Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Soundwave’s loyalty is not unwavering.

It is true that he is Megatron’s most loyal. Out of every Decepticon, he stands unflinchingly at their leader’s side, no matter what turmoil they face.

But rather than it being a case of his dedication being notably fierce, instead the simple truth is that the bar is on the floor. When contending with the likes of Astrotrain, who could care less about who’s in charge so long as they don’t try to boss him around, or Starscream, who actively tries to kill Megatron on an almost scheduled basis, it’s very easy to be the “most loyal.” Though Shockwave is definitely a close contender.

If there was ever a mech Soundwave wished he could have around…

There are things that test his devotion. Inane orders, ludicrous plans, an irregard on Megatron’s part for the continued safety of his troops. Cassette endangerment. But despite it all, Soundwave remains firmly on Megatron’s side.

(It’s a miracle it lasted as long as it did.)

-

It starts with Rumble.

Actually, that’s not true. It starts several millions of years ago, with a freshly upgraded Laserbeak being sent on a high-risk surveillance mission at Megatron’s insistence despite Soundwave’s protests. Soundwave had protested, but Megatron had insisted, and Laserbeak-- in all her desire to please her favorite mech besides Soundwave himself-- insisted as well. Soundwave eventually conceded, and watched Laserbeak fly away, ignoring the way her flight path wobbled as she went. At the end of the mission she had returned totally unharmed, settling on Megatron’s outstretched arm and boasting of all that she’d learned.

So that’s how it starts. It continues over the course of a very long war, with Megatron continuing to act as though he has more authority over Soundwave’s cassettes than Soundwave does as their carrier.

And part of Soundwave understands. When he became a Decepticon, his cassettes took individual oaths as well, they are as much their own soldiers as he is. But everyone knows that when it comes to a symbiont, their host has the final verdict. When it comes to giving them orders, or doling out punishment for their misdeeds.

That’s where Rumble comes into play.

Soundwave knows the twins have a habit of getting into trouble around the base. He can only partially blame them-- he knows it gets boring when they’re all trapped underwater, only allowed out when there’s a mission or a patrol to go on. With all his lack of an inclination towards combat, the cassettes see the outside even less. He can’t blame them for trying to find their own fun, and he knows that the reason they’re able to get away with so much is that half their army is Seekers. And if anyone understands what it’s like feeling trapped and restless, a bunch of warframes with flight alts do.

So they let them get away with a lot more than they might otherwise. Pit, for as much as they clash, Soundwave has come across a number of the Seekers working with the twins on whatever new and elaborate prank they’d decided to set up on a particular day. And not just the footsoldiers, either. Soundwave once walked into Starscream’s lab (a repurposed storage room) to ask him whether he knew what could possibly have made it so none of the ship’s automatic sensors were responding to Megatron’s input, and found the Seeker speaking quietly to an enraptured looking Rumble where the cassette was seated on the table. Between them was a dismantled gun, one which Starscream seemed to be explaining the construction of. 

Soundwave had quietly backed out and walked away. He’d fixed the sensor issue on his own, claiming water damage to have been the responsible party.

The next day, when Starscream was walking around without a single scratch on his frame, Soundwave did not miss the appreciative thought sent his way. He didn’t respond, either-- just filed the incident away.

He’s thinking about it now, though. 

He doesn't know what the prank had actually been. He’s pretty sure it had something to do with rigging a trap at the communal energon dispenser for whatever unlucky mech happened to be the next to try and get a cube. Unfortunately, said unlucky mech happened to be Megatron himself, and Rumble and several other mechs he’d no doubt enlisted for help had watched in silent horror as the machine spat sparks and purposefully malfunctioned and now Megatron is standing there, covered head to toe in energon, looking murderous.

“Who is responsible for this?!” He shouts, and the entire mess hall is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Answer me!”

No one does. So Megatron snarls, raising his fusion cannon and pointing it at the dispenser. Its trap successfully sprung, it’s now perfectly harmless, and rather critical to anyone who is not a high ranking soldier and does not have access to a private refinery. So the fact that Megatron is now threatening it causes a wave of anxiety to wash over the room.

