Archive of Our Own

“Meet me at our usual place in two decacycles,” Skyfire had murmured to Starscream, when everyone else on the battlefield had melted away long enough for the two flyers to share a brief moment, his field a jumbled mess of longing, yearning, and hope. “Please, Star.”

“Okay,” Starscream had murmured right back, the shuttle’s blue optics enveloping him in fondness and comfort so thick, the rest of the world faded away into a void and all Starscream wanted to do was to stay in this moment forever, the war be damned.

Skyfire had looked at Starscream like that once, back at the academy. Before Skyfire was lost to the ice and before Cybertron crumbled into an ugly mess of battlefields and bodies. To see that something so precious to him had survived 4 million years of war and hate untainted fill him with an urge to protect his shuttle—who had yet to have been shackled by the horrors of this pointless war—and claw anybot to ribbons if they even dared to look his way, because Starscream knew that they would look at him and only see another advantage, another resource, another number in a statistic, and not the brilliant and kind scientist Starscream knew he was.

(Starscream knew because that’s how he looked at him when Skyfire was first freed from his frozen prison, before recognizing him as the first bot he let close to his spark.)

But all too soon, their brief pocket of peace was abruptly shattered when stray blasterfire streaked between them, destructive energy nipping at their plating. Starscream snarled and spun midair, trying to pinpoint the miserable scrapheap that dared interrupt them so he could—

“Star, we have to keep up appearances,” Skyfire reminded, dragging Starscream away from the murderous thoughts he was slowly plotting. The previous fondness—fondness for him! When was the last time anyone had looked at Starscream without hate or disgust?—morphing into a look of defeat and resignation of someone sentenced to a cruel fate and could do nothing to prevent it.

Starscream’s servos clenched. Skyfire shouldn’t be sad. He should be excitedly telling Starscream about a new breakthrough in his research or staring at the seeker exasperatedly because yet another one of his inventions blew up. Starscream would bring him Megatron’s helm if it would get rid of that awful look.

But Starscream knew it had to be done. It would do neither of them good if Megatron discovered their secret meetings and snuffed their sparks. So, fighting it was. Though, if there was any silver lining, as the humans put it, it would be Starscream didn’t have to worry about someone offlining the shuttle. Skyfire was too inexperienced for battle, and Starscream didn’t trust his bolthelmed flyers to not terminate Skyfire.

Starscream fixed Skyfire with a grim look before he primed his null rays and fired. Skyfire didn’t even flinch as the shot went wide, simply ghosting past his wings instead of turning his helm into a mess of melted metal and wires, because he trusted Starscream completely and wasn’t that a novelty?

Skyfire raised his blaster (didn’t even know how to hold it properly, Starscream tutted) and took a weak shot at the seeker, which Starscream effortlessly twirled out of its way.

Starscream threw Skyfire a wicked grin and transformed, his alt rocketing up into the clouds. Starscream would’ve smirked if he could when he heard the roar of Skyfire’s engine throwing itself into high gear just to keep the seeker in view as the shuttle followed him.

They danced around each other, firing off staged shots they’ve practiced a hundred times at the other until Megatron—predictably—called for a retreat.

That was two decacycles ago.

In present time, Starscream was tearing up his quarters looking for his polish that had conveniently disappeared the moment he needed it.

“I swear, if Soundwave’s overgrown scraplets took it, I’m going to scrap them for parts.” Starscream snarled, tossing old, failed experiments off the table in hopes his polish was buried underneath them.

It was not.

Skywarp was on the berth, resting on his front and kicking his legs in the air, watching the scene of Starscream scrambling around the quarters like a cybercat with its tail on fire unfold before him with an amused air about him that made Starscream want to throw things at the purple seeker. He was also notably being useless—as usual—having declined helping Starscream with his search, much to Starscream’s frustration.

“Would you quit that?” Starscream snapped at Skywarp when he snickered yet again at Starscream. “If you’re not going to assist me, at least be of some kind of use.”

Skywarp laced his digits together and rested his helm upon them. “I can’t help if you won’t tell what it is you’re looking for,” he reminded.

Starscream squinted at his trinemate suspiciously. After an incident when Skywarp stole his polish for some prank Starscream couldn’t be bothered to recall, Starscream had become possessive of his polish, resulting in him hiding it from the purple seeker. So despite Starscream urgently needing his polish, he didn’t trust Skywarp to not steal it.

“Pass.” He decided.

Skywarp shrugged. “Suit yourself. Have fun with your treasure hunt.”

Starscream glowered at him and resumed his hunt, silently cursing out his trinemate.

Starscream was in the middle of upheaving shelves of his personal datapads when he heard the door slid open. He didn’t bother turning around, having felt the familiar brush of his other trinemate’s field and carried on with his search.

Another datapad clattered to the floor.

There was a heavy sigh. “What happened now?” Thundercracker asked, already sounding exhausted.

“I didn’t do anything!” Skywarp said immediately. “Starscream lost something.”

“Narc.” Starscream growled. He seriously contemplated throwing the datapad in his servo at Skywarp’s helm.

