“Asshole,” he grumbled before crawling over the seat to the next one.
I laughed and pulled myself easily into the pilot’s seat and slid the door shut with a solid thunk.
The cockpit was small. Two seats side by side with no gap between them, close enough that his shoulder pressed against mine when I reached across to the instrument panel. Everything in front of us was within arm’s reach—a dense cluster of gauges and dials in the center, two digital screens below them, switches running in rows above our heads.
Daniel looked right at home in the co-pilot’s seat.
I wrapped a hand around the tall black lever rising from the floor between my legs and eased it up a fraction. “Remember this?”
“Too well.” He shuddered as if reliving the memory from four years ago when he had to learn how to fly. I didn’t know if there were any other surgeons who could fly, but my Daniel was special.
“Want to touch it?”
“Never again.” He looked at it like it was a snake.
I laughed again and felt warm all over.
“How long do you need to keep her running?” he asked.
“A few minutes.”
He nodded and turned to look out the cockpit window. I followed his gaze to the dock, where another team was launching a Zodiac.
The instrument panel lit up—needles swung to their positions, numbers populated the digital screens, indicator lights blinked amber, then settled to green one by one.
“Looks good to me,” he commented.
“You still remember it!”
“Not something one forgets easily.”
“I bet you’re the only military doctor who knows how to read flight panels.”
“Didn’t learn it willingly,” he grumbled without any real heat.
I knew he secretly loved it. Daniel appeared so prim and proper that I doubted his station colleagues realized just how much of a maverick he was. He just executed his version of it quietly.
One of the parkas on the dock turned and waved at us. Daniel waved back. The man cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, but the cockpit’s closed windows and the slow whine of the engine starting up made it impossible for us to hear him.
Daniel gestured back, explaining we couldn’t hear him.
The man started giving us enthusiastic thumbs-ups, complete with hip thrusts.
“Oh my God.” Daniel groaned.
“Is that Viktor?” I asked.
“Who else? My roommate is slightly… unstable.”
I barked out a laugh. Daniel smiled and rolled his eyes.
“Is he still your roommate, though?” I asked, flipping switches.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought he and Sam were together now. Will he still be sleeping with you?”
Daniel suddenly fell silent, and his eyes widened.
