Chapter Text
Starscream sat at their shared mirror, focused and meticulous, his talons gliding carefully over his plating as he applied a fresh coat of polish. Every so often, he would pause to add tiny specks of gleaming paint, barely-there flecks that caught the light in soft, shimmering hues.
He leaned in closer, inspecting his reflection with a critical optic, adjusting a delicate line near his cheek.
In the glass, he caught a glimpse of movement — Skyfire, lounging on the edge of the berth, watching him with a look Starscream couldn't quite decipher.
Frowning faintly, the seeker stilled his servo and turned, twisting fully around to face him.
"What?" he asked, his voice edged in suspicion. "Is there something on my face? Did I smudge something?"
Skyfire only shook his head, a small, secretive smile curling his lips.
Without a word, he pushed off the berth and crossed the room, looming over Starscream’s seated frame. Then, with absolutely no warning, Skyfire dipped low and pressed a soft kiss to the side of the seeker's enstril— a fleeting touch that was more warmth than weight.
Starscream gave a sharp, startled chirp, his wings fluttering instinctively as he jerked back a little.
He stared up at Skyfire, wide-eyed, vents flaring with flustered confusion.
"What was that for?!" he barked, his voice higher than intended.
Skyfire chuckled quietly, the sound deep and fond. "Just showing a little appreciation for you," he said, his voice a low murmur that somehow made the small room feel even smaller.
Starscream could feel his internal systems heat up with embarrassment, the edges of his vents practically glowing.
He didn't hate the attention — far from it — but he still hadn't figured out how to properly respond to it without feeling like a foolish sparkling.
No matter how long they'd been courting, Skyfire always managed to catch him off guard with how... effortlessly affectionate he could be.
Grumbling, Starscream whipped back around to face the mirror again, feigning disinterest as he returned to his work.
"If I watch too many drama and horror vids, then you've certainly been gorging yourself on too much romance," he muttered, dabbing carefully at a spot along his helmline.
Skyfire laughed, a quiet huff of breath through his vents. "I feel like half the drama you watch could technically count as romance," he teased.
"Not when they all secretly hate each other," Starscream shot back, deadpan, catching Skyfire’s reflection grinning at him like he was the most amusing thing in the galaxy.
Skyfire's helm tilted slightly, his expression shifting as he picked up on something — a soft ping from the comms, barely audible unless you were listening for it.
Moments later, Starscream's own comm chimed.
With a resigned sigh, he accepted the incoming call.
"Are you two almost done? We'd like to get there early before the place is completely packed," came Perceptor’s familiar voice across the link, tinged with mild amusement.
Before Starscream could so much as reply, Skyfire leaned down and answered first, sounding far too smug:
"As soon as Starscream is done fussing over his face, we'll be good."
Starscream whipped his head around to glare at him, scandalized.
Skyfire only winked, utterly unrepentant, laughing when Starscream stuck his glossa out at him in a childish, irritated gesture.
Turning back to the mirror with a huff, Starscream jabbed at the comm.
"I'm almost done," he snapped, his tone full of righteous indignation. "None of you rush me."
He cut the line before anyone else could get a word in — though judging by the soft wheeze of laughter Skyfire tried (and failed) to suppress, Starscream could only imagine the snarky remarks being passed around behind his back.
For a petty moment, he debated taking extra long just out of spite.
But, as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to be there early too — before the inevitable throngs of Cybertronians made the event a mess of sound and heat.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle crowds... he just didn’t particularly enjoy being packed in among so many bodies, all jostling and pressing and heating the air unbearably.
And this was no ordinary festival.
The Festival of Primus’ Sword was one of the grandest celebrations on Cybertron, held only on rare nights when the ancient constellation shone bright and visible overhead.
In Iacon, it was practically a planetary event — vendors, celebrations, and even parades filling the streets.
Back in Vos, they had celebrated it too, though the focus had always been different.
For the Vosian Seekers, it wasn’t just about Primus’ legendary victory over his sister, Unicron; it was also a day to honor Itami Prime — the mythical seeker said to have been directly gifted by Primus himself with the ability to guide lost sparks through the stars.
A day of pride, of remembrance.
