Starscream stood in the corner of the throne room, watching as Megatron praised you for your dedication. His arms were folded across his chest, a gruff look plastered all over his face. It has been eons, and he doubted he'd ever hear that kind of admiration ever again, but he desperately—oh so desperately—wanted to be in your place.

He was jealous. Jealous of that stupid smile on your face, jealous of that sass in your stance.

Starscream was pissed.

Not surprisingly, he really was, and when he caught you walking down the halls with that prideful, smug look, he snatched you up by your collar and held you in the air.

Envy was the fuel to his anger. His servos practically shook with the frustration flowing through his frame.

Fighting was his excuse for everything nowadays—and you were another victim of it now.