#airbus

It’s a heavy 3 day pairing, two to three legs a day, with nearly each flight being over 3 hours, always the wild cards. But you liked it that way, more time to read, and relax, the quiet hum of the engines at 35,000 feet, it brought a weird sense of peace. 

You were standing in the galley, slightly leaning over the counter, writing down meal counts since you just finished getting catered, when the pilots came down the jetbridge. You glanced up to say hello, and that’s when it happened. The eye contact, clean, and unavoidable. 

He was tall, younger than you expected, always used to pilots in their mid 30s-50s, captain’s stripes crisp against his sleeve. There was an ease to the way he moved, like he belonged in space already, like the aircraft was an extension of him rather than a workplace.

You felt it immediately. That brief, inconvenient jolt of ‘i don’t even know what that was, but i know it was something’

“Good afternoon,” you said as he stepped onboard. “Afternoon,” he replied, smiling easily. “I’m Rafe, I'm your captain, and this is Kelce the F.O.”

You shook his hand. Firmly, but warm. Then the first officers. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m unfortunately your purser.” you said with a small and light laugh. His smile flickered, interest, maybe, or just attentiveness.

“Well Looks like we’ll be stuck together for a few days huh.” he said with a charming smile. “Yes, sir. Appears that way” you responded. You meant it professionally. Still, your eyes flicked to his sleeve again before you could help it.

“You look quite young for captain.” The words slipped out before you stopped them, and for half a second you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But he didn’t bristle. If anything, he relaxed.

“Get that a lot,” he said. “I was in the Air Force before I went commercial. Got my qualifications early.”  “Oh.” You nodded, genuinely impressed. “That explains it.”

“But Airbus’s are pretty junior at our airline,” he added. “Fast upgrades if you’re willing.”

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile, “congrats, that’s a huge accomplishment.”

“Thank you.” he said gaze lingering longer than it should’ve.  “Well can i make you guys any coffees or grab you any drinks?” you asked as you went to turn on the coffee maker. 

“No, we’re good,” Rafe said. “But thank you.” They headed into the flight deck, and you exhaled softly, re-centering.

Once they were settled, you walked into the flight deck, letting out a small “hi” Rafe turned in his seat when he saw you. “Hey, perfect timing. Can I brief you?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. He gestured to the small jumpseat, behind his seat. You sat, turning to face him in the cramped space. 

“Alright,” he began, voice calm and steady. “Flight time today is three hours, thirty-five minutes. Weather en route is smooth, maybe some light chops over the Rockies, nothing significant. No MELs, no specials, standard ops.” he says as he shows me his ipad screen so i can see it myself

You nodded, jotting notes in your mind, even though you already knew the rhythm.

“Denver’s cold but clear,” he continued. “No gate right now, but we should have one on the descend. Anything I should know from the cabin side?”

“Light load, no specials” you said. “So easy flight really.”

“Music to my ears.”

Kelce chuckled softly, then focused back on his displays.

Rafe glanced at you again. “Oh!” you said like you just remembered something,” are we de-icing?” you asked since we’ll be going into cold ass Denver. “Ah, yes, thanks for that reminder,” he said. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” you laughed lightly. There was a pause, not awkward, just there. “I’ll ask ops, and let you know.” 

Then you stood. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

The next 20 minutes passed in a breeze,  boarding flew by since there weren't too many passengers. Predeparture beverages went out with the help of one of the other flight attendants, Kiara. Super sweet girl, and very helpful, also just starting her trip here in Charleston. The other flight attendant, Ruthie, is not so much your vibe, but good thing you’re upfront while she’s in the back. 

“Are we good to close?” asked the gate agent, you looked down the cabin, and saw all the overhead bins closed, then peeked your head into the flight deck, “hey sorry to interrupt” you started “are we good to close main cabin door?” you asked. 

“I’m good if you’re good” Rafe smiled, “great” you replied with a smile yourself. You looked back at the gate agent and gave her a quick thumbs up, “have a great flight!” the gate agent said. 

Once airborne, the cabin settled quickly.

With only twelve passengers up front, service was light, filled with quiet conversations and minimal requests, the kind of flight that almost ran itself. You floated between galley and aisle, checking in on your crew, helping out where or when needed.

About an hour in, you heard the FA phone chime. You glanced up instinctively, picking up the phone. “Door 1” you responded. “Hey sorry to interrupt, can we set up a lav break” the FO Kelce asked. “Yeah of course, let me just call the back real quick” 

“Okay perfect, thank you!” he responded. You quickly hung up and dialed the aft aircraft, asking if one of them can come up for a lav break. Once kiara came up, you put the cart blocker, then knocked on the flight deck door to let them know you were ready, Kelce, came out as you went in. 

Rafe was alone when you stepped inside. He turned his head immediately, concern crossing his face. “Hey, sorry to pull you in. I know you’re in the middle of service.”

You shook your head, making sure the door was closed behind you. “Really don’t worry, it’s still early so not many people wanted to eat. I finished up not too long ago.” you responded trying to assure him all is good. 

