I've taken some liberties with the Seekers' anatomy, at least compared to what is literally shown in the show. However, I think my additions are still fairly logical. (Making them expressive like Prime Starscream's wings.) Allllsooo I definitely have to say that this fic is fairly strongly influenced by the fic "Remembering how to be" on Ao3 by Alexgrosskid (I really like that fic and strongly recommend it) , at least in terms of the idea of other Seekers dying in the war and that making Starscream kind of wistful around the clones.
It had already been a long day of fixing up this wreck of what used to be a base to make it habitable again, and it was likely to be a longer day yet. There were many complaints and arguments about other places to go, but Starscream was firm in his idea that this would be the best place to hide out for the foreseeable future. (And fixing it would buy him time to figure out what "the foreseeable future" even meant. Hopefully Decepticon leadership in the end, with Megatron out of the picture, but how to get there was the question.) The ship on the moon was wrecked even worse, the old Autobot hideout - besides being offensive to suggest in principle- was too close to human habitation, and if they had heard anything about his explosives stunt getting Megatron arrested, Starscream had a distinct feeling they wouldn't be too welcome among the remaining Decepticon outposts. Going to Cybertron didn't even bear mentioning. Here was away from humans, away from Decepticons, had passages up through the mountain, and a decent amount of surviving supplies. (Oddly, a good deal of energon but no oil left whatsoever. Who would take the crummy poorly made human stuff and leave perfectly good energon? It served Starscream and his clones well, in any case.)
But it was, as the humans would call it, a "fixer-upper". More long days than any of them were happy about were spent shuffling around rubble and unearthing rooms, leading to a draining amount of snapping comments and arguments that quickly turned into fights. The prospect of re-training his armada into a fighting force and taking control of the Decepticons was dwindling by the day as the clones were turning into the most disorganized and insubordinate bunch of soldiers he'd ever seen. (He preferred not to think too deeply on what this reflected about himself, thank you.) Other than the sycophant, who seemed to love having orders, and the coward who could be intimidated into them, the clones all had minds of their own and were determined to just do whatever they wanted (and even the coward was somehow finding the back struts to be sassy about it). It was making for a slower progress than Starscream would have liked.
From where he and Skywarp were working on the main chamber, Starscream was currently giving the wreck that was once the main computer an appraising look, imagining all the possibilities if he could get it functional again. Who knew how much information Megatron had stored on that? Maybe even schematics for the space bridge!
"Skywarp!" he shouted out to the cowardly clone who was with him without moving his gaze, "Get over here and help me with this."
"R-right! Of course!" responded his creation, immediately setting the stone he was carrying down and rushing over to Starscream's side.
"Get down there and see if anything is still in one piece," ordered the original Seeker without preamble, pointing to where a small opening on the ground led to the internals of the machine.
Skywarp shrank at the idea of being trapped in such a dark, claustrophobic spot, but he was equally afraid of annoying Starscream. It seemed like he was always stuck between a rock and a hard place of terror, though this time a bit more literally than usual. Hoping to delay the inevitable, he crouched down, just peeking his head into the space, his wings flickering against his back in anxiety.
Starscream at first watched the display apathetically, but when Skywarp's position shifted, sunlight glinted off the joints of his wings where they attached into his back and the Seeker cringed at just how much dirt he could see in the seams. Starscream was distracted from his dreams of potential space bridges for the moment at the sheer disgusting sight in front of him. "Skywarp, your wings are a mess!"he cried out, sounding both affronted and scathingly critical.
"U-um," said clone stammered, straightening up to turn away from the computer, the wings in question quivering to point downwards in his stress at being called out for, well, anything really. He craned his neck to look back over his shoulders as well as he could, fretting defensively, "I-I showered, though. Really, I promise, I did," turning to Starscream he babbled nervously, "I'm not incompetent. I'm taking care of myself, I wouldn't embarrass you by being so pathetic to forget to stay clean, I promise."
His creator gave him a deadpanned look, but at what particular part of what he had said Skywarp wasn't sure and he panickedly ran back through everything to determine what had possibly been the most upsetting.
"The showers aren't strong enough to get into wing joints properly," said Starscream with forced patience, annoyed at having to explain the obvious. Snorting, he criticized, "Who taught you such terrible wing maintenance skills?"
