Why Do You Take Your Dates Up In a Plane?
Here's another fic for the kink meme. It's for the prompt Cinema Snob has a fear of heights, like Brad does, and Phelous is there to help him as they take a plane ride. I really love how there's been an influx of prompts for Phelous/Snob lately, and that many have been for hurt/comfort fics, since that is one of my favorite genres. I only wish more people wanted Benzaie/Phelous fics too, since sometimes it's easier for me to write when I have a prompt to go off of. Oh well, maybe one of them will do another slashy cameo in the other's videos soon, so people will remember this ship exists. But for now, I will keep filling Snob/Phelous requests when I can!
The title comes from a Hoedown Wayne did about skydiving. It took me a little while to come up with this title, because while WL has done lots of plane/flying related scenes, many didn't have lines that fit the mood. I'm not sure how well this one succeeds, but I like it, so oh well.
“Oh shit.”
Phelous turns away from the small, round window from which he had been watching people scramble around to make sure their plane is ready for takeoff and looks at the man sitting beside him. The Cinema Snob hasn’t been particularly talkative since they arrived at the airport and has been all but silent once they’d boarded the plane, but that seems to be changing now.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” he murmurs as he searches frantically through the small bag he’d carried on board with him.
“What is it?”
“I forgot my pills,” the Snob replies tersely as he finally pulls his hands away from the bag and gives it an angry kick. Phelous’s brow creases.
“What pills?”
“I bring anxiety pills with me whenever I have to fly,” the Snob explains as he brings a hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. “I fucking hate heights. I can’t handle them unless I’m half out of my fucking mind, and now I forgot my pills like a dumbass. God damn it!” He shoots Phelous a hopeful glance then. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tranquilizer-like medicine, would you?”
“Sorry,” Phelous answers with a shake of his head. “I just brought Aspirin for headaches.”
“Terrific,” Snob groans as he slides down in his seat. “This is just fucking terrific.”
“Would it help if I closed this?” Phelous asks as he pulls the shade down over his window.
“Not really,” Snob replies, already looking pale and nervous. “Not being able to see that we’re thousands of feet above the ground won’t be enough to make me forget that horrifying fact.” His hands grip the armrests very tightly and his breathing noticeably quickens.
“Is there anything I can do?” Phelous asks, feeling awkward. Dealing with terrified people was certainly not his area of expertise. The Snob narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, when the engines of the plane roar to life and it begins to taxi toward the runway.
The Snob exhales loudly and grabs Phelous’s arm, almost unconsciously digging his fingers tightly into his flesh. Phelous cringes a little but doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on the Snob’s face. His skin is ashen now, little drops of sweat beading his forehead, while his eyes are wide and unfocused, staring off vaguely into the distance.
Phelous twists in his seat, ignoring how the belt digs into his waist, and tries to face the slightly shaking man. “Hey,” he says softly, bringing his other hand to rest atop the one clutching his arm. “Are you all right?” He gently squeezes his wrist and can feel how fast the Snob’s pulse is racing. “This is going to be okay, you know. Traveling in planes is really safe and it’s really unlikely that we’ll-” Phelous stops before saying the word crash and changes tactics. “Don’t focus on the plane or how high we go; try to find something else to think about. If you want to talk or anything, I’m here, ok?”
The noise inside the cabin grows louder and the Snob snaps out of his trance-like state. He looks at Phelous before turning his gaze down to their hands.
“Sorry,” he mutters with a hint of embarrassment, loosening his grip on Phelous’s arm and moving to clutch his hand instead. His palm is sweaty and he holds on just as tightly, but Phelous simply nods.
“It’s ok.” The Snob’s face relaxes for a moment before the plane speeds up and shakes, indicating that they are about to leave the ground. The Snob screws his eyes shut and squeezes Phelous’s hand hard, his nails digging into the flesh. Again, Phelous cringes but makes no movement, other than to shift in his seat so that he’s even closer to the other man.
As they rise into the air, the plane tilts sharply and the Snob sucks in a jagged breath before leaning his head toward Phelous. Instinctively Phelous leans toward him, so their foreheads touch for a moment. The Snob squeezes his hand hard enough that numbness starts to dull Phelous’s arm, but he doesn’t dare move it.
Soon enough the plane balances out and the Snob finally starts to relax, allowing Phelous to feel the blood flow back into his fingers. The Snob also opens his eyes again, and though they look glazed when they land on Phelous’s face, they’re also filled with embarrassment and gratitude.
“It’s ok,” Phelous repeats, saving him from having to speak. The Snob’s face reddens but he offers a small, thankful smile before turning away.
The rest of the flight passes without incident, or even much turbulence, but the Snob always keeps his hand pressed against Phelous’s and his eyes on the floor of the cabin. He doesn’t even notice the strange look the flight attendant gives them when she comes around with her cart, and just accepts his Bloody Mary with a small nod. The only time he opens his mouth is when he wants to drink, which is fine with Phelous, who leans back in his seat and closes his eyes for most of the flight.