“Well?” Megatron presses his cannon further against the machine. There’s the whine of a charge starting to gather in the barrel. “I’m waiting.”

Soundwave, for the record, does have a refinery. He can also just make cubes. And whatever he has access to, his cassettes do as well, so there’s no reason for Rumble to speak up. Except for the fact that the coneheads are looking rather nauseated and Soundwave remembers a few weeks ago when they’d taken Rumble for a flight, not even threatening to drop him once. He remembers the way Rumble had laughed, overjoyed.

“Wait, wait,” Rumble said, clambering down from the table he’s seated on and running over. He’s got his servos raised passively, and is clearly trying not to balk under Megatron’s glare. “It was me. Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean for it to hit you. Sir.” 

“I see,” Megatron says. And then, quicker than Soundwave has time to blink, he swings his cannon around and fires. Soundwave’s spark jumps at the badly muffled shriek of pain, but there’s no sudden snap of a bond breaking. There’s no overwhelming terror from the cassette. When the smoke from the blast clears, Rumble is lying on the floor, and though one arm is damaged and smoking, he’s perfectly alive. More scared than actually injured. The blast had mostly hit the floor next to him.

Soundwave keeps himself in his seat.

“Let that be a lesson,” Megatron says, not specifying what the lesson is trying to teach. He turns and strides from the room, and as soon as he’s gone Soundwave is rushing over, kneeling beside Rumble and fretting over the injured cassette.

Rumble tries to wave him off with his uninjured arm. “I’m fine, boss,” he says, voice strained. “Barely even nicked me. Just need some fuel and a little lie-down and I’ll be all good.” 

Soundwave doesn’t need telepathy to know he’s lying.

Pedesteps approach them, and for a moment Soundwave tenses for fear that Megatron has returned, ready to chastise him for so easily showing sentiment. But the sound is too light to be Megatron. Rather, it’s the click of heeled thrusters on corrugated metal, and Starscream crouches down beside him. The Seeker sets a gentle servo on Rumble’s helm.

“I have medical supplies in my lab,” he says, subdued to the point where his voice is almost not awful to listen to. “If you can carry him there. We won’t be bothered,” he says, and Soundwave hears the unspoken Megatron won’t bother us.

Soundwave carefully lifts Rumble to cradle him near his dock and gives the Air Commander a silent nod.

Starscream ends up doing the actual treatment where Soundwave’s servos shake too much from the incident, whispering quiet encouragement to Rumble as he carefully rearranges the cassette’s twisted struts and replaces damaged plating. Rumble remains stubbornly upbeat throughout it all. Whatever else he may lack, Starscream has the grace to not say a word about how shaken Rumble seems beneath all the bluster.

Once Rumble is fully repaired and safely docked in Soundwave’s chest compartment, he turns to leave. Starscream stops him with a servo on his shoulder.

“If you ever need a moment away,” he says, “he never comes here. He thinks my scientific endeavors are a waste of time, that I’ll never complete anything, and thus pays whatever I do here no mind. I’ll send you the code to the door later.”

“Soundwave: is grateful,” he says in return. Then, hesitantly; “...Megatron.”

There is nothing else.

Starscream gets it anyway. He nods, servo tightening where it rests over Soundwave’s plating. “I understand.”

Of course he does.

With one last meaningful look, Soundwave turns and leaves the room.

-

Soundwave…  pays a little more attention after that. It’s not that he hasn’t been paying attention before. He’s the Communications Officer, for Primus’s sake, if nothing else the amount of rumors about him having optics and audials literally everywhere should speak for themselves. So it’s not like he hasn’t been watching and listening to his surroundings.

He just. Starts to care a little bit more.

Which, sue him, he never claimed to be a good person. Neither did anyone else. But there’s a difference between not claiming to be a good person and… whatever Megatron is doing.

Starscream being punished for his treachery is not new. 

What is new is the fact that Megatron is going for his wings this time.

