#kinda nervewracking

“In fact,” Tarn continues, ignoring him and his report in favor of standing up.

Starscream stumbles back and knocks a leg against a chair. It chatters across the floor. He pays it no mind and lifts his chin instead, tightening every joint in his body so his wings wouldn’t quiver. Don’t show any weaknesses, he reminds himself. Megatron was a few billion years of learning and knowing how much needling is enough. Now… he has Tarn. They all have Tarn.

Tarn, the fanatical leader of the Decepticon Justice Division who would rip a mech apart if they so as much breathe on his badge.

The rank and file has never been so quiet before, so tense with anticipation that someone might actually blow a gasket if something isn’t done about it.

However, in his office, Tarn stares for a long moment then reseats himself, interlocking his hands just above his hips and looking as relaxed as a mech could be.

“I will not kill you, Starscream.”

Starscream reset his audials, certain that he must have misheard. “What?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Tarn tilts his head. “The fact that you're still standing here before me, orns after Megatron's demise… is that not a good enough testament of my intentions?”

Starscream crosses his arms, datapad still in hand. “You killed Megatron.”

Silence stretches between them and Starscream watches the slow, wide-opticked realization that dawns upon the brute. Tarn’s inhale cracks at the air like an electro-whip.

“Forgive me,” Tarn begins. “I have stolen your ambition.”