Fic: Fear of Flying
Title: Fear of Flying
Author: me (princess_schez) & gidgetgal9
Rating: PG-13 for language
Genre: Gen
Summary: To help Bobby, Dean's going to have to do something he absolutely hates.... flying.
Author’s Notes: Takes place during S6’s Weekend at Bobby’s, when the boys had to board a plane to jolly ol’ Scotland. Thanks to gidgetgal9 and sendintheklowns for the beta-ing!
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Demons and monsters he could handle.
Pissy nerd Angels? Piece of cake.
Flying? Hell to the no.
The wait in the terminal was excruciating. He’d rather have a go with a vampire, werewolf, and demon… preferably all at the same time. Hell, he’d rather streak naked through the airport or fight another Lamia than board that God-forsaken deathtrap known as an airplane.
Going through airport security had been a joke in of itself, involving more fondling and grouping from a strange man that had it been a woman would’ve involved a marriage license.
But with the ass-chewing they got from Bobby, he couldn’t back out, not now. Bobby came through for them numerous times, for any little piddly piece of crap reason they needed some arcane or obscure lore looked up. Dean knew he couldn’t let his friend - and father-figure - down when he needed them the most.
But why in holy Hell did it have to involve flying? The last time he voluntarily boarded a plane, some stupid demon tried to crash it. A few years after that, God - in all his sardonic humor and questionable wisdom - found it amusing to shazam their asses onto a plane over Ilchester, Maryland when Satan made his jail break.
Needless to say, his experiences flying had been rather shitty.
Nervously he stole a look at Sam, who was too busy eyeing the rack on a busty brunette chick and giving her the ‘Hey-babe, wanna-get-laid?’ look. This was a new thing for Sam, whose usual taste in women involved either fangs, fur, or black demonic eyes. So the fact that he was eyeing a human, well, that was… different, to say the least. But right now, he wished he could’ve been as calm and controlled as his brother, thus he tried focusing on the woman’s rack himself, but found his efforts futile.
“Now boarding Flight 41, Sioux Falls to Canisbay, Scotland at Gate 9,” came the monotone voice, but it might as well have said that Crowley announced himself the Grand Poohbah of the Universe, for all Dean cared. It was all the same spiel.
Around him, people milled about, unaware of the fact that they were all going to fucking die if they boarded that plane. Close to hyperventilating, he pulled himself with some reluctance out of the crevices of the plastic seat he didn’t know he shoved himself into, all the while chiding himself. He smiled weakly as the girl scanned his ticket. Damn it, Dean! Grow a pair!
Sitting inside the plane did nothing to calm his nerves as the door closed and it started its long trek down the tarmac. Focusing on the best way to kill Crowley distracted him for a time, narrowing his selection down to shooting him in his smug-ass face or cutting off those three extra inches.
Each plan sounded like a winner to him.
God, they were all probably going to die.
He seriously wondered if putting his head between his knees and kissing his sweet ass goodbye would’ve sent the wrong message to the other passengers.
Sam wasn’t helping matters in the slightest when he handed over a barf bag, a condescending smirk on his face. Whether he was being funny or obnoxious, Dean couldn’t tell. Then again it was Sam, and not only was his brother’s humor usually asinine, but ever since he got sprung from Luci’s cage had been acting differently from his usual anal hunter self.
Dean contemplated whether he could fit Sam’s abnormally large head in the barf bag, but for the sake of pissing off the air marshals on board, decided against it, seeing as how Bobby would’ve gone bat shit crazy if they got booted off the plane. Not that he could blame him. Being Crowley’s bitch wasn’t what any sane person would call ‘fun’. Nor would he ever utter those words in Bobby’s presence for fear of being shot with rock salt.
Sam watched with mild amusement as his brother squirmed slightly in his seat.
“That’s just the plane taking off,” Sam commented.
“Bite me.”
“We’re just going airborne now.” God! He was almost singing that last part….
