Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zahira had always underestimated her connection with others. It’s a rather unhealthy trait of hers to be apathetic towards anyone she wouldn’t die for; she can’t be casual.

“Kid?” The Decepticon’s yellow optics gazed at the girl, Dirtwire being a Maximal was a double-edged sword when close to him. He picks up on everything and Zahira hates it, she hates being predictable to someone.

Zahira let out a hum in response to the mech with her usual expression; dissatisfaction.

Dirtwire crawled over to the girl’s berth, provided with her private chambers in the Nemesis due to her switching sides when the Autobot base was found and Dirtwire knew she had no one, countless interrogations and threats to her family that she didn’t even know where they are located much less them, no friends or allies were found at the base but her, a vessel chained to her training grounds. Dirtwire at first was curious about the human, ancient Cybertronian powers that made her a goddess within her right and a destined peacemaker who intellectually chose to switch for the time being.

“You really play into that teenager stereotype better than you think.” He quipped in response to her general moodiness.

“Does it matter so much to you?” She countered sourly before sitting up and stretching. Her tone was more than an indicator she didn’t want to continue in this direction.

But of course, Dirtwire wasn’t afraid of her; groundhog but not a dog in her lap. The other equal in Zahira’s eyes aside from Smokescreen.

Zahira’s eyebrows furrowed at the thought of Smokescreen, for once, she hoped the mech was dead so he wouldn’t see her in this state.

The bot sprawled on the berth and silently watched her before clearing his throat cables.

“Y’know…we have a lot of your history documented in our systems, by the Allspark that’s immense power entrusted to a child-” Dirtwire mentioned, taking a short pause before speaking again as he adjusted himself on her berth and snuggled against the pillows without a second thought as his tail rose in anticipation.

“-So what I’m tryna lay down is, how does being so reserved benefit you if you're so powerful?” Dirtwire tilted his helm at her curiously as he continued, not paying mind to her decreasing patience for him at the moment, the mech was too laidback for his own good; he also knew she wouldn’t do anything currently.

“Perhaps I enjoy people never estimating my next move?” Zahira answered as her voice rattled with sass and annoyance, Dirtwire was just able to get under her skin like no other, just what was he trying to gush on about now?

Zahira was naturally weary of his tone, her relationship with Dirtwire was like nothing she had before and certainly not in a weird way but more so-It’s weird how calm and natural it was, no unsaid word or underlying message either! The two just got along, though, Zahira would rather wear sandals to a foot fetish convention than admit Dirtwire fills a bit of a father-like hole in her life.

Has the only outstanding relationships she’s had been co-dependent or avoidant on her part?

Dirtwire chuckled softly at her remark and decided to explain his point further. The mech was right beside her and his faceplate had a thoughtful expression as his optics intently stared into her eyes before speaking

“When you're strong, you can be yourself.” Dirtwire’s voice rang with straightforward sincerity and authentic compassion that felt like a poison-tipped arrow directed at Zahira’s heart. Zahira looked stunned as she looked at Dirtwire with her mouth agape and a dumbstruck expression least Zahira’s version of it, to anyone else it looked like she was a robot blue screening, her breathing was quite silent too as her eyes looked into Dirtwire’s optics for any signs of this being a one-off joke or something so she could have a moment to pull herself together.

There are some people you are unable to push away, no wonder Dirtwire can frustrate her so effectively.

Dirtwire’s clawed servo carefully rested upon her hand and gently squeezed it, Zahira didn’t reject the affection, still as a statue and befuddled as her inner workings went on a rampage trying to make her function.

“A girl like you doesn’t need to hide her true motivations or feelings, a girl like you doesn’t need to hide anything of hers.”

But she didn’t want to, she was face to face with a close acquaintance she made. Neither felt uncomfortable or compelled to move.

“-Noted…” Zahira said with a nod, her voice much softer now.

“It’s like I said, kinda stupid to hold back this much of yourself all things considered.” Dirtwire insisted with a playful tone.

“I suppose you're correct..” She admitted with an understanding exhale.

“Just absolutely moronic, to be honest.” Dirtwire continued while shaking his helm disapprovingly.

“As I stated, you were correct,” Zahira repeated with a more affirming tone this time

“Simply an intellectually challenged move, from a wiser perspective of course.”

“Yes, I’m more than aware of the problems this causes for my development, thank you for your concern.”

“Almost comparable to Starscream in my honest opinion-”

“Okay, shut up!”

Zahira huffed and batted his servo away from her hand. She lay down on the berth and began to tie up her long (and pretty thick) hair with a spare one she kept lying around in her chambers.

“Hey, wasn’t your hair originally curly-?” Dirtwire questioned with a smug grin forming on his dermas.

“How difficult is it for you Cybertronians to grasp the concept of a silk press?” Zahira returned to normal as she sassed the mech, her voice deepening when speaking in a playfully condescending tone. His words resonated deeper than she thought, her whole life she believed no one who wasn’t close to her deserved her true character, it was a weakness in her eyes so everyone else was expendable; easier to keep track of, it was now that something finally dawned on Zahira.

No one is easily replaceable as they are disposable.

“The only silk press I wanna hear being sassy is Gina Copeland at the moment, we never finished White Chicks.” Dirtwire crossed his servos and turned to her, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

Zahira summoned a big TV screen and a remote before handing it to him and grabbing a pack of cigarettes, holding one to her lips and lighting one with the tip of her finger.

The mech’s muzzle twitched at the smell of the smoke, Dirtwire didn’t mind it but he would have appreciated a window, he opened his intake to speak as he mindlessly looked for the movie.

“Can you make a window to open in here? Primus.” Dirtwire remarked, optics still on the screen.

“You reek of fumes after a battle with the Autobots, please let me hotbox my chambers.” The girl concluded as she blew out the smoke in the opposite direction, she was still mindful of Dirtwire’s heightened senses but she enjoyed smoking, her lungs were too strong to decay from nicotine but it was human to crave substances that were wired to please you.

She felt human doing this, craving and needing something that a normal human would.

“The eighties would have loved you...” The mech scoffed right before selecting White Chicks and spoke up again. “What part were we at before?”

“When Kevin invited Denise to Latrell’s house under the guise that it was his while Marcus was on a date with Latrell.” Zahira summarised, the Maximal let out an “Oh right!” when reminded and fast-forwarded to the scene where the two last left off.

She felt even more human with aliens though.

The girl softly smiled after she leaned on Dirtwire’s furry shoulder pad and continued smoking as they watched this raunchy cult classic together.

Humanity could be found in anything

and anyone.