Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream woke up slowly. His processer onlined in stages, like he was waking up from a deep recharge. He basked in the feeling and frowned when he noticed the deep ache infusing the back of his processer—the only discordant note present. He tried to stretch to relieve the gentle ache of stiff components, but he didn’t get far. Metal cuffs held his limbs in place.

He onlined very quickly after that.

 A truly appalling shade of orange met his optics. Cybertronian design, and not one he recognized

He jerked harder, scratching at the metal with his claws. The cuffs rattled but didn’t give. Then strange hands pushed down on his shoulders, pressing him back against the berth. They belonged to a small red Grounder, hidden by a visor and mask. He was talking, trying to be soothing.

 “—relax. I know you’re confused, but you’re safe now. Just calm down, and we can-”

 Senseless drivel. Starscream snarled at him. “Let me go!” he tried to shout. Instead, his vocalizer gave a disturbing wheeze as newly integrated parts struggled, and he coughed.

The mech started—was he petting him? Really? Eventually, glaring at the Grounder the entire time, Starscream regained control of his vocalizer. His voice still rasped when he tried speaking again, but it worked.

 “Where is he,” Starscream growled. His throat ached, but he forced the words through.

The Grounder’s hand paused, and he tilted his head. “Where’s who?” he asked. “You were alone when we found you.”

Starscream bared his teeth. “My partner, slaggit!” Skyfire had been right beside him before the storm had torn them apart. “We crashed together. What did you do with him?”

The Grounder’s hands froze then fell to his lap. “Oh,” he said quietly. Fiddling with his fingers, “We stumbled upon you in this planet’s Arctic Circle. After we found you, I’m afraid we…” He trailed off with a sad little mumble. If Starscream were a kinder mech, he might have felt sorry for the mech. Instead, he was only irritated.

 “You what?” he asked. “Spit it out already!”

If anything, the Grounder seemed to shrink even further into his seat. “We scanned the rest of the sector afterwards. There were no other life signals.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

 Starscream froze. His spark twisted in his chest, and his vocalizer emitted a deep, guttural sound of pain and disbelief. It took two tries before he managed to voice the words. “You’re wrong,” he said. “You… you messed up the scan. Skyfire has thicker armor than mine. He wouldn’t have been offlined by some slagging storm!”

The Grounder’s visor dimmed with something disgustingly like pity. Starscream snarled as he reached out to touch his plating again. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice absolutely dripping with sorrow. “This must be horribly difficult for--”

“Shut up!” Starscream howled, jerking as far away from the lying slagger as possible. “I don’t need your pity!” He could keep his softsparked sympathy. Skyfire wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. These incompetent slaggers had just screwed everything up. Starscream just… He needed to go back. He’d find the crash site, get Skyfire back, and throttle the Shuttle for daring to do this. Then the world would go back to normal again.

Mind made up, Starscream tore at the cuffs with his claws. The metal bit deep enough to draw energon, but Starscream didn’t even feel the pain. Beside him, the Grounder’s voice was high with panic as he tried to pin him back against the berth. Starscream retaliated, digging his claws deep into the mech’s plating, and he pulled back with a gasp of pain, cradling his arms to his chest.

A new voice cut in, deep and harsher with age. “That’s it. I’m putting him back under,” he said. Something stung Starscream’s neck, there and gone just as quickly. Starscream’s processer slowed, and he slipped gratefully back into unconsciousness. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Pain exploded through Skyfire’s frame, and, gasping, he slammed into consciousness. Jerking upright, he felt cables pull free from his frame, leaving throbbing ports behind. His processer ached fiercely, and his frame felt… strange. For some reason, his sensor net was only half calibrated, leaving his vision blurry and limbs uncoordinated. Something—someone—moved beside him, and Skyfire focused his bleary optics on them, willing his static laden vision to clear.

 “State your designation and affiliation,” the mech said. The tone, clipped and stern, was the same one used by all harried medics. Skyfire shrank beneath it.

“My designation is Skyfire,” he answered. “And… Iacon Academy, I suppose. I’m an Interstellar explorer funded by the organization.”

 His optics reset, and Skyfire’s vision cleared enough to make out a heavyset, lime green mech standing before him. His glare, which was aimed at a datapad in his hand, was quite impressive.

“The Iacon Academy hasn’t been functional in a long time.”

 Skyfire blinked, and disappointment curled in his chest. “I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said. “I understand the energon crisis was worsening when we left, but I’d hoped a solution would be found before too much was lost.”

 They’d only been gone from Cybertron for a decavorn. The Academy had seemed too big to fall so quickly but, well… Many things had changed with the crisis. The fall of a single Academy, no matter how large or prestigious, was not unheard of.

The mech—medic, Skyfire revised, as he saw the mech’s extensively upgraded hands—snorted. It was an unpleasant sound, haughty and darkly amused. Skyfire immediately disliked it.

“Sorry, but where am I?” Skyfire asked, glancing around. “According to my memory banks, my last location was in a small ice planet, vorns away from the nearest Cybertronian outpost. How did I get here?”

He remembered the storm. There were the winds and the crash, when ice had immobilized his limbs and freezing liquid leaked into past his plating and into his internals, moving towards his processer and he couldn’t—

Skyfire shied away from the memory. He was alive now. Safe. He just needed to find Starscream, and everything would be fine. 

“We dug you up,” the medic said. “You were in the way, and then I got charged with the unpleasant task of preparing your damaged frame for reactivation. As if I don’t already have enough problems to take care of!”

The mech kept grumbling under his breath, angrily enough that Skyfire didn’t want to interrupt him. He waited a moment then, when the medic showed no signs of stopping, hesitantly asked, “Was there anyone else found with me?”

“Of course not, thank Primus,” the mech sniped. “One unexpected ‘guest’ was more than enough!”

Skyfire relaxed back onto the berth, smiling despite the medic’s general unpleasantness. Starscream had made it out then. Thank Primus. He shouldn’t have been worried—Starscream was a far better flyer than him; of course a small storm wouldn’t have stopped him. He didn’t seem to be here though, wherever ‘here’ was.

“And our location?” Skyfire prompted.

The medic grimaced. “We’re still on the pathetic excuse for a planet that you crashed in. Despite it's absolutely repulsive landscape, the available energy sources are too valuable to ignore.” 

“But how did you-” Skyfire started, but he was cut off.

“I’m far too busy to answer all your inane questions,” he snapped. “Unless your repairs start malfunctioning—which they won’t--sit there quietly until you find someone else to pester.”

Meekly, Skyfire nodded. He was in an unfamiliar place, with a strange, grumpy mech, and he’d rather not annoy the medic who’d repaired him. Shifting awkwardly, Skyfire glanced around the room. He’d been, apparently, placed in a secluded corner of a busy med-bay. Mecha wove in and out of the room, barely sparing him a glance. It… felt military. Important, too.

“This the new guy?” someone asked right beside him.

Skyfire jumped and looked around, wondering how someone had snuck up on him, but didn’t see anyone. Then he looked down. Two tiny mecha stared up at him, one red and one blue. Smaller than minibots, their helms barely reached the edge of the berth. Cassetticons, perhaps? He wondered where their Host was.

“I’m Skyfire,” he said. “Who are you?”

“Rumble,” the blue one said. “An’ this is Frenzy.” Then, swinging up to a chair, he hoped onto the berth. He whistled. “Wow. You really are a big guy, huh. You any good at fightin’?

Skyfire frowned but scooted over, giving the Cassetticons more room. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

Rumble snorted. “Fighting. Ya heard of it?,” he asked dryly.

“Sorry, I think there’s been some mistake,” Skyfire said. “I’m an Interstellar explorer. A scientist, not a soldier.”

The two exchanged glances. “Have you even held a gun before?” Frenzy asked.

Skyfire cringed at the thought. “Of course not!” he said. Why were they so fixated on that? Just what was this place?

Both Cassetticons burst into laughter. “Ah, man, we picked up a Civvie! Buckethead is gonna freak.” He patted Skyfire’s side, as high up as he could reach. Skyfire barely felt the touch. “I hope you’ve got some useful skill at least, or you’re not gonna last long.”

Skyfire frowned, and trepidation built in his spark. He was about to ask the Cassetticons to elaborate, but they were interrupted when the medic from before stalked over.

“You! Scraplets!” he shouted, pointing at the tiny mecha. ”You’re in charge of our newest recruit. Try not to get him deactivated right away.”

Both mecha groaned in unison. “Aw, C’mon!” Rumble whined. “What are we supposed ta do with him, huh? We got better things to waste our time with.”

The medic was already turning away. “Slag if I care. Fob him off on someone else.” Then he was gone, retreating back to the mysterious depths of the med-bay.

The two Cassetticons stared at him. Skyfire stared back. “C’mon. Let’s blow this joint.”

Skyfire had nothing better to do. He followed.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

"Leave me alone."

Without even onlining his optics, Starscream flicked his wings at the intruder. He was curled atop the berth, wings shielding him from the rest of the room. Sometime while he'd been unconscious, the cuffs had been removed, not that it mattered. Where was he going to go?

The mech kept coming. Starscream continued ignoring him. He had a heavy tread—a large mech, then. Definitely a different one than earlier. The chair beside Starscream's berth creaked as he sat down. Growling, Starscream flared his wings in the most blatant, offensive gesture he knew, one even a Groundpounder could understand. The mech still didn't take the hint.

"May I at least have your designation?" the mech said. He had a deep voice, smooth and controlled. Starscream immediately hated it. The large frame, soothing voice, it was too much like… no.

"Slag. Off," Starscream growled.

The mech sighed. Even that small sound was infuriatingly composed, filled with an achingly familiar tone of mild disappointment. "Alright, then," he said. "I just need you to listen for a breem, and then I'll go, if that is your wish."

Stubborn, Starscream didn't dignify him with an answer.

"My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. I'm afraid you've been in stasis for a very, very long time."

-/-

The mech—the Prime—lied. Nearly a full five breems passed before he finally stood and left Starscream in peace. Starscream didn't say a word. He didn't respond in any way, no matter how tempted he was to turn and attack the other mech. Eventually, finally, he was gone, leaving a small datapad behind for him to 'research' with.

Prime—and that wasn't right, the Prime was Sentinel, not this 'Optimus'—spun him an elaborate tale about a crisis and a war that stretched on for eons. It was a nice story, he supposed. One of good versus evil, ridiculous dramatics, and all that drivel.

He considered just leaving the datapad where it was. Refusing to play whatever game they were trying to pull. Yet, curiosity had always been a weakness of his. Eventually, it won out, and he reached over. Then he started to read

-/-

The datapad held proof. Centivorns of it, in official records and news reports. There were too many of them, each as detailed and elaborate as the last. Pictures showed the remnants of a gutted Cybertron and videos of battlefields. Starscream searched the datapad for cycles, until the lights dimmed and exhaustion tugged at his processer, but he barely even scratched the surface.

Then, gently, Starscream set the datapad back down. He started to laugh. Great, heaving burst of static and high-pitched laughter that sounded more like sobs.

Skyfire was dead, the world had gone to slag, and he was stuck in the middle of a war.

Wasn't it all just hilarious?

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Somehow—he wasn't quite sure how—Skyfire ended up with two tiny mecha perched on his shoulders. Tinier fingers clutched at the seams of his armor and his helm for balance. Skyfire didn't mind, though their scrabbling fingers tended to tickle. And, with their faces right next to his helm, the Cassetticons seemed far louder.

"Over there!" Frenzy shrieked, practically bouncing on Skyfire's shoulder. He seemed inordinately gleeful about being tall enough to stare down at everyone else. Plenty of mecha were staring, though Skyfire didn't know whether they were staring at the Shuttle, the Cassetticons, or the unusual combination they made together.

"Frenzy. Rumble: Desist," an oddly mechanical voice said. The Twins froze. Frenzy squeaked.

"Ah, slag," Frenzy whispered. Skyfire turned, curious who had elicited such a dramatic reaction from the previously unflappable Twins. He was a blocky mech. Average height, with a smooth visor and mask covering his face. His chest was unusually large, even for this planet's bulky altmodes.

"Heeey, Soundwave," Rumble said, smiling weakly. Concerned, Skyfire raised a hand to steady the tiny mech. Just who was this 'Soundwave?' Despite his unassuming build and unreadable disposition, he practically radiated authority.

Soundwave tilted his head. "Query: new recruit?" he asked.

Rumble straightened, resting an oddly possessive arm against Skyfire's helm. "He's ours. Hook gave 'em to us." He grinned. "Can we keep him, Boss? I've always wanted a pet."

Skyfire ignored the pet comment, focusing on the "Boss" one instead. So this was the Twins' Host. It explained the bulky chest.

"Negative." Soundwave stated. "Recruit: must report to Thundercracker for evaluation."

The Twins groaned. "Aw, c'mon, the Air Commander won't want him. He's useless! Never even fired a blaster before! Slag knows what he was doing in that ice."

"Hey," Skyfire objected, mildly insulted. "I'm an Interstellar explorer and an energon production specialist."

"Energon production?" Rumble repeated, growing serious for a moment. Then the mischievous smirk returned. "Maybe they'll find a use for you after all. Slag. I was looking forward to having a good minion."

"I dunno," Frenzy cut in. "Not sure how good of a explorer he coulda been to end up crashed like that. And why was he alone? I thought all explorers came in a pair."

Skyfire frowned. "I did have a partner. He's a far better flyer than I am. He would have escaped the storm and returned home." Skyfire paused as another thought struck him. "Do you know how I can get a message back to Iacon? I need to let him know I'm alright. He'll be sick with worry." Or, more likely, grief, which made Skyfire's spark ache to consider. His internal 'com system was still broken, not that it mattered. It wouldn't have been nearly strong enough to reach back home.

Nobody answered him. Rumble and Frenzy stared up at him with twin expressions of horror.

"What?" Skyfire asked, self-conscious and growing concerned.

They exchanged several strange glances and expressions, as if having a silent argument. Rumble half-shoved Frenzy, then the blue minicon hissed something—a threat? A bribe?—in Rumble's ear. He winced, and Frenzy smirked, giving him a little shove forward.

"Uh…." Rumble stuttered. "I… don't think that's a good idea."

Skyfire glanced between them, concern blossoming into true fear. "Why? What's going on?" he asked. Uncomfortable silence followed once again, until Soundwave broke it.

"Partner: likely deactivated," he said. "Great War: decimated population."

Skyfire's spark plummeted. Numbly, he opened his mouth—to argue, or ask a question, something—but only static emerged. His legs shook, nearly giving out, and he collapsed heavily into a nearby chair, which creaked under his weight.

"You're wrong," he managed to croak. "Starscream was—He wouldn't have-"

"Iacon: destroyed during the War. Survivors: few."

Skyfire kept shaking his head, though no more words emerged. Iacon? The entire city—the Capital of Cybertron, even? How could they destroy an entire city? He'd been there, walking among the Grand Citadels of the Academy and flying amid its spires only a few vorns ago. It couldn't be gone, just like that.

And Starscream—Primus, Starscream. He couldn't have—no. He was too strong for that. Too vibrant.

Please, no.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

 “I’m so glad you decided to join us! I mean, not that being a Neutral is bad or anything, but we’ll be able to help you so much better now!”

Starscream resisted the urge to touch his chest, where the Autobot brand now sat. Not that he could feel anything—the ‘brand,’ as they called it, was nothing more than a circle of reprogrammed paint nanites. Beside him, the chatterbox—some grey Praxian—kept going, talking about how ‘nice’ all the Autobots were and how ‘happy’ they’d be to meet him as he led Starscream to his new quarters.

Starscream barely managed not to snap back at him. He didn’t care about these strangers and, right now, he wanted nothing to do with them.

The brand had been… an unpleasant necessity. Apparently, remaining ‘neutral’ meant he’d have zero clearance and would be kept in the dark about everything.

Slag that.

Taking the brand just meant he had to obey orders and not pick any fights. Which… he’d manage. Probably. And the Prime (the new one, which was slagging strange) was a complete softspark. All he’d had to say was that he wanted some time to get ‘acclimated’ to the new time, and the mech had practically fallen over himself trying to help him. He’d been so fragging happy about it too, like Starscream agreeing to join them was the best thing ever.

Crazy mech.

Finally, the chatterbox stopped in front of an unremarkable room. He slid the unlocked door open and turned to Starscream with a smile. “These’ll be you’re new quarters! It’s at the end of the regular rooms so, if you need any help, you can just-”

Starscream cut him off. “Yeah, great. Thanks for bringing me here,” he said without any enthusiasm. Then he stepped inside and shut the door in the Praxian’s face without a smidge of guilt.

The resulting silence was a blessing. Nobody talking to him. Nobody watching. Starscream let his forehead rest against the door, and his shoulders and wings finally slumped out of their rigid hold. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Starscream turned around and stumbled to the berth, practically falling into it.  

Tomorrow he’d figure things out. He’d play nice with these ‘Autobots‘ and find out what he was dealing with. He would carve out a place here until they couldn’t afford to throw him away.

Tonight, though, he just lay on his new berth and tried very hard not to think.

-/-

Cycles later, Starscream woke up to the sound of polite rapping on the door. Groaning, Starscream tried to bury his head back into the berth. The sound continued, slightly louder. Starscream glared blearily at the door then determinately turned away. It was too early for this slag.

The next time, the knocking was accompanied by the screech of a door chime, discordant enough it had to be intentional. Starscream huffed and tried to trigger recharge again, but it wouldn’t come. The incessant noise from the door refused to leave him in peace.

“’Fire,” Starscream groaned. “Leave me alone. I’m not--”

Memory returned with a jolt. It wasn’t Skyfire. Couldn’t be because—

No, no, no, he refused to go through that again. He was Starscream. He didn’t do weak, and he sure as slag didn’t hide away from anything. The next tie the door chime rang, Starscream reluctantly pushed himself out of bed. He grimaced. His wings were scuffed from the low quality berth—definitely not designed with Seekers in mind—and his joints ached faintly.

He stumbled towards the door, then took a moment to compose himself. Even if he didn’t have the time or materials to make himself presentable, he wouldn’t let any of these strangers see him rattled again. The door controls were unfamiliar, but a solid smack sent the doors sliding open.

The grey Praxian from before was standing there, hand still upraised to knock. 

“The slag do you want?” Starscream grumbled.

The hand fell down immediately, to hide almost sheepishly behind the Praxian’s back. “I wanted to check on you?” he tried, wingtips flickering in clear nervousness. “I mean, it’s been over half a solar cycle since I last saw you, and I’ve been asking around but nobody else had seen you either—and I knowthey would have remembered you!—so I wanted to check on you. I mean, there’s no energon in here, so I figured you gotta be hungry. And then I realized nobody’d even shown you the way to the rec-room, which wasn’t good, and I--”

The mech just kept talking. Starscream was almost impressed. Not enough to stop the growing swell of irritation in his spark though. Yet, when he opened his mouth to tell the softspark to slag off, something stopped him.

He'd told himself he'd start being 'nice' to the Autobots today, hadn't he? Now, with his mood already soured and the prospect of actual interaction in front of him, Starscream was questioning that decision. Yet... He’d survived in Iacon by making himself irreplaceable, no matter how much his peers had hated him. He didn't like the idea of starting over, especially without Sky—any allies to help bail him out if things went sour, but it had to be done regardless. Besides, his tanks were getting rather empty

“Fine,” Starscream gritted out. “Show me where this ‘rec room’ is.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “And what’s your designation anyway?”

A grin split the mech’s face. “Bluestreak!” he chirped. Then, still beaming, he stepped away from the doorway and kept chattering. Starscream followed him, barely grumbling at all. This time, the hallway wasn’t empty. He didn’t miss the stares as he walked down the hallway. Nor the hushed whispers just below audio range.  Starscream kept his helm high and his wings extended as wide as they could, as if daring anyone to comment.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

 ‘Com systems were strictly monitored and forbidden for any unranked soldier. No exceptions.

Skyfire tried. Multiple times. He begged for the chance to make a single call. For a list of survivors. It didn’t work. Desperate, he tried to sneak in. He had the coding skills to hack the door, and he spent half an orn preparing. Didn’t even make it into the hallway before another Cassetticon—a quadruped, this time—herded him away. He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t think of anything that would work.

Locked inside his cramped quarters, Skyfire fiddled with the energon cube in his hand and took a long draught. It wasn’t high-grade, much as he wished it was. Apparently, that was yet another thing this time lacked. He wanted the oblivion of overcharge. Wanted to dull the thoughts that swirled inside his processer, questions and fear and panic strong enough to drown his spark.

Starscream couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

Offlining his optics, Skyfire pushed back the terror clawing at his chest. If anyone could survive the war, it was Starscream. He was a survivor. Always had been. Starscream was the best flyer Skyfire had ever known and an expert at getting out of rough spots. He was the kind of mech who’d learned how to fight on the ground so he could beat the Iaconians who’d disapproved of his presence.

Starscream had always refused to accept defeat, and he would fight the universe itself if he had to. He would have joined the war and fought, would have survived everything it had thrown at him.

Skyfire just had to find him. That was all. He just needed a chance.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SS>-

 “Ah, come on, Sunny. If we just switch out the stabilizer, we can double the output no problem!”

Starscream froze with his energon cube halfway to his lips. Then he returned it to the table without taking a sip. Two mecha, one bright red, the other yellow, sat at a table near the isolated corner Starscream had claimed as his own. Their voices carried easily in the mostly empty room.

His first visit to the rec-room had been… thoroughly underwhelming: a blur of curious faces, grasping hands, and suspicious stares and- Well. He’d elected to avoid the room during its busy hours after that. It was the best way to avoid clawing out the optics of whatever idiots thought swarming a strange Seeker was a good idea.

The room was never completely empty though. And, every so often, he managed to stumble upon something interesting. Starscream eavesdropped shamelessly on the other mecha’s conversation. They were discussing some kind of energon production—something about geothermal energy and modified energy sinks. Within a klik, Starscream had figured out they were talking about high-grade production, and an illegal still at that.

To be fair, they weren’t complete amateurs. Obviously they were soldiers not scientists—and Frontliners too, judging by their armor and inbuilt weaponry—but they definitely knew the basics of energon distillation. Starscream sipped at his energon, for once feeling almost… calm. This, at least, was familiar. It wasn’t the Academy—wasn’t even close—but there was an echo  of it in the way the two mecha debated their project.

Then they started talking about an adjustment to maximize output, and Starscream’s almost pleasant mood immediately soured. He managed to hold it in for another klik. Then, after one particularly boneheaded suggestion, he snapped.

“Don’t you dare!” he hissed, shooting out of his seat and stalking over to the would-be bootleggers. “If you try to reroute the energy like that, you’ll slag up the entire energy sink! Keep forcing it, and you’ll blow the entire setup! Literally!”

The red mech gaped at him, cube forgotten halfway to his mouth. Starscream, slamming his own cube down and looming over their table, continued.

“And another thing! Why the slag are you morons still using the diffractive Straxian setup? That inefficient model was outdated the last time I was on Cybertron!”

The yellow one—Sunny, he’d been called—stood, crossing his arms and trying to loom over Starscream. “And you can do better?” he challenged.  

Starscream threw his head back and laughed. “I was an Interstellar Explorer and Energon specialist,” he said, watching as the other mech bristled at his tone. “I could make something twice as good while I was still a youngling.” The best part was, it was true. Sure he’d barely been able to reach some of the parts and had nearly burned the lab down, but he’d succeeded. The energon it produced had even been edible, more or less.

Sunny growled and stepped forward, but the red one stopped him with a look. He watched Starscream with considering optics. Then he took a datapad out of his subspace and swung it towards him.

“Prove it,” he said. The datapad was full of schematics.

With a sharp, toothy grin—almost a snarl—Starscream sat down, grabbed the datapad, and he did.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Before the war, Skyfire had rarely seen other Seekers. He’d lived in Iacon, after all, where few Flyers lived and even fewer Warbuilds. Starscream had been an anomaly; most Seekers stayed in Vos, bound there by ties of Trine and kinship. Even back then, Iacon had been lukewarm towards Seekers.

Here, though, in the backend of nowhere and with Starscream missing, there were Seekers. Dozens of them.

The irony made him want to laugh. Or cry.

Being a Shuttle apparently put him in the same class as all the other Flyers, for all the sense lumping Civilian and Military builds together made. He was placed under the Air Commander, a blue and black Seeker named Thundercracker. Neither was happy about it. Skyfire because seeing another Seeker hurt, and Thundercracker because, well…

Evaluation wasn’t going so well.

Skyfire stared at the blaster—more of a cannon, really—that had been thrust into his arms. Then, gingerly, he pinched the handle between two fingers, lifted it up, and set it carefully back on the table.

“No.”

Thundercracker glared at him, wings flared in irritation.  He picked the blaster back up and tried to push it back into Skyfire’s arms. Skyfire flinched away, and the weapon clattered to the ground. Thundercracker’s expression darkened. “If you’re going to be under my command, you need to know how to fire a blaster,” he said.

Skyfire nudged the blaster further away with his foot. “No,” he repeated. “I won’t—I can’t do it.” Just thinking of holding the weapon made him feel sick. Actually firing it—especially at another mech—was out of the question. His very spark rebelled at the idea.

Thundercracker sighed and picked it back up. His hand fit confidently around the metal. “We’re at war. If you don’t fight, you’ll die.”

Skyfire couldn’t meet his optics. With a sigh—almost a growl--Thundercracker turned and walked away.

Skyfire didn’t stop him.

-/-

“Here.”

Skyfire jumped when a datapad was thrust in front of his face. He glanced up to find Thundercracker staring down at him. Even sitting, Skyfire was barely shorter than the Seeker. He gingerly took the datapad. “What’s this?”

“Your new orders. Don’t slag these ones up too.”

He left without a backward glance, thrusters clicking against the floor.

Curious, Skyfire turned back to the datapad. Activated it. There were transfer papers there. For several long moments, Skyfire could just stare at the large glyphs, stunned. Then he kept reading.

He was, apparently, being moved to the labs as a minor assistant. Grunt work at best.

Skyfire set the datapad down on the table. Then, a klik later, moved it to his subspace, where it would be safe. Gratitude lit up his spark. He didn’t have to hold a blaster in the labs Didn’t have to fight.

“Thank you,” Skyfire whispered, though Thundercracker was long gone.

~.*.~

AN: Sorry for the delay! I took the MCAT earlier this week, and all my normal writing time got taken up by studying. Chapters should be coming up fairly regularly now though.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

One thing led to another, and Starscream found himself in the Twins’ quarters, eyeing the half-made high grade still they’d hidden there. It was… acceptable, he supposed.

Starscream could do a lot better than ‘acceptable.’

“Get me a good toolset, and I’ll fix this thing up right,” Starscream ordered. Sideswipe, practically bouncing in glee, raced to find one, and Starscream gave the machine a closer inspection. He acknowledged Sideswipe with a distracted nod when he returned, grabbed a wrench, and started to work.

Sideswipe joined him, though Sunstreaker seemed content to watch. Starscream watched him work for a moment before deciding he probably wouldn’t mess anything up. When Starscream stopped Sideswipe from soldering the wrong connection, he actually thanked the Seeker instead of getting upset about the correction. It was… strange. Starscream was actually enjoying working with them. Then, of course, Sideswipe opened his mouth to ‘socialize.’

 “So how’d a Seeker like you end up at the Academy?” he asked.

Starscream’s hand clenched on the wrench in his palm, and he briefly considered chucking it at the Frontliner. Unfortunately, the projectile—and subsequent brawl—might damage the still, and Starscream had put in too much work to ruin it now. Instead, he pushed out from where he’d been sprawled under the machine and glared up at Sideswipe.

“What, ‘cause Seekers are supposed to stay in Vos and head straight to the War Academy?” he asked, clambering to his feet and flaring his wings. “We’re not ‘allowed’ to do normal things like study energon production?”

Sideswipe blanched and stumbled through an apology. Sunstreaker cuffed him upside the head. “What my Twin meant to ask was why you decided on Iacon. The Capital was one of the worst places for Flyers or warbuilds.”

Mollified slightly, though only slightly, Starscream said, “You speaking from experience?”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “It was long before the war. We didn’t stay in Iacon for long.”

An interesting tidbit, though unsurprising. The Twins were warframes; Iacon certainly wouldn’t have welcomed them either. Thumbing the wrench again, Starscream returned to work. Breems passed as the awkward silence slowly turned comfortable again, punctuated by periodic grunts and orders.

Then, surprising even himself, Starscream said, “Iacon’s Academy was the best. Everyone said I couldn’t get in.” He smiled, snapping a particularly stubborn cable into place. “I proved them wrong. I crushed all of them.” He’d been better than every single mecha that tried to stop or replace him. Eventually, he’d forced them all to admit it.

Humming tunelessly, Starscream lost himself in the work. It was an easy design—simple. He’d built dozens like it over the vorns, with far worse material and more difficult resources to draw from. Everything went fine for several more breems. Then Sideswipe jumped back with a pained, bitten off curse and stared at the still with wild optics.

“Uh, Starscream?” he called, clutching his slightly singed fingers. “It started smoking. I really, really don’t think it’s supposed to be smoking.’

Starscream shot up, and he followed Sideswipe’s gaze to the far end of the machine. Which was literally on fire. And it was spreading.  

“Oh slag, run.” Starscream shot out. They almost made it through the door before the explosion thundered past them. The sound came first, scrambling Starscream’s audios. Then the shockwave and heat. Starscream was nearly thrown off his feet, and he remained standing through sheer force of will. The Twins weren’t so lucky. Sideswipe lost his balance and tumbled down. His flailing arm tripped Sunstreaker, sending them both flying. They skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway, dazed and groaning in a graceless lump.

Behind them, the doorway was scorched and still steadily leaking smoke. Nothing a new coat of paint couldn’t fix, surprisingly. He doubted the room itself had been as lucky.

Sideswipe poked his head up. “Oh slag, close the door,” he hissed. “Before-”

“WHEELJACK!!!” Someone roared from several hallways down. The voice echoed across the ship. Despite the distorted echo, it reminded him of the grumpy red Medic from before.

The Twins were already standing, helping each other up and wiping away the scorch marks. Starscream dove forward and smacked the keypad, closing the door with a slight screech. If you ignored the lingering, acrid scent of smoke, you’d never know something had happened. Soon enough, other mecha joined them, searching for the source of the explosion. Sideswipe, who’d managed a very good expression of mildly concerned curiosity, mingled with them.

The next time they were alone, Starscream sidled up next to him. “So who’s this Wheeljack?” he asked.

Sideswipe grinned. “Only our very own mad scientist. He specializes in energy and experimental weapons. Many of which explode spectacularly and send him to the med-bay every few orns.” He paused, eyeing Starscream speculatively. “I think you guys would get along. I’ll introduce ya to him later.”

Starscream nodded, interest reluctantly piqued. Sideswipe seemed like a good judge of character, but he’d reserve judgement until he actually met the mech. Chances were he’d hate him, like most other smug scientists he’d known.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

More often than not, Skyfire took his energon alone. Occasionally he was joined by the Cassettes or other curious mecha. Some were pleasant company, others less so. As a whole, though, the Decepticons had fought together for many vorns, and they were largely suspicious of Skyfire’s presence. Skyfire didn’t mind overly much. He’d always been better at observing than socializing anyway.

Several new Seekers poured into the rec room, grimy and somewhat scorched.  Returning patrols, most likely. They must have gotten into a scuffle with the… Autobots, was it? Whatever their opponents called themselves. Most of them were undamaged, save for small scrapes their self-repair could easily handle. One, though, a streamline green mech, had his wing angled oddly, as though the joint had been damaged. Concerned, Skyfire leaned forward for a better look. A ragged tear ran down the center of the Seeker’s wing, dangerously close to the joint. The surrounding plating was scorched deeply enough to destroy the color nanites.

Taking a deep gulp of energon, Skyfire tried to ignore it. The stranger wasn’t his problem. Yet... he couldn’t stop glancing over. Wounds like that shouldn’t be allowed to fester. Especially not wing damage.

Finally, Skyfire gave in. Subspacing his half-empty cube, he walked over.  A few mecha stared, cautious of his size, but most simply ignored him. He paused behind the green Seeker, who hadn’t noticed his arrival, before tapping his undamaged shoulder.

 The Seeker jumped and spun around, baring his teeth and wings, though the motion must have irritated the damage.  “Who the slag are you?” he spat.

Skyfire backed up, holding his hands up in supplication. “You’re hurt,” he said simply. “I have some medical training. I can help, if you wish.”

Instead of abating, the Seeker’s wary suspicion only grew. “What are you trying to play at?”

Before Skyfire could answer, the Seeker was joined by two more: his Trinemates. They flanked their damaged member protectively, blocking his damaged wing entirely from view.  “I think you should leave,” one of them growled. His claws were out—the other two’s as well.

Skyfire just nodded and stepped away. “As you wish,” he said softly. Then, ignoring their dumbstruck expressions, he turned to go. Before he made it a dozen steps, one of them called out—the green mech.

“Wait.”

Skyfire stopped. The damaged Seeker was staring at him, arms crossed. He had a wary edge to his frame, but it wasn’t outright aggressive anymore.

“Any funny business, and I’ll eviscerate you myself,” the Seeker warned.

Skyfire nodded. With both Trinemates watching his every move, he repaired the damage and applied a pain patch. Then he left. He finished his cube alone, in the too-small quarters he’d been assigned. He’d never even learned the green mech’s designation.

Still... Skyfire smiled as he flipped through a datapad, one of several historical ones he'd found. He'd done something good today. He'd really helped someone, for the first time since he'd woken up.

It was a good feeling.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Slaggit, but Sideswipe had been right. Wheeljack was fantastic. He had a seemingly unlimited knowledge of explosives, was obnoxiously cheerful, and didn’t even mention the wings, except to ask whether they got in the way during experiments. Which they, of course, did not.

Best of all, he was the exact opposite of Skyfire, in frame and personality. Starscream tried not to think of the Shuttle.

He hadn’t been successful yet, but he still tried.

During his first meeting with Wheeljack, a foul smelling vial of green liquid bubbled over, coating the table and actually burning through in several places. It had required a full contamination lockdown, a barrel of counteragent almost as big as they were, and a screaming—and highly entertaining—rant from Ratchet before the labs were under control again.

The entire debacle had been the most interesting thing to happen since he’d woken up. He’d immediately set out to spend more time in the labs which, even without Wheeljack, were far better than the tediousness of his empty quarters. 

“How are you settling in on the Ark? Anyone giving you trouble?” Wheeljack asked.

Starscream stilled, biting back a litany of curses that wanted to escape. So Wheeljack wanted to talk about feelings. And it had been going so well, too.

“It’s fine,” Starscream bit out, hoping Wheeljack would let the matter drop.

Either Wheeljack was more stubborn than Starscream had guessed or he was just as oblivious as he seemed, because he kept talking. “You sure?” he asked. “Cause the ship has been together for a long time, and we can be a rather insular group. Some mecha don’t take well to strangers anymore.”

Starscream grit his teeth. “Yes. I’m sure,” he growled. “Believe me, I get the exact amount of interaction I desire.” Which, most of the time, was quite low.

Wheeljack nodded, seemingly unconvinced, but he dropped the subject. Judging by the determined glow of his vocal indicators, Starscream would soon face a barrage of well intentioned, entirely unwelcome Autobots looking to ‘keep him company.’ He could hardly wait.

The door to the labs slid open, and Starscream—very, very quietly—groaned. He resolutely ignored the sound of more mecha—several of them, by the sound of it—entering the room and chattering loudly amongst themselves. They made a beeline directly for Wheeljack. Starscream kept working. He didn’t even glance around, hoping the new mecha would ignore him just as thoroughly as he was trying to do for them.

Then one of them brushed past him, close enough to feel the mech’s field briefly against his own, and Starscream dropped the converter he’d been holding.

The field was young. Immature and still unsettled, it mingled briefly with Starscream’s field in easy, uncomplicated curiosity and welcome.

Starscream turned. And he saw wings.

Seekerlings. There were slagging Seekerlings here. Four of them, and with an odd Shuttle in their midst. They crowded around Wheeljack in unbridled joy, with bright optics and relaxed wings.

“Ah, slag,” Starscream whispered, low enough nobody else heard. But he didn’t look away from the Seekerlings.

Eventually, he moved closer.

…

The Seekerlings were younger than he’d imagined, barely a stellar cycle old. They were being raised by Grounders, had never even talked with another Seeker before, and were very, very excited about having Starscream in the Ark.

Primus help him, they were adorable.

Starscream had never been much for younglings, but he’d also never seen any so young or enthusiastic about meeting other Flyers. Once he showed them interest—and mentioned his flying skills a bit—he was mobbed by brightly colored Seekerlings with cheerful questions about flying and Seekers and himself. Starscream wasn’t sure whether to be overwhelmed or flattered, but the latter was quickly winning out.

He glanced to the side, where Wheeljack was watching the pack of Younglings with a fond glint in his optics. At Starscream’s look, he laughed and stepped forwards. “C’mon, guys. Let’s give Starscream some space, alright?”

Grumbling, the Younglings stepped back.

“Promise you’ll fly with us sometime?” One of them—Fireflight, he thinks—asked. The others clamored in agreement.

Starscream hesitated. Then he nodded. “Sure,” he muttered. “Eventually.”  He left before the Seekerlings could coerce any other promises out of him, somewhat rattled and wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire was walking down the hallway when he heard tires squealing. He sighed and stepped to the side, waiting for them to pass. He didn’t have to wait long, and he was serenaded by a colorful diatribe of curses while he did.  Two streamline racers zoomed past him, pursued by a large truck. They passed close enough to buffet him with air. He glimpsed their fields and snapped to attention.

Young, he thought. Very young.

All three of them had the spark signature of newly ignited Younglings. Annoyance tugged at him spark. Somebody was in charge of these younglings. That someone was also doing a very poor job of teaching them what was appropriate.

One of the younglings crashed into a wall, spinning out and colliding spectacularly with the second. Disoriented, both transformed back into their root mode just in time for the truck to reach them. The next breem was chaotic and noisy and disruptive as all three Younglings started shouting at each other. Then the Truckformer raised his fist and took a swing at the other. Skyfire stepped in.

“Children!” he shouted in his most authoritative voice. “That is enough! Where’s your Caretaker?”

All three stopped shouting and stared at him. “The slag are you?” The black Truckformer asked.

“Hey, he’s the new guy, isn’t he?” the bright red one asked. “The civvie the Seekers dragged in. Get lost, Shuttle! We’re busy here.” He tried to turn away, just in time for the Truck to lunge at him again, having apparently decided to ignore Skyfire. Red yelped as the blow landed, and Skyfire grabbed the other's shoulder, pulling him away.

“I said-”

The mech charged at him instead, fists swinging.

Skyfire was almost impressed. He was good—quite good—for a youngling, but he lacked experience. And Skyfire had been partnered with Starscream for decavorns, who had dragged him into more scraps than he could count. He hated fighting, but he knew how to defend himself. So when the Truck lunged at him, Skyfire neatly sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist with one hand and his neck with the other, and pinned him to the wall.

The mech was large and built for battle, but Skyfire was larger. He maintained his leverage and didn’t give him an opening to break free.

“That’s enough, Youngling,” Skyfire ordered. “Clearly your Caretaker has been negligent in their duty. You do not use your alt-mode inside. You do not attack others, your age or older. Common cutesy-”

The mech struggled violently against him. “Slag you, let me go or I’ll-”

“I am not done talking!” Skyfire snapped.

The youngling’s field fluctuated wildly, filled with anger and embarrassment. This close, it was easy for Skyfire to envelop it with his own field. The young field yielded easily to his own, and Skyfire pushed his own calmness at him until the sharp edges evened out. The kid stopped struggling with a surprised sound. Skyfire wondered if anyone had ever done calmed his field for him before. He hoped so.

Younglings needed help. They needed to learn how to control their spark and regulate their field, needed to be taught by their Caretakers and elders. It was why they tended to be so erratic, especially before their first vorn.

When the younger mech didn’t start fighting again, Skyfire carefully released him and stepped back.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked. The mech’s optics seemed slightly unfocused, and he looked more confused than anything.

“Motormaster.”

Skyfire nodded. He settled in for a long lecture. He’d gotten quite good at them in Iacon, not that Starscream had ever listened. Before he could begin, the other two leaned closer. One even poked Motormaster and got a halfhearted swat in response.

“What’d ya do?” Red asked, staring at both of them with brightened optics. “He feels… weird.” The Racer seemed calmer too, albeit somewhat disturbed.

“Feel?” Skyfire echoed. “Are you three…” They were far too young to be Sparkbound—their sparks weren’t nearly mature enough—but they were definitely acting like there was something there.  Gestalt, perhaps? They were rare, but it would explain quite a bit.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked.

“Wildrider,” he said. “And this is Breakdown. Don’t stare at him or I’ll gut you.”

Smiling despite himself, Skyfire answered. “I regulated his field for him. At this age, your Caretaker should be doing it regularly.” Placing one hand on Wildrider’s shoulder—and ignoring his yelp at the touch—Skyfire did the same to him. Wildrider’s frame wasn’t nearly as chaotic as Motormaster’s had been, though he still looked decidedly confused afterwards.

When Skyfire turned to Breakdown, the blue Racer backed away, looking ready to bolt. “Stay away! Don’t you pull your— your voodoo witchcraft on me!”

Wildrider waved a hand at him and ambled over, slinging one arm around his shoulders. “Nah, s’cool, Breakdown. Feels kinda good. Weird though.”

Breakdown didn’t look convinced but, when Skyfire held out his hand, Breakdown cautiously took it.

Unlike his brothers, Breakdown’s field was focused internally and held much too tight against his frame. Skyfire coaxed it carefully free, encouraging it to mix with his brothers. Now that he could feel their fields together, they definitely were Gestalt. He reinforced the field as much as he could, trying to coax forward confidence and steady the fluctuations.

When he was done, he pushed the three Younglings together and finally let loose the lecture that had been building in the back of his processer since he first saw them. They listened.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

The Aerialbots were stalking him again.

Starscream wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or disturbed that he’d gained an entire Gestalt’s worth of stalkers. He was something at least, and right then that something was displeased. At least it wasn’t all five of them this time. There were only two—Fireflight and Silverbolt—and they were at least quiet about it. When the entire gestalt was following him around and completely failing at subtlety, the amount of attention it drew made him want to scream. Apparently other mecha found it cute. Slaggers.

Starscream took another sip of energon and pretended he didn’t hear them whispering in the corner of the rec room. He glanced over, and the two Seekerlings immediately looked away, pretending they hadn’t been caught ogling him. They weren’t good actors. He’d intentionally visited the rec-room at an off time, hoping to find some peace while he refueled. Then the Seekerlings had snuck in. He looked over one more time. Their wings were actually vibrating in excitement.

At least they were cute.

Draining the last of his cube, Starscream stood. As he walked away, he heard the clattering of two light sets of feet rushing after him. Starscream stopped once he reached the hallway and, leaning against a wall, waited. The Seekerlings stumbled to a stop at the sight of him.

“Well?” Starscream asked. “What is it?”

The Younglings really needed to work on their poker face; their panic was obvious. “Nothing?” Fireflight drawled, turning the answer into a question.

Starscream snorted. “Sure. That’s why your whole crew has been following me for an orn. If there’s something you want, then say it already!”

The two Seekerlings looked at each other. For a moment, Starscream thought they would turn and run, but then Skydive stepped awkwardly forward.

“What was Vos like?” he blurted out.

“What?”

“Vos. The… the Flyer city,” he fidgeted, looking at the ground instead of Starscream. “There’s barely anything left from before the war, and I just… I was curious. I tried asking others about it but even Wheeljack got all weird about it. People don’t like talking about the old Decepticon cities.”

The question caught Starscream completely off guard. He’d expected… Well. He’d expected accusations or offensive requests after the way they’d been skulking about. Not nervous questions from Seekerlings being raised by Grounders, of all things.
Starscream sighed and looked away. “Kid, I’m really not the best mecha to talk to,” he said. “I wasn’t from Vos. Didn’t spend much time there, honestly.”

Both Seekerlings looked up at that, surprised. “But I thought all Seekers lived in Vos!” Fireflight said.
Starscream winced. “Not all. Just… most. It was a Trine thing.”

Most Seekers stayed beside their Trinemates for their entire lives. Then you added in bondmates and Creator bonds, and the city turned into one big web of social connections that sucked mecha in and kept them there. They didn’t even realize how slagging strange it was to be so tied down to one place.

“Well, what about yours then? Your wingmates?”

“Fireflight!” Skydive hissed, horrified. “Don’t be rude, they’re probably-”

“It’s fine,” Starscream cut in. “I didn’t have Trinemates.” Which, right now, he was slagging grateful for. He couldn’t imagine waking up with spark damage on top of everything else. “I lived in Iacon, not Vos. If I have them, I never met ‘em.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal, but other Flyers—especially Seekers—tended to freak out when they realized he was Untrined. They’d acted like lacking Trinemates was some horrible fate. Being Untrined was rare, but it wasn’t a disease or some slagging disability. His Spark had been perfectly stable on its own. Then, with Skyfire, he’d been—

Starscream cut that thought off.

“You guys were sparked together, right?” he said. “Same time, same place, already spark-linked?” At Fireflight’s nod, he continued. “That’s ‘cause you’re a Gestalt. Regular Seekers are different. Most don’t find their Trinemates until their spark matures. Some just… never find a Match.”

Both Fireflight and Skydive looked thunderstruck by that revelation, as if the thought of being sparked alone had never even occurred to them. Fireflight looked like he was about to cry.

“That’s horrible!” he exclaimed. “What if you were sparked in two different cities and never met each other? Your Trinemates could have been in Vos and you never found them!”

Younglings, Starscream reminded himself. They were young, and stupid, and curious. They weren’t intentionally trying to start a fight.

“Maybe,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. “Or maybe they didn’t exist.”

“But what if-”

“That’s enough, kid,” he snapped. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand!”

(because he’d tried, once upon a time. Before Skyfire and before the Academy, when he’d been new to his adult frame and had wanted. Vos had vornly festivals for the Untrined, and he’d thought… But even then, he’d been one of the oldest mecha there. He’d endured the whispers and pitying glances for a couple festivals without feeling the slightest hint of the Pull. Then he’d gone back to Iacon for good.)

Fireflight shrank back at the sound of his displeasure. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I cant imagine being alone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Starscream said, anger fading at the visibly contrite Younglings. “Just don’t-”

He was interrupted as a Shuttle came barreling down the hallway. For one heart stopping moment, Starscream saw white and red and thought- But no. Of course not. Skyfire was—He wasn’t here, and Silverbolt skidded to a stop in front of them.

“What are you two doing!” he shouted at Fireflight and Skydive. “You know what Wheeljack said. You’re not supposed to bother him!”

Both Seekerlings wilted under the reprimand. Skydive mumbled some sort of excuse, and Silverbolt puffed up in righteous indignation. Then he started in on a lecture, something about politeness and responsibility and all that slag. Starscream didn’t pay much attention.

Before Silverbolt could really gather steam, Starscream cut in. “So, Wheeljack ordered you not to bother me?”

This time, Silverbolt was the one to hesitate. Apparently it was supposed to be a secret. He nodded uncomfortably and said, “Wheeljack wanted to make sure you were comfortable first. We can get pretty… exuberant sometimes. And we were all real excited ‘bout having a Seeker here.”

“So the five of you thought the best way to avoid ‘bothering’ me was to constantly follow me around without saying anything?”

“Yes?”

“It didn’t work.”

He hated being stared at. It usually meant someone was too cowardly to say something to his face. Still, he almost had to give the Younglings credit for such a well-intentioned failure.

“Sorry,” Silverbolt said. “We’ll just-” He grabbed his Brothers by the arms and started pulling them away. Fireflight baulked.

“But Silverbolt, I didn’t even get to ask about the Skydances!” he whined.

There was honest disappointment in his voice, more than Starscream would have expected. Skydive looked crestfallen as well, though he was better t hiding it. And, well… they just looked so pathetic. And it wasn’t like the Sky Dances or normal festivals were a personal subject; it hadn’t been the culture or its celebrations he’d had trouble with.

He was probably going to regret it later, but… “It’s fine,” Starscream said. “I can tell you about the Sky dances. And next time, if you want something, just ask instead of wasting both our time.”

He might be the worst possible Seeker to explain Flyer culture, but at least he knew the basics. He’d seen Skydancers and Storm Flights. He’d been to Vos and its sister-city, Praxus, in the Golden Age. Things those Grounders would never understand.

They should know at least some of their heritage. If he was the best they’d get… we’ll, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Once the fuss of his arrival and settling into the ship died down, Skyfire found himself with far too much free time and too little to fill it. He was a social mech at spark and had never done well alone. Without Starscream by his side, his quarters were empty and the cycles monotonous. Silence grated on him, and boredom was even worse. His shift doing grunt work in the labs barely helped, as those cycles tended towards emptiness or explosive outbursts.

Out of necessity, Skyfire frequently found himself towards in the rec-room. The company wasn’t always the best and fights broke out with distressing regularity, but it was loud and interesting and, most importantly, distracting. A few mecha approached him regarding injuries though, for some reason, none of them would outright say what they wanted. Oddly enough, they seemed to treat asking for repairs like it was some great, sordid secret.

Skyfire had just promised a Seeker a meeting to recalibrate glitching flight sensors and was enjoying his datapad—an interesting analysis from the beginning of the war—when the ambulant noise in the room abruptly dropped. He looked up to see four mecha marching towards him with Motormaster at the head. The two Younglings from before were behind him, and the remaining two presumably completed their gestalt. On his left, a mech started collecting bets. Most of them involved a fight and rather explicit physical damage, namely to him. Skyfire was not impressed.

Skyfire smiled at the Younglings as they grew close. “Motormaster. Wildrider. Breakdown,” he said, greeting the three in turn as they stopped in front of him. To the remaining two, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t know your designations. How may I help you?”

Skyfire received five identical looks of confusion for his trouble and no names. Scowling, Motormaster stepped forward until Skyfire had to look up to meet his optics

“Fight me,” he said.

“What?”

Motormaster lunged forward another step. “I said, fight me!”

Skyfire looked at the bristling Younglings. He looked at the rest of the room, where over a dozen eager mecha were watching, waiting for a spectacle. He made a decision.

“No,” he said. Then he picked up his datapad, stood, and walked away. The room was dead silent as the budding anticipation turned into confusion. He’d almost reached the door when heavy footsteps caught up to him.

“You can’t do that!” Motormaster said as he followed him into the hallway. “It’s a fight! You’re not allowed to say no!”
Skyfire kept the group in his peripherals, but Motormaster didn’t try to attack him. Instead he seemed confused, like Skyfire had done something completely incomprehensible by ignoring his challenge.

“I just did,” he said mildly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Apparently, politeness rendered the Younglings speechless. Motormaster made a few other aborted attempts at conversation before looking back at the others for backup. Just as confused as he, they weren’t much help. Skyfire didn’t stop walking, and the five mecha trailed after him as he turned towards his quarters. The Gestalt whispered furiously among themselves, quietly enough that Skyfire couldn’t understand. They were still whispering when Skyfire reached the door to his quarters.

“If there’s nothing else you wanted…” he started, hand moving towards the keypad.

Before he could complete the motion, Wildrider stepped forward. He squinted up at Skyfire, hands on his hips and equally as bold as his Leader despite his smaller size.“Somebody said you do repairs for free. Izzat true?” he said.
Skyfire nodded. “I have some first aid knowledge. Are you hurt?”

“No, but Dead End busted his shoulder. Can you fix it?”

Motormaster rounded on his brother, shouting something about keeping his mouth shut and not betraying weakness, but Skyfire ignored him. He had an injured Youngling to worry about. The white and red one—Dead end?—was definitely holding his left arm awkwardly.

Dead End flinched away when Skyfire stepped forward, but he let the Shuttle lift his arm for inspection. Motormaster grumbled his displeasure, and the other four fell silent.

“It looks like you dented some plating. It’s pressing on your neural network,” he said. “I have a med-kit in my quarters that I could fix it with.”

Reaching back blindly, he keyed open the door and pulled Dead End through, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. The other four trailed after their brother to stand in the center of the room, still arguing, as he rummaged for his med-kit.

“You can sit down,” Skyfire said, motioning towards a few rickety chairs. He joined them soon enough, laying the kit on the thin table beside them. The kit was a simple one, left over from his time as an Explorer, but it was well stocked for basic repairs. Kneeling beside Dead End, Skyfire started to work.

The Youngling’s field was a mess of nerves with a heavy, bleak edge. Absentmindedly, Skyfire smoothed Dead End’s field until it was flowing freely again. Dead End jumped and started squirming under Skyfire’s hand.

“He’s doing it again!” he shouted. “The field thing! He’s doing it!”

Skyfire, who had inserted a basic probe under a seam in Dead End’s plating, almost lost his grip. He bumped against a sensor node, hard enough to make Dead End gasp. “Careful!” Skyfire said. “Please don’t move until I’m done.”

Dead End immediately stilled. Skyfire returned to carefully pulling the dented plating away from his neural network. He slowly smoothed the metal back into shape, careful to keep the pressure off of his sensor net. It was tedious work, but eventually the Youngling’s shoulder rotated smoothly again. The metal was scuffed and faintly warped, but self-repair would take care of that.

Skyfire tucked the tools back into the med-kit. Then he looked up and registered the five mecha staring at him. Caught up in the repairs, Skyfire had almost forgotten about his audience. Motormaster had claimed the largest chair and was moping atop it, glaring at Skyfire in the familiar, sullen manner of a thwarted Youngling. He wondered whether the mech would forgive him for disrupting his original plan for the evening. The other four, thankfully, ranged from boredom to curiosity.

The yellow one—Skyfire still didn’t know his designation—poked Dead End’s shoulder, earning himself a halfhearted swat in response.

“Weird,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt him happy before.”

Based on his field, Skyfire wouldn’t quite call Dead End happy. The endless pessimism from before had abated, at least, leaving his field calm. Another poke earned a more animated swat. Then Yellow looked back at Skyfire.

“Izzis what you’ve been doing? Doctor stuff?” he asked.

It took a moment for Skyfire to realize what he was talking about. Then he smiled. “Not quite. I regulated their fields for them. It helps settle your spark. At your age, an adult should be helping you every couple orns so you don’t get off-balance.”

Yellow glanced at Motormaster. Then he stuck out his hand. “Do me! I wanna know what it feels like!”

