Chapter Text
After that day, it feels like something’s changed between the two of them. Something that he can’t exactly place, but knows is there anyways.
They stand closer together (closer than before, anyways), Cipher starts laughing a little more, smiling more- especially when it’s just the two of them. Pixy finds himself smiling more, too. As if the glass of that wine bottle and everything else they’d shared had been enough to tear down some of their walls.
Of course, neither of them actually acknowledge it, much less talk about it, but Pixy knew.
Cipher must have noticed, too. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to. Pixy still saw the way his eyes would drift, after all. Pulled away from what was around him and off into those distant skies.
Pixy almost wants to ask him what about the skies is so alluring.
Was it the vastness of it? How easy it was to disappear into the endless blue above them and never be seen again? Maybe it was the freedom he had, or the strength he felt- with Cipher being impossible to beat up there (that was how it looked to him, at least).
If Pixy asked, would he even tell him? Did it have something to do with that other reason of his?
What did Cipher really want to make him keep flying anyways? To keep going up into those skies that had killed so many people that were so much better than the both of them?
Could Pixy even afford enough to care?
It was probably death that he was after, considering everything that he knew. The way Cipher’s eyes would stare off towards something that wasn’t there. Pixy would do that too, sometimes, especially when he was younger.
He knew it was a fool's errand, trying to hold onto someone that didn’t want to stay.
But, even still. Seeing the way Cipher would look at him when Pixy was reading out one of his books to him (because somehow, they’d gotten to that point), watching the way his expression would soften when he played a song just for the two of them, or how he’d stop mid-step during their walks together- waiting for him to catch up just like he did in the sky after they’d finished a sortie- not to mention all the other little things he’d been trying to mark in the margins of his mind, it was all… well.
What else was he supposed to do but hold on? Cipher seemed like the type to need something to hold onto- some sort of anchor- and as his wingman, Pixy’s job was to be whatever he needed. To fill in those gaps that he left however he could.
And all Pixy could do was to hope it would be enough
---
It’s the morning after they’ve liberated Directus, and Pixy is stuck standing in the corner while Cipher changes his clothes.
Honestly, it would’ve been fine if Pixy had been up in his own bed while Cipher had his bunk- but after last night and their subsequent “tussle” that morning, he didn’t really feel like climbing all the way up there. Especially not when he’d just have to climb back down a few minutes later, which meant risking- as Cipher had put it when he tried to explain just why he let Pixy sleep in his bed instead of just putting him back in his own- cracking his head open on something and dying.
Which, while it was a little stupid, still left some sort of weird, fuzzy feeling in Pixy’s chest.
Kinda like mold, maybe.
Probably mold.
“Hey, Cipher-”
“No, I’m not done yet.” Cipher huffs back, just as he hears another shuffle of fabric.
“Come on, buddy! It can’t seriously take you this long to get dressed.” Pixy says, still keeping his eyes firmly trained on the cobweb and whatever kind of spider was sitting in the corner, “Aren’t you usually faster than this?”
“I’m also not usually this hungover, Pixy.”
“For someone who can take so many Gs, your alcohol tolerance must be sh*t.” It’s easy enough to laugh- considering that Cipher couldn’t have known about the skull splitting headache he was also dealing with.
“f*ck off.”
“Can’t do that if I can’t turn around from the corner now, can I?”
Another scoff, and Pixy can practically feel the glare being shot at the back of his head. A glare was still better than what he’d usually get, though- at least if that bump he still had from the last time Cat had smacked his head said anything.
“I’m sure you’d be able to figure something out.”
“Glad to know you’ve got so much confidence in me, buddy! What’s next, you want me to walk through a maze blindfolded after I pull this great escape off?” He probably shouldn’t be pushing this much, after everything, but Pixy can’t seem to get himself to stop.
“Maybe throw in a few landmines and then I’ll think about being impressed.” Cipher huffs, and, again, Pixy finds himself laughing, “Anyways, you can turn around now.”
So he does. It takes him a second to adjust to the sudden increase of light from what was filtering through the window, but once the sharp ache in his head fades back into a dull throbbing, he finds himself looking over his flight lead.
Cipher was still tugging at one of the sleeves of the black undershirt he usually wore, clearly trying to cover up one of the blotches of burned skin that crept onto the back of his hand.
Pixy couldn’t get the image of whatever they must have looked under the shirt out of his head- wondering exactly how they must have crawled up his arm, wrapping around somewhere onto his shoulder and further up to his neck- his face. Just how much of his skin was covered in those scars anyways? He really, really wanted to know- So he pushed the thoughts out of his head instead.
“So, any plans for today?” He asks, instead.
“Well-”
It’s right at that moment when they both hear a sudden knocking on their door, followed by it swinging- VERY LOUDLY- open. The kind of loud that makes people want to cover their ears, and has both Cipher and Pixy still reeling as it hits the wall with a thunk that he hopes hasn’t dented it.
Especially considering that it would be coming out of their paychecks.
“What the hell, Hare??” Pixy grumbles, rubbing at one of his arms to try and get his heart to stop beating out of his chest- all while Hare is still there, practically bouncing in the doorway as if he’s trying to put an actual (and particularly anxious and hyperactive) rabbit to shame.
“You guys gotta see this, come on-”
“..See what?” Cipher asks.
“Directus, they got footage of you two up there, flying.” Hare answers, a wide grin on his face as he exchanges a look with Cipher.
Less than ten minutes later, they’re crowded in front of one of the television sets on base alongside the rest of their little rag-tag gang. Someone had given Cipher some saltine crackers at some point that he was nursing like an alcoholic to a bottle.
There was something about the six of them- all fully grown adults- standing crowded around that screen. Chattering to each other about whatever bullsh*t came to mind until finally, the moment arrived.
And it was unlike anything Pixy had ever seen.
Getting to fly with Cipher was one thing. Watching that F-15C flying ahead of him, soaring through those skies like a bird in flight, tearing through everything else in his way while Pixy could only try to follow. He was always only that, though. The follower, the wingman, the one who was always just behind him.
Galm Two.
Here, Pixy could see them- the both of them- together in flight. The way they wove back and forth, brushing past each other for just a moment before pushing on towards their next targets.
Pixy had flown with plenty of people before, but Cipher?
Cipher was just different.
It was just a feeling, but Pixy was pretty damn sure he would never forget the way he flew. Not if it looked like that. How could anyone?
---
When all the new recruits for the return offensive showed up, Pixy really hadn’t been expecting a lot- Especially not for the guy who came from Yuktobania of all places to end up bringing a kid with him.
The guy, Grigori, seemed pretty sharp too. At least for him to be able to clock Cipher as quickly as he had.
Now, Pixy knew that for a pilot he was probably one of the better ones. Not many people could claim they managed to land their jet after losing a wing after all- not alive at least. But Cipher? Even Pixy knew he was on a whole different level. There was just something about the guy that was… different. Something that made him stand out among the rest, something about the way that he flew.
