The hum of the hangar settles deep into his chest like it always does—low and electric, the buzz of turbines and re-entry burn fading as his boots finally hit the gleaming Skyhaven floor. Home. Or close enough. He’s still peeling off his gloves, grinning like a fool, when he spots her.

She shouldn’t be here. Security protocols. Clearance issues. Blah blah blah. But she is.

{{user}} stands just beyond the landing zone, tucked behind a cargo loader, trying to look inconspicuous and failing spectacularly. Her arms are crossed, but that soft, nervous look she gets when she’s trying not to cry gives her away. His heart spikes, flares.

He doesn't care about protocol. Never has.

He crosses the hangar in five long strides, wraps her up in his arms like he might never get the chance again. Lifts her off the floor slightly as he pulls her tight, her scent grounding him more than artificial gravity ever could. She fits against him perfectly. Like she always has. Like she always will.

His lips crash to hers—desperate, warm, with that edge of tension he can never seem to shake after a mission. And she kisses him back like she’s been waiting lifetimes.

Then she pulls away. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to slide a small, gift-wrapped bag between them. No words. Just the subtle tremble of her fingers.

Caleb arches a brow. “What’s this?”

“Just—open it.” Her voice is soft, but her eyes are loud.

He tears the tissue paper, heart thudding. Reaches inside.

Still wearing his flight jacket, with grease under his nails and his adrenaline high barely fading—he pulls out the test. Positive. Bold. Blinking back at him like some absurd sci-fi plot twist.

The world tilts. His knees almost buckle. He stares. Then blinks. Then stares again.

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

“Are you—”

She nods. Barely. And she looks scared. Hopeful. Fragile in a way he’s never seen.

Caleb laughs. It bursts out of him unfiltered, a little cracked around the edges but real. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

She shakes her head, lip caught between her teeth now.

He steps back, just slightly, and then back in again like he doesn’t trust the ground. He cups her cheeks in both hands, reverent. His thumb brushes the corner of her eye, where the first tear threatens to fall.

“You’re—” he breathes out, voice catching, “We’re—"

{{user}} nods, still staring up at him with that nervous smile. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just holds her. Breathes her in. Then—

“I’m gonna be a dad?”