"N-nobo-dy?" the purple clone haltingly answered, shrinking further on himself as he clasped his hands nervously in front of his chest- torn between needing to answer and not wanting to sound accusatory.
"'Nobody?'" scoffed Starscream, "What do you mean nobody? You had to learn the habit somewhere-" The truth annoyingly hit Starscream then. Of course "nobody" did. When he had brought them all online he had briefly taught them how to fight and how to fly in something resembling a formation, but the nitty gritty habits of how to live? For one they hadn't been online around him long enough for it to be required, and for another it never occurred to him that they would need to know it. He'd had the general vague notion that they would've all perished in the assault against Megatron, as the earlier versions of the clones had. Why teach good wing health habits to those who probably wouldn't be able to use it?
Cradling his head in his hand, he muttered to himself dryly, "Oh. That was supposed to be me teaching that, wasn't it?"
"Um," timidly voiced Skywarp, uncertain if he was supposed to reply to the statement or not.
Ignoring the clone, he grumbled defensively to himself, "Well, no clone of mine is going to be going around like that." Finally turning back to Skywarp and pointing at his timid clone, he gestured in a circle, commanding sternly, "About face." Startled, Skywarp did as he was told, his frame rigid and tense as he turned around so his wings were facing his creator. "And you may as well sit down," added Starscream more offhandedly, sinking down to the floor alongside the purple Seeker so that the other's wings were in easy reaching distance.
"You can do this yourself if you have a good stiff brush," he started to explain, his clawed fingers flexing in a slightly uncertain, but practiced fashion, "Though, normally of course it's better to have another mech help you. A mech you trust. And, er, care about…" he had started to bring his hands to the younger Seeker's back, but paused awkwardly as he realized just what he had signed himself up for. Explain the mechanics of preening to keep your wings clean? Easy. But talking about the social aspects was so, ugh, mushy. It was something shared with friends, comrades, batchmates. Starscream was suddenly, poignantly reminded that he hadn't preened or so much as seen another Seeker in… a long time. Even if he hadn't despised Blitzwing, he wouldn't have dared to go near the other's wings. Things like that just weren't done with the Decepticons. Helping each other and connections, they would only make the both of them seem weak. (Most of them already called him "creator" with some unwanted amount of fondness. The last thing he needed to do was to encourage such sappy attachments any further.)
Well, no matter. He would just stick to the practical stuff, and his ignorant clone would be none the wiser about the significance.
"Right, well," he said, carrying on from his moment of awkwardness like it never happened, "Anyway, you want to start at the base of the wing where it connects into the back. Dirt, and small rocks, and chips of ice, and Primus knows what else depending on what horrible alien environment you're flying in, tend to get stuck in the cabling and joints," as he explained, he darted the tips of his claws between the bundles of cables that sat in the clone's wing joint, pulling out bits of rubble that had worked their way in. The cables were taught from the tension in the fearful Seeker's frame, and Starscream sighed at the work he had cut out for him. "It's a lot easier if you relax," he complained pointedly. The joint slackened ever so slightly, and Starscream "hmmfed". It wasn't much, but it at least let his fingers reach a little more easily. Moving across the joint, picking out detritus all the while, he huffed when his clawtips hit upon a larger piece of rubble than the rest, buried deeply so that it was nearly wedged against the inner strut of the wing. Skywarp yelped, then sighed, as Starscream tugged the small rock out with a sharp yank.
He stared at the sharp stone in his hand blankly, then remarked, "How did you not notice this was stuck in there? There is no way this didn't hurt." He was starting to get worried about the survivability of his clones, if they lacked this much intelligence. (Well "starting" was a relative term. He'd been worried in various different ways since he first brought them online.)
Skywarp squirmed anxiously where he sat, his wings flexing with his nerves. He couldn't help but sigh in relief again when he realized how much freer and easier that felt than before. Gathering what scant courage he had, he managed to reply, "I-I dunno. I guess I just d-didn't know it w-wasn't supposed to be like that?"
"You'd think the pain would be a hint," the magenta Seeker responded dryly.
Skywarp just shrugged, now shaking slightly at the fear of criticism.
"I suppose you don't really have a frame of reference for what 'normal' is supposed to be," Starscream admitted, if only to get the shaking clone to calm down, "There just wasn't enough time for all that."