“Good.” He smiled, relieved. “I didn’t want to mess up your flow.”

“No you’re fine” you said with a small smile. 

You settled into the jumpseat, still professional, but a bit looser since you weren’t in front of the passengers.  “So,” he said after a moment, glancing at the instruments, then back at you, “New York based?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense, you can’t hide your accent,” he said. “Funny enough I've been told I don't have one.” I laughed lightly. “I just think the south can hear the northern accents easy. How long have you been based there?” he asked genuinely curious and not just for small talk. 

“About three years now, since i started really.” you said 

“Do you like it?” You considered the question. It felt genuine.

“I do,” you said slowly. “It’s fun, living in such a diverse place, so many different cultures, cuisines, languages, plus it’s home..”

He nodded. “I get that.”

“What about you?” you asked. “Charleston based I assume?”

“Yeah. it’s Home for me too, actually.”

“Being based at home makes this job so much easier” you said 

He smiled faintly. “Sometimes. Sometimes it makes work feel closer.”

You understood that more than you expected. “How long have you been flying?” you asked genuinely curious too. “Eh about 2ish years too. Joined right after finishing my 12th yearr in the air force.” he responded, your eyebrows furrowed in, eyes squinting in confusion. “Wait 12 years in the military? Why didn’t you finish out the last 8 and just retire?” you asked 

“That’s a long story, not sure if the lav break will give us enough time” he laughed. Then he changed the subject and said, almost thoughtfully, “I was surprised to see the pairing.”

“Me too!” you quirked, mentally pinning the topic of the military for later.  

“Usually we don’t get the same cabin crew for more than a leg or two.”

“I know! I was so surprised”

“But we’ve got what, four flights together?”

“Five, if nothing delays or cancels.” you said crossing your fingers with a laugh

He let out a quiet laugh. “Oh you know that’s rare.”

You met his eyes. Something passed between you, a shared surprise at how the conversation flows differently, compared to the millions of times you’ve asked the same ‘where are you based? How long have you been flying?’ questions. 

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess we’ll be stuck together for the next few days”

“Hey I’m not mad about it,” he said.

The words weren’t flirtatious. Not explicitly, but they landed that way, anyway. You held his gaze a second longer than necessary, then smiled. “Neither am I,” you said with a smile. 

-

The cockpit door clicked shut behind Kelce as he slid back into his seat, adjusting himself like he’d never left. He ran his scan out of habit, fingers tapping where they always did, then leaned back once he was satisfied everything was exactly where it should be.

“Alright,” he said, settling in. “We’re smooth.”

Rafe nodded, eyes forward. “Yeah. She’s flying nice.”

Kelce stretched his legs a little. “We got a good crew so far.”

“Mm,” Rafe agreed.

A quiet second passed. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just the plane humming, autopilot doing its thing, two guys who’d shared enough Flight decks to not need constant noise.

Kelce broke it, glancing sideways. “So.” Rafe didn’t bite. “So.” Kelce smirked. “You talk more than that when you’re not flying.” Rafe huffed a short laugh. “You’re the one who just disappeared for ten minutes.”

“Occupational hazard,” Kelce said easily. “Tiny airplane bathroom. Really makes you rethink your life choices.” Rafe shook his head, amused, then added, “She didn’t seem to mind the small break.” Kelce’s eyebrow lifted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said. “We ended up talking for a bit.” Kelce leaned back, casual but clearly listening. “How was that?”

“Quite nice,” Rafe said simply. Then, after a second, “Actually really nice.”

Kelce glanced at him now. “That’s not how you usually describe small talk.” Rafe shrugged. “It didn’t really feel like small talk.” Kelce let that sit. “What, like real questions?”

“Nah but like, she was actually interested,” Rafe said. “Not just tryna fill silence.”

Kelce nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” Rafe continued, voice even. “She asked about Charleston. How the flying is out of there. How long I’d been based. Stuff people ask, but, I don't know, she paid a different kind of attention. Or maybe i’m overthinking it.”

“Confidence thing?” Kelce guessed. “Yeah,” Rafe said. “But not forced. She’s only a few years in, right? Yet she has confidence as if she’s been here a decade." Kelce whistled quietly. “That’s quick.”

“Exactly,” Rafe said. “like she’s been doing it forever. She’s calm and clear. No over explaining.” Kelce smiled. “You noticed.”

“I notice when people are good at their job,” Rafe replied with a small eyeroll. Kelce laughed softly. “Sure you do.” Rafe shot him a look. “I mean it.”

“I know,” Kelce said. “That’s why it’s funny.” They flew on for a moment, the conversation settling again. Then Kelce said, half teasing, half pushing his luck, “the flight attendants on this trip are easy on the eyes, though.” Rafe exhaled a laugh of disbelief through his nose. “You’re impossible.”

“What?” Kelce said innocently. “I’m not wrong.”

