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They had a four hour layover between flights. Not short enough to have to rush between terminals; Alex in a panic at missing their connection whilst Miles placed a soothing hand on the small of his back, a quiet reassurance that everything always worked out in the end, and if it didn’t, they’d catch the next flight together. But also not long enough to take full advantage of the peace and privacy of a lounge, or commit to an airport hotel stay for a drink and a lie down, away from prying eyes.
It was the middle of the night, so Alex had finally agreed to relinquish his sunglasses;
“think you’re world famous or somethin’? Not like I’m walkin’ around next to ya holdin’ a sign sayin’ Arctic Monkey escaped from the zoo is it? What? I’m here to keep your ego in check, someone has to.”
That had earned Miles a light tap to his shin and a promise to “deal with you later”.
Four hours was a good amount of time to explore everything duty free had to offer, including stocking up on cigarettes -“have you seen our bank account Miles, just buy them when we’re over there. Well you can carry them all then” which of course, after the merest flash of Miles’s soft gaze, led to Alex rolling his eyes and carting the bag round for the rest of the night - and alcohol; “reckon they’ll let us open the bottle of whisky on the plane if you turn on the charm and take selfies with all the crew Al?”.
After Alex had perused all of the notebooks in the stationery shop, “Come on Al, you know you’re going to buy the same one you always do, black Moleskin, wide ruled.”
“I have to look, what if one’s callin’ me name with some higher purpose” and bought his old favourite, as Miles predicted, a blank canvas ready for the trip, he’d started to become restless. Alex wasn’t a nervous flyer, and the flight they were taking was fairly small so he was unlikely to be recognised. Miles knew that there was something deeper troubling him.
Miles drifted away from the designer coats he was looking at and guided Alex and their bags into a quiet corner of the terminal, with just a few sleeping travellers stretched out on the awkwardly shaped benches. Miles winced, they were definitely going to have sore backs when they woke up.
“Tell me what’s wrong, yeah? Are you regretting this, our first proper holiday together?” Miles desperately hoped that this wasn’t the case; they were well established enough as a couple to be out of the honeymoon phase, but still new enough that they didn’t quite know everything about each other in that way yet. Just because they were best friends of two decades and soulmates, didn’t mean everything would be perfect all of the time. Alex could still revert to his old pattern, feet itching to turn tail and run, except this time, Miles wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces.
“Of course not. I’m excited, really I am.”
Miles’s eyes widened slightly and his gaze flitted up and down, surveying Alex’s dishevelled hair, bitten nails and fingertips tapping restlessly on his knee. Alex couldn’t have put on a less convincing display of “excited” if he’d tried.
“It’s just…”
Miles braced himself, here it was, he was having doubts, they weren’t going to work, they should go back to being friends, Alex couldn’t be with a man…
“Miles.” Miles’s head flicked back up to find Alex’s expression softened, eyes scanning over his face. “I can’t wait to go on holiday with you.” Alex cupped Miles’s face in his hands, tenderly cradled his jaw and kissed him, so softly Miles couldn’t remember why he was worried at all.
“So what’s wrong then?”
“With me, everything. I know we’ve lived together before but holidays are intense. I’m messy, annoying, grumpy, I can’t cook things the way you like, I’ll make us late for everything. You don’t deserve that.”
Miles squeezed Alex’s hands, hoping he could soothe away the worries, wondering if he’d ever be able to express the true enormity of his feelings. Miles didn’t even think he realised them himself, not sure that a love so pure and deep could even be formed into something as trivial as words. Though if anyone could do it, Alex surely could.
It had been six wonderful months and Miles still couldn’t believe he got to have Alex all to himself. Forever. That Alex wanted him, a boy from the Wirral who spent too much money on clothes, was reckless and impulsive with both his ideas and feelings, and couldn’t write a guitar solo without relying on a whammy bar. And he, Alex, was worried that he wasn’t good enough for Miles. It was truly laughable.
“Oh, Alex love. You think a little holiday is going to frighten me off? You really think two weeks in the sun is going’ to be worse than six months on a cramped tour bus? I don’t think there’s anything you could throw at me that would surprise me.”
Alex didn’t look convinced, his brow still furrowed in thought, fingers fidgeting in Miles’s grasp.
“I know you’re messy, they’ll have housekeeping and we’ll tip well. I know you’re annoying, we’ve known each other for twenty years and you love nothing more than winding me up. I know you’re grumpy, I’ve woken up next to your irritated, sleepy face practically every morning for months before you’ve got caffeine and nicotine in you. Yes you’re not a great cook but that’s what eating out and room service is for. It’s a holiday. And as for your lateness, no one’s perfect, we’ll work on it. We’re an us now, I mean we always were. But we’re officially an us, a team. We take on everything together. That’s what love is, right?”
Alex nodded and Miles was back looking at the nineteen year old boy who’d been too shy to make conversation on their rickety old tour bus.
“If you’re sure.”
“When have I ever been less than sure about anything when it comes to you eh?”
Alex’s face flushed, the tips of his ears turning red at Miles’s words.
“Thanks Miles. You’re too good to me. Come on, you can show me that coat you were looking at, though why you’re thinking about outerwear when it’s going to be thirty five degrees I don’t know. What I really need to buy you is some sexy underwear for the flight, so I can drive myself crazy and then take you into the bathroom and take it off you.”
“You must be jokin’, aeroplane bathrooms are filthy.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to join the mile high club,” Alex purred in Miles ear. “We could make our own, the Miles high club.”
Miles chuckled. “I’d do almost anythin’ for you Al, but removin’ any clothes in an aeroplane bathroom is not on that list I’m afraid. Besides, what would we do for the other six hours and fifty five minutes of the seven hour flight and…”
“Miles Kane, if you make one more 505 joke, I won’t be held responsible for me actions.” Alex tapped him lightly on the chin.
“So to be clear, jokes about your disappointing sexual performance are fine, jokes about your extensive musical back catalogue are off limits?”
“Exactly.”
“And for the record, the hotel transfer is only a twenty minute drive, which is what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted. I’ll stop makin’ my daft jokes when you stop laughin’ at them.”
Alex’s face was shot through with fondness; Miles recognised it from hundreds of photographs of the two of them over the years, not to mention his own expression every day in the bathroom mirror when Alex stood behind him, arms tenderly around his waist, nose nuzzling into his neck.
“Never. Come on then, coats and lingerie and cologne if we have time. Maybe if I smell good enough, you’ll change your mind about the Miles high club.” Alex’s eyes were sparkling, all traces of his worry vanished. Good. Miles had clearly done his job properly.
“And if you make one more joke about my name, I won’t be responsible for my actions later.”
Alex tipped his head in challenge. “I think we’d already decided that I’d deal with you.”
“Well, depends what you buy me from that bank account of ours. I might be persuaded.” Miles’s slender fingers traced a teasing pattern up Alex’s arm. “After all, it’s only right that you spoil me, I’m the man of your dreams.”
“That you are. Now let’s get ready for the first holiday of the rest of our lives.” And really, how could Miles argue with that?