Not in the way he’s done before, where he’ll grab Starscream by the aileron and haul him away. But in the way where he’s quite literally tearing the wing in two while Starscream shouts and tries to shove him away. He digs his claws into Megatron’s arm and leaves gouges in his plating and manages to entirely rip off his fusion cannon and toss it away, but still Megatron does not relent. He just keeps spitting curses on Starscream’s name. Calling him treacherous and scheming and Soundwave is pretty sure he hears a slur against flightframes in there somewhere.

And Soundwave can’t help but wonder where it all went wrong.

The ideal behind the Decepticons had always been equality. Justice for every frame class. The right to choose what a mech wanted to do with their life, not being controlled. Not being judged simply because of the way they were built. And Soundwave has always been loyal to the Decepticons.

So when Megatron tosses Starscream away and his advance on the Seeker where he’s crumpled on the floor is interrupted by Thundercracker running forward, getting in between them and holding his servos out, Soundwave watches. He keeps watching as Thundercracker tries to appease Megatron, tell him that Starscream has learned his lesson, that he won’t do it again. And he watches as Thundercracker refuses to budge even when Megatron orders him to.

“Soundwave!” Megatron all but roars, glaring daggers at Thundercracker where he stands between the warlord and his trinemate, “shoot the traitor.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave says, and then he raises his rifle and fires.

The entire Decepticon army watches in real-time as Megatron’s body falls, the hole in his chassis still smoking, as the few spots of color on his frame rapidly turn gray before their very optics. It takes a shockingly long amount of time for pandemonium to break loose. The Combaticons are shouting, the Stunticons are shouting louder, out of the corner of his optic Soundwave sees Dirge maniacally grinning as several other mechs hand over servofuls energon cubes. Starscream is trying to declare himself the new leader from where he’s still sitting on the floor and no one is paying him any mind.

The uproar quiets nigh-instantly as Soundwave ascends the pedestal at the front of the room and takes a seat on the throne. Even Starscream stops his bravado and stares. (Skywarp takes the momentary lull to join his other two trinemates and haul Starscream to his pedes.)

“Soundwave,” he says, “superior.”

Utter. Silence. It’s quiet enough that Soundwave can hear the sound of water dripping from one of the Victory’s many leaks. 

Unsurprisingly, Starscream speaks first. But he does not, in fact, try to challenge Soundwave’s rule. “You’re damn right,” he says, brushing off Skywarp’s concerned servos and walking forward to stand at Soundwave’s immediate right. The spot that the Second in Command is supposed to take. “And anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me,” he says, baring his teeth in a way that reminds their observers that he was Air Commander for a reason. The energon still dripping from his injured wing helps drive the point home. 

Well, it’s nice to know he has at least some support.

“Onslaught,” Soundwave says, and though he only mentioned one, all the Combaticons snap to attention. “Deal with him.” He doesn’t need to specify. The combiner team looks down at the corpse still sitting blandly on the floor. 

“...Yes, sir,” Onslaught says after several moments of silence. He takes Megatron’s helm, and Blast Off takes his legs, and the other three trail after them as they depart from the room.

Frankly, he doesn’t want to know what they’re planning to do with the body.

He looks around. There’s a lot of mechs just standing around doing nothing, fidgeting amongst themselves. Ramjet coughs into a fist. Soundwave idly wonders which human media he picked that gesture up from.

“Sir,” Thundercracker says, “if I may recommend… the raid schedule?” He doesn’t sound very sure of what he’s suggesting.

Soundwave looks at him. Thundercracker fidgets under the glare of his visor.

A quick glance into his mind tells Soundwave that he’s sort of hoping Megatron’s death means the end of the war. A cursory glance around the room tells him the majority of the mechs there are feeling very much the same.

Starscream, even without the aid of telepathy, seems to gather that. “Oh, for the love of--” He huffs, stepping forward. “Show of servos, who here actually wants to keep fighting this war? If you only want to keep fighting because you have a grudge against one Autobot, that doesn’t count.” At the addition, nearly all the raised arms in the room (which was already very few) drop. Another mech coughs.

This time it’s Long Haul who speaks up. “Should I…” he glances at his gestalt. “...Contact the Autobots?”