“Starscream,” Thundercracker said, quelling the argument before it had a chance to escalate. “Could you please not tear apart our quarters looking for…” he paused. “What are you looking for exactly?”

Starscream eyed Skywarp. “It has something to do with my upcoming… meeting.”

“Oh, you mean your date?” Skywarp asked.

“It is not a date. It’s a…” Starscream wracked his processor for the right word. “...negotiation.”

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge. “I didn’t know negotiations meant sucking faces and holding servos and doing gross couple things.”

Skywarp snickered.

“It is not a date!” Starscream snapped. “A date is for younglings and stupid mecha who don’t know what they’re doing. I am the second in command of the Decepticon army and Air Commander, while Skyfire is a somewhat respectable scientist—compared to me, anyway. Clearly, we are neither of those things, so this is clearly a negotiation, and not a slagging date like you glitched, rusted scrapheaps are insinuating!”

Thundercracker held up his servos in surrender. “Fine, not a date, just yet another negotiation. Though shouldn’t you have left by now? You’re going to be late.”

“Believe me, Thundercracker, I am very aware of that but I can’t leave because I look dreadful.” Starscream gestured to himself.

Thundercracker and Skywarp stared at Starscream’s near pristine plating and shared a look.

“... Right,” Thundercracker said. “But I still don’t understand what that has to do with you trashing our quarters.”

“Because I can’t find my slagging polish and I refuse to show up looking like this!” Starscream snarled, kicking a box of his old keepsakes out of his path. Starscream froze when he realized his blunder.

Slag, he cursed.

Skywarp snorted. “That’s what you’ve been losing your processor over?”

“Yes.” Starscream hissed.

“Yeah, I used it to dye Sunstreaker neon green last decacycle.” Skywarp snickered. “You should’ve heard him screaming. The Nerd Squad put up an anti-teleporting field around the Ark after that though, which sucks.”

“You what?!” Starscream screeched.

“Good going, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker muttered.

Starscream marched up to the purple seeker and jabbed a clawed digit in his faceplates. “You owe me a new polish,” he seethed.

Skywarp held up his servos in a non threatening manner. “Yessir. But it’s going to be a while before that happens.”

“I’m aware, Skywarp, but I need polish now.”

Skywarp sighed. “I get that, Starscream, but I don’t know what to tell you. The only other mech aboard this ship that goes through the effort to get good polish is Knock Out.”

Starscream huffed. Of course it was Knock Out. “Can’t you steal some from him?” He asked irritably.

Skywarp gave Starscream a look. “Star, I love you, but the last time I stole something from Knock Out he said he’d reformat me into a drill so I’d “finally be useful”,” Skywarp deadpanned. “If I touch his polish, I think he’ll do something way worse.”

Starscream hissed, his field buzzing with displeasure. Unfortunately, Knock Out would make good on his threat. The medic had an unknown source that supplied him with polish that Starscream had yet to uncover. He did have a few suspicions though.

“Fine. Skywarp, I order you to go steal Knock Out’s polish.” Starscream command.

Skywarp shook his helm. “Sorry, Star.”

At the very least, Skywarp had the decency to look somewhat contrite. “Can’t you just ask to borrow some from Knock Out?” he asked. “You’re, like, one of his favorite mechs on this ship. I bet if you asked him he’d let you. And he has the good, high quality stuff,” Skywarp added.

“Absolutely not!” Starscream snapped.

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge. “Starscream, this might be hard for you to comprehend, but you could just go without polish. From what you’ve told us about this shuttle, I’m sure Skyfire won’t care if you show up without thirteen layers of glittery polish. Didn’t you tell us a story about the two of you getting caught in a bad acid storm and you guys got your paint peeled off as a result?”

Starscream glowered at the mech. Of course that had to be one of the few stories he told of him and Skyfire, and of course he told it to Thundercracker who would naturally remember it and use it against him. “I told you that when I was overcharged, and you said you wouldn’t bring it up again.”

Thundercracker shrugged. “All I’m saying is, if he’s seen you without paint, I’m sure he won’t notice if you decide to not polish yourself. But if you want to get polished and make it in time for your “negotiation”, this is your best option.”

Starscream scowled. Asking Knock Out for a favor was almost certainly inviting trouble. Unfortunately, Thundercracker had a point—for once.

“Fine,” he spat. “Skywarp! Take me to the medbay.”

Skywarp pressed his derma together. “Who said I was taking you?”

Starscream snarled furiously. “You used my polish, so you will take me to the medbay or so help me Primus I will rip off your wings and thrusters before I toss you into the deepest trench this miserable planet has!”

Skywarp frowned. “But—”

“Just do it, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker sighed. “You owe him that much.”

Skywarp scowled, not pleased with being outnumbered. “Fine.” Skywarp hopped off the berth and grabbed Starscream’s arm.

“Tell Skyfire I said hi,” Thundercracker called with a smirk.

Then they ceased to exist.

