Throttle and Spark

____

The pounding on Vi’s door was violent enough to rattle the hinges.

"Violet! You have five minutes to be on that runway, or you’re staying behind!"

Vi’s eyes snapped open.

Shit.

Her brain barely had time to catch up before she threw herself upright. A sharp pain shot through her neck—probably from sleeping in the worst position possible—but that wasn’t her biggest problem.

She reached blindly for her phone, knocking over an empty water bottle in the process. When she finally grabbed it and saw the time, her stomach dropped.

11:14 AM.

She had eleven goddamn minutes.

Vi practically launched herself out of bed, legs tangling in the sheets as she fumbled to stand. Her duffel bag was half-packed from the night before, but in her usual fashion, she had left everything important scattered across the room.

"Fuck—shit—where’s my damn ID?"

She tore through her mess of clothes, throwing shirts and socks onto the floor. The ID was somewhere in here—she had found it last night, but now, of course, it had vanished into thin air.

A sharp knock hit the door again, this time more impatient.

"Three minutes, Vi!"

Oh, for fuck’s sake—

She finally spotted the ID peeking out from under her boots and snatched it up. Then came the task of throwing on her uniform. She yanked her shirt over her head, shoving her arms into her jacket’s sleeves while simultaneously kicking her legs into her pants. One boot was laced, the other was barely halfway on, and she didn’t even have time to check if she had everything.

With her duffel slung over her shoulder, Vi practically kicked the door open and sprinted out.

The base was already alive with movement—pilots heading to their stations, engineers moving between the hangars, aircraft engines roaring in the distance. The air smelled of fuel, metal, and the dry heat of the tarmac.

Vi didn’t stop to appreciate it.

She ducked between clusters of personnel, nearly bulldozing a younger cadet who barely had time to yelp before she was gone. Someone shouted something at her—probably an insult, maybe a warning—but Vi didn’t have time to acknowledge it.

Her legs burned as she neared the runway. The transport plane was massive, its rear cargo ramp still open, waiting for the last few people to board. And standing at the base of it, arms crossed, was Caitlyn.

She looked perfectly put together—uniform crisp, hair neatly tied, expression a perfect mix of unimpressed and vaguely irritated.

Vi skidded to a stop in front of her, chest rising and falling from the sprint, her shirt slightly untucked, boot still unlaced. She forced a grin.

"Made it."

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered over her disheveled state, from the mess of her half-laced boots to the wild strands of hair that Vi hadn’t bothered to fix. Then, slowly, she exhaled through her nose.

"Barely."

Vi shrugged, rolling her shoulders like it didn’t matter. "I work better under pressure."

Caitlyn’s brow lifted. "That’s not reassuring."

Vi smirked. "I think it is. Just means you’re in good hands."

Caitlyn didn’t return the smile. Instead, she just turned and started walking up the ramp. "Let’s hope your maintenance skills are better than your time management."

Vi let out a low whistle, following behind her. "Damn, you’re really leanin’ into the ‘strict officer’ thing, huh? You always this tense, or is it just ‘cause I’m here?" Vi quipped, something akin to flirtation on her lips.

Caitlyn shot her a withering look over her shoulder. "I take my job seriously. Unlike you, apparently."

Vi held a hand to her chest in mock offense. "Hey now, I take my job very seriously. Just ‘cause I don’t strut around like I’ve got a stick up my ass doesn’t mean I don’t get the job done."

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line, her steps not faltering as she reached the top of the ramp. "Considering you nearly missed the flight, I’d say my assessment is accurate."

Vi grinned. "Ah, so you were worried about me."

Caitlyn scoffed, stepping inside the plane. "Hardly."

Vi followed, slinging her duffel into one of the overhead compartments before plopping into the nearest seat. She stretched out her legs, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just barely avoided missing the plane.

Caitlyn, of course, chose the seat across from her, maintaining a perfectly straight posture, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Vi tilted her head, watching her. "So, uh…you gonna glare at me the whole flight, or we gonna chat like civilized people? Whats the plan here?"

Caitlyn exhaled, rubbing her temples. "I am going to ignore you for the entire duration of this flight. That is my plan."

Vi smirked. "Aw, c’mon, you don’t even wanna get to know your mechanic? That stings."

Caitlyn leveled her with a flat stare. "I already know everything I need to. You're reckless, unprofessional, and you have the time management skills of a brick."

Vi barked out a laugh. "Damn. Keep talkin' like that and I might start thinkin’ you actually care."

Caitlyn sighed heavily, muttering something under her breath before leaning back in her seat, clearly done with the conversation.