“You’re also a predictable man.” Kelce grinned, with a shrug “Consistency is a virtue.” Rafe shook his head, amused but unmoved. “There’s a difference between noticing and whatever it is you do.”

Kelce laughed. “Fair.” Then, on a more thoughtful note, “are you worried about the charleston stereotype?” Rafe didn’t answer immediately. He adjusted his grip on the armrest, eyes still forward. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “A bit.”

Kelce nodded. “Charleston pilots don’t exactly have the cleanest reputation.”

“No,” Rafe agreed. “And I don’t wanna be that guy.” Kelce glanced at him. “You’re not.”

“I know,” Rafe said. “But perception matters. Especially at work.” Kelce leaned back. “She doesn’t give the vibe that she’d jump to that type of conclusion. Cautious maybe bu-.”  

“Nah,” Rafe said, “more like someone who knows her boundaries.” Kelce smiled at that. “And you respect that.”

“I do,” Rafe said easily. “A lot honestly.” Another quiet moment passed. Kelce glanced toward the cockpit door, then back. “You gonna do anything about it?” Rafe shook his head. “Not up here. Not like this.”

Kelce nodded. “That’s probably smart.”

“I just don’t want her thinking she has to play along just because we’re on the same pairing,” Rafe said. “She’s at work.” Kelce’s expression softened, just a touch. “That’s respectable, i guess.” Rafe snorted. “High praise coming from you.” Kelce laughed. “Hey, I can appreciate restraint even if I don’t practice it.”

“I question your pilots license to this day” rafe said with a laugh. They both grinned, rafe shaking his head at Kelce’s stupidity. Kelce changing the subject back, “Regardless, we got a long layover in Denver.” Rafe exhaled. “Thirty hours.”

“Plenty of time for crew dinners,” Kelce said lightly. “Group stuff.”

“Sure,” Rafe said. “Group stuff.” Kelce side eyed him. “Uh huh.” Rafe smiled, small and genuine. “If she wants to talk, she’ll talk. I’m not chasing anything.”

Kelce nodded. “She seems like the type who wouldn’t mind a bit of chasing.”

“That’s what I liked,” Rafe said quietly. “She doesn’t ask, like she doesn’t care for the attention.” Kelce smiled. “You’re gone.” Rafe shook his head, still smiling. “I’m intrigued.” Kelce laughed. “That’s worse.”

They settled back into silence again, the plane steady, the conversation done but not finished. “Paneastern flight 1394..” air traffic control called on the intercoms, Rafe adjusted his headset, "Go for paneastern 1394" he repeats into the headset.

-

The jetbridge air is cold enough to bite, the kind that sneaks past your coat and reminds you immediately that you’re no longer in the warmth of Charleston.

You roll your shoulders as you step off the aircraft, the last passengers off the plane, and cleaners already on for the next flight, the hum of post flight adrenaline still buzzing faintly in your chest. Another leg down, now the layover. The quiet relief that always comes with it settles in slowly. 

Since it’s a downtown layover, the flight attendants and pilots are at the same hotel, another rarity occurring on an already rare trip. You all walk to the crew van together. As you go to lift your rollaboard into the van, Rafe steps in, already lifting it before you can say anything.

“Oh” you start. “I’ve got it,” he says easily, like it’s already decided. You laugh under your breath. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he replies, glancing back at you. “Still want to.” he says with a sort of dominace, in a gentlemanly way. No expectation attached. Everyone else is already in the van, Kelce already sprawled on the empty row, one arm draped over the seatback like he’s been there for hours instead of two minutes.

“Wow,” Kelce says as you approach. “Luxury service. Must be nice.” Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. “You want help with your bag too?” Kelce snorts. 

You climb into the van, Rafe offering his hand without comment. His grip is grounding. You notice how he waits until you’re fully inside before letting go. Kiara slides over to make room, smiling at you. “That flight went by fast.”

“I know. Those are the best kind of flights,” you say, settling in.

Ruthie mutters something about her feet from the back, earning a sympathetic laugh from the group. As the van pulls away, conversation picks up organically, no awkward silences, or forced crew bonding. Just easy talk.

“So,” Kelce says, twisting around to face you and Rafe, “thirty hour layover. Who’s actually doing something and who’s pretending they’ll do something before sleeping for twelve hours?” You raise your hand halfway. “I want to do something.” Kelce points. “Key word, want.” Rafe chuckles beside you. “Let her dream.”

“I’m serious,” you protest lightly. “I can be both productive and well rested.” Kelce gives Kiara a sideways grin. “She’s optimistic. I like that.” Kiara barely looks at him. “You like everyone.”

“False,” Kelce says. “I have standards.”

“Oh?” she replies dryly. “What are they today?”

Rafe moves slightly beside you, amusement clear even though he doesn’t say anything. You can feel his laughter through the small movement.

“What about you, Captain?” Kelce asks. “Big Denver plans?” Rafe shrugs. “Haven’t decided.” You glance at him. “Honestly, you don’t strike me as a slam clicker.” He turns toward you, eyebrows lifting. “That obvious?”

