started to whimper and fuss, rolling back and forth on the changing in the nursery Elita had put together before he was born. Though it had once been an ammo storage room, the femme commander had the help of First Aid and Ratchet to scrub it clean and babyproof it from top to bottom. Moonracer and Firestar had put together simple yet nicely done furniture to serve Bumblebee and Elita's needs. It wasn't as lovely as the normal sparkling nurseries were before the war, but Elita and Optimus were thankful they had a space for their son to rest and play in safely. Even if it was on the smaller side, and the room itself was an industrial artifact, the little family had never felt so comfortable. Even compared to their quarters, Optimus and Elita would more often than not rest with Bumblebee in the nursery on their days off or during periods of healing. Every spare second was dedicated to their charge.
So it was a welcomed sight to Jazz when he entered the nursery to change the little one. He tutted at the fussy sparkling as he wrestled with tiny kicking pedes.
"Oh hushup now, I ain't gonna weld ya up like mean ol' Uncle Ratchet dose." The saboteur scolded softly. He glanced around after Bumblebee kicked him away again, looking for something to distract the kid.
A soft blue petro-rabbit plush Elita had made caught Jazz's eye. He picked it up from the nearby shelf and shook it gently in front of Bumblebee's vision. "Here's your lil' buddy, Bee. Why don't you catch up with him?" He offered the toy, pleasing the infant.
Bumblebee gurgled and took the plush doll into his arms, putting his mouth to its face and sucked on the fabric. While he was distracted, Jazz got to work.
The TIC wasn't easily grossed out by less than glamorous tasks, but he couldn't blame Ratchet for being squeamish about waste product. He performed his job with diligence. And Bumblebee didn't protest, too busy cuddling his plaything and venting in his mother's scent that coated it. Though he did cackle like crazy as he kept kicking his legs, making Jazz struggle with putting on the new tank cover.
The TIC gave the sparkling a flat look, only to be met with another denta-lacking grin. Jazz sighed, smiling. "Ah, I can't get mad at that sweet faceplate of yours. No wonder you got the whole crew at your mercy."
"Guh!" Bumblebee grunted, hiding his face behind his rabbit doll, only to shyly peek at Jazz a second later, smile and all.
The saboteur chuckled and finished the task at hand, picking him back up to lay him on his shoulder. "Now, I guess we can let you have something to eat before you pass out. Got night shift, so I'll check up on you once an' awhile..." Jazz spoke, looking around for the small cooling compartment Elita had comm'd him about.
"...Not that you understand a single word I'm sayin'...This war makin' me talk to myself like ol' Kup. " He mumbled, picking up a bottle of pumped bio-energon Elita had made earlier. "Ah-hah! Here we are."
The Autobot TIC adjusted Bumblebee to lay in the crook of his elbow, resting his weight on one leg as he stood in that small yet cozy nursery. It'd been ages since he had relaxed like this...
"Hungry, bug?" He shook the bottle in his hand while Bumblebee grugled, reaching out to the enticing drink.
"There, Primus bless our fill." Jazz recited a quick devotion, then stuck the bottle nub into the sparkling's intake.
Predictably, Bumblebee had a large appetite and spared no time to savor the bio-energon as he inhaled gulp after gulp. One would think he was starving if not for his chubby body. Jazz was impressed, whistling to himself.
"Dang mech, Ratchet wasn't kiddin' when he called you an Energon leech."
Bumblebee drank his fill, still sucking at the rubber nipple when he emptied his bottle. Jazz chuckled at this, gently tugging. "It's all gone, lil' dude, come on now. Let go. You ain't gonna find no more."
With a soft pop and an upset grunt, Bumblebee was pried off. He gave the saboteur the dirtiest look a baby his age could muster.
Jazz resisted the urge to throw his head back in a hearty laugh, instead snickering as he met Bumblebee's adorable angry gaze. "Why you mad at me? I didn't drink it all up, that was you! You only got yourself to blame."
"Mmm!" Bumblebee growled, only for a hiccup to serve as a distraction. His big blue optics widened in surprise.
Jazz crooned at the reaction, setting the sparkling on his shoulder. "You cute when you tryin' to be angry." He patted the baby's backplate gently, soon earning a tiny burp and squeak.
Bumblebee was changed, fed and ready for bed. "You tired now? Cuz I am." Jazz wiped a clean rag on Bumblebee's mouth, making sure no spit up was present. "Forgot how much a baby can take out of you..."
"Dada..." Bumblebee mumbled, locking optics with his caretaker. Jazz sighed at the heartbreaking sight.
The sparkling whimpered, only to be soothed by Jazz's shushing. The saboteur turned on his speakers, a melody quietly playing. The Autobot then revealed one secret to the fussy baby; his gift of song.
"Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December "
Bumblebee had begun crying, though the strange sounds Jazz made began to intrigue him.
"But the days grow short when you reach September"
The baby bot's sobs reduced to hiccups and sad coos, but Jazz thumbed away the tears as he sang.
"When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game"
The saboteur smiled at the sparkling, his visor gleaming with adoration. Bumblebee blinked slowly, now enchanted by Jazz's raspy yet tender sounding voice.
"Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you"
Jazz swayed as he sang to Bumblebee, slowly approaching the berth adapted with sideguards, courtesy of Wheeljack. The Autobot picked up a small blue blanket and wrapped up Bumblebee.
"These precious days I'll spend with you"
The saboteur finished singing, and was met with the reason him and his comrades kept on fighting; Bumblebee's optics had closed long before the song ended, his chubby faceplates relaxed as his mouth hung open, the feint breaths hissing in and out while his tiny chassis rose and fell. The sparkling was out like a light.
It'd be an understatement to say that Jazz was proud of himself, as he was already planning on gloating to Prime how amazing he was as a babysitter to Bumblebee. The former culture agent and gifted crooner decided to add the title of nanny to his job portfolio. Who knows? After this war, more sparklings will come around, and busy young parents needed someone to watch their babies every now and then.
A sneeze interrupted the mech's thoughts, making his spark skip a beat. His optics shot down to Bumblebee's profile. The baby merely gurgled and continued sleeping.
Thank Primus.
Jazz slid back his visor, ex-venting softly. He crept out of the nursery, cautious in every step.
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