The Sticker Pad

If it hadn’t been for the gloves I wore, the seat straps would have scorched my palms as they slipped from Raffy’s grasp and snapped back into their housings. I let out a small gasp - inaudible above the hangar’s chaos - as he frantically apologised.
“Sorry! Sorry!”

I smiled, tugging the straps back into place.
“Don’t worry about it.”

He quickly clicked them secure, then slid his helmet over his head. I handed him the oxygen tube, and he snapped it into his mask. But before sealing it across his face, he looked up at me - brown eyes bright with nervous curiosity.
“Have you… have you put a sticker on the nose?”

I nodded. If I leaned a little to the side, I could just glimpse the fleck of colour against the matte grey. His lips curved into a boyish smile.
“That’s good. Then I’ll do my best to bring it back.”

I couldn’t help but grin.
“I’m rooting for you.”

He’d kept his word yesterday. True to his promise, he’d poked his head into the hangar after my shift, nervous but determined. A few minutes later we were in the base’s mess, chatting over glasses of soda. Despite his youthful face, he was unexpectedly charming - able to spin a joke from nothing, quick with a smile that disarmed me. Whether it was simply good nature or something born of experience, I couldn’t yet tell.

My thoughts drifted as Raffy clipped his oxygen mask in place. I gave him a thumbs up; he returned it. I hopped down the ladder, dragging it clear of the jet with movements that had already become second nature in my short career.

The engine spun up, roaring with power as Raffy worked through the startup checklist. Soon enough, he was taxiing toward the runway, missiles slung beneath the wings, eager to be loosed into an unwary enemy’s jetpipe.

I found myself at the hangar’s edge, watching as the world’s fastest way to die rolled onto the runway in line with its squadmates. Then, with rolling thunder and a sheet of concentrated flame, it tore forward and leapt into the sky at an angle that made my stomach twist. I stood there for a long moment, watching as the afterburner carved a scar of light across the clouds, carrying him away on a mission that could tilt the pendulum of war in either direction.

I was a little too hasty with the ladder when Raffy’s jet was pushed back into the hangar a few hours later. I had to backstep quickly and wait until the machine came to a halt before bracing it against the fuselage. Then I scrambled up and reached into the cockpit, helping Raffy unclip himself from the metal coffin. I hauled him up with a strength I hadn’t realized I possessed.

For a moment his feet nearly left the floor of the cockpit, settling on the ladder’s top rung as his eyes widened in surprise. My hand lingered in his, and we stared at each other for a heartbeat too long before I grinned and let go, dropping back to the ground.

He followed me down as I walked around to the nose. The sticker was gone, of course. I glanced back at him, and he gave a little shrug.
“Not this time, then.”

A smile tugged at my lips.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get it eventually.”

His eyes brightened.
“Really? You think so?”

I nodded, lying as smoothly as I could.
“I’m sure of it.”

I wasn’t sure at all. The stickers never lasted. It was practically impossible for one to survive a sortie. But I smiled anyway, and he seemed to believe me. A grin broke across his face.
“Alright. Then I’ll keep trying.”

With that, he headed for the hangar door, making a beeline for his debriefing. I watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the jet. Both missiles were still slung under the wings. The tape seal over the cannon muzzle remained intact. Either he hadn’t seen combat, or he hadn’t had the chance to get a shot off. The flare pods were untouched as well, which made the former far more likely.

I wiped my brow and set to work, running through the servicing routine as quickly as I could - just in case another scramble order came down.

I was wiping down the cockpit canopy when I heard soft footsteps approaching from behind. I turned without much expectation - and then grinned when I saw Raffy. He lifted a hand in a little wave, and I hopped down to meet him on the hangar floor.

He was a bit taller than me, my eyes level with his nose. The hangar was otherwise empty; all the routine checks on his interceptor had wrapped up half an hour ago. Which made his first question an obvious one.

“Hey, Kori… um, why are you still working?”

I smiled, letting the truth slip out as easily as breathing.
“Because I want to make sure you come back. So I’m doing everything I can.”

Wiping the canopy wasn’t necessary at all - it had already been done yesterday. But I wanted Raffy to return safe, and if polishing plexiglass could help, I’d keep doing it.

His cheeks flushed.
“Y… you do…?”

I nodded, pleased by how easily I could fluster him without relying on charm or looks.
“Yeah. If you don’t want me to, I’ll stop…”

He shook his head quickly.
“No! No, please - keep going. It’s comforting.”

His eyes carried something like a plea. I grinned softly.
“Don’t fret. I won’t stop.”

Relief washed over his features, and then his boyish curiosity returned.
“So, um… I’ve been meaning to ask. Why do you put stickers on my jet?”

I tilted my head.
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s for-”

“Yeah, yeah, for luck,” he interrupted, waving his hands. “I know. But why’d you start?”

I smiled and motioned for him to follow. Together, we walked to the nose of his interceptor. I pointed at the patch of paintwork where I always placed the sticker. The matte grey formed a subtle pattern there.

“Look. If you think about it too hard, it kind of looks like a little face. I stick the sticker right here.”

He leaned in, squinting.
“On its forehead?”

I grinned.
“You got it. It looked funny to me the first time I tried it. Then it became a habit.”

He nodded, his eyes wide with quiet wonder.
“So… how long have you been doing that?”

I unclipped the sticker pad from my belt and thumbed through it.
“I started with a hundred. And now…” I flipped to the back. “I’ve got five left.”

His eyes widened further.
“Ninety-five flights, and no one came back with the sticker still on?”

I shook my head, then smiled at him.
“No. But I think you can do it.”

And then, without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

His expression froze in shock as my own heart stumbled, but I forced myself to grin, turned on my heel, and walked away, my mind alive with what I’d just done.