A day Starscream remembered... and missed.
He fiddled with one last detail on his paint, casting a sideways glance at Skyfire, who was still hovering nearby, hands stuffed innocently behind his back as if trying very hard not to rush him.
Starscream’s lips quirked up faintly despite himself.
They would be ready soon enough.
And this time, he wouldn’t mind stepping into the crowded city, so long as Skyfire was right there beside him.
Ever so slowly, Starscream's ruby optics slid up to meet Skyfire’s soft, expectant blues.
The brush in his hand wavered, hovering mid-air — and then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered it, the corners of his mouth tugging into a sly, wicked little smirk.
Skyfire’s own mouth twitched, betraying how hard he was trying not to laugh.
“Definitely not rushing you,” Skyfire said, voice dripping with false innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But... are you done yet?”
Starscream tilted his helm slightly, his expression the very picture of mock contemplation.
With excruciating deliberation, he pressed the brush onto the table and rose to his pedes, stretching his arms above his head as though he had all the time in the universe.
"Hmm," he hummed theatrically, tapping a talon against his chin. "That still remains to be seen, dear shuttle. Did we remember to water the garden? Add their nutrient supplements? Perhaps we should do that before we leave—"
He didn’t get the chance to finish.
With a loud, exaggerated groan, Skyfire surged forward, scooping Starscream right off the floor and into his arms as though he weighed nothing at all.
The seeker let out a startled squawk, laughing helplessly as Skyfire carried him toward the door.
"Yes, yes! I did it as soon as we woke up from recharge, you tease!" Skyfire huffed, clearly exasperated but grinning all the while.
Starscream thumped his fist lightly against Skyfire’s shoulder plating in mock protest, still laughing.
Once they reached the threshold outside, the shuttle finally relented, setting Starscream down with exaggerated care.
Starscream patted his arm with a dignified little nod — as if he had allowed it — before taking the lead, dragging Skyfire forward by the servo.
They made their way down the broad plaza avenues, servos twined together, the soft hum of approaching festivities growing louder with every step.
Ahead, two familiar frames came into view — Wheeljack waving a servo high above his head, Perceptor standing beside him with a fond smile.
"Took you guys long enough! The sun’s gonna dip any minute!" Wheeljack hollered as they approached.
Starscream huffed, wings giving a small, unimpressed flick.
"Isn’t that the point of the festival? You know — for it to be dark out?"
Wheeljack flashed a grin full of denta. "You know what I meant, smart-aft."
Skyfire chuckled warmly, casting his gaze around the gathering crowds.
"I thought we were all meeting up to go together. Where’s Sunburst?"
Perceptor let out a soft, almost musical chuckle, his optics glinting with amusement.
"You know that femme she was talking about? Turns out she agreed to go out with our dear Sunburst. They decided to head off early together — just the two of them."
Starscream perked up immediately, optics bright.
"Really? How’d she do it? When? When did she ask?"
He couldn't help it — part of him had been genuinely rooting for her. All those random late-night advice sessions he’d been roped into hadn't been for nothing after all.
Not that he’d ever admit he'd been just as anxious about the outcome as Sunburst herself.
Perceptor chuckled again. "A few solar cycles ago, I think. Though... would’ve been nice if she’d told us sooner."
Wheeljack let out a put-upon sigh, tossing his servos dramatically into the air.
"I mean, yeah! We could’ve planned a proper send-off!"
Starscream snorted, crossing his arms. "Honestly, I’m not surprised she kept it quiet. She probably didn’t want you two scaring the poor femme off."
"I am charming, thank you very much," Wheeljack shot back with a wide grin.
"And besides," Perceptor added smoothly, "you and Wheeljack do have a certain... creative streak."
Starscream narrowed his optics suspiciously. "Creative how?"
Skyfire coughed into his fist, muttering just loud enough to be heard, "Creative at being terrifying."
"Thank you for that fine compliment," Wheeljack said breezily, clapping Skyfire on the back hard enough to make the big shuttle stagger a step.
Without missing a beat, Wheeljack spun around and started walking toward the festival gates.
"Now let’s move before we end up stuck in a line a klick long!"
