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“We’re going to a party! At least make yourself presentable !”
“I am not wearing any of that .”
Starscream sighs in exasperation. Megatron removes himself from the mirror and Starscream’s outstretched servos, presenting two pieces of rather expensive jewelry for Megatron to wear. Shaped like a bracelet and a necklace, Starscream had them custom-made to match Megatron’s frame and colors.
“Don't be such a sparkling, it's just jewelry,” Starscream scoffs, taking a peek in the mirror and fixes the slightly tipped angle of his crown. He catches Megatron rolling his optics at him in his peripheral vision.
“If it's just jewelry, why are you so hung up over it?” Megatron questions. He’s crossed his arms over his chassis, hiding where his insignia once resided. An unconscious gesture Megatron supposedly does when he feels uncertain, or out of place. Starscream read so in Rung’s files; ones he really shouldn't have access to, but as the Emperor, he is privy to a few things.
Ask him and he’ll say that he was only curious whether Megatron spoke of him during these sessions, though that's hardly an excuse.
“I won't be seen out in public with you so… bare,” Starscream argues, gesturing at Megatron to emphasize his point. His nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. “You're my conjunx! Think of how that makes me look. You didn't even let me polish you!”
“I am hardly yours to show off,” Megatron growls. “Unlike you, I don't enjoy prancing–”
“I don't prance!”
Change of tactics. Starscream gently pushes Megatron back towards the mirror and presses up against him from behind. He slots his arms around Megatron’s chest, digits laced together. Though he has to stand on the tips of his pedes, he leans up to rest his chin on his mate's shoulder, watching the pair of them through the mirror. “And why can't I show you off? We look good together, Megatron.”
Starscream watches Megatron’s expression twist and change in the mirror, uncertainty and frustration soon settling for something akin to resignation. He catches Megatron’s optics and smirks, pressing a kiss to his neck. There's a jingle of metals when Megatron is distracted by the faces Starscream makes at him, and he snaps his gaze down to look at his chassis.
Starscream slinks back to the dresser and watches Megatron scrutinize the necklace with a wary gaze. When his mate reaches to yank it off, Starscream quickly steps forward and seizes his wrist. “Don't,” he says. “You're looking at it like it might strangle you.”
“Knowing you–”
Starscream cuts him off, “Megatron, when was the last time I made an attempt on your spark?”
Megatron struggles to answer. Starscream sees the conflict and guilt in his mate’s optics and loosens his grip, guiding Megatron’s servo to the necklace, closing it around the ring attached to the silver string.
He opens his servo when Starscream pulls back and studies its contents. Starscream’s shoulders sag in relief when Megatron decides not to rip the chain loose, yet is taken entirely by surprise when Megatron seizes his hips in strong servos and leans down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Charge crackles from one frame to another, the electrifying effect enough to make Starscream shudder and melt in the face of Megatron’s ferocious passion.
He pulls back far too soon and Starscream thinks the whine that leaves his own lips is entirely unbefitting of Cybertron’s leader. He meets Megatron’s optics and sees them soft, adoring, the intensity inspiring an uncharacteristic bashfulness in him and he looks away.
“Starscream,” Megatron rumbles, cupping Starscream’s cheek and tilts his helm up to meet his own gaze. Starscream struggles against the flush that threatens to dust his cheeks, trying to force it down. “You conniving, treacherous, beautiful thing.”
“Only one of those is a compliment,” Starscream grumbles. Megatron chuckles, brushing a padded thumb right under Starscream’s optic. Gentle, and soft, yet firm with the calloused texture of Megatron’s digits.
“You kept it,” Megatron says. He takes the ring attached to the necklace in his free servo, almost cradling it. “I recall you saying it wasn't entirely up to your standards, but passable, for the time. Yet you kept it.”
“Well, I–” Starscream resets his vocalizer and swats Megatron’s servo away, wings twitching in uncertainty. Blasted things, always betraying his emotions. “I wanted to surprise you with it. It's– the physical proof of our bonding,” he drawls, recalling the way Megatron had presented it to him all those nights ago.
Megatron recaptures Starscream’s attention and lips in a much softer kiss, lingering by his face when they break away. “Perhaps… I see the allure.”
“Of what?”
“Your party.”
Starscream smirks in the face of his victory– both figuratively and literally. He fastens the bracelet around Megatron’s wrist before his mate can protest, pecking him on the nose.
Perhaps, if he could convince Megatron to let him polish that frame of his to perfection, he'd be all the more enticing to show off.