Crapshitdamn. If it wasn’t for the fact that the feeling of almost weightlessness made him wish he didn’t turn down that barf bag, he’d have punched out the tall, lanky bastard sitting next to him.
-0-
Sam rolled his eyes at his lame ass brother. Geesh, talk about a major wuss and pain in the ass when it comes to planes. He really wanted to tell his brother to grow a pair but it probably wouldn't help the situation.
He was trying to be nice to play the game the way his former self would have. Dean and Bobby were useful and if he could screw Crowley over in the process of helping his friend then all the better.
Sam was pulled from his thoughts by another whimper. It made him want to slap his brother but he knew that all that would do was get him in trouble with Dean and probably the flight staff. Speaking of the flight staff, there was one hot and curvy brunette stewardess that kept giving him the eye. Maybe he could use his brother's silly fear of flying as a come on...
“Dean, sit tight and I'll see if I can get you some alcohol to settle your nerves.” Sam snapped out as he got up and headed towards the stewardess who was now playing shy.
“Hi Ms. uh...”
“Nancy, my name is Nancy,” she stuttered out under Sam's intense stare.
“Nancy, I like that. My name is Sam and that nervous bundle that is sitting next to me is my brother Dean. I was wondering if you had some advice as to how to help calm his fears. Other than say joining the mile high club because I don't think he could handle that right now.” Sam followed that statement with the inviting smile that had gotten him laid more times than not.
Nancy gave a nervous laugh.
“Yeah well, I bet you could perform no problem. But you need to keep your brother company if he is so nervous.”
Sam could see the word easy written all over her the way she spoke about 'performing', damn if he was going to turn down this opportunity.
“How about you take me somewhere private and we talk about strategies to help my brother.”
Sam was able to give Dean a thumbs up before disappearing in a small but private serving closet. A few moments later, with not a care to the world Sam made his way back to Dean with a blanket and a bottle of whiskey hidden under it.
Sam sat down next to a pale Dean.
“Gotcha something for the nerves.” Sam whispered as he showed his brother the bottle hidden under the blanket.
A shaky Dean took the bottle and when no one was looking took a long swig before passing it back to Sam with a grateful smile. Sam returned the smile without thinking.
There were moments when his former self bleed through, ghosting feelings of … love, he guessed. Now it was a vague sign of attachment like you would have over a favorite shirt only a little stronger.
Sam took a swig of whiskey and kept encouraging his brother to drink until, well, he could tell his brother had a buzz and he definitely had one himself. Sharing a drinking moment with Dean in the plane took him to past memories of being stuck on a plane with Dean and a demon.
He remembered the way his former self enjoyed seeing Dean so nervous so for once they did share a feeling. It had been amusing to watch his brother who was always in control - not for once. Another memory was there - Dean humming Metallica and talking about the fact humming it, soothed him.
Sam smiled brightly at his buzzing brother. He began to sing in a very low tone...
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to
me, to me
He paused and looked at Dean who smile back and started in with Sam.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all
the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go,
Got to leave you all behind and face the truth
Mamaaaaa oooh,
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
They were off key but it was fun and even some of the passengers around them began to sing along too.
Dean was finally at ease so when they got to the end Sam did the only thing he could think of and started the song up again.
-0-
Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me...
Anyway the wind blows...
Dean finished what had to be the sixth time they had made it through Bohemian Rhapsody and he motioned to Sam that they could stop. He was buzzed and calmed in fact he felt like maybe he could sleep a little now.
“Thanks, Sam.” Dean mumbled as he yawned.
“No problem, Dean. It was fun. Took me back to watching Wayne's World with you and singing to that song every time.”
“Yeah, I appreciate you taking the effort.” Dean replied contently. It was strange being on a plane the one thing he hated in life but at the same time for the first time in a long time feeling at peace in the presence of his brother. He could take what he could get without question.
Especially now since he had a spork in his hand he found lying on the floor. Nobody dare give him any shit now.
“Dude, what the hell are you planning on doing with that?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dean yawned. “Any terrorists try and get by me is getting a spork in the eye.”
The end