Chapter Text
His lines burned and his frame ached as he tumbled out of the pod, his mind cloudy and heavy from forced stasis as he looks around aimlessly, trying to regain his bearings. Figures crowded around him as he straightened up to find red optics searing into him from a new frame, a new place but with the same voice. Everything about Starscream had been red, almost glowing as his optics focused in on him and a throwaway remark on his new frame was given before he snapped back to reality to fully comprehend what Starscream had said. Ruler of Cybertron. That was new and terrifying and Wheeljack didn’t want himself to think it, to feel it, but that almost seemed right, like he’d filled the space he’d always meant to be in. Gorgeous and red and powerful, and right there so he’s close enough to reach out and touch, to feel and tear away what little distortion of reality there was left dissipates and everything becomes sharp almost too suddenly. Starscream is right there, sinister and more powerful than he has ever been. So close…
Wheeljack jolts up to the blare of an alarm, gasping into the cool morning, sucking in the chilly air into his vents to cool his heated and stressed frame. That dream that was more a memory haunts him from the back of his mind, a lingering thought with the images already beginning to fuzz and blur into each other, their clarity now long gone. The feeling of it all still flutters over his frame in a faint charge and he still can’t decipher what it all means. He couldn’t stop it and didn’t know who to talk to about how the same dream came to him night after night but escaping him so easily all without ever giving him any hint or sign why that memory was so profound, why that was the one his subconscious wanted him to remember. He groans as he rolls off his berth to greet the day, bitter and exhausted even though hi chronometer informs him he got a full recharge which is unusual for him even with the newly garnered peace. It’s been decades now since he was reawakened and Cybertron has been under the imperious but surprisingly just rule of Starscream. He likes to think he had some part of that even if he’s just an engineer, a scientist but he gave Starscream council whenever he asked and was there some late nights to help with paperwork. Those late nights almost always turned into long discussions of right and wrong and of what the future held. The later it got and the more engex that was added to these conversations, the freer they became with Starscream making confessions to him he doesn’t think he’s ever made to anyone else. He’s a lier but not Wheeljack. That’s what he had said and Wheeljack believes him especially after everything, after what they’ve seen. Wheeljack doesn’t like how closely he hoards that piece of Starscream, knowing that he’s the one who’s never been lied to, who’s never been tricked.
Maybe that was it. The strange pride he felt from this connection he has with Starscream that makes him feel… Powerful? Elated? Special? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to look too closely at that because feelings like that are dangerous or, at worst, fatal. He shakes his head to clear his mind and sets about getting ready for the day, taking a quick rinse and then gathering his datapads, he’s out the door and rushing for the lab.
It’s a busy day but a quiet one which is normal. It’s all normal. It’s all too normal and quiet and he’s actually bored with his latest project which hasn’t happened in thousands of years. He puts his head on the table in front of him, unmoving for a few good minutes trying to get himself to just get back to work already and escape whatever this funk he was in to go away. Then a harsh beep startles him up to his feet and when he calms down he sees it’s a message from Starscream that just has an address which of course meant he wanted to meet Wheeljack now. While he would normally scold Starscream for calling him on such short notice but right now he didn’t care and was already rushing to the door before he had even started typing out his return message confirming he’d be there in just a few minutes. He rushes down the hall then transforms as soon as he’s out the door, startling the nearby pedestrians as he zooms off down the road, navigating to the address that’s pulled up on his internal map. Once he’s at his destination, he doesn’t even stop to transform back into his root mode, instead landing on his feet from a flying leap in front of the grand building Starscream had called him to.
It turns out to be some kind of temple, to what he’s not sure but it seems to have been newly restored with some evident construction still going on at the far side. So it was old then, old and important. Something uneasy settles in his tanks and he takes to the doors, opening them with relative ease and quietly makes his way into the central chamber with ceilings that loom well above him. Tall, stained-glass windows set into the walls glow almost lazily in the morning sun all depicting different scenes of old stories of the past. He could spot a few of the Primes that he has long forgotten the names of but never forgot their faces and of other grand events like Primus bringing about the first Cybertronians. He looks on them in awe as he silently walks through the pillars that line the walkway that leads to the back where a shrine of crystal and glass sits depicting the light of Primus and forges of Solus. A shiver runs through him, the eerie quiet of the place sinking into his plating, the thick walls having blocked off the ambient noise of the bustling city the entire place stands in a devoted hush.
