Seated in the cockpit, headset in hand Hawke waited. "I thought we might as well get started," he said meeting Roper's blue eyes as he drew even with the helicopter.
"Now?" the young man asked in surprise.
"No time like the present," Saint John chuckled slapping the other man on the back. Grabbing a hold of the strap, he slung himself up into the back of the jet ranger.
Nonplussed, the younger jet pilot huffed. Raking his hand through light brown coffee-colored strands, standing them on end, he finally agreed. "Fine."
"Great," Hawke said grinning. He reached over, shut the door beside him and slid the headset on, eyes twinkling merrily.
Roper trotted around to the other side of the helicopter and swung up. Mimicking the other's movements he slid the headset on. "Okay, now what?"
Glancing over at him, Hawke stifled a grin. Wonder if this is how Dom felt teaching Saint John and me? he mused.
"Pre-flight," he said focusing his attention on the instruments once more. Strong, slender fingers pointed out various buttons and levers, his voice huskily explaining the whole while as he started up the helicopter.
Sitting in the back, Saint John felt his own grin escape watching the two of them. Dom would've enjoyed this. String, "Hawke" he mentally corrected himself was so meticulous - pointing out each step along the way, and Roper so serious - following along intently. Reminiscing, he thought back to Dom teaching him and Hawke all those years ago.
"Ease up on the stick, kid," Dom's good-natured voice rippled through the earphones to Saint John. Fourteen year old, Stringfellow Hawke frowned in concentration, a scowl marring his serious features as he corrected the main rotors attitude again. Evening out the helicopter, String risked a quick glance at Dom.
"Doing great, kid!" Dom's enthusiastic words filled String's ears.
Grinning despite himself, String basked in Dom's words of praise. Snapping his attention back to the task at hand String pulled back on the collective, lifting the helicopter higher even as she eased forward - albeit a bit wobbly.
"Good, good," Dom remarked. "Okay, add a little left rudder."
Swinging abruptly hard left, the helicopter shuddered.
"Dom?!" the boy's voice edged with the barest panic came.
"Right rudder, String." Dom's voice came calmly, despite the uneven yawing of the craft. Saint John grabbed a hold of the seat in the back, hanging on.
The helicopter swung right - hard.
"Dom!" the boy's voice was more than a little panicky now. "What do I do??"
Abruptly the craft evened out, Dom taking back control. "I've got you son, it's okay."
Relieved the boy wiped sweaty palms on worn jeans, blue eyes wide. Taking a deep breath he relaxed - momentarily.
"Okay, String take back over," Dom commanded evenly.
"Me?" the boy's voice squeaked. "But…"
"You were doing fine, just need some more practice." Dom glanced to the right at him, his eyes hidden behind the aviator glasses he wore. "I'm letting go now…"
Startled, the boy grabbed for the controls even as Dom let go. Nervous hands grasped and balanced out the helicopter, even if the grip was white knuckled.
Appraisingly, the older man eyed the lanky boy proudly. Even scared to death the kid thought on his feet.
"Okay," Dom said after a moment. "I'm going to give you back rudders."
The kid threw an uneasy, wide-eyed look at him even as he automatically corrected the wobble his wandering attention caused.
"Just remember, nice and easy String," he reminded him. "Small corrections."
Heaving a huge breath, String placed ratty, sneaker clad feet on the pedals, taking back control of the craft.
From the back, eighteen year old Saint John grinned. The boy, he thought smugly was doing pretty good - not as good as him of course, but still…Shifting, he hung over the seat to get a better view of the entertainment.
Frowning, Dom's jaw tightened even as he shook his head warningly at the older boy. Sighing, saint John subsided once more to the back.
Thirty minutes later, the helicopter settled back to earth in front of the hanger, guided back by arms that trembled with exhaustion. Dom's hands were light on the stick backing the boy, ready to catch him if necessary. Flaring upward, she landed with barely a wobble, even if she thudded a bit when the skids hit.
Rotors slowing, Stringfellow Hawke slid the radio headset off, shrugging his shoulders wearily as he did so. Saint John and Dom piled out of the other side and waited for him as he slid down from the cockpit and joined them.
"Not bad my boy!" Dom said patting him proudly on the shoulder.
"Yeah, not bad squirt," the older boy teased him. "Not as good as me, but not bad!"
Sticking his tongue out defiantly the younger boy narrowed his eyes at him, before turning his back on his brother.
In companionable silence, the trio walked back to the hanger. After a long moment, the younger Hawke brother cleared his throat. "Hey Dom?" he asked with studied nonchalance, kicking his sneakered toe at the clump of grass in front of him.
"Yeah, kid?" the pilot replied.
"If you're not busy tomorrow, do you…" his voice trailed off nervously. Swallowing he tried again, "do you think we could go up again, tomorrow?"
Laughing heartily, the man hugged his young ward's shoulders briefly before letting him go. "Yeah, String. I think we can work something out," he said tousling his brown hair, and affectionately thumping his brother on the back.
Feeling the jet ranger swing hard left and then nose down, Saint John's attention jerked back to the present.
"Too much left rudder," he heard Hawke's even tones, even as the aircraft overcorrected and came hard right. Feeling the seat belt snap tight even as he slid across the seat, Saint John grabbed hold.
"Small corrections," Hawke directed. "Do it a little bit at a time, don't rush."
Lurching slightly the helicopter evened out, still wavering somewhat, but nothing like the nausea inducing roll of minutes before. Saint John heaved a sigh of relief, he'd been thinking he was going to regret that second doughnut there for a minute.
"Not bad," came Hawke's voice over the radio headset. "You want to head northeast," he said motioning with his right hand. "Seb's house is over that way. You'll need to make a heading about thirty degrees east."
Swaying slightly, the red, white and blue helicopter swung right heading over the nearby field. Closing in on Seb's house, Hawke's hands came down lightly on the controls, evening out the landing even as his voice directed the other's movements. She landed with barely a bump.
Kicking off the power to the rotors, Hawke turned to the pilot seated next to him. "Thought you said you hadn't flown a helicopter before."
"I haven't," Roper answered abruptly. "Why?"
Hawke's eyebrows rose slightly before he glanced over his shoulder at his brother, Saint John. The other shrugged. "Well then, I'm impressed," he returned looking back at the younger man. "Not bad for a first flight, not bad at all."
Raking the headset off with an experienced hand, Hawke placed it on the hook overhead. "Let's go see Seb."