Chapter Text
1. Stork
Stork thinks that the worst part of their missions is when they come home.
There is nothing he can do to stop the dread clawing from the floors of the Condor and making room in his chest as he watches their silver skimmers come back. Bad habits make Stork’s heart drop when he counts four instead of five before he snaps out of the memory and drags his psyche back to the (new) Hawks now landing in the hangar.
He’s memorised the order they’ve touched down by now. Junko lands heavily with Finn at his tail, the blonde hopping over to the Wallop and stumbling because of course the idiot’s gotten shot in the leg. Next is Piper, landing shakier than usual and almost crashing into Finn’s skimmer as she throws her head over her shoulder towards their beloved (and stupid) Sky Knight.
Stork always squints when Aerrow lands, searching for the tell-tale signs among his perfect landing for the injuries he’s garnered this time. He expects a lot, no one comes back untouched when Ravess and Snipe are involved.
As expected the redhead almost falls on his face the moment he has both feet on the Condor. As Stork throws open the door to the medbay he hears Piper’s usual admonishing tone echo through the hangar.
“Fucking dumbass,” (so she’s only annoyed at him rather than out for blood) “I can’t be the one dragging you to Stork everytime Snipe shows his face.”
Stork drowns out Aerrow’s resounding reply (though he does catch the pained undertone and an exasperated “You went after him too”). He’ll need to trust Finn and Junko to stem their own wounds until he makes sure that Aerrow won’t die overnight. Needle and thread for stitches, fresh bandages and antiseptic for cuts, healing salves and crystals for wounds. Finn waltzes (limps), bringing in the smell of burning flesh and smoke. Stork tosses him a healing crystal for the leg and aims a jar of healing salve at his head for the burn without looking.
He turns when Junko peers in with Piper and Aerrow at his side, Radarr on his shoulder. The Wallop sports a gash on his brow mere centimetres from taking out his left eye, healing crystal already in hand as a courtesy from Piper. No need for needle and thread, Stork gingerly hands him a roll of bandages before pointing at Finn’s slowly retreating figure.
“Now you two.”
Piper smiles bashfully with Aerrow mirroring her. No visible head wounds this time thank the Skies. Aerrow looks a minute from passing out, Piper has an iron grip on his hand as she supports his frame with her back and uses her free hand to stem the bleeding on her-
“Oh, you’re kidding me, a hit on the torso. You’re trying to kill me here.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” she scowls before throwing a glare at Aerrow, “I had to block him from one of Snipe’s hits.”
Stork stands to full height and throws open the curtain to the bunk beds of the room, the top is useless in this case because they’d fall off so instead he instructs both to sit at the bottom. With his back turned (he hopes that some healing crystals will force Piper’s wound to seal as well as Aerrow’s) he hears the familiar rustle-and-clink of the mage’s crystal bag as she fishes out the half-used healing crystals.
“You got hit in the head, use the last of it so I can carry a conversation with you.”
“No Piper, use it on the rib wound.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s no-”
The Merb spins around before they devolve into bickering, “It will be fine if you sit still,” he mutters, brandishing the shiny new healing crystals he had picked up from the last market visit, “both of you probably need stitches and no flying.”
The groans and protests are a familiar tune, he prefers this over silence.
The rest of the day is spent repairing the skimmers. Obliterated gears are replaced, the engine crystals recharged and Finn and Junko are waved off because “I swear to the Skies if you two undo my hour’s work to add another illegal mod I’ll throw you over.” The doors to the med bay are closed, Piper’s wounds could barely stitch themselves together even with a healing crystal by her side and Aerrow passed out before Stork could convince him to move to his room to sleep.
They’re lucky, Stork muses, to have each other and the rest of the squadron by their side. The Storm Hawks carry less of their namesake’s solitude than their predecessors, the formation when flying out is always wonky, and the fights they throw back and forth during missions are always disruptive. Yet when Stork sees them come back in a perfect V he sees a thread of unity made of reinforced Wallopian steel linking them all.
It’s only when Stork threatens Finn to sleep for the fifth time that he notices the teasing night sky. The skimmers can fly until they reach a safe Terra for proper repairs so he stands, his back letting out a concerning crack and returns to the half-floor above to check on Piper and Aerrow. He half-expects Piper to be still awake, bursting at the seams to be let out so she can return to her lab and work away the ash and smoke from today. Aerrow, he predicts, would still be snoring but come morning testing the limits of the stitches (the limits are very small) as he trains.
