"Fuel gauge. Juniper, you really shouldn't?—"
"The plane better not fucking crash!" Bane bellows from the cabin.
I throw my head back and laugh, delighted by how easy it is to reduce these supposedly dangerous alphas to stuttering messes. "Relax, Daddy Bear, I'm not actually touching anything. Just looking."
I can't see him, but somehow, I can tell the massive alpha is blushing red as a tomato at that little term of endearment. The silence confirms it.
"You're sitting on me," Archer points out, his hands carefully placed on the controls like he doesn't know where else to put them.
"Your lap was the only seat available." I shift slightly, and he makes a strangled sound. "So how'd you learn to fly?"
He seems grateful for the change of subject, even if my position doesn't change. "Military. Eight years in the Air Force."
"Ooh, a flyboy. Did you have one of those cool call signs?" I ask, my fingers weaving into his hair. The little shudder he probably thinks he hid makes my lips twitch.
"Viper."
"Ohh, right. Sexy. I see why you kept it. So, why'd you leave?"
His hands tighten imperceptibly on the controls. "It's... complicated."
"I've got time." I trace a finger along the edge of the control panel, not quite touching anything important. But he doesn't know I know what to avoid, and that's what makes it fun. "We've got, what, six hours to kill?"
"Five and a half." He's quiet for a moment, then says, "I almost killed someone."
That gets my attention. I turn to look at him properly, studying his profile. He's handsome. They all are, but there's something very boy next door about Archer's good looks that makes him fun to fluster. "Almost?"
"Superior officer. He was..." Archer's jaw clenches. "He was abusing subordinates. Using his rank to... to hurt people who couldn't fight back. I snapped. Beat him within an inch of his life. They gave me a medical discharge. PTSD, they called it."
"Huh." I tilt my head, reassessing him. "Didn't know you had it in you, soldier boy."
He gives me a strained smile. "I don't like bullies."
"Good." I grin, wicked and sharp. "Neither do I. We should compare notes sometime. I bet your technique could use some work."
He makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be him choking on his own tongue.
"Can I fly for a bit?" I ask, reaching for the controls.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Felix and Bane roar in unison from the cabin.
I cackle, sliding off Archer's lap with deliberately slow movements. He looks like he's been through a wind tunnel, sandy brown hair all mussed up, pupils blown, breathing slightly uneven.
"Maybe next time, soldier boy," I purr, trailing a finger along his shoulder as I head back to the cabin.
Felix gives me a look that says he knows exactly what I was doing. I blow him a kiss and flop into my seat.
"You're going to give them all heart attacks," he observes.
"And we'll finish the job yet," I quip.
The rest of the flight passes with me alternating between napping on Felix's shoulder and making increasingly inappropriate comments just to see who breaks first. Carlisle wins by virtue of having no shame whatsoever, matching me innuendo for innuendo until even I'm a little impressed.
And turned on. But if I join the mile high club, it's going to be under slightly less nerve-wracking circumstances.
"Landing in five," Archer announces, and Carlisle produces the blindfolds again.
"Round two," he says, moving toward me with intent.
