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In the Air (M)

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When you don’t want to write rpf, create a character that looks exactly like the person you’re imagining. A snz character. A snaracter, if you will. In this case, young David Spade. Since I just watched Tommy Boy I’m kind of picturing Wendy as Julie Warner… for the character Dan, I'm not sure...
This takes place in the 90’s. I don’t know anything about working on airlines, I was just in a flight attendant mood. I had to do some research lol. This will be multiple parts, idk how many yet.


“You feeling alright?”

Patrick glanced over; the flight attendant was adjusting the cuffs of her navy uniform jacket, peering at him. 

He fiddled with his own jacket, one that was entirely too big for him because he’d left his at the dry cleaner and had to borrow a spare. He was already small at about five foot five, so of fucking course the only spare jacket they had was meant for someone twice as tall and twice as big. His fingers were slipping trying to button it. “Yeah, I’m fine, Wendy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Wendy shrugged. “You look… peaky. And like you were gonna fall asleep during the crew briefing.” She pushed her dark brown bangs back and patted her bun to make sure it was in place.

Patrick scowled and sniffled, giving up on the buttons for the time being. He was probably coming down with something and was resolutely choosing to ignore it. Their boss had just given him a shit schedule for the next month because a couple of the senior attendants had grabbed the shifts he had bid for, and now his schedule was all over the place. He also had picked up three extra shifts last week and went three consecutive days without getting more than a couple of hours of sleep. All of this had probably not done wonders for his immune system.

“I’ve never been better,” he said in a sort of derisive, sing-song voice.

“Uh huh.” Wendy looked like she didn’t buy this for a second, but also like she was not really interested enough to push it. They were about ten minutes away from takeoff on their flight from New York City to Los Angeles. Hopefully. They had been delayed on the runway for about thirty minutes and their passengers were getting more and more irritated. Two babies were already crying. The old woman in the front row had a savage look in her eye that was frankly terrifying. He was going to let Wendy serve her the mid flight beverage.

“Fun crowd we’ve got today,” Patrick scoffed quietly to Wendy, before quickly putting on his Customer Service Face and giving a cheery smile to a man who passed by him to the bathroom. 

Wendy grinned, her dimples showing, and raised her eyebrows in silent assent. They’d worked together at Dusk Airlines going on two years now. Patrick appreciated when they were on the same flights; the discount airline they worked for being rather small, they ended up working together more often than not. The other attendant, Dan, shuffled by them, letting them know the co-pilot had given him the okay for take-off.

Patrick picked up the receiver to start the safety protocols. “Okay, folks, thank you for choosing Dusk Airlines, and thanks for-” He paused to clear his throat, it was starting to feel more and more congested. “Thanks for your patience. We’ll be taking off shortly; first, my good friend Wendy here is going to show you the good ol’ safety procedures, because we can’t ever get enough of those!” Patrick could almost feel Wendy giving him a look.

He rambled the procedures off the top of his head easily, bringing his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose as he talked. Ugh. It was itching. 

Once he finished his spiel with only minor sniffling, he hung up the receiver, let his mouth go slack, and shot forward into his cupped hands with a stifled sneeze. “Hkxxt-uh...”

“Ooh, bless you,” Wendy remarked, setting the bright orange safety vest back in its nook.

“Thanks,” Patrick sighed, wearily rubbing at his eyes. 

“I do have some cold medicine, you know. I always bring some, just in case.”

Patrick gave her a sidelong glance.

Wendy raised her heads placatingly. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m fine.” Patrick ran a hand through his blonde hair, shaking it out. Aside from the itch in his nose and the pain when he swallowed, he didn’t feel that bad… so far. He was tired, but last week’s wrench in his sleep schedule didn’t help matters. Cold medicine would just make him feel drowsy or weird. Hopefully he’d just ride this out. He had five hours of flight time, a night at their reserved hotel, and another five hours of flight time at five in the morning. Not much time to sleep, but hopefully he was able to get some.

Forty minutes and five rows down with the beverage cart later at the end of first class, Patrick had conceded that he was, perhaps, not fine. His nose was prickling more, he was starting to get muscle aches, and he was just so goddamn tired.

And every row, someone had ordered a diet coke. Fucking diet coke (among other diet sodas) was the bane of a flight attendant’s existence. It was, for some reason, more carbonated than the other drinks, so you had to pour it more slowly, which in turn slowed down the entire process of serving drinks. 

“And what would you like, ma’am?” Patrick asked, grimacing when his voice came out congested.

“Hmm. I’ll have a diet coke,” the woman by the plane window responded, giving him a smile.

Patrick’s own smile was frozen on his face (as it often was, during this job). “Of course.” 

He was going to jump out of this plane right now. 

Filling a cup with ice, Patrick grabbed a diet coke can and opened it. He began the agonizing pour, the bubbly liquid slowly trickling on the side of the plastic cup to lessen the amount of foam. Suddenly the prickle in his sinuses felt absolutely unbearable; it was likely from opening the can, the rush of carbon dioxide had hit him right in the face.

Patrick trembled and lifted the can higher to get the soda to pour faster, being careful not to spill it. He practically shoved it on the passenger’s tray table and turned away from her, bringing his coat up over his nose and mouth and bobbed forward with a silent stifled sneeze. 

“Bless you!” the woman called.

Patrick blushed. “Thanks,” he said quickly. His nose still felt like it was on fire. He caught Wendy’s eye and she gave him a raised eyebrow. 

Down in coach, he was serving someone a beer (he didn’t know why people wanted to drink at noon, but whatever) when his nose flared again. Fuck.

He leaned over to give the man his beer, his strained trying not to sneeze face was probably comical at this point, though thankfully the passengers usually didn’t look directly at you when you were handing them something. 

Ducking into his elbow and turning away from the rows of passengers into the middle of the aisle, he couldn’t quite stifle this time, “Isssh’oo! Hah-sschiew!” A course of bless yous rang through the air, and he felt his ears go hot. “Excuse me, sorry.”

One lady was giving him a particularly dirty look over her horn rimmed glasses, her high, puffy hair reminiscent of the past decade. It was 1996, already. “You know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be handling food and drink,” she griped.