Just as Stork opens his mouth to go “No you two still need to rest, you can’t use a Hypnosis Crystal on me that is unethical,” he spots their lying forms on the lower bunk bed. The bandages peeking out from under the blanket they share have been replaced, the old ones in a bucket nearby, soaked with blood and lying limp in the water one of them probably snuck out to fill.
Stork squints again, he sees Piper first, her back towards the door and her breathing even, her uninjured arm across Aerrow’s neck as they sleep facing each other. It’s a rare sight for her not to stir at the sound of a door opening, usually, she’s the first one awake when he makes his morning rounds to pry them off the beds. From his point in the door he can just make out Aerrow’s face, equally at peace, a rarer sight than Piper’s deep sleep, Stork remembers the nights when he’s caught Aerrow pacing the halls after a nightmare that the Merb’s never coaxed out of him.
Almost at once, Stork feels that he’s invading a private moment while he rationalises that they sleep in each other’s beds all the time. The med bay door closes softly as he heads upstairs to his room, brain recounting the common sight of Piper, Aerrow and Finn leaning on each other and out cold on the uncomfortable lounge at the bridge, the atmosphere a blissful and rare peace.
2. Junko
Stork dumps the crate of crystals in front of him and Finn with a tired huff. Junko squints suspiciously at the box before turning to Finn and then to Stork himself, “Is this payback for the engine mods?”
“No this is from Starling,” Stork replies, “supercharged engine crystals for the skimmers, a gift.” He has his hands on his hips, stretching and letting his spine let out several ‘pops’ before retreating to the stairs to the bridge, “It’s too hot for pranks, I’ll be fixing the air conditioner before Radarr melts.”
Finn lights up, shedding the heat exhaustion from today to scramble at the crate’s lid. New crystals mean new ways to violate whatever skimmer laws the Council of Atmos has set, and extra mods mean extra means to avoid a trip to the Wastelands courtesy of the Cyclonians or whoever else has their crosshairs set on them.
Obediently, Junko gets up from his position near the crate of ice-type crystals to pull open the hatch to Finn’s skimmer as the marksman drags Starling’s crate towards him. A gentle breeze from the hangar’s open door provides some reprieve from the sticky air that’s invaded the Condor as they sit by the machine tools at the ready.
“Why are they fighting today?” Finn murmurs halfway through pulling out a dead engine crystal, “We’re in Terra Amazonia, it’s hot and humid and they still insist on fighting.”
His heat-tired and bemused voice pulls Junko out of whatever motions he was stuck in for the past hour. The hum of the Condor’s engines is blocked out by the sounds of a struggle between Piper and Aerrow as they wrestle on the hot runway of the hangar seemingly ignorant to the incessant rays of the sun beaming down on them. The Wallop raises a brow when Piper, still underneath Aerrow, manages to kick him off with two firm feet on his abdomen; he stumbles back, stunned for a moment before they begin grappling again.
“Piper doesn’t even fight hand-to-hand, I don’t know why she insists on practising it anyway.”
Junko hums, squinting against the glare of sunlight on metal to focus on the figures properly, “Are they wearing their usual suits?”
“Yep,” Finn gives up on the engine crystal, leaning against the cool metal of his skimmer, “usual suits and the scraps of armour we have as well. Dummies.”
He says that with endearment and exasperation laced in his tone so Junko doesn’t bother defending their first and second-in-command. Stop-overs are an opportunity to repair, restock, and train. Terra Amazonia is hundreds of clicks away from any known Cyclonian sightings but Stork insisted on hiding the Condor under a rock overhang safe from the overhead eye with its underbelly hanging over the rainforest. Their cover is equal parts safe as it is warm, Finn describes it as a ‘sticky-hot’ compared to the ‘dry-hot’ of Terra Sahara, clinging to your clothes and your skin in thick waves of humidity. In some ways it is kinder than Terra Sahara’s climate, their skimmers aren’t hot to the touch if they leave them out in the sun for too long and the Condor’s runway doesn’t become a hazard to exposed skin.
