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In the corner stood a silent observer, and from there Soundwave watched as the Cybertronian who sat at the table in a cloak continued to argue with Megatron of all bots and continued to do so as if he had no fear.
“I told you. First, I only sell to those who are ***** for a reason. Second, if there is no trust, there is no **** and that’s all I asked for when talking to Swindle. Did he not convey that?“ The Cybertronian said, beaming and mocking Megatron by adding emphasis on the words he could not have understood.
The Cybertronian laughed as well and revealed the marks on his frame—intricate black and gold swirls were painted all over him. It was the mark of an arms dealer. A real-life black market arms dealer. A rather well-known one as well, based off of the swirls that covered his servos and faceplate. “Third, since you clearly didn't do your research, bring me a ****** from Vos who can speak to me instead, since you clearly have no idea how I do business.” He leaned forward after, making sure to look over in the corner, and met Soundwave’s cherry red visor with a smirk, curved orange optics staring intently back at him. “If not, then you can kiss those weapons I promised you goodbye or worse, be in the servos of the Autobots instead.”
Soundwave narrowed his optics out of habit and felt his finials start to rise out of annoyance. He didn’t know if being an annoying piece of crank metal was stereotypical of all flight mechs from Vos, but since the only frame of reference he had was Starscream and his seekers, he decided it was best to assume so.
Soundwave was done listening to the conversation, however. He was done listening to and recording Megatron's conversation with the annoying arms dealer from Vos and done attempting to translate what had been said. At first, the arms dealer struggled to communicate with them through their originally agreed-upon method of communication and began to slip into a much older Vosian dialect (either out of habit or spite). Over time his mannerisms and method of speaking became more and more “complicated,” even “older” in words and phrasing. And by the time they had started to realize that they were being played like fools, it had been too late. The arms dealer wanted to walk away.
After double-checking that the conversation was finished and there was nothing else to be said, the arms dealer stood up and reached for his hooded cloak; wide, black, flicked-out wings turned to face them as if he were meant to appear “scary,” but in reality all it had done was provide a rather dramatic escape.
Reminds me of a certain someone, Soundwave thought, annoyed. There was even an accompanying mental image of the “certain someone” and a collection of their most recent interactions together. The seeker thought it’d be funny to tease him with lipstick and get their servos glued together, all in the same stellar cycle. I hope he still chokes on a rust stick for making me do all of that with him.
However, another thought slipped out as soon as it had come after his “rust stick” comment, and Soundwave felt his vents heat up in response, and he cursed his motherboard for imagining something it shouldn’t have.
“Are you sure we can't just pull the information out of him, Megatron?” He instead tried to say, tossing out whatever he had been imagining earlier, and pointed an accusatory digit in the direction of where the arms dealer had just left. “Shockwave says the cortical psychic patch is still usable.”
“That method won't work here, Soundwave. Instead, it’s of the utmost importance that we need to find someone from Vos who can speak to him directly, or we'll never get those weapons in time.”
"But we don't know anyone amidst our ranks who can speak this specific kind of Vosian dialect. It's very old.”
Megatron started to walk around with a servo to his chin before he stopped and said, "Wait, can’t Starscream speak it?! I remember it was somewhere on the file I asked you to compile for me when we first thought about recruiting him.”
Soundwave nodded. "...Starscream is from Vos, yes. And he’s quite fluent in this type of Vosian dialect as well.” He wished that was a fact about the seeker that he hadn’t known of, something that would’ve allowed him to pretend in front of Megatron, but it wasn’t like he could say no. After all, he was assigned to keep a special and private optic on Starscream before and had recorded previous lines from the other when he spoke in private to his seekers in their native glossa; it was just how it was.
“Bring him over then.”
⊹₊⟡⋆
"Well. Don’t take this the wrong way, Soundwave. But what can I do for you? You’ve been avoiding me since what…? We got our servos stuck.” Starscream made a gesture to the side and started to pout. “And here I thought we were finally starting to get along? You must really hate me…”
“No.” Soundwave hoped his vocalizer hadn’t fritzed the way it had and almost gave out midway but felt his warning signals start to flash. “I’ve just been busy.”