Skyfire reached down, placed his hand on the Youngling’s shoulder, and coaxed his field down into a steady pulse. The mech made a soft sound of surprise and relaxed.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked. He finished and lifted his hand away. The Youngling was took distracted to even notice.

“Drag Strip,” the mech mumbled. “That feels really weird. Nice? I think?”

Skyfire nodded. “This is what your field should feel like. Most Younglings get the hang of regulating their own field within a quarter vorn or so. Until then, you should find someone to help whenever you start getting unbalanced.”

Drag Strip was staring at his hand in fascination, having probably not heard a word Skyfire said. He grabbed Dead End’s arm, letting their field mesh together.

“Cool!” he said. He motioned towards Wildrider and Breakdown. “C’mon, do yours too! I wanna try combining like this, it’ll be awesome!”

Wildrider immediately held out his hand. With a little coaxing, so did Breakdown. Skyfire obligingly reached for their fields. They didn’t need much adjustment this time, and then the four mecha clustered together, enjoying how easily their fields meshed now. For a Gestalt, the sensation must have been wonderful.

“Do your best to remember what this feels like, and practice holding it this way when you can. It’ll help,” Skyfire said.

He held his hand towards Motormaster, offering to do his too. Motormaster glared at him until he put his hand down. Skyfire repressed a smile. The mech was oddly cute when he was sulking. The other four were growing louder, jockeying each other and grinning. Wildrider said something to Drag Strip and almost got tackled, and Skyfire raised his voice.

“Leave your roughhousing for outside,” he reminded them. “And no racing in the hallways

He was waved off, as he suspected he would, but they did grow quieter. It seemed something of his earlier lecture had stuck in their processer, at least. They gathered towards the door, slightly subdued but still relatively rowdy. Hopefully they would wait until they left the ship to really let loose. They migrated towards the door. As they prepared to leave, Skyfire hesitated.

“Feel free to come back,” Skyfire said. “If you need something—repairs, field regulation, answers---then let me know. I’ll do what I can to help.”

Motormaster grunted. “Whatever,” he said.

And then they were gone, leaving Skyfire alone in his apartment. After a few breems, he took his datapad out again. He considered returning to the rec-room but quickly dismissed the thought. Best to wait a solar cycle for any rumors to die down. Besides, after having a Gestalt inside it, his room didn’t feel quite so empty anymore.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

The common room during movie night was even worse than mealtimes were. It seemed like the entire base turned out for them, leaving almost every seat full and the noise level deafening. The ‘movies’ were largely local creations, chosen for novelty more than quality, and he doubted half the room paid them any attention. The rest were just there to socialize.

Normally, Starscream would have cheerfully eviscerated himself before entering of his own volition. As it was, he barely understood how he’d ended up there at all, save that Bluestreak and the Twins had all been involved. He’d garnered several looks when they’d entered, and he almost turned around and marched right back out. Instead, he somehow found himself sitting in one of the chairs. He was still halfheartedly considering escape when the Twins handed him a container of disturbingly vibrant energon goodies and sat down, boxing him in with their frames.

“Not a fan of crowds?” Sideswipe asked, nudging at Starscream’s shoulder. At least he left the wings alone.

Starscream glared at him. “Not a fan of people,” he grumbled. He didn’t mean for the Twins to hear, but their audios were more sensitive than he expected.

Instead of being insulted, Sideswipe laughed. “I don’t know ‘bout that,” he said. “Seems to me like you’ve been charming mecha all over the place. Blue keeps rambling ‘bout ya, and you’ve got an entire Gestalt fulla Littles following ya everywhere.”

Starscream’s first instinct was to punch Sideswipe for making fun of him. Yet, there wasn’t any malice in his face or tone, only humor and an open smile. Seemed he was being serious. Strange.

“I know a lotta mecha who would’ve disagreed with you. Especially about the charming bit.” He’d been called many things in his life, some of them even pleasant, but never charming. He’d never cared enough about pandering to the ignorant masses for that.

Sideswipe swung an arm over Starscream’s shoulders. “Aw, don’t say that. You know the munchkins will get all anxious if they hear you talking like that. They’re sensitive little buggers, an’ they like you.”

Starscream stiffened under Sideswipe’s arm and tried to subtly wiggle free. Sideswipe’s grip didn’t budge, and Starscream gave up before he started looking foolish. The weight wasn’t uncomfortable, just… close. He didn’t let many mecha near enough for physical contact, especially not grounders, but the Twins weren’t unbearable. Especially Sunstreaker. He could respect a mech who didn’t waste time on pleasantries and could scare off mecha with a single glower.

Somebody called his name. Starscream turned, annoyed, to find Wheeljack waving enthusiastically at him from across the room. The Younglings weren’t with him, though the old medic, Ratchet, was sitting beside him. Starscream’s annoyance lessened, though it didn’t entirely disappear. Wheeljack was decent company. Maybe he’d speak with him after the movie; fill his socialization quota for the orn. Before he could sit down again, someone brushed against his wing. Starscream jerked away.

“Watch it!” he said, glaring behind him. There was a solid wall of Grounders behind him. None of them fessed up to the contact, accidental or otherwise. Growling, Starscream subsided against his seat again.

He could hear them whispering about him after he looked away. Starscream gritted his teeth and ignored them. He had practice, after all. Since he’d arrived, he’d been ignoring rumors about him and the subtle—or not so subtle—glances at his wings. He was used to being talked about. That didn’t make it less annoying.

“They act like they’ve never seen a Seeker before,” he grumbled.

Silence. The Twins exchanged glances.

“What?” Starscream snapped.

“Well…” Sideswipe said. “Most all the Seekers sided with the ‘Cons early in the war, an’ none came to the Autobots. Past couple decavorns, we’ve only really seen Seekers from across the battlefield. Not really the best way to learn ‘bout a frametype.”

Starscream dug his fingers into his seat to avoid digging them into something worse. Like the face of the minibot behind them. “That’s just fantastic,” he said. “I’m surrounded by Grounders even more ignorant about Seekers than the slaggers back in Iacon.”
He crossed his arms and glared straight ahead, fuming. He wasn’t disappointed or even surprised, but still. Dealing with them would be aggravating, and he didn’t have anyone to properly commiserate with this time. If he’d expected the Twins to politely ignore his foul mood, he would have been disappointed.

“Wanna leave?” Sideswipe asked. “Blue’s got a pretty sweet setup in his quarters if ya’d rather avoid the crowds.”

Tempting, but… “No,” Starscream said. “I’m staying.”

The gossiping mecha obviously wanted him to leave, so that was the last thing he’d do. He certainly wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of thinking they’d driven him off.

Starscream bit into an energon goodie and stared straight ahead at the screen. This ‘movie’ was starting, and Starscream was determined to stay until the end, no matter how inane it turned out to be.

.*.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

The Decepticons were acting rather… strange. Not all of them, of course—most still completely ignored his existence—but enough for Skyfire to notice. Odd looks in the rec-room. Occasional gossip involving his name and the Stunticons. He hadn’t spoken with the Younglings since that night, though he had occasionally seen them around the ship. He hoped they were doing alright.

Skyfire quickly grew tired of the attention. After the first awkward cycle, taking a break until the rumor die down sounded like a wonderful idea. To fill his free time, Skyfire took to walking around the base. Even avoiding the more populated areas, there was quite a bit to explore. The core part of the base was centered in the remains of a crashed ship, but extra rooms and passageways had been haphazardly added on until it resembled a maze more than a military encampment.

Thus far, exploring the outskirts of the base had been a pleasant distraction. He’d stumbled across several interesting things hidden away, including some old prototypes and a high-grade still. He left a few suggestions at the still and continued walking. On occasion, he’d run into another mech. Skyfire wouldn’t have minded stopping to chat for a bit, but they always seemed to be in a hurry. Eventually, he thought he might have the entire base mapped.

Skyfire looked up when he heard the heavy tread of a large mech approaching. The Grounder was large, only slightly smaller than Skyfire, and he looked furious. Skyfire recognized the scowl and purposeful stride from back when Starscream had been at the end of his temper and looking to start a fight. Skyfire immediately stepped to the side to let him pass.

At first, the mech barely spared him a glance. Something made him stop though, and he looked at Skyfire a second time. His optics narrowed in recognition, and the Grounder changed directions towards him. Skyfire hesitated, unsure what to do about the mech marching towards him.

“Can I help you?” Skyfire asked. “I’m afraid I-”

The mech grabbed his arm, tight enough to hurt, and yanked him forward. Without a word, he propelled Skyfire down the hallway he’d come out of. Skyfire nearly tripped before regaining his balance.

“Where are we going?” he asked when he got his breath back. He tried briefly to free his hand, but the other mech was stronger. His fingers tightened fractionally in warning, making Skyfire flinch.

“A member of my unit is injured. You’re going to repair him,” he said.

Skyfire stopped resisting. He wouldn’t refuse anyone who needed his help. He would have appreciated a more polite request, though.

“May I have your designation?” Skyfire asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Onslaught.”

Skyfire nodded. He knew he’d heard the name before, though he couldn’t place it. They were moving further into the base, down paths Skyfire hadn’t seen before. He glanced behind them. “My medical kit is in my quarters. I’ll need to--”

Onslaught interrupted him. “All necessary materials will be provided for you,” he said.

Skyfire fell silent at his tone. The mech sounded like he was used to giving orders and to having them followed. He also seemed like he might get upset about being questioned. By then, he was somewhat lost and starting to question the stability of the area. It seemed to be in disrepair, with rust creeping up the walls and the occasional puddle of water stagnating on the floor.

Onslaught stopped in front of a large door and pulled it open. He pushed Skyfire inside. The room was large, almost bigger than the main rec-room, and stacked with storage containers. The center of the room had been cleared, making room for a low table and several chairs in a makeshift common area.

Another Grounder, almost as large as Onslaught, sat on a chair with his leg splayed out in front of him. The knee joint had been thoroughly crushed. A third mech—a Rotary—stood beside him. They were trading what sounded like insults, though both fell silent at their entrance.

“Found a medic,” Onslaught grunted. He gave Skyfire a push forward. “Fix him.”

The Rotary took one look at Skyfire and started cackling. “You grabbed the new mech?” he said. “The one even Thundercracker fobbed off as useless?”

“That’s enough, Vortex,” Onslaught snapped.

He said more, something about orders and respect, but Skyfire had stopped listening. He approached the injured mech, eyeing his knee with trepidation. He knew the basic mechanics, of course, but he’d never needed to fix a major injury before. Only minor damage and basic maintenance.

“I only have Tier 5 medical qualification,” Skyfire said. “This may be beyond my abilities.”

Onslaught crossed his arm. Despite his slightly smaller stature, he loomed over Skyfire. “You will fix him,” he said. It sounded like a threat.

“Surely an official medic, like Hook, would-”

“Hook isn’t an option. Megatron made sure of that.” He spat the name like a curse.

Skyfire winced. He’d heard rumors about Megatron withholding medical treatment from mecha who disappointed him, but he hadn’t quite believed it. He took a deep breath. Then Skyfire sat down next to the injured Grounder. Medical supplies had been left on the table, just like Onslaught had promised.

“I cannot promise the repairs will hold up, but I’ll try,” he said. Onslaught grunted in reply, and Skyfire started to work.

…

Skyfire’s arms were shaking when he left the room. Nobody offered to guide him back to a familiar section of the ship, and Skyfire hadn’t asked. He didn’t enjoy speaking ill of others, but being alone with the three of them… It had put him on edge.

The repairs had been functional. Not elegant by any means and he suspected they would need professional adjustment soon, but they had held. Skyfire was rather proud of himself for that, actually. Even though the effort had left him drained.

A headache was building in the back of his processer. He halfheartedly debated continuing his exploration, but the thought had lost its shine for the moment. Right then, returning to his quarters and resting sounded like the best option. Of course, he had to figure out where he was first. He kept walking. Eventually, he heard someone laughing.

“Hello?” Skyfire called, moving towards the sound. “Excuse me, I’m afraid I may be...”

He turned the corner and paused. The hallway was empty. He looked around again, even glanced behind him, and nothing. He’d been sure he’d heard someone. He hadn’t thought sound carried that well down here, but maybe he was-

Something clattered above his head, and Skyfire looked up. Two small helms peered back at him from a hole in the ceiling.

“Wouldja look at that!” Rumble said, grinning down at him. “Skyfire! Haven’t run into you in a while. How’s it hanging?”

Skyfire blinked up at them. It took a moment for him to recover from his surprise. “I… Fine, I’m doing fine. Why are you two…”
Frenzy shushed him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it! ‘S a secret, yeah?”

Reluctantly, Skyfire nodded along. The gesture seemed to please the Cassetticons, who swung out of their perch and dropped to the ground. Skyfire jerked forward as if to catch them, but they didn’t need his help. They landed easily, their reinforced plating easily handling the shock. Skyfire lowered his hands, embarrassed. He needed to get used to being around Warbuilds.

“I heard ya survived an encounter with Motormaster! Good on you!” Rumble said.

Skyfire nodded, unsure what to make of his tone. “I’ve run into the Gestalt a couple times now. They’re pleasant enough company, if a bit undisciplined. ”

“Pleasant?” Frenzy let out a short bark of laughter. “We’re talking ‘bout the same mecha, right? Ya know, Motormaster? The guy who once sent a mech to the medbay for laughing at him an’ barely listens to Megatron half the time? Honestly, I’m surprised they left ya in one piece.”

Skyfire frowned. “Violent or not, they’re still Younglings.”

The Cassetticons exchanged glances. Frenzy snorted. “Suuuure,” Rumble drawled. Tugging Frenzy with him, he turned around and started walking. “Well, we’ll let ya get back to whatever you were doing. We’ll catch ya around later!”

“Wait!” Skyfire said. “Before you go, which way is the rec-room?”

Rumble lazily pointed at a fork in the path ahead. “Just keep turning right and you’ll find it,” he said. “An’ if ya end up in the ocean, you’ve gone too far!”

Cackling, he and Frenzy took off running and disappeared into an access panel Skyfire hadn’t even noticed. Skyfire couldn’t help but smile as he watched them go. Strange as they were, he was fond of them. Shaking his head, Skyfire set off in the direction he’d pointed at. Some of the tension had faded from his frame during the conversation, and he felt almost normal again. Still not up to braving the rec-room again, but… soon.

.*.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream hated the mudball that had stolen his partner and decavorns of his life, but he couldn’t deny the night sky was beautiful. The thick atmosphere and high humidity gave the stars an ethereal glow. His wings ached to fly among the lowflung clouds and crisp bite of the wind. 

Not tonight. 

He hadn’t flown since he’d awoken. Since… Skyfire. Eventually he’d feel the pull of Sky Hunger, but… he couldn’t. Not yet.  

Tonight, he only watched, alone on the flat roof of the Ark. Unable to recharge, he’d left when the room started feeling like a cage. At least out here, he had the sky and illusion of freedom.  The silence was oddly soothing, free of mecha pestering him or asking questions. He could almost relax.  

“Hey, Star. Watcha doing up here?” 

Starscream stiffened at the sound of another’s voice, immediately losing that tenuous sense of peace. “Don’t call me that!” he snapped. Then he looked over. Immediately, he felt a slight twinge of guilt. Fireflight was staring up at him, along with his gestalt leader, Silverbolt. 

The Shuttle.   

Of fragging course. 

But he was still a youngling—they both were—and Fireflight looked as if he would burst into tears any moment. Apparently, he didn’t do well with reprimands. “I’m not mad at you, younglings,” Starscream said, struggling to keep his voice even. It was even the truth, oddly enough.  

Fireflight gave him a rather watery smile and clambered up beside him. Silverbolt joined them, though he was significantly louder as he settled down on the roof. Instead of looking up at the sky, both Aerialbots continued staring at him. 

“It’s late. What are you two still doing awake?” Starscream asked, barely glancing over at them. The young gestalt, of course, had a curfew—no leaving the Ark after nightfall. 

“I wanted to see the stars,” Fireflight answered shamelessly. ”Silverbolt said he’d come with me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Silverbolt cut in quickly. He actually looked guilty. “I know coming here is against the rules, but I-” 

Starscream snorted. “Like I give a slag about those rules.” He snorted. “Break them all you want. What do I care if two younglings want to go stargazing?” Then, of course, Fireflight looked at him with an unsettlingly gleeful glint in his optics, and Starscream quickly added, “Just stay on the Ark, and don’t do anything too stupid, alright?” 

The words felt strange on his tongue. Here he was, advising younglings about the rules. If Skyfire were here, he would have howled with laughter. But he wasn’t, and he hadn’t, so Starscream kept going. 

“Just stay quiet, okay?” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood to socialize.” 

Fireflight nodded eagerly and scooted over until their plating was touching. His field, light and cheerful, brushed gently against his. Starscream huffed but let the kid have his way, then his brother as well.  

Fireflight almost made it to a full breem before he lost control of his vocalizer again. “Why’d you come up here alone?” he asked, turning to face him. His field pushed harder, clumsily trying to sense more. “You feel sad. Why?” 

Anger flared in Starscream’s spark. He snapped his field tight against his plating, away from Fireflight’s childish probes. “I thought I told you to be quiet!” he snapped. “Don’t bring that up again!” 

Fireflight and Silverbolt both jerked, and their fields went haywire, uncertain and nervous and still seeking a partner. “I’m sorry,” they said, pressing tighter against his plating when his field remained out of reach. “We won’t say it again. Promise. Don’t be mad.”  

Starscream’s systems growled, but he let his anger be soothed by the youngling’s awkward attempts at comfort. He ignored the guilt from upsetting the younglings and said, “Fine. But this time, stay quiet!” 

They did. Eventually, Starscream relaxed his field again. The Younglings eagerly pressed back, too harsh at first then smoothing into something comfortable and calm. They watched the stars, fields mingling together. 

-/- 

A cycle later, both younglings were falling asleep beside him, and Starscream was no closer to joining them in recharge than when he’d first left the Ark. With a sigh, he stood and nudged the grumbling mecha until, rubbing their optics, they stood. “Red Alert will have conniptions if you spend all night here,” he said. Neither appeared awake enough to understand him, so he grabbed their arms and tugged them forward, to the edge of the roof. Fireflight wandered dazedly the entire way, though Silverbolt grew alert after the first few steps. 

He let Silverbolt take control of his brother.  Then, standing at the edge, he paused, staring upwards. Silverbolt shifted but said nothing.  

Then, haltingly, Starscream said, “I had a partner before, when we were exploring. I survived the ice. He didn’t. ”  

He left before he could see the pity on his face.

Chapter Text

-<SF>- 

Skyfire’d had precious few chances to fly outside since he’d woken up. There was a war going on, after all, and their base was at the bottom of the ocean. It was a pity too; the planet was an interesting one. He enjoyed the unpredictability of the air currents and the fickle weather patterns. He wasn’t a daredevil, not like Starscream anyway, but he did enjoy a challenge. 

Of course, he would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t running endless drills above the same, small stretch of ocean. 

Apparently, getting removed from combat didn’t get him out of drilling with the rest of the Flyers. Which was a shame, because they were all Seekers and trained soldiers, and Skyfire was… not. 

By the end, Thundercracker was looking rather frazzled from the challenge of trying to shoehorn a slow Shuttle into formations clearly designed for Seekers. Skyfire almost felt bad for him.  

Finally, they turned back towards the ship. Skyfire was so tired that he was barely disappointed he wouldn’t have a chance to really explore the nearby landmasses. The Seekers dispersed as soon as they landed, but Thundercracker stopped him. 

“A word, Skyfire?” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

Skyfire nodded, and he followed Thundercracker to a quiet corner of the room. 

“You’ve been causing a bit of a stir since you’re arrival,” he said. ”I heard you have some medical training and have been using it across base.” 

Skyfire dipped his head. "Just the basics," he said. 

"And you didn't inform me?" 

Skyfire hesitated. Thundercracker said it like he'd performed some great misstep. “I hadn’t believed I needed to,” he said. “It was only Level 5 certification—barely more than the basics—and was standard for all Interstellar Explorers. I assumed it was unimportant.” 

“It’s not.” 

Skyfire winced. “Ah,” he said. “My apologies.” 

He shifted under Thundercracker's gaze, uncomfortable, and waited for the Seeker to speak. For several long kliks, Thundercracker waited, as if organizing his thoughts, before starting to speak.  

"Most certified medics were Iacon trained," he said. "Few from that city joined the Decepticons, and we’ve always been short on trained medics. Most medics, Autobot or Decepticon, were also ill suited to battle. There are few left." 

Skyfire was speechless. "I... didn't know." 

Basic medical knowledge was hardly unusual, especially among scientists. A simple certification shouldn't have been notable. Particularly since they were at war; maybe because they were. It was... rather distressing. 

Skyfire fidgeted, glancing longingly towards the hallway. "If I may," he started, turning away, but Thundercracker stopped him again. 

"I have another question for you," he said, "about your place in the ship hierarchy. Tell me, what have you noticed about the base politics?" 

"I don’t understand," Skyfire admitted. "Are you talking about ranks? As in High Command?" 

Thundercracker shook his head. His face was drawn in something that was almost physical pain. "Think smaller. More transient," he said. He looked at Skyfire as if waiting for an answer, but the Shuttle hesitated, confused. Thundercracker took pity on him. 

"I've heard about your altercation with the Stunticons, and the other Grounders who've begun approaching you. That's going to get worse." He paused, placing his words delicately. "You're very... accommodating. And a Civilian. There are many mecha here who will take advantage of that." 

Skyfire's mood, already poor from the failed flying practice, worsened. "I am willing to help anyone who comes to me for assistance," he said, voice tight. He might not be fully trained, but he had standards. 

Thundercracker wasn't impressed. "You're new, and you're a Civilian. You'll need protection. Eventually, you'll be forced to align yourself with a side, or they'll tear you apart." 

Skyfire frowned.  "I don't like playing politics," he said. "and I don't like what you're insinuating." 

"I'm pretty sure you'll like the next mech even less," Thundercracker said quietly. In a different, less dignified mech, Skyfire might have called it a grumble. Louder, he continued, "My offer is simple: give us preference when it comes to repairs. That's all. In return, I'll make it known you're still part of the Air Force and under my protection."  

Skyfire was familiar with mecha trying to manipulate him. He'd certainly gotten enough of it in Iacon, with mecha who thought big meant slow and stupid as well. Starscream  had delighted in meeting those mecha head-on and humiliating them; Skyfire had simply learned how to stay out of it. These mecha might be soldiers instead of scientists, but he still wasn’t interested in involving himself in their squabbling.   

“I appreciate the offer,” Skyfire said, “but I’m afraid I must decline.” 

Surprise crossed Thundercracker's face, though only for a moment. It was quickly hidden, replaced with mild, controlled disappointment. “You’re a Flyer. That makes you one of mine. We'd take care of you.” 

“I’m sure you would,” Skyfire agreed. To his surprise, he meant it. Thundercracker actually seemed genuine, in both his worry and his offer. “I’m still not interested” 

“As you wish. The offer remains open if you ever change your mind.” 

The dismissal was clear, and Thundercracker was already turning away, finished with the conversation. Skyfire hesitated, then called out one more time. 

“A question, please,” he said. “Are you familiar with a ’Copter named Vortex?” 

Thundercracker stilled. He turned back around. “Vortex is an interrogation specialist with a reputation for being rather… unhinged. I suggest you avoid drawing his attention for your own sake. Have you met him?” 

Skyfire nodded, unease churning in his spark. “I ran into him while performing some repairs on his teammate. Brawl, I believe?” 

Thundercracker’s lips thinned. “Be careful,” he said. “I strongly encourage you to consider my offer.” 

Skyfire watched as he left. He had no intention of handing Thundercracker that kind of control, regardless of how much he was starting to admire the Seeker. Yet... He'd be more careful. That much, at least, wouldn't oppose his morals. 

He made it back to his quarters without incident, grabbing an energon cube on his way.  His arrival drew  some notice, though not enough to trouble him. He still didn’t linger long like he used to. He’d never liked being the center of attention, and he could use some time alone with his thoughts. 

Chapter Text

->SS<- 

Something was wrong with Bluestreak. 

Starscream glared at the Praxian from across the table, energon cube half-forgotten in his hand. Bumblebee, an unnaturally cheerful minibot, had dragged him to the rec-room during normal hours before promptly disappearing into a gaggle of Grounders, leaving him with the Twins. Bluestreak was nestled in-between the two Frontliners, one on each side like sentinels. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were acting like their normal selves—rambunctious, probably contemplating something that would break a half dozen rules—but something felt different. Off. 

The three mecha often sat next to each other, but not usually this close, with plating that almost touched. They'd also picked Starscream's usual table, as far away from other mecha as possible, instead of their usual one towards the center. Their backs were to the wall too; a defensive position. Starscream recognized it from experience. 

Bluestreak was, like usual, rambling about some drama between some other mecha and gesticulating wildly with one hand. Only one hand though. The other hung loosely by his side, half-hidden from sight by Sunstreaker's bulk. Before Starscream could reconsider, he drained the last of his energon, stood, and approached their table. He immediately felt the Twins' optics on him, watching, but Bluestreak didn't stop talking until Starscream grabbed his arm and turned it towards the light. 

Sunstreaker's hand landed on his wrist, tight enough to dent the plating, but Starscream had already seen the ragged gash across Bluestreak's forearm. Smaller scrapes marched down his arm and across his back, clean and smoothed yet largely untreated. 

"You're hurt," Starscream said. The wound was at least a few cycles old. Not very deep, but painful and visibly untreated. "What happened? And why haven't you seen Ratchet yet?" 

Bluestreak blinked up at him, surprised. Sideswipe answered for him. "We got caught up in a scuffle on patrol," he said. "Blue here got caught a bit flat-footed 'fore we managed to drive 'em off." 

"And Ratchet?" 

This time, Bluestreak found the words himself. "You don't have to worry, it's really not that bad!" he said, ignoring Starscream's sputtered denials about being concerned. "It doesn't hurt at all, and Ratchet's still busy with the injuries from the last battle. I don't mind waiting until he's done with the people that really need it!" 

Starscream leaned closer, brushing his fingers along the edge of the damage. Bluestreak flinched, and Sunstreaker growled a warning. 

"Do you even have a pain patch on this?" 

He didn't wait for an answer; obviously Bluestreak didn't. Huffing, Starscream pulled Bluestreaks' arm flat against the table, injury up, and started rifling through his subspace. 

Both Twins loomed over him in an obvious attempt at intimidation. Starscream ignored them, unimpressed. 

"What do you think you're-" Sideswipe started.  

"Hush," Starscream said, and he pulled out a basic painblocker from the small med-kit he kept there. He tossed it at Sideswipe's free hand. "Put this on him. It's a blocker; it'll help." 

Without waiting for an answer, Starscream activated a minor transformation in his finger, one of the only mods he had, to bring out a small, med-grade microwelder. It wasn't good for much, but he could weld the larger lines back together and close up the plating again. Basic repairs until Ratchet could patch the rest. With a shallow wound, it would certainly help. 

"I didn't know you had med training," Sideswipe said, watching with open curiosity as Starscream started to work. He was still holding the unused blocker, though Starscream had already started welding. It only took a glare and a prod for him to apply it to Bluestreak's arm. He was impressed; Bluestreak hadn't flinched at all. 

Starscream snorted. "Pit, no," he said. "And the Academy woulda thrown a fit if they heard you talking 'bout me and medicine in the same sentence. Nah, I just had the basic training for Explorers. Besides, Sky-" he stopped, swallowed, and continued. "My... partner was always better at it anyway. I never had the patience for real repairs." 

He kept his head down and focused on Bluestreak's injury. Sideswipe didn't take the hint. "Partner?" He prodded. "Was that who-" 

"I don't want to talk about it!" Starscream said. The next weld was sloppier that the rest, and he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. He worked for the next breem in blessed silence, almost finishing, before Sideswipe ruined it again. 

"Not many trained medics are still around. And there hasn't been a regulatory board since before the war got going. The med-bay uses everyone they can get; if you have any training at all, Ratchet'll be happy to use you." 

Starscream finished the last weld line, closing the wound. He eyed the raised marks critically. Messy, but it would hold until self-repair smoothed it away. He released Bluestreak and reformed his normal hand. 

"Are you trying to recruit me?" he asked. 

Bluestreak rotated his arm, testing the repairs. He seemed pleased. Sunstreaker, who'd been looming over them the entire time, stepped away with a vaguely approving grunt. 

"Not recruit, 'xactly," Sideswipe said. "Just... put your name in as a backup assistant. Just in case, so Ratchet can call you if he needs help. Could save a life." 

The refusal in Starscream's vocalizer died in his throat. "I'll think about it," he muttered. 

He most definitely did not flee the rec-room after that. Merely... walked briskly. He'd never had much interest in medicine, past the bare essentials. Wasn't much good at it either, not compared to flying or researching or brawling. It felt strange to be picked out for healing instead. 

He wasn't sure if he'd take them up on the suggestion. Maybe. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Eventually, Skyfire ran into the Stunticons. It'd been a while since he'd last seen them, long enough that he'd started to wonder if he was being avoided. So, when he saw them in the hallway up ahead, walking in a clump, Skyfire smiled and angled towards them. The younglings noticed him soon after. Wildrider nudged Dead End, snickering about something. Motormaster looked just as angry as all the other times Skyfire had seen him. The sight reminded him oddly of Starscream, back when they'd just met and the Seeker had still been getting used to him. 

"A pleasure to see you again," Skyfire said, nodding at them. He looked at Dead End. "How are the repairs doing? Have they been holding up alright?" 

The Youngling stared at him without speaking for a long, awkward moment. Then he said, "My frame hasn't been deteriorating any faster than normal. I'm no closer to the eternal embrace of death than I was." 

Skyfire stared back, speechless. 

"Repairs are holding up fine!" Wildrider cut in, apparently translating for his brother. "Not even any pain!" 

"That's, ah, good," Skyfire said, recovering his equilibrium. He turned his attention to the others. "And the rest of you?" he asked. "How are you doing?" 

They looked fine, at least. Their plating was healthy and unscratched, like they'd been taking care of themselves. Their fields were moderately healthy as well, though they were starting to twist at the edges. He'd need to regulate them again fairly soon. Motormaster was glaring at him though. Skyfire supposed he was getting used to it. 

"I still want a rematch," Motormaster spat out, arms crossed petulantly. 

Skyfire debated turning him down again—it didn't seem like Motormaster would push the issue this time; he was improving—but Skyfire had a better idea. "Would you like to spar?" he asked. 

Motormaster immediately perked up. "You mean you'll fight me?" 

Skyfire shook his head. "Not fight. Spar." 

Wildrider laughed. "Same difference, right? You wail on the other guy 'till there's a winner." 

Skyfire paused. He wondered when he'd stop being surprised by how badly their Caretaker was doing in teaching them about the world. "No," he said. "That's a fight—a brawl, specifically. Sparring means there's rules. And that you're trying to learn or practice instead of harming your opponent." 

Wildrider snorted. "I like my idea better," he grumbled. 

Skyfire winced but let the comment slide. One step at a time. "To the training rooms then," he said, gesturing them down a nearby hallway. He'd barely glimpsed the rooms, too intimidated by the soldiers surrounding him to visit alone, but he knew where they were. He'd certainly memorized enough maps during his wanderings to find his way around the main rooms of the base. 

The room was, thankfully, empty when he entered. It was poorly equipped, with only a few basic training weapons and padding. He idly wondered whether there were more, better equipped training rooms either, or if the base had, for whatever reason, decided to eschew normal training shifts altogether. Ignoring the weapons, Skyfire walked to the center of the padded floor. He gestured for Motormaster to join him. Hopefully he'd calm down after a good bout of sparring.  

"No intentional injuries," Skyfire started by saying. "Tap out if I accidentally injure you, and I'll do the same." 

Motormaster grumbled, visibly dismissing the caution. Skyfire made a note to pay attention to his wellbeing during the fight. He doubted the mech would actually say anything if he was hurt. Motormaster was already grinning manically and far too excited about a simple spar. Younglings.  

The first bout was short. Motormaster charged, Skyfire dodged, and a simple redirection sent the Grounder flying  

Don't be so hasty," Skyfire said. "Your first attack doesn't need to be your only strongest one. Don't be afraid to test your opponent, and be careful not to lose control." 

Motormaster didn't answer, but his next attempt was better. He still charged in, but he put some level of thought into his movements. Not much, and he still didn't plan ahead like a seasoned fighter, but better than before. Skyfire actually had to put some effort into reacting instead of avoiding the first charge and retaliating while Motormaster was still off-balance. 

"Good!" Skyfire said, smiling. "Much better." 

Motormaster missed a step, looking up at him with surprise. Skyfire wasn't sure why; he hadn't done anything particularly unusual. Motormaster recovered quickly, and he charged in for the next try. 

The remaining Stunticons filtered in sometime during the first few bouts. After the last one arrived, Skyfire turned to them. "Would you like to practice too?" he asked. 

He was met with vigorous acceptances from Wildrider and Drag Strip and a more reluctant agreement from the remaining two.  Skyfire quickly had them set up with each other and sparring, though they needed a few corrections to understand the difference between sparring and fighting. He alternated between the mecha, offering advice and correcting forms. Every so often, one of them—especially Motormaster—would pull him into a sparring match of his own.  

Skyfire didn't mind.  

Eventually, quite a while into the evening, Motormaster managed to surprise him, and Skyfire found himself flat on the floor, staring up at the Youngling. Motormaster looked just as surprised as Skyfire felt. Then, the emotion gave way to a fierce pride. 

"Finally!" he crowed. "Fragging finally, I got you!" 

Skyfire was laughing as he pushed himself back up. "Yes you did," he said. "That was a good throw; you did well." 

Again, Motormaster hesitated at the praise before recovering, resuming his victory celebration. Skyfire resolved to keep complimenting the Younglings—all of them—until they stopped seeming so confused by it. The other four were already watching them, having paused in their own bouts, so it was easy to get their attention. 

"I think that's a good thing to end on," Skyfire said."You all did very well." 

It was the truth. Motormaster had the best instinctual grasp of hand to hand combat, but all five had promise. Wildrider looked ready to protest, but the others were tired. 

"Can we do it again?" Drag Strip asked. 

Skyfire nodded. "Of course." 

There wasn't much mess to clean up 

"Where did you learn to fight like that anyway? Were you some kinda soldier before you got here?" 

The thought surprised a laugh out of him. "No, not at all," he said. "I was a scientist, actually. I specialized in xenobiology and interstellar exploration. That's how I arrived here, actually. My partner and I were exploring this corner of the galaxy, and I crashed." 

"But scientists are so boring!" Wildrider said. "How'd you learn how to fight if you were all holed up in labs and 'periments alla time?" 

Starscream. Always. The image of Star, face twisted from fury and so, so vibrant, flitted through his mind. He'd learned the basics of fighting after watching Starscream come home dented and leaking too many times. Gotten dragged into more brawls than he could count, some that Starscream started and more that he hadn't. He thought about ignoring Wildrider. Their trust was new, though, and fragile. He didn't want to break it already. 

"I had a partner," he said, "back before the War. A Seeker. He was brilliant and one of the most abrasive mecha I've ever met. He got into a lot of fights, especially with any who took exception to Flyers or Warbuilds being at the Academy." 

Starscream had always been skilled at insults. He'd had a gift with words and for twisting them into something impressively vulgar. He'd also known just how to goad someone into a fight. Most of the time, even Skyfire agreed they'd deserved it though. It had gotten them both into trouble many times. 

Smiling, Skyfire pulled out a photocube from his subspace, where he always kept it. It was one of his few remaining connections to his life before. A twist of his hand turned the cube on, and he flicked through the files until he found the right image. It was of him and Starscream at the Academy, not long after they'd earned their own private lab. They were standing in front of it, with Skyfire's arm pressed around Starscream. They were smiling, even Starscream, who he usually had to be surprised into an honest smile. 

The Younglings crowded him, jostling for a better view. 

"He's pretty," Breakdown mumbled. Skyfire laughed and agreed.  

"Where's he now?" Motormaster asked.  

Skyfire turned off the holocube and stored it back in his subspace, ignoring the disappointed sounds from the Younglings. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "The last time I saw him was before the crash. I haven't been able to find where he is now."  

Most files, especially old ones like that, had been either destroyed or restricted to mecha with rank. He'd tried to get access, begged even, and been denied. He smiled again at the Younglings, though it was strained at the edges. 

"He's probably joined the endless flow in the well of Allsparks, just like the rest of Cybertron," Dead End said. Wildrider nodded along. 

 Skyfire took a deep breath before answering. "No," he said. "He's alive. He was a better flier than me, and the most competent, stubborn Spark I've ever known. He'd survive the war on spite and stubbornness if nothing else. Now, I just need to find him." 

Dead End didn't seem convinced, but the other Younglings looked impressed.  

"Tell us about him?" Motormaster said. He probably meant it to be a demand, but it came out more like a request. Seems he was learning. 

"Of course," Skyfire said. There were some tattered, sad little chairs in the corner of the room, and Skyfire walked over to them. He had time and nothing else to fill it with. He'd enjoyed teaching the Younglings. And... he liked the idea of telling them about Starscream.  

"I met Starscream when I started at the Iacon Academy," Skyfire said. "I was investigating the public labs when I heard something explode and this Seeker came running out with a beaker that was absolutely spewing flames..." 

He had the Youngling's attention from the moment he started talking about fire and they listened with rapt attention as he kept talking. Something inside Skyfire's chest uncurled as he shared stories about Starscream. He missed him. Every time he turned around, he expected to see the Seeker, or hear his voice ranting about whatever idiot had insulted him that time, or have him running up with a new project idea in hand. 

Soon, he thought. He'd find a way back or get access to the files. He'd search across all of Cybertron if that was what it took. For now, though, he told the Younglings stories, and he shared his memories. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream nearly fell off the chair when the alarms went off. He banged his wing against the wall and barely saving himself from hitting the floor before catching his balance again.  Starscream grit his teeth against the cacophony, slammed his fist against the keypad, and stalked into the hallway. 

The space was full of mecha rushing around, weapons drawn. Some were barking orders, others talking at each other, or just moving silently along. Starscream followed the flow of the crowd, letting it drag him towards the entrance of the ark. They spilled out onto the front lawn, where what seemed like half the Ark was gathering in ordered rows. Starscream caught sight of a familiar pair of doorwings. Bluesteak. He grabbed the Praxian’s arm. 

“The slag is going on?” he asked. 

Bluestreak blinked up at him. “Optimus called an assembly. The Decepticons were sighted near a human settlement.” 

“You’re gonna fight?” Starscream asked. He was surprised, though he wasn’t sure why. They were soldiers. He’d known that since waking up. Looking at Bluestreak and the Younglings, though, it was easy to forget. 

Bluestreak nodded. “You should get back in the Ark,” he said. “Stay with the rest of the mecha hanging back. You should look for Ratchet too, he’ll take care of you!” 

Grinning, he jogged away, meeting up with another group of Autobots. A few were already transforming in preparation. Starscream huffed and reluctantly turned back to the Ark. It wasn’t like he particularly wanted to get involved in their war, but he hated being left out. It felt too much like being pushed aside, useless. Better than being strong-armed into doing something, he guessed. He started walking, vague plans running through his head. He wasn't particularly interested in fighting, but maybe- 

He saw wings. Starscream stopped walking. 

The Younglings were here. All five of them were crowded in a circle, chattering amongst themselves. Slingshot had a blaster out. Starscream froze. Fury rose in his spark, and he snarled. 

Starscream stalked over. Fireflight noticed him first and waved, and the others turned. They smiled. Starscream didn't return it. 

“What are you doing?” he said. The words came out harsher than he’d intended. 

The younglings froze at his tone, optics wide. “What’s it look like we’re doing?” Slingshot said, crossing his arms and glaring at Starscream. “Getting ready for the fight!” 

For a moment, Starscream was speechless with rage. They really were sending the Younglings into a battle. 

Slag that. 

“It’s dangerous!” he hissed. 

This time, Silverbolt answered him. “We’re a Gestalt and the best combat Flightframes the Autobots have. We can help.” 

He said it with all the blind determination of youth. Instead of trying to argue with that kind of stupidity, Starscream turned around and stalked away. He’d find their Caretaker instead. 

Scanning the crowd, Starscream quickly found Ratchet's familiar crest. The Medic seemed to be lecturing some of the grunts with Prowl looming by his side. He earned a sideways glance as he stalked over, though no other reaction until he grabbed Ratchet's arm and yanked him away. He ignored Ratchet's surprised grunt and the incredulous glare that followed. The other ‘bots wisely took the opportunity to vacate the scene. 

"The slag are you doing?" Ratchet shouted, yanking his arm back. 

"The slag am I-" Starscream pointed at the gaggle of younglings and the weapons they were still holding. "You're using Younglings as soldiers now? They could get killed! The slag are you thinking?" 

The anger drained from Ratchet's face. Something that might have been guilt replaced it, or maybe it was just weariness. "They wouldn't stay back even if we ordered them. Stubborn little buggers." 

Starscream snorted. "So? They're younglings. Make them listen." 

Ratchet's frame tensed. In guilt or anger, Starscream couldn't tell. "Don't try to lecture me about things you don't understand," he said. 

Starscream laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "What, are you talking about how I'm not some fancy soldier? Or how I spent decavorns slagging frozen while the world fell apart and everyone I knew deactivated? Trust me, I don't need to have lived through a war to know that bringing younglings into it is a slagged up thing to do." 

"You think I don't know that? That it doesn't rip my spark apart every time we send them out there?" Ratchet countered. There was true pain in his voice, enough to make even Starscream pause. "They're younglings, but they're also fully framed and determined to help. And we need a Gestalt." 

"They could die!" 

"They'll die anyway if Megatron wins! At least this way they have a chance." 

Starscream bit back a scream of frustration. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. It didn't do anything to fix the riot of emotions in his spark, but he could pretend it did. 

"I can't convince you," he managed in a reasonable controlled tone. 

Ratchet huffed. "Mech, I'm not even the person you'd have to convince." 

Starscream took another breath. Then another. 

"Fine," he said. "Fine. Then I'm at least going with them." 

If he couldn't make them stay behind, then he'd fly with them and make sure they didn't get hurt. 

Ratchet hesitated, caught off guard. "You'll what?" 

Behind him, Prowl, who'd been quietly listening to their argument, clearing his throat and stepped forward. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. "You're still untrained. I cannot trust you in our ranks unless-" 

Starscream cut in. "I spent a vorn at Vos's War Academy. I know how to fly," he said. And slag, what a disaster that vorn had been. He'd been good at it, of course—even there, nobody could outfly him—but he'd hated it. The orders. The repetition. The slagging whispers about being Trineless. It'd been a relief when he'd gotten his acceptance to Iacon, and he'd never looked back. 

Prowl only paused for a moment. "I appreciate your dedication, but you still haven't been exposed to our tactics and command structure. At this point, it would be dangerous for everyone, the Younglings included, to send you into battle." His tone softened, as much as it ever did for the stoic Praxian. "I'm sorry, but-" 

He was interrupted by Prime's voice, calling them to action. Around them, mecha started to transform. 

"Meet with me after the battle, and we'll talk about training and getting you onto the roster. For now, stay here." With that, he transformed and joined the line of Autobots. He heard the Youngling's engines roar to life as they took to the sky, and the air filled with dust as the Grounders sped up. Soon, they were gone as Starscream glared impotently after them. 

"Like slag I'm gonna listen to some self-important-" A hand grabbed his wing, right below the sensitive tips and started pulling him towards the ship. Starscream yelped and stumbled back. 

"Ratchet, what the frag? Let go!" 

"Oh, so you weren't about to ignore Prowl and fly off on some half-baked scheme to protect Younglings with more combat experience than you?" 

He didn't wait for an answer. Starscream finally managed to pry his wing free, wincing at the dull pain, and Ratchet's arm immediately fell down to his shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong for a medic. 

"I'm gonna go prep my med-bay, and you're gonna stay in the ship where Teletraan 1 can keep a sensor on you so you don't do anything stupid." 

"I don't need a babysitter!" 

Ratchet snorted. "Oh, good, less work for me." 

Starscream wanted to snark something back, but he glanced behind him. The Autobots were nearly out of sight already. He could still catch up if he wanted to. It would be easy. 

Ratchet sighed and patted him on the shoulder in a move that felt more gruffly awkward than condescending, which was the only reason Starscream allowed it. "I get that you want to protect them. Trust me, everyone here will be happy to have an experienced Flyer up there with them. Just don't mess with a battle that's already started. It won't end well for anyone." 

Starscream watched until long after the others disappeared from sight before he followed Ratchet inside. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

 -<SF>- 

Skyfire distantly noticed when the base emptied out, but he didn't pay it much mind until everyone came back and the base descended into chaos. The noise hit him first: dozens of soldiers, all coming down from battle-high and eager for another brawl. He watched the procession with a mix of curiosity and unease. 

The first mecha were carrying energon cubes and loudly celebrating. Skyfire watched them pass. Apparently there'd been a battle. Seemed it'd gone well. 

Silently checking his med-kit, Skyfire turned away from the celebrations and started walking down a different hallway. Where there was a battle, there were injuries. He bet his help would be appreciated. The hallways were largely empty, with the returning mech congregating in the rec-room, so he made good speed towards the med-bay. He hadn't been there since waking up, but he still remembered the path. Skyfire expected he remembered most everything about that day. 

He was halfway there when two tiny mecha came barreling towards him. Twin heads tilted up to stare at him, and Rumble broke into a grin at the sight. 

"Skyfire, there you are! Man, you really missed out! Today was great," he said. 

Skyfire questioned anyone who would call a battle 'great' but kept his mouth shut. "Might I assume you two are uninjured?" he asked. 

Frenzy nodded. "Not a scratch," he said, baring his teeth in a sharp imitation of a smile. Skyfire winced. 

"Were ya off to anyway?" Rumble asked. 

"The med-bay. I figured my services might be useful." 

The Twins shared a glance. Then Rumble broke into laughter. Skyfire stared down at him, lost, until he composed himself enough to speak. 

"Yeah, the visiting the med-bay thing?" Frenzy said. 

"Might not be a good idea. Not for a while," Rumble continued 

"Or ever." 

Skyfire took a deep breath. Patience, he thought. Despite his confusion, it was fairly easy to hold onto. Certainly easier than during half the stunts Starscream had pulled. 

"I don't understand," he said. "There has to be injured mecha waiting to be treated, and I've heard about the shortage of medics. My training might be limited, but-." 

"Mech, if you go in there right now, Hook might take a break from fixing injuries just to kick you back out. Probably with some cheerful evisceration thrown in, Hook likes that. See, the mech isn't much fond of competition or mecha encroaching on his territory. If I were you, I'd steer clear." 

Skyfire paused. He wanted to dismiss the Twin's warnings as ridiculous—what kind of mech could possibly get worked out over basic medical care, of all things?—but the Twins hadn't lied to him before. Still... 

"I won't sit here and do nothing while mecha need treatment," he said.  

Frenzy snorted. "Who said anything about that? All we said was not to go barging into Hook's med-bay and expecting a warm welcome. Doesn't mean you can't set up shop elsewhere." 

A smile spread across Skyfire's face. "Thank you for the advice," he said, and he continued down the hall. He might have to revise his plans slightly, but it wasn't much trouble. 

… 

Skyfire had been right about the injuries. The med-bay was full of them, along with the available medics and ramshackle assistants. More mecha, those with less critical injuries, spilled into the hall, where they were lounging on the floor and spare storage units. Some seemed to be gambling while they waited. Skyfire's time treating mecha for minor damage paid off; as soon as he was noticed, mecha started trickling over. 

He would have preferred a real med-bay, with supplies and sterile equipment, but he made do with an empty room and his med-kit. He'd need to restock it sometime soon. He was starting to run low on pain patches and materials. It wasn't a problem yet though, and most of the mecha who came to him didn't need very intensive repairs.

A shadow fell over him, and Skyfire looked up. He smiled. "Motormaster," he said, nodding in greeting. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Are you alright?" 

He didn't look injured, and neither did Wildrider, who was standing behind him. 

"Fine," Motormaster grunted. "Heard you were doing some repairs here." Then he sank down on the floor near the wall and proceeded to glare at Skyfire and his patient. 

"Did you need anything?" Skyfire asked. 

"No." 

Bemused, Skyfire turned back to his patient. The Younglings could do what they wanted, even if that was apparently watching Skyfire work. With another few strokes of the microwelder, he had the Grounder's lines sealed up. Reassembling the armor only took another few moments, and he sent the mech on his way. The next mech was a Seeker with a twisted wing, and Skyfire soon forgot about his silent watchers. 

… 

Almost a cycle passed before Skyfire was interrupted again. 

"Well, isn't this just the cutest thing," a voice drawled from the entryway. 

Skyfire glanced up. Before he could get more than a glimpse of gray and outstretched rotaries, Motormaster blocked his view, placing himself between the newcomer and Skyfire. Wildrider and Breakdown were behind him; Skyfire hadn't even noticed Breakdown come inside. 

"Aw, you even have the Newbies hanging around!" 

"Vortex," Motormaster growled. "Leave." 

Vortex snorted. Skyfire turned off the microwelder he'd been using, uncertain what to do. His patient, a small Grounder, took the opportunity to snatch his arm back and scurry out of the room. The other mecha didn't seem to notice. 

Vortex took a step closer. Motormaster did too, blocking him. 

"C'mon, don't I get to play with the Civvie too? What if I have an injury, huh? I wanna see the Shuttle that keeps playing at being a medic!" 

Skyfire stood. Despite the three blocky frames blocking his way, he could easily see over their heads. Vortex was still lounging in the doorway, a smirk curled across his lips. He looked no different than the last time Skyfire had seen him. He didn't look injured, but Skyfire didn't want to take that chance. 

"If he requires medical attention, then I--" 

Wildrider hushed him. Vortex started to cackle. "See? Even the Civvie wants to say hi! You gonna ignore him too?" 

"I said leave," Motormaster said, putting a bit of threat into his voice. 

Vortex's voice lowered from its high pitch, playful cackle. "You saying you're gonna stop me?" he asked, voice as smooth as silk.

They were getting ready to fight. They were really- 

"Now, wait a minute!" Skyfire said, looking between them. He stepped forward and tried to push the Younglings aside. They didn't budge, not unless Skyfire was willing to put some real force behind the motion. 

Vortex's visor flickered, and he groaned. He raised a hand to his temple; he was getting a com call. 

"Whadda ya want?" he asked. "I'm busy!" 

The Younglings kept glaring at him, and they didn't budge for the Shuttle. Wildrider even gave him a little shove back when Skyfire got too close, like he was the misbehaving Youngling. Skyfire wasn't willing to force them aside, but he as certainly tempted. He didn't like the look of Vortex, or the way he smiled. It made him uneasy. 

Vortex groaned loudly, almost theatrically. "Ons, you're ruining all my fun!" 

With an almighty sigh, Vortex pushed away from the wall, pouting. He turned towards the door, though not before waving casually at the Younglings. 

"Bye, Newbies! I'll see you later!" he said. 

He was humming as he left, steps scrapping against the tile in a skipping little pattern. Skyfire didn't relax until after he disappeared through the doorway, off to find Ons—Onslaught, had to be. The mech's Commanding Officer. 

Motormaster and the others didn't relax until long after his footsteps faded. The wall they'd formed in front of Skyfire loosened then fragmented, and the Younglings turned back towards Skyfire. For his part, Skyfire stepped back, sinking against one of the empty storage units. His legs felt unsteady as the tension released.

"Please don't do that again," Skyfire said. "I don't want you putting yourself in danger. I can take care of myself." 

He wasn't sure quite how true that was, not when Vortex had warranted a specific warning from Thundercracker. Skyfire suppose he understood that now. Still, he'd handled uneven fights before. He wouldn't let a Youngling put himself in danger over something like that. 

"You're ours," Motormaster said, as if that explained everything. "He's not allowed to hurt you." 

Seemed he'd been adopted without realizing it. Skyfire was touched. It had been a long time since anyone besides Starscream had showed that kind of concern. "I'm grateful," he said. "Really, I am, but I don't want to see you damaged. As the elder, it's my job to ensure you guys stay safe." 

"Yeah? Well, we're a Gestalt And we gots Megatron's favor. It's our job to protect you." 

Skyfire nearly started laughing. Arguing with Younglings about who would protect who from mecha who were supposedly on their side. He was honestly rather disappointed in the world he'd woken up to. 

The mecha who'd been waiting for treatment had all cleared out during the confrontation. Skyfire doubted they'd returned; he was only mildly disappointed by the thought. The only injuries left had been quite mild, and he was tired. 

"Come," he said, rubbing at a building headache. "Let's get some energon. You must be hungry after the fighting." 

The Stunticons seemed to forget all about the confrontation as they left the room. Skyfire didn't. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-   

Once Starscream started paying attention to the military side of the base, he learned one thing very quickly: the Autobots had absolutely no idea what to do with flightframes. Sure, Prowl threw basic tactic and various datapads at him--stuff everyone on the battlefield needed to know--but Starscream couldn't drill with the Grounders. The Younglings were the only other Flyers, and they were, well… 

Young. Entirely untrained. And far, far too impulsive. 

Starscream groaned as he watched the Gestalt practice. He had them running through basic exercises from his first orns at the War Academy as he watched from the ground. He'd intended to join them in the air at first, but… He still hadn't flown since Skyfire. Right now, the Younglings needed instruction more than anything, and they had a lot to learn before they even came close to Starscream's skill. Besides, it was easier to critique them from the ground. 

“Streetwise get back in formation! You’re not done yet!” Starscream shouted into the ‘Com channel. “C’mon, I thought you five were supposed to be soldiers!”   

Streetwise slid back to Silverbolt’s wings with a minimal amount of grumbling, though his next several turns were decidedly sullen.   

The kids were skilled for their age. Starscream would give them that much, at least, though they were making mistakes Starscream hadn’t seen since he was half their height. Flying too close together, or too far, or not even knowing where their wingmates were…   

At least they were getting better. Slowly. 

Several repetitions later, Starscream freed them from the drills. With a whoop of joy, Air Raid sped off into the distance, corkscrewing in newfound freedom and challenging his brothers to a race. Fireflight and Slingshot took him up on it, and soon the three of them were looping across the sky in gleeful patterns. Starscream was pleased to note that, when they bothered to fly together, they automatically fell into basic Trine formations. Good.   