“Ah well, I’m feeling just dandy,” Patrick said with a grin, flexing his latex gloved hands, the sarcasm clearly going over the woman’s head. Not that the airline would care if he was sick. If he was scheduled, he was there. 

The passenger just humphed and tore open her peanut packet. Patrick was pleased to note the peanuts went flying as he and Wendy pushed the cart further down the aisle. 


“Want to get a drink with the crew when we land?” Dan asked. They were both currently plating food in the galley. Well, Dan was plating it. Patrick was mostly getting out the plates, silverware, and other items, rather than get too close to the food. He wasn’t actually trying to infect the entire plane.

Patrick shrugged and sniffled, trying to keep his nose from running. “Sure, why not.” It was usually the norm for members of the crew to go to the hotel bar if they were stationed somewhere, and it would probably look strange if he wasn’t in attendance. They would think he was holed up in his room, drinking alone. Also, he was thinking fondly at the idea of a hot toddy right about now.

He glanced at his watch: they had about an hour and a half to go. He shivered a bit and pulled his jacket more in on himself: he had successfully buttoned it, but it still wasn’t really warm enough. 

“It can get pretty cold up in the air, huh?” Dan pressed a couple buttons on the microwave to heat up one of their frozen airplane meals. Not exactly five star dining. 

“Yeah, seriously.” Patrick finished stocking the cart and leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed. “They should give us warmer uniforms.” The air conditioned plane wasn’t helping him much. He fished some Tylenol out of his pocket, hoping it would help with the sinus headache that was creeping up on him, as well as the muscle aches.

“So… that Wendy chick,” Dan started.

“Uh huh.” Patrick rubbed at his nose, sniffed. He got out a kleenex because his nose was now finally starting to run.

“You and her, you’ve worked together before a lot. So are you, uh… you know?”

Patrick glanced at him over his kleenex and raised his eyebrows. “We what?”

Dan just gave him a knowing look and then made a quick thrusting gesture.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Patrick shook his head, wincing. “No. God.”

Dan grinned wolfishly. “Then you won’t mind.”

Oh. Well. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t his place to mind. But for some reason the idea of this six foot tall chiseled guy that neither of them barely knew hitting on Wendy didn’t sit right with him, either. Dan had just joined the company a couple months ago, and he’d only worked with him once or twice. He seemed… nice enough, Patrick supposed. But he also seemed like the type that was going to sleep through the whole female airline staff, given the opportunity. That being said, they were all adults in their late twenties, early thirties. It wasn't up to him who Wendy did or didn't sleep with. He kind of wanted to keep an eye on him now, though. Just in case he was being... suspicious. 

Patrick shifted against the counter and cleared his throat, massaging his swollen lymph nodes. “Yeah, whatever, have fun,” he said. 

Dan smiled, nodded. The microwave dinged. They went on their way with the plane food.

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Thanks for sharing! I hope to see more 😊

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25 minutes ago, Feo said:

Thanks for sharing! I hope to see more 😊

of course!! I'll be uploading more 😆

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11 hours ago, gingerbreads said:

of course!! I'll be uploading more 😆

Cool!! I'm looking forward to read 🤩

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I absolutely love young David Spade from Tommy Boy! 😍 Couldn't stop imagining him as Patrick. Looking forward to next chapters!! 

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24 minutes ago, peach_princess said:

I absolutely love young David Spade from Tommy Boy! 😍 Couldn't stop imagining him as Patrick. Looking forward to next chapters!! 

Omg, it makes me happy a few other people on here really enjoy him hahaha. Thank you so much!!

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March Hare

Ooo, a flight attendant story! I like this. :yes: I'm following this!

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A/N: If you’ve seen 90’s SNL and Total Bastard Airlines, of course I had to give a nod to the “Buh-bye!” 


“Buh-bye. Okay. Thanks for choosing Dusk Airlines. Buh-bye.” Patrick felt like his face was going to fall off from the smile he had plastered on his face bidding every single passenger goodbye. His throat was feeling more and more sore, and he was a bit worried that by his next flight in the morning, he would have completely lost his voice. 

“Goodbye,” Wendy smiled wide at the family passing by with their young children. “Enjoy Los Angeles.”

The crew couldn’t step off the plane until every single passenger was off, and a couple of the passengers in first class were taking their sweet time getting their carry-ons out of the overhead bins, slowing down the entire system. 

“Bye. Have a nice…” Patrick trailed off with a shudder as the prickle in his nose became intense. He didn’t have time to let it fade away and he ducked quickly into his elbow away from the line with a stifled sneeze. “Heh-ngxt-ah...”

“Gesundheit,” offered the old man stepping off the plane.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry.” Patrick felt his ears burning again and he avoided looking at the pilot and co-pilot behind him. He quickly brought the Customer Service Smile back on his face as he bade goodbye to the next passenger- you could get fired for not smiling enough on this job.  

After their entire check of the aircraft was finished, Patrick wanted to cry with relief at finally disembarking the plane into LAX. Swinging his bag on his shoulder, he and the rest of the crew made their way through the exit terminals, not needing an escort back through security as they were staying overnight in the city. 

Once outside, he squinted in the sun and shrugged off his oversized navy airline jacket, happy to be in some warmth, hoping it would make him feel a bit better. However, the bright light also triggered his already sensitive nose. Stupid photic reflex. 

He let his jaw go slack, eyelids fluttering, and ducked forward into a kleenex he’d hurriedly pulled out from his pocket, “Heh… Heh-ISHiew! Huh-chushhh! CHUSH’oo!” Those had hurt a bit, scraping at his throat.

Bless you!” 

Patrick startled at the sound of Wendy’s voice and blushed. He’d kind of forgotten his coworkers were all filing out right behind him. 

“Thanks,” he muttered sheepishly, pocketing the used and now fairly disgusting kleenex. 

“You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, I will. It’s fine, I don’t feel that-” Patrick paused and cleared his throat. “That bad.”

“Oh, so you do feel bad?” Wendy teased. “You’re admitting you’re sick?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay, I have a bit of a cold. It’s not a big deal.”

Dan popped up then, looking full of energy that Patrick wished he could muster. “Let’s hit the hotel bar!”

