In the time it took human civilizations to go through laughable technological developments, a Cybertronian could have walked to an energon depot and gotten a snack. So three years on such a puny planet was going to be a breeze.

Or so they thought.

Apparently time went by a lot slower when awaiting the return of your leader. And if the drones were antsy, then Starscream was utterly distraught. Of course the Seeker maintained his poise and remained hard to read, which made Soundwave's instructed surveillance of the commander a trifle dull. In the beginning, at least.

As much as Starscream began to believe his time as true heir was approaching, it was Soundwave's job to keep him occupied. Distracted. Help douse any treachery rising up within the agitated Seeker. And if he could, nurture loyalty to their master.

Though no one's loyalty rivaled Soundwave's. If Starscream bowed, Soundwave was on his knees. Everything he did, he did for the Decepticon cause. For Lord Megatron.

But as time crept forward without him, both flyers developed an unseen anxiousness. They longed in different ways. Looked to the stars in different ways.

Starscream contemplated the brand on his chestplate and often surveyed the mine for no reason. Soundwave sent Laserbeak out night after night only for the mini con to come back with nothing new to report.

And they spent a lot of time together. Flying over vast deserts, Soundwave always staying behind Starscream to give him a sense of leadership. Just enough to keep the Seeker from causing trouble. Too much and he would announce himself lord, rousing anger against Megatron for abandoning them. Too little and his processor would fall into paranoia, and it would be a different and possibly more malignant breed of anger.

It was this constant balancing that sometimes wore on Soundwave's systems and he was thankful to Laserbeak for any assistance.

Finding Starscream sitting silently was never a good sign. If the Seeker wasn't talking, he was thinking. If he was thinking, he was likely to go flying off alone and even Laserbeak needed to recharge every now and then.

So. Distractions. A warmed cube of energon and a bow of the helm always eased the anxiety in Starscream's field. The spy used his long fingers to guide the other Decepticon's hand to the drink.

"Thank you, Soundwave," Starscream always said, vocals low.

And once when taking the cube, claws had lingered.

After a few weeks, it became a ritual. See Starscream alone staring at nothing, bring him a drink, hold his wrists. See Starscream yelling at troops for no reason, take him somewhere quiet, stroke his shoulders until his wings relaxed.

Though for all his attention to detail, Soundwave couldn't recall the exact date interfacing became a part of it.

"Lord Megatron has abandoned us!" Starscream snarled, stalking down the corridor with wings pointed high.

As always, Soundwave was beside him, ever offering a listening audial. It's not like Starscream had anyone else to talk to. Or at, as was always the case with the spy.

Soundwave wasn't quite sure what had sparked him this time, but it had been getting worse as time went on. Starscream remained in the sway between waiting like a good mech for Megatron and just saying fuck it and taking over the Nemesis.

And Megatron knew of this divide, of course. Why else would he ask Soundwave to monitor him? Some might question this—why let Starscream have any power at all? Despite his questionable allegiance, you'd have to be glitched not to realize his worth as a Decepticon. Given the right push, Starscream was efficient and lethal.

"Are we meant to remain in hiding like vermin on this wretched planet while he spends the next vorn stripping Cybertron for—for what, Soundwave?"

Soundwave didn't even blip in response, knowing well by now that sometimes Starscream just needed to vent.

They reached the end of the corridor, and Starscream didn't hesitate to enter a code into a door lock. When it buzzed invalid at him, he snarled again and swiped his claws across the door.

Soundwave stopped him before he could leave another mark, servo on wrist. Red optics were bright with rage and field snapping in a telling cocktail of emotions.

"I deserve this," Starscream growled low.

The spy, still holding on, tilted his visor up to regard the large door. No one had been in Megatron's quarters since he'd left. No doubt Starscream wanted to claim it.

"Open it, Soundwave."

Soundwave regarded him in consideration. Letting Starscream have the room sounded counter intuitive, but not letting him have it would only feed his resentment.

Without even a nod, the 'Con reached over and entered in the correct passcode. The doors opened with a quick press of air. Starscream entered easily and the lights onlined in pairs, illuminating the large room. There were two archways leading to a washroom and to the recharge room.

Soundwave followed Starscream, cautiously putting a lot of space between them and taking in the pronounced, decisive pede-steps around the room. The more he explored, the more he invaded, the heavier Starscream's field grew. You didn't have to have heightened senses to detect the static.

When the jet reached the berth, he looked about to unleash a missile upon it. Soundwave was hardly unaware of why, and out of respect he remained in the archway.

Finally Starscream ex-vented, and his wings inclined downward just a little in a surprisingly lax display of... Soundwave didn't know what, really.

"Isn't Laserbeak waiting for you?" Starscream asked. His tone was mixed. Distorted.

Soundwave's processor ran a thousand different reasons why he should just turn around and high-tail it out of there. But as his hidden optics took in Starscream's posture, the angle to his ridges, the slack to his wings, a few unfamiliar dialogs nudged at his processor.