Seemed his lessons hadn’t been a complete waste of time.   

Silverbolt and Skydive stayed closer to the Ark, drifting leisurely through the air as the others played. Eventually, Skydive drifted closer. He transformed above Starscream’s helm, hovering in place.   

“Join us?” he asked with a brilliant smile. “I’d like to fly with you.”   

Starscream froze. Denial sat heavily on the tip of his tongue. It did not pass his lips.   

For everything this planet had stolen from him, its sky was beautiful. He hadn’t flown in orns, and Starscream recognized the stirrings of sky-hunger echoing through his frame. He missed flying. He missed the challenge and the joy and the feel of air currents against his wings.   

Starscream hated the thought of flying without his partner. Yearned to return to the air so much it was a physical ache in his chest.   

With a soft sound Silverbolt transformed to hover beside his brother. Concern lit his optics when he glanced at Starscream, and he tugged at Skydive’s arm.   

“C’mon. Let’s keep going. Starscream can join us some other time,” he said.   

Skydive’s face fell. “But I-”   

“No. Don’t pester him, alright?” And with that, Silverbolt grabbed Skydive’s thrusters and turned away, angled as if to pull Skydive with him.   

Starscream’s mouth opened without his permission. “Wait,” he said. Then stopped as his words seemed to dry up.   

Two pairs of optics turned towards him: one hopeful, the other concerned.   

(pitying, a small voice in Starscream’s processer whispered. He pities you, the poor mech who lost his partner)   

Starscream made a decision.   

“I’ll come,” he said, clenching his claws into tighter fists until they finally stopped trembling. He stepped forward and sent the order to activate his thrusters. They onlined with slight creak of underused parts. He transformed before anyone could see the pain in his optics.   

He refused to be weak.   

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-   

The labs in the Nemesis were almost distressingly small and ill-stocked, more of an afterthought than an integral part of the ship, but they had some truly marvelous toys for Skyfire to play with. One of the perks of being on an organic planet; organic material to study and experiment on was truly everywhere.  

Official, Skyfire's role in the labs meant he was supposed to spend most of his shifts disinfecting and cleaning the room, but nobody actually cared or bothered to give him assignments. They also, apparently, largely found the organic mater unpleasant, which meant Skyfire could play with the samples to his spark’s content. He had a sizeable collection of the local fauna brightening up his quarters now.  

His shift didn’t have an official start or end time,  so Skyfire simply cleaned his station and left when he finished his test. As he walked back to his quarters, he was interrupted by two screeching minicons darting around the corner. Skyfire stumbled to avoid accidentally stepping on the small mecha.    

“Is everything alright?” Skyfire tried to ask.   

The Twins didn’t even notice. They’d stopped running, at least, and they stared at each other as if having a silent conversation. Skyfire waited patiently for them to finish. They didn’t look hurt or even afraid, despite the way they’d been sprinting earlier. If anything, Skyfire would say they seemed oddly gleeful. They finished their silent discussion, and their optics snapped towards Skyfire’s in unison.   

“Don’t move--” Rumble said.   

“And don’t give us away!” Frenzy finished.   

Skyfire blinked, confused. Before he could ask for clarification, the two Cassetticons scurried behind his legs. Small hands latched onto his calves, and they started to climb. Bemused, Skyfire craned his neck backwards to watch the two’s progression up his back, where their small frames were easily hidden by his wings.   

“We’re not here!” Rumble hissed. “Stop staring!”    

Skyfire obligingly looked away. Soon enough, clanging sounds echoed from the hallway where the Twins had emerged from, and a Seeker came  into view. He looked… interesting.  His plating was soaked in a sticky, vibrantly orange gunk that sparkled in the light. Skyfire had a good idea who was responsible.   

“Did those tiny menaces come by here?” the Seeker growled at Skyfire.   

Skyfire shook his head. “You’re the only mech I’ve seen recently.”   

The mech cursed and kept moving. He was muttering a creative litany of threats and insults under his breath. Some of them were quite inspired and anatomically impossible. Skyfire was impressed.   

Rumble and Frenzy remained on Skyfire’s back long after the Seeker disappeared from sight. Skyfire shifted, rustling his wings pointedly, and they slipped back to the ground.    

“Thanks, dude,” Frenzy said, grinning up at him. “You’re not half bad.”   

Skyfire laughed and shook his head. “Did the Seeker deserve it?” he asked.   

Rumble nodded his head vigorously. “Slag yeah!” he said. “He was insulting the Bossbot! Nobody gets away with that.” Both Cassetes nodded, unexpectedly serious. It seemed the two minicons were protective of their Host. The thought made him smile.   

“Next time, try mixing some basic color nanites in with the dye,” Skyfire offered. “It’ll make the color last longer.”   

The Cassetticons stared at him. Then wide grins spread across both their faces. “Slag, Skyfire.  I never woulda pegged you for a prankster!” Frenzy said.   

Skyfire shrugged, smiling despite the embarrassment creeping up his neck.  “My… partner could be very creative with his revenge,” he said. “I was roped into helping more often than not.”   

Starscream had been an expert at toeing the line between humiliation and a felony. Skyfire had learned to throttle back his worst ideas, and had enjoyed the outcomes more than he cared to admit. He also hadn’t missed how the worst pranks went to the mecha who’d insulted Skyfire. Not that Starscream had ever admitted it.    

"You should probably keep moving," Skyfire said. "I'm sure that Seeker will come back eventually, and I'm guessing you'll want to be gone by then." 

Rumble and Frenzy must have agreed with him, because they burst into motion, scurrying further down the hallway. They blended into the shadows almost frighteningly easy. Just before they vanished, Rumble turned back around. 

"See you around, Skyfire! Thanks for the advice!" 

Then they were gone, and Skyfire was along again in the hallway. After a moment, he kept walking. He kept smiling the whole way back to his quarters. 

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-    

Somehow, against Starscream’s every expectation, he found himself with mecha whose company he actually found tolerable. A rather large number of them too. Back in Iacon, he could have counted on one hand the number of mecha he willingly spent time with. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the change.    

Unless he was in his quarters, there always seemed to be mecha around. Even the labs, which had been his usual retreat, were usually occupied. Occasionally he missed the solitude, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Working with Wheeljack in the labs was different than with Sky- than before, but it was tolerable. He had to deal with worse materials and stricter demands, but at least they were still interesting. And Wheeljack wasn't too bad of a mech to work alongside. 

The Twins regularly sought out his company in the rec-room, and they often had the Praxian chatterbox with them. They only asked for advice about pranks or energon stills half the time; the other half was random news or babbling that should have irritated the Seeker. For whatever reason, he didn't mind it. Not too much, at least.

He took a drink from his energon cube, watching Bluestreak lecture Sideswipe about proper weapon maintenance. They were interesting enough company, he supposed. The Twins especially had a delightfully crass vocabulary, and, in the right mood, Bluestreak had a wicked tongue on him. They were certainly never boring. 

Starscream was considering adding his own opinion to the debate when a conversation at a table behind them caught his audios.    

“—really managed to tame him, haven’t they,” someone was saying. His voice carried well in the half-empty room. ”I mean, I don’t know who bothered to pick ‘em up and train ‘em before the war, but it really worked. Wheeljack’s been raving ‘bout how helpful he is, not that the mech has high standards.”    

A chorus of obnoxious laughs met him. Suspicion had Starscream’s hand tightening painfully against his cube. Armor tight against his frame and wings hiked high in warning, he forced himself to wait. Not yet, he told himself. Wait ‘till nobody can pin the blame on you. Patience, Starscream. You can do it.    

“It’s almost like he’s not a real Seeker at all.” Someone else said, like it was some sort of slagging complement. Starscream snapped.    

“All right. That’s it,” Starscream said, voice sounding far calmer than he felt. His three companions stared at him in confusion as Starscream pushed himself upright and spun around, fists clenched. Picking out who had been talking was easy. The red minibot a few tables away, surrounded by a table of simpering sycophants. A white minibot noticed him stand, and his optics widened in surprise and guilt.    

Red kept talking as Starscream stalked over. The table fell silent around him, not that he noticed. He didn’t even see Starscream’s fist coming before he knocked the slagger clean out of his chair and across the floor.    

When the minibot mob retaliated and the brawl started in earnest, Starscream grinned viciously and fought back.    

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>- 

Walking into the rec-room still earned him a few looks--especially if one of the Younglings joined him--but, for the most part, mecha left him alone again. Skyfire was grateful. Much as he enjoyed others' company, the attention had been stressful.  

He recognized Skywarp and the Twins squirreled away in the corner of the rec room, undoubtedly colluding about something. Skyfire had quickly learned that the three of them together tended to be an explosive combination, sometimes literally. Most mecha were, wisely, giving the three a wide berth. Skyfire took advantage of the empty space near them, hoping to ignore any awkward conversation.  

Of course, that backfired when the Twins noticed him and started trying to motion him over. Eventually, conscious of the racket they were making, Skyfire obliged and joined them with his energon.  

"Skyfire! Hey, Skyfire! There you are," Rumble said, grinning up at him. "Hey, how'd ya feel 'bout Thrust? And boobytraps?"  

Skyfire nearly dropped his energon. Skywarp twisted around to follow Rumble's gaze, face drawn in confusion.  

"What're you asking him for?" he asked.  

"Dude, the Shuttle's chill. He gave me some suggestions for revenge earlier!" Rumble said. "'Sides, he's got science on his side! I bet he can do the best shit!"  

Skywarp turned back to Skyfire, an almost frightening sparkle taking root in his optics. Skyfire recognized that look. He was scheming. Skyfire was quick to interrupt it.

"Whatever you're planning, I'm not interested!" Skyfire said. "I'd rather not make any enemies right now."  

The Cassetticons groaned and made some noise about convincing him, not that Skyfire had any intention of relenting. Eventually—and with much grumbling—they gave up. Skywarp seemed disappointed.  As the conversation turned to different, less incriminatory subjects, Skyfire relaxed. With the Seeker so close, though, he found himself staring.  

"I've been meaning to ask," Skyfire said. "Who designed these new Alt-modes? I've certainly never seen anything like it back on Cybertron."  

The forms weren't bad, exactly, but they were certainly more blocky than he was used to and contained odd, hollow spaces. Plus, the grounders had wheels, of all things. Wheels had been little more than a novelty since long before the Golden Age, but now everyone seemed to have a set, even the Aerials. Compared to everything else that had changed, the odd alt-modes were merely cosmetic, but Skyfire couldn't deny he was curious.  

Skywarp grimaced and flicked his wings, seemingly displeased at the reminder. "Yeah, alla us on Earth got these when we woke up, and we're not allowed to change them back. Something 'bout blending in with the natives, which is a load a slag."  

"Natives?"  

Skywarp nodded. "Yeah, the Organics here. They built all this unsparked transport, which is really weird to fly near, lemme tell ya."  

 "You mean the organics are sentient?"  

He blurted out the question, almost tripping over the words. His enthusiasm earned him three confused stares.  

"They're not sparked, if that's what you mean," Rumble said slowly.  

Skyfire waved him away. "No, no , that's not-" Skyfire stopped and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for a lecture about biological terminology or philosophy. "Do they have their own language? Tools and technology? Just how advanced is their society?"  

Skywarp blinked, then he laughed. "Dude, chill. They're just organics. 'S not like I've been paying much attention. What do you care anyway?"   

Skyfire barely restrained a groan. The most interesting discovery since waking up—before that, even—and he had no way of finding out more. He doubted Skywarp, or anyone else who wasn't a trained researcher, would pay attention to the kind of details he wanted to know.  

"I'm a scientist, remember? Xenobiology was one of my specialties. Organics—especially intelligent ones—are quite rare. Being able to study them in person would be..." He gestured with his hands, trying to convey just how incredible the opportunity would have been. "Aren't you the least bit interested about such a different type of lifeform? How sparkless intelligence and society might develop?"  

From the looks on their faces, the answer was no. Skyfire sighed.  

"I'd very much like to get out there more," he mused, mostly to himself. "If I could only see them in person then maybe..."  

He shook his head, as if trying to throw the thought back out of it. There was a war going on, after all, even if he wasn't directly fighting it. Intellectual curiosity was very far down the list of priorities.  

Skywarp chuckled. "Hey, maybe if you help me an' the shorties out with Thrust I'll bring you back a shinny next time I'm out! Whadda you think?" 

He earned a punch from Frenzy for the short comment, not that the Seeker seemed to mind. Skyfire shook his head. 

"Not this time," he said, "but thanks for the offer." 

Skywarp shrugged. "Eh, your loss!" 

He didn't bring it up again, which Skyfire was thankful for. Skyfire finished his energon eventually, but he didn't take the excuse to leave. Once he relaxed, the conversation was enjoyable. Skyfire lingered in the rec room longer than he'd intended, but he didn't regret it.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SS>- 

Starscream was actually surprised when Sideswipe was plunked down in the brig next to him, restrained and proudly wearing the marks of the brawl. “So,” he said, grinning despite the energon dribbling down from a tear in his lip. “What’d the little slaggers do this time?” 

Sunstreaker was pushed into the cell after him, though the yellow Twin strutted to the chair at the back of the cell instead of joining his Twin on the floor. He proceeded to thoroughly ignore them. 

Starscream eyed Sideswipe oddly. “What, no lecture about controlling my temper or randomly assaulting our supposed allies?” he sneered. Usually that was the first thing mecha did after he sucked them into a fight. Even Skyfire had needed to be trained out of it. 

Sideswipe burst into laughter. “Mech, if I said that, I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite. You would not believe the number of times Sunny and I have put those trashtalking idiots in their place. They really don’t know when to shut up!” 

That managed to surprise a laugh out of Starscream. His foul mood lightened to something, if not good, then at least bearable. Then Sideswipe ruined it. 

“So what’d the minibots say to get a reaction like that?” he continued. 

Starscream tensed right back up. “None of you slagging business,” he shot back. Sideswipe just shrugged, unperturbed, though his Twin shot him a nasty glare at Starscream’s tone. Not that he cared. 

“Prowl should be here soon,” Sideswipe said instead, smoothly changing the topic. “He likes to handle punishments himself, especially when it comes to us.” He grinned unrepentantly and leaned close, as if sharing a secret. “We got a reputation, you see. Prowl calls us his number one headache.” 

The door to the brig hissed open, and Sideswipe turned. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured. “I knew-” 

It wasn’t Prowl. Optimus Slagging Prime walked through that doorway. 

… 

Star could barely hear the Prime approaching over the panic roaring in his audios. Apparently he’d screwed up badly enough they’d gotten the Prime involved. That had never happened before (and he’d pissed plenty of people off over the vorns). He was smiling too. Either Starscream was missing something, or the Prime was some kind of sadistic fragger. Starscream would bet money on the latter. 

“A certain minibot has been sending me some rather explicit complaints about you for the past cycle,” Prime said as he stopped in front of Starscream’s cell. “Apparently, there was an altercation earlier today that he was quite upset about. He had quite a few things to say about allowing Warframes free reign across the ship as well.” 

Starscream grit his teeth against the vitriol that was aching to spill out. He would not yell at the Prime. No matter how slagging stupid he was being. He might have zero respect for Authority, but… Even he drew the line at insulting the Prime. He had some survival instinct, after all. So, jaw clenched and face locked into a grimace, Starscream waited to hear the Prime’s version of ’justice.’ 

“I’ve had words with Cliffjumper about holding onto old prejudices,” Prime said instead. “And I wished to apologize personally for not correcting this problem earlier.” 

Starscream gaped at him, anger overridden by surprise. In its absence, he struggled to respond. 

“I—Alright?” he stuttered. Then, recovering his bluster, he continued. “Well, good. ‘Bout time you did something ‘bout those little menaces!” 

Prime gave him a small, almost disappointed frown at the insult, not that Starscream cared. “Prowl will be by shortly to hear your side of the altercation. I trust him to be fair to all involved parties.” 

Starscream nodded, still confused but unwilling to show it. He watched as the Prime greeted Sideswipe in turn with a mild, almost fond rebuke and left. Silence reigned for a breem. Then-- 

“Don’t worry,” Sideswipe said, thumping him on the back in a gesture that was likely intended to be friendly. “Everyone knows the minibots talk slag. It gets them into fights every orn. Plus, it’s your first time getting into trouble. Prowl’s gonna let you off easy.” 

Starscream, still staring at the closed door where Prime had exited, nodded absentmindedly, barely listening. 

“Yeah,” he echoed. “Easy.” 

Chapter Text

-<SF>-     

“Oy, Shuttle!”    

Skyfire jumped as something—a small bolt? What?—hit his helm. Then he turned to stare at the mech who’d thrown it. It was a black and red Seeker Skyfire vaguely recognized as a lower ranked Officer. Thrust, perhaps?  

Skyfire gave him a short bow in respect to his rank. “Yes?” he asked.    

“We’ve got a raid coming up, and we need some transport. You ready to earn your keep?”    

Skyfire tried to say something. Static fizzed out of his throat. Thrust’s grin widened, taking on a malicious tint. “Great! See you in the tower in a cycle!”    

And he was gone.    

Skyfire stared after him. The protest dried up in his throat, dying without anyone to hear it. Instead, half to himself, he asked, “What just happened?”    

A small hand patted his knee. Skyfire jumped; he still hadn’t gotten the hang of watching out for Cassetticons. Rumble stared up at him. “You got volunteered. Sucks,” he said.    

“I’ve never seen a battle before,” he said. “I don’t even own a weapon! What am I supposed to do?”    

Rumble shrugged. “Grab a blaster from the armory. They always have extra,” he said. Then, with a grin, he hooked his foot against Skyfire’s leg and started climbing. “Don’t worry,” he said as he reached his favorite perch atop Skyfire’s shoulder. “The Autobot’s air support is complete slag. I bet they just want you for transport, not actual fighting. Stay near the back when the shooting starts and you’ll be fine.”    

He nudged Skyfire onward, and Skyfire went, following his directions blindly. It was all happening too fast, and he didn’t know what to do. With panic pulsing an unsteady staccato in his chest and Rumble’s advice in his audios, Skyfire prepared.    

…    

Chapter Text

->SS<-  

Sideswipe was right. Starscream got off with a slap on the wrist. 

Sure, he got some punishment duty and an admittedly impressive lecture, but that was barely anything. No threats of demotion or attempts at intimidation. Not even extra brig time. Pit, he'd gotten worse at the Academy for misusing lab equipment. 

The Twins had it slightly worse for “repeated offenses,” not that they seemed to mind. Apparently they were used to it. Sideswipe took an odd sort of pride in the length of his file. 

He’d been walking back to his quarters, completely done with the day, when the base alarm sounded: another attack. He found the Aerialbots almost immediately. This time, nobody stopped him. 

… 

Nobody else was in the air when they arrived, though Starscream saw a few wings on the ground. It looked like they were being used mainly as transport for the energy. How... mundane. The Grounders weren't much better. For factions of heavily experienced soldiers, both sides were quite disorganized. They started with some semblance of order, though that had quickly dissolved as the Autobots reached the distillery and the fighting picked up.    

Starscream ignored them. He didn’t give a slag about what happened inside the refinery. Alright, maybe a little bit. But those mecha were trained soldiers. They could handle themselves. 

A gaggle of Grounders broke away from the other fighters. A moment later, there was one enormous mecha standing there instead. 

A Combiner. 

Starscream nearly fell out of the sky. 

He righted himself almost immediately, of course, but he kept staring. He knew what a Combiner was, of course, but he'd never actually seen one transformed. Even the Aerialbots hadn't combined casually and never in front of him. It was... certainly impressive.  

Whooping, Skydive led his brothers in charging towards the ground and the Gestalt. They transformed just in time for the five of them to land on two feet. Then there were two Gestalts, and they started to fight. Everyone else quickly got out of their way. 

Starscream hovered over them for a few kliks. A stray attack passed uncomfortably close to him, and he darted backwards. He kept an optic on them, just in case something happened or they broke apart again. They seemed to be holding their own well enough. 

Soon enough, Starscream left. He couldn't do anything in the air, not unless he wanted to try luring some of the Decepticon Seekers into joining him, and even he was hesitant about taking on multiple Trines at once.  He circled the Autobots a few times, getting a sense of the battlefield, before landing on one of the natural outcroppings overlooking it. He might as well find a comfortable vantage point, if they were going to stick around for a while.   

Chapter Text

-<SF>-    

Skyfire was panicking.    

There were… blasters and swords and screaming, and he didn’t know what to do!    

He knew the basics of fighting. He knew how to throw a punch and could hold his own in a brawl. This was not a brawl. It wasn’t a handful of overcharged mecha in an alleyway or hecklers on the street. They were soldiers—trained, experienced soldiers—and Skyfire knew he was outclassed.  

He just kinda… stood there uselessly. The Autobots had arrived before they’d managed to fill more than a dozen cubes, and then everything degenerated into complete chaos. Skyfire slipped to the back and out of sight, and he just…. kept backing up. Until he was well out of the firing range, and then he just kept going.    

Nobody seemed to notice.    

He didn’t stop.    

He lost sight of the other Flyers. Some of them seemed to be fighting or carrying energon away which, of course, led to the Autobots targeting them and more fighting that Skyire wanted no part of. Nobody ordered him to join in, thank Primus, so he stayed firmly on the ground and as far out of sight as possible. Maybe it was an oversight. Maybe it was what kindness Thundercracker could spare. Either way, Skyfire wasn’t about to jeopardize his luck. 

In front of him, the Stunticons had combined and were being attacked by another, unfamiliar gestalt.  They seemed happy, though, happier than any of the other fighters. They were more brute strength than skill, and their opposing Gestalt seemed much the same. Young too, Skyfire guessed. Despite the dramatics of their fight, they didn't seem to be doing any serious damage. Skyfire decided to leave them alone.  

The Autobots were largely clumped near the distillery. He headed in the exact opposite direction, towards the hills and short cliffs that stuck up in jagged clumps of stone. He flew up to one of the lower plateaus, where he had a good view of the two factions. There he stayed, praying nobody noticed him. He didn't want to be ordered to join a battle he wasn't prepared for. He certainly didn't want to be accused of treason or desertion. Best to stay there, out of the way and unnoticed, until the battle ended and he could rejoin the retreat.    

Motion at the corner of his vision caught his attention. Fear leapt into his spark; he wasn’t alone. Trying to sneak further back into the treeline, Skyfire scanned the ridge.    

He saw wings. White and red and achingly, impossibly familiar.    

Skyfire’s spark broke. He was moving, running, before a single coherent thought crossed his processer.    

Chapter Text

 ->SS<-    

Something grabbed Starscream from behind. Thick arms latched onto him, pinning his arms to his side, and his wings were pressed against a wide chest. Starscream squawked and jerked away, but the other’s grip was too strong. Even when he used his claws, scratching the other’s plating, the arms only tightened.    

The grip shifted, and then something nuzzled against the thin plating of his neck. Squeaking in embarrassment, Starscream froze. Warm breath tickled his plating. Starscream blushed. Had he just… His attacker had just stuck his face in Starscream’s neck! That was not okay! Embarrassed and furious, Starscream was about to tear into the other mech’s face with his claws when he realized the other mech was speaking.    

“You’re alive,” he whispered, voice muffled by Starscream’s plating. “Primus, you’re alive. I was so worried.”    

Starscream’s arms fell back to his side, and the anger drained out of him. He knew that voice. He…    

“Skyfire?” he whispered. His voice broke on the syllable, and the mech’s arms—Skyfire’s arms, they were Skyfire’s—tightened around him.    

With trembling hands, Starscream reached up. One hand found another, much larger partner against his chest, curling his fingers around the Shuttle’s. The other reached further up, towards the helm still nestled against his. His fingers found the familiar, blocky crest first. Below that were the sharp angles of a helm, then optics and a cheek wet with tears. Starscream cupped the thin plating, wiping away the wetness. He knew those features as well as his own. The flat curve of a nose and solid planes of the cheek. His palm fit perfectly against the plating, fingers splayed and thumb brushing the soft curve of a lip.    

He needed to see.    

As he turned his head, blue and white plating fill his vision. Skyfire was hunched over him, pressed as closely as possible. Gently, Starscream pushed Skyfire’s helm up, until he was staring into blue optics he thought he’d never see again.    

“They told me you’d deactivated,” Starscream rasped. Skyfire’s face crumbled, and his grip tightened. The pressure was almost painful, but Starscream didn’t care. Not with Skyfire here and alive.    

Leaning up, Starscream pulled Skyfire’s head down until their foreheads rested together in familiar, affectionate contact.    

“I’m sorry,” Skyfire said. “So sorry. I should never have brought you to this planet. If I’d just left when we saw the storm coming, then-”    

“Skyfire?” Starscream interrupted. “Shut up.” Slag the storm, and the expedition, and anyone with it. He’d just gotten his sparkmate back, and he wanted to bask in that feeling for a while longer. Not listen to Skyfire’s inane apologies.    

“I’m never letting you go again,” Starscream mumbled. Skyfire laughed, but Starscream was serious. Last time they’d been separated, all Pit had broken lose. His moron of a partner was gonna stay right here, where Starscream could watch over him. He’d kill anyone who stood in their way. 

AN: Fun fact, this is the first scene I ever wrote for this story. The start of everything; literally every other scene was designed around this one. I didn't even know the Stunticons would be a part of this story back then. Amazing how much has changed and these two idiot's reunion remained almost entirely the same. I love them so much.     

Chapter Text

-<SF>-    

Skyfire could have stayed like that forever.    

He’d spent so long wondering if Starscream was alright. If he’d even survived. In his darkest moments, he’d thought… But Starscream was here. His frame was solid in his arms, and Skyfire could weep for everything he thought he’d never have again.    

Then a stray blaster bolt shot past them, close enough to hear the crackle of energy, and Skyfire remembered.    

They were still in the middle of a battlefield. More importantly, Starscream was still here, where any stray energy bolt could damage him. Skyfire reluctantly pulled away, though his hands continued to grip Starscream’s plating and their fields remained in full contact.    

“We need to get out of here,” he said, glancing around. An odd splotch of red on Starscream’s wings caught his optics. He froze. One hand drifted down, touching the new symbol imprinted into his plating.    

“The Autobots?” he asked. Starscream didn’t answer. He was staring straight ahead. Coincidentally, Skyfire realized, his optics were almost exactly level with Skyfire’s own brand.    

Starscream looked up with a crooked grin on his face. “The ‘Cons, ‘Fire? Really?”    

Skyfire shook his head. “What a mess,” he murmured.    

The ground rumbled under their feet, and Skyfire looked over. They couldn't leave together, not like this, and they couldn't stay much longer. More mecha were coming into view as the battle shifted closer. If anyone noticed them together they would be in trouble, regardless of faction. They'd be accused of treason at best and outright attacked at worst. 

He'd just found Starscream again. He refused to let him get hurt due to impatience. 

Reluctantly, Skyfire uncurled his fingers from Starscream’s shoulders and stepped out of reach. Starscream grumbled his dissatisfaction and tried to follow him, but Skyfire stopped him, shaking his head.    

“One solar cycle,” he said, then rattled off the coordinates of a nearby, isolated blip of an island. “I’ll find you, no matter what.”    

They could talk freely then, when they didn't have to worry about an active battlefield. They'd have time to sort out the whole mess and figure out what to do next. 

Panic lit up Starscream’s field, strong enough Skyfire flinched back. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You’re staying right here with me, or so help me, Skyfire, I will-”    

“I’m sorry,” Skyfire said. He meant it. That didn’t stop him from activating his thrusters. “Please don’t follow me.”    

And, spark breaking, he took off.   

Chapter Text

->SS<-

One solar cycle.

The thought ran through Starscream’s processer like a mantra. Over and over and over again. He’d see Skyfire again. He just needed to wait one short solar cycle.

Slag that.

Patience had never been Starscream’s strong suit. He wanted to fly to the Nemesis and demand to see his partner. He wanted to go back in time and yell at Skyfire until he never even thought of leaving him. Wanted to drag him into the Ark or where-slagging-ever and lock themselves away for a vorn. He wanted… He…

He just wanted Skyfire. His absence howled in Starscream’s spark, a greedy, demanding creature. Skyfire had been dead. Starscream had grieved for him and completely failed at moving on. Now he was back, was alive, and he was still gone.

Starscream had no clue how to deal with that,

His spark was a mess of emotions, of fury and elation and grief and so many others tangled up in one huge knot. Starscream… wasn’t good at dealing with feelings. That had always been Skyfire’s job, and he’d left.

The idea of company was revolting, so Starscream locked himself in his quarters. One solar cycle, he reminded himself. You can hold yourself together for one more.

He was halfway through it when the knock came. Starscream jerked in surprise, banging his wing against the edge of the berth. He bit back a curse at the shock of pain.

The knocker paused. Then he said, “Are you alright? That sounded painful.”

Bluestreak. Starscream groaned. “’M fine. Go away.”

Bluestreak shuffled his feet outside the door. Then he tried again. “Are you sure? You were acting kinda weird after the mission. Sideswipe noticed too; he didn’t say anything, but he was worried about you. I know you haven’t been in many battles, and I know the first ones can be really, really hard, and I wanted to-”

Starscream opened the door to stop his babbling. Bluestreak’s face lit up as Starscream glared at him. “See? Fine,” he said. He turned away, meaning to close the door again, but Bluestreak’s hand stopped him.

“You don’t look ‘fine,’” he said. “I mean, you don’t look bad or anything, but… are you sure nothing happened? Not that you have to tell me anything, but you look like you could use some company and I wouldn’t mind if you--”

“Why do you even care?” Starscream said, interrupting him mid-sentence.

Bluestreak hesitated. “Well… we’re friends, aren’t we?” he said. “And… friends look out for each other.”

The honesty in his voice gave Starscream pause. “I don’t really do the whole ‘friends’ thing,” he said. He knew what most mecha thought of him. He’d gained a lot more enemies than ‘friends’ over the vorns, and he was fine with that. The change here was… jarring.

Starscream snorted. “I’m surrounded by softsparks,” he muttered, too low for Bluestreak to hear. Then, louder, he said, “It’s… not what you’re thinking. Give me half a solar cycle, and I’ll be fine.”

Bluestreak visibly ached to keep asking questions, but he throttled himself back. “Can I at least keep you company ‘till then? I promise I won’t ask anything else.”

Starscream hesitated. He was about to reject the idea when Bluestreak continued.

“The Aerialbots have been worried too. They’ll feel better if they can see you.”

Slag. That had him. When did Bluestreak learn how to push his buttons like that? “Fine,” Starscream grumbled, “but no crowds.”

Bluestreak smiled, and Starscream hesitantly followed him out of his room. In the back of his processer, though, the countdown kept ticking.

Only half a solar cycle left.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

As soon as Skyfire stepped off the ship’s loading dock, he made a beeline for the washracks. Organic grime itched where it had rubbed into his plating, and he needed a thorough washing.

His sparks soared inside his chest, and it took everything he had not to let it show on his face. He couldn’t let anyone else find out what had happened, but… Starscream had survived. Orns of grief flaked off his shoulders, and Skyfire felt lighter than he had since he’d first awoken.

He offlined his optics when he heard someone walk up behind him, hoping they would ignore him. No such luck. Thundercracker was there, waiting for Skyfire to acknowledge him.

“You did well for your first battle,” he said.

“Thanks,” Skyfire bit out, sharper than he usually spoke. “Should I assume this will be a regular occurrence from now on?”

"I'll do what I can to assign you elsewhere," Thundercracker said, "but..."

"But you have to follow Megatron's orders," Skyfire finished for him.

Fear ached in his chest strong enough to be physically painful. Skyfire forced himself to breath, pushing the nausea away. One glance of a battlefield had been more than enough, but he’d make it through more if he needed. Starscream would be there, he reminded himself. The Seeker was a fighter; he would never sit out a fight when others were in danger. Instead of helping, the thought of Starscream fighting in the war—getting shot at by Skyfire' teammates—only made it worse.

Maybe, if he was there, Skyfire could help though. Watch out for him, just in case. Not that Starscream needed it—Skyfire knew better than anyone how skilled and determined his Sparkmate was—but... just in case.

Thundercracker was still there, watching him as Skyfire lost himself in thought. Embarrassed, Skyfire set the drying rag down and, murmuring some sort of excuse, tried to leave. Thundercracker stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you adjust," he said. "I'll do what I can to keep you safe."

Skyfire nodded and forced his lips into a strained smile. He kept walking.

…

The cycles passed agonizingly slowly.

Skyfire normally prized himself for his patience. He had, after all, survived and enjoyed decavorns in close quarters with Starscream when lesser mecha had run screaming after an orn. Now, though, Skyfire found himself unpleasantly short tempered as he waited for the solar cycle to pass. He avoided company, even the Stunticons, to save them from his foul mood.

One solar cycle. That was all.

Skyfire was out of the Nemesis the second the clock ticked over and he was free. He practically ran to the loading dock. The trip was logged as a basic flight, and Skyfire took off.

The island he'd given Starscream was a small, nondescript pile of rock and sand with a few, small plants scattered about. He'd arrived several breems before the time he'd given Starscream, but that didn't stop him from scanning the area as he approached. Nobody was there. Skyfire tried not to be disappointed.

Starscream was alive.

Starscream was nearby.

A few more breems, and he'd be able to see him again. Talk with him, like he hadn't been able to on the battlefield. He wanted to know everything that had happened. He wanted to know what had happened after the ice and how Starscream had ended up with the Autobots. Whether he was happy.

Skyfire hadn't been this happy in ages. Just... Starscream. Finally.

When he heard the familiar roar of engines, Skyfire felt like his spark stopped. He stood on the sand and walked to the edge of the water, staring up at a small black speck in the sky as it grew closer and closer. Red and blue came into focus; it was him.

Starscream transformed in the air above Skyfire's head, just as graceful as he'd always been. He stayed there, hovering, for several kliks before dropping down to the sand.

Starscream looked good. Healthy. Completely identical to the last time Skyfire had seen him too. He was staring at Skyfire as if he couldn't quite believe the Shuttle was there. The look on his face was... it looked vulnerable, which wasn't right. Starscream was confidence and chaos. He was endless determination and laughter in the middle of a fight, and Skyfire had never seen him look remotely afraid before.

Starscream stood there, staring, with his hands at his sides, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. Skyfire made the first move. He stepped forward until he was right in front of the Seeker, close enough to touch. Starscream raised his head to keep meeting his optics but otherwise didn't move. Slowly, Skyfire raised a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against Starscream's cheek.

"Starscream," he said, voice soft.

Starscream punched him.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-    

Punching Skyfire was even more satisfying than Starscream thought it would be.    

The look of surprise on his face. The way he went sprawling on the sand. He raised his hand to the dent on his cheek, looking first at Starscream's curled fist then up to his optics again. He didn't even look angry. 

"Star?" he asked. "What?"    

"You left me," Starscream said. "You show up out of fragging nowhere, tackle me from behind, and then you just fly off again like it was nothing!"    

"People were firing at us!" Skyfire said. "It was too dangerous to-"    

"I don't care!" Starscream shouted. "Do you have any idea what I-"    

To his embarrassment, his voice cracked. He closed his optics and breathed, struggling to regain control. No weakness, he thought. No-    

Starscream barely heard Skyfire standing again. He jumped when he felt Skyfire's arms close around his shoulders, pulling him close to a broad chest.    

"I'm sorry," Skyfire said. "I never meant to hurt you."    

To Starscream's shame, he felt his composure slipping again. "Doesn't matter. You fragging did."    

Skyfire's arms tightened around him in a silent apology, and Starscream leaned into the embrace. Frag, he'd missed this. Missed Skyfire. It still seemed impossible that he was back.    

"What the hell happened?" he asked. "The Autobots scanned the ice after they found me. You weren't there."    

Skyfire blanched. "Found?" he repeated. "You mean you were-"    

Starscream cut him off. "Oi, don't get distracted! I asked first!"    

Skyfire looked almost physically pained as he obeyed. Starscream almost felt guilty. Not enough to give up his answers though. With a sigh, he pushed away from Skyfire, enough so he could look him in the optics. Still close enough for their plating to touch though.    

"I'm afraid it's a rather short story," he said. "I woke up several orns ago with a faction calling themselves the Decepticons. They had found me frozen in the ice after my crash. I was given the, ah, honor of joining their faction as an assistant in the labs."    

Starscream frowned at him. "They didn't give you a choice about the brand," he stated.    

Skyfire winced. "I didn't exactly have anywhere else to go."    

Starscream grumbled. "Slaggers."    

At least the Autobots had given him a choice. Even if the thought of being Neutral had been repulsive, he'd chosen the brand on his own. Plus, putting Skyfire as an assistant, of all things, instead of giving him his own lab. That was just insulting.    

Skyfire brushed his hand along the outside of Starscream's wing. It was an old motion, one Skyfire had done for decavorns, whenever Starscream's mind started to wander. The familiarity of it was almost painful.    

"The 'Cons musta grabbed you first," Starscream said. "That why the Autobots didn't find you too. By the time they ran their scans, you were already gone."    

So close. They'd been so slagging close to being found together. If the Autobots had stumbled upon him just a bit earlier, then they'd have found Skyfire too. They could have woken up together instead of alone. The thought was bitter.    

Skyfire was quiet for a few moments, absentmindedly petting Starscream's wing. "You keep saying things like that. About how you were found. Starscream, what happened back then? After I crashed?"    

Starscream huffed, like he was trying to laugh. The sound didn't come out right. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "I didn't stop looking, and I got careless."    

"You crashed too."    

Starscream grimaced and nodded. It was embarrassing to hear it laid out like that. He was Starscream, the best fragging Flyer on Cybertron. He didn't crash like some Youngling fresh out of training.    

"The storm wasn't strong enough to stop you. Not if you were trying to get out."    

Starscream winced and looked down, unwilling to meet Skyfire's optics. "You were still in there," he muttered, quietly enough that he could pretend the words didn't still hurt. "I wasn't gonna leave without you."    

He'd almost been to the edge of the storm before realizing Skyfire wasn't with him. Then Skyfire had stopped answering his coms, and it wasn't like Starscream could keep running after that. He'd kept looking until he was exhausted enough to make a mistake, not that it had done either of them any good. He hadn't been strong enough to find Skyfire, let alone get them both to safety.   

Skyfire's arms tightened around Starscream's shoulder, pulling him tight once more. "That was foolish," he said. "Thank you."    

With one last squeeze, Skyfire let go.   

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-   

"My free shift will be over soon," Skyfire said quietly. "I'll need to return shortly."    

The thought was extraordinarily unpleasant. From the look on Starscream's face, he felt the same way. He glanced at the sky behind him, grimacing. "Same here," he said. "Not that the 'Bots really care about where I spend my time, but they get anxious if I disappear for too long."    

"I don't want to leave," Skyfire admitted. It was, in fact, the very last thing he wanted to do. Not when they'd barely had a cycle together, and Skyfire didn't know when he'd be free to visit again.    

Starscream took a deep breath and turned back to Skyfire, determination lighting up his optics. "Come with me?" he asked.    

Skyfire stopped breathing.    

Starscream moved closer. "The Autobots'll take you in no problem, especially when they learn about the whole fragged up situation. They'll treat you well too. Won't even make you fight if you don't want to. I think they have some sort of hero complex going on, especially the Prime."    

It sounded... nice.    

For several long moments, Skyfire was tempted to say yes. He wasn't particularly fond of Megatron or the atmosphere at the base. There was too much violence and distrust, and so often he felt uncertain of what he should do. If he left, he could be with Starscream again too. Just like old times.    

But this wasn't like changing Academies on Cybertron. This was a war, and following Starscream would mean joining the people who were trying to kill mecha he knew. It would mean abandoning the Younglings, which would be intolerable, and betraying the Seekers and other mecha he'd struck up tenuous friendships with. Skyfire... didn't think he could do it. 

"I'm sorry," he said. He half smiled. "I could offer you security as well if you joined me. The Decepticons can be... harsh, but there's good mecha there too. We could make it work."    

Starscream seemed surprised at the offer, and then just sad. "I got a few people I'm looking out for. I can't abandon them."    

Skyfire nodded, unsurprised but still disappointed. Finally, he stood. He really did need to be getting back. The last thing he wanted was to draw any sort of suspicion down on him.    

"Soon?" he asked, looking at Starscream.    

The Seeker snorted. "You'd better. If you ignore me too long, I'll ambush you myself."    

Skyfire chuckled. "I'll be sure not to let too much time pass then. Flyers are released at least once a decaorn to fly; I'll be here."    

They stared at each other, neither one quite willing to make the first move to leave. Finally, Skyfire couldn't put it off any longer. He transformed.    

…    

He passed Thundercracker on his walk back to his quarters after reporting in. The Seeker slowed, looking at him oddly.    

"You're in a good mood," he said. "Did something happen?"    

Skyfire shook his head. "It's just been a good day."    

It really, really had. They hadn't resolved anything, but he'd seen Starscream. He'd talked to him, and they'd see each other again, hopefully soon. Skyfire couldn't stop smiling.    

 ~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream flew aimlessly for a cycle after Skyfire left. He needed the time to think and to calm down before he could stand being inside the Ark again. Even after landing, he didn’t lock himself in his room like usual. He didn’t particularly want company either, so he ended up wandering the empty hallways instead. Eventually, he wandered into someone he knew. 

Bluestreak grinned when he saw Starscream, and Starscream wasn’t particularly off-put when the Praxian quickened his steps to catch up.  

“Starscream! How are you!” he said. “I don’t often see you around here. You look a lot better too; that’s great!” 

Starscream looked away, embarrassed by his concern. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” 

“So whatever it was got fixed?” 

Starscream hesitated. ‘Fixed’ was a strong word. Skyfire was still halfway across the world, surrounded by mecha Starscream didn’t trust. They were still technically at war. Yet, they’d managed to talk. He’d gotten answers, and he’d see Skyfire again before long.  

“Yeah,” he said. “I think it was. Better than before, at least.” 

Bluestreak walked with him for a bit, chatting merrily, until his shift started and he needed to leave. Starscream was almost sad to see him go. Eventually, he felt up for more company, and he found his way to the rec-room. 

… 

Starscream had stopped being surprised when the Twins ambushed him in the rec room.    

It was always the same too. They'd sidle up behind him and claim the seats right next to him, trapping him in place with their frames. They'd effortlessly block any retaliation or escape attempt Starscream tried, and Sideswipe would put an arm around his shoulders. Then they'd try to convince him 'bout whatever stupid plan they were plotting next.    

Honestly, sometimes Sideswipe's mind was enough to impress even Starscream. He wouldn't have minded the occasional ambush if they weren't so slagging good at sneaking around everywhere. Honestly, he was pretty sick of people sneaking up behind him.    

So when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker slid next to him, Starscream still jabbed an elbow into Sideswipe’s side as he was getting comfortable. "Slag do you want this time?" he grumbled.    

Sideswipe grinned. It was a mischievous grin; a plotting one. Starscream was immediately interested.    

"Weeeelll," Sideswipe drawled. "We've got a bit of an idea. Just a little fun, 's all. And we were wonderin' if you'd like to get in on it."    

Starscream set his energon cube down and gave Sideswipe his full attention. "I'm listening."    

Both Twins smiled. Sideswipe said, "There's this minibot, you see, who's been making a real mess of things. Cliffjumper. We figure, there’s enough red mecha running around, and he’s overdue for a repaint. So, being the nice, accommodating mecha we are, we thought we’d help him out a bit. You in?" 

Starscream remembered him. The red Minibot from the fight, and the one who'd tried to bring up those ridiculous charges. He’d seen him a few times since, though only at a distance. He doubted either of them could hold their temper if they were any closer together. Normally Starscream wouldn’t care, but he’d rather not have to deal with another public fight. 

“Depends,” Starscream said. “What do you want me to do?” 

Sideswipe lit up. “We already got the reprogrammed nanites, and we could use someone to hack the washracks. Sunny and I know how ta hack a door and camera, but we’re not so good at the more subtle stuff.” 

Starscream considered it for a moment. On one hand, he’d rather not end up in the brig again this soon, even over something as minor as paint nanites. On the other, Cliffjumper deserved it.  

“Fine,” he said, “but if this goes wrong I’m blaming you.” 

Then he moved his energon cube aside and demanded Sideswipe show him the plans they’d already made. If he was going to risk trouble, then he was going to slagging well make sure it was worth it. 

~.*.~ 

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Most of the time, Skyfire ate alone, but it wasn’t unusual for company to find him. Usually it was the Stunticons looking for entertainment, but he also wasn’t surprised when Rumble and Frenzy invited themselves over. He was, however, somewhat uneasy about the shit-eating grins on their faces and the way they sandwiched Skyfire between them, one on each side. Of course, Skyfire could have easily lifted them up to move them, if he wanted to, but that would be quite rude. 

“Can I help you?” he asked. 

Twin grins met him, sharpened by an edge of malice. “Maybe,” Rumble drawled. “Ya see, we got a question an’ thought we’d talk to ya first ‘fore running to Megatron.” 

Skyfire looked between them, more confused than anything. Something unpleasant settled in his spark. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

Rumble sighed and shook his head like Skyfire was disappointing him. “The Seeker,” he said. “Who’s he?” 

Skyfire’s spark ran cold. Physically moving the Cassetticons and running for it was starting to look like an attractive idea. 

“I- I don’t,” Skyfire stuttered, but Frenzy cut him off. 

Don’t even start,“ he said. “You’re a horrible liar.” 

Skyfire fell silent. 

“Like we said, this is a courtesy call ‘cause we like you. This is yer chance ta explain yourself ‘fore we go to Megatron an’ tell him we saw you consorting with a ‘Bot.” 

“Normally we wouldn’t even give you this much, considering how chummy you two were, but something weird’s going on. We tried running the guy through the system, but nothing popped up. No stats, no history, nothing. And lemme tell you, Soundwave has the best info network. Mecha don’t just slip through the cracks like that.” 

“So here we are. An’ fer your sake, I’m hoping ya have a real good reason.” 

Skyfire glanced between them as they spoke, feeling more and more trapped. He swallowed hard and decided to go with the truth. 

“He’s my sparkmate,” Skyfire whispered. 

Whatever the Twins were expecting, that wasn’t it. Rumble’s optics widened. Frenzy cursed. 

“Yer what?” Rumble said. 

“My sparkmate. That was the first time I’d seen him since I’d woken up. I wasn’t sure he’d survived.” 

Skyfire’s voice trembled at the last sentence. He knew Starscream was alive and healthy now,  but he’d spent too long uncertain of the Seeker’s fate. It was still a painful subject. 

Rumble slumped back against the seat, looking stunned and vaguely guilty. “Well, slag,” he muttered. “An’ the reason he wasn’t in the system?” 

“He was with me in the storm and crashed while searching for me. The Autobots found him shortly after I was unfrozen.” The Cassetticons actually seemed to be listening, so Skyfire rushed the next words, afraid he’d lose them again. “I’m not planning on leaving the Decepticons or betraying information. I don’t even know any intel. I just… wanted to see him. That’s all.” 

“You gonna see him again?” 

Skyfire hesitated, and Rumble waved him off. “Nah, don’t answer that. Plausible deniability, an’ all that. You know Megatron will kill you if he finds out ‘bout this.” 

Yes, Skyfire knew. Hearing it laid bare like that, like some kind of inevitability, made his breath catch. His voice was hoarse when he answered. ”Will you at least give me a headstart before you tell him? I won’t go to the Autobots, I swear, but I-” 

Rumble cut him off. “Relax, we aint gonna snitch on you.” He nudged his Twin’s side. “Right, Frenzy?” 

“Primus slag it,” Frenzy grumbled. “You’re too pathetic to turn in. I swear, if you do anything that hurts us or the Cause, I’ll kill you myself.” 

“Thank you.” 

Rumble looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’m only doin’ this ‘cause I pity ya, an’ even we aren’t cruel enough to get ya killed over something as stupid as this. Not that it’ll stop us from using it as blackmail or something though.” 

Skyfire understood. He was still thankful though. Sharing a glance, the Twins stood up together and made to leave. 

“Good talk!” Frenzy said with an obviously fake smile. “Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be watching.” 

Skyfire watched them go. He was trembling when he stood up. Several people were watching him curiously, though none had been close enough to overhear their conversation. He left without talking to any of them.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream heard Cliffjumper long before he came into sight. The mech was practically shouting expletives as he marched down the hallway. Starscream glanced up, as did everyone else in the room, but he was careful not to react past mild curiosity.

Cliffjumper was a sight to behold when he burst into the rec-room. His standard red was almost entirely gone, replaced by haphazard splatters of puce and neon orange. The entire room fell silent. Someone muffled a laugh.

“Nice paintjob," someone said. "I didn’t know you were in the market for a new look!”

Cliffjumper snarled at them. “Someone hacked the slagging washracks,” he said, directing the words at the entire room. “Tell me who you are so I can rip your optics out of your fragging face.”

Nobody volunteered. Cliffjumper’s temper worsened. His optics settled on Starscream, and he snarled. “You!’ he shouted, pointing at Starscream. “It was you, wasn’t it? Slagging Seeker!”

Starscream’s hand tightened on his energon cube. He was perfectly capable of taking credit for a prank, particularly when the target deserved it. He knew he hadn’t left any proof though, especially not anything that could be found so quickly. Cliffjumper was just being an aft.

“Now why would I waste my time on someone so pointless?” Starscream drawled. He dragged his optics up Cliffjumper’s frame and smirked. “Besides, if you ask me, whoever it was did you a favor. This is an improvement over the travesty of a paintjob you used to have.”

Cliffjumper flushed, but his embarrassment quickly turned to fury. “I’ll get you slagging arrested! You won''t weasel your way out of this one.”

Starscream delicately raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any proof?”

Cliffjumper sputtered some kind of excuse. Starscream wasn’t exactly listening. He snorted and turned back to his energon cube, dismissing the Minicon as insultingly as he could. The entire room was still watching, and he heard several muffled laughs from them. Then Cliffjumper’s enraged shout rose over them, growing closer. Starscream readied his claws. He wasn’t about to start a fight, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about a chance for a rematch.

Before Cliffjumper reached him, someone else stepped in. Starscream immediately recognized the black and white of the Autobot TIC.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Jazz said, putting a hand on Cliffjumper’s shoulder. “You don’t really want to get slammed for attacking ‘nother ‘Bot, do you? ‘Specially not so soon after your last stint in the brig, an’ in front of alla these people.”

Cliffjummper tore himself away from Jazz’s hand, though he didn’t charge towards Starscream again. He gestured at the color splattering his frame. “Look what he did! This is after I tried scrubbing it off. He reprogrammed the slagging color nanites!”

“An’ I’m sure that, if ya give it a week, the nanites will go back ta normal. Leave the detective work ta Prowl and Red Alert; I’m sure they’ll do their best ta find the mecha responsible. So don’t screw yourself over tryin’ ta handle this personally.”

Cliffjumper seemed like he'd be perfectly happy to accept the punishment, actually, but having Jazz physically blocking him seemed to get the message through. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of the Saboteur. Not even enranged half-bits like him.

Cliffjumper made a graceless exit from the room. His back was just as multicolored as the rest of his frame, though his aft was almost entirely neon.

Starscream kept nursing his energon. A few mecha snuck him some subtle congratulations that had Starscream hiding a smile. Seemed that Cliffjumper wasn’t the most popular mech, though there were a few mecha—mostly other Minicons—that were glaring at him instead.

A few breems after Cliffjumper left, the Twins came barreling into the rec room. Starscream drained his cube before their chaos reached his table.

“Cliffjumper’s locked himself in his quarters ‘till mecha stop laughing at ‘im in the hallway,” Sideswipe said, grinning brightly. “I can’t believe we missed his big debut! We’ve seen the image captures though. I’d call that a success, yeah?”

Starscream nodded, begrudgingly impressed. “You did a good job on the nanites,” he said. “That was some skilled programming on the color.”

The Twins smiled, proud of their accomplishment. Then Sideswipe's grin faded. “I heard Cliffjumper was making a nuisance of himself. Sorry you got caught up in that alone.”

Starscream waved him off. “Of course the slagger was gonna come after me. The mech's got a grudge. So long as he doesn't have any proof—and I'm pretty slagging sure we didn’t leave any—we've got nothing to worry about.”

Sideswipe raised his voice after that, talking about something borning at a volume that other people could overhear. More people joined them, enticed by Sideswipe's friendliness. Starscream wasn't particularly pleased with the gathering crowd, but he tolerated it. Maybe enjoyed it a little bit, but he left soon enough when the noise became more irritating than pleasant. He was smiling when he said his goodbyes

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire honestly enjoyed performing repairs. He liked being able to see the tangible result of his effort. He didn't have to wonder whether he was making any sort of impact or if his work was helping anyone: he could see it, right in front of him, when a mech walked away in better shape than when they'd come in.

He didn't enjoy seeing the wounds though, or the times when injuries were outside of his capabilities. Most of the mecha he saw had minor wounds, since Hook and the official med-bay took care of the critically wounded. He mostly saw Seekers, but plenty of Grounders sought him out as well.

And, ever since that first time, the Stunticons followed him. At least one of them always seemed to be nearby while he worked, which was oddly touching. Somewhat annoying when they started to loom, though. Skyfire preferred having some space while he worked, and he didn't need a minder, especially not ones younger than him.

It was a while before he saw Vortex and the other Combacticons again, long enough that he'd started to forget how unsettling the first meeting had been. So when Vortex and Blast Off entered the room, Skyfire noted their entrance but dismissed them in favor of the partially disassembled knee of his current patient.

"Oi, Civvie!" Vortex said as he sauntered inside. "I need ya to come with us. Onslaught's orders!"

Skyfire didn't look up again. He kept working, carefully soldiering some support struts back together.

"I’ll be finished with these mecha in a few breems," he said. "I can help you after that."

The aforementioned mecha didn't seem altogether pleased at being included. One of them, a mech with a shallow gash across his chest, snuck out the door. Skyfire ignored him.

Beside him, Wildrider stood up beside Skyfire. He was the only Stunticon there; Breakdown had left to get energon, and the others were resting after a rather intense raid.

"Motormaster and the rest are on their way," he told Skyfire, quietly enough that the others wouldn't hear.

Skyfire glanced at him, confused, before turning back to his patient. He was nearly done with the basic connections, after all, and he didn't want the struts to shift before he could cement them in place. At his side, Wildrider bristled as Blast Off stepped forward.