“Negative,” Soundwave says, and he can see Starscream about to protest, so he raises a servo to quiet the Seeker. “Eventually. Soon,” he corrects. “Chain of command: unsettled. Certain mechs: do not agree with change in authority. Decepticons: must present a united front during peace talks.” He can see by the look on Starscream’s face that the other mech reluctantly agrees. “Correct that. Then contact the Autobots.”

“Fine,” Starscream huffs, and Soundwave can see his wing still twitching. A single bead of energon drips from the injury and lands on the floor.

“Starscream: needs medical attention.” 

“What? I’m fine,” he says, though it’s contradicted by the way he winces as he tries to spread his wings in a prideful gesture. “Seriously. You kind of have bigger problems to deal with right now.”

“Soundwave: requires competent soldiers. Refusing medical aid: incompetent.” He jerks his head in Hook’s direction, and the Constructicon trots over. “Go with Hook.” Starscream huffs and rolls his optics, but starts heading towards the medical bay anyway. Soundwave grabs Hook’s arm before he can follow. “Orders regarding Starscream’s medical care: rescinded,” he says, because he’s been paying attention.

Quietly, Hook nods. “I never much liked those orders,” he says. Then he turns to follow after the Seeker.

Soundwave leans back in the throne (his throne, but that makes him sound so elitist) and scans the crowd still gathered. Many mechs are looking mildly lost, but others just look bored. He supposes very few of them were ever that loyal to Megatron, more-so the ideas he represented.

“Alright, show’s over,” Thundercracker says, and he claps his servos once and the audial-splitting noise it makes is enough to snap most of the mechs staring out of their respective dazes. “Everyone get back to your posts. If your current post is no longer relevant thanks to the change in management, some see me and I’ll find something for you to do.”

When Thundercracker talks, mechs listen. Soundwave considers having him replace the Third in Command spot.

Skywarp appears at Soundwave’s side with a quiet sound and a flicker of purple, and leans over. “The Stunticons are messed up,” he whispers in Soundwave’s audial. “Motormaster’s non-responsive. Breakdown’s having a panic attack.”

Soundwave looks over at Skywarp. The Seeker stares back with an alarming amount of intelligence in his optics.

That sounds really insulting, actually.

“Skywarp,” Soundwave says, “has the potential for espionage.”

Skywarp shrugs. “I can get in and out of places better than anyone else. Most folks don’t pay me a lot of mind ‘cause they think I’m stupid. Which, okay, they’re a little right. I don’t understand numbers and I have a hard time reading. But I can repeat what I’ve heard and tell folks what I’ve seen good enough. So, y’know, I figure as much as you’ve got the spying thing handled, you might be able to use a mech who can hang around folks without them feeling like they’re being spied on.”

That’s one negative to Soundwave’s notoriety. Everyone expects him to be spying on them. Which means they tend to act a certain way when he’s around, because they think they know what he wants to see, and don’t want to risk getting in trouble. If a spy is well-known they instantly become less effective.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave says. “Skywarp’s assignment: report general consensus on change in leadership.” 

The Seeker gives him a salute, then disappears again.

Right… he had mentioned the Stunticons, hadn’t he? While Soundwave doubts the gestalt are planning on trying anything, it’s still best if he makes the difference between him and Megatron clear as early as possible. Megatron had dismissed the Stunticons whenever they weren’t needed for battle, forgetting that despite their adult appearances, they were as good as younglings in terms of emotional maturity.

And they’d just watched the closest thing they had to a caretaker die.

So Soundwave huffs, and he gets to his pedes to go do his job.

-

He supposes he can’t really blame the Autobots for their suspicion. This does kind of ring like something that might be a trap.

At least they ended up with Jazz on the other end of the line rather than, say, Prowl. While Jazz is by no means gullible or trusting, he’s a little bit more open to ideas than the more suspicious of Autobot high command. He’s wary, but not immediately dismissive of Soundwave’s claims that he wants to broker peace between their factions.

“Uhuh,” Jazz says, staring at him with a skeptical look. “Sure you do. What’s Ol’ Megsy’s opinion on all of this?”

