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Title: Alphabet Soup	By : Chaosdreamer Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2419 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I am making no profit writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Title: StarscreamxPerceptor Alphabet
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Rating: Err...range of rating. Mature overall.
Summary: Short, short drabbles, ranging from G to Mature. Be warned. Slash between two mechs. Takes place in the G1/IDW/SG/2007 and 2009 Movie universe. None of these drabbles are are meant to be in consecutive order.
Author’s Note: Just want to do a shout out to all writers, but especially those who have written this pairing. This is my thanks. Big smacking kiss of affection to amidoh for being the first writer to lure me into this pairing.

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A is for Assessment
(2009 Universe)

“W-Welcome back…” Perceptor bows his helm and shoulders in supplication as Lord Megatron storms past, the large mech clutching his shoulder where his arm should attach, “…My..Lord?” The microscope has never witnessed the Decepticon leader so thoroughly trashed nearly beyond recognition, and the smaller mech watches with stupefied confusion as the large Decepticon grits his denta in agony, broken mandible glistening with energon and bright orange internal fluids.

“Get a C.R. chamber prepped!” The large mech barks, causing the microscope to startle and jump into action with haste.

“Yes, my Lord!” Perceptor switches to his comm. link and warns Hook and his attendants to prepare for their Lord’s arrival and see to his immediate needs and repairs.

Perceptor cuts off the link after a short exchange with the Decepticon medic. He turns in response to the whine of taxed engines as the Decepticon SIC transforms at the entrance of the down and half-buried Nemesis ship.

The microscope bows low again as his superior steps aboard the vessel.

He yelps when he is suddenly seized and lifted off his pedes, thick arms curled around his hips and shoulders. The smaller mech twists his small hands around the winged mech’s collar struts, hanging on for fear of falling and crashing onto the floor.

“Starscream?!” Perceptor wriggles and is jostled roughly, the larger mech refusing to relinquish the smaller mech.

“Perceptor,” From this close, the microscope determines the range of minor injuries which annoy the winged SIC, Starscream’s words barbed with impatience as he strides away from the main bay and towards the private barracks situated within the bowels of the ship. “I require repair and attendance.”

Perceptor shudders at the larger mech’s command. Having learned from prior experience that the Decepticon was always in a foul mood when forced under repairs, no matter how gentle or tentative the microscope’s retouch and maintenance.

Attending to the Decepticon, especially soon after repairs, Perceptor has also learned that the winged mech was quite a bit…testy and restless after the heat of a good skirmish and the hot stench of torn limbs and splash of fresh energon from gaping wounds. Many times after a good battle the SIC has tumbled the smaller, sputtering microscope onto the winged Decepticon’s berth ― Perceptor’s internals flush hot with embarrassment, recalling a few times when he was shoved against the nearest wall whenever Starscream proved too impatient to retreat to the SIC’s private quarters ― and had his way with the smaller mech.

Slowly as not to incur the SIC’s displeasure with too quick of movements and unvoiced intentions ― the Decepticons not daring to trust a comrade with their back, nor would they trust their objectives should their companion not first speak of their intent ― the microscope gently relaxes his hands from around the Decepticon’s collar struts. Instead he curls his hands into two fists underneath his chin, coiled against the SIC’s chassis while he lays compliant within the larger mech’s stiff embrace.

An approving rumble against his cheek and mandible proves that his actions were correct. Starscream’s talons uncurl and scratch gently up and down his plating.

B is for Bravery
(IDW Universe ‘All Hail Megatron’)

The sniper scope crunches and pops within a cobalt hand. “You’re a brave one to stand against me.” The Seeker leers and pushes forward, shoving the smaller sniper back until Perceptor’s back strut bumps the wall of the human building.

“Oh ho. Now you’re a familiar face.” Starscream flicks the crumbled weapon over his shoulder, pinning the smaller mech with one hand planted on either side of the microscope’s head. The Seeker smiles devilishly, “I remember you from the Academy. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Perceptor.”

Perceptor’s lips twitch in a moue of displeasure, unimpressed. He slaps the back of his hand against the Seeker’s fingers when Starscream dares to caress the microscope’s finely sketched cheek. “Desist.” The sniper insists coldly.

Starscream whimpers, bottom lip quibbling with faked agony, “So unfriendly.” He dares to stretch his hand forward once more. This time though when Perceptor moves to rebuke him once more, the Seeker curls his fingers around the sniper’s throat. His hand tightens with pointed warning.

The microscope shudders, hand trembling weakly around the Seeker’s firm wrist, the pressure causing his face to squelch, azure optics narrowed with silent pain. Perceptor gasps shakily as the grip clenches even tighter and the Seeker presses forward and arches and rubs against his chassis and microscope tray.

“Ahhh. There it is.” Starscream’s breath coos against his audio. The Decepticon’s optics fever bright as he avidly drinks down the sweet sight of the microscope trembling and arched against his chassis and hips, thighs spread open around the Decepticon’s thicker thigh. Perceptor moans softly, face clenched with revulsion and humiliation as the Seeker’s thigh rubs against his cod piece, “You always made the most beautiful sounds, Perceptor.” Starscream’s sighs, lips stretched in a coy smile scant inches above the microscope’s quaking lips.

A chirp of a beckoning comm. interrupts. Starscream hisses with distaste but reluctantly answers the summons, growling in Decepticon code while his prey twists and rakes his fingers down the Seeker’s taut stretched arm, stripping the paint and leaves long scratches of silver alloy.

“You’re in luck.” Starscream sighs, the sting of his ruined paint and roughened alloy a minor note of interest, “Our leaders are in the midst of combat and Lord Megatron requires my assistance, it would seem.”