He gave a slightly awkward look around to take in his surroundings. Starscream’s lab was warm, and there were more than enough weird-looking gadgets strewn around amidst whatever he’d been working on before Soundwave had arrived. The communications officer squinted, recognizing something in the vague distance, and started to wonder what it was for—for all he knew, it was another weapon of destruction or something stupid and meant to entertain the younger mechs.
“Then…what made you drop by?" Starscream said.
Soundwave, caught off guard by the sudden invasion of space, stepped back and answered, “Megatron and I need your help. We're trying to broker a deal with an arms dealer from Vos, but he had some strange requests. And if I recall anything, you're one of the rare few among our ranks who may be able to talk to him."
"I could. But what do I get out of helping you guys...?"
"Help, and I won't tell Megatron about that mind control ray gun you drew plans for.” Soundwave said, raising a servo point at something the seeker had clearly been intending to hide from him.
Starscream watched as Soundwave walked over to the pile of junk he’d tossed together at the last minute and reached into it to reveal a blueprint of his most recent scheme. Starscream could already envision the lecture he’d get from Soundwave and the expected corporate punishment from Megatron for wasting resources on such a benign idea, or rather, the attempted and failed takeover.
Soundwave turned to see Starscream approaching him and was startled by the sensation of his nose pressed against the side of his finials. "...Well, when you put it that way,” the seeker said. “I guess I have the time to talk to that dealer for you.”
⊹₊⟡⋆
The arms dealer walked into the room, took one look at Starscream, and laughed. “So you’re the mech from Vos they brought to me? I thought the blue one was translating what I had said. Did they not hear me? I told him to bring me his sparkmate from Vos, not a shiny red jet!”
“Forgive him. He can be illiterate sometimes.” Starscream said, his tone light but protective in nature as he switched into Vosian and continued on. “But if it counts, the little owl standing over there wouldn't know what romance is even if it waved a giant sign in front of him and said 'pick me’ or threw itself at him. He’s a little…in the helm.”
“Oh?” The arms dealer hummed and moved to take a seat across from Starscream at the table the seeker sat at. He then leaned in and whispered, “So you are his sparkmate then?”
“Yes.”
“You are? Your sparkmate seems rather cold.”
“It’s a tragedy, I know.” Starscream pleaded woefully. He narrowed his optics after and said, “But if I remember correctly, someone of your stature only sells to sparkmates, right? Swindle did such a horrid job of sharing that information with us. If only my sparkmate over there had asked for my help sooner.”
“Sparkmates, am I right? You tell them one thing, and they go the opposite way. You should see mine.”
“I can only imagine how difficult that is. Whenever I tell him to help me with someone, he acts like it’s a chore.”
Soundwave didn’t attempt to hide the annoyance that bubbled out of his EM field from watching Starscream seemingly become so friendly with the arms dealer, nor had it helped that he couldn’t understand what they said. It wasn’t as if he couldn't speak a little of their dialect or recognize the tone in their vocalizers; he’d always had a secret and private collection of voice clips (or read books that went into detail of Cybertron’s rich cultures), all of which had included Starscream speaking.
But it wasn’t enough to keep up with the conversation or understand the context of it; all he’d managed to understand was that the arms dealer started to discuss his sparkmate with Starscream, and they chatted as if they were old friends trying to catch up. Soundwave may not have been fluent enough to translate a lick of what they’d said, but he could at the very least say some words in response.
So despite everything that told him to stay calm and let Starscream do the talking, he insisted, “I can still understand you,” and focused the main brunt of his words at Starscream, who seemed rather comfortable despite the sudden intrusion and continued to hum like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Strangely enough, the seeker could really only stifle a laugh in response to Soundwave’s intense look of scrutiny and clunky words—it felt as if he were caught in the middle of those soap dramas where the mistress was discovered by the wife, which Thundercracker always liked to insist on watching once a week with him.
Starscream shook his head and said, “Ignore him. He's a big fat liar. All he probably understood was the word ‘shiny red jet,’ and that’s about it.”
Soundwave felt his vocalizer start up faster than he could process or translate what was being said, only able to make out the words “liar” and “shiny red jet.”
The look on Starscream’s faceplate did little to ease what had been said and embodied—a single big entrance with no exit in sight.
Soundwave walked and bent forward until he was at optic level with the surprised seeker and said, “Well, last I checked, Starscream. Megatron was the one who left me in charge of communications for today. You’re just here to help translate the conversation.” He nodded after that and walked forward to grab the seeker by the back of his wings and looked at the arms dealer. “So where were we?”
