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Bitty is horrified. He has decided that he hates flying, and the plane hasn’t even taken off yet.
For the past week, in between the stress-baking, he has been stress-reading articles about plane etiquette, how airports work, and even a few fashion blogs about what is considered socially acceptable to wear on a plane. None of the articles really prepared him for the chaos he encountered when trying to get through security without apologizing to everyone around him for the countless faux pas he’s sure he’s making, but he did learn a strange amount about the mechanics of landing gear and finally found the perfect ratio of cinnamon to sugar in his Great Aunt Gertrude’s apple-rhubarb turnovers.
Bitty wouldn’t say he’s suave or chill or any other thing like that, but he does feel like this strange, colorless building and its confusing, hectic nature has altered his usual air of...not calm, but what his mother used to call his “sunny-side personality”.
I’ve made it this far , he tells himself as he tries to find his seat on the plane as quickly as possible. All his other trips and vacations have been via car, and while he’s taken a few day trips by himself before, he feels like he's on his own for the first time again in this new situation. What if he’s on the wrong plane? What if he did something wrong with his luggage and he never sees it again? What if the plane crashes into the sea and he never gets to see Beyoncé on tour because he washes up on some deserted island and has to live off of nothing but sand and coconuts for the rest of his life?
He tries to think about his aunt’s kitchen and all the family recipes they are going to bake together instead of the probability that he - or at least his suitcase - will not make it to his aunt’s bed and breakfast. When Bitty planned this trip, he thought it would be a simple way for him to learn some of the recipes his aunt found when she was going through some old family records, making use of some of her enviable new kitchen appliances and getting some new material for his videos. As the plane starts to fill up with people around him and he contemplates the fact that soon he will literally be in the air in a flying box , he realizes that maybe his mother’s ancient mixer at home will work just as well as his aunt’s new KitchenAid.
Someone sits in the seat next to him, startling him from his thoughts. Of all the obstacles Bitty has cleared so far in this journey, this is probably the part he’s been dreading the most. He doesn’t think he’s terrible with people, but maybe the double-edged part of his ingrained Southern hospitality is that he’s desperate for people to like him when they meet him, which he thinks will be much harder without being able to provide any baked goods to win them over. Get it together, he mentally coaches himself. He just has to make some awkward small talk, and then hopefully this person will watch a movie or fall asleep or something.
Bitty summons the courage to make eye contact with the stranger and then immediately loses it again when he glances at the boy - the man - sitting next to him. He barely contains what would be a mortifying squeak before ducking his head and turning his gaze back down to his lap.
This guy is gorgeous! Bitty feels like he’s going to explode. He would take the loudest wailing baby or the coldest, most entitled businessman over this, he thinks. He’s not one to get flustered so easily, but the brief glance he got of that chiseled profile and those blue, blue eyes have him blushing and biting the side of his cheek.
You have to say something! He chides himself. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like this model-handsome passenger noticed Bitty’s creepy stalker glance, so Bitty tries to take a fortifying breath and is just about to persuade himself to say something when the guy speaks up first.
“Hey, I’m Jack,” the Greek god sent to ruin Bitty’s life says a little stiffly, and Bitty whips his head up in a totally cool and normal way. Everyday people totally have to be concerned about whiplash when they turn to talk to strangers on an airplane, he tries to tell himself.
Now that he’s looking at him again, making eye contact, Bitty feels like he can’t look away. The guy can’t be much older than Bitty, and he’s just as beautiful upon further examination. He has a strong, defined jawline, a sculpted nose, and brown hair cut in a clean, fashionable way that reminds Bitty of some old movie star his mama loves. And his eyes are a pale, piercing blue because of course they are.
He realizes the silence between them has become awkward several seconds too late. He tries to stop gawking, begging his brain to say anything . “Oh, goodness, my name’s Bitty,” he tells Jack, sounding embarrassingly breathless. “I mean - that’s not my name, but it’s what everyone calls me.” He laughs at the end, flapping his hand uselessly between them.
The corner of Jack’s mouth moves, like he’s trying to laugh politely with Bitty. “Have you flown a lot before?” He asks Bitty mildly, face passive but eyes just as engaging as before.