That look in his eyes that no one else could even come close to matching.
Still, Pixy can’t help but try to do just that.
There was something different about the way they soared today for their practice drills- he knew what this was, of course. Cipher wanted to put on a show for the kid, and Pixy just… couldn’t say no to him. Not when he looked so earnest- so much more alive than he had on that first day.
Honestly, there seemed to be something changing about Cipher, almost as if he were a dead man coming back to life, a certain spark returning to him that had died so long ago.
It almost reminded Pixy of a story he’d read before.
So they fly. He can’t match Cipher’s pace perfectly, so as always, he fills in the gaps along the way.
After Directus, flying with him just seemed… easier, in a way. Maybe Pixy was just getting that good at reading Cipher, or maybe Cipher had changed for him- he wasn’t sure. It could have been both, really.
There’s the same rush that comes with a cold wind just before the snow falls fluttering through his chest. A grin settles on his face as Cipher dives down and he rushes to follow.
They weave around each other, between each other.
Flying in a way Pixy had never flown with anyone before.
And it’s for that same reason that he follows after him in the same dive not long after that day, over Glatisant.
Both of them were constantly performing in their own little ways- Pixy, with all his snark and quips that he’d come up with so that people would never pry too far past his charming smile, while Cipher excelled in the air. He wasn’t even sure if he did it on purpose anymore, that was just how he flew. Pulling off death defying stunt after death defying stunt until it seemed like death wasn’t there at all, too enraptured by the intricate patterns he would cut and weave through the air to even consider claiming him.
Even as the mission drags on- he can’t help but feel a certain sort of comfort. After all, if it’s the two of them, he thinks they can make it- get through this, maybe. All of it.
Yet even still, there’s a lingering sense of dread as he watches a light flicker from over the horizon.
They lost a lot of pilots that day, and with barely anything to show for it aside from another victory and a destroyed Belkan base. Pixy tries to not let his thoughts linger for too long.
Especially not on whatever the hell V2 was.
---
“So you two seriously won’t tell me anything?” Pixy asks, following behind Hare and Velvet as the three of them made their way to the cafeteria to grab some lunch (it was only the three of them this time, since everyone else had been busy with a wide array of other bullsh*t that he hadn’t bothered to remember).
“It’d be bad practice to just let you know what the bet’s about! I dunno about you but I’m not gonna go and just up and risk my odds!” Hare huffs back, puffing out his chest dramatically, “Plus it just feels kinda.. I dunno-”
“Awkward?” Velvet offers, prompting a quick nod from him.
“Exactly!”
“Awkward.” Pixy echoes, watching the two of them nod, “Y’know, this really isn't making me feel any better about the whole thing. Feels like you guys are betting on my life or somethin’.”
“Oh come on, you know we wouldn't do that!” Hare tries to argue, just as Velvet rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, because we all know how that bet would end.”
“Wow thanks guys-”
“You know we didn't mean it like that Pixy!”
“Glad to see you still remember how to be modest, Solo Wing.” Velvet says, grinning as he holds the cafeteria door open for the two of them.
“I didn't even pick that name, y'know.” Pixy steps through just as quickly, feeling the sudden warmth that came from not being outside washing over him, “what's on the menu today anyways?”
“Beef stew I think.” A quick glance at the nearest person's plate showed that- yeah, that was beef stew alright.
“Oh, they're giving us bread instead of rice this time, nice!”
“Won't be so nice if the bread's stale,” Velvet says, snickering at the way Hare's expression suddenly drops, “at least it's pretty hard to f*ck up rice.”
“Not really.” He says, pointedly ignoring the look that's shot his way as they get in line.
“How the hell does someone f*ck up rice?”
“Hey, remember that one time when-”
“Guys, as great as this conversation is-” Hare quickly interjects, “I would like to still have an appetite by the time we get our food.”
It was almost funny, seeing just how mature the guy could be when he wasn't drunk off his ass.
“Alright, alright, sorry about that.” Pixy chuckles, lightly elbowing Velvet when he rolls his eyes beside him, “Anything in particular that you wanted to talk about instead?”
“Not the war, please. I’d like to enjoy one meal without having to think about work.” Velvet says, looking at him again.
“Don’t give me that-”
“I’m not giving you anything! I just don’t wanna talk about the war, which, y’know, includes you flying with Cipher.”
“I don’t talk about it that much.” He grumbles.
“Sure.”
“You guys hear about what happened to Crash last week?”
The conversation spirals from there. They get their food eventually- and it’s alright. The bread is fresh, at least- and they eat while talking about whatever the hell comes to mind. Which is a lot of things. Though, Pixy always ends up being cut off whenever he does try to bring up anything vaguely “work” related. As if this whole situation wasn’t just work.
“I can’t even talk about that?” Pixy asks, fighting the urge to smack Velvet on the arm as he shakes his head- they had war (the game, not the actual war they were fighting right now) for that.
“Nope, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Hey, Hare agrees with me too, yeah?”
Hare’s face is twisted into a grimace, unable to distract himself now that he’s cleaned his plate.
“Don’t drag me into this.”
Hah, he almost sounded like Cipher-
Cipher, who was probably close to being done with whatever he said he wanted to do earlier. Something about checking on his jet, Pixy thinks. He’d been hoping to catch him during lunch, but he hadn’t shown up yet.
“Oh come on, you’re no fun!” Velvet laughs, putting down his spoon just to poke at Hare.
“I’m plenty of fun!” He tries to argue, “But someone has to be the responsible one in this group.”
“What about Catty?”
“Cat doesn’t count,” Pixy says, before Hare can, “remember the time she almost broke my nose when we couldn’t decide on a winner that one time?”
“She’s only like that with you though.” Instinctively, his hand goes to rub at his poor, poor nose as Velvet pops another piece of bread in his mouth.
One of the “perks” of being her best friend, he guessed.
“That doesn’t change anything. Would Hook count?”
“Hook would probably be one of those really freaky girls in a horror movie if she could.” Hare answers this time.
“Like she isn’t already? What about that one time when she almost scared the piss out of us after that one night because she was just standing in the middle of a dark hall? I still have nightmares-”
Grigori was still pretty new to their group- the guy was probably too busy with his own kid to deal with all their bullsh*t anyways. So that just left…
“Cipher?”
“Pixy, for the love of everything even half-decent in this world, please. Don’t even start.” Velvet says- almost begs, really.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean-?”
“Hey, uh,” before he can really get a response, someone that Pixy only kinda sort of remembers walks up to their table, three others in tow with fresh plates in their hands, “I was wondering if you guys would be done eating soon? All the other tables are full right now and we really don’t wanna have to eat outside.”