It was only 2 p.m., but on their own clocks they were three hours ahead due to the L.A.-NY time difference. They would also be going to sleep early since they had an early morning flight going back to New York. Working on a plane meant your body clock was often all over the place. 

Once they’d walked to the hotel Dusk Airlines had stationed them, Patrick went up to his room, dropped his bag on the floor, and promptly collapsed onto the bed, kicking off his loafers. He rubbed at his face; his headache was worsening and his body was getting more frequent chills. He wondered how close a convenience store would be nearby, so he could pick up some medicine. His mind wandered to Wendy and Dan. 

He and Wendy had grown rather close working for Dusk. To be honest, when Patrick first met her, he’d had a bit of a crush. Still, nothing had come of it, and they saw other people, both confiding in the other about their relationships and then lack of them. As far as he knew, Wendy was unattached at the moment, and so was he.

That being said, asking her out would have changed their work relationship; he’d figured she probably wouldn’t want to go out with him, anyway. Yet the thought of her with another coworker in particular was… weird. He didn’t know why. 

Patrick sighed, headed into the bathroom, and blew his nose into some hotel tissues, hoping it would clear his congestion for a while. The nose blowing ended up just tickling his sinuses. “Hih… HIH-chush’oo!” he sneezed softly, still holding the tissue to his face. Slowly, he brought it down, giving a painful swallow, and glanced at himself in the mirror. Reddened nose, chapped lips, eyes a bit bleary, hair messy. At least he could fix the hair part.

Patrick hastily changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and met his coworkers down at the hotel bar, noting that the pilot and co-pilot were also joining them. 

“I’ll have an old fashioned,” the pilot, a gray haired man named Saul, said to the bartender. The bartender nodded, then looked at Patrick, as he and the pilot were the only two without drinks.

“I’ll take a hot toddy,” Patrick said, rubbing at his nose with the cuff of his sleeve. The bartender winced in sympathy.

“Sure, buddy, you sound rough.” 

He didn’t really need that announced, but okay. Thankfully, no one was really paying attention as the crew had gotten into some kind of discussion about competing airlines and the ups and downs of the business, Saul gesticulating wildly. Patrick noticed Dan was next to Wendy, his body angled toward hers, a smarmy grin on his face. He felt a slight pang in his chest and he looked away. 

Patrick thought he was up for being at the bar, but he really just wanted to go up and crawl into bed and sleep for ten hours. Or more. Maybe he’d just keep sleeping, miss the flight, and quit his job altogether. Sleeping for days sounded like the better option right about now. He sniffled and turned toward the group, trying to appear like he was listening to what they were saying.

“Here you go.” The bartender slid forward a glass of amber liquid with a lemon wedge on the rim. Patrick put his hands around it and immediately relished in the warmth. The honey mixed whiskey helped soothe his throat, and he felt he could swallow without pain for a while.

The afternoon dragged on; Patrick sometimes chimed in when his opinion was asked, but for the most part he sat on the stool with his cooling hot toddy, huddled in on himself. 

The next thing he knew, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wendy was hovering behind him.

“You should go to bed,” she said. Then, matter of factly, “you look like shit.”

Patrick snorted in laughter, which turned into a couple of pitiful sounding coughs.

“Where’s Dan?” Patrick looked around and realized he and Wendy were the last of the crew at the bar. “Wait, where is everyone?”

“Eh, they wanted to go to a seafood restaurant downtown. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh.” Patrick sniffed, the action tickling the inside of his raw nose, and he shot forward with a stifled sneeze, hitting his knees on the underside of the bar’s counter. He groaned, his knees now throbbing. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Bless,” Wendy offered, and rubbed his shoulder. He felt his heart skip a little at the contact. 

“Mm,” he mumbled, snuffling. “So no Dan, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think he was hoping to… with you...” Patrick just raised his eyebrows and looked at her.

“Eurgh. No thanks. Not really my type.” Wendy wrinkled her nose. Cute. 

Patrick smiled at her, nodding, suddenly feeling a little better about life. He stretched his legs and stood up. “Well, see you in…” He checked his watch. “About twelve hours.”

“Okay.” Wendy sighed and bit her lip, looking a bit concerned. “Order some soup or something.”

“Yeah, maybe after I sleep for a bit.”


Patrick did sleep (he literally fell into bed once he got into his room, not bothering to change his clothes except for kicking his jeans off), but not without waking up every couple hours to a coughing fit. By the time the next day rolled around and it came time to get up (very, very early in the morning as their flight was at five a.m.), Patrick felt like he had barely slept at all. 

He opened his eyes blearily to the pitch black room, the sun a long way from rising. He quickly shut off the alarm on the nightstand. God, he really, really didn’t want to get up. The sheets felt so warm, and he felt very heavy and sore. He shivered, chills running up and down his body, and he gingerly touched his forehead- it was slick with sweat.

Patrick couldn’t really breathe through his nose- when he tried, the prickling in his sinuses came back full force. He turned on the lamp and grabbed a couple of tissues off of the box on the nightstand that he’d nearly emptied the night before. 

“Hih… ISH’iewww..! Hih… HIH-schoo! Heh-chushh-uh...” Patrick shuddered, crumpled the tissues and upon grabbing new ones, blew his nose. He lay under the covers for another minute, almost falling back asleep. Then he forced himself to get up and very sluggishly got ready for the day, choking down a protein bar he’d packed because he realized he hadn’t eaten for quite a while at this point. 

At LAX, the crew did their briefing and then began their pre-boarding inspection of the aircraft. Patrick was all the while thinking about how he wasn’t even getting paid for this because flight attendants were only paid for their time in the air. The only good thing about getting paid with flight hours was you were guaranteed a certain amount of paid hours per month, even if you didn't end up flying that many. Still, it was, perhaps, annoying him more this morning because he just felt so incredibly sick. 

They were running smoothly on schedule, but every minute of the morning felt like it was absolutely dragging by, and saying hello to every passenger boarding the plane was excruciating, the words scraping out of his sore throat. He could feel Wendy giving him little worried glances.  

Wendy took pity on him after hearing how congested he sounded and handled the safety protocols that morning, with Patrick and Dan pointing to the exits and displaying the life vests and oxygen masks. 