A part of Soundwave had expected another fiery response from Starscream, like he had always erupted early when grabbed from behind, but what he had not expected was the coy-like smile that began to spread on Starscream’s face and the words he said following that.
“See? Like I said, he’s a little…in the helm,” the words oozed off his glossa like a thick layer of viscous honey and melted into sweet bliss. “Now how about showing me those weapons you promised to sell us?”
⊹₊⟡⋆
Soundwave turned to look at Starscream. He was currently leaning back in his chair and asking if they should wear purple later. “You’re sure that’s what he said?”
The seeker barely spared a glance from the glowing yellow orb in his hands; it was something he’d gotten from the arms dealer as a parting gift, and he replied, “Yes.”
“You’re sure?” Soundwave repeated. This time he repeated himself with more intensity and intent, half tempted to shove Starscream off of his seat so he could see the other glare at him from the ground. “He said that ‘we have to attend tonight’s gala if we want those weapons in time.’”
“Believe so,” Starscream nodded, clicked his glossa after, and turned to look at Soundwave. “You better stay close to me.”
“I just need you to translate for me when we’re at the gala, not be my babysitter.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you the arms dealer only sells to sparkmates, so he thinks that’s what we are and what he expects to see later when we see him at the gala.” Starscream purred in response to Soundwave’s sharp words, his lips nearly brushing against the corner of the other’s mouthplate as he spoke, “Better pucker up then, Buttercup—!”
However, instead of honoring that statement, Soundwave instead honored another and much more easily understandable statement by punching Starscream and wrestling him to the ground out of frustration for his most current antics. And maybe for what had happened the last two times he was forced to play nice with Starscream. He could be petty if he wanted—very petty. He even added a snarky, “In your cybernetic dreams, Buttercup."
“Oh, but in my cybernetic dreams, you’re at least in a cute maid outfit…” Starscream replied back to him and started to pout. “It’s short too—!”
Soundwave felt his vents start to overheat, and his systems started to beep warnings about his visual cortex no longer responding. He raised his other servo and grabbed Starscream’s faceplate in an attempt to shut the seeker up by holding, or rather pinching, his cheeks together.
“Do you want to die?” Soundwave asked. “Because that can be arranged for Starscream.”
“Well,” Starscream answered. “It certainly wouldn’t be the worst way to go out. A pretty beauty sitting on top of me as he rips out my spark, but here we are still playing little games of verbal assault… It just seems all so… Well, you’re still sitting on top of me and holding my faceplate. Aren’t you even a little curious if I'm even a good kisser—!?”
“Starscream can start by kissing the floor instead,” Soundwave hissed. “Soundwave will ask the floor for a review. Maybe if it’s nice enough, it’ll give Starscream a chance to show his skills.”
“And here I thought…we’d managed to move on from our typical inter—!” Starscream managed to squawk out. The back of his helmet was pushed down into the ground by Soundwave before he could say another word or make another snappy retort—servo to mouth and mouth to servo. It may have been more their tempo, but that didn’t stop Starscream from attempting to bite through thick layers of metal like an angered animal.
Soundwave, meanwhile, had been sitting on top of him for the duration of the toothed but feeble attack and, out of annoyance, growled out, “That was before Starscream forgot to mention attending the gala together. Meant pretending to be sparkmates.” He tightened the grip he had on Starscream’s neck and started to choke him out of frustration. “And that you told the arms dealer Soundwave was your sparkmate.”
“But we’ve already shared lipstick before. I’ve even offered you my servo to help you do your makeup before. What’s the difference between sharing myself in marriage for a day?” Starscream whined.
He tapped his servos against Soundwave’s forearms in an attempt to admit his mistakes were to be acknowledged and save face earlier in front of the dealer, but all it had done was increase the pressure and cause the seeker to flail around a few more times before giving up.
“Seriously, though, where did you find this guy?” Starscream huffed. “The moment I walked in, he asked if I was the sparkmate from Vos he asked you to bring to him.”
“Me?” Soundwave said, shocked.