“Oh, of course!” Hare quickly answers, picking up all three of their mostly finished plates before either Velvet or Pixy could even think of arguing (though he doubted they would), “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
The three of them file out pretty quickly after that, stacking up their plates with everyone else's before they step back out into the still bitter cold of Valais.
“So, you guys wanna split up now or should we keep walking for a bit?” Hare asks first. It wasn’t all that often that it was just the three of them, so stuff like this was nice, sometimes.
“I’m fine with whatever Pixy wants to do.” Velvet says.
“Wow, springing the decision onto me, thanks Vel.”
“Hey! You know how to make a decision, don’t you?”
“And you don’t?”
“Are we walking yes or no?” Hare quickly interjects, before they can get caught in a loop of back and forth. Pixy is pretty sure he would have been able to get out of it and come on top anyways, but he wasn’t gonna say that.
“Sure, why not.”
Compared to everything else, their little trek to nowhere in particular is actually quite- maybe even peaceful. They take one of the lesser known paths around the base, leading out to an open area that Pixy liked to go to sometimes when he just needed some time alone. All the space was nice too, honestly.
He can’t help but stop dead in his tracks when he sees him standing there.
Among the still lingering snow, the open fields of white that would have stretched out into the horizon if not for the mountains jutting through it all, there was Cipher.
He had that rare, peaceful look on his face. The one Pixy had only ever really seen when he was playing his guitar, or when he was waking up in the morning at his side. A softness that shone in his eyes as he stared up and beyond into the brilliant blue sky above them.
“Pixy?” Velvet’s voice calls, stopping a few feet away from Pixy to turn and look at him- before he spotted exactly who he was looking at, “..ooooh.”
“This has been nice and all but I think I’m gonna be leaving here guys.”
“You sure?” Hare asks, his eyebrows furrowed in a way Pixy couldn’t quite place.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t let us keep you, then!” he says, grinning back. And whatever Hare was seemingly thinking about disappears just as quickly as it came.
Then, he’s wrapping an arm around Velvet’s shoulders, and the two of them are gone.
Pixy finds his eyes wandering over towards Cipher again- who was still standing in the same spot he’d been in when Pixy first looked away. For some reason, a part of his brain wanted to try and sear this moment into his memory. To hold onto whatever piece of Cipher he’d managed to find (all of the pieces he’d found so far, really) and clutch them as close to his chest as he could.
Everyone’s eyes had been starting to turn towards Cipher. It was impossible for them to not, honestly, with all the miracles and meant to be suicide missions he’d managed to pull off. The way he flew.
But there was something different about this.
About the fact that Pixy got to see him like this.
Cipher, with most of his guards and walls down, and softer eyes that he was starting to think might have only been reserved for him- at least out of everyone on base- and whatever he was looking off to in the sky.
Was that selfish of him to think? It probably was. Cipher was his own person, after all. He had his own life outside of Pixy, people that he hadn’t shared with him just yet.. If he ever would.
But the fact was that Pixy was able to see a part of Cipher that so few ever noticed, and he reveled in it.
With a gentle howl, a gust of wind sweeps over the clearing. The black, almost inky strands of Cipher’s hair are tossed around by it almost playfully, pulling strands into his face and forcing him to brush them away with the slightest hint of a pout.
As he’s tucking another strand behind his ear, his head tilts ever so slightly and-
They lock eyes.
sh*t.
For a moment, Pixy is entirely frozen to the spot. His brain scrambles for some way to explain himself, or for whatever the hell compelled him to just stand there in that field and watch Cipher like some sort of weirdo.
Though, instead of hitting him with some sort of remark or literally hitting him, Cipher just walks towards him. The snow is silent beneath his feet, only ever crunching every few steps- and even then Pixy can barely catch the sound. Before he knows it, he’s already there, right in front of him.
And all he can do is stare dumbly when he feels a hand (Cipher’s hand) pinching one of Pixy's cheeks between two of his fingers.
“How long have you been out here?” Cipher asks.
“Whuh- huh?” Pixy responds, still entirely confused as to what was happening.
The faintest hint of a smile plays on his face, and Cipher.. Chuckles?
“Too long then, your face is all red.”
Was it?
Pixy didn’t think his face was red. Today was actually pretty warm, all things considered. He hadn’t felt the cold nipping at his skin, or the bitter chill calling him to cover up what he could afford to.
“Well.” Come on, he tries to remind himself. He was the Solo Wing, he was supposed to be cool- suave. Pixy could salvage this jet wreck he’d found himself in, “If I’m so cold, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, buddy. You need your personal human-heater again or something?”
“Do you want me to use you?”
HUH.
Something that feels like a missile making contact blooms in Pixy’s chest as he struggles to compose himself. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?? What would anyone say to that?!
..And why the hell did it not bother him as much as he thought it should’ve?
...
“I wouldn’t mind.”
He can’t help but smile as Cipher snickers at him again, a faint flush dusting his cheeks as another breeze blows by.
“Lucky for you, I think I might actually be getting used to the cold, so I’ll be fine.”
“So you don’t need me then?” he asks, feeling the tightness in his lungs ease up as the conversation shifts back into something a little easier to handle.
“I didn’t say that..” Cipher mumbles. Suddenly turning his head away so that they’re no longer looking eye to eye, “I thought you’d be happier about me getting used to the cold, since you seem to like it so much.”
The cold had always been kinder to Pixy than the warmth of a fire ever had.
He always liked it better, too- better than drowning in a puddle of his own sweat in the middle of summer- the chill leaving him feeling stiff but alive even as it seeped into his bones.
Honestly, Pixy was starting to associate Cipher with that same chill, too. They’d met in the middle of a small snowstorm, after all. And there was, of course, his body’s inability to maintain a body temperature that couldn’t just be labeled as “cold.”
Pixy wanted to hold those cold hands, now.
“But if the cold isn’t a problem anymore, then you don’t need me to help warm up your hands buddy!”
“You can still..” Between Cipher’s face being pointed away and how quiet the words are, Pixy isn’t able to make out the last part of the sentence.
“What was that?”
“You heard me, Pixy.”
“I don’t think I actually did, Cipher.” He says back, cheekily, “care to repeat that?”
“I said you can… you can still help me warm up my hands, if you want.” Cipher mumbles, almost breathes as he runs a hand through his hair, “I think you’re underestimating how much I need you, though.”
“Am I now?- ow! Hey, that hurts!” Pixy’s cheek stings after a particularly harsh tug from Cipher, who’s gone back to glaring at him after that little comment.
“Don’t look so smug, Solo Wing.”
“I’m alwaysh schmug, ish kinda part of the brand ya’nno!”
“Be a little less smug then, it looks better on you.” Cipher huffs, releasing him as Pixy’s hand moves to rub at his poor, abused cheek.
All he can do is watch as Cipher’s gaze turns away from him again, this time back towards the skies. That softer expression of his is still there, but something in Pixy’s chest can’t help but ache in seeing that it isn’t directed at him.