Double doors open to his left, their creaking hinges startle him and he turns to find Starscream who gestures for him to enter. He moves quickly from the shrine and into the antechamber of the temple to find Windblade as well as The Mistress of Flame waiting there with something large and bulky hidden under a cloth. Wheeljack nods to both The Mistress and Windblade before turning back to Starscream, feeling their optics burn into him expectantly as he silently asks what in the pits Starscream called him here for. Seeming to understand Wheeljack’s distraught look, Starscream simply waves him off with a smirk and approaches the cloaked object. Ever one for the flare of the dramatic, Starscream unveils the object with a flourish and the grace Wheeljack has come to associate with him. What Wheeljack sees makes him pause and tense his brow in confusion and he takes a step closer to get a better look at what appears to be yet another window with another scene elegantly embossed in glass albeit tarnished from time and lack of tending. The scene is of two transformers, plain and obscure in terms of form and mode with their chestplates open to reveal their sparks to one another. At that moment, the realization of what the picture is about hits him and he stands back up, straightening out his form and turns once again to Starscream.
“This is a mark revealing ceremony,” Wheeljack says, hands clenching at his sides and optics flickering every so often to the window. He’s familiar with the soul marks that illuminate from an individual’s spark that is meant to denote another’s destined bonded and because the mark is centered on the spark, even cold constructed broadcast them. Another argument why they deserved equal rights within Cybertronian society. During his early centuries, Wheeljack would sometimes open up when he was by himself to trace the delicate pattern formed by the light of his spark, thinking of the mech out there somewhere destined for just him and he for them whenever he was struck with a wave of loneliness. After he matured some and the less than hopeful statistics of finding your soulmate dropped even further when the war struck he had stopped such a habit.
The Mistress of Flame saunters up next to him, appraising him, “At least he knows what it is and so I hope he understands its significance and importance both culturally and spiritually.”
“Yes,” Windblade hurries up beside her, “I’m sure he does. As I am just as confident as Starscream in his ability to restore it.”
“Quite,” Starscream says with a click of his glossa as he sidles up to Wheeljack, placing a hand on his shoulder, “What do you say, Jackie? Up for the challenge?”
“Star, I’m an engineer…” Wheeljack softly hints and The Mistress of Flame scoffs.
“And an accomplished chemist if I recall,” Starscream quirks a brow at him, that sly smirk still on his lips, “That’s why you’re perfect. The window has been laid victim to the elements including acid rain and is carefully held in a frame that relies more on pressure than anything else. The piece needs to be taken apart and put back together with an expert hand or it will simply remain in pieces. I’m sure that you can do it. That’s why I recommended you for the job.”
“Isn’t that a little…” Wheeljack’s optics flick to the other mechs in the room before settling on Starscream again, “out of my department?”
“Well,” Starscream pouts and tilts his head, “What are you working on right now? Would it be too much to fit it in?”
Wheeljack thinks back to the project still laid out over his station at the lab and sighs, shaking his head.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Wheeljack looks back at the window, “Who knows? Might be fun.”
Windblade smiles at that and gives him a little nod of thanks before walking away to call in mechs to load up the window for transport back to his lab. Starscream tries to catch him in another conversation only for The Mistress of Flame to make her presence known rather haughtily, stepping right in front of Wheeljack with an accusatory finger jabbing his chest right above his spark.
“This isn’t just some pet project,” she hisses, “This is a very important piece of our history, our faith. I am entrusting it to you upon the grounds of the words of others I trust to some extent and simply because no other satisfies my standards for such a delicate process. Know that if there is so much as a chip in the glass I will have retribution.”
With that, she flicks her cape out behind her and strides out of the room at a fast pace. Wheeljack watches her go then shares a look with Starscream who gestures to her implying that is simply how she is making him sigh as his shoulders sag.
Later in the lab, Wheeljack has the window carefully dismantled in front of him which took all of five hours to do just to make sure he didn’t torque the beams holding the glass in place. Then had come carefully melting away the old soldering that he is now only a quarter of the way done. He has to take breaks to let the glass cool down from the heat so it doesn’t fracture from the rapid change in temperature which simply slows down the process even more. During yet another break, he rests his hands against the station and shakes out the aching cables in his shoulders. Lolling his head to the side, he watches Starscream scan the script on the datapad he’s holding, the same he’d been reading this entire time as Wheeljack worked. While either ignoring or simply not noticing Wheeljack’s hard gaze, Starscream makes a few notes on it with a stylus before continuing to read. Wheeljack huffs and straightens back up, stretching the cables and readjusting the suspension in his back before walking over to Starscream who’s perched on a tall chair. He leans against the wall next to Starscream so he can look over his arm to see whatever it is he’s reading and is surprised to find it to be an old text presumably about the very window he’s working on.
