Halloween Treat
xxx
"No," Starscream says when the door opens.
"Oh, come on," his visitor whines. "You promised!"
Starscream looks up from his test tubes and actually flinches at the sight that greets his optics. Skywarp's faceplates are covered in - what? What the frag is the thick, black and white color paste supposed to depict? A human skull? The Decepticon emblems on Skywarp's wings are no longer visible; they've been painted over with the same substance, orange this time, and in the form of a Terran vegetable whose name Starscream can't be bothered to remember. And there's glitter. Holy slag, is there glitter.
"Come on," Skywarp repeats and adjusts the little crate he's carrying under one arm. Starscream scowls.
"My precise words, as I recall them, were: I have yet to find an effective way to stop you from making a fool of yourself." Apart from shooting him through the spark, that is.
"See?" The Warping Menace grins, and the change in facial expression does appalling things to the paint on his cheeks. "And until you do that, you can come trick-or-treating with us."
Starscream idly contemplates hurling one of the test tubes at his trine mate. Might be interesting to see all the garish body paint react with sulfur mustard. "I am not joining in any human nonsense, Skywarp, and I am most certainly not going to be seen with you in this get-up. Now get out; I'm busy."
As he speaks, he wonders why he's even bothering, because of course Skywarp does no such thing. He hops up onto the edge of the workbench, making the finely-tuned apparatuses there rattle ominously. "But everyone's coming," he coaxes, and the encouraging tone irks Starscream to no end. "Even Motormaster. I have it on good authority that the Jam Master got his hands on some platinum sticks. And Megs said it's okay."
Starscream presses his lips together. Of course the old fool has sanctioned this hokum. Megatron tends to turn a blind optic to Skywarp's shenanigans as long as they don't interfere with anything war-related. He is not the one who gets to deal with the inevitable fallout, naturally.
His thoughts are interrupted by an ill-foreboding crunch of metal. "Huh," Skywarp says, frowning down at the two parts of the ionic stabilizer in his hands that are supposed to make one device. Starscream's patience snaps. "Put that down, you uneducated dolt!" He flares his wings in a clear gesture of threat. "And get out of my lab!"
"Please, Starscream," a voice says.
Starscream resets his optics. Thundercracker has remained close to the door, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest plates. His unobtrusive presence pales to near invisibility next to Skywarp in all his loud, glittering glory.
"Please," he repeats. "I beg you as your trine mate, don't leave me alone with this." He points at their third, and it's hard to tell if he's joking or in despair. His field as well as his expression convey a bit of both.
"Hah." Skywarp cackles. "You're just afraid that I'll get more candy than you."
"Have you looked into a mirror, 'Warp?"
"Oh, don't worry," Skywarp purrs. "No matter how many sweets I get, you'll always be my sweetspark."
An image rises, unbidden, in Starscream's processor that makes him perk up. Now there's a charming idea. Maybe the glitch actually is on to something.
"Go get them, then," he says.
"Huh?"
"Shoo." Starscream waves his hands in the direction of the door. "Scat. Go play your Earth game. And you." He points at Thundercracker. "I have a job for you."
His trine mates exchange puzzled looks. "But we're both off," Skywarp objects. "And we wanted to go tog-"
"Lieutenant Skywarp, as your trine leader and your commanding officer I order you to leave this room immediately."
Skywarp's field flashes with petulance, but he's not stupid enough to disobey a direct order. He slides off the table, gives a brusque salute and stomps out of the room. Starscream and Thundercracker remain behind.
Starscream motions his trine mate to step closer, which Thundercracker does, a tiny, floating question mark almost visible above his head. Starscream eyes him from helm to wingtips to pedes, does some calculations, compares a few patterns. Yes, this should do nicely.
"Uh - sir?" Thundercracker ventures.
Starscream smirks at the guarded tone. He points at the slab in the corner where he occasionally recharges when a project is more captivating than the time of the cycle. "Get on the berth," he says.
xxx
Stupid Starscream.
Skywarp drags his pedes through the corridors, making no attempt to hide his foul mood. Slag that fun-hating trine leader of his. Not coming to trick or treat, ordering them around during their free time, and then keeping TC back - out of sheer spite, no doubt - so the whole sweets-hunting mission is only half the fun.
Not that it matters. He casts a surly glance into his crate where a handful of treats lead a bleak, lonely existence. It's been barely three breems into the action, and Skywarp has been ordered back to Starscream's lab. There wasn't even time to butter up Soundwave for one of those platinum sticks, for frag's sake!
He decides to forgo the door and simply warps into the room. "Honey, I'm home," he calls in a sing-song voice as he materializes, knowing full well it's going to nettle Starscream somewhat fierce.
The first thing he realizes is that nobody snaps at him. Odd. Even odder, Screamer's not in his usual place at the workbench. The lights are off, except for the one over the bunk.
Bathed in its light lies Thundercracker on his back, little lumps visible all over his frame. Skywarp's spark clenches. Has Starscream used their trine mate for one of his nerdy experiments?
He rushes over to the berth. "TC, what -"
Thundercracker's optics focus on him. They are clear, no trace of fear or pain. And now that he's close enough, Skywarp can see that the lumps on his trine mate are - candy. Someone has painted a fanciful pattern of energon goodies all over TC's gorgeous frame. They're everywhere: on his arms and legs, on his wings and cockpit and even his turbines. Some are jellied, some look more like the crispy kind. A few are even gold-dusted.
Primus.
TC's field trembles just a tiny bit when he reaches out with it. 'Wanna come here?' he sends over a private comm. channel. He can't say it out loud, Skywarp realizes, because one of the treats has been placed directly over his mouth.
He crawls onto the berth and up Thundercracker's frame, careful to not dislodge any of the goodies. Despite the tad of nervousness, TC's field is warm and welcoming, and their individual algorithms knit together perfectly. Skywarp swoops down to kiss the treat from his trine mate's lips. It's one of the crispy kind, and when he bites it in two, sweet, cerium-flavored energon spills out and over their lips. Thundercracker's mouth opens under his, and their glossae meet as they chase the sweetness. They lick and suck and nibble with practiced ease, and Skywarp shudders and laughs into his trine mate's mouth, simply because it's so, so good.
"Hey, sweetspark," he whispers. "Best. Halloween. Ever."
Thundercracker's lips and chin are streaked with energon, and some of Skywarp's face paint has rubbed off onto his nose and cheeks. He looks stunning. Especially when he smiles. "Might want to thank him," he murmurs.
Skywarp follows his gaze. One of the lab tables has been cleared of the nerdy junk it usually accumulates. On its top, Starscream has taken a vantage point, back against the wall and one pede propped up. He watches them in silence, and despite the smug smirk on his faceplates, Skywarp feels a spontaneous surge of affection for his trine leader. Not only has Screamer dug into his personal stash for this (there's no mistaking those cerium treats). Moreover, he has yet to freak out at Skywarp for raining glitter all over his bunk.
He deserves a reward, is what he does.
Skywarp returns his trine leader's grin. "Wanna share?"
Starscream crosses his arms behind his head. "Oh," he says softly. "That won't be necessary. I'm quite confident that I'll… get my fill."
*Fin*