“A little,” you say, smiling. “You’re like a go with the flow kinda guy." Kelce lets out a low whistle. “Wow. Already profiling him.”

Rafe laughs quietly. “She’s not wrong.” You catch the look Kelce shoots him. He notices it instantly. The way Rafe’s attention narrows when you speak. The way your voice softens just a little when you talk to him.

The hotel comes into view, lights glowing warmly against the dark sky. Relief settles through the van. Inside, the lobby buzzes with low conversation and rolling suitcases. Check in moves efficiently, one by one. Discussions of van time for the return in two days.

Kelce collects his key and gives Kiara a grin. “Drink later?” She doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe, i think I’m showering and sleeping.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “Wounded.” Ruthie disappears toward the elevators without a word. You end up last at the desk, the agent apologizing for a system delay. You don’t mind. You lean against your bag, phone in hand.

When you look up, Rafe is still there, not hovering, just making sure he can steal an extra second with you. “Still here captain?” you ask lightly. “Needed a Red Bull,” he replies, lifting the can slightly. “Figured I’d wait.”

Your key is handed over moments later. You thank the agent and turn back toward him, walking towards the elevators. “Same floor?” he says as you walk into the elevators. “Of course it is,” you reply, with a light laugh. Ironic. 

The elevator ride is quiet, but not uncomfortable. The kind of silence where thoughts wander freely. As you step into the hallway, he slows slightly, matching your pace.

“So,” he says, hands in his jacket pockets. “What’s your layover plan tonight?” You consider it. “Honestly? I want to sleep. Might just go out for a martini tomorrow.” His mouth curves into a smile. “You’re very specific.”

“Im a girl who knows what she want.” He glances at you. “That’s something I noticed.” You tilt your head. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Kinda like how you run the cabin like you’ve been doing it a decade.” You laugh softly.  “A lot of people don’t have that confidence yet.” he adds. You feel warmth bloom in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. You both stop outside your room. You slide your key card from your pocket.

“Well,” you say. “This is me.” He nods, then hesitates just slightly. “Would you want company for that martini?” You glance at his hand. No ring. He notices your glance but doesn’t comment. “I’d like that,” you say. His smile is slow, genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pulls out his phone. “Can I...?” You nod, already unlocking yours. Numbers exchanged. The moment is simple, but heavy. “I’ll text you in the morning” he says. “Goodnight Captain” you say with a small teasing smile. “Goodnight Miss y/n” he retorts and as he walks away, you can’t help your smile that lingers. 

-

The bright sunlight shinning through the blinds slowly wakes you up, as you blink furiously trying to open your eyes. It slips through the thin crack in the curtains. For a split second, you don’t remember where you are. Then the hotel room settles around you. Beige walls, white sheets, the faint scent of industrial detergent, then yesterday’s small events come back in pieces.

Captain Rafe Cameron, from Charleston, and the way he looked at you when you laughed. How his gaze lingered, and every response of your mouth was met with nothing but his undivided attention. It doesn’t help that he also looks absolutely fucking hot in a pilots uniform. 

Your phone buzzes.

You don’t even pretend to be surprised.

Rafe: Good morning. I know of this great breakfast place a few blocks away. Can I steal you for a few hours?

Your stomach flips in a way that feels annoyingly immature.

You: i’d like that, Captain Cameron

There’s a pause. Three dots appear.

Rafe: Careful. You keep saying that and I might start expecting a salute every time I see you

You grin into your pillow, letting out an obnoxious laugh. 

You: Ha! absolutely not. I’ll be ready in about an hour, better not rush me

Rafe: Wouldn’t dream of it princess, I’ll meet you downstairs.

You toss your phone aside and stare at the ceiling for a second, smiling like an idiot.

It’s just breakfast. But something in you keeps telling you it doesn’t feel like just breakfast.

—

An hour later, you step out of your room feeling like yourself again.

Light gray trench coat cinched at the waist. Blue jeans that fit exactly the way they’re supposed to. Green sweater layered under a cream scarf. Green and white New Balances. Hair loose, and big, minimal makeup. Effort, but effortless. At least you think so in your head.

When the elevator doors open to the lobby, he’s already there.

Leaning against one of the tall windows. Hands in his jacket pockets. Black wool coat, dark hoodie, blue jeans, and clean sneakers. Relaxed but put together in that annoyingly natural way some men manage, and for you, the attraction only increased by a million. He’s not on his phone, when you walk up to him, he’s just… waiting, for you.

He spots you immediately. And something about his posture shifts, subtle, but there. Like his body registers you before he consciously does.

“Well,” he says, pushing off the wall, looking you over once, slow but not disrespectful. “That hour was clearly necessary.” You gasp softly, faking offence “Excuse me?”

“You look beautiful.” You blink, surprised, the heat in your cheeks rising. “You clean up okay yourself,” you reply, trying not to sound pleased. “Very civilian.” He smirks. “It’s my day off.”