That Cipher isn’t looking at him.
But that was just how things were, wasn’t it? No matter how close Pixy tried to get in this strange friendship of theirs (even despite his better judgment), there would always be that invisible wall. An endless blue atmosphere between them that kept Cipher just out of reach- and unlike him, it wasn’t as easy for Pixy to slice the sky in two.
Was it… weird, that he wanted Cipher to look at him in the first place?
“Gonna take a lot more than some empty words to train that out of this dog, buddy.”
“What if I played for you again?” Cipher asks, and Pixy can't help but pause.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks back.
“My guitar, obviously. Seemed to do the trick last time, didn't it?” There he went again, throwing him for about as many loops as he did in the sky- really, Pixy should just expect to be surprised by Cipher at this point.
“Right- right now?” and f*ck- Pixy feels like some stupid teen again with the way his voice cracks, “You're serious.”
Cipher's head doesn't move, but Pixy sees when his eyes do. Those brown irises that were almost dark enough to be black looking back at him and the sky behind him.
If only he could see what he looked like from Cipher's point of view-
“When am I not?” Cipher's lips curve up just the slightest bit more, his eyes crinkling and shining with clear amusem*nt.
“Oh, you-” a laugh bursts from Pixy's mouth before he can stop it, “don't give me that you cheeky bastard!”
“I don't know what you're talking about, Pixy.”
“You know you do and we both know it.”
Just as he tries to lunge for his flight lead, he catches his hand in his own as if it's the easiest thing in the world, and Pixy's breath hitches. Loud enough to hear.
“f*ck,” he breathes, “your hands are cold.”
“You aren't looking much better,” Pixy tries not to wince as Cipher pinches his cheek again, “guess that's our call to head back and warm up.”
“You think so?”
“Do you not want to go back yet?”
Did he? Pixy wasn't entirely sure he wanted this moment to end yet, honestly. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud- especially not to Cipher. Though, there was one thing…
“You'll.. play for me if we go back, right?”
“Of course.” He says.
Pixy sucks in another breath.
“Okay,” Pixy answers, “let's go back.”
And for some reason, neither of them let go of the other's hand until long after they've returned to their shared room and gotten situated.
---
There was something about seeing Cipher caught directly in the path of Excalibur’s light that would be seared into his brain forever, Pixy thinks.
Both of them had their afterburners powered on at full throttle, trying to get out of the line of fire as quickly as possible while the “holy sword” struck to smite them. It wasn’t the hardest thing to dodge, but it wasn’t easy, either. Especially not when they only had a few seconds of warning before it fell on them.
Especially not when the warning they got showed that Cipher was caught directly in its beam.
“Buddy!-” He tries to call out to him, unable to do anything but swerve himself to safety.
There’s nothing else to do, nothing else Pixy can do but god- f*ck he wants to. He knew Cipher wanted to die, knew that he wasn’t going to do it himself and this was the perfect out for him. A nice little “get out of life free” card handed to him with sparkly letters. And with it he would take all of Pixy’s hopes and stupid half-formed dreams with him to hell.
It feels like an eternity, watching and waiting to hear the call that Cipher crashed- to see the severed remains of his jet fall like a bird that’s lost its wings.
Pixy sees his jet again, some of the metal stained- no, charred- black from the heat of Excalibur. Honestly, the fact that Cipher’s F-15C was still mostly in one piece was a miracle.
The fact that Cipher was still there to begin with was a miracle.
“Galm team,” Eagle Eye’s words cut through the silence just before Pixy can, whatever words that had been on his tongue dying as he remembers exactly where they are- who they are, what they are, “you are in the clear!”
They’d survived.
Carefully, Pixy maneuvers himself right back to his spot beside Cipher. Tilting his bird just enough to try and get a look at him through his co*ckpit- where he’s huddling over the controls of his jet like a lifeline. There was no skeleton in that co*ckpit, no fiend that revealed itself upon the death of its mortal shell.
It’s just Cipher.
And that’s more than enough to put a smile on Pixy’s face.
“Looks like we live to see another day, Cipher.” He hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Compared to everything else, landing is an easy affair. If anything, Pixy is greatful to get his feet back on solid ground. The concrete beneath his feet is considerably more grounding than being caught in the open air with that damn laser… whatever it was.
The first thing he tries to do is check on Cipher. Why wouldn’t Pixy, really? That was his flight lead after all, he had to make sure the guy was alright.
“Ciph-!”
Immediately, the words die on his tongue again as Cipher pulls him into the tightest hug he’s had in years- maybe even longer than that.
He’s shaking.
Shaking?
Before he can even stop to think about what the hell he’s doing, Pixy’s arms find their way around Cipher’s back. Pulling him closer to try and steady his trembling body. From this close, Pixy can even feel his heart- pounding through his chest.
Yeah, okay. Now was not the time to play things cool.
“You… you really scared me right there at the end, buddy.”
”I’m sorry.” Cipher mumbles back, the words muffled as he buries his head into Pixy’s shoulder.
Without thinking too much, Pixy gently bumps his head back against Cipher’s, hoping the little bit of extra contact might offer some sort of comfort- or something like that.
f*ck. He really can’t believe that Cipher almost died.
Pixy can’t believe that Cipher had the chance to die and didn’t take it- hell, it seemed a lot like he didn’t even want to take it now. When did that happen?
Maybe- maybe if he didn’t want to die anymore, even if it was just a little bit more than before, maybe Pixy could be a little selfish now. (More selfish than he’d already been, at any rate. But that wasn’t important.)
“Don’t go somewhere I can’t follow. You-” He can do this, say this, Pixy just needs to get the words out, “You’re my flight lead, Galm One. I’d follow you into the pits of hell if you asked, I think.”
Cipher doesn’t react, still shaking in his arms- holding him like everything will disappear if he loosens his grip for even a moment.
Pixy can keep going.
“It’s you and me, buddy. We’re… we’re gonna see the end of this war together, got it?”
The moment the words are out of his mouth, Cipher goes stiff as a board. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move, he barely even seems to be breathing as Pixy watches him- waiting for any kind of response.
“That’s-” His voice sounds raw in a way Pixy has never even considered it could be, before, “that’s a big promise, you know.”
“That’s not a no.” He mumbles back.
Please, he wants to say. Please just say yes. Even if the words are empty, he just wants to hear this. To have some sort of reassurance that Cipher won’t just up and leave one day and let him pick up the pieces.
Pixy wanted to be good, to do good. To do something that meant something.
And with Cipher- god, it all felt so easy. Easier than anything else in the world.
“I’ll try.”
They spend the rest of the day just sort of aimlessly floating by, unsure of how exactly they managed to make it out of that alive while everyone else they know fusses over them. Pixy got a lot of hugs that day- at least from his friends.
He still thinks he liked Cipher’s hug the most, though.
