Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream, a noble Vosnian, had always prided himself on his intellectual capabilities. Not satisfied with the level of schooling available in Vos and other war-frame city-states, the young seeker successfully enrolled in one of the most prestigious universities in Iacon. In the science department, he was able to befriend other other non-civilian students. Particularly, a huge yet shy and soft-spoken half-frame by the name of Skyfire. 

Starscream's social circle grew, and his achievements enhanced his prestige. One day, however, an accident in the labs occurred, causing a massive explosion. One of the other students, jealous of Starscream and his group's achievements, had deliberately messed with their safeguards. Rather than investigating the situation thoroughly, the university officials accepted at face value that the group had not followed basic safety protocols. Starscream, as leader of the project, was expelled. When Skyfire protested, he was as well.

Furious, Starscream took his research and his friend back to Vos. Not wanting to fall under the power of others again, Starscream began his political career. Skyfire, meanwhile, stayed within their shared home working on their research of synthesized energon. When he returned, the oft-stressed seeker would either join him in the lab...or seek the warm haven of his lover's softness and understanding.

That all started to change as the Decepticons started to overtake the Destrons as the major faction of the war-frames. Megazarak was dangerous enough, but his second Megatron... his speeches...

Skyfire could understand a lot. Starscream sometimes had to do questionable things as a political leader of a war-frame city-state. He could understand the resentment that warframes felt for civilian frames (he’s been getting vitriolic glares all his life from both sides for his Shuttle alt mode and peaceful nature paired with blue optics). But Megatron was taking things too far. And now so was Starscream.

Their arguments became more frequent. After one final confrontation, Skyfire left. The shuttle-former went to Wheeljack and the rest of their old research group. Through the Autobot scientist, he met both civilian and war frames who banded together in response to the Decepticon threat.

Skyfire would soon after discover he was carrying. But he knew his friends couldn't afford for him to be out of action! When they found out about his condition, there was a big argument. It took some convincing, but Ultra finally saw the reality of the situation and allowed the shuttle-former to continue actively helping them.

Skyfire stayed for as long as he could until he felt his presence was more of a liability than a help. The civilian frame populace had been through too many horrors via the Decepticon brand of warfare that a half-frame like him wouldn't be tolerated. Ultra Magnus, knowing his guilt at leaving the Autobots in the middle of a war, gave him a new mission. Skyfire would be part of a very small, very exclusive group. Their mission: to secretly transport vital and vulnerable Autobot members to the neutral and powerful Caminus. This included the few warframes who sided with or defected to the Autobots.

This would give Skyfire not only the chance to continue contributing to their species but also give the shuttle the chance of a normal life. Skyfire eagerly accepted the assignment. Aside from the fact that his gestation could finally speed up to normal levels now that he would no longer be in an active war zone, the scientist could continue his research on alternatives to energon.

For a time, it was peaceful. Flare and Shard were both lovely (even when their mischief and special abilities caused chaos). His family also grew with the addition of Autobot carriers and the eventual emergence of their own half-frame sparklings. As for his work, the scientist and sometimes "espionage smuggler" often traveled to other planets. On his purely scientific expeditions, he would indulge in recording everything he could about the planet: fauna, flora, minerals, weather patterns, etc. All that information would then be used either as data or inspiration for his primary research or would be sent to Caminus's scientific exploration division. Plus, they made wonderful stories for the sparklings once he finally returned. 

One time, however, he did not come back.

It wasn’t until someone had finally been able to retrace his intended flight patterns as well as build a machine to get him out of the glacier he was in that he was finally brought out of what was basically deep stasis.

And that someone fixed the weakened and groggy Skyfire with a vicious red glare.

Chapter Text

When the war started in earnest, Sunstreaker could honestly say he never felt more alive. Unlike his twin, there was always a deep-seated viciousness to him. A viciousness that made him unsuited for the police work his brother Sideswipe favored. War, though... the thrill of life and death, of rending your enemy in two via weapon or bare servo, all while maintaining his perfect finish... 