The black jet's shaking calmed, and he asked hesitantly, "B-but there is now, right?"
Starscream huffed noncommittally as reply, wordlessly moving away from the base joint and up to the wing flaps instead. He dug a claw along the edge of the hinge, and grimaced at all of the gunk that came off of it.
Skywarp, on the other hand, let out a relieved, breathy, "Oh," as open air moved freely over his wing flap and into his seams for the first time since…well since he had been created, probably. He flexed the flap experimentally, wondering at how easily the movement came. "Oh!" he exclaimed again, surprised and relieved at how pleasant it felt.
Starscream couldn't help but smirk at the reaction, though the expression was less harsh than usual, "Yeah, having actually clean wings will have that effect."
He moved on to the other wing, repeating the process to pick rocks and dried glue out of the next joint (He couldn't believe that his clone had just left glue in his wings this whole time.). As he went on, Skywarp finally relaxed in earnest. It was possibly the first time he had seen the mech void of any kind of terror. Starscream worked in surprising silence, already having explained what he thought was relevant and figuring anything he'd have to say would be redundant and obvious. (Or even worse, he'd say something disgustingly sentimental.) Skywarp's wings had lost all tension by the time he finished clearing out the last seam, and the younger Seeker was making a low, relaxed, happy sound deep in his chassis.
"Ok, we're done," Starscream concluded, swiftly pulling his hands away the second he finished cleaning the last hinge. Skywarp's wings twitched slightly downwards in disappointment, and Starscream got quickly to his feet. "You can go ahead and teach all this to the other clones. I'm sure you get the idea." He turned sharply away to find somewhere else to be.
"Oh," replied Skywarp disheartendly, "But you-"
"I've taught you what to do and took time out of my busy day to do it. I can't go around and give every single one of you an individual lecture, and I shouldn't have to. You've figured it out well enough. Unless," he asked challengingly, "you're saying you're too incompetent to teach the others?"
"N-no!" the black Seeker protested, fear of failure shaking away his previous calm, "I-I can! I just-"
"Ok, great then!" exclaimed Starscream, cutting off any further remarks from his clone. "You have fun with that, I'll be anywhere that's not here." With that, he stalked off away from the former space bridge room, with the half-formed thought of fixing up the room that he thought might have used to been the medbay. Mostly he was just thinking of getting away from his creations and their annoying (terrifying) emotions.
He definitely was not avoiding his clones for the next couple of days. He was just busy with fixing the computer, and the medbay, and a room he decided he would use as an office (he would figure out what he needed an office for later). He was just happening to do all of those things at times and places where his clones weren't. (He was starting to sound like Ramjet, hey wait a minute.)
All the same, with the little interaction he still had with his creations, he thought he could sense a shift in the mood of the cavern. He flicked his wings thoughtfully where he stood in the center of the main chamber as he pondered the change. Things seemed…happier, he concluded with bafflement. The clones all still bickered, but the arguments were less heated. Their frames had lost a tension that he hadn't consciously realized they had, but now that it was missing the difference was night and day. Morale had overall improved. Starscream shook his head to clear away his thoughts. Well, good for them, they were happy. He had a base to get functional.
The one time he couldn't avoid interactions with his clones was during their habitual group flight. Flying was something they all wanted and needed to do, and Starscream didn't trust any of them on their own- they'd get themselves shot down by the Earth military or something. So he would join them on morning flights to supervise, though he rarely participated in the in-flight chatter - sticking mostly to commands and directions. Then when they landed, he would immediately disappear to his own quarters before he could be bombarded by one clone's request or the other. However, one flight, Starscream was the last to return to base. He flew in minutes after the others had already returned, fully intending on retreating to his room as usual, but was struck still at the sight before him as he transformed and landed.
The clones were seated on the ground in a tight group, Slipstream next to Sunstorm and Thundercracker by Skywarp. The normally cowardly jet was running his clawed fingers along his brother's wings, looking shockingly calm. The loud, excitable Thundercracker was equally relaxed, the two talking to each other in an easy, casual way. The blue jet's wings flapped lazily, met with a light admonishment from his brother, and the two laughed softly.
