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Sky High or Five Times Jonny Didn't Join the Mile High Club (And One Time He Did)

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Jonny’s new clients are a pain in the ass. They’re demanding and particular, and they’re taking up ninety percent of his time. They’re also in San Francisco, and thanks to them, so is Jonny, three days a week. Every week. With no end in sight.

“Okay, thanks, Sarah,” Jonny says as the doors to the plane close. “I’ll be on the WiFi, just email me the contract, and I’ll go through it on the way to Chicago.” There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he looks up to see bright blue eyes looking at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, sir, you need to turn your phone off now,” the flight attendant says. “We’re ready for take-off.”

Jonny nods a little dumbly and watches the man as he walks up the aisle and picks up the intercom. He’s got short blond hair that’s curling a little across his forehead, strong cheekbones, broad shoulders, and, when he catches Jonny admiring him, a gorgeous smile complete with a dimple on each cheek. Jonny watches as a beautiful flush creeps up his neck and across his cheeks, and all he can think is that he wishes he could see how far down that flush goes.

“Jonny…” Jonny startles at Sarah’s voice. “Earth to Jonny…”

“Oh, sorry, Sarah, gotta go,” Jonny says absently, hanging up without waiting for a response.

For the first time in his life, Jonny enjoys the pre-flight safety instructions, daydreaming about the strong shoulders and biceps he can see flexing under the white shirt and dark blue vest that strains a little when the man - Patrick, according to the nametag on his uniform - demonstrates how to put on the oxygen mask. Jonny can imagine running his hands over Patrick’s arms and back, pulling him close and kissing the pink lips Patrick can’t seem to stop chewing on. Jonny’s never thought fucking in public or even semi-public was worth the risk, but the idea of Patrick swallowing him down in the lavatory, the rest of the plan only feet away but unaware, have Jonny shifting in his seat, half-hard.

He grabs the blanket Patrick had handed him and adjusts it over his lap, letting himself fantasize a little more as the plane takes off. Unfortunately for Jonny, daydreaming becomes dozing, and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up in Chicago at dawn, the plane about to land.

“Can you put your seat back up, sir? Thank you,” Patrick says with a soft smile, a hand on Jonny’s shoulder.

And that’s the last time he sees Patrick until they’re walking off the plane, Jonny rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Thanks for flying with United,” Patrick says, dimples flashing. “Have a good day.”

So maybe Jonny didn’t get to join the mile high club but the flight is still the highlight of his lately sex-free life.


A week later, Jonny’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy when the same gorgeous, blonde flight attendant greeted him with a dimpled, shy smile and asked for his drink order.

“Surprise me,” Jonny drawls, letting his eyes drop to Patrick’s lips for long enough that when he looks up again, Patrick’s a little pink.

“Oh - okay,” Patrick says a little breathlessly. He takes Jonny’s seat mate’s order and disappears into the small galley at the front of first class.

“You fly a lot?” The woman next to him asks, and Jonny looks over at her. She’s seventy if she’s a day, with a warm smile and soft, creased skin that remind Jonny of his grandmere. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

“I’m Jonny, and yeah, I’m on a plane almost every week these days,” Jonny says. He glances down at where she’s wringing her fingers together anxiously. “You?”

“Thank God, no,” Anna answers with a frown. “I hate flying, but if I want to see my family, I don’t have much choice.” When Jonny tilts his head questioningly, she shrugs. “Left Buffalo for San Francisco in the sixties.”

“Here you go, ma’am, sir,” Patrick interrupts gently, handing Anna a milky concoction with a little dark liquid in the bottom and giving Jonny a pinkish-orange drink. “One Bailey’s and cream, and one Kaner surprise.”

“‘Kaner surprise?’” Jonny says, taking a cautious sip. It’s delicious, a light, bubbly, and refreshing taste with a strong kick at the end. “What’s in it?”

“Well, that would be telling,” Patrick says with a cheeky grin. “You like it?”

“I do,” Jonny smiles back. “Looks as good as it tastes, too.”

“Good.” Patrick’s face lights up and then he’s excusing himself to continue taking orders from the other passengers. Jonny watches him lean over a seat two rows up, the motion stretching the fabric of his pants tightly over his ass, which is pert and high; it’s not large, but it’s in perfect proportion to his frame and it makes Jonny’s mouth water a little at the thought of how neatly it would fit into the palm of his hand.

“Here,” his seatmate says, and Jonny startles. He looks at her, and she’s offering him a napkin. “You’re drooling.”

“I’m - I am not!” Jonny says, wiping the side of his mouth to check, mortified.

She laughs at him and nods towards where Patrick is laughing at something one of the other flight attendants is saying. “He’s cute, though. I get it.”

“I - I wasn’t - “

“Honey, it wasn’t so long ago that I would’ve been angling for the phone number of that sweet little lady he’s talking to, so- No judgement here.” She takes a long sip of her drink through the tiny black straw, sighing when she’s done. “The mile high club is literally the only time I’ve ever enjoyed flying.”

“The - what?” Jonny can’t believe he’s talking to an aging hippie lesbian about fucking on an airplane. “I don’t - I mean I’ve never - uh-”

“Oh, well, you really should,” she says, patting Jonny’s hand. “It’s lovely.” She frowns. “Although you’re rather tall, and the toilets are ridiculously tiny. Still, it was always worth the crick in my neck.” She subsides into her seat, a secretive grin playing around her lips and Jonny feels his cheeks heat even more as he tried not to contemplate exactly how she got a crick in her neck.