THAT brought a level of satisfaction that he'd only experienced while wrestling with his brother or getting his finish perfect. Watching gladiator fights and participating in underground fights just hadn't scratched that itch the unusual civilian frame had. And for a time, it was satisfying. Sunstreaker never really cared if the battle was won or lost. He only cared if he and his brother were interrupted... or the enemy dared to scratch his finish.

Why should he care about anybody but his brother? Why should he care about anything besides orders pointing him where to destroy his next foes?

There was one particular enemy that rubbed Sunstreaker like a buffer going the wrong way on his back piece. That fragging, hypocritical, hammy, low-life Insecticon Saberhorn!!!

Sunstreaker has met overly talkative mechs before. If they were Autobots, he'd intimidate or ignore them. If they were Decepticons, he'd taunt them or shut them up. But this fragger....

Like the swords he wielded, the insecticon knew where to strike to get under his plating. And the fragger did not hesitate to do the one thing every other Decepticon that survived learned not to do: 

Ruin. His. Finish!!!!!

Sideswipe often had to drag him away when a retreat on either side was called. Luckily, despite what some mechs might say about him, Sunstreaker was smart. You had to be to successfully go one-on-one with giant mechs literally built for war. Sunstreaker was able to fight against his swordsmanship, but more importantly...

He could get under the pompous "honorable" swordsman's plating, too.

And so that was how the war went. Whenever the two saw each other, it was on sight. 

Sideswipe was becoming concerned at how quickly Sunstreaker separated from him to go after the Insecticon. It was only after Sunstreaker pointed out that the swordsman did the same with his allies that his brother was reassured. 

As for why Saberhorn also wanted to face the Autobot berserker alone, Sunstreaker didn't know and didn't care. Saberhorn had fragged him off one too many times for Sunstreaker to let anyone interfere in taking down the other.

It annoyed him when his prey wasn't there when he next went on the battlefield. If some other Autobot or Decepticon cut down that pompous swordsman before he did...

Thankfully, neither fell during the time that they weren't facing each other. And neither had wasted time in upping their game for their  "Dance of Eventual Death," as Saberhorn put it. Sunstreaker couldn't help but snort at that cheesy name. Yet the Autobot always began their "duels" referencing dancing.

Their caustic insults had also gotten more... nuanced. Like a cybercat playing with its prey. It's the most Sunstreaker has talked to someone else besides his brother.

One day, though, on another battlefield, Sunstreaker's loner habits finally met their comeuppance.

After returning from sabotaging enemy cargo lines, Saberhorn was quite eager to get back into the swing of things. His rival, after all, was not sophisticated enough to be patient. Knowing the tiny, vicious civilian, he probably ripped the heads off a few Decepticons waiting for a rematch. Saberhorn couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Truly an inelegant mech.

The vicious gaze of optics burned like the fiercest rays of the Sun in a vast desert. His armor, gleaming in whatever light there was, directly challenged anyone to approach. For the golden mech was not one to hide away. He wanted Energon. Like a primitive warrior of the distant past, snearing at what others called "civilized behavior". He was a mighty Predacon that ruled the jungle of a tumultuous battlefield. 

A fine beast that only someone like the great Saberhorn could finally best. 

So to find out that his rival had been in the tender mercies of his superior Bombshell and his favorite assistants, Beet-Chit and Wall Fly, Saberhorn was furious!

While his comrades were busy, Saberhorn gracefully absconded to the Insecticons' prison. There, he found a dented.. rusted.. barely alive heap that was once his rival. The image now contrasted so sharply with the image of the vicious Autobot jumping into the air with his mods to savagely take down his foe, a feral grin decorating his face.

... How could anyone have ruined such beauty?

Saberhorn knew what honor demanded. Drawing his sword, he prepared to enter the cell to end his rival's continued humiliation. Yet he was stopped in his tracks.

A blazing blue light glared out from the dark. It was tired; it was scared. But most of all, it was furious. Like a proud predacon, unable to escape a hunter's trap, without any hope of survival. Its fate may be sealed, but it will never lose its warrior's pride! Should the opportunity come, no matter how remote, he will take as many of his foes down as possible for this final insult!!!!

