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“What are you doing here?” was the first thing to fall out of Windblade’s mouth when she opened the door. To be fair, it was a reasonable question, as the mech standing at her door was Starscream, it was approximately five joors past working hours for either of them, and she was certain she’d gone out of her way to keep Starscream from knowing where she lived.
And yet. Here he was.
Draped against the doorway, electromagnetic field pulled in tight and unreadable as ever, he looked down his nose at her with those hooded eyes and the same faintly condescending expression she always seemed to receive from him. “Windblade,” He said evenly. “It is lovely to see you this evening.” There was that smirk, lifting the corners of his mouth as he delivered the sentiment.
Windblade did not return it. She glared at him. “How did you find my apartment?”
He glanced away from her, straightened himself up to his full height after leaning against the doorway. His wings flicked. “If you really think it’s that hard for me to find you then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.” He swept past her, walking through the door, barely leaving her to hastily step out of the way before he shoved her.
Windblade scowled at his back, but let the door close behind him. Her vents huffed hot and agitated, she crossed her arms, and let the bothered expression fall from her face. He wanted her to be irritated, and she wasn’t going to let him win. “Why are you here, Starscream? Did you need something? Is it Metroplex?”
“Oh, no.” His head tilted in her direction, his eyes glowed crimson in the mellow, evening light of her living space. The tilt of his shoulders and the slant of his wings were entirely too smug for someone who stood in the middle of her apartment at 4 joors past sundown. “Nothing like that, luckily enough for you. Metroplex is just as useless as usual, and I don’t… need anything. That you would be able to provide for me, anyway.” He smiled sharply before his faceplates dropped to a displeased expressionlessness. “And it’s Lord Starscream to you, Cityspeaker.”
Windblade stared him down, keeping the stony expression on her face, while the knowledge that she had gotten under his skin made her keep her EMF close in caution of him catching the sweep of satisfied joy sunflaring from her signature. If he knew, he would surely grow even more insufferable.
She peaked her own wings in response to his antagonism. Highly unnecessary attitude coming from him at this hour of the day, but she was pretty sure that ‘unnecessary attitude’ was just his natural state of being. “As you say, Starscream.” she agreed mildly, deliberately leaving the title out just to irk him. It worked, his expression twitching, and she allowed a small smile to creep onto her lips in victory. She shifted her weight, lifted her chin. “If a mech such as yourself has no time for me in his council, what is he doing seeking me out after hours?”
She was expecting a sneer. She was expecting a scoff, denial that he had ever done such a thing in the first place, and maybe a patronizing lecture on why, exactly, she was incorrect and should have known so in the first place. She was not expecting Starscream to stay silent, jut his head away and avoid her gaze, dentae grinding. He glared daggers into the peaceful landscape of Caminus’s Northern hemisphere that resided in the painting hanging on her wall.
“Why are you here?” she repeated.
She looked closer, noticed how the dark paint rimming his eyes was scratched away. There was an unmistakable exhaustion clinging to his signature, weighing down his wings and shoulders. Although he attempted to hide it with gestures, there was a tremble to his wings and servos that she dialed in on immediately. “Have you refueled yet today, Starscream?”
His optics flared crimson and she knew she’d hit the mark. She sighed, uncrossed her arms. He flinched when she moved past him toward the energon dispenser on the far wall. She fetched a cube for him, and after a second’s thought, she grabbed one for herself as well. She marched back over to him, shoved a cube toward his stupid face, and demanded, “Take it.”
He did.
Though not without protest. “I don’t need you taking care of me.” He grumbled, raising the cube to his lips.
“Then take care of yourself first.” Windblade shot back, moved to her sitting area. She planted herself down in one of the rests, fixed him with a look.
He rolled his eyes, but complied with the wordless command, moving to the far side of the rest, as far as he could be from her while still being on the same piece of furniture. She very nearly rolled her eyes back at him.
The space between them was silent for a moment, the both of them sipping their energon and pointedly avoiding looking at each other. Then, Windblade spoke. “Wheeljack’s in Protihex, isn’t he?”
Starscream made a noise of agreement. “Indeed.” He was distinctly unpleased.
Windblade looked at him, at the way he held himself still too rigid and tense, shoulder cables certainly coiled too tight from how on edge he always was. The tremor in his hands was still easy to pick out, especially as he held the cube to his mouth. Her lack of immediate response has Starscream looking in her direction, and she raised a brow, giving him a judgmental look over his armor and carapace.
He bristled slightly. “What?”
“I can tell.” She brought her cube up to her lips.
“And what is that supposed to mean?!” He sputtered. “Wh-? Wheeljack isn’t my guardian, it’s not like he’s my caretaker!”
“Mmn,” Windblade tilted her head noncommittally. “No, he isn’t. But when he’s around, you do manage to at least remember you need to refuel.” She flashed him another look. “And recharge.”
He glowered into his energon cube.
She Looked at him harder. “That was on your schedule, for this cycle, wasn’t it?”
“Of course! I’m not a sparkling , you know.” He snapped.
“Finish your cube, then.”
He did not, making an entire argument out of silently glaring at her and holding his cube on his lap, away from his lips, where he could not possibly refuel under the circumstances. She held his gaze.
“It’s okay to ask for help, Starscream. It’s okay to have someone help you.” she told him, her voice keeping strong and forceful, because she knew it would make him listen to her. Gentleness would get her nowhere, not with him, not with her. “Cowardice is letting yourself fall and staying silent even when others are there and waiting to lift you back up at your first word.”
He sneered at that, but Windblade simply took it to mean that her words had actually gotten through to him. Her cube now empty, she stood, getting up from the rest. She looked down at Starscream as she passed by, enjoying how she was able to look down at him for once, no matter how superficial it was. He glared up at her from beneath his helm, the shadows making his optics even brighter. She smiled brightly.
Walking back to the dispenser, Windblade restocked her cube into the side of the machine. “You know,” she started, back to Starscream. “I’m not Wheeljack. But if you need a place to go the next time he’s out of town,” She turned back toward him. He wasn’t facing her, frame stiff. “Then my apartment is open for you. Since you already seem to know where I live anyway,” she couldn’t help adding in.
Starscream did not say anything in response to that. He did not look at her when she went back to sit with him on the rest. He did, however, keep sipping at the cube of energon, wings several inches below their previous position; relaxed.
Windblade smiled to herself.