Never Give Up
Bayverse
Starscream/Barricade
angst and sap?
Follows the other few
Starscream waited, trying to refuse to let tension get to him. He had told Barricade the truth. Only the truth. But as the words had passed his vocalizer, he’d realized how…ugly a thing truth could be at times.
They had to keep their secret. It was essential. Barricade would not be safe, Starscream would not be safe if anyone knew. It was an awful risk, he had known it all along it was a terrible thing to ask, a terrible thing to do. But he hadn’t been able to resist. And their long history, before the war. He could not throw that away. Could not resist the temptation.
The only mech he trusted. Not to pick his side, but not to curry favor. The only one who would tell him the truth.
Ugly truths, also, sometimes, but mollified by the hot concern in the grounder’s optics.
The door whooshed open. A moment of hesitation, as though tension burst through the door like a cold breeze. And then Barricade stepped in, braced, tension singing off his frame, window wings taut and high.
The door closed.
They looked at each other, Starscream carefully placed near his console, not near the berth, not wanting to give…that impression. Starscream stretched his face into a smile. “I am glad that you came.” Truth. Not ugly.
The window wings shifted, uneasily. “Had to.”
“You did not have to. I do not want you to feel…obligated.” This was awful, Starscream thought. He longed to close the physical distance between them, even knowing that the real distance was not physical.
“Had to, for myself.”
Starscream nodded.
Barricade hesitated, his mouthplates rubbing against each other. He drifted to where Starscream sat, half-turned, on his chair. “Too much of a risk,” he said, quietly. “Too much at stake.” He reached forward, cautiously, and brushed a hand over one of Starscream’s forearms, talons tracing the armor’s seams, ghosting with memories. As though he hadn’t decided if this were farewell.
Starscream’s optics dimmed. “I cannot…I cannot and will not make your decision.” Surrendering. He’d survive, he knew, if Barricade walked away. But he wanted something more than merely to survive. It was the largest honor he could bestow right now, to give Barricade the power to make this decision.
“What am I deciding?”
Everything. Our future. Starscream hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Barricade nodded, all four of his optics focusing with that earnest intensity.
“You. What do you want?”
Starscream rolled his wrist so his hand opened under Barricade’s touch. Their palms met, electrical sensor plates tingling together. “I want you.” His talons stroked the underside of Barricade’s wrist, the sensitive axle. “But not at the cost of your happiness.”
“Or your ambition.” Barricade’s face was unreadable.
“Or,” Starscream ducked his head, a brief flare of shame, “yes. My ambition.” His talons stilled. That made him bad. Wrong. “It changes things?”
The mouth quirked. “Means you’re telling the truth.”
Yes. Another truth that lay on Starscream’s spark like a stone. His ambition. He hated it as much as he loved it, believed it to be his damnation as often as, and surely as, his salvation. “I am.”
Barricade leaned in, taking advantage of the chair’s evening out their height difference. He pulled the jet’s face down closer to his, close enough that their EM fields met, and fuzzed. “You’re worried?”
“I am…potentially unhappy. I stand to lose something important to me.” Starscream’s optics spiraled in. He leaned closer, letting his mouthplates brush against Barricade’s crest. A longing, glancing caress.
A soft laugh. “It’s always about you.” Barricade tilted his face up, optics spiraling open from their tightness, his one hand snaking around Starscream’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss.
“You could leave me,” Starscream said, quietly, stating the risk. “You know how I hate to lose.”
The mouth stretched into a smile against his cheek. “You think I’d do that?”
“I think I should not lose sight of the possibility.” He valued Barricade too highly. He could not, would not, allow himself to take the grounder for granted. Hence, this agonizing round of truth.
“Can’t,” Barricade murmured. His hands drifted greedily over the jet’s shoulders, shivering with something like desire. “Missed you.” Opening himself up, to be hurt, and hurt again. Vulnerable, raw, and willing—everything Starscream found he wanted or needed.
“I have missed you as well.”
“Lost faith,” Barricade said, sadly. “Shouldn’t have.” He drew back, ducking his head, dropping his gaze.
“You were distressed. Rightfully so.” Starscream’s optics lowered. Not demure, not coy; ashamed. “I had no choice if I was to keep us safe.”
“Know that. Just…felt so easily replaced.”
“Never,” Starscream breathed. It was impossible—all right, impossible for Starscream to bring himself to articulate—how much he valued this. The terrifying/arousing honesty. Barricade’s naked enjoyment, without motive, without agenda. Asking nothing of him. Except honesty—the one thing Starscream struggled with. He should have, he realized, felt guilty. “I value you.” As close as he could come to reciprocal honesty. A beautiful truth, clad in rags.
“Seemed like you didn’t.” The grounder shrugged. “Gave up.” He ducked back, as if ashamed.
Starscream wrapped his arms around the armored shoulders, drawing him close. “Never give up, Barricade,” he murmured. “Least of all on me.”

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I'm glad that Barricade is willing to take the chance again. He recognizes but is unable to act on his own flaw (a lack of self-confidence) but he is charming for it. (Don't tell him I said so, please). At least Starscream recognizes his value. :)
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I'm so happy Barricade gave Starscream another chance, yet I still ache for him because I worry there will be more times in the future he will be hurt to keep their secret.
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