Starscream had teleported with Skywarp many times to get out of a tight situation in battle, or when Skywarp had to show him something urgently (a funny looking rock formation did not count as urgent and Starscream will die on this hill). But no matter how many times he experienced it, Starscream doubted he would ever become accustomed to the sensation.

There was a flash of violet then it was black. Almost. Starscream doubted he could ever find the words to properly describe the in-between (he refused to call it “the warpy place” as Skywarp had so fondly called it) but it was pitch black and not, at the same time. It was full of color and shapes, but it was also pure darkness that Starscream felt what space would look like if it was devoid of everything it held—an empty container, if you will.

It was nothing and everything at once and Starscream hated it. But Starscream hated the feeling even more.

It felt like he was deconstructed down to the atom, mixed up, and reassembled wrong. It left his plating ruffled and his frame…staticy. It left Starscream unsettled. The first time he experienced it, Starscream wanted to cry out in panic but there was nothing to cry out with. When he rematerialized, Starscream ran a full diagnostic; there had been nothing wrong but Starscream felt like he had been rearranged and nothing was where it was supposed to be.

It had taken Starscream to be seriously injured on the battlefield before he allowed Skywarp to teleport him. Over time though, Starscream learned to muffle the feeling and repress it—much like this pesky thing he had called feelings.

It was convenient, yes, but Starscream will always hate the experience.

Skywarp waved. “Have fun on your date!” he said cheerfully, before activating his outlier ability.

“It’s not a—!” But Skywarp was already gone.

Starscream grit his denta before whirling around and slamming his servo on the access panel to the medbay. The door slid open and Starscream barged into the medbay. “Knock Out!” he barked. “I require your service at once!”

Knock Out looked up from where he was taking inventory. “Why yes, Commander, come right on in,” he drawled sarcastically.

Starscream bared his denta at the medic—his very sharp denta. “I do not appreciate your tone—or your words,” he snapped. “Fix it before I fix it for you.”

Knock Out clicked his glossa but relented. “Of course. My deepest apologies, Commander Starscream.”

Starscream narrowed his optics, unable to tell if the speedster was still mocking him. But he was in a hurry, so Starscream let it slide. This time.

“Hmph.” Was the only reply Starscream gave before he returned his attention to what he came for. “I require your polish, and immediately!”

Knock Out arched an optic ridge. “With all due respect, Commander, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. Getting this polish was not easy—or cheap—and I’d like to make it last as long as possible.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “Not even for the second in command?” Starscream asked, emphasizing the power of rank.

“No,” Knock Out said, dismissing Starscream’s attempt to flaunt his position, much to the jet’s irritation. “But I can put in a special order for a fellow mech who truly appreciates the importance of a well polished frame. I’ll even make this order free.”

Starscream stared at the medic suspiciously. No Decepticon did something out of the kindness of their spark, and Knock Out was no exception. If the speedster did this for free, then Starscream would certainly owe him a favor—a position Starscream loathed. He made it a point to never owe anyone favors. But if he did, for some inexplicable reason, then it was simply a coincidence if they found themselves on the frontlines and tragically perished. And if Starscream had a smirk that reeked of smugness the next cycle? Also a coincidence.

“What’s the catch? And don’t say there’s no catch because there’s always a catch,” he snapped, effectively shutting down what Knock Out was going to say. “And make it snappy, I have places to be.”

Starscream was in no mood for the song and dance Knock Out loved to indulge in. Starscream would normally enjoy to partake in but he did not want to be late to his meeting.

(You mean date a voice that sounded an awful lot like Skywarp said.

Starscream shoved the voice away with an irritated growl.)

“Very well, since you’re in such a hurry,” Knock Out huffed, looking put out that his game was cut short. “I need you to get Soundwave to change the roster so Breakdown will be my medical assistant.”

Starscream raised an optic ridge. That was it? He knew the Decepticons were in dire need of an actual medic—one that actually graduated from the academy, not one that studied corpses and dying mechs then guessed how it worked—and with Knock Out being the only qualified medic, it was only a matter of time before he had to start training somebot.

But honestly, Breakdown? Jumpy and paranoid Breakdown?

Unfortunately, Starscream had an inkling why Knock Out wanted that particular mech.

Starscream gave him an unimpressed look. “Breakdown? Jumps at his own shadow Breakdown? The one who lived up to his designation and had a breakdown last decacycle because “the walls were stalking him”? That Breakdown?”

“Yes, that Breakdown.” Knock Out said impatiently before adding, “And in his defense, Soundwave’s brats were crawling through the vents to prank Breakdown and his gestalt.”

“Marvelous,” Starscream said dryly. “Why on Cybertron would you want him off all mechs?”

Knock Out pursed his derma, no doubtedly insulted by Starscream’s lack of cooperation.

Good.

“I believe he has the potential to be a decent medic. At the very least, the Decpticons won’t have to rely on just me and Hook for medical treatment,” Knock Out sniffed.

