Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the respective artists/writers/et cetera. No infringement intended.

Continuity: TF2k7 Movie-verse

Characters: Frenzy, Starscream.

Warnings: Very, very much a slash story, non-romantic, consensual. There are mild spoilers for the movie prequel novel 'Ghosts of Yesterday' below. Read at your own risk.

Author's Note: Criticism encouraged, technical points preferable.

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Frenzy padded down the empty hall, optics swiveling constantly, assessing the threat level of every shadow, every minute play of light that caught his gaze. He examined each indentation in the walls, making certain it was not large enough for a mechanism of the commander's size to hide behind.

If Starscream were in too foul a mood, Frenzy did not wish to become a smear of broken parts because he had been imprudent and had intruded on a sulk.

He was certain Starscream had passed this way; if not by the evidence supplied by the telltale trace of energy signature, then by the simple fact that it was on the end of the ship furthest from Blackout. What remained of Blackout, in any case.

The seeker had been in something of a temper the last he had been seen – irate over the enigma of the 'human' vessel, the perceived betrayal of the crew, his embarrassing damage issued by said organics… it was never wise to disturb a commander in such a time.

But it was an opportunity for a touch of favoritism, at the very least, and some way to affirm his loyalty after the awkwardness that Blackout's insubordinate challenge had caused. Though Frenzy had in no way declared himself for the shamed elite's bid, he had also not vouched for Starscream, and had even been party to the doubters' queries. Now that the seeker was firmly and irrefutably acknowledged, once more, as leader absolute, it would not do for questions of allegiance to linger.

Gestures had to be made, some manner of forgiveness issued, for the sake of rank and security. Time was ticking away; already, he had likely taken too long in deciding how he would show where his loyalties lay.

The friction between the squad had been palpable as they had returned to the ship. Bonecrusher had already proven his fidelity – it was he who had carried their badly damaged leader to the ship, without a word of rebellion or complaint. It was he who had assisted with the repairs, as much as Starscream would let him. The maddened Brawl had not participated in the miniature uprising, and was essentially still within the seeker's graces.

That left only Barricade and Frenzy were still in the unhappy group of the unredeemed, and, frankly, it was becoming distinctly uncomfortable to be lumped in with the failed traitor, who hadn't even been terminated for his crime. Though Blackout's botched sedition had been perfectly acceptable – it was their way and right to challenge at any time, for dispute or rank – his execution was flawed. If it had just been a question of right and wrong, it would not have been unacceptable for him to be allowed to live. True, he would have been proven incorrect – having not the strength to best the commander and thus considered in the wrong by custom – but he would not have been so rebuffed by his fellows otherwise.

But Blackout had challenged for the right to lead, and that was quite another state of affairs entirely. By rights, he should have been terminated for the failure. A weak Decepticon was useless, broken, a thing to be reviled and rebuked. It was better to simply destroy the flawed warrior, and thereby strengthen the whole. But Starscream had spared him – a markedly rare gesture of mercy, perhaps, had they not known of the seeker's less altruistic motivations – adding insult to injury.

The rest of the group had begun to avoid the hulking Blackout, worried to be associated with an unsuccessful challenger. Too pathetic to warrant deactivation, too weak to succeed – was it any wonder Blackout had become their personal pariah?

Thus it had come down to a race between Frenzy and Barricade, to who would curry enough favor to be back among the accepted. Both had similar ideas, given the obviousness of Starscream's temperament and self-imposed isolation, though Frenzy was the best able to be covert about it. Barricade, by virtue of size, would have to be obvious, and, thus risk outright rejection. But Frenzy, Frenzy could offer slightly more, and discreetly, if he could but find the commander first.

He came cautiously around the corner, into the very aft of the ship, the black belly, cold and still. Pinpricks of stars shone through the long window, doing little to illuminate the crushing darkness. It was the closest they had to Kolkular, a miniaturization of their city structure. It was a gamble, to intrude upon the stillness. Megatron would likely not have tolerated it from a being such as Frenzy.

But they were not home, and this was not Megatron.

Frenzy felt a chillingly weighty amount of attention suddenly placed upon him, as twin points of carmine broke the blackness, striking against the monochromatic backdrop. The vast blot of shadow that was Starscream shifted as he regarded the smaller Decepticon, the spy still caught in the open in the light of the hall. He was not as utterly terrifying and awe-inspiring as their Lord, perhaps, but was more than capable of sending warning tremors through Frenzy's complex neural network.

