A/N: I don't know if I can do this still, but let's try it.
Summary: "I sigh and roll my neck, still feeling his hot gaze on me, unmoving from across the kitchen counter. I know he knows that I'm so not okay, I know that he just wants to help. But I'm tired of waiting for help and I'm so tired of fucking doing this." TRIGGERS AND LANGUAGE. 5 years Post-MAX. AU. Rated T.
Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable history/background! Thankful he loves letting us play with his characters.
M
He is exhilarating.
Especially up here.
The weather turned out more perfect than expected, and the wind is just light enough that we are capable to try new moves, to improvise, and I gotta admit—we're killing it.
The two of us are so high that to the crowd, I'm sure we look like dots. Very close, hovering dots in the sky, way up. So I grin at him, and reach for him while I try to slow my wings to match his.
His fingers grasp mine and I pull myself over to him, flapping gently, finally synchronized with him. I can remember when we started doing this, when it was exhilarating. The shows themselves have lost some glimmer but he—
He is exhilarating.
He lifts an eyebrow, looking effortless while he hovers, gently bobbing up and down with the slow but strong stroke of his wings. I put my hand on his chest to stop myself from bumping him and then I reach under his windbreaker and find his beltloop, tugging him closer.
"We're working," Fang breathes, latching his fingers onto mine that are tugging on his jeans. We've done these shows a thousand times, but it still takes focus—focus that I'm slowly tugging away while my teasing fingers wiggle into the waistband of his pants.
"We gotta give them a show," I excuse convincingly, and he barks a true laugh that only I get.
We've grown up a lot—especially since we started the movement and became the forefront of Val's organization. During that time, we used our chance to start shutting down the School in any way possible.
We've covered some ground—a few arrests, a few location closures—but the monster is still out there. And there's still questions.
But the life we have had since we began finding a voice as a Flock? Unimaginable. Perfect in every way. Perfect enough to make moments like this, moments so far away from the last time we ever experienced running...
Well, it's exhilarating, ok? I'm gonna keep saying it.
I look down, and the Flock is changing formation, cueing us to get moving. Fang and I lock eyes for one moment and then we're dropping, fast, and angling away from each other as we fall to the outside of the remaining Flock's perfect diamond formation.
"This air quality though," Gazzy comments as I stop at my mark next to him, grinning wildly. His hair is longer, and wind-licked up in wild directions. He's 13 now, and surprisingly still completely into the air shows. We do them less frequently, and on a bigger scale now than when we started five years ago. But he always gets a fresh light behind his eyes when we do this together.
I grin at him. "Put a flare on it," I suggest, and with that he takes off, as we turn our formation on its side and rise in the air.
I'm right above him now, looking down to see him spiral through the air, upwards, wings moving powerfully. Probably the best part about these shows has been discovering the new tricks we can do. Practicing for a new routine is usually the most chaotic mess of "I wonder if I can do this" and "I can't believe you just did that!" A slight adjustment to the angle of our wings or the power of our flap, and we are capable of moves we'd never had time to discover.
We're in final formation eventually, once we're stacked in a line hovering together in sync. The crowd I'm sure in cheering, but up here I can't hear it. And it doesn't matter. Because to this day, we don't do it for the crowd. Okay, well, maybe Nudge does. But I do it for us, and for the mission we still have.
I still have.
