Chapter Text
"You can't hide in your office all day," said Wheeljack, even though he had to know that Starscream could. There was a comfortable chair in here. A few cubes of energon tucked away in one of the filing cabinets. Starscream could hide in here for a cyberweek.
Wheeljack didn’t give up. "You're going to miss the start of class."
"Good." Starscream fully intended to ignore everything that happened in class today. He regretted even letting Wheeljack into his office, since Wheeljack insisted on reminding him of the horrors that would be perpetuated at Metroplex today. Starscream should have kept the door locked, only Wheeljack had kept knocking and getting more exasperated in that cute way where his finials flashed and his optics darkened...
Starscream scowled. This was what happened when you allowed feelings to interfere with fencing.
"Don't make faces at me." Wheeljack's finials flashed cutely. "This was your idea."
"I was drunk!" Starscream glanced through the big office window, out onto the gym floor. A few fencers from the elite youth class were there early. No sign of the horrors yet. "You were sober. You should have stopped me."
"I thought it was a nice gesture," said Wheeljack. "And a great opportunity for our fencers to learn something new."
"Something," muttered Starscream. "Oh, I'm sure they'll learn all kinds of—"
The horrors arrived. Starscream briefly considered hiding under his desk, but no, he couldn't show weakness. He sat up straight instead, glaring out through the window. He wished he'd insisted on the one-way mirror when they were renovating Metroplex. Rattrap had insisted it would be too expensive, but any expense would have been worth avoiding Prowl's bland gaze.
"Come on." Wheeljack put his hand on Starscream’s shoulder. "Prowl came all this way. Even brought the kids."
"I can't believe they let him onto the planet." Starscream glanced behind Prowl and, yes, there were the infamous triplets. Each was toting a fencing bag taller than they were.
"He's banned from Cybertronian competitions, that's it." Wheeljack sounded like he’d moved beyond exasperated and into resignation. "I know this is a difficult concept for you, but fencing isn't real life."
Starscream turned and stared at Wheeljack until Wheeljack's finials flashed an embarrassed shade of blue.
"Come on, you know what I meant." Wheeljack sighed. "All right, stay in here. I'll go introduce Prowl to the class."
"Oh, no." Starscream scrambled up, beating Wheeljack to the door. "I'll introduce him. Primus knows what you'd say."
---
"This is," Starscream grit his teeth, "Maestro Prowl. Say hello to the Maestro, class."
"Hello!" chorused the elite youth class, with an audial-splitting tone which Starscream could trace to the unfortunate combination of Stageflight’s high-pitched voice and Grill’s low one. Prowl, unphased, dipped his doorwings.
"Prowl was one of the most successful fencers in Cybertronian history, surpassed only by a few of his contemporaries." Starscream looked expectantly at his audience, and was met by incomprehension. "That means other mechs who were fencing at the same time still beat him. Like me. Several times."
"Starscream," muttered Wheeljack. "Can you just—"
"Anyway, Prowl has come all the way from the backwater planet of Tor to visit Metroplex. He will be running classes all cyberweek, and will also be available for lessons during open fencing. If you have any questions at all, about anything Prowl tells you, especially if it sounds odd or a little criminal, you should come to me right away and—"
"Starscream," hissed Wheeljack.
Fine. Prowl wasn't reacting anyway, which took all the fun out of it. Starscream abandoned his attempt to guide the youths and checked the notes on his HUD. "We are also welcoming Sidle, Loiter, and Trundle. They're a little younger than you, but very accomplished. Loiter won the last upper youth grand prix, and Trundle won the last lower youth grand prix. Sidle is recovering from an injury, so she will be taking it easy. Please be gentle with her, if you hellions can manage it. I expect you all to be respectful and ready to share your knowledge and learn from—Stageflight, stop waving for one moment, I'm almost finished."
"But I know them!" chirped Stageflight. "I saw them at the grand prix!"
"Yes," agreed Prowl. "You fenced very well."