“Yes. You. Did your audials malfunction just now? I said, ‘That specific arms dealer only sells to sparkmates, and for whatever reason he assumed you had a sparkmate from Vos, and that’s what he expects later at the gala. Two very in-love sparkmates coming to pick up some weapons.”
“Great. Just great.” Soundwave grumbled and rolled off of Starscream. He started to clutch his helm and groaned. “So instead of just making sure you’re not getting us into trouble, I have to be your pretend sparkmate as well!?”
Starscream shot him a look and rubbed his sore neck. “Now, imagine how I must feel. Whose bright idea was it to invite that guy here anyway? Did you not do your—" But before the seeker could add onto his initial sentence, he was met with a flash of blue and the sound of screeching metal echoing throughout the room until someone came running in out of concern and managed to successfully pull the two of them apart.
⊹₊⟡⋆
Soundwave stood there with his arms crossed and said, “Tell me why I allowed you to dress me like this again?”
“We have to match.” Starscream said coyly. “We’re sparkmates after all. Well, pretending to be.”
“I still don’t see the point of wearing all this.” Soundwave said, frustrated. He bent down to touch the long and airy fabric that had been draped over his frame. It covered him like a long cape as it went past his pedes and long, billowing sleeves that swayed each time he moved or tried to readjust the length. His servo tossed the fabric around; it was so light and sheer, but the lace-like details engraved into the bottom hem were beautiful—that was something Soundwave had trouble denying. “It’s all so gaudy.”
“Gaudy if you don’t know how to wear it,” Starscream sneered out of habit. He then took one of the leftover pieces of jewelry that had been left behind and tested to see how it’d have looked if it hung off of Soundwave’s left finial. “Maybe we should still use these? Or at the very least, let me use the ones meant to be worn on your chassis and waist. The flowers will match.”
“...No. You’ve helped me enough.” Soundwave shook his head and started to swat away the incoming servos that attempted to grab onto his waist and finials to attach the shimmering jewelry.
“Come on, I’ll be wearing them too if you let me.” Starscream let out a laugh and started to circle Soundwave with subtle interest. “Don’t forget, we’re sparkmates as of now. So you’re going to have to get used to me touching you at the very least.”
“...Only if you stopped trying to take advantage of me.”
“What?” Starscream gasped. His lips nearly brushed against the corner of the other’s visor as he then said, “I would never.”
“You have and are right now.”
“Well, by now you should know how those from Vos like to play, Soundwave. It’s also traditional for sparkmates who attend these types of events to dress like this. And if a certain someone hadn’t tackled me earlier because he felt bullied. We could have just worn the matching jewelry to the gala. Not all of this.”
The “not all of this” in question was a range of different and attachable pieces of garments and jewelry. The garments were sheer and light in material, similar to the types of capes and veils that were commonly used and worn by those from Vos for special celebrations or events like tonight’s gala. It was one of the many ways to represent a pair of sparkmates at events like the one they were going to—the gala was meant to serve as a socialization event but also as a way for those from Vos to show off their sparkmate and in turn be shown off.
And according to Starscream, the other way to express their relationship at the event would have been to simply wear plain or at least some form of jewelry in order to signify existing as the other’s matching half. But because they had gotten into a rather brutal match earlier before being separated by the Constructicons, the idea had to be forgotten in the case that the scratch marks they’d each left on the other could not be buffed out in time for the gala, which was tonight. Or rather it was a few hours from now, and they were lucky enough to even have had something that was wearable in the first place since the first plan had fallen through—due to Soundwave.
Soundwave narrowed his hidden optics and reached out to grab Starscream. He took the seeker by the waist and pulled him in tight. “Then don’t forget to hold onto me and stay close by when we walk inside. Those from Vos are known to be “touchy” lovers after all."
“If you insist.”
“Oh, but I do.”
⊹₊⟡⋆
Maybe it had been a bad idea to tell Starscream, ‘Don’t forget to hold onto me and stay close by,’ because the seeker took it as the opportunity to keep a servo looped around Soundwave’s waist and had left it there since they arrived at the gala.
It was all to make sure they weren’t found out, simple as that. A part of Soundwave had started contemplating if there was a way for him to sneak off or try to leave Starscream’s side, but the first few attempts were met with bright blue optics and a teasing smile—two things that made his fans click on. So even if he’d tried to leave to go and calm himself, the feeling of something unknown pricked at him and had started to eat at him.
