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“Something is bugging you,” said Megatron, “you haven't left your quarters ever since we arrived back in Kaon. This is unlike you.” Megatron sighed. “I have almost grown accustomed to not watching my back.”
“Go away!” Starscream snarled. Starscream’s temporary quarters were dark, but Megatron could make out his silhouette by the glow of his smoldering optics. The Seeker sat huddled in the center of his berth with his arms looped around his legs, assuming a fetal position. His helm rested on his knees.
He sounded distant, Megatron noted, as if he weren't even talking to his leader.
Megatron ex-vented through his olfactory unit. Using his override code, he activated the overhead lights, slowly blinking to life with a steady hum. Starscream’s wings rose high and tensed, and the Seeker hissed, further curling in on himself.
Megatron kept a considerable distance between himself and the berth. “Starscream,” he called again, louder this time. “We have no time for this. We are in the middle of rebuilding our city.”
Starscream showed no sign of recognition and uttered another nonsensical string of words. Megatron took a step closer…
And was subsequently hit with a wave of everything that Starscream felt. He clutched his chassis with a gasp and very nearly lost his footing at the overwhelming intensity that was Starscream’s EM field. Usually, he knew the Seeker to be cautious enough to wrap it tightly around himself, save for a few playful flares here and there when it suited the occasions, it had never quite been like this. Starscream only gave Megatron what he was willing to share, even if the Seeker’s functioning would be at risk, so… this was way beyond Megatron’s abilities.
Then again, Starscream had always been beyond what Megatron could handle, a step outside of his own comfort zone, and yet, he’d indulged, time and time again. He could lie to himself and call it caution, that Starscream’s presence served as a reminder for Megatron to constantly watch his back, but he knew it went far beyond that.
So he took another step. Megatron extended his own field, tendrils of gentle, strong reassurance pushing against Starscream’s mental walls.
Starscream suddenly looked up. “Megatron.” Recognition flashed across his face, soon replaced by alarm or fear; Megatron couldn’t quite tell. Starscream’s faceplate was marred with lines of exhaustion. Megatron creased his brow-ridges in a frown at the sight.
“Have you recharged?” Megatron asked.
The fear on Starscream’s face dissipated. “What?”
“When was the last time you recharged?”
“How should I know? And why do you care?” Starscream rearranged his expression into a sneer. It was one Megatron had seen countless times before, so with that frame of reference in mind, he knew this one was fake, an attempt to dissuade him, or incite his anger.
Easy as it would be to slip into aggression, something they were both intimately familiar with, Megatron would not let Starscream get under his plating. He clasped his hands behind his back and took his time carefully scrutinizing the Seeker’s frame with his optics. By the time they reached Starscream’s face again, the Seeker’s scowl was genuine.
“I’m not interested. Go find someone else.”
Megatron cycled his optics. “That… isn’t why I am here, you fool.”
Starscream drew his knees further up against his chassis. “What else are you ever here for?”
“I--” Megatron paused. Starscream intentionally tried to divert his attention away from the question that lingered in the tense air between them. Aware of this, Megatron, feared leader of the Decepticons, anxiously soldiered on. “You did not answer my question. When did you last recharge?”
Starscream shifted. He flexed his digits and lowered his gaze, refusing to look Megatron in the optic. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“Yes, that’s what I just said!” Starscream hissed.
Megatron took another step. There was still some distance between them, and he kept it that way when Starscream responded to his proximity by curling his lips to bare his fangs. The effect was undercut significantly by both the Seeker’s mental and physical state but Megatron would not force him. Not here.
“Care to tell me why?” he asked awkwardly. Megatron’s tone unwittingly carried an accusation and he groaned inwardly when the realization dawned: Starscream’s demeanor made it more than clear just how he felt about it. The hiss that left his vocalizer, the way his wings rose to an even higher “v” on his back, his digits curling inward to ball his hands to fists--the signs were all there.
Megatron felt like a newbuild: lost and disoriented, trying to gauge what worked and what didn’t. He’d never been apt at acting as a pillar of support for emotionally compromised mechs; he knew how to write passionate speeches, inspire emotion, and incite fury in his followers, but that was calculated and directed at a larger audience. Megatron worked well with a sense of shared solidarity, something that proved to be an obstacle here. Whatever eloquent, pretty words he had at his disposal would not work on Starscream.
And it agitated him.
Megatron lowered the output on his vocalizer in an attempt to soften his voice. “Is… something keeping you up?”
Starscream gaped. He sat in visible shock for a few kliks, clearly processing the fact that Megatron had asked him about his well being and expressed--Megatron hoped--concern. Megatron could hear the cogs in Starscream’s processor turning but he remained patient, inviting his Second to speak.
Starscream’s guarded expression finally eased up. “I don’t want to,” he muttered, tentatively lifting his gaze up. He still refused to meet Megatron’s optics, but he was no longer looking at his own legs. It was a start.
Megatron saw Starscream open his intake again as if he were about to say something, but he changed his mind. Fear flashed through his optics and he shook his helm. “I don’t want to,” he repeated, louder this time. “I don’t want to! Don’t make me! He will… he will come for me!”
Starscream’s field flared violently and sent Megatron staggering back a few steps. Starscream wheezed out heavy vents, unhooking an arm from around his legs. He moved it up to his intake, frantically trying to move the wiring that protected it out of position. “No, no, no! He will come, he will--he will come, I can’t, I can’t!”
