#pilot!au

...

Not too long after he left her puzzled, empty, and longing, Katara had to leave, as well. But it wasn’t for an advanced program like he flew off to.

Gran-Gran had a heart attack. It wasn’t pretty. Katara was the glue and the salve cooing her brother and her father to cope and recover. They helped her just as much, and she vowed to visit them more.

(Gran-Gran told her that she saw death, called him a bitch, and reminded him to tell her daughter-in-law that Kya had to wait another ten years for her company.)

...

Katara was only a little behind and only had to retake a few classes when she returned to flight school a year and a half later, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Graduating was easy, but choosing an employer? That was hard. Katara was an ace—the top of her class. They even put her photo in the hall of notable students.

...She was reminded of Aang and what he stole from her every time she saw his portrait pinned next to hers.

...

It was a requirement to serve as a co-pilot for the first few years after schooling. It was like a continued education after medical school when an MD truly learned what it meant to be a practitioner, but turning from co-captain to captain felt like it was taking twice as long.

Sometimes, it took students twelve years to become a captain. Sometimes, it took them two years.

It took Aang eight months.

Katara was entering her ninth month when she was transferred to his airline.

He spotted her from across the terminal like he had been waiting and looking for her. He vanished and reappeared at her side, and if only he had a puff of smoke, she would have thought him a magician.

He shook her hand and talked at Mach speed. His smile alone nearly blew her away, but his hand holding hers kept her on her feet.

“—it was you! They all said you dropped out, but I knew you wouldn’t! And then I saw your plaque when I visited on a favor-call from Roku, and I couldn’t believe—!”

He paused. Katara’s world stood still. Her world also looked kindof splotchy and dotted with black.

That was weird…

Oh wait.

Breathing.

Breathing was a thing she had to do.

Unfortunately, Katara was too late in her revelation. Her heart broke when his eyes softened like that and his concern boiled over into panic. She was thinking about how nice it sounded when he said her name even as she fell back and fainted.

He caught her, of course.

Luckily, Mai and Lu Ten were willing to exchange their schedules to save either Katara or Aang from being fired.

(He had refused to leave her. It was incredibly foolish. Top in the industry or not, their superiors would only take so much from even him.)

It wasn’t exactly a first date, but he bought her food from the cafeteria and bought her one of those super-fuzzy travel blankets to keep her warm. They talked over pizza that was so greasy that they had to dab it with napkins, and they laughed over coffee that was far too bitter to be called ‘edible’.

They shared secrets over hot cocoa and talked like they knew each other forever.

Aang thought he was being sly when he loaded his straw with a paper wad and blew it at her.

He smiled like a kid on Christmas.

Katara felt like she was one, too.

The g-forces she experienced when he smiled—at her—made her so lightheaded that she whispered a thankful prayer to whoever was pulling her life’s strings that she was seated when she first witnessed the miracle so close and in its entirety.

They fell asleep back-to-back (though it was more like side-to-side) in the terminal—just another ‘couple’ bending under the stress of a connecting flight.

...

“You seem eager to be out of here.” Katara settled into her co-pilot’s chair as her captain fussed over the little details that Katara’s classmates had made fun of her for caring about.

“Ba Sing Se has never been...Well, let’s just say that it’s not like how I was raised.”

“But the South is?”

“Of course! Middle of nowhere, lots of high places, room to run and frolic as I please—”

Katara couldn’t hide her laugh. “Frolic?”

“Have you never frolicked?”

“When I was a girl, maybe.”

“You should try it sometime. It’s not like it gets any less fun with age.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“...Maybe.” Aang scratched his face, didn’t meet her eyes, and flushed a color even brighter than the emergency exit sign. “Or it could...be a date?”

“To go frolicking?”

“Of course.”

It was quiet until it wasn’t. A giggle slipped past Katara’s defenses. She hugged her middle and laughed so hard that she cried, and she nearly laughed herself into a coma when Aang bent over, too. His laugh sounded like how good memories felt, and Katara never wanted to hear more of something in her entire life.

She couldn’t feel her seat beneath her—just the feeling of her hand on his arm and the soft bumping of his head against hers.

Katara was falling, and she was falling hard.

But, for some reason, she wasn’t scared of hitting the ground.

If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought that she was flying.

...

Sokka, having heard the hint of interest in Katara’s voice when she recounted her tale with her dreamy tattooed captain, made immediate plans and cashed-in on more than a few favors to get himself onto her new schedule. He didn't trust Aang, not at first. No one could be that happy.

“—and gentlemen, in the event that you have not been in an automobile since 1942, we’re gonna show you how to fasten a seatbelt, so watch closely—”

Sokka, while a phenomenal flight attendant, was walking a razor’s edge onto Katara’s last nerve.

But Aang and her brother got along famously.

Katara should have expected nothing less.

This was Aang she was talking about.

Her boyfriend could befriend the devil himself.

The thought made Katara’s world get fuzzy and black-splotchy again. Luckily, Aang was laughing too hard with Sokka to notice her holding tight to the wall.

Breathing.