"Hey, didn't you hear him? Skyfire said to wait for a minute, so why don't you-"

"No."

Vortex leaned close to Wildrider, far closer than was polite, and smiled. It was an unpleasant look on his face. "As I said, Onslaught gave us some orders. And Ons's orders are a whole lot more important than either of yours."

Wildrider lunged forward, fists raised to attack. He was using one of the forms Skyfire had drilled into him. Vortex blocked the first punch, was nicked by the second, and then Wildrider's wrist was caught in Vortex's grip. Vortex twisted, and he tossed Wildrider across the room. The Youngling hit the wall with a loud thud and tumbled down, landing with a crash on one of the abandoned chairs.

"Hey!" Skyfire shouted, lurching up. The welder dropped, forgotten, from his hand, and the mech he'd been working on wasted no time in scrambling away, despite his missing plating.

Before Skyfire could do anything, Blast Off grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the door. He didn't even bother looking at Skyfire, as if he'd already dismissed the Shuttle as a threat.

Blast Off wasn't even looking at him when Skyfire used his other fist to punch him straight in the jaw. Blast Off grunted in surprise and pain, and his grip loosened. Skyfire pulled his arm free and went for a kick, trying to force Blast Off further away.

This time, the other mech was ready. He caught Skyfire's leg and pulled, forcing him off-balance. Skyfire didn't even see Blast Off's other arm come up until it connected with his cheek, and Skyfire went down. He landed on the ground hard, disoriented.

Behind them, Vortex was cackling. "Aw, the Civvie's got some fight in 'im! How cute."

Skyfire shook his head and made to stand again. On his left, Wildrider was still crumpled by the wall, though he was slowly stirring, Good. No lasting damage then. The rest of the situation was looking rather worse though. Skyfire was proud of his ability to defend himself, but he didn't fancy his odds against two trained, experienced soldiers.

Vortex sighed as Skyfire stood and fell into another defensive stance. "Really?" he said. "'You're gonna try that again? And here I thought you were supposed to be smart!"

A blur of black and purple barreled into Vortex from behind. Vortex went down with a yelp under the weight.

Motormaster had arrived. The rest of the Gestalt wasn't far behind him.

All of a sudden, Skyfire realized he'd never seen Motormaster actually angry before. Indignant, yes. Throwing a temper tantrum, most certainly, But not true anger, the kind that sat heavy on your tongue and twisted your spark into knots until you could hardly think past the fury.

Drag Strip jumped in with a whooping war cry, and even Dead End joined, only somewhat reluctantly, Breakdown immediately went to Wildrider's side, who was stumbling his way back upright and rubbing at his helm.

"You stay away from us!" Motormaster shouted.

He was struck down by a heavy blow from Blast Off. Something snapped as energon trickled down his face, not that Motormaster seemed to notice.

"Leave," Motormaster said. Wildrider had recovered enough to stand on his own, and the four of them had gathered around their Gestalt leader. They'd fallen into a strange formation, almost like a cross, with Motormaster in the middle.

Vortex laughed. The sound was even more high pitched than usual. "You're not seriously gonna combine here, are you? Would Menasor even fit in the room?"

Skyfire wasn't sure either, but Motormaster didn't back down. "I said go!" He said. The five of them clumped closer together. Not for comfort though, or out of fear. It was like they were preparing for something.

Skyfire had never seen a gestalt combine before. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't end up seeing it right then.

Vortex took a step forward. Something shifted with the Stunticons, rolling through all five of them at once. A twist and the start of movement, like the first steps of a transformation spread between five people. Then Vortex raised his hand, a rifle unfolded, and he shot something directly into the center of the Younglings.

Motormaster screamed; the sound was echoed by four other voices. The five shivered. Fell apart. Whatever transformation had begun reversed itself, and five separate frames were sprawled on the floor. Motormaster was clutching his leg, which was already coated in energon. The other four seemed disoriented, and they were slow in picking themselves up.

Laughing, Vortex started walking forward with Blast Off behind him. Skyfire lurched forward, putting himself between them and the Stunticons.

"That's enough!" he said. "They're down. I'm coming with you, alright?"

A few weak protests arose behind him; Skyfire ignored them. The Combacticons stopped walking forward, though Vortex didn't stop laughing.

"What, you mean you're giving up? After all that? Boring. How about we rough you up a little more? Teach you a real lesson?"

Skyfire shuddered, but Blast Off spoke up first,

"Onslaught said to hurry up. You can have your fun later."

Vortex pouted. "C'mon, just a couple minutes?"

"Now, or I'll report you for insubordination."

Vortex grumbled and carried on, but, with a theatrical groan, he beckoned Skyfire forward. Behind him, the Stunticons had recovered enough for Drag Strip to stagger to his side.

"Hey, I'm not done yet, and I-"

Skyfire pushed him away. "Go tend your brother," he said. "I'll find you afterwards."

"But-"

"Go!" Drag Strip flinched, and Skyfire softened his voice. "Make sure you put presssure on the damage and clamp off any torn energon lines you see."

He left.

- /-

Skyfire repaired Brawl, who'd lost mobility in his arm. He ignored Vortex's taunts and Onslaught's looming presence. When he finished, he left.

He found the Stunticons in their quarters and accepted their worried questions and inspection. They'd carried Motormaster back, and Skyfire patched the damage to his leg.Then Skyfire went looking for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker was easy to find if you needed him. He had his own office, like many of the Officers, and he was one of the few that accepted visitors. Skyfire hesitated in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. The door slid open.

Thundercracker looked up as he entered, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw Skyfire. He set the datapad he'd been holding aside.

"Skyfire," he said with a polite incline of his head. "It's not often I see you outside of training. What can I do for you?"

Several moments passed before Skyfire cold find the words. "Earlier," he said. "You mentioned protection. A deal, with you and your Seekers. For medical treatment. I would-" Skyfire stuttered, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "I would like to inquire about the terms."

Skyfire couldn't meet Thundercracker's optics as the Seeker regarded him from across the desk. "You were very set against the idea earlier. What changed?"

"There was an altercation earlier. With the Combacticons. The Stunticons were with me; they were injured." His voice grew stronger as he met Thundercracker's gaze. "I want them to be included as well. That's my condition."

The Younglings had gotten hurt because of him. Skyfire couldn't let that happen again. He refused. And... he knew he couldn't protect them by himself. He'd already thoroughly proven that point.

Skyfire wouldn't set aside his ideals for his own self-interest, but he'd do it in a sparkpulse if it meant keeping the others safe.

"I'll lay out a contract," Thundercracker said.

Half a cycle later, Skyfire left with the signed contract, several new promises, and a bitter taste in his mouth. They would be safe though, him and the Younglings. Skyfire couldn't regret it.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

>-SS<-

Starscream sat down at his normal table, and something exploded. He froze. Behind him, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker dove for cover, cursing, but Starscream couldn't seem to move his frame. His hands were still poised above the table, feet firmly against the floor, and something cold and thick was sliding down his face and chest. It was on the table too. And the floor.

"What the slag is this," Starscream said.

He let his hands fall the last few inches to rest delicately on the table, and he resisted the urge to flip the entire thing. There was gunk on his wings. His wings.

Sideswipe appeared at his side and slid his finger through some of the muck on the table. "I think  it's some kinda oil. Maybe mixed with grease too."

Sideswipe's chest was sprinkled liberally with the oil, but he'd escaped the worst of it. Behind him, Sunstreaker subspaced his sword--which Starscream hadn't even noticed him taking it out--and had started cursing violently at the streaks marring his own plating. A few other mecha at nearby tables bore similar splashes, and many mecha were only now relaxing out of defensive stances. Seemed the soldiers hadn't reacted well to the bang.

"I am going to spend a slagging cycle in the washracks," Starscream said as he kicked his chair back and stood. He heard Sunstreaker stomping his way to the showers, but Starscream didn't join him yet. Instead, he ducked down to look under the table. A small block had been crudely taped to the bottom of the table, and a pressure sensor led to Starscream's seat.

It was bulky and slagging ugly, and if Starscream had taken a klik to check before sitting down he'd have found it immediately.

"Cliffjumper?" Sideswipe asked from beside him.

Starscream pried the mechanism from under the table and stood, half crushing it in his claws. "Who else?" he growled. "Meet me in my quarters after shift tonight. We're gonna slagging destroy him."

He strode out of the rec-room, head held high. He could feel the oil dripping as he went, leaving a trail on the floor behind him  A couple mecha were laughing; Starscream recognized Clifffjumper's voice among them. He didn't spare the minibot a single glance.

  -/-

He ran into Wheeljack on the walk over. Rather, he passed several mecha, but only Wheeljack was brave enough to say anything in the face of Starscream's impressive glare. Wheeljack fell into step beside him.

"An experiment gone wrong?" he asked.

Starscream snorted. "Of course not," he said, though he'd had experiments malfunction at least this messily several times before. "A prank. And not a very good one."

Wheeljack nodded and didn't ask any more questions. Good. Starscream knew there was a reason he liked the mech. 

"Do you need any help cleaning up? That gunk looks pretty nasty."

Starscream hesitated around the rejection already in his throat. He didn't like letting strangers touch him and, although he was pretty fond of the mech, he was still a stranger. Normally, though, he had Skyfire to help him. With how the oil had sunken into his joints, he wasn't sure he could clean the mess out of his back.
  
"Fine," Starscream grumbled. "That would be... Yeah. Thanks."

The gratitude came awkwardly, but he forced the words out anyway. He knew about the rules of politeness and social norms, even if he chose to ignore it most of the time. He could acknowledge Wheeljack's help at least, even if he didn't really want it.

Wheeljack was at least polite about it as they dealt with the gunk, and he ignored Starscream's increasingly explicit threats and curses as he struggled to clean his wings. The gunk clung to the seams of his plating and underlying mechanisms, and no matter how hard he scrubbed Starscream didn't feel clean. He gave up eventually and returned to his quarters, where the Twins were waiting for him.

They were inside, of course, having hacked the lock. It must have taken them a while; Starscream had reinforced the security programing himself. The Twins had been talking, and they looked up when Starscream burst in.

"We are going to destroy that slagger," Starscream said.

He'd gotten into prank wars before. Pit, he respected his opponents half the time, when they were tolerable enough and their ideas marginally clever. Cliffjumper's idea of a good prank was dumping oil on someone. Starscream was insulted to have been part of it.

Starscream yanked a chair over to sit, and Sideswipe joined him immediately. "If you want speed, then we can-"

"No," Starscream said. "Let's take the time to do this right." 

He wouldn't waste his time on the first banal idea they thought of. He was better than Cliffjumper. Besides, it would be a nice bonus if that undersized slagger had some time to wait and worry about what their retaliation would be.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

The next time there was a raid, Skywarp came for him. He smiled and held out his hands. "Orders from the boss," he said with something like an apology in his tone. "We've got a setup for ya too, so don't worry about any a that slag!"

Silently, Skyfire took his hands, and they warped. It was a singularly unpleasant sensation, as if the entire world had come unmoored and his tanks were trying to twist their way out of his frame. Skyfire barely remained standing as they popped back into existence in a room bustling with Seekers. Several of them were injured.

Thundercracker stood in the middle of it all, coordinating the crowd. He nodded at Skyfire. "There's some tools for you on the table over there," he said, motioning towards the edge of the room. "Dirge is already there with a twisted wing. Once you've finished with him, I'll send some others over."

Skyfire nodded and went where he was ordered. The twisted wing was easy enough to fix, and the ones after him were similarly straightforward. Mecha injured enough to need treatment, but not enough to merit the official medical bay. At one point, he heard a commotion near the entryway and looked over to see several familiar figures trying to get in.

"We know he's here!" Motormaster said, trying to shoulder his way past two of the Coneheads. "Let us see him, or we'll fight our way in!"

Skyfire was finishing with the mech in front of him, so he added the last few sutures and walked over. "Motormaster, it's alright. Please don't make a fuss."

Behind Motormaster, Drag Strip snorted. "You were avoiding them like crazy yesterday. If they're threatening you or something, then we'll make them stop!"

Skyfire stiffled a smile, touched by their concern. "I appreciate the offer, but this was my choice. I'll find you later and we can talk, alright?"

None of the Younglings seemed pleased with his answer; they'd probably been looking forward to a fight and the chance to 'rescue' Skyfire. Breakdown and Dead End, at least, seemed less enthusiastic, and all five were looking increasingly uncomfortable now that they'd lost their momentum.

"Really, I'm fine," Skyfire repeated. "I promise I'll explain later."

He wasn't planning on telling them the truth, of course. The Younglings would be unbearable if they learned their safety was the driving force in Skyfire's decision. He seemed to have gotten through to the Younglings though, or maybe they belatedly realized it was a poor idea to pick a fight with the entire Seeker population of the ship.

"You better," Motormaster said. They grumbled a few more things--threats, mostly--in an attempt to save face as they retreated, and then they were gone. Skyfire breathed a sigh of relief. Then he noticed Thundercracker making his way towards him and tensed right back up.

"You've really gained their loyalty," Thundercracker said. "I'm impressed. I thought they were completely wild."

"They're Younglings," Skyfire said, unable to keep his anger from leaking into his tone. "They just needed some instruction and for someone to bother looking after them."

Thundercracker paused as if surprised by Skyfire's words. He nodded slowly; Skyfire hoped he'd given the Seeker something to reflect on.

"I've made arrangements with the Combacticons," Thundercracker said, changing the subject. "They shouldn't bother you or the Stunticons anymore. If they make another move, let me know."

Skyfire nodded. Some of the discomfort in his chest eased. He didn't like this. Didn't like having to listen to Thundercracker's orders or ignoring other mecha he could have been helping instead. It was worth it, though. Except, Thundercracker wasn't done speaking.

"Part of the deal is that, if one of them is damaged, you will fix them, albeit at our discretion."

Skyfire's head snapped up. "I don't want to be near them," he said, voice tight. "I've seen what kind of mecha they are."

"Of course. You'll need to repair them regardless."

"But-"

"The deal was that you'd obey my orders in exchange for protection. These are my orders." His tone softened. "I'll have a Seeker accompany you as well; the Combacticons won't touch you."

Skyfire bowed his head, relenting, though not without effort. Protection or not, he still didn't like Thundercracker's order. He remembered Vortex attacking Wildrider. The Younglings crying out after Motormaster was shot. Skyfire wanted nothing to do with the kind of mecha who would do such a thing.

He'd made a deal, though. And Skyfire always kept his promises.

So Skyfire took a deep breath and returned to his patients. He'd deal with being near the Combacticons again later. He''d figure something out, or he'd have to trust in Thundercracker's decision. Starscream would have known what to do though, and for a moment Skyfire missed him with an ache that stole the breath from his chest. He indulged his grief for a moment before locking it away again. He'd see Starscream again in another half orn, and he had more patients to help.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

>SS<-  

Starscream, surprisingly, enjoyed living in the Ark. He tolerated most of the mecha there and even liked a few of them, which he hadn't expected. Still, flying out to see Skyfire was the best part of his orns. He missed the Shuttle, fraggit. He was used to working beside Skyfire constantly, not seeing him whenever they could steal a spare cycle.  

He hated watching Skyfire fly away afterwards. The Shuttle almost always had to leave first. The Decepticons restricted his flight time, and Skyfire insisted on obeying their rules. Starscream had at least a cycle before he was supposed to be at the labs, so he took to the sky.

He meandered around the island in large, loose circles, trying to burn away his frustration. Lost in thought, Starscream almost missed the glimmer of metal on the ground. Quietly drifting closer, he landed behind the two mecha, who were too busy whispering at each other to notice.

“What the slag are you doing here?” Starscream said. In front of him, Air Raid and Fireflight jumped and spun around..

"I... We were just..." Fireflight stuttered.

He looked at his brother for backup, and Air Raid jumped in. "We were just exploring! What are you doing here?"

“I’m flying, what does it look like?” Starscream said. “Did you two follow me?”

Fireflight flinched, answering the question with his guilt, but Air Raid held his gaze. “We’re not the ones who should be in trouble! Who was that mech? The one we saw flying away?”

Panic licked at Starscream's spark. He didn't let it show on his face. “None of your business.”

“He’s not a ‘Bot. So where did he come from?”

“I said it didn’t matter!”

Air Raid puffed up, obviously preparing for an argument, but it was Fireflight who spoke next. “I think I saw him on the battlefield once. He’s a ‘Con, isn’t he?”

Starscream bit back a curse. He’d hoped the Younglings had been too far away to get a good look at Skyfire. Air Raid gasped loudly and spun around.

“I’m telling Optimus!” he shouted as he prepared to leap into the air. Starscream was faster. He tackled Air Raid before the Youngling could activate his thrusters. He softened the landing, making sure Air Raid didn't hit the ground too hard.

“Don’t!” Starscream said. “You don’t understand.”

Air Raid struggled against him. “You’re consorting with a ‘Con!” he said.

“Barely!”

“You’re ‘barely’ consorting with a ‘Con? What does that even mean?”

Starscream finally managed to pin Air Raid’s arms down. The Jetling obviously didn’t have practice fighting on the ground, but he could really squirm. Fireflight was panicking beside them, unsure what to do or who to help.

“I mean he’s barely a ‘Con!" Starscream said. "Would you just listen to me?”

“No!”

Air Raid made a valiant effort to break free, which didn’t work, and Fireflight looked like he was about to step in to help his brother. Starscream made a decision.

“We crashed together, alright? The ‘Cons found him in the ice instead, and now we’re stuck like this!”

Air Raid stopped struggling. Starscream carefully released his arms, though he didn’t get off his back quite yet.

“He was your friend?” Fireflight asked.

Starscream hesitated. ‘Friend’ was far too weak a word for everything that Skyfire was. He didn’t want to volunteer everything, though. Not even to them.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. "We've been meeting up to see each other and talk where we won't be interrupted."

Air Raid hesitated. He wriggled on the ground until Starscream let him sit up again. "It's still against the rules," he said. "You'd get in trouble with Prowl and all the other Officers if they found out."

"Like I give a slag!" Starscream said. "What are they gonna charge me with? Talking to someone? Trying to convince him to come back with me so we don't have to keep playing this ridiculous game? I don't care what they think."

He could handle whatever punishment the 'Bots would give him. They were softsparks, even if they were soldiers. But they could stop him from visiting Skyfire again. Starscream didn't think he could handle that.

"He means a... lot to me, and he's all I have left from before the crash. I can't lose him again."

Fireflight, the emotional sap, looked like he might start crying as he nodded. He had to prod Air Raid several times to get an agreement from him.

"I don't trust him," he grumbled. "He's still a 'Con."

"Fine," Starscream said. "Then can you trust me when I say I'm not doing anything stupid?"

The look they gave each other said they weren't quite sure, but he got two reluctant nods.

"I'm still telling Silverbolt," Air Raid said.

Starscream didn't like it, but he didn't argue. At least it wasn't an Officer, and he knew better than to try convincing a Gestalt to keep secrets from each other.

"Go back to the Ark," Starscream said as he started to turn away. "I'm sure your brothers are getting worried."

Air Raid nodded and started to turn, but Fireflight didn't move. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

Starscream shrugged. "Later. I'm gonna keep flying for a bit longer."

He needed more time in the air. Especially now, after that whole mess. His spark still hadn't settled.

"Do you want company?"

Starscream shook his head. "I want to fly alone."

With a little more prodding, the two Aerialbots left. Starscream watched them go before transforming again and taking to the sky. He could only hope he wouldn't get back to the Ark and find the Officers waiting for him, but he was fairly sure the Aerialbots would keep their promise. Regardless, there wasn't any point in worrying about it, and Starscream let the flight wash his thoughts away

Chapter Text

 -<SF>-

Skyfire had quickly learned that the Decepticons as a whole were quite fond of melodrama. Having lived and traveled with Starscream, Skyfire grew used to it quickly. Although, he did sometimes wish mecha would learn to use com units instead of ambushing him in the hallway. He wasn’t mad, per say, when the Stunticons snuck up behind him and steered him into an empty room, but he would have appreciated some warning.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as he sat in the room's largest chair. It was conveniently surrounded by five smaller chairs, which the Stunticons immediately filled.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Drag Strip accused. Skyfire could tell he was trying to glare, though it came out more like a pout.

“I have?” Skyfire asked. He certainly hadn’t intended to, but he received five nods from the Younglings.

“We’ve barely seen you in ages! It’s been almost an orn since the last time we sparred, and you’re out flying way more than you used to."

"It's those Seekers, isn't it?" Wildrider cut in. "I knew they did something! I told you, we can handle it. Let us help, and we'll get everything back to normal!"

Skyfire shook his head, hoping to stop that line of thought immediately.. "As I've said, Thundercracker has been perfectly reasonable. The Seekers haven't done anything."

"Then what changed?”

Starscream, Skyfire didn’t say. He’d been leaving to see the Seeker, and, he’d admit, moping in his room more when he was alone. He hadn’t meant to neglect the Younglings. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t even realized he’d stopped seeing them around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll fix it.”

Visiting Starscream really didn’t take up much time; he just needed to stop moping and start paying attention again. The Stunticons didn’t seem happy with his promise though.

“Something changed,” Motormaster said. “What was it?”

“It’s not important, I pro-”

“Don’t pull that slag!” Motormaster said. “We know something’s up. You’ve been acting weird, seriously weird, for orns. Even before you started consorting with Thundercracker. Don’t try to pretend it was nothing!”

Motormaster was angry. Actually angry, and worried too. Skyfire hadn’t expected that.

“It wasn’t anything bad,” he said. “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

Drag Strip threw his hands into the air. “No! Seriously? Weren’t you the one who was always talking ‘bout trust and honesty? Or was that a load of slag to make us tell you shit?”

“Of course not!’ Skyfire said, horrified at the thought.

“Then why are you lying to us?”

Skyfire hesitated. He did trust them, really, but they were young, and this was Starscream. He could get killed if the wrong person found out, and everyone who knew was another mech who could make a mistake.

Looking around at the five Younglings, he knew he’d never regain their trust if he pushed them away now. The main reason he’d refused Starscream’s offer was because of them; he wouldn’t ruin that relationship now.

“It’s not bad,” Skyfire started, but Drag Strip cut him off.”

“Oh, don’t get started on that slag again.”

“Let me finish,” Skyfire ordered, and Drag Strip fell silent. “Like I said, it’s not bad, but it is dangerous.”

“For you or us?”

“Both, probably, but especially me.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I found out something about my time in stasis and my life before the ice...”

….  

They wanted to meet Starscream. Of course they did. Starscream was some mysterious, forbidden figure from Skyfire’s past. He represented danger and excitement, and the Stunticons had always wanted to be part of everything.

He wasn’t surprised when Starscream got upset about the Stunticons finding out. He was, however, quite surprised when Starscream agreed to a meeting.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

 ->SS<-

In the middle of the day, Starscream usually retreated to the labs or his room to get away from the noise of the more public areas in the Ark. He was just settling into his newest design schematic when a 'com call with priority markings interrupted him.

:Are you in the Ark?: Bluestreak asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

Starscream set his datapad down. :My quarters. Why?:

:Come down to the med-bay. Some of the patrols got in a fight, and Ratchet could use some help.:

Starscream, who'd already started walking towards the door, froze. :Help? Bluestreak, I'm not-:

The sound of the 'com channel closing cut him off. Starscream cursed. Then, after Bluestreak didn't answer Starscream's pings, he kept walking. He didn't pass many people wandering the halls, but he could hear them clustered in the rec-room, talking quietly. He could hear the med-bay as he approached as well, with Ratchet's muffled shouts rising above the rest.

Bluestreak was waiting outside the med-bay doors, foot tapping as his gaze flitted around the hallway. His optics brightened when they landed on Starscream.

"Starscream! You made it!" he said, He twisted, hand moving to the door. "I'll let Ratchet know!"

"Wait a minute! I haven't agreed to anything yet," Starscream said. "I told you I don't have real medical experience. What even happened?"

Bluestreak's hand paused above the keypad "One of the patrols got in a fight with the 'Cons. Sunny got his leg torn up pretty bad; Ratchet and First Aid are in there now. The others only got minor injuries"

"Sunstreaker?" Starscream repeated. He glanced towards the med-bay. "Is he alright?"

Bluestreak nodded. "It was bad for a bit, but Ratchet's with him now so he's fine. I mean, he’s doing better at least and not critical anymore, but Ratchet’s gonna be with him for a couple more cycles still."

Bluestreak’s optics were overly bright, and his doorwings kept flicking back and forth. He was stressed, maybe even coming down from battle high. Bluestreak twitched and looked down the hallway.

"Prowl's calling. He wants to get a debrief from everyone. You know, everyone who's not injured and free to make a report. I was only there for the last couple kliks, but I guess that counts." He turned back to Starscream. "You'll stay here, right? I know you've been saying you don't know this kinda stuff, but I think Ratchet would really, really like having you there. I'd stay and help if I could too, but I can barely weld a straight line for a temp patch. Plus, Prowl will probably want me to stay a cycle; he's real thorough like that."

Bluestreak paused, waiting for an answer, and he looked so hopeful that Starscream found himself nodding. Bluestreak took off immediately, without giving Starscream a chance to change his mind. Starscream watched him go, alone in the hallway. When Bluestreak turned a corner, there was nothing else to look at but the med-bay door in front of him. He could hear mecha moving around behind it and the muffled sounds of voices.

Starscream seriously considered turning around and heading right back to his quarters. He was a scientist not a medic, slaggit! He wasn’t remotely qualified for repairing anyone, and he sure as slag didn’t want the responsibility.

Bluestreak had asked though, and he’d looked so desperate. If it really was just applying pain patches… Well, he knew enough to do that at least. And he could leave right after.

Starscream took a deep breath and jabbed the keypad. It slid open smoothly, and he walked inside like he’d never had any doubts at all. Most of the berths were filled, and Starscream counted five Grounders. A mech Starscream didn’t recognize was tending to a yellow minibot at the far end. He had the markings of an apprentice medic on his shoulder; First Aid, probably. Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, but Starscream could hear his voice coming from behind a closed door.

The mecha waiting for treatment turned to look at Starscream as he entered. Most of them seemed to be in pretty good shape; some scorched or bubbled plating, several lacerations, and so on, but nothing too dangerous. The minibot First Aid was helping had his chest opened up to replace some melted lines. On his left, another Grounder had his arm cut open nearly to the strut and was holding what looked like an old rag over the worst of it.

“Don’t do that!” Starscream said, marching over. “We’re already in a med-bay; find something sterile or you’ll just make it worse!”

He pushed the mecha’s hand away from the wound. The Grounder seemed almost bemused as he let himself be moved, though he must have been in pain. The wound itself wasn’t horrible, but there was some cracked and missing plating along with the broken lines. Starscream took out his welder and a pain patch. He couldn’t do anything for the damaged plating, but he could at least stop the bleeding.

“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” the mech asked, staring at the welder in Starscream’s hands.

“Yes,” Starscream said. “Now shut up and let me work before you get even more energon on the berth.”

He applied the pain patch and waited just long enough for it to activate before he turned on the welder. The Grounder didn’t even flinch as Starscream brought the flame closer, and he was able to work in peace for almost a full klik before the other mech started trying to start a conversation.

“You’re Starscream, right? The mech that was in stasis?”

Starscream took a deep, calming breath and kept welding. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. Of course he got a mech who liked small talk, and one who thought his crash was a good thing to bring up too!

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hound.”

Starscream didn’t care, but he had enough self-control not to say it out loud. “Great,” he said instead.

“I’d heard you were helping out in the labs, but I didn’t know you knew medicine too. I’m impressed!”

Starscream snorted. “Just the basics. Seriously, don’t ask me to do anything more complicated. And make sure you see a real medic after ‘bout the missing plating.”

He was almost done, so he soldered the last few torn areas and turned off his welder. Good enough; it’d hold until self-repair or a real medic could look at it.

“Well, complicated or not, I really appreciate it.”

Starscream grunted and stood up. “Try not to move to much or do anything stupid before First Aid comes by,” he said.

He walked over to the next berth, where the mech had a couple long, shallow gashes across his chest and arms. This one wasn’t so chatty. Starscream managed to apply the pain patch and get most of the leakage stopped up before he heard the med-bay’s main door opening behind him.

“Hey, m’mechs, how’s it hanging?” Jazz said as he strode into the room. “I heard ya ran into a spot of trouble on the road.”

One of the mecha on the berths laughed. “Oh you know, it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Just some light maiming.”

Jazz laughed and patted the mech on the shoulder as he walked past. He was walking towards the minibot with First Aid, and Jazz arrived just as the medic seemed to finish with his chest plate. The minibot poked his head up to look at Jazz, which was disturbing on several levels. Apparently the mech had been online while First Aid rooted around inside his chest.

First Aid started working his way down the other row of damaged mecha as Jazz and the minibot spoke. Starscream kept working instead of trying to eavesdrop; he’d rather finish and get out as soon as he could. He had time to reach one other mecha before First Aid caught up. Then Starscream put his welder away and made a beeline to the door, more than ready to put the whole slagging cycle behind him.

There was a clatter as First Aid followed him. “Hey, wait! You’re Starscream, right? I didn’t know you had any medical experience!”

Starscream looked at the door longingly then glanced back at First Aid. “Literally just the basics, as I’ve told a half dozen mecha today.”

“Thank you for helping. Is it alright if I put you on the list? Just in case we get overwhelmed again?”

For a moment, Starscream was reminded of Silverbolt. Something about the earnestness, he supposed. The Protecticons weren’t that much older than the Aerialbots either, if Starscream was remembering right.

Internally, Starscream groaned. “Fine, whatever,” he said. He ignored First Aid’s pleased response and finally made it out of the med-bay. Starscream didn’t stop walking until he was back in his room and could collapse in his berth, exhausted.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Normally, the ship quieted down after a fight with the Autobots. Mecha were tired, nursing their wounds, or, if the raid had gone particularly badly, avoiding the Officers looking for someone to take out their temper on. So, when Skyfire emerged from his room with the injured, he was surprised to hear a roar of noise coming from the bridge.

Curious, Skyfire moved closer. Normally, Skyfire would have expected a racket to be some kind of fight. There were certainly enough brawls breaking out all the time; they seemed to be the most popular form of entertainment. Skyfire couldn't hear any cheering though, or the normal associated drama. Instead, Skyfire could swear he heard music.

The door was open, and Skyfire slipped inside. Mecha were shouting and laughing. Celebrating, it seemed like. Everyone was holding brightly colored energon cubes as well: high grade.

No wonder they were all celebrating. They were getting overcharged.

Skyfire sidled along the edge of the room, avoiding several passionate debates--one of which looked like it was about to turn to blows--and one very enthusiastic arm wrestling match. He'd almost made it to an empty seat when someone called his name.

"Skyfire! Hey, Skyfire, there ya are! Did those wing nuts finally let you off your leash?"

Skyfire felt a hand on his leg and looked down to see Rumble grinning up at him and holding his own cube. Frenzy was right behind him.

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of pet," Skyfire said, torn between humor and feeling insulted. He changed the subject before it became the latter. “So what’s going on?”

Rumble grinned. “We pulled one over on the Autobutts! We got a few good hits on the guys and made off with some of the Squishies’ energy while they were distracted. The Big Boss is giving us the night to celebrate!”

He pushed a cube into Skyfire’s hands. “Drink something! You’re too serious, mech!”

Skyfire took the cube and even took a drink to pacify Rumble. He certainly didn’t have anything against drinking high grade, but after a cycle in a makeshift med-bay he wasn’t much in the mood. Especially since they were celebrating a battle.

The Twins moved along soon enough, distracted by Skywarp drunkenly standing on a table and doing some sort of impression. Skyfire stayed at his chair, sipping his cube and looking around. Thankfully, he didn’t see the Stunticons anywhere. He’d guess their systems were developed enough to manage the charge of high-grade. Emotionally, though, they probably needed a couple centuries to handle any lowered inhibitions.

The main door opened again, and the noise level across the room dipped. Skyfire looked over.

Megatron had arrived.

The Warlord surveyed the room. He didn’t seem upset. Didn’t look like much of anything, honestly, except perhaps mildly annoyed. He acquired his own cube of high grade and walked to the center of the room to sit in his throne. The crowd parted to let him through. Megatron stayed there, looking down at the party and steadily drinking his cube.

Eventually, when Megatron did nothing else, the noise level rose again. It didn’t quite reach the previous level, but mecha were still getting drunk and enjoying themselves. Skyfire stayed quiet and kept watching.

Skyfire hadn’t interacted with Megatron much in his time on the ship. He’d seen the mech in passing a few times or as he presided over the bridge, but they’d never actually spoken. Not even after the times Megatron’s orders had forced Skyfire into combat he was thoroughly unprepared for. Skyfire had heard plenty of stories though, from the mech’s infamous temper to his role in the early days of the war, back when it was still a revolution. Motormaster in particular idolized the Warlord, who had apparently been the one to ignite the Younglings’ sparks. And then completely ignored them afterwards.

Skyfire was still figuring out his opinion of the mech. So far, though, he hadn’t liked what he’d seen.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream was being followed.

He throttled his engines, annoyed. He could guess who’d decided to spy on him. This time, the Aerialbots weren’t staying nearly far back enough to avoid his scanners. Starscream debated going all-out. He could easily lose the newbies if he pushed his engines, but then he’d have to deal with the fallout when he got back to the Ark. Better to head that slag off now.

Starscream stopped and transformed, using his anti-gravs to hover. Then he waited, facing the Youngling’s direction. It wasn’t long before four sheepish Jets and one Shuttle came drifting closer.

“Really?” Starscream said. “We’re doing this again?”

He stared them down, waiting for an answer. They wouldn’t meet his optics, but eventually Air Raid lifted his head.

“You’re going to meet a Decepticon,” he said, spitting out the word. “We weren’t gonna let you go alone!”

Starscream snorted. "What, do you think I need someone to 'keep me on the right track?' Is that it?"

Unexpectedly, the thought hurt. In Iacon, he'd been used to mecha expecting the worst from him. He'd taken a vindictive pleasure in proving them wrong or, when the situation warranted, right. It felt different when the Younglings were doubting him.

“Of course not!” Silverbolt said. “We’re just worried, you know? What if something happened?”

Most of Starscream's anger fizzled. Worry he could understand, even if he knew it wasn’t necessary. "It’s just Skyfire," he said. “I’ve known the mech for decavorns. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

The younglings seemed unconvinced. They exchanged glances, and Fireflight drifted forward.

“Can we meet him? Please?” Fireflight asks. “I wanna know what he’s like.”

The other four Aerialbots perked up and stared at Starscream, waiting for his answer. Seemed they really were curious about his partner. Starscream wondered how much of it was them worrying about his safety, and how much was them being nosey little slaggers.

“Do you really want to meet him that badly?” Starscream asked. ”Seriously, we’re just gonna talk. On a deserted island. It’s not that interesting.”

Five pairs of optics looked pleadingly at him, suggesting that, yes, they really did want to come. Starscream groaned.

“Fine,” he said. “You all are stubborn idiots, but fine. You can come.”

Starscream turned away. He was annoyed about the Younglings butting in on his personal business, but a small part of him was pleased about introducing Skyfire to the young Flyers. Although, a different orn probably would’ve been better.

"He's bringing mecha of his own; ones you're familiar with. Don't do anything stupid like attack them," Starscream said.

With another scan of the area, Starscream risked leading them closer to their meeting spot. After this, though, he was going to suggest changing location. He didn't like so many mecha knowing about it, even if he trusted all of them.

-/-

Skyfire and his entourage were already there when they arrived. Starscream vaguely recognized the Grounders he'd brought, though he was more familiar with their Combiner form. He could feel the Aerialbots hesitating behind him, uneasy about flying towards Decepticons. The Stunticons clustered together as they landed, sharing the Aerialbots' suspicion, but Skyfire walked right out to greet them.

"It's good to see you again," he said, pulling Starscream into a short embrace. Then he turned to the Aerialbots and smiled. "I wasn't expecting Starscream to bring guests. What are your designations?"

Skyfire's friendliness seemed to calm them down, and they introduced themselves one at a time. Skyfire's smile widened when it was Silverbolt's turn.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "There's not many Shuttles on Earth. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

Silverbolt returned the smile with a small one of his own. Then Skyfire motioned the Stunticons over and made them introduce themselves as well. The Grounders were grumpier, and it took them some prodding to say their designations. The blue and white one, Breakdown, was practically trying to hide behind his Gestalt leader.  They all kept staring at Starscream too.

"Didja really blow up a building once?" Drag Strip asked.

Starscream flushed in embarrassment. "Not... intentionally. The explosion was supposed to be smaller." He'd been trying to get revenge on one of their particularly bad colleagues. Nobody had been seriously injured, though the building had been a lost cause.

Starscream rounded on Skyfire. "You told them about that?"

Skyfire had the nerve to laugh. "You have to admit it's a good story," he said.

Then there were wings practically in his face, and Starscream looked over to see Air Raid and Slingshot flanking him and glaring at Drag Strip. Starscream shoved them away.

“Hey, none of that!” he said. “Don’t you dare start a fight!”

“But-”

“What did I tell you earlier? If you seriously can’t control yourself, then head back to the Ark.”

The Seekerlings flinched and nodded, though Starscream didn’t miss the glares they kept sneaking at the other gestalt. Huffing, Starscream turned away from them and walked to Skyfire’s side. Without him, the Seekerlings huddled around Silverbolt instead.

“Idiots,” Starscream grumbled as he relaxed against Skyfire’s side. Skyfire’s hand came up to rub Starscream’s wing, and he melted into the Shuttle’s side. At least this part of the afternoon was going well.

“They’re young, that’s all,” Skyfire said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine after they finish posturing. Unless you think they’ll actually start a fight?”

Starscream snorted at the thought. Forget the building he’d blown up: accidentally causing a Combiner fight would be his best story. Of course, he generally prefer to avoid disaster.

“Air Raid and Silverbolt are probably tempted, but I doubt they’ll go through with it. If nothing else, Silverbolt can usually keep them in line.”

So far, they seemed to be controlling themselves. That was good enough for Starscream.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire had been nervous about bringing the Stunticons with him and doubly so when he saw the Aerialbots flying in behind Starscream. He trusted his Gestalt to behave themselves—he wouldn’t have dared bring them otherwise—but part of him still expected it to go wrong. So far, their luck had held, and Skyfire was tentatively hopeful they’d finish the cycle without any new injuries or feuds. Together, he and Starscream surveyed the standoff that had formed between the two gestalts.

"Well," Starscream said. "You always said you liked the idea of a large family."  

Skyfire stifled a laugh. Back in the Golden Age, large families had meant two sparklings. Not ten.  

"And you said you'd carve out your own spark before taking on a Youngling of your own," Skyfire teased. "My how things change."

As he watched, Wildrider seemed to be getting bored with all the staring. He started poking at Drag Strip and Motormaster, looking for entertainment. Skyfire was mildly concerned, but he trusted they wouldn’t do anything too foolish.  

"Technically, these five already have a Caretaker. Two of them in fact," Starscream countered.  

"Grounders?"  

Starscream winced and nodded. "I think I was the first mech to actually teach them about flying."  

Skyfire shared his pain. Grounders had raised Flyers and vice versa during the Golden Age, but never alone. Younglings needed other mecha of the same frametype to teach them and race against. He wasn't surprised Starscream had stepped in. He'd always had a bit of a soft spot for Newbuilds, even if he preferred keeping them at a distance. Besides, Starscream had a protective streak, especially when it came to other Flyers.

Starscream snickered as Motormaster, apparently defending his pride, tackled Wildrider to the ground. That, of course, drew Breakdown to defend him, and then Drag Strip decided to jump into the fun, literally. Skyfire watched them, waiting to see if he'd need to step in, but they all seemed to be having fun and following the sparring rules. The Aerialbots mostly seemed confused. 

"So how'd you end up with this bunch of misfits?" Starscream asked.  

"They didn't even have a Caretaker," Skyfire said. "Before I figured that out, I thought their Guardians were just incompetent and offered them a few lessons. As far as I can tell, Megatron called their sparks and ignores them whenever he doesn’t need a Gestalt in battle."  

The thought still made him breathless with rage. Most of it was aimed at Megatron, but he wasn't picky. There were dozens of other adults who could have stepped in but hadn't. Skyfire knew the war had been difficult and cost them many ideals, but Younglings were precious. They deserved better. 

Starscream hissed. "Slagger. It’s a shame nobody’s taken him out yet.”  

Skyfire couldn’t object. “The Stunticons are doing well now though, especially after they started having their fields regulated regularly."  

It was remarkable how much of a difference that one change had made. They'd all calmed down significantly since he'd first met them. Their insecurities no longer magnified themselves in their field, and they were starting to learn some healthy ways of managing their emotions instead. Skyfire was proud.  

Air Raid had started eyeing the Stunticon pile. After looking at Starscream for permission, he whooped and jumped in to join the wrestling. Slingshot looked like he was tempted to join too, though the other three seemed entirely uninterested. Fireflight dodged around the playing mecha to stand next to Dead End instead. He said something, though it was too quiet for Skyfire to hear. The dour Youngling didn't seem bothered by him. He might have been enjoying the company, though it was hard to tell with him.  

"Interesting combination," Skyfire said.  

"Hmm?"  

Skyfire nodded towards Dead End. "He has a very self-contained Spark and an extremely pessimistic outlook. It'd do him good to get to know others his age"   

"Maybe a pessimist is what Fireflight needs," Starscream said. "He's flighty and easily distracted. He could use some grounding."

Skyfire was content to watch the Younglings interact for a while, occasionally sharing words and observations with Starscream. It was certainly entertaining, and he could sense Starscream’s enjoyment as well.

"We have some time to spare today. At least a few cycles before we'll be missed," Starscream said.  

Skyfire nodded. "Same here. We won't have shift for a while yet."  

So long as he was on time for shift and available for battles, nobody seemed to care how they spent the remainder of their time. Staying here, with Starscream and two gestalts worth of younglings, sounded like one of the best ideas he'd heard since waking up.  

Eventually, even Motormaster tired of playfighting, and the groups settled into conversations and other games. Skyfire only had to step in a couple times, when someone got too rough or the conversation heated. He supposed it was the novelty of interacting with other Younglings that kept anything from getting out of control. The Stunticons had vastly improved their self-control since their first meeting, but they still struggled with their tempers. 

They had to leave eventually though. The Stunticons watched the Flyers take off before they transformed and started back towards the ocean.  

"Think we'll see them again?" Wildrider asked.  

Before Skyfire could answer, Dead End spoke. "Someday, we'll see their corpses fall from across the battlefield. Or perhaps it will be us who dies first. Fate will tell."  

"Them," Drag Strip said immediately. "We're stronger than them. We'll definitely survive longer!"  

He got a chorus of agreements from his brothers. Skyfire didn't say anything. He wanted to reassure them nobody would die, but he couldn't promise that. The Younglings didn't even seem particularly bothered by the idea. Certainly not as much as Skyfire. He didn't know whether it was because they didn't understand the reality of deactivation or because, having been activated during a war, it was simply normal for them.  

Skyfire didn't much like either option.  

The Stunticons kept up a constant chatter as they drove back, laughing and bantering back and forth. Skyfire remained quiet, even after they reached the base.  

He stopped them before they wandered away.  

"Be careful," he told them. "I don't want you getting hurt."  

Then he went to start his shift.  

~.*.~

AN: So, this set of chapters was mostly self-indulgent because I really wanted these two groups to meet. Even though it creates a bit of a mess having 10 new people know their secret. Just… ignore any potential logistical issues and enjoy these misfits interaction. They won’t tell anyone!

Also, I’ve now officially finished with my first semester of medical school! It’s pretty crazy, which is why updates have been sparse. I’ll try to be productive over break, so we’ll see how that works out!

Chapter Text

 ->SS<-  

Back in Iacon, Starscream usually left any coding to Skyfire. Not because he was bad at it; Starscream was pretty slagging good at coding, probably even better than Skyfire. He just didn't like all the time it took to get the details and fiddly bits working right. Skyfire, who had more patience than should be possible, didn’t mind, so Starscream usually push it off on him.

Of course, Skyfire was hours away and under the ocean right now, so Starscream worked on his little project alone. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker helped, of course, but their coding was clunky and obvious. For what Starscream had in mind, he needed subtlety. Even with his shifts in the lab and the stint in the med-bay, Starscream had plenty of time to work.

It was a relief when he finally finished. Starscream could handle slow, methodical projects, but he much preferred the payoff at the end.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were easy to find, at least. Starscream looked for the loudest part of the Ark and, lo and behold, there was Sideswipe, hosting some sort of ridiculous competition. Dancing? Maybe? It was hard to tell, considering the mecha involved were trying to contort their frames in ways that metal was never supposed to bend.

"Hey, Sideswipe!" Starscream said as he walked up. "I need to talk to you."

Sideswipe grinned at him from where he was attempting to simultaneously stick his head between his knees and dislocate one arm by twisting it behind his back.

"Hey, Starshine! Wanna join?" he said.

"No."

Laughing, Sideswipe untangled himself. "You sure? It's this great human thing called "yoga" I found on the internet. Apparently, they compete by seeing who can bend themselves into the weirdest shapes. We've already sent two mecha to the med-bay!"

Starscream looked at the other five mecha still straining in the room and cursing. Starscream wasn't nearly bored enough to join them. Still, he had to respect a species who intentionally tortured themselves for fun.

"I finished the program," Starscream said.

Sideswipe stood up so fast he nearly tripped. "Really? Do you have it here?"

Starscream nodded and passed him a datachip. It was gone as soon as it touched Sideswipe's palm.

"Oh, this is gonna be great," he said as he started cackling. “I’ll have it set within the orn."

“That long? I’m surprised. I’ve heard so much about your skill, after all.”

“Hey now, you can’t rush perfection! Especially with Red Alert around. Make one tiny mistake, and he’s all over you!”

The room transitioned into some new position that involved bending over backwards. Somebody overbalanced and crashed to the floor. Sideswipe was more flexible than Starscream had expected because he easily bent backwards until he was staring at Starscream upside down.  He grinned as if inviting Starscream to rejoin. Starscream refused.

“Well then, let me know when you’re done. I wouldn’t want to miss Cliffjumper’s big debut, after all,” he said, and he left them to their contortions.

-/-

The ‘com came when Starscream was reading in his quarters.

:Come to the rec room: Sideswipe said, laughing between the words. :It’s happening.:

Starscream yawned. He’d gotten enough vague, overenthusiastic calls from Sideswipe, and they were almost never worth the fuss.

:What’s happening?:

:Cliffjumper:

Starscream sat up so fast he almost fell off his berth. He ran to the door and had to stop for a moment to compose himself before opening it.

:It finally triggered?: Starscream asked.

Sideswipe burst into laughter again. :Oh, yeah. Definitely. You gotta see this, Star. It’s fantastic. He’s been cursing at the energon dispenser for a full breem now.:

:I’ll be there in a klik.:

Starscream cut the ‘com. He could hear the commotion as soon as he entered the right hallway. Mecha had stopped to stare. He could faintly hear Cliffjumper’s cursing rise over the whispers and laughter. Starscream pushed his way towards the front of the crowd and leaned against the open doorway.

Cliffjumper was standing in front of the energon dispenser, huffing and puffing and screaming at the machine. He had an empty cube in his hand. The dispenser wasn’t even activated.

Starscream lingered in the doorway for several moments, enjoying the spectacle, before meandering over to the Twins. Sideswipe was practically crying with laughter, and even Sunstreaker was smiling.

“Has he noticed the rest yet?” Starscream asked

Sideswipe nodded vigorously. “He was caught outside the room, hammering at the door until someone took pity and opened it for him. Seems it’s been going on all cycle. It’s such a mystery, y’know? Whatever could it be?”

Starscream stifled a snort of laughter A mystery. Sure. Not like they’d altered Cliffjumper’s records so that the ship wouldn’t register his presence. Cliffjumper was going to have a lot of trouble using all the automated services on the ship, like the dispenser and washracks. And doors.

A dark green mech moved through the crowd towards Cliffjumper. He said something to the minibot and touched the dispenser. It activated at his touch, of course, and he easily withdrew two cubes of energon.

“I know that mech,” Starscream said. “He was in the med-bay last orn.”

Sideswipe looked over. “Hound? Yeah, he’s a chill guy. I don’t know why he hangs around Cliffjumper. No accounting for taste, I guess.”

Once Cliffjumper had his energon, Hound ushered him towards a table. Cliffjumper was still spitting mad and muttering an impressive litany of curses, but he sat at the table. With the excitement fading, the crowd started to disperse.

“That was beautiful. Pure perfection. I think this is the start of a great partnership, Starshine.”

Starscream puffed up at the praise then rolled his optics. “Starshine? Is that gonna be a thing now?” he asked.

It was one of the nicer things he’d been called, but really? He had an actual name.

Sideswipe grinned and nodded. “Everyone needs a nickname! Yours’ll be extra special ‘cause it came from me!”

“You’d better get used to it. Once Sideswipe gives someone a nickname, he never lets it go,” said Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe laughed and slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “It’s part of that Sideswipe charm!”

Sunstreaker glared at him but he endured Sideswipe’s arm, which was practically an agreement from him. Across the room, Cliffjumper downed the last bit of his cube and stood. Glaring at everyone, he made his way towards the exit.

“Wait for it,” Sideswipe whispered. “Wait for it!”

Cliffjumper reached the automatic doors. He was looking behind himself, snarling at a mech muffling laughter, when he walked right into the closed doors with a loud bang. He staggered backwards, arms windmilling as he struggled to regain his balance. The room burst into laughter.

As Cliffjumper spun around to yell, the door slid open behind him, and the Prime entered. He stopped with one foot inside the rec room.

“Is everything alright?”

Snarling, Cliffjumper pushed past him. They could hear him stomping down the hallway, muttering curses and threats. The Prime stared after him in confusion as the room dissolved into laughter and commentary.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

The Stunticons weren’t the only mecha who needed to learn to use their words. Apparently, herding a mech into an empty room instead of politely asking for a private conversation was a tradition many Decepticons shared. When he noticed, Skyfire just sighed and followed Rumble and Frenzy through the doorway.

“Can I help you?” Skyfire asked.

Rumble and Frenzy planted themselves in front of him, arms crossed and standing as tall as their frames could manage. It might have been comical, except their stance also displayed their transformation seams and the weapons hidden beneath.

“You owe us,” Frenzy said.

“I do?”

That earned him two incredulous looks. “Yeah, ya do. For not giving ya up to the bossbot.”

“Ah. That. Are you here to collect that favor then?”

 Honestly, Skyfire had forgotten about the favor he supposedly owed the Cassetticons. He was rather surprised there was anything he could help them with, actually.

“You did sciency stuff with energon before the war, right? Converting and condensing it, and all that slag?” Rumble asked.

Skyfire nodded.

“D’ya know how to make high grade?”

Skyfire stared at them, surprised by the question. He’d expected something more dramatic. Embarrassing, maybe, or dangerous at worst. Not something that would belong in the dorms of the Academy. He broke into a smile.

“What type of energon converter do you have?”

Frenzy snorted. “A broken one,” he grumbled.

“Is it solar? Geothermal? Combustion?”

”Solar, I think? I don’t know, it’s stashed on an island and won’t do slag anymore.”

Skyfire nodded as he thought. Solar was one of the more straightforward converter types, and Skyfire had extensive experience with them. He wasn’t sure what state the converter was in, but Skyfire was experienced in jury-rigging technology into doing what he wanted.

“I’ll have to see the converter before I can promise anything. So long as we have the right parts, I should be able to get it working.”

Twin grins met him. Rumble patted his leg, which was the highest he could reach.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said.

They strutted away as confidently as they’d arrived. Skyfire watched them leave in bemusement. He’d never understand the drive towards melodrama that some mecha possessed. It always seemed like too much effort to him.

-/-

Skyfire was with Wildrider and Breakdown the next time the Twins found him. The Stunticons bristled as the small spies approached, and Skyfire spared a few moments to calm them down.

“It’s time, big bot! You’re off-duty, we’ve got some free time, and you have a promise to keep!”

“Of course,” Skyfire said, and he turned to the Younglings. “I should be back within a couple cycles. You’re welcome to wait in my quarters, if you’d like.”

Wildrider glared at him and shifted, if possible, closer against Skyfire’s side.

“Like slag I’m gonna let you run off alone with these nutjobs! And what’s this about promises? If he did anything I’ll fight him for you!”

Wildrider was all fired up and, for a moment, Skyfire thought he’d lunge at the Twins before Skyfire could say anything. He stifled a rather inappropriate laugh at how dramatic the Youngling was.

“No, fighting is not necessary. I’m just doing them a favor. I’m not sure if Rumble and Frenzy wish it to be a private one?”

Skyfire looked over, and Rumble shrugged. “Eh, whatever. So long as the kid can keep his mouth shut, he can do whatever.”

“I can keep a secret! What, you think I can’t? I’ll show you!”

Wildrider started to advance on them, and Skyfire pulled him back once again. Breakdown, thankfully, stayed silently at his side instead of joining or spurring his brother on.

“We’ll be there,” Skyfire promised.

-/-

The island was close, and Wildrider chattered the entire flight over. Frenzy seemed delighted to exchange taunts and quips with him, and Wildrider was equally thrilled to have someone besides his brothers to talk with. The island was small and uninhabited, though large enough for a small, thriving ecosystem. Maybe Skyfire would return later to study it, assuming he could find the time.

The converter was in a better state than Skyfire had feared. It certainly wasn’t good, especially after being out in the elements for a while, but the Twins had protected it with plastic sheets and the parts themselves were salvageable. The Twins watched over his shoulder as Skyfire inspected the machine.

“I’ll make you a list of parts to get, but this should be reparable,” Skyfire said.

Rumble whooped, startling away the few organics lingering nearby. “Whatever you need, we’ll get it! Slag, it’s gonna be amazing to have a still going again,” he said, grinning wildly. “How long’s it gonna take?”

“That depends how quickly you can find the parts. An orn, perhaps. Maybe two.”

The rewiring would be the trickiest bits. Time and the elements had stripped many of the smallest wires, which were the most finicky to replace. His oversized hands would complicate matters too. His hands were specialized for better control, but some realities about large digits in small spaces couldn’t be ignored. Normally he’d ask Starscream for help with the worst of it, but that wasn’t an option. He’d manage, even if it took a bit longer.