He’s finishing his drink when Patrick stops by again, leaning across him to clear their empty cups and napkins from the little tray between their seats.

“So, did it live up to expectations?” Patrick asks, laughing when Jonny blinks up at him in confusion. “The drink, man. Did you like it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Jonny says, clearing his throat, still a little flustered from his conversation with Anna. “It was great.”

“Cool, cool,” Patrick responds. “Want another? Or something different?”

“Definitely another Kaner surprise.”

“You got it, big guy,” Patrick says, then blushes. “I mean, sir, I didn’t - uh - “

“Thanks, Patrick,” Jonny cuts off the stammering with a smile. “And I’m Jonny, by the way.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, biting his lip. “Nice to meet you, Jonny.”

“I’ll have one, too, young man,” Anna pipes in, and they both start, Patrick looking guilty.

“Of course! Of course, sorry, ma’am. I’ll be right back with those.” Patrick hurries off, and Anna makes an amused noise.

“Sorry,” Jonny says, but she waves at him.

“Don’t be, watching you and that boy is the most fun I’ve had in years,” she says. “It’s helped me forget to be afraid of flying, and hopefully whatever’s in his ‘Kaner surprise’ will quell it for the rest of the flight.”

Anna and Jonny talk through dinner, and when she falls asleep, he passes her tray to Patrick silently, with a shared fond smile.

“Thanks,” Patrick whispers, handing Jonny another one of his special drinks. “And if you need anything else, Monica’s taking over for me. I’m gonna be in back for awhile.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, just a little girl flying alone, and we’ve been taking turns keeping an eye on her. She’s only seven and wants to watch a movie, so I’m gonna keep her company for a little while since it’s my favorite movie.”

Anna stirs beside Jonny, opening her eyes, and they both look at her guiltily, but she just snorts and flaps a hand at them.

“So, uh. What movie?” Jonny asks, curious what a man of Patrick’s age could have in common with a little girl.

“Uh,” Patrick hesitates, a stripe of color appearing along each cheekbone. “Princess Bride?” He must see the surprise on Jonny’s face because his cheeks get even pinker. “Shut up, it’s a classic, man.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jonny says, biting back a smile.

“You didn’t have to,” Patrick makes a face at him. “But, uh. Anyway, it’s been - I, uh. Thanks - ” He looks at Anna and then back at Jonny. “Um, I hope the rest of your flight is good.” He smiles at both of them, flushed and gorgeous, and Jonny can barely speak past how dry his throat suddenly feels.

Jonny couldn’t keep himself from watching Patrick walk down the aisle and into the main cabin if he tried and -- to be clear -- he doesn’t try. When he settles back into his seat, Anna’s watching him with a wry smile on her face, which Jonny carefully ignores.

“Cock blocked by an old lady and a little girl,” Anna says finally, just as Jonny’s taking his first taste of his drink, and he splutters, spraying the back of the seat in front of him. “Gotta sip that, Jon, it’s got quite a kick.”

Jonny stares at Anna, incredulous. “The drink isn’t nearly as dangerous as you are.”

“Oh, Jonny. You have no idea,” Anna says, folding her hands primly in her lap. “In my day… Well. Let’s just say that if I swung that way, I’d like to see that boy on his knees.” She leaned closer. “And trust me, he’d like that position. He’s a natural sub.”

Jonny manages to close his mouth when Anna starts giggling and pushes his shoulder. “I’m teasing! Jonny, I’m teasing you,” Anna says, and when Jonny just stares, she laughs harder. “Your face, oh my God.”

“You’re a menace, Anna,” Jonny says, reaching up and hitting the button to get their new flight attendant’s attention. “I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol.”

“We don’t turn in our sense of humor - or our sex drives - when we turn seventy, honey.”

Well. It’s certainly the most colorful flight of Jonny’s life, even if Jonny had rather hoped it might be for other, more Patrick-related reasons.


Jonny cranes his neck around when he’s seated a week later, trying to locate Patrick among the people milling around the back of the plane. He thinks he sees a flash of blond hair at one point, but there are so many travelers in the aisle that he can’t be sure. He sighs and sits back in his seat, only to startle when Patrick’s leaning over the seat in front of him.

“Welcome aboard, Jonny,” he says, his eyes dancing. “Looking for someone?”

“Yeah.“ Jonny lets his eyes run over Patrick. “I was.” When Jonny doesn’t say anything else, just stares at Patrick intently, Patrick’s grin falters a little and is replaced by a smile that’s more secretive.

“Oh,” is all Patrick says, though, looking over his shoulder quickly. “That’s - I was hoping you’d be on my flight today. I -”

Whatever Patrick was about to say is cut off as the next passenger shoves past him and throws his briefcase into the seat next to Jonny.

“Hey, put this up somewhere, sweetie,” the guy says to Patrick rudely as he passes him a carry-on bag. He motions at Jonny’s legs. “Come on, move so I can sit down,” he orders.