During this flight’s beverage round, most people requested coffee or tea, so thankfully there were not nearly as many diet cokes from hell. 

He did have one embarrassing and painful moment of filling someone’s cup with hot water and having to stifle a sudden unexpected sneeze, spilling the scalding water onto his hand.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Wendy asked, having caught the display. 

Patrick hurriedly grabbed a towel, his hand stinging. “Yep, yep, fine.” 

After the service, the plane hit some turbulence for a bit and the seat belt sign went on. Soon after, he answered a call from a particularly angry looking middle aged blonde woman in coach.

“I asked for a pillow at least ten minutes ago.”

Patrick cleared his throat, holding back from coughing. “Sorry, ma’am, we had to remain seated due to turbulence-”

“I’ve been on MANY flights during my life, and that was barely turbulence. I have a very bad back pain problem and I need a pillow.”

Oh, okay- why didn’t she just bring her own fucking pillow? Next thing he knew she was going to “ask for the manager”. 

After fetching one for her, she scowled at it as if it had offended her. “This is too soft.”

Patrick thought longingly of parachuting out the emergency exit. 

“Let me find a less soft one for you,” he gritted out. The pillows were all the same, but perhaps he could find one that was more firm. Either way, he wasn’t about to argue with her. She took the second one with reluctance.

Five minutes later, she dinged again.

“This is really too soft- can I get a blanket and a couple sheets and can you roll them up for me?”

Unsure of why she couldn’t just roll them up herself, he complied, and of course, for whatever reason, she dinged another minute later. 

“Wendy,” Patrick moaned pathetically, sniffling. He was shivering, holding his arms, legs aching: he knew he must have looked a rather sorry sight in his oversized uniform jacket. He just wanted to lean against the counter in the galley for a few minutes and not move.

Wendy smiled at him consolingly. “I’ve got it.” 

She was an angel.

He fished a kleenex out of his pocket, sneezing softly into it, “Heh… heh-chush’oo… Ugh.” It really wasn’t a very satisfying sneeze, though it was wet; he just still felt very itchy. He stood there for another moment, mouth open, still holding the kleenex to his face, waiting for another sneeze. Fluttering his eyelids closed, he gasped… and then nothing. Goddamn it. He put the kleenex back into his pocket and sighed, frustrated.

Wendy came back into the galley, “So of course the blanket wasn’t up to her-”

HEH-ASHIEWW..!” Patrick shot forward with a rather out of character loud sneeze, and mortifyingly, it happened so quickly that he didn’t have time to cover properly, misting Wendy’s arm in the process. He blushed, heat crawling up his neck, bringing his hand up to his nose and mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Wen, I-”

Wendy laughed. “Aww, it’s fine, it’s fine!” She playfully wiped her sleeve on his own jacket. “Bless you, Patrick. You sound awful.” She grabbed a kleenex from the counter’s box and handed it to him.
He took it gratefully and wiped his nose. “Yeah, feeling a little worse than yesterday.”

“Just a little, huh?” She raised her eyebrows.

Patrick shrugged and sniffled. “I can deal with it.”

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Ok ok so I haven't read this next part yet, but I'm already excited!! Thank you for posting, I'm sure it's gonna be awesome! 😍 *goes back to her boring job*

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Oooh, this is lovely!

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1 hour ago, peach_princess said:

Ok ok so I haven't read this next part yet, but I'm already excited!! Thank you for posting, I'm sure it's gonna be awesome! 😍 *goes back to her boring job*

thank you, let me know what you think ❤️


1 hour ago, silentdreamer789 said:

Oooh, this is lovely!

thank you so much!!

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I finally read it and I'm in love with Patrick! 😍(what a surprise huh) I'm also relieved to see how Wendy cares about him, it's just so sweet of her! I also love the sneeze spellings and how you describe his pre-sneeze face. I love it how he still goes through his day fighting this cold. Oh, and it's just a guess, but something tells me that Wendy might get sick from him?.. Don't tell me, it's just a random thought :)

Edited by peach_princess
grammar mistake

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March Hare

Yep, yep, HERE for this glorious suffering. :twisted: You paint vivid pictures and I'm enjoying them hugely!

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10 hours ago, peach_princess said:

I finally read it and I'm in love with Patrick! 😍(what a surprise huh) I'm also relieved to see how Wendy cares about him, it's just so sweet of her! I also love the sneeze spellings and how you describe his pre-sneeze face. I love it how he still goes through his day fighting this cold. Oh, and it's just a guess, but something tells me that Wendy might get sick from him?.. Don't tell me, it's just a random thought :)

Thank you so much!!! ❤️ We love a tiny adorable flight attendant who looks like david spade🥺 I really appreciate all your comments, gives me motivation hehe. 

7 hours ago, March Hare said:

Yep, yep, HERE for this glorious suffering. :twisted: You paint vivid pictures and I'm enjoying them hugely!

thank you!!! ❤️ I try hard to depict imagery in my writing so that means a lot!

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I love this 🥰

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16 minutes ago, 2SHY222 said:

I love this 🥰

thank you so much <333 

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Will there be more? This is such a cute story, I love it 🥰 

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16 hours ago, Puzzle said:

Will there be more? This is such a cute story, I love it 🥰 

Thank you so much!! Posting it now :D 

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A/N: Taking some inspiration from real life flight attendant horror stories I’ve been reading.


They had an hour left of the flight, and Patrick was dealing with it. Dealing with it poorly? Perhaps, but he was dealing with it, and that was the best he could do right now. The chills were getting more frequent, and he’d popped a few tylenol to help curb the aches going on in his muscles. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his nose still had that permanent crawling feeling. No matter how often he sneezed it didn’t seem to make a bit of a difference. Not wanting to sneeze in front of passengers, he kept stifling them, which was certainly not helping his headache.

“Sir, please don’t clip your toenails in the middle of the aisle,” Patrick said to an elderly man who currently had his foot out, blocking people’s paths. It was simultaneously disgusting and unnerving the sheer number of people who thought it was perfectly dandy to take off their shoes, socks, and just go to town toenail clipping on a flight.

