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Hours after the last of the crew has signed off and plugged in to recharge, the bridge of the Nemesis remains lit, providing for its two restless occupants.
Well. One restless occupant who annoys his grudging leader. More of a glorified babysitter, Megatron thinks to himself, watching Starscream pace endlessly in circles around him with occasional flicks of his wings. He'd been ranting at him for hours on end until the promise of Megatron's activated fusion cannon finally shut him up, but now Megatron wasn't so sure whether he preferred the klik-klik-klik of Starscream’s heels against the metal or his baseless accusations.
He sent Thundercracker and Skywarp out on a mission with Soundwave but had Starscream stay behind because his duties as Megatron’s Second and his Air Commander weren't so easily transferable. Loathe as he does to admit this, some part of Megatron feels responsible for Starscream’s current behavior. He may not be a substitute for his trine, but with whatever exists between them (he's not exactly adamant to label it) Megatron at least tries.
“Starscream, this is exhausting,” he says after enduring another fifteen minutes of this. Starscream stops and turns around, regarding Megatron with a defiant glare.
“Then go recharge. I’m not asking you to be here, am I?!”
Megatron sighs. “If I leave you to it, I’ll find my plans disrupted, my bridge destroyed, or you in a useless heap on my floors.”
No effect. Starscream scoffs and resumes his pacing. At least until Megatron seizes him by the wings and hauls him into his lap, undeterred by Starscream’s flailing and screeching.
“Come here,” he grumbles, large arms wrapping around Starscream’s middle and pulling him flush against Megatron’s chassis. “I can hear your processor twisting and turning.”
Starscream, predictably, still struggles, trying several approaches that include his wings, pedes, and talons. It's of little use against Megatron’s reinforced armor and Megatron counters with a handsy approach of his own.
He lifts Starscream a little and shifts the seeker to sit face-first against his own chest, wings in full view. He reaches over to caress their tips almost reverently, an apology for the earlier manhandling. Its effect is immediate; Starscream deflates, losing whatever drive he still ran on.
“Better,” Megatron rumbles. He traces gentle patterns against delicate metal sheets, eliciting a soft sigh and accompanying shudder from Starscream. Once you know where to press and what to say, it's quite easy to get Starscream to loosen up a little, Megatron discovered. It's still rare to have him in a position he wants, what with the seeker being generally flighty and unable to stand still, let alone sit still.
Megatron considers himself lucky when Starscream is still with him when he wakes from recharge rather than snooping around in his rooms.
“They'll be fine,” Megatron soothes, loosely curling one arm around Starscream while the other continues to work on his wings, gradually getting them down from their tense position. “They're capable warriors.”
“I know,” Starscream scoffs, partially muffled by his position. Megatron feels him shift, and opens his legs further so Starscream is better positioned between them. He gently lays his helm against Megatron’s chest, lips briefly connecting to where his insignia is. Involuntarily, Megatron stills at the affectionate gesture.
“They can handle themselves. Soundwave can handle them. I know! It's just–” Starscream pauses. Megatron wisely says nothing and encourages him only through gentle caresses. His unoccupied servo moves to gently press against Starscream’s backstruts, massaging at particularly tense wiring. Starscream melts further into his arms and Megatron allows himself to feel the satisfaction of this victory.
“I don't know. We haven't been apart for a mission ever since we joined you,” Starscream finishes and sighs wearily. “I doubt you would understand. It's–”
“Trine bond?” Megatron guesses. Starscream nods.
Silence falls. It's relaxing; tranquil, even, disrupted only by the quiet pants and whines Starscream gives at Megatron’s massaging and the gentle rumble of his own engines in response. Megatron manages to redirect the charge threatening to online his interfacing array at said noises– they affect him, but he chooses to ignore that in favor of preserving the moment.
And to hear more. He’ll record them for later.
It's Starscream who breaks the silence. “You're hardly a fitting replacement,” he scoffs. He feels warm against Megatron, his engines buzzing in content. His wings have since lowered to a relaxed state and the plates of Starscream’s armor opened up to allow deeper, more intimate touch, though considering Megatron’s lack of talons he has to make more of an effort to really get to the spots Starscream ‘invites’ him to. “But you're not as bad with my frame as I assumed.”
Megatron snorts, “You have an odd way of compliments, Starscream.” Servos growing weary, Megatron relaxes his grip and rests them on Starscream’s hips instead.
“It wasn't intended as one,” Starscream titters. His amusement fades when Megatron’s touches cease and he grumbles instead. “Done already? Are your joints rusty? I didn't say you could stop.”
“Nor did you ask me to start,” Megatron mutters, sliding his servos up to Starscream’s shoulders and presses his thumbs into the metal.
Megatron scowls. The little brat really does have him wrapped around his finger.