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Wholly Unwhole

Starscream x original Seeker Character (Cadet) for @radioactiverats! They've given me permission to publish this lil gift for them as a Chapter 20 to their Cadet au! Chapter 19 can be found here, please give their stuff a read! This was supposed to only be like 1000 words. It is. 4300+. Oops.

Featuring: Starscream, Original Seeker Character Cadet, OC Seeker Echo, pining, possessiveness, jealousy, and hints of reciprocated trining feelings!

Truly, having the understanding of just what his Cadet was going through should have made him more wary of his own trining instincts- there had been the rare flares of jealousy, when he had heard about 'Girls Night'- but ah, he had had work to do, work that would keep all three of those idiots safer-

So why had Starscream felt like the idiot for missing out? It wasn't a feeling he'd liked. Had they spoken of him, had they missed his presence? There was that latent instinct trying to tell him 'They're taking them away- and who can blame those two? How long has it been since the three of us shared that bond wholly together-'

And he had to remind himself that the little blue jet's rampant trining needs could genuinely be triggering old instincts. Old instincts to reaffirm his own claims, pin Skywarp, those pretty new claws he'd noticed clinging to his chassis and scraping red finish. To mark Thundercracker, sweet Thundercracker, who had helped him corner Skywarp, all those vorns ago, whose gentle presence had become a rarer and rarer bond, and how much of that had been on himself?

The thrill of their bond had grown distant, that flight nearly a fond but faded memory, but still, he felt part of that in his core- could feel it still, whenever the three of them flew together. The need for the three of them, that bond and connection.

And when he looked to his Cadet, the one good thing he had managed to save throughout this war…

He could understand the emptiness you must be feeling, the aching need spiking through your EM field at regular intervals while you slept, or the flare-ups while handling what had otherwise been regular tasks. Or at least, he knew that clawing need must be there, must be the trigger for those spiking anxieties, those flashes of anger that you no longer seemed able to hold in wholly. Before you had started your own shift, your own change, optics picking up more of that vermillion tinge to them, it had been just about keeping his student safe.

Keeping the last piece of Vos that seemed so precious safe.

But there was that realisation that the things he found precious of Vos weren’t always the things others might call gentle. No, he remembered the cackling laugh of seekers cornering each other around spires, flying daringly towards cliffs, dancing in the heat of updrafts and spiraling in deadly stunts down wind-wells. The energy of pinning or being pinned, of feeling somebody’s servos just miss tailfins or thrusters, of finding the way back to whatever bar and leaning against it while a daring opponent or try-hard wannabe trinemate stumbled their way back in.

The rush of flight and the danger of falling but knowing, especially with a trine, that gravity was just another toy to play with.

It wasn't a gentle protectiveness he was feeling towards you, anymore.

Not after the incident with that dark, quiet Seeker- whose designation he had already lost in the buzzing of his processor over all of this.

The biting had been one thing- it wasn't uncommon to allow somebody close to preen another like that, even in fliers outside of Vos. It wasn’t even necessarily exclusive to trine-mates or Amica- though perhaps he wouldn't so readily admit how pleasant it had been, the hum of his fans low as his claws had hooked more firmly into blue hip-plates.

Maybe that's why he had started looking around again- a Seeker seeking a distraction. That former Winglord's trinemate could eat slag, but the bulky Seeker who gave him energon reports was competent, fast, a good flier- and as a single flier, he was good for filling in missing formations. Unusually chameleon about it, like he could mirror just about anyone he flew with- to a point. So why not flare his wings a little? Why not let himself look over those navy and black wings as they lifted higher, clearly enjoying his praise, his words, the accent of familiar Vosian between them another added pleasure-

So why did it feel like there was something massive behind him? Threat alerts pinged in his processor, but he had brushed it off as another anxiety spike, something new and unpleasant that made him less... rational. Another thing he could blame on the war.

And yet, that soft buzzing steadily grew as he spoke with the other Seeker, became more of a low, thrumming roar. The widening of the other Seeker's optics had him whirling, seeing you, his Cadet, wings spread wide in the hall, glaring with those new fiery eyes-

It had been so long since he'd last gotten to see it unfiltered that it was a shock when he realised what was going on.