“What’s so important about this window that it’s got the Emperor of Cybertron of all people researching it?” Wheeljack murmurs as he continues reading.
Starscream folds his arms to hide the datapad against his chest as he smirks over at Wheeljack, “It is a delicate political matter. It’s important to The Mistress of Flame which means it’s important to Caminus which means it’s important to me.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to research all the ins and outs of it,” Wheeljack pushes off the wall in favor of putting his hands on his hips.
Starscream shakes his head and gets up to push past Wheeljack towards the window.
“The Mistress of Flame knows her lore and scripture like the back of her hand,” Starscream explains with a flare of his hand, “I have to read it forward and backward just to keep up with her and understand what it is she’s even saying.”
“And? What do you make of it so far?” Wheeljack asks as he watches Starscream look over his work.
“A bunch of terribly melodramatic drivel that wants the reader to believe that so long as they have enough faith in Primus he will guide them to their destined,” Starscream rolls his optics at his words and scoffs, “As if.”
“What?” Wheeljack laughs, “You don’t buy into all the stories about chance meetings and miraculous moments of revelation?”
Starscream rolls his optics again and gestates wildly as he goes on a rant, “You mean all those sermons and pronouncements declaring how that Primus chose the perfect mech for even the lowliest cold construct? Please… If the war proved anything it proved that we are all sooner to hate each other than love each other.”
“That’s a rather bitter outlook even for you,” Wheeljack crosses his arms, giving Starscream a look, “Not worried that Primus might try to prove you wrong just to spite you?”
Starscream vents a harsh, sharp laugh, “At least that sounds more like the Primus I know. I know I can’t deny the existence of the marks or that those who share the same ones do wind up being happy but I can’t accept that we’re all walking on this path-”
Starscream’s words cut off into a yelp as he slips on some of the melted flux from the solder that had dripped to the floor. As he flails, trying to get a grip on something to keep himself stable, he accidentally knocks over canisters of oil for other machines and manages to spill some on himself. Wheeljack rushes forward and manages to catch Starscream before he hits the floor, gripping him under his arms as the datapad clattes to the floor. They stall like that, tense from the sudden break in the calm then their optics meet and Starscream’s face tenses.
“Not. One. Word,” Starscreams hisses under his breath.
Wheeljack just blinks down owlishly down at him then breaks out into a deep laugh that shakes his whole chassis, his arms still tightly holding Starscream. Starscream tenses and quickly tries to scramble out of Wheeljack’s hold only to slide more on the flux making Wheeljack have to tighten his grip further to keep him from falling.
“Star, wait, wait,” Wheeljack gasps between vents, calming down his laughter to help right the flier.
Once fully righted, Starscream makes a show of brushing off his thighs and turns pointedly away to delicately step from the work station and back to his chair to sit and rest his chin in his hand rather moodily. Wheeljack continues to laugh softly under his breath as he watches him go then cleans up the bit of mess. It doesn’t take too long to clean up with just a few cans spilled and the flux on the floor. Wheeljack has plenty of rags and solvent on hand to clean it all up, he’s just glad none of the pieces of the window were damaged. After he’s done, he looks back over at Starscream who’s still brooding and still covered in splotches of oil making Wheeljack shake his head. He picks up another rag and drenches it in some solvent before approaching Starscream.
Hearing him approach, Starscream says, “It’s all ridiculous.”
“Hey, come on, everyone slips once in a while,” Wheeljack pats his shoulder.
Starscream straightens up to face him, “Not that. Those stories about how it’s supposed to feel when you meet your soulmate.”
“Uhuh,” Wheeljack sounds, carefully bringing the rag to Starscream’s chest to clean away the oil there and when he makes no move to push Wheeljack away, he continues cleaning Starscream in earnest.
“I’m serious,” Starscream insists, “All that nonsense about knowing just from your optics meeting or from a single touch.”
“Maybe we’re just bitter, old veterans,” Wheeljack shrugs, “Nothing seems enchanting to us anymore.”