Junko thinks that’s the reason why Aerrow and Piper decided to forgo searching for new missions and opted to spar instead. His eyesight isn’t as good as Finn’s (for the record, no one’s is) but he can make out the playful jump in their motions as Aerrow tries to tackle Piper to the ground and misses by a mile. It’s times like this when they can almost forget the looming threat of war over their shoulders and breathing down their necks, its presence hangs itself in the ship but they always choose to ignore it.
Finn whistles an obnoxious tune as he finally pulls the engine crystal out, hands digging through the crate by his skimmer, filled to the brim with souped-up very illegally modded crystals that he and Junko plan to install in everyone’s. As Junko stands to hold the engine steady he catches a cry of surprise followed by a thud as someone’s body meets the floor of the runway.
At this point Finn’s completely given up on the engine, now fully engrossed in the fight before them. Aerrow’s on the floor, still putting up a fight, hands shoved in Piper’s face as she grapples to keep him down. Whenever any of them spar the outcome is never clean, even from here Junko can tell that Stork would immediately force them to the bathroom to wash the sweat and dirt off. Insults are thrown and spat out but the Wallop can tell that both are too tired and stubborn to call off the spar.
Finn whistles as Aerrow manages to roll out from Piper’s weight, sending her to the ground in the process as he leaps up before just missing her angry form, “You think one’s gonna get hurt this time?”
Junko shrugs, the new engine crystal snug in its place as he closes the hatch, “Might as well get some healer crystals in case they do.” There’s a ferocity underneath the jabs and pokes, he wouldn’t be surprised if they received as many bruises as they had given out.
The marksman hums in acquiescence, standing and dragging himself towards the med bay. The Wallop eyes the dying fight, Aerrow’s punches getting sloppier with every fist thrown and Piper circling him with clumsy steps. There’s a pause where they stop, eyeing each other before Piper charges to his left then leaps to the right, throwing her legs around his torso to force him down while still reaching to protect his head from the worst of the impact. When they do land they almost bash their heads into each other before Piper sits up triumphantly on his abdomen. Aerrow does nothing to push her off, head resting on the floor of the runway before Piper shakes her head, leaning down again to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it is it makes the Sky Knight sit up immediately with Piper bouncing to her feet and pulling him to a stand.
They’re met by two small healing crystals thrown their way courtesy of Finn, skin gleaming with sweat and cheeks red from exertion. Aerrow in particular is bright red from the ears down to the neck.
“Wear sunscreen next time!” Junko calls to their retreating figures, not missing the way Piper snorts as Aerrow stumbles, grip on his hand tightening, “You’re as red as your hair!”
3. Starling
The flight home is unusually silent.
Battles like this are meant to fill you with adrenaline from the thrill of surviving, chattering away as you discuss the next route, the next mission, and the next insane stunt someone intends to pull on the Cyclonians. Starling’s blood is brimming and broiling as her skimmer limps away from the heart of the battle. This fight was too close, Dark Ace and his wolves only repelled by what she’d call divine intervention and what her old teammates would call pure idiocy. By all means, Aerrow should be talking her ear off, excitedly relaying how he’d manage to avoid a hit the entire time, or maybe asking for her opinion from Sky Knight to Sky Knight about wrangling his team for the next inevitable battle. She half-expects him to break the silence with a joke about Snipe getting thrown into the wall by a particularly strong gust of wind, or for the wind to carry a conversation he’s having with Radarr.
Instead, he’s completely silent, his skimmer humming as it pulls her own for a final patrol of the now-liberated Terra before they (he) call it a day and return home. The remaining plumes from the ex-Cyclonian factory make it too hard for her to discern his expression, even with her new sky gear with its state-of-the-art goggles, but it doesn’t take much effort for her to realise that he’s gripping the handlebars so tightly that the metal groans in warning. Perhaps in the chaos of the fight (because it’s always chaos when Ravess and Snipe rear their heads and gnash their teeth), something had happened that she missed. One of the Hawks losing a bet with death or narrowly missing the need for a prosthetic. A civilian with the best intentions to help getting caught in the crossfire or rubble as the factory collapsed.