Did you even realise what it was you were doing? It may as well have been a spoken word, shouted.

Mine.

It was a claim. Or, the sloppy attempt at an undirected one. And you were blaring it into the hall for all to hear, as though none of you had ever left those spires of Vos. There you stood, showing off those wings he had stolen for you, standing as tall as your frame would allow, your EM field loud as cannonfire with wildly misdirected intent-

It was certainly a sight to behold, in retrospect. In the moment, Starscream had snapped with surprise, frustration, his current hope for a bit of stress relief whirling away with a quiet 'nevermind' before Starscream could stop him-

But his Cadet looked almost pleased, and there was something in the way your eyes followed after the larger Seeker, something so proud of yourself, that you had secured Starscream's attention back to you, had frightened off his quarry. Your wings were held comfortable and steady, more yours than he’d ever seen them, and that had him hold back his words.

If you hadn’t been aware of what you had been doing, that was one hell of a show of power. Had he taught you that?

He felt the tugging at his intake, the smallest smile twitching away before he forced a more stern expression over his features.

"You're not sorry."

It hadn't been a question, but after all that training, all that time around him- could he deny the satisfaction, seeing that scarred face hold some of that glare for him? Like he was no longer looking at somebody broken by war, but one that would demand to stand as his equal looking him in the optics? And the way you responded flatly, admitting to your claim, even in part…

You certainly stood tall enough on your own if you felt you could challenge him.

So he let you busy yourself with his meal, returning to his reports.

Glancing an optic down the hallway where that lone Seeker had disappeared when he knew your back was turned. His processor buzzing on new ideas.

~~

Real rest was hard to come by when you were a Decepticon, but Energon flowed well after some of the latest missions (attacks, though you had plenty of justifications for those based on survival, and everyone had been in higher spirits after all, so don’t worry about it, don’t dwell on the little creatures that you were stealing the energy from-).

All these thoughts and more buzzing through your head as you laid back, fighting for the recharge you knew you needed.

Starscream had not been back to your shared habsuite that evening- and there had been a realisation, that perhaps he wouldn't be returning for a reason. There was something at least, after that shared moment in the grass, that felt sated after cleaning through his wings, gently polishing away the very few plant-stains that Starscream had made such a fuss about. Like this was a part of the experience you needed, that need to be needed fed, ever so slightly.

Something about it still hadn't been quite enough, and you knew it- but you didn't know why. Starscream should be more than enough for that empty feeling clawing in your chassis, at your very spark, right? All this time since that day, and still you couldn’t find the answer for yourself. Shouldn’t he be enough? Pits, even his trine had noticed that need in you. It should be enough, right?

Girls Night had only really partially scratched that itch in your processor, though. Like there was some deeper, roaring need that felt so awful in you, a storm that you were thrown into that kept you clawing for whatever secret thing it was you needed.

That day in the hall flashed through your processor again. It had been hard not to think about the way EM fields still pricked over your panels, shifting to vent excess heat that vacillated from frustration to a dark satisfaction.

The way that mech had turned heel after you had stared bullets right into him? Exhilarating. It was you that had done that, not Starscream's dismissal-

And something about that felt so right in your spark.

Did Starscream ever feel this, you wondered? Giving orders to others in his trine, seeing them executed with efficiency? There had to be pride in that.

Processor overwhelmed, you laid back onto your shared berth, aware of how... empty, it seemed, after having been preened by other Seekers, having shared it with Starscream so regularly, after spending all that time cleaning those handsome wings of his-

Sighing in frustration, you forcibly offline your optics, spreading yourself out on the berth and taking up more space than you usually might, hoping that might disperse SOME of this odd backup energy. After several kliks of forcing yourself to think about the most boring reports and the files you could possibly conjure up, you find yourself finally slipping into recharge.

As if sleep would offer you any real rest.

