Starscream paced the lab, deeply perplexed, his polish-coated hands twisting the cracked datapad, uncaring of the further damage he did the abused equipment. He did not understand it at all. It was obvious that Skyfire had been interested; the gigantic mechanism was as readable as pulley system schematics. The way he blustered about when he was caught looking for a moment too long, the almost-absent 'accidental' brushes as they walked by each other… he would have done better to have painted it boldly across his forehead.
Still, it had been painfully clear that Skyfire had not the foggiest idea of what to do in such matters, despite his immense scientific knowledge. Too long he had been a workaholic, focused entirely upon his studies and ignoring the vast world of the sensory and bustle of life about him.
So, obligingly, Starscream had done all in his power to lead him to temptation.
Though, admittedly, he was as much a newcomer in this particular courtship as the shuttle, as he had never been interested in anyone such as Skyfire before. No, for most of his long life, he had found shuttles – frankly – insufferably tame and awkwardly ponderous under the best of circumstances. Not to mention fact that their conversations were generally mind-numbingly uninteresting. In all honesty, he preferred the sleek exteriors of smaller aircraft, such as himself – something that implied speed and maneuverability, with a razor wit set to cut. Of shuttles, this could not be said. Looming, bulky things that they were, he found them a prospect too dull to entertain – too predictable, too mellow to satisfy the thrill-addicted jet.
But in Skyfire, perversely, he found all the characteristics he normally snubbed… attractive. Entertaining, actually – his meticulousness and determination was something to behold. Dialogue with him was an intellectual buffet, full of fascinating turns of logic, seeing things that Starscream – under ordinary circumstances – would have overlooked and dismissed absolutely enthralling. He could tinker with the dullest, most everyday of objects and find some new part or function or idea that Starscream was certain no one else could have thought up – simply because he was that obsessively methodical. Mind-boggling, annoying, amazingly methodical.
As well, Skyfire seemed a plethora of quiet, dry sarcasm, with an ability to make the jet actually laugh, without rancor or irony. Someone it was ridiculously easy to talk to and relate to, even over the most inane of topics. It wasn't exactly a long stretch of the imagination to think that a magnetism would eventually form, with so much of the shuttle so very appealing to him.
But he wasn't supposed to be this captivated! Not to the point of obsessing over every little nuance of possible suggestion, searching in vain for any hint that the blatant flirting was returned – all too rare as it was. It was supposed to be quick and easy, a casual tryst or two, and they could both move on. But Skyfire wasn't with the program, wasn't running with the script in the slightest.
Wasn't he being obnoxiously obvious enough? More so than he had been, in any case. Slag, even breems ago, he had made his offer clear with the line about 'knowing his way', heavy-laden with insinuation and proposal. Either Skyfire was the most oblivious mech he had ever met, or…
Starscream paused, a frown pulling down at his lips. It couldn't be that… Skyfire had lost interest, could it?
He resumed his pacing, gaze dropping to the floor as he brooded.
Perhaps he had. After all, he had reacted so… negatively to the earlier suggestion, becoming tense and aloof, as if somehow offended. Snappish, even. And, in the overload that Starscream had all-too-knowingly started – first by slapping the delicate sensors to wake him to full alert, then manipulating the sensitive surface toward his ends as a sort of preliminary viewing to what he could offer – Skyfire had shoved him aside.
The frown devolved into a scowl. He wasn't sure if he could handle being shoved out of a berth after every interface.
Don't get ahead of yourself, he admonished silently, somewhat amused by the mental image. Grouchy Skyfire, he had discovered far earlier in their friendship, was a fun Skyfire. And if he could draw out and crack that too-well-restrained temper while interfacing with the larger mechanism… ah, well, there were possibilities there.
Of course, first he had to lure the shuttle in, ere such pleasant theories could be tested. Which, of course, was the crux of the whole issue.
Leave it to be a transport craft to be this thick.
He paused by a cluttered countertop, tapping one hand against it in an idle, irregular rhythm. No, Skyfire couldn't have dismissed him so quickly. It was too abrupt. And nobody rejected his advances. It was laughable. It was, frankly, impossible.
But… maybe that was why he had been acting so very strangely lately, studiously avoiding even the slightest physical contact between them, all but running away at the mere suggestion of spending time out of the institute together. While initially amusing to watch such a large, powerful mechanism get flustered and embarrassed by little him, the novelty was wearing thin, leaving irritation writhing beneath the surface. He had only so much patience to wait out a squeamish mechanism, after all. He had never been attracted to meek or hesitant sparks before – though he was fairly certain Skyfire was neither, given his usually forthright behavior.
It was just as well. He preferred intimate relationships to be undemanding and to the point, with as few strings attached as possible, allowing him to flit off to the next target of his whim once the rapport became stale. If a few feelings were hurt along the way, so be it; he didn't ask them to become emotionally involved with him, and they were always free to back out before things became too close. His attention span, after all, was notoriously short.
Although...
Perhaps this went beyond squeamishness or just plain obstinate ignorance. Perhaps, in actuality, Skyfire was fully aware of his subtle allusions, and was simply refusing him, hoping to spare his feelings and their working dynamic.
He reached back and drew a convenient chair close, optics wide as he flopped gracelessly into it. Snubbing… him? How? Why?
Something prickled sharply in his chest, an achy throb that grew outward, compounding the abhorrent thought. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to the spot, feeling strangely brittle. But nothing was outwardly wrong, nothing to warrant such soreness.
He scowled, turning from hurt to anger in his kaleidoscope of distinctly rapid mood shifts. He had never taken rejection well. Then again, he never had to.
So what if Skyfire thought him unworthy of his affections? It didn't matter to him – there were many more willing sparks out there for the plucking. What did one drab shuttle mean to him, with such better fare available? Nothing. Stupid Skyfire was nothing at all.
His mouth set into a grim line. Nothing indeed.
The ache persisted.
Discomfited, he shifted about, letting his hand flop from the area over his spark, reluctant to admit the probable. It wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was too selfish to… be that close. It made life far too problematic.
However, facts contradicted his wishes.
No. It couldn't be. This had to be a passing fancy. Once he managed to persuade Skyfire to cross to his side, it would surely dissipate, as such things had gone before. And, if nothing else, a definitive answer to Skyfire's preferences would end any and all strange wants, allowing him to disregard the shuttle once and for all.
… There had to be a way to bring that intractable shuttle around, without risking their current partnership.
Steepling his fingers, the jet leaned back in his chair, flinging one leg over his knee as he contemplated the far wall. He had plenty of time to plot; Skyfire was beyond embarrassed – thinking Starscream had not noticed his, ah, performance, no doubt, but made even the more mortified by that fact – and likely would not dare to show his face again until it was absolutely necessary.
Shuttles. So predictable.
Starscream snickered softly.
He'd just have to be more overt, and pressure Skyfire into confronting him. Even a dullard would be able to understand his motives, with enough unequivocal propositions.
But of course he would get nothing done in that quarter for today. Better to let Skyfire amble his way back, after the initial spell of redundant shame.
Swiveling his chair about, the jet scuttled his way back to the lump of his datapad. After a few moments of fiddling, it managed to come back to life with a fritzing groan and a hail of sparks. He glowered at the fragmented lettering across its screen, bamboozled by the reaction.
The silly things were always mysteriously breaking on him.
Honestly. You'd think someone would have done something to make them less accident-prone.