Sleep
It's been really hard trying to write one of these drabbles recently, because I'm waiting for "Revenge of the Fallen". I'm sure it will give me some new inspiration! Though I have a feeling Starscream is going to go the same way he did in TF:A...hmm. We'll see!
I'm not 100% happy with this drabble. It's a bit of a...hm...slice of life? I don't know, let me know what you think ^^;
Starscream wakes some time in the night, optic shutters blinking wearily. The room is quiet and dark, save for a vague glow from the city sky outside leaking through small, thin windows. The scarce light twists, coming to rest on silver and tan plating.
The flier shifts, trying to settle back into recharge - only to find he cannot move. Megatron's legs pin his own down in a tangle of circuitry, while the Lord Protector's arms have him in a crushing embrace. His face is only millimetres away from the silver mech's chest, and he can hear the spark pulsing beneath it clearly.
The Air Commander frowns, observing the specks of light jumping over Megatron's plating as the tyrant shifts minutely in his sleep, rumbling. It had become something of a habit for the flier to curl up against his lover on the rare occasions they could recharge together. But without fail, Starscream would fall into recharge first, Megatron would wake first, and the flier would find himself quite alone on the berth in the morning. To discover that the tyrant actually returns his embrace - consciously or not, the seeker cannot tell - is new indeed.
He smiles to himself as the silver tyrant lets out a single snore, muttering something in his sleep. Still deep in recharge, Megatron pulls Starscream closer, burying the flier's face against his chest plates. He rests his sharp chin against the Air Commander's helm.
Carefully and quietly, Starscream untangles his free arm from the Lord Protector's hold. He replaces it just so, into a position where one movement from the tyrant would crush his wrist. Starscream relaxes plating, letting wires free to tangle and catch in jagged, silver plating. He wiggles his trapped arm, making sure it is stuck firm. Then he gives his limbs an experimental tug, before nodding smugly to himself in satisfaction, and offlining his optics to go back into recharge.
Tangled mess that they now are, Megatron will have no choice but to wake with Starscream the next morning.