Perceptor sags with relief when the hand releases. He clutches at his sore cables, vents hiccupping for atmosphere.

A sharp gasp precedes a sudden crash of mouth upon mouth as the Seeker darts forward and seizes the opening. Starscream ravishes and bites at the stubbornly clenched entrance until Perceptor acquiesces under the sting of bruised dermal plating, a thin rivulet of energon snaking from the corner of his mouth. Starscream growls and chases the trail of lavender, glossa laving the inside cavern beyond the sniper’s sweet succulent lips.

They part, Perceptor sliding down onto his posterior, a hand slapped over his mouth, staring up aghast at the Decepticon’s audaciousness.

Starscream grins, snaking his glossa out to flick across his bottom lip to savor the scant flavor of the Autobot that still kisses his wet dermal flesh. “Try to stay online. I have so many plans. And I’m quite eager to include you in them in the near future.” The Seeker erupts with a gale of laughter as he sails upward, thrusters lifting him upward as he sails effortlessly to spear the blue and alabaster sky.

C is for Craving
(2007 Universe)

“Run! Run!!”

Civilians flee for the emergency shelters as the Decepticon Seekers scream across the Cybertronian night cycle sky. Mechs and femmes throw their arms over their helms in vain to shield audio receptors from the roar of jet turbines.

Perceptor helps Hoist heave Grapple onto his pedes, the pale gold crane stumbling while the street groans and quakes beneath them as the Decepticon tanks roll down neighboring avenues.

“They’ve already found the shelters!” Hoist gasps, one of Grapple’s arms thrown over a broad green shoulder, “Someone on the city council sold us out! We’re Neutrals….we’re sitting copper-ducks!”

Perceptor shoves him and his injured friend forward, fuel tank sinking with alarm when a glowing umber optic turns their way, “Decepticon!” In vain the microscope tries to hurry his companions, Grapple moaning, favoring a sprained ankle strut and torn cable.

Payload thunders behind them, the large purple Decepticon effortlessly closing the meters between him and the smaller Neutrals who try to flee for cover and safety of the tight alleyways.

“Get down!!” Hoist shoves Perceptor and Grapple to the debris littered street and tries to shield the two mechs with his own frame as the Decepticon hangs above them.

Perceptor and Grapple’s hands screech down Hoist’s shoulders and arms as the mech is ripped away from them, the two Neutrals screaming for their friend as he is clutched in an unforgiving tight bear hug.

“So many to choose from,” Payload chuckles while Hoist kicks and tosses his head back to clang against the Decepticon’s deep chassis, the smaller green Neutral cursing behind the tight thick bars of Payload’s arms.

“Now don’t be greedy.” Grapple and Perceptor whip their heads around at the cool purr, the two Neutrals dreadfully recognizing the Decepticon accent.

Starscream dexterously steps across the fire strewn and torn street, his eloquently bent legs accenting a minute bob in his long steps.

Blackout purrs, crouching closer to the two trapped Neutrals, dark mandible stretched in a pleasant façade of a charming grin. Grapple shrinks back from the huge black Cybertronian.

“Such a bright color…” Blackout purrs appreciatively, optics raking down the Neutral’s paintwork. Grapple shudders as long claws tap along his silver face, the darker toned Decepticon leaning closer, one hand curling around his injured leg, preventing the smaller Neutral from scrabbling backwards away from the huge mech.

“L-Leave him alone--” Perceptor stutters.

A large hand shoves him flat upon his back, the Decepticon second in command pinning the Neutral down like a poisonous spider would a buzzing fly.

“Shush now.” Starscream soothes. Beside them, Grapple struggles and thrashes his hands within Blackout’s curled hands, while Hoist persists in trying to dent in Payload’s hips and chassis with fervent rebuking kicks as the large purple Decepticon forces the green Neutral onto the ground.

“Don’t--” Perceptor begs, the stars in the night cycle sky blocked by the eclipse of Starscream’s winged shoulders as the second in command crouches closer, “D-Don’t…no…Leave us alone!”

“You make it sound as if prisoners have a say,” The other two Decepticons echo his humor as Starscream smirks dangerously, “in how we shall choose to slake our craving for companionship.”

D is for Duty
(Shattered Glass Universe)

“Don’t do this.” The Autobot begs, curled upon the floor of the thrumming shuttle. Hands locked behind his back in stasis cuffs, the ruby eyed mech begs his captor, “He’ll send Jazz and Ricochet after me. Have you ever had the twins hunt you? Please…let me go.”

The white and red Decepticon punches in the code to begin the sequence to launch the emergency shuttle from deep inside Autobot territory. He could only pray to Primus that Megatron and the others had received his mayday and were preparing for a hasty exit aboard the small ‘liberated’ Autobot shuttle.

“I made a promise to you many vorns ago that I would break the bonds that kept you tied to that tyrant.” Starscream’s fingers fly across the keys, his hand slowly guides the lever to guide the power to the shuttle’s engines.

Perceptor thumps his helm upon the floor when he collapses further upon the floor. Defeated, confused ruby optics twitch between the seated Decepticon and the sealed hatch of the shuttle. “Please…Please…if I return in time, Optimus won’t have me punished…”

“Shut. Up. Perceptor.” Starscream snarls, “Do not utter that filth’s name.”

Perceptor moans as the thumps and buzz of laser guns pitch higher against the sealed and locked shuttle hatch. The scientist cringes at the number of Autobots attempting to break down the barrier. “They’ll find me. They’ll make everything hurt. All over. Again and again until I pray for deactivation--”

Starscream shoves the lever hard, shunting all power to the engines as the shuttle crescendos to full power. In the reflection of the viewing windows, the Decepticon can make out the dark shadows of the Autobot Seekers hurled backwards from the gust of thrust and heat of the engines powering completely online.