Patrick turned and almost ran into a middle aged man rushing down the aisle, his mustache quivering with the speed. 

“Excuse me,” the man said, distressed. “But someone is lying on the floor sleeping underneath the chair and I keep hitting their feet with my legs.”


Patrick followed him down the aisle and sure enough, a young man was stretched out underneath the airline seat with his shoes off, a backpack underneath his head, and a sleep mask on.

He was really too sick for this right now. He sighed and it turned into a cough; he ducked into his elbow, bent at the waist, hacking.

“Are you okay?” the man with the mustache asked. 

“Yes, sorry.” Patrick sniffled and leaned down, his achy legs protesting at this feat of movement. “Excuse me. Sir.” He rubbed a shaky hand at his nose, which was once again threatening to run. He sniffed again to keep it at bay, then bobbed his head and stifled a silent sneeze which luckily went unnoticed.

The man underneath the seat grumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.” As if it was just Patrick’s fucking nerve to disturb the passenger currently on the floor like he was sprawled out on a bed at a Best Western.

“Sir, you can’t lie down on the floor.” He rubbed at his temples, willing the pilot telepathically to fly the plane faster so he could be home already. They didn’t pay him enough for this.

“I told you you can’t do that, Tim.” Patrick glanced up- a woman, probably the guy’s wife, was sitting by the window, her arms crossed, black hair tied up in a ponytail. 

“I can bring you a blanket or something to make your seat more comfortable, but you can’t lie here. It’s not safe and it disturbs the other-” Patrick broke off and coughed, the action painful against his sore throat. “The other passengers.”

Tim ripped off his sleep mask angrily and shimmied out from under the seat. 

“You know, I pay good money to fly this airline,” the man huffed.

“Yes, thank you for choosing Dusk,” Patrick said automatically, using all his willpower to not roll his eyes. He did, however, share a look with Mustache Man. 

A couple minutes later, he heard a child screaming at the front of the cabin. Dan was trying to sort out the situation and he caught Patrick’s eye, a look on his face that screamed please help me

The young woman sitting in front of the kid turned to Patrick as he made his way down the aisle. “This kid behind me has been kicking my seat for an hour!”

“You were harassing my son,” protested the mother of the aforementioned son. The kid, probably five years old, was still yelling.

“I was literally asking him to stop.” The woman looked like she was losing it and on the verge of tears. Patrick could not relate more. 

“I have to ask you to have your child stop kicking her seat,” Patrick told the mother, who was scowling at him. Then he turned to the young woman, giving her a look that hoped would convey how empathetic he was at the moment. “Otherwise we can move you seats for the remainder of the flight.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” the woman muttered, gathering her bag. 


The women, unruly child, and Dan all turned to look at Patrick, who felt his face heat up. He had turned away with an abrupt sneeze into cupped hands. 

“Bless you.” The young woman stood up with her bag.

“Thank you, excuse me,” Patrick said, embarrassed, hastily wiping his hands on his jacket. At least that interruption had gotten the kid to quiet down. 

Dan and Patrick seated the woman in the only available open seat in coach.

“I’m so sorry about the inconvenience,” Patrick told her.

“It’s not your fault,” the woman reassured. 

When they finally hit the runway at the JFK airport, one family in first class decided to get up and try to get their luggage out of the overhead compartment while the plane was still moving. What was with the people on this flight?

“Please take your seats,” Wendy called over the PA system from their designated jumpseats at the front of the plane. Then to Patrick, “Jesus Christ.”

Patrick shook his head, pressing a knuckle to his itching nose. “I know, we’ve had back to back winners here.”

Once the plane was parked and the flight attendants up, the father of the family strolled up to the front of the plane. “We have a very important family event we’re going to be late for. We need to get off, if you guys can, you know, hurry it up?”

Patrick bit his lip to keep from laughing at this man’s audacity. “Ah, yes, we’ll do our best, if you could take your seat.”

“Well, we need to be off now.

“Perhaps you should have taken an earlier flight. If you could just have a seat.”

“Listen, you pipsqueak-” The man grabbed Patrick roughly by the arm, and Wendy rushed over.

“Hey, you can’t-” she started, but Patrick dipped forward with a soft sneeze, covering his face with his free arm.

“Hih-chush’oo…!” He sniffled and smirked at the man. “Ahhh, sorry, I’m allergic to entitlement.” Wendy snorted.

The man went red with anger, his bushy eyebrows going up and down like little caterpillars on his face. “I’ll be talking to the pilot about you,” he sputtered.

“Please do, I’m sure he’ll love to hear about how you’re harassing and assaulting his staff,” Wendy said, stone-faced. 

The man walked back to his seat, huffing. 

“Can we make it off this flight without any other fun incidents?” Patrick sniffled and dabbed at his nose with a kleenex, rubbing his sore arm.

“I know... Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again; he put his hand against the wall to steady himself. He was feeling very heavy suddenly. He shook his head to clear it and righted himself. He gave Wendy what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”

It took about forty five minutes to clear the plane, clean it, and do all the safety checks. Patrick fell into one of the seats in the front row, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his legs shaking. He was completely exhausted and was doubting his ability to even leave the plane and go home. 

“Here.” Wendy handed him his overnight bag, her own swung over her shoulder. Patrick took it gratefully. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Wendy, you up for going out tonight?” Dan called from the front of the plane, wagging his eyebrows. “I got pull at some fancy restaurants- I know people!”

“I’ve got plans, but thanks.” Wendy gave him a polite smile.

Dan looked somewhat disappointed but shrugged and made his way off the plane.

“You have plans?” Patrick asked, sniffling.

“Yeah, I’m gonna drive you home.”

“What- no, you don’t need to-”

“You’re gonna drive like this? Plus cab prices are ridiculous. It’s no big deal. We both have a couple days off, right? Until the Atlanta flight Friday night. I’ll just pick you up then; from what I remember, we live pretty close.”

Patrick was going to protest or maybe thank her, but the itch in his nose flared again, and he bent over, weakly covering his face with his elbow, legs coming up with the force of the sneezing, “ISH-uh! Hih… hih-ihshiew! Ixhg’choo!” 

“Bless you.”

“Ugh. Sorry.”

