Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream slumped against his office chair. It was the middle of the night and yet here he was at work. He’d been unable to recharge or relax in his habsuite down the hall so he wandered back to his office to see about getting some work done. But that wasn’t going well either. He groaned, shoving a pile of datapads off his desk, ignoring the cracking sound of screens as they clattered to the ground in a heap. “Frag.” He stood, scrolling through his schedule for the next cycle. He had several meetings lined up with different politicians and an important meeting with Windblade. There were also a few comm messages from different mechs.

He slammed his head onto his desk, knocking some more datapads to the floor. He really needed a break. Some quiet.

“Maybe you should get some recharge.” A familiar bug said from behind him.

“You say that as if I haven’t already tried that.” Starscream hissed, unable to ignore his ghostly stalker. That seemed to scare him off though because when Starscream finally glanced over, the yellow bug was gone. He ex-vented in relief, lifting his helm from the desk’s surface and dragging his pedes over to the door. Clearly trying to get work done wasn’t helping.

He stumbled into the hallway, checking to make sure no one was out there. It was silent save for the quiet hum of electricity from the lights. His helm was starting to ache. Maybe he shouldn’t have slammed it into the desk. Oh well. He idly scratched at his arm on the walk back to his quarters, ignoring the few drops of energon that got on his access panel as he typed his code in.

Starscream triple-checked that his door was locked and that the security system was engaged before collapsing onto the couch, allowing his wings to hang low. His helm was throbbing now. He groaned and shifted, reaching up to cradle it in his servos. He felt his talons lightly scrape against the vents on his head, hissing at the slight sting. His frame felt heavy, sluggish. He felt like scrap. But that wasn’t an uncommon feeling. His frame regularly ached from neglect. It’s not like he regularly recharged or even refueled regularly. And he certainly didn’t go flying as often as he should. The almost ever-persistent ache in his wings and back-strut could attest to that. He idly tugged at a few transformation seams on his arm, wanting to just rip his skin off. It was so tempting.

–

The next morning wasn’t any better. He shut off the internal alarm that was set to wake him from recharge, not that he had actually recharged at all. Then he quickly blocked Windblade as she sent a comm message about their meeting later that day. He couldn’t deal with all that noise. Then he blocked Chromia a few kliks later when she tried to message him. Starscream shifted to stare up at the ceiling. There were a few glow-in-the-dark stars hanging from the ceiling. They didn’t brighten his mood. In fact, they pissed him off right now.

He raked a few talons down one of his arms, watching the energon well up and trickle gently down his arm. He probably needed to refuel. But that seemed like too much effort. He let his arm fall to the side and it hung off the couch, servo brushing against his wing which also hung awkwardly off the side of the couch. The feeling of his own metal skin was irritating. Being cold-constructed meant he never felt at home in his frame. Even his current frame, which had felt the most “right” out of all his previous ones still didn’t feel quite right. It’s like he could almost envision it. His true form. But alas, the image was fleeting and never properly formed in his processor. This frame had taken the least amount of beatings however. Perhaps that’s why he liked it more than the others. It hadn’t quite been ruined for him yet. That’d likely change in the future though. It was only a matter of time before there was a serious assassination attempt by some wanna-be-renegade against the Emperor of Cybertron or until someone else tried putting him in his place.

He let out a deep ex-vent as another comm message popped up in his HUD. This time from Rattrap. He blocked that slagger too then shut off his alarms for all his meetings that cycle before staring back up at the ceiling. When was the last time he’d gone flying? He couldn’t remember. He offlined his optics, not wanting to stare at the stars anymore.

–

Starscream startled with a jolt when he heard a knock at his door. He wasn’t sure if he’d been recharging or just existing in a haze. He checked his chronometer. It was already evening? All he’d done was lay here. There was another knock at the door.

“Starscream?” Windblade. He didn’t bother to answer, resting an arm over his optics. She tried in vain to get him to respond or open the door. It sounded like she even tried to input a few different codes into the access panel but it kept beeping back in denial. She eventually gave up and left.