When they begin their descent, the Snob’s breathing increases again, but Phelous makes sure their fingers are tightly interlocked. The Snob glances at him for a moment but his eyes automatically close when they dip lower and lower, as he tries to bear with the sickening sensation in his stomach.
At last they land, ten minutes early at that, and Phelous feels the cold AC blow against his fingers for the first time in hours. He examines his hand, staring at the thin red indentations in his palm, before realizing the seat beside him is empty.
“Hey, wait!” he calls to the quickly retreating form of the Snob. Phelous jumps up and grabs his bag before hurrying after the other man. Inside the airport, he finally spots the Snob again, as he stumbles through the hordes of people hurrying to catch their own planes. He presses a firm hand against the Snob’s shoulder and helps steady him as they weave their way to baggage claim.
The Snob never protests, and actually never even looks at Phelous, not even when the taller man helps lean him against a wall near the conveyor belts.
“Just wait here,” Phelous instructs. “I’ll get our bags, so don’t worry about that.”
The Snob nods, still keeping his gaze locked on the floor, but Phelous doesn’t have time to think about that once he notices the bags are starting to travel around the carousel. He quickly spots his and pulls it off, and five minutes later he is wheeling both suitcases behind him.
“I’ve got them,” he tells the Snob after setting the bags by his feet. “Let me just catch my breath for a minute.” Phelous leans against the wall and turns to stare out around them. Most of the passengers have taken their bags and left, leaving the two virtually alone, since the only other moving carousel is at the other end of the large room.
“Thank you.”
Phelous turns his head in surprise but before he can move, he is slammed against the wall by the Snob, who hugs him tightly.
“I just fucking hate that feeling,” the Snob says. His voice is muffled, since he is burying his face into Phelous’s chest. “That dizzying feeling that I’m out of control, that there’s nothing solid under me, that I could just fall and fall and never fucking stop.” His hands tighten against Phelous’s back. “It’s fucking stupid but I just can’t help feeling that way.”
“It’s not stupid,” Phelous says. The Snob chuckles wryly.
“Yes it is. It’s irrational and it makes me feel like I’m a fucking kid again, which I’m sure is how you saw me today.” Phelous moves his hands to rest lightly on the Snob’s waist.
“I really didn’t.” He can feel the Snob shudder and tightens his hold on him.
“Phelous, you’re… the opposite of all that. I can just reach out and touch you, and know that you’re solid. I can just fucking touch you and I know that you won’t… let me fall.”
Snob’s voice is soft and shaky so Phelous gently squeezes his hips.
“I would never,” he whispers before kissing the top of the Snob’s head. The Snob stares up at him, looking almost startled, before he pulls the taller man down so their lips can meet. All the panic and fear he felt during the trip is released in desperate, hungry kisses and fingers, eager to cling onto something, that travel all over Phelous’s body.
In response, Phelous holds him close and keeps reminding him that he will always be there, keeping him on solid ground.
The title comes from a Hoedown Wayne did about skydiving. It took me a little while to come up with this title, because while WL has done lots of plane/flying related scenes, many didn't have lines that fit the mood. I'm not sure how well this one succeeds, but I like it, so oh well.
“Oh shit.”
Phelous turns away from the small, round window from which he had been watching people scramble around to make sure their plane is ready for takeoff and looks at the man sitting beside him. The Cinema Snob hasn’t been particularly talkative since they arrived at the airport and has been all but silent once they’d boarded the plane, but that seems to be changing now.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” he murmurs as he searches frantically through the small bag he’d carried on board with him.
“What is it?”
“I forgot my pills,” the Snob replies tersely as he finally pulls his hands away from the bag and gives it an angry kick. Phelous’s brow creases.
“What pills?”
“I bring anxiety pills with me whenever I have to fly,” the Snob explains as he brings a hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. “I fucking hate heights. I can’t handle them unless I’m half out of my fucking mind, and now I forgot my pills like a dumbass. God damn it!” He shoots Phelous a hopeful glance then. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tranquilizer-like medicine, would you?”
“Sorry,” Phelous answers with a shake of his head. “I just brought Aspirin for headaches.”
“Terrific,” Snob groans as he slides down in his seat. “This is just fucking terrific.”
“Would it help if I closed this?” Phelous asks as he pulls the shade down over his window.
“Not really,” Snob replies, already looking pale and nervous. “Not being able to see that we’re thousands of feet above the ground won’t be enough to make me forget that horrifying fact.” His hands grip the armrests very tightly and his breathing noticeably quickens.
“Is there anything I can do?” Phelous asks, feeling awkward. Dealing with terrified people was certainly not his area of expertise. The Snob narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, when the engines of the plane roar to life and it begins to taxi toward the runway.
The Snob exhales loudly and grabs Phelous’s arm, almost unconsciously digging his fingers tightly into his flesh. Phelous cringes a little but doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on the Snob’s face. His skin is ashen now, little drops of sweat beading his forehead, while his eyes are wide and unfocused, staring off vaguely into the distance.
