#captain!rafe

“Maybe pee faster so she wont be in there as long” you say like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Oh you’re in sooo deep” he jokes, and you can’t deny the fact that he and kiara would make a good pair, in the way they view this situation the same. You playfully roll your eyes, your annoyance slowly fading. “Anyway, can I get you anything while you’re here? A coffee, soda, juice or?” you trail off. “I’ll take a coke with ice, please and thanks” he says and you nod, stepping into the galley to grab it for him. 

“Honestly, y/n” Kelce starts as you pour the ice into the pilot’s cup, "I've never seen Rafe more infatuated with a woman in his life, and we’ve been buddies for a few years now.” he says, and you glance up at him to see him being so sincere, in a serious way you haven’t seen his goofy personality be this entire trip thus far. “So, regardless of how thick Sofia’s laying it on, don’t worry, okay? You can trust him.” he says, and that makes you smile. “Thank you kelce” you say grateful, as you pass him the drink. 

“Nah thank you, we get thirsty in there” he says bringing his bashfulness back. “I’ll check up on you more.” you say, and he goes to knock on the flight deck door, letting them know to switch out. 

In the flight deck   - 

“Hi Captain!” Sofia perks up, her voice annoyingly sweet, head tilting just enough to make it look effortless as she flips her short brunette hair over her shoulder. Her smile is soft, yet calculated in a way that doesn’t miss a single detail. “I don’t think we got a proper moment to talk earlier.”

Rafe barely gives her more than a glance, his attention already shifting back towards the plane screens. “Uh…hey,” he says, distracted. He tries to remain polite but is empty of any real interest. His body is already angled away from her, like this conversation is something he intends to keep short.

Sofia notices that instantly, and instead of letting it go, she leans into it literally. She moves forward, just enough into his space that he has to acknowledge her, her smile never faltering as she watches his reaction closely. “Were you waiting for someone?” she asks, curious in a way that feels anything but innocent. “You seem, a little distracted.”

Rafe pauses, just briefly, like he’s deciding how much energy this interaction is worth. His eyes flick down the screen again before turning back on her, more focused now but not much warmer towards her. “Just waiting for a small break,” he says, voice even, controlled, like he’s giving her a clear exit point. His sighs to himself, like he’s waiting for this to end.

She doesn’t budge. If anything, she leans in just slightly more, her presence deliberate now. “Yeah, I figured,” she says with a soft smile, her tone dipping into something almost admiring. “You look like you’ve been working hard. Long day already, huh?” Her eyes linger on him a second too long, like she’s testing how far she can push before he pushes back.

There’s a moment of silence before Rafe exhales quietly through his nose, patience thinning in a way he doesn’t fully ever show. “…is there something you wanted?” he asks, finally giving her his full attention, though there’s nothing friendly about it. His tone stays professional, but anyone that could see his face knows he’s already over this.

Sofia smiles wider at that, completely unfazed by the shift in tone. “Just introducing myself properly,” she says with a small shrug, like this is all harmless. “We didn’t really get a chance earlier, everything was so busy.” She lets out a light laugh, brushing it off like she’s not intentionally holding him hostage. And in essence she’s not, he has to wait for Kelce to return back before they can swap out, but it’s just easier to direct his annoyance onto her, I mean, who isn’t? 

“Oh but, you did,” Rafe replies simply, his response immediate, cutting through her attempt to stretch the moment. His expression doesn’t change, but the directness of it is enough to disrupt her train of thought, even if only for a second. He doesn’t explain or doesn’t soften it, he justs lets the words roll of his tongue. 

Sofia recovers quickly, her smile slipping back into place like nothing happened. “Well,” she says, laughing lightly, “I didn’t get to talk to you alone.” She emphasizes. Rafe’s posture shifts uncomfortably at that, sort of closing off just enough to show he’s not entertaining it, and he hopes she realizes he’s not entertaining it. “We don’t need to talk alone,” he says, voice calm but firm, drawing a clear line, so there’s no hesitation in it, nor room for misinterpretation.

