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Sometimes, Starscream comes back to Iacon.
The Quintessons are relentless, ruthless in their ways and have nothing in mind but the subjugation of their entire race. Slowly, their march back into the solace of the city turns from raucous joy to just another day where they had failed to do anything truly permanent against their oppressors.
It should have been comforting to be held in familiar servos once again, to finally feel gentle touches that didn’t dent at plating or scratch paint. To hear quiet, reassuring voices that weren’t drowned out by blaster fire or the cracking of Quintesson chitin.
Skyfire was that comfort.
Here, in their shared room, Skyfire is saying something quiet, digits running over the swathe of newly welded wounds Starscream had acquired. He shouldn’t be coddled, not yet, not when all of this didn’t matter and there was still a war to be fought and won up on the surface. These encounters had since stopped feeling healing, and was more like Starscream was wasting his time.
There’s a touch again, right between Starscream’s wings, and Skyfire attempts to pull Starscream fully against his chassis, but the seeker scowls, clicking his glossa against his denta with a turn of his helm. Skyfire startles, but he relents and pulls away.
“Is something—?” Skyfire starts, but his voice is cut with Starscream’s own.
“I’m taking my leave.” Starscream twists around from where he stood in front of the door. He hadn’t even walked past that space.
Skyfire’s optics widen. “What? Starscream, you just arrived! Stay with me for a while...” He reaches out, grabbing the seeker’s servo. His touch was never firm or forceful, just...there. “Please?”
Starscream feels his jaw tighten, and he does not dare look back at the shuttle. He pulls his servo out with a hiss. “I am wasting my time here, we are leaving again soon, and I’d rather be early than late.” He edges something unimaginably cold in his tone, hoping that it would deter Skyfire from speaking.
But it doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t. It never does, not with him, not with Skyfire.
“Starscream...please, speak to me.” Skyfire’s voice is impossibly gentle, more than Starscream deserves, more patience than any bot could even fathom. “You know...it would not be cowardly to stay here.”
This again.
Starscream grits his denta, grinding bottom and top together until he feels the ache. He spins around to face Skyfire, his wings held tight against his smaller frame. “It would be cowardice!” He yells, and Skyfire shirks away as if Starscream was someone bigger than he was. “I will not be shirking my responsibilities just so I can play this domestic game with you!”
As soon as the words come out, Starscream knows he has gone too far. Skyfire stares at him in utter shock at first, then something crosses his faceplates, something that Starscream could not decipher at first glance. It was only when the taller mech’s optic ridges furrow that the seeker realizes what that look felt like.
Skyfire was looking at him with pain.
“I—” Starscream bites his glossa, optics flickering side to side as if he could find the solution to all of this around the small space they were in. “I did not...” He cannot think of a single thing, and Skyfire stands silent in front of him, his head cast down and his expression is something Starscream had never seen before.
There, Starscream feels the panic, and he juggles the choices within his processor. He could run, or he could apologize, wrap his arms around Skyfire, arms that could barely circle the shuttle and tell him the truth, that he wished he could turn around and let the High Guard leave him behind.
Primus, he wishes, he wishes so many things, and he wishes that—
“Then go.”
The world pauses.
Starscream is snapped from his thoughts, and it is his turn to stare in astonishment. Skyfire is looking away from him, head turned to the side. The choice had been so quickly torn from Starscream he could not even fully process the words that had left the other bot’s intake.
“Leave.” Skyfire adds, and every passing word he says sinks deep into the seeker, slipping deep into his spark and weighing him down. “I won’t stop you.”
The panic, the shock, all of it is replaced with something else, something that rushes into Starscream’s circuits and melts away all other feelings in its way. Wide optics narrow, derma opened in surprise thinned into a deep scowl. Starscream feels the coolant well up and he swears to himself that it is because he is outraged.
He is angry as he storms out of the room. He is angry when he walks back to the High Guard. He is angry when he takes off to the surface.
Starscream cries when he goes back to the war, and he tells everyone and himself that he is angry.
Megatron is young.
Full of anger, violence and spite. He’s like potent fuel to whatever dying embers the High Guard had been when they were stranded. They eat up his words and burn brighter like never before. Starscream follows him out of Iacon and back into the surface, and even he had to admit he had done it because he too was swayed by the younger mech’s words.