They hear the factory’s whistle pipe up, two long blasts of victory as the workers spot their skimmers flying down the northern side, it shakes Aerrow out of his thoughts as he scrambles to wave back with as much fake enthusiasm as possible. Her old Interceptor’s healer would have sat him down the moment he got onboard, “Those mental weights are just as worse as the physical ones.” she’d say and then they’d talk and talk in the med bay and Aerrow would come out, still drained but with lighter posture. Starling isn’t her old healer, she doesn’t have an aura that would lower someone’s guard nor does she have the tongue to wear down Aerrow’s walls built up from the years of denial and bottling.
Her previous Captain would have sent him to his room to stew and churn before they’d deliver a meal to his doorstep, three polite knocks before walking back to the bridge. They’d probably mutter something about ‘moody teenagers’ or ‘always needing cool-off time’ as they marched down the hall. But Starling isn’t the cook of this ship, it’s Stork, and even if she tried she’d only be able to cook the rations she’s lived on for the past decade.
The Condor is stationed in the south and neither of them have said a word since Aerrow handed her the cord to connect their skimmers. Cyclonian red glows at their back as the clouds retreat to reveal a blazing sunset, the first the Terra’s civilians have seen in months before the Empire laid claim to their crystal veins and labour force. Starling’s engine stutters briefly and for a moment her heart drops as the skimmer falls before she kicks it back on. Aerrow turns in surprise, shoulders raised like he was ready to jump down after her before he relaxes and turns back. Little to no tension leaves his back but she spots him letting out a breath that had clawed its way and blocked his throat.
The village on the east had been abandoned when the six of them touched down to investigate the stray distress signal. Now it brims with life as the workers and prisoners alike return. Couples are attached to the hip once again, parents hold their children close, lovers stand silently at the terra’s edge, foreheads gently set against the other and Starling stuffs her aching heart down to the pits of her stomach. Aerrow barely glances at them, the civilians that he had fought tongue, teeth and claw for are not his focus.
His skimmer’s engines flare to life as soon as the Condor comes into view. Starling stumbles at the sudden acceleration, dragging herself downwards and skidding onto the runway. Radarr perks up at the impact of the skimmer on home ground and scurries to sit on Aerrow’s shoulder. She detaches the cord before his riding throws her into the railing, slowing into her spot on the hangar (painted and marked with the Interceptor’s emblem by Junko) as Aerrow all but falls off his seat and sprints and throws himself at Finn in a bear hug.
Finn returns it with equal strength patting the Sky Knight’s back as he buries himself into the crook of his shoulder, before giving Radarr a reassuring scratch behind the ear. Starling startles when she realises that Finn’s growth spurt has propelled him to be Aerrow’s height. They speak in hushed tones, and slowly she sees Aerrow’s shields and spears peel back to reveal exhaustion and worry. Finn grins at him, hands comforting on both sides of his face as they knock foreheads together before Aerrow peels himself off and goes to Junko.
Words aren’t exchanged this time, only Aerrow worriedly hovering over Junko as he presses a healing crystal to a gash on his arm before the Wallop pulls him into his side with a very exasperated “I’m fine” as Radarr hops into Junko’s lap and immediately falls asleep. Aerrow still insists on a reassuring nuzzle to the Wallop’s larger horn before he leaves them behind and all but trips up the stairs to Piper and Stork’s conjoined workshops.
“You’re not hurt are you?”
Starling can hear (and practically see) Stork rolling his eyes as she moves to follow, “No Aerrow, I was on the Condor hiding under the blankets the entire time. Are you hurt?”
Aerrow gives Stork a quick spin, the Merb’s ears flattening before twitching twice in satisfaction, “No cuts, some bruises, but no crystal wounds. You’re free to go then.” and with that Stork gives Aerrow a flick to the forehead (“But this is for your skidmarks on the runway”) before Aerrow bounds over to Piper.
At the sudden silence, Starling narrows her eyes, glancing at Stork (who shrugs) before peering around the corner.
They’ve been the same height for the past 3 months, shoulders brushing the others and arguments over whose shirt is whose. Starling didn’t spot Piper when the explosion rattled through the comms but she did hear the choked-up “I’m falling back” before the factory floors collapsed. The Sky Knight half expects them to be in a corner, exchanging harsh words over who is more self-sacrificing than the other (Skies knows that she’s had that conversation 10 too many times) but instead she sees the opposite.