Starscream might’ve believed it had he already not been familiar with Knock Out’s promiscuous nature.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Starscream snapped. “I’m well aware that the sole reason you want that paranoid scrapheap on wheels as your assistant is so you can add him as the latest in your very long list of flings. Though I am curious; why do you want Breakdown? I’m well aware your usual interests are the one with heavyset frames.” Starscream leaned in, smothering the medic not just with his frame and vast wings, but with the power his rank came with. “So what’s so special about Breakdown?”

Knock Out faltered at the predatory tone the seeker’s voice took on, but much to Starscream’s disappointment, the speedster recovered his composure swifty. Knock Out narrowed his optics at the jet. “Frankly, that is none of your business,” he said tightly. Then something shifted in the medic’s demeanor—Knock Out’s scowl morphed into a smirk and his optics brightened with a wicked glint that Starscream didn’t like. At all.

“But I suppose if you really want to know, I can go into heavy detail about how that sleek blue and white plating of his would look so good pressed next to mine, or maybe how I plan to slowly take him apart with just a simple kiss~” Knock Out leaned in as his voice dropped into a salacious purr. “Or perhaps you would like me to describe the noises he’s going to make when I get my digits all up in his—”

“Enough!” Starscream hissed, recoiling from Knock Out and the unwanted lewd images forming in his processor without his permission. “You’ve made your point. I’m sure I can, ah,” Starscream reset his vocalizer. “Persuade Soundwave to assign Breakdown here for a few shifts a cycle.”

Knock Out smirked. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Knock Out turned and walked over to a small cabinet sitting innocently in the corner of the medbay. He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a container of polish. He placed it in Starscream’s servo but didn’t let go when Starscream moved to take it from the medic.

“I do expect this back, Commander,” Knock Out said warningly before relinquishing his grip.

Starscream resisted the urge to shoot the medic for his disrespect, and instead fixed a smirk upon his faceplate. “Of course, Doctor,” he promised before strolling to the exit.

“I enjoyed our talk,” Knock Out called to the retreating flier.

“As did I,” Starscream replied without missing a stride.

He did not.

Starscream exited the medbay, polish in servo. Only when the door shut behind him with a small hiss did Starscream relax his plating.

Thank Primus that’s over and done with, Starscream huffed, and raised a servo to his helm.

::Skywarp:: Starscream commed. ::I require you to transport me to the washracks::

::I’m not your taxi:: The outlier replied snidely but popped into existence next to Starscream with a flash of purple light and a small vrop and a displeased look on his faceplates.

Skywarp grabbed Starscream’s shoulder. “Don’t make this a habit,” he warned and teleported them before Starscream could form a rebuttal.

They appeared in the—thankfully empty—washracks. Skywarp stayed long enough to release Starscream before warping away, most likely to sulk.

Starscream scowled at the spot where his trinemate had just been. Sensitive glitch, he thought before marching into the nearest stall. He turned on the nozzle and hissed when he was sprayed with freezing solvent. There was no time to wait for it to warm up, so Starscream soldiered through it, cursing everyone and everything as he scrubbed his plating furiously (though he kept his wings out of the cold solvent as much as possible. It was already miserable enough having it against his plating and Starscream knew it would be a hundred times worse against his sensitive wings). 

By the time Starscream stepped out of the stall, he was shaking and hurling scathing insults at anything he could think of (mostly Megatron). Drying himself didn’t do much to help.

Now on with what he came here to do.

Starscream was sure he broke the record for the fastest application of polish. He buffed and rubbed in polish until he gleamed. Only once Starscream was satisfied did he leave the washracks, polish safely stowed away in his subspace.

The exit to the Nemesis was only one level up, but to Starscream, it might’ve been on the other side of the galaxy. He was tempted to call Skywarp to teleport him to his destination but Starscram had an inkling that if he called the purple seeker to ferry him again, his trinemate might do something drastic.

Walking it was.

Starscream stalked through the dark halls as fast as he dared. Had it been up to him, he would’ve flown to the exit but you never know who could be watching. A jet racing through the halls would raise some questions as to why he did that, which lead to where he was going, to other questions Starscream wouldn’t be able to lie and con his way out of.

After five of the longest breems of his functioning, Starscream could see the lift, so tantalizingly close. Just a few more paces…

“Where are you off to at this time of night?”

Starscream whirled, priming his null rays and aimed them up where the voice came from, primed to fire.

A pair of ruby optics stared back from the vent, unfazed by weapons pointed at them—or rather, the mech they belonged to.

“That seems rather excessive, don’t you think?” Ravage said calmly.

“Oh,” Starscream sneered. “It’s you.”

“Me,” Ravage agreed.

Starscream disengaged his weapons with an irritated flick of his wings. Ravage took that as his queue to leap down from the vent on silent paws. Unfortunately, where he landed was in front of the exit, blocking Starscream’s path. Starscream would bet his—illegal—engex that he planned it that way, the little glitch.

Marvelous. Just what he needed; one of Soundwave’s little spies poking around.

“You never did answer my question,” The cassette remarked. Ravage sat down and curled his tail neatly around his paws. His posture suggested it was simply a pleasant conversation, but Starscream knew it was anything but. “What are you doing leaving base at this time? Last I checked, your shift doesn’t start until next cycle.”