He finally got up when night fell, pacing around his quarters restlessly. He wasn’t sure when he finally stopped but he blinked his optics a few times and found himself sitting on his berth, helm aching again, arms covered in claw marks and energon dripping onto the ground beneath him. He collapsed back onto the berth and stared up at the ceiling, wondering why he even bothered getting up from the couch. The only thing that had changed was the scenery. His processor still felt like scrap.

–

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, at least a few cycles. Every cycle someone came to his door, trying to get him to open it or respond. First it was Windblade, then Chromia, then Windblade and Chromia, then Rattrap, then Flatline and it continued. He ignored them all and blocked anyone else who attempted to comm message him. It was starting to become annoying. He just wanted to waste away in berth.

There was another knock at his door. Then another louder, more insistent knock. “Starscream? Are ya home?” Wheeljack this time. Had he already blocked Wheeljack’s comm link? Starscream wasn’t really sure. Maybe he should.

He got up, stumbling into a table as he wandered over to the door. “Scrap.” He couldn’t remember a time Wheeljack had actually stopped by his quarters to visit him. Had Windblade and Rattrap really gotten that desperate to contact him? Or did Wheeljack need his input on a project?

“Starscream, what’s yer code? It’s Wheeljack. ‘M here to check on ya.” So someone had sent the grounder to make sure he was still online. He glared at the door, not wanting to open it and give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him in this state. “I ain’t leavin’ until I see ya.” He ex-vented harshly, knowing the only real way to get the engineer to go away would be to answer. Wheeljack could be as stubborn as himself when he wanted to be.

He cautiously cracked the door open, glaring as the light of the hallway tried to seep into his dark cave. It hurt his optics and sent a throb through his processor. “There. You saw me. Now go away.” He tried to sound threatening, but his voice sounded hollow and empty. When was the last time he had spoken? To Bee’s ghost in his office? When had that been? This was already too mentally taxing. Wheeljack was standing there, concern oozing off him. Definitely too mentally taxing.

Starscream couldn’t handle this. He tried to shut the door in Wheeljack’s face but he frowned when he realized the door wasn’t budging. He glanced down and saw Wheeljack had shoved his pede in the way. He blinked his optics a few times in confusion then glanced back up to meet Wheeljack’s blindingly blue optics. Too bright.

“Ya don’t hafta let me in, but at least let me check on ya. You look terrible.” Wheeljack leaned forward a bit. It was too close. “Everyone’s worried about ya.” Starscream narrowed his optics, unable to hold back his irritation. Everyone? Worried? He highly doubted it.

“Is that so? Let me guess, they’re saying that stupid Starscream can’t even leave his berth to work on bettering Cybertron? That he’s a waste of energon? That he should just go offline?” Starscream gripped one of his own arms with his talons. He could feel his frame shaking. He really couldn’t deal with all this noise. With the concerned look on Wheeljack’s face. With the idea that anyone actually wanted to see him. Wheeljack was just here because Windblade or Rattrap sent him here. Starscream never should have opened the door. Why did he even get out of berth?

“Erm, no. Actually, Windblade is worried since ya’ve been avoiding her. She said something about you blocking her comms and not seein’ ya in a deca-cycle. She said she tried coming by but you wouldn’t answer. Chromia was sayin’ the same thing. Even Rattrap asked me if I’d heard from ya. Um, Flatline asked me to check ‘n see if you were in need of medical assistance er somethin’. Said you missed a check-up he scheduled. ‘N I missed you stopping by the lab to see what I was up to.” Wheeljack rambled, looking sheepish. He leaned in a bit closer. “Are you okay?” No. He certainly wasn’t okay. He wanted to scream, to threaten Wheeljack to make him go away. To lash out and attack whoever or whatever was bothering him.

“Fine. Never been better. You can go now.” He kicked at Wheeljack’s pede, desperate to close the door before he did actually physically lash out. He felt cornered. Frantic. Vulnerable. Terrified.

“Ya don’t look fine.”

“What, are you a doctor now? I asked you to leave. So just leave.” He tried pushing the door but Wheeljack still didn’t budge.