Jonny sighs, standing up and out of the way so the man can get by. He’s panting and sweaty, his tie askew, and he’s very tall and more than a few pounds overweight. He’s got a coffee stain on his white shirt and he smells of cheap cologne and stale sweat. Patrick shares a look of commiseration with him, and Jonny raises an eyebrow, making a face that conveys exactly how annoyed he is, judging by the way Patrick pulls his lips into his mouth, holding back a laugh.

Jonny takes the bag the man shoved at Patrick and lifts it into the overhead compartment above his seat, shoving it into place. Patrick hip-checks him gently. “Thanks, Jonny.”

He takes their drink orders and leaves Jonny with an apologetic wince.

It’s a long flight - a really long flight. Especially once the lights are turned down after the dinner service is complete, and Jonny bumps into Patrick in the galley while he waits his turn in the lavatory.

“So,” Patrick says, darting a look around, then pulling Jonny into the corner of the galley. “How goes it with you and your charming traveling companion?”

“I’m not traveling with him!” Jonny sputters. “And he’s about as charming as he looks. Which is to say, not at all.”

In truth, the guy mostly just grunted at Jonny a few times while knocking back three drinks, then fell asleep, missing dinner. But he smells like Aramis, whisky, and stale sweat; and Jonny’s annoyed enough at how he’s killed any chance at talking to Patrick to be churlish about it.

Which is when Jonny realizes that he probably shouldn’t waste this moment thinking or talking about that guy.

“More importantly, though,” Jonny says, sliding a little closer to Patrick. “What does a guy have to do to get some time alone with the best looking flight attendant on this plane.”

“I - “ Patrick stares up at Jonny, eyes wide and blue. “Me? You want to spend time with me?”

“Yes, Patrick,” Jonny says, quirking his lips into a grin. “I’d love to spend some time with you.”

“Oh, that’s. I’d like that, too,” Patrick says, his voice deeper than Jonny’s heard it yet, and it makes him shiver.

“Yeah?” Jonny slides another six inches closer and dips his head until he’s whispering into Patrick’s ear. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I - I can’t stop thinking about you either,” Patrick breathes shakily. “I keep asking for the San Francisco flights, hoping you’ll be on them.”

“Really?” Jonny asks, delighted. He’d suspected Patrick was interested -- and Anna had assured him she’d caught Patrick checking him out several times -- but hearing him say it is like a shot of adrenaline. “Then I’m really glad I was on this flight today.”

“Me too,” Patrick says, his cheeks pink.

He’s got the prettiest blush Jonny’s ever seen, and he’s still hoping to find out how far it extends.

“I - you can’t just say things like that,” Patrick whines, because apparently Jonny’s brain-to-mouth filter isn’t working. “Jesus, I’m working, I can’t - “ He looks around and adjusts himself a little, making Jonny moan lowly. Luckily, Patrick’s distracted -- busy adjusting himself, Jonny thinks, lighted headed -- and doesn’t hear him over the sound of the engines.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Jonny says and, “Sorry, sorry,” when Patrick just huffs at him. “What are the chances we could - “

The plane takes a sudden dip, and Jonny pitches forward, pinning Patrick between the partition and his body. Patrick’s blinking up at him, so close that Jonny can see the reddish tint of his eyelashes when the plane rocks with turbulence again. His hands go to Patrick’s hips automatically and then Patrick’s pushing him away with sudden urgency.

“You need to sit down,” Patrick says, his voice suddenly all business. “Seatbelt buckled. Now.” He doesn’t check to see if Jonny obeys him before he hurries to the intercom, repeating his instructions to the cabin. Jonny makes his way back to his seat and gets himself secured, trying not to worry about the bucking and see-sawing motion. They’re soon cruising smoothly again, once the captain takes them to a more stable altitude, but the moment with Patrick has passed, and they don’t speak again until just before they land.

“We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes, Jonny,” Patrick says. “Seat back up, please.” He’s turning to the next row when Jonny grabs his wrist.

“Patrick, I-” Jonny says. “I’m flying back to San Francisco on Sunday out of O’Hare. Any chance you’re working that flight?”

“I don’t think so,” Patrick says apologetically, wrinkling his nose. “But I’m definitely working a couple of San Francisco to Chicago flights next week.”

“Great,” Jonny says. “Maybe we could get a drink in Chicago? Or breakfast, since I think I’m on the red-eye.”

“Oh, that sounds great, but - “

“If you two lovebirds are done, I have some trash I’d like you to throw away for me,” the man next to Jonny interrupts.

Patrick’s eyes flare with annoyance before he turns a fake smile on the man. “Certainly, sir.” He accepts the trash and winks at Jonny, and Jonny glares at the man next to him once he’s moved on.

“What, did I blow your shot at the mile high club?” The guy snickers meanly, then yawns so widely Jonny can see his tonsils. Jonny just gives him his best glare, the one that makes hostile witnesses blanch, and ignores him for the remainder of the flight. He pauses in front of Patrick for as long as he dares as he’s deplaning when the flight’s over.

“Will you think about drinks? Or breakfast?” Jonny says, and Patrick flicks a look over his shoulder at the captain, a preternaturally handsome man leaning against the doorway to the cockpit.

“I - I”m sorry, sir, but I don’t think that’s possible,” Patrick says politely. “I hope you have a nice stay in Chicago. And thanks for flying United.”

