Chapter Text
Practice was tense tonight. Half the club was still recovering from the last tournament, too much on their processors or too many stresses on their frames. Soundwave had strained his drive belt fencing Scrapper and was now sitting in a folding chair with a heat pack pressed to his midriff. Megatron was stalking around, snarling at anyone who looked like they were slacking. And of course, there was—
"Just do it right!" Starscream shrieked, pounding his own leg as he walked back to the on guard line. Thundercracker glanced away, fiddling uncomfortably with the edge of his visor as he waited for Starscream to get himself under control so they could go back to bouting.
"Ready," said Starscream, and Thundercracker came back on guard. "Fence!"
They launched themselves at each other. At the last second Starscream tried to parry Thundercracker's swing, but Starscream had stepped in too far and Thundercracker was already hitting him in the chest.
Starscream shrieked again, wordless with rage, and actually flipped up his visor to bang his sabre guard against his face. "It's so simple," he snarled. "The simplest thing, you just have to do it right!"
"Hey, hey, hey." Thundercracker flinched back even as he reached out a steadying hand to Starscream. "Look, it's just practice, you don’t have to—"
"If I can't do it right at practice, it won't be right at competition." Starscream put down his visor over his lightly-scuffed face and came back on guard. "Ready?"
Thundercracker reluctantly came on guard again. It wouldn’t help to push Starscream when he was in a mood like this. If Skywarp was still fencing, maybe he could do it. He’d always better a little better at understanding Starscream’s twisty processor.
"Fence!"
This time Starscream took a smaller step in, but he froze when Thundercracker feinted around his parry and hit him on the opposite shoulder.
"No!" Starscream pounded a closed fist against his thigh this time. "Wrong, wrong wrong, I hate you. Why can't you do this?"
"Hey, don't be so mean to me," said Thundercracker, and grabbed Starscream's wrist before he could make a dent. Even he could see that this wasn’t going to end well unless someone stepped in.
"Frag off." Starscream tried to pull his wrist away, but Thundercracker held tight. "You know I'm not talking to you."
"Then don't be so mean to yourself," said Thundercracker. "It was better that time."
Starscream groaned. "It still wasn't right!"
"Well, maybe I did something right." Thundercracker tried a smile, but it withered in the face of Starscream's glare. "Okay, fine, have it your way. You're probably just tired from the tournament. If you're getting frustrated, why don't you take a break from this bout, and later we can—"
"I'm going to be tired at competitions," said Starscream. "And I can't take a break then. I have to keep fencing, it doesn't matter what my frame wants, I am going to—"
"Take a break." Thundercracker moved his grip from Starscream's wrist to his hand, more comfort than restraint. "It's practice. You don't have to be perfect all the time. Try being kind to yourself for half a second and see how it feels."
Starscream wavered, just for a moment, his fingers curling around Thundercracker's instead of shoving him away. Frag, Thundercracker felt on top of the world. It was working, they were working, even if Skywarp had left them to have a real job and a real life.
"Why don't we go referee the cassettes?" offered Thundercracker. "We can tell Rumble exactly how awful his lunge is, how does that sound?"
"I guess I could—" began Starscream, and then Megatron loomed into view.
"Why aren't you fencing?" he said, engine rumbling warningly. "This isn't a social club."
Starscream's wings flicked up, his own engine shifting gears. "I'm tired. Thundercracker thinks I need a break."
Megatron scoffed. "Tired. Is that what you plan to tell the referees at Galactic Championships? Do you think they'll be impressed by your weakness?"
"Weak?" Starscream yanked his hand away from Thundercracker to jab a finger at Megatron's chest plate. "If you want to see weak you should look in a mirror, you—"
Thundercracker watched helplessly as Megatron and Starscream fell into each other's orbit. It was almost like Thundercracker had stopped existing. Starscream's optics were fixed on Megatron's, his face tilted up so Megatron would get the best angle of his snarl. Megatron caught the hand Starscream raised to slap him, then used it to pull Starscream close, their armor scraping against each other. Their voices lowered to hissed threats and dismissive grunts, entirely incomprehensible outside of their angry little bubble.
Megatron was a good coach. Thundercracker knew that. He'd seen Starscream's results, watched the meteoric rise of the best seeker in fencing. But Thundercracker couldn't help but think—
"Hey, Dundercracker," said a voice from knee-height. "Wanna fence?"
"Maybe in a bit," said Thundercracker. "I'm bouting with Starscream."