“Is it?” you tease. “Or are you just pretending to be normal for me?”

He falls into step beside you as you head for the door. “I’m deeply normal.”

“You literally ordered black coffee yesterday.”

“Uh, that’s normal.” he says with an arch in his eyebrow.  “No that’s the first sign of a psychopath”

He laughs under his breath as he holds the door open for you. His hand briefly touches the small of your back as you step past him. It lingers just a fraction too long to be accidental, one can argue it’s a little possessive even. 

—

The sidewalks are damp from melting snow. The restaurant is warm and comfortbale with it's exposed brick, hanging plants, and the strong smell of fresh brewed espresso. You and Rafe walk in together, shoulder to shoulder, like it’s normal. The waitress glances between you. “Two?” Rafe looks at you first, like he’s making sure you’re still okay with this. You nod. “Two,” he confirms.

You slide into a booth across from him, trench coat draped over the seat. He watches you as you unwrap your scarf, like he’s remembering the small things about you, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you glance around and take everything in.

“Okay,” you say, opening the menu but not really reading it. “Critical question. Do they have an iced brown sugar shaken espresso? Because I cannot emotionally handle disappointment this early.”

He leans over slightly, scanning the menu. “I see brown sugar. I see espresso. I don’t see shaken.”

“Ask anyway,” you insist. “Advocate for me.” He grins and waves the waitress over. “Can we do an iced brown sugar shaken espresso for the special lady?” The waitress nods, but you can't help but smile as the server gives you a knowing smile. “Absolutely.” He gestures toward you. “You’ve just saved her life.” that earns a laugh and an eyeroll from you. 

You watch him order his own drink, black coffee, of course. “You and your black coffee,” you mutter. “What’s wrong with black coffee?”

“I dunno, It’s so strong, and bitter, i don't know how people truly enjoy it.”

“It's just quick caffeine, and less calories than that red bull i had last night.” You laugh before you can stop yourself. Your coffee arrives first. You take a sip immediately, closing your eyes for a second. The sweetness of the brown sugar hits first, then the bitterness of the espresso.

You exhale softly. He notices. “That good?” You nod. “Just about life saving.” He studies your face for a beat too long. “Oh she’s dramatic now.”

“Hey! I prefer...okay maybe dramatic is the word.” you lightly laugh. “Here try some,” you say, offering your glass to him, so he can understand what you’re talking about. He looks at you for a beat, head tilting to the side with mock hesitation, before leaning forward and taking a sip from your cup, not breaking eye contact as you lean your glass into him. 

It shouldn’t have been as seductive as that was, but your mind can’t help but tell your heart to beat faster, goosebumps rising on your skin from the eye contact. He smiles as he gulps the bittersweet drink down. “Well?” you ask, finally breaking that hot rising tension. 

“You may be right, but don’t let it go to your head” he says with a smile, "I told you!” you exclaim with a laugh.  You take another sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the cup. Those beautiful blue eyes of his noticing, of course he does. “What?” he asks.

“You’re very observant.” you say, “I’m allowed to be.”

“Yeah but you’re like psycho analyzing me.” He tilts his head slightly with a shrug. “Maybe I am.” You narrow your eyes playfully. “And what have you gathered so far, Captain?”

“That you’re even more breathtaking, when you’re not on the clock. Your stomach dips, breath caught from the way you subconsciously eat that compliment. “That’s…um thank you.” you say getting shy all of a sudden. “Is it?” he says with a cocky smirk. You hold his gaze for a second longer than you should, then glance down at your plate. “Someone’s turned their flirt on this morning.” you joke. “Coffee’s kicking in.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“So,” he says after a beat, leaning back slightly. “What did you study?" You blink, that was an abrupt change. “Uhh, In college?”

“Yeah. You don’t give off that you studied any liberal arts.” You snort. “That’s mean.”

“But accurate?” I nodded, “Bachelors in business administration, and a masters in accounting.” He pauses mid sip. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why does everyone have the same reaction? I can contain multiple layers.” you say with a light huff. “You absolutely can, you just do not look like you wouldn’t willingly choose spreadsheets and desk work.”

“What do I look like I would've chosen?”

“I assumed something more creative. Marketing, maybe even PR. I’m not sure, something with opinions.”

“I have many opinions, still” you defend.

“I know. That’s the problem.” You lightly slap his hand on the table. Mouth agap as if he offended you.  “Accounting, wow” he repeats, amused. “So then how did you get into aviation? Desks to the skies seems like a pretty big jump?”

“My mom wanted someone who could take care of the finances. She was a single mother of three, with me as the oldest,” you say, shrugging. “Accounting made sense. It gave us stability, and it was a way for her to brag about her daughter being one of the few women in Wall Street.” You glance at him pointedly. He smirks at that.

“But?” he prompts.

“But I hated the idea of having to work in that same toxic environment forever. Seeing the same snarky smiles, and fake people who only ever wanted to steal your tactics and clients” you admit. “I like the freedom of not going to different cities and destinations. I like change. I like not knowing exactly what tomorrow entails.”