Bitty knows it’s a perfectly normal thing to talk about on an airplane, but a resigned part of him knows it would be hard for someone to pretend it’s not obvious Bitty is a novice when it comes to flying. Jack, bless him, is kind enough that he frames it like normal small talk, though.
“I’m sure it’s pretty obvious, but I’ve actually never flown before,” he tells Jack sheepishly, and feels slightly less ill-at-ease when Jack’s face doesn’t move with this revelation. At least he’s polite enough to not react to this clear truth. “I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs about this trip.”
Jack smiles for real this time. “I can understand that. The airport can be pretty hectic. Once we’re in the air, though, you probably won’t even notice we’re flying.” The way he says it is so calming that Bitty finds himself actually believing him, at least a little bit, and he lets his shoulders settle back in his seat.
His relief is short-lived, though, as there is an announcement about them taking off as soon as he’s finished breathing out a grounding sigh. He immediately sucks the breath back into his lungs sharply. He must look as panicked as he feels, because Jack, who looked up from the magazine he was idly flipping through at Bitty’s quick inhale, looks at him with a faintly worried expression, a small line appearing between his eyebrows. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he tells him sincerely, and for a second Bitty can’t remember that he’s scared because he’s a little bit dumbstruck by this stranger showing him such raw kindness.
“Right. Thanks,” he squeaks out and nods tightly. He tries to pick up the stack of recipe cards he brought with him to look over with the hope of picking out the next things he would make for his vlog, but he can’t seem to make himself focus. He can see Jack turn back to his magazine out of the corner of his eye.
When the plane starts to take off, though, the flimsy facade Bitty has been trying to maintain crumbles again. He tries to grab for the arm rest but finds that Jack’s hand is already resting there. He’s holding this guy’s hand! Just the top of it, sure, but this is still totally weird and creepy!
As soon as his brain registers this, he goes to pull his hand away, but Jack has already looked up at the touch. Bitty knows he must look even more terrified than before, because they’re actually moving now, they’re going up into the air , but Jack just turns his hand under Bitty’s so they’re really officially actually holding hands and squeezes it gently. It’s not a tight grip - Bitty could totally pull away if he wanted to, but he definitely does not want to do that. Jack offers him another half smile and Bitty starts to say something but then his stomach lurches and he squeezes Jack’s hand, biting his lip.
They don’t say anything, and Jack holds his hand until they reach cruising altitude and someone makes an announcement about arrival time or something - Bitty tries to pay attention, but the blood is still rushing in his ears from both his fear and from the fact that this beautiful boy just held his hand because he was scared on the plane . It’s still really embarrassing, but it’s also obviously quite charming.
“Have you, ah, flown a lot?” Bitty struggles to continue their conversation from earlier, wanting to keep talking to Jack but also wanting to run down the aisle to the bathroom so he can privately scream into his palm and get his heartbeat under control. To his relief, though, Jack doesn’t seem eager to stop talking to him either, although many of the other passengers are picking up their magazines or books or headphones around them.
“I’ve flown a lot since I was a little kid,” Jack tells him, tilting his head in a way that makes him sort of look up from his brows at Bitty, and the way Bitty’s stomach drops makes him think for a second that the plane must be suddenly taking off again or something. But no, that’s just the kind of thing that this random guy’s attention does to Bitty, apparently. “I play hockey, so I used to fly sometimes for clinics and stuff. Usually now I travel with my team, not on a plane alone, but my dad would fly a lot. He played hockey, too, and my mom and I would come with him on trips.”
“Are you flying for work now?” Bitty asks, hoping this isn’t a stalker thing to ask. His brain is trying to process that of course this guy is an athlete. Bitty doesn’t know much about hockey, but now that Jack has said it, he can totally picture him on the ice, graceful and powerful.
“I’m actually on a vacation, I guess,” Jack says mildly, shrugging a little bit. “I don’t usually do stuff like that, but my coach kind of made me take a break. Didn’t want me to be working too hard, I guess. I’m actually staying at a place called, um, The Open Hearth or something like that?”
Bitty’s mouth falls open, and despite the manners he was raised on, he can’t make it close. Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you know it?” Jack asks him, one perfect eyebrow raised.
“It’s um. It’s. My aunt owns The Open Hearth. I’m actually going there, too.” This might be the longest plane ride of his life.