“You can’t tell me you actually believe in all of it,” Starscream eyes him as he continues with his work, “How you’re supposed to feel this… spark…”
Starscream trails off and Wheeljack pays no mind to it at first, now cupping Starscream’s face with the rag in his other hand as he dutifully cleans the oil from Starscream’s helm. Once the oil has been all wiped away, however, he returns his attention to Starscream’s optics and is struck still, his hand freezing where it is on Starscream’s face, cupping his cheek. Starscream is looking up at him with an unusual expression and Wheeljack can’t help but return to his dream. Red. Glowing, beautiful, and searing him to his core. He pulls from Starscream slowly and walks away back to the table to set down the rag. Wheeljack tries to steady himself but the same thought swarms his mind: it’s the same.
“So, you’ve never bothered to look at your mark then?” Wheeljack asks, keeping his back to Starscream.
Another scoff breaks the air behind him if somehow subdued, “No amount of skepticism could have quelled that bit of curiosity… I’ve looked at my mark. I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Three diamonds, all interconnected at the shallow points with the middle one higher than the other two and an elongated triangle hanging from the bottom point of it,” Wheeljack says, trying to keep his voice casual only to whip around as something crashes from behind him.
The chair Starscream was sitting on has been knocked to the floor with Starscream standing defensively in front of it with a look of mixed horror and rage stricken on his face. Wheeljack tenses, not ready to know what this means, not ready to understand what he’s feeling. Starscream doesn’t know and marches right up to Wheeljack and grips his arm tightly, the other stretched out ready to attack. Wheeljack doesn’t resist the grip, feeling too off-balance to manage anything else than simply watching Starscream, his little expressions, the way his optics flicker, how his wings twitch in irritation.
“When did you look at it?” Starscream growls out, dangerous and low.
Wheeljack’s optics tilt down as he whispers, “Never. I was describing mine.”
Starscream’s grasp falters as his expression softens to that of shock, his free hand coming up to brush over his own chest where his spark resides.
“You’re lying… Don’t lie to me, Wheeljack. I don’t lie to-” Starscream cuts himself with a harsh vent.
“I know,” Wheeljack says softly, letting his chestplates fold away to reveal his spark, making Starscream step back.
Starscream takes in the sight of Wheeljack’s spark almost hungrily, tracing the mark with his optics, his hand lifting slightly almost as if to touch it. In a moment of spontaneity, Starscream does something Wheeljack would never expect of him and reveals his spark to him and, sure enough, there is a mark to mirror Wheeljack’s own hovering over Starscream’s spark. It’s almost too much and yet suddenly not enough. The desire to reach out, to hold, to touch floods Wheeljack but he doesn’t dare move, can’t find the will to do so, as he’s so paralyzed with fear. Starscream steps closer to him and that’s enough for him to break. Wheeljack closes the distance all at once, taking Starscream’s face in his hands as he all but rips away his mask and presses his lips to Starscreams who melts into him. It starts gentle and chaste then Starscream licks over his lips and he lets him in and in return delves in, tasting Starscream on his glossa, all steel, energon, and the faint taste of zinc he likes to add to his morning energon. It’s perfect. That’s all Wheeljack can think as he feels Starscream’s hands tighten behind his helm as he trails his own down Starscream’s frame to his hips before wrapping his arms around Starscream to pull him closer. As their chestplates meet, they gasp as a sudden sharp pleasure wracks between them, making them break the kiss.
They look down to the soft blue light between them find they had forgotten to conceal their sparks and they had met in the collision and their marks now glow brighter than ever. Wheeljack looks at Starscream sheepishly as he lets his plates close and Starscream does the same while trying to suppress a wonderfully sweet, soft smile. Wheeljack doesn’t resist the impulse to feel that smile on his lips and kisses him again, quickly and softly then presses his face to Starscream’s neck, holding him close. His soulmate.
“I suppose if that could have gone anyway, that was how it was going to go,” Starscream mutters, bemused.
Wheeljack comes back up and smiles at Starscream, “I should’ve known the moment I stepped out that tank. I certainly haven’t been able to stop dreaming about that moment.”
“You’ve been dreaming about me,” Starscream teases but there’s something much more vulnerable just beneath the surface.
“Every night,” Wheeljack confesses.
Starscream just looks at him in disbelief, “You really are oblivious.”
“In all fairness, I didn’t take much stock in the whole soulmate business either,” Wheeljack counters.
“Fair,” Starscream responds flatly before kissing him again and Wheeljack decided that he’d been very stupid indeed.
No more work got done that day.