neutral party Jetfire hasn't gathered the courage to approach Autobot territory, but has finally accepted that returning to the Decepticons is no longer an option. he spends a lot of time in solitude, a sense of being tugged in two separate directions overwhelming him to the point of supposing that it may be best to remain impartial. it would be an outright lie to say he enjoyed the isolation, but as many things do, his desertion came with a price. it's hard to decipher what one truly wants when faced with an ultimatum, yet somewhere deep in his chassis, he knew what he truly desired when he parted ways so tersely ago.
it's all but confirmed when you enter his desolate picture. terrified at first, rightfully so, and after a first interaction Jetfire would rather forget, you don't return to his company for a good week. his voice box had been hitched from disuse, a garbled mess in the beginning that horrified you even more alongside his pleas that he wouldn't hurt you. for some reason he hasn't been able to inquire you of yet, you come back, a second, and then a third time- enough that he finds himself in a struggle to get through hours alone when he had been so accustomed to it prior. you arrive with a smile, always asking him how his day was first, even if you're the one who interacted the outside world today, not him. your morale and compassion is admirable, enough that it's become futile to try and disregard the overprotectiveness Jetfire possess when it comes to you.
perhaps the first time it caught him off guard was when you had tripped over something he had left lying around, a bout of fear rising well beyond his chassis and upward into his throat. immediately, albeit fully aware of his ungracefulness and looming shadow, he comes to his knees to ask if you were alright. a servo had met you halfway, still scared to touch you, but it was a natural reaction to offer you assistance. you're downright embarrassed, trying to fight the redness that coats the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks, yet Jetfire thinks you're truly hurt. his servo falters, dropping a few more inches in the air, and without thinking you place your palm atop one of his digits, coming to your feet on wobbly knees. eventually, you regain your balance, entirely unharmed.
unbeknownst to you, Jetfire is frozen in place, mesmerized and simultaneously panicked at how small your hand is. organics are delicate but incredibly resilient in general, and he's seen your hands about a hundred times by this point in time. however, it's the first instance where your warm palm has made contact with his chilly plating, touch hardly detectable to his sensitive sensors. it's rendered him not only speechless, but frightened to even move an centimeter, not wanting to hurt you further, but feeling that he doesn't deserve this gentleness from you.
you had thanked him, as kindly and genuinely as your usual self, and carefully pulled your hand away from his. it wasn't a quick motion, slow and purposeful as if you were hesitant to remove it in the first place. it crosses your mind briefly if Jetfire realizes how overly cautious and empathetic he is, but it also persists that this was the first time the both of you made physical contact. perchance he wasn't offering his assistance to help you up, so instead, you freeze, tilting your head back with a embarrassed look on your face, stumbling over once easy words, an apology heavy on your tongue.
quietly, he lowers the same servo even more, this time, making it fully obvious he was extending his hand to you. "What are you apologizing for? No need." he hums, delighted to find that you understand his silent request. delicately, a single digit hooks under your hand, your palm curving over the angle of his touch. his thumb then ghosts over your fingers, not quite courageous enough to hold your hand in it's entirety, but settling nearby with distracted hopes that you would discern his double meaning.
Jetfire is awarded graciously when your free hand then comes to rest atop the other, solidifying that you had zero intentions of reeling back any time soon. he knows that he hasn't earned this, but he's certain that your impossibly tiny touch was satisfying years of seclusion and indecision, confirming that he truly had made the right choice.
