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Liam kind of hated flying. It was a pretty miserable experience, most of the time, and he eagerly awaited the day when he could just sit behind a desk getting weekly updates from his own lackeys, and he’d only fly to France for vacations instead of constant business meetings.
His company wouldn’t even spring for business class unless the flight was transatlantic, so he boarded with group one and tried to stuff his carry-on in the tiny overhead compartment, crossing his fingers he wouldn’t be sat next to someone rude. Or worse, smelly.
The one bright spot of his frequent travels was actually the airline itself. A newer company, they had pioneered in-flight trivia games as a passenger perk. And Liam was addicted. His phone battery was always run down by landing, but he enjoyed the challenge of competing with other passengers in real-time. The prizes weren’t usually so great—free packet of peanuts here, complimentary champagne there—but Liam was angling for the 100-game winning streak that would earn him a free upgrade to first class. He was 86 for 86 over the past several months of flying, and by the end of February he just knew he’d have it in the bag.
A two-hour trip to Paris would give him enough time to leisurely knock out at least four or five wins, he figured, watching other passengers file onboard and trying not to get prematurely settled in his aisle seat. That is, if he didn’t spend the whole flight sneaking glances at the guy who just flopped down in the opposite aisle seat two rows back.
After an hour (and only three instances of accidental eye contact with the hot guy across the aisle), Liam had been playing against the same user for nearly four games. They were pretty evenly matched, and Liam knew he was barely scraping by with his three wins so far. He shouldn’t have even accepted the rematch, but he wanted to prove he could beat someone who actually posed a challenge.
They were tied now, with one question left. And Liam choked. He knew the capital of Argentina (really, he did!), only geography wasn’t exactly his strong point and, simply put, he choked. And just like that, his winning streak was over. He had been so close, too. Damn.
Against his better judgement, but now with nothing to lose, Liam tapped “Rematch”. And lost again. And again.
“Okay,” he growled, half-standing in his seat and earning a disapproving look from the flight attendant. “Who the hell is ‘hazbananaz’ and why are you so freaking smart??”
He definitely didn’t stare when the guy two rows back lifted his head in surprise, curls bouncing.
“I haz bananaz,” he replied, enunciating the username like an actual sentence, and Liam would have called his expression a smirk if it wasn’t so sweet and open. “But I’d be willing to share?”
Liam let the flight attendant nudge him back into his seat, but he stayed twisted around so he could look at (er, talk to) his unfairly hot trivia opponent. “I guess I like bananas,” he said, before thinking better of it.
The other man’s face immediately lit with a full-on grin. “That’s what I like to hear, bigpayno.”
Liam blushed, and he wasn’t sure if he was flustered at hearing his username pass hazbananaz’s lips or if it was something else entirely. “It’s, uh, Liam. Actually.”
“Shame.” His eyes crinkled as he brushed an errant curl behind his ear. “‘m Harry.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” a voice crackled over the PA. Liam and Harry shared a frown at the interruption. “We’ll be landing on time in just a few moments at Charles de Gaulle International Airport; please return to your seats at this time, as we’ve flipped the ‘fasten seat belts’ light on for the brief remainder of our flight. Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”
Feeling the tips of his ears still burning, Liam gave Harry a small wave and settled back into his seat before the flight attendant came back over to glare at him. He wondered if they had enough time for one more rematch.
Liam slipped off the plane almost immediately, but Harry caught up to him at baggage claim. Which was odd, since Liam hadn’t checked a bag and was walking past the Air China carousel when Harry tapped his shoulder.
“So you’re not just changing planes!” Harry greeted him brightly. “Me neither. When’s your flight back? Maybe we can rematch.”
Liam just stared back at the lanky apparition, who was now wearing an honest-to-god headscarf tied around his curls. “Flight? Flight back. Right. Sure. Um.” He adjusted the bag on his shoulder in an attempt to compose himself. “Yeah, in a couple of days, actually.” Deep breaths. Keep it together, Payne. “You?”
“Aw, man, I’m here two weeks. Guess I’ll miss you.” Strangely, Harry sounded genuinely disappointed.
“Oh, that’s….that’s too bad,” Liam replied, pretty sure that dragging Harry into an airport loo would be the most well-received of gestures, which left him with no idea what to do or say next.
Harry started off towards the “SORTIE” sign, and Liam fell into step beside him.
“You here on business?” Harry asked, gesturing to Liam’s briefcase and pressed trousers.
“Unfortunately,” Liam sighed. “It’d be nice to visit Paris on a lark, just once, you know?” He then recalled Harry’s casual dress and the length of his stay, and now Liam felt like he had to backtrack. “Or, like, you probably do know. Having a holiday, are you?”
“Only barely,” Harry laughed. “I’m staying with a mate in the city this weekend, then we’re off to play a few gigs around here. Bit like work, really. But, um,” he continued, more hesitant, “if you’re not busy the whole time you’re here, maybe we could, like….?”
“I’m free Saturday,” Liam blurted.
Harry beamed. “I could give you a few trivia pointers, maybe,” he said with a wink, easy confidence flooding back at Liam’s enthusiasm. “Really though. Let me give you my number. Saturday’s excellent.”
It wasn’t until Saturday rolled around and Liam arrived at the heart-covered, Eiffel Tower-adjacent, romcom-cliche Parisian sidewalk cafe that he realized it was Valentine’s Day. Harry seemed just as surprised when he strolled up forty-five seconds later, and when their lattes arrived with hearts in the foam and the waiter offered to light a candle at their table, Liam accidentally met Harry’s eye and they both finally burst out laughing.
“Well,” Harry managed between giggles, “this doesn’t have to be weird, right?”
Liam recovered enough to sip on his latte as he considered. “Nah. I’ve been on weirder first dates, anyway.”
After a moment, he realized Harry had set his coffee down and was eyeing him consideringly.
“What?”
“That what this is?” Harry drawled, like he already knew the answer.
“Um…” Liam hesitated. “It…can? Sure, like…if you—”
Harry dropped his elbows onto the table. “It’s settled then. I think we could probably create a new category for the Guinness Book of World Records, actually. Most Romantic Accidental First Date.”
“In the shadow of the Le Tour Eiffel,” Liam chuckled in agreement. “Doesn’t get much more accidentally romantic than that.”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant.” Harry grinned. “I had a few things in mind. We can do it proper romantic, like.”
“So,” Liam panted as they reached the top of the last flight of stairs. “What, exactly, is romantic about killing ourselves with exercise? You know they have an elevator, right?”
Harry grinned and pulled Liam to the railing. “Elevators are for pussies. This way, we earn it.”
“Earn what?” Liam hung off Harry’s shoulders, forgetting to be embarrassed.
“This.” Harry twisted Liam around in his arm so they were facing each other and leaned close. “If it’s okay?” he breathed, lips hot against Liam’s cheek.
Rather than answering, Liam turned and caught Harry’s lips with his own, tugging him closer. He figured it was only right to throw in a little tongue.
What could be more romantic, after all, than french kissing at the top of the Eiffel Tower on Valentine’s Day?