Saberhorn quickly sheathed his sword and left. He had to make arrangements after all. And a gentlecon of his caliber deserves better quarters than what is given to traitors.

Sunstreaker felt... different. Somehow, he survived the unholy tortures of the Insecticons. Somehow, he was rescued after Autobot Intelligence was able to pinpoint the Insecticon base.

He may not know how he was able to survive long enough to finally be free. But he knew who was responsible for reuniting him with his distraught brother.

And if there's one thing besides his extraordinary beauty and deadly skills that was true about Sunstreaker:

He did not like owing anyone.

Especially mechs willing to stick their neck out for him rather than let him die like a trapped turbofox.

And so, after finally being allowed back into action, Sunstreaker started a different hunt. One that his brother helped with on the condition that he remained nearby in case things went into the smelter.

After finally tracking down Saberhorn and getting him alone, Sunstreaker made his offer.

In thanks for Saberhorn's ... "carelessness"... Sunstreaker was willing to do something for Saberhorn. Something that would get him in as much trouble with the Autobots as the Saberhorn would be with the Decepticons should their superiors ever find out.

"I don't have all solar cycle," Sunstreaker matter-of-factly told the stunned Insecticon, "so you get three joors. Take it or leave it. Either way, we never speak of this or the other thing again. What say you, 'oh so gallant and honorable' Saberhorn?"

At that sarcastically phrased challenge, a shark-toothed smile grew on the swordman's phase.

" I accept your terms," the other purred.

Saberhorn would often think back on that moment. And curse himself for not simply stealing the other away.

A lifetime ago, and yet the Decepticon pirate could not help but think of shining gold, muffled groans of pleasure, and challenging eyes. Those caustic words of "is that all you got, fragger?" that only spurred on his passion. The helpless stretch of a neck, cables straining, begging to be bitten. Only for such an action to be met with immediate retaliation and escalation of vicious bites and scraping claws. Such pleasure that could only be compared to what doomed souls experience when hearing the song of Solils, those ancient demons that guided travelers off course to their doom.

And yet unlike those poor fools, Saberhorn could touch and dent the glorious plating of the ancient, dangerous seducer made protoform. Oh and how glorious it was! To touch and feel something so beautifully primal and wild! Something that should be found in the stories of old, to warn of the dangers outside of safe communities. Dangers that could be as far as the furthest asteroid fields... or as close as the corner behind you.

A danger that had deemed Saberhorn worthy enough to taste the pleasure that was used as bait for its victims. 

And it was gone!!!!

Gone to the war that had claimed so much! The war that made his golden foe come alive, and eventually took his life.

Saberhorn should have stolen him away. Should have taken him far away from the war, into the beauty of the galaxy with its bounty ripe for plundering! But the Insecticon had foolishly let go of the treasure, believing he could soon reunite to continue a dance that had now become glorious passion rather than venomous fury. To prove yet again that he was deserving of the attentions of that glorious force of nature!

But he would never again see that vicious smile tinged with fondness, those caustic words with a teasing lilt, those plates that shone as if Saberhorn had caught the other in the middle of his luxurious preening.

Only in his dreams could he see even a reflection, an imitation of the beauty that was his lost treasure.

Dreams could only go so far. And Saberhorn had no desire to forget his failure. To forget his glorious one. His beloved sparkmate.

So it was that many a merchant lane was plagued by pirates who purloined many goods. One particular group left a calling card in their wake.

A rare golden jewel blossom

Sunstreaker really hadn't seen this coming.

How was he supposed to know that his imprisonment fragged him up so much that his own processor destroyed the baffling codes? Medics were supposed to check that!!!!

But Primus Below, this kid is stubborn! The little spark had stayed even through its carrier being in stasis in what had to be the deepest canyon in Cybertron!!!!

Primus had been smiling up at them both when Alpha Trion had found the berserker Autobot.

And now, because of his stupid, prideful decision to even the score between himself and that pompous Con, HE... he...

He can't ever see his brother again.

Sunstreaker has to die... so he and his little one can live.

Caminus wasn't all bad. The facilities were nice, the staff were accommodating, Skyfire was pleasant...

