A/N: this is AU to Tales From Year Zero.
Tamsin had never been the kind of person to shy away from a challenge. When it came to meeting the infamous Stacker, she held her ground, smiled, and after a few moments realised she'd been set up. Stacker was in fact a small black kitten with a notch in its ear and the real Stacker Pentecost was somewhere in Japan hunting a kaiju.
Luna grinned from ear to ear, seated in their F-35 Joint Strike Fighter where she busied herself with pre-flight checks and tried not to draw Tamsin's ire. Their entire squadron had been in on it from conception to execution. After all, if she couldn't use her wings for a light-hearted prank, what could she use them for?
"I thought you said your brother was fierce but he's a real pussycat," Tamsin said, biting her lip in a foolish attempt to hide her smile. "You got me good, Pentecost."
"I can't hear you," Luna signed, and gestured to her helmet. She turned her radio on and adjusted her straps before signalling Tamsin to join her in the jet. "They've requested backup," she said, "in case the jaeger fails."
Tamsin scoffed and climbed the thin ladder before stepping wide and into her seat. "The jaeger won't fail. He's piloting it, right?"
It should've been them, Luna thought to herself as the canopy slid into place and sealed them in. They should've been in the jaeger, but Tamsin had failed the test. She'd gotten lost in the Drift and been unable to pull herself out, even with Luna by her side. A piece of her was jealous of her brother, but here she was with her wings intact whilst he was stuck on the ground. Most importantly she still had her wingman with her. Without Tamsin, Luna refused to fly.
They lived, slept, bled, and fought, together. Unashamedly, Luna had begun thinking they'd die together too. The jaegers were good, but they needed help. An experienced pilot and her wingman were the perfect combination to provide assistance in a fight, not to mention the fire power they could carry.
If worst came to worst, there were always the AH-64D Apaches with their Hellfire missiles waiting in the shadows of the city, ready to blow those fucking monsters to kingdom come. Now those were the true embodiment of the phrase 'heavy artillery', and secretly Luna's pilot wet dream.
No matter what happened, Tamsin would be with her, and she with Tamsin. Some things just weren't to be changed and their partnership was one of them. Ever since the day they'd been assigned the other as their bunk buddy, they'd had the other's back. Now, it seemed, they would both be feeding off that loyalty as strength.
Once the ground crew signalled them, they'd taxi into position and await the signal to launch.
Living on a Nimitz-class carrier where people were crammed in like sardines wasn't much fun, but taking off and landing on the ship? That was one giant adrenaline rush and she was most certainly an adrenaline junkie. Every time, there was a split second between life and death. If they didn't hook the cable properly, they'd die. If the jet didn't gain enough momentum, there was the very real possibility they'd crash into the deck and burn amongst the mass of broken metal and jet fuel.
This was their reality, and it was nothing short of hellish, but God help her if a Pentecost couldn't look Hell in the eye and say 'you're cancelled'.
"I love you," Tamsin said over the radio. "You're an idiot, but I love you."
"I love you too," Luna replied, "and I'm your idiot, y'know."