That should’ve been enough honestly, and for anyone else, it would’ve been. But Sofia just studies him, like she’s recalculating, and adjusting her approach in real time. “Wow,” she hums softly, tilting her head again. “You’re a lot more serious than I expected. I thought you’d be a little more…Protective” she trails off, smiling at her choice of words. Purposefully using ‘protective’ in the same tone he used it earlier on the interphone with you.

Rafe doesn’t respond. He was already halfway checked out again, ready to ignore her entirely, until a shiver passed through him, catching on to her little game. But then she says something that piques his interest entirely.  “She talks about you a lot, you know.” That’s what makes him stop enough that it’s noticeable. His head turns slightly, his attention sharpening in an instant, like he’s a sleeper agent who just heard the phrase needed to wake him up. 

“Who?” he asks, but you both knew who she was talking about. Sofia’s smile deepens, subtle but unmistakable, like she just found exactly what she needed to hold his attention. “Y/n,” she says easily, watching his reaction closely, not missing the way his posture shifts. Now he turns fully. There’s a difference in his vibe now, like he’s more alert and listening with intention. “What about her?” he asks.

Hook. 

Sofia shrugs, playing it casual like she didn’t just perfectly pull him into the conversation. “Oh, just little things,” she says, almost dismissive. “Comments here and there. You know how people are.” She glances away for a second, like it’s nothing worth focusing on, while clearly making it the center of attention. Rafe doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t look away either. And that’s all the encouragement she really needed.

“She’s just…interesting,” Sofia continues. “People talk about her a lot, especially at the New York base. I feel like I’ve been hearing about her before I even met her.” There’s a faint smile on her lips, like she’s amused by it.

Line. 

“Who does?" Rafe asks, his voice flattening slightly, the edge returning. “Oh you know, just people,” Sofia says with a small shrug. “Flight attendants, a few pilots..it’s not like it’s a secret or anything.” She pauses, watching him carefully before continuing. “They say she has a type.”

Rafe doesn’t react outwardly, but there’s a tension that settles in his jaw, controlled but there. “What are you implying?” he asks, a small train of doubt passing through his mind, uncontrollably. 

“I’m not implying anything,” Sofia replies quickly. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. I mean, she really likes pilots, right?” Her eyes flick up to meet his again, gauging his reaction. He tilts his head, like he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Then she leans in just slightly, whispering like she’s sharing something private. “The older ones especially,” she adds softly. “The attractive ones. You know, the ones whose ring fingers are empty.” Her smile lingers, subtle but pointed.

Sinker.

Rafe exhales slowly, his patience thinning further. “That’s not true,” he says, immediate and certain, trying to not even entertain the possibility, but that little sliver of doubt is still there. And he mentally is cursing at himself for even having that little lapse of doubt but, he doesn’t fully know you either. But in the little time he has gotten to know you, he does feel like he can trust you, he can right? He thought to himself.

Sofia’s smile doesn’t drop. If anything, it softens. “It doesn’t bother you?” she asks gently, like she’s genuinely curious, but all she’s trying to do is widen that sliver. “Not even a little bit?” She’s probing now, trying to get under his skin. “No,” he says flatly, without hesitation, and that answer gave away all little possibility of secrecy left. 

She studies him for a moment, like she’s trying to find a crack in that certainty. “I’ve heard she really likes being taken care of,” she says, her words deliberate. “Nice paid for dinners, expensive gifts, attention from the right people. She doesn’t exactly hide it.” Rafe’s eyes darken slightly, the first real visible change in his expression. “That’s enough,” he says, 

Sofia pauses, just for a second, but then she smiles again like she’s completely unbothered. “I just thought you should know,” she says lightly, like she’s doing him a favor. “Before you get too invested in something that might not be what it looks like.”

“Sofia, I said that’s enough,” Rafe repeats, this time leaving no room for interpretation. His tone is rougher now, in a way that makes the boundary unmistakable. She holds his gaze for a moment longer, searching for anything she can use. When she doesn’t find it, when he gives her absolutely nothing back, she decides to change her approach, completely knocking the wind out of him. “I like it when you say my name like that.” she says, her once fake innocent sounding voice turning dark and sexual. 