No one had any objections to that.
The group fell into step, their voices and laughter weaving together with the growing buzz of the crowd as the last sliver of sun dipped below the gleaming spires of Iacon, casting the city into a wash of twilight gold and neon blue.
The sky had deepened into a velvety twilight by the time they reached the heart of Iacon, the city's towering spires gleaming against the darkness like starlit blades.
The festival grounds, fenced off by high gates strung with glowing lights, loomed ahead.
Despite arriving early, a sizable line had already formed — a slow-moving river of excited voices and glinting armor.
Resigned, the group made their way to the back, falling into a familiar rhythm.
While they waited, Wheeljack and Starscream immediately broke into a quiet, playful bickering match, tossing sharp remarks back and forth like sparring partners, while Skyfire and Perceptor leaned together, murmuring about the latest tweaks to their respective projects.
They ignored the occasional curious glance tossed their way. Flyers, especially seekers, were still a rare sight in Iacon — a city where most preferred ground to air.
But it was the festival, after all, and most simply shrugged and turned back to their conversations.
Finally — mercifully — as true night fell and the constellation of Primus’ Sword blazed into view overhead, the gates creaked open, and the crowd surged forward.
Starscream wasted no time voicing his opinion.
"Thank Primus," he hissed under his breath. "Honestly, just open the gates for everyone. Why make it such a convoluted ordeal?"
"I think it’s for security," Skyfire offered mildly. "They’re just checking for anything dangerous."
Starscream snorted, wings twitching in annoyance. "Please. Who in their right processor would bring something dangerous to a festival for Primus? It’s been stellar cycles since any Unicron cultists crawled out of their scrap piles."
Skyfire shifted awkwardly, glancing up at the brilliant sky.
"Well... you never know. The world does suck sometimes," he mumbled.
Wheeljack waved a dismissive servo through the air.
"Yeah, yeah — enough gloom. We’re here; let’s have fun!" He clapped Skyfire on the back hard enough to make him stagger. "There’s a booth I heard about—it sells Energon snacks from all over Cybertron. I bet they’ve got some nice rust sticks~," he added, throwing a smug look at Starscream.
At the mention of rust sticks, Starscream visibly perked up, optics brightening with an almost childish excitement.
What could he say? Rust sticks were a rare and perfect treasure, second only to Skyfire — and Skyfire was very much an exception to all rules.
With their priorities properly aligned, they headed straight for the food stalls first.
The booth Wheeljack had mentioned was crowded but colorful, filled with the rich scents of different energon treats. Starscream immediately set about acquiring an armful of various rust stick containers, each flavor more exotic than the last.
Wheeljack, predictably, after getting his own snacks, found himself a ridiculous-looking "safe replica" sword of Primus — the craftsmanship so bad it looked like it might fall apart if he sneezed too hard.
Perceptor, after much deliberation, picked out a strange little spinning object — a toy typically meant for sparklings — but he seemed utterly delighted by it, holding it up to the light with scientific fascination.
Starscream, licking a trace of energon from his fingers, glanced around — and spotted Skyfire lingering near a jewelry booth, peering down at the display.
Curious, Starscream weaved through the crowd and came up beside him, glancing down at the selection.
Most of the pieces were... well, frankly ugly. Sloppy welds, cheap plating. Certainly nothing that deserved to be worn by anyone with dignity.
But he said nothing aloud — if Skyfire liked any of it, he wasn't going to be the one to spoil it.
"Thinking about getting something?" Starscream asked lightly, cocking his helm.
Skyfire smiled faintly and shook his head.
"No. Just looking," he said, then leaned in conspiratorially, voice low. "Honestly, most of it looks... pretty terrible."
Starscream's mouth curled into a smirk.
"Glad we’re on the same page," he purred, reaching out to snag Skyfire’s servo and tugging him gently away from the booth.
There was no point lingering where none of the so-called badazzlements actually badazzled.
As they strolled away, Skyfire tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Seekers usually like jewelry, don’t they? I’ve seen you with some pieces, but you never wear any of it."
Starscream glanced sidelong at him, wings giving a slow, idle flick.
"Not all seekers," he corrected lazily. "We have individual tastes, you know."