Vi just grinned.

The plane rumbled beneath them, the engines roaring to life as it prepared for takeoff. Vi could feel the vibrations through her boots, the low hum settling into her bones. She drummed her fingers on her knee, watching Caitlyn with lazy amusement.

True to her word, Caitlyn was determinedly ignoring her.

Back straight, eyes fixed ahead, lips pursed in silent suffering.

Vi smirked. "So, what’s the deal, Kiramman? You always this uptight, or just when you’re forced to interact with people?"

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, still refusing to look at her.

Vi leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice to something more conspiratorial. "You know, if you keep clenching your jaw like that, you’re gonna crack a tooth."

That got a reaction. Barely.

A single muscle in Caitlyn’s jaw twitched.

Vi grinned. "There it is."

Before Caitlyn could deliver some icy retort, the aircraft gave a hard lurch as it began taxiing down the runway. The shift sent a few loose bags sliding across the floor, the overhead compartments rattling slightly. Vi barely noticed—it wasn’t her first time on a military transport, after all.

Caitlyn, however, visibly tensed.

Not fear, exactly. More like…a readiness, a preparedness. Like she was mentally calculating something, assessing every single movement of the plane.

Vi tilted her head, curious. "You always analyze every flight this much? Or just the ones where you’re forced to sit across from me?"

Caitlyn shot her a look. "I prefer to know exactly what’s happening around me at all times. It’s called awareness. You might want to try it sometime."

Vi chuckled. "I dunno, kinda sounds exhausting."

The plane lifted off, tilting them slightly as it climbed. Caitlyn didn’t shift even an inch in her seat. Still composed. Still irritatingly poised.

Vi stretched out, tapping her fingers idly on the armrest. "So, Kiramman, what’s our itinerary? Fancy dinners? Press conferences? Romantic sunset flights?"

Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to her, unamused. "This is an official military tour, not some—some vacation."

Vi waggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, touchy."

Caitlyn took a deep, measured breath. "We're traveling through multiple bases across the country. Demonstration flights, public engagements, briefings. You’ll be making sure the jet doesn’t fall apart mid-tour."

Vi hummed. "That last part’s kinda important, huh?"

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Very."

Vi let the silence stretch between them for a moment, studying Caitlyn’s expression.

She was all business. Even now, even off-duty, even with nothing to do but sit and endure the flight. There was a stiffness to her posture, a sharpness to her focus. Like she didn’t know how to turn it off.

Vi propped her elbow against the armrest, resting her chin in her palm. "Y’know, you don’t have to hate me. We could be friends."

Caitlyn didn’t even pretend to consider that. "I don’t hate you. I just don’t enjoy unnecessary distractions."

Vi smirked. "Wow, and here I thought we were really bonding back there."

Caitlyn turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. Or at least, that’s what she thought.

Because a few minutes later, the plane hit turbulence.

It wasn’t bad—just enough to shake the cabin, sending a few unsecured objects tumbling. One particularly heavy duffel bag from across the aisle suddenly slid straight for caitlyns legs.

Without thinking, Vi reached over and yanked it away, stopping it before it slammed into her.

Caitlyn blinked, glancing between Vi’s outstretched hand and the bag she had just casually tossed aside.

"Quick reflexes," she murmured.

Vi winked. "I try."

Caitlyn gave her a look—like she was debating whether to be grateful or annoyed.

In the end, she just turned back, choosing silence.

But Vi? Vi just grinned like a proud puppy, looking towards the window as her fingers tapped the seat.

__

The steady hum of the engines filled the cabin, the occasional jostle from turbulence the only thing breaking the stillness. To Caitlyn’s great relief, Vi had settled down, slumping in her seat with arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t asleep—her eyes were open, lazily watching the ceiling, occasionally flicking to the window. But she was quiet.

Caitlyn didn’t trust it.

She had expected the mechanic to run her mouth the entire flight, to make some insufferable comment every five minutes just to get a rise out of her. But instead, Vi had remained in her seat, fiddling absently with a hair tie between her fingers, stretching it between both hands before snapping it back around her wrist. She bounced her knee, then stopped. Tapped her fingers against the armrest, then stopped. Shifted in her seat, huffed, then went back to flicking the hair tie again.

It was like she had too much energy to sit still but was forcing herself to.

Caitlyn found it almost more annoying than if she had just kept talking.

She turned her attention back to the book in her lap, trying to lose herself in the words. It was a strategy report, a dry read, but she needed to stay sharp for the tour ahead. Still, every so often, her eyes flicked back to Vi, watching her fidget.