“Megatron’s opinion: no longer relevant,” Soundwave says. “Megatron: offline. Soundwave: in charge. Begin peace talks?” Because he’s not going to let them get too off topic. The more Jazz distracts him, the less likely things are actually going to get done, and that’s something Soundwave will not allow. He’s always prided himself on efficiency. Reliability. The only one more capable in that department is Shockwave, but he’s busy trying to engage a ceasefire with the Autobots still stationed on Cybertron.

While Soundwave can’t see Jazz’s optics behind his visor, he does see the way the light brightens for a moment, as well as the flicker of disbelief on the mech’s face. “Megatron’s dead? What happened? He looked fine last we saw him, and I didn’t think Starscream was actually any good at what he did.”

“Starscream… Capable, but not at this,” Soundwave says. “Megatron: terminated by Soundwave. Reasoning: Megatron was a traitor to the Decepticon cause.” He stands firm. He will not allow an outsider to pass judgement on a faction that is not his to judge.

Jazz stares at him for several moments in complete silence. Then he bursts out laughing.

“Megatron, a traitor. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Jazz says. He leans forward to type at the console in front of him. “Sit tight, Sounders, I’ll patch you through to Prime.” The image flickers out, and a moment later is replaced with the stern not-really-face of Optimus Prime.

“Soundwave,” he says in greeting.

“Prime,” Soundwave returns. “Jazz: tell you what this is about?”

“He… did not. He was too busy laughing.” Prime lokos distinctly uncomfortable. “Which one of my Autobots has gotten themselves stuck in some ridiculous scenario today?”

The fact that he jumped right to there being an Autobot problem rather than a Decepticon problem is interesting, but is also not what Soundwave is here for. “Negative,” Soundwave says. “Reason for calling: organizing a peace treaty between Autobots and Decepticons.” Before Prime can interrupt, he continues, “Megatron: deceased. Authority: Soundwave’s. This offer is real. Decepticons: do not want to continue fighting a pointless war. Cybertron is dead. Cooperation: best way to revive our planet.”

Optimus stares at him in disbelief. A moment later, though Soundwave cannot see the lower half of his face, his optics crinkle up in what is most certainly a smile. “I concur,” he says. “I’ll enact a ceasefire immediately, and trust you to do the same. May we reconvene in three days time? I need to discuss our course of action with my command staff.”

“Soundwave: must do the same. Three days is fine.” Soundwave gives Prime a respectful nod. “Peace: preferable. Soundwave: looks forward to working with you.”

With a nod in return, Prime ends the call, and there’s a vague sigh of relief from the other Decepticons gathered on the bridge. “I thought they were gonna think it was a trap or something for sure,” Skywarp says. “Maybe we should’a tried this sooner.”

“Would not have worked sooner,” Soundwave says, “Megatron,” and he doesn’t add anything else.

“Good point.”

Soundwave takes his seat at the head of the room, and Starscream (seated on the arm of his chair) immediately leans over to get his attention with a datapad. “We got a response from Shockwave,” he says, ‘finally’ going unsaid. “He managed to successfully have a full conversation with Elita and not get shot. So he’s pretty sure he’s got things covered on that front. Specifically, he says there’s a ninety-three percent likelihood of a positive outcome.

“Query: needs help from us?”

“Not that he’s said. I get the feeling the political environment is a little bit different up there. Elita and her group have never seemed very big on the faction split either.” He leans away again, pulling one leg up onto the chair and gently swinging the other. “Think Prime is actually gonna take this seriously?”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave says. “Prime: reasonable. No more interested in war than Decepticons.” 

“And his crew?”

That, Soundwave is less sure of. Prowl comes to mind, as does Red Alert and Cliffjumper, and a good few other of the more suspicion-prone Autobots. But there’s also Jazz, and Ratchet, and numerous more reasonable mechs. Once they see that Soundwave is genuine, and peace actually starts seeming possible, he has a feeling the more high strung Autobots will calm down a bit. And while they may not trust the Decepticons, they will at least have no reason to continue dis trusting them.

“Peace: possible,” Soundwave settles on. No matter what happens in the coming weeks, no matter what obstacles they must overcome. There is an end to all of this.