Skyfire’s optics widened slightly in apology.
"Right — sorry. That was a generalization."
Starscream chuckled softly, a rare, genuine sound.
"I do like jewelry," he admitted. "But... I don’t trust most people not to touch it. Or steal it."
Mainly Swampell — that thieving glitch could spot a trinket from half a city away.
Skyfire hummed thoughtfully, considering that, before smiling.
"That makes sense. You know," he added, voice dropping a little, "shuttles have a custom with jewelry."
Starscream immediately leaned closer, curious.
He loved hearing about Skyfire’s old customs — those glimpses of a life that had shaped him before they had ever crossed paths.
"Please," Starscream said, voice rich and inviting, "do tell."
Skyfire chuckled warmly before explaining, "When shuttles want to take the next step in courting, they craft jewelry from something that has real sentimental value — something small, something that can survive space travel. We usually don’t wear it openly; we just... keep it close."
Starscream felt a soft, pleasant heat rise beneath his plating as Skyfire gave him a long, meaningful look.
He masked it with a sharp smirk, refusing to let himself get too flustered.
"Seekers have something similar," he said casually. "We leave gifts. Not just anything — gifts that show we know our partner. Things meant to impress."
Skyfire's smile deepened, his optics soft with unspoken warmth.
Starscream, feeling dangerously close to combusting under that gaze, quickly looked away — pretending to study the crowd instead.
Yes, Skyfire was definitely thinking about all those little pots of flora Starscream had absolutely, definitely, categorically not been leaving for him.
Clearing his intake with a cough, Starscream trotted after Wheeljack and Perceptor without another word, letting the thrum of the festival crowd swallow his flustered thoughts whole.
They drifted through the festival, lingering at a few performances scattered along the wide-open thoroughfare — holographic displays of ancient Cybertronian tales, energon-fire dancers twisting like living flames, singers whose voices carried clear and bright into the night.
Starscream, growing increasingly irritable with the thickening crowds around their pedes, eventually hoisted himself up onto Skyfire’s broad shoulder with little ceremony.
It wasn’t just for practicality — he liked the height.
Liked being able to look down over the sea of mechs, the strings of lights, the festival tents like colorful ripples below them.
From up here, the world seemed a little less suffocating.
But even perched high above, Starscream noticed something off.
Skyfire’s frame, usually so relaxed beneath him, had gone stiff. His stride had shortened, movements more jerky, more uncertain.
At first, Starscream said nothing. Maybe the shuttle just wanted to move on, maybe he was tired.
So they carried on, weaving between booths and crowds, Perceptor and Wheeljack running ahead, squealing with delight over some new curiosity they’d spotted.
Still, Skyfire was silent.
And the crowds kept growing.
A slow, almost invisible swell at first — just a few more shoulder bumps, a few more muttered apologies — until suddenly, they were packed in so tightly that even Starscream, riding high, felt the pressure.
The crush of bodies closed in.
The noise became a constant roar, the bright lights of the stalls blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Starscream’s wings tucked tight to his back by instinct, unease coiling cold in his lines.
This was too much.
He shifted slightly — and that’s when he felt it.
The trembling beneath him.
He glanced down sharply, optics narrowing — and what he saw made his spark lurch.
Skyfire stood rigid, staring ahead with a distant, glassy look in his optics. His intakes hitched in rapid, shallow bursts — too fast, too sharp, wrong.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Without a second thought, Starscream launched himself down from Skyfire’s shoulder, uncaring when his wings smacked into nearby mechs, drawing irritated grumbles and protests.
He used his wings ruthlessly, snapping them wide to shove others aside, carving a little space around them.
Reaching up, he placed his servos lightly — carefully — against Skyfire’s chassis where he could reach.
"Hey, Sky," he said aloud, keeping his voice low, soothing. "Can you hear me?"
No response.
Starscream cursed under his breath and switched tactics, pinging Skyfire over their private commline.
'Skyfire, focus on me.'
The shuttle jolted faintly at the comm’s sharp intimacy, blinking down at Starscream, finally seeing him.
"There you are," Starscream murmured. He softened his voice further, threading steadiness into every syllable.
