collab with @deadlysoupy !! she did the writing drabble and i made the art!!
There wasn't time to ask. Bumblebee didn't need to know, anyway.
The only thing he needed to know was right in front of him: Starscream, coming into the room, his posture slumped, optics flickering on and off, expression on the edge of toppling down and crashing.
So Bumblebee didn't ask. He simply got up from their shared desk, took Starscream's trembling servos, guided him to their berth, and embraced Starscream in a way that would offer comfort. Protection. It was the only thing he could do, even if he wanted to do so much more.
There wasn't time for that now, though. The only thing that mattered was letting Starscream know he wasn't alone. He'd never have to be alone if Bumblebee could help it. As long as Bee was around, Starscream should never feel lonely.
Starscream didn't need a lot of time to wrap his own servos around Bee's torso. His helm buried into a nook of Bumblebee's servo, faceplate hidden from view. Bee wouldn't pry unless asked, so he simply laid there, rubbing circles into the seams of Seeker's wings, fiddling with their intricacies and roots.
Eventually, Starscream started shifting, his movements erratic, body shaking, and Bumblebee swore his spark could crack and die out — and he'd let it.
Lubricant wasn't often found on a mech like Starscream. Bumblebee saw it, of course, more often than others, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, no matter how many times Bee saw it. Star's glossy, shining optics met Bumblebee's, for a fleeting nano-second, and it's as if a dam has been burst open. Helm hung low again, the top of it rubbing into Bumblebee's chassis.
If Bee's spark didn't shatter before, it did now.
As Starscream's servos made their way to grasp onto Bumblebee's, Bee brought up his to cup Star's helm, first the top, then the bottom.
"Star," he whispered, afraid to utter even a word to discourage the Seeker. His own optics threatened to leak, but he couldn't afford to when Starscream needed him.
When he felt a small give, an indication, a clue, of Starscream being somewhat ready, Bumblebee clasped his helm, his digits finding the faceplate and gently rubbing there, and turned Starscream's gaze away from the darkness he sought out.
Bee didn't know what to expect, but Star has never looked more vulnerable than right there. Mouth pressed in a frown, quivering, lubricant leaving glossy marks around his perfect gray faceplate. Optics still not facing Bumblebee, exploring some part of Bumblebee's neck that he can't see, they looked so undeniably sad.
He has never seen Starscream quite like this.
"Oh, Star…" he mouthed, just barely, to at least let him know he wasn't shamed, and wasn't scrutinised for it. Cared for, instead, Bumblebee's spark was an open book for him, only for Star to see.
Finally, Starscream stopped wrestling with himself, and locked optics. Bumblebee couldn't let that go to waste.
"I'm sorry, Star," his left servo comes a little closer and wipes away the tears he cried. "I'm here. Always. You're safe."
And Starscream was. They didn't move from the spot for a long time, Star's helm collapsing on Bumblebee's chassis, and Bee letting his servos wander on Starscream's frame, brushing over comfortable and familiar spots. Starscream didn't need to utter a word. Bumblebee was here, regardless.
It was a constant Bumblebee intended to keep.
