Work Text:
The shuttle ride down is quiet, at least at first. Everybody is still in their seats, adjusting their guns and checking their straps, tugging irritably at the unfamiliar weight of their masks. The humans (and it's kind of fucked-up, isn't it, that Walker can say human and not mean herself) stay clustered in their own part of the ship, ignoring them.
She's in the middle of stubbornly trying to ignore them back when Z-Dog shifts beside her, tugging off the mask so she can whisper in Walker's ear. Her voice is low enough that Walker would have had to strain to make it out before, but now each word comes through nice and clear: "Hey, hear that?"
"Hear what?" she asks, not really moving her lips. And feeling stupid about moving on her lips, why the fuck do they need to walk on eggshells, anyway? Sure, the Colonel may be rock still in his chair, eyes closed, but that doesn't mean they have to copy him like fucking ducklings or whatever.
"Outside the ship," Z-Dog murmurs. "Past the engines. Can you hear it?"
Walker presses her head back against the side of the ship, listening. She tries to block out the whirring of the engines, concentrating until she can just make it out--the crackle of something jarringly familiar. "Is that...fire?"
"Flare-up from the descent," Z-Dog says, beaming. "We're coming down so fast and we're so small, we gotta have our shields up high to keep from burning up in atmosphere. She pops the fancy new gum that the docs had given her to keep her from chewing her tail off, the sound making Walker's ear twitch.
"Better cross our big blue fingers that we don't go up in atmosphere," she murmurs, wrapping her tail around Walker's leg. Walker twitches at the sudden pressure, but can't quite kick her away. "Be kind of shitty if we died before we ever touched ground, y'know? Like we really are ghosts."
"Fuck off," Walker shoots back, unable to keep from smiling. Fucking Z-Dog. Well, actually, she's rather interested in the idea of fucking Z-Dog once they get back to solid ground. Screwing in zero gravity is fun, but also more of a hassle than it has any right to be.
"We're gonna make it," she declares. "We're gonna land and make those fuckers pay for thinking they could forget about us. They're watching us in the sky right now, pissing themselves, and they don't know how bad it's gonna get."
"That's my girl." Z-Dog croons, taking a deep breath from her mask. Then she pulls it away and turns back, pressing her lips to Walker's neck. Her mouth is softer than it usually is, none of the usual teeth and spit that usually come with their kisses. Even the gum has gone still, resting in a corner of her cheek.
It's stupid, and soft, and Walker should probably just shove her away before someone sees. Instead, she just leans back against the wall, eyes drifting shut. Ears pricked, she listens for the fire building outside and Z-Dog's rasping breath in her ear, two steady currents carrying her to earth.