Stageflight beamed. The triplets were shyly waving back. Starscream sighed and abandoned any hope of controlling this interaction.
"They're all yours," he told Prowl, and then leaned in to speak in an undertone. "I'll be watching you, don't forget."
"I understand," said Prowl, not even blinking, and Wheeljack caught Starscream's arm and tugged him away.
"We'll start by warming up," Prowl told the class. "Trundle, please lead. Pattern Alpha Delta Four."
Alpha Delta Four. Starscream mouthed it, incredulously, staring at Prowl and willing the mech to look over so he could see just how ridiculous Starscream thought this was.
"I've changed my mind," said Wheeljack. "You can go hide in your office."
"No," said Starscream. "You're not getting rid of me that easy. They're just doing high knees! He could've said 'high knees!'"
"Ready to learn," Wheeljack reminded him.
"I am learning," Starscream assured him. "Learning and judging."
---
Open fencing presented both a reprieve and a vulnerability. On the one hand, Starscream had his own lessons to give and could focus on instilling unadulterated knowledge into his students without worrying about Prowl’s pernicious influence. On the other hand, Prowl was doing the exact same thing on the other side of the gym, and Starscream couldn't do anything about it. Starscream had invited him here. Why had Wheeljack let him get so drunk that being friendly to an unrepentant Autobot had seemed like a good idea?
Windblade thwacked Starscream in the abdomen. He stepped back, presenting a new target, and she thwacked him in the head.
Prowl had restricted his classes to a simple but interesting lesson on the use of half-steps during both attack and defense. He hadn't said 'here's how to undermine the very bedrock of a fencing tournament,' or 'here's how to set up your opponent for an undeserved penalty card,' or 'here's how to get the longest ban Cybertron has ever handed down for dishonorable fencing.' But Starscream had been watching, so of course Prowl wouldn't say anything like that. Now Prowl had Waspinator all alone, foolish impressionable Waspinator, and Starscream was all the way on the other side of the—
Windblade stabbed Starscream in the throat, right under his visor and right above the collar of his coaching armor.
"Oh frag! Oh Primus!" Windblade caught Starscream's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, oh—"
"It's fine," Starscream tried to say. It came out glitched and rasping, so he rubbed at his throat cables and tried again. "I was distracted, I walked into it."
"I'll get Wheeljack," said Windblade, and Starscream caught her shoulder to hold her in place.
"I'm not dying," he forced out. "You're not strong enough to cut my head off. Now get back on guard."
They finished the lesson. It was a terrible lesson—Starscream distracted, Windblade afraid to hit him properly—but the routine was important. And, fortunately enough, this was the last lesson of the night. After they were done, Starscream sat down on one of the benches and drank some coolant, trying to push one of his throat cables back into place.
"That looks nasty," said Prowl, sneaking up out of nowhere. "Should I get Wheeljack?"
"He's not my keeper." Starscream winced at his own voice. That faint gurgling noise couldn't be a good sign.
"Mm. You're lucky."
Starscream waited for Prowl to elaborate, but Prowl didn't seem inclined. He just stood there and watched one of the triplets fence Stageflight. Starscream thought it might be Trundle. He wasn't sure how Prowl told them apart, they were all just oddly fuzzy and uncannily good at fencing.
"Sit down," he told Prowl, then poked Prowl's thigh when Prowl didn't respond. "Sit down, my neck already hurts. I don't want to look up at you."
Prowl sat. His doorwings clacked against Starscream's proper wings, and Starscream fought the urge to flinch back.
"Thank you," said Prowl.
"You don't need to thank me just for sitting."
"For inviting me," clarified Prowl. "I didn't expect to return to Cybertron for at least a vorn."
Starscream shrugged. It seemed cruel to tell Prowl that he'd been completely plastered at the time and regretted it ever since. Starscream could be gracious. Prowl had probably noticed, anyway, especially since Starscream had capped the fateful evening off by climbing into Wheeljack's lap and trying to get his hands under Wheeljack's windshield.
