Hey, look, Slipstream is actually in this one.
Starscream was walking down to the back depths of the base, in an area so buried and underdeveloped even comm signals wouldn't penetrate, brought there by his latest odd task. He didn't come back here often, but he had tried everywhere else already so it was the last place to check that was still in the base itself. Looking down at the checklist on the datapad in his hand, he turned a corner to go into an unoccupied storeroom - or at least, it was supposed to be. He nearly jumped out of his plating when he looked up to see a form sitting on the floor, two red pinpricks glowing in the darkness of the normally unused room. The mech he had found startled in turn, jolting up from their previous hunched seated posture.
Calming down, he saw that he had stumbled onto Slipstream, sitting unmoving and near silent in the dark. "Sparks, you're too quiet," he muttered, subspacing his datapad and dusting himself off in an effort to distract from his moment of fear. Looking down at the femme on the floor he frowned lightly and asked, more curiously than accusatory, "What are you even doing here?"
Her wings bristled and she spat back, "None of your business," her posture tightening as she drew herself up straighter and crossed her arms.
The response was more acidic than usual, and Starscream looked between the tense femme and the desolate, dim, room knowingly. There were only so many reasons someone would be sitting alone on the floor in the dark. The question was, what was he going to do about it? He definitely could take her at her word and just leave. But if he had to guess, she would probably just keep sitting here and hating herself over whatever was running through her processor. And, consequently, become even more snappish and difficult. (At least that was probably what he would do, and he had started to see a lot of himself in the young femme, though, yes, that shouldn't have been surprising all things considered. At any rate, he found himself realizing he knew what she was likely going through, which was definitely a strange feeling for a generally insensitive mech like himself.)
With a dramatic sigh, he resigned himself to at least making an attempt at this emotional comfort thing. (Unless he got lucky and one of his other clones suddenly decided to come to this practically hidden section of the base. Unfortunately, as much as he stared at the hallway behind him to to materialize someone else to handle this, no one showed.) Not looking in the direction of the femme, he reluctantly sat down beside her, asking seemingly offhandedly, "Ok, what's wrong?"
She didn't move except to cross her arms slightly tighter, retorting, "Did I say anything was wrong? Like I said, mind your own business."
"Mmm hmm," he voiced doubtfully, raising an optic ridge at the femme and parrying back,"Because you're getting so much work done here in the dark as Pit middle of nowhere."
"I can be here if I fragging want to be," she shot back venomously, jabbing an accusatory finger at her creator, "It's still none of your business."
The negative response really didn't come as a surprise, but, rather than quit and leave, he found himself arguing against the miserable femme instead. "And here I thought you wanted me to 'take some fragging responsibility' for my creations," he commented snidely, giving a broad wave in the vague direction of the rest of the base and the other clones, "You'd think you'd be glad I'm even trying to help," he mirrored her crossed arms.
"I meant that for the others," she scoffed, "The ones who actually need it."
The two traded glares for a long moment, before the older jet asked in a seeming non sequitur, "You know why you're the most frustrating clone?"
"I thought Thundercracker was the most frustrating," interjected the femme argumentatively.
"Thundercracker is the most difficult, there's a difference," snapped Starscream shortly at the interruption. Composing himself, he veered back to his original point, "You're the most frustrating because you're the most like me," he stated with his hand splayed on his chest.
"We're all like you, genius," she hissed back.
"Pfft, not these days you aren't. Unless you seriously think Sunstorm is anything like me at this point, other than the obvious," he gave her a pointed look, inviting her to contradict and really say that the nosy, caring, human-appreciating complimenter was really so identical to his original. Hearing no arguments, he continued, "But you?" he pointed a clawed finger at the femme, "Out of everyone, you react the most like me, make a lot of the same choices I would. It's why I put you in charge. And it's why I know something is bothering you," he gave a self-deprecating snort, raising a hand palm up in a half shrug, "Avoiding everyone and attacking anyone that dares to try and help? That has my emotional coping MO all over it."
"So everyone else has developed individual personalities except for me. How kind of you," she replied flatly, optics sharp and accusatory.
"No! I-" bristled the original Seeker defensively, before immediately cutting himself off in an effort to not rise to the bait. Instead he gritted his teeth and grumbled, "Insulting the other party to sidestep the issue and distract from your own weakness. Classic maneuver." In an even lower aside he muttered, "Maybe 'Spitfire' would have been a more fitting designation."
He paused a moment to let both the femme's and his own tempers cool, then, nudging her arm, asked again in a near sing-songy annoying tone, "So? What's the matter?"
"Eat slag," she growled, arms still crossed tightly and avoiding looking at him, not even denying something was wrong this time.
Not saying another word, Starscream rose to his feet, slowly turning around and walking away, and mentally counting down to Slipstream saying something about it. If she really was half as difficult as him, he knew that even as she insulted and acted like she hated being pestered, she would hate being seemingly ignored even more. In fact, he hardly made it back into the main hallway he had come from, before her piercing voice came from around the corner: "What? So you're just gonna leave? Coward!"
He rolled his optics at the (to him) transparent and weightless insult, but did go back and sit next to her again. He didn't say anything this time, just raised an expectant optic ridge as he used all of his willpower to not give a smug grin. Her posture tightened again as she brought her arms up to her knees, so she was sitting in a tight ball.
"They all make it look so slagging easy," she complained with a scowl, in a voice as tight as her posture, "Being so sappy and buddy-buddy all of the time."
No prizes for guessing who "they" were, thought Starscream.
