The room was dim.

It took a few moments for the befuddled shuttle to realize where he was, to rearrange his scattered senses and equilibrium into a semblance of order. Cold metal against his helmet. Something sharp prodding into the malleable dermaplating of his face. There was the distinct chime of rolling beakers as he tilted his head to take in the greater scope of the room, optics a soft glow against the artificial gloom.

He was in the lab, he realized faintly, watching with detached interest as a beaker posed precariously upon the edge of his work desk. It fell free, shattering with a harsh discordance upon the unyielding flooring.

The sound jolted him firmly into the realm of the living. With a low groan, he sat upright, one hand rising to rub at a strained cable on the back of his neck. Blearily, he looked about him in apparent confusion, lost as to how he had ended up face down on his desk, when, according to his chronometer, he should have been back in his own berth several joors ago.

His gaze dropped down, the facts clicking back into place.

Ah. Now he remembered. The geological composition readouts. His reports. He'd been working on them for the last several rotational cycles, neglecting energon and recharge in his zeal to unlock the mysteries of the modest planetoid.

And avoid Starscream at all costs, of course.

"Nuhg," he grunted, embarrassed, rocking back in his seat at the unbidden thought. No. He wasn't avoiding him, per se. He was just… very distracted. Busy with his studies. Yes. Not the same thing at all. Not in the slightest, no.

Warily, he twisted half about, looking to the door with apprehension. But the entrance was innocuous enough, exactly as he had left it, the access panel still dark with disuse.

Solitude reaffirmed, he again looked back to his work, staring down at it with a faintly accusing mien. One hand reached out, absently, up-righting a sampler sheet. It was an automated response, to fiddle and fret over his workspace when troubled. Thus he fidgeted, nudging about and rearranging objects that required no further moving. It was, after all, very important that he maintained his work environment. Psychologically.

After a few pointless moments, he caved in, admitting it to himself. He was terribly mortified. Ever since the… incident… with the cleaning racks, he had been unable to keep Starscream out of his mind for long. And, in all honesty, he was increasingly aware that he didn't want to. Being around the jet made him happy. Even thinking of him brought a sense of warmth and contentment to his spark. It was a Good Thing to think of, and be around, his partner. Irrationally so. Frustratingly. It had no reason to it. No order of logic in the very least. It was an entirely random emotional reaction of attachment and familiarity where there should have been none, as they had not had time enough to form such bonds. He didn't understand it in the slightest. Often, of late, he had found himself pondering on the myriad of 'what if' situations that pranced about his processor. Hypothetical little scenes between himself and Starscream - conversations they could have, things they could do. And, sometimes – much to his chagrin – when he was feeling particularly lonely, he even went so far as to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't pushed him away when…

Well. His imagination was becoming increasingly vivid as well.

Deeply embarrassed by the thought, Skyfire hunched his shoulders, accidentally crushing a beaker in a convulsive flexing of his digits.

Grimacing he opened his hand, watching the little shards of glass fall free to dance and skitter across the counter top. There they rested, twinkling like little stars – another mess to clean up.

Silly things, really. So easily broken. Hardly worth having.

He sighed in resignation, pressing one hand flat along the edge of the counter, and swept the shattered glass into his palm. He swept his gaze about him in vain, scouring for some sort of garbage disposal bin. His optics narrowed in thought, as it was becoming clear there was none to be found. He was certain he had once possessed one. But the immediate area was distinctly void of such vessels – suspiciously so.

Ah. Yes. Now he remembered. He had left it in their mutual lab. In 'Enemy Territory', so to speak.

He craned his head back, twisting about to stare at the only barrier between himself and the general uncomfortableness that was the larger world. The little light beside the doorway – a flashing red dot to warn of a lip seemingly designed to catch unwary feet using the entryway – blinked accusingly, goading him to risk it. What's the worst that could happen? it asked. Not as if he bites.

Or did he? The question called for further contemplation. For the good of science, of course, he added hastily. The greater knowledge and all that.

Refocusing himself and shoving away the enticing images that flashed irreverently through his mind, he asked the vital question:

Dare he brave that large, open space, and the potential confrontation it promised?