But it would not do, to dare this much only to turn back at the last moment. And he was not likely to be terminated. He was useful. He had proven himself often enough to be of value. Starscream wouldn't destroy a resource needlessly. Hopefully.

Sensibly, Frenzy adjusted his optics for darkness, careful as he approached, keeping every move neat and subservient, not wanting his body language to betray him as a threat. The more he repressed his twitches, the more they clawed at him, but he managed, somehow, to keep steady up until he was few dozen body lengths away from Starscream's hand. His left side jerked, madly, and he twittered as the feedback rattled through his manifold processors.

"C-c-c-c-commander—"

"What do you want?" The inflection alone told Frenzy exactly what mood he had caught the seeker in. It was heavy, flat, and in no small way hostile.

Not the best moment to interrupt, evidently.

But the sentiment was understandable, and Frenzy had already come to the unhappy conclusion on the way to this impromptu meeting. Starscream had only been recently repaired, an aggravating state for any Decepticon, and so shortly after the semi-betrayal. Frenzy regretted timing and circumstance, but it was his best chance. Barricade was already skulking about, waiting for Starscream to be finished with his brooding in the dark, and Frenzy could not hope to compete with the larger warrior. This was his single best opportunity to get himself back into Starscream's good graces.

Gathering himself, Frenzy straightened slightly. "I o-ffer s-s-services."

The bright, unnervingly intense gaze shifted, taking him all in, and drifted as the commander considered his offer. Frenzy could not help but note how close Starscream's hand lay to him, how easily he could be seized and crushed on a simple whim. Several contingencies ran through his mind, all discarded as inadequate. Though unlikely he would be outright deactivated, there was still a large amount of damage Starscream could do to him without running the danger of utterly Extinguishing him.

Risk. That was what it all came down to. How much could he hazard for the sake of the hierarchy?

After an uncomfortable count of seconds, the scythe-fingers tapped the floor, once. Frenzy hesitated, uncertain, then sidled forward, hoping that it had signified consent. He reached out, touched Starscream's leg with one silvery digit, ready to skitter back at the least twitch. When the powerful mechanism didn't immediately snatch him up and fling him against the wall, he grew bold, clambering up into the accommodating lap.

It was best to start slow, in case the seeker was thinking only of the less… intensive aspects of Frenzy's on-ship function, as he had in the past. With care, the wiry, tiny mechanism began to work, attentively cleaning out grit and swiping away soot, straightening lines, working at dents, doing the general clean up after the rather clumsy self-repair. Starscream sat still and silent, allowing the smaller Decepticon to crawl all over him, though his optics watched him closely.

Frenzy did not worry over the scrutiny; his intentions were peaceable, as honest as he got. A simple cleaning, a maintenance check; just a harmless, everyday task. And if his hand brushed the seeker in an exploratory manner somewhere along the way, what of it? It might have caused those too-keen optics to flicker for a moment, but surely it was not an intentional sin.

Receiving no outright rejection or commands to cease and desist after the third 'accidental' brushing, Frenzy went that last, precious step. All too aware of the casually placed hand resting on the hip beside him, he reached in, working at a fuel line. Delicately, he slid his dexterous fingers along the cable until he reached the end, ostensibly checking for kinks or snarls. Instead of tracing the next cable, as he should have, he reached up and forward, quickly, afraid to linger too long and rouse suspicions, seized the primary line between Spark and body, and squeezed gently.

Starscream's reaction was immediate. A startled exhalation, with what might have been a groan just below audibility, and suddenly Frenzy was face to face with that furious countenance. "What," The seeker said, with a tightness in his voice that sent the infiltrator's warning lights flashing in a staccato of red behind his optics, "do you think you are doing?"

Frenzy mightily resisted the urge to flail or to attack; though he could, indeed, do damage to a large mechanism such as Starscream with surprise on his side, in a direct, open confrontation, he could never hope to so much as scratch him.

With his very apparent mortality in mind, he tried to pick his words with care, taking his cues from the more expressive optics and hands. "I-I n-n-n-noticed you we-e-e-r-re, tck, agitated." He attempted to be winsome, though he knew the attempt had fallen pathetically flat as soon as it left his vocalizer.