But here, when the energon is flowing again, Starscream watches Megatron fall into some sort of...silence. The mech sulks in whatever dark, quiet corner he’d find. Sometimes he would stare off and ignore any bot that would attempt to coax him into recharging.
Today was one of those times. Though, no one had tried to convince him of resting yet.
Megatron was sitting on the edge of a cliff, helm tilted up slightly to stare at the quickly darkening sky. Like this, Starscream is reminded that Megatron was no soldier, and the number of cycles he had lived could not even be compared to Starscream’s numbers. He looks small like this, young and lost. But the seeker knows not to fool himself for long, he’d witnessed it first hand the kind of rage that simmered beneath those silver plates.
His voice box still aches sometimes.
For some reason, Starscream is one of the only few that had the courage to actually approach Megatron in his bouts of stillness. Other times it would be Shockwave or Soundwave, but the two had opted to leave the bot alone, letting him choose whenever he wanted to recharge in order to avoid his bad moods.
But Starscream wasn’t that quick to be deterred. Just because Megatron led them did not mean that he could act like a spoiled sparkling. He was the one in charge of the Decepticons, and every soldier looked up to him for guidance. The seeker would not settle with having some immature mech who could not even understand his own emotions bark orders at him.
Starscream stalks up to Megatron, who was blind and deaf to his surroundings, it seemed.
“Megatron.” The seeker says first, his voice sharp against the silence, if Megatron hears him, the bot doesn’t let it show. Starscream feels that familiar bite of irritation boil up within him, and he brushes a servo over his throat before he speaks again.
“Megatron.” He says again, nearing a full yell but not quite reaching it. The silvery mech stirs from where he sits, just the barest hint of his helm turning to the side. But Megatron still doesn’t turn around to fully face Starscream. That was it, it was one thing to be so unaware of your surroundings, but it was another to completely ignore him.
Flaring his wings up high, Starscream’s patience breaks in half, and he quickly moves to stand in front of Megatron, blocking the searing orange from the skies and dousing Megatron in his shadow. He reaches a servo out, sharply grasping at the younger bot’s shoulder and violently pulling him from his thoughts.
“MEGATRON!” Starscream screeches, his voice is so loud that it echoes off the space they were in, bouncing around and making the seeker flinch with his own volume. Megatron sits there, optics wide like some spooked mech-animal, but it quickly settles into that steely glare Starscream knew all too well.
Though, it still looked safe enough that Starscream could keep this up.
“Are you still sulking?” The seeker snaps, watching the way Megatron avoids his optics. “Don’t tell me all of that talk back in Iacon was just you making false promises.”
Megatron tightens his jaw, scoffing out something low, and it is only then that he meets Starscream’s optics and stands up to tower over the seeker. Starscream feels himself shrink out of instinct, knowing well how this could potentially end. But there is something else that Starscream sees in that fiery stare, boring straight through his plates and tearing into his spark. It was something bitterly distinct.
Twisting around and scraping his pedes against the ground, Megatron huffs. “I am thinking.” He shakes one of his arms, specifically the one with that damned cannon, and Starscream could taste something like rust in his intake. “And it’s none of your business.”
Again, Starscream forgets himself, forgets the danger he was putting himself in at the sheer idiocy in Megatron’s selfishness. “None of my business?” The seeker echoes, walking up to Megatron’s side. “Everything that you do is my business! You’re the one who so kindly decided to take my place leading the High Guard, and your... disregard for this war that you have started is nothing short of childish!”
The lack of an answer irks Starscream even more, and it emboldens him.
This time, Starscream smirks, making sure that the other mech sees it. One side of his dermas slip up, showing just a bit of the sharpened edge of his denta.
“This is about the new Prime, isn’t it?” Starscream doesn’t miss the way Megatron stiffens, fire quickly smothered from his expression. “What’s the matter, dear leader? Am I right?” The seeker already knows that he is, but it just felt good to finally catch the damn bot off guard for once.
He circles around Megatron, wings held high as he studies the silver mech with excruciating judgment. “Primus, you really are nothing more than an immature sparkling, huh?” Starscream chides, unable to see the way one of Megatron’s servos curl. “Even after you’ve left everything behind you still can’t get over one bot?” He says with a sharp laugh.