Piper is leaning against her counter, affection written across her face as Aerrow focuses on gently dabbing one of Stork’s healing salves to a bright red cut on her palm. They don’t see her across the room but she sees Piper use her free hand to bring their heads together, gently nuzzling into each other’s space, as Aerrow’s hands quiver against her waist. Reluctantly they separate as Aerrow rummages through the lab’s drawers for a spare bandage, he brandishes it proudly before gingerly laying it on her cut, bringing her hand up to his lips before-
“Starling.”
She jumps out of her skin and wheels around to face Stork, his face now thunder as he points towards her mangled skimmer.
“Care to explain which wall you decided to crash into today?”
4. Radarr
Of all the members, Radarr took the longest to warm up to life on the Condor.
Junko struggled with bruised arms and hips from bumping into doorways designed for humans and not Wallops; Piper cursed over stubbed toes and uneven floors; Finn has definitely cried in frustration at how echoey his room is, and it took Aerrow 3 rounds of cleaning his room for him to stop sneezing at the amount of dust gathered.
Aside from Stork’s room and the bridge, the ship had gathered dust in the deepest corners for the past 15 years, the air stale and sulphurous from its decade and a half from the Wastelands. It took a month of cleaning, dust and pan, mop and soap, broom and vacuum for the sky lemur’s eyes to stop watering every time he ventured outside the clean safe haven of the bridge.
Even now he is not used to it. The twin groans of the engines on both sides of the ship disturb his daytime naps; someone’s footsteps (usually Finn’s but sometimes Aerrow’s) echoing through the hallway at unholy hours as they rummage through the kitchen for a snack; Radarr might be a sky-lemur but he was designed to be on a safe Terra in a tree, not a giant hunk of metal whose pipes shriek if they use the hot water for too long.
One thing that he’s thankful for in this old ship is that the vents are still big enough for him to slink through.
Time and time again the sky lemur’s scurried into an airway, navigating the Condor’s labyrinth of vents and fans (which he has definitely not gotten his fur caught in and needed Stork to take down the walls to free him) to find shortcuts to ambush the members or hunt down their hidden snacks. He had gone as far as to steal Stork’s blueprints of the airship to determine the fastest route from Aerrow’s room to the kitchen, or the easiest way to claw his way up from the hangar to the bridge.
By now, Radarr’s long-since memorised the maze of vents and tunnels, he has to avoid any crossing Piper’s lab because of the fumes; there’s a diagonal vent from the bridge to the hangar that is fun to slide down but absolute Hell to scramble up. And sound from one room to the other travels very easily if he’s in the right corners.
For now, he’s curled around Stork’s neck, the helmsman muttering half-complaints as he slams a four-fingered hand into the navigation to recalibrate it. They’ve been at this the whole day, wandering the Condor and hunting for repairs to be done, wires to be retouched and screws to be tightened (or loosened at Radarr’s behest). The fume hood of the kitchen has been fixed (finally) and Junko is now holed up trying to recreate a porridge that Finn (the only one allowed in the kitchen when Junko’s cooking) predicts will be 50% more likely to be edible now that the room isn’t constantly filled with smoke. The cooling fluid in both engines has been replaced, bright blue and very drinkable despite Stork holding him by the scrap of the neck and firmly going “You would die if you drank it.”
The Merb curses when his second slap sends the compass needle spinning to the south rather than north. Radarr growls when the motion nearly sends him off Stork altogether. He hops off his back, readjusting his collar as he slinks into a nearby vent. Maybe he’ll drop into the kitchen and sneak a bowl of whatever Junko’s cooking from Finn, yes he’ll do that. He can smell the spices that they picked up from Terra Sahara, making his nostrils twitch and ears prick as he picks up on snippets of conversation and the sound of boiling water.
Radarr’s expression sours as he crawls closer to the kitchen. He corrects himself, not the sound of boiling water, it’s definitely kissing, his ears need cleaning. With a huff, he turns back and scampers back to the bridge. Stork is now openly cursing, both in Common and Merbian, the ringing of his wrench against metal reverberates through the vents and makes Radarr flatten his ears. Nevermind then, perhaps it is a better idea to find a quiet place and sleep, the space above Stork’s workshop now that the Merb is preoccupied is tempting.