Jonny frowns at Patrick, but he’s already speaking to the passenger behind Jonny, so he shuffles off the plane, out of sorts and weirdly hurt by how cool and dismissive Patrick had sounded.

When he looks back, though, Patrick’s looking at him, and he smiles, dimples as bright as earlier, so, whatever’s going on, Jonny thinks it’s not that he’s offended Patrick.

He’ll just have to wait another week to find out out for sure.


A week later, Patrick’s not working Jonny’s flight back from San Francisco and Jonny spends the rest of the weekend out of sorts, annoyed and -- he’s assured repeatedly by Brent -- annoying to all he sees.

By the time he shows up for his flight on Monday at ass o’clock in the morning, he’s beyond grumpy and sleep deprived and just wants this endless, bullshit “commute” over. Maybe it’s time to just move to San Francisco, leave Chicago behind. He’s muttering to himself as he takes his seat and doesn’t look up when the flight attendant comes over, just barks out, “coffee, please, black” and puts his earphones on.

A minute later a steaming mug of coffee is placed on his tray, and he glances up to nod his thanks only to find it’s Patrick standing next to him, smiling a little tentatively.

“Patrick?” Jonny says, and pulls his earphones off. “What are you doing here?”

“Working?” Patrick replies, shifting in place a little.

“Working?” Jonny repeats blankly. “But - you said you never work out of Chicago. And it’s - “ he blinks at his watch - “six-twelve, there’s no way you flew in from somewhere else this morning!”

“No, uh, this is my first flight of the day,” Patrick says, shifting into Jonny’s row a little to let someone by.

“But, I don’t understand,” Jonny says. “I thought - “

“I had an opportunity to change my schedule recently,” Patrick says, and there it is, that gorgeous blush that Jonny’s getting addicted to seeing, spreading across Patrick’s equally gorgeous cheekbones. “So, here I am. Surprise!” He says it weakly, a little tentatively, and Jonny smiles at him, which makes Patrick’s smile grow in response.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Jonny blurts out, laughing, giddy with surprise and happiness, and probably no small amount of sleeplessness. “I missed you last week.”

“I was - “

“Patrick, can you help with these drink orders?” a polite but beleaguered voice says from over Jonny’s shoulder making Patrick jump and blush more fiercely.

“Gotta go, sorry,” Patrick says to Jonny quickly, and moves off, but not before brushing Jonny’s hand with his own on his way by.

Jonny spends the time it takes for the plane to taxi and takeoff thinking about Patrick’s smile. and his cheekbones, and his hips, and his, well- His everything.

There’s another flight attendant serving first class today, though, and so Patrick doesn’t have time to do more than smile at Jonny once or twice during the flight before they’re landing. It’s only eight a.m. in San Francisco, though, and the flight’s mostly empty when he finally sees Patrick emerge from the back of the plane, pulling a small bag behind him, laughing about something with the tall, dark-haired woman he’d been working in the main cabin with.

“Hi Patrick,” Jonny says, and Patrick’s head snaps around so fast it makes Jonny wince for his neck muscles.

“Jonny!” Patrick looks at the woman a little nervously. “I’ll be - give me a minute, yeah?”

“Sure,” she says easily, smiling at Jonny. “Hope you had a good flight, sir.”

“Thanks,” Jonny nods, waiting until she’s out of view. “So, I was wondering if you wanted to get breakfast?”

“I, uh.” Patrick looks at his watch. “I’m turning around in forty-five minutes. But I could do coffee?”

“Coffee would be great!” Jonny says so enthusiastically that it makes Patrick giggle and blush, which makes Jonny laugh. They’re caught there, grinning at each other, and when someone walks up and clears his throat, it makes them both jump.

“Peeks,” the pilot who’d hovered over them a week ago says. He’s smiling widely, perfect white teeth on display. He’s gorgeous and looking at Patrick with dancing eyes. Jonny scowls at him. “Who’s your friend?”

“Shut up, Sharpy,” Patrick says, grabbing Jonny’s arm. “Can we go? We should go.”

“But-” Jonny lets Patrick pull him along until they’re seated in a cafe a few gates down from where they’d deplaned. “What on earth, Patrick,” he huffs. “Who was that guy, and why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not afraid of Sharpy!” Patrick scoffs, but then blows any plausible deniability by looking anxiously over his shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Jonny drawls. “And he went past when you were ordering your strawberry frappuccino monstrosity.”

“Thank God,” Patrick sighs, collapsing weakly into his seat.

“Is there a story there?” Jonny prods as he takes a swig of his kale smoothie.

“No, he’s just,” Patrick shrugs wearily. “He’s a lot, and he’s made it his life’s work to find me a boyfriend.” He glances up at Jonny and back down at his own drink. “Didn’t think you needed to be hassled by him when we’re - you’re. Uh.”

“Just a guy you occasionally serve?” Jonny asks then smacks a hand over his mouth, horrified. “I meant you service. I meant who rides your - oh God,” Jonny sticks his face into his smoothie, sucking madly at the straw until he gives himself brain freeze, and then he’s groaning for a different reason.

“Jonny, oh my God, Jonny,” Patrick is rocking in place, tears running down his face. “You - I - what? Jonny,” he grabs Jonny’s hand and clings to it, sobbing and panting and Jonny just, he can’t help himself, he turns Patrick’s hand palm up and kisses it.