The atmosphere was comfortable and light, and something in what used to be Starscream's spark burned at the sight of it. The friendship, the comradery, the gentleness, they were a thing from a different world, a dead world. It had no place reappearing here and now, so long after such privileges had been lost. Starscream tore his gaze away under the pretense of scanning over the other clones, but the truth was he just couldn't bear looking at it any longer.
In his false searching, he did notice something off. Ramjet was oddly absent. He shifted his gaze towards the hall that led to the clones' quarters as if that would make the white jet materialize. He didn't observe his clones that closely, but he noticed enough to know that the yellow kissup and the liar were practically bound at the hip. He didn't have time to linger on the thought any further as his wings pricked at the feeling of being watched. He shot a glare back towards the preening clones, and caught Sunstorm's optics glowing in his direction. Starscream scowled, warding off the inquisitive look, and Sunstorm turned innocently back to his sister's wings, carrying on whatever conversation he had been having. Shaking his head, Starscream made his usual retreat.
He should have known that wouldn't be the end of it. Between his natural inclination towards niceties and over exposure to human culture, Sunstorm had gotten the idea in his processor that they were all "family". He regularly called the other clones "brother" (or "sister", in Slipstream's case) and had even tried tossing the human term "father" in Starscream's direction before the older Seeker had put a swift stop to that. And, according to the yellow clone, family was meant to help each other. So he tended to take it very seriously when he thought something was wrong with any of them. It should not have been surprising, then, to be immediately cornered by the clone the moment he touched down after the next flight.
The yellow clone stood in front of his creator, blocking his path with an innocent, hopeful smile that caused Starscream no small amount of apprehension. "Would you like to join our post-flight preening, esteemed creator?" he asked earnestly, "It would be too terrible of a shame to allow your beautiful wings to get dirty," he frowned slightly at the idea, as if he actually cared what state Starscream's wings were in.
Starscream scowled, pushing the clone aside to continue on his way with a sharp, "No."
Sunstorm's frown deepened as he watched his creator leave.
That was the first time in a long string of Starscream warding off the nosey yellow Seeker. It wasn't restricted to just after flights, either.
The original Seeker left his soon-to-be-office, only to run directly into Sunstorm.
"Noble creator! Is everything going flawlessly for you this wonderful day?" the younger Seeker asked cheerfully.
"Just perfect," gritted out Starscream, doing his best to navigate around the clone.
After several flights in a row of Sunstorm's hassling, and countless more inquiries about his health and happiness in the inbetween, Starscream was at his wits end. He didn't think he'd ever understood the phrase "kill 'em with kindness" before now. His sycophantic clone seemed to have weaponized politeness and sympathy. It would almost be impressive if it wasn't so irritating.
"Ok, FINE!" Starscream at last relented, throwing his arms out in surrender after another post-flight oh-so-innocent query on if he needed any assistance, "By the Allspark you are annoying!"
Sunstorm grinned, looking very proud of himself as he sat down on the ground and waited for his creator to follow, commenting, "I am ever so grateful, my magnanimous creator."
Reluctantly, Starscream eventually sank to the floor in front of his clone, fighting the instinct to tense his wings protectively, as he was strikingly aware how long it had been since he had intentionally turned his back towards another mech. Willingly and knowingly putting his wings within easy grabbing range of another. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel. His clone didn't need to see his leader in such a weak position (although, hadn't they already? That was what convinced Slipstream to betray him. Starscream viciously stamped the thought down.) Hopefully he could just do this quickly and in peace and then flee again. Why was he even doing this again? Oh, yeah, because Sunstorm didn't seem likely to stop bothering him any time soon, because apparently every single one of his clones had inherited his stubbornness. Just in different ways, as was becoming blatantly apparent in even what he thought was the most weak willed one.
Despite his best efforts, his wings still jerked sharply away from the clone's touch at first, the limbs unbiddeningly reminded of dark crushing hands and cruel dents. Hesitating, Sunstorm opened his mouth as though to comment, but Starscream waved the movement off. "It's fine," he reassured dismissively, stilling his wings through force of will (and practice, lots of practice) and gesturing for the yellow mech to continue.
Starscream's dreams for a quick and peaceful resolution were shattered when he learned that the sycophantic Seeker liked to talk. A lot.