“That’s none of your business,” Starscream snapped. Although, if Starscream didn’t give the felinoid an acceptable answer, he’ll inform Soundwave and that was the last mech Starscream wanted catching wind of his excursions.

“But if you must know,” Starscream informed tightly. “I’m investigating a possible energy source. The darkness will provide cover from those pesky humans so they don’t go calling our Autobot friends and interfere.”

Ravage tilted his helm. “Shouldn’t Megatron be informed of this?”

“No,” Starscream said a little too quickly. The last thing Starscream wanted was to get Megatron involved. He reset his vocalizer and resumed evenly, “I didn’t want to disturb our lord of something that might be nothing.”

Ravage stared at him from behind lidded optics, scrutinizing the seeker. Starscream never could tell what was going through the felinoids processor—a habit he picked up from his host.

Then seemingly coming to a conclusion, the spy nodded and stood up. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to disturb Lord Megatron,” he said smoothly. “I wish you the best of luck, Starscream.”

Having gotten what he wanted, Ravage strolled past Starscream and proceeded to take his leave, his tail swishing as he did.

Starscream made to do the same but paused. As long as Ravage was here, he might as well pass a message along.

He turned to the felinoid before he disappeared. “Inform your host that I want him to assign Breakdown shifts in the medbay for medical assistant training. The Second in Command orders it.” Starscream made sure to make his rank clear, in case Soundwave decided to not acknowledge his superior's command.

Ravage’s tail flicked once then stilled. “Breakdown?” he asked skeptically.

Knock Out owes him so much more than polish for this. “It is a, ah, strategic decision,” Starscream explained tightly.

Ravage narrowed his optics at Starscream. “I’ll make sure he gets the message.” He turned and slunk off, melting into the shadows without a sound.

Starscream watched the shadows for any movement, any sign the felinoid was still there (a pointless action. If Ravage wanted to, he would make sure you never knew he was there—until he slit your throat).

Satisfied for now, Starscream turned and entered the elevator.

“Glitch.” He grumbled as the door opened, the smell of the salty ocean flooded his olfactory sensors and the fresh air kissed his frame. Starscream hummed and wasted no time transforming, the satisfying feeling of his plating sliding and clicking into place soothed an itch that Starscream couldn’t scratch as he raced away from his oppressive confinement.

Starscream rocketed into the welcoming arms of the sky, stars twinkling mischievously and the moon shining pleasantly. His wings cut through layer after layer of clouds as Starscream climbed to heights he couldn’t be spotted at speeds no one could dream to match.

Starscream let the planet’s atmosphere envelope him in its own em field, letting it’s joy at having one its favorite visitors dance amongst the sky, whilst the clouds and stars seeped into his spark.

This is what he lived for—the feeling of freedom. The feeling of control. No Megatron to smother and crush him, no high and mighty Autobots trying to kill him, no greedy war to claim another spark, nothing. Just him and the freedom to do what he pleased and to roam where he wished.

Of course, he had to come down eventually, to face the realities of life. Though this time, his reason eased the sting of longing.

Skyfire was waiting for him.

Starscream bid his old guardian a farwell and dove down to the earth, aiming for the mountain he and Skyfire met. Skyfire had picked the location. He didn’t have the same responsibilities as Starscream, so he had more freedom to go exploring the planet and scout for a good meeting spot as he did so (once the Autobots were sure the shuttle could be deemed trustworthy of course). Starscream had vetted Skyfire’s—many—suggestions until he deemed this particular spot acceptable.

The lone mountain was small enough that it wasn’t noticeable but big enough it could hide a shuttle and seeker, situated in a clearing that reduced cover for anybody that might‘ve followed them. The fliers spent their time together on a ledge near the top. Skyfire had been worried at first that they could be easily spotted with the ledge facing open air and no hiding spots. Starscream pointed out that they were too high for anybody on the ground to see them and there was no chance they could be seen from the air because Starscream would pinpoint them immediately.

(Unless Soundwave hacked this planet’s satellites but Starscream knew he wouldn’t go that far. Maybe. Possibly.

…

He would.)

What Skyfire liked about it, though, was the giant cherry tree and a pond at its roots. He had said something about the “flourishing ecosystem” and how he could study it. Starscream could care less, but if it made Skyfire happy, then he supposed he could tolerate it.

As Starscream angled himself to the ledge, he was relieved to see that Skyfire was there. Starscream had begun to think he wouldn’t be there by the time he arrived—Skyfire only had so long before his faction noticed his absence, and Starscream was worried that he had run over the time limit. He was thankful to see he hadn’t.

As Starscream got closer, he could see the exact moment Skyfire spotted him; his frame practically lit up, his wings hitched up and gave a little flutter, and he stood up from where he had been sitting, no doubt watching the organic life continuing on as normal. Once a scientist, always a scientist.

Once Starscream drew nearer, though, he couldn’t help but show off. He performed a few barrel rolls, some loop-de-loops, before finishing it off with a min radius turn to a high alpha loop. He preened at the extremely impressed look Skyfire had as he transformed midair and landed in a flourish.