"It does not concern you," Starscream snarled, shaking the diminutive mechanism hard enough to smack his head back against the seeker's fingers. "How dare you presume to—"

"I was g-g-going to, tck, r-relieve, tck, some s-s-s-s-stress." Frenzy interrupted, voice warbling when Starscream suddenly clenched his hand, almost buckling the infiltrator's leg struts. Not nearly as hard as he could have, perhaps, but enough to tell the spy he was on dangerous ground.

The bulky mechanism stared down at his captive and subordinate, scowling. Frenzy felt that, somewhere along the way, he had done something a little stupid, and he wasn't quite sure as to where it had gone wrong. "T-this is t-t-the closest s-s-s-s-someone's come since we, tck, l-left Cybertron. A-a-a-agitation interferes, tck, w-with command."

"You watch too closely," Starscream growled. "I am of an equable mindset, and it is not your place to doubt my leadership. I am commander supreme—" He paused, uncertainty and pride warring in his gaze before he added, roughly, "… until Megatron is restored to us. Until such a time, my rule is not to be questioned. By you, or any other."

The statement, in and of itself, was an absolute confirmation of Starscream's newfound Blackout-fed paranoia, but Frenzy was prudent enough to refrain from pointing it out. "I-i-insult is n-n-not my intention, leader," He said, with what he hoped was a coy tone. Slag it. He never had to play these games with the others. Perhaps he should have been overt to begin with.

"Oh? Enlighten me, then."

"I o-o-only w-w-w-wanted offer, tck, c-c-companion-s-ship," Frenzy said, demurely. "N-nothing more." Even this might have dared too much, judging by the contracting of optic lenses and the way those tickling tip-scythes that were Starscream's fingers prodded his legs just enough to discomfort.

Starscream huffed, indignant. "Why do you believe I would want for such companionship? I could have my pick of partners, if I so chose."

It was true. Due to rank and power, Starscream was viewed as quite attractive by Decepticon standards. A simpering plea wasn't likely to be accepted, or any of the numerous, deceitful-yet-pleasing tales Frenzy could weave. Perhaps, strange as the notion was, honesty would play nicely into the situation. "I-it's j-j-just a favor, commander. A small s-s-service."

But perhaps Frenzy had been correct; perhaps it had been a long time since the established leader had dared to let someone near enough for pleasure. Slowly, suspiciously, Starscream relinquished his hold, setting Frenzy back onto his steady, raised hip. "Very well," He said, almost grudgingly, settling to lean as he had before, against the wall. His hand drew back, not far, hovering in a gesture that would have been viewed as protective had they been of any other species.

Frenzy had half a mind to flee then, with the commander in such a volatile mindset. But had he not already proposed the exchange? It would be foolish to run now, and make it unlikely for any further overtures to be accepted.

Working once more from the outside in, not wishing to agitate Starscream enough for the seeker change his mind, Frenzy kept his touch light and careful. He tried the outer shell, around the disjointed nosecone. Little reaction; not even a change in optic brightness. Testing his boundaries, Frenzy slipped behind the rigid metal, into the less thickly guarded secondary layer of armor. A small shifting, a suggestion of discomfort, and he pushed further onward, to the unguarded internals. Seeking out those special places that were so secret and so ready for exploitation—

There was one; below the chest, well under the Spark chamber and its nigh endless layers of shielding. It was a wide enough gap for Frenzy to get most of his primary and secondary arms inside, and deliciously sensitive. His claws sought and found the tiny indentations, hooked on, and tightened just enough for the barest impression of touch. He idled there a moment, long enough for the sensory data to be processed and acknowledged, and squeezed.

The seeker jerked, hip jolting upward, shoving more of Frenzy's arm into the divide between plating and wiring with the sudden movement. Taking the opportunity, hoping he was fast enough to avert a swat, Frenzy manipulated the sensitized cable, already so responsive, and was rewarded for his efforts with a flash of red from above. Starscream sighed, a faint tremor shaking his body, a spark dancing along the cable and into Frenzy's arm.

"There," The seeker said, quietly, confirming Frenzy's deduction, optics dimming as he turned his focus inward.

Frenzy took his cue, getting down to business. A long, feathery touch, at first, the ship's quiet broken by the rasping scrape of metal on softer alloys as he mapped the area, getting comfortable with this new and precarious terrain. Continuing to caress the cable with his under-arm, Frenzy reached for the very end, plucking at the connections, willing static to arc from his fingers to the coppery conductor. It would be painful, initially, the extra charge joining the flow of power, but when it dispersed—

Several gears clanked and groaned in Starscream's chest, and the conductor so painstakingly attended to began to warm. Frenzy dampened the charge, drawing it out as best he could, as unfamiliar as he was with what would and wouldn't work for the seeker.