"Just focus on me. I'll get us out of here, okay?"
Skyfire gave a small, jerky nod — more instinct than true understanding — and Starscream wasted no time.
He grabbed the larger mech’s trembling servo in both of his own, anchoring him, tugging him forward.
"Move!" Starscream barked at the crowd, shoving and snarling when mechs didn’t part fast enough. "Get out of the way!"
The crowd wasn’t cruel — just dense and oblivious — but it was still agonizing, fighting through what felt like an endless wall of armor and noise and flashing lights.
Starscream gritted his denta, pulling Skyfire step by painful step through the tide, Skyfire’s trembling getting worse the longer they were trapped.
It felt like vorns before they finally stumbled free, breaking past the last cluster of mechs into blessed, open space.
Starscream spotted a bench tucked beneath one of the towering streetlights and immediately steered Skyfire toward it, gently easing the big mech down.
He perched beside him, careful to leave enough space, not wanting to crowd him further.
For a few moments, there was only the harsh rasp of Skyfire’s intakes and the distant hum of the festival still roaring behind them.
Starscream flexed his talons against the bench's hard surface, unsure. His processor raced — frag, he should have noticed sooner, should have gotten them out before it got this bad.
Busy crowds sucked even for seeker builds; he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be for someone Skyfire’s size, so accustomed to open skies.
He drew a slow, shaky breath and reached out, voice low.
"We made it out, Sky. It’s okay now. You're safe."
Skyfire didn’t answer. His optics were unfocused, still struggling, intakes rattling unevenly.
Think. Think.
Then — a memory, old but bright: Thundercracker coaxing him through a panic; Skywarp counting off numbers, patient and silly.
And Skyfire himself — once sitting back in their old dorm room, coaching an overwhelmed Starscream back to the world.
He straightened up, determined.
"Okay, okay," Starscream said aloud, as much for himself as for Skyfire.
"Can you count to ten for me?" he asked, his voice coaxing and steady.
Skyfire’s optics flickered toward him, lost and wide.
"I’ll do it with you," Starscream added quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile.
He mouthed the first number silently, holding up a single clawed digit — a clear, simple cue.
Skyfire's mouth opened shakily — and a strained, whispery "One" escaped him.
Starscream’s wings twitched in relief, but he swallowed down the chirp of happiness that wanted to bubble up, keeping himself calm for Skyfire's sake.
Instead, he smiled wider, nodding in encouragement.
They went on, slow and careful.
"Two," Skyfire managed.
"Three," Starscream chimed in softly.
With each number, Skyfire’s intakes grew a little steadier, his trembling eased.
By the time they finally reached "ten," the shuttle's frame had stopped shaking quite so violently, his optics no longer so unfocused.
Still silent, Skyfire reached out — and Starscream barely had a second to react before he was pulled into a tight embrace, Skyfire’s face pressing into the smaller mech’s chest.
Starscream let out a soft "oof," scrambling a bit to reposition himself, half-climbing into Skyfire’s lap so the hug wouldn’t crush him.
He didn't care about the awkwardness or the way his freshly polished armor was scuffing against the shuttle's plates.
None of that mattered.
He wrapped his arms around Skyfire's broad shoulders and pressed his cheek lightly to his helm, murmuring soft reassurances he barely even realized he was saying.
They were safe.
They were together.
And that was all that mattered.
His comm pinged quietly — a message from Perceptor asking where they were.
Starscream thumbed a quick reply:
'We needed a breather. Heading back to the lab. You guys have fun without us.'
They had done more than enough for one night. Starscream, sure as slag, wasn’t going to drag Skyfire back into that chaos after what had happened.
He tightened his grip just slightly around the shuttle’s shoulders, still sitting in absolute silence.
It wasn’t until a small flicker from the streetlight above them hummed that Skyfire finally spoke — his voice soft, almost breaking apart.
"Thank you," the shuttle murmured, reluctant to release his hold on Starscream, as if afraid the moment might shatter.
Starscream huffed under his vents, trying to hide the way his spark thrummed at the simple, heartfelt words.
"I just did the bare minimum," he grumbled, cheeks flushing. "Nothing worth being grateful for."
