[The Cyberverse continuity is the primary inspiration, with references made to the 2019 comic reboot and other sources of events, lore and characterisation.]
Apologies, this update took a little longer than anticipated. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your readership and patience. Let me know if you have any ideas or constructive criticism.
"Now that I have been changed, and you find me so fragile as I acclimatise to my new self…" Starscream leans on Megatron's bent arm, the Seeker Captain gripping the retired gladiator for support and as a claim of ownership, all outward stares surely envious to behold such a beauty at the behest of this brawn. "Don't you fear the gossip?"
"I fear nothing."
It makes Starscream swoon, internally. He is a little too sore right now to do much outward swooning.
"Though, I apologise if this seems… overbold," comes a subtly shy rumble as the door slides open. "Please, make yourself at home, my friend."
"Oh, not overbold at all." Optics are bright, teasingly wandering, grip loosening but not quite breaking away as Megatron steps aside to admit Starscream entry, their digits lingering at the tips. "I was wondering when you'd show me to your habitation suite."
The former gladiator flushes. Clears his vents with a grunt.
The Seeker's elegant pedes thus pass over the threshold, heel struts producing an arresting click-clack with each alternating step, accentuating a sway to the hip joints and providing added height that will allow for wonderfully imperious gazes down the bridge of an olfactory sensor redesigned to enhance the profile.
Shockwave claims no appreciation for shallow and fickle concepts such as the social estimations of trending beauty standards, but he is surely an artist with his tools, masterful within his means.
Megatron rumbles deep within his dented, scuffed chassis, optics following Starscream's admirable efforts at not limping too noticeably. The tired old gladiator's fans whirr, cooling his battered internals. Burdened by such noble dreams and such a noble character, he is a fantasy of many. He seals the door behind them, listening for the faint bleep of the locking mechanism. "It's not much, I'm afraid, but you're welcome to it." Indeed, the furnishings are simple, modest, functional.
A smile that could melt one's Spark chamber is tossed casually over a pauldron. "It could use a few personal touches." Seekers have always been beautiful, but now, their Captain can claim the closest stake to perfection. "I shall help you."
"You have… already helped me."
Starscream had been intending to flirt further, when he is felled by the sheer vulnerability in that low utterance.
"You have been a companion to me, in these trying times. Hence, this gift."
"…Megatron…"
"Do not think I am weak. However, for you, I will say this."
Slender digits are recaptured within a mighty servo. They offer no resistance.
"I often find myself surrounded with like minds, yet so alone. I have thought upon my lot in life, and wondered… no, how can this be?"
It just makes him sigh in a rattling rasp, moving in to embrace Megatron, stumbling against his supporting bulk, cheek pressed to chassis.
"A gladiator faces his adversary alone. As Orion and I drift further apart, unable to reconcile our differences with our world at the precipice of this great change… so close, now…" A rumbling sigh. "I am reminded again, that I stand, and I am not alone. You… stay with me."
"I… I will!"
"Please." There is no boasting of fame, and such emotional openness without the shield of bravado would be death, in the Energon-soaked arena.
"He is a fool! Forget him, I am here!"
"Were it so easy."
"If he chooses to walk away, so be it! You've tried! He won't understand you, not like I do!"
"I do not wish to believe that he cannot see things clearly. His is a brilliant mind, a fierce Spark… I admire him. I wish you knew him as I once did. And yet, he denies me. Defies me. Was he not with me, before that braying crowd? Did he not grip my servo in camaraderie, as I unveiled our united symbol for the first time?"
Starscream had been in the crowd, once. Now, he tightens his grip as Megatron grits his dentas, seething.
"…But I must do this. With, or without him."
"You only need me."
"And you… have been by my side. My little helper. My confidant. My friend."
"You noticed me!"
"I did. But, then again, you demanded my notice. There were moments I almost considered relenting my dreams, for my dear Orion's sake, but you… inspire me with your hunger, your ambition. I need a Spark like yours at my side. A conqueror's Spark."
"Oh, Megatron. I wish I'd known you, soothed you, since aeons ago!"
"You're here, now… Starscream."
The Seeker looks up.
The old gladiator smiles tiredly down. "Let me not allow myself to become too impassioned. Forgive me."
"I like you, all impassioned."