“You’re late,” Skyfire said, but he was smiling. “I was beginning to think that you ditched me.”

Starscream scoffed. As if. “I would not. Just had to deal with a pesky medic and spy,” he sniffed. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Skyfire tilted his helm, which Starscream should not have found it that endearing but it was. “Did something happen?” He took Starscream’s servo in his own, his optics skimming over Starscream’s frame as he looked for injuries.

Starscream didn’t answer immediately, he was too busy looking at how Skyfire’s servo completely enveloped his. Skyfire has always been so much bigger than him but he was always gentle with Starscream, every move deliberate and careful.

When was the last time someone treated him with such kindness?

“Star?” Skyfire asked, when the silence stretched on for too long.

Starscream shook himself out of his musings and scoffed. “Hardly. Just had to deal with a difficult medic,” he sniffed, making no move to remove his servo from the Skyfire’s grasp.

Skyfire didn’t either.

“I thought you didn’t have a medic?” Skyfire asked. He slowly lowered himself down to the grass, guiding Starscream to join him.

Starscream made a face. He’d much rather not sit down on the messy organic ground, where all kinds of horrible things will—because it will— get in between his plating. It was a nightmare and he did not want to spend the next Primus knows long in the washracks, scrubbing and picking organic muck out of all of the little crevices it can get into. Honestly, Starscream didn’t see the appeal to organic life, no matter how excited Skyfire got when he talked about how they functioned or their evolution. He was fine with staying away from it, thanks.

Skyfire fixed that problem by depositing the seeker on his lap, his back pressed against the larger mech’s front.

Starscream squawked loudly and squirmed. While he no longer had to worry about organic debris getting caught in his plating, this wasn’t dignified for the second in command! Honestly, he wasn't sure if this was better or worse than sitting on the ground.

Better. It was so much better.

But Skyfire held fast against Starscream’s struggles and brought his engine to life up to a gentle purr.

…

Starscream supposed this was acceptable, just this once.

Please don’t let it be this once.

“We had one transfer here a few stellar cycles ago, when it became apparent that we would be staying here for the unforeseeable future,” Starscream continued, curling his derma. “He’s tolerable.”

“High praise coming from you,” Skyfire said, only partly teasing.

Starscream grunted. It was, wasn’t it?

“The medic wouldn’t happen to be Knock Down, would it?” Skyfire asked.

“Knock Out,” Starscream corrected. “But yes, he is. Why?”

“No reason. It’s just, you’ve mentioned him before. Is he a friend?”

Starscream scoffed. The medic made for good conversation and had the best gossip on the ship but that was it. “Hardly. He’s more of an acquaintance that I’m somewhat sure won’t stab me in the back at first chance. Decepticons don’t do friends. You either have enemies, pawns, or allies.”

“What about your trine, Skywarp and Thundercracker?”

Immediately, Starscream became very aware of his trine bond. Of course Skyfire would think they were trustworthy. Starscream met his trine after Skyfire… after the accident, so he wouldn’t know what they were like. To a point, he did trust them—they were trine after all. But Skyfire didn’t know that Starscream never trusted another mech like he trusted the shuttle ever again.

“They’re trine,” he said finally. “They don’t count.”

Skyfire frowned. “That sounds lonely.”

Starscream shrugged. “It is what it is. Sorry to disappoint you that we’re not all buddy buddy like the Autobots.”

Skyfire paused. “Do you have allies?” he asked hesitantly.

Again, Starscream scoffed. “No. You can’t trust any of these incompetent fools.”

“Oh.” A beat. Then— “Do you trust me?”

It was Starscream’s turn to pause. “Do you trust me?” Such an innocent but loaded question. Before, he would’ve said yes in a sparkspin. Now though…The last time he trusted someone, he had gotten hurt. He knew Skyfire didn’t mean to but Starscream remembered being swallowed up and consumed in guilt and rage after he disappeared. He hated it. Hated it so much he closed himself off from everyone and everything so he could never be hurt again.

But even after all of that, Starscream did trust him. He didn’t know if it was because Skyfire was still the same as he was before that fateful expedition or if it was just because it was Skyfire. Either way, Starscream knew his answer hadn’t changed.

“Yes,” Starscream admitted.

Relief buzzed in Skyfire’s field. “Good,” he said. He didn’t say a word for a few clicks before he spoke again, this time in a softer voice Starscream had never heard him use before, “I trust you too.”

Starscream stilled. Did he just say what Starscream think he said? No, he couldn’t be serious. He didn’t mean it, not after…well, everything. “Even after I shot you? After I got you trapped in the ice for four million years? After this war changed me?” Starscream scoffed, something ugly tugging at his spark. “You’re more foolish than I thought.”

“Oh, Star,” Skyfire held him tighter. He projected his field on Starscream like a blanket of comfort. “I don’t blame you for shooting me. There were a lot of emotions going around that night and I don't think either of us handled that well. As for the accident? That was my fault; I wanted to stay longer and I didn’t listen to you when you told me we needed to leave. It was me and my foolishness that got me trapped in the ice, not you.”