"We're all so fortunate to have inherited as exquisite wings as these," he gabbed as he preened, his touch so feather-light it was hardly noticeable. "Though I'm sure ground form mechs have lovely features of their own. Do they have a form of preening as well? That would be wonderful. Maybe they happily take care of tires and wheelwells? It makes a demurely inquisitive Seeker as myself curious. Are there others like us?"
The stream of chatter paused, and Starscream belatedly realized that Sunstorm was looking at him and actually anticipating an answer. "Not too many other mechs created from Allspark shards that had imprinted my CNA," he grumbled, still actively fighting off the urge to tear away and walk as far from this spot as possible.
"Ah, of course," replied Sunstorm, nonplussed, "We are remarkably unique that way. However I fear my erring self misspoke in my questioning. What I humbly mean to ask is: are there other Seekers?"
Starscream did stiffen this time at the question. It was something he'd rather not think about, and had been trying to ignore despite how he was reminded of it every time he looked at his clones. A gentle stroke on his wing broke him from his thoughts, and he looked behind him to see Sunstorm giving him a regretful and sympathetic look.
"I apologize for my most impudent question. You are much more knowledgeable than I and if it were important you would have told us, I know," spoke the clone.
The clone's creator forced himself back into a scowl, not wanting sympathy from his copies. Not needing sympathy from anyone. "If there are any Seekers, I haven't seen them," he forced himself to answer, trying to sound as casual and neutral about it as possible.
"That just makes us even more stupendously special, then," chirped Sunstorm, though his grin was strained.
As if he already wasn't looking weak and pathetic enough, Starscream's back reflexively arched away as Sunstorm's digits ghosted over the flap of his wing, a site of one too many dents, punctures, and scratches from the past. The sunny clone quietly drew his hands away, and when Starscream glanced back to look at him guardedly he could see the Seeker giving his creator a worried stare. With considerable control, Starscream forced his scowl to remain, silently daring his creation to comment.
For once, the chatty clone kept quiet, though his already light touch became noticeably more careful as he worked on the hinges and seams on the broad side of Starscream's wing. The silence didn't last long, as the complimenting clone quickly started talking again, this time about far more inane and unimportant topics.
All the while, even as the clone finished on the first wing and switched to the next, Starscream's posture remained guarded, stiffly keeping his wings at a forced neutral angle. Not tense to signal his distress, nor allowing himself to calm in case he had to get away quickly. He had to admit to himself, though, as Sunstorm finished and took his hands away, that it hadn't been…entirely terrible. Standing gracefully, Starscream gave his wings an experimental flap, sudden relief filling him that the movement was pain-free. Normally a luxury whenever anyone else got near the limbs. Remembering the seated clone was still there, he regarded the yellow Seeker carefully as the other also stood up. Wings twitching awkwardly, Starscream tried to find his bearings. He was as out of practice being preened as he was preening others. Although, he remembered enough to know that routine dictated he should help Sunstorm next. Very literally, "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours". Dang customs, even millennia after you last used them you still can't quite ditch the habit. "So I suppose you'll be needing help next?" he asked the clone none-too-excitedly.
Sunstorm beamed at the offer, remarking, "I'm ever so grateful that you should remember your lowly, undeserving, creation," the older Seeker couldn't help but roll his optics at the overdramatics, readying himself for the long-winded response that usually came from the sycophant trying to ask for anything, " but I have already preened," Starscream was taken aback at the short and unexpected response, continuing to watch in mild shock as Sunstorm walked away. If his wings were already clean, then that meant he had worked on Starscream's without intending to get anything out of it himself. He had done it purely to take care of the other Seeker.
Starscream shook his head at the bizarre behavior- there was no way anything that had come from him had gotten such an altruistic streak. Something about that clone just wasn't right.
Sunstorm obviously must have said something to the others, because the next time they went on a flight Starscream was immediately intercepted, this time by Skywarp, his hands clasped nervously but a shaky hopeful smile on his face.
"What?" he asked the clone exasperatedly, though he got the feeling he knew already.
Skywarp impressively did not back down at his abrasive tone, merely shifted his weight back and forth, before he asked, hardly stuttering as he did, "Do you, um, want any help preening?"