Phelous twists in his seat, ignoring how the belt digs into his waist, and tries to face the slightly shaking man. “Hey,” he says softly, bringing his other hand to rest atop the one clutching his arm. “Are you all right?” He gently squeezes his wrist and can feel how fast the Snob’s pulse is racing. “This is going to be okay, you know. Traveling in planes is really safe and it’s really unlikely that we’ll-” Phelous stops before saying the word crash and changes tactics. “Don’t focus on the plane or how high we go; try to find something else to think about. If you want to talk or anything, I’m here, ok?”
The noise inside the cabin grows louder and the Snob snaps out of his trance-like state. He looks at Phelous before turning his gaze down to their hands.
“Sorry,” he mutters with a hint of embarrassment, loosening his grip on Phelous’s arm and moving to clutch his hand instead. His palm is sweaty and he holds on just as tightly, but Phelous simply nods.
“It’s ok.” The Snob’s face relaxes for a moment before the plane speeds up and shakes, indicating that they are about to leave the ground. The Snob screws his eyes shut and squeezes Phelous’s hand hard, his nails digging into the flesh. Again, Phelous cringes but makes no movement, other than to shift in his seat so that he’s even closer to the other man.
As they rise into the air, the plane tilts sharply and the Snob sucks in a jagged breath before leaning his head toward Phelous. Instinctively Phelous leans toward him, so their foreheads touch for a moment. The Snob squeezes his hand hard enough that numbness starts to dull Phelous’s arm, but he doesn’t dare move it.
Soon enough the plane balances out and the Snob finally starts to relax, allowing Phelous to feel the blood flow back into his fingers. The Snob also opens his eyes again, and though they look glazed when they land on Phelous’s face, they’re also filled with embarrassment and gratitude.
“It’s ok,” Phelous repeats, saving him from having to speak. The Snob’s face reddens but he offers a small, thankful smile before turning away.
The rest of the flight passes without incident, or even much turbulence, but the Snob always keeps his hand pressed against Phelous’s and his eyes on the floor of the cabin. He doesn’t even notice the strange look the flight attendant gives them when she comes around with her cart, and just accepts his Bloody Mary with a small nod. The only time he opens his mouth is when he wants to drink, which is fine with Phelous, who leans back in his seat and closes his eyes for most of the flight.
When they begin their descent, the Snob’s breathing increases again, but Phelous makes sure their fingers are tightly interlocked. The Snob glances at him for a moment but his eyes automatically close when they dip lower and lower, as he tries to bear with the sickening sensation in his stomach.
At last they land, ten minutes early at that, and Phelous feels the cold AC blow against his fingers for the first time in hours. He examines his hand, staring at the thin red indentations in his palm, before realizing the seat beside him is empty.
“Hey, wait!” he calls to the quickly retreating form of the Snob. Phelous jumps up and grabs his bag before hurrying after the other man. Inside the airport, he finally spots the Snob again, as he stumbles through the hordes of people hurrying to catch their own planes. He presses a firm hand against the Snob’s shoulder and helps steady him as they weave their way to baggage claim.
The Snob never protests, and actually never even looks at Phelous, not even when the taller man helps lean him against a wall near the conveyor belts.
“Just wait here,” Phelous instructs. “I’ll get our bags, so don’t worry about that.”
The Snob nods, still keeping his gaze locked on the floor, but Phelous doesn’t have time to think about that once he notices the bags are starting to travel around the carousel. He quickly spots his and pulls it off, and five minutes later he is wheeling both suitcases behind him.
“I’ve got them,” he tells the Snob after setting the bags by his feet. “Let me just catch my breath for a minute.” Phelous leans against the wall and turns to stare out around them. Most of the passengers have taken their bags and left, leaving the two virtually alone, since the only other moving carousel is at the other end of the large room.
“Thank you.”
Phelous turns his head in surprise but before he can move, he is slammed against the wall by the Snob, who hugs him tightly.
“I just fucking hate that feeling,” the Snob says. His voice is muffled, since he is burying his face into Phelous’s chest. “That dizzying feeling that I’m out of control, that there’s nothing solid under me, that I could just fall and fall and never fucking stop.” His hands tighten against Phelous’s back. “It’s fucking stupid but I just can’t help feeling that way.”
“It’s not stupid,” Phelous says. The Snob chuckles wryly.
“Yes it is. It’s irrational and it makes me feel like I’m a fucking kid again, which I’m sure is how you saw me today.” Phelous moves his hands to rest lightly on the Snob’s waist.
“I really didn’t.” He can feel the Snob shudder and tightens his hold on him.
“Phelous, you’re… the opposite of all that. I can just reach out and touch you, and know that you’re solid. I can just fucking touch you and I know that you won’t… let me fall.”
Snob’s voice is soft and shaky so Phelous gently squeezes his hips.
“I would never,” he whispers before kissing the top of the Snob’s head. The Snob stares up at him, looking almost startled, before he pulls the taller man down so their lips can meet. All the panic and fear he felt during the trip is released in desperate, hungry kisses and fingers, eager to cling onto something, that travel all over Phelous’s body.
In response, Phelous holds him close and keeps reminding him that he will always be there, keeping him on solid ground.