Was it normal to store datapads like this? You find yourself wondering, digging through an endless drawer in a wall below the ship’s bridge. You felt like you had spent joors looking for something that Starscream needed, something that would help him take a break, properly REST for a change-

Deep red optics swerving their way away from you as you worked and you can feel their absence. You feel heat in your chassis, too. You keep digging for a moment, before that tugging heat had you turning your gaze upwards, back to the source of Starscream’s eyes, and seeing-

Him.

That big Seeker, standing at the bridge above you, talking to Starscream. A dream didn't stop you from feeling that prickling up your spinal strut, your wings flaring as you felt that anger spread through them. Who did this Seeker think he was, talking to your commander like that, flaring his wings so prettily, so invitingly? Stars gleamed through glass above the bridge and you found yourself lifting- It was easy to fly up to the two, set servos on the larger Seeker, yank him back by the wings, the one who you hadn't even learned the name of and who was he, even, to speak so familiarly to Starscream??

From the one that had taught you to fly on old wings, the one that had drilled in the lessons you had to reteach yourself to fly on these new ones.

Something in your dream compounded that flight training, remembering Starscream’s ever watchful optics, his critiques, his notice, with this moment- flashing red optics landing on you, you could hear something in your programming, instinct woven into your frame-

You couldn't tell if it was your voice or Starscream's, but the words were clear:

'If you're going to make a claim, do it properly.'

In the dream your servos moved on their own, from large dark wings to the curve of his canopy. In the dream, the larger mech moves easily with you, wings spreading as your digits dig into panels- and that, too, feels right, like this wasn't acquiescence, but agreement, a question asked and responded to and answered. His frame leans into yours easily, comfortably, filling your palms.

Do it properly.

Your servos and digits moved slowly up his waist, feeling that difference in size as you pressed yourself against his back, your wings rolling as you plant a palm flat between his wings and pushed down, watching with satisfaction as his rolled in their own want, the need to be claimed, his frame moving to your unspoken command.

It made your fans burn against your face, pressing your canopy to his back, your intake opening in the dreaming and the waking world to vent heat out. Pushing him down came with no resistance, your arms slipping around him as you press your face between his wings, nuzzling against those shoulder-panels. Your intake moves over his neck, mapping out the unique spinal spikes fanning out on either side of the strut, a detail you hadn't known you'd noticed, added Decepticon decoration that would prevent anyone or anything foolish enough from grabbing him recklessly-

And your glossa could move around them so easily, one by one, fans whirring away at the way that soft quiet voice had stuck in your processor, and how perhaps you wanted to hear him whimper a little, moan a little as you teased him with your glossa, teeth catching on plates, leaning him against the bridge railing in front of Starscream as your digits scratch over plating for trying to take your Commander's attention from you.

Mine.

Starscream's optics, glowing like dark fire on the both of you as you pressed this other flier down, showed Starscream that you were worthy of being looked at with such desire, your denta finding a wing and biting-

And for a moment, the dream focused only on that gleam of bright silver denta, your own sunk into metal derma, that Seeker’s intake parted with that deep navy his were stained with-

Starscream’s grin a wicked darksteel crescent cut into velvet blackness around you, his optics red suns above it.

The sound you made in your audials was loud, your fans roaring as you're woken by the way your wings nearly jolted you out of the berth.

And there was that feeling, like you had been caught in one of those Terran hurricanes, that you were being drenched in cold water. Over you-

Those red, pitfire optics of Starscream staring over you, a servo raised as if to shake you awake.

For a long moment, you hold each other's gaze, your fans stuttering as you take in the whole of his face, the red light of it illuminating the dark around you, casting his faceplates in black shadow.

Slowly, you watch as he pulls his hand back from you, and you feel your fans start to normalise, flickers of your dream bringing back the heat in waves, slowing the process.

"...sir?" You manage, your voice nearly too quiet to hear over your own fans. He had managed to rest his claws on the edge of the berth, and you can see it- a look of contemplation on his faceplate, as he looked down your frame.

"...quite the dream you must have been having," he stated, his voice measured and level. "Caught yourself in combat in your sleep?"