Patrick’s laughs stutter to a halt with a gasp, almost a sob. He’s looking at Jonny with wide eyes, flushed and gorgeous, and then he shivers, his hand clenching in Jonny’s. “What. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. If that’s okay?” Jonny asks, and Patrick nods, dazed. “Good.” He kisses his hand one more time, licking the center of his palm and sits up straight again, but he doesn’t let go. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

“Kiss my hand?” Patrick’s lashes are dusky on his cheeks as he looks down to where they’re hands are still joined.

“Kiss you,” Jonny corrects. He smiles wickedly. “Or, maybe more accurately, join the mile high club.”

“The - Jonny!” Patrick says, scandalized, but his breath picks up and he squirms a little in his chair. “I can’t believe you!”

“Yes, you can.” Jonny’s voice drops an octave, and Patrick’s pupils dilate in response. “I’ve been dying to get you alone and kiss you, hold you.” He leans closer, whispering in Patrick’s ear. “Your lips are driving me crazy. I’ve been imagining what they can do to me.” Patrick swallows. “Bet you would make me feel so good, Pat. Wouldn’t you?”

“I-” Patrick croaks, and clears his throat. “Yeah, yes, I would, Jonny. I want that, too.”

Patrick’s phone goes off then, and Patrick groans. “Ugh, that’s my flight. I have to go.” He looks up at Jonny from under his lashes. “But I really wish I could stay and continue this conversation, Jonny.”

“I don’t want you to go either, but- Maybe next time we fly together…” Jonny leaves the rest unsaid, but he can tell by how Patrick flushes that he gets it.

“I really - I just can’t,” Patrick says apologetically and with no small amount of regret. “I’m working, man. But maybe we can do this again sometime, anyway.”

“I’d like that - I’d love it, even,” Jonny says. “But I’m not giving up on that mile high club.”

Patrick giggles and swats Jonny on his shoulder. “It’s good to have goals, Jonny, but this is one goal you’re not gonna achieve.”

“We’ll see,” Jonny responds quietly to himself as Patrick walks away, throwing one last smile and a dorky wave at Jonny before he joins the crowd in terminal on his way to his next flight. “We’ll see.”


Jonny’s practically vibrating in his seat when he boards his flight home three days later. Patrick gives him a huge grin from the galley, and Jonny’s feeling pretty good about his plans for the flight. It’s another red-eye, it’s only half-full, including first class, and Jonny lucked out - there’s no one seated next to him. If he’s lucky, he can get Patrick to sit next to him for awhile once he’s done with the snack service. Maybe more, if he’s really lucky.

“I really can’t,” Patrick says with regret when he asked him an hour later. It’s quiet in the cabin, lights low and most people asleep. “It’s against company rules. But,” he bites his lip. “You could come hang out in the galley?”

Jonny looks meaningfully at the lavatory door across from the galley and Patrick swats his shoulder. “If I can’t sit next to you without getting in trouble, what do you think would happen if I did that, hmm?”

Jonny heaves an exaggerated sigh, making Patrick laugh. “I suppose.”

“You don’t want me to lose my job and not be around to make you Kaner surprises on your long flights, now do you?”

“No, but still,” Jonny pouts a little just to make Patrick laugh again, “it’s a nice fantasy.”

“It’s a very nice fantasy,” Patrick agrees, his lids lowering a little before he sighs and shakes himself. “Okay, see you in ten? I’m just gonna make one more check with Susan to see if she needs help with anything in the main cabin.”

They end up spending an hour standing in the galley talking, Patrick supplying Jonny with Kaner surprises and finally revealing that Kaner is his nickname, and when he finds out Jonny’s is Tazer, Kaner laughs so hard he gets tears in his eyes.

“Is that because your name is Tays or because you can stun a guy with your eyes?” Patrick asks between giggles.

“It’s not Tays it’s Toews like in saves,” Jonny says then stops. “Wait, how do you know my last name?”

“Uh,” Kaner says, the tips of his ears getting red. “I might have had a peek at the flight manifest.”

“A peek?”

“Okay, fine, I’ve been checking to see if you were on my flights for weeks. Happy now?”

“Yep,” Jonny says with a big grin. “Since I was doing the same thing. Only I’ve been relying on my observation skills, not violating your privacy.”

“I didn’t - it wasn’t - it’s not like I was doing a search of the airplane database for your name or anything,” Patrick says defensively, but there’s a guilty grin pulling at the side of his mouth. “That would be illegal, unethical, and just wrong, Patrick.” He makes a face. “I may have asked my sisters about it.”

“Well, you can violate my privacy anytime,” Jonny says, and Patrick rolls his eyes.

“Lame, Tazer,” Patrick mocks and Jonny just has to bump him lightly with one shoulder in retaliation. And maybe to cover up how hearing Patrick use his nickname makes something light up inside of Jonny. Patrick rocks back a little from the contact but he’s laughing, and that makes something light up inside of Jonny, too.

They’re only thirty minutes from landing when Patrick steps a little closer. “You never asked why I’m on flights out of Chicago now.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“I got transferred to the United hub in Chicago,” Patrick says. “Asked for it a year ago, and it finally came through. I’ll be able to work a few international flights, which means more money and more time off in between my shifts.”

“I’m based out of Chicago,” Jonny says.