But Primus Below, he was BORED!!!!

Sunstreaker adored his little Aura, but her carrier was a warrior slag it!!!!

Looking after Aura and the twins was, of course, one of his functions as a member of their weird little family unit.

BUT it wasn't his only function!!!!

By the Grace of Primus, his hosts managed to arrange a solution. 

If Sunstreaker was willing to assume a new identity and to work closely with a partner, he could act as a Camien mercenary. One that would address concerns of colony planets that often lacked the firepower to deal with issues that may crop up.

"Spin-Out" couldn't leave Caminus fast enough after childcare had been arranged.

The red mercenary would go on to handle all sorts of threats in Neutral space: bandits pestering energon farmers, blasting out small groups of pirates that weren't strong enough to go for bigger prey, putting the fear of Unicron into would-be slavers, etc.

Perhaps his most memorable was when he and his partner at the time went to a remote colony planet plagued by The Swarm (a deadly event that rarely occurs of insectoids cloning in large numbers and eating everything in their path).

That had been a brutal campaign. But Spin-Out came out the other side with his little buddy Bob. After all, the little insectoid drone looked like it was made up of bits & bobs. Paired with a sweet, obedient personality, Bob was very ugly-cute.

Of course, life wasn't just filled with achievement and fulfillment. His family, even as it grew, also chipped away.

Losing Skyfire hurt. Not being able to find him and having to explain what MIA meant to the little jets? Stung.

Eventually, the twins left. Sunstreaker couldn't even be comforted by them staying in touch. The twins couldn't be Autobots and have their memories of their family. The Decepticons were still a danger.

His little Aura was now becoming an adult. She even received her Functioning Name. 

Solara

A perfect name for his perfect little girl.

He could imagine his brother saying, "Of course you do. She looks like a fragging clone of you. Thank Primus, she doesn't have your personality."

Spin-Out would silently agree but still punch his brother.

He had made damn sure his baby girl wouldn't be as stupid as he had been in his youth.

Solara valued her teammates, whoever they were (so long as they weren't being willfully stupid). She got along with others, but she wasn't a pushover. She was disciplined, but not rigid like some bots Sunstreaker had known. She'd do the right thing, but wasn't blind.

Solara knew what honor was and embraced it. She strived to uphold the values she developed.

Sure, she might be uncertain of herself at times, but that's youth! Better that than being an arrogant psycho who thought pretty much everyone was beneath him.

And, best of all, his baby had no interest in joining the Autobots. She'd work with them, even be honored to fight with them against Decepticon tyranny, but much preferred the bonds she formed on Caminus, such as her friends Windblade and Nautica.

Solara admitted to her carrier that she was fearful of leaving their family unguarded. 

Their secret haven could only last so long.

But she had no desire to impede on the freedoms the members of their family had carved out:

Whether as big as the twin mnemosurgery or Side-Out's mercenary work

or as small as going to a local oilhouse or festival

Protecting her family's safety and freedom

That was what Solara wanted. Her reason to Fight.

Spin-Out wondered how the frag someone as twisted as him could have raised someone like her.

Of course, Solara's prediction was correct.

No treasure can stay buried forever.

And Saberhorn, the esthete that he is, never surrenders his prize. 

Chapter Text

Dreadwing was still very young when the war began in earnest. His sire, Air Commander Scrash, was entrusted with the rank of general. The young Con greatly admired his father and truly hoped to be even half the warrior he was.

His father, knowing this and recognizing how far his son still needed to go to reach his full potential, assigned one of his subordinates to act as Dreadwing's partner.

Jumper was... 

Honestly, Dreadwing couldn't stand Jumper at first. The civilian turned Con was always messing with him with words, interfering in his one-on-one fights, and always avoiding fights in the name of "getting the job done quicker".

Dreadwing honestly couldn't stand him!!!! ...

And then the other saved his life. Other small moments happened. Dreadwing, at times, was able to see hints of honest vulnerability in the other. The war was wearing on the smaller bot. Yes, he was still dedicated and put his all into his missions. But it was as if the trickster had no moment to truly relax. 