Snap. Stretch. Snap.

Caitlyn closed her book, exhaling through her nose. “Could you please stop that?”

Vi glanced at her, her fingers on the hair tie, mid-stretch from her wrist. “Stop what?”

Caitlyn gestured at the hair tie. “That.”

Vi smirked. “Oh, this?” She snapped it again, deliberately this time. “Didn’t realize it was bothering you, cupcake.”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw. “We are on a military transport, not a playground. Try acting like a professional for once.”

Vi raised her brows, clearly biting back a laugh. “Professional? You do know I’m not some fancy officer, right? I fix jets. I get my hands dirty. This is as professional as it gets.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, ignoring the smugness dripping from Vi’s tone.

A few minutes passed. The sound of pages turning. The low murmur of voices from the cockpit. The ever-present hum of the engines.

Then—

Snap.

Caitlyn shut her book with a thud and glared at Vi.

Vi grinned, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. “Sorry, habit.”

Caitlyn inhaled sharply through her nose, choosing to ignore her. She had dealt with worse. She would survive this flight, no matter how insufferable Vi was trying to be.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Caitlyn saw Vi sit up a little straighter. The playful smirk faded, replaced by something more surprised.

“Huh,” Vi muttered.

Caitlyn followed her gaze toward the cockpit door. A man had stepped out, shaking hands with a few of the soldiers before making his way down the cabin. He wore a flight suit, his short dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes scanning the cabin.

Vi leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “No way,” she said under her breath, then raised her voice.

“Loris?”

The pilot turned at the sound of his name, his brow furrowing before realization hit. His face broke into a grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Loris said, striding over. “Vi, that you?”

Vi shot up from her seat, grinning back. “In the flesh.”

Loris chuckled, shaking his head as they clasped hands in a firm, familiar grip. “What the hell are you doing on my plane?”

“Babysitting,” Vi said, jerking her thumb toward Caitlyn. “Got stuck as the mechanic for her jet.”

Loris glanced at Caitlyn, then back at Vi with an amused smirk. “this is gonna be a fun ride, huh.”

Vi flopped back into her seat, kicking her feet up onto the empty chair across from her, arms folding behind her head like she had just settled in at a bar instead of a military transport.

“Didn’t know you made it this far, Loris. Thought they’d have grounded your ass for all the stupid shit we pulled back in the day.”

Loris scoffed, leaning against the seat across from them. “Yeah, well, unlike some people, I know when to keep my mouth shut.” His eyes flicked to Caitlyn, a knowing glint in them.

Vi just grinned, clearly unbothered. “Guess I missed that lesson.”

Caitlyn, meanwhile, was staring between them, feeling completely out of the loop. She had never known Vi to have any professional connections, let alone with a pilot. And the way they were talking—casual, familiar, comfortable—it was like they had been old drinking buddies, which, knowing Vi, was probably exactly what they were.

“You two know each other?” Caitlyn finally asked, crossing her arms.

Loris chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, you could say that. Vi and I used to run into each other a lot back in the day. She’d fix the jets, I’d break them. Worked out pretty well.”

Vi smirked. “Yeah, until they caught onto us sneaking beers into the hangar.”

Caitlyn’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Loris winced, but Vi just laughed. “Relax, cupcake. It was forever ago. You know, before I was assigned to be your personal wrench monkey.” She winked.

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, refusing to give Vi the satisfaction of a reaction. She turned to Loris instead. “And you’re the pilot for this flight?”

“Sure am.” Loris crossed his arms, smirking at Caitlyn’s clear frustration. “Don’t worry, Kiramman. I promise not to let this one convince me to do a barrel roll mid-flight.”

Vi snickered. “You did that one time.”

“Allegedly.”

Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose. This was already shaping up to be the longest flight of her career.

Loris clapped Vi on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Vi. I gotta get back to the cockpit, but we’ll catch up later.”

Vi nodded. “Yeah, man. Fly us safe.”

With that, Loris made his way back to the front of the plane, leaving Vi looking way too pleased with herself.

Caitlyn gave her a pointed look. “I hope you don’t think knowing the pilot gives you permission to act like an idiot.”

Vi smirked, stretching her arms. “Nah, but it sure makes the trip more fun.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, returning to her book. “I doubt that.”

Vi settled back into her seat, flicking her hair tie against her wrist again.

Snap.

Caitlyn twitched.

She just gave a light huff, deciding not to comment on it this time. She turned her attention back to her book.