Later that night, when Cipher steps into their room smelling like cheap alcohol, Pixy doesn’t question it. He’s tired enough as is, anyways.
So, together, they fall into the bed that definitely isn’t Pixy’s own- and he lets himself be lulled to sleep by the steady breaths beside him in Cipher’s arms. It would be nice if things could be like this forever, he thinks, just before his eyes fall shut.
---
God, Pixy's head is killing him.
The sh*tty cheap mattress beneath him creaks in the way it only did when someone had left too much weight on it- which was already a pretty low bar, but it was rarely this noticeable.
Or, well, normally it wasn't this noticeable. But things have been changing recently.
A lot has been changing, really.
Gently, he brushes his thumb against the hand in his own. It wasn't fair, how things always ended up like this. How Cipher- despite all of his cold distance- always seemed to be the one to pull them closer. Especially unintentionally.
Especially like this.
This was, what, the third time they'd fallen asleep together? Still wearing their flight suits and all of the layers they'd hidden beneath.
If Cipher hadn't been so cold, Pixy would've been worried about him somehow managing to suffer from a heatstroke in the middle of the cold ass mountains they'd been based in.
A part of him almost wished something would happen to force his flight lead to peel away something.
Hell, even now, it would've been so easy to peel back the undershirt he was wearing. To try and see the scars he knew were under there. The ones he’d been wondering about since the moment he saw him.
But he wouldn't.
Why? Pixy definitely couldn't tell himself what the reason was.
Maybe because of how far they'd gotten? With the way the war was going, it was important that he didn't f*ck up whatever fragile trust based truce they'd unofficially agreed on. After liberating Directus, it'd take another miracle for the higher ups to separate them.
Though, it wasn't like he wanted to join a new squad either. Pixy would, eventually, because that was how their work worked. But he was pretty cozy with his spot for now.
Pixy was pretty cozy with his spot right now, too.
Again, Cipher shifts a little closer. Pulling him into his arms with the one behind his back, while his grip tightened against his hand.
The way he held him made it feel like Pixy was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
Holding him just out of reach from the skies his eyes were always on.
It was a weird feeling- not that Pixy didn't like it, for some reason- but something he couldn't quite place. As if they were something more than just another pair of wingmen paired against impossible odds.
Normal wingmen wouldn't hold each other. Not like this.
Normal wingmen didn't...
If the man beside him wasn't sleeping so peacefully, Pixy might've tried to scream into the pillow. That was the main issue, wasn't it? The fact that none of this was normal- not him or Cipher, with their reputations of surviving where they shouldn't have. The fact that they were, somehow, winning a war that wasn't meant to be won; against an enemy that wasn't meant to be beatable.
Cipher was supposed to be cold. He should have been calculating, his head held high and impossible to understand. Unknowable in the same way as those advanced math questions he'd never gotten to learn.
And he was; and yet he wasn't. For some damn reason, he wasn't and it drove Pixy mad.
For someone so perfectly molded for the life of a mercenary, he was so... soft? Like the down feathers of a bird, or the soft cotton insides of new winter gloves.
For all of the sharpness and edges, Cipher still stepped back and made room for him.
He listened to him and his sh*tty half assed rambles even when he didn't know what he was saying half of the time. Or when he put up with all of his stupid bullsh*t that'd normally either glue people to his side or drive them away entirely.
Cipher held him, just like he was holding him now. Looked at Pixy as if he could ever be something more than a murderer for hire with just another tragic, miserable past and no future to look forward to.
As if he mattered to someone.
Did he matter to Cipher?
Pixy could still remember the way he'd sounded like he was going to cry when he said he didn't want him to die after Directus. When was the last time someone had cared about his life like that? Maybe nineteen years ago, before his entire life had fallen apart like a jet crumpling into the ground like a can of soda.
It was scary, how tender it made him feel. How soft.
Again, he can feel Cipher's fingers curl against his own. The weight of his body, pressing against his own.
The two of them huddled together for warmth like the dogs they were- despite how most people of their pedigree shied away from any sort of intimacy.
And was that what it was? Intimacy? Could there have been-?
No, no. He wouldn't say it. Not yet. Either of them could die at any moment, and despite his luck, he had a feeling the odds weren't in his favor between the two of them.
Their knees brush together, the bed creaks. Despite the fact he was taller- for some reason- Cipher was still the one to hold him.
God, was it wrong that he wished they could do this more? To do this when they weren't drunk, maybe?
Pixy could barely even imagine what the odds of this were knowing what Cipher had been though, even if it was only pieces. Bits and fragments that he'd heard from the little myths about him that would eventually be forgotten with the legend his flight lead was building.
Would Cipher ever tell him about it? Did he deserve to know?
When he became a hero, would Pixy be there, too?
It was stupid. Stupid to think of. Stupid to dream. He knew how hoping ended, and yet....
And yet.
Cipher still isn't awake, so he takes the chance to snuggle closer. If he wakes up any time soon, then Pixy knows he'll just lie and say he'd only just woken up too. Honestly, Cipher was starting to trust him a little too much.
It was scary, that trust. He can feel his breath against the little hairs on his head and tries to ignore how much it aches.
They shouldn't be this close, they aren't close enough.
Maybe, if they survived to the end of this war somehow, maybe then Pixy could let himself actually hope for something he knew he didn't deserve.
Until then, he was more than happy to enjoy the scraps he was given. At least until someone called him out on it at least.
Absent-mindedly, he fidgets with the sleeves of Cipher's undershirt like a lover waiting for the man who held his heart to wake up. Never tugging it up to reveal the scars he could only wait and hope to see someday.
Though, in his pointless day dreaming, Pixy forgets to keep an ear out for the door- why would he need to? When the only people who'd ever really wander in were himself and Cipher.
Behind their shared bunk and the bed that wasn't made for two, the door opens.
"You gay-ass mother f*cker." Catalyst says, and while her voice sounds nothing like a gunshot straight to his heart, it sure as hell feels like one.
f*ck.
f*ck. He was so f*cked.
The first thing Pixy does is shoot straight up so he can look at her properly. Only just mindful enough to wiggle out of Cipher’s arms before he does so- under no circ*mstances could Cipher wake up right now.
“Why the f*ck did you not knock?”
“Because I didn’t think I’d need to knock- and it’s not like you locked your door either!”
“Because most people f*cking knock Cat!” He hisses, freezing as soon as Cipher starts to mumble something beside him, “We aren’t having this conversation here.”
“Why not?” Catalyst asks, looking back at Cipher, “Is it because you don’t want him telling me that you two are-”
He looked so peaceful like that- or, really, about the same amount as peaceful as he did earlier. It almost felt wrong for Catalyst to be there, seeing a part of Cipher that only Pixy had been privy to until now.
“We’re not waking him up.” He says.
Just as Pixy stands up, grabs her by the wrist, and drags the both of them out of that room before she can finish.