Wendy laughed. “You don’t need to be sorry for sneezing.”

Patrick sighed, getting up slowly, his entire body hating him for it. “I’m just really disgusting right now.”

“No, you’re not,” Wendy said quickly. He looked at her quizzically and thought he saw her face pinken. 

“Thanks,” Patrick smiled at her. 

They walked out into the airport together, Patrick trying not to lethargically lag behind, Wendy grabbing his arm now and then to steer him and avoid him getting run over by rushing people who were about to miss their flights. 

Once in her car, Patrick sank into the passenger’s seat, running a shaky hand down his face. He shivered and pulled his oversized uniform jacket closer in on himself. Then he looked down at the jacket. 

“Oh.” He sniffed. “I forgot this isn’t actually mine.”

“Eh, I doubt they’ll care,” Wendy said, looking over her shoulder as she backed out of the employee space. 

“I’m gonna have to like, dry clean it twice,” Patrick smirked. “It’s so contaminated at this point.”

Wendy laughed. Patrick liked seeing her dimples. “Good plan.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she pulled out into the queue of cars.

Patrick leaned against the window and crossed his arms. “So, Dan’s not your type, huh?”

Wendy was silent for a few seconds. “Nah. He’s too tall.”

Patrick gave a bark of laughter and looked at her in disbelief. Wendy was trying not to smile. “Yeah, okay,” he said, amused.

He peered out the window as they drove; it was early afternoon, and the morning in New York City must have been a foggy one because there was still a blanket of white in the distance, hazing the street lamps into little yellow bursts of light. 

Patrick’s eyes drooped, the blurry landscape obscuring further, and he shot his eyes back open; he wasn’t keen on falling asleep in Wendy’s car. He rubbed a knuckle on the side of his nose, the tickle still just as prevalent. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a cold that was so fucking itchy. 

“It’s this exit, right?”

Patrick cleared his throat, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah.”

Wendy pulled into the lot of his apartment complex a few minutes later. “You’ve got medicine, right? You should take some.”

Patrick snickered. “Yes, mom.”

Wendy grinned. “If you need anything, you have my number.”

They sat there in silence for a few seconds and Patrick could feel Wendy turn to look at him. He was sitting there with his mouth open, eyes fluttering, trying to coax out a sneeze- he was aware he probably looked idiotic, but his nose felt like it was on fire.

He gave a sharp inhale, nostrils flaring, “Hih… Ugh. Goddamn it.” He’d lost it. “They keep getting stuck.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Wendy reached over in front of him and pulled open her glove compartment. “Maybe this will help.” She handed him a little bottle of hand sanitizer. “A strong smell could coax it out?”

Patrick took it after a moment’s consideration. He didn’t really want to have a sneezing fit right in front of her but his eyes were filling with frustrated tears. He opened the hand sanitizer and sniffed it, the alcohol smell piercing his sinuses. His lips trembled, and he burst forward into a volley of sneezes, shielding Wendy by covering his face with his arms, sneezing toward his lap. 

“Hih… ISH’oo! Hih-chiew! Chiew!” Patrick brought his hands up shakily, cupped them to his face. “HIIIIH-shoo...! Hih-chush’oo!” He kept his eyes squeezed shut for a second, reeling, his nose streaming, his hands now absolutely filthy. When he opened his eyes, his hands still covering his nose and mouth, he saw Wendy holding out a wad of kleenex.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding a little sheepish. “Maybe that was a bad idea.”

“No, I- I’m-” Patrick paused, grabbed the kleenex hurriedly and sneezed into them, “HIH-chushhh’oo!” He took a wavering breath, heat creeping up his neck. “Ugh. It’s fine. I mean... I’m humiliated, but otherwise fine.” 

She rubbed his arm, making a sympathetic noise. “You don’t need to be.”

“Actually, I feel like I can breathe a bit better now,” Patrick admitted, sniffling, wiping his nose with the damp kleenex. “Thanks, uh... for driving.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you Friday.”

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Awwww...poor Patrick

But it sounds like Wendy will take care of him.


Loving this

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2 hours ago, aggedy_ann said:

Awwww...poor Patrick

But it sounds like Wendy will take care of him.


Loving this

thank you <333 it's so fun to write!

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This was a cute part! Can’t wait for the next part if you plan on doing it!

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1 hour ago, Puzzle said:

This was a cute part! Can’t wait for the next part if you plan on doing it!

yep there'll be more ❤️ thank you!!

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So cute 💕

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A/N: so I’m not a flight attendant, as I’ve mentioned, I have had to research stuff- I’m sure it can be a great job! But I’ve also read a lot now on the darker side of the career, with depression and alcoholism being prevalent among flight attendants due to the difficult lifestyle (so much so there is an alcoholics program specifically for flight attendants). I’m not going to go too dark, but just wanted to give an explanation on why Patrick is a little jaded.

More coming after this, still figuring it out as I write lol.


Patrick had spent Thursday and a good chunk of Friday sleeping. This time, his body was so exhausted that his coughing wasn’t waking him up periodically, though every time he woke up, he just felt heavier and more fatigued, the sleep not really refreshing him as it should. 

He opened his eyes on Friday to sun streaming through his window, and noted it was probably close to noon. Running a hand over his face, he propped himself up on his elbow, cringing at the ache in his muscles, his body complaining with every movement. 

Because of the connection taste has with smell, Patrick couldn’t taste much at the moment, and his morning coffee (well… afternoon coffee, at this point) was almost flavorless. Still, he clutched at the mug for the warmth, bringing his knees up to his chin.

Oh fuck. He just remembered he was training a new employee today. 

Patrick set his mug on the table and groaned. Newbies always saw this job as some kind of romantic escape, like it was going to be the best job ever, not realizing the reality of it was you were trapped in a metal can hurtling along at 550 miles per hour with people you can’t escape, along with a work culture that required you to be perfect at all times.

Sure, he loved his job sometimes, and had been working at airlines for all of his twenties and he was 28 now: the benefits were great, he got to travel the world, meet a variety of interesting people. But there was no denying a lot of people in this career often ended up with less than perfect mental health. 