Starscream looks at him. Then leans against the back of the chair and goes back to reading his datapad. 

“For all of our sakes,” the Seeker says, “I hope you’re right."

Chapter Text

Soundwave does not often get visitors.

He gets coworkers on official business. The cassettes get visitors. But no one comes to his home in Iacon looking for Soundwave’s company.

Except, apparently, Starscream does.

It confuses Soundwave, as most things about the Seeker tend to. Besides that one time they overthrew the leader of the Decepticons together (or the time Soundwave overthrew him and Starscream acted as a suitable distraction/instigator), they’ve never really cooperated. Or, rather, liked each other. 

They had been civil. But there was a sort of… unspoken division between them. Starscream, always getting Megatron’s attention where it wasn’t wanted. Soundwave, never getting it where it was.

As with most things, something Soundwave is working to remind himself of whenever a new problem arises, Megatron is mostly at fault.

Left to their own devices, Soundwave is almost positive he and Starscream could have formed something more than just civil tolerance. They are both intelligent mechs, in their own right, with a suitable work ethic (when Starscream wasn’t being distracted by inane nonsense) and good helms on their shoulders. Without an intruding party determined to muck up the works, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be able to get along.

Starscream seems determined to prove that point. By showing up at his apartment at least twice a week (though usually more) and engaging him in conversation about the current goings-on around this new version of Cybertron.

It’s odd.

But it’s not unwelcome.

Even when the subject he brings up might be.

They don’t really… talk about things. Not amongst themselves. Some of the former Decepticons have started seeing therapists, as have the former Autobots, but discussion about the war and what went on (and how terrible it was) usually isn’t considered a polite brunch topic. 

But there is no one here but them. Soundwave supposes it was an inevitability.

They are sitting in Soundwave’s living room, across from each other, with a table at their right and a cube in each of their servos. Soundwave isn’t drinking his, he usually doesn’t until there is no one to observe him, and Starscream is about halfway through his. Starscream never brings up his reluctance to show his face. Soundwave is grateful for it.

They are sitting in silence, and Starscream keeps staring. Glancing up at him, then down at the linoleum beneath their pedes. Clearing his vocalizer.

“Query?”

“Yes,” Starscream says, pausing. Then the Seeker looks at him. “Why did you never do anything before?” Starscream asks him. 

And Soundwave feels… overwhelming guilt. It leaks into his field that he normally keeps so tight against his frame and he can see Starscream jerk at the strength of his emotion. The Seeker looks at him incredulously.

“Because…” Soundwave says, haltingly, putting effort into his words. Into making them sound real. Because Starscream deserves more than the monotone that is his safety net. “Because if he was looking at you,” Soundwave says, hating himself for it, “he was not looking at me.” Or, more specifically, he was not looking at the cassettes.

Or… he hadn’t been. It had worked, for so long. It had been an undeniable but just as unspoken truth in their faction. When Megatron went for his second, you didn’t step in, because then he would be looking at you and yours. And having Megatron’s attention (having his attention when he was angry) was a very bad thing. So no one said a word. No one stepped in. Much like Soundwave’s easy emotionless words, his if/then statements, his colons and his reluctance to use first person pronouns, Starscream was their safety net.

It was not a justification. It was not fair. None of them ever thought it so.

But you did not succeed in the Decepticons by risking yourselves for one another.

You kept your head down and you survived.  

“I’m sorry,” Soundwave says very quietly, and he keeps his head down. “We should have done more. We were scared.”

Starscream stares at him. Silently. For a solid minute, and Soundwave prepares a dozen excuses on why he needs to leave, right now, and ignore Starscream for the next several weeks.

And then Starscream leans forward and sets a servo over his dock.

“It’s alright,” he says, just as softly as Soundwave had spoken. “I forgive you.”