He wanted to say no. He really should say no. Skywarp was no Sunstorm, he would back down if Starscream told him to. But he remembered back to his creation's gentle hands, and how nice it had been to preen again, and all at once the Seeker was just so tired of it all. Fighting off all of his creation's good intentions, resisting any kind of comfort tooth and nail, what was even the slagging point? He may as well face the facts that he wasn't going to be abandoning his clones any time soon (his very being immediately reviled protectively at the thought), so he had to admit it, he was stuck with them. They weren't the perfect replica army he had envisioned, they were something better (yet worse) and altogether more terrifying. They were their own people, developing individual likes and personalities, and for some reason they had decided that they liked Starscream. And…and frag it all he had actually missed having other Seekers to preen with. Far nicer than mechanical empty sessions with a scrub brush, even if the end results were the same (which they debatably weren't).
Resigned to his fate, Starscream sighed and waved behind himself permissively. Skywarp looked shocked for a moment that his offer was actually accepted, but happily sat behind his creator, Starscream slowly sinking to the floor after him. His wings barely twitched at the presence of another's hands, apparently already re-adapting to the idea of a harmless touch.
He expected the coward to have shaky, unsteady hands, and prepared himself for discomfort, but the clone surprised him by being quite deft in his preening skills, setting to work with a gentle confidence, though his touch wasn't as light as Sunstorm's.
"Hmm," Starscream hummed thoughtfully, musing over the differences between the clones and how they kept finding ways to surprise him.
Skywarp paused, tearing his hands away as his nerves crept back in, "Is-am I doing something wrong?" he worried.
"What? No," Starscream dismissed derisively, making it obvious he found the question ridiculous. Skywarp didn't know whether to be relieved that it seemed that silly that he was doing something wrong, or anxious that he had asked a stupid question. The original Seeker continued, "You're just far more confident at this than I would have expected."
The black and purple mech's frame finally settled on being relieved, and with a shaky laugh he went back to combing through his creator's joint cabling. "W-well, preening's just relaxing, I guess. It helps me forget to be scared, at least for a little bit." He pulled his hands away and looked sheepishly down at his fingers, twiddling them in emphasis, "Plus it helps having something to do with my hands."
Starscream didn't reply, but he thought over his creation's words. Maybe he should see about finding the timid clone some methodical work to occupy himself, something with sorting or straightening.
The mech couldn't fight a relieved sigh as a particularly stubborn piece of Earth debris was pried from his hinges, the pleasant feeling distracting him from his planning. Yes, Skywarp did have a point. Preening was rather relaxing.
When Skywarp was done, Starscream shot once again to his feet. But his creation looked up at him with a barely concealed hope and Starscream groaned. (Where they had learned those cyber-puppy optics he couldn't fathom. Even more baffling, why did he keep falling for them?) Sitting back down, he patted the space in front of him, saying gruffly, "Fine. Get over here." With a grin, the black Seeker shot over to sit in front of his creator, wings perked happily. (Well, that was more convenient than them being pinned against his back, at least.) The younger Seeker was almost annoyingly happy the whole time.
Somehow, Starscream eventually got roped into the regular group preening sessions. With Ramjet suddenly joining in, the clones argued that without him there would be an odd number. Starscream didn't necessarily agree with this logic, and he grumbled about it completely unsubtly, but ended up participating anyway. It seemed like every day a different clone would rotate in seeking his attention, so he found himself short of excuses to leave. Eventually, as they all settled in, he stopped feeling the need to find excuses at all.
Just like I wanted to see more clones fics, I also am a sucker for the idea of Seeker's preening, especially in a group, and, like, familial context, and I just feel like not enough fics use the concept. (There's a couple that tie it into Trines, but most of those make it shippy. :( ) I like to think of preening with Seekers like brushing/braiding other people's hair as a human. It's something that's needed for hygiene reasons, and people can do it themselves, but it can also feel really nice to have someone else brush your hair, and it's a bonding experience. (Ok, mainly a bonding experience for girls, but still! It's also such a cliché mother-daughter thing, so I think it's adorable to transfer that to Starscream and his kids.) Also parent birds will teach their children how to preen, so I just have to use it here. :3
Hope you enjoyed chapter 2 of my garbage. More hurt/comfort next time. *slaps the clones* These minor villain characters can hold so much angst in them.