“I know.” Patrick looks up at him, eyes wide. “Was kinda hoping we could get that breakfast sometime when I don’t have to jump on a flight. You know, if you’re interested in more than just the mile high club.”

Jonny grins at him. “I’m definitely interested in more than the mile high club.”


“This is so weird,” Patrick says, settling into the seat next to Jonny. “Like, I fly all the time, but sitting here, getting a drink instead of serving it is just-” He laughs. “Weird.”

“Awesome weird or awful weird,” Jonny asks, worrying a little that taking Patrick to Italy wasn’t the best plan. “Maybe we should’ve gone to Lake Geneva, instead? Or somewhere we didn’t have to fly so far to get to? Shit, you’re always on a plane, of course you don’t want to - “

“Jon, stop,” Patrick interrupts with a snort. “I’m excited to go to Italy! This is gonna be awesome, so just. Stop.”

“Okay,” Jonny says, subsiding a little. “If you’re sure.” When Patrick rolls his eyes, Jonny huffs out a laugh.

“This plane is something else, man,” Patrick looks around in awe. “I’ve never flown on one of these, it’s amazing. Does this really slide closed?” He pulls the points at the door next to him which completely closes off their seats from the rest of the cabin.

“I knew it was nice, but I had no idea it would be this nice,” Jonny says. “Honestly, I’m more excited about the leg room.” They’re in chairs that transform to lie flat, and Jonny’s feet are sprawled in the three feet of empty space in front of him where the foot of the bed will go. “I’m going to be spoiled for all other travel.”

“Mmm hmm,” Patrick says, distracted by something he’s fiddling with in his own seat. “It’s amazing.”

“I know,” Jonny says, turning his phone off. “Definitely worth using up all of my frequent flyer miles.”

“Mmm hmm,” Patrick says again, an expression on his face that makes something prickle in the back of Jonny’s brain. It’s part considering, part challenge, and completely impish, and Jonny has to kiss him. So he does.

“What are you plotting?” Jonny asks when he pulls back, and Patrick’s still got that assessing look on his face.

“You’ll see,” Patrick says, smiling at the flight attendant who steps up next to his seat. She goes through how to work their cabin - she actually calls their two-seat area a cabin, which, it’s not even 40 square feet, but whatever - and even though Jonny had to cough up one hundred and twenty thousand points for each seat, He can tell by the excited gleam in Patrick’s eye that it was well spent. He amuses himself watching Patrick talk animatedly with the attendant; he doesn’t know her because they’re flying on United’s co-chair, and the staff aren’t people he works with. Something Jonny had thought would make it more fun for Patrick as well.

Jonny gets distracted by how the sun bounces off of Patrick’s hair, longer now than it was when they met, curls just brushing the nape of his neck, hiding the mole Jonny can’t seem to stop licking when he fucks Patrick. It’s one of Jonny’s favorite spots on Patrick’s body, and he drifts for awhile remembering how it tastes under his tongue.

“What’s the service schedule?” Patrick’s asking when Jonny tunes back in.

“We sweep through twice for drinks after we serve dinner, and then we turn out the lights for the duration. Lights on again when we’re forty-five minutes from Rome,” she says, and Patrick thanks her, taking a menu and ordering them both a beer, which comes back in a frosty mug.

“Wow,” Patrick says after he takes a long gulp, muscles of his throat working, distracting Jonny all over again. “I could seriously get used to this.”

“Mmm,” Jonny agrees, sliding his hand into Patrick’s and smiling at him. “She’s not as good as my favorite flight attendant, though.”

“No?” Patrick peeks at him from under his lashes, his blue eyes bright and flashing with mischief. “Why? Does he provide you with better service than this?” He sweeps his other hand out to indicate the cabin, and Jonny snorts, bringing Patrick’s hand to his lips, kissing his palm again. Patrick’s breath hitches, just like it always does when Jonny does this, reminding them both of that moment so many months ago.

“He does,” Jonny says against Patrick’s palm and then kisses his fingers. “He treats me so well, in so many ways.”

“You must be pretty special to him,” Patrick pulls their hands into his lap and covers them with his other hand. “To get that kind of care.”

“I like to think so,” Jonny says, his voice deeper, and earnest. He knows Patrick’s flirting with him, but he also wants him to know what being with him means to Jonny. “Because he’s really special to me.”

“Jon,” Patrick says helplessly, his eyes shining a little, because Patrick’s ridiculous.

“Pat,” Jonny responds, just as ridiculous, clearly, since his voice cracks. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you,” Patrick responds, grinning around unshed tears. “So much.”

They stay that way, Jonny’s hand caught in Patrick’s, until they take off and their meals come. It’s lobster with a side of penne, the sauce so good it makes Jonny groan, his eyes closing as he savors it. When he opens his eyes, Patrick’s staring at him, his own food still on his fork, mouth open a little. Jonny grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Something look good to you?”

“Ugh,” Patrick says. “So lame, Toews. So. Lame.” He takes a bite, and then it’s his turn to moan -- more ostentatiously than Jonny, the little shit -- and it’s Jonny’s turn to stare. Patrick raises an eyebrow at him and Jonny laughs.

“Just eat, you asshole,” Jonny complains, but he doesn’t mean it and Patrick knows it, knocking his shoulder companionably.