Skyfire shook his head slowly, earnest and unshakable.
"No," he said, voice trembling but sure. "I’m serious, Star. Thank you."
Starscream faltered.
There was a look in Skyfire’s optics — something so raw and full of adoration it almost physically knocked the breath from him.
He didn’t know how to take it, didn’t know how to hold something so delicate and huge in his servos.
So, Starscream did the only thing he could think of — he changed the subject, his voice hitching awkwardly.
"Let’s head back, yeah? I think I ate too many rust sticks," he mumbled, scowling at the ground.
Skyfire’s laughter — bright, real — filled the night air, and that alone was enough to make the seeker's spark sing with relief.
The shuttle nodded, letting Starscream guide him, shoulder brushing shoulder, the two retracing their steps all the way back toward the Academy grounds.
The night slipped away behind them.
And, for a while, life simply went on.
They attended classes.
Starscream filled his spare time clinging to Skyfire’s side as much as was socially acceptable (and often beyond that), pestering Sunburst endlessly about every detail of her secret date with the mystery femme.
He tended the tiny garden when Skyfire couldn’t, coaxing stubborn plants into bloom with a fierce pride.
But even as the days passed, something lingered.
Something new, something bright, hanging quietly in the air between them like the first glimmers of a star being born.
One evening, while watering the large, hardy Vosian Crystal flower they had cultivated together, Starscream noticed something strange.
Caught among the deep blue petals was a glint of something — something crafted, something deliberate.
Frowning slightly, he plucked it free, careful not to damage the delicate plant.
It was a pendant — small, almost shyly made, but beautiful.
The crystalline surface caught the light, casting fractured rainbows against his claws.
The color — he realized with a sharp intake — was nearly identical to the flower itself.
Looking closer, he could see the intricate veins of a petal, protected beneath a layer of clear, hardened resin.
It wasn't just like the flower.
It was the flower — part of it, lovingly preserved.
His spark skipped wildly in his chest.
He barely noticed Skyfire approach until a warm voice, so soft it almost blended into the evening, said,
"Woah. Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer now too, Star."
Starscream spun around, optics wide.
Skyfire stood there, his entire face lit up with a smile so hopelessly dopey and lovestruck that Starscream’s systems nearly glitched.
In the shuttle’s servo, he held a second pendant — slightly larger, but unmistakably crafted from the same source.
"You—you..." Starscream stammered, gripping his own pendant tighter.
He couldn’t form words. Could barely think around the roaring static of his spark pounding in his audials.
"These are..." he finally managed, voice thin.
"Custom," Skyfire said, a little breathless himself. "Made specifically. Using the first gift you ever gave me."
Starscream’s wings twitched violently — a physical manifestation of the overwhelming joy buzzing through him.
A quiet churr escaped him before he could stop it, high and tremulous.
"You said..." he began, struggling to keep his voice steady, "you said shuttles did this when they... when they wanted to take things further."
Skyfire’s smile turned soft, so tender it nearly broke Starscream all over again.
"And I recall you saying seekers gave large numbers of gifts when they wanted the same."
Starscream huffed, pretending to be annoyed, even as the tips of his wings trembled with pure happiness.
"They were very hard to get, you know," he grumbled.
Skyfire laughed — a real, unguarded laugh — before stepping closer and sweeping Starscream up into his arms without hesitation.
The shuttle pressed a kiss against Starscream’s dermas, so full of love it left the seeker stunned still, wings fluttering helplessly.
Starscream barely thought before speaking — the words spilling out in ancient Vosian, too sacred and instinctive to hold back.
Words meaning absolute love, words traditionally whispered right before a Conjunx Endura vow.
Skyfire didn’t know the language.
But he must have felt the meaning, because the way he beamed — brighter than any star — said he understood perfectly.
Starscream tucked his face against Skyfire’s neckline, trying and failing to hide the wide, helpless grin overtaking his face.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But someday — someday soon — Starscream wanted that ceremony with Skyfire.
He wanted everything.
And judging by the way Skyfire clutched him tighter, cradling him like he was something precious and irreplaceable...
Skyfire wanted the same thing.