"Pixy."
"Shut up."
"Pixy."
"Catalyst, shut the f*ck up for five seconds." he hisses, the two of them were practically sprinting down the hall despite the fact they were walking. If they had whatever conversation she was about to force him into out in the open, or- God forbid- the room he shared with Cipher, he'd much rather just be killed via firing squad at that point.
"Oh, yeah, because I'm supposed to just shut up when you-"
"I will actually f*cking kill you the next time we have practice, I'm not kidding. Shut the hell up."
"Christ, okay! Worried about your damn reputation that much?"
That wasn't what it was.
No, no. What it was meant that he was f*cked.
It feels like it takes too long and not long enough until they find a half decent spot to hide in and talk about this. As much as Pixy would rather not acknowledge it at all.
"You two were f*cking cuddling."
"We weren't."
"Yes you were?? Don't lie to me, Pixy. I caught your ass- and what happened to 'not wanting to wake him up' huh?" She says, pointing a finger at his chest that he really wants to slap away.
"So?"
"Are you two..." Catalyst pauses, looking away from him just long enough to say, "together?"
"You gotta be more f*cking specific than that, Cat."
"I don't think you want me to be more specific."
Pixy holds his head in his hands, trying to act like this whole situation isn't making him wish he'd died when he lost his wing.
"Something in between, then?" He asks.
"Nah, I'm just gonna go for it- are you two f*cking?"
f*cking?
Oh.
Oh.
"Wh-" the speed he looks up at is enough to leave him with a worse headache than any alcohol ever had, "No! No we're not- you- why would you even-!?"
"You were cuddling! Not to mention all that other sh*t lately, seriously, I've been telling you about the way you look at him."
"He's my wingman."
"We kissed that one time, right?" She says, and Pixy can practically hear how much she's trying to not be sick.
"We were drunk off our asses and we both immediately regretted it."
"But we've both flown together."
"That was different!"
"You're a f*cking idiot, Pixy." As if he didn't already know that, "what was it then? Perfectly normal and platonic cuddling between friends- buddies? The one that we all do with our wingmen?"
"Cat."
"Wow! What else was there that I'm forgetting? The platonic wingman hand holding? The gentle touches and soft looks? The f*cking kisses on the lips?"
"It's just been the cuddling, Cat. You over dramatic bitch." He hisses, watching as Catalyst rolls her eyes at him.
Completely unimpressed by the empty threat.
"Just the cuddling."
"Yes, just the Goddamn cuddling," he says, trying not to actively snap at her, "are you seriously going to interrogate me over this? This early in the morning, really?"
"This wasn't a one time thing?"
sh*t.
"Well-"
"Pixy," she practically hisses, grabbing him by his flight suit with something adjacent to murder in her eyes, "how many times."
"That's not your business-!"
"I'm your friend asshole, yes it's my business!"
What, and was all of his baggage her business, too? The feelings he was desperately trying to bury before they could blow up in both his and Cipher's faces? No, no. He wasn't f*cking doing this.
"Can we just drop it, please?"
"You're in love with him."
"What?"
"You've completely fallen for him, holy sh*t." She says, as if that means anything but disaster.
"I haven't-"
"You have! Holy sh*t, I don't think I've ever seen you like this, oh you're completely head over heels- ha! The Solo Wing, in love, who would've thought!"
Was he?
"I'm not-"
He was, he knew he was. But he couldn't say it out loud- much less let Cipher ever know.
Cipher deserved so much- Pixy didn't need to drag him down with him. Maybe, maybe if he lived to see the end of the war, maybe. Maybe.
"What, and you're saying you don't want to hold him whenever you can?" Oh, oh he did. Damnit. It wasn't fair.
But nothing had ever been fair for him, had it?
"I'm so f*cked," finally, beneath the weight of all his words, he crumbles. Catalyst was such a f*cking asshole, sometimes, she never knew when to drop things. Now he had to deal with this, "f*ck."
"You can just tell him."
"I can't." She didn't get it. How could she? He couldn't hurt him like that. Pixy couldn't hurt himself like that.
"Pixy, come on."
"I'm being serious," He hisses clenching his fists and hoping the ache from it would be enough to distract from the one in his heart, "I can't, not yet."
"f*ckin’ coward."
Yeah, Pixy already knew that, too.
"He's not gonna be able to win this war if I die after that, y'know." It was the way Cipher looked at him, wasn't it? At least if there was some distance, maybe they could both survive if everything fell apart again.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"If he dies, what are you gonna do? Live with that for the rest of your life?" She asks, in that same tone that almost felt like she was trying to look out for him.
"He's not gonna die." People like Cipher were special, if either of them were going to die, it would be him. If he died at all, of course.
"You believe in him that much."
"You'd get it if you saw him fly."
The way he cut through the air, as if he'd been born with wings instead of strapping himself into a hollow metal hunk of junk.
Each and every movement mapped out to cause the most destruction possible- and yet, even when he could, he didn't destroy everything.
Cipher was violence personified, he was merciful. He was just as kind as he was distant. He had an awkward laugh that never failed to make Pixy smile, a charming unsteadiness on the ground, eyes deep and dark like an abyss that he could lose himself in forever.
Catalyst doesn't say anything. Choosing to punch his arm instead and start walking away.
"You seriously aren't gonna try and have the last word?" Pixy can't help but ask as she opens the door.
"I know I can't win when you're like this," she says, looking back at him, "have fun with your pining dumbass. I'll say I told you so when you realize how stupid you were to not just confess when I told you so."
She leaves. Pixy just stands there- and, eventually, sighs.
No, there wasn't going to be a time when she ever said that- or, at least he doubted it. It'd take a miracle for them to have any sort of chance.
But there have been a lot of miracles happening lately, haven't there? [maybe change this idk]
---
When Pixy had signed his contract with Ustio- he already hadn’t been expecting a full on war to break out. Much less for him to become a vital part of it!
It’s hard to figure out how he feels when they’re flying to Excalibur.
He couldn’t give less of a sh*t about his heritage, but still, anyone would have to be impressed looking at the damn thing. Belkan witchcraft really must have been real for them to make something so capable of destruction.
And there they were, trying to destroy it.
Pixy can’t figure out how he feels, so he tucks those feelings away instead. His sights focused on those blue tips just ahead of him and the green, grassy hills even further beyond.
On the brightside, Ustio cared enough about them now to not send him and Cipher off on their own. There were three other pilots- Crow team, apparently- and while they all seemed capable enough, Crow Three was…
Well, to put it nicely. He sounded like a kid who shouldn’t have been anywhere near any of this.
Of course, wars were built off of the bodies of kids who didn't know any better; or those who didn’t have a chance to know any better. So, really he shouldn’t have been too bothered by it in the first place.
This was just how things were.
“Pixy to Crow Three. If you get shot down, crash where I can’t see.”