Skyfire didn’t have many tools or materials with him, but he had enough to start on the repairs. Rumble and Frenzy supervised from afar, though they seemed more preoccupied with exploring the small inlets and poking the organics. Wildrider and Breakdown stayed by his side as Skyfire started repairing what he could and removing what he couldn’t. Wildrider’s patience didn’t last long.

“Izzit gonna explode?” he asked.

“Ideally not. Generally, we try to avoid destroying our projects.”

Wildrider grumbled something about boring projects and empty beaches, and he wandered off towards the forest. He expected Breakdown to trail after his brother, but the Youngling stayed where he was, watching Skyfire’s hands in the machine.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

He was squinting into the belly of the machine, and Skyfire obligingly shifted his fingers to give Breakdown a better view.

“Do you see how these wires are worn through? That means they need to be replaced.”

Skyfire expected Breakdown to get bored, but the Youngling stayed. He kept asking questions, and he listened to Skyfire’s answers. Eventually, Skyfire offered to let Breakdown try manipulating the wiring, to the Youngling’s enthusiastic agreement. Skyfire was disappointed when they had to leave. For all that he was supposedly doing a favor for the Twins, it’d been a thoroughly pleasant afternoon.

…

Chapter Text

->SS<-

It lasted for three days. Three glorious days of Cliffjumper yelling at doors, machines, and the washracks. Of him getting stuck in his own room because the door wouldn’t activate, lights turning off on him, and needing an escort every time he wanted to clean himself or get energon. Red Alert eventually found and fixed the glitch, but not before Sideswipe had collected a wonderful compilation of Cliffjumper’s struggles with inanimate objects. He already had a list of people who’d pre-ordered a copy.

Starscream caught Cliffjumper staring at him suspiciously several times. The minibot didn’t have any proof it was Starscream. Or that it was sabotage at all, really. That hadn’t stopped Cliffjumper last time he wanted revenge though, so Starscream was expecting another stupid “prank” soon enough.

Let him try to pull something again. Starscream had already proven his superiority.

He ran into Fireflight on his way out of the ship. The Youngling grinned and skipped towards him.

“You look happy! Are you going flying now? Can I come?”

Starscream laughed and gently shook him off his arm. “Maybe next time. I’m going on a solo flight this time.”

Fireflight looked confused for a moment before perking up in realization. “Oh, are you going to-”

Starscream interrupted him before he could say anything incriminating. Nobody else was in earshot, but you could never be too careful. Not with pranks, and especially not with borderline treason.

“Talk to your brothers if you want to fly with someone. I’ll see you later, alright?”

Fireflight nodded, but he leaned in close before Starscream could make his escape.

“I really liked talking to the other guys last time. Could you set up another meeting sometime? Please?”

Starscream nodded and made his escape before Fireflight could coerce any other promises out of him. He was in a good mood as he flew towards the island to meet Skyfire. He took his time in the air, testing the air currents and spiraling through the clouds just to enjoy the feel on his wings. He meandered towards their meeting spot, and he still arrived before Skyfire. Not by much though: he heard Skyfire’s familiar engines approaching soon afterwards, and Starscream stood to greet him.

“It’s about time you got here! I see you’re just as slow as ever.”

Skyfire was smiling as he landed. “Not all of us are Seekers,” he said. “How have you been?”

Starscream launched into the Tale of Cliffjumper’s Disastrous Orn as they wandered across the beach. Skyfire was a good audience, as always. He laughed at all the right spots and was suitably impressed by Starscream’s programming success. All in all, the day was going well until Skyfire raised a hand, frowning.

“Did you hear that?” Skyfire asked, glancing around.

Starscream listened, but he didn’t hear anything other than the normal organic sounds of the island.

“Hear what?”

Skyfire made a silencing gesture and glanced around. They’d wandered inland, near where the sand and rocks of the shore transitioned into forest. Starscream hadn’t noticed engines approaching, though the forest certainly offered enough cover to hide someone’s approach.

“We should go. I have a bad feeling about this,” Skyfire said.

Starscream made a face but nodded. He had little enough time with Skyfire, but the risks of discovery were too high. He trusted the Shuttle’s judgement too. As he was turning to leave, he heard something moving in the brush.

“Well, lookie what we have here,” an unfamiliar voice drawled. “You didn’t even wait a centiorn before betraying us to the Autobots.”  

Starscream jumped and spun around. Skyfire stepped in front of him, shielding Starscream with his bulk, but Starscream could see past him to the two mecha emerging from the forest.

The speaker was a purple Seeker flanked by another blue one. Starscream hadn’t even heard them arrive. Purple’s disgusted gaze, which had been focused on Skyfire, slid over to Starscream in vague disinterest.  

And Starscream’s spark lurched.  

...

Chapter Text

-<SF>-  

Skyfire’s processer was blank with panic.  

Thundercracker and Skywarp were here. Had followed him. They’d seen Starscream, seen them together, and they thought-  

Primus.

He shifted, trying to shield Starscream with his frame. Skywarp’s gaze flickered over to the other Seeker. Then he stiffened. His anger morphed into surprise, mouth falling open into a soft ‘o,’ and one hand leapt over his spark. Beside him, Thundercracker whispered a quiet, almost reverent oath.  

Confused, Skyfire glanced down at his partner. Starscream was staring back at the Seekers with something that might have been panic in his optics and one hand trembling above his spark. Thundercracker took a hesitant step forward, and Starscream stumbled backwards.  

“Oh, slag no!” he shouted. His thrusters burst to life, and he took off, flying away at top speed.  

“Wait!” Skywarp shouted after him. Then, cursing under his breath, he shifted his weight as if preparing to take off in pursuit. Thundercracker’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, though it seemed to cost him an enormous amount of effort.  

“Don’t chase him,” Thundercracker said. “He felt the Pull too. You saw that.”  

Skyfire was completely lost. Yet- Starscream was gone—safe—and the two Seekers, for whatever reason, seemed to have lost their anger.

Skyfire took a cautious step backwards, debating whether he could successfully get out of range before the two Seekers regained their sanity. Thundercracker caught the movement, and Skyfire suddenly had two blasters pointed squarely at his chest.  

“Who was that?” Thundercracker barked. “How do you know him?”  

Skyfire just shook his head. Whatever they wanted from his sparkmate, he wouldn’t let them have it. “Leave him alone,” he said. “He’s got nothing to do with-”  

Something hit Skyfire’s arm, and a shock of numbness deadened the limb. He stumbled, balance shot, and clutched at the now-useless metal. Smoke rose from Skywarp’s blaster. The Seeker had shot him. It had been set to stun, at least. 

Thundercracker glared at his Trinemate in disapproval. “Calm down,” he hissed. “We don’t know if-”  

Skywarp snarled right back at him. “Like slag I’m gonna calm down! He’s trying to keep our Trinemate from us!”  

He kept talking, but Skyfire didn’t hear him. His processer was stuck on that one word: Trinemate. Skywarp and Thundercracker kept arguing, though the words were nothing more than a background noise. They fell silent when Skyfire started to speak.  

“Wait, Trine?” he finally said. “You two are Starscream’s--”  

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Seeker sparks were wired differently than other mecha, and they always came in threes. They were sparked that way, lived that way, usually died that way. Starscream was an exception. He’d been alone for as long as Skyfire had known him, and Skyfire had never pried about the reason. Now, it seemed to have caught up to them.

"Who is he?" Thundercracker demanded. "Where's he been all this time?"

"He's my sparkmate," Skyfire said, honest in his surprise. "We crashed in the same storm."

A sharp intake of breath. Skyfire glanced over to where Skywarp had lowered his rifle. "Sparkmates?" he repeated. "You mean-"

Thundercracker put a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. He was still looking at Skyfire. "You've been meeting with him?"

"Yes."

"Tell us about him."

It wasn't a question. A large part of Skyfire wanted to nod along: the part that remembered 'commanding officer' and the blasters that had been pointed at him a few kliks before. A bigger part rejected the impulse.

"Starscream values his privacy. I won't betray his trust."

Skywarp's blaster jerked upward, as if he were fighting the urge to point it at Skyfire again. Again, Thundercracker stopped him.

“Later. Let’s get back to the ship first,” Thundercracker said.

They flanked him, and Skyfire obeyed the unspoken command to take to the air. He didn’t resist as they guided him back towards the ship. If they were really Starscream’s Trine, he doubted they’d hurt him and risk alienating Starscream. Besides, where else could he go?

...

AN: so, I have some very elaborate headcanons about Seekers and Trines that I’ll be bringing into this story. Mostly about spark resonance and pre-determined Trines and all that jazz, where trinebonds are in their own category somewhere between normal spark bonds and twin bonds.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Curled up in the deepest corner of his quarters, Starscream clutched at his chest. His spark pulsed unevenly, aching fiercely as it reached for its Matches. Starscream ignored the pain.  

He was Trineless. Alone. He didn’t have Trinemates, had never felt the Pull or his spark’s matches, and he-  

Pain pulsed through his chest as his spark twisted, betraying the lie.  

He'd only seen them for a moment, but his spark was already protesting the distance. The pain would stop eventually, after enough time passed or he completed the Trinebond. Starscream hated it. It was like his spark itself was betraying him, trying to pull him back to the two strangers that were-- that he--

He couldn't even think the words.

Someone knocked on the door. “Starscream?” A muffled voice called. “You in there?” It was Sideswipe.  

“Go away!” Starscream shrieked, loud enough to hurt his own audios. The panic in his voice surprised even him.  

A beat of silence. Then the voice returned, now tinged with its own note of alarm. “Hey, you alright? Did something happen?”  

“I said go!” Starscream shouted back. “Just-” his vocalizer failed him, cutting off in a screech of static. Something scrapped along the door; the handle rattled.  

“I’m coming in,” Sideswipe said. The noise at the door increased; he was hacking the lock.  

Starscream forced his vocalizer back online, ignoring the flash of pain and the added hoarseness of uncooperative parts. “You glitching piece of scrap, didn’t you hear what I-”  

The lock gave way, and the door slid open, leaking bright light into the dark room. The unexpected change stung his optics, blinding him for a klik. Long enough for Sideswipe to step inside. “Look,” he started, “I know you don’t-”  

Starscream attacked him.  

He got one good, solid punch in before Sideswipe reacted. Then he recovered and struck back, and for one glorious breem it was perfect. Just tangled limbs and attacks and blocks, no room for thoughts in his processer or fear in his spark. Just fury and pain and the fight.  

Then a hand tightened around Starscream’s arm and his legs were swept out from under him, and Starscream found himself on the ground, pinned under Sideswipe’s bulk. He struggled, cursing vividly. His frame complained, aching fiercely from new dents and overheated circuitry. Energon dripped onto his wing from where his claws had torn into Sideswipe’s plating. Sideswipe didn’t let go.  

“So,” Sideswipe said conversationally, as if he wasn’t bleeding. “Mind telling me what brought that on?”  

“Slag off.”

Sideswipe tisked. “I’ve got all orn, mech. And I’m not leaving ‘till I hear what’s got you so freaked out.”  

A sound that might have been a sob escaped his vocalizer. He struggled in earnest, desperate to break free, but Sideswipe’s hands were like shackles, his weight immovable. Starscream got nowhere and eventually, exhausted, he fell limp. Sideswipe said nothing. Breems passed.  

The words slipped out of Starscream before he realized he said them. Barely louder than a whisper, he said, “I found my Trine.”  

Spoken aloud, the words sounded final. Real, in a way they weren’t supposed to be.  

Sideswipe’s grip loosened in surprise, there and gone before Starscream could take advantage of the opening. “You’re Trine?” he blurted out. “They survived? I thought-”  

“I didn’t have a Trine before the ice! I never-” He cut himself off, unsure what he was going to say. Never found them. Never wanted them.  

(But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Back before the labs and Skyfire, he had. He'd hoped and he'd searched, and then he'd given up)  

“So you found them,” Sideswipe said. A moment later, he stiffened. “There’s only one incomplete Trine on Earth,” he said slowly. “The Lead Trine. Thundercracker and Skywarp.”  

Starscream said nothing.  

Sideswipe let out a slow breath that might have been a curse. “Well, slag. Sucks.”  

He stood, releasing Starscream. He reached a hand down to help him up. Starscream ignored him and stood on his own, glaring at the Frontliner.  

“Sunny and I were gonna head down to see Bluestreak,” he said casually, as if he didn’t notice Starscream’s furious optics on him. “He had some sorta local vidfile he wanted to show us. You’re coming too.”  

Slinging one arm around Starscream’s shoulder, he steered him towards the door. Starscream balked.

“What if I don’t want to waste time on whatever scrapheap Bluestreak stumbled across?” he said. He tried to squirm out of Sideswipe’s hold, but his grip was unexpectedly strong.  

“Then I guess I’ll grab them instead and we’ll all try squeezing into your quarters. I’m not gonna leave you alone to sulk again.”  

“I wasn’t sulking!” Starscream squawked. Sideswipe just grinned at him and steered him out the door.

Sunny was waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall like he’d been there for a while. He silently fell into step beside Starscream’s other shoulder. Neither of them said anything else about what had happened—Starscream would have slagged him if he did—but…  

It helped.  

Chapter Text

-<SF>-  

The quarters for the Command Trine were far nicer than the ones Skyfire had been allotted. They were strictly functional, as was everything in the ship, but there were a few personal touches. Knick-knacks and image cubes and the occasional spill of fabric and junk across the floor. Skywarp's, he presumed. Two closed doors branched away from the main room. Skyfire only gave the room a cursory glance before sitting down at the small table. He tried not to feel trapped as the door closed and the two Seekers joined him. 

"Talk," Thundercracker ordered. His voice was tight, almost emotional. Beside him, Skywarp kept twitching.

"What do you want me to say?" Skyfire asked. "He's an Autobot, and he has no interest in changing sides. I won't betray his trust."

"We spent our entire life thinking that our Third was either dead or had never existed at all. We finally found him, and he ran away from us." Thundercracker's voice shook, and he took a moment to compose himself. "Just... tell us why. Please."

Skyfire hesitated. Starscream was a private mech, but there were limits. This was his Trine. Skyfire wasn’t a Seeker. He couldn’t fully understand the connection, but he knew how important it was. It was a matter of sparks. Surely he could tell them something, even if it was only the basics.

“We were from Iacon," Skyfire said, glancing away. "Starscream was raised there, though he doesn't talk about it much. It wasn't until after he started at the Academy that he had enough funds to visit Vos at all, and that... didn't go well."

He hadn't known Starscream well, not back then. They hadn't even been partners yet. Just two scientists and among the few flyers in the institution. Even then, he'd remembered how Starscream had looked after his leave. Drawn and tired and even more temperamental than normal.

"The Academy?" Skywarp asked. "He was a scientist?"

Skyfire nodded. "We were both explorers. Star specialized in the mechanics of energon production and design." He smiled. "He wasn't much of a xenobiologist. Didn't have the patience or the inclination for it."

That had always been Skyfire’s job, though it was more hobby than anything. Cybertron never had much interest in organics, and there was more than enough work in refining energon. Skywarp and Thundercracker drank in the information, but they had more pressing questions.

"Why did he run?"

Skyfire shook his head. He knew enough about Starscream to guess, but it was all deeply personal. Too much to discuss with strangers, no matter their connection.

"You'll have to ask him yourself," he said. “Just… give him time to adjust. He hates being cornered or losing control.”

They pushed for more, asking more detailed question about Starscream’s personality and past. Skywarp even tried his hand at a few threats, but Skyfire shook his head and refused to answer. He’d said enough. They could learn the rest from Starscream directly, when and if he chose to share it.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream hated quiet days. Peace was boring. It meant nothing was happening and nobody was doing anything interesting. Peace meant he had to be alone with his thoughts, and Starscream wasn’t about to go down that path. Not now, not anytime soon.

Starscream wasn’t nearly desperate enough to call someone to keep him ‘company,’ but he had an entire ship to wander around and a lab to visit. Wheeljack was practically a guarantee of an interesting time, especially if Starscream could catch him working on a new experiment.

Halfway to the labs, Starscream was distracted by the sound of a quiet argument. He was about to walk right past them when he recognized one of the voices.

“Bluestreak?”

It was indeed the Sniper. Bluestreak was arguing with a green mech that Starscream vaguely recognized. Starscream mostly remembered Hound as the weirdo who was somehow Cliffjumper’s friend, but he’d seen him and Bluestreak sitting together on occasion. Sideswipe was next to him.

“What’s going on?” Starscream asked, looking Bluestreak over. It had sounded like an argument, not a proper fight. You could never be too careful though, especially when it came to one of Cliffjumper’s allies. He wouldn’t put it past that aft to get violent or involve more mecha in their spat.

Bluestreak looked fine though, if a bit stressed, Starscream spared a more thorough glance towards Hound, and he balked.

“The slag did you do to your arm?”

Hound laughed and shifted, as if the small movement could cover up the sparking cut in his arm. It didn’t look deep or particularly dangerous, but it was certainly painful. Especially the sparking; that meant a sensor node was damaged, and those always felt the worst.  

“It’s nothing serious. I had a training accident, that’s all,” Hound said. “I was careless and reopened some damage from the fight. Self-repair will handle it by tomorrow.”

Starscream looked between Hound’s earnest expression—he didn’t look like he was in pain at all, what the slag?—and the damage to his arm.

“You should get that looked at. Just because self-repair can handle something without worrying ‘bout going critical, doesn’t mean it should! Something could still rupture or reconnect wrong, and then you’ll be in a slagload more trouble.”

He’d seen it happen before. Some mecha were stupid about visiting a medic, and they let damage fester until it became a huge problem. Patching a torn sensory line was easy, but once abnormal connections developed it became a nightmare to reconnect everything properly.

“Ratchet will still be busy after the fight; he won’t have time for minor injuries like this for at least another solar cycle, and by then it won’t be worth bothering him.”

Starscream glared at him but couldn’t argue with his logic. He rounded on the entire group instead. “You guys are all soldiers, right? You can’t tell me you know nothing about First Aid. Aside from the sensor node, it’s literally just welding a few straight lines.”

Basic welding was the first thing he’d learned during his First Aid certification. He’d been required to earn the lowest medical certification as an explorer. It would be near suicidal to send out soldiers, especially frontliners, who had no idea how to stop a mech from bleeding out.

“Oh, I know this one!” Sideswipe said. “It’s ‘cause none of us are Ratchet-certified,”

 “Ratchet-certified?”

Sideswipe nodded. “Ratchet doesn’t trust people not to screw up repairs and make more work for him. For good reason too; there was this one time with a modified flamethrower… but yeah. Nobody’s allowed to play at being a medic outside an emergency unless you get his approval first.”

Starscream looked at Sideswipe and considered the damage he could do to a mech’s internals with a modified flamethrower. “Ratchet’s a smart mech,” he said.

He glanced at Hound’s arm, which was still sparking fitfully and cursed. If none of the others were qualified to help, then he was the only mech there able to fix the damage. Slaggit. He couldn’t deny it was a good distraction, but he’d been hoping to avoid being sucked into doing medical work.

“Sit down and shut up,” Starscream said.

Hound immediately sat, and Starscream joined him, grumbling the entire time. The cuts were as easy to fix as he’d expected; he sealed those up within a breem. The damaged sensory line was more annoying but, with a bit more effort, he managed to get the worst of it realigned. It stopped sparking at least, so Starscream was calling it a win.

Hound carefully tested his arm then smiled at him. “Thanks, Starscream! That’s much better.”

“Of course it is. I don’t do bad work.”

Starscream stood and left, ignoring the others as they said goodbye. He didn’t bother continuing to the labs; he had a new goal in mind.

…

Ratchet was exactly where Starscream expected him to be: in the med-bay, working on a patient. Starscream spared him a glance, but he wasn’t in critical condition. It looked like Ratchet was cleaning up some shrapnel under the armor. Tedious, time-consuming, and almost impossible to screw up.

“Oi! I’ve got a question for you.”

Ratchet eased another shard of metal free from a few gears. “No. I’m busy.”

“Too bad.”

Starscream knew better than to invade another mech’s workspace—unless the mech deserved it, of course—so he stayed a few steps away from Ratchet. That didn’t stop him from walking right up to the edge of Ratchet’s space.

“Your frontliners can’t do basic first aid,” Starscream said.

Ratchet glared at him, though his fingers didn’t stop moving.

“Is there a point to this, or are you just pointing out random facts to me?”

“Fine. Let me rephrase. Why the slag don’t your frontliners know how to repair basic damage?”

Sure, it took some practice, but it wasn’t hard. Almost anyone could learn if they put the time in. These were soldiers too; they needed that kind of knowledge. Starscream didn’t understand how they could go this long without learning.

Ratchet pulled another long shard of metal from under his patient’s armor.

“Do you know how long it takes to teach a mech to solder in a straight line? A mech who, by the way, has probably never held any finesse tool in his life?”

“A few cycles?”

“Try a dozen. Can you guess the number of medics that survived the first century of the war? It’s not high.”

“Still, you know how important it is for fighters to-”

Ratchet interrupted him. “Of course I know! But I’m the only fully trained medic on this entire slagging ship, and I’ve been overworked since the war started. I don’t have time to teach a dozen mecha the basics, and I sure as frag don’t have time to fix all their mistakes before they get good at it. Everyone gets a crash-course to stop each other from bleeding out on the field, and they stay out of it otherwise so they don’t slag each other worse.”

“There has to be something you can do!”

“There isn’t. We’ve tried. Unless you’re volunteering?”

Ratchet pulled one last speck of metal away and closed the panel. He turned fully towards Starscream

“Am I what?”

“Volunteering to teach them. Considering you’re so passionate about this and all. You’re not working on anything critical in the labs, so I’m sure you have the time for the project. I’ve seen you work; you’re no medic, but I’ll certify you to teach the basics.”

Starscream stared at him in shock. This wasn’t how he’d expected the conversation to go. Or any conversation, for the matter. There was a reason nobody had ever considered him for a teaching position, and that was because he was painfully unqualified for the responsibility. The popular consensus was that he’d sooner lose his patience and murder any students than actually educate them.

“That’s a terrible idea!”

“Then leave. I don’t have time for a pointless argument.”

Starscream gaped at him as Ratchet shooed his patient away and started cleaning his tools. His mouth moved silently as he tried to think of a good counterargument. Ratchet closed his kit and stood.

“Do you think you can’t handle it?”

“I can handle anything you slagger!” Starscream snapped back automatically. Then the words caught up to him and he froze. He didn’t take the words back though, not even when Ratchet’s smile turned disgustingly smug.

“I’ll let the ship know,” Ratchet said.

Starscream flipped the most vulgar gesture he knew at Ratchet’s back. It made him feel better as he turned around and stomped out of the med-bay.  

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire spent the next orn in a constant state of unease. He kept expecting Thundercracker or Skywarp to confront him again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Starscream. Wondering how he was doing. Whether he was alright. He doesn’t see the Seekers though, and Starscream doesn’t contact him. Skyfire tried to distract himself, but the thoughts were never far from his mind.

He had his shifts and enough responsibilities to fill his free time. The energon still, for one. Surprisingly, he still had a helper too. Most of the Stunticons lost interest, but Breakdown was still enthusiastic about helping with repairs. He was good at it too. He had no knowledge or experience, but he was eager and a quick learner.

The company was nice too. Skyfire had never considered hosting a student in Iacon—Starscream would have torn them to shreds in his impatience—but he enjoyed it. He wondered if Breakdown would show the same interest in other fields too, like repairing mecha instead of machines. Wildrider had showed promise too, if they could find projects that held his interest. Chemicals, perhaps?

A question for later.

Skyfire propped the still on its edge, carefully supporting the more fragile sections, as Breakdown wedged himself underneath. The environment-proof coating seemed largely intact, but it was worth checking for damage, especially with all the moisture and sand around.

“I see a crack! There’s some sand in it,” Breakdown said.

“Weld it closed then.”

Breakdown gasped in delight, and a moment later Skyfire heard the flicker of a welder. Skyfire smiled. Like most Younglings, Breakdown liked being useful, especially if it involved something like fire. Skyfire doubted the weld would be neat or pretty, but he had confidence Breakdown would manage something functional. If not, it was only a coating. An easy fix.

A pebble pinged off Skyfire’s arm, and he looked up to see Rumble hanging from a nearby tree. The Cassetticons insisted on being present whenever someone worked on the still, though they were inevitably bored. Skyfire tilted his head and waited for whatever comment or question had piqued his interest. Some of his questions were surprisingly insightful. Others not so much.

“So, if we ran energon through the still a second time, could we make it twice as pure?” Rumble asked.

Skyfire spared a moment to fix Rumble with an unimpressed look.

“No. The still is deigned to purify solar energy to a specific percentage. Sticking energon back inside would clog the machinery and ruin all the work we’ve accomplished.”

“Shame.”

Rumble dropped from the tree branch he’d been perched on, landing heavily on the sand. The resulting cloud was thick enough that, for a moment, Skyfire thought he’d been entirely buried. As the cloud cleared, Rumble emerged, stuck up to his thighs in the sand. He pulled his legs free as gracefully as possible, which wasn’t much. Skyfire valiantly repressed his laughter.

“The design will give you 90% purity and twice concentrated energon, which is solidly high grade. Isn’t that enough?”

The texture wouldn’t be perfect and it was nothing fancy, but you could hardly ask for more from a secret still in the middle of nowhere.

“C’mon, where’s your imagination? Everything can be improved! You just gotta try out different stuff ‘till you find something that works!”

“Just run these ideas past me first, alright? Otherwise we’re more likely to end up with a useless machine instead of improved energon.”

All things considered, Skyfire would rather avoid seeing all his work go to waste. Breakdown finished his welding and popped back up, crowing in satisfaction. Skyfire smiled and set the still down. He gave it one more, detailed inspection, replaced a mildly worn wire, and stood.

“I think it’s ready for a test run. Do you want to do the honors?”

Rumble grinned and hit the button before Skyfire finished speaking. A faint whir began as the still activated. Skyfire listened carefully, but he didn’t hear any glaring problems or malfunctions. A minute later, they were rewarded with a thin trickle of energon. Skyfire waited until there was enough for a mouthful before pulling it free, avoiding Rumble’s grabbing hands.

He has several sensors built into his fingers, and Skyfire carefully tipped a few drops onto them. The analysis came back clean. There were no contaminants, no dangerous molecules, and it was a respectable level of purity. Considering what he had to work with, Skyfire’s pretty darn proud of the outcome.

“The texture is off—we might want to add another filter—but it’s drinkable. Congratulations, you have a working energon still.”

He held the cube out, and Rumble snatched it from his hand. He took a drink and grinned.

“Hell yeah, I’m going to bribe so many people with this!”

Skyfire hid a laugh and let Rumble have his moment. Considering the quality of energon at the base and distinct lack of high grade, Skyfire was willing to bet he was right. He left Rumble to his celebration and went to hunt down the rest of the Stunticons, who were off exploring the forest. Hopefully they hadn’t caused too much destruction unsupervised, but Skyfire doubted it.

AN: Thanks to everyone who is still reading and left a comment! Sometimes I forget that people are still waiting for new chapters, and I’m blown away by how many people still care. I finally finished my outline for the ending (which had been stumping me), but I also have my first Boards exam coming up in March. Sooner or later though, this story will get an ending!

Chapter Text

->SS<-

When Starscream hoped for a distraction, a Decepticon raid wasn’t what he had in mind. The call came out regardless. The Decepticons were acting up, and the nearby Organics demanded help. The Autobots quickly gathered outside the Ark, and Starscream found himself lingering on the ground. The Seekerlings were already in the air; Starscream was supposed to be with them. And he would be! Soon! Just then, though, the idea of taking to the skies was extremely unappealing.  

Those... Seekers would probably be part of the raid. The ones who'd found him and Skyfire, who'd made his spark-  

Starscream shuddered. He needed to deal with them sometime. Needed to be in the sky with the Aerialbots, making sure they didn't do anything stupid. He didn’t have time to be weak.

Two hands landed on his shoulders. Starscream almost ripped them off before realizing it was just the Twins.  

"Everything alright over here?" Sideswipe asked. "You need anything?"  

Starscream shook him off. "I'm fine," he said. "I've done this before. Nothing's changed."  

Sideswipe didn't look convinced. Pit, Starscream couldn’t even convince himself. Sideswipe looked like he was about to say something else—something sappy, maybe, or something insulting like he should sit the battle out. Not happening. The threat of dealing with Sideswipe's emotions was enough to finally convince his thrusters to activate, and Starscream took to the skies.  

He'd be fine. Really.  

…

The raid was a normal one. The target was some weird, primitive organic settlement with an unrefined energy source, and Decepticons swarmed over it like scavengers. It barely took a breem before Starscream saw Thundercracker soaring across the sky with Skywarp on his wing. Starscream's spark ached; he ignored it.  

The Aerialbots surrounded him, and the Twins hovered underneath instead of jumping forward like they usually did. He was fine. This raid wouldn’t be any different than the ones before.  

Frag, why couldn't he believe that? It would make life so much easier.  

He tried to focus on the battle instead, which was getting heated. The Prime had found Megatron, and they were duking it out in one of the courtyards. The ‘Cons hastily stuffed energon in their subspace, but the Autobots reached them quickly enough.

Normally, keeping track of five Younglings was enough to keep Starscream occupied. After all, they could barely go five kliks without Slingshot doing something stupid or Fireflight getting sidetracked and forgetting about proper formations. This time, it wasn't enough. Starscream kept getting distracted by flashes of blue and purple across the battlefield.  

At least they were staying far away though. At least-  

Something popped in the air behind him: the sound of displaced air. Starscream's spark lurched, and he spun around.  

It was Skywarp. Of fragging course it was. He was in root mode, hovering with his hands upraised. Starscream stuttered backwards.  

"I just wanna talk. Please," Skywarp said. He tried to move closer. Starscream flinched away, and Skywarp stopped.  

"Look, it's nothing bad, I promise," he tried again. "You're our Trinemate. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."  

Starscream winced. "Don't say that."  

"What?"  

"That... Trine thing, It's- I'm not-"  

He didn't have a Trine. He had a Skyfire instead. It had served him just fine for a millennia, and he wasn’t ready to muck it all up because his Spark gave an unwanted twist. He didn't need a Trine, and he didn't want one, and he- he didn't know what to do with one!  

Skywarp flew closer, just barely, as if he was trying not to spook Starscream. Starscream would have been insulted at the delicate treatment if he hadn't been too busy freaking out.  

"I know this is complicated, alright? I don't-" Skywarp stuttered, laughed. "Frag, I don't know what I'm doing either. Just... please, can we talk? Somewhere without fighting going on?"  

Starscream stared at him, at a complete loss for words. Skywarp flew another step closer. Then they both heard the unmistakable sound of jetpacks.  

Skywarp blanched and turned just in time to get a face full of Grounder. Sideswipe whooped out a war cry and held on as Skywarp struggled.  

"Get off, get off, get off!" Skywarp shouted. He rapidly lost altitude as Sideswipe clung to him, leaving Starscream alone in the sky. Not for long though. A klik later, Silverbolt came up on his left and transformed next to him.  

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Skywarp didn't do anything, did he?"  

"No, I'm fine," Starscream said, attention still locked on the wrestling pair below them. With a flash of purple, Skywarp teleported away. He reappeared further down the battlefield and finally shook a disoriented Sideswipe off his back.  

Starscream swore the other Seeker looked back at him before flying back to his Trinemate and the rest of the Decepticons. Sideswipe wobbled a bit as he reactivated his jetpack before descending back to the ground.  

Starscream kept staring at Skywarp and Thundercracker until the battle ended and they disappeared with the others.  

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire greatly preferred being a medic to the few times he’d been forced onto the battlefield. He was useful, for one, and there was significantly less danger. He worried, though. The younglings were out there. Starscream. Down here, Skyfire was cut off from any information. If something went wrong, he wouldn’t know until long afterwards.

Normally, his worry was a lowkey buzz. Unpleasant but ignorable. This week, he kept getting distracted. He still hadn’t heard from Starscream. Skywarp and Thundercracker were up there too. He couldn’t predict what would happen, and Skyfire didn’t like it.

The raiding party trickled back eventually, and Skyfire got to work. Skywarp and Thundercracker still didn’t show up, which left the Second Trine, the Coneheads, to direct him. They didn’t say much, just pointed him at whatever Seeker required his attention next. Skyfire didn’t pay his patients much mind until a familiar name caught his attention.

“-Skywarp. It was weird, right? And with that Autobot Seeker too.”

Skyfire almost dropped his microwelder. “What about the Autobot Seeker?” he asked.

The Seekers froze, staring at him with wide optics. “What?”

“The Autobot Seeker. Did something happen to him? Is he alright?”

Skyfire knew he was being too loud, too involved. He should be pretending not to care. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to act unaffected, not when Starscream might have been in danger.

“He’s fine. Skywarp took some kinda interest in him during the battle, at least until one of the Terror Twins chased him away. What’s it matter to you?”

Skyfire muttered some sort of excuse; later, he wouldn’t even remember what it was. He finished the mecha he was treating. Then he packed up his kit and went looking for Skywarp.

He could guess what had happened. Skywarp had taken advantage of the battle to corner Starscream. Starscream wouldn’t have willingly stayed to talk, not so soon after finding out and the severity of his first reaction.

He found Skywarp and Thundercracker having an argument in a side hallway. They fell silent as Skyfire approached.

“What did you do?” Skyfire demanded.

Skywarp groaned. “Oh, frag off. I’m not-”

“I’m here as Starscream’s sparkmate. Not your subordinate,” Skyfire interrupted. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Skyfire loomed over the Seeker, and for once he didn’t make himself seem smaller and unassuming. He was angry. Furious, even. He could make a good guess at what the Seeker had tried. The only question was how much damage they’d caused instead.

Skywarp flinched backwards, surprised, before steadying himself.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to the guy! It’s not like we have any other way to contact him.”

“In public? During a battle?”

Skywarp bared his teeth and flared his wings, ready to shout—or maybe attack—before Thundercracker put his hand on his shoulder and answering Skyfire’s question.

“Starscream was along the edges of the battlefield. Skywarp teleported closer to him and tried to talk, but Sideswipe interfered before anything else happened.”

The hard knot of anger in Skyfire’s chest unclenched. That was better than he’d feared. It wasn’t good by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn’t sound like an unmitigated disaster either.

“Just leave him alone,” Skyfire said.

Skywarp scoffed. “So you want us to ignore this.”

“Yes.”

“Ignore how we finally found our Third after millennia of searching. We thought he was dead.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. Just that it would be best.”

Skywarp snorted, unconvinced. “Yeah, I’m sure you’d just love that. We stay out of the way, and you get to keep on like nothing changed.”

There was an odd, dark in Skywarp’s voice, and it took Skyfire a moment to recognize it as jealously. Skywarp was jealous of Skyfire’s relationship with Starscream. Skyfire took a deep breath and felt his anger rekindle.

“I’m trying to help you, slaggit!” Skyfire shouted. “You’ve been missing your Third, but Starscream’s been Trineless his entire life. Don’t chase him away before he gets used to the idea that you exist. If Star decides to reject you and all this, it’ll take a millennium to even think about changing his mind!”

His voice echoed in the corridor, and Skyfire inwardly winced. It made Skywarp hesitate, at least. He wasn’t exaggerating about forgiveness taking a millennium either. Starscream was stubborn like that, especially when it came to people or emotions. Skyfire normally didn’t bother warning people away from their own stupidity, but this would hurt Starscream too. He had to try.

 “I want him to be happy,” Skyfire said. “I think having a Trine could be good for him, but it’s not my decision to make. Just… don’t rush him, alright? He’ll need time to sort out his emotions. I courted him for a vorn before he started to trust me, and that was without the complications from the Draw or a war.”

There was a reason all Seekers were born to a Trine, even if they didn’t always find each other. Seeker sparks were different, and the Trinebonds were more like the bond between Twins than a normal sparkbond. Skyfire knew it had hurt Starscream to be without one. Yet, Skyfire didn’t say, Starscream didn’t need them. He’d been perfectly happy without them, and he could be again.

Skywarp was still glaring at him—though slightly less aggressively—but Thundercracker, at least, seemed thoughtful. Hopefully Thundercracker could hold his more impulsive Trinemate in check.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Thundercracker said.

Skyfire knew a dismissal when he heard one. He left. He’d said his piece; hopefully the Seekers would listen to it.

Chapter Text

-<SS>-

There were rumors.

Apparently, people noticed if one of the big players of a war did something strange. They got interested. Then they started asking questions and coming up with theories because apparently soldiers had nothing better to do with their slagging time than gossip.

They asked Starscream about the battle too. Well, one person did. After the ensuing verbal evisceration, nobody else dared to approach him. Not that it stopped them from talking. Starscream wasn’t sure which ones he hated more: the skeptics who thought he needed protection, or the romantics who thought some kind of seduction was happening.

At this point, Starscream didn’t even flinch when Sideswipe slid into the seat beside him and slung his arm across his shoulders. His Twin was right beside him, of course, and Bluestreak wasn’t far behind. Before he knew it, Starscream was in the middle of a full table. Thankfully nobody brought up the battle, but Starscream still wasn’t safe from the other set of rumors floating around.

“So, are the stories true? Has our aspiring medic started teaching?”

Starscream glared at him, disgusted beyond words. “I am a certified Explorer and Scientist. I’m not an aspiring anything.”

“Oh? Then how did our little scientist become the first Ratchet-certified teacher ever?”

“Mistakes and coercion,” Starscream muttered.

He was tempted to say he regretted every step and speck of medical knowledge that had led him to being strong-armed into teaching. Unfortunately, that was a lie. That knowledge had saved Skyfire’s life before, and this unpleasant project of Ratchet’s could save more, assuming Starscream could browbeat some knowledge into the Autobots’ heads.

“Have you set a time yet? I wanna be really, really sure it won’t conflict with my shift,” Bluestreak said.

 He stared at Starscream with enough sparkling enthusiasm that Starscream couldn’t get mad. Well, he probably could—it’s a skill—but it wouldn’t be worth the ensuing guilt.

“Not yet,” Starscream muttered.

“You should do that! A bunch of us are interested, and a couple people will inevitably have to rearrange their shift so they can come. Do you think Prowl will help? He’s good with scheduling, and I bet he’ll agree that lessons are super important!”

Starscream inwardly cringed but muttered something that might, possibly be interpreted as agreement. So, of course, that’s what Bluestreak did.

“Great! Maybe you can hold the first one tomorrow? Early evening would be best; that’s when the most people are free. Hound and Bee will definitely come. Oh, I should let them know so they don’t make other plans! I’m sure they’ll be all excited about it.”

Starscream squinted at Bluestreak and tried to decide if he was doing this on purpose. Was he being intentionally manipulated? If so, it was more effective than anything the mecha back in Iacon had ever tried. Starscream could fight to regain control of the situation and conversation. He’d win too, but Bluestreak would make him feel guilty about said victory. It was the strangest feeling.

Bluestreak flounced away to spread the word, and Starscream let him go. Well, frag. Apparently he had a solar cycle to organize this slag. At least it would be a good distraction.

…

Against all expectations, it wasn’t a disaster.

More people arrived than he’d expected. It felt like half the ship packed into the rec-room, though maybe that was Starscream’s dislike of crowds talking. Bluestreak and the Twins somehow arranged all the logistics and material, so Starscream just had to show up. Considering Bluestreak personally escorted Starscream from his room to the meeting, Starscream didn’t have the chance to avoid it altogether. He still wasn’t sure if the mech was being friendly or conspiring to keep him from running off.

It was… alright. They practiced welding straight lines on scrap metal. Nobody injured themselves or did anything monumentally stupid, though a few ill-considered competitions broke out. Starscream left them to their stupidity, and the resulting burns were too minor to need treatment.

The Aerialbots came. Air Raid slouched in boredom and Fireflight nearly vibrated off his chair, but all five of them were there. Silverbolt and Skydive even managed some passible welding, though Starscream would rather risk leaking out than letting the other three anywhere near him with open flame 

When it was over, Starscream somehow found himself agreeing to host another session in an orn.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire missed the view from their place in Iacon. As flightframes, he and Starscream had one of the upper floors, and their windows had overlooked much of the city. Iacon had always been beautiful from above. Earth was different. Skyfire enjoyed its alien curves and sounds and colors, and the xenobiologist inside him was endlessly enthusiastic. Earth was interesting in its own way, but it wasn’t Cybertron. It wasn’t home.

Skyfire sat by the shoreline, watching waves beat against the sand and trying to appreciate its beauty. He’d been away from Cybertron for longer, discounting his time in stasis. Before, though, Cybertron and the Academy had always been waiting for them, and only their mission had kept them away.

Now, he had no way back, and the Cybertron that remained was unrecognizable.

Skyfire tried not to think about it. There was nothing he could do, nothing to be fixed, and denial was an easy, if limited, solution.

Lost in thought, Skyfire was surprised when somebody tapped his knee. He looked down to see Rumble. The Cassetticon held a grossly oversized cube of high-grade in his direction.

“You look like you reeeeeaally need a drink,” he said. “Don’t go expecting freebies all the time though! I’ll give ya a discount for what you did with the machine, but I’m gonna make a business outta this!”

Skyfire forced a smile as he accepted the cube. He expected Rumble to leave, but he sat beside Skyfire instead, grimacing as the sand settled around him. He rambled on a while about his plans for the still and the customers he was already collecting, and Skyfire didn’t have to say a word. Eventually, though, Rumble fell silent again, and Skyfire was left with his own, unpleasant thoughts for company. Almost unexpectedly, Skyfire found himself speaking.

“Why is anyone still fighting?”

Rumble got an uneasy look on his face. He glanced around, though they were the only ones on the island. “Oi, careful. That kinda talk’s heading towards treasonous.”

“I’m not planning anything. I just…” Skyfire sighed, looking down at his half-empty cube. “I don’t understand. With Cybertron as it is, all the original problems are irrelevant. All the societal forces and institutions were dismantled. So what’s the point?”

“What else we gonna do? Surrender? I dunno ‘bout you, but I’d like to avoid getting executed for whatever war crimes the ‘bots decide to slap us with.”

Rumble said it like executions were a given. As if the only two options were victory or death. Skyfire wanted to argue with him—to talk about negotiations or the vastness of inhabitable space or, Primus, any option that didn’t involve whittling down their race further. Except he wasn’t a politician, and he still knew only the barest facts about the progression of the war. Rumble still seemed uneasy too, and Skyfire didn’t want to push him too far.

“Why did you join the Decepticons?” he asked instead.

Rumble snorted. “Dude, have you paid any attention at all? I’m a Cassetticon, and most a my brothers are beastformers. We were barely a step above Disposables. If Soundwave wasn’t as strong as he was, we’d have starved in the first energon shortages. ‘Course we joined Megatron.”

Skyfire looked away, caught off guard by his frankness. As a flightframe, living in Iacon hadn’t been easy. They’d been valuable, though. Energon research was profitable, and it had shielded them from the worst sides of society. Especially off-planet, it had been too easy to forget just how bad some parts of Cybertron were.

“I’m honestly not sure which side we’d have joined if we hadn’t crashed,” Skyfire said, unsure if it was meant as an explanation or apology.

“You’d probably be dead.”

Skyfire froze with his cube in the air. Rumble shrugged

“One in a hundred thousand. Sorry, mate, the odds really weren’t in your favor. Just be glad you’re online now.”

“Pragmatic,” Skyfire muttered and hid his discomfort by taking another drink from his cube

Rumble grinned, finished his cube, and stood. “Speaking of pragmatism, I got something for you to do. Frenzy finally finagled a good spot in the ship for the still, and we need someone to carry it over. Think of it as a favor, yeah?”

Skyfire negotiated a couple free cubes as payment, mostly to avoid any future mess with favors. These power dynamics were another aspect of the Decepticons Skyfire disliked, but he was adapting.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

His lab had been destroyed.

Starscream stood frozen on the threshold. Papers and parts were strewn across the floor. His workbench was cracked clear down the middle, and he couldn’t see his tools anywhere. Starscream numbly walked forward and picked one of the datapads off the floor. The edge was dented, but it flickered to life at his touch. With his desk destroyed, he didn’t have anyplace to put it, so he set it down on the nearest flat surface without bothering to check where.

Starscream waited for the anger to come. He’d been the subject of worse surprises in Iacon, and it had never failed to spark his temper. He was an expert at turning his anger into a weapon and making Grounders regret ever daring to make an enemy of him.

Except, it didn’t come. He just felt tired.

Metal creaked behind him. He’d forgotten he hadn’t been alone. The Twins had been poking him about another movie night and brought Bluestreak along to convince him.

“Are you alright?” Bluestreak asked, putting a hand on Starscream’s shoulder. “Whoever did this-”

“Cliffjumper,” Starscream said. “Who else?”

He couldn’t tear his optics away from the mess. The lab was his place to get away. His escape from people and drama and the confusion that had taken over his life ever since- since the mess with those Seekers.

“We’ll help you clean up and figure this out. This is going too far.”

Starscream just shook his head. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said.

So he didn’t. He turned around and walked right back out the door. Slag the mess and slag that petty little aft. Let Wheeljack deal with the broken metal and scattered work; Starscream didn’t have the energy to handle the minibot’s blundering attempt at revenge. On the list of Starscream’s current problems, Cliffjumper didn’t even merit a mention.

Footsteps followed him. Starscream grit his teeth and ignored it until Sideswipe fell into step beside him. A gentle hand touched his back; Starscream shook him off. Sideswipe didn’t try to touch him again, but he didn’t move away either.

“I’ll handle this. The lab, Cliff, all of it,” Sideswipe said. His voice lacked its usual mischief, let alone the glee that he’d shown every other time the promise of revenge had come up. “I don’t care if I have to call in Prowl. It won’t happen again.”

Starscream couldn’t muster up a proper reaction. Not relief at Cliffjumper getting properly punished or frustration at abandoning the prank war.

“Do what you want,” he said.

When he reached his quarters, he closed the door behind him and locked Sideswipe on the other side. He sank to the ground without bothering to find a chair.

One more thing. There was always one more slagging thing, and this time he didn’t even have his lab to lose himself in. Starscream took several deep breaths. Then he stood.

Slag this, he was going flying.

…

A few breems into his flight, Starscream realized he didn’t particularly want to be alone either. Returning to the Ark was repulsive, and Starscream pinged Skyfire before realizing that probably wasn’t a good idea either. He meant to take it back, but Skyfire sent back an agreement first. And… Starscream really did want to see him.

Skyfire had a way of making things seem manageable. Slaggit, Starscream just wanted to see his sparkmate again. He wouldn’t let himself be intimidated into staying away, not even because of them.

It took Skyfire some time to get away, and Starscream was grateful for the chance to force his unease into submission. He still hesitated over their normal meeting spot. Skyfire waited below, a blocky, shimmering chunk of white amid the earthly browns and greens. He was alone.

Starscream ran a half dozen scans, just to be sure, before convincing himself to touch down. Skyfire waited there, and when Starscream held out a hand, he pulled him into an easy embrace.

Starscream took a moment to just… stop. Relax. Tension seeped out of his shoulders as he leaned against Skyfire’s frame. He still had this. No matter what happened on the Ark or with his spark, he still had Skyfire to rely on.

“Are you alright?” Skyfire asked.

Starscream lifted his shoulders in a shrug and didn’t speak. Skyfire’s arms tightened.
“I spoke with Skywarp about the battle. I don’t think they’ll accost you like that again.”

Starscream shrugged again, unsure what he was feeling and too tired to figure it out. Skyfire seemed to be handling it. Realization stuck soon after, and with it came all that tension again. Skyfire had been talking to the Seekers. Skyfire had been with those Seekers since the moment they stumbled onto their meeting.

“I left you there,” he said slowly. “They’re your superior officers, and I left you there!”

He hadn’t even thought about it. Not while he was flying away or in the Ark or anytime since then. They’d been discovered. He’d left Skyfire behind to deal with the fallout alone. They could have turned him over to Megatron or killed him, and Starscream wouldn’t have even known!

“Are you alright? Did those slaggers do something to you?”

Skyfire twitched, and he looked down at him in surprise.

“They didn’t do anything,” Skyfire said, but he’d always been a bad liar.

“They did! I’ll destroy them.”

Underneath his anger, the knot of emotions worsened, and Starscream refused to name it as betrayal. He didn’t know these Seekers at all, and he wasn’t some Newspark to be led around by his spark. They were a danger to Skyfire, and they meant nothing to him.

“It was just a graze. Emotions ran high for a bit, but it’s settled now.”

Starscream tried to pull away, but Skyfire held him in place. He’d let go if Starscream kept pushing—he always did—but Starscream let himself be contained.

“Softspark,” he accused, still unsure what to feel.

“I mean it. I like them, when they’re not being impulsive. I think you should give it a chance.”

Starscream grimaced, and Skyfire laughed.

“Just think about it, alright? You don’t have to do anything now.”
Starscream glared at him. Skyfire had this annoying habit of making things Starscream didn’t want to do sound perfectly reasonable. Right now, he didn’t want anything to do with the other Seekers. He could… keep Skyfire’s suggestion in mind though. Just so the other mech stopped bothering him about it.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

A cycle later, as Skyfire watched his sparkmate’s frame disappear into the distant sky, he turned towards the foliage surrounding him.

“You can come out now,” he said, voice ringing across the clearing. “I know you’re there.”

And he waited.

Several kliks passed, but Skyfire didn’t move. Eventually, some branches at the edge of his vision started to shake, and the ground crunched as something heavy treaded closer. Two Seekers sheepishly emerged from the undergrowth.

“How did you know?” Skywarp asked, picking out a large branch that had gotten stuck in a vent. “We were shielded like crazy—you shouldn’t have been able to sense anything.”

“I’m the only connection you have to your Trinemate. Of course you were going to follow me,” he said. He’d done everything he could to avoid being followed, of course, but he knew where his skills stood compared to the Command Trine. He hadn’t stood a chance.

“Thank you for staying out of sight,” he said. “He needed it.”

Starscream had been unsettled. Skyfire hadn’t pressed for details, much as he’d wanted to. If the Seekers had revealed themselves, it would have gone poorly. Staying out of sight must’ve been difficult for them too, enough so to have earned Skyfire’s gratitude.

“Will you give us a proper introduction someday? One where we can actually talk to him?” Skywarp said.

“Once Starscream is comfortable with the idea.”

Which would likely take quite a while. A proper meeting was almost inevitable though; Starscream’s pride would win out eventually, and he’d stop running. It didn’t mean the meeting would go well, but it would happen, one way or another. Skywarp beamed, pleased, and started chattering about some plans he’d made. He was surprisingly pleasant company like this. Skyfire hadn’t had much reason to interact with Skywarp before this, and he found himself curious. How would Starscream react if he were here? How would he fit with these two?

As Skywarp filled the silence, Thundercracker held back. He stared out over the water where Starscream had disappeared, expression tight. Eventually, he turned to Skyfire.

“He can’t stay with the Autobots,” Thundercracker said.

“Starscream can make his own choices.”

The words came out with more bite than he’d intended, and Skyfire felt his pleasant mood trickle away. Trinemate or not, it wasn’t their place to make demands of Starscream. Thundercracker just shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s not safe.”

There was enough naked worry in his voice to give Skyfire pause. This didn’t sound like jealousy. Skyfire’s spark sank. It would’ve been easier if that was all it was. With a frustrated noise, Thundercracker started pacing across the sand.

“Have you forgotten we’re at war? Do you know what that means?” Thundercracker said. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Mecha will be shooting at him, and we can’t do a single slagging thing to help! We’re supposed to shoot at him! The Autobot’s Air Support is a joke. How long before something goes wrong? What’re we supposed to do when it does?”

His voice cracked, and he shut his mouth tight, holding back any more words. Skyfire stared at him with fear clawing at his chest. He’d been trying not to think about it. Denial was a powerful thing, and it was easy to think of Starscream as invincible in the sky. He doesn’t want the reminder that he’s not. That Starscream might be the best flyer he’s ever seen, but he could still be injured or worse.

Skywarp approached Thundercracker carefully. For a moment, it looked like Thundercracker would push him away, but he accepted the contact instead.

“We’ve only been on the planet a couple decaorns,” Skywarp said. “We’ve got at least a vorn to figure things out before the number crunchers figure out their tactic and slag gets serious. You’ve seen how well he flies; he’ll be fine until then, yeah?”

“We don’t know that!”

Thundercracker spun around fast enough to throw Skywarp’s hand off and stood there, breathing hard. A moment later, he stilled, embarrassed at the outburst. Skywarp let his arm fall back to his side, though his optics remained locked on his Trinemate.

“Did something happen?” Skywarp asked.

Thundercracker took a shuddering breath and scrubbed at his face. “It’s probably nothing.”

“You don’t get this worked up over ‘nothing.’ Talk to me.”

“Just… Megatron likes to rant during Command meetings. I doubt he remembers half the things he says; it doesn’t matter.”

“But?”

Thundercracker hesitated long enough for Skyfire to notice the interplay of emotions across his face. He felt strangely like he was intruding on a private moment. He barely knew these mecha. Certainly not well enough to have earned the sight of their vulnerability. This wasn’t just about them though; it involved Starscream too.

“Megatron mentioned Starscream. Not by name, but it was a point of pride that the Decepticons recruited nearly all flightframes. He was displeased about a new Autobot Seekers showing up, moreso than he’d been about the Aerialbots.”

Skywarp cursed.

“It doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Thundercracker shrugged. “Megatron rants about everything; he probably forgot about it as soon as he moved on to threatening the Prime again.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself too and not quite managing it.

Thundercracker turned back towards Skyfire, and this time Skyfire couldn’t muster up his former indignation at his words.

“He needs to join us. I’m one of the highest ranking Commanders in the entire army; I can protect him. No matter what.”

Skyfire swallowed hard, torn. He wants Starscream by his side again. He wants more than stolen meetings. Wants to keep Starscream from the fighting altogether, or at least know he had other, experienced warriors watching his flanks.

“He won’t do it,” Skyfire said quietly and knew it to be true. Starscream had already offered his loyalty and friendship to some of the Autobots. Starscream doesn’t trust easily, but, once given, he won’t betray it. Especially not for something like his own safety. He was too proud for that.

“You’re his sparkmate. He might listen to you.”

“It won’t-”

“Try.”

Skyfire dipped his head in acknowledgment. He could warn Starscream, at least. Tell him about the Seeker’s offer and make sure he knew to be careful. The flight back to the ship was quiet, all lost in their own thoughts.

