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Being stuck on an airplane for six hours is not the worst experience Malia has ever lived through, but it's definitely in the top five.
She was lucky enough to score a window seat, but her seatmate has been aggressively snoring almost from the moment they took off from Sacramento, and their left knee keeps flopping into Malia's already limited leg room, no matter how many times she uses her own knee to shove it out of the way. She's extremely hungry; she was too anxious to eat before she left, and the tiny bag of almonds that the stewardess gave her once they were at cruising altitude seems to have bypassed her stomach completely. Her eyes are leaden, begging for some sleep, but every time she tries, something wakes her up, whether it be the damn snoring or a child wailing or a sudden jolt of turbulence.
And then there's the smell. Or smells, rather; the combined scents of sweat, jet fuel, alcohol and the nearby bathroom only make her stomach churn more, and no matter how hard she tries to breathe through her mouth, she can't entirely block them out. There are fresh holes in the thighs of her jeans from all the times her claws have popped out of their own accord, and the inside of her mouth tastes like blood from her fangs scraping against her lips, and she is just so damn ready to be back on solid ground.
More importantly, she's ready to be in New York, with Kira.
It's been two months since they saw each other last, not counting near-constant video calling whenever Kira isn't swamped with schoolwork, and there isn't a single thing about her that Malia doesn't miss. The way she smells like a thunderstorm, the way she cranes up on her tiptoes to kiss Malia, the way her smile makes her whole face light up; Malia misses all of it.
The fact that she'll be able to see all of those things soon makes up for the fact that flying is freaking terrible.
After what feels like an eternity, during which she shoves her seatmates' knee away no less than eight times, the overhead speaker crackles, and the sound is so unexpected that it makes her claws pop out again.
"Good afternoon passengers, we are now beginning our descent into JFK International Airport."
There's more to the announcement, something about buckling up, but Malia doesn't hear it. Now that she's almost finished her journey, now that she can actually look out the window and see the city in the distance, her anxiety is back with a vengeance.
What if this is a mistake? Yes, she's been talking to Kira nearly every day, and she seems the same as always, hasn't undergone a radical shift in personality, but what if she's just been hiding it? What if she's even met someone else?
What if this whole thing, the being trapped for six hours on a glorified, stinking tin can, was for nothing?
"Excuse me, you're supposed to put your tray table up."
It takes Malia a moment to realize that it's her seatmate talking to her. Their voice is horribly nasally, and when Malia glances over, their eyes are rheumy from sleeping the entire flight away.
Popping her table up, Malia mutters under her breath, "If your knee touches me one more time, I'm going to break it."
She didn't exactly intend for the person to hear it, but they immediately yank their knee away, and for the rest of the stomach-swooping descent, they stay in their own space.
Malia makes a note to, if the same thing happens on her flight back to California, issue the threat the first time it happens.
It's another twenty minutes before, with a vicious jolt, the wheels touch down onto the runaway. Her seat belt locks against her waist as the plane rapidly slows down, and she closes her eyes, claws digging into her palms.
Next time she has to make this journey, she's taking the train. She doesn't care how much longer it takes.
It takes another fifteen minutes for them to taxi to their arrival gate, and by the time the airplane actually shuts down with a series of whooshes and clicks, Malia is ready to vault over her seatmate and run out of the plane, carry-on be damned.
The only thing that keeps her still is the fact that her carry-on is loaded with gifts for Kira. Not to mention her toothbrush.
She wants until her seatmate has started walking up the aisle before she slides out of her seat, yanks her bag from the overhead bin, and starts making her way out of the plane. Even though she steps straight from the airplane into a portable tunnel that leads into the terminal, she can already feel just how damn cold it is compared to home, and she tugs her sweater (a gift from Kira) tighter to her chest as she follows the rest of the crowd, darting around those who are walking too damn slow.
Her anxiety is affecting her stomach so strongly that she momentarily thinks about finding a garbage can and throwing up, but before she can make a decision either way, she steps out into the terminal and there, on the other side of a wall of glass, is Kira.
She's glancing down at her phone, but before Malia can try to surprise her, she looks back up and smiles, and she looks so damn beautiful and happy that every last one of Malia's doubts go flying out the window.
She speeds up nearly to a jog and meets Kira where the glass gives way to an exit manned by two hulking TSA agents. As soon as Malia has slipped between them (and stepped aside just far enough for other people to be able to stream by them), she lets her bag drop to the floor and wraps her arms around Kira's waist, pulling her in close to her chest.
Even though she's technically been out of the air for over half an hour, she finally feels grounded again.
"I missed you," Kira says. Her words and breath are warm against Malia's collarbone, and her arms are woven tightly around Malia's neck. "I missed you so much."
Pressing her face into Kira's soft hair, Malia answers, "I missed you too," as she wraps her fingers in the hem of Kira's oversized sweater. She inhales deeply, letting the familiar scent of Kira's shampoo (and the omnipresent hint of electricity) wash over her. The sounds of the airport should be overwhelming, but she closes her eyes and focuses on Kira's strong, fast heartbeat, and the maelstrom of anxiety and restlessness that's been plaguing her since Kira left for school immediately begins to calm down.
"How was your flight?" Kira asks. She doesn't remove her arms from around Malia's neck, but she does take a step backwards, just far enough so that her face isn't pressed against Malia's collarbone anymore. There are slight bags under her eyes, and tiny pieces of her hair are flying away from her ponytail, and she looks so utterly gorgeous that Malia momentarily forgets what the question was.
"It was fine," she eventually answers with a shrug. It's a slight understatement, but she doesn't think she needs to give Kira a numbered list of just all the reasons the journey was awful.
Besides, even if she did have to put up with her obnoxiously snoring seatmate and far too many smells, it was all worth it.
"Good," Kira answers, craning up and bumping her nose against Malia's. "I'm so happy you're here. There's so much I want to show you." The happiness seems to radiate off her, as bright as her fox aura and, not for the first time, it bowls Malia over slightly, just how lucky she is to have Kira in her life at all, let alone as her girlfriend.
Tilting her head down, she slots their lips together. Kira gasps softly into the kiss, and her lips part slightly. Her nails gently scratch at the back of Malia's neck, and Malia gently presses her teeth in Kira's bottom lip, tugging softly. When she pulls away, Kira's cheeks are flushed pink, and there's a distinct orange glimmer in her eyes.
"Can we maybe spend some time at your apartment first before you show me anything else?" Malia asks.
Kira nods and drops her arms from Malia's neck so that she can twist their fingers together.
"Definitely. Ready?"
Stooping to grab her bag from the floor, Malia nods.
"Let's go."