So spoiled Starscream had been, to have that entire berth to himself. Under the crushing weight of Megatron's arm, in his tiny berth, in his tiny apartment, he felt more cramped than ever. His recharge pod would have felt roomier than this; the embrace he used to think he would never want to leave. Now, it was a trap. Meant to clip his wings and keep him grounded.
Now he was under that same weight, only he was in public, here he had to pretend he was happy. He leaned into Megatron's frame, half-shuttered optics thankfully passing as a loving gaze. In truth, he had recharged fitfully and was amazed that he was still standing.
He had let his optics glaze over as the medic spoke to Megatron. He had assumed that they were talking about nothing of importance when he heard his name.
"Hm?" He perked up, but his optics remained unfocused. He blinked a few times as he figured out who had spoken to him.
The medic's bright red optics smiled at him. "Starscream, right?" He held his servo out and Starscream shook it. "Megatron has told me a lot about you."
"Has he?" Starscream flushed as Megatron gave him a loving gaze. He was so proficient at lying that he almost believed him to be genuine himself. It worried the seeker when his spark started to race the way it had when they had first met. If only he had the luxury to do it all over again.
"It's refreshing to see someone so high in the caste care about the lower classes," the medic said. "I worked as a doctor for transportation bots. Now, don't worry, I can still do just about everything any medic can, I've just replaced a few more axles than wings." He got a sad, faraway look in his optics. "Most of my coworkers didn't care about the treatment of their patients. They thought they deserved whatever misfortune came their way because that was what Primus intended for them." He shook his helm. "I don't believe Primus would have wanted his creations to see themselves as 'better' or 'more worthy' than others. I believe he bestowed upon us the frames that we needed to be the best Cybertronians we can be. To not see wings as better than wheels, or cerebral tasks as noble but manual labour as ignoble. We need all kind of bots, willing to perform all kinds of tasks, to keep Cybertron alive and thriving. Yes, my patients wouldn't be able to do their jobs without me. But if they didn't deliver the medical supplies I needed, then I couldn't do my job. It's all a big cycle, and no part of the process is less important then another."
Starscream just nodded mutely.
"Careful. The Decepticons might start listening to you rather than me," Megatron said.
The medic smiled bashfully. "Oh, no. I couldn't speak in front of so many. That's just my opinion on things." He stacked the data pads on his desk busily. "Anyways, I'm just glad someone like you is in our ranks. We could really use you and your trine's help in this."
"My trine?" Starscream looked at Megatron with fear and a question in his optics. He didn't look back, but his servo moved to his back and his talons jabbed into mesh. They didn't pierce, but they weren't comfortable.
"Of course," Starscream said. "We're all concerned with the blatant corruption of our Senate."
"Can we, perhaps, move things along?" Megatron asked politely.
"Yes, of course. I apologize. My words get away from me sometimes." He gestured with his servo. "Megatron says you want to go first?" he asked Starscream.
The claws still stabbing him, Starscream figured he didn't have a choice. "Sure." Now he wished he had been listening to what they were talking about. He imagined history repeating itself beyond the door he was being lead through, reinforced by the medical table before him. This one wasn't decrepit and stained with old energon, so that was a plus. He was laid down but not strapped down. He had the illusion of freedom. If only the medic saw the chains binding him to his "master."
"You can wait outside, Megatron," the medic said.
"Starscream requested I stay with him," he said. "Isn't that right, dear?"
Starscream kept his gaze on the ceiling. "Yes. I want him here." The chains wouldn't allow for such separation.
"Alright."
Starscream clenched his fists and pressed his lips together as the medic's servo was replaced by a torch. He did his best to keep himself from shaking, but his wings made pinging taps against the cool metal.
"Don't worry," the medic's voice came, soft and comforting. "I've performed similar procedures before, and the pain is usually moderate at worst. You're not bonded, so it shouldn't be too bad. But if it's too much, tell me and I'll stop."
Starscream took a deep ventilation and nodded. If Megatron weren't glaring him down from his seat in the corner, he might have been able to muster some of Nexus' courage to ask what was going to be happening. And if he hadn't had to fake his happy relationship a couple cycles ago, he could have asked how bad it would be if, say, perhaps, hypothetically, he had a trine bond. His answer came without words.
Starscream swore he could hear his spark hissing. And whether or not it was actually happening, it felt like hot beads from his plating were dripping down onto his vulnerable life force. He wanted to scream for his trinemates. To feel their servos in his, telling him that it would be all right. But all he had was Megatron, relishing in his pain. If he screamed, it would only increase his pleasure. So he dug his claws into the work table, held his ventilations, and shut his optics, refusing to give in.
The medic stopped his torch, concern in his optics. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to seeker plating. I can induce stasis if-"
"No!" Starscream sat up suddenly, resisting the urge to clutch at his scalding chest. "No, I'm alright." He swore he could still see the scars on his abdominal plating.