Starscream drops his smile, and he closes their distance, settling into a position that was much like their first meeting. “He told you to leave, didn’t he? Banished you without a second thought. ” He hisses. “Trust me when I say that mechs like that don’t actually—”
He feels a servo push against the front of his chassis, and Starscream stumbles just enough to move away a bit. The seeker catches himself and looks back up only to see the end of an arm-cannon, a sight that he had told himself he never wanted to see again.
Like clockwork, Starscream raises his servos, his glossa already moving to form words he had uttered countless times before. “W...wait—!” He gasps, but the cannon was already revving up with energy.
Megatron is shaking before him, the vibrant glow of the cannon reflecting off the fresh coolant falling down his face. “THIS IS NOT—”
“—ABOUT HIM!”
Starscream has Skywarp pinned against the ground, his servo wrapped tight against the other trinemate’s throat. Thundercracker stands off to the side, saying something in panicked tones and trying to tug Starscream away by the wings. His efforts are utterly useless at the fact of their leader’s anger, of course.
“S—Star...!” Skywarp gasps, digits scrabbling against Starscream’s wrist joint so frantically that he’s scratching off the paint there. “Look, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to...!”
But Starscream is barely listening, and the growl that he lets out effectively silences the other two. “I tell you time and time again that it is not about him! I am stressed and tired from leading you imbeciles, and yet you are adamant on pestering me with such frivolous questions!”
His wings snap back, hitting Thundercracker square in the jaw, promptly shaking him off and making him drop to the ground with a groan. Skywarp lets out something between a whine and choke, and Starscream sucks in a vent. All of a sudden, he is too aware of how his digits wrap around Skywarp’s neck.
The purple seeker is still writhing in place, legs kicking out weakly as Starscream holds him down.
Starscream quickly loosens his grip, scrambling off the other seeker with his fans working overtime. Thundercracker immediately crawls towards Skywarp, placing a servo behind his helm to help him sit up. The two of them stare at Starscream as if they were looking at some stranger and not at their fellow trinemate.
Starscream feels something wet the edge of his optics, and he quickly looks off to the side, refusing to look at them and to let them see his face.
“Leave me.” He barks out. “I need to think.”
His trine leaves without another word, and Starscream is left alone. He stands in utter silence for such a long time he forgets to take note of the fact that he was in the middle of a war against the Quintessons. He should be thinking of ways to win their next fight, to support the Primes, to keep their defenses up, to keep everyone online—
But he couldn’t. Not when Skyfire’s words rang over and over within his processor.
‘Then go.’
Again and again. Those words. Never ending, haunting Starscream wherever he went. Even if it was in the battle, or whenever the High Guard had the chance to lick their wounds. Always there, in complete clarity as if Starscream had never marched out of that damned room.
Like Skyfire was still standing in front of him with that pained look in his optics.
Starscream hunches over and screams. He screams until it hurts and his audials ring from hearing himself.
Starscream knows that he does not have any chance of running out of here, even if he’s fast enough to fly away, Megatron could simply move his cannon a little to the side and shoot the seeker down. So instead, Starscream babbles out whatever he could think of to placate the mech before him. “Lord Megatron! Hold on, I was out of line, I—!”
The rumbling within Megatron’s cannon reaches a crescendo, and Starscream lets out a humiliating screech as he screws his optics shut and raises his arms up to cover himself, as if that would do anything at the face of being shot at point blank.
Nothing happens.
Slowly, the rumbling slows down to quiet humming, then to complete silence. Starscream dares to open his optics, seeing that Megatron had dropped his arm back to his side. Letting out a shuddering vent, the seeker places a servo to his chassis, a relieved smile crossing his face.
“Oh! Lord Megatron, I am so lucky to be under your merci— ghhk!”
Whatever flowery praise Starscream was about to spit out was painfully cut off as Megatron reels a fist back and clocks the seeker across his cheekplates. Starscream sputters, tasting the tang of energon on his glossa as his helm snaps to the side.
But Megatron was not done, Starscream was sure of it. He would be stupid to think that he would be let off with one measly punch.
