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“Would you stop twitching already?” Starscream huffed.
Skyfire struggled to sit still, keeping his wings as steady as he could. He wasn’t usually a fidgety mech, but today was different. Today he couldn’t keep the anticipation out of his field, even as Starscream, the Winglord of Vos himself, leaned over him, painting elaborate swirls across Skyfire’s wings.
“Apologies, Star… I’m just a bit excited, is all. I’ve never been to a Vosian festival like this,” Skyfire admitted. “Why must it be just the two of us?”
Starscream vented another small huff, finishing off one swirl before moving onto another, trying to keep his concentration focused squarely on the intricate design he was painting on Skyfire’s wing. The designs were a brilliant blue, a reflective paint that glowed in dim light, partially because it reflected Skyfire’s connection to the sky and matched his cockpit, but mostly because it matched Starscream’s own blue details.
Not that he’d say that second part out loud.
“Because traditionally, the Winglord only has one escort with them. It’s ceremonial. And Thundercracker and Skywarp suddenly felt the need to go take a job all the way out in Kalis. I’m not an idiot, I’m well aware it was a ploy to get me to spend more time with you.”
Skyfire offered a sheepish smile. “Well, you are the Winglord.” He suppressed a chuckle at the constant reminder of “Wingle,” Skywarp’s teasing nickname for Starscream, based on a typo that Starscream once made in their group comm frequency. “You could just order them to come back, and take Thundercracker with you, as he was your first trinemate…”
Starscream stopped, turning to squint at him. “Are you trying to get out of this? Because if you didn’t want to do it, you should have told me before I started fragging painting.”
“N-no! Not at all! Actually, I’m flattered you still wanted to go with me…”
“Then what’s the problem?” Starscream demanded.
Skyfire stammered, careful not to let his wings droop and disturb the wet paint. “There’s no problem, I just—!”
“You just what? You don’t want to be seen with the Winglord himself? Or not interested in Vosian customs since you rejoined the seeker flock?”
“No, no! Really!” Skyfire answered, tensing up. “I’m worried I’ll embarrass you, Star. Even since we’ve come to live here, since moving into this tower, my peers have been academics, not nobles. I’ve always been a scholar, not an aristocrat. I don’t know the first thing about how to behave at a ceremonial function, especially one for Seekers…”
Starscream grumbled something incoherent to himself, then swirled his brush around in the solvent briefly, wiping it on a cloth before he dipped it in the paint once more, and returned to his work.
“Star, what was that?”
Starscream grumbled again, before hiking his wings up and frowning up at Skyfire. “I said, no matter how terrible you do, I’d still rather bring you than Skywarp.”
“Star…” Skyfire sighed, shaking his helm. He understood that despite Starscream’s insistence that his trinemates have the utmost respect of the populace, bringing Skyfire to public functions like this was a risky move. Seeker culture was overwhelmingly synonymous with the aerial aspects of Decepticon culture, and despite the war being over, Skyfire had a feeling not every Vosian would take kindly to the Winglord’s escort being an Autobot.
But Starscream was stubborn. Whether it was a show of his power, or a show of his dedication to peace, Starscream loved to show Skyfire off at every opportunity. The four of them were a bonded quad, of course, but Starscream always seemed to love having Skyfire on his arm. Of course, this behavior was always encouraged by Thundercracker and Skywarp, who both took obvious pleasure in pushing Skyfire and Starscream together. It wasn’t even a secret. Their messages in the FRAG STARSCWEAM CLUB, the private chat frequency between Skyfire, Thundercracker and Skywarp, made it all too clear.
“Sky.” Starscream answered, tilting his helm at him.
“Sorry. Yes, I shall do my best…” Skyfire attempted.
“Don’t be so worried about it. That’s my job. Your job is to fly next to me and look pretty. Simple.”
Skyfire tried not to sigh, instead telling himself to relax for the painting. It was only a few more kliks before Starscream pulled back, wiping off his brush.
“There. Perfect. Of course it’s perfect, it’s my brushwork. But look for yourself. Just don’t transform, and don’t smudge it.” Starscream smirked as he began to seal off the paints. “It’s still wet.”
Skyfire stretched and stood, trying to keep his wings still until the paint dried. He let Starscream grab him by the digits, dragging him over to the reflective pane, where Skyfire caught a glimpse of two beautiful seekers, painted in grand festival swirls that stretched across their wings and down their chassis. Starscream’s brilliant red glittered in the light against Skyfire’s blue and white, that looked like the grand sky of an alien planet.