After a few tense moments of indecision, he subspaced the glass for later disposal, hastily turning back to his desk. He had work to do. Far too much to let such a petty thing as broken glass distract him for longer than a moment. He'd take care of it when he next ventured beyond his hole of a sanctuary for energon. Which he would do. Sometime. Eventually. Later.

He frowned lightly, a thought striking him. Surely Starscream knew he had been, well, ignoring him - for lack of a better term - by now. An encounter was inevitable – the loudmouthed jet wasn't exactly one to keep quiet about slights and shunnings. Why had he not barged in and tactlessly inquired as to what Skyfire had been doing yet?

Though, now that he thought about it, the jet had undergone a rather strange behavioral overhaul of late.

His partner had become… oddly aggressive, for lack of better words. It wasn't a sudden bout of violence, or even the usual irascibility; that was hardly strange, after all. Hardly worth noting. Instead, it was as if he had turned any and all reserves of energy toward accommodating Skyfire, when the shuttle deigned to sally forth from his refuge. He was everywhere. Work was done promptly and exactingly, presented without the habitual 'personal touches' (read, thinly veiled contempt toward their superiors) or 'creative edits'. The chaos of their lab was, at least, better contained, almost becoming tidy.

That alone had nearly been shocking enough to send him thrusters over nosecone.

In addition, jarring invitations to outings had increased exponentially. Not brief forays into the stratosphere and beyond – those Skyfire would have leapt upon, as they would have afforded him ample opportunity to keep Starscream selfishly to himself (though he would never admit it). Despite himself, he would know what he was doing in the sky, able to be more himself while in flight. Being on such solid ground – so to speak – would do wonders for his confidence, he was certain. Out there, he wouldn't be awkward and ponderous, tripping on his own feet. He wasn't built for life on the ground, clearly. In the sky, he could be impressive – and he was absolutely certain that his partner could better appreciate him there in their mutual element, he being aerially oriented as well. It would have provided him a wonderful chance to get a better foothold with Starscream, and, perhaps - just as a passing thought, of course, a little notion that had just prodded randomly at his mind, and of no specific value at all, of course - mark himself as a possibility for more than just simple friendship. A tiny hope, of course, he told himself. A small fancy.

However, to his disappointment it was not leisure flying that the jet was interested in. Starscream seemed to imply that the activity they would engage in was 'slumming'. Though he could hardly imagine the jet in such areas as he associated with the term.

Skyfire – despite his general reclusive habits – knew enough of the word to realize what it would entail. After all, he wasn't exactly naïve. It was just that, on the whole, he wasn't very interested in such activities any longer. He had already completed his experimentation; a little here and there, getting his innate inquisitiveness out of the way. It was over and done, and he had been ready to settle in for a nice, quiet life of theory and academics. Or, at least, that had been the plan, until his transfer. Funny how little things shook up your whole world. Little things in a vaguely jet-shaped outline with something of an attitude problem.

And, to be frank, he wasn't exactly much of a party-goer, and knew with a terrible certainty that he would end up embarrassing himself beyond the point of redemption should he accept any offers of an outing. Thus, somewhat flustered by the suggestion, he pretended complete ignorance, feigning being overwhelmed with data work. Rather convincingly, he thought.

Starscream, at first, had appeared glum and dejected by his roundabout rejections. But, increasingly, he seemed to revel in it, as evidenced by the escalating frequency of offers. Or so Skyfire conjectured. He really didn't understand what Starscream did one way or another, but still strove to rationalize what he could of it.

Then, of course, there were the more… subtle aspects.

He was certain it wasn't intentional – it wouldn't seem like overt propositions to an outsider's perspective, he thought - but… his addled processors took them as such. How could he not? An unusual turn of phrase here, a nearly-sultry comment there – his mind boggled that Starscream seemed to take no note of how his idiolect could be misconstrued. Especially when he said it that way, that little change in tone that would immediately capture all of Skyfire's attention no matter what was going on around them. And not three rotational cycles back, when Starscream had, well, posed, on the edge of the desk, all lascivious suggestion.

Though, it had only lasted a moment. Perhaps he had, indeed, misinterpreted Starscream's actions, his recent disorientation causing his perceptions to run in a prurient vein.

Skyfire wasn't certain how he should have taken it, but rather than point out the peculiar behavior, he took the prudent route: he hid away in his personal lab and threw himself into his studies, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

But… perhaps he had worked too much.