“Roger, leave it to me.” The kid- PJ says back, surprisingly composed. Composure didn’t guarantee that he’d make it far, though.
It’s easier to cover Cipher than to go for the targets himself- so Pixy does just that. Chasing bandits off of his buddy’s tail as he sweeps across the mountain. Tearing apart the jammers in his wake.
Excalibur, even when they’re right at it’s doorstep, is not one to lie down and die. If it really was such a great and formidable foe, then why would it?
A piercing shriek fills the air as it’s blade sweeps behind them, inching ever closer amid their assault until-
“Cipher-” He calls, something he thinks might be panic flashing through him as he sees the warning fall directly ahead of them, “they’re going to fire the laser! Pull out!”
Pixy pulls back again, expecting Cipher to follow this time-
Except he doesn’t.
No, what Cipher does is fly ahead. Despite the fact that the last jammer is right in Excalibur’s line of fire, or the fact that he’d almost died to the damn thing the last time something like this happened.
Cipher pushes forward, taking out the jammer and cutting straight ahead just before it shoots.
And, for some reason, somehow, it works.
“That’s the last jammer! Attack Excalibur!” Eagle Eye calls.
Something finally clicks in Pixy’s brain.
He’d spent so much time thinking that Cipher had made a deal with some sort of demon- that he sold his soul or something else in order to get where he was. To look directly at something that was impossible and come out successful- to survive where anyone else would have died. But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Cipher hadn’t made a deal with a demon.
No, Cipher was the demon.
But then that left the question of which one?
Most of the obvious answers were already a no go- while Cipher was terrifying up in the air, he wasn’t merciless. If someone didn’t need to die, or a target didn’t need to be destroyed, he’d usually let them go.
Though, Pixy knew he couldn’t have been some nameless one that barely even meant anything, either.
Even if his callsign meant nothing- if he thought he was nothing- Pixy knew that he was something, so it had to be one that people knew, too.
Berillion? No, that one was too cheerful. Couldn’t be Taleyr either.
Razgriz?
Pixy watches just as Cipher cuts the first path into Excalibur, rending it’s remaining defenses apart as if it’s nothing to him- and he can’t help but wonder how it didn’t click in his mind sooner. Belka had been planning this war for who knows how long, after all- all the pieces were in the perfect places to essentially guarantee their victory. Hell, Ustio had essentially been on its last leg before he showed up.
Razgriz was the plan wrecker, and he couldn’t imagine Cipher being anything other than that.
Of course, there was also the whole dying thing. When paired together with Cipher’s unfortunate accident six years ago, it all made sense. A man Pixy didn’t know- would never know, now- died there, and from that corpse came the Cipher that he now knew.
It’d kind of explain just how exactly he was so… so charming, too. Constantly pulling Pixy in and leaving him with little reprieve.
Even now he felt breathless, watching as Cipher cut through everything more cleanly than the very blade they were fighting. Sidestepping Excalibur’s laser as if he hadn’t nearly died to it not that long ago.
“Yo buddy,” Again, Pixy calls, knowing that Cipher can hear him, “you’ve got everybody fired up and believing in miracles.”
Pixy was sure that Cipher had gotten him to believe in them again.
---
Later that night, Pixy is the one who has to drag Cipher back to their room this time.
Somehow, for some reason, someone managed to convince Cipher to get more drunk than he’d ever seen him- which was saying a lot, considering the guy could barely stand alcohol just a month or two ago. He’s sure something has changed there. Though it’s just another thing Pixy knows better than to ask about.
He thinks the kid had something to do with it, but Pixy already doesn’t want to think too much about him in the first place, so he doesn’t.
“Pixy..” Cipher murmurs, clinging to him as Pixy lays him into his bed. Carefully pulling him out of his harness and unzipping the top most part of his flight suit so he doesn’t accidentally choke himself in his sleep.
That’d be a sh*tty way to lose the war, after all. Losing him to something like that.
It would be a lie to say there wasn’t something relaxing about it either. In trying to make sure Cipher was comfortable with the same care and gentle touch that Cipher would always treat him with when their situations were reversed.
Cipher looks at him so softly, too. So tenderly that it makes something swell in Pixy’s chest and he almost- almost, he knows how badly things would end if he ever really did- wants to press his lips to the top of his forehead. Maybe one of his cheeks. He’s been dying to know how Cipher’s skin would feel against his lips but he just… can’t. Not now.
Not yet.
So Pixy settles for the strange routine they’ve fallen into instead. Settling beside his flight lead as Cipher makes a contented noise, quickly pulling him into his arms and cuddling him close.
It’d been getting warmer lately, and Pixy had found himself craving Cipher’s chill more and more as time went on.
Hard to say if that was from the heat or something else, though.
In the morning, when he wakes, the first thing Pixy sees is Cipher’s head. Buried in his shoulder as he held him close.
Without thinking too much about it, one of his hands finds its way into Cipher’s hair again, gently running his fingers through the locks there as Pixy feels him lean into the touch. It’d probably be a better idea for one of them to get up- maybe grab some water and painkillers before things got too bad.
Neither of them would be here if they were that smart, though.
“Morning, buddy.” Pixy murmurs, knowing Cipher well enough to tell he’s awake. A small hum is all he gets in response, “how’s the hangover treating you?”
“Bad.”
“Yeah?”
Another muffled hum is the only answer he gets, feeling Cipher bury his head a little further into his shoulder- as if he could disappear entirely if he went far enough.
Maybe it was a good idea to get up now, then.
Pixy slowly pulls his free arm away from Cipher- the one that was wrapped back around him- trying to move it so that he could push himself upright and get out of (Cipher’s) bed. However, the arms around him only seem to tighten, keeping Pixy trapped there with a strength he didn’t even know Cipher had.
“Don’ wanna get up yet.” Cipher says, still muffled.
Ugh, that was so… cute? Charming?
“Well, what are we gonna do, then?” He asks, trying to think of something witty to say before he can’t stop ignoring that the weird, fluttering feeling in his stomach isn’t just a consequence of the hangover, “Because I dunno about you, but I’m getting kind of bored here, buddy.”
“..Razgriz.”
“Hm?”
“You said you wanted to tell me the story. We can stay in a little late.”
“Can we now?”
“I pulled that damn sword for them yesterday, they can give us an hour.” Cipher grumbles, sounding a little more like himself now.
“I don’t think it’s gonna take that long to tell the story, buddy.” He definitely couldn’t tell him the full story right now anyways- Pixy thinks he’d like A Blue Dove for the Princess, though. Maybe they’d be able to go over that one another time, he did have the book.
“It will if you keep trying to deflect like this.”
“I’m not deflecting-”
“Get to the story, then.”
Pixy rolls his eyes- and this time, when he looks back, Cipher is right there looking back at him. His hand was still in his hair, though, and Pixy wasn’t planning on moving it any time soon.