“Why are ya holed up in yer quarters? Are ya sick?”

“No. I said I’m fine. Leave.” Leave. Leave. Leave. Please leave!

“Yer obviously not fine.”

“Why are you being such an aft?” Why won’t you leave!?

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He froze for a klik. This wasn’t working. He felt like his helm was going to explode. “Fine! Do whatever you want! I don’t care!” He shrieked, storming away from the door with energy he didn't realize he still had. He stalked over to the couch and collapsed onto it, crossing his arms and pointedly trying to ignore the mech who now stood in front of him, staring down with such overwhelming concern.

Chapter Text

Wheeljack walked cautiously up to Starscream’s office, not liking the silence of the long hallway. Windblade and Chromia had mentioned that Starscream had been avoiding them all deca-cycle and they were beginning to get concerned. Wheeljack thought back himself and realized he also hadn’t seen Starscream in a while. He had to admit, he was starting to get used to Starscream checking up on him in the lab at least two or three times a deca-cycle. So it was pretty odd not to have seen the seeker. He checked Starscream’s schedule and saw several missed meetings from the past few cycles as well. That certainly wasn’t good. Sure Starscream skipped a few meetings here or there or ignored most other mechs, but it was unlike him to just vanish without a trace for cycles at a time. If the seeker was upset, he normally made it someone else’s problem and made his presence and feelings known.

Wheeljack knocked on Starscream’s office, waiting for a reply. None came. “Starscream?” He called. “It’s me, Wheeljack. Are ya there?” Still no reply. He input the code to the office and poked his head inside, finials flashing nervously. “Starscream?”

The office was empty, save for an overflowing stack of datapads on Starscream’s desk. Several had already fallen to the floor from their piles and had cracks. He walked over and picked up the ones that had fallen, giving them a quick once over as he set them in neat piles back onto the desk. There were news articles, proposals for spending on infrastructure, transportation, suggestions for some new entertainment centers in the city and even a few research journals. He hadn’t realized Starscream was so interested in science. He took a closer look and realized that he recognized a few of the journals. Some were written by colleagues before the war. And Wheeljack was surprised to find one of his own that he’d written about blast-style weapons.

He made sure all the datapads were neatly stacked before returning to the hallway and glancing around. He knew Starscream’s quarters were around here somewhere. He wandered back down the hall until he spotted another door. It had an access code panel. That was promising. He knocked on the door. “Starscream?” He called. Silence.

He couldn’t tell if any lights were on inside. He knocked again, louder this time. “Starscream? Are ya home?” He called. He heard the sound of something getting knocked over and cursing in a familiar voice. “Starscream, what’s yer code? It’s Wheeljack. ‘M here to check on ya.” There was silence again. “I ain’t leavin’ until I see ya.”

Wheeljack heard some shuffling and the door partially slid open, revealing Starscream. His optics were dim and his wings hung low, nearly dragging on the floor. He twitched slightly and his servos were shaking. His color looked a bit dull and it was obvious he hadn’t left his quarters in several cycles. There was a grimace on his face as well.

“There. You saw me. Now go away.” He hissed, voice sounding strained. Starscream went to shut the door but Wheeljack slipped his pede in the way so it wouldn’t close. Their optics locked for a moment. There was fear in Starscream’s optics.

“Ya don’t hafta let me in, but at least let me check on ya. You look terrible.” Wheeljack leaned forward a bit to get a better look at the seeker. “Everyone’s worried about ya.”

“Is that so?” Starscream said evenly, narrowing his optics. “Let me guess, they’re saying that stupid Starscream can’t even leave his quarters to work on bettering Cybertron? That he’s a waste of energon? That he should just go offline?”

“Erm, no. Actually, Windblade is worried since ya’ve been avoiding her. She said something about you blocking her comms and not seein’ ya in a deca-cycle. She said she tried coming by but you wouldn’t answer. Chromia was sayin’ the same thing. Even Rattrap asked me if I’d heard from ya. Um, Flatline asked me to check ‘n see if you were in need of medical assistance er somethin’. Said you missed a check-up. ‘N I missed you stopping by the lab to see what I was up to.” Wheeljack answered honestly. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Never been better. You can go now.” Starscream tried to kick his pede out of the way of the door so he could close it, but Wheeljack stood firm.