It was an out he was offering to you. You could see that- he was allowing you to lie to him, to give yourself that moment of dignity.

Because you heard the way your frame clicked when you deliberately closed your interface panels. And you knew he had heard it too, the only other noise in the room from your whirring fans, and the soft buzzing of his own.

So you nodded.

Raising a brow-ridge, Starscream looked over your frame, watched as you tried to force yourself to calm down, the way panels kept fluttering up and around to vent excess heat.

"...I hope you won, at least," he said carefully, and you feel another burst of heat burn through your face, your chassis, yanking your optics from him as you pull your legs to your canopy.

"...I. Yeah," you offered, the flashes of the way you had pinned the larger Seeker down in front of Starscream, trying to force the images out of your processor, your servos tight around your knees. "I guess I did."

Starscream nodded stiffly, before straightening his back, wings held high and stiff, unreadable all around.

"Good," he stated, before moving to the desk. "Get some proper rest now, will you? I won't have you exhausted from dream combat when real combat is always around the corner."

You almost snapped at him- maybe another night, you would have, considering this new wave of frustration that kept finding its way beneath your plates. But after that dream, how could you ask him to return to your shared berth? Instead, the words flying out of your intake were-

"I'm rested enough, I think."

Your pedes were swinging off the edge of the berth before you realised what was happening, but you commit, standing with forced ease.

"You get yourself some rest before you fall over. I'm..." You struggled for an excuse, before you found something at least mostly true. "I need a walk to clear my head.”

Something like a muddled concern brushes against your EM field- and there was that heat of frustration, embarrassment, like all of the Seekers around you knew a big secret that you had no access to, like you were the odd one out on some stupid puerile process that everyone was being so forgiving of.

And maybe for now, that was too much. So much had changed, and this difference was too much to handle. Before Starscream could agree with you, you’ve whirled around, making your way out of the habsuite and into the halls.

~~

Echo himself had his own schedule for rest and recharge- the higher in the ranks he had climbed, the more freedom he had been afforded, and soon enough, he had been allowed a fairly sizeable habsuite for himself, something that must have been made for a mech in a higher size-class than he was.

Or for a completed trine.

It made the lack in his life… noticeable. That emptiness a reflection of his own missing pieces. He didn’t spend a lot of time in that room.

So running into you was as inevitable as running into any other member of the ship’s higher ranking, really. If it hadn’t happened by now, it would have happened eventually-

And the fates, in his processor, had deigned it all too amusing to have him running into you on the turn of a corner, trying to rid himself of the whirring thoughts in his own processor.

Pits.

His wings lifted automatically when you caught sight of him, and he could feel the spiking of your frustration, could see the way your wings trembled with something held back in your processor.

And there you felt it again, that odd, discomforting spiking of concern, the older Seeker wafting waves of something that felt so like Thundercracker’s attempts at placation.

Gritting your denta, you feel your wings lift, and lean into the feeling, raising them on your back as you glared at the other mech.

“Watch where you’re going!” You hissed it out, a harsh parody of Starscream’s tone carried on your voice. The look on the other mech’s face had you reeling back as you recognized him, it was him-

And then came the guilt, your wings falling as you remembered the dream, images flashing in your processor and fans whirring harshly as you struggled with a myriad of thoughts in your processor.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” his voice was soft, thickly accented with Vosian, and you feel another wave of guilt- this was somebody from home, and it wasn’t his fault that Starscream had taken a liking to him, with the way his finish showed soft, decorative waves of navy and indigo on black, something artistic that looked so similar to old posters from the academy days-

And you’re shaking your helm as he continued to speak, his words mostly unheard until “-I was just on my way to drop off my report to Starscream-”

Those words had you snapping harshly back into your bad mood, lack of recharge buzzing at the back of your processor. You bristled at the sight of him, all huge and massive with those wings at a low, deliberately non-threatening angle, his optics flickering to your wings, back to your face. Flick. Wings to face.

Why did he keep looking at your wings?