So the sky-lemur trots over, past the intersection to the kitchen (the kitchen! At this rate, there’s going to be no room where he hasn’t heard those two) and through the overhead vent with the grate that he once fell through (on accident that time) and landed on Piper. The slide is further up, just before the entrance to the secondary turrets. Radarr had discovered it by complete accident when he didn’t have Stork’s blueprints, instead relying purely on nose, ear and paw which subsequently sent him careening down and straight into a wall. The dent is still there, something that he’s proud of for his small size (maybe Junko’s onto something with his love for smashing and door-breaking). Now, he’s learnt the correct way of using his claws as friction to slow his descent, tail curled as his legs settle on the wall of the lower vent.
Radarr’s ears flatten, maybe the acoustics of this place have improved, and he can still hear the kissing. He takes the long way around, avoiding Piper’s lab because he’s sure that she’s inside (Aerrow probably nearby fixing his skimmer or almost cutting his fingers off with his daggers). There are more grates than solid metal in the vents of the hangar, a good way to allow fresh air in from the opening to the rest of the Condor but it makes Radarr careful to avoid getting a leg stuck through (one time it happened at night and he had to wait for five hours before Junko freed him).
He pauses halfway, straining his ears for the telltale sound of Finn and Junko and instead is met with a pained groan before the vents shake as something or someone slips in the crystal lab and hits the floor. Alerted, he forgoes caution to bounding over the grates, almost colliding with the corner as he passes over Stork’s workshop and wriggles into Piper’s lab.
Piper is too busy helping Aerrow up from the floor, half-concerned and half-amused, to notice Radarr’s sudden appearance, her cheeks red and bun undone into a ponytail. Aerrow himself looks more sheepish than in pain, his hair somehow messier than usual, ears turning more and more crimson by the second before he glances to the side and spots Radarr and fully flushes.
“Just slipped,” he says in response to the lemur’s beady narrowed eyes.
5. Finn
“Dude, can you even walk?”
Finn levels a heavy glare at Junko as he readjusts his boots, his hair’s beyond fixing unless he risks a trip to the bathroom, “Don’t call me dude when you had your tongue down my throat 10 minutes ago.”
The Wallop’s ears flatten in embarrassment but he persists, “You can walk though?”
The marksman smiles, standing up and giving Junko a little spin, “I can walk just fine! Legs both functioning, no need to pretend that I’ve gotten an obscure fever that requires bed rest for a few days.”
Light from the twin moons streams in through the half-opened window, it’s hard to see when the Condor’s in transit. No terras means no artificial light or guiding beacons for safe passage but it does mean that you can see the stars, scattered like salt across the night sky without needing binoculars. Finn tells Junko the same thing and it earns him an endeared chuckle before he steps (very very quietly because Stork is two rooms across) into the hallway. Nights like this always leave him hungry and sore so he opts to head into the kitchen for a quick snack to share with the Wallop before turning in for the night and acting like nothing happened in the morning despite the bruises saying otherwise.
The rest of the Condor is silent save for the hum of the twin engines pushing it through the night towards Terra Neon. Everyone else seems dead to the world and locked in their sleep as Finn walks into the kitchen. Radarr still hasn’t found his stash of chips but he isn’t craving a crunch. The marksman considers his options carefully, there’s Aerrow’s hoard of candy but he’s also aware of Stork’s supply of peanuts and cashews stowed away on the top of the cabinets. As he’s pulling up a stool to reach he pauses, eyeing the oven. Piper had access to the kitchen today, stress-baking a batch of sand cakes that Radarr needed to get dragged away from so everyone else could have a bite.
“Only two,” Piper instructed while handing Aerrow his fourth (but she’d deny playing favourites to both moons and back regardless). Well, right now Piper isn’t here nor is she awake so Finn hops down and grabs three to devour on the cold tile of the kitchen floor like a sky-rat in a cold alleyway.
When Finn’s finished his snack he stands up, brushing crumbs to the floor that he’ll blame on Radarr before pocketing 4 for Junko and waltzing out of the kitchen. The Wallop’s door opens silently and he brandishes the cakes like war trophies and they indulge themselves a second time, this time with midnight snacks.
Meals on the Condor are always silent, everyone too hungry to carry a conversation and more intent on shovelling as much food into their mouth before they split to attend to skimmers and ships. When they were still on that trash terra, Finn, Junko, Aerrow, Piper and Radarr would spend hours on the floor of their tiny abode, food occasionally eaten but the conversation always carried as they discussed what they’d do when they could finally leave that shithole.