“Ya don’t look fine.”

“What, are you a doctor now?” Starscream groaned. “I asked you to leave. So just leave.”

“Why are ya holed up in yer quarters? Are ya sick?”

“No. I said I’m fine. Leave.”

“Yer obviously not fine.”

“Why are you being such an aft?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Starscream glared at him before storming away from the door, muttering. “Fine! Do whatever you want! I don’t care!” Wheeljack hesitantly entered the living space, squinting in the dark. There was some furniture knocked over and a few more broken datapads on the floor. The air felt stagnant. Starscream stalked over to a couch and sat down, crossing his arms and still glaring in Wheeljack’s direction.

“Yer lights are off.” Wheeljack said, not really knowing what else he should say.

“So?” Starscream ex-vented loudly. “What do you really want?”

“To check on ya. Like I said, everyone’s worried about ya.”

“I doubt it.” Starscream offlined his optics, resting his helm back and crossing his legs. His wings still drooped behind him.

“Well it’s the truth. Why’re you locking yerself up in here?” Wheeljack sat on the table across from the couch.

Starscream tensed up. Now that he was closer, Wheeljack could see talon-marks all up and down Starscream’s arms and even a few scratches on his helm. There didn’t seem to be any energon leaking, so they were presumably older wounds, at least a few cycles old. Wheeljack started to reach out but stopped himself, knowing Starscream likely wouldn’t react well to being touched. Decepticons never were the touchy type. And he’d heard rumors about Megatron’s abuse to his subordinates throughout the war. It wasn’t exactly a myth that Megatron had taken his anger out on Starscream on more than a few occasions when things didn’t go his way.

“Can I take a look at yer arms?” He asked.

Starscream onlined his optics to give him another glare. “Will it make you leave faster?”

“Maybe.” Wheeljack replied, relieved when Starscream held his shaking arms out.

“It’s just some scratches.” He mumbled, avoiding optic-contact.

“Did you do this?” Wheeljack asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Does it matter?” Starscream replied, wings tensing up and pulling his arms back close to his frame. “You had a look. Can you leave now?”

“Why do ya want me to leave so bad?” Wheeljack frowned under his blast-mask.

“Because you barged in here! These are my quarters! You shouldn’t even be here! I don’t want you here! I want to be left alone!” Starscream shouted, standing up and pulling his arms close to his sides, fists forming. “I didn’t ask for anyone to come and check on me! I doubt you want to be here anyway! I’m fine! So just leave me alone!”

“Well, I don’t mean to contradict ya, but you don’t seem fine to me.” He said carefully. “Have you even been refueling and recharging? When was the last time you left your habsuite or talked to another mech? You don’t look like yer taking care of yerself at all.” Wheeljack stayed seated, not wanting to move too suddenly and scare or upset the seeker anymore than he already had. He tried to keep an air of calm and caring.

“What does it even matter!?” Starscream shrieked, digging his talons into his own palms and starting to shake more. “I sure as frag don’t matter! You’re all just going to betray me when I stop being useful! None of you actually care about me! No one ever has!” His voice glitched as he screamed out his frustrations. “I’m just some worthless mech who slunk up to the top through plots and schemes! Just leave me alone to rot! It’s what you all want anyway!”

Wheeljack sat in stunned silence for a moment. Starscream was still standing there, shaking and seething. He knew reaching out a servo to the seeker would probably make him even madder. He hesitated before opening his wrist panel and pulling out the cable stored there, holding the cable out for Starscream to take if he wanted.

“Star, I do care about you. There are so many people who care about you. If you don’t believe my words, take a look.”

Starscream’s shoulders drooped and his fists unclenched and re-clenched several times. His voice cycled and reset a few times and his optics blinked with uncertainty.