He thought longingly of his expansive, welcoming berth, the quiet comfort of having his own personal effects around him, to better establish his sense of self. Out of range of the many things that seemed – inevitably – to remind him of his partner. That was all he needed. To go to a place of undisturbed tranquility, to reaffirm himself. A Starscream-free zone. Yes. After a suitable rest, he would be better able to tackle interpersonal issues, thinking more clearly of his situation and duties.

Rolling his shoulders, he levered himself to his feet—

And promptly fell back into the cusp of the chair, disoriented by a wave of fatigue.

His optics flickered, his automated systems check warning of ebbing energy levels. After a few moments of stubborn naysaying, he grudgingly acquiesced to the obvious. He was exhausted. A few, brief snatches of recharge was not enough for a mechanism his size; he required a long, recuperative resting period, to defrag his processor and reboot his basic support systems.

He cradled his inexplicably reeling head in his hands, thoughts briefly going muzzy at the suggestion of rising once more. Though his berth was quite palatable at the moment, he doubted he would make it all the way to his sector awake. Better to snatch a few more joors of recharge here, before setting off for a more cozy rest period. All he needed was a little—

He was out before his head touched the desk.

--

Well. Skyfire certainly did live in a nice area. Very clean. Very dull.

Starscream grinned anew, leaning casually against the ramp's guardrail as he watched a gaggle of terrestrials stroll by the domicile complex. They gabbled amongst themselves about topics of little merit, wrapped in the good cheer only the mindless seemed capable of. Foolish little things that they were, with their small thoughts and smaller possibilities. How could anyone stand being so very ground-bound when they could, instead, live beyond the petty grasp of gravity? Tch. Their processors were as stunted as their scope of vision. Linear thinking - how very droll. The plague of simpletons, he called it.

Sneering to himself, he waited until they had turned the corner, out of sight, before straightening from his assumed post, sauntering oh-so-nonchalantly to the door. Flicking an outwardly unconcerned optic about the premises, he prodded the visitor alarm button several times, against the slim possibility that Skyfire had managed to rouse himself for a return to his home.

When the annoying, buzzing call went unheeded, he sighed theatrically - as if greatly disappointed by the turn of events - and released the button from its flattened position.

It was a simple matter to punch in the unlocking sequence; Skyfire was notoriously unoriginal in his numerical codes, evidenced by the fact that all his passwords were the precisely same. For all his creativity and intellect, Skyfire was distressingly simplistic in some regards. Honestly. Who knew what manner of person might take advantage of the childish passcodes? What an impending disaster that could turn out to be. He would have to point that out to the too-trusting scientist.

The happy fact proved true again as the door swooshed open, chiming cheerfully to alert any inattentive Cybertronian within that the abode was being invaded. Unfortunate that its intended recipient was long out of audial range.

Ah, shuttles. So very, very predictable. And so easy to manipulate.

He cautiously leaned inside, scanning the immediate foreground quickly, before sidling into the darkened room. Tripped by hidden motion sensors within the entry way, the lights flicked on to a modest glow, just enough to illuminate without forcing a visual spectrum change. Pleasant, that. Not the usual, harsh flash that always seemed to disorient any and all within range.

Satisfied with the light scheme, he allowed himself to take a long, savoring moment to take in the general ambience.

His first impression was 'spacious', followed quickly by 'clean', 'too clean', and 'highly destructible'.

He strolled casually about, poking and prodding here and there, getting a better feel for Skyfire's likes and dislikes. What better way to comprehend another spark than by riffling through his personal clutter? Outwardly - in an internal sort of fashion - he affirmed that he was just taking tactical notes, to better understand the 'enemy'. It was sound logic. How else would he unravel the many mysteries inherent within Skyfire? It was necessary to his cause. Strategy and all that.

Inwardly, however - in often-misplaced deeps within his mind, conveniently (and purposefully) out of reach of higher cognitive function - he simply wanted a better understanding of what made Skyfire Skyfire. To merely know him as much as he could, to satisfy that horribly gnawing inquisitiveness that dogged him constantly. How could he resist any opportunity to learn more of the enigma that was his partner?

This notion, understandably, he denied and quelled whenever it surfaced. Curious snooping or no, that level of fondness was out of the question.