"Yes, well… Hrrm-hrrm. I shall provide you a safe place to recuperate, without entertaining the many demands of your station. Here, you shall rest."
"With you."
"Eventually. Let me attend to today's rally. There will surely be a meeting with Orion afterward. When I have concluded business, I shall return to you. We shall be alone, then."
"Ohh, but I grow impatient with want! Take me with you. I may be a little, uh, tender, just now, but I am strong enough."
"No. Rest."
"Megatron!"
"When you have fully recovered, I intend to take you everywhere I go, Starscream."
"I will follow!"
"Until then, I will return. Wait for me."
Starscream's optics flutter shut as Megatron's chin comes to rest atop the Seeker's helm.
"You're trembling."
"Hold me until I grow still."
"…I am a brute."
"…I trust you."
The former gladiator rumbles, arms timidly returning this embrace, as if he barely comprehends physical affection, as if he fears his own strength. His permanent memory storage is filled with pain, plans, politics and poetry. And now, this – wordlessly, he saves this moment as a core memory file, something that even a hard wipe cannot erase without causing integral damage to his brain module. He will always have this. No enemy will take it away from him.
"If I weren't so sore, right now…"
"I'm sorry you hurt. It was a gift, I only wanted to–"
"Shh. It's worth it."
Starscream and Megatron lapse into perfect silence for some time.
"Defacing of public property," Officer Strongarm dictates with blunt stoicism, in the process of adding another entry to her diligently updated audio logs. She can't help but think of that punk troublemaker Sideswipe and his bouts of property damage, their repeated run-ins and all the things he said to make her reconsider everything she stands for, a great sundering rendered all the more self-destructive upon his first admittance of an actual smile, directed at her. "Database indicates a previous–"
"Don't interrupt art!"
She actually pauses, a little stunned that such a big voice could come from a two-wheeler.
"Almost done," Flamewar barks whilst she hurriedly moves to finish the design. "Just gimme a sec…"
Strongarm sighs, shrugs her mighty pauldrons as if physically dismissing Sideswipe's smile from her memory banks, lumbering over and readying the stasis cuffs. "Drop the paint. Servos where I can see them."
"There," Flamewar coos, her shapely, flame-emblazoned little warframe quivering with pride upon the final spray of bold, ominous purple, forming the stylised face plate insignia. "Done!"
Strongarm is almost upon the two-wheeler, now, towering by comparison, a servo reaching for the femme's arrest, the other gripping primed cuffs.
Flamewar turns on her heel struts and suddenly turfs a partially depleted cannister of spray-paint as if lobbing a grenade into enemy lines. A wickedly good throw, with far more force than one would anticipate.
The makeshift missile, treated far too violently, whacks Strongarm across her stout, heavily armoured bosom, bursting with a spray of purple across her powerful warframe. Squinting into a jet of paint to the face, she inadvertently takes a few steps back, giving nimble little Flamewar just enough of an avenue of escape. Indeed, Strongarm deals with quirky characters all the time, but this is a first.
"Purple suits you!" The fiery two-wheeler assumes her bike alt-mode and speeds off through the gap, throatily gunning it. "See ya, handsome!"
"H-hey!" The officer spits purple. "Stop! Bleaugh!"
Illicit modifications have most likely been made, enhancing Flamewar's abilities outside of permitted parameters. She is speeding. She would be dangerous if persuaded to do worse. For now, she flees from her mischief, giggling under the thunder of her engine.
She is long gone in the mere moments it takes Strongarm to wipe paint from her face plate, smearing purple on her burly forearm. "Update: add assault of a police officer to the record, and driving over the speed limit." Pouncing into her rugged alt-mode, the officer follows. "In pursuit. Ugh. Paint tastes awful!" She is glad she did not get any in her optics.
Flamewar is lost to the twisting alleyways and roving warframes.
Strongarm eventually returns to the station, humbled in purple.
Is Megatron in love? I think so. Anyway, nobody panic – I am not relying on RID (2015) for canon here. I just like some of the characters, most of whom have varying appearances within different media anyway. I also fully approve of Strongarm's stockier femme body shape. I wanted to do something with her, if only to add a little world-building and some appearances scattered throughout. This story is likely to feature a number of other familiar faces in background roles, hopefully fleshed out with relationships and motivations.