He turned to Starscream, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re absolutely stunning, my love. Oh, how I wish our mates could see you now.”
Starscream just hiked up his armor slightly, but he didn’t shove Skyfire away. “Our mates have seen me like this plenty of times. Before the war, this festival was held every planetary cycle, every year on the solar solstice. Besides, it’s their fault for running off to another city on such an important holiday.”
“Well, you still look beautiful. Absolutely spark-stopping, Star…” Skyfire answered, his voice quiet.
Starscream tried not to let the fuel warming in his cheeks become too obvious as they prepared to leave.
~☆~
They arrived at the festival in the early evening, just as the sky was beginning to give way to dusk. Skyfire found himself in awe of the growing Vosian skyline, which once more began to look like crags and spires that jutted up into the sky, their shining paneling reflecting brilliant blues and purples in the fading Cybertronian sunlight.
It no longer appeared to be a ruined city ravaged by war. Though cranes still cut into the skyline in some places, the city of fliers was climbing up into the sky once more, reaching for its former glory.
Skyfire couldn’t help but be awed by it, gazing up at the sights like a confused vehicular tourist until Starscream pulled him along. It was usually dark by the time Skyfire left the lab, so he rarely got such views of the city.
The cliffsides were alive with fliers of all sizes, not just seekers, as the festival’s main event was as much a show as it was something to participate in.
>>So, this is the Warrior’s Sky, I told you about this one before,<< Thundercracker explained over his private channel with himself, Skyfire, and Skywarp, the same one aptly labelled the FRAG STARSCWEAM CLUB.
>>I do remember a bit about the tale, but I don’t think you told me all of the details,<< Skyfire admitted. >>What is the significance?<<
>>Warrior’s Sky is the Vosian summer festival, representing this old myth of a flier who left home and dared to join the fight against the gods. Enraged, the gods separated him from his conjunx, turning his conjunx into a star. He could only reunite with his lover if he picked the correct star from the sky. Heartbroken but not broken, the warrior waited until the planetary solstice, when the stars shone bright in the summer sky, and the air was clearest. It was then that he flew to his beloved.<<
Skyfire glanced around at the seekers populating the cliffside. Many of them had gold painted across their wings, others silver, and some black. Many of them acknowledged him with respect, tilting their wings down in acknowledgement that they were in the presence of the Winglord’s plus one.
>>It’s so romantic when you tell it~<< Skywarp answered with a sigh.
>>Understood, so what does it all mean? What do I do? I see wings painted in different colors, but I don’t understand…<< Skyfire admitted.
Skywarp chuckled. >>Don’t sweat it, Sky! Star told you to just hang around and look pretty, right?<<
>>Well, yes…<<
Thundercracker sounded both amused and proud on the other end of the line. >>Okay, so it’s not actually that complicated. The different paints do mean different things. Silver for clouds, black for storms, and gold for the stars. The winglord usually picks a different color for his conjunx, something bright like green or orange. You get to be the beloved. The lost star. So when everyone takes off, just fly with the flock, until Star comes to get you.<<
Skyfire followed Starscream through the crowd, until they found a place to sit on the cliff edge. Starscream didn’t give him any further instructions, but when it was time for the flight to start, all of the city lights went out at once, leaving them in only the fading light of dusk, the last rays of the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. It left streaks of red and purple at the edges of the sky, but nothing bright enough to fly by.
Around him, there were only the biolights of the flock, glowing across the sky. Someone jumped off of the cliff, diving into flight, the silver patterns of their wings coming to life against the dim sky.
Another jumped after him, and then another. Skyfire couldn’t tell who they were specifically, only the colors of their paint, the glow of their biolights, and the burning heat of their thrusters.
Skyfire turned to ask Starscream what to do, but he found Starscream wasn’t beside him any longer. He couldn’t see him in the sea of fliers, and Skyfire tried not to panic. He’d flown plenty of times without his trine, and before that he hadn’t had a trine at all, but he couldn’t tell who anyone around him was, if they were even seekers he knew. He fought down the fear, trying to swallow it into his tanks. Around him, the flock was buzzing with excitement, and he tried to soak it in, letting it drown out the fear and anxiety that sank into his tanks.
He took Thundercracker’s instructions to spark. Just fly with the flock, until Star comes to get you.
As those around him began to jump, he followed them, riding the wave of seekers, activating his thrusters in time with the others, letting their movements carry them as they became a brilliant mural of color and swirls that stretched out across the Vosian sky.