Before he can even react, her hand lifts, brushing against his shoulder like it’s nothing, like it’s casual. Her fingers press slightly, sliding just enough to test the boundary, like she’s waiting to see if he’ll stop her. Rafe stiffens immediately, the reaction instinctive. His brows pull together slightly, confusion flashing first, then irritation, his body going still under her touch. “Don’t,” he says.

But Sofia doesn’t pull back right away. If anything, she leans in just a little more, her other hand coming up, fingertips grazing down the front of his chest like she’s trying to push it further, like she’s daring him to react. “Relax,” she says softly, a small smile playing on her lips. “You don’t have to be so-”

Her words cut off, as  his hands are already on her wrists, with just enough pressure to stop her completely as he pulls her hands away from him, guiding them back toward her own space. “I said don’t,” he repeats, colder, his eyes locked onto hers with a seriousness that wasn’t there before. For a split second, she looks caught off guard, frozen in place like she never expected to get that kind of reaction. Luckily they both hear three hard knocks on the door, indicating Kelce is ready to come back into the flight deck.

Rafe’s head turns instantly toward the flight deck door, and the change in his demeanor is immediate. With relief flashing across his face before he can even hide it. He lets go of her wrists like he’s been waiting for an out, stepping back without hesitation. “We’ll finish this later, Rafe.” Sofia says, reverting back to that fake smile. “Captain is fine, and we won’t” Rafe says as she steps out. 

Kelce steps fully into the flight deck, the door clicking shut behind him as his eyes immediately flick back toward Rafe for a second, like he’s piecing together what he just walked into. Rafe doesn’t wait around long enough for him to ask, running a hand through his hair in a way that’s just a little too sharp to be casual. There’s tension still sitting in his shoulders, not hidden well at all.

“I don’t even know what the hell that was,” Rafe mutters under his breath, like he needs to reset, exhaling through his nose. Kelce lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, settling into his own seat, putting his drink down as he puts his jumpseat seatbelt back on, but keeping his attention on him. “Yeah,” he says slowly, dragging the word out like he’s already got a theory. “I got a pretty good idea, actually.”

Rafe shoots him a look, not amused, but not surprised either. “I’m serious,” he adds, leaning forward slightly, lowering his voice like the walls might hear him. “She was-” he cuts himself off, shaking his head once. “It was so weird.” Kelce raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Weird?” he repeats, like he doesn’t buy how lightly Rafe’s putting it. “Or crossing every possible line and then some?”

Rafe exhales again, sharper this time. “Yeah. Exactly that,” he mutters. “She was saying shit about y/n too.” His tone changes on your name, something protective slipping in without him trying to hide it. Kelce’s expression changes instantly, posture straightening a little. “What kind of shit?” he asks, more serious now.

Rafe leans back slightly, jaw tightening. “The kind that makes me wanna walk back there and ask her what her problem is,” he says bluntly. “Talking like she knows her. Like she’s got her all figured out.” He shakes his head again, irritation building. “She doesn’t know anything.”

Kelce nods slowly, like that adds up with exactly what he expected. “Yeah, I figured that’s where it was going,” he admits, then changes the conversation, glancing down at the instruments. “Anyway,” he says, more grounded now. 

Rafe notices his change, as he glances at the screens too, adjusting buttons and checking to see if they’ve received any air traffic control messages. “We’re good. Fuel’s where it should be and the route’s still looks clear.” Kelce nods, eyes scanning over everything automatically. “Copy,” he mutters to himself, focusing in, checking what he needs to check. “Signs of turbulence?”

“Maybe some light chops on the descend, but nothing now.” Rafe confirms. “Nothing crazy on radar either, or the maps.”

“Good,” Rafe says, but there’s still that underlying tension sitting in his voice, like his mind isn’t fully here anymore, and he hates that he’s in the state of mind. He never lets anything interfere with work, especially while they’re working mid flight, but he can’t help but think of you. Of how Sofia tried to diminish the woman he’s getting to know, and the curiosity is just eating at him. 

Then Rafe leans back slightly, exhaling once more before unstrapping. Kelce glances over immediately. “You good?” he asks, already knowing the answer. Rafe doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m gonna go to the lav but, i need to see her,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Kelce’s mouth twitches into a knowing smirk. “Yeah,” he nods. “Figured.” Rafe stands up, looking at the peephole to make sure he’s good to exit, and when he does you’re right there, looking as beautiful as when he first laid eyes on you. He twists the knob opening the door, allowing space for Sofia to enter back in. 