Rumble looked over at Megatron and Starscream. Megatron was holding Starscream's chin now, forcing Starscream's mouth closed. Starscream was stomping his thruster down on Megatron's foot, with no apparent effect. Their frames were still pressed together, the air filled with the rattling of Starscream’s engine as he tried and failed to throttle it back.
"Nah," said Rumble. "I don't think you are."
---
Starscream was doing a lot of work to prepare for the veteran's team tournament. Writing dossiers on their competition. Sending Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Wheeljack a near-constant stream of his brilliant ideas for their team name. And fencing. More fencing than Wheeljack had seen Starscream do since he'd left the Decepticons to run Metroplex.
Starscream fenced with Windblade, with Knock Out, even with Waspinator and Stageflight. He fenced with Wheeljack too, usually for an audience of awed youth fencers. Wheeljack loved it. He could never get bored of fencing Starscream, watching his strategies evolve in sharp twists and lateral jumps, watching the way Starscream had... matured. Starscream fenced differently, in his own club, in front of his own fencers. His actions were tight, controlled, perfect, and he never stopped to swear at whichever kid was playing referee.
Tonight was different. The club was empty and silent except for the shuffle-tap of their feet and the ringing of the scorebox. Starscream was fencing more like his old self, fast and loose and sharp enough to cut himself. It would be fun, except—
"No!" Starscream slammed his sabre against the floor. "Do it right!"
"Hey," said Wheeljack, but Starscream had already pulled himself back on guard.
"Ready?" Starscream snapped. "Fence."
Wheeljack could see what Starscream was trying to do. A few simultaneous attacks to lull Wheeljack into the pattern, then a quick double step into the middle to bait Wheeljack into an attack and make him miss. The problem was that Wheeljack could see what Starscream was trying to do, so when Starscream started the quick double-step, Wheeljack countered with an extra-long advance-lunge that hit Starscream in the helm just as Starscream finished his first retreat.
"No, no, no!" Starscream smacked his own leg. "Think about this! Why are you doing it wrong? What's going on in the decrepit little processor of yours?"
"Starscream," said Wheeljack, but Starscream was on guard again.
"Ready?" he said. "Fence."
This time Wheeljack just stepped back and let Starscream miss, then slowly pushed Starscream to the end of the strip. Starscream was so wound up in rage by the end of it that he practically stood there and let Wheeljack hit him.
That seemed to be the last straw. Starscream flipped up his visor and pressed the bridge of his nose against the guard of his sabre. "I hate you," he said, not loud this time, but distinct and full of bile. "I hate you. You get worse and worse every day! You just can't stop fragging this action up! Why can't you do it? Why are you doing this?"
"Hey," said Wheeljack. "You can't talk to me like that."
Starscream glared around the sabre. "Don't be obtuse. I'm not talking to you."
"Well, you wouldn't talk to yourself like that, would you?" suggested Wheeljack, hoping Starscream would agree.
Starscream just kept glaring. His knuckles were creaking where he clutched the sabre with both hands.
"It's just hard," said Wheeljack, carefully. "To hear how cruel you can be."
"I get it," said Starscream, and then took a deep vent and forced a smile. The sabre didn't move. "I'll keep it to myself. As usual."
"No, I don't—" Wheeljack took off his visor and set down his sabre, then put his hands over Starscream's where they held the sabre in a death grip. "Is that what you think all the time? When you're fencing me?"
"Only when I'm being an idiot." Starscream said it lightly, but the metal around his optics crinkled tight. "And not just you."
"Why not 'oh, what a beautiful touch by my handsome opponent?'" suggested Wheeljack.
"Those weren't beautiful touches." Starscream finally lost the fake smile. "They should have been mine, if I wasn't so incompetent that I—"
"Hey," interrupted Wheeljack, "that doesn't feel like it's helping."
"I need to do it right," said Starscream, with an edge of static. "I need to know what I'm doing wrong if I want to do it right."
"Okay." Wheeljack finally managed to pry one of Starscream's hands away from the sabre guard. "But if Windblade was doing something wrong, would you tell her you hated her?"
Starscream's face twisted sourly. "You don't have to logic me. I know I'm an overdramatic sore loser."
"Would you say any of those things to Windblade?" asked Wheeljack.
Starscream's mouth snapped shut. His hands were trembling in Wheeljack's. Wheeljack took the opportunity to pull the sabre away from Starscream entirely, put it on the floor where Starscream didn't have to worry about it anymore. Starscream let him, still silent except for the faint clatter of his plating.