Skyfire chuckled. “And you forget, I knew you before the war—really knew you. Sure, you’re angrier than when I last saw you and you carry so many scars, both physical and mental. You’ve done many horrible things. But under this warrior that you’ve become, I still see the same extremely intelligent Starscream that would light up when you talked about the latest development in your experiment and the same Starscream that would tear apart mecha with just your words if they tried to make fun of me—all to stand up for me because I couldn’t do it myself. At your core, you’re still you, Star. Why wouldn’t I trust you?”

Starscream stared at the big white arms that held on to him as if he would fly away at any minute. Held onto him as if he was something precious that needed to be treasured.

Even after everything, he still trusts me? Starscream thought. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Relief? Surprise? Sadness? A combination of all three? For once, Starscream didn’t know what to feel or what to say.

It was okay though. Skyfire knew. He always seemed to know what Starscream was feeling or what he was thinking. He always did.

Skyfire didn’t say a word; he just held on to Starscream and traced random shapes on his plating, the mindless motions soothing the seekers nerves.

Conversation understandably died after that, and was instead replaced by an air of understanding. Of acceptance. No words were said. No words needed to be said.

It had almost been a full joor before Skyfire spoke again. “Star?” the shuttle asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What?”

“Where do you see this going?” Skyfire asked quietly.

Starscream knew what he was talking about but feigned cluelessness. “See what?”

“Us,” Skyfire sighed, pulling Starscream closer. The newfound closeness made it all too easy for Starscream to feel the melancholy swirling around Skyfire’s field, not unlike a distant storm looming in the horizon. “We both know we can’t keep this up forever. Someone’s going to discover us or one of us isn’t going to walk away from the next battle, or any number of things. Either way, something’s going to change.”

Starscream scoffed. Wasn’t it obvious? “I’ll offline Megatron and take my rightful place as the leader of the Decepticons. You’ll be my second in command and I’ll make sure no one so much as looks at you the wrong way,” he said confidently. With Skyfire at his side, Starscream will be able to ensure the shuttle’s safety and together, they’ll bring the Autobots to their knees and restore Cybertron to its former glory. Starscream will be able to ensure that he’ll never lose Skyfire again.

Skyfire wasn’t so convinced. “And if that doesn't work?”

“I’ll work,” Starscream insisted.

“But if it doesn’t?” Skyfire pressed.

“Then I’ll come up with a plan,” Starscream said firmly. “I always do.”

A fond huff. “Yes you do.” Skyfire hummed, resting his helm on top of Starscream’s. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

Silence befell them once more. It wasn’t an answer, not the one Skyfire wanted, but Starscream didn’t have a better one, not with how uncertain their future was. Skyfire seemed to understand as he didn’t push the matter.

Again, no words were spoken, the two fliers content to bask in each other’s presence. Wind curled curled in the air, plucking blossoms from the swaying branches of the cherry tree and pulling them out to dance in the night sky against a backdrop of stars.

Starscream watched the petals melt into the darkness. I do not like this planet, he thought, the gentle murmuring of the small pond as it lapped against the roots of the tree it pooled under a sweet caress upon his audials. But sometimes it can be… charming.

The seeker offlined his optics, satisfied with listening to the world pass by, Skyfire’s frame grounding him in the moment, preventing his processor from wandering too far. For the first time in a long time, Starscream let his guard drop and allowed himself to be vulnerable (physically, not emotionally. Starscrean wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready to be exposed like that, not after all he'd suffered and endured) because he trusted Skyfire to alert him if anything happened.

Apparently not content for long, Skyfire continued the evening’s trend and broke the silence first.

He pointed at the sky. ”See those seven stars?”

It took Starscream a moment to see which stars Skyfire was talking about, but he did spot them. They shone brightly and formed a peculiar pattern—four of the stars formed a box while the other three branched off from one corner in a straight line. An odd formation but nothing memorable.

Starscream nodded. “Yes, though I fail to see what’s so special about these stars.”

“Well,” Skyfire started. Out the corner of Starscream’s peripheral vision, he saw the shuttle’s wings perk up—a habit Skyfire did when he talked about something he liked or found interesting. Something else Starscream missed over the vorns.

“I learned that this particular asterism is called the Big Dipper, and it’s a part of the commonly known constellation Ursa Major. What’s so fascinating is that the pointer stars—Merak and Dubhe, they’re called—point to Polaris, or the North Star. And it was used as a navigational tool across all kinds of tribes of humans! Tribes, that for a long time, weren’t even aware of each other but they all used that star to navigate. Think about it Starscream; all these vastly different cultures but they all share the same thing. I wonder if…”

At this point, Starscream stopped paying attention to the words Skyfire was saying but instead focused on the passion in his voice. He remembered several occasions where Starscream had asked Skyfire to talk about his research when he needed something to fill the void while he worked, and Skyfire’s soothing but spirited words did it. After a while though, Skyfire caught on and began to do it unprompted. Eventually, it became a habit and that suited Starscream just fine.