The Decepticon finishes prepping the vessel just as the shuttle crests the tallest towers of the Autobot base, racing towards the distance for the Decepticon territory.

Switching the shuttle into autopilot, the winged Decepticon abandons his seat and drops to his knees beside the cuffed, trembling mech.

“Why did you keep your promise?” Perceptor curls against his chassis when the red and white mech pulls him into his arms, the dark gray and rust red plates mar the Decepticon’s pristine bodywork. “You’re not bound by any duty to salvage an old classmate that you knew from the Academy. And you’ve only sealed my fate when Optimus Prime labels me as a traitor.”

Starscream wraps around the smaller mech until he tucks the Decepticon so close that he could hide the mech from sight, broad white wings arched above like an mechanized angel’s halo.

“I won’t let him touch you ever again.” Starscream steadfastly ignores the Autobot’s unrepressed whimpers and mumbling, the paranoid and terrified mech too steeped in dread at the digitized brainstorm of punishment that his glorified warlord would deliver upon him should the Prime ever get his hands on the smaller microscope.

“I made a promise, Perceptor. I told you that I wouldn’t abandon you.” Starscream pressed his lips to his old friend’s temple, murmuring words of comfort, hands running up and down the mech’s back strut to try and dissuade the rattles and quakes. “And I don’t plan to let you forget that you are safe now, no matter if I have to remind you every orn or every joor.”

E is for Entertainment
(G1 Universe)

Starscream taps two fingertips upon the armrest of his throne. Behind and above the looming throne, the previous Decepticon leader’s fusion cannon is mounted upon the wall, the large plaque signifying their new glorious leader and his triumph over Lord Megatron.

The Seeker’s vents sigh with boredom, and he crosses his legs to sit charismatically. His optics flicker throughout the vast expanse of his main chambers.

He catches sight of one mech of interest. Grinning winningly, Starscream crooks his fingers and beckons for the smaller mech to come forward.

Perceptor stumbles to follow the silent command, the scientist’s hands clenched and tugging at the thick silver collar snapped around his throat. The collar forcing the slave to obey his Lord’s every instruction.

“I require sustenance.” Perceptor’s features flinch at the Seeker’s command, but he dutifully abides. The former Autobot approaches the table and tall iron pitcher overflowing with high grade, smoothly pouring the rich fluid into a gleaming obsidian chalice.

Starscream smiles as he takes the chalice from the microscope. His lips curl along the rim, sipping the heady fluid, optics never wavering from the hunched shoulders and bent helm.

“You’re as depressing as the other Autobots whom I have taken as prisoners of war.” Those shoulders flinch, “I would have thought that rending the Matrix from the Prime’s chassis would have broken your bonds of staunch loyalty, but it seems I have been proven wrong.”

Perceptor raises his helm when fingers curl under his chin, coaxing the prisoner to bare his face.

“Am I such an unpleasant master?” Starscream questions, genuinely curious.

“…….” Perceptor pinches his lips and refuses to answer.

The tall Seeker sighs. “Come here.” He commands.

Perceptor steps into the Decepticon Lord’s reach, pulled effortless upon the seated mech’s lap. He straddles the Seeker’s thighs, hands resting on broad shoulders.

“Remember this,” Starscream cautions, one hand jealously dragging up and down the back of the microscope’s trembling thighs, “I have the power to bend or break you. You are only suited for entertaining me should I deem so. You share company with me should I wish it no matter how much I displease you. Your duty is to answer to my needs, no matter when or how frequently you are summoned.”

“…Yes. Lord Starscream.” Perceptor bows his chin in submission, slowly answering his Lord’s command to widen his propped knees and arch against the Decepticon’s caress.

F is for Freedom
(G1 Universe)

“Take me with you!” Perceptor clings to Starscream’s chassis, hands woven with the Decepticon’s large, smooth cobalt blue fingers, “Please…I can’t bear to hold this pretense any longer.”

“It is far too dangerous.” Starscream hushes, “You are in far too deep. The Autobots are unaware of a spy inside their science guild. You are safer on the Ark without your role being revealed by hanging around out here with me for too long.”

“I don’t care!” Perceptor shakes his helm, “I’m no more than a shadow to them that skulks in the corner. No one notices whether I leave my labs or refuel after long orns of solitude with my projects. Primus knows I never thought I’d miss Soundwave’s Pit-spawn Cassettes, but at least Rumble and Frenzy would invade my sanctuary and pester me into submission. I can’t stand being amongst the Autobots any longer! They speak of equality, but they discriminate against anyone who is weaker or lacks interest in combat or has ties to nobility. If only you were forced to hear what they said about Mirage because of his heritage…”

“…Megatron won’t be pleased if you fail in your mission.”

Perceptor huffs, annoyed, “Who said anything about failure?”

Starscream leans back, arms still tight around Perceptor, but he tilts away far enough to look down at his mate.

Perceptor holds a small computer disk between thumb and forefinger, a pleased glimmer in blue optics, “You are certainly correct about one thing: the Autobots would never suspect their meek, introverted little scientist from hacking into the mainframe of the Ark and downloading copies of all the encrypted files and security codes.”

G is for Greed
(2007 Universe ‘The Reign of Starscream’)

“Show me.”

Perceptor dreads his dermal plates with rattle off his protoform, he shakes so badly with fear.

The Decepticon curls above him, his superior weight and breadth push the shorter, thinner mech deeper into the trench of rust red rocks and soil. The Autobot microscope’s efforts to hide upon the surface of the red planet fruitless, the crashed Decepticon warship his earliest warning that the planet is already inhabited.