“You’ll let me look?” He finally said after several kliks, optics focusing on the cable still offered out to him.

“You can look as long as ya want, Star.” Wheeljack nodded. “You don’t have to, but yer more than welcome to.”

Starscream made a strangled noise before opening his own wrist panel and grabbing the offered cable, glaring down at it. “I’m not letting you look in my processor.” He finally said. “But I’ll look in yours if you’re offering.”

“Like I said, yer more than welcome to.”

Starscream collapsed back onto the couch and plugged in, dimming his optics as he started frantically searching through Wheeljack’s processor, sifting through files and memories and thoughts. Wheeljack hummed, letting Starscream search through whatever he wanted. It’s not like he had anything to hide. He’d spoken the truth. Everyone was worried about him.

“You looked through my stuff.” Starscream huffed, still searching through all his files.

“In yer office? Sorry ‘bout that. I was curious.” Wheeljack’s finials lit up from embarrassment. “I did pick all yer datapads up for ya though.” Starscream slumped forward a bit, so engrossed in desperately searching for something he couldn’t find. Wheeljack rested a hand on the other mech’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t fall over. “What’re ya lookin’ for? Maybe I can help you find it?” He offered. Starscream either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, opening the same files up again and again, re-looking through them with more scrutiny each time. It was making Wheeljack’s helm hurt just watching Starscream search through his processor. He couldn’t imagine how Starscream felt.

“Why can’t I find it?” He mumbled after what felt like millenia. The seeker sounded defeated, small.

“Find what, Star?”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t like ya much durin’ the war. But that was a long time ago now. I think yer a pretty decent mech when ya want to be.”

Starscream reached a servo out blindly, still focused on searching through files. Wheeljack held his servo, looking down at it. There was some dried energon around his talons. Probably from scratching himself.

“Stop that.” Starscream groaned, leaning forward more to rest his helm on Wheeljack’s chassis, his frame was still shaking, likely from lack of recharge and energon.

“Stop what?”

“Worrying about me. I’m in your processor. I can feel your thoughts.”

“Oh.” His finials flashed again. “Well I can’t help but worry.”

Starscream closed another file and his optics brightened a bit as he focused on staring down at his and Wheeljack’s servos. “Why are you really doing this?” He turned Wheeljack’s servo over, examining it. Starscream’s talons tickled as they lightly dragged along his skin.

“What? Lettin’ ya run circles in my processor?” Wheeljack asked. “I mean, I didn’t want ya thinking that I hated ya. ‘Cause I don’t. I trust you, so I dunno. You just seemed so upset. I didn’t know what else to do. Whatever helps ya feel at ease.”

“You don’t have any ulterior motive?”

“I mean, why would I?” Wheeljack blinked his optics, a bit confused. “I thought you were my friend. Friends don’t need ulterior motives, right? Besides, you have free reign to look around in my head. Do I have any ulterior motives?”

“Hm. I suppose not. None that I could find at least.”

“You haven’t opened any files for a few kliks. Do you mind if I open a few?”

“It’s your processor.”

Wheeljack flipped through a few files until he found the one of Starscream waking him up from his time in the stasis chamber. Then he flipped to some others of them both chatting like friends and a few of Starscream grinning. “I like seeing you like this. Happy. Confident.”

“Hm.” Starscream shifted slightly, lifting his helm to look him in the optic for a moment. “You seem sincere.”

“‘Course I am.”

Starscream groaned. “My helm aches. Can you unplug for me?” He rested his helm back against Wheeljack, offlining his optics again.

“Sure thing, Star.” He carefully unplugged his cord from Starscream’s port and closed both their panels up.

“I guess I’ll unblock Windblade and Chromia tomorrow.”

“Good. They’re worried about ya too.”

“Yeah. I saw.”

“You should get some rest, Star.”

“I know.”

“Do you still want me to leave?”

“I suppose you can stay.” Starscream gripped his servo tighter. “But only if you really want to.”

“I’d love ta stay.” Wheeljack smiled under his blastmask, finials lighting up the dark room.