Work Text:
Sat beside Noah on the airplane, Owen grips the armrest like he can’t let go. Even after all these years, even after travelling all over the world as part of Total Drama World Tour and the Ridonculous Race, Owen is still petrified by the idea of flying. And unfortunately for him, he’s about to go on another plane ride.
Of course, he wants to go on vacation, but he wishes he didn’t have to go on an airplane to get there. It’s because of his fear of flying that Noah is even here in the first place; Owen’s cousin invited him over to her new home in Australia, but he was too scared to fly on his own. So he persuaded Noah, his best friend of six years and counting, along for the ride.
“You okay, lunchbox?”
Turning his head, Owen sees Noah looking at him. “Yeah… just a bit terrified.”
“I understand,” Noah says. “Hey, if you promise not to break my bones, you can hold my hand if you want.”
Smiling weakly, Owen immediately reaches out and grasps Noah’s hand. “Thanks, Noah.”
Noah gives him one of his smiles that always look kind of sarcastic, but Owen knows he is actually sincere. “No problem.”
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For the entire ascent, Owen clasps Noah’s hand and grits his teeth, his eyes screwed up as the plane flies into the air at a terrifying speed. He tries not to think about all of the time he spent on that death trap of a plane back when he was seventeen, because the thought of being nearly sucked out of a hole in the side of the plane nearly makes him puke from the fear.
Owen takes deep, slow breaths, and manages to survive the ascent without fainting. When the airplane levels out a mile above the ground, things are a lot less scary. But his heart still pounds so fast he can hear it in his ears, and Owen thinks he might throw up if he stands up.
“Feeling any better now?” Noah asks, prising his hand from under Owen’s and rubbing it.
“A bit. I hate this so much.”
Noah raises his eyebrows. “Owen, I’ve known you for six years. I know you hate planes. But you can get through this, okay?”
Owen looks at his friend and smiles weakly. “Okay. Thanks, little buddy.”
Noah smiles at the use of a nickname from their teenage years. “Whatever. Let’s just watch an in-flight movie and relax.”
Before Noah can react, Owen pulls him into a tight hug. He holds his smaller friend in his bone-cracking embrace, resting his chin on Noah’s dark hair.
“Seriously, thanks, man,” he says.
Wriggling out of the hug, Noah raises an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile. He thinks Noah is going to swear or tell him to get a grip, but instead he just says, “You’re welcome.”