He should have expected this. Cipher always did like to watch him whenever he was telling a story.
It isn’t exactly a hard story to tell, even if Pixy has to remind himself that he’s telling it in the first place whenever he pauses. Too caught up in how enraptured Cipher looks by the tale to remember he’s still talking.
Cipher doesn’t seem to notice though, thankfully.
So they both lie there for a little longer, Pixy telling the demon beside him a story about himself as they lie together. At some point, his fingers had trailed up to Cipher’s scalp, the repetitive brushing turning into petting.
As always, neither of them comment on it. But there must have been something there, Pixy was pretty damn sure that Cipher didn’t let anyone else do this with him, after all.
It was just Pixy.
And, Pixy couldn’t help but wonder what else Cipher would let him do if he just asked.
But now wasn’t really the time for that, was it? There was still a war they had to fight, victories they had to achieve. Countless different ways that they could die- that would be so damn easy for them to die to.
So he would wait for now, because he had a feeling that it was all gonna be over soon. Everyone did.
And then, maybe…
…
---
Lucan was one of the last people that Pixy had been expecting to see at The Round Table.
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten him- because he hadn’t. Even if he tried, he knew he couldn’t just forget the things that they’d talked about- the things Lucan had offered him.
But with everything else, it might have slipped Pixy’s mind just a little, somehow, in some way that he knew but also knew he wouldn’t admit. That list of things had been piling up again lately, but among the mountain of things he’d been building up for his whole life, it really wasn’t that much.
“Larry,” Lucan calls- and for a moment, Pixy can see his jet pass by his own. Parallel to Cipher’s, “I think it’s about time we left this dead end job.”
Really, now?
Sure, this dogfight in particular was probably the ugliest he’d ever seen. Pilots going down left and right as more swept in to take their place. Everyone is fighting for a piece of recognition, a scrap of the spotlight on the stage known best as B7R.
Of course, none of them were anything to the actual lead of this little performance they were putting on.
No one could ever really take their eyes off of Cipher- Pixy definitely couldn’t.
Maybe it was Pixy just being stupidly hopeful again, maybe he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care at that moment. If Cipher could somehow beat the odds, then just like that stupid game of chance they’d played after Directus, Pixy couldn’t help but want to bet on him this time.
Maybe there was a better way.
Cipher’s pride was something special- he’d never seen anything like it. If they held onto that, if they kept trying, kept fighting just enough to put an end to all of this, then there was a chance things could be better.
He wanted to do things the right way. To see what Cipher would do- what he could do.
“Not just yet.” Pixy answers, almost like a promise.
He doesn’t know to who.
And with that, Pixy picks his path, following that same demon through the space he’s cut into the sky- further and further until it seems like there’s nowhere else left to go but higher up. He watches those six blue tips rend yet another squad of aces into the same nothing Cipher was named for as if they were nothing, only providing some support along the way.
The Demon Lord is named that day.
Pixy couldn’t be prouder to see it happen.
“Yo, buddy. Still alive?”
Hours later, after they’ve landed back on the ground and the high of a well earned win is running through Pixy’s system, he hears Cipher call his name.
His real name.
“..Larry.” It echoes through the hangar, trapping Pixy mid-step as if he actually was one of the fairies that his callsign had come from. It’s weird, hearing that name coming from him, of all people.
“Yeah, buddy?” Pixy turns his head back just enough to look at him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna start calling me that too.”
“Why did Wizard One call you that?”
Oh.
So that’s what this was about, huh?
“You jealous, buddy?” He knows it’s a stupid thing to ask- he shouldn’t be asking it in the first place but man, even if it was just a little, Pixy would’ve actually been a little happy to hear that. Not that he had anything against Lucan of course! But Cipher actually being jealous? Over him?
What the hell was this stupid crush doing to Pixy?
“Just curious.” Cipher answers. The words sound a little more forced than usual.
Was he actually-?
Wait, sh*t, no. They were in the middle of a conversation right now. Conversation first, then he’d deal with whatever the hell that was later- the same as usual.
He was gonna need most of his brain to explain whatever the hell was going on between him and Lucan without dropping the itsy bitsy little fact that he may or may not have been running a- to put it nicely- anti-government organization that he’d tried to convince Pixy to join a few times over the years.
“Ah, well.” How was he supposed to phrase this, actually? It’d be easy enough to just try and derail the conversation, but- “I did say I couldn’t say no to you, didn’t I?”
Cipher watches patiently as Pixy tries to get all of his thoughts together.
“Me and Lucan have a bit of history.” He says, as if that wasn’t the understatement of the century, “Shared a few jobs and drinks in the past. We, uh, agree on some big stuff too, so you could say we sort of know each other? He just uses my name because he’s like that, though. Like hell I’d ever call the guy by his name.”
There’s a few moments of silence, the two of them just sort of… staring at each other. Until Cipher finally opens his mouth again.
And says the last thing Pixy expected to hear.
“I can forget it, if you want.“
“What, my name?” He asks, trying to force down the surprise in his voice as Cipher nods.
That was.
Hm.
That was definitely something.
Would he really try to forget it just like that, if Pixy asked him to? Names weren’t exactly the biggest deal in their line of work, but there was still a reason they didn’t just hand them out willy-nilly. The idea of asking for Cipher’s real name or offering up his own hadn’t even occurred to him until now.
Was it really so bad, though? For Cipher to have his name?
“...You know what? Keep it.” Pixy says, before he can think better of it, “As long as you don’t go shouting it from the rooftops, I think I can trust your loyal unholiness with it.”
There were a lot of things he was trusting Cipher with, anyways. What was one more?
Just as Pixy turns away again, preparing to say something witty before they make their usual trek back towards the bar on base- again, Cipher beats him to it.
“Ciro.”
Ciro? That was… Sapinish, wasn’t it?
“...What?”
“That’s…” Cipher pauses, wearing an expression Pixy had never seen before as he looks back at him again, “my name. Don’t say it infront of anyone else.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, he starts to walk.
His name- he had given Pixy his name. No one knew sh*t about Cipher and yet he just-
“...Ciro.” He can’t help but echo, tasting the sound of it on his tongue.
“It suits you, buddy.” He says, smiling as Cipher turns back to face him this time. He thinks any name would fit him, but this one stood out. Maybe because it was just Cipher’s name, it could have been something else.
For a moment, something that Pixy is almost sure is a flush suddenly burns onto Cipher’s face- before he turns his head away just as quickly to start walking again. Nothing else is said.
So Pixy just takes his place behind him, following along as Cipher leads the two of them along the familiar path that was etched into his brain. In the same way that Cipher’s flight patterns had been. Traced into his memories after following them for so long- he’d follow forever, if he could.
But for now, this was enough.
He could have more when the war was over.
If Cipher was brave enough to share his name, then maybe… maybe Pixy could share his feelings with him, too.
It wouldn’t be long now.