Breathing was a thing she had to do.

Aang’s vapor-trail-laugh gave her the cardinal directions and guided her towards which way was up. His arm curled around her waist like the seatbelts that had kept them anchored when they hit turbulence two months ago and dropped 400 feet.

Katara didn’t notice when next she blushed so hard that her vision went black-splotchy again.

But Aang, without pausing his conversation, was already tugging her closer so she all but pressed right against his heart.

His laugh died out. His chest slowly expanded.

Breathing.

Katara smiled.

Breathing was a thing she still had to do.

...

When Katara finally got her wings, Aang couldn’t have been more proud.

Sokka puffed his chest. “This is Katara, my flying sister.”

“Sokka, please…”

“Yeah, Sokka.” Aang was a grinning shadow touching her shoulder and a reminder to smile brushing her side. “Katara isn’t your ‘flying sister’.”

“Thank you, Aang—”

Aang hugged her from behind and held her so tightly that he curled over and started to eclipse her. “Katara is my flying girlfriend~”

Aang rubbed his cheek to hers. Katara grumbled and fought fate to keep angry as long as she could. “You both are insufferable.” She kissed Aang’s cheek like she was swatting a mosquito, but it only made him giggle and hold her tighter.

Sokka pretended to gag and uttered ‘Oogies’ like a mantra.

Katara blushed, lost her slippery grip on the smile fighting to make itself seen, and looked at her father just as the shutter on Hakoda’s camera went off.

...Aang carried the photo on his person like it was a medical device so vital that he would die if he was ever without it.

“Do you have to keep it there?” Katara pulled one switch and then two, and she side-eyed her smirking First Officer.

Aang ignored her and adjusted the photo pinned to the gauges in front of him. His smile got a little bigger, his eyes a little softer. He looked down at the clouds below them and then up at the heavens beyond. “...The stars sure are beautiful, tonight.”

His hand found hers—they were at an altitude that required little more than autopilot, but it was still breaking regulation.

Katara gently squeezed his fingers. “Yeah. They are.”

...

All of their nights melted into a routine that felt like the same night played over and over.

Katara wouldn’t have had it any other way.

She didn’t mind when Aang put up a fuss just because he could and because he liked to get her flustered. She didn’t even mind when he cocooned himself in the blankets and pouted in a silent demand for five more minutes.

He was only playing. He could be plenty serious if he wanted.

Like the time he crabbed the plane onto an icy runway in an emergency landing. Or like the time he dove into the belly of the plane to give CPR to an elderly passenger.

His seriousness could only go so far, though. He truly was a child at heart. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. Something forever young could never grow brittle and die.

Like the way he blushed every time she reached for his hand. Or like the little hitch to his voice that took over his words whenever she hugged him.

He could hardly speak when he asked her to marry him.

Katara wasn’t that much better off, but neither of them had needed words for the longest time. They sat side-by-side in the nose of the plane and ‘spoke’ in the silence for hours on end.

Kisses were quiet, anyways.

Well, not entirely.

Aang laughed, absolutely giddy, every time, no matter how much or how often they did.

Katara’s laugh drifted in his vapor trail as a gentle hum that made his smile impossibly bigger.

Then, and only then, did it feel like she had finally gotten back what he had stolen—all those years ago—from her.

...

His voice was a song, and his love bled into every worded lyric. They were the warm purrs of an engine that would never fail, and they made Katara’s stomach fall and bounce heaven-ward like her wheels had just left the ground.

When she danced with him, every step felt like lift-off. Every turn gave her g-forces that had her sinking into him to keep from being blown away.

The wedding was over, their guests were gone, but every star and galaxy crowded the sky to witness their love for each other.

This was her captain and co-pilot—her husband and best friend for life.

His name was Aang. He was very tall and quite proud of it, though he made himself eye-level with every person he met.

He was a simple monk and a dirty thief.

But Katara finally had back what was hers.

What was hers was named Aang.

He was the kindest soul she’d ever met.

He kept her grounded even though her feet never touched the earth when she was with him.

He was the part of her that she loved most.

His kisses were g-forces.

His ‘I love you’s were free-falling.

His hugs were the wings that handed her the sky.

His smiles were the spirit that held her aloft.

His name was Aang.

He was hers.

He was the kindest soul she’d ever met.

And Katara would remind him of how much she loved him even long after they were both tied to the earth.

*********************************

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Outline/general idea: Simon grew up in a very religious cult and managed to escape it as a young adolescent with his mom, Yuna. Yuna and Simon fended for themselves for a long time until she got sick when Simon was around 18; she quickly deteriorated (cancer probably?) and passed away. Simon used her savings and whatever savings he earned doing the odd part time job, plus scholarships, to attend university, where he met Ryland Grace. It was a weird and bumpy start to a friendship, but they eventually got there with some help from Ryland’s twin brother, and he and Ryland roomed together for their sophomore year.

College: Simon studied botany for a few years until his scholarships and money ran out. With no funds and no other options, he ended up joining the Air Force with the hopes that he could eventually go back to school and have his education paid for. It was a sad time for him and Ry, as they’d become good friends at this point, and Simon had no idea when he’d be able to come back.