Perceptor learns all too soon, but too late to save himself that the residents still remain close by, just outside the planet’s thick atmosphere. This one particular mech an all too familiar presence during the Great War; the dreaded wing beast of every Autobot’s darkest nightmare.

Starscream drags the curve of his denta down a straight line, descending slowly upon the microscope’s quaking chassis and curved abdominal plates. One large hand cuffs the Autobot’s wrists within long fingers.

“Show me…” Starscream demands while he nuzzles and purrs at the smaller mech’s chassis. Directly above the microscope’s shielded Spark chamber.

Perceptor whips his head left and right in avid refusal.

He keens with hastened alarm, panicked flailing of his lower limbs follows when the Decepticon grows too impatient. With one hand, the larger mech squeezes and thrusts his fingers into the middle seam of the Autobot’s chassis. The broad plates groan and quake while they grind apart, the forceful entry ruins several rudimentary yet vital latches and sealant lines that keep his chassis sealed tight.

“You will not deny me.” Starscream leers with triumph when the two pieces reluctantly part, opening up wide the microscope’s delicate and clandestine internal components.

“Don’t…” Perceptor begs, helm falling back as the Decepticon mercilessly bends forward, the ridges of his mouth and glinting denta curl and snag tiny capillaries within the depths and tangle of energon cables, “—Please!” The Autobot’s vents sob all the while the Decepticon laves and nips along the gold rim of his warm aglow Spark casing.

The borealis of ivory and snow white furls of Spark light illuminates the Decepticon’s wicked arched features, two scarlet slanted stars and deep ruby moons hover and bask in the face of the glaring bright sun.

Starscream ignores the Autobot’s pleas, greedily dipping his glossa into the corona of nova light. The heat and licks of white light chase across his lips and glossa, as sharp as a river of diamonds and as scorching as magma. He swallows it down with a chaser of the mech’s escalating wails, the Autobot’s Spark flaring open when the casing splits apart, responsive to the expert touch and caress.

Starscream’s ominous ruby Spark hums and his plates unlock, the internal key switches online the sequence to separate his chassis’ pieces from their intimate jigsaw puzzle of locks and patches.

“Good little mech.” Starscream approves as he shoves their two Sparks together, a lavender bead of light sparks and churns within the maelstrom of raging suns as their essence battles and twists and combines.

H is for Hands
(G1 Universe)

Ratchet’s optics widen in comical alarm, two fingers pressed to his temple as he mutters over the comm. link relaying their situation to Jazz and the other Autobots, the red and white medic’s mouth opened to shout in warning as a shadow falls over the Autobot microscope, Perceptor focused on his ruined blaster while the medic and scientist crouch behind a bank of tall rocks.

Perceptor instinctively threads his hands and arms on top of the white forearms and cobalt hands that snake around his waist, alarmed by the sudden bulk of another Cybertronian against his back strut. Ratchet curses and throws a hand forward in vain to try and snag the scientist.

The Autobot scientist swallows a terrified scream as the ground is wrenched from underneath his pedes, vertigo choking his fuel pump as the Autobot medic and peppered rock walls fall away, as small as marbles amongst the sand and pebbles of the desert.

‘No! Don’t drop me, please!’ His processor gibbers with terror, while his vocoder rises to shout “Ratchet!!” as the medic is left alone amongst the raging battlefield. Perceptor throws both arms forward as if he can magically summon the medic to him, “Let me go! Ratchet..Ratchet!! I can’t leave him!”

The Seeker shrills with laughter, arms coiled tight around his prize. “You should be more concerned about yourself, little Autobot.”

I is for Interloper
(IDW Universe)

“Come out, come out, little Autobot…”

Perceptor slips around the blind corner of the corridor, vents wheezing from exertion.

“Someone..” Perceptor hits his comm. link again, “Please respond. D-Decepticons have boarded the Valiant. We are in need of military support―”

“Hhsssssssssssssssssss..”

Perceptor moans weakly, again hearing only static as his sole answer. The communications system hacked and corrupted by the Decepticon technopath.

“Little mech…”

Perceptor pushes away from the wall, glancing over his shoulder as he moves as quickly and quietly as possible down the corridor, the long hallway lit only by the glowing red glaze of the emergency lights.

“…are you afraid of the dark?”

The scientist freezes as the lights flicker and die. He hunches down into a crouch, his night vision too inferior to break through the pitch black of the hall. He curses his folly for not having taken the time or accepted the assistance offered by Blaster to fiddle with his internal systems and download such vital upgrades.

Perceptor breaks and cries out weakly, scrambling backwards on his hands and pedes as two glowing ruby optics power online mere feet in front of him. Scarlet flames pool around the glowing plates, the Decepticon’s plating heating with excited fervor at finally corning his wily prey after such a long chase throughout the huge Autobot vessel.

“Found you.” Silver denta gleam sharply amongst the heavy canvas of the darkness.

J is for Joined
(Shattered Glass Universe)

Perceptor uses his knowledge of the pockets of hallways and quarters outside the range of Red Alert’s wide-spread field of cameras. He skulks down to the prison barracks, avoiding the sporadic sentries to pace the dark halls.

Finding his quarry, Perceptor steps up dangerously close to the hot, glowing energy bars of the small cell.

“Starscream.”

Blue optics glow from within the dark recesses of the cell. The winged Decepticon shifts his cuffed hands resting upon his knees, a ghost of a smile touching his face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The pale white and rich red paint is scuffed and sullied from too rough hands and old stains of energon, but the Decepticon’s smile is beautiful regardless.