“So you like the thrill of, chaos?,” he says softly. “I guess, but more like controlled chaos.” He studies you again, quieter this time. “I can see that.” You lean forward slightly. “What about you? What did you study?”

“I did rotc, before officially joining the air force, but aviation.”

“That’s so annoyingly obvious.” He grins, shrugging “I’m consistent.”

“Then did you always know you wanted to fly?”

“Yeah, since I was a kid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mom took me to an airshow when I was eight. That was it. Hooked. My dad was always so strict, the way he treated me led to me wanting to escape so, military was basically a guarantee”

“That’s kind of cute. Well the airshow part not, you know” you said a little nervously, not wanting to touch a topic he may not be ready to open up about. But like he knew what you were thinking, he glazed passed that not turning the vibe awkward. 

“Careful now,” he warns lightly. “You’re about to ruin my mysterious image.”

“Oh please, you don’t have one.” you say adding a flirty wink to bring the conversation down from such a stern and serious vibe. He laughs, but a real laugh. Head thrown back, while the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkle.

There’s a comfortable silence while you both eat a little more. The sounds of the restuarant are louder, now that you're more focused on it. Silverware clinking, milk steaming, someone laughing loudly in the corner. “What do you do for fun?” he asks suddenly. “Are you interviewing me?” you ask with a squint of your eyes.

“I’m just curious.”

You consider it. “I read, too much my friends might say. I go to random pop up shops in the city. I people watch. I drag my friends to fly to different cities with me, to try new foods, and discover new culture.” you shrug, He smiles. “I figured you’d drag your friends places.”

“Absolutely, who else will I use my benefits with?” you joked. Then on a more serious note, he asked “Do you ever slow down?” You hesitate, the question landing deeper than it should’ve “I- no, not really.”

He nods like that confirms something he suspected. “And you?” you ask. “What does Captain Rafe, do when he’s not flying hundreds of people around the country?”

“I ride my boat on the water, do some dirtbike racing” he says. “I workout a lot, kinda my therapy. Sometimes I cook.” You blink. “You can cook?”

“I can.”

“That’s unexpected.” He smirks. “I make a mean steak.”

“Ahh” you say waving him off almost, “that’s the bare minimum.” He thinks like he’s trying to impress you, “I also make a solid pasta.”

“Better.” you respond. “Let me cook for you, I promise you’ll love the steak” he blurts out so naturally, you almost miss it. He watches your reaction like he’s regretting saying it, but hopeful you'll agree. “Can’t get enough of me already?” you laugh. “Not at all” he answers and the blush is so prevalent on your cheeks. 

“Can i ask, why are you still single?” because you’ve never been subtle. The question doesn’t catch him off guard. “Guess we’re there already huh?” he says.

“Curiosity.” you shrug. “Well, as you know, I travel a lot,” he says. “And I don’t like situationships or flings, i did a lot of that in rotc and i've changed a lot since then.”

“That’s too vague.” you say softly. He exhales slowly. “I don’t like temporary things.” Your chest tightens just slightly. “So you just… avoid it altogether?”

“I hadn’t met someone who makes it feel worth adjusting my life for.”

‘Hadn’t’ he said, not ‘haven’t’. Those words land heavier than they probably should. Stupid choice of words lingering longer than they should’ve. “And what would that look like?” you ask quietly. He holds your gaze. “Someone who feels settled. Who doesn’t play games. Who understands the lifestyle and is willing to choose me over it.”

You look down at your espresso, avoiding his gaze now, stirring the ice with your straw even though it doesn’t need stirring. “Your turn,” he says gently. “Why are you single?” You hesitate. It’s easier to joke, or to deflect. But he isn’t looking at you like he wants a joke.

“My last relationship was…” You exhale through your nose. “Hard.” He doesn’t interrupt.

“He didn’t like the job, the traveling or me being so independent” You shrug like it doesn’t matter. “He said it felt like I was absent.” you start, “I wasn’t,” you continue. “But I also wasn’t going to shrink my life to make someone else feel comfortable.”

“I’m happy you didn’t conform to his needs,” he says quietly.

“It didn’t feel like that at the time.”

“I’m sure it didn’t.”

You look up to meet his eyes again. His gaze is soft, as he watches you. “Do you ever think this job makes it harder?” you ask, tracing your manicured finger along the rim of your cup. “To build something real?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He continues to study you instead. Like he’s memorizing your every reaction, learning and reading you like a book he can’t get enough of. “Yeah,” he says finally. “In some cases it can.”

“But it also gives you stories,” you add, trying to keep it light. “And good airport restaurant opinions.” He huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s your takeaway?”

“It’s definitely a strong one.” His mouth curves, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “It does make things harder though, sometimes” he repeats more thoughtfully. “The erratic schedules, and the distance.”

“Always leaving,” you echo softly, memories of your ex’s words flooding your mind. But as if he knew where your mind took you, “But,” he adds, leaning back slightly, his arm stretching along the back of the booth behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of him there, “I don’t think it stops something real from happening.”

