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Skyfire does his best not to look at the screen.
He occupies himself by asking Perceptor pointless questions, and dodging the knowing look on Wheeljack's face.
He's fortunate the other two like him so much.
Perceptor and Wheeljack don't pretend to understand. They can't hope to.
Tracks understands.
Tracks has made the mistake of becoming an Autobot while caring deeply about a Decepticon.
Skyfire doesn't talk with Tracks.
He probably should.
His big mistake is wincing when Optimus asks on the status of the anti-aircraft missiles they're working on.
Perceptor light up, excited to ramble to their beloved leader. Skyfire's vents hitch when Perceptor makes the mistake of saying the missile can down a seeker in seconds.
Wheeljack tells Perceptor to finish up in a low tone.
Skyfire would hate to be on the receiving end.
The universe tantalizes him; gives him understanding friends. Friends who are patient, and don't fault him for having complicated feelings towards the Autobot cause. Friends who get equally annoyed when Skyfire is stolen away from the lab to play chauffer.
But it feels like that's barely enough to sate his worries. Forces around him thwart any attempt at rekindling what's left of the life he knew. His colleagues are kind, but they can't fathom the Decepticon second-in-command as anything but a shrill sadist of a mech.
Skyfire could never ask that of them.
He can't ask anyone to look at Starscream and like him.
But his own feelings.
Won't.
Go.
Away.
Starscream was never what Skyfire considered a good person. He was always loud, and stubborn, and actively hard to love. He was selfish, and brutally honest, and while that was refreshing, it'd be asinine to pretend Starscream was a good kid before the war.
...But there's a difference between that and an utter monster.
Skyfire wonders if this is some mean joke being played on him. He wonders if the universe has been conspiring against him for years, steadily making Starscream more and more unlikeable until the pressure from those around Skyfire results in him either disowning the lithe little seeker, or being cast out himself.
He toes the line; Starscreams cruelty has rubbed off on him.
He asks Wheeljack if the anti-aircraft missiles would hurt the target.
He knows the answer; the sight of Wheeljack's hapless, floundering expression makes his spark feel both horrible and delightful.
Perceptor is quick to defend his Amica. He scolds Skyfire, asking if he really thinks Wheeljack wants to design things meant to end lives. Is that fair to Wheeljack?
Skyfire a scientist, not a warrior.
He's tried to start a fight and immediately hates it.
He can't help the tears.
They make him feel gross, though; like he's forcing them to comfort him after implying Wheeljack enjoys shooting seekers out of the sky. Especially when in response to his crying, he receives reassurance from his fellow scientists.
Gentle pats on his leg and tutting from Perceptor replace his impressive defense of his finialed friend.
"Ohh, here now. No need to cry, Skyfire. I know you're hurting, but you can't take it out on poor Wheeljack! Tell us what's wrong."
Wheeljack breaks out blueprints and asks if Skyfire wants to help him figure out how to incapacitate targets with as little pain as possible.
Skyfire knows that will result in a Decepticon victory. One that Wheeljack is apparently willing to risk to quell the tears of a weepy shuttle.
Cooler heads prevail this time. Skyfire refuses.
He apologizes. He knows it was a horrible question to ask. Wheeljack clasps big, white servos in his small, rough ones. Finials light up softly, with pretty, comforting colors.
He's forgiven with a loving squeeze of his hands.
Sometimes, if Skyfire was lucky, Starscream would grab his hands like that. Starscream gave such aggressive compliments. Pounded into Skyfire brain that he was a thing of beauty; a scientist that needed no transport. A flier that knew about the world he flew through.
Perceptor and Wheeljack don't know that's what he needs. They couldn't give it to him even if they did know.
Nobody can replace Starscream.
So Skyfire swallows the cold, mean truth, and removes himself from the lab with the excuse of getting a cube. Perhaps he's cranky because he's hungry.
He swallows the hard lump in his throat when he's alone.
The energon doesn't help it go down.
If they go easy on the Decepticons, they lose.
If they surrender, they lose.
If they meet in the middle, they lose.
If Starscream, in his pompous, wretched glory, isn't imprisoned, tortured, or dead by the end of this, they lose.
...If they win, Skyfire loses.