"If you're sure." He seemed reluctant to continue, but his torch-servo came back down to finish its job. "I'm nearly finished the mount. Forming the symbol won't be as bad. I promise."
"The symbol." Starscream saw himself with his trinemates, a glaring purple "M" on his chest. Megatron was claiming him as his own in a way that no one could deny. But then he recalled the medic's other words, "first" being a point of interest. Surely Megatron wasn't the kind to get matching tattoos. He really wished he had been listening before.
"I'm finished the mount," the medic told the panting seeker. "Do you need a moment?"
"Just do it." Starscream kept his tired optics shuttered.
"You're doing very well," the medic praised him. The sliding and clanking of metal signalled his servo's changing of shape.
The hot welding tip connected with his plating again, this time to leave whatever symbol Megatron had decided they both needed. Thankfully, while the heat was still uncomfortable, it was bearable. Starscream would have lifted his helm to watch if he wasn't too tired to move.
After a few cycles of looking from a data pad to Starscream's chest, the medic finished his handiwork. He drew the last line with a flourish, his smiling faceplate hovering over Starscream's to announce, "It's done!"
Exhausted, Starscream lifted up onto his elbows, optics barely online. The guiding touch of the medic's servo on his back helped him into a sitting position and then onto his pedes. He avoided Megatron's gaze unsuccessfully as the medic helped him cross the room. Now before a mirror, Starscream could clearly see the mark on his slightly singed chest plating.
It was mercifully small. Framed by something less like a mount and more like metal flared up on either side of it like wings; it actually looked rather nice. Its sharp angles and points fit the rest of his frame's aesthetic. Had it not felt like a Sparkeater had just tried to do the only thing it was good at, he might have even suggested the procedure to his trinemates.
"Do you like it?" the medic asked, coming up behind him in the mirror. "I followed the design Megatron provided me with. This is what you wanted, yes?"
Starscream put on a fake smile. "It's perfect."
"Any pain you're feeling should be gone by tomorrow," the medic assured him. "But if you online tomorrow with any discomfort, give me a comm."
Starscream gave a little nod. His smile melted away as they turned away from the mirror.
"You're next, Megatron." The medic patted the table a couple of times.
Starscream watched Megatron's pedes as his mate stood. He didn't resist when his servo, able to crush his waist if his leader so desired, lead him over to the chair and sat him down. It was still warm from Megatron's frame. He found a sick sort of comfort from it, pulling his knees into his chest. He listened to the sounds of his mate's branding. He didn't seem to find any discomfort from the procedure. Did it have to do with his bonded spark? He tried not to worry too much, but he feared Megatron had already put two and two together. But as long as he stayed away from his trine, he could take it. All that mattered was that they were alive and safe.
"It is as magnificent as I imagined," Megatron said to the medic.
Starscream hadn't noticed him getting up. Emblem still orange from the heat, Megatron crossed to Starscream and helped him to his pedes. Arm around waist, servo clinging to back plating to keep up appearances, the two left after thanking the medic. He told them to clean them once they got home and to apply paint only after it had totally cooled down.
The plain silver was innocuous enough to not rouse interest; Starscream hoped he could keep it that way. He wouldn't be able to avoid explaining, or lying, to his trinemate's about it, but otherwise, he could probably hide it. Unfortunately for Starscream, Megatron pulled out the paint at the first opportunity.
"What's this for?" Starscream asked.
Megatron got to his knees before him, paintbrush in servo. As the red tip passed over his new symbol, in a far too intimate way for Starscream's comfort, his mate answered him. "This is the Decepticon insignia. It is a sign of unity and justice. All those who wear it fight against the oppression of the Senate." His fierce optics met Starscream's. "Remember that."
Paint and varnish reminisced through his olfactory sensors. Detailing his chest, Thundercracker and him discussed bonding. The subject made his spark flare and yearn, excited and unfulfilled. Interfacing with his trinemates had been amazing. It was an act that Megatron could only dream to satisfy him with. But this. Brush tip passing sensually over largely ignored plating, this was what he craved. What his spark yearned for when it pushed at its casing.
A bitter taste spread across his glossa as he watched Megatron's servos tarnish another memory. If he had to be detailed, it was going to be by his trinemate's servos.
Thankfully, it wasn't requested of him to paint his mate's. With his helm turned down at an awkward angle, he painted it the new purple he had decided to sport after his visit with Orion.
With his mate distracted, he slunk over to the berth, hoping to power down for a moment or two. Though the symbol was thin, the metal weighed heavily on his spark.
He hadn't quite powered down when Megatron stood over the berth, presumably staring at him. Starscream kept his optics shuttered and regulated his ventilations to a slow rhythm. After a cycle or so, the gladiator turned and went to do something else. Mercy would be passed on him this solar cycle.