"It's true, we're completely ruined," he commented flippantly, leaning back on his hands, "My powerful air force reduced to a bunch of soft sparks," he gave a bittersweet grin, unfortunately not half as annoyed about it as he tried to sound.
"Except for me," interjected Slipstream dryly.
He tilted his head inquisitively at her, unbeknownst to him looking ironically much like Sunstorm as he did. "Says the Seeker who revived me and gathered all of her fellow clones seemingly only out of sentimentality?" he rebutted, his tone half teasing and half confused.
"That's not the same thing," she scoffed dismissively, looking down at the floor.
"Yeah? And why not?" wondered Starscream, genuinely curious.
"I only did all that because I knew it'd annoy you. Because I knew it was something you'd never do. It's not like actually being nice," she explained bitterly.
He might have resented the accusation he'd never care about the clones, if it hadn't been completely true (at least at the time). Still, it was a weak argument, and he was well prepared to counter it. "Oh, so you only preen with the others to be contrary?" he countered, and she stared at him flatly. Encouraged by her seeming annoyance at the argument, he carried on, each counterpoint suggested more smugly than the last, "You banter with Ramjet to be annoying? You make sure the TV isn't playing something frightening when Skywarp is around to stick it to me? You stay here in this madhouse when I know you could be achieving anything you want on your own just because it will personally pester me? So none of that counts, either?" He grinned at her victoriously as for once the argumentative femme had no retort, silently moving back to glaring intensely at the floor. She was clearly thinking about all he had said, but it still didn't look like she quite believed him. Clearly he had to come at the argument from another angle for her to concede the point that she wasn't terrible. (She really was so much like him. So stubborn to believe she was right, even for a foolish and self destructive argument.) It would cost a bit of his pride, but Starscream knew there was still more he could say to convince her.
"Slipstream," Starscream admittedly heavily, this time his voice lacking the playful smugness he had argued with before, "you're a far better person than I ever have been."
"Betrayals and all," he added jokingly before things could veer into overly sentimental territory. "Really, I can't see how you thought otherwise," he told her worryingly, and even more confused than he had been when this conversation had started.
Her hunched posture remained, and she did not reply. Starscream feared he was fighting a losing battle against the sappiness the situation was clearly calling for. He could normally talk his way out of things just fine, but it seemed his argumentative skills weren't helping here. Steeling himself, and complaining internally, he hesitatingly raised a hand to place it on her head, giving her helm a comforting stroke with his thumb. "So why are you sitting around in the dark telling yourself you're a terrible person, hmm?" he asked, this time with as much empathy as he could muster.
She didn't shake him off, merely glanced at the action with wide optics, so he kept his hand where it was. She moved her gaze back to the floor as she said in a strained voice, "Because I'm not like the others. I'm not…"
"What? You're not all touchy feely?" he scoffed, removing his hand to settle back into his lean. "Most Decepticons, Sparks, most Seekers aren't. I'm sure as slag not. Do you know how hard it was just to sit here and talk to you at all? As far as I'm concerned, the others are all the weird ones. I'm still trying to figure out what the frag happened with that," he observed half-jokingly, "And Sunstorm? Something obviously went very wrong there."
She gave a little huff that wasn't quite a laugh at the comment.
"You're there for them in all the ways that matter, and that's all that should matter," he stated with a dismissive wave. "You and me?" he gestured between them, "We're a couple of complete afts, but we're,ugh," he hesitated, making a face at what was about to come out of his mouth before finding the strength to finish, sounding very much like it was being dragged out of him, "family where it counts."
At last her countenance cheered, and she turned to look at her creator with a smirk, "So exactly how painful was it for you to say something so sappy, creator of mine?"
He grimaced, replying deadpan, "Extremely. So I hope you're feeling better so I don't have to do this any more."
She gave a more genuine, though slightly harsh, laugh at that, before it faded and her face became contemplative soon after. The peace didn't last long, though, because her expression swiftly returned to a smirk again. "So, you admit you're a complete aft!" she observed, throwing her head back with a cackle.
"We! I said we were complete afts! As in, you too, missy!" he accused, holding up his index finger warningly.
"Can't imagine where I got it from, dad," teased Slipstream in return, knowing he'd hate the human term being used anywhere near him. Her grin widened as she uncurled from her hunched, defensive position to arch her back confidently.
He in fact grimaced at the phrase, his wings hiking in irritation and his optic twitching. Huffing dramatically, Starscream got up to his feet, shooing the younger Seeker, "Alright, you're clearly feeling better. Get outta here, go do something useful! And stop watching those human dramas! They're obviously corrupting your processor."
Still cackling victoriously, the young femme rose to stand, darting away towards the hall. Before she was fully out of sight, she paused, her grin momentarily fading to something softer as she looked back behind her.
Giving her an expectant look, Starscream wondered shortly, "Yeah?"
Shaking off whatever she might have said, she gave a gleeful and mischievous smirking grin and merely stated cheerily, "Nothing. See you later, glitchhead," before she disappeared back into the inhabited parts of the base.
Shaking his head, Starscream tried to scowl, but it kept twitching to a grin instead.
Starscream and Slipstream argue and insult to show they care, lol.
A little self-mocking installation, nodding to how I make the clones so mushy and also never write Slipstream, haha. But when I actually get into the swing of it, I enjoy writing Slipstream as essentially Starscream's moody teenage daughter. (Stepping aside her awkward introduction in canon, let's just move past all that.) IDK, hope I hit the right balance of snark and softness with Starscream here. I want him to care about the clones but also don't want to make him too sappy. Hope you enjoyed yet another chapter of two-characters-talking-about-feelings hurt/comfort.