"It's good to get away." Prowl watched as maybe-Trundle pulled distance and let Stageflight's attack miss. "Tarantulas can be a little overbearing. And the triplets are woefully undersocialized."
The bout ended, and the fencers shook hands. Stageflight was grinning, even though she'd lost. Trundle's smile was a little timid, but it broadened as Stageflight kept hold of his hand, babbling something about the last action.
"They're good kids." Starscream looked sidelong at Prowl. Prowl's expression, as always, didn't betray anything. But the metal around his optics looked tight.
Starscream bit his lip. He was sober this time. In complete control of his faculties.
He said it anyway. "If you're interested in a more permanent position, I could—"
"That's very kind," said Prowl. "But I'm content on Tor."
"Are you content being kept?" asked Starscream.
Prowl took his time replying. "I think that it's something I need. For now, at least. It's good to know there's someone who wants to keep me. Someone who wants me for what I am. Tarantulas appreciates my—"
"Please don't give me any details," said Starscream quickly. Oh, he was already imagining possible endings to that sentence. Oh, ugh. Augh.
Prowl actually smiled. "My processor, I was going to say. No need to dive for the gutter. But yes, Tarantulas likes my aft as well."
Starscream gagged, which hurt his throat. Prowl's smile widened.
"I'll keep the offer open," rasped Starscream. "In case your needs change."
Prowl dipped his doorwings, brushing again against Starscream's wing. Starscream didn't feel the urge to flinch this time.
"I'd be interested in another visit," said Prowl. "Or perhaps a camp, next season. I could give you a proposal at the end of the cyberweek—"
Someone screamed. Not a victorious scream, or even a shriek of defeat. It was pained, and it dissolved into confused whimpers.
Prowl sighed and stood up. "Duty calls. Sidle, let Waspinator go! Biting is not a legal action!"
Starscream leaned over, trying to see what the frag was going on. There was a cluster of fencers around the far strip, obscuring his view.
"Don't worry, I always carry anti-venom." Prowl produced a worryingly large syringe. "He'll be fine."
Starscream got up to follow, but Wheeljack appeared and pushed Starscream back down onto the bench.
"You're bleeding," said Wheeljack. "Windblade said she'd maimed you."
"I'm fine." Starscream glanced at his hand and saw a very small amount of energon. "Just a scratch. Is Waspinator dying?"
"Nah." Wheeljack fussed over Starscream's neck. "He was fluttering his wings while he was on guard, you know, like he does with the little kids to see if they get distracted. I think he triggered Sidle's, uh, prey instinct. Or something. You've got a nicked cable, babe. Put pressure on it, okay? I'm gonna get a patch."
Starscream pressed his hand to his throat. Prowl had emerged from the crowd of fencers with an empty syringe and a struggling Sidle under one arm. Waspinator wasn't yelling anymore. Starscream hoped it was because the antivenom had worked. His insurance premiums were already too high, he couldn’t take another maiming.
Wheeljack ignored the commotion as he returned with the first aid kit. He cleaned Starscream’s neck with gentle strokes and muttered something about getting Starscream a steel collar. Starscream hoped he meant as a protective measure, not... Well. They could discuss it.
That was the important thing. They could discuss whatever they needed, even if Starscream hated talking about feelings and Wheeljack was far too accommodating to say what he really thought. They’d work it out. Starscream wasn’t prowl, he didn’t need to be kept, he just wanted…
Sidle was still struggling in Prowl's patient and implacable arms. And she'd bitten Prowl's hand. Prowl calmly took another syringe out of his subspace and jabbed it into his own hip.
"We're never having sparklings," Starscream told Wheeljack, following his brand-new policy of clear communication.
"Yeah, no." Wheeljack smoothed the patch over the nicked cable, hand lingering on Starscream's neck. "I think we’ve got enough to deal with."