You swallow. “No?” He shakes his head once. “I think if it’s the right person… it won’t matter, the careers, the distance, all of it. It’ll just… fit.” There’s a second where it feels like time slow’s and then he looks at you. Not casually, but knowingly. Your stomach flips so hard you have to look down at your plate.

“That sounds optimistic,” you say, trying to steady your voice. “I don’t waste optimism,” he replies evenly. “I’m selective about it.” You risk glancing up at him again. He’s still watching you like that. “And you’re more open than you pretend to be,” you say, attempting to shift the focus. He smiles faintly. “You’ve known me for twenty four hours.”

“Still.” He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice so it doesn’t carry beyond your little corner of the café. “You think you’re the only one who notices things?” Your pulse jumps. “What have you noticed?”  His eyes flick briefly to your hands. “You talk with them when you’re excited.”

You immediately still them in your lap.

He notices that too. “You look away when you say something honest,” he continues quietly. You don’t look away this time. “And,” he adds, his tone softening just a bit, “you blush when you’re flustered. but you pretend you’re not.”

Heat floods your cheeks instantly. He smiles. “You’re doing it right now.”

“Please shut up,” you mutter, mortified and amused all at once. “No,” he says lightly. “It’s cute.”

Cute. The word shakes your brain while your stomach spreads warmth everywhere. You don’t know how you haven’t melted at this point. “You’re surprisingly perceptive for someone who tries to come off as mysterious,” you counter.

“And you’re surprisingly open for someone who pretends to be unbothered.” You tilt your head. “I do not pretend.” you mock.  “You do,” he says gently. “You act like you don’t care who looks at you. But you absolutely know when I do.” You freeze. “That’s a stretch.”

“It’s not.” His voice drops just enough to make it intimate. “You looked at me in Charleston yesterday like you were daring me to come over.” Your heart stutters. “I did not.”

“You did,” he insists, but not smug, just, certain. “And I’ve been thinking about it since.”

The air between you changes, a postive tension increasing “You’re very confident this morning,” you say quietly. He doesn’t break eye contact. “I don’t want to leave things unsaid.”

“That could lead to something, Rafe....” you warn, but it has no base. 

Something hits him at the sound of you not calling him ‘Captain’ anymore, but just Rafe. “It can be.” You hold his gaze. “Did the job make you like that? Direct and honest?”

He considers it. “It made me realize time’s not always guaranteed.” His jaw tightens faintly before easing. “So if something’s worth it, i’m not gonna hesitate.” Your voice softens. “And how do you know what’s worth it?” His eyes don’t waver. “You feel it.”

Your stomach does a slow, helpless flip. “and you just… trust that?”

“Yeah.” A pause. Then, more quietly, “Especially when it shows up out of nowhere.” There he goes again, with that look. You clear your throat. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

He smiles faintly. “No. I’m very sure when I want something.” Your cheeks burn again, and this time you don’t even try to hide it, and his expression softens in almost a protective manner. “I like that you blush,” he says.

You groan softly. “Please stop announcing it.”

“Why?” he murmurs.

“It’s embarrassing, i don't kow.” You repsond, with a weak attempt to try and hide yourself by looking away, but he doesn’t let you, reaching closer towards your chin, to bring your focus back to him. “It’s not.” he starts, his thumb brushes lightly lingers against your chin, before he pulls his arm back, finishing his sentence. “It tells me I’m getting through.”

You stare at him. “Getting through?” you cock your head to the side.

“Yeah.” His voice lowers slightly. “Past the part of you that plays it cool.” You don’t know what to say to that. Your throat feels tight, not knowing if you should retort, but settle on changing rhetoric subject before you get too overwhelmed. “What’s your favorite place you’ve been?” you ask softly.

He studies you for a moment, knowing exactly what you’re doing, but he answers anyway.

He hums, thinking for a moment. “Not with our airline, but back in the air force, I got stationed in Italy. Kinda near Venice, but any free weekend we got, we would travel down south to the Amalfi Coast. The second most breathtaking view you could ever imagine” he says with a smirk on his face. 

“Second?” you ask, having the amalfi coast on your bucket list and wondering what destination could top it. “After the one right in front of me now, of course” he says, and you both let out a laugh and the biggest eye roll you could fathom, muttering a “oh god” under your breath. 

“I’ve always wanted to go.” you said once you’re both over his not so subtle flirting. “You would love it,” he says immediately. 

“Mine’s Barcelona,” you say. “The architecture, the food, the language, ugh i love it” 

“You’d definitely thrive there.”

“I think so too.” He shakes his head slightly. “You'd thrive anywhere.”

Your stomach somersaults. Olympic gold medal, four peat.

You laugh softly. “You really are reading me.”

“I told you. I’m selective about what I pay attention to.”

“And you’re paying attention to me?"