Starscream feels a servo clasp around the tip of one of his wings, tugging him forward and keeping him standing up. Megatron lets out a sound, something along the lines of a violent sob before he delivers another blow to the seeker’s faceplates. The force is enough to throw Starscream’s head back, but the other bot shakes him in order to lift it up again.
Every hit is a new type of blistering pain. Wherever Megatron touches, it leaves an ache that Starscream can barely handle, and before the ache could even fully dissipate, he is hit again. Idly, he knows that harm like this cannot simply come from anger alone. In the blows is something else, one that Starscream refuses to call familiar.
He does not recognize the look in Megatron’s optics.
He does not.
Energon spills from Starscream’s derma, dripping down his chin and spreading into his intake. He is aware that he had to say something, to at least try and stop the coming blows, but as Starscream opens his intake as soon as Megatron pauses, the seeker sees it.
Megatron did not look angry.
His optics had dimmed, a flood of coolant streaming down his faceplates, his vents shaky and stuttering with effort. “Never... never speak of him again.” He pants, but it lacks the usual venom. It’s a wheezing, pathetic noise, tinged with wet chokes, and Starscream simply stares at the mech, energon still pooling between his denta and derma.
For a moment, Starscream thinks that the other bot was going to hit him again, but Megatron lets out something that the seeker dares to call a whimper and drops him onto the ground. Starscream falls on his wings, the sound of his groans mixing with the taps of Megatron’s pedes moving away.
There is an uncomfortable silence that settles between them, nothing but the sound of Starscream’s pathetic venting and Megatron’s rumbling.
Starscream takes in whatever vents he could. He lays there until the painful buzz in his faceplates die into sharp aches. He lifts himself into a sitting position, looking up to see that Megatron was still standing over him, his helm held low, but he wasn’t looking at him.
In fact, he had his optics closed.
It takes Starscream a while to realize that the mech was sobbing, his servos shaking at his side.
The seeker sits there, listening to Megatron cry, trying not to turn the mech into a slender shape, a slender shape with wings set upon his back and a frame that had been older but had felt everything Megatron was feeling. Starscream tries not to remember the memory of him doing the same thing, standing there and stewing in his own tears, repeating those accursed words within his mind.
He tries. He really does.
Starscream stands, wiping the energon off his dermas and walks up to the younger mech. He could not explain what compels him to come closer. Megatron had just beat the slag out of him, he should be cowering away and tending to the damage that the bot had just done to him, not...approaching.
“Stop that.” Starscream says, his tone tempered. He doesn’t know if the lack of viciousness in his voice is because he is tired, or because he doesn’t want to worsen the younger mech’s mood. “Stop crying.” Megatron hiccups, his optics snapping up to meet Starscream’s, he attempts to stop the hitches in his vents, but he fails miserably.
“I cannot tell you what you should and should not feel.” Starscream starts, carefully choosing his words. “But I promise you, when you sit upon that throne of mine a little longer, those memories of yours will dull into something you can almost forget.”
The last bits of coolant dribble down Megatron’s cheekplates. “But doesn’t it ever go away?” He asks just when Starscream had turned around to leave. “Don’t you ever forget about him?”
Starscream stops himself, turning back around to stare at the other mech. There, Megatron looks nothing more than just a young bot, his optics wide and the silver of his face stained with streaks of blue. Without any of the flames licking up his red optics, he almost looks vulnerable like this. Not like the bot who had broken his voice box and who had dropped everything he had just to kill Sentinel.
The seeker moves in once again, but this time he leans over to whisper into Megatron’s audials. “No.” He mutters, and he hears the mech suck in a gasp of air. “You will think of him. Everyday when you are awake, you will think of him. Whenever you recharge you will have him haunt your dreams, and you will remember what he told you over and over again.”
And you will still love him when you do. Starscream almost says it, but he stops himself before he does. Megatron did not need to know.
“Your choice will kill you, but you know it’s already done.” Starscream adds. “Wondering what could have been between you and him is worthless. Know this, what you have now is...the High Guard and a war to win.”
Megatron lets out one last vent, and suddenly the hiccuping is gone, steadied in a single, inconsequential klik. Starscream moves away staring at the silver mech, that fire in Megatron’s optics is back again.
And Starscream sees himself.