Perceptor whines beneath the breath of his vents, ruby gaze tight with fiercely snuffed emotion while the Decepticon stands and approaches the humming bars.

“You love-struck fool,” The Autobot hisses, but he does not resist the invisible pull between them. He approaches the bars as well, daring to lift his helm close as Starscream bows in answer.

Through the tight valley of the hot energy bars, the Autobot and Decepticon share a quick kiss, longing and regret a bitter poison that slips like cyanide down their capillaries.

“I told you to abandon this charade.” Perceptor whispers huskily when they part.

Starscream presses his forehead against the Autobot’s, “Never.”

“Young idiot,” The gray and red scientist snorts, “Do you really think sonnets of devotion and steel flowers will lure me into your arms?”

“I won’t know unless I keep trying, won’t I?”

Perceptor masks his gentle smile by focusing on the tight twist of his hand between the Decepticon’s cuffed alabaster fingers, the Decepticon hanging onto him for dear spark and refusing to let the Autobot go until they hear the warning tread of heavy pedes as a sentry returns from scanning the adjacent halls.

“I’ll find you.” Starscream whispers as Perceptor’s fingers slip away.

“You always say that,” Perceptor steps away, having heard this promise many times before, “and yet every time, you must turn away and fly back to Megatron lest Prime get his hands upon you.”

“I may surprise you...Very. Soon.” Perceptor shivers at the unflinching look that follows him as he melts into the shadows of the hall, the Decepticon losing his gaze only when the Autobot slips around the opposite corner an astrosecond before the sentry steps into the hall of barred prison cells.

K is for Kids
(G1 Universe)

“Brute!”

“Imbecile!”

“Backstabber!”

“Ruffian!”

“Screamer!”

“Ground kisser!”

“Airhead!!”

“Short stack!!”

Perceptor moans and gently claps his hands over his pained audio receptors while the Decepticon SIC and Autobot Brawn rage with words and snarls. The scientist can only pray that either a Decepticon or Autobot scouting party will find the three mechs and dig them out of the caved-in mine before Starscream or Brawn test their mettle by trying to either throttling the other or begin a shooting gallery within the tight space.

L is for Love
(G1 Universe)

“Ch!!” Starscream grumps while yanking the smaller microscope into his arms, “I don’t care for the words those dirty little organic creatures use to signify a bond! So stop stuttering and get over here before I decide to personally and show you how real mechs prove their devotion!”

M is for Monster
(2009 Universe)

“All mighty Primus…m-may you grace me with your gaze…and deliver me from this evil…”

Perceptor sprawls amongst the ragged, dripping remains of his fellow scientists, the small exploratory unit and shuttle sent out to the distant stars in search of other sources of energon and to study advancements in their gathering methods for the valuable sustaining solution for all Cybertronians.

No sooner had they landed upon a lone planet circling a bright ruby dwarf sun that they were under siege. The party of scientists caught unawares as the unit of aerial based Decepticons dove upon them like rabid beasts, their raking taloned feet and clawed hands rending the few armed bodyguards apart who had been paid substantially to protect the smaller defenseless scientists.

Starscream and his trine divided the limbs and pieces of the bodyguards amongst them, greedily savoring the sweet energon that flowed from the gushing wounds after so long in the cold arms of space without any source of fuel.

Only after the three Decepticons were done with the bodyguards was when they turned upon the scientists.

“Stretch for your hand, should this miserable hollow body prove worthy…”

Thundercracker curved his large mandible around the throat and shoulder of Ivory, the small femme medic who squealed and thrashed before he severed her helm from her torso. Chip gurgles forth a waterfall of energon while Skywarp eviscerated the lean gold and black surveyor’s abdomen.

Starscream cracks open their leader, Hardhead, with both hands, splitting him down the middle with the large Decepticon sups ravenously from the still twitching pieces.

The two waves of needless slaughter appeared to calm the three Decepticons enough to mildly appease their voracious hunger.

That is, the initial glut and session of gorging their fuel tanks gives the Decepticons a return of senses so as not to dismember the remaining scientists and surveyors who cowered in fear as if they look upon the avatars of Unicron incarnate.

“Release me from the demons that howl and wail from the depths of the Pit.”

Starscream laps and coils his long glossa around the gore dripping talons of his hands, tattooed limbs soaked in energon while his brothers seize the remaining Autobot scientists who wail and pray to Primus for mercy. The large aerial mechs sinking their denta into the thick energon cables of necks and shoulders, but this time their processors’ caution the large mechs to be temperate and keep their prey in one piece.

“And what are you doing all the way out here?” Starscream wonders while he pulls Perceptor towards him, the microscope literally frozen with fear. The Decepticon grins, traces his talons down the pale blue and red features, streaking the gray facial plates with cooling paint strokes of energon, “Poor thing. You’re utterly petrified.”

Perceptor clenches his denta together to prevent his words to Primus from spilling from his lips as the Decepticon carefully sinks his long fanged denta into his throat cables, the Autobot scientist praying for mercy and guidance amongst the wails of his brethren and the warm, energon soaked sand.

“Amen.”

N is for Never Again
(IDW Universe)

“Say it.”

“N-Never!”

“You say that every time,” Starscream stretches above the scientist, slipping in between the Autobot’s thighs, “and yet every time, you come back, begging for more.”

“I-I’d rather fall onto my knees before Megatron b-before I beg for anything from you.”

“Oh, you foolish creature,” Perceptor’s entire frame rocks backwards as Starscream lunges forward, and the Decepticon’s cable spears the depths of the Autobot’s valve, “I had made plans to be gentle this time, but now I’ll make you regret your cheeky words!”

