Author's Note: Real life has kind of eaten me, so sorry for the slowness. That probably won't change in the near future, so updates'll come as they come. Thanks for your patience, all! :snugs:

As he stepped off the dais and into the sea of red and blue optics, Starscream saw him. It was difficult not to. He was the largest Autobot there, after all.

And he was moving with purpose on an intercept course. Dazed and distracted Autobots moved out of his way or stilled so they could be moved around or over. One, the Autobot engineer, looked up and said something as Skyfire passed, and the shuttle replied with a smile, his optics not leaving Starscream, his slow, careful stride unchanging.

Starscream remembered that smile and found himself glad to see it, even if it was not aimed at him, even if it was aimed at Autobots. There had been no time for it, the last time they'd met. There had been little time for anything, last they'd met.

Starscream surrendered to the inevitable, stopping only a few steps away from the dais. He kept his face and field neutral, unsure what to expect. Anger? Betrayal? He deserved those.

But they were not what he got. Instead, Skyfire went to one knee, and his acknowledging glyphs were old, ceremonial, those of a subject approaching the Winglord.

Starscream vented a sigh. From anyone else, after the harsh words and shots fired between them, Starscream would have expected mockery, a prelude to accusations. Skyfire, though, was the least duplicitous mech Starscream had ever known. Starscream found himself unsure if he could still read him, if he could understand such honesty.

"Starscream." Skyfire's glyphs matched his posture. They glittered with honorifics, fit for the Hall of Flight in Vos.

"Skyfire." He kept his own glyphs neutral, an invitation to informality. If they kept to the formal protocol, they'd be at it all cycle. "Something you want?"

"I'd like to talk with you." Skyfire's voice was mild, his gaze the same, and both made Starscream's plating itch with uncertainty. Or was it...no, definitely uncertainty. "We are overdue."

And THAT tone, Starscream knew from experience, was like the voice of Primus himself (having had recent experience with the actual voice of Primus did not diminish the comparison, Starscream thought). For all his mildness, Skyfire could be a stubborn fragger when he wished. It was usually easier to let him say his piece, though with the audience around, Starscream deflected on instinct.

::Is this really the time for such things?:: Starscream asked, switching to comms.

Skyfire's glyphs were lightened slightly with wry amusement. ::At a ritual of reconciliation and reconnection? Yes?::

Starscream vented a sigh of the warm, organic-laced air. There were thoughts flickering through his processor. Thoughts that were much too understanding, much too forgiving to be his own. Starscream clamped down on them with a vengeance. ::This is not the place.::

::You don't wish to talk to me. Why not?::

::That is not true.:: Though it was. Skyfire had always been much, much too perceptive for his own good. Starscream drew himself up. ::I have a part to play here.::

Again that infuriatingly mild smile. "Indeed, you do." He spread his large hands like unfurling wings, his glyphs formal in a way that that smile was not. "I ask for your blessing, my lord."

Of course he did. The idiot. Fool. Autobot. ::And if I refuse?::

::You will not.::

::You are so sure? You are a traitor to your Winglord, after all.::

::So you say and we both know to be false.::

Starscream's optics narrowed. ::And now you call me liar?::

Skyfire's own optics were steady. ::We both know that you drove me away, Starscream. I understand that, now. You were trying to protect me.::

That feeling in Starscream's spark, the feeling of a dam rushing open, of a reaction finally falling to its final state, might have been relief. Not that Starscream would admit it. ::Of course I was trying to protect you! Do you know how few dedicated scientists we have left? Megatron would have put you on the front lines simply because of your SIZE! The Autobots at least would keep you SAFE!::

And that, Starscream thought, was why they were having this lovely, traitorous discussion over comms instead of out loud. Once a scientist, always a scientist.

Skyfire started to reach out, then thought better of the movement. He vented a sigh that if Starscream didn't know better he would have labeled "annoyed". ::Did you ever stop to think that I might have liked to decide for myself?::

::You DID decide for yourself! You chose to leave!::

Skyfire's engines dropped into a rumble, his optics flashing with emotion that Starscream would have felt bad for, if he were another mech. ::You PUSHED me to it. I was working off of incomplete data, and you knew it. No one explained to me the extent of the war, nor the sides. No one told me what this planet represented. No one told me that we are a dying race. No one told me that Cybertron is a dead world, Starscream.::

::And that would have made a difference?:: Starscream sneered. ::You can't convince me you would have abandoned science to fight. To kill.:: The very idea was ludicrous. Skyfire was not a warrior and never would be. His spark was too gentle. Too open. Too...