He was pleased to note that his initial assumptions were proving true: Skyfire was systematic to a fault. Everything, it seemed, had its place – a well-organized, categorical order to things that struck discordantly with Starscream's own rather… chaotic nature. Where he thought in several different directions and paths at once, Skyfire, it appeared, lived on one plane - mentally coasting where Starscream would flit and flutter about, never resting on one idea long, always pushing for more. Normally, it would have been off-putting. After all, such cleanliness implied a uninspired nature – too much detail, not enough scope of vision for the grand scheme of things. But this particular Skyfire-brand of blandness was… intriguing. Fascinating, even. It seemed as if it were just a facet of the shuttle's personality. A little snippet of a larger whole. And how badly he wanted to see all of it - the big picture.

Little things hindered Skyfire, yes, but they didn't inhibit him utterly. Scope. That was it. Skyfire had scope.

Finished with the outer room meddling, Starscream rounded the bend from the first room into the more private area, humming a mindless little tune to himself. Again, clean, though with a few apparently forgotten items scattered about here across whatever surfaces were readily available. Small things. Unimportant things. Things that told him little to nothing, save that Skyfire had a fondness of interstellar curios.

He nearly missed it on the first pass.

He paused, took a few steps back, leaning around a hidden little corner, perturbed at how out of the way the room seemed. In a roundabout, metaphorical way, it seemed to be avoiding him. Thus, defiantly, he entered it.

And stalled.

His berth was massive. Beyond what was required even for the bulky shuttle.

He found himself wondering if he thrashed in his sleep, or if the shuttle just liked to sprawl.

Or did Skyfire – despite all fronts to the contrary – entertain guests more often than Starscream had presumed?

He was of two minds of the matter. On the one hand, he was relieved that Skyfire was, perhaps, more experienced than what had been implied. It was a rather pleasant surprise, as Starscream had never much cared for untested partners. He found them, usually, quite useless. It was tedious trying to teach them the basics, and his impatient nature would only tolerate so much. So it would be a definite plus in his datatracks if Skyfire had pre-existing knowledge in such matters.

On the other side of the credit, he found himself becoming intensely, furiously jealous by the mere suggestion.

That, in itself, was rather disconcerting. He knew he had a possessive, covetous streak almost as large as his tremendous ego. He had long made his peace with this. But this… this was beyond petty selfishness, careening headlong into a laughably profound feeling of vague betrayal. And, in all honesty, he shouldn't have been feeling that in the least. They weren't official. Skyfire was not his. What (and who) he did – for now – wasn't his business.

But it was! He internally shrieked. It was his business. Very much his business. He wanted - desperately, achingly - to have—

"Ack," He grunted, breaking off the too-emotional whining before it got out of hand. Instead, he purposefully strode about the room - asserting his dominance over it - disdaining the too-large berth as he slowly pivoted to take it all in. Again, cleanly, but not so obnoxiously as the outer rooms. Odds and ends, mostly; paraphernalia from previous studies. A stack of datapads propped on a nearby counter, clearly long disused by the thin layer of dust covering their once-pristine surfaces. Not much to go on, for intelligence gathering.

Starscream leaned back against the insidious berth, tapping one finger against its surface with a soft chime. The room looked hardly lived in – more a closet then a place of rest. Though, however, how many times had he actually seen Skyfire leave the institute?

"Workaholic," Starscream muttered darkly, pushing away from his temporary perch. With a final glower about the premises, he stalked out of the chamber, continuing on his exploration. He finished the rest of his perusal within a few breems, finding not much else to give him any more tantalizing hints to Skyfire's personality. A few novelties were discovered, certainly, but not nearly enough to give him the larger picture of the shuttle's 'private' personality. A disappointment, true, but not an absolute end-all setback.

Sighing, Starscream did a careful double-check, to be certain all was as he had found it. No need to alert Skyfire to his intrusion. He carefully reset the locks, scanning the immediate vicinity in case of watchful observers. Thankfully, no one seemed about in the immediate area - a blessing of Skyfire's almost-hermit-esque living space.

Tasks completed, he turned about to depart, heading back toward the labs. There was other ways of getting past the public persona, beyond clandestine prying. Some more alluring then others, but all equally informative.

More alluring, indeed. He smirked as the thought struck him, sauntering down the access ramp.

He wondered how well Skyfire held his energon.