He just hoped it would go away soon, but from how easily Starscream had been able to interact and smile at other Cybertronians from Vos and their sparkmates. Maybe it was because of where the seeker had grown up, but he had a way with others, charismatic almost, and a smiling brigade of compliments or simple white-colored lies in order to answer the flurry of questions thrown at him. A majority of it was to explain the one standing next to him was his sparkmate. where they had come from and how long they’d been together.
Naturally, whatever Starscream had spoon-fed them was fluffed up, and they were told to give the dramatic, loving flight mechs in front of them a proper story—something to pass the time while Soundwave stood in the corner nearby with a flute glass of high-grade in his servo. It wasn't every day someone like him was allowed to touch or hold something so rare, let alone fancy.
When he was younger, maybe there had been a time he wanted to experience it, but now it left a rather unpleasant taste against his senses. However, the music for the gala was rather nice. It was played by a Cybertronian orchestra who played a variety of different instruments, and all Soundwave could do was watch them from afar while he drank a little.
He liked the way they swayed their frames and servos in tune as if there was no one else in the room, unwrapping the musical sheets in front of them with ease and in perfect sync when changing into the next set of songs. This was when many people had started to head to the middle of the floor with their respective sparkmates to dance.
Each of them enjoyed a royal-like pedigree from how they bowed to each other and took one’s servo. Maybe they’d even practiced before or had dreamed of it for the longest time. However, Soundwave found it a little ridiculous in the face of war, yet everyone around him, on some planet so far away from all the chaos, had found a way to still celebrate and pretend it wasn’t going on. Let alone that they had accidentally invited and hosted two rather recognizable war criminals.
But the arms dealer, according to Starscream, had ensured that nothing would go wrong if they went; this type of gala was hosted as a cover for shadier deals to go down, and likely they’d have no issues blending in or being so openly exposed. At least so long as no one had a direct death wish—there was an unwritten rule about these types of galas after all—this was the type of occasion where people were allowed to mingle but not ask more than they were allowed to or dared to.
And that was fine, but that didn’t stop Soundwave from noticing someone had started chatting up Starscream. The young flight mech was a little strange as well. They kept fluttering their wings at the seeker despite his clear disinterest and snide expressions—it had morphed from clear politeness into pure disgust.
Starscream looked like someone had dumped him with paint remover and had left him there without an idea as to who the culprit was, or maybe it was genuine disbelief that someone would try to flirt with him despite knowing this type of event was meant for established couples only.
When Soundwave got closer, he could hear their conversation now in better detail.
“Sorry, but I’m taken,” Starscream said. He pulled the flute glass to his lips and took a slow sip. “And I thought this type of event was only for sparkmates? Unless I was told something different?”
If anything, he had no idea where this random brat had come from. Maybe they snuck in or were pissed off at their sparkmate for no reason and wanted to try causing some chaos tonight. Either way he wasn’t sure, but he was sure he had no interest in getting involved.
“I’m someone’s plus one!” The little flight mech in front of Starscream exclaimed. “ And I don’t see your sparkmate around.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s around.”
“Then can I stay around until he is?”
Starscream stood there and tried not to let his emotions show too much. This was starting to become too much, and I wondered if it was possible to drag Soundwave from whatever corner he had hidden himself in. Anything to escape this uncomfortable situation. Before long, though, Starscream heard a familiar voice come from behind him.
“He’s taken.” The deep mechanical voice echoed, calm yet annoyed. Starscream almost laughed by the time he’d noticed the servo wrapped around his waist and the jingle of jewelry that followed it. “And if it’s all the same, you can leave now.”
Soundwave glared down at the flight mech in front of him. Their optics went wide with surprise and a mix of terror before offering a flurry of sheepish apologies to the both of them and scurrying off.
“Taken?” Starscream repeated with a subtle laugh. He tried to ignore the sudden click of his fans and turned to look at Soundwave and the servo that still remained on his waist, then laughed. “And here I thought we weren’t going to go that far. I was supposed to be the one who did all the talking.”
Soundwave ignored him and said nothing. In fact, he preferred to turn his head the other way and tried to ignore Starscream’s piercing gaze by watching the flurry of colors that danced across the ballroom floor.