"What would you say to her?" prodded Wheeljack. "If she just couldn't get an action right?"
"Try something else," mumbled Starscream. "Come back to it later."
"Okay," said Wheeljack. "Let's do that. Do you want to keep fencing, or...?"
Starscream hesitated for a long time, staring into Wheeljack's optics like he was going to find the answer there. Wheeljack just kept his expression open and his hand entwined with Starscream's.
"No," said Starscream, reluctantly. "I'm tired."
"Yeah, it's hard to do your best when you're tired," said Wheeljack. "You want to go have dinner?"
Starscream's grip tightened on Wheeljack's hand. "You're just gonna let me give up?"
"We're taking a break," said Wheeljack, firmly. "We can fence again tomorrow."
"We don't have to." Starscream slowly reached up and took his visor off. "I know I'm, I'm probably not any fun to fence, you don't have to—"
"It's a privilege to fence you." Wheeljack leaned forward, rising on the tips of his feet to press his mask to Starscream's forehead. "You’re brilliant. Even when you're tired."
Starscream turned his face up and caught Wheeljack in a kiss, as hard and fast as a sabre to the helm. "You're too soft on me," he said, while Wheeljack was still reeling from the static tingle.
Someone has to be, thought Wheeljack. Primus knew Starscream hadn’t had enough softness in his life. "Come on," he said, out loud. "We can go to Maccadam's."
---
Thundercracker woke up when a thin strip of light hit his optic sensors. He jerked a little, trying to pull up his chronometer, but then the door closed, the light went away, and he recognized the click of thrusters on the cheap sheet metal floor.
"It's just me," whispered Starscream. "Can I recharge with you?"
Thundercracker grunted. Frag, it must be the middle of the night. Had Starscream just now gotten back from the fencing club? Thundercracker had left him there hours ago, still whisper-fighting with Megatron.
Starscream climbed into the berth and squirmed under the insulation tarps, all elbows and knees in Thundercracker's transformation seams. Thundercracker grunted some more, yelped as Starscream put his weight on Thundercracker's cockpit, and then finally woke up enough to wrangle Starscream into a comfortable position. Both of them on their sides, facing each other, sharing a pillow. It helped that Starscream was a little smaller than Thundercracker, just enough to fit against Thundercracker's frame like a puzzle piece.
Starscream smelled like ozone and burnt wiring. Thundercracker stroked a hand down Starscream's hip and found a constellation of dents there. Finger-shaped, if the fingers were particularly large.
"I want to quit fencing," mumbled Starscream. "I think about it all the time. I feel so awful whenever I do something wrong, and I'm always doing something wrong. Sometimes I feel like I'll never do anything right."
Thundercracker tried to kick his processor into gear, but it was like swimming in a fog. The whole room was dark except for the light from their optics, illuminating Starscream's face in dim, hazy red.
"Medals," Thundercracker managed to say, despite his staticky voicebox and his thick, sleepy tongue. "You got lots of medals."
"Silver medals." Starscream tucked his face against Thundercracker's neck, hiding his expression. "Megatron wants gold."
Thundercracker wrapped his arm around Starscream's shoulder and squeezed, trying to press all of the feelings he wasn't awake enough to process directly into Starscream's frame.
"You can quit," he said. "It's okay. Skywarp quit."
"No." Starscream shuddered, his plating clattering. "No, no. I won't quit. I love fencing. It's the only thing I want to do, the only thing I've ever wanted to do. I'm going to win Galactic Championships, I'm going to destroy Optimus Prime, and Megatron will finally look at me and see a good fencer, he'll tell me I'm brilliant. He will."
"Okay," said Thundercracker. His optics shut off, his whole frame losing power as it fell back into recharge. "You are a good fencer. The best."
"Thanks." Starscream's words filtered through Thundercracker's faltering audials, his voice muffled and his tone strange. "You're too soft on me. Megatron—"
"Frag Megatron," mumbled Thundercracker.
Starscream hiccupped a laugh. “I did! It doesn’t help.”
“No, I—” Thundercracker yawned. “I mean. I mean. You deserve someone who appreciates you.”
Starscream hummed noncommittally. “Maybe someday I’ll deserve it. But—”
“Shh, stop.” Thundercracker blindly put his hand on the back of Starscream’s helm and shoved Starscream a little tighter against his neck. “Stop. We’re sleeping now.”
“Okay,” said Starscream, muffled and melancholy.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow Thundercracker would figure out how to fix this. Tonight he held Starscream close, and hoped that would be enough.