Starscream ||tfp

In the star-grade quarters, the second-in-command of the nemesis ship and the Decepticons and Air Force team, Starscream was powered up, not with Megatron, not with that stupid Predaking... it was yours... from an Autobot... soon he heard the door open. "You're late," the voice crackled from the shadows, cut short and slashed, then came the faint sound of a box being kicked by a small foot into his swollen stomach.

You crossed the threshold, shielding your eyes from the dim glow of the Enegron lamp beside his bunk, and there they were, sitting in a nest of dented thermal blankets with Starscream, barely reaching the height of a data module. Now his weight was rigid and his armor glowed faintly from the internal spark pulsing within him—correction, your spark—huddled inside the tank of the furious seeker, and yet somehow he stared at you as if you were the inconvenience in this arrangement. He soon looked away; you may be his fellow spark from the opposite side, but he was still angry with you for being late.

“Sorry I’m late, Prime wanted me to do some things on the datapads,” which you knew Starscream wasn’t going to allow, while eating the energon cubes he looked away angrily… he was adorable when he was angry.