He groaned softly as he pulled himself out of the X-Wing's cockpit, leaning on the ship a little more than he would have in the past. It was one of those small signs that he was getting older, but he really didn't mind as it also meant he was still alive enough to feel it. Wedge took his helmet off and tossed it down to one of the techs grinning up at him.
The feeling of relief after this last run seemed to be infectious, and the ground crews were scurrying around helping each of the pilots. That was a good sign, and he accepted a small towel to wipe the sweat from his brow before rubbing the back of his neck. He was sore all over; he always had his grav lowered while flying, but in the middle of battle he was still knocked around a bit inside the cockpit, muscles tensed as he focused on a target, and again when he saw his pilots in impossible situations.
Wes shouted something, still in his X-Wing further inside the hanger, and Wedge could hear Tycho's softer reply. It made him laugh as he climbed down the ladder which had been brought for him. He was sore all over, but all of his pilots were accounted for and uninjured, and their mission had been a success. It was a good day to be alive. He would take every opportunity to celebrate with his friends and fellows, though pain and sweat, and sometimes tears, might be present he would take those and know that it was all worth it to be here in this moment.