“You can just say you’re jealous, Soundwave. We’ve had enough moments like this to—” Starscream was cut off when the grip on his waist had tightened and he felt his frame get dragged off somewhere more private.
It wasn’t until they ended up at one of the many accessible and open outdoor balconies that Soundwave finally said something to Starscream. “For the record, I was not jealous.”
“Yeah, and you just didn’t just commit sparkmate abuse by dragging me all the way out here like this. Hysterical, really.”
“You looked like you needed saving.”
Starscream looked at him surprised and then shook his head. “No, I did. I just thought… I’d have to get you myself or something.” The seeker leaned in after that and teased. “Who knew I’d be rescued by such a charming prince? Or should I say, saved by a knight in shining armor?”
“You’ve been watching too many princess movies with Thundercracker on the Nemesis.”
“Aw, come on, don’t think I haven’t seen you watching them with Rumble and Frenzy whenever you have free time. You're a secret romance lover too.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Starscream insisted; he stopped himself from repeating the word the moment he saw Soundwave reveal his faceplate and saw the shy flush that had appeared on the other. His finials had bent out of confusion as well as he leaned into Starscream’s neck and stayed there, content in his newfound position. “Are— are you drunk?” The seeker started to screech out.
Soundwave, however, ignored him and said, “No…”
“You are.” Starscream continued, jaw slack and optics wide like saucers. “You have a low tolerance, don’t you? Dammit, Soundwave. You should have warned me!? I would have never let you—”
“I’ll be fine in a few jours. Just let me stay like this a little longer...you’re cold, it feels nice.”
⊹₊⟡⋆
Starscream stared at Soundwave. They’d managed to find some random room to hide in after the arms dealer had contacted them at the gala. For the most part, everything had gone smoothly because they had delivered the weapons they were promised earlier. But they also weren’t capable of leaving anytime soon due to Soundwave’s current status—he was hungover, not to the point of incapacitation, more of a mere nuisance really because he couldn’t fly as well now due to it.
There was only one bed, and two large mechs were stuck in a room until the morning.
“Feeling better?” He watched as the blue bot in front of him slowly drank his energon and groaned occasionally while rubbing his faceplate, servos draped over his optics as he lay back on the bed like a starfish.
Soundwave replied, lazily. “Yeah.” His helm was still pounding, unfortunately, from the high grade, but he did feel better, like Starscream had asked, even if his systems were still attempting to flash him a multitude of warnings and different precautions. There were even some things indicating pressure needed to be released later or else. But he ignored it for later and said, “Thanks for letting me borrow your shoulder earlier.”
Starscream rolled his optics and snorted. “I’ll put it under your tab. So far, you’ve only had to borrow my servo and shoulder. What else? Borrow my body!?” He smirked after that and winked at the other. “Maybe when you’re not hungover though.”
“I mean it,” Soundwave said, softly. “You didn’t have to let me fall asleep like that.”
“I know, but then how else would I be able to say I have our infamous communication officer in the palm of my servo? I’m sure someone will be surprised enough to believe me if I tell them.” He started to test the limits of their shared space, crawling onto the bed and lying next to Soundwave, barely any space between them after. “You’re okay though, right? Really, if you had just told me you can’t drink, I wouldn’t have left you alone with a glass full of high grade.”
Soundwave shook his head and revealed his watery amber optics, drawn in by the cool feeling of ice and the smell of sandalwood that surrounded him—Starscream’s presence felt comforting. “I thought I could handle it. And then I’m not sure what happened.”
“You got jealous. That’s what.”
“No—”
“Yes.”
“If I was really jealous, I’d have kissed you right then and there before we left.”
“What about now? We have to share a berth unless you want to sleep on the floor.”
“I thought you said I could borrow your body when I’m ‘not hungover.’”
“I said, ‘maybe,’ and you seem like your normal self right now, unless you don’t want to. Like I told you earlier after we spoke to the arms dealer, I could always be a great kisser, Soundwave.”
“Okay.”
Starscream shot up with surprise, maybe out of shock, maybe out of pure stubbornness as well. “Wait, what!?”
“I said, we can kiss.”
Realistically, he knew it was more than likely another meaningless flirt or potential scheme from Starscream, but Soundwave couldn’t help but ask himself, what if it wasn’t? If it wasn’t a question built from loneliness or a question dredged up from the high-grade he drank hours ago and had filtered out of his system, then what made him think about it?