Air Force: much to Simon’s surprise, he actually enjoyed piloting. Not so much the being in the military part, but he liked learning how to fly and he liked learning about machinery and how the planes themselves worked. He had an excellent flight record and quickly climbed the ranks as much as he could without having a bachelors degree.

The accident: not super fleshed out yet; what I know for sure is that some terrible incident occurred that led to Simon being dishonorably discharged from service. He lost all the friends he’d made on the force, and he was once again left stranded with no options. With a limited amount of money to his name and no other choice, he tried to track down his old friends Colt and Ryland. He found Colt first, and Colt gave him Rylands information. Simon showed up at Ryland’s apartment out of the blue and incredibly ashamed of needing help—Ryland, of course, waved this all away. Simon was his friend, and friends help each other out when they’re in need.

Florist: slowly, Simon began to pick up the pieces of his life. Even though he felt incredibly guilty about it at first, he slowly learned how to exist in Rylands space without feeling like a burden. They rekindled their old friendship and Simon considered Ryland his best friend and possibly one of the only people alive he actually cared about. They didn’t plan on becoming permanent roommates, it just kind of happened—Ryland, a teacher now, constantly needed the extra money, and it wasn’t like Simon had anywhere else to go. With the couple of years of botany education he had, he managed to get a job at a local plant nursery. Things were normal and quiet for a while. Simon thinks it’s during this time that he maybe started to understand an inkling of his feelings for Ryland, but he never got the chance to explore them, because the Petrova Line was discovered.

Hail Mary: Ryland came home one day talking about how he had a new job, was no longer teaching, was working with NASA to study astrophage and the Petrova Line, and how he couldn’t go into too much detail because of about a thousand NDAs. This didn’t change their usual routine much; so Ryland had a new job, so what? He seemed happy. But one day, Ryland just…didn’t come home. His clothes were still there. His leftovers were still in the fridge. His books were still all over the living room. Simon panicked, but tried to be rational—he filed a missing persons report, called Colt, tried to figure out what was going on. But Ryland had just disappeared.

Simon languished for months until a stern woman calling herself Stratt approached him. She claimed she worked for a top secret government project working to save the world from the astrophage crisis, and she needed a pilot. Specifically, a backup pilot, because technically she already had one. She’d found Simon’s record. No family, hardly any friends, and a spotless piloting career until his dishonorable discharge. Simon figured, what the hell? Ryland was probably dead and without Ryland, he had nothing.

Of course, when he walked into his new job the next day and the two of them saw each other again for the first time in months, things were more than a little awkward and more than a little heated. After some arguing, some crying, and some relieved hugs, Simon was mostly just incredibly grateful that Ryland was okay. They worked together on Project Hail Mary until the fateful day of the astrophage explosion, which killed not only Shapiro and DuBois, but Yao as well.

Simon knew he was obligated to step up to the role he agreed to, but Ryland didn’t deserve the position he’d found himself in. He had family, he had students, he had a life—and wherever Ryland was going, Simon was going too. So when Ryland told Stratt he wouldn’t do it, Simon refused to as well.

When they ran, they got so close. Later, Simon would reflect on this in anguish. When the agent tackled Ryland to the ground, Simon grabbed the suited man and threw him; he fought with some other agents, too—he hadn’t been in a fight in a long time, but his body remembered what to do, and he hardly felt the bruises or the blood. They made it to a car before both of them were surrounded. Ryland, in his panic, threatened to sabotage the mission; Stratt threatened to take his memories. Then everything went dark.

When Simon woke up, he knew who he was. He knew how he’d gotten there. He remembered everything. What he didn’t remember was how he’d lost his arm and why he was alone. After his full blown panic and rage, he finally thought to go through the ships stationary logs, where he discovered that by an unhappy stroke of bad luck, one of the injuries he’d sustained during his scuffle with the government agents had become infected so severely that the medical robot had needed to amputate his arm. He also discovered with no small amount of relief that he wasn’t alone. Ryland was still alive, but he was still asleep. Simon had woken up almost eight months ahead of schedule, and he didn’t want to wake the man for fear of fucking up his brain or his body.

For eight months, Simon lived in the Hail Mary alone, waiting. He dreamed of Ryland waking up, of the relief they could find in each other, relief in knowing that even though they were going to die out here, at least they wouldn’t be alone.

But when Ryland woke up, he didn’t remember who he was. He didn’t remember why he was in space.

And he didn’t remember Simon.

Heartbroken and hellbent on survival, Simon made a promise to himself. He wouldn’t tell Ryland of their history, and he wouldn’t tell Ryland the truth of how they’d gotten on board. He would let Ryland believe them heroic volunteers for as long as he could. Better to die believing yourself a hero than a coward. He would protect Ryland for as long as he could.

Of course, when Ryland starts getting his memories back, he’s not too happy about this—especially considering he’s been falling in love with his crew mate ever since he woke up.

HOLY SHIT THAT TURNED OUT LONG SORRY GUYS