Happiness Is a Warm Gun (Minific for meaisin_caoin)

[stainless]

This is the first post for my minific/drabble experiment. (Feel free to submit other prompts if you like; I have ideas for some there, but am still open to suggestions. And may do more than three if you all provide me sufficient awesome provocation.)

Title: Happiness Is a Warm Gun
Characters/Pairing: Subtle Megatron/Starscream
Prompt: M/SS, G1. The exhilaration of battle (against the Autobots). Gun form inclusion would be awesome, victory sex optional.
Prompter: meaisin_caoin
Wordcount: 450ish
Rating: Everyone can read this fun.
Warnings: Nothing, really.

Starscream loved these moments most of all. He had never told anyone -- mainly because he could never tell anyone. His feelings for Megatron were the kind of open secret that beings in other galaxies probably knew, but he would never openly fawn over his leader. And he could never tell Megatron himself how this felt. The tyrant would find some way to use it against him, no doubt. Or worse, simply forbid it altogether.

So Starscream, unaccustomed as he was to keeping any of his opinions secret for long, stayed silent.

Still, he could think of little he loved better than holding the weapon his leader had become in his hand, feeling its warmth and weight as he aimed it at his enemies. It hummed with carefully concentrated power, and Starscream felt his own weapons systems energize in sympathetic excitement.

But what he loved most was not just the feeling of the other's power.

What he loved most was that when Megatron transformed, one of his troops had to wield the weapon he became.

Which meant that the wielder alone decided which of their enemies that powerful weapon obliterated, and when.

Starscream's spark reeled with fierce joy, knowing that for all the power his leader had over him, these moments belonged to him alone. 

Oh, the decision was never completely his. If he tried to deviate too far from the plan that had already been laid out for him, Megatron could and would transform back again. Or just refuse to fire at all, if humiliating Starscream wouldn't mean losing tactical advantage.

But none of that mattered now. Now, their wills were in perfect concert, their sparks swirling in elation. Now, he felt the energy surging forth from his lord's form as though it were his own, a burst of heat and light searing all it touched.

He grinned, firing again and again. Soon, this battle would end. His leader would change form again, leaving the scene of his victory without granting Starscream a word of praise or censure. That was how this always ended, whether the Decepticons carried the day or not: cold silence as the broad-framed tyrant turned his back and walked away.

Starscream chuckled, sensing the triumph racing through the other's compact form as their enemies fell. Megatron's silence later could not erase what they both felt now.

And his lord could not feel this without him.

Megatron changed form like this often. So often, in fact, that some of the other Decepticons had started to wonder why. Megatron could fight perfectly well in his base form, after all.

The tyrant would never admit it, but things happened this way because, sometimes, he chose to change.

To be held. Even... to be aimed.

By Starscream.

The Air Commander smirked, firing again. As unnatural as it felt to keep quiet about something, he never needed to speak of it. Not to the others, and not to Megatron.

Knowing was entirely enough for him.

Comments

[stainless]

Thank you so much.