Learn to Fly

My Poor Brain

The whole flight from New York had been smooth, not once had Andie asked Sam for help. And when they hit turbulence, she didn't flinch. Confident, calm, collected. Even now as the Quinjet hovered in the skies over South Africa, cloaked and ready to go, the conversation was relaxed and easy; she showed no signs of discomfort. In the back of his mind, he was kicking his own ass for not just being himself around her earlier; Steve was right. The last twelve hours had been absolutely crazy, but the parts with Andie had been the best since they'd met.

Sam couldn't help teasing her. "Gonna have to trade that laptop for a pilot's uniform."

That million wat grin of hers always made his world a little brighter. "I think I'll keep the laptop," she laughed. "Just because I can fly one of these things doesn't mean I'm changing my profession."

"You'd look damn good in that uniform, though," he shot back, smirking. Just the mental image of her in uniform made the cabin a little warmer.

"Keep dreaming," she snickered.

Clint signalled from the other jet and she put them into position just under the clouds. Time to watch for any signs of Ultron. Or worse. Not that Sam could really imagine what would be worse than some AI murder-bot hellbent on killing his friends. On killing Andie.

He watched her as she flicked on autopilot and engaged the sensors, then relaxed back in her seat. Was it just him or did she look nervous?

"What are the odds of nothing happening and us flying back to New York unceremoniously?" she murmured, chewing on her thumb nail as she scanned the skies.

"Probably not great," he conceded. "You okay?"

Andie looked up at him through her lashes, nail wedged between her teeth. For a minute, she just watched him, those hazel eyes boring right through him; the gears turned as she searched for a reply. "What if we drop?" The words were so quiet he nearly didn't hear her over the soft whine of the engine.

"Drop?"

"I don't know," she muttered. "Ultron destroys the engine or something and we just go into freefall."

Sam smiled softly, reaching for her hand and pulling it into his. "You forget I've got wings?" he teased, nodding back over his shoulder. "I'll fly us out."

"What if I get thrown from the jet?" she asked quietly, hand squeezing his a little too hard. Not that he minded.

"I'll catch you." It was hard not to notice how perfectly her hand fit in his, how soft her skin was as his thumb rubbed across the back. A few light scars marred the skin, but didn't take away from the silky feeling.

She pushed up a little straighter in the chair, not letting go of his hand. "Maybe I'm not as cool with this as I thought I was," she admitted with a nervous chuckle.

Sam shook his head. "Nah, you're a total badass, Andie," he reassured her. "You got this."

That smile peaked back out at him, tugging the corners of her lips upward. "We're certainly gonna find out," she breathed, turning back to look at him. "I'm glad you're here."

Giving her hand a light squeeze, he said, "Me too."

They fell into a comfortable silence, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of her hand as they watched the skies and alerts. Every so often he'd glance over at her and see her chewing on her lip or a nail, hand still firmly in his. It amazed him that, despite her obvious fear of heights, she had been the one to ask Nat to train her how to fly. And that, after more than a year on a rollercoaster of fights and flirting, ups and downs, she was opening up and letting him comfort her.