O is for Opposition
(G1 Universe)

“I still think--”

“No!”

Starscream huffs, “If you would simply listen…”

“No, I am not naming our sparkling by that designation simply because you wish to thumb your nose at Shockwave!”

“…fine,” Starscream curls his arms around his partner’s shoulders, not missing the chance to mumble one final time, “I still think Sunstorm would be a fine designation.”

P is for Pensive
(2009 Universe)

“What do you see in him?” Sam looks up to the gentle scientist, the tall lean mech sitting alone near the edge of the Autobot base.

Perceptor gifts the young human with a brief, private smile, “I suppose you should as Optimus the same thing about why he never lays the finishing blow on his brother.” The Autobot turns back to watch the sunset, mesmerized by the hues of gold and umber that streaks the horizon and peaked range of mountains, “Devotion brings out strange actions in all species, Samuel. We’d throw ourselves over the body of our partner to shield him from harm, no matter how cruelly he would shove us away. Sometimes our love makes us the greatest fools…or the luckiest creatures in this galaxy.”

Q is for Question
(G2 Universe)

“Where is he?” Perceptor pulls at the chains that tether him to the wall of his cell, “W-Where is Starscream?!”

Galvatron snorts with disgust at the mention of the traitor, “Ashes to ashes.” The mad warlord smiles at the stunned, quiet look of comprehension, “I’m sure you would find some of him amongst the seams of the tiles in the main chamber.”

“…n-…no..” Perceptor drops to his knees, the pinch and grind of the cuffs slips fresh beads of energon from the ring of torn cables upon his wrists, “…Starscream…?”

“The true question is…” Galvatron snakes his fingers around the Autobot’s mandible, jerking the mech’s head upward, dispassionately examining the plain features and dull blue optics, “What did that fool see in you? And what sparks such grief in your eyes at his demise?”

“Something you wouldn’t understand.” Perceptor whispers. Not caring that his words may spell his fate. His Spark wails in lost, the tattered bond shorn in two at the loss of his mate.

“…Perhaps not,” Galvatron slides his gaze up and down the prisoner, one hand quests to find the latch and seal of the scientist’s chassis, “But show me the proof of how ragged and broken you are, and mayhap I will begin to understand this feeling.”

R is for Recharge
(G1 Universe)

Perceptor tries to wiggle for additional space, but his berth mate isn’t remotely complacent.

Starscream grumbles and flops onto his side, one wing blanketed over the two Cybertronians. The Decepticon mutters in recharge, sprawled partially over the smaller Autobot.

Perceptor’s optical sockets roll heavenward, wondering how the mech always managed to finagle and pin him during recharge without any recollection once coming online during the morning cycle.

S is for Sparkling
(G1 Universe)

Perceptor despises the knowing, inquisitive glances thrown his way whenever he is shuttled between his locked chambers and the medical ward. The Autobot prisoner constantly flanked by either Soundwave or Starscream’s trine mates, the prisoner too valuable to risk near the other Decepticon soldiers who are too curious about the bead of life humming softly within his chassis ― most of the fools too daring for their own good ― and Soundwave and Thundercracker and Skywarp are ever vigilant in keeping the other Decepticon grunts from laying their hands on the prisoner to try their luck at breeding a new member for their army in Lord Megatron’s honor.

A sparkling. A sparkling with a Decepticon sire….The first in the countless vorns since their War left Cybertron and fell upon the soil of this miserable organic planet.

The trip is always short between Perceptor’s isolated chambers and the labs. Gently pushed into the room, he is immediately surrounded by the gestalt, Hook and Scrapper quickly usher the prisoner to the medical berth. Perceptor helped onto the berth, the additional weight of his growing sparkling making it slightly difficult to swing up onto the berth without assistance.

The Constructicons monitor their charge; attending to scans and readings as they focus on the sparkling’s progress. The Decepticons mutter excitedly amongst themselves as they analyze the readouts, copying the results onto several data pads which will be delivered to Lord Megatron and his second and third in command.

They halt their long session of tests when Lord Megatron suddenly steps into their labs.

The green and purple gestalt mechs bow to their Lord and shuffle out of his path so that their master may appease his curiosity with the status of their Autobot ‘guest’.

Perceptor shudders but tries to remain still and steady when the large silver mech palms his hand upon the microscope’s chassis.

Megatron terrifies the prisoner with a proud, gleaming shark smile as the sparkling thrums beneath his palm.

“I am eager to witness what sort of sparkling you and my second in command will gift to my ranks.” Lord Megatron pats the prisoner’s shoulder and the Autobot nearly tumbles off the berth in fright at the Decepticon leader’s abrupt gesture. Scavenger yelps and darts forward, clutching the prisoner’s shoulders and propping Perceptor upright to prevent him from tumbling onto the floor.

“Now, now,” Scavenger gently lays the creator back to lie flat upon the berth, “We mustn’t get too excited. Lest we disturb the sparkling…”

Perceptor offlines his optical screens, computerized processor running in panicked circles while he fervently prays that this nightmare would end and he would wake up back on the Ark.

T is for Turnabout
(IDW Universe ‘All Hail Megatron’)

Starscream cursed and topples over, giving Blurr the scant inches of opportunity to escape from underneath the Seeker and his null ray.

“Thanks-Perceptor!” The blue Autobot winces onto his feet, back scorched by a small hole which hiccups a plume of acidic smoke. Quick to his feet, Blurr moves in a haze, racing to cover their brothers’ backs at the edge of the city’s water front.

Starscream lips curl in a fierce snarl, glaring over his shoulder at the sniper who had lain hidden during a majority of the battle.