“Yeah,” he says simply. The check arrives before you can respond, even forgetting you’re at the little breakfast spot. You reach for your bag automatically, reflexes in motion.  His hand moves faster. His card is on the tray before you even process what’s happening.

“Rafe-”

“Don't insult me like that, y/n.” he says gently but firmly.

“I can pay for my own breakfast.”

“I know you can.” He doesn’t look irritated, just comfortable. “But you’ll never have to worry about that with me.” You raise a brow. “That’s very traditional of you.” He shrugs faintly. “I like taking care of things.”

“Things?” you repeat. His eyes meet yours meaningfully. “People, I care about.” Your heart skips. “You really don’t have to,” you say, softer now.

“I know,” he repeats. “But I will, and I want to. So let me take care of you.” The way he says it makes it impossible to argue without making it weird. So you don’t.

“Thank you,” you say instead, with a small and appreciative smile. It’s been so long since you really even dated, only ever going out with your best friends and with crew on layovers, but even then you’re always fighting to pay, not caring for taking care of your friends, nor giving strangers a reason to hold something against you. 

He nods once like it’s nothing, but you notice the subtle satisfaction in his expression anyway. When you slide out of the booth, he stands immediately. He steps close, closer than necessary, and takes your coat from the back of the seat.

“Turn around,” he asks, and you do. He helps guide your arms into the sleeves, his fingers brushing your shoulders as he adjusts the fabric. His hands linger half a second longer than they need to.

“You good?” he asks quietly, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“Yeah,” you answer, but it comes out softer than you mean it to. He smooths the collar once, like he’s committing the moment to memory. Then he opens the café door for you without hesitation.

Outside, the weather is not as cold as before. You barely make it two steps onto the sidewalk before his hand catches your wrist gently. You turn, surprised as he steps in closer, one smooth movement,  and suddenly you’re pulled lightly against his chest. Hands steadying you on your waist, as your breath leaves you. “I’ve been wanting to do this, since you glanced at me in charleston yesterday” he says quietly.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Do what?” He looks down at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hold you, kiss you” Your lips curve. “Well hurry up before I say no.”

His eyes darken just slightly, gaze dropping from being locked on your eyes to your lips. So plump and pink, your gloss left stained on the glass from your espresso. “Noted.” he says not taking a second longer. 

He leans down slowly, giving you every second to pull away if you want to. But your mind wants nothing more than to close the distance. His lips brush yours first, the residue of whatever is left of your gloss, clingy to his lips. Almost as a test. It’s warm and gentle, much like how he’s been all morning. 

Then he kisses you again, deeper this time. With intention, showing you how much he’s been thinking about you. Your fingers curl lightly into the front of his coat without you even realizing, while his hand at your waist tightens just slightly, like he’s stopping himself from melting into you.

It feels like you've both finally found a solution for the tension that has been steadily building between you two for the past 24 hours. 

The kiss isn’t rushed, it’s so slow, and passionate. The kind of kiss that says I’ve been waiting for this, and i’m savoring every single moment. The kind of kiss that you only ever see in the moving, time slowing like the camera’s are capturing every angle. 

When he pulls back, it’s only enough to look at you. Your soft lips plump, wet from the shared saliva. Your cheeks flushed red from blushing, and the soft smile creeping up on your face. He looks so pleased. So vulnerable, and a little stunned at how much better he thought the kiss would be. 

“Worth the wait?” you murmur. His thumb brushes lightly along your jaw. “Fuck yes, absolutely yes.” he says earning a laugh from you. He clears his throat slightly, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist. “So.”

“So?”

“Spend the day with me.”

You blink. “I thought we were doing a crew dinner later tonight?”

“No I mean all of it,” he clarifies. “Let’s discover what Denver has to offer together, go skiing, go to a bar, anything. I Don’t wanna go back to separate hotel rooms tonight and call it a day.” His jaw tightens faintly before easing. “Stay with me.”

His face hopeful, that you feel the same pull he is right now. You search his face for hesitation, and don’t find any.  “I’d really like that,” you admit. The smile that spreads across his face is slow and real and almost boyish. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nod. His hand squeezes your waist once before finally dropping, though he doesn’t move far. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you disappear back to your hotel without trying.”

You laugh. “Possessive much?” He tilts his head slightly. “Nah, just know what I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” You ask. He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “I want you”

Your stomach flutters again. “Now let’s go get you that passionfruit martini” he says and you can’t help but laugh, forgetting about the request you made the previous night. 

And as he steps back just enough to offer you his arm you realize something with quiet certainty:

Thank fuck, you didn’t call out. 

| next part |

some aviation definitions for my bbys that don't know: purser - lead flight attendant jumpseat - pilot/flight attendant seat jetbridge - tunnel from gate to aircraft/plane pairing - professional term for trip galley - plane kitchen (or boat kitchen) fa - abbreviation for flight attendant leg/legs - flight  commercial airline - public air transportation an: bringing my irl knowledge in this one. pilot rafe has been on my mind foreverrrr.

(divider by: @/chrisssiren)