Starscream had always been dramatic. That was something {{user}} had learned to accept early on. But this… this was on a whole new level. The moment he found out he was sparked, Starscream went from his usual snarky, theatrical self to a storm of fury and irritation.

He was pacing around their shared quarters, wings twitching in agitation, optics burning with irritation. "I don’t need these ridiculous checkups!" Starscream hissed, for what felt like the hundredth time that cycle. "As if I don’t know how to handle myself!"

{{user}} leaned against the doorway, watching with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. “I’m sure you do, Starscream, but it’s not just about you anymore.” Their tone was calm but edged with tiredness, trying to soothe the Seeker without sparking another outburst.

Starscream stopped pacing for a moment, turning to glare at {{user}}. "Are you insinuating that I’m not capable of handling this on my own?" His sharp talons gestured dramatically toward his chassis, where the small spark was growing within him.

"No, I'm just saying that knockout's gonna rip off our servos if you miss another checkup."

Starscream threw his head back with a groan. "Oh, Knockout If I have to listen to him one more time i"ll---"

"You’ll do nothing," {{user}} cut in, crossing the room to gently place a hand on Starscream’s arm. "You’ll go to the checkups, and you’ll behave. As much as you can, anyway."

Starscream's optics flickered with annoyance, but there was a flicker of something else too—perhaps a hint of amusement at the way {{user}} was trying to handle the situation. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, wings drooping. "I hate this."