Chapter Text

-->SS<--

Seeing Skyfire made everything more bearable. Not good, certainly not easy, but it let him stomach returning to the Ark. He successfully managed to keep avoiding his problems too. Cliffjumper seemed to have mysteriously vanished, and Starscream was thoroughly uninterested in learning where he was  or why. Bluestreak tried to prod him into “talking about his feelings” once or twice, but that was easy enough to evade.

The next time he stopped by the labs, the mess had been cleaned up. A new desk sat neatly under several new datapads and devices. Starscream hovered at the door before turning away. If he walked inside, he’d have to face everything that was missing. Replacing everything was going to be a tedious slog of rewriting notes and reviewing plans and ideas. If he tried that now, he’d snap within a cycle and destroy everything all over again.

“Starscream?” someone called from behind him. Reluctantly, Starscream looked back. Wheeljack had poked his head from his corner of the lab, and he rushed forward to greet him. 

“I was hoping you’d stop by! Did you look at your workspace yet?  Perceptor and I managed to replicate most of the damage, and I had a few other ideas I wanted to run by you first.”

“Later,” Starscream said. The word came out harsher than he’d intended, but frustration burned bitter in his spark.

Wheeljack tilted his head, vocal indicators flashing. Starscream folded his arms and glared back, daring Wheeljack to say something. He did, but it wasn’t what Starscream was expecting.

“The Aerialbots are flying out East right now. They’d be ecstatic if you chose to join them,” he said.

Starscream eyed him for a moment, waiting for him to keep going about ‘emotions’ or ‘forgiveness’ and all that slag, but Wheeljack  only watched him patiently, waiting for an answer. Some of the tightness in his chest relaxed.

“Thanks,” Starscream muttered, and he left. Wheeljack didn’t stop him, just waved cheerily and ambled back to his desk. Starscream wandered through the Ark for a few breems, unsure if he wanted any company. Eventually his feet took him outside  until he could see the distant specks of the Aerialbots playing in the air. They saw him too, and his ‘coms were inundated with greetings and invitations.

Starscream stared up at them. He took to the air without responding and let himself be pulled into their games.

…

Eventually they had to come down. As soon as he touched the ground, Starscream felt tension creeping up his back. He squared his shoulders and didn’t let the discomfort show. 

Fireflight tugged at his arm before they’d even reached the Ark.

“D’you have time for another welding lesson?”

Starscream wrinkled his nose and considered it. The first session hadn’t been terrible. Alright, so he’d enjoyed being hailed as the expert and seeing how interested mecha were in learning from him.

“Not now. Soon,” Starscream allowed.

“Tomorrow?”

Starscream grimaced but nodded. He could handle it tomorrow. He’d make sure of it. He didn’t expect Fireflight to whoop in glee and throw his arms around Starscream’s frame. Or for his brothers to join in.

“Is this really necessary?” Starscream grumbled, surrounded on all sides by wings and excited Younglings.

He broke away from them eventually, though not without some effort and repeated promises that, yes, he’d see them again tomorrow. Bright and early. He was looking forward to it. Really.

He wasn’t sure what to expect the next morning, but he woke feeling more amenable to company.  He also found several new messages in his inbox: the Younglings, making sure he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Bluestreak, with times and details already arranged for another session. Other mecha, expressing interest. Starscream sent a short acknowledgment to Bluestreak and Silverbolt and ignored the rest.

When he reached the assigned room, it was already more crowded than the first session had been. Starscream surveyed the group and couldn’t decide if he was pleased or annoyed by the thought. Either way, he sat at the place of honor at the front and allowed mecha to approach him.

The Younglings had taken over one of the tables and were making a mess of it in their exuberance.  If he didn’t look too closely, he could convince himself they were successfully learning. Mostly they seem to be having a delightful time handling scrap metal and welding torches. The older mecha were more focused, at least.

A half cycle into the session, Starscream spotted Sunstreaker lurking by the far wall. He was watching Sideswipe, who had claimed a spot at the center of the loudest table in the room. Starscream huffed, grabbed a spare welder, and marched towards him.

Sunstreaker barely looked up as he approached. Starscream shoved the welder into his hands before Sunstreaker paid him any attention.

“No freeloading. My time is valuable, you know. ”

Sunstreaker wrinkled his nose at the welder. Admittedly, it was a cheap, ugly thing. A line of rust encircled the seams, though someone had clearly tried to scrub it clean. It was the best they had though, and Starscream refused to take it back when Sunstreaker tried to return it.

“I know all I need. There’s no point wasting my time with more,” Sunstreaker said.

Starscream snorted and pushed him towards an empty table. He didn’t want to socialize, fine. Starscream could sympathize. Sunstreaker was part of the group who’d roped Starscream into this mess though, and like slag he’d get out of participating.

“Yeah, well, you’re already here. The time’s already wasted, so you better make the most of it,” Starscream said as he finagled Sunstreaker into a seat and stood over him, glaring, until he picked up some scrap metal.

When Sunstreaker walked back up to him a breem later, he assumed it was because Sideswipe or someone else had already annoyed him into leaving entirely. Except Sunstreaker shoved the scrap metal into his arms, and it was covered in neat welding marks. Starscream squinted down at it then back at Sunstreaker. He ran his finger along the lines and was barely able to feel the telltale roughness. When he applied pressure to the sides, the welds held.

“This looks good. Really good. You sure you haven’t had training?”

Seriously, this stuff was neater than Skyfire’s work, and that was saying something. Sunstreaker inclined his head. A moment later, he begrudgingly elaborated.

“Painting is harder.”

Starscream waited, but Sunstreaker didn’t continue. Sideswipe wasn’t there to explain either; he was still happily flailing about next to Bluestreak. So, Sunstreaker was some kinda artist. Sure. He certainly had the eye for it and a steady hand. Good enough.

“You know much about anatomy?”

“Enough to tear a mech apart.”

Starscream’s mind blanked for a moment, but he recovered quickly. Sunstreaker was  serious. Starscream wasn’t squeamish, but he preferred not to imagine some of the realities of wars. Not because he couldn’t handle it though! Besides, he had a lesson to run.

“It’s a start. I’ll get you a download or something.”

He still had the materials from his own training tucked away in his subspace. It came in handy here, and Starscream downloaded the lot onto a new datapad. It wasn’t anything special: schematics and anatomy, mostly, with instructions for basic trauma situations. Sunstreaker took the datapad and wandered towards his twin, already flipping through it.

Starscream watched him go, oddly satisfied. The lessons were starting to seem real. Sunstreaker would get certified. Eventually other mecha would too, and everyone was getting better at repairs.  They’d actually be using the knowledge too. Maybe it would save someone’s spark.

And Starscream was the one making it happen.

The thought carries him through the rest of the session. Through stupid questions and small victories. People laughing and having fun and still preparing for the battles ahead. And Starscream was right there with them.

Chapter Text

—<SF>--

Skyfire took a sip of his high grade and smiled. Music pulsed around him, and conversation and laughter flowed freely throughout the party.  The high grade was of reasonable quality, and Mixmaster manned the energon still with an eclectic assortment of flavoring. It was nice. One of the nicer nights he’d had since waking up from the ice.

He hadn’t known what to expect when Rumble snuck a party invitation into his subspace. It’d been a very mysterious affair, which he’d been forbidden to speak about aloud or over ‘coms. Privately he considered the secrecy excessive, but it was pleasantly exciting too. No real danger. No violence. Just running around like Younglings sneaking an extra energon goody.

He’d arrived as the room—a refurbished storage area— was filling up, and he’d quickly found a quiet spot along the far wall. Much as he enjoyed the party, he had little desire to be in the middle of the crowd. No, he was perfectly happy to nurse his cube and observe instead.  He recognized most of the mecha in the room. They were mostly the lower ranks, though a few scattered Commanders—most notably Skywarp and Thundercracker—had found their way in.

Occasionally the conversation would drift closer. Several mecha greeted him, and he recognized them from the times he’d helped with repairs. Eventually he must’ve caught Rumble’s eye because the small mech gave him a wave and maneuvered through the crowd towards him.

“You’re looking mighty thoughtful over here flyboy. It’s a party! You’re supposed to be having fun!” Rumble said, climbing up the wall to perch precariously near Skyfire’s elbow.

“I’ve never been much for parties, I’m afraid. I’m enjoying myself back here.”

That earned him a skeptical look, which Skyfire ignored. He was telling the truth, and he had nothing to prove.

“What about the Seekers? You’ve been gettin’ awfully chummy with our Air Commander lately.”

Skyfire’s optics darted towards the corner, where several Flyers had gathered. Thundercracker chatted quietly with some Seekers at a table while Skywarp engaged in some sort of… competition? Whatever it was, it involved creative acrobatics between three mecha. When Skyfire looked away, Rumble was watching him with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

“That depends. Are you asking as a friend? Or is this a more official conversation?”

Rumble snorted and said, “Mech, I couldn’t call myself a spy if I was half that clumsy with information gathering. If I was determined to get the dirt, you wouldn’t suspect a thing!”

“Of course,” Skyfire allowed. “Although, if I just so happen to share a useful bit of information during casual conversation…”

Rumble laughed and spread his hands. “Hey, I ain’t no saint! I didn’t make it this far by ignoring useful intel, no matter who the source is.”

Skyfire chuckled and took another drink. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, and he meant it. In its own way, that was a declaration of friendship among the Decepticons: openly acknowledging his ulterior motives and giving Skyfire a fair chance to react.  He thought through his words carefully before speaking.

“We’re negotiating something involving Seeker culture. I won’t bore you with the details.”

Rumble side-eyed him like, yes, he would love to hear said details—he was curious, slaggit—but he didn’t ask questions. Skyfire took another drink and tried to ignore the weight of so many secrets.

Something crashed near the front of the room, and Skyfire gratefully took advantage of the distraction. Mixmaster had a Seeker—red and teal; Ramjet—in a headlock. Ramjet retaliated with an elbow somewhere unpleasant, but Mixmaster grunted and didn't let go.

Skyfire straightened and prepared to step forward, but a laugh from behind made him hesitate.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna get in the middle of that,” Rumble said. “Neither of them will thank ya for the interruption, and you’ll just embarrass yourself. Here, lemme show you how it’s done.”

Ramjet and Mixmaster had started grappling by then. For being half Mixmaster’s weight, Ramjet was holding his own quite well. Rumble jumped off the wall, landed gracefully on the ground, and raised his voice towards the two mecha.

“Oi, keep your foreplay to your quarters! Nobody wants to see that.”

 Skyfire choked. Ramjet made a rude gesture towards Rumble, who returned it with enthusiasm. Mixmaster stayed where he was, though his grip around Ramjet’s neck loosened.

“That’s... They’re not… Are they?” Skyfire stuttered.

Rumble took a break from his increasingly vulgar contest with Ramjet to glance up at Skyfire and smirk.

“Oh yeah, they’re totally clanging.”

“But foreplay?”

He tried to keep his voice low, but several snickers rose up around him. He ignored them.

“Man, Skyfire. I didn’t realize you were such a prude!” Thrust said from his left, and Skyfire ignored that too.

Under the attention of the entire room, Ramjet and Mixmaster grumbled and separated.  Slowly. As he watched, Ramjet lingered as he pulled away, and Mixmaster’s hand brushed blatantly against the edges of Ramjet’s wings. Skyfire kept frowning as he watched Mixmaster return to the energon still and Ramjet swagger back to his Trinemates. Just because they were intimate didn’t mean that display was healthy. He jumped when Rumble returned to his perch with a new cube in hand.

“Relax, big guy. We’re warframes, remember? They’re not even dented! That’s how ya know it’s not serious. ‘Sides, if anything really was wrong then you can bet your aft you’d have a furious Gestalt or Trinemates barging in.”

Finally, Skyfire relaxed. Rumble was right, and Skyfire really didn’t want to know any more details about that relationship. It was easy enough to relax back into the party with Rumble at his side. The mech had a knack for easy conversation, and soon enough he’d gathered a group of increasingly drunken mecha around him.  He even lured Skyfire several steps away from the wall, not that Skyfire resisted too hard.  He was enjoying himself.

“Huh,” Rumble said some time later, and Skyfire looked over to find him staring unfocused into the distance. He was faintly frowning  and, as Skyfire watched, his expression tightened.

“Is everything alright?”

Rumble gestured for Skyfire to be quiet. A moment later, he motioned towards the front of the room, and the music cut off. The conversations came to a discordant halt. Mecha lowered their drinks and turned around. A few subtly palmed their weapons. Rumble drew the entire room’s attention when he clambered up Skyfire’s shoulder and gave a shout.

“Oi, I’m getting some funky info from the rest of the ship. I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m not sticking around for details before I-”

The door slammed open. Everyone froze.

“Oh slag,” Rumble whispered, with feeling.

Megatron stepped into the room. His optics swept over the gathered crowd. Someone dropped their drink, and the cube shattered against the ground. Megatron’s lips curled.

“This is my Elite?” he said. “Scrounging around in a rusted storage room. Wasting energon on frivolous pleasures.”

He glanced around the room again, and the crowd cringed under the weight of his contempt.

At Skyfire’s side, Rumble slid silently to the floor. His movements were fluid, careful, like he was covertly analyzing how best to start damage control. He approached Megatron, and the crowd parted around him.

“Lord Megatron,” Rumble said, sounding more formal than Skyfire had ever heard him. “We were just-”

“Wasting everyone’s time? Intoxicating my army and indulging their weakness?”

Rumble kept his head bowed and hands clasped behind him.

It happened so fast Skyfire almost missed it. Megatron struck, and Rumble went flying. He hit a table with a sharp crack and crumpled to the ground. Skyfire lurched forward, but a firm hand on his shoulder pulled him back. Thundercracker. He stared intensely at Skyfire, trying to convey something he wasn’t interesting in hearing. He opened a private ‘com channel instead of speaking.

::Don’t interfere. You’ll make it worse::

::He’s hurt. I won’t stand by and do nothing.::

He wasn’t quite sure what he could do, but anything had to be better than nothing. Thundercracker pushed harder, but Skyfire didn’t let himself be stopped.

::For Starscream’s sake, stand down.::

Starscream’s name rooted him to the spot. Thundercracker’s tone kept him there. He sounded honestly worried. Scared, almost. Skyfire too a deep breath and decided to trust him. At least for now.

Rumble pushed himself upright. One arm hung heavy at his side, and Skyfire recognized the look of a broken joint. He stayed on his knees, head bowed in deference, and the room watched them with bated breath.

Megatron raised his arm, and his fusion cannon blazed to life. Rumble jerked away. Someone shouted.

Megatron fired, but his shot went wide. It tore into the energon still instead. The machine crumbled instantly, gutted by the blast. Oil and energon spilled out as smoke rose from what remained. Skyfire didn’t need a closer look to know the still would never work again.

Rumble made a quiet, hurt sound—something he hadn’t done even when his arm broke. The sound was loud in the silent room. Rumble started to reach towards the still but caught himself before he did more than twitch towards it. He kept his helm down and fisted his hand against his leg. Megatron didn’t even look at him as he turned away.

“Grab your weapons. We’re going on a raid.”

He turned and left. The Decepticons followed after him.

Caught between Thundercracker and Skywarp, Skyfire was pulled along with the crowd. . They guided him away when he tried to move towards Rumble.

“He needs a medic,” Skyfire said. He could break free from their grip, but not without making a scene.

“It’s fine. Soundwave will take care of it. You can’t be caught blatantly disobeying Megatron.”

That didn’t stop Skyfire from looking back. Frenzy had made it to his Twin’s side and was whispering something urgently. There were optics hidden in the rafters too, and Skyfire didn’t look close enough to see which of the other Cassetticons were there. He followed, weapon in hand, as Megatron led them out the ship and into the air.

…

AN: Sorry for the delay! I have good news though: we’re entering the last major plot arcs, so I decided to do write ahead and make sure everything fit. It’s probably 85% done, so that should be the very last hiatus!  I’m hoping to post weekly until the end.

On another note, I did really well on my first Boards exam! And now I’m in my clinical rotations, which have been keeping me busy. I’ve been doing neat things like watching births/delivering the placenta afterwards and seeing surgeries.

Chapter Text

->Starscream<-

Starscream was getting real tired of dropping everything to fight the Decepticons.

Not that he did much fighting himself. Like most of the battles so far, the focus was on the ground and the important Grounders duking it out. He hadn’t noticed Megatron yet, but the Prime and his officers were working his way towards the center of the Decepticon forces. Enough blaster fire surrounded them that Starscream steered well clear of them.

The Aerialbots flew at his side, occasionally taking potshots at the mecha down below. They were enjoying themselves, at least, though their shots rarely made contact. He recognized few of the Decepticons until he saw the Stunticons racing forward on his left. They moved together in a distinctive pattern, which was all the warning Starscream had before they combined.

With a roar, Menasor stood up. The Autobots around him scattered as Menasor swiped at them. Beside him, Silverbolt made a noise, and his brothers fell into formation next to him. Instead of leading them downward, Silverbolt stopped and stared at Starscream, silently asking for permission.

“Go on then. Don’t do anything stupid,” Starscream said.

With a whoop, the five Younglings speed towards the ground together. They combined midair and tackled Menasor to the ground with an earth-shattering crash. Starscream watched them grapple for a few moments before moving on. Those were Skyfire’s Younglings. They were friends—or something close to it—with the Aerialbots. The sheer scale of a Combiner’s fight was terrifying, but they weren’t in any real danger. Not from each other.

Of course, with the Aerialbots on the ground, there was even less for him to do. The Decepticon flyers were holed up somewhere else. Probably collect energon or something equally mundane. Either way it left Starscream alone in his corner of the sky, and he drifted further away from the stray blaster fire.

The Decepticons had chosen a scenic enough place for a battle, if you liked that kind of thing. They’d targeted some Organic energy refinery in the middle of nowhere. The Organics had all cleared out, of course, and left the metallic shells of their machines for the Decepticons to pick over. The fighting was concentrated along the flat pavement and fields. It was quieter on his left, where trees grew together into a forest. Starscream soon found himself hovering over the canopy and watching the fighting from a distance.

Pain seared through his leg. He dropped.

Smoke choked him as he spiraled to the ground. His right leg was a mess of pain and error messages, and the thruster wasn’t working. Instinct took over. He strained his remaining thruster and angled his wings. Tried to slow himself down and gain control. He twisted in the air, desperate. It wasn’t enough.

He hit the ground hard. Something cracked in his arm, and he shouted as his wing hit. When he came back to himself, he was still lying on the ground. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself upright. He couldn’t decide what hurt more as he cradled his side. His leg was singed and still sluggishly smoking from whatever had shot him. His arm and wing had taken the brunt of the fall, but they were functional.

His thruster though… Gritting his teeth, he tried to activate it. The pain immediately became unbearable, and his thruster barely sputtered. Starscream bit back a shout and stopped. He couldn’t fly like this. Good as he was, he wouldn’t even get off the ground.

“Slag,” Starscream hissed.

Getting to his feet was hard. Walking was worse, but it was his only option left. He’d landed among the trees, out of sight of the fighting. He could hear it in the distance, but nobody was in sight. Starscream took a deep breath and refused to panic. He raised his good hand to his head and opened a ‘com channel to Prowl.

:I’ve been shot down. I-:

He cut himself off. The channel was dead silent, without even the familiar crackle that underlaid an open channel. It hadn’t worked. He tried again. Then he tried Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Bluestreak. Skyfire. In desperation, he sent a pulse over short-ranged ‘coms, something that should’ve reached everyone nearby. Nothing. Something—or someone—was blocking all transmissions.

Starscream cursed and turned towards the muffled sounds of battle. So his ‘coms were broken. Fine. He’d just find someone in-person instead. He’d only gone a few steps before he heard something move through the brush behind him.

"There you are," a deep voice said.

 Starscream hated his voice immediately. Even without looking, he could her the smirk . Starscream had a half dozen witty comebacks waiting in his vocalizer, but he bit his tongue. Not the time. Reluctantly, he turned to look.

The mech was big. Gunmetal gray, barely a shade darker than a corpse, with a thick helm and an obnoxiously large cannon strapped to forearm. Starscream recognized him immediately.

"Megatron," he said, staring at the cannon. Fear flickered in his spark, which he quickly pushed back down.

He could still figure this out. He wasn’t dead yet.

Starscream pulled out a blaster and leveled it at Megatron’s frame. The blaster was standard issue. Compared to Megatron’s canon, it seemed comically small in his hands, more like a toy than a weapon. Megatron took one look at him and laughed.

“Cute,” he said.

Starscream pulled the trigger. His aim held, and the energy bolt struck the center of Megatron’s chest. It fizzled against his armor, leaving only a scorch mark and smoke behind. Megatron didn’t even pause as he took another step closer

Starscream aimed for the optics next. This time, Megatron jerked backwards to avoid the shot, and Starscream ran.

He was a Seeker. Even grounded, he was made for speed. His leg radiated agony with every step, but it held his weight. He dodged between closely packed trees and ignored the organic muck pulling at him. He could hear Megatron behind him, crashing through trees that Starscream avoided. Too close. Far too close.

He felt the shift in the air and dodged before consciously realizing what was happening. Then there wasn’t any time to think at all because Megatron was there.

Megatron didn’t bother with a weapon. Probably thought he didn’t need one, the slagger. Starscream wished he could prove him wrong, but it took all he had just to stay out his reach. Megatron moved faster than a mech his side should’ve been able to, and Starscream was just a moment too slow. A hard blow knocked his blaster out his hand. As he staggered, a hand clamped down on his wrist like a vise.

The hold was careless, for all its strength. It left the rest of Starscream free to retaliate. Starscream dropped his weight and twisted. Even his full weight didn’t pull Megatron off-balance, but it gave him the angle to rake his claws against the underside of Megatron’s arm. He felt metal part under his hand and the hot pulse of energon down his plating. His claws caught against the joint, and Megatron’s grip loosened. He risked one more attack as he pulled free.

He didn’t hit Megatron’s optic like he’d hoped, but he managed to leave a few furrows in the plating of his cheek. He made it several steps away, but he didn’t dare turn his back and run again.

Megatron’s arm dripped energon, and it gave slight jerks as he moved it. He’d damaged something with his claws. Not enough. Megatron wiped the energon at his cheek and regarded the stain it left on his knuckles.

“That was almost impressive,” Megatron said. “I’ll give you one chance. Join me now, and I’ll let you live.”

He threw the offer out casually, as if he didn’t much care either way. As if Starscream himself was so inconsequential he barely merited consideration. Starscream snarled at him and wished he was strong enough to wipe that condescending look off his face. He wasn’t in the habit of deluding himself though. He was strong and fast and a damn good brawler, but he wasn’t a soldier. Wasn’t a match for a slagging Warlord.

Starscream straightened his back and raised his hand in the most obscene gesture he knew.

Slag the odds and slag Megatron with a rusted screwdriver. He was Starscream, and he would never bow to this trumped up maniac. He’d sooner die than give in.

Standing there, grounded and alone, Starscream ignored the voice whispering that death might be the only outcome left.

Chapter Text

-<Skyfire>-

Skyfire glanced at the sky, and he couldn't see Starscream anymore.

He stopped loading energon cubes onto the transport and looked closer. The Aerialbots were still transformed and happily grappling with the Stunticons, but the sky was empty where Starscream had previously been lurking. Worry prickled at Skyfire's spark as he scanned the rest of the battlefield. Maybe he’d landed and joined the rest of the Autobots?

Except Skyfire couldn’t find him there either. He took a deep breath and tried to reassure himself. He had a limited view of the battlefield. Maybe Starscream was at a different area or had been called back to the Ark. There were a dozen different, safe places he could be. Except, the excuses did nothing to comfort him.

No, he was getting a very bad feeling about this.

Skyfire pinged Starscream. No answer. He dared to open their private 'com channel, something he rarely risked, and received only static in response. Skyfire took another deep breath, fighting down real panic. He opened another 'com channel, this time to Thundercracker and Skywarp. It connected immediately.

 ::Have you seen Starscream?:: he asked. ::He's not with the Aerialbots, and he didn't answer his 'com.::

A quiet curse then silence as Thundercracker checked for himself. ::I don’t see him either. Fan out; we'll find him.::

Skyfire left the energon collection site without another thought. He didn’t hesitate as he left the tentative safety of the building they’d hijacked. Fighters littered the ground in front of him, grappling or shooting at each other. He looked, but he didn’t see any familiar wings among them. He didn’t see a large gray frame either.

::Does anyone see Megatron?:: Skyfire asked.

::No. Prime is tearing up the eastern front, but Megatron hasn’t stopped him yet.::

::You don’t think… ::

::Just find him. Quickly.::

Overhead, Skyfire saw Thundercracker and Skywarp take to the sky. He was tempted to join them, but he’d be too much of a target. He was too bulky, and he didn’t have the speed to avoid blaster fire. He skirted around the edges of the battlefield instead and took shelter between the trees that edged the fighting. He kept moving, sending periodic, shallow scans around him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. Like this, his scans could barely reach the battlefield proper. Thundercracker and Skywarp had the better vantage point and were faster in the air. If there was something to see, they’d find it. Skyfire refused to sit and do nothing though, and this was the best he could do.

Something crashed in front of him, and Skyfire froze. A small Grounder ran out—green, an Autobot—and disappeared in the direction of the battlefield. Skyfire stayed where he was, motionless, for several moments before continuing. He was approaching halfway with nothing to show for it when he felt something shift in his systems. It was subtle but centered on his communications array.

Frowning, he tried ‘comming Thundercracker. When that didn’t connect, he tried Skywarp. Then Starscream. Nothing.

He retraced his steps until the strange feeling vanished. This time, the ‘com connected immediately.

::I found a communications deadspot, halfway down the forest on the left. I’m going to investigate,:: he told Thundercracker.

::We’ll be there. We haven’t found anything on our end.::

Skyfire started walking again, and a few steps later the ‘com channel fizzled away. He walked slowly, sending out stronger scans as he went. As he moved deeper, he noticed several trees with broken limbs

Someone shouted. Skyfire was already running before it registered that it was Starscream’s voice.

He tore a line through the brush and emerged into a small clearing. He had a split-second to take in the scene: Megatron, his fusion cannon raised. Starscream sprawled across the ground. A scorched thruster and dented wing. Energon streaked across plating.

Skyfire didn’t think. He just moved.

He slammed into Megatron with the considerable force of his entire frame, throwing them both to the ground. Megatron roared and Starscream screeched, but Skyfire couldn’t spare it any attention. His processor was consumed entirely by the need to keep that fusion cannon away from his sparkmate.

He was larger than Megatron, and he had the element of surprise. It didn’t last long. He managed to pin Megatron’s arm down. Then Megatron did something, and pain exploded down Skyfire’s side. His grip loosened automatically, and the world twisted around him as he was thrown aside. He hit several of the trees on his way and felt wood snap against his plating.

 Groaning, Skyfire pushed himself upright. Megatron was facing him, Starscream forgotten. Skyfire had a moment to feel relief before the fusion cannon was pointed at him instead.

“What is the meaning of this?” Megatron demanded. He still had his fusion cannon, and it hummed anew with charge.

Skyfire stared at him, lost for words. He didn’t regret tackling Megatron, but he couldn’t think of a single excuse to justify himself. Megatron seemed to agree, and he took a step forward. Then he glanced aside, and his hand snapped up to catch a rock the size of his fist before it could hit his helm. Behind him, Starscream stood tall, flaring his uninjured wing in fury. He had another rock in hand and a snarl on his face.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!”

Megatron looked between them with dawning realization. At his side, his fusion cannon kept humming.

“What are you then? A spy? A turncoat?”

Skyfire shook his head, silenced by fear. He didn’t care if he died, not if it meant Starscream could escape. Except Starscream would never leave him behind. He’d stay and he’d die too, and Skyfire couldn’t allow that.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Skyfire flinched back as Megatron rounded on him. His voice roared through the air, and the hum of the fusion cannon grew louder. Skyfire desperately tried to think, to figure out a solution, but his mind was blank.

“I didn’t, I swear,” he stuttered and knew he made the wrong choice when the cannon started to rise.

“Wait!”

The voice came from behind him. He turned and saw Thundercracker emerge from the forest. His optics were wild and engine overclocked, but he was there

Megatron didn’t lower the cannon.

Chapter Text

->Starscream<-

An arm clamped down across his chest, and Starscream was yanked backwards. He tried to shout, but a hand covered his mouth. Struggling made his entire frame light up with pain, but he ignored it and kept fighting. His spark Pulsed in recognition, and he froze.

“It’s just me. It’s alright,” Skywarp said.

Starscream struggled harder and felt energon sliding down his back. Skywarp cursed quietly.

“I swear I’ll teleport us both to safety if you draw Megatron’s attention again!”

Starscream stilled immediately. He’d seen Skywarp’s ability. If he wanted to do anything, he needed to be here, not hics away. So he followed when Skywarp guided him sideways, though he baulked when Skywarp threatened to lead them behind the trees and out of sight. 

Thundercracker slowly approached Skyfire and Megatron, hands outstretched in supplication. That slagging cannon was still pointed at Skyfire, though the charge had dissipated. For now.

Starscream wanted to charge at them. To be at Skyfire’s side, if nothing else. He still had a rock in his hand too, and he dearly wanted to throw it. To fight back and make Megatron hurt in whatever way he could. Except his processor kept screaming how bad of an idea angering Megatron was, and for once he listened to it.

“Thundercracker,” Megatron said. “I suggest you think carefully before defending a traitor.”

Thundercracker settled deliberately between Megatron and Skyfire. He kept his movements slow, with hands upraised and winds lowered deferentially.

“The situation is complicated, my Lord.”

“Oh? And you’d call yourself a better judge of the situation?”

A tremor passed through Thundercracker’s wings, slight enough to be nearly unnoticeable. Megatron’s optics followed the movement.

“Of course not, my Lord,” Thundercracker said. “I’m just trying to provide further information for your consideration.”

“Information you didn’t see fit to share earlier.”

If possible, Thundercracker sank even lower.

“My apologies. It was a sensitive plan. The Seeker is Skyfire’s sparkmate; he was found by the Autobots after the crash,” Thundercracker said. He hesitated before continuing. “He’s also our missing Third. We only found out a few orns ago, and we’ve been working on convincing him to defect.”

Megatron, Grounder that he was, sneered. “You picked an Autobot to complete your Trine?”

Thundercracker shook his head. “It’s part of our sparks from the moment we were kindled. Nothing to do with choice; it just is.”

Megatron looked over, and his gaze landed on Starscream. Skywarp’s grip tightened in fear, but Starscream snarled back at Megatron, trying to convey how much he wanted to rip the mech’s spark out his chest. Megatron almost look pleased about it, the slagger.

“You’ve always been a dutiful Officer,” he mused, still staring at Starscream. “You’ll be in charge of ensuring his obedience.”

Skywarp’s grip loosened in relief, and he muttered a quiet, thankful prayer. Thundercracker seemed to uncoil as well, and he bowed deeply.

“We won’t disappoint you,” Thundercracker said.

Starscream glared at them both, trying to convey how thoroughly displeased he was at this outcome. He had no intention of becoming a Decepticon. Not for Skyfire, not for those strangers, and especially not for that buckethead they called a leader. He didn’t protest like he wanted to. Not with Skyfire right there, where he could still get hurt, and they were so close to making it out alive.

Except, Megatron still hadn’t lowered his cannon.

“Something’s wrong,” Starscream whispered. Thundercracker seemed to notice it too.

“My lord?” he said.

He flinched but didn’t move aside as Megatron walked closer. As he fed charge into his cannon, bringing it crackling back to life.

“You can keep your Seeker, but the Shuttle attacked his Lord. Betrayed me. He dies.”

He moved to push Thundercracker aside. Stunned, Thundercracker let him. Starscream felt like he was caught in a nightmare as Megatron raised his cannon once again. Unbidden, a strangled noise emerged from his vocalizer and he lurched forward. Skywarp stopped him, but the sound drove Thundercracker into motion. He set himself back in Megatron’s path and dared set a hand on the fusion cannon, angling it aside.  

“My Lord, please. He’s worth far more alive, and this was a temporary misjudgment. An emotional lapse that won’t occur again, I swear it.”

Megatron struck him. Thundercracker was thrown to the ground, and for a moment Starscream wasn’t sure he’d get back up. Skyfire was there though, reaching out to Thundercracker and helping him to his knees. They stayed there, bowed at Megatron’s feet as if that would make a difference.

“You’ve tested my patience enough. I’ve already granted your boon with the Seeker, and I can take it away just as easily.”

Megatron cast his optics across them both, lingering on the hand Skyfire still held against Thundercracker’s back.

“In fact, I find myself starting to doubt that loyalty of yours. You’ve grown sentimental.” 

He spat the word like a curse, and Thundercracker flinched underneath it. Then Megatron smiled, and the sight was worse than his anger had been.   

“I can be merciful though. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself again. Kill the traitor, and you can take your Seeker with you. Don’t, and I’ll kill them both myself.”

Thundercracker flinched back, and Skyfire…

Skyfire was still sitting there, one hand against Thundercracker’s back and the other holding his injured side. He wasn’t fighting. Wasn’t running. He met Starscream’s optics, and there was a terrible sort of acceptance in his expression. Megatron’s words echo in his head: Skyfire dies, or they both do. Of course Skyfire would be willing to make that trade, never mind that it was the cruelest thing he could do to him.

“No!”

The word was torn out of Starscream’s throat as he finally found his voice. He lurched forward, and Skywarp held him back. This time, Starscream struggled with everything he had, but he couldn’t get free.

“I’ll kill you all, I swear I will! I’ll never-”

Skywarp muffled his shouts, whispering apologies and shaky reassurances even he didn’t seem to believe. Thundercracker looked down at the weapons built into his arms like he didn’t recognize them.

Starscream knew his specs. He’d researched it once, after realizing he was the only slagging mecha left without inbuilt weapons. Those rifles drew power from Thundercracker’s core systems and were strong enough to tear through almost any armor. Even Skyfire’s interstellar-grade plating wouldn’t stand a chance. Not at that range. Not when he wouldn’t even fight back.

He’d just gotten Skyfire back. The slagger had already made him mourn once; he wasn’t allowed to do it a second time!

“I’ve always been loyal,” Thundercracker whispered.

Megatron smiled: a sharp, cruel thing. He turned and started walking away like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just ordered a mech dead, and Starscream wasn’t watching his world fall apart.

…

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Starscream would be safe.

Skyfire held onto the thought as he knelt on the ground, surrounded by Decepticons and staring down the barrel of a weapon.

Starscream had been safe from the moment Skywarp appeared beside him, ready to teleport him away if things went sour. So Skyfire stayed quiet and motionless as Thundercracker spoke. As Megatron unexpectedly, miraculously agreed to let Starscream live.

As he demanded Skyfire’s death in return.

And Skyfire… Skyfire was okay with that.

He couldn’t bear looking at Starscream again, though he could hear his sparkmate shouting. This was going to destroy Starscream. Grieving was better than dead, though. Anything was better than dead, better than what would have happened if Skyfire had been too late. Starscream wouldn’t be alone either; he’d have his Trine to look after him.

It would have to be enough. 

Thundercracker was frozen in front of him, made motionless by indecision. His words had finally run dry. Distantly, Skyfire felt honored that Thundercracker had fought so hard trying to protect him. They weren’t friends. They barely knew each other outside of their connection to Starscream. Yet, Thundercracker had risked his life for him. Even if it hadn’t been enough to change anything, and Megatron was running out of patience.

“It’s alright,” Skyfire said quietly, the words meant only for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker flinched away. His arm shook around his rifle. Then he breathed out, and his grip tightened. Skyfire glanced away as he raised the barrel. If he got to choose the last thing he’d see, it was going to be Starscream.

Starscream fought against Skywarp’s hold, and his expression was torn open by desperation. Meeting his optics was physically painful, but there was nothing else he could do. No other option he could accept. Starscream’s mouth moved as he shouted, but Skyfire couldn’t seem to make out the words. He couldn’t hear much of anything past the roar of static filling his head.

He heard the crack of the rifle firing though.

Then… 

Nothing.

No pain. No darkness. He watched as Starscream fell limp in Skywarp’s hold. They were both staring at something past him. Slowly, Skyfire turned to follow their gaze.

The first thing he saw was Thundercracker’s rifle hanging above him. Smoke still curled from the barrel, but it was pointed at something beyond Skyfire.

Then he heard a furious roar, and Megatron charged towards them. There was something wrong with his gait, lurching and uncoordinated as it was. Skyfire didn’t have time to look closer. He didn’t have time to think at all. Only to react as Megatron lunged towards Thundercracker, and Skyfire lurched forward to stop him. He managed to wrap his arms around Megatron’s legs. He was dragged forward, but even Megatron couldn't pull his weight long.

A heavy blow fell against his shoulder, denting the plating, and Megatron kicked free. Something warm splattered against Skyfire's side. Energon. It wasn’t his though; the energon dripped from a deep furrow in Megatron’s neck.

Another shot fired. Megatron jerked. The next took out his optic in a spray of glass, and Megatron stumbled several steps backwards. He stood there, wavering slightly. Skyfire took the opportunity to stand up, and he edged closer to Thundercracker.

When Megatron turned, Skyfire saw that the shot had done more than take out an optic. Some of the nearby plating had been seared and peeled back, leaving his processer visible as it sparked. 

For a moment, Skyfire thought it wouldn't be enough. That even the missing optic, the damaged processer couldn’t make him stop. In that moment, Megatron seemed immortal

Then Megatron staggered backwards.

He fell.

…

For several moments, nothing moved.  The world seemed frozen in time. Almost delicate, as if the wrong movement could send it crashing into disaster again.

Thundercracker’s soft footsteps broke the stillness. He approached Megatron’s frame, which was already starting to lose its sheen as it faded into the true gray of deactivation. He stopped at Megatron’s side, lifted his rifle again, and fired it into Megatron’s helm. The moment broke.

Thundercracker kept firing until Megatron’s helm was disfigured beyond recognition and his frame grayed out completely. Then his arm fell abruptly back to his side, as if he’d lost the strength to hold it upright.

Skywarp appeared next to him in a flash of purple light. Starscream hung from his side, but Skywarp only had eyes for Thundercracker.

“TC?” Skywarp said, reaching one hand out towards him. Thundercracker didn’t react.

Starscream looked equally lost, and he didn’t move until Skyfire touched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Your poor wing,” Skyfire said. 

Starscream blinked up at him before throwing himself into Skyfire’s arms.

“You idiot, he was going to kill you! You weren’t even trying to run!”

He could feel Starscream shaking, and he leaned heavily against Skyfire’s frame. Skyfire picked him up, and he folded against Skyfire’s chest, digging his claws into the seams of his plating.

“I’m furious at you,” Starscream said, whispering the words against Skyfire’s plating.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He’d do it again if he had to. Without hesitation.

The shaking wasn’t all coming from Starscream. Skyfire saw his hand tremble where it cupped Starscream’s helm and soon realized the shaking had spread to his entire frame. His legs felt weak, and he sank to the ground. That was fine though, since the new position let him completely enfold Starscream with his frame. The world would have to physically go through him to reach his sparkmate.

Several moments passed before Skyfire was coherent enough to register anything beyond the warm weight of his sparkmate in his arms. The rest of the world was still there. Thundercracker was still standing next to Megatron’s grayed frame, staring at the pieces of his processer strewn across the ground. Skywarp was at his side, speaking rapidly and tugging on Thundercracker’s arm.

“-need you to focus, alright? I don’t know what to do!” Skywarp was saying. Thundercracker reacted slowly, like he was still dazed by the death of his leader

Skyfire eased himself off the ground, taking Starscream with him. Starscream’s claws dug deep enough to draw energon, but he only shifted to settle more comfortably in Skyfire’s arms. He still felt unsteady, but his legs held him. He was about to join Skywarp when he noticed a glint of metal among the tree: a flutter of small wings that disappeared just as quickly. 

“Laserbeak,” Skyfire whispered. Then, louder, “Soundwave is watching. He saw everything.”

Laserbeak had let himself be seen. Soundwave was sending them a message, and Skyfire didn’t know how to interpret it. Thundercracker followed his gaze into the trees, but Laserbeak was already long gone. In Skyfire’s arms, Starscream winced and held a hand to his helm.

“The ‘coms are back on. I’m getting a lot of pings right now; slag, everyone must be worried. I… What do I tell them?”

Starscream pushed away from Skyfire, and he reluctantly made to set him back on his feet. Except, Starscream’s legs immediately folded underneath him, and Skyfire scrambled to keep him from falling.

“Starscream!”

“I’m fine!” Starscream said, but his frame was tense and he didn’t release Skyfire’s arm. Skyfire picked him back up, and Starscream barely struggled. Not good. Skyfire took closer stock of his injuries this time. His wing was raw and dented—his arm too—but his thruster had taken the worst of the damage. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was bad. Certainly not something he should put weight on, and Skyfire could already see the fractures where stress had damaged the heat-weakened metal.

Thundercracker looked Starscream over and frowned at what he saw.

“Can you repair him at the ship?” he asked Skyfire.

Skyfire considered it for a moment before nodding. “The worst of it is above my training, but I can manage. Self-repair can manage the rest, in time.”

Starscream glanced between them, and confusion gave way to realization.

“Wait, the ship? The Decepticon ship? I’m an Autobot, in case you’ve forgotten! I’m not going there.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone when you can’t even stand. The Autobots can arrange a prisoner exchange later.”

“But-”

“It won’t kill you. Anything else can wait until later.”

Starscream’s mouth snapped shut. It took him a few moments to wrestle his pride down, but eventually he nodded. Thundercracker raised a hand to his head and opened a ‘com channel across the entire battlefield.

“Megatron has fallen. Decepticons, retreat.”

The channel swelled with voices, and Thundercracker responded to none of their questions or demands. He took to the air, and they followed.

…

Chapter Text

->SS<-

The world swam around Starscream as Skyfire carried him across the sky. He held on to consciousness with gritted teeth and focused on the warm pulse of Skyfire’s spark beside him. Slowly, the tension in his frame fell away, and Starscream tried not to think about where they were going. Didn’t he deserve some time to recover before dealing with the next disaster?

Eventually he tried answering a ping from the Autobots, but the channel didn’t connect. His ‘coms had been blocked. Starscream seethed, but it was hard to hold onto his anger. His injuries shouted for attention, and he was tired.

They descended, and Starscream onlined his optics to see a landing tower emerge from the water. He wrinkled his nose. He’d forgotten the Decepticon base was underwater. Yet another indignity to add to the list.

As they landed, Thundercracker turned to Skywarp.

“Take them to our quarters. They’ll be safe there.”

Skywarp nodded and put his hand on Skyfire’s arm. The world fell out from under them, and they reappeared inside. The sudden change jarred his injuries. Starscream grit his teeth and tried to glare at Skywarp, though it was hard to see through the vertigo.

“Sorry, it’s always rough the first couple times,” Skywarp said.

Starscream ignored him to look at where they’d landed. They were in a small, somewhat sparse living space. He ignored the knick knacks and decorations, though there wasn’t much else to look at. Just a small table and a rather large couch dominating the space.

Skyfire gently set him on said couch, propping his damaged leg against the cushions. Starscream would’ve glared at the coddling, but he was too tired to put much effort into it.

Skywarp hovered behind them with one hand outstretched into the empty air between them. He pulled back without doing anything.

“TC needs me at his side now. Don’t open the door, not for anything. The room’s reinforced, and the traps would give even Soundwave a nasty surprise.”

He took a step back and started to turn away, but Skyfire stopped him. His hand dwarfed Skywarp’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Skyfire said.

Skywarp’s smile was shaky but genuine. “Hey, you’re one of us, remember? We gotta look out for each other.”

Skywarp stepped out from Skyfire’s hand and disappeared with another pop. Then they were alone. Starscream stared at the empty spot, unsure what to feel. 

Skyfire pulled out a med-kit and settled next to Starscream’s side.

“Here. I have a pain patch for you,” he said.

Starscream opened one of his access ports and let down his firewalls. He felt Skyfire plug in, and his frame went blessedly numb.

He relaxed as Skyfire worked. The pull and pressure of his hands were comforting in its familiarity. Skyfire was here. He still had this. He relaxed into the couch as exhaustion hit him hard, and he reached out blindly until his fingers found Skyfire’s plating. He let it rest there until Skyfire finished and took his hand properly. 

“Don’t wanna be here,” Starscream grumbled and winced at how childish the words seemed once spoken.

“I know. We’ll get you home.”

“That’s not-” Starscream started then cut himself off. Home wasn’t the Autobots. It was Iacon and the Academy and not having to worry about politics or mecha trying to kill them both, slaggit.

This was what he had, though. A war and the Autobots and his sparkmate on the wrong side. And two Trinemates he couldn’t avoid any longer.

“The slag am I supposed to do when they get back?” Starscream said instead. He’d been doing just fine ignoring their entire existence. He’d liked ignoring them. It was easy and didn’t require any inconvenient emotions.

“Talk to them, I’d imagine. They’re good mecha.”

Starscream grimaced. Of course they were. Never mind that it’d be easier if he could justify avoiding them. No, they had to go and risk their lives for him. For Skyfire.

Starscream didn’t like being in anyone’s debt. Especially when he didn’t know what they wanted from him.

A hand against his plating distracted him from his thoughts.

“I mean it, just talk to them. Have a few conversations before we send you back to your ship. They’re reasonable mecha, and you’ll have the upper hand in any negotiations.”

Starscream’s processer latched onto the thought of negotiations. He was good at that: wordplay and leverage and manipulations. If he ignored the slagging spark stuff, he was right in his element.

Skyfire made a sound, and Starscream turned to see him muffling laughter. The motion drew Starscream’s attention to a thin wound along Skyfire’s jaw. There were more dents stretching down his side, some smeared with energon.

Slag. It really was just like Skyfire to ignore his own injuries. It gave Starscream something else to focus on too as he tugged Skyfire closer so he could reach.

“You could’ve said something,” Starscream grumbled as he grabbed a rag and started cleaning the injuries. Skyfire winced and glanced down at his side as if he’d somehow forgotten about it.

The damage wasn’t bad. Mostly dents and thin cuts that self-repair could handle. It could’ve been much worse. Almost had been.

Skyfire must’ve noticed the darker turn of his thoughts because he joined him on the couch.

“Don’t worry too much. We’ll figure something out, alright? We have time.”

Time. Sure. Just what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, Starscream shoved all the doubt and self-pity away. He was Starscream; he would handle this and come out on top, like he always did.

…

Eventually, he must’ve drifted off into a light doze against Skyfire’s side because he startled awake at the crack of Skywarp teleporting. He jerked upright and would have fallen off the couch if Skyfire hadn’t stabilized him.

Something thudded near the door, and Starscream looked over to see that Thundercracker had half-collapsed against the wall. He’d buried his head in his hands, and his breaths were fast and ragged. Skywarp hovered around him.

“TC? Hey, everything’s alright! You did great! It’s all official now, and nobody even pulled a blaster. We can figure out the rest as it comes, yeah?”

“I’m the new leader of the Decepticon Army,” Thundercracker mumbled into his hands. “I never wanted this.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re all alive right now! And together! That’s something to celebrate.”

Thundercracker lifted his head as if he’d only then remembered that Starscream was there, and he staggered to his feet. Starscream watched him approach, and Skyfire, traitor that he was, stood to give them space.

“You’re alright?” Thundercracker said. Starscream nodded, and Thundercracker pulled him into a loose embrace.

Starscream stiffened. As a rule, he didn’t particularly enjoy physical contact, especially with people he didn’t trust. This… wasn’t bad though. His Spark felt warm in his chest, and Starscream pushed him away when he realized it was probably some Trine thing affecting him.

He was… curious about them now. Maybe. That didn’t mean he had to like the way his spark kept rebelling on him. He’d rather that nonsense stopped altogether.

Thundercracker didn’t move far. He slumped against the other side of the couch. Skywarp joined him, half-sprawled across his lap. They were close enough that Starscream could feel the excess heat from their frames. He touched the plating over his spark, but it didn’t do anything weird again. Good enough.

“Can someone explain what you meant by ‘new Decepticon Leader?’” Skyfire said.

He was standing just behind Starscream, probably because he wouldn’t have fit on the couch with the rest of them.

“TC promoted himself, so now he’s gotta deal with anyone who disagrees ‘bout the new position,” Skywarp said

There was a lot to unpack there, and Starscream had no idea where to start. He glanced at Skyfire, but the Shuttle looked just as confused.

“Promoted yourself?”

Skywarp nodded. “Yup. TC proved he was stronger than the last guy, so he gets first dibs on replacing him. It’s a tried and true tradition. And that way killing Megatron isn’t treason!”

“That explanation isn’t helping.”

Skywarp frowned and waved his hands around like he was trying to physically gather his thoughts.

“It’s like, if we attacked Megatron just ‘cause, then that’s a problem. It’s weakening the entire Cause for no good reason. But so long as it’s a proper coup, then it’s all politics! Megatron died ‘cause TC would be a better leader and he proved it by winning.”

He looked at Starscream hopefully which, alright, Starscream could kinda see that logic. It was still completely ridiculous, but it made some sense. So Starscream groaned and decided to accept it. He had bigger things to worry about anyway.

“Fine, whatever. Your politics are insane, but it’s working in our favor. So what does that mean for us?”

This time, Thundercracker lifted his head to answer.

“It means you’ll stay in here and I’ll open negotiations with Prime as soon as it’s stable. It won’t be long; they already tried contacting us. Probably found Megatron’s empty frame too.”

Starscream winced. The Aerialbots were probably going crazy with worry. The Twins too. They were going to be unbearable when he got back.

“And you?”

Thundercracker tilted his head, confused. Starscream grimaced. He hated repeating himself.

“Will you be alright?”

A smile touched Thundercracker’s face, and Starscream looked away before it could get too sentimental.

“I’ll figure it out. Chances are it’ll end up better than working under Megatron was. I’ve already been leading the Flyers for vorns; adding the Grounders can’t be too different.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, but Starscream didn’t point it out. He had some tact, when he wanted, and he remembered how overwhelmed Thundercracker had looked when he first returned. He still looked pretty bad, actually, like the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders.

“You need to rest,” Skyfire said.

Thundercracker shook his head. “There’s too much to do. I can’t afford to sit around.”

“You said we’re safe in here, correct? Then you can afford to sleep, and you’ll need to be rested to avoid mistakes.”

Thundercracker grimaced but reluctantly nodded. He stumbled when he stood, and Skywarp steadied him. He made it a few steps before stopping with an unhappy look on his face.

“We don’t have a spare berth,” he said

Skyfire shooed him away. “The couch is fine.”

“But-”

“It’s fine, Thundercracker. Go to sleep.”

With Skywarp’s help, they disappeared into one of the rooms. Through the open door, Starscream could see more decorations and the corner of a berth. He stared shamelessly even as Skywarp reemerged with his arms pilled high with fabric. He dumped his armful onto the couch. When Starscream picked an edge up, it unfolded into a large, careworn blanket.

Skywarp disappeared again just as quickly, and Skyfire set about arranging the space. Starscream watched him work and let himself be drawn in when it was finished.

He didn’t expect to sleep that night. He was in a strange place, underwater, and in the middle of the enemy base. Except Skyfire was here, and apparently having him back mattered more than all the rest. He drifted off immediately, curled up on Skyfire’s chest where he could feel the steady thrum of his spark.

…

Sometime in the night, something woke him. Starscream came back to consciousness slow and groggy, surrounded by Skyfire’s warm frame. The niggling feeling of something being wrong remained, and Starscream turned to scan the room.

He saw Thundercracker immediately. The mech was leaning against the outer door with a blaster in hand and his optics glowing gently at half-power. He looked over when Starscream shifted.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Starscream said. He pitched his voice low, but it carried easily across the room.

“I tried. It didn’t work.”

Starscream didn’t bother convincing him to try again. Thundercracker knew as well as him that he needed sleep. That he’d be more useful if he could think straight, and they needed him at full capacity to deal with the mess in the morning. Unfortunately, insomnia didn’t listen to logic.

Skywarp had supplied them with extra blankets for the couch. More than they needed, honestly, so it meant nothing when Starscream grabbed one of them and chucked it towards Thundercracker. It bounced off his head and caught on one wing, where it hung until Thundercracker tugged it down to pool in his lap.

“Stop looking so pathetic” Starscream said, but there was no bite to the words. He could feel his face flushing, which was ridiculous. It was just a blanket. It didn’t mean anything at all.

Then Thundercracker smiled at him, soft and earnest, and his spark gave a little twist in his chest. Thundercracker was still smiling as he arranged the blanket over his shoulders and settled back against the wall.

Starscream didn’t notice Skyfire was awake too until the Shuttle pressed a hand against the curve of his back. He was grinning too, the sentimental oaf.

“Don’t even start,” Starscream whispered.

Skyfire stayed silent, but he gently squeezed Starscream’s plating and left his hand where it was. Starscream grumbled at him. He was probably feeling all sorts of smug, and for no reason. He hadn’t even done anything, certainly not something that should’ve made both those idiots smile. Afts.

…

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire dreamed in pain and fire. They were disjointed images and emotions. Organic muck under his fingertips. Smoke trailing through the sky. Megatron, his face twisted in disgust and fusion cannon raised. Inside the barrel, whites and yellows and blues tangled around and into one another. The burning heat and powerful hum of charge.

He dreamed he’d been too slow or weak or helpless. That everything had gone wrong. Worse of all, he dreamed of Starscream. Starscream hurt, Starscream mangled, his color bleeding out into gray.

Skyfire jerked back to consciousness biting back a shout. Everything was dark and unfamiliar, but there was a heavy weight leaning against him. He recognized the shape of wings first and the red glow of a familiar pair of optics.

“Starscream,” he whispered. Of course. They were in Skywarp and Thundercracker’s quarters. Megatron was dead, and they’d all survived with only mild injuries. Everything was fine.

It was fine.

In his sleep, Skyfire had nearly thrown them both off the couch, and Starscream was balanced precariously between him and the open air.

“Well?” Starscream said. “You gonna explain what that was all about?”

“I’d rather not.”

Starscream frowned at him and made himself comfortable in his perch. He had a gift for making anywhere he sat seem like a throne, and this was no different. Skyfire took a deep breath and pressed his hand against Starscream’s chest. His hand spanned half his cockpit, and Skyfire could faintly feel the warm pulse of his spark under the metal. He could also feel how tense Starscream still was. Worried. Skyfire relaxed just enough to offer a brief explanation.