“A coward hides amongst the shadows.” The Decepticon hisses, meeting the cool blue gaze.

Perceptor raises the long scope of his weapon to the larger blue optical plate, peering down the length of his gun, “Better than a coward who shoots an unarmed Autobot in the back.”

U is for Ultimatum
(2007 Universe ‘The Reign of Starscream’)

“Spare them.” Perceptor is on his hands and knees, forehead upon the arched pede of the winged Decepticon leader, “I implore you, my Lord, for mercy. Please…” He beseeches the winged Lord to release his fellow Autobots from the trenches of the mines, many too weak to work, especially when the Decepticon guards beat them with their electrode sticks when they stumble and falter.

Starscream taps his claws in deep thought, leaning forward from the depths of his throne in order to hear the Autobot prisoner’s supplication.

“If I should spare them,” The new Decepticon Lord inquires, bent over his servant, one hand bowed over the smaller Autobot’s neck as he drums his sharp talons upon the smooth blue and red plates, “What shall I receive in reparation?”

“..I..I…” Here the Autobot stumbles, caught by surprise, “I…do not know what my Lord would desire.”

Starscream reaches down, and curls one claw under the soft dermal plates beneath the Autobot’s chin.

“I think you know what I desire.” The Decepticon Lord doesn’t have the patience to beat around the bush like his little Autobot insists.

Perceptor shudders, but complies with the motion to rise onto his pedes, “If…if my Lord should require my…affection--”

“Oh, I think I shall require more than that.” Starscream curls his other hand around the small of the Autobot’s back, “now come here, Perceptor, and show me how badly you wish to salvage your little Autobot compatriots.”

V is for Victory
(Shattered Glass Universe)

“Starscream!!” Perceptor stretches forward his hand, the Decepticon throwing colorful curses in the raging Autobot leader’s direction as he reaches forward in rejoinder and welds his hand to the smaller Autobot’s outstretched hand.

“Traitor!” The Prime bellows. Starscream narrowly yanks Perceptor up and into his arms, his thrusters and boosters firing and he sails upwards amongst the towers and sentry posts before the large Autobot fires his blaster, the laser blast barely grazes the Autobot scientist’s shoulder and Starscream’s wing.

“Hah!” Starscream shouts in triumph as the Prime’s wild shots strike uselessly against the wide towers, the winged Decepticon twirling and darting amongst the maze as his thrusters guide the two mechs beyond the walls of the Autobot base, “Try shoving that blaster up your aft, Prime! Maybe you’ll actually hit something worthwhile!” The Decepticon cackles while Perceptor gasps and desperately tries to hush the Decepticon’s brazen boasts.

W is for Wicked
(IDW Universe)

Perceptor’s words gurgle unintelligibly behind the metal plate over his mouth, wrists and forearms bound by stasis cuffs and looped around a thick pipe at the head of the berth. Thighs spread, knees pushed back until they arch halfway to his shoulders.

The Decepticon rims the glistening silver ring of the Autobot’s valve, hands flexed and holding the mech down as Perceptor whines and fitfully shaves and throws his helm left and right in stubborn refusal.

“I won’t unlock the cuffs until I can trust that you won’t try to crack open my helm with another chair,” Starscream’s scarlet slanted optics shine with dark humor across the trembling valley of the mech’s belly, “Pity I must muffle you, but I’ve grown tired of your pleas and deals while you try to bargain for the protection of your allies who are still sitting inside their claustrophobic, dank little cells.”

“MMMmmmphh!!” Perceptor arches and twists, throat bobbing as the Decepticon sinks his glossa within the clenching well of his valve. The wet, slick glide of the Seeker’s expert appendage stirring an unwanted moan of frustration and discomfort, spread thighs unconsciously shudder and try to arch and grind against the invader.

“Although…” Starscream speaks when his tongue slips back and darts in between his lips, the Seeker licking the inside of his mouth, pooling the flavor along hypersensitive neural sensors upon his glossa and lining the inside of his cheeks and throat, “Perhaps I’ll remove the plate later and let you wail and scream all you like…if you play nice.”

X is for X Marks The Spot
(IDW Universe)

Starscream hissed as the bleeding Spark of an Autobot tries to staunch the bleed of energon, the ragged edges of the wound stinging no matter how careful or gentle the microscope’s hands try to swipe away the leaking fluids.

“Please do not move about.” Perceptor is secretly proud of his cool detached voice and solid hands. Inside, his internals twist and rattle, the Autobot’s processor screaming in terror at his proximity to such a dangerous and infamous Decepticon.

“It fragging hurts!” The Seeker snaps, wings arching sharply in discontent as he sits up partway, but just as suddenly drops back, the stab of agony from the gut wound forcing the Decepticon to continue to merely grumble and curse.

“Don’t think that this will change things,” Starscream growls, “I won’t have the same mercy for you.”

“I never expected otherwise.” Perceptor admits.

“PERCEPTOR!”

The smaller Autobot twists around, Springer and the rest of the Wreckers race towards him, finally locating the scientist after losing him during the earlier skirmish that had cost the Decepticon precious time and a few too many injuries.

“Get away from him!” Springer shouts as he raises his gun.

Perceptor moves, whether to step aside or tries to intercede the triple-changer before he can fire, none of them are certain.

Before he can act in either direction, a white arm curls around his throat. Perceptor coughs at the pressure against his esophageal tube when yanked off his pedes, held as a shield against the Seeker.

“Just try it.” Starscream swears, a null ray humming and aimed in the Wreckers’ direction, “See whether you can hit me without going through your precious microscope first.”

“You strutless coward!” Hot Rod curses, the vibrant red and gold soldier only held back by Kup’s warning growl for the young mech to hold his position.

