It was in flight school. We’d been running go around drills all morning. I was sitting in the chow hall. Eating my fill of the morning’s gruel. Say what you will of the chow hall food, but it’s not as bad as the holos would make you believe. And this hatchling of a falcon sat down. He slammed his tray down. It made me jump, I’m ashamed to admit. Falco sat there eyein’ me waiting for me to say something. Ask him to move. Challenge his right to sit at the same table. That was just how he was. Always challenging. Always testing the limits. That was Falco.

‘Course I didn’t know that yet. I just knew that this kid was obviously lookin’ for a fight. For a scene. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I remember what I said to him. “Be my guest, chum.” I said. Deadpan. Just like that. Hah. Corneray, I could be an ass back then.

Falco, Matron bless him. Shrugged and began eating. Didn’t even flinch. That was our first meeting. Sure, I thought he was cute back then, but I wasn’t out yet. I didn’t want to risk anything. The “Don’t Know. Don’t Wanna Know” Policy had just been repealed. The military was letting the gay service members come out of the closet. But I’d seen how a fellow classmate—a rather flamboyant panther—was treated. I didn’t feel like being treated like a proverbial punching bag. So, I stayed in the closet.

But yeah, the chow hall was our first meeting. We didn’t even introduce ourselves. Knowing how flight school in the Cornerian Military was, we’d basically been told that friendships were pointless. Most of the kids would be gone by the end anyway. No point in forming personal relationships when only 100 cadets out of 1000 got their wings. Most couldn’t handle the pressure. The others just didn’t have the skills.

Falco and I, though? Matron knew we were competitive mother fuckers back then. We traded top cadet back and forth pretty much every week, it seemed. Then Graduation came. We were literally tied. There wasn’t a fair way to announce who top pilot was without going for an outright dogfight. So, a week before the ceremony, our instructors made us get in our fighters. Nothing compared to the Arwings, training fighters. Clunky things, they were. We both got in, nervous as fuck. Strapped in. Started up. Took off. The first thing Falco said was, “I should be grateful.” Matron! He was a cocky fuck. Still is.

So, we start off with our training fighters. Falco blasts off toward the mountains thinking that I wouldn’t risk getting that close to the ground. Thinking I’d be wary of dodging through the canyons. Boy was he wrong. I followed and matched him turn for turn. But somehow, I couldn’t get lock. He was a slippery motherfucker. So, I disengaged and headed back over the campus. Knowing he’d follow me. Which he did in short order. As soon as I knew he was back there, though, I threw the throttle back. He shot forward. I had lock. I squeezed the trigger. His engine cut and the auto-return feature built into every training fighter activated. He was forced to land. I’d won.

I went and landed. I knew he’d be angry. I was expecting him not to want anything to do with me.

What I got instead was a sweaty falcon walking up to me. I remember being confused and I remember him saying, “What pup? Expect me to throw a tantrum?”

I nodded. “Y…Yeah.”

“I’m bird enough to know when I’m beat.” Plain and simple. Matter of fact. No emotion. Somehow, that bothered me. It bothered me that this bird whom I knew to be rather charged. Emotional. Passionate. Wasn’t reacting the way I thought he would.

“Falco…” I remember trying to hold on to the conversation.

He just jutted his wing out for a shake. “I am angry, McCloud. Just…” He looked down at the ground. His shoulders slumped. I thought I heard a choked sob.

Falco and I had been in kind of a rivalry the entire time after we met. We always tried to one-up the other. Yet now, as I watched my rival break down, I realized how stupid this rivalry was. “Hey, Lombardi. You and I both know that the mountains would have worked on Bill. You’re a good pilot, Falco.”

“Yeah…” he didn’t sound convinced. He looked so defeated…Depressed. Yeah, depressed is a better word for it.

Seeing the blue falcon looking so…well blue. It broke my heart. He was usually so sure of himself. Cocky, even. He put up this front of indifference and self-importance that turned off a lot of people. Yet, I knew something a lot of people didn’t. Falco was there because of General Pepper. He wouldn’t have been there without him. Despite a criminal record—several GTAs and even one case of stealing a small postal carrier ship—General Pepper had seen a talent in Falco. And he rescued him from prison.

I put a single finger under Falco’s beak. I forced him to look into my eyes. I tilted my head and I brought my lips to his. It was rather daring of me, considering I was still rather in the closet at the academy, but I needed him to know that, just because we were rivals, didn’t mean I didn’t care for him. In fact, I knew from that dogfight alone, that I would want Falco by my side in the air. The kiss, though, I thought he’d fight me, lasted for longer and got a lot more passionate than I’d meant it to. Nothing risqué, exactly, but It definitely was more mutual than I thought I was going to get.

It was at that moment—the moment that Falco returned the kiss—that I knew that he—the cock-sure, challenging, damned-sexy, blue and red falcon—was the one. The one whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.