Soundwave curls his digits against his thighs. He stares down at them, or maybe he’s staring at Starscream’s servo where it rests over his chest. Belatedly, he notes that his own are shaking. Something fierce, actually, in a way they haven’t since the day Megatron was offlined. (Since the day he offlined Megatron. Megatron, his leader, the mech who had led them to freedom. The mech he was supposed to be loyal to. He had said shoot the traitor and Soundwave had shot but Soundwave was the traitor and maybe Soundwave should have shot--)

“Soundwave,” Starscream says, snapping Soundwave out of his feedback loop and prompting him to look up. His visor is molten bright with how fast his processor is spinning, and he can see it in the way the light reflects off Starscream’s dark faceplates. “It’s alright,” he says again. “You did what you needed to do. No one blames you for that.”

Is he… he can’t be talking about…? No. No, he’s talking about what they were talking about before. About what they had done. What they had let Megatron do.

Because they were scared? What cowardice. 

What cowardice, says a voice that sounds suspiciously like Megatron’s. Look at them run, Soundwave. Look at them fall.

Look at Cybertron fall.

Soundwave reaches up, setting his servo over the one Starscream still has on his chest. It rests on the glass of his dock, just over where his Decepticon symbol had been. Before. Carefully, he threads his digits through Starscream’s own.

Idly, he thinks that the blues of their respective paint look nice together.

“Soundwave,” Starscream muses, “are you reading my thoughts right now?”

Completely against his will, Soundwave’s face warms beneath his mask. He’s not even sure entirely why he’s blushing. Maybe it’s the fact that their fingers are still entwined right over his spark (which is so much more exposed than most any other mech because his cassettes need the proximity), or the fact that Starscream is looking at him like that. His optics bright, mouth quirked in this tiny smirk. But not the sort of smirk he wore when he would be trying to lord some imagined power over Megatron. Not that cruel, biting thing. This is just… 

Well, it’s something alright.

“Negative,” Soundwave says, slipping back into monotone in an attempt to cover whatever quandary he’s apparently having with his emotional regulation systems. “Soundwave: has kept his ability to himself. Starscream’s thoughts: are his own.” 

Starscream hums softly, running his thumb across the side of Soundwave’s servo where they’re still entwined. “Why don’t you take a quick peek?” It’s said in that same tone as by your command, Lord Megatron, or just this once, no one needs to know, or any other number of little things Starscream would just say.

All this time, and he still finds himself lacking a genuine, undiluted perspective on the inner machinations of Starscream’s processor. The one mystery that always eluded him, no matter how much he might have searched.

“N-negative,” Soundwave stutters out. “Starscream: has called… Accused Soundwave of… Invading privacy.”

“It’s hardly an invasion of privacy if I’m giving you express permission, is it?” Starscream leans closer, and even through his muffled olfactory sensors he can smell the Seeker’s fancy polish. A luxury he never would have been afforded before and just one more piece of proof that the war really is over with and they really are at peace. “Just a look. A cursory glance. What harm could it do?”

Knowing Starscream? Soundwave almost suspects he has some virus buried dormant in his processor that’ll only awaken if Soundwave tries to read it.

But then Soundwave remembers this is the charge rerouter, Rumble, can you get your tiny little digits in there to pry it apart? The power flows there to make sure the gun doesn’t explode in your face when you try and fire it and he remembers Lord Megatron, please, please not the wings, I need those and he lets the heavy restraints he keeps on his ability to release and the charge of the room spreads out before him like a digital map.

The room is hazy, simply the low buzz of the ever-present magnetic charge that’s present in any planet with a gravitational field and an electrical grid. But Starscream?

Oh, Starscream is phosphorescent.

Part of the reason Soundwave has never been keen on searching Starscream’s mind (beyond the risk of possible digitally transmitted viruses or the furious shrieked and bombardment with lewd and graphic images he always got whenever he’d previously tried) is that Starscream’s mind, on the best of days, is a whirling cacophony of thoughts and ideas and subroutines that gives Soundwave a headache when he tries to decipher it all. On the bad days, it’s worse. Which is why he so rarely saw the Seeker’s plots coming in time to warn Megatron about them.

(He’d never needed to. Starscream failed gloriously on his own. Like a sun going supernova.)

But… well, either he’s explicitly trying to make his mind nicer on Soundwave’s systems, or being part of the Decepticons was a lot worse for him than Soundwave thought.