“I’m still stressed from yesterday. I just need some time,” Skyfire finally said.

He didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep again—not with the memories so fresh—but it was pleasant to just sit together. It’d been too long since they’d shared a quiet moment.

They were interrupted by a loud banging at the door. Skyfire jumped, and this time Starscream couldn’t stop himself from tumbling awkwardly into the side of the couch. Cursing loudly, he straightened himself and glared towards the door and whoever was behind it. Skywarp and Thundercracker rushed into the room at the same time the mech at the door started shouting.

“Skyfire! Hey, Skyfire, are you in there? We tried breaking into your quarters but nobody was there!”

Skyfire immediately recognized Wildrider’s voice. Undoubtedly the rest of the Stunticons were with him. Skyfire quietly groaned and hoped they hadn’t made too much of a mess looking for him. Knowing them, that seemed unlikely.

Skyfire turned to Thundercracker, who was staring at the door in the confused daze of a mech who’d been abruptly thrown out of recharge. He had a weapon out too, and Skyfire quietly pushed it down.

“You should open the door,” Skyfire said. “They’ll break it down otherwise.”

“It’s trapped. They won’t get far,” Thundercracker said, still somewhat disoriented.

Skyfire fixed him with a glare. “Those are Younglings. We’re going to open the door before anyone gets hurt.”

To his credit, Thundercracker winced and moved to open the door. The Younglings fell into the room as soon as the door opened. Wildrider and Motormaster were in the lead, and they tripped over each other immediately. With Drag Strip on their heels, all three inevitable ended up sprawled across the ground. Breakdown and Dead End peered at them from further back in the hallway.

“Oh, there you are. Motormaster was getting anxious that you’d shuffled off this mortal coil,” Dead End said.

A leg emerged from the pile on the ground to kick at Dead End.

“Oi, I’m not anxious! Take that back!”

Thundercracker was looking decidedly overwhelmed, so Skyfire stepped in before a scuffle broke out.

“I’m fine, I promise. I appreciate your concern. Was there anything else you wanted?”

He would never turn the Younglings away, but he wasn’t quite prepared to manage their particular brand of chaos just then. Not with Starscream stuck in the base, an unstable power void around them, and unpleasant memories still smoldering in the back of his processor.

“Megatron’s gone,” Breakdown said quietly, and the Gestalt fell silent.

Motormaster, Wildrider, and Drag Strip picked themselves up from the ground, and they hovered uneasily in the doorway as if unsure of their welcome.

Skyfire abruptly remembered that Megatron had called the five Sparks to their frame, even if he’d abandoned them immediately afterwards. That they had only ever known the Decepticons under Megatron, and they’d likely never dealt with this kind of upheaval before. With everything else going on, he’d barely spared the Younglings a thought after the battle. He was starting to think that’d been a mistake.

He turned to where Thundercracker was staring at the group with an unreadable expression.

“Thundercracker?” he said.

The Seeker only glanced at him before returning his attention to the Younglings.

“You trust them?” he asked.

“Without hesitation.”

They were young, half-wild, and violent. They’d been born into war, and they delighted in its chaos. They also cared deeply, even if they struggled to show it appropriately, and would never harm them.

Skyfire expected an argument, and he was surprised when Thundercracker just nodded and ushered the group into the room, locking the door behind them. They lit up when they noticed Starscream on the couch.

“Hey, hi! I knew I saw you yesterday! I thought you said you didn’t wanna defect; didja change your mind?” Wildrider said as he crowded Starscream. Skywarp and Thundercracker made aborted motions to intercept him, but Starscream didn’t protest as he was surrounded by the entire group.

“Defect? Hardly! I came here under duress, and you can bet I’m leaving as soon as possible.”

A disappointed mutter sprang up round him until Starscream glared them into submission. Thundercracker and Skywarp lingered uneasily behind them.

“You know each other?” Thundercracker asked.

Wildrider nodded vigorously. “Yeah, this is Starscream! Skyfire introduced us, and he brings those Autobot flyboys around to visit sometimes.”

Thundercracker turned an incredulous optic towards Skyfire. “You told them about Starscream? The Stunticons?”

The and not us? went unspoken. He sounded upset. Angry, even. Skyfire inwardly sighed and prepared to diffuse the situation. Before he could start, Starscream scoffed and interrupted them.

“Oh, don’t even start!” Starscream said. “I met the kids because I wanted to meet Skyfire’s Younglings. I didn’t see you because I didn’t want to.”

Thundercracker jerked back like he’d been struck. Skyfire winced at the look on his face, but Starscream didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, wings flared aggressively.

“Let me make one thing clear: I don’t need you, and I have no interest in dealing with your jealousy right now! I’ve got more important slag to worry about.”

For a long moment, they held eye contact: Starscream angry, Thundercracker shocked. Then Thundercracker looked away. His frame was tense, fists clenched and wings taunt as he nodded.

“You’re right. I should’ve- I let my emotions get the better of me.”

The words sounded painful for him to say. At his side, Skywarp wasn’t looking much better. Starscream settled back against the couch, reluctantly mollified by the apology. He’d always been weak to people agreeing with him; it’d happened rarely enough in Iacon.

Skyfire looked between them, and he didn’t like what he saw. Skywarp and Thundercracker were visibly upset. Starscream didn’t look much better, though he hid it well under his bluster. The Stunticons were still clustered around Starscream, more confused than anything but perfectly willing to start a fight.

Skyfire was rather hoping to avoid a conflict. Now or in the future.

“I think it’s past time you three had a proper conversation,” he told the Seekers.

Skywarp and Thundercracker looked at him in surprise, and Starscream grimaced.

“’Fire…”

“No,” Skyfire said, cutting him off before he could get started. “You said you were done running. That you wanted to give them a chance. So I’m going to leave you three alone, and you’re going to have an honest conversation about why you’re uneasy about Trines and what you want from the future.”

Starscream looked a bit wild around the optics, which was probably to be expected. He hated honest conversations, especially about emotions. This needed to happen though. Now, before any more miscommunications hurt them all.

Softening his tone, Skyfire said, “Do you need me to stay?”

He couldn’t be the crutch in their relationship—it would do them all a disservice—but he wouldn’t abandon Starscream either. To his relief, Starscream shook his head.

“It’s just a slagging conversation. I don’t need you holding my hand.”

Skyfire nodded, gently squeezed Starscream’s shoulder, and stepped away. Motormaster still loomed over Starscream’s shoulder like he wasn’t quite sure if he was still needed. Skyfire tugged them away.

“I have some parts I need to collect from storage. Younglings, will you come with me?”

The group predictably puffed up in pride at being given such an important job, and they followed Skyfire out the door. Skyfire hesitated a moment at the threshold. Starscream looked small alone on on that couch, and he was tense as a rod as he stared down the other Seekers. Skyfire could only hope the conversation would go well.

…

 The Stunticon’s chatter washed over him as they walked to a storage closet. He hadn’t been lying about the parts; Skyfire had finagled most of the repairs, but Starscream would need some proper replacements soon. Maybe not now, but it gave him a good excuse to offer them some privacy.

 Skyfire trusted the three of them. Still, he worried. He jumped when Drag Strip tugged at his arm.

“So are they doing that Trine thing now or what?” he asked.

Skyfire choked, and Motormaster elbowed Drag Strip.

“Don’t be stupid! Screamer already said he was leaving.”

Drag Strip punched him back. “I’m not stupid, you’re stupid! All the other Seekers come in threes, right? So it makes sense that those guys will Trine up or whatever.”

Skyfire put a hand on both their shoulders to avoid a full brawl. “Seeker sparks and Trinebonds are more complicated than that. Don’t go spreading any rumors around either; it could put us all in danger. Do you understand?”

“We’re not babies! We know how to keep a secret.”

“Good.”

They went back to bickering amongst themselves, occasionally laughing or shoving at each other. Skyfire let himself relax. The Younglings were a good distraction, and one that was sorely needed. Dwelling on unpleasant thoughts wouldn't help anyone, and neither would boundless speculation. They were safe for now, and he'd done all he could to help the three Seekers. For now, entertaining the Younglings was the most productive thing he could do.

...

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Stopping by the supply closet was a quick trip, in and out. Or it was supposed to be. Except when Skyfire stepped through the door, it immediately slid closed behind him. A lock clicked into place. Skyfire’s spark leapt, but he tried to stay calm as he turned to inspect the room. At first glance, it was empty. Crates of spare material lined the walls, but the room was too small to hide much. Outside, the Younglings started pounding on the door.

“Oi, can you do something bout that? They’re making a nuisance of themselves.”

Skyfire recognized the voice, and he looked up to see Rumble and Frenzy perched on one of the higher shelves. No wonder he hadn’t noticed them at first. Frenzy gave a little wave, and Skyfire’s panic was quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Was this really necessary? It’s been a very stressful solar cycle.”

They just stared at him. Rumble motioned meaningfully towards the door, where the Younglings were still banging and hollering. Annoyed, Skyfire opened a ‘Com channel to the group.

:It’s fine; I’m just talking with someone who forgot their manners. Can you watch the door and make sure we aren’t interrupted?:

The noise outside the door, at least, stopped. He could hear the Younglings whispering amongst themselves before Motormaster answered.

:You got practically kidnapped! We have to rescue you.:

:I’d really rather you watched the door for me. Please?:

The line was silent for several moments, and Skyfire could clearly picture them grumbling amongst themselves about being denied the chance to play hero. He eventually received reluctant agreements, and Skyfire closed the ‘Com channel to focus on the Cassetticons. He had an unpleasant feeling that this wasn’t a social call.

“How can I help you?” Skyfire asked.

Rumble leapt from his perch to one closer to Skyfire’s face. Skyfire refused to flinch.

“Don’t worry, we just got a few questions for ya! We’re all friends here, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Skyfire stared evenly back at them and debated whether they were trying to intimidate him. On one hand, they’d locked him in here and threats were, apparently, an integral part of Decepticon interactions. On the other, they were a fraction of his size and had no visible weapons. Skyfire wasn’t feeling particularly threatened. Inconvenienced was a better word.

“I’m sure you do, and I’ll be happy to answer your questions eventually. However, now is not a good time, and I don’t appreciate being manipulated like this.”

He was pleased by the flummoxed look on both mecha’s faces.

“It can’t exactly wait,” Rumble said slowly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s still not a good time. Will you unlock the door for me?”

“That’s not-”

“I am capable of breaking it down. Will you try to stop me?”

Skyfire didn’t think they would, but he didn’t relax until he heard the lock click open behind him. Rumble didn’t meet his optics as he spoke, significantly more subdued than before.

We ain’t gonna fight ya. We really do needa talk though. Soon.”

Skyfire nodded, ignored the unlocked door, and pulled up a sturdy crate to sit. He had time, and he was admittedly curious about what was so important. The unnecessary drama was frustrating, but they’d knocked it off instead of escalating. He gave them points for that.

Rumble and Frenzy exchanged glances and a quick conversation over ‘coms. Then Rumble leaned forward and fixed his optics on Skyfire.

“You’re in tight with the new bossbot, right? I mean, you’ve spent the last solar cycle holed up in his quarters. That’s a pretty clear sign.”

Skyfire inclined his head.

“So, the thing about him pulling a coup out of slagging nowhere is that it makes a whole lotta people nervous. Now, us? We got a soft spot for you guys. Other ‘Cons tend to get real twitchy with this kinda uncertainty though.”

Skyfire took a moment to really look at the two minicons. Their armor was scuffed, and it looked like they hadn’t properly cleaned up since the battle. The Cassetticons were putting up a good front, but they were nervous. And it all tied back to the Seekers and the recent political upheaval.

“You want to arrange an alliance,” Skyfire realized.

Undoubtedly they were speaking for their entire clan, Soundwave included. And, apparently, they thought Skyfire had enough clout to give them an advantage with the Seekers. All things considered, they weren’t wrong. He didn’t have much time to think as Rumble kept talking.

“I think it would be mutually beneficial, don’t you? You’ve already got the firepower with all your fliers and those kids waiting outside, and we got the intel network you’re gonna need. A great deal all around, yeah?”

It seemed almost too straightforward for a clandestine ambush of a meeting. There was something else: something pushing them to act quickly.

“You sound like you’re expecting something to happen soon. Are you talking about the Autobots? Or other Decepticons?”

“Let’s make it easy and agree to either.”

Skyfire sighed. Of course nothing about this would be straightforward. “Decepticons, then. You have reason to expect more infighting.”

They wouldn’t be so evasive if it was just the Autobots. The Cassetticons looked absolutely scandalized.

“Dude, you’re not supposed to say it like that! There are rules, okay? Subtlety is important!”

Said the mecha who’d just ambushed him in a supply closet to talk about alliances. If this hadn’t been about their safety, Skyfire would have been amused.

“You’ll have to forgive me for valuing efficiency right now. I’m afraid I’m on a bit of a time limit.”

Starscream hadn’t messaged him yet for rescue from his Trinemates—a very good sign--but there was still time for the conversation to go sour. The two mecha exchanged glances, and Rumble groaned.

“Fine, fine. Yes, there’s ‘Cons who ain’t exactly happy about Thundercracker replacing Megatron. And they’re not ‘xactly the kind of person we want running the show, ya dig?”

“Do you have names?”

“Hey now, we can’t go spilling all our secrets right off the bat! I’m gonna need some assurance from you guys first.”

Skyfire took a moment to think. He knew the game they were trying to play and the value of leverage. Starscream had thrived in those types of deals and machinations, but Skyfire had never had the patience for them. The Casseticons had never given him a reason to distrust them either. So why bother with pretense?

“I would count you as friends and encourage Thundercracker to treat you kindly regardless of what you do or don’t say here. If you believe you are in danger, than I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

He fully expected the disbelieving looks both mecha sent him.

“Ugh, it’s like dealing with an Autobot. Why are you like this? How are you even alive?” Frenzy said.

Skyfire couldn’t suppress a smile at the absolutely affronted look on Frenzy’s face, as if Skyfire has personally insulted him with his honesty.

“Slaggit, fine!” Rumble said, and that was all he managed before Frenzy tackled him.

“He could be lying, you dolt! Are you as soft as he is?”

Rumble got his foot on Frenzy’s face and pried him away.

“You think this guy’s gonna screw us over? Really? Have you met him? Even Soundwave said this guy’s legit, and you know he can’t hide from his scans!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be stupid about it!”

“It’s called strategy, idiot!”

“And if you’re wrong? We could get slagged!”

“Yeah, well we could get slagged anyway if Onslaught pulls something and wins ‘cause the flyguys weren’t prepared for ‘em!”

Skyfire hesitated above them as they wrestled, unsure whether to intervene. They weren’t doing any actual damage to each other though--nothing worse than small dents, at least—so Skyfire left them alone.

“Onslaught?” Skyfire repeated.

Frenzy hit Rumble upside the head and barely stopped them both from taking a tumble off the shelf.

“See what you did? You can’t be careless that that!”

“Hey, it was only ‘cause I was gonna tell him anyway! Stop acting like I’m stupid!”

Rumble apparently had enough of the tussle because he leapt off the shelf and away from Frenzy. Unexpectedly, he chose Skyfire for a landing zone, and Skyfire stilled as Rumble swung up to his shoulder. Frenzy, thankfully, didn’t follow.

“Yeah, Onslaught. He already got a bone to pick with you flyers, and he’s not the kinda mecha who likes following orders. He ain’t got much support yet, but that can change real easy. Shockwave’s gonna be trouble too, but who the hell knows what he’s planning back on Cybertron.”

Rumble made a disgusted gesture in the vague direction of Cybertron. Behind him, Frenzy spat curses at his brother, but he’d mostly subsided into unhappy grumbles.

“Thank you for telling me,” Skyfire said, but Rumble waved him off.

“Don’t thank me, just hold up your end. And we want a real meeting with Thundercracker to talk logistics. Soon too!”

“I’ll pass that along.”

Rumble nodded, patted Skyfire’s head, and leapt off. He was up and into a vent before Skyfire could react, and Frenzy followed a klik later. They pulled the vent cover back into place behind them, and it was almost like they’d never appeared at all.

Skyfire grabbed the parts he’d actually come to get and left through the door. The Younglings were waiting for him. Drag Strip and Motormaster had their heads pressed unashamedly to the door, though from the looks on their faces their eavesdropping hadn’t been particularly successful. Skyfire submitted to a brief inspection and continued to reassure them as they walked back towards the Seekers’ quarters.

…

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream took a deep breath as the door closed behind Skyfire, leaving him alone with Skywarp and Thundercracker. This was fine. He had no reason to be nervous, not even with those two Seekers staring at him and his spark pulsing unevenly in his chest. Nobody spoke, and the silence quickly became unbearable.

“You said you wanted to talk. So, talk!” he snapped.

The words came out harsher than he’d intended. Thundercracker flinched back, but Skywarp puffed up in response.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Skywarp burst out. “You’re always getting all angry or running away, and I don’t get it. We’re Trine! Why do you keep acting like that’s a bad thing?”

Well, it wasn’t what he’d intended, but Starscream knew what to do with anger.

“I’m not about to let some stupid spark thing tell me what to do,” he said.

”So you’ll just stay alone out of spite instead?”

Starscream saw red. He’d gotten enough slag, enough pity from every strange Seeker once they found out he was untrined. Like he needed some slagging stranger to be happy and that Skyfire didn’t count at all.

“Believe me, I’ve done much worse things out of spite.”

Skywarp started to stand, and Starscream brandished his claws, ready for a fight. Thundercracker pulled Skywarp back before anything could happen.

“That’s enough!” Thundercracker said, but Skywarp didn’t break eye contact with Starscream.

“Didn’t you look for us at all?” he said, and he didn’t have the right to sound so hurt, like Starscream was gutting him by not behaving like the Trinemate he wanted.

“What, would that make it better?”

Skywarp threw up his hands. “Yes! At least that would mean you cared.”

Starscream laughed. So that was what he wanted. Him to care. How childish. As if caring alone had ever changed a slagging thing.

“Yes, I looked. Is that what you want to hear? That I saved up for vorns to travel to Vos for one of the Trining Festivals, and it. Didn’t. Work.”

Vos’s festivals had been famous across Cybertron. They were designed to bring any Untrined together and to celebrate the Matches that emerged. Except it’d been full of Newlings and pitying stares, and he’d felt like more of an outcast there than as a flightframe in Iacon.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were staring at him after his outburst. Starscream grit his teeth and kept going.

“So I went back to Iacon. I found my own Sparkmate and I carved out my own life. I proved them all wrong, and I was happy even without you!”

And he had been. He’d fought and bled for what he’d had, and he wouldn’t let them discount it. Even though the Academy was gone and Iacon destroyed, it mattered.

“You had to make a life without us,” Thundercracker said in dawning realization. “And you think we’re trying to replace it all. To erase what you’d accomplished.”

Starscream paused. He’d expected more anger and accusations, and Thundercracker’s gentle tone threw him off. Starscream wavered between staying angry or relenting, and he settled on something in-between.

“You’re the one always dragging me away and harping about being Trine,” Starscream grumbled.

Thundercracker nodded and took a deep breath.

“Alright. I don’t think we’ve been communicating clearly. Give me a moment to think.”

Skywarp opened his mouth to say something, and Thundercracker elbowed him into silence. Starscream folded his arms and leaned uncomfortably against the wall. The silence wasn’t any easier to deal with now, but he wasn’t about to give in a second time. He could wait them out.

He jerked to attention when Thundercracker sighed and looked up.

“We don’t want to fight with you,” Thundercracker said.

Starscream snorted. Once a fight started, it didn’t exactly matter what you’d originally wanted to happen. Only what actually had.

“I mean it. We want this to work, and it’s difficult for us too. Sometimes it feels like you want nothing to do with us. We haven’t even been able to have a conversation since we found each other.”

“We’re on opposite sides of a war. What do you expect?”

Skywarp, who had been sitting sullenly at Thundercracker’s side, opened his mouth to say something. Thundercracker silenced him again.

"We can work out a solution. You were smart enough to meet with Skyfire in secret, after all.”

Starscream snorted. “Oh, I doubt the Autobots will let me out of their sight for a while after this disaster.”

Thundercracker frowned at him. Instead of answering, he switched gears.

"Why do you keep finding excuses? Are you really giving up this easily?”

Starscream stopped short. He started to say something, but the words slipped away. He... didn't have a good reason. He didn't give up; he prided himself on succeeding at whatever he set his mind to, through spite if nothing else.

"I'm not a coward," slipped out of his mouth instead.

"You faced down Megatron; I know you’re not."

Starscream scrubbed at his face and resisted the urge to shout. The earlier anger had been easier. Arguing was easier. He'd promised Skyfire- promised himself too- that he would talk honestly. That he'd try to make this work, one way or another. It was harder than he’d expected.

"It's gonna go wrong," Starscream finally said.

"What?"

"This isn’t going to work. You'll get sick of me or I'll get annoyed with it all. And even if we don’t, it'll all fall apart anyway. That's how it goes! You nearly died last solar cycle, and we're still at war!"

It was all the reasons he didn't want to think about. Insecurities he didn't want to admit to. He had little tolerance for most people, and he knew he wasn't easy to get along with. And even if it magically worked out perfectly, then what? Bad enough that Skyfire was on the wrong side of a war. Why would he add even more complications?

Somewhere along the line he’d broken eye contact, and Starscream couldn’t quite manage to lift his optics off the floor. Why had he ever made that promise to Skyfire? He hated this kind of honesty. It was pointless and uncomfortable. Even Thundercracker and Skywarp were looking at him differently, and Starscream didn’t like it.

"You'll let that stop you?” Thundercracker asked. “I didn’t take you for the kind of mech who gives up on the a chance something could go wrong.”

The statement rankled at his pride, and Starscream snorted, reluctantly amused.

“Are you trying to trick me into doing what you want?” he asked dryly.

“Is it working?”

Starscream laughed despite himself. “Slag you,” he said, without any bite to the words. By the slight grin on Thundercracker’s face, he understood what Starscream meant.

Thundercracker stood up and carefully approached Starscream. Starscream scoffed at the gentle treatment but allowed Thundercracker closer. It was less effort than chasing him away.

“We don’t need to solve everything today. Just take that first step,” Thundercracker said.

Starscream just nodded. Sure. Fine. He could handle one step. So long as the other Seekers understood that was all it was.

“That’s good. We can coordinate with Skyfire when-”

Thundercracker cut himself off mid-sentence and frowned. He cocked his head and turned towards the door.

“What are you-” Starscream started to say, but Thundercracker cut him off.

“Something’s not right.”

He approached the door, listening carefully. Then he jerked away.

“Warp, get-”

The rest of his words were lost in a rumbling, shattering roar. Starscream saw orange, felt heat, and then everything was lost in purple as Skywarp grabbed his arm and teleported them both away.

…

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire ran.

He’d thought nothing of opening a ‘com channel to let the Seekers know he was returning. Not until it went unanswered. So he ran. The Younglings came with him, feeding off Skyfire’s fear as they followed behind him.

Please, let him be wrong. Let the Seekers be too caught up in their conversation to notice the call. Let it be a generic communications blackout. Anything besides another attack.

Inspiration made him try the Casseticons next. Rumble answered immediately.

:Yeah? Whatcha want?:

:The Seekers aren’t answering their ‘Coms.:

Skyfire could almost hear the levity falling out of Rumble’s voice.

:Shiiiiiat, I thought we had more time. Seein’ them with a Combiner team musta freaked people out. I’m bringing Soundwave and the rest in now, aaaaaaand… Yup, there’s been an explosion. I got confirmation on Onslaught, but the smoke’s fucking with our cameras. Hull integrity is intact, so we don’t have to worry ‘bout taking an unexpected swim, at least.:

The ‘com channel started fizzling in and out as Skyfire ran closer. A localized ‘com blackout then. They could still be alright.  

Skyfire rounded the corner and was met with a cloud of smoke. Figures moved within it, and Skyfire slowed. It was hard to make out the shapes, but he didn’t see wings. He didn’t-

:Down!: Rumble shouted, and Skyfire dropped. A blaster bolt streaked overhead, and Skyfire scrambled behind the tentative shelter of a nearby hallway. As he did, he felt the ‘com channel to Rumble disconnect entirely. He didn’t have time to figure out a plan before he heard a whoop behind him and the Stunticons raced past his hiding spot, weapons held high. 

Skyfire shouted after them and abandoned his tentative shelter. Slaggit, he’d forgotten how impulsive they were! Of course they’d happily run into an ambush.

Already he could hear the clanging of combat and see the occasional bright spark of blaster fire. Dust and debris still hung heavy in the and he couldn’t make out any details. 

He was interrupted as something small dropped towards his shoulder. He tried to bat it away and missed. Then he recognized Rumble’s voice in his ear as the small mech balanced against his plating. 

“Bigbot, I needja to head left,” Rumble said. Skyfire switched directions before asking why.

“We got visual on a Seeker pinned under a big chunk of wall. You’re our best bet for getting ‘im free.

Skyfire paused and glanced back. “The Younglings-,” he started, but Rumble cut him off.

“We’re handling it. Right now, we need you over here.”

Skyfire allowed himself one last moment of hesitation before deciding to trust Rumble. Rumble was a combat veteran. An ally. Skyfire had never been a tactician, and he refused to get someone hurt through his inexperience.

With Rumble on his shoulder, Skyfire navigated towards the Seekers’ quarters by memory more than sight. It was hard to see through the dust and flickering lights, but it looked like an explosion had gone off, throwing around chunks of debris and twisted metal.

“Head straight ahead from here; you can’t miss it. I’m gonna go help Ravage. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not around,” Rumble said. He patted Skyfire’s shoulder, jumped down, and immediately disappeared into the chaos.

Skyfire felt uneasy on his own, but he didn’t let it stop him. The outer wall of the Seekers’ quarters had been blown completely apart, and for the first time Skyfire saw movement. Red optics looked at him, and it took a moment for Skyfire to recognize Thundercracker. He was prone on the ground, pinned under a large sheet of metal.

Skyfire kneeled, wrapped his fingers around its edges, and lifted. The metal tore free with an earsplitting screech, and Skyfire tossed it carelessly aside.

Thundercracker was already pushing himself upright. One leg nearly gave out on him, but Skyfire caught him before he could fall. At first glance, Skyfire could see the marks of both heat and blunt force damage. Parts of his wings and back were warped, and his legs had taken the worst of the damage. The plating had buckled in several spots, and energon dripped from torn lines. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that would stop him from flying or fighting. Just painful.

“What happened? Where are the others?” Skyfire asked.

Thundercracker already had a weapon in hand again, which he aimed towards the fighting. He barely spared Skyfire a glance.

“Skywarp teleported them out. They’re safe.”

Relief hit him hard, but Skyfire only had a moment to enjoy it. Then there was a shout, and Skyfire looked up to see Wildrider thrown through the air. He landed hard, skidding against the floor. Skyfire ran towards him. He reached the Youngling as he was regaining his footing, rubbing his helm. Thundercracker followed him, but he only had eyes for the center of the fighting.

“Enough!” he shouted.

He was thoroughly ignored. Then Thundercracker raised his rifle and placed a warning shot above their heads. The grappling mecha broke apart, and Motormaster stumbled backwards with his brothers. 

Skyfire finally saw the mech attacking them. Onslaught was in front with Brawl looming at his side. A rifle gleamed further back with Swindle holding the trigger.

Skyfire didn’t see the rest of the Gestalt. Onslaught smirked and stepped forward.

“Thundercracker. I would have been disappointed if a bomb was all it took to take you out.”

His weapon was pointed loosely in their direction, but Skyfire wasn’t fooled by the casual stance. Onslaught was a dangerous mech, and Skyfire didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

“So this is a coup? You don’t have the support to pull it off.”

Onslaught’s curling smile was answer enough.

“I just need you dead. You don’t need to worry about the rest.”

Thundercracker’s grip on his rifle didn’t waver as he stared Onslaught down. Skyfire wished he had his confidence. He didn’t see any Casseticons, which only left him, Thundercracker, and the Younglings. Skyfire didn’t like their odds. Not when these mecha were trying to kill them. He couldn’t bare the thought of something happening to any of the mecha around him.

Wildrider slipped out of his grip to join his brothers. The five of them clumped together. At first Skyfire thought they were nervous, but he only saw determination on their faces. There was something strangely methodical about the way they were standing too.
Onslaught glanced at them and stopped. His smile dipped. 

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of combining here! Look around. We’re at the outer edge of the ship; your gestalt form will punch straight through the outer walls into the sea. You’re not nearly stupid enough to sabotage everyone.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Motormaster shouted.

Onslaught only had a moment to realize his mistake before the Younglings came together with a crash. They filled the corridor to overflowing and beyond. Skyfire barely had time to grab Thundercracker before the walls buckled and the sea roared in to meet them.

…

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Blue skies and bluer seas.

Starscream emerged from the teleport disoriented and clutching Skywarp. The floor underneath him was replaced with open air and an endless sea. Starscream ignited his thrusters, wincing as it sent a deep ache up his left leg. The output was wrong too, and it took Starscream an embarrassing few moments to adjust and pull away from Skywarp.

“What the slag was that!” he shouted. “Where’s Thundercracker?”

Skywarp still hadn’t released his arm, and he was staring down at the waves.

“I think someone objected to TC being the new Commander,” he said faintly, like he was still coming to terms with what’d just happened. Starscream felt much the same way. They were supposed to be communicating! Talking things through because, slag it, Thundercracker seemed reasonable enough! It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Not anymore, not with Megatron dead.

But Starscream swallowed his protests because reality was rarely fair, and he preferred not to delude himself.

Something cracked through the air, and Skywarp’s grip on his wrist disappeared as he shouted in pain. Starscream reacted a moment too late. Skywarp had fallen back, and he was clutching at his arm. There were pink splatters across his armor. Energon.

Someone had shot him.

“Looks like Ons was right. Slag, I lost the bet.”

Slow, too slow!  The voice came from behind him, and Starscream had barely turned before a large hand grabbed his shoulder and threw him aside. Even with his damaged thruster, Starscream caught himself within moments.

There were two of them hovering in the air: a shuttle and a ‘copter. He hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t bothered to glance around after they appeared.

Stupid. 

The Shuttle had been the one to throw him, but neither seemed to care where he landed. They were both staring at Skywarp, who was still clutching his injured arm. He had a frightening expression on his face, torn somewhere between fury and terror.

The Shuttle glanced back at him, and Starscream recognized the complete disinterest in his face. He vaguely recognized the mech as one of the Combacticons, Blast Off. Which meant the ‘copter was Vortex. He’d heard enough warnings about both mecha to know they were in deep slag.

“Run along, little Autobot. This has nothing to do with you,” Blast Off said, and he turned his back on Starscream. Like he wasn’t a threat. Like he meant nothing and was the kind of slagger who would abandon someone in a fight.

Starscream snarled and prepared to charge, but Skywarp caught his optic first.

Go, he mouthed. Some of the fury leaked away, letting the fear show through.

Starscream hesitated. Skywarp wanted him to go. To leave him alone against two soldiers who were attacking him.

Skywarp thought he was that kind of mech, to abandon someone like that. To abandon him. He was already turning his attention back to the other ‘Cons. They had weapons out, Starscream realized. The kind that could kill a mech.

Yeah, no. Not happening.

Starscream took out his blaster and shot the ‘copter in the hinge of his rotaries. It was a perfect shot, like he’d known it would be, and Vortex shouted and dropped several feet. Blast Off twisted to look, and Starscream activated his thrusters and shot around  them to grab Skywarp’s uninjured arm. He had to drag Skywarp along with him a few moments before the other Seeker caught on and activated his thrusters as well.

Skywarp wasn’t as fast as him, but he was still a Seeker. They had more speed than any other frametype. He could hear the others in pursuit behind them, but they’d barely moved at all before something whistled behind them and Skywarp yanked him sideways. A missile streaked past them and exploded, sending a shockwave through the air.

“Teleport already!” Starscream shouted.

“I can’t! They did something to my arm.”

He was still holding the limb, and Starscream glimpsed something strange and black between his fingers, burrowed into his plating. There was a lot of energon too, more than Starscream would’ve expected.

He cursed once, then again as another missile exploded above them. Two, this time, herding them downward. They were fast, but they couldn’t outrun all the attacks. ‘Coms weren’t working either, so Starscream angled towards a nearby island and pulled on Skywarp to follow.

Starscream vaguely recognized the island as one he’d investigated while waiting on Skyfire. There wasn’t much, mostly trees and sand, but there’d been scattered cliffs and caverns as well. Good enough.

He led Skywarp close to the ground and skimmed past the ridges and foliage. He didn’t slow until he was sure they Combaticons had lost sight of them. Then he pulled Skywarp into a small cave, little more than a divot amongst the boulders. He could hear the rumble of their pursuer’s engines as they drew closer. The sound was already growing erratic, moving closer than further away. Starscream slowly relaxed. It sounded like he’d lost them, at least for now. He turned and found Skywarp staring at him.

“You stayed?” Skywarp said, as if the proof wasn’t standing right in front of him.

“Of course I did! Like slag I’d have left you to face them alone.”

Skywarp smiled, and Starscream squawked as he was pulled into a fierce embrace. Skywarp held on tight, and Starscream’s spark gave a strange twist in his chest. He didn’t pull away though, not when he could hear Skywarp breathing unsteadily.

“When this is over, we’re gonna court you properly,” Skywarp said.

Embarrassed, Starscream wriggled free. “Now really isn’t the time for sentimentality!” he snapped, but it didn’t dim Skywarp’s smile.

“Ok, I’ll save it for later then.”

Starscream glared at him and earned and cheeky grin in response. Starscream was quickly distracted by the energon still dripping down Skywarp’s side.

“Show me your arm,” Starscream said, and Skywarp obediently held the limb out for inspection.

He didn’t flinch as Starscream investigated the damage, though it had to have hurt. The plating was torn badly and still weeping energon around its edges. There was this… black thing firmly embedded into the plating. Starscream didn’t recognize the device at all. It had punctured the armor entirely and rested half under his plating. Starscream prodded the device, but it didn’t budge; it looked like it’d attached to the strut itself.

“I don’t think I can pull this loose,” Starscream admitted.

It was wedged in there too tightly, and he could feel the edges of what felt like spikes extending further into Skywarp’s arm. He didn’t have the tools or the time to coax it free.

“Well, slag.” Skywarp said, glaring at his arm like it’d betrayed him.

He was still holding Skywarp’s arm. Starscream stared down at it and forced himself to think, finding and discarding ideas rapid fire. They needed Skywarp’s teleportation. They needed the mobility and allies. Except they didn’t have any of that, and he was wasting time.

“Alright. We’ll handle this on our own,” he said and willed it to be true. Basics, first. “Skywarp, what do you have in your subspace?”

…

AN: I'm not dead! Sorry for the wait (again). I ended up rewriting the ending a few different times, but I have the next 10,000 words (everything except the last couple scenes) completely finished now. So, have some chaos.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire twisted to protect Thundercracker just before the first wave of water smashed into them. Braced against the wall and ceiling, he stood his ground against the bruising force. Something clipped past him, and he couldn't tell if it was a mech or debris. 

The world seemed to tear itself apart around them. The sound of ripping metal reverberated through his frame with almost physical force. Then the wall he'd braced himself against buckled, and Skyfire lost his grip. The current pulled him forward.

Skyfire didn't risk trying to grab hold of anything else; he'd be more likely to dislocate a joint than succeed. Instead, he curled around Thundercracker and activated a minor transformation sequence to protect his wings. He let the current take them. His frame could endure atmospheric reentry; he'd survive this as well.

He activated his thrusters in short bursts, trying to control their spin. At some point they must've been pulled out of the ship, and the force of the current gradually eased until he could tell which direction gravity was pulling them.

He landed softly against the sea floor, bracing his feet against some stones. He let his balance stabilize before looking up. 

No light reached this far beneath the surface, and the glow from his frame had limited reach. Pinpricks of light shone in the distance; other mecha who'd been swept out. A brighter gleam marked the ship itself. It was too far to make out any details, but he could imagine the chaos inside as mecha struggled to control the damage.

Thundercracker tapped on Skyfire's arm. He'd uncurled from his defensive huddle and motioned for Skyfire to set him down. Skyfire did and then had to clamp a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder as he tried to activate his thrusters. At Thundercracker's confused look, Skyfire could only shake his head and motion for

Thundercracker to follow as he walked along the ocean floor. This far beneath an ocean, flying would be too unpredictable. Water was thick enough to interfere with their thrusters and make navigation difficult. There would be underground currents too, likely strong ones. In an emergency, they could try, but right now he wasn’t desperate enough to risk being pulled further out.

Two mecha caught in a current grew close enough to recognize, and Skyfire activated his thrusters just long enough to pull Wildrider and Breakdown to the ground.

Disoriented, Wildrider kicked out at him until he caught a good look at Skyfire’s frame, and he went limp in Skyfire’s grasp. He kept moving his mouth and gesticulating wildly, and Skyfire couldn’t tell if he realized his words were unintelligible. Breakdown just clung to Skyfire's arm like he was afraid the current would sweep him away again. He seemed unsettled by the water, which made sense. Skyfire doubted the Younglings had been properly submerged like this before. It was uniquely unpleasant.

Thundercracker touched Skyfire’s shoulder. Skyfire tilted his head in a silent question, and Thundercracker pointedly tapped Skyfire’s access panel. Skyfire hesitated. He didn’t much like the direct connection of a hardline, especially with a mech he barely knew. Right now, though, it was their only way to speak, and he was capable of being practical. He opened the panel, and Thundercracker quickly established the connection.

Skyfire winced as it clicked into place. He could suddenly feel Thundercracker’s processer and the distant shape of his thoughts. Strong firewalls muffled it into vague impressions, and Thundercracker didn’t give him time to dwell.

::I’m worried about Starscream and Skywarp,:: he said. 

Skyfire immediately forgot his distaste for the hardline.

::I thought you said they got out.::

Thundercracker nodded. :They teleported away before the explosion. I haven’t heard anything since, but a few of Onslaught’s group were missing during the fight. I’m worried about whatever contingency plans Onslaught prepared.::

His hand drifted towards his chest.

::I’ve been getting twinges from the Trinebond. Enough to make me nervous.::

Skyfire glanced upwards, to where the surface was so far away he could barely see the light. Skywarp and Starscream were somewhere up there, possibly in danger.

They were together though, and Skywarp could teleport. He had to believe they were alright.

:I’ll lead us towards the closest island. We can make a better plan once we’re above the water.:

Thundercracker nodded and ended the hardline, pulling himself free. He stayed within arms’ reach as Skyfire led the way. Wildrider and Breakdown followed close behind, having some sort of silent argument via enthusiastic arm gestures. It ended when Wildrider tapped Skyfire’s arm and started enthusiastically pointing towards something in the distance. When Skyfire didn’t respond fast enough he tapped at his chest and tried to drag Skyfire forward. It didn’t work, but Skyfire followed his lead anyway.

There was a light up ahead, and he had a good idea of who the faint figure might be.  Soon, they were close enough to confirm it was Motormaster. He was wrestling with some large, finned organic, and he pinned it to the ground with a silent roar of triumph. When Motormaster saw them, he tossed the organic aside and charged closer. He bowled into them and, like his siblings, kept trying to speak, though bubbles emerged instead of words. 

Skyfire waited, but they didn’t try to guide him anywhere else. He motioned at Wildrider, even tapping above his spark to emphasize his question. Where were their other two brothers? Wildrider just shrugged and gestured vaguely behind them.

Skyfire frowned but turned his steps back towards the surface. Maybe Drag Strip and Dead End had been pulled further away or knocked unconscious. He didn’t like the idea of leaving them alone, but blindly searching around the ocean floor was counterproductive. For now, getting above the water was the best thing he could do. Hopefully the two missing Younglings were doing the same.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream didn’t like calling for help. It felt too much like weakness. Failure. He was smarter than he was proud, though, and a survivor above all else. He refused to deactivate on some middle of nowhere dirtball because of a leadership squabble he cared nothing about.

Starscream knew his limits. He and Skywarp needed help. Logically, the next step was contacting said help through the slagging ‘coms blackout. 

Starscream flinched as something exploded outside. He stopped to listen with sparking wires in both hands, but nothing else happened. No more explosions, no shouts, and nobody charging through the cave entrance to attack. Taking a deep breath, Starscream turned back to the half-gutted machine in his lap. Skywarp couldn’t teleport, but he was a sneak and a skilled fighter. He was also well-stocked with random explosives, which apparently counted as “prank supplies.” Starscream was increasingly skeptical of Skywarp’s definition of a prank, but he was nonetheless impressed with the arsenal he’d been hiding.

It had also included an assortment of different electronics. Less exciting, perhaps, but Starscream would argue they were even more useful. He needed to break through the blackout, after all, and he couldn’t do that without raw materials. 

Starscream twisted another wire into place and eyed the results critically. It was a hideous hodge-podge of a machine, and as he watched part of the hack-job started sparking. He fixed it before anything actually caught on fire and leaned back. Sparks or not, it was as close to finished as he could manage. So he tore a panel off his chest and connected the machine directly to his own communication array.

The connection burned electricity up his frame, but it held. Starscream breathed in the power, held it for a moment, and released the strongest signal his frame could handle. A moment later, he released a second one, even louder.

He could smell smoke and singed metal, and he tore the connections out of his chest. A small fire had already taken root inside the machine, and this time Starscream didn’t bother putting it out. 

Starscream took a moment to recuperate. To center himself and focus on the next problem. Then, leaving the burning machine behind, Starscream snuck out of the cave. He refused to hide away longer than necessary, especially while Skywarp was playing bait. He might not be a proper soldier, but he could still fight.

Finding them was easy enough. He just had to follow the noise. Three Cybertronians were not subtle on an organic planet. Unfortunately, the planet didn’t offer particularly good shelter for him either. The trees were short and dense, and every step made something crunch under his feet. In front of him, someone—Blast Off?—was running around and shouting. The bar was low, at least.

Starscream was so focused on staying quiet that he was surprised when he arrived. There was a shout and the crash of breaking wood, and Blast Off barreled into a nearby clearing. Starscream froze, but it didn’t seem like he’d been noticed. Blast Off was looking at something in the opposite direction, swinging his weapon between the sky and forest. Spatters of pink glistened on his arm: energon. Starscream hoped it was his, not Skywarp’s.

Carefully, Starscream took Skywarp’s paintgun out of his subspace and raised it. The balance was different than a real weapon. It felt strange in his hands, but Starscream could adjust. He aimed. Fired.

He expected the recoil. He didn’t expect the pellets that emerged to be bright purple. They burst against Blast Off’s face, sending paint splattering everywhere. Starscream tsked. It’d hit left of where he’d aimed—more his cheek than optics—but the paint still obstructed a good chunk of his face.

Blast Off bellowed in rage and rubbed at the paint, which only smeared it more. Skywarp had said it was a particularly sticky blend; it wouldn’t be coming off any time soon.

Starscream stopped smirking when Blast Off raised his arm and started firing wildly around him. One shot landed disturbingly near his wing, and Starscream carefully backed away. His day was bad enough without adding a bullet wound.

Skywarp had to be close, but Starscream couldn’t tell where. Which was a good thing, he reminded himself. They were both supposed to stay hidden. He kept moving, trying to put distance between him and Blast Off. Part of him wanted to press the advantage and attack properly, but he resisted the urge. They didn’t need to win. Just stall. Escape. It went against his instincts, but Starscream ran away from the fight.

He was still in the forest when something crashed into him. 

Starscream shouted as he was thrown forward. His knees hit the ground, and he caught himself with one hand. Someone was behind him, a hand on his wing, and Starscream lashed out blindly behind him.

His hand was caught and twisted. A moment later, Starscream found himself pinned to the ground by a heavy weight.

“Found you,” Vortex said.

Starscream froze. Vortex. Vortex. How in the Pit had the ‘Copter moved so quietly? Where had he even come from? 

Vortex shifted above him. Starscream couldn’t see his face, but there was something unsettling in his tone.

“I’ve always thought it was a shame the Autobots didn’t get more Seekers. Mecha on my side get all upset when I try playing with them properly.”

The hand on his wing dug in hard enough to make the metal creak. Starscream gasped, but Vortex stopped before it buckled. He gentled his grip and trailed his fingers down, almost caressing the edge. The false gentleness was worse than the pain. Fear and humiliation burned in Starscream’s spark, and he kicked out. His foot hit something, and he twisted in Vortex’s grip, trying to find some leverage.

Vortex let him go.

Starscream scrambled to his feet and backed away. Vortex stayed where he was, half kneeling where he’d pinned Starscream. His hands were empty and head tilted. The slagger looked relaxed and, despite the facemask, Starscream would’ve sworn he was grinning.

Starscream wanted to smash his face in. The slagger was toying with him! Him! How dare he act like Starscream wasn’t a threat!

He ignored the voice reminding him how Vortex was some elite soldier, far more dangerous than any half-bit brawler Starscream had met before the war.

Starscream pulled out the paintgun again. He shifted, and his wing brushed against a tree. Not much room to maneuver. Slag. 

“You’re using that toy again? How cute,” Vortex said. He stood, though he still didn’t pull out any weapons.

Stall, Starscream reminded himself. Escape.

He fired the paintgun. His aim was perfect, but Vortex was faster. He turned in a deceptively careless move, and the paint flew harmlessly past him.

“Such an adorable wannabe soldier,” Vortex cooed. ”You’re going to regret not taking Blast Off’s offer to leave. We’re going to have so much fun.” 

Starscream didn’t take his optics off Vortex. It still caught him off-guard when Vortex charged forward. He was fast. Starscream fired again, and Vortex dodged just as easily. Activating his thrusters, Starscream took to the air. Slag it, he’d already lost his cover. At least in the air he could outmaneuver the slagger. He’d barely brushed the canopy when he heard the unmistakable crack of a rifle.

Something blisteringly hot swept over the tips of his wings, and Starscream dove downwards. Behind him, Vortex was laughing.

Fine, Starscream thought, though he wasn’t sure what the thought was aimed at. He’d handled everything else. He could manage this too. Staying close to the ground, Starscream picked up speed, dodging through the trees instead of above them. His wings barely cleared the trunks, and thinner branches scratched and broke against his wings. Another blaster bolt grazed his side, and Starscream heard Vortex take to the air behind him.

A helicopter. Not even another Seeker. Even with his injuries, Starscream could fly circles around him. 

So Starscream put his head down and focused on flying the more precise slagging flight of his life. Vortex fired a few more shots off, but they didn’t come close to hitting. Just skimmed over and above him. 

He barely had time to notice something heavy and fast above him before it dropped on top of him. A hand wrapped around his wing, and Starscream lost control. 

That slagging cheater! Starscream thought as he tried to control the inevitable crash. He’d been flying above the treeline while herding Starscream lower, and that slagger had caught up!  

Starscream flared his thruster, simultaneously trying to adjust to the sudden weight and scorch that slagger off him. Vortex didn’t let go, and Starscream’s lurching efforts to stay in the air failed when Vortex dug his claws into Starscream’s leg and pulled.

His thruster gave out. They crashed. Starscream twisted to soften the fall, though he lost the paintgun. He groped through his subspace for a replacement, and his fingers landed on several small balls. Vortex’s hand was still tight around his leg, holding him in place. Starscream threw his hands backwards until he met plating, and he let the bombs explode between them. Acid bursts around his fingers.

Starscream was prepared for the pain; Vortex wasn't. He shouted and recoiled, and Starscream slipped free. 

Vortex had his hand pressed against his side. The acid had corroded through parts of his armor, and energon spilled freely downward.  It sizzled away at the paint on his hand too. Vortex regarded his hand for a moment then licked the mingled energon and acid from his fingertips.

"So you do have some fight in you. How exciting!"

He grinned, and Starscream might've called the expression gleeful if there'd been less violence lurking at its edges.
Starscream grabbed another few bombs and wished he’d managed to hit higher. Like at Vortex’s neck. Vortex’s grin only widened; the slagger was enjoying this. 

“I swear I’ll kill you,” Starscream said and was surprised to find he meant the words. He’d never killed anyone before. Maimed, yes. Eviscerated, once or twice. But he’d never hated anyone enough to want to personally tear out their spark chamber and watch the light fade.

“Cute,” Vortex said, still grinning.

Starscream took a deep breath. A second. He forced himself to think past the blinding anger. He still needed to escape. Even injured, Vortex was dangerous, but he’d be slower. 

So Starscream turned and ran. He could buy more time in the forest. Skywarp was somewhere in there too. Surely he’d heard something. Maybe-

There was a searing pain in his knee. Starscream fell. 

He skidded against the ground and jarred his wing on a boulder, but it didn’t compare to the pain in his leg. His hand found a burnt circle of plating atop his previous injury. A blaster bolt. The metal beneath was warped by the energy, the joint ruined and useless. He tried to move, but it wasn’t responding right.

 Slag. Slag.

Behind him, Vortex lowered his rifle and sauntered closer. 

Starscream stood. He needed a tree as support, but he refused to meet Vortex sprawled on the dirt. He expected another insult from Vortex. An unsettling comment or witty statement, at least, but Vortex was silent as he watched Starscream struggle to his feet. He kept slagging grinning, and Starscream couldn't read him. Was he still planning on toying with him? Or would the next shot be aimed at his spark?

Starscream leaned his weight on his good leg and braced himself. Either way, he'd do his best to dodge. 

Vortex raised his rifle. A shot rang out.

Starscream dove to the side. His knee screamed at the movement, but when he hit the ground he was still whole. Vortex had missed.

That fragger was still playing with him. Cursing, Starscream scrambled to get his feet under him again. He had to be ready, he-

A thud drew Starscream's attention back up. Vortex’s rifle was on the ground, fallen. Confused, Starscream looked further up.
Half of Vortex’s helm was missing. Torn off and heat-twisted; high-grade blaster damage. Already his color nanites were fading, and gray rippled out from the damage. His frame finally gave out, and Vortex toppled to the ground. 

Behind him, in the forest, something moved.

"Skywarp?" Starscream called. His voice shook, which was stupid. Vortex was dead. Very dead. So why was his entire frame shaking?

It wasn't Skywarp that walked out of the trees, but Starscream relaxed nonetheless. 

"Took you long enough," he said, and he let his helm fall back against the ground. He hurt. His knee was the worst, but his other injuries were making themselves known as well. His thruster. The hinges of his wings. The edges too, where the previous orn's repairs were still fresh. 

He indulged in a moment of relief. Let himself stay on the ground and pretend everything would be fine.

Then he reminded himself to be strong, and he stood.

~.*.~

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Time passed strangely underwater. Sound was oddly muffled, and the world was dark around them. Lights from their frames spilled across the ocean floor, illuminating small tracks around them. 

The first clue something was wrong came when Skyfire was punched in the back by a shot of superheated water. His armor held against the heat, but the force blew him off his feet. For the second time that cycle, he spun through the open water. He threw out a hand to grab at the ocean floor. His fingers slipped against sand and debris before catching against rock.

Looking back, he saw figures moving through the water. Fighting. On his right, another mech sank slowly towards the ground, motionless. Red and black: Wildrider. Pink energon surrounded him in a faint cloud.

Skyfire activated his thrusters and sped towards him. Wildrider stirred when Skyfire pulled him against his chest. Sections of his armor had buckled inward, but the plating was intact. Painful, but not dangerous. The energon came from a torn line in his side, and Skyfire flicked out his welder and sealed it off. Wildrider swatted weakly at Skyfire’s hand, but his optics only flickered briefly and fell dark again.

Movement made him look up to see Breakdown struggling towards him. He was trying to run, but the water turned the motion slow and awkward. Skyfire pressed Wildrider into Breakdown’s arms and motioned for them to keep going. He looked back to the other three figures. He recognized Thundercracker and Motormaster immediately, but it took him a moment to realize the Tank they were fighting was Brawl.

There was someone else on their left. This time, Skyfire saw the flash as a rifle fired. He stepped in front of the Younglings, and the shot hit his chest a moment later. It burned against his plating and knocked the wind out of him, but he held his ground. He could feel the Younglings against his back. They didn’t have the reinforced armor he did; it’d been an attack meant to kill.

Skyfire didn’t let their attacker try a second time. He activated his thrusters and sped towards the sniper. He absentmindedly recognized Swindle as he approached, who was simultaneously raising his rifle again and backpedaling to put more distance between them.

Swindle had antigravs, but Skyfire was a true flyer. He easily caught up. Swindle twisted when Skyfire grabbed him, but Skyfire caught the rifle before he could fire it. In one move, he tore it off Swindle’s frame.

Theoretically, Skyfire knew the weapon was an inbuilt part of Swindle’s frame. He still didn’t expect the resulting bloom of energon. His grip slipped on Swindle’s arm, and a sharp burst of pain made him let go entirely. His hand jerked back to his chest, cradling it, and his vision whited out as he bumped against something embedded in the metal. A knife; he’d been stabbed.

Swindle was still getting away. 

Light flared from behind him and struck Swindle in the leg. His leg sparked, and he lost control of his flight. With only one antigrav working, Swindle spun wildly through the water as he tried unsuccessfully to stabilize himself. He collided with something with a loud crack and went limp. He disappeared into the gloom, and Skyfire didn’t have time to track where the currents pulled his frame. 

Behind him, Breakdown held Wildrider in one hand and the blaster he’d just fired in another. They were alright. Out of danger, for now. Thundercracker and Motormaster were still fighting though, and Skyfire turned his attention to them.

They seemed to be holding their own. Motormaster had one arm locked around Brawl’s throat and was hanging off his back. It didn’t seem to be slowing Brawl down as he threw punches at Thundercracker. He seemed to notice when Swindle was knocked offline. He turned, and his optics met Skyfire’s.

Brawl broke Motormaster’s chokehold with one hand, yanked him off his back, and threw him at Thundercracker. Thundercracker went down, and Brawl turned and ran. The ocean floor was uneven, strewn with crevices and protruding stone. Darkness and shadows.

With the two Younglings safely behind him, Skyfire watched him disappear and hopes he was making the right choice.
…

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream made it to his knees before a hand grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

Red plating. Blocky armor.

Sideswipe.

The Grounder was a welcome sight for several reasons. Mostly because Starscream hadn’t been sure his signal had gotten out at all, let alone that anyone would be close enough to respond. He’d chosen an Autobot channel for a reason, but…

Well. It’d worked out, and that was what mattered.