But that’s all there is to it— a leap of faith. So as to see if the seeker had been talking too big of a game this entire time or maybe to test the limits of his own interest, a flicker of warmth pressed against the cold sheet of metal under them, on top of him like a guide, in the shadows of the moonlight.
And if it fizzled later, that was fine too. Soundwave felt something tease his servos after that while they continued to kiss like that, lips pressed against one another and teased—little by little until Starscream finally pulled away and said, “Told you I was a good kisser.”
“Passable,” Soundwave murmured. A part of him refused to acknowledge how much he enjoyed kissing Starscream, and the rest of him wanted to let the seeker do the rest of the talking in terms of if he was to be considered a good kisser or not—either way, Soundwave didn’t hate it.
Compared to the other types of kisses he’s received or engaged in before the war, it was one of the better, gentler ones, even if it had gotten rougher near its end. Starscream, it seemed, had an innate tendency to sink his fanged canines into whatever was palpable.
There was always room for more, so Soundwave brought his servos forward and took another kiss, far rougher and sloppier in engagement, but it was enough to get his position across as Starscream kissed him under some form of understanding. The seeker’s lips are soft, soft when compared to the scarring that lines his; they’re like biting into a nice fresh block of energon as well.
Maybe even reminiscent of the type of sweets Soundwave had grown up eating as a young sparkling—he used to save up all of his coins whenever he could and would wait for the opportunity to sneak out of the arena to buy some. He’d hoard it to eat later. Not even willing to share with Megatron or Ravage (who he adored), it was something Soundwave had always had trouble sharing.
Even if it went stale, he liked to still chew on it. The flavor reminded him that more was still an option; it was only a step away. Starscream tastes sweet. He tastes so effortlessly sweet, like they’ve both been starved for vorns until now. Suddenly, Soundwave started to crave the taste of it all over again and found himself reaching for more, followed by the sound of a soft gasp.
⊹₊⟡⋆
“You really are just like a little owl.” Starscream said, almost in awe.
He kept his gaze on the heavy and mechanical frame that slept on top of him. Soundwave had his head tucked into the seeker's neck, tickling it almost with his soft and shallow breathing—lying on top of him—without a moment of hesitation. Starscream shook his head but remained still and cast a look of annoyance. Yet despite his grievances, he raised a servo and started to trace the back of Soundwave’s frame, to touch the raised and exposed flat ridges in front of him, curious if they were sensitive if touched.
A single chirp.
Starscream let out a quiet noise in response, half expecting nothing of it, more of a test. He wanted to see if his little theory about Soundwave was true. He had a feeling the other may have been from Vos or born from someone who was from there, despite his Kaon origins, but it was hard to tell. The communication officer could barely understand the seeker if he chirped at him, but there were moments of clarity, and he seemed to almost have an inkling of what it meant, then not. It made him wonder what the other had been through before they met.
But there was only the memory of Soundwave covered in raw energon, his optics blindly staring at the crowd, his frame pressed to the ground by his opponent, the cheers of the crowd roaring around him. They wanted something of him—he looked so desolate back then—as if in that moment, he was asking himself if death would have been easier than living another day. And if that decision had been made, would Starscream still have been able to hold him like this, to hold him so closely? In a way it made him wonder just what had made Soundwave decide life was worth living back then. What did freedom mean to him?
For if it weren’t for his need to experience freedom, to free his family, to live for them, perhaps the gladiator Starscream had seen back then would have never stood up the way he had or raised his fist after outwitting his opponent in brute force. Starscream could still recall the sound of a harrowing cry—the cry of a young sparkling from below—asking for Soundwave to get up. He had to.
Because that’s who he was, Soundwave was a fighter. He was loved.
The seeker closed his optics after that thought and instead used his wandering free servo to touch the back of Soundwave’s helmet. Slowly and gently he stroked it before gravitating to the ex-gladiator's horn-shaped finials, similar to how he’d used to preen Thundercracker when she was a new hatchling.
The little blue seeker who used to follow Starscream around like he was her carrier—they’d only met by chance, yet their fates were tied from then on. Thundercracker was still an egg back then when they’d first met, an abandoned one. Even before the war, it wasn’t uncommon for eggs to get lost or abandoned, so there were designated safe nests for those who weren’t capable of raising a sparkling or had felt it was best to leave them in the hands of those who could raise them properly.