"Faster," Came the snarl, tempered only by a soft hiss-groan trailing off into the dead blackness.

The two leftmost optics swiveled up, dividing Frenzy's view between where his arm disappeared and the flickering optics above. Quick and dirty was what the commander wanted – not the illusion of intimacy. Frenzy, more than ready to accommodate his leader's whims, sped up his ministrations to comply. He let his secondary arm release the cable it had toyed with, seeking out other pleasure-points. A bundle of wires there, a conduit there, and warmth was already starting to blossom, the seeker throwing out heat like a furnace blast.

By the Allspark, he was easy.

Frenzy leaned back, the resulting snarl rattling through his audios like a concussion blast, and shoved his other set of arms into the next gap over, experimenting with different sorts of touches. Light there, harder here. A small amount of static. Following a wire, ghosting over gears and circuitry, trying to find the right sequence–

He could feel the internal components and powerful machinery tightening in that vast palm behind him, the stressed creak of stiffened digits curling unwillingly.

Frenzy doubled back, playing along that stretch of superheated metal. He plucked at wires, tapped out random bursts of code and sequence, drumming up and around the gap, wondering what part it was that reacted so. Trailing his upper arm along a support strut, he sought out his original target, the fourth line to the Spark, wondering if he would be allowed that much a second time. No, too much; there was a warning rumble deep in Starscream's chest, and Frenzy quickly gave up on the endeavor, seeking less intrusive places to ply his wiles on. He forced his fingers to twitch and jitter, pretending it was keys beneath them, moving fast enough to make a murmuring thrumthrumthrum of vibration, traveling up one girder to rattle the thickly armored Spark casing.

The entire arm behind him spasmed.

It truly had been too long. Starscream hissed out a short curse, breathlessly – if it were possible – demanding, "Faster," his voice tight, already at the edge. Frenzy hoped he wouldn't thrash and flail like Brawl had. Even when they had reattached his lower right optic, his ocular sensor had never fully recovered.

Still, he did as he was bid, rewarded for his efforts by the hip beneath him beginning to shake, and the temperature skyrocketing, like the fire of planetary reentry upon his face. The air before his optics began to shift, waver, warping his view of what he was doing.

The hand, hovering like judgment, shook, tensed, and Frenzy wanted so badly to dodge out of the way, naturally wary of what might happen should that tremulous control snap, but even more leery of stopping now and—

Starscream made a small, choking sound, and shuddered, hard. Frenzy's bid for balance was lost, and he fell back into the waiting claws. On instinct, Starscream's hand curled inward, enclosing tight about its trophy, but, miraculously, the infiltrator was not smashed to so many pieces. Showing considerable restraint, Starscream clutched him – not entirely too tightly, but not by any means loose – as he quivered and rode out the sensations cascading through his systems. Random static-sounds of sequence emitted from his vocalizer, sharp utterances that likely meant nothing at all.

For what felt like an eternity, they were in tableau, heat waves warping the air immediately around Starscream's body, wreathing his aura in sizzling and spitting after-images of Spark-flare. The room smelled of burned metal, a pleasant, tinny scent that reminded Frenzy of the aftermath of a successful coup. The claws around his torso, scarred by battle and hard use, constricted once more, possessively, and Starscream sighed, settling back.

With something approaching care, he deposited Frenzy back onto the ground, releasing him gradually, as if loathing to relinquish even this small dominion. "The usual terms apply?" He asked, and, to his credit, his voice didn't crackle.

Frenzy nodded, feeling a great deal safer with his task completed and hearing the lazy satisfaction that fairly dripped from Starscream's vocalizer.

It was not the first time he had performed the impersonal service for a larger war-build, and likely not the last. But at the very least Starscream took some pains to not accidentally damage him afterward, as the carelessly brutal Decepticons normally would do. Perhaps a sign of possible, future interludes to come? Or just a confirmation that his gesture was accepted?

In either case, he dare not overstay his welcome, though he had not been directly commanded to depart. Skittering backward, he retreated down the hall, already planning how best to ingratiate himself back to Barricade for this small usurping, and approach the scout in such a way that would not end with him crushed into pulp.

The things he did for camaraderie.