He snuffled and swiped at his nose, and dipped forward, sneezing openly toward his lap, “Hih-isshh’oo! Ish’oo!” The sneezes were wet, and he wiped at his nose with a napkin.

At least Wendy was on the same crew as him again; they usually weren’t on more than one shift together in a row. One lucky thing out of this hellish week, he supposed. 

When she arrived at his apartment for their shift and got a good look at his face, Patrick saw her grimace. 

“Oh. You still-”

“Look like death warmed over?” Patrick put up his hands. “Yeah, I know. The outside matches the inside, believe me.”

Wendy stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. Her hair was in a braided updo today, her wispy bangs swept to the side. “Well, I’d say you look like you’re not quite in the grave yet, so I’ll hold off on the tombstone engraving. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you look horrible, let’s make that clear-”

Patrick laughed, then coughed, leaning over into his arm. He shut his front door. “Ugh. Don’t make me laugh.”

“I know, I know,” Wendy lamented as she began the walk over to her car. “I’m such a horrible person.” 

Patrick followed her, rubbing at his nose, the telltale itch starting to come back. “Oh shit, so... we’re training someone today.”

Wendy sighed, opening the passenger car door for him. “I forgot about that.”

Patrick looked at her and raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You don’t have to open the door for me. What am I, some kind of nobleman and you’re my chauffeur? Or am I your girlfriend?”

Wendy rolled her eyes and laughed, “Just get in the car, asshole.”

He did, but not without saying, “Oh, thank you so much, Chad,” in a high pitched sing-song voice.

“If I’m going to be your boyfriend, I want a better name than that,” Wendy retorted, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Uh, okay- that’s my middle name, Wen.”

“No, it’s not.”

“No, it’s not.” Patrick laughed, then coughed again, burying his face into his elbow. “Ugh, fuck. I have to stop doing that.”

At the airport, they met the new hire in the plane for the Atlanta flight during their crew briefing with the pilots. She was a friendly looking young woman with black hair tied up in a high ponytail, her uniform scarf tied neatly around her neck.

“Hi, April Kang,” she said brightly, reaching out to shake Patrick’s hand.

“Ah, better not,” Patrick gave her a regretful look. “I’m a bit sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” April looked dismayed at this information, as if he just told her he was heading into the ICU and had hours to live. 

“Just a little cold,” Patrick shrugged. Wendy gave him a small smile as if to say little, huh?

Patrick and Wendy talked April through some of the procedures that went on before boarding and after the plane landed, things she already would have gone over in her pre-flight training sessions, but it never hurt to refresh. They had their briefing with the pilot and co-pilot and showed April where all the first aid items were, as well as other necessary safety checks.

“Since Dusk is a smaller airline with fewer seats on their planes, sometimes we’ll have teams that handle both first class and coach,” Patrick noted. “Sometimes we get separated, one or two attendants for first class, two for coach. Since you’re still training, we’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Oh, good.” April clasped her hands together. “I’m kinda nervous. But super excited. Total dream job.”

Patrick just nodded and smiled, not about to break her spirit. In fact, he hoped she continued to keep it for as long as possible. “It definitely has its moments.” The itch in his nose resurfaced then, and he ducked quickly away into his wrist with a stifled sneeze, the noise rather wet and squelched, “Hkgxxt.

“Bless you,” chorused April and Wendy. Patrick blushed, thanking them, wondering how much longer he was going to have to go through sneezing in front of people.

During the first part of the flight, April ended up making a few mistakes in customer requests, which was fine, but he was starting to feel slightly resentful after the third one and doing his best not to snap at her. Because despite the Tylenol and Aspirin he’d popped earlier, he was pretty sure he still had a mild fever, his muscles aching, legs shaky. 

“Are you doing okay?” April asked, biting her lip. “Sorry I messed up-”

“No, don’t apologize. I just feel… A bit unwell, is all.” Patrick gave her a smile.

“Yeah, I can tell...” April’s face paled. “Oh- sorry-”

Patrick laughed. “I don’t care, relax.”

About halfway through the beverage service, April and Patrick got the announcement of some turbulence ahead via Wendy at the front of the plane. One passenger looked particularly distressed at this news, clutching the arms of her seat. Nervous flier already, most likely. Oh, joy.

“So in times like this, during moderate turbulence or any greater level than that, we have to lock the wheels of the cart,” Patrick said, already leaning down, his body weary.

The plane took several jolts, and Patrick could hear a baby start crying toward the back of the plane. He glanced at the nervous passenger; she was looking wildly around and Patrick wondered vaguely if this was her first time flying in general.

He didn’t have time to reassure her, though, because at that moment, during a particularly violent jolt one of the overhead compartments opened, leading a heavy black suitcase to fall. 

Directly on Patrick. 

It struck the base of his neck and shoulder hard as it tumbled to the floor and he nearly fell over, grabbing one of the edges of the seats. 

“Oh my god,” April gasped, echoing a couple of passengers who made similar exclamations. She was currently holding onto the cart to keep it in place. “Are you okay?”

Patrick righted himself and stood there for a second, stunned, the entire plane still being jostled by the turbulence. His shoulder was throbbing and felt kind of numb.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, shaking his head; he quickly reached up to close the latch before more luggage rained down on everyone. 

“You’re bleeding!” the frightened passenger from before cried, her eyes wide as saucers. Patrick looked down at himself and touched his neck, his fingers coming away red. Most likely the wheel on the suitcase had torn the skin.

He sighed, because of course this would happen when he already felt dead on his feet. Never in his career had luggage fucking fallen on him, but there was a first for everything, he supposed. 

“Oh my god, is this much turbulence normal?” the woman continued,  voice shrill. “We’re not going to-”

“No, we’re fine, ma’am,” Patrick assured her hurriedly, not wanting her to panic the passengers around her. They weren’t in the category of severe turbulence, much less were they in extreme turbulence; Patrick had experienced both. He lowered his voice, to April, “Can you stand by her?”

April took his place, while he made his way to the front to grab the first aid kit. The turbulence passed in the next minute, thankfully without any other items cascading down and causing further injury. 

Wendy got up from her jumpseat, noting his bloody hand. “What the hell happened?”