“Stay back!” Springer orders his unit while he lowers his gun by a fraction of an inch, “Starscream, if you hurt him--”

“Awwwww…” Starscream purrs, cruelly dragging his prisoner against his frame until Perceptor grimaces and releases a small sound of pain. The Decepticon coyly presses dry lips to the side of the smaller Autobot’s helm, the gesture earns a dark look and grind of denta as Springer helplessly watches, “Poor Wrecker. You so badly want him to run into your arms safe and sound, hmm?”

Starscream snaps his null ray up, swinging the weapon in the direction of several Wreckers who instinctively take a step forward in aggression, “Not another step closer!” The Decepticon warns, his patience shortened by the streams of energon pooling beneath his pedes, the gaping wound mirrors his temper, spraying pops and bursts of static.

“Hold your positions!” Kup bellows and clocks Blurr across the back of his helm, instinctively knowing that the speedy blue mech is planning to take a personal risk and rush the Decepticon.

“…springer..” Perceptor chokes around the arm shoved tight underneath his chin, stumbling and unwillingly follows the Decepticon as Starscream yanks him backwards, backing away from the semi-circle of Wreckers while the Autobots patiently shadow the Decepticon and Autobot prisoner’s every step.

Y is for Yield
(2007 Universe ‘The Reign of Starscream’)

“Yield to me.” The Decepticon whispers imploringly against his back strut and nape.

Perceptor whines, fingers dragging grooves down the silver metal of the berth. Pinned horizontally along the long slab of the bed, the Decepticon’s hips and thighs bump the Autobot’s posterior with each pump and thrust. The taut cable grinds against the sensory nodes of his valve, pale lavender lubricant smoothing the pressurized length of the Decepticon’s thick cord.

“Why do you persist in refusing me?”

“J-Just let me go.” Perceptor wheedles, “I don’t…don’t know anything of use to you--”

Starscream lays his hands along the arched stretch of the Autobot’s back strut and hips and guides the smaller mech to piston slowly against his cable, “Do you really think that I care about any data files on your fellow Autobots?”

“……” Perceptor digs his fingers and palms into the metal skin of the berth, trying in vain to disengage their locked frames and crawl away from the Decepticon that persists in caressing and invading him in every intimate and humiliating fashion.

“You’ll never break away from me.” Starscream swears against the heated, condensation dotted plates of the pinned Autobot’s back and neck, “I’ll break both your legs and lock you inside an iron gilded cage so that you’ll never take flight.”

Z is for Zen
(G1 Universe)

“You…you really mean it?” Perceptor can’t believe what his audios have interpreted.

Starscream growls at the mech’s disbelief, “I do have a shred of honor, no matter what your Autobot friends may say.”

“B-But..” Perceptor stutters, gaze flickering to his Prime and the Autobot leader’s second and third in command. The microscope’s arms wound fiercely and loyally tight around his sparkling, the burbling, squealing winglet stretching little red arms and blue hands towards his Decepticon sire.

Optimus Prime lays a gentle, firm hand on the scientist’s shoulder. Starscream snarls in warning, prepared to tear the Prime’s hand off if he does not desist in touching the creator of his sparkling.

“Perceptor,” The Prime peacefully mediates between the sire’s indignation and creator’s confusion, “Starscream denounced the Decepticon badge. He swears loyalty solely to his mate and sparkling.”

“Saw it for myself,” Jazz adds his input, “Megatron won’t be bothering us for a while after taking a face full of null ray after he commanded Starscream to acquire both you and your winglet and bring you both back to Decepticon headquarters.”

Perceptor curls his arms tighter around Razor; the sparkling curiously pats his creator’s worried features, ruby optics peering up at Perceptor’s grimace of worry.

“I do not trust Starscream entirely.” Prowl raises his hand to intercede before Jazz can speak, “But…I believe him when he swore to protect both of you. He risked deactivation when he fled the Nemesis, and he barely made it here before the Coneheads and the rest of his trine tried to shoot him out of the sky.”

“MMmrr?” Razor nuzzles his creator, peeking shyly through Perceptor’s arms in the direction of Starscream.

The former Decepticon approaches and drops onto one knee before the seated Autobot scientist. Razor burbles and lavishes his sire with a sunny smile, happily gumming the knuckle of Starscream’s forefinger.

“I won’t abandon either of you.” Starscream solemnly swears. “Whatever the past has held between us, I’m willing to make up for it. I don’t want any regrets. Please…do not push me away from you and my sparkling.”

“I…” Perceptor twiddles his fingers with shy embarrassment and ducks his helm when Starscream lays a cobalt hand upon his cheek, “…I’m willing to give you a second chance..” The microscope whispered.

Jazz grins slyly as Starscream leaps onto his pedes and manages to almost knock Perceptor out of his chair when the former Decepticon threw his arms around his mate’s shoulders, Razor waving his arms up and down and babbling excitedly. The Prime quickly catching the creator and sire pair and their sparkling before they knock over the chair.

“Told you that there would be a happy ending,” Jazz purr’s in his bondmate’s audio, tracing the edge of his finger down the edge of Prow’s doorwing. The SIC shivers at the confident stroke, “Now…..how about we have that talk about our sparkling that I know has been keeping you up at night with worry about how to tell me?”

Prowl’s pole-axed expression warns Optimus to comm. for Ratchet’s assistance before his SIC keels over at the notion of another sparkling, especially while Jazz murmurs into the SIC’s audio while stroking Prowl’s chassis and abdominal plates, the Autobot leader fairly certain of the identity of the carrier of the bonded pair’s future sparkling.
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Title: Alphabet Soup