They have coffee and then some cognac in glasses that look like something out of Downton Abbey, and Patrick spends a few minutes in the galley with the attendants, chatting -- Jonny assumes -- about what it’s like working in this kind of first class cabin. By the time he’s back, Jonny’s drifting a little. It’s already past midnight in Chicago, and the lights are out, the entire cabin -- which is only half full -- quiet.

“Wow, everyone’s asleep,” Patrick whispers when he sits down. He pulls the little door to their seating area closed behind him. “The flight service is done unless we ring for something.”

“Hmm,” Jonny says, watching as Patrick engages the bed mechanism on his chair and flips up the armrest between them. With the armrest out of the way and both their seats in full recline, the space is almost like a double bed. Patrick pulls a blanket over them and shuffles closer, resting his head on Jonny’s shoulder. “Hi,” Jonny says sleepily.

“Hey,” Patrick says, biting his lip. “Uh. Are you tired? You want to sleep?”

“Not necessarily,” Jonny shrugs. “Did you want to watch something? We can - “

“No, I, uh. I was thinking we could find another way to pass the time until the flight lands.” Patrick’s blushing now, the color in his cheeks visible even in the dim airplane light. “I think you’ve said something before about the mile high club?”

Jonny’s mouth drops open, and he gapes at Patrick for a long minute. “You - really? You wanna - really?” Patrick’s always been very clear what he thinks about people who fuck on airplanes, the long and the short of it being: it’s rude and gross to put the staff through it because they always notice. “Always, Jonny. We always know. Always.”

“Really,” Patrick says firmly, but he’s still blushing, shifting a little against Jonny’s shoulder in embarrassment. “I just. This is about the only situation I’d ever do it. And I checked, the attendants are shutting it down for the rest of the flight. So.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, Toews, buy a clue, do you want a blow job or not?” Patrick huffs.

“Yes!” Jonny says, and it comes out louder than he means to say it, and Patrick shushes him. “Yes, of course I do - “

Jonny hardly gets the words out before Patrick’s kissing him, licking into his mouth urgently. He tongues over Jonny’s bottom lip, biting it once and then kissing the spot he bit before diving back in for more long, deep kisses. Jonny lets Patrick push him onto his back, and they kiss like that, Patrick inhaling Jonny, making little noises in the back of his throat that Jonny can feel as vibrations more than he can hear, until Patrick is panting and grinding down on Jonny’s thigh.

Jonny gasps when Patrick’s hand closes over his erection, and the shock of it, the pleasure, is enough to make him pull back from Patrick’s mouth. Patrick kisses his jaw, then sits back, looking at Jonny assessingly before moving down the bed, his hands on either side of Jonny’s waist.

“Are you, are you gonna,” Jonny starts, breaking off with a groan when Patrick unzips his jeans and pushes at them until they’re low enough on Jonny’s hips that he can fish his cock out. “Oh my God, Pat, oh my God.” He can’t think, he can’t process anything except that Patrick’s touching him like this, wrapping his clever hands around Jonny, working him gently but firmly, just like he knows Jonny loves it. “Pat - “ Patrick looks up at him, his face flushed, and Jonny glances between his face and where he’s working Jonny’s cock, the motion visible under the blanket that’s still covering them, before closing his eyes and letting his head thunk back onto the pillow.

Patrick leans up to whisper in his ear. “This is a full service first class flight, Mr. Toews. We’re here to make sure you get what you want. Anything you want.”

“Oh God, shut up, shut up, you’re gonna kill me,” Jonny says, covering his face with his arm and shuddering. “This is gonna be over in like four seconds if you keep talking like that.”

“That would be a shame,” Patrick says with a snort, letting go of Jonny’s clock -- and Jonny absolutely doesn’t whimper at that, he doesn’t -- moving back down until he’s hovering over Jonny on his knees, then sliding lower and pulling the blanket over his head. Jonny can still see, though, as Patrick frames the base of his cock with both hands, pushing his jeans a little lower, until it’s his naked ass on the cool leather of the seat underneath him.

“This okay?” Patrick asks again, and Jonny can only nod dumbly, whatever expression he’s wearing making Patrick laugh before he looks down and licks the head of Jonny’s cock, playing a little around the slit until precum spurts up onto his tongue.

“You taste so good,” Patrick says with reverence as he wipes the head across his lower lip, and Jonny honestly doesn’t know whether he’s talking to him or to his cock, and then he doesn’t care because Patrick’s swallowing him down, all in one practiced motion, until Jonny’s cock is bumping into the hand Patrick’s got at the base of his cock. He holds Jonny there for a moment, then pushes a little further before he slides back up again, licking and sucking at the head. He rubs Jonny’s cock across his lower lip, the bright pink of the head contrasting with the redness of his lips, and it’s so good, Jonny has to bite the base of his thumb to keep any sound from escaping.

Patrick grins at him, and then he’s taking Jonny’s hand into his and sitting up again, whispering in Jonny’s ear. “Make me, okay? Don’t let me up unless I tap out,” Patrick drops back into place over Jonny’s lap, and puts Jonny’s hand on top of his head. “Okay?” He whispers again, and Jonny doesn’t - he can’t possibly be processing this correctly.