“You know, the usual, luggage cascading down at me, causing me bodily harm. Just your average Friday.” He got out a bandage and hastily slapped it over the superficial cut.

“It’s really your week, isn’t it?” Wendy crossed her arms, shaking her head. “You’re okay, right?”

“Eh, if I pass out later, just shove me in one of the overhead bins.”

“I mean, you would fit.”

Patrick laughed. Then coughed. “Can you stop doing that?”

“What, making you laugh? Right, I forgot, I’m just so naturally funny, though…”

He sighed. “Curling up in one of those bins does sound pretty ideal right about now.”

April popped up then, wringing her hands. “Should we continue the beverage service?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go ahead and crawl into one of the overhead bins first.”

Wendy snorted. April just blinked, confused.

“Yes,” Patrick said. “Let’s continue the service. No one better fucking order a diet coke, though.”

A couple of somewhat rowdy young men did order some whiskey and gin, which Patrick was beginning to suspect would be worse than diet soda when they were two rows down from them and he heard various drunken whooping noises. They had probably pre-gamed before the flight. Passengers, of course, were not allowed on flights when they were drunk, but they sometimes managed to sneak in tipsy. 

At the end of the beverage service as they were making their way back down the aisle, Patrick was annoyed but not altogether shocked to find one of the men had gotten up from his seat, dancing, headphones connected to his portable tape player. 

“Sir, you can’t-”

The man cut him off, singing a badly off tune Macarena. A few other passengers were watching him, snickering.

Patrick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and exchanged a look with April. “Please take your seat, sir, you can’t dance in the aisle.” He sniffled, rubbed at his nose. Christ. Everyone was really testing him this week.

“But the music…” The man looked at him, eyes red and wide. “The music is too good, man.” He grabbed Patrick by the shoulder, which was still tender from the luggage that had been unceremoniously pelted at him. “Haven’t you heard this? Here-” He was about to shove his huge black Sonys at him with his free hand, but Patrick cut him off.

“Okay, buddy,” Patrick said, voice low. He took the man’s hand off his shoulder, and gently guided him back to his seat. “Why don’t you sit with your pal George Costanza there,” nodding at the young balding man with glasses currently throwing back his glass of Jack Daniels.

The man took his seat and said something to his friend, which caused both of them to crack up. The old woman in front of them turned around and glared at them.

Patrick had a feeling he’d have more problems with them later, namely during the second beverage service when they likely would request more alcohol and he would have to refuse. That was going to be a fun conversation.

“Sometimes we get absolute gems of passengers like that,” Patrick murmured to April when they reached the front of the plane. “Though that guy is actually one of the tamer ones I’ve had this week, frankly."

April nodded, eyebrows raised. “I’m not too surprised, I worked in hospitality before. Though I can only imagine that you see… a lot, working on planes.”

“Yeah, I-” Patrick shuddered, ducked into his elbow with a soft sneeze. “Hih-chush’oo! Ugh. I, uh… Yeah, you see a lot.” He smoothed out his jacket- one that was actually his size, as he had picked it up from the dry cleaners when he’d dropped off the one that was entirely too big for him. 

“You want some?” April was offering a couple of Tylenol packets.

“Thanks, but I’m probably maxed out on the drugs for another few hours, at least.” Patrick sniffed.

April winced in sympathy. “Makes sense.” She pocketed the Tylenol.

Patrick glanced at his watch- they had about an hour and a half left of the flight. Then he still had to endure an hour in the Atlanta airport until their returning flight. He was starting to wonder if he could get through this, and if he should just take work off tomorrow. It was likely his boss would not be very happy with him. 


When they touched down in Atlanta and were finally off the plane, Patrick and his coworkers made a beeline to the crew lounge. Wendy explained to April that large airports always had areas where crew members could rest, and they often included rooms with recliners to sleep on, as well as rooms equipped with irons, steamers, and toiletries for attendants and pilots to use- there were, after all, requirements on looking your best while in the air.

Patrick slogged alongside them, feeling lightheaded. Right now he just really wanted to lie down. Sweet, sweet recliner...

In the crew bathroom he did a double take when he saw himself in the mirror. Mussed hair, sickly pallor, bright red color high in his cheeks, pronounced dark eye circles, nose raw. He could swear he didn’t look quite this bad when he left with Wendy earlier. His nose had been less itchy for most of the day which was a thankful change, but apparently the creeping sensation was returning- he sighed and rubbed at the side of his nose.

Patrick grabbed a few kleenex from the box on the counter and shuddered, sneezing into them, bent at the waist, “Hih… ISH’uh! Heh-chush’oo! Chush’oo!” He paused, gasping, “Hah-ISHiew...! Ugh. Christ.” He wiped his nose, wincing at the liquid productivity of the sneezes. 

If he could just make it to the recliner for a hot minute, maybe he’d feel a bit better for the flight back. Patrick stepped shakily out into the lounge, then felt the ground move beneath his feet- he hardly had time to grab onto one of the chairs before he blacked out.

It must have just been a few seconds; he awoke to Wendy, April, and another female attendant he didn’t know hovering over him, their faces anxious. He was kneeling, slumped over on the leg of the chair.

“Patrick?” Wendy took his shoulder gently.

“Hmm,” Patrick mumbled unintelligibly, blinking slowly, his brow furrowed. “Shit… I forgot to eat…”

“Jesus, Patrick.” Wendy huffed. “How do you forget to eat?”

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the edge of the chair and shakily hauled himself up and dropped into the chair, Wendy helping to steady him. “I have some food, I just didn’t feel like eating before...”

Wendy pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and he felt his heart stutter. The contact was cool and he unconsciously leaned into it. The other attendant had left, seeing he was (seemingly) okay, and April had come back with a cup of water, which he took, thanking her. 

“You’re pretty hot,” Wendy remarked, taking her hand away.

“Thanks.” Patrick grinned.

Wendy rolled her eyes and was once again trying not to smile. “You know what I meant, dumbass.”

Patrick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His body felt weak, limbs trembling. “I’ll eat something and sleep for like, fifteen minutes. Don’t let me sleep longer than that.” He sniffled. “I have to look a little less like shit before we board.”

Wendy did a mock salute. “Okay. Don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’ll try.”


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