He stepped up, dark plating shining in the dimly let bedroom, and waved a servo at Starscream's chest with a tilted helm.

Starscream's optics shuttered in a blink and he watched as a cable uncoiled from within and snaked up to the aerial's chest. After a small pause, the tiny filaments latched on and Soundwave's visor display shuffled.

Sparkpulse, high; energon pressure, high; fluid levels, inadequate; recharge level; inadequate.

A dark helm tilted the other way now and the Seeker cut his gaze downward. "You are... welcome to share these quarters with me, Soundwave."

That's where it got a little fuzzy for Soundwave. He couldn't recall who started it, who touched whom first, and for once in his life he was too distracted to make a time log.

It started in slow strokes, tracing and feeling the dip of Starscream's narrow hips. Little scratches of encouragement on Soundwave's smooth, beautiful armor. It was a silent decision to move to the berth, claws hooking into joints as they carefully maneuvered their frames down. The clutching resumed in gentle, ponderous caresses and it remained so until Soundwave's spindly grip found a bundle of sensors at a wing-tip. Starscream's optics fluttered closed as he shuddered.

They writhed together on the berth, wrapped in coils of purple-lit cables, all sharp jutting angles and shiny plating. Starscream's voice was but whispers of the spy's designation, over and over again, a mantra between gasps.

The dark visor took in every twitch, every flutter, thrumming energy field against the Sky Commander in a deep rhythm that was unique in its frequency. When Starscream reached system overload beneath him, Soundwave curled his cables tight, watching, observing, devouring every skitter of pleasure and paranoia and loneliness radiating from the Seeker's field.

They remained there on the berth in the afterglow, the only sound in the room their cooling fans and the occasional soft clink of metal as Starscream's claws examined his partner's bare torso. With Laserbeak gone, more sensitive parts had been exposed, and this was the first time the Seeker got to see such delicate plates up close.

Soundwave's helm tilted down to watch each sharp finger move, and after a moment Starscream looked up at him.

For the first time, the jet was silent.

A few busy cycles later on the bridge, Starscream stopped a fast-typing servo. When the drones were distracted, their claws intertwined for all of a few nano-kliks and then it was back to work.

In the halls their fields sought each other out in comforting hums.

Even scouting began to change. Starscream began to fall back in order to tilt his wing to deliberately throw his companion off-balance. And then his thrusters boomed and the jet raced off in an enticing spin into the clouds. Soundwave always followed.

Once after a little game of chase, they touched down on a cold mountain top and Soundwave made it his first concern to see if the SIC's vocalizer lived up to his name.

After awhile, it became a habit to stay in the berth even after the jet was deep in recharge. Allow cables to hold on loosely around waist and torso, take in redundant sparkpulse readings whenever he felt like it.

The passage of time became almost peripheral to them.

"Pity," Starscream vocalized one day as he straddled the spy. Soundwave cocked his helm in question. The jet's hands spread over collar plating, and there was a deliberate delay as he admired the frame under him. "Pity I won't ever hear even a squeak out of you."

Soundwave held onto his waist and as always, said nothing. Starscream's right wing twitched twice and mouthplate curved up in a smirk. He leaned down, pressing cheek to Soundwave's visor before letting burning optics close.

"I'm sure you've sampled my voice enough to make up for it," he murmured, turning his face in a soft nuzzle.

Soundwave's visor flashed and a sound clip played that made Starscream sit up curiously. Scorching thrusters, displaced air, and a boom. The sound of a jet in flight.

"Is that really what I sound like in the air?" Starscream's mouth went thin with distaste.

Soundwave shuffled to images now and zoomed in on dark billows of smoke rising from a dirty human construction. Stacks and large vehicles and organic clutter.

"Yes, the air here is hardly healthy for one's filters," Starscream said, smoothing servos down the other 'Con's front. A thoughtful look. "Perhaps I need another scan."

A cable tickled against a smooth thigh and Starscream buried his faceplate into shoulder. Soundwave dragged him into so many overloads that night that the next day he didn't show by mid-cycle and so Laserbeak was sent to the room to confirm that the commander hadn't ceased to function in recharge.

And during all of this, the spy remained just that. A spy. Even the slightest change in the slant of the jet's wings meant something. He no longer caught him sitting alone thinking, which was difficult to interpret. The smiling was worth noting.

A mech with restored confidence made for a very efficient commander and that was more important at present, regardless of origin. Soundwave was pleased with the second in command's success rate, and remained an open audial for him to share with. He was no fool though, and detected traces of that dangerous sway. For now he allowed Starscream some room to play boss, which made tangling on the berth more interesting to say the least.

When Megatron returned, things would be as they were. Starscream would be at his side again and Soundwave would report three years worth of data.

When reproducing sound, it was a priority to allow for as little distortion as possible. Soundwave was never unfaithful in his transfers. Every recording was precise, every conversion meticulous.

Lord Megatron deserved a truthful report.

Funny. In all their time together, Soundwave had only taken one sample.