"What's your designation?" You felt the way heat gathered in your chassis, the way your wings flared wider, as you glared up at the taller seeker. His optics ran along the jagged lines they made on your back, and you widened them for his attention, lifted them high as your frustration rose, trying to lift his gaze back to your face.

How often did Starscream have to repeat himself?

The larger mech collected himself, his wings rolling in that undeniably interested way, and you couldn't quite grapple with the feeling in your spark, the feeling that this mech was appreciating the attention, your glare, the heat thrumming through your EM field.

You spread the wings- your wings- a little wider, and raise your hand- setting it into the collar of his chassis, taking satisfaction in his little yelp as you yanked him down to look you in the eye properly.

You were Starscream's Cadet, and there was more than a small part of you getting a little tired with how little respect that had given you.

"Designation. Please," you added, a sudden wash of more of that twisted guilt trying to overcome you again, and you shake it off- what was this, what had gotten into you, where had all this viciousness-

But wasn’t it so earned? You were a Decepticon.

And at the very least, you were the Cadet of Starscream. You may not fully understand his actions, his crimes, the ways he had hurt other people- but truly, you didn’t need to.

All you wanted to do now was to command a little bit of that respect that you saw him wield on the best of his days.

You almost don’t hear that soft voice as he finally answers, your EM field spiking and rolling over his, drawing your attention to hear him.

"...it's Echo," the other mech murmured, his voice so soft and the feeling of whirring fans on your face so gentle that your processor nearly stalled. You can feel it- the waves of his EM field washing over you, against yours, and it really was appreciation, respect asked for and returned.

Your dream flashed through your processor, and your digits tighten on his plates. Echo holds still for a moment-

Before lowering his head more into your grip, his fans whirring softly as his wings twitched again- stilled.

A question asked and answered.

You cleared your throat, feeling your wings climb high on your back- but this time, Echo's optics stay on yours, flickering around to take in the details of your faceplate, the quirk of your browplates, the point of your audials, the crack over your nose. And in that shared moment, you could see each detail of his face, his frame- the spikes you remembered from your dream, the large, sweeping audials that could probably pick up even the quietest of sounds, optics a red that you had once heard Knockout refer to as cherry-

All the while, a hum was shared between you. A warmth of… something implacably intense between you, that threatened to overwhelm your mind, the way it made your plates lift and tighten in waves over your frame.

Alone here, in this hall you could do anything- claim this Seeker-

Pit, even if you weren’t alone, would that stop you?

In your dream you had felt those eyes on you and it had felt so right.

You don't know where the thought comes from, but you feel it settle firmly in your shoulders, your wings, your frame creaking as you tighten your grip for a moment, staring hard into cherry optics- before you manage to push it off, letting Echo go with a soft shove, staggering slightly as you feel the weight of your wings before righting yourself again.

"Echo, then," you state, trying to regain your composure, processor quieting from the distance put between you. "You will deliver your reports to me, from now on. Commander Starscream has enough on his servos, and you're going to help me carry that weight. Think you're up to the task?"

The words felt odd in your intake for their formality. But there was that thought again-

You were Starscream's Cadet.

Perhaps it was time you let yourself live up to that. And, perhaps one day-

Beyond that.

Echo straightened his back, and you wonder if you can hear the sound of his whole vocal processor reset- before the taller Seeker nodded, raising a servo in a quick, informal salute.

"...I think that's a task I'm up to," he returned, his voice low and quiet as he mirrored your words. "Is there... anything else you need me for, Cadet?"

His wings continued to flutter, and you consider what this mech could offer you-

That there was something so perfectly different from Thundercracker, but similar enough that it felt like…

You could understand why Starscream would desire for somebody so calm. Somebody that you could have at your wing-

Somebody that would lower themself into the pit to meet your gaze.

“...no, Echo,” you state, hesitating for a moment- before patting a hand to his shoulder, moving past him in the hall. “That will be all.”

As you make your way further down the hall, you feel the way his EM field almost seemed to cling to you, extricating itself reluctantly from you.

Down the hall, you don’t see the way his wings roll, but a part of you still does feel it.

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