Then it’s just the two of you.

You’re standing behind one of the carts that blocks the forward galley from the rest of the cabin, as they make the switch. You’re less annoyed now that you get to see him. When you finally glance up, he’s standing a little too still, like he walked over with something to say and then forgot how to say it the second he got in front of you.

A smile was on your lips, knowing that you get to have even just a few minutes with Rafe, but your smile quickly dropped when you noticed his standoffish demeanor. He scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to you, like he’s trying to figure out how to start this. “hey,” he says, a little quieter than usual.

The awkwardness hits immediately, and it’s so bizarre because it’s never like this with him. “um, hi?” you respond, brows pulling together slightly, your tone just as unsure. You move your weight onto the other leg, as you cross your arms over your chest, glancing at him like you’re trying to read what this is.

Rafe looks at you, then away, then back again, like he’s overthinking something he normally wouldn’t. “How’s the cabin?” he asks, and you know that’s not what his vibe is about. “Great, everyone’s okay, service is done.” you explain. 

“So….” he starts, then stops, exhaling lightly. His hand drags over the back of his neck again. “You uh-” he cuts himself off again, thinking on how he could phrase this. You blink at him. “you dated a lot before me?” he finally asks.

You just stare at him. What the fuck? “I’m sorry, what?” you ask confused. One at the fact that he's taken it upon himself to ask that, and two that he thinks you’re dating. Which in itself makes your heart flutter, but in this moment it’s tainted by the absurdity of the current situation. So you’ll put a pin in that for now. He shrugs slightly, like the question makes sense in his head even if it clearly doesn’t add up out loud. “I mean, not like a lot, but like um, you know. Just guys.” Your brows knit together even more, confusion written all over your face now. “Rafe,” you say slowly, “what are you talking about?”

He shifts again, jaw tightening like he already knows this sounds off. “I’m just asking,” he mutters. “Like, your exes. What were they like?” You let out a small, disbelieving breath, glancing down for a second before looking back up at him. “Okay, no, sorry, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Why are you asking me that right now?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, His eyes flick toward the flight deck door for half a second, then back to you. “Just answer” he says, a little more guarded now.

Did Kelce say something? You ask yourself. 

“No,” you say. “Not until you tell me why you’re asking weird questions about my exes in the middle of a flight.” Rafe exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to decide how much to say. His jaw tightens again, something clearly bothering him more than he’s letting on. “It’s not weird,” he mutters.

“It is weird,” you shoot back immediately. “You haven’t asked me about my exes once, and now all of a sudden you care?” You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “What is this?” He looks at you, really looks this time, like he’s trying to figure out how to say it without saying too much. “You ever..uh..” he starts, then stops again, frustrated. “You ever just…mess around with someone because it was easy?” Your eyes narrow slightly. 

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

“Rafe, what the hell?” you question.  “I’m serious,” he presses, stepping a little closer now, his voice lower. “Like, no feelings, no nothing. Just…because you could or, or..wanted to?” Your confusion fades, replaced with something on the angrier side. Not necessarily full anger yet, but most definitely getting there.

“Why in the absolute hell are you asking me that right now?” you repeat. He hesitates, before saying anything, but that’s all you need to jump to the worst conclusions. Your stomach drops, while the realization continues to creep in. “Did someone say something to you?” you ask, your voice quieter now. Rafe doesn’t answer right away. Your arms uncross slowly, your posture straightening as your eyes lock onto his. “Rafe,” you press firmly. “Did someone say something to you about me?” He exhales, looking away for a second before finally meeting your gaze again. 

“Yes.”

Your stomach drops so fast it almost feels physical, like the air’s been knocked out of you without warning. “Excuse me?” you ask, quieter now, the disbelief taking over, your eyes locking onto him like you’re trying to read everything he’s not saying. “What do you mean, yes? Who told you that?”

Rafe drags a hand down his face, already knowing this isn’t going the way he intended to, as he exhales. “It’s not what you think,” he says, but even he can hear how weak that sounds standing in front of you like this. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, like he’s trying to find a better way to say it. “It just, I don't know, came up.” he shrugs. 