Jumper had to be aware of his surroundings at all times. That included any mech that could potentially affect him, ally or enemy. Perhaps that made him a worthy Con.

... But Dreadwing wished he could see Jumper smile more. Like that time he watched the sunset after they survived a particularly harrowing mission.

And perhaps his small and quiet efforts to support his partner were noticed and appreciated. 

(His father's smirks and teasing after word got back to him that the two had been seen in rather ... compromising positions were almost unbearable. Somehow, Jumper still managed to convince him into more precarious situations. The data room had been particularly... memorable. Of course, that had been knocked out of the stadium after Jumper somehow!... While Dreadwing was flying and trying to keep the idiot from killing them both!!!!

His older brother Skyquake, whose talents had him assigned to another division, had fallen out of his chair cackling after Dreadwing revealed the true nature of the "turbulence" that had delayed him and his weak-legged partner from arriving at the rendezvous point.)

That all changed, however. Jumper had been assigned a vital mission to go behind Autobot lines. Dreadwing, injured from their last battle, could not join him. 

Jumper had teased him by saying it wasn't the young warrior's cup of Energon anyway. Still, Dreadwing worried. It was so dangerous...

The other mech sadly smiled at him... only for that smile to suddenly turn lascivious.

"Want to give me a reminder on why I should wrap it up quickly?"

... Flatline, bless him, had left the room with only his droids remaining in the medic ward so the partners could have a lengthy... "goodbye".

Jumper never returned. He didn't make it out before the explosion took out the Autobot base. 

Dreadwing, stuck in the medic ward due to the delicacy required in grafting together the messed wiring of his flying network, could only tear into a medic droid rather than the Autobots who stole away his Jumper. Or whichever fragger had "friendly fired" at him, causing the injury that had prevented Dreadwing from protecting his beloved!

Only a few cycles later, his father and his warriors had been soundly defeated by the Autobots. When it was revealed that one of their system mechs had carelessly left a backdoor for Autobot Intelligence to get a copy of Megatron's direct orders to General Scrash!!!

Not even tearing the buffoon to pieces saved the general's status. Or prevented that slimy Starscream from moving up the ranks using his father's fall from grace.

Faced with the dishonor that had befallen his family, the still grieving Dreadwing swore that he would do everything he could to be a worthy Decepticon warrior. One who did... not... FAIL!

Smokescreen knew he messed up big time. Falling in love with an enemy combatant was stupid, but it was a risk that came with the territory.

He stayed true to his Autobot origins. The saboteur went undercover, climbed up the ranks, and got the data necessary, all while minimizing Autobot casualties.

So yeah, even though he fell for that stupidly sweet and earnest young warrior, Smokescreen didn't lose his helm.

It would have been great if High Command had shared all the potentially relevant data. You know the one about the really high compatibility between war frames and civilian frames!!!!!  Maybe a fragging hint?!!!!

At the very least, he could have made damn sure his charge was kept low!!! Primus Below, who the frag ever heard of generating carriage without spark melding?!!!!

Now he can't even fight as his real self!!! No, he's off to Caminus with the other mechs who had bad and unlucky taste in berth partners!

Thank Primus, after his cute little Shadow was born, that he could still be the mech he was.

"Cross-wise" and Spin-Out were a very effective team after all.

It didn't matter that he felt sheer relief that Scrash survived the Autobot trap.

It wasn't his business that he heard no news of Dreadwing or his family's deaths.

It wasn't important that every time he looked at his quiet little jet son, he was reminded of the young taciturn jet who hid his insecurities behind a stiff and brusque attitude.

He didn't have nightmares of glaring red eyes shining with pain, a voice begging "why", or his toddler being approached by a dark, shadowy figure.

The feelings of "am I doing the right thing" or "am I messing him up" were normal considering how different Shadow's personality was from his own.

It was a choice not to attempt any relationships. Not the face that appeared every time he was in a berth alone or with a one-night stand. He turned off his voicebox cause he found his own sounds annoying, not because he'd call out a name.

... Yeah, right.

All this went through Smokescreen's head as he looked up at fiery red optics that contained the wrath of long-avoided karma.