Because it’s not chaos. It’s not a hurricane of feelings and half-baked plots and yet more unnamed but wretched things. It’s not calm, because nothing about the Seeker is calm, and if he’s calm then something is very very wrong. But it’s… manageable. The sort of chaos of a particularly busy street, perhaps, but a street that one is familiar enough with to be able to navigate it regardless.

And Soundwave… doesn’t know where to start. 

Which doesn’t seem to be a problem, actually. Either Starscream has been paying way more attention than he thought or he somehow got access to Soundwave’s medical files (or maybe he’s just that clever) because he has no problem guiding Soundwave right to where he wants him to be.

Emotional sector. Primary core.

Soundwave looks.

And finds himself metaphorical-face to metaphorical-face with a whole bunch of honest forgiveness all directed right at him.

That place was not good, Starscream says (or doesn’t say), for any of us. It would be dreadfully hypocritical of me to blame you for the way you acted in a situation which left your servos tied. I understand. And it’s okay.

It’s not as honest as a sparkbond, because you can change your processor but you can never change your spark no matter what you do. But it’s more honest than a cable linkup, because the millisecond delay the physical connection involves allows a mech to change anything they’d like about the thoughts and feelings their partner receives.

With Soundwave’s ability, there’s no time to lie. Sure, if a mech was already lying beforehand they might be able to convince him for a little while. But a mech cannot change their mind while Soundwave is already in it.

And unless Starscream was lying before (which… as much as past experience might imply otherwise, he sort of doubts), he isn’t now. 

I forgive you. The servo on his chest that Soundwave had started gripping like a lifeline some time in the past ten seconds gently pulls away, moving up to instead rest on the side of his face. Starscream leans forward and sets their helms together and Soundwave breathes out a sound that he really doesn’t want to call a wistful sigh, if only for his own dignity.

“It’s okay,” Starscream whispers, red optics bright and as open as his mind still is, meeting Soundwave’s with no sense of discomfort anywhere. “He is gone and dead. And he is never coming back, and we will never have to deal with him again.” 

Soundwave lets his optics offline and nods against Starscream’s helm.

He knows it’s not true. Part of him. Or, it’s not entirely true. Because while it is true that Megatron is gone and dead and never coming back, he knows better than (almost) anyone that he has not left them alone. And it will likely be a long time before he ever does, if at all. He doesn’t need to be buried in Starscream’s deeper thought processes to know that the warlord left a permanent emotional scar on the Seeker, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. Being able to see it all laid out so clearly. He really must commend the Seeker’s ability to categorize his feelings, it almost rivals Soundwave in its efficiency.

And then he extremely belatedly realizes that he’s still scouring Starscream’s mind as though using a fine microfiber cloth, and is seconds from locking his ability away with an apology on the edge of his vocalizer before Starscream catches one of his servos with his own free one and pulls it close.

“It’s alright,” he says, as he’s already said so many times before, and yet Soundwave is still grateful for the reassurance. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ve been told that when I’m not caught up in turmoil, I’ve actually got a rather clever mind.”

He… is not wrong.

“Starscream: may say no at any time,” he reminds the Seeker, and it earns him an affronted snort.

“You think I don’t know that, idiot? If I really want you out, you’ll be gone before I even have the chance to ask you to leave.” Soundwave sees him smirk again, that tiny little quirk of dark lip-plates and he idly finds himself wondering if they’re as soft as they look. “Likely so. I use an exfoliating scrub.”

And then he remembers that if anyone could figure out how to make the sort of connection his ability offers go both ways, Starscream could. 

And then the Seeker starts laughing at him.

But it’s okay. Connected as they are, processor to processor, Soundwave knows he’s only laughing so much because he thinks Soundwave’s cute when he gets flustered, especially given how stoic he normally tries to be.

(This, in fact, only makes him more flustered. Which has the added effect of only making the Seeker laugh harder.)

Soundwave decides he is tired of these games at the same time Starscream thinks about time and he barely has time to transform his mask away before there’s a pair of lips on his and pale blue servos start trailing down his chassis. He finds himself remarkably grateful that there’s no one else home.

And he also wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself into.