“You want me to - to… Really? You’re sure?” Jonny asks and when Patrick smiles and pushes into his hand, he somehow manages to nod, which seems to be enough for Patrick because he licks up the precum that’s welled up out of his cock since he uttered those life-ruining words, and then lowers his lips over just the very tip of Jonny’s cock, taking the first inch or so in his mouth and no more before he raises an eyebrow at Jonny expectantly.

Jonny pushes down a little, and Patrick resists, making Jonny let up, only to have Patrick frown at him. “Make me,” he says again, and this time when he takes Jonny in his mouth, Jonny uses more force, pushing past Patrick’s resistance until Patrick’s mouth takes in another inch, then another, until his lips have met the hand he has at the base of Jonny’s dick. Patrick sucks greedily for a minute, strong enough that Jonny has to fight not to buck his hips at the tight suction, and then Patrick’s tapping his wrist lightly and Jonny lets him up.

“Like that, okay? Only, don’t stop?” Patrick says, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, and Jonny thumbs at the corner, watching as one slips down his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Patrick,” Jonny croaks. “What - “

But Patrick’s dropping back onto his dick, and Jonny can’t finish his thought, he can’t think, he can only feel, his hand clenching in Patrick’s curls. When Patrick pushes back against Jonny, Jonny doesn’t let his head move, doesn’t let him up, just keeps forcing him lower. When Patrick moans around his cock, Jonny has to close his eyes and count backwards from ten in French to get himself under control. He manages not to lose it, somehow, a fact he’s exceedingly grateful for a moment later when Patrick goes down even further on him and presses his lips against the soft skin at the base of his cock.

“Oh, oh, yeah, that’s. That’s so good,” Jonny says quietly, helplessly, stuffing his hand back in his mouth. “Can you, can you take more?” Jonny knows there’s no more to take, not really, but the words seem to unleash something in Patrick because he’s starts humping down against the bed, working his hands into his pants and Jonny watches through the tent of the blanket as he starts to fist his own cock. He looks up at Jonny, his lashes spiky and wet with tears, his face sex-flushed and so turned on.

“So, so pretty, Peeks, so hot,” Jonny babbles, pushing down on Patrick’s head and making him moan around his cock again. Patrick’s breathing through his nose, his hand tight on Jonny’s wrist, and so Jonny pushes again, just a little harder, just that slight bit more, and it’s so tight, he thinks his eyes cross.

Patrick fights him, then, really fights, pushing back, his body doing a sort of flinch that almost makes Jonny stop except he’s not tapping out, he’s just struggling to take it, and then Patrick relaxes somehow, and he’s swallowing around Jonny.

Jonny’s in the back of Patrick’s throat, he’s, oh, fuck, he can feel his cock when he pushes down on Patrick’s adam’s apple, and something in Jonny’s brain whites out and he’s coming, long and hard, and it’s so good. It’s so good, he can see bright lights dancing behind his closed eyes. And he just keeps coming, Patrick swallowing and swallowing around him, gagging once and then letting Jonny’s cock slip out of his throat into his mouth, and Jonny opens his eyes in time to see as the last few drops spurt out onto Patrick’s tongue.

Once he can think again, he notices Patrick’s hand is still working under the blanket, and he can’t really help, he has no motor control what with just coming his brains out, but he motions drunkenly with his hand. “Come up here. Come on,” he slurs, and Patrick knees his way up the little bed until he’s kneeling next to Jonny’s head, gasping when Jonny drops his mouth open. “Come in my mouth, Pat, come on. Please, want it.”

“Oh my God, you - ah, ah,” Patrick says, shuddering, and then he’s pointing his cock down onto Jonny’s tongue and coming in thick, heavy bursts, the flavor salty and a little sour, something ineffably Patrick, and Jonny’s cock twitches vainly at how dirty and hot this all is.

Patrick hovers over him, one hand braced on the bed next to Jonny, one hand on his cock, until he shivers, spurts one last time, and collapses on Jonny, kissing him desperately.

“Jonny, oh my God,” Patrick rasps, his voice wrecked, and there goes Jonny’s cock again, twitching, making Jonny groan and cup himself. “So hot, you make me crazy, you don’t even know.” He peppers kisses all over Jonny’s face. “You can’t even know.”

“Pat,” Jonny says, pushing a hand through his hair and stilling his face so he can look into his eyes. “I do. I do know because you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

They kiss lazily then, for what seems like hours, until Patrick pushes himself off to the side and manages to get them both back into their pants, then drops back into Jonny’s arms. Jonny must be making a stupid expression because Patrick blushes and swats him. “Put the fond eyes away, Jon,” he says, but Jonny can tell how pleased he is by the tone of his voice, and just snuggles him close to his side.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jonny says finally, long minutes later. They’ve just been lying still, breathing together, Patrick stroking a hand up and over Jonny’s arm. “I can’t believe you blew me on an airplane.”

“Well, you kept teasing me about joining the mile high club, Jon. I can take a hint,” Patrick says wryly. Jonny flushes and Patrick pinches his side. “Was it everything you’d dreamed of?”

“More,” Jonny says, hugging Patrick tightly against him. “Like everything else with you, Patrick Timothy Kane the second, reality is always better than anything I could imagine.”

“Sap,” Patrick says, delighted.

“Sap,” Jonny agrees, then pulls Patrick in for a kiss.