(Sometimes, Starscream will catch himself wondering if Skyfire does it with the Autobots or if that was something he only did for the seeker. He tried not to dwell on it.)

While Skyfire pointed out each constellation and explained each one in depth, Starscream felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. He wasn’t sure why it was this time he felt completely at ease instead of any of his and Skyfire’s meetings, but for once, Starscream wasn’t going to try and understand it. For now, he was content to lean into Skyfire’s warm embrace and let the shuttle’s fascinated rambling fade into background noise that reminded him of their days at the academy.

Skyfire droned on for only Primus knew how long before he paused. “Star?”

“Hm?” Starscream acknowledged.

“I love you,” Skyfire said, his voice filled with so many emotions Starscream couldn’t begin to unravel them.

Starscream’s venting stuttered. His spark spun faster and his wings fluttered ever so slightly.

What?

“I think I have, for a long time,” Skyfire continued, as if he hadn’t just shattered Starscream’s processor. “Even before the ice, I think I knew.”

“Skyfire…” Starscream started but the words he was going to say died before they could leave his intake.

What was he going to say? That he loved him back? Starscream felt it wasn’t that simple—Starscream had grown incredibly fond of Skyfire before his disappearance, but love?

He had never been loved before, so how should he know what it felt like to love someone?

There were so many words Starscream wanted to say but couldn’t—either he couldn’t get the words to fall from his glossa or he just… couldn’t. Couldn’t say it. If there was anything to say.

Skyfire sensed his inner turmoil—of course he did—and pulled Starscream in for a hug. “It’s okay, Star,” Skyfire soothed, rubbing his wing hinges comfortingly. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I’ll be here when you’re ready. If you’re ready. Whatever your answer is, I’ll be here. I promise.”

Starscream believed him.

Skyfire understood. He was able to parse the emotions roiling around his spark and turn them into something he could understand. Something with some semblance of coherency.

Skyfire was the only bot who truly knew him and accepted him as he was, flaws and all. And that, was both terrifying and liberating.

Starscream shuddered and clutched Skyfire’s servo, needing something to ground him.

Skyfire squeezed back and held him tighter. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Starscream hiccuped, biting back something that felt suspiciously like a sob.

There was so much. Too much. Too many things he didn’t know what to do with. Starscream didn’t feel so much of anything at once anymore, except the rage and bloodlust on the battlefield. But with those, he could direct them at an enemy. Now there was no enemy to focus all these feelings on except himself, and Starscream sure as pit didn’t know what to do—he was already drowning under everything and anymore and he might break.

Then Skyfire reached out with his field and soothed the rough edges of the maelstrom that was Starscream’s own field. “I’ve got you and I promise, I’m not going to let you go. Not again.”

“...Thank you.”

Not another word was spoken for the rest of the night and that was alright—there weren’t words to do the emotions flying in the air justice.

Everything important didn’t need to be said anyway. They both knew.

After an emotional goodbye and swift but distracted flight back to the Nemesis, Starscream weaved quietly through the halls of the underwater base. He made it back to his quarters without being detected and only once the door slid shut behind him, did he relax.

His trinemates were already in recharge, both sprawled across the giant berth the three of them shared and both hogging it.

Starscream’s wing flicked, annoyed. He inched on top of the berth and wedged himself between his trinemates, jabbing and shoving them to make room for himself.

He was triumphant and Starscream made himself comfortable, intending to squeeze in as much recharge before his shift that morning (damn you Soundwave).

He should’ve predicted what happened next.

Skywarp rolled over onto his front and buried his faceplates into Starscream’s side. He threw one arm across his midsection and tangled his pede with Starscream’s, doing a very good imitation of those five limbed organics that stuck themselves to the downed ship’s hull.

Starscream grumbled and tried to move away but Thundercracker—having unconsciously followed Skywarp’s lead—prevented him from doing so by pressing his front against Starscream. To Starscream’s utter irritation, the blue seeker made it worse by commandeering Starscream’s shoulder as a helm rest, and also slung an arm across his midsection. He pulled Starscream closer to him, sleepy grumbles escaping his intake.

Starscream growled at their blatant disregard for his personal space. Yes, they shared one berth as trines do, but that did not mean they had to be in such close proximity. He did not need to be held!

—Skyfire pulling him closer, his field buzzing with delight that he was able to hold the seeker.

…Fine. His trine might not be Skyfire but they’ll have to do. It’s not like this is the first impromptu recharge cuddling they’ve dragged him into, after all.

Having—begrudgingly—resigned himself to being an unwilling participant to Skywarp and Thundercracker's cuddling, Starscream offlined his optics and attempted to power down. He almost slipped into recharge when—

“How was your date?” Thundercracker asked drowsily, apparently not as asleep as he made himself out to be.

“It wasn’t a date!”

“Totally was,” Skywarp sighed muzzily, also not quite in recharge.

“Silence, traitors!” Starscream snapped.

The trine bond flickered with amusement before they dragged Starscream with them to recharge.