The plane to Belfast was small. There were only eighteen rows; they were lucky to have been able to get on the flight at all. As it was, Caroline was up near the front but Jim and Simon had ended up next to each other at the back.
Jim watched Simon struggle to get comfy in the small seats, the legroom insufficient for his tall frame. It was times like this that he was thankful he was short – not that he would admit that to anyone, of course.
Just as he thought Simon was comfy the man tried to get up.
“Need a piss.”
“Not until the plane’s taken off.” Jim told him, holding his hand up to command him back into his seat.
Simon fidgeted back into his seat and muttered at the hostess as she checked they were all buckled up. Jim tried to distract himself by tweeting, pointedly ignoring Simon’s intermittent mutterings until he was asked to turn his phone off.
Then, all that was left to do was stare out the window, try not to get annoyed by Simon ruffling that ridiculously springy hair of his, and wait for the seatbelt sign to ping and turn off.
Simon clambered over him as soon as it did, heading immediately to the tiny cubicle at the back of the plane.
When ten minutes had passed Jim started to worry.
When thirteen minutes had passed the hostess started to worry.
“I’ll check on him.” Jim told her, standing up and knocking lightly on the door.
“Simon? It’s Jim. Are you okay?”
“Got a bit of an issue.” Came muffled through the door.
Jim sighed and turned back to the hostess.
“Don’t worry about him, I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
She looked uncertain but nodded and turned back, striding down the aisle to help with the serving of the tea and coffee.
He knocked again.
“What is it Simon? Are you sick? I told you not to drink that much.”
FILL: [RPF] Jim/Simon, mile high club 1/2
Jim watched Simon struggle to get comfy in the small seats, the legroom insufficient for his tall frame. It was times like this that he was thankful he was short – not that he would admit that to anyone, of course.
Just as he thought Simon was comfy the man tried to get up.
“Need a piss.”
“Not until the plane’s taken off.” Jim told him, holding his hand up to command him back into his seat.
Simon fidgeted back into his seat and muttered at the hostess as she checked they were all buckled up. Jim tried to distract himself by tweeting, pointedly ignoring Simon’s intermittent mutterings until he was asked to turn his phone off.
Then, all that was left to do was stare out the window, try not to get annoyed by Simon ruffling that ridiculously springy hair of his, and wait for the seatbelt sign to ping and turn off.
Simon clambered over him as soon as it did, heading immediately to the tiny cubicle at the back of the plane.
When ten minutes had passed Jim started to worry.
When thirteen minutes had passed the hostess started to worry.
“I’ll check on him.” Jim told her, standing up and knocking lightly on the door.
“Simon? It’s Jim. Are you okay?”
“Got a bit of an issue.” Came muffled through the door.
Jim sighed and turned back to the hostess.
“Don’t worry about him, I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
She looked uncertain but nodded and turned back, striding down the aisle to help with the serving of the tea and coffee.
He knocked again.
“What is it Simon? Are you sick? I told you not to drink that much.”
“…are you alone?”
“Yes, why?”
The door clicked and opened slightly.