Skyfire briefly worried about seeing the buildings at the edge of the city without guiding lights or lanes, but the flock was big enough, the massive swarm of seekers large enough, that he could feel them guiding him. Everyone was abuzz with excitement, and he fell in line with them, dipping and turning in the huge wave of fliers, the paint of their wings shining brilliantly, amplified by the glow of the thrusters and biolights of those around them.
He noticed that the blue of his own paint was unlike any of the others, but he still followed them, twisting and weaving across the sky, a grand cyclone of fliers that maintained formation with hardly any thought to it.
It almost felt more like he was being pulled along for the ride than actually flying.
He was part of the huge spiral that slowly expanded outwards, filtering across the plain at the edge of the city, a massive dome of fliers that wove together in their own tapestry of an emulated night sky.
A wash of wings, another burst of silver and black swarmed around them, obscuring the lights of the gold-painted wings around Skyfire for a brief moment. They swirled and surrounded them, then fanned out in a larger formation, a display of expert flying, twisting and turning and looping around each other that made the breath catch in Skyfire’s vents.
He’d seen flying like this at competitions, but this felt like something else entirely. This wasn’t showing off, or a display of power or skill, it was more like a dance.
A dance of thousands of fliers, creating a swirling tempest that reached up into the sky, then fanned out, spreading into the expanse of stars.
Skyfire could imagine himself getting lost in it, reveling in the beauty of those around him, until he saw it. The brilliant red light, a single lantern that flew across the dome, dipping and weaving. Occasionally one of the little formations of black and silver painted fliers would duck in front of him, barrel rolling around him and twisting the red light in every direction, until they parted, and the red light righted himself.
With every flier he passed, the flock separated, rejoining their trines and respective groups, huddling into little clusters that flew on their own, rather than as part of the massive mural, unraveling slowly, until it reached him.
It was Starscream.
The swirls on his wings glowed in the light of the flock, a brilliant red star against the now deep purple of the sky. He reached out to him, both hands outstretched, and Skyfire couldn’t help himself.
It was like seeing him for the first time once more.
He rushed forward, throwing both arms around Starscream, the brilliant blue light separating from the wall of white, silver, and gold, to unite with the red star.
As if a single thread had been pulled and the tapestry unwound all at once, the flock broke formation, spreading out in a grand landscape of stars, returning to their trines and pairs to dance together as they all shone, lighting up the night.
They embraced and said nothing at first, instead intertwining their digits briefly, before they let go to fly higher, spiraling around each other until they came together at the apex of their flight. Starscream grabbed onto Skyfire this time, optics bright with excitement as he intertwined their digits as they fell together.
Starscream’s face scrunched up briefly, like he didn’t want to say whatever he was thinking aloud, but the white seeker merely touched their helms together briefly, letting little bits of static jump between them.
“What is it, Star?” Skyfire asked.
“Whogaveyoutheright,” Starscream murmured, his grumbling barely decipherable.
“I’m sorry?” Skyfire asked, tilting his helm.
“Nothing. You’re just so! You’re always calling me Star, but this time you got to be mine. It’s almost unfair.” Starscream let his voice drop to a mumble as they landed. Even the cheers around them faded into nothing as the lights of the city came back on around them. Between their arms, there was only the two of them for this moment.
“What’s unfair?”
Starscream blistered briefly, hiking his wings up defensively. Still, the crowd that began to land around him seemed to pay them no mind, only giving them brief wing-bows of respect as they passed.
It only served to make Starscream clam up further, until he finally sighed, relaxing his plating. “How beautiful you are. You were my star tonight…”
Skyfire smiled, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on Starscream’s lips. “And you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But if you want to bring Thundercracker or Skywarp instead next planetary cycle, I completely understand.”
Starscream huffed. “Skywarp would always rather be in the clouds or storm group, and Thundercracker actually hates the attention.”
“So… they did bow out because they didn’t want to be the star, got it,” Skyfire answered with a small laugh.
“I… don’t mind. I’d love it if you were the star again next year, as well…” Starscream admitted begrudgingly, averting his gaze.
Skyfire tightened his grip on Starscream’s digits, admiring the way Starscream seemed so perfect, with the city lighting up around him once more. Their hands felt like they were meant to hold onto each other like this, and Skyfire never wanted to let go. He drew him in for another kiss, savoring their closeness.
“I think I’d like that.”