Starscream felt something move, something change...that burst dam settling into a placid lake, something like a memory, and something like the hand of Primus. Starscream railed against it internally (STOP THAT!) and got nothing in return but a settling of his spark and a vague sense of amusement.

::It might have,:: Skyfire was saying, his glyphs starting to betray his (rightfully, Starscream admitted) righteous indignation. ::Had someone explained it to me, I might have decided that Megatron's war was just. I might have decided that I had to change with the situation. Presented with two sides, in a war of extinction... I knew none of the Autobots. I knew you. I might have chosen to stay a Decepticon.:: He reached out, one hand hovering a mechanometer in front of Starscream, but not retreating this time. ::To stay with YOU.::

Starscream could not even imagine it. Did not WANT to imagine it. ::Being a Decepticon would have destroyed you.::

Skyfire huffed, his hand dropping. ::Please. I am not that delicate. And you and I both know that no material can truly be created or destroyed.::

::Only transformed into something no longer recognizable,:: Starscream replied, his glyphs more sulky than he would have liked.

Skyfire reached down, oh so carefully. His large hand covered Starscream's shoulder vent, his thumb lying along Starscream's cheek. His glyphs were exasperated, fond, and achingly familiar. ::You are a selfish aft, Starscream. But I forgive you.::

Starscream did not move under that hand. No matter how it sent his sensors firing pleasure at the pressure and heat of it, at the thought of the things those fingers could do, of the things he'd done in and to and with that hand... ::So very generous of you.::

Skyfire leaned down, his bulk, the warmth of his systems so close comfortable rather than intimidating. He pressed his fore helm to Starscream's. ::I know.::

Starscream vented a sigh. "What do you want?" ::Now. What do you want now?::

The air rumbled with Skyfire's chuckle, a quieter version of his great engines taking off. His other knee came down, his weight settling back on his heels until he was fully kneeling. His large hands traced over Starscream's chestplates. Usually buried beneath his cockpit, they were extraordinarily sensitive, something of which Skyfire seemed quite aware. The spark beneath them, swollen and roiling with energies not his own, pulsed in Starscream's core, a wave of pleasure washing outward through his every line. Starscream reached up, steadying himself against those large hands, and Skyfire smiled, leaning in.

Sensitized from the power still pulsing through him, power plant evidently completely oblivious to the three overloads he'd just had, Starscream reached up, his hands framing Skyfire's face simply because they wanted to.

"I want you," Skyfire rumbled against his palms. "I want to feel you tremble in my lap and overload against my fingers. I want to taste your spike. I want to make you scream with pleasure. I want to feel your spark reaching for mine."

Some spectator behind Starscream-it might have been one of the coneheads-moaned. Starscream could not blame him. The very words made Starscream's valve tighten, spark spinning faster from memories of doing just those things. In the Academy. On Cybertron. In the dark of space. And, if he wasn't mistaken, in one of the promised futures that had flashed before his cortex when he'd joined with the Prime.

You are so very predictable, Starscream thought at the spreading warmth in his spark. Do you really think that this is all it will take to keep me satisfied? Whatever answer he might have gotten was buried in the feel of Skyfire raising one of Starscream's hands to his mouth, warm lips closing over digits...sucking...and letting go with a truly unnecessary pop of suction.

"And your blessing, of course, my lord," Skyfire said, piously but with an even more unnecessary grin.

Starscream sighed and stepped forward, between Skyfire's knees, surrendering as he'd surrendered the moment he'd set foot on the dias. "This changes nothing between us," he murmured against Skyfire's chestplates, his field already meshing with Skyfire's like two halves of a whole.

Skyfire merely smiled and pulled him in closer, rumbling with equal parts desire and utterly smug contentment.

iFine,/i Starscream thought at the small sun of happiness in his own chest. iFINE. We will try this your way./i And then the tip of Skyfire's glossa played over his helmvents, and he thought very little for quite awhile.