Just because...
This won't be continued. DO NOT ask me to continue it. It's kinda disjointed, unedited, unbeta'd, raw... random... against my moral being... whatever.
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He was beginning to regret his decision to not book the privacy suite. He’d insisted that such luxuries were unnecessary, that in the spirit of attempting to retain normalcy, business class was more than sufficient. The route from Los Angeles to Australia was long - one would think after the number of times he’d visited that he would remember just how long. It was okay for her - she could sleep anywhere. He’d witnessed her fall asleep in the cinemas, during any lengthy car trip, on buses. He insisted she take the window seat, although he’d known that she would succeed in falling asleep after their post meal service movie and he would be left on the aisle, wide awake. It didn’t matter that the business class fully reclining suits were actually relatively comfortable in comparison to other airplanes he’d experienced. It didn’t matter that he was exhausted. He would doze off, just barely, and undoubtedly be jolted back into the land of awake.
They’d watched 500 Days of Summer, syncing their screens to play simultaneously. However her head had been rested on his shoulder and she’d watched his screen more than her own. Following the movie they’d both taken a bathroom trip and soon after his watch indicated that Los Angeles time, it was now officially Sunday, February 14th.
They lost a whole day of time, in theory - they left Los Angeles around 8pm on Saturday and would arrive at about 6am on Monday. Fifteen hours across the Pacific Ocean and a day of time given away. They’d regain that day when they returned home, certainly - and he couldn’t begin to fathom the time that had been lost and gained during the few worldwide promotional tours in his short career thus far. On this particular trip, it was Saint Valentine’s Day which was being effectively lost - or rather, spent in an aircraft, surrounded by people.
There had been no presents, no expensive arrangements of flowers. She preferred the days that he would arrive at her house after meetings and appointments with an item of funky jewellery he saw and it made him think of her; he preferred the days when she brought him a bagful of groceries just because he’d been too busy to take care of himself. The things that they did just because. Hallmark holidays weren’t them. Every day they had together was time to celebrate the love that they shared. And so when midnight struck, they’d simply shared a short but loving kiss, not caring about whether the googly eyed flight attendants or gawking fellow passengers were paying an ounce of attention.
He sighed in frustration, closing his laptop lid with definition. It was 3am, their time, and no number of spontaneous skateboarding expeditions in the morning prepared him to still be awake at that time. He glanced around in the cabin, the lights were dimmed, the majority of passengers had drifted off to sleep. He’d already drank two bourbon and cokes, ordered some extra snack food, counted sheep.
“Watch The Time Traveller’s Wife,” her sleepy voice suggested from beside him. “You said it nearly put you to sleep in the theatre.”
He glanced down at her. She’d put her seat back into half recline but was refusing to push it back all the way until he would also at least try to get some sleep.
“Tried that. It just made me fidgety,” he said with a pout. He gestured toward his laptop and the earpieces he’d plucked from his ears. “I was watching Robot Chicken.”
“Without me?”
He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We can watch it together on the flight home.”
“Or maybe in Australia if we get bored?”
“You think you’ll be bored? You haven’t shopped in these malls for over a year."
She merely smiled, her eyes remaining closed. She wriggled a little, her leg kicking as she attempted to readjust the blanket. He reached over, pulling the scrunched up blanket down so it was straight and covering her body.
“Why don’t you order another drink?” she suggested. “Might make you sleepy.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Nah.”
“Why don’t you at least lie down, try to sleep?” she coaxed.
He sighed, glancing down at her. Her eyes had opened slightly, looking up at him pleadingly. There was no doubting the exhaustion in her expression.
“I’ll lie down with you,” he finally agreed, knowing he could at least try - for her.
It was familiar routine - the arm rests pushed back, chairs reclined, jackets stuffed down into the crack between the seats, bodies shifting to the centre, and two blankets being shared between the two of them. The soft fabric of her sweats pressed up against his denim clad leg, her hand splayed over his t-shirt. Her eyes fluttered closed, the comfort of his closeness lulling her into sleep.
He knew he wouldn’t sleep - he never did, and that was okay. A few energy drinks the next day and he’d function happily. But he wasn’t going to move. The flight attendant making googly eyes; the middle-aged woman across the opposite side of the aircraft whose eyes bore into him; their entourage who travelled with them - none of them mattered. Because the fifteen hours together on the aircraft belonged to the two of them, and no one else. Not because it was their vacation, or because it was February 14th.
It was just because.