"How badly are you hurt?" Sideswipe asked.

Starscream used Sideswipe’s shoulder to leverage himself to his feet. "I'm fine. Self-repair can handle it.”

And, yeah, a medic should probably look at his wings and knee eventually, but none of it was critical. Vortex had just been playing after all. Behind Sideswipe, Sunstreaker lurked with a large rifle. He nodded in greeting, but most of his attention was on their surroundings.

“Oh, good,” Sideswipe said. “In that case, do you mind telling us what the slag is going on?”

His tone started out deceptively light, but the cheer was already cracking by the end of his question. He was upset. Slag. Starscream was not mentally prepared to deal with any emotions right now and especially not someone else’s. Starscream opened his mouth. Closed it. Sideswipe kept ranting.

“See, it’s been a really stressful orn. First it was a perfectly normal battle, except then we found Megatron’s fragging corpse and you were missing! Do you have any idea how worried everyone’s been? Really slagging worried, that’s what! Then, of course, you set off that distress beacon because apparently Vortex, of all people, was trying very hard to deactivate you.”

Sideswipe’s arm tightened around Starscream’s shoulders. His other hand waved around a blaster as if to punctuate his statement. 

Then he stilled. Pointed his blaster at the forest, where Starscream belatedly noticed something was moving through the trees. A moment later, Skywarp stumbled into sight. He looked mildly worse for wear and was caked in mud and organic muck. No energon though, and no obvious wounds. He froze when he saw the Twins.

“Well, slag,” Skywarp said. 

Sideswipe gestured at Skywarp with his blaster. “This is what I’m talking about!” he shouted. “I would really like an explanation right now!”

Skywarp slowly raised his hands and looked at Starscream for direction. Starscream grabbed Sideswipe’s arm and tried to force the weapon down. Sideswipe let himself be manhandled, but then Sunstreaker was aiming his blaster at Skywarp instead. It was not an improvement.

“Don’t you dare!” Starscream shouted at him. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I just went through to keep that idiot alive?”

Sideswipe laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, and Sunstreaker still hadn’t lowered his blaster.

“You mean the same idiot that helped abduct you a half orn ago? The one that had you running scared before that?” Sideswipe said.

Starscream flinched at the reminder. “He’s my Trinemate,” Starscream hissed instead. “You’re not allowed to hurt him, especially not before we figure out the mess between us!”

He’d only knows he even had a Trine for a few orns. He still didn’t know whether he wanted to keep them or never see them again, and they weren’t allowed to leave him until he figured it out. 

Skywarp was staring at him too, but Starscream refused to be embarrassed. Fine, he was acknowledging the whole Trine thing. They had bigger things to worry about. Like the greyed-out frame at their feet and whoever else was allied with him.

“They kidnapped you,” Sideswipe said. 

“No, they saved my life after Megatron shot me down! I didn’t send out that distress beacon so you could hurt him instead!”

“Ugh, you’re sure? ‘Cause it would be a heck of a lot easier if we could just shoot the bad guys and go home.”

Starscream took the chance to glare at Sideswipe. He didn’t think the mech was being serious, but it could be hard to tell. Just in case, he released Sideswipe’s arm and backed up so he was between the Twins and Skywarp. 

“You are not shooting my Trinemate,” he warned. Friend or not, he would make Sideswipe regret it.  They deserved some sort of explanation though.  Not that Starscream was good at explaining things.

“Thundercracker killed Megatron, which for some stupid reason made him the new leader. Vortex and his gestalt didn’t like that, so they decided to blow up our quarters and ambush us instead. Satisfied?”

“Not at all!” Sideswipe said almost cheerfully. “You’re gonna be stuck with the Brass for cycles giving a full debrief as soon as we get you back to the Ark.”

Starscream grimaced at the thought. It’d been a long orn, slaggit, and he was tired.

And… this wasn’t over yet. Not when ‘coms were still down, and he hadn’t heard a single slagging thing from the others. 

“I’m not leaving until I know Skyfire and Thundercracker are alright,” Starscream said.

They were still down in the ship with whoever had tried to bomb them. They could be hurt or in danger. Starscream refused to leave, to run away before it was over.

“No,” Sunstreaker said.

“Excuse me?”

Sunstreaker didn’t take his optics off Skywarp.

“You’ve spent the past day as a Decepticon prisoner. We’ll leave Skywarp alone, but you’re coming back to the Ark and straight to Ratchet.”

Starscream looked between him and Skywarp and considered his options. Sure, he’d spent the last several cycles furious about the kidnapping thing and waiting for an opportunity to head home. Except that’d been before they’d all been attacked. The situation was different now.

Sideswipe sighed. “Look, I get that it’s a weird situation, but they’re still ‘Cons. It’s not worth getting involved in their leadership squabble.”

Leadership squabble? This was about mecha trying to kill them, not some petty position! Starscream opened his mouth to shout at them, but his optics caught on the red badge at their chest. Autobot. The war. Of course the Twins weren’t willing to get involved with mecha they’d been trying to kill for literal millennia.

Slagging politics.

Starscream wasn’t in arms reach anymore, not that either Twin seemed to care. Clearly they hadn’t known Starscream long enough.

“You can’t stop me,” he said, and he activated his thrusters. His wings and thruster ached as they took his weight, but it was tolerable. He heard the Twins shout after him and then, thankfully, the sound of a second pair of thrusters as Skywarp joined him in the air.

Good. Skywarp hadn’t looked injured, but there’d been a chance something would stop Skywarp from joining him in the air. 

Slightly later, he heard jetpacks beneath them. Not that it mattered; the Twins were still Grounders. They might be a threat on the battlefield, but they didn’t have a prayer of catching a Seeker in the open air. 

When they were far enough away, Starscream slowed to let Skywarp catch up. Skywarp was staring at him with something soft in his face, and Starscream looked away before he had to name it.

“So, uh, do you have a plan?” Skywarp asked.

Starscream flew back towards where he vaguely remembered the base being located. They had endless blue sea below them dotted by the occasional expanses of islands. Starscream knew absolutely nothing about the geography here, and he cursed his previous carelessness. He should’ve memorized some slagging maps.

“Like I said: we find the others and make sure they dealt with whatever slag happened back in the ship. Then I go back to the Twins and the Ark, and you guys get to cleanup this whole mess.”

Sure, it wasn’t the best plan Starscream had come up with, but it wasn’t the worst either. They could figure out the details as they went along.

“There might be a couple problems with that,” Skywarp said. “First of all, we’re off-course? A bit? Also, the ‘coms are still down, and we kinda need those to activate the lift to enter the base.”

Well, slag. That was a problem. Skywarp was veering slightly left—towards the base, he assumed—and Starscream corrected course to match, so that was one problem down. What slagging idiot had decided to build that disaster of a military base under a saltwater sea anyway? It was wasteful and thoroughly unhygienic. 

“We’ll figure something out when we get there,” Starscream said instead. The strategy had always worked for him before. Worst case scenario, he’d slagging walk to the ship and make Skyfire rinse out the saltwater afterwards.

…

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

They hadn't gone far before static popped in Skyfire's head and a 'com line opened without his permission. He nearly panicked before recognizing Rumble’s signature.

::I'm kinda impressed. I mean, I'm gonna smack someone next time I see you guys, but still. Gotta admire the sense for dramatics y'all have.::

::Rumble. Now is not a good time.:: 

They weren’t actively being attacked, thankfully, but they were still at the bottom of the ocean with enemies lurking somewhere nearby. Much as he appreciated the help, he’d rather keep this quick. Rumble gasped in mock-offense.

::Hey now, is that any way to talk to the mecha who’ve been runnin’ around fixing the chaos you guys caused? Do you have any idea what saltwater does to electronics? Bad things!::

::I have to admit, your equipment isn’t high on my priority list right now.::

Rumble laughed. ::Trust me, you'da been a heck of a lot worse off if you'd stayed in the dark ages 'cause we didn't have the tools to get the ‘coms rolling again.::

 ::I am, of course, suitably grateful for your hard work. If you want, we can discuss it in detail later. ::

 ::Oof, mech. Harsh! Nah, I'm just checking y’all are still alive, what with the whole coup thing and getting yeeted into the bottom of the ocean. And letting ya know personally ‘bout the ‘coms being back up.::

Skyfire smiled, unexpectedly amused by Rumble’s levity.  ::The Combacticons followed us out. We're trying to reach the surface, but they've already attacked us again.::

 ::Ugh, sorry mech, you won't be getting any backup from our end for a while. We're too busy stopping our whole operation from sinking. A ton of noise just started humming 'round the Autobot channels too, not that we have time to decrypt it now. You guys try not to get caught up in that can of worms while you're running around, alright?.::

::We'll try,:: Skyfire said without much hope. Historically, they hadn't done a good job avoiding trouble

 Rumble closed the line. Skyfire tapped Thundercracker’s shoulder to get his attention then opened a ‘com channel to him. Thundercracker jumped as it connected.

::It's fixed?::

Skyfire nodded, distracted as he added Skywarp and Starscream to the connection. They answered immediately.

::Thank Primus,:: Skywarp said, which was never a good start to a conversation. ::Hey TC! Has your day been as slagging terrible as ours?:: Skywarp said.

::We’re currently walking along the bottom of the ocean and dealing with the Combacticons. I certainly hope your cycle’s been better than this,:: Thundercracker said dryly.

There was a very concerning silence before Skywarp answered.

 ::So there miiiiiiight’ve been an ambush waiting for us. It worked out alright though! We’re both alive and, uh, mostly unharmed. Vortex is dead, btw. Don’t know where Blast Off ran off too, so who knows if he’ll pop up again. Oh yeah, and the Terror Twins are here with more Autobots on the way. So yeah, it’s been one heck of a cycle.::

::I’m sorry, what?:: Skyfire burst out. They’d teleported out! They were supposed to have been safe, not fighting for their lives! 

::There was an ambush. It’s over now, and we won,:: Skywarp repeated. Hearing it a second time didn’t make Skyfire feel any better.

Still. Panic wasn’t helpful. From the sound of it, Starscream and Skywarp had already gotten out of the mess. Right now, they had to focus on more immediate problems. 

::You mentioned Autobots?:: Thundercracker asked, practical as ever.

::I sent a distress beacon through the blackout,:: Starscream said. ::The Twins helped us, but we had to leave them behind. No idea what they’re up to now or if there’s any other ‘bots nearby.::

Great. More complications. Skyfire supposed having Autobots nearby didn’t necessarily make things worse; they were much less likely to kill everyone, especially when compared with the Combacticons. But they were still enemies, and Skyfire couldn’t predict what they might do.

::Alright,:: Thundercracker said. ::I can work with this.::

He took a few moments to think, which was reassuring. Skyfire wasn’t particularly fond of snap decisions himself. That was Starscream’s forte, and Skyfire had plenty of experience with the consequences. Thundercracker sighed and nodded as he came to a decision.

::I need you two to do something for me. The Stunticons were with us when the ship was damaged. Motormaster, Wildrider, and Breakdown are with us, but the other two are missing. You two need to find them.::

Starscream’s disgust was almost audible.

::Are you slagging serious? You just finished telling us how Onslaught is still after you, and you’re distracting us with some random retrieval mission?::

Thundercracker sighed. ::Starscream, if I wanted you out of the way I’d tell you to get the Autobots off our backs. I need you to find Dead End and Drag Strip because they’re missing and possibly injured, and you’re in the best place to help them.::

Guiltily, Skyfire thought keeping Starscream away from danger was a pleasant side-effect. Not that Starscream would agree. He could hear Starscream stewing over the request, trying to find a good argument. There wasn't a good alternative though, and eventually Starscream had to admit it.

::You owe me for this,:: Starscream threatened, which was as good as an agreement.

Thundercracker laughed. ::Tell you what; once this is over, you can name your reward and I’ll make it happen.::

Starscream grumbled something vaguely menacing before subsiding. The next moment stretched onwards. They needed to leave. A good hacker could track a ‘com line, and there was nothing more to be said. 

::Stay safe:: Skyfire said, and he closed the channel.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream knew all the Stunticon’s ‘com number. With the 'coms back up, he sent out a quick ping and waited impatiently for an answer. It took several moments to come, longer than he’d expected. He only received a set of coordinates from Dead End. Nothing from Drag Strip.

Starscream didn’t like it. He reluctantly admitted (to himself, at least) that Thundercracker had a point about the missing Younglings. He’d have preferred the wild goose chase. 

Dead End didn’t answer when Starscream requested a ‘com channel. He just resent the coordinates, and Starscream followed. As he flew, he reluctantly made another decision. He’d been ignoring his own ‘coms, which had been ringing since the blackout lifted. As he watched, another call came through. Starscream didn’t let himself hesitate as he accepted the request 

::Starscream, what the slag,:: Sideswipe immediately said.

He sounded so honestly affronted that Starscream nearly laughed. ::Yeah, yeah, you’re angry and I’m horrible. I’ve heard it before. Anyway, I have a mission that won’t offend your delicate sensibilities.::

::My delicate what?::

This time, Starscream really did laugh.

::Whatever. It’s time for you to stop being reckless and come back! Did you forget we’re talking about a slagging war? And mecha that can and will try to kill you?::

 Considering his recent run-in with Vortex, Starscream had not forgotten. More than that, he found it ironic that Sideswipe, of all people, was telling him to be reasonable. Hypocrite.

::Hey, Sideswipe, in all the time you’ve known me, what have I ever done to make you think I’ll obey an order from you?::

::How about the fact that this is war and you’re supposed to be good at this self-preservation slag?::

Starscream snorted. That was a thoroughly uninspired attempt at manipulation. He was a survivor, not some kind of coward, and he certainly didn’t abandon projects halfway through.

He was getting close to the coordinates, and he was relieved to see they led to one of the islands. He didn't have to deal with saltwater in his seams yet, at least. Small victories. In the distance, two metal forms sat along the waterline. He didn’t see any energon, but they weren’t moving either. 

::Anyway, you need to come to these coordinates. Bring Ratchet if you can; I think we’re gonna need him.:

Ignoring him for the moment, Starscream hurtled down for a landing.  Dead End was curled on the sand with Drag Strip against his chest. As Starscream hit the ground, his weight sent up a large cloud of sand, which he carefully angled away from the two Younglings.

Dead End barely looked up. At first glance, he didn’t look injured. No fresh energon, no dents or discoloration. Drag Strip was clearly unconscious and half-hidden in his arms, but Starscream could see scraped and dented armor along his side.

“What happened?” Starscream asked.

 Dead End flinched away from his voice and curled further around his brother. Starscream had had a very unpleasant cycle, and he lacked patience at the best of times. He wanted to snap at Dead End and pull Drag Strip free for a proper inspection. He also had no desire to traumatize some Younglings, which meant a different strategy was in order.

Skyfire was good at this kind of slag. Channel Skyfire, he thought. He could practically hear Skyfire’s voice in his head, and he repeated the words.

“I have some first aid training. Can I look at him?”

The words sounded stilted and awkward to him, but Dead End just shrugged and loosened his grip on Drag Strip. Starscream took immediate advantage to investigate Drag Strip’s injured side. Something had hit him hard, and the pattern of the damage made Starscream think of heat damage. 

As he worked, he remembered he’d been talking to Sideswipe before landing. Sideswipe was, in fact, still talking—shouting, really—and Starscream had been completely ignoring him. Sideswipe had a pretty impressive rant going, actually. A skilled use of vulgarities. 

::It's fine. I’m not the one who needs a medic,:: Starscream cut in.

::Starscream you asshole, don’t do slag like that! I’m in contact with half the army right now, and lemme tell you nobody is happy Sunny and I found you then lost you again.::

Great. Even more Autobots to complicate this slagging mess.

::Is Ratchet coming?::

::Yeah, him and a whole group. Gotta say, it’ll be really fragging helpful for all of us if you mention what, exactly, they’ll be walking into!::

That was fair. It wasn’t like Starscream had intentionally left them in the dark. He’d just had more immediate things to worry about.

::The Stunticons were caught up in the fighting, and Drag Strip was injured. He’s stable but unconscious. Now hush, I'm gonna talk to them.  Don't freak out.::

 He muted the connection and cast Sideswipe entirely out of mind for the moment. He could wait his turn. 

"Dead End?" Starscream repeated and reached out to touch his shoulder. The Youngling shuddered under his hand. Slaggit, Starscream was really, really, not good at this. 

“Dunno what happened,” Dead End said, and it took a moment for Starscream to realize he was answering the earlier question. “We were combined, and Menasor cracked the walls open. Something hit us, and we fell apart. I don’t know where the others are.”

“They’re with Skyfire and Thundercracker. They’re fine.”

"Oh. Okay."

Dead End fell silent again, staring blankly at his unconscious brother. Starscream hovered next to him, unsure what else to do. Should he say something else? Give him some space? What?

Before he could make a decision, Skywarp tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Star? I think we have company." Skywarp said, gazing out over the water.

Distantly, Starscream heard engines. There were distant specks in the sky, growing slowly closer. The Autobots.

"Alright, let's go. Mission complete and all that slag."

The two Younglings had been found and were both stable. The Autobots would be here in a moment to take care of them. Time to leave before the Autobots arrived and mucked things up. He turned to Dead End one more time. 

"Hey, kid, the Autobots are coming to help you guys, alright? Don't freak out and don't do anything stupid."

Dead End shrugged, which was good enough. Honestly, Starscream was more worried about whenever Drag Strip woke up, but that was a problem for later. For now, he gave Dead End one last, awkward pat on the shoulder, grabbed Skywarp, and took to the skies. 

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

The world grew lighter as they near the surface, and Skyfire was relieved when he could properly see their surroundings again. He had plenty of other sensors—ones stronger than most, considering his occupation--but none were as versatile as optics.

Yet, as they grew closer, something tickled at the edge of his awareness. Skyfire frowned and stopped to focus on the sensation. It had disappeared as quickly as it appeared, little more than a shadow. He kept looking, but it didn’t reappear. It could’ve been an organic or a particularly strong ocean current. Even a small glitch in his sensors.

He’d rather be paranoid than careless. He opened a ‘com channel to Thundercracker.

::I thought I felt something. Be careful.::

Thundercracker pinged back an acknowledgement. Skyfire started walking again, more slowly than before.  Organic worlds were full of strange shapes and creatures. Shadows and movement. The water amplified everything in strange ways, and Skyfire was grateful when they neared the surface.

They broke through, and Skyfire had to pause to adjust to the air. In the time it took Skyfire to cycle his vents, chaos broke loose.

Something large surged up from beneath the water and bowled into their group. A heavy force slammed into him and sent him skidding across the sand. He heard the crack of rifle fire. Saw something else drop towards them from above. His back hit a tree, and it snapped under the force.

By the time he stumbled to his feet, there were several frames locked in combat, and he could barely tell what was happening. Thundercracker was ducking around a large frame--Brawl?--and the Younglings were scattered across the sand. Breakdown and Wildrider seemed frozen in place, but Motormaster was already on his feet and charging forward.

Skyfire saw Onslaught before Motormaster did. On the sand, much too close to the Youngling and reaching towards him. Skyfire tried to shout but, before he could intervene, Onslaught grabbed Motormaster and pressed his blaster to the Youngling's head.

“Freeze!” Onslaught shouted.

Skyfire obeyed immediately. Thundercracker took an extra moment to deliberate, glancing between Onslaught and Motormaster, before lowering his weapon as well.

Fortunately, Onslaught didn’t seem inclined to do anything with his hostage quite yet. He was too preoccupied with glaring daggers at Thundercracker.

“Do you have any idea what your carelessness has done?” Onslaught hissed. “You’ve crippled our forces on Earth! We were already vulnerable from Megatron’s loss, and now you’ve left us wide open to Autobot attack.”

“Better than letting you destroy my Trine.”

Onslaught’s look of disgust deepened. “Sentimentality,” he spat. “You don’t deserve to lead the Decepticons.”

Thundercracker’s face twisted into something too bitter to be called a smile. “I know. You don’t deserve it either. Especially since you’re cowardly enough to hide behind a Youngling.”

Onslaught just smiled and adjusted his blaster against Motormaster’s helm.

“Is that your clumsy attempt at convincing me to release him? Unfortunately, I’m not so easily manipulated.”

Skyfire briefly glanced away to scan their surroundings. It was still bare: nothing more than an outcropping of sand and stone and distant trees, and the waves crashed uninterrupted against the shore. Backup wasn’t coming, not for either of them.

“What do you want?” Thundercracker asked.

“I want you dead.”

Blunt. Thundercracker laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “So you can kill everyone else anyway? I’ll pass.”

Skyfire jerked forward, a protest on his lips, but Onslaught’s finger on the trigger made him freeze.  He couldn’t think, but he needed to figure something out because Thundercracker wasn’t bluffing. He really would let Motormaster die, and Skyfire couldn’t allow that.

“Maybe not so sentimental then,” Onslaught mused. He didn’t pull the trigger though. Not yet. Apparently he wasn’t quite willing to sacrifice his leverage.

“Do you have any more reasonable offers?” Thundercracker said.

Skyfire tried not to get his hopes up when it looked like Onslaught was considering how far he could push Thundercracker. Surely there was a way out of this. A way, any way that didn’t include watching a Youngling die.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

They followed the explosion.

It's not like the fighting was subtle. It was all shouting and crashing, and sound carried over the open water. Then it fell quiet, and that was worse. Starscream tried to be careful. Really. He quieted his engines and kept to the clouds, but it wasn’t like anyone was paying attention to the skies.

He first saw them as small figures down below, just standing there. Shouting. Starscream didn't like it.

Then he realized Motormaster was caught in Onslaught’s grip, and his control snapped. He didn’t think. He activated his thrusters and dove down.

He was Starscream, the fastest mech in existence, and Onslaught barely had time to glance up before Starscream barreled into him at full speed. His plating creaked under the pressure, but Onslaught went flying. They tumbled to the ground as Starscream scrambled for leverage. He dug his claws into something soft and was rewarded with a spurt of energon. Then a hand tightened on his arm, hard enough to crush, and he was thrown off.

He landed, disoriented, near Thundercracker. His bad knee almost buckled underneath him as he stood, but it was fine. He used a surprised Thundercracker to catch his balance.

“Starscream? But where’s-”

“The kids are safe. Autobots have them.”

There wasn’t time for anything else. Across the sand, Motormaster scrambled towards Skyfire, and Brawl lumbered towards them. He was interrupted by Skywarp, who came screaming down from above. Sand exploded upwards at the impact, obscuring them from sight.

Starscream didn't have time to worry about them. Onslaught was looking towards him and Thundercracker. His optics passed over Starscream, dismissing him to focus on Thundercracker. With a furious roar, he charged. Thundercracker ran forward to meet him, twisting underneath the attack.

Starscream could barely tell what happened next. It was all tangled limbs and rapid attacks. Back and forth, attack and block. Neither landed a solid attack, but Starscream could read a fight.

Thundercracker was being pushed back. Losing.

Unacceptable.

A blow caught the edge of Thundercracker’s wing, and he was thrown backwards, off-balance and vulnerable. Starscream jerked forward and attacked. Without looking, Onslaught caught his wrist and twisted it.

“You’re out of your depth,” Onslaught said and tightened his grip. Something ground together unnaturally in Starscream’s arm, and the shocked numbness abruptly gave way to blistering pain. Panic overwhelmed him for a moment as he was pulled forward. He didn’t let it overwhelm him for long. Onslaught was looking at Thundercracker again. Ignoring him.

Underestimating him, like everyone else.

Starscream still had one hand free. He unclenched it from Onslaught’s wrist, where it scratched shallowly at his armor. Onslaught’s shoulder was within reach. Most of his armor was thick and blocky, but the underside of the joint needed to be more mobile. Vulnerable. When Onslaught raised his arm to yank him forward, Starscream struck.

He dug his claws into the joint and activated a small transformation sequence. Just enough to move some pressurized needles forward and release its contents underneath Onslaught’s plating.

Technically, it was just some hardening foam from Skywarp. Annoying. Harmless.  Beneath plating, though, the split-second chemical reaction could burn through wiring, and Onslaught’s plating bulged from the pressure as the foam expanded.

Onslaught shouted, and his grip around Starscream’s wrist spasmed. Starscream didn’t see the blow coming until it clocked him in the helm. His claws jerked free from Onslaught’s joint, and he was thrown sideways. His helm pulsed with pain, sending error messages throughout his frame.

He landed hard and scrambled away. He could hear fighting on either side of him, but he had trouble keeping track of things. It was hard to see and harder to concentrate. He offlined his optics and willed his rattled processer to settle. He couldn't afford to be helpless. He could still fight, and they would win. They had to.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

Skyfire’s spark stopped when he saw Starscream slam into Onslaught. Starscream wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be far away, taking care of the other Younglings. Not that Starscream ever did what he was supposed to, and Skyfire had to react to what was actually happening.

Motormaster stumbled free, and Skyfire ran forward to meet him. He had to trust Starscream and Thundercracker could take care of themselves, and he focused on the Younglings. He pulled Motormaster forward, putting his frame between him and the fighting.  Motormaster was breathing hard and held tight to Skyfire’s arm, but Skyfire didn’t have time to comfort him.

“Get your brothers. We’re going,” he said. Motormaster balked, and Skyfire shoved him towards the forest. They didn’t have time for hesitation, and Skyfire refused to let Motormaster stay and get killed. The trees would offer some shelter, at least, and get them away from the remaining Combaticons.

“I’m not running!”

“Wildrider is hurt and your brothers scattered. You’re their leader; they need you.”

Duty to his brothers convinced him where his own safety hadn’t, and Motormaster nodded. Thankfully, Wildrider and Breakdown were near the treeline. Breakdown was still supporting Wildrider, and his field was a mess of fear and panic as Skyfire approached. Skyfire soothed it as best he could, but they didn’t have time. He lifted Wildrider out of Breakdown’s hands, and together they ran.

He glanced back one last time before disappearing into the trees. Skywarp was harassing Brawl, flitting like quicksilver around the Grounder's clumsy attacks. Further back, Onslaught fought Thundercracker and Starscream. Skyfire lingered on Starscream, injured yet fierce, and for a moment he considered running back to help. His sparkmate was in danger, but-

Starscream was an adult. Skyfire had injured Younglings to worry about, and that took priority. He had to trust the Seekers would survive without him. So he turned, and he followed Motormaster into the trees. The trees quickly grew closer together, and Skyfire had to slow as he picked his way between them.

When he decided they were far enough away, he motioned for them to stop.

“Are either of you injured?” he asked. His voice seemed startingly loud in the quiet. Motormaster and Breakdown quickly shook their heads, and Skyfire turned to Wildrider.

He was awake, at least, and clinging to Skyfire’s plating. Not very coherent though, and he leaned away from Skyfire’s touch when he prodded at his side. It didn’t seem like any of the damage was dangerous, but Skyfire didn’t like the way some of the plating had buckled inward. He definitely didn’t like how disoriented Wildrider seemed; it could be nothing, or it could mean he had worse damage lurking beneath.

“We’ll stay here for a bit,” he decided. They were far enough away to spare a few minutes, and he wanted a closer look at Wildrider, just in case. He eased the Youngling to the ground and immediately had both Motormaster and Breakdown looming beside him. Skyfire let them be; they were young and Gestalt, and some protectiveness was expected. He could work around it.

He didn’t have any pain patches on him, so he was very careful as he loosened the plating along Wildrider’s side. Wildrider whined and batted at his hand, but he settled easily enough.

“Try to keep him calm, alright?” Skyfire said. “I’m just taking a look, but he could damage himself if he panics.”

He got two determined agreement, and Skyfire focused on Wildrider. Whatever his brothers are doing seemed to be helping, and Wildrider didn’t move as Skyfire kept working. Quickly, carefully, he investigated Wildrider’s injuries, repairing torn lines and fixing minor dents as he went. He didn’t find any unexpected damage, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Wildrider was young and his systems overwhelmed, but he didn’t see anything serious.

There was a soft sound behind him. The unmistakable hum of a charging blaster.

“Hey, ‘Con. Don’t move,” someone said behind him. Skyfire had only heard his voice a couple times before, but he recognized it.

“Sideswipe,” Skyfire said, closing his eyes. Autobots. Of course. Briefly, he wondered whether they’d followed Starscream or traced the unsecured ‘com lines, not that it mattered. Maybe they’d even stumbled across him by chance.

Well. Time to make the most of this newest disaster.

“Motormaster, can you take your brother?” Skyfire asked, deliberately ignoring the weapon pointed at him. He carefully shifted Wildrider into Motormaster’s arms and turned to face Sideswipe.  It meant staring directly down a blaster, which was a uniquely unpleasant experience. Sunstreaker was also there, slightly behind his Twin. Both looked quite stressed.

Starscream had spoken fondly of the two Frontliners and said they were reasonable people. Skyfire supposed he was about to put that to the test.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Starscream carefully pushed himself upright, holding his head and biting back nausea. He barely had time to adjust before something crashed into him, and he toppled back down. His legs tangled against something—someone?—and he only recognized Skywarp when his arm knocked against the other Seeker’s wing.

“Down!” Skywarp shouted and shoved him back into the sand. Something flew overhead, and Skywarp rolled off him. Starscream was still on the ground when Brawl charged toward them, and Skywarp threw himself between them.  Protecting him, and Starscream was ashamed to admit he needed it. He wasn’t half as good as the others, and he’d already used up most of his tricks.

But he couldn’t stand there and do nothing. Not while Skywarp was getting hurt and Thundercracker was still fighting, and Starscream refused to be a burden.

He rummaged through his subspace, desperate to find something. His hands landed on something small and round, and he pulled it out.  Skywarp’s flash grenades; too weak to cause damage, but better than nothing.

Skywarp shouted, and Starscream looked up to find him grappled by Brawl and struggling against the larger mech’s grip.  Starscream threw the flash grenades and turned his head away as light exploded outward. Brawl cried out, and Starscream looked over, blinking away afterimages. He saw Brawl move, and the ground beside him exploded upward. Starscream stumbled back, and once again he fell back onto the sand. He didn’t realize Onslaught was close until he looked over and found himself staring up at the Grounder

“Enough of this!” Onslaught shouted, and he swung his rifle towards Starscream. His other arm hung uselessly at his side, frozen by the hardening foam. Thundercracker was several steps behind, optics bright with alarm.

Panicking, Starscream threw the last flash grenade at Onslaught’s face and scrambled backward. As he moved, his hand hit metal. A blaster; the one Onslaught had dropped earlier. Starscream wrapped his fingers around it, grateful for a proper weapon.

He didn’t bother aiming. Onslaught was right there; it would be harder to miss. Starscream pressed the barrel against the first bit of plating he found—the side of Onslaught’s knee--and he pulled the trigger. The blast tore through the plating, and Onslaught shouted. His leg buckled underneath him. He recovered before falling, but Thundercracker was already taking advantage of his distraction. He ducked under Onslaughts arm, twisted his blaster under Onslaught’s chin, and pulled the trigger.

Thundercracker kept firing, but Starscream had to look away after the first shot shattered Onslaught’s jaw. By the time Onslaught hit the ground, his frame was already starting to gray.

He barely registered Brawl stumbling backwards, one hand over his spark. Cursing at them, he took to the skies, and nobody followed.

It was very quiet, afterwards. Starscream stayed where he was, staring at Onslaught’s frame. The helm was almost unrecognizable, and Starscream couldn’t make himself look away. Onslaught was dead. Very, very dead.

So… it was over? Shouldn’t he be feeling relief? He mostly felt sick and tired and in pain, and he wanted Skyfire at his side more than anything.

Starscream jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Skywarp, kneeling next to him. He had several new dents across his frame, and it looked like someone had grabbed his right arm and tried to crush it.

“Are you okay?” Skywarp asked.

Starscream nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so he stayed quiet. He leaned against Skywarp’s side and was grateful when Thundercracker joined them. It wasn’t as good as having Skyfire nearby, but… it was nice. It helped. They were alive, and everything else could wait a bit longer.

Except he could hear something moving in the forest. Maybe it was some organic wandering around. Or Skyfire coming back to help. Things were never that simple though; not for him.

Sideswipe walked out of the trees, and Starscream had no idea how to feel.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected,” Sideswipe said. Behind him came Sunstreaker, who had a blaster out and was prodding Skyfire along in front of him. Starscream lit up with rage at the sight, and it was barely tempered by his fondness for the Twins.

“No!” Starscream shouted, pointing at them. “You let him go right now!”

“Starscream, stay out of this,” Sideswipe said without taking his eyes off Thundercracker.

“You don’t-”

Sideswipe interrupted him. “You do not have room to talk, Star! Red Alert is already flipping out about your loyalties, and right now I can’t say I blame him!”

“Just because I’m not fragged up enough to sit back and watch people die-”

Sideswipe scoffed loudly and finally turned to look at him.

“This is literally war. We’ve been killing and dying for millennia, and if we can’t trust you to be on our side, then we have a big slagging problem! So just this once, sit down and shut up until this is slagging finished.”

“Finished?”

Starscream was probably going to say something he’d regret later. He was pretty good at feeling those moments coming on. Not that it ever stopped him from going through with the impulse.

“Enough!” Thundercracker shouted. He hesitated as everyone swung to look at him, as if he hadn’t quite planned out what he was doing. Then he took a breath, straightened as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and continued speaking.

“Enough,” he repeated quieter. “It doesn’t matter about his loyalties or what he did or didn’t do. I have no interest in fighting you again, now or in the future. I’m done.”

Sideswipe laughed incredulously. “What the slag are you on about? You’re the leader of the Decepticons. Of course it matters; give it an orn, and you’ll be terrorizing some human city and threatening to blow up the moon or whatever.”

Thundercracker stiffened and flared his wings.  “I said I’m done! I never wanted to lead or deal with slagging mutinies. I’m sick of scrounging for fuel and fighting a war that lost all meaning when our entire society collapsed millennia ago. I’m not Megatron, and I refuse to be like him. So go tell your Prime that I’m taking my people away, and I quit.”

“I- what?” Sideswipe said, staring blankly at Thundercracker with the dawning realization that he was serious. He glanced between Thundercracker and Skywarp as if waiting for one of them to start making sense. Starscream could sympathize; he was feeling like he’d just been sucker punched himself.

Thundercracker smiled, though it had an unsteady edge to it. “I’ll keep this very simple for you. As the current Decepticon leader, I’m officially abandoning this war.  Earth has been a disaster from the beginning; you can keep the slagging thing. Pit, keep Cybertron as well. Primus knows enough of us have died over the husk of our homeplanet.”

“Are you allowed to do that?” Sideswipe said.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” Thundercracker asked. “If your Officers keep harping on about split loyalties, let them know it goes both ways.  I killed Megatron for him. I would end this war for him, and I will restart it if you harm him.”

Starscream stared at him, stunned and somewhat overwhelmed. That might be the most romantic thing someone had ever said about him. Skywarp was still beside him, hand tight against Starscream’s shoulder as he stared at Thundercracker. He seemed just as surprised as Starscream felt, though it was already fading into thoughtfulness.

“You could come with us. Now or later. You’d be welcome at our side anytime or in any way,” Skywarp told him, quietly enough that the Twins wouldn't overhear.

The thought was more tempting than Starscream would’ve expected. He still didn’t want to leave the life he’d built with the Autobots or abandon the mecha there. But he increasingly didn’t want to leave Thundercracker and Skywarp either. He wanted more time and choices, but he didn’t have either.

“I don’t know,” Starscream whispered. He was selfish. He wanted everything and everyone, though of course that was impossible.

“Later, then. We’ll wait.”

Something pinged his comms; the encryption to a private channel. A way to contact them, no matter what happens next. A choice and a promise, and for a moment Starscream could hardly breath for how grateful he was.

Sideswipe glanced between them, looking increasingly alarmed.

“Now hold up a minute!” he shouted. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, and I am not equipped to deal with it. You can contact Optimus and try your weird negotiations later. Right now I have a prisoner and you have one of ours, and I’m gonna fix this, slaggit!”

“I don’t mind staying a prisoner, actually,” Skyfire volunteered.

“Slagging Pit, what’s wrong with you people?”

Starscream couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. After the day he’d had, he deserved it. Sideswipe could handle a bit of extra stress. Skyfire looked more embarrassed than anything, as he should. All that time Starscream had spent trying to convince him to defect, and this is how he goes about it?

“I’m the Stunticon’s caretaker. Your people have Dead End and Drag Strip, at least. I should stay with them. Until this settles, all five of them will likely be safer with the Autobots than anywhere else,” Skyfire said.

Of course the explanation was something like that, the slagger. Skyfire was too soft for his own good. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both looked more confused than aggressive by then, but they still had their weapons out.

“You heard him. Now put that blaster down!” Starscream said.

To his surprise, Sunstreaker did lower it, at least slightly. It was still in his hand and loosely pointed in their direction, but at least he wasn’t blatantly threatening Skyfire with it anymore.

“You sure you’re safe with them?” Skywarp asked quietly.

Starscream nodded. However stressed or upset the Twins were, they were still his friends. They wouldn’t harm him. Yell at him, maybe, but Starscream could hold his own. The Autobots wouldn’t harm a prisoner either, especially one as amiable as Skyfire. He’d be fine too.

“Don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone,” he told Skywarp.

Skywarp squeezed his shoulder one last time and stepped away, which was when it hit Starscream that they were leaving. He’d wanted to go back home since Skyfire first carried him away from the battlefield, and that hadn’t changed. He’d thought they’d have more time to sort things out and say a proper goodbye. Not this rushed, chaotic thing without any proper closure.

“I will find you again,” Starscream promised, staring at them and willing them to feel his determination.

Skywarp grinned at him and Thundercracker smiled. Then they took off, and Starscream watched them leave. It hurt more than he expected.

A moment later, Sideswipe walked up beside him. He stared up at the sky in silence for a moment, like he didn’t quite believe they were gone. He shifted his weight awkwardly before putting his blaster away and turning to Starscream.

“Seriously, what the slag was that? I mean, he wasn’t serious about the war thing, right? That must’ve been some kinda mind game.”

Starscream laughed and didn’t answer. Of course Thundercracker was serious. Megatron was dead; why should they continue a war nobody cared about anymore?

Ignoring Sunstreaker and the blaster pointing towards where Thundercracker used to be, Starscream walked up to Skyfire and collapsed next to him.

“Wake me when something happens,” he said, curling against Skyfire’s side. It’d been a very long, painful day. Nobody was in danger of being shot anymore, and he was tired.

Chapter Text

-<SF>-

All things considered, being an Autobot prisoner was surprisingly pleasant. It was probably because there hadn’t been any fighting since his capture, so nobody was quite sure what to do with him. Skyfire didn’t mind being left alone. Not when Starscream practically moved in with him, and the mob of Younglings often visited. Boredom was his worst enemy, and even that wasn’t so bad compared to the alternative.

His current guard was a rather dour minibot, so he was excited to see Sideswipe come through the door. Sideswipe exchanged a brief greeting with the minibot and dismissed him before turning to Skyfire.

“Good morning, Sideswipe. How’s your brother?” Skyfire asked, smiling at him.

Sideswipe got that familiar, pinched look on his face like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Skyfire thought he was slowly winning the mech over; he was starting to open up about various pranks and the various drudgery of daily life. Sideswipe was a mech that hated boredom, and Skyfire had many stories to tell. It helped that Sideswipe was friends with Starscream. He could tell the Frontliner wanted to like him, though he was thrown off by the purple badge.

Instead of taking his usual seat, Sideswipe leaned against a nearby wall and stared at him.

“So, the brass has been talking about you. A lot. For such a mild guy, you’ve been causing us a lot of headaches.”

Skyfire shrugged, unconcerned. He’d done what he could to be friendly and helpful. He refused to apologize for any problems caused by his mere presence, especially when the Twins had been the ones to take him prisoner in the first place.

 “Anyway, your faction has been behaving themselves, so keeping you here is officially more trouble than it’s worth. You’re free to go.”

“Go? Where?”

Sideswipe shrugged. “I dunno. Wherever. Back to your Seekers I guess? Hopefully not to those holdouts on Cybertron with Shockwave.”

Skyfire nodded along and pretended like this wasn’t the first hint of outside politics that he’d heard. It was good to know the Seekers were doing well and, apparently, had carried through with their decision to leave Earth.  He wasn’t surprised Shockwave would keep fighting, and he could make some guesses on which mecha would’ve joined him instead of making peace.

“Can I come back to visit?”

“Wha- no! We’re at war! You can’t just visit.”

“I thought you implied the peace talks with Thundercracker were going well. Did I misunderstand?”

Sideswipe grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, technically, I guess it is. ‘Parently there’s paperwork and whatnot ‘bout a proper ceasefire. You’re still a ‘Con though; you can’t just ‘visit’ an Autobot base.”

“Why not? You know I don’t cause trouble. My sparkmate and Younglings are here. At least, I’m assuming they’re staying.”

He let the last sentence trail off in a question. Starscream was always unpredictable and the Stunticons impulsive. It was entirely possible that they’d changed plans since their last visit. Sideswipe puffed up in indignation at the suggestion.

“Of course they’re staying here! We’re not gonna hand a whole Combiner team back over to you guys, and Starscream was ours first. He’s not gonna switch sides.”

Privately, Skyfire wanted to say that Starscream had been his sparkmate before the war even began, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. Let Sideswipe make his declarations; he was struggling with enough existential changes for the moment. Even so, Skyfire suspected Sideswipe was right about Starscream remaining an Autobot—his pride would doubtless allow little else—but that didn’t mean he’d stay.

Sideswipe let him out of the cell and removed the inhibitor on his wrists. He gave Skyfire his subspace items back, which was considerate of him. When they stepped outside, Skyfire stopped and tilted his head up to the sun and sky, enjoying the warmth. He hadn’t been locked away nearly long enough for sky-hunger to set in, but the cell had grated on his nerves.

He jumped when a pebble bounced off his chest and looked over to see Starscream waiting for him.

“Finally! I’ve been out here for almost a cycle,” Starscream said.

“I’ll try to be faster next time I’m released from prison,” Skyfire said, smiling helplessly.

Despite his words, Starscream didn’t look upset. He was practically vibrating with excitement, and he took his normal spot at Skyfire’s side. Beside them, Sideswipe huffed, glaring between them.

“Oh, don’t even start!” Starscream said. “We’re both free mecha. You don’t control who I spend time with, and we’ll stay away from any natives. You have no excuse to get upset about.”

“Don’t forget-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the restrictions. We’ll be careful, and I’ll be back within the solar cycle. We’re going now.”

Skyfire should stop him and get clarification on said restrictions, but it’d been far too long since he’d flown with Starscream. A proper flight, where they didn’t have to hide or worry about the war. He could be responsible later. For now, he’d enjoy his new freedom.

Starscream was still facing off against Sideswipe. Distracted. Skyfire winked at Sideswipe, and he activated his thrusters. He took to the sky as fast as he could, leaving Starscream squawking in surprise behind him. He caught up quickly, and together they flew.

Chapter Text

->SS<-

Honestly, Starscream hadn’t thought about what would happen after Skyfire was released. He’d assumed Skyfire would stay nearby, and he did. The planet had plenty of unclaimed land and more than enough energy sources. Compared to their vorns of exploration, Earth was downright hospitable. Skyfire's continued presence gave some of the Autobots conniptions--especially Red Alert--but that was their problem. He and Skyfire were managing just fine.

The various Younglings often visited Skyfire, but Starscream’s favorite times were when it was just the two of them, flying or exploring or just enjoying each other’s company. Skyfire delighted in showing him his favorite spots, and his latest discovery was a cliff—tall even to them—overlooking a stretch of ocean. The foliage below was in full bloom, and Skyfire happily described several of the local species and their life cycles. He’d also brought several glasses of high grade for them to indulge.

Skyfire, the slagger, waited until they were several glasses in before ambushing him with talk of Starscream’s Trinemates.

“They’re doing well. Thundercracker has the Constructicons designing several permanent buildings for the new settlement. He seemed pleased about their progress.”

Starscream froze with some high-grade raised halfway to his mouth.

“Really, Skyfire? We have to do this now?” Starscream said.

“Do you want me to stop?”

His innocent tone was a lie; Skyfire was more manipulative than he acted, and he knew Starscream far too well. Oh, he’d stop talking if Starscream asked him to. He wasn’t that kind of aft. But he knew exactly how interested Starscream was in updates, and Skyfire had already piqued his curiosity. Starscream stayed stubbornly quiet, and Skyfire chuckled and kept talking. Apparently, there were some intense negotiations regarding what structures would take priority. The Cassetticons were currently winning through bribes and some viciously executed pranks. Skywarp had thoroughly denied helping them, not that anyone believed it.

“They ask about you,” Skyfire said later, when Starscream had dared hope he’d avoid any talk of emotions. “You could contact them, you know. I know you like them, and they’d be overjoyed to hear from you. Why are you waiting?”

He said it gently, but Starscream flinched back like it was an accusation. He still had Thundercracker's number saved in his 'com unit, unused. He’d spent several cycles staring at it and debating contacting them, but he hadn’t. What would he even say? Thanks for ending the war? Glad you survived? Thanks for everything, but I still don’t know what the slag I want from you?

How do you have that kind of conversation over a 'com line?

When Starscream didn’t respond, Skyfire sighed and tugged him closer. Starscream wasn’t angry enough to resist.

“I’m serious, Star. What are you afraid of?” Skyfire asked.

“I’m not afraid?” Starscream spat.

“So talk to me. What are you thinking?”

Starscream… hesitated. He doesn’t lie to Skyfire, and he doesn’t keep secrets from him either. They were sparkmates; what was the point? He’d been rather intensely avoiding thinking about the subject though. Not because he was afraid or some slag, though. Just… mildly uneasy.

“I don’t want to ruin it yet. And I don’t want to do it over ‘com channels,” Starscream finally said. The words came slowly and awkwardly; more honest than he’d usually admit. He leaned more heavily against Skyfire.

“You’re my priority. No matter what. You know that, right?”

That hadn’t changed. He and Skyfire had millennia behind them, and Starscream wouldn’t give that up for anything. Starscream had said it before, but that’d been back when he’d wanted nothing to do with the other Seekers. Skyfire deserved to hear it again. Starscream… might want to build something with the other Seekers, but that didn’t change what they had now. Skyfire smiled, and his arm tightened around Starscream’s shoulder.

“I know. I wouldn’t mind adding two more, though. I’m looking forward to seeing where it leads,” Skyfire said.

Skyfire turned the conversation to safer topics, giving Starscream space to breathe. The conversation lingered in his mind, and even orns later he found himself thinking about it. It felt selfish to want all of them. Then again, he was Starscream. Since when had he cared about being selfish?

…

As a rule, Starscream didn’t let himself be intimidated by anyone. Most mecha weren’t worth the effort, and that hadn’t changed just because he was surrounded by hardened soldiers. Starscream could hold his own, and he’d proven it. Yet, standing outside of Prowl’s office, Starscream hesitated. He allowed himself a single moment of uncertainty. Then he entered.

Prowl was at his desk, perfectly composed as always. He had a datapad laid out neatly in front of him, and he watched Starscream approach.

“Starscream. What brings you to my office?” he asked. It was curt, though not hostile. Starscream could appreciate directness, and he met it in kind.

“I want to visit the Seekers. What do I need to make that happen?”

He watched Prowl’s expression closely for any reaction, but Prowl didn’t give him one. He simply folded his hands and said, “You know our reservations about your interactions with Thundercracker and Skywarp. I’m not sure allowing a visit is wise.”

Like everything else, his tone was infuriatingly unreadable. Starscream tried to copy him, but he’d never been good at hiding his emotions. He was better at using them as weapons instead.

“You’re making peace with them, right? Call me an ambassador or some slag. Give me a mission or instructions. Whatever. I won’t lie to them, but I’m sure you can figure out something to justify sending me over. You know I’m committed to maintaining the ceasefire as much as anyone else. More, even.”

He needed this to work. Once, Starscream would’ve left without a word and slag the consequences, but this was different. If he left, he doubted he’d be welcome back. For once, he didn’t want to burn these bridges, and he was willing to make several concessions to avoid it. Prowl kept staring at him, and Starscream tried not to fidget.

“Even if I refuse, you’re planning on seeing them anyway.”

“Of course not,” Starscream lied.

Prowl sighed and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Very well. Let’s negotiate.”

Chapter Text

-TC-

For all that leaving Earth had been an impulse decision, Thundercracker had no regrets. He’d hated the war from the beginning, even when it’d seemed justified and victory within their grasp. Except the fighting had stretched on endlessly as the world burned down around them. Their rebellion turned into Megatron’s personal war, and by the time he’d realized it’d been far too late.

Then there’d been Earth. Starscream. After an aeon of stagnation, things had changed very quickly. Thundercracker killed Megatron, taken his people, and left, and he’d realized how, somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten how it felt to be free.

Relearning freedom felt good. Like stretching his wings after an eternity underground. He still didn’t like leading. Too much stress and pressure and the never-ending demands from everyone around him. Yet, he was proud of what he’d built and happier than he’d been in millennia. The only thing missing was Starscream. His absence itched, and the uncertainty was worse.

Then Skyfire commed to say they were visiting. Both him and Starscream.

Thundercracker spent the last orn alternating between excited and terrified. Now that it was almost time, his emotions had settled into a kind of numb anticipation. Skywarp wasn’t helping; across the Trinebond, his presence was bright and erratic, and he hadn’t been able to stay still for hours. Skywarp was on the verge of teleporting around randomly when Skyfire pinged that they’d arrived.

A moment later, Thundercracker’s spark fluttered in his chest. The Pull. He’d been expecting it, but the sensation still took his breath away. Their Third was here. Thundercracker took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient. He’d waited this long for Starscream to reach back. Now that Starscream was finally here, he could wait a little longer.

He wasn’t as confident about Skywarp’s self-control.

“Don’t overwhelm him,” Thundercracker said. “You know he was still getting used to us.”

Skywarp nodded vigorously, craning his neck towards the sky and ignoring Thundercracker entirely.

“Skywarp!” he snapped, and Skywarp jumped.

“Wha- oh, yeah. I’ll play it cool, no problem. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Totally, completely cool.”

Skywarp still hadn’t stopped scanning the sky, and he was radiating impatience like a Youngling. He teleported several feet forward then back to Thundercracker’s side without seeming to notice the change. Not a good sign.

“Skywarp, if you can’t control yourself…” he started, but Skywarp cut him off with a gasp.

“I see them! They’re landing.”

Skywarp pointed at them, and Thundercracker’s processor stopped at the sight. Starscream and Skyfire didn’t look any different than the last time they’d met. It’d only been a fraction of a vorn; barely a blip of their lifetime, but he’d spent the entire time wishing Starscream was beside them. They’d given the other Seeker space instead, and Thundercracker hoped it’d been the right choice.

Starscream pressed himself against Skyfire’s side as soon as they hit the ground, and he looked nervous. Of course, nervousness on him was a prickly, aggressive thing, and his expression alone scared away even the hardened soldiers nearby.

“Starscream!” Skywarp shouted, waving frantically. Before Thundercracker could stop him, Skywarp disappeared with a purple thwop of displaced air. He reappeared directly in front of Starscream and tackled him hard enough they both fell to the ground. Thundercracker winced at the crash and Starscream’s subsequent screech. He braced himself for a fight and started planning how he would eviscerate Skywarp after he fixed this mess.

Except… despite Starscream’s continued shouts, he wasn’t doing anything else. He hadn’t even pushed Skywarp off him. Skywarp had his arms wrapped firmly around Starscream’s waist, and he was absolutely radiating smugness across the Trinebond. Thundercracker was slightly jealous.

Thundercracker tried to approach at a normal pace, but he found himself speeding up as he drew closer. Starscream was still preoccupied with Skywarp, but Skyfire smiled warmly as he approached.

"It's good to see you again. You look well," Skyfire said.

Skyfire looked healthy too; uninjured and well-fueled. Some of the guilt in Thundercracker's chest loosened, though it still tasted sour in his throat. He hesitated, unsure if this was the right time, but this was something that needed to be said. Now, before he lost his courage.

“I owe you an apology for what happened on Earth,” Thundercracker said. “You were one of my soldiers. My responsibility. We shouldn’t have left you in the Autobot’s hands.”

He waited for a response, but Skyfire just shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I volunteered, and I knew the Autobots would treat me well. Don’t trouble yourself; I’m happy with how things turned out.”

Not for the first time, Thundercracker was reminded of how soft Skyfire was. Kind and helpful ways the war had stripped from its survivors. In the beginning, he’d assumed it would get Skyfire killed. Now, the war was functionally over. He was allowed to appreciate Skyfire’s company without constantly worrying about his vulnerability.

“Regardless, you should know we would’ve fought for you if you’d asked. We still will if something happens.”

He expected the surprise that flickered across Skyfire’s face, but it still stung. Even before all this, he’d looked after his Air Force. He couldn’t blame the Shuttle, though. There hadn’t been enough time for Thundercracker to prove himself before it all fell apart. This time around, he’d have to work harder to gain Skyfire’s trust.

The commotion beside them escalated as Starscream placed a hand on Skywarp's face and shoved him away. Skywarp fell to the ground laughing, and Starscream stood up, still muttering to himself. Thundercracker reached out and gently pulled him into an embrace.

“Hey, Star. It’s good to see you again,” Thundercracker said.

Starscream awkwardly patted him on the back before stepping back. “Yeah, yeah. You too. Skyfire says you’ve been doing well for yourself since all that slag went down.”

There’s a question in his voice; an invitation for Thundercracker to start talking. Thundercracker recognized the peace offering for what it was. An invitation, and a chance.

A conversation, nothing more or less. Despite everything, he and Skywarp had never just talked with Starscream. There hadn’t been time for something so simple when their lives had been in danger. Now, they have all the time they need, stretching endlessly in front of them.

For millennia, Thundercracker had marked their lives by endings. The end of the Senate and the gilded rot of the era. The end of each city state and culture. Of friends and strangers and enemies, left to rust on battlefields across the galaxy. Then there’d been Megatron’s death and the end of the war. He’d only recently started thinking about the ceasefire or their growing settlement as something permanent, and most orns it still felt like something strange and delicate.

This, though, feels like a true beginning. Thundercracker carefully reached over to take Starscream’s hand, and Starscream let him. Skywarp wrapped himself around Starscream’s other arm and, laughing, Skyfire towered behind them. Together, they walked forward.

-.*.-