Starscream and his friends from the flight academy happened to be near one of those so-called designated safe nests because there was a greenhouse nearby and they needed test samples from it for a project. It was supposed to be a simple endeavor, but then, for some reason, a rather curious-looking egg had decided to roll at Starscream’s pedes. It rolled and rolled until it had practically crashed into his ankles and knocked him over. Perhaps, like her stubborn personality, she broke free from her shell, and, like any typical hatchling, assumed that whoever she saw was her family. Her first words to him were, “Are you my Care?”
And despite his words being, “No. You’re not mine. Go away.”
She didn’t listen and insisted on following after him while Starscream’s friends laughed and teased him. They even insisted on congratulating him on his newest sparkling. An outsider wouldn’t have had an inkling of the type of relationship he shared with Thundercracker, constantly tethering the line of genuine familial love or enamored dedication because he was all she had known from day one.
Across the long halls of the academy, there would always be someone chasing right after him, begging him to stop walking so fast because she had short legs and wings—how long it took Starscream to get used to her presence—his newest lackey. How his world had changed when she came to him one day and claimed to have finally formed her own trine.
Something foreign to him, yet the best for her. She should be more independent, but to his surprise her trine ended up liking him too. To the extent they insisted on following after him, even following him to the war. Did they ever regret it?
Starscream flinched at the thought and tried to relax the tightness in his frame as he directed his attention back to Soundwave. For some reason, he looked rather peaceful, and the seeker asked himself why this was okay. On any other day, he’d have never allowed Soundwave to sleep on him like this. Even Thundercracker and her trine weren’t granted this privilege—and if they were, it only occurred if one got sick or was injured to the point they required metal-to-metal contact—so why did he allow Soundwave?
He wasn’t sure when he started to experience such feelings of closeness or desire. It was different from his previous interest in Soundwave. Most of it had been because he thought the other was quite beautiful, and he liked to collect beautiful things. And perhaps it had been out of mere interest in what Megatron’s reaction would’ve been like if he learned his most precious and treasured commander had been breached by Starscream. His wires frizzed at the thought, but he dismissed it soon.
It then dawned on Starscream what he’d been doing to Soundwave, what he’d been willed to do by his instincts, and he shook his head, prepared to stop. But to his surprise, Soundwave began to chirp in response to the rhythmic touch, the longitudinal motion of the cold, clawed servo that continued to drag against his metal until it stopped. He let out another sound soon, another chirp, but unlike his previous ones, this chirp was of high disapproval, and he burrowed his faceplate into whatever he’d been sleeping against.
Starscream’s optics widened at the sound of Soundwave’s soft but aggravated chirps, but then he laughed. He even said something back, but unlike earlier, when he had been ignored, there was a response—a quick one—that said, “Don’t leave.”
Upon hearing that specific chirp, Starscream began to wonder how genuine it was, if Soundwave even understood the implications of such a kittenish sound. But then followed the gradual shake and shudder from Soundwave's frame as he nuzzled closer, almost hell-bent, if not starved for the touch that had lingered earlier. His optics remained shut, but his vocalizer did not.
Starscream tilted his head in response to the whimpers now uttered by Soundwave. He narrowed his optics for a while and lay there like a statue, wondering if the one in front of him would wake. But when what only followed was another soft plea to not be left alone, the seeker brought his servos around the communication officer's frame. And had done so in a way that allowed him to touch the other's helmet and lower back—rubbing it in a slow but soothing magnetic circle until the tension in Soundwave's frame began to soften—something his own carrier would have done for him.
However, Starscream couldn’t remember anymore if that was true or not. For that person’s face and touch had long faded from his memories, but perhaps unlike him, Soundwave still had the ability to remember and dream of what was supposed to have been lost to the ends of time.
So, quietly, he chirped softly to reassure him and watched as Soundwave began to relax almost fully into his touch as if he felt safe there, the confines of their frames under the night's vast softness, the moonlight's kiss. Starscream felt tempted to ask if the stars could bless them—if not now, then maybe later, they could grant them both a night without nightmares.
Maybe just this once, he'd allow another the sacred privilege of his touch again.