#optiscream

(IDW first)

Optimus came out of recharge alone. Not unusual- Starscream was never one to linger after their…encounters, and the seeker was often gone come the morning- retrieved by Rattrap to start the day’s work or just slipping out before Optimus could wake and attempt conversation. And truth be told, Optimus didn’t mind, all that much. As much as he ached for a relationship, a real, honest thing beyond venting steam now and then, Starscream was…well, threatening.

He had no doubt in his mind that Starscream would just as soon find a way, if he hadn’t already, to ruin Optimus if he were to become an honest threat to Starscream’s rule. Starscream didn’t want a relationship, and Optimus couldn’t afford one. Maybe that was why they worked so well together on nights like the last- just raw energy and venting pressure.

The memory left as much an impression as the very real dents the once-Prime could feel at the edge of his collar armor, and long scrapes where fingertips had dug in and peeled off a layer of paint and nanites, the satisfying ache deep in his valve.

So he lay, alone, content for a long few minutes, not bothering to online his optics or do more than conciously relax back into the berth, enjoying the image captures of the night. Starscream over him, wings high and lips pulled back in a sneer of pleasure, then one of his own heavy hands on those wings, pulling and tweaking, a glimmer of energon glowing in a dark room from a bitten lipplate, he wasn’t sure whose it had been.

Then, he heard the muffled cursing, and sat up, jerkily. Starscream hadn’t left. No. He had, but not in the way he always did.

His audials led him to the washroom, the door shut tight, Starscream’s voice uncharacteristically quiet and hissed inside, foulmouthed cusses and muffled sounds of…of…pain? “Starscream?”

Quiet, and then and groan. “You’re up early.”

Optimus opened the door to see Starscream attempting valiantly to twist and arm behind himself, trying to reach where a the bottom edge of his wing was bent until the armor had parted, wiring exposed. With no small amount of embaressment, Optimus realized that the damage was from his own fingers, and he hoped he wasn’t always so…destructive, during their trysts.

“Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, it makes you sound spineless.” Starscream bit at him, trying to reach the wiring again, and Optimus finally sighed, sitting on the bench of the washroom and offering a hand. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

The moment of tension passed, and Starscream turned his back to Optimus, stepping backwards until he was within’ arm’s reach. Trusting him, at least, to do this little adjustment for his wings. Good enough, he thought. Good enough.

(TFP now!)

Starscream hunched low, unwilling to look up at the Autobots, his long fingers curled into such a tight fists that he could hear the metal squeaking and groaning. It was…humiliating. To be looked down upon like this, especially by the damn bleeding-heart Autobots, it was…well…depressing.

He flinched when he heard Bumblebee’s panicked squeal, a string of chattery binary.

Well, they were somewhere around here. Not that he’d tell them that. Seekers weren’t just made to fly- they were made to fall, a necessary precaution when one was expected to spend most of their life up in the atmosphere- and although he was armored lesser than Megatron or the eradicons often were, Starscream had them beat when it came to surviving falls.

He could almost be proud of this one! Clean off the Nemesis, no wings to even glide on, down to the side of one of these Earth mountains and then all the way down to it’s base through a disgusting forest of splintering plants- threes or trees or whatever they were called.

“Starscream.” Optimus’ voice was infuriatingly soft and low, outright comforting. Starscream had never hated it more than that moment. “What happened?”

“What do you -think- happened?” He hissed, clutching at a rock face and hauling himself back to his feet. They’d startled him and, for a brief moment, he’d forgotten that he didn’t have a way to fly out of the situation, and had instead turned and ever-so gracefully run straight into a boulder. “Megatron. We had a disagreement.”

“Your wings-”

“I’ll find them on my own! Or are you going to get this -gawking- over with and drag me off already?!” He turned to them, eyes bright, a swipe of his claws making the little blue Arcee bristle. “Surely, even you wouldn’t stoop so low as to kill a grounded opponant.”

“Wanna bet?” Arcee growled, blades flicking out of her armor before Optimus moved and stepped fowards, making Starscream cringe and shrink back, the raw, open areas of his back where wiring and mechanics were exposed brushing against the rock and making him whimper.

“Starscream, come here.” He crouched down, to Starscream’s level…and reached out. “Let me fix it.”

“I should-” Ratchet started, but Optimus shifted, giving him a pleading look, and he backed off, watching as Starscream wrapped his arms around himself…and stepped towards the Prime, watching him warily, like a cornered animal. Optimus, though…Optimus could be trusted, in Starscream’s mind, so he let his greatest enemy for millenia past approach, and turned his back to him, feeling huge, thick servos prod the twisted and rendered metal gently.

“Arcee, Bumblebee, Bulkhead…scout the area, try to find his wings. They shouldn’t be far. Ratchet, can you go back through the groundbridge and bring me a medical kit?”