Nowadays the tradition carries but only between smaller groups, never around the dinner table (although Piper usually brings out the mat for bigger meals and they sit cross-legged in silence), but either in someone’s bedroom or the hangar or the bridge. Conversations are tossed back and forth from home to whatever mission they’re trying to complete for the day. Topics like whose turn it is to clean out the turrets are heatedly debated in the air as Aerrow dodges blaster fire while Finn returns it. Arguments about what they should spend this paycheck on are discussed as they fix each other’s skimmers and clean someone else’s weapons. At some point, they had made it a game during Council meetings to bet on which old member would be tripped over Starling, during said meetings.
Finn talks about everything and nothing with Junko as they snack on sand-cakes, more talk about the stars, theories on Starling’s newest mission and what gifts she’ll bring back (they never discuss the possibility that she might not come back, in their eyes she’s invulnerable). There are moments where they get too excited and one has to hush the other and stifle their laughter, and moments where minutes pass by in complete silence as they watch the night sky.
Eventually, when Finn yawns a consecutive five times Junko draws the line and ushers him into the hallway but not before the marksman brings his forehead to his own. He’s tired and wants to go back to his tiny bed and sleep. Instead, he watches with tired eyes as Piper slips out of Aerrow’s room, hair dishevelled as she turns and jumps.
For a moment they simply look at each other, eyes trained on the other’s love-bites before Piper looks down at his crumb-covered clothes and scowls at the same time he opens his mouth.
“Did you eat my last sand cakes?”
“Did you just sleep with Aerrow?”
Even in the dark Finn can spot the blush on her cheeks as she averts her eyes from him back to Aerrow’s closed door (while she does that he does his best to scrape off as many crumbs as possible to eliminate the evidence). He’s completely victorious in this scenario, everyone knows that he and Junko have been together for the past year, and no one knew what the hell was going on with Aerrow and Piper until now.
But even then they’re at a stalemate, Aerrow’s room is between his own and Junko’s while Piper’s is at the back across from Stork’s (oh no wonder she went to Aerrow’s instead of vice-versa). Finn can’t get out of being caught red-handed stealing her cooking but he sure as hell can go down blazing.
“How long has this been going for?”
Finn catches her smile before she schools her expression, ears still burning with getting caught, “Just a month, a few days after that run-in on Terra Nimbus.”
He narrows his eyes, “So it’s just a comfort thing then?”
“No,” she says firmly and the way she glances at the floor shyly is enough to convince him. Finn waits for elaboration but doesn’t get one. Instead, Piper crosses her arms and points to the crumbs on the floor, “I was gonna give those to Starling.”
Finn holds up his hands in surrender, “I only took 7.” he pauses again, “Wait so does that mean the extra banging we heard from the engine was you-”
“Nope!” and with the determination of a scorned woman she grabs him by the shoulders before spinning him around to face his door, “Goodnight Finn!”
+ 1
“You don’t think,” Harrier begins hesitantly, “that they’ve gotten lost, have they?”
“I can go look for them,” Starling volunteers, swinging her legs off the table and standing, “the Capital’s Council buildings are a labyrinth and all of the halls are the same, it wouldn’t be surprising if they got lost or lost track time.”
The supervising Council member coughs delicately, gold rings glinting and reflecting yellow in the stark white meeting room, “Perhaps if we allow them a few more minutes to prepare.”
Harrier scoffs, “Prepare for what? We had called the break so that I could fetch the plans for the next strike.”
“Probably the very reason that they’re taking their time then,” Starling snarks, “your plans send people to sleep.”
From the corner of his eye, Finn sees Stork shake his head at her, he can’t blame him. They've been stuck in this meeting since morning, going back and forth over routes and strategies to retake factory terras and destroy a Cyclonian stronghold. Junko and Radarr are by his side struggling to keep their heads up, Stork is no better, dark circles from his late-night repairs prominent in the cool-white lighting of the windowless room.
Before Harrier throws another insult the door clicks open, a blur of red stumbling through with a profuse apology on his lips. “I’m late aren’t I?” Aerrow starts, red on his cheeks (Finn squints, and red on his lips- IS HE WEARING PIPER’S PANTS-) “Sorry, I was doing stuff.”
Piper emerges seconds later, positively glowing, Finn hears Stork choke on air, “Hi, I was the stuff.”