Megatron’s pedes carried him to the Seeker’s side faster than his processor could gather what was going on. He sat on the edge of Starscream’s berth and reached out, closing his digits around Starscream’s wrist. He gently pried it away from Starscream’s throat but the Seeker resisted, his hyperventilation worsening.
“Starscream,” Megatron said, “Starscream. I need you to focus.”
Starscream didn’t. He struggled desperately, exerting all his available strength to free his hand from Megatron’s grasp. He said nothing, so Megatron took it as an invitation to continue speaking. “Listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.”
“Let me go!” Starscream cried. “Let me go, I can’t--I can’t breathe, Unicron, let me go!”
Ah. So that was what this was about. Megatron quieted down, for once at a complete loss for words. He’d forgotten that Starscream took the disc from him, absorbed its information, and… well. He must’ve met Unicron, then.
Of course. Megatron blew out a heavy vent and cursed his own incompetence, his refusal to listen to Starscream’s ramblings because he believed they were just another trick, another ploy to disorient and kill him, even though he knew in his spark that Starscream spoke the truth.
Megatron had not wanted to admit to it. Not even to himself. He would have rather turned a blind optic to the greatest threat of his own future because he was scared of it.
“Back then… you…?”
He didn’t even have to ask. Starscream nodded his helm--indicating that he could hear Megatron. That was good. The warlord snapped himself out of his own stupor in favor of guiding Starscream through something he was familiar with. Megatron pushed aside thoughts of the Arena, of the mines, the heavy weight that they put on his spark not mattering. He drew into the experiences instead and applied them to the situation at hand.
For good measure, he grabbed Starscream’s other arm as well. The Seeker kicked out his legs, heeled pedes colliding with Megatron’s chassis in a flurry of uncoordinated blows. Starscream wasn’t weak by any means, but Megatron refused to move even an inch.
“Shut down your main intake,” he instructed. “Breathe through your auxiliaries. You are not going to suffocate.”
Starscream violently shook his helm. His kicking had ceased but as a result of the sudden burst of action, the Seeker was exhausted, the wheezing noise his vents emitted worsening to the point where Starscream broke down into a sob. “No,” he gasped. “I don’t--I don’t want to die!”
“Starscream. I need you to do this. Divert your ventilations elsewhere. The calipers in your main intake are tightening, constricting your airflow.”
“No!”
Megatron weighed his options. He could try to reason and explain all he wanted, but judging by the state Starscream was in, there was little to nothing he could do. A different approach was in order. One that would force Starscream to divert his airflow away from his main intake.
Megatron closed the gap between them. He gentled his hold on Starscream’s wrists and rubbed his thumbs in circular motions where the joints of his hands met his wrist joints. He let his lips brush against Starscream’s in gentle but firm strokes.
Starscream’s processor detected the obstruction to his main intake and automatically diverted his air intake and output. Starscream’s auxiliaries whirred to life and the tightness in the Seeker’s chassis slowly diminished, so Megatron felt it safe enough to remove his hands from Starscream’s wrists.
Tempting as it was to linger, Megatron didn’t think it appropriate. He tried to withdraw from the kiss, only for Starscream to swipe at him and urge him back into it. Starscream wound his arms tightly around Megatron’s blocky shoulders, kissing his leader with a furious sort of desperation.
Megatron reached out to stroke between Starscream’s wings, both providing the Seeker a sense of comfort and a point of balance should he fall over. His other hand shifted up to cup the back of Starscream’s helm and Megatron rubbed against his temples, the size of his hand allowing him to do so with his index digit on one side and his thumb on the other.
Starscream groaned. He pulled away from the kiss, letting his helm droop and collide with Megatron’s shoulder. Megatron gathered Starscream up into his lap and shifted so he sat with his back against the wall, now utilizing both his hands to stroke Starscream’s helm.
After a long silence, Starscream spoke in hushed tones. “I blame you for this.”
“Which is because...?” Megatron inquired, genuinely interested to hear what was behind this accusation for once. He had a creeping suspicion it wasn’t baseless.
“Shouldn’t have let us take the disc. Should’ve… been less of an idiot. I hate you.”
“I know,” Megatron assured.
Starscream tilted his helm up. Tired optics met Megatron’s own, and he tried his best to display an expression of comfort and reassurance. Starscream huffed a laugh. “Ugh. Wipe that look off your face. It makes you look stupid.”
“If you feel so inclined to judge expressions, I doubt it is me who looks stupid,” Megatron responded.
Starscream half-heartedly pawed at Megatron’s arm. “Slagger,” he grumbled.
“How very inventive of you.” Megatron gently guided Starscream’s helm to lie against his chassis, hoping that Starscream’s audials would pick up on the steady thrum of his engines and spark. With his helm out of reach, Megatron placed a kiss on Starscream’s closest wing instead. The appendage flicked. Starscream grumbled.
“Recharge,” said Megatron, “I will be here.”
Tension returned to Starscream’s frame. His vents hitched, and he regarded Megatron with achingly fearful optics. “What if he… comes? Talks to me? What if--what if he… takes me? Traps me?”
Megatron shook his helm and smoothed his hand down Starscream’s back. “I will be here, by your side. If you cannot place your trust in me, I only ask that you place it in yourself.”
Starscream wanted to argue. Megatron knew that. But exhaustion overtook his frame fast, and his systems were near a total shut-down. So all he got out of Starscream was a nod, and that was enough.
“I’m here. I promise.”