“Oh, I think it is,” you cut in immediately, your gaze not leaving his face for even a second. You glance briefly toward the aisle, making sure no one’s paying attention, before snapping your attention right back to him. “Because you don’t just randomly ask me if I sleep around for fun in the middle of a flight unless someone puts that idea in your head.” Your arms tighten across your chest slightly. “So who?”

He exhales sharply, like he knows there’s no way around it now, no way to soften what’s already been said. His eyes flick away for half a second before coming back to yours. “Sofia,” he finally admits.

Your expression doesn’t explode the way he expects, doesn’t get loud or dramatic. Instead, it goes still, almost too still, like everything just locked into place in your head. “Oh,” you say, flat, your posture straightening as something colder settles in your chest. Your eyes sharpen slightly. “That makes sense.”

Rafe watches you carefully now, his body going a little more rigid, like he can feel the shift in you instantly. “Y/n-” he starts, but you don’t let him finish. There’s something about your tone now that makes him pause. “What exactly did she say?” you ask, your voice controlled to the point it almost sounds calm, too calm, and that makes him uneasy. 

He hesitates, and that alone is enough to make something twist uncomfortably in your chest. You let out a quiet, humorless breath, shaking your head slightly. “That bad?” you mutter, your lips pressing together. “Great. Love that for me.”

“She said you do ‘this’ a lot,” he starts carefully, watching your reaction like he’s bracing for it. His voice lowers slightly, like he hates even repeating it. “Get close to pilots, flirt, let them think it’s something real.” His jaw tightens. “Like it’s a pattern.” You blink at him slowly, once, twice, like you’re processing whether he actually just said that out loud. Then you let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Wow,” you breathe, your tone flat. “Anything else, or was that her main headline?”

Rafe’s expression hardens slightly, like he knows he’s not done yet. “She said you like being taken care of,” he continues, quieter now. “That you go for guys who can give you things. Dinners, gifts…all that.” He watches you closely. 

That one hurts even more, and he sees it immediately, even though you try to hide it. You let out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it at all, your eyes dropping for a second before coming back up. “Right,” you say, nodding slightly. “Because god forbid someone has friends they go out to dinner with.”

“That’s not what I-” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“And what?” you cut in, stepping a little closer, controlled anger slipping through. “You thought that made sense? You thought that sounded like me?” Your brows pull together slightly, your expression tightening. “Be honest.”

“I didn’t say that,” he shoots back quickly, his own frustration starting to show.

“You didn’t have to,” you responded instantly. “You’re standing here asking me if I just ‘mess around because it’s easy.’ That doesn’t come out of nowhere, Rafe.” Your arms drop from your chest, but your posture stays stiff. “You got that from somewhere.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now, like he’s trying to backtrack something that already went too far. “I was trying to figure out what was true and what wasn’t,” he admits.

Your eyes widen slightly at that, like that answer hits harder than anything else he’s said. “Figure out?” you repeat, your tone almost incredulous. “So you needed to investigate me?” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That’s insane.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says quickly, stepping closer like he’s trying to fix it before it gets worse. “Then what did you mean?” you press, your voice tightening despite how hard you’re trying to keep it low and professional, and fuck is it hard considering how disrespected you feel right now. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you heard some girl you met today talk shit about me, and instead of shutting it down completely, you came to question me about it.” Your eyes don’t leave his. “That’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“I did shut it down,” he says more firmly now. “Everything she said, I told her she was wrong.”

“Except you still brought it to me,” you reply immediately, not missing a beat. “Which means somewhere in your head, even for a second, you thought maybe she wasn’t.” Your voice softens slightly, but it’s not gentler, just more pointed. “Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening.”

You’re right, and he knows it, the silence that follows saying more than anything else could. Your chest rises and falls slowly as you try to keep yourself steady. “That’s crazy,” you mutter, shaking your head again.

“It wasn’t like that sweetheart,” he says, stepping closer, lowering his voice. You shutter at him thinking it was even remotely okay to call you a pet name right now. “She said some things that lined up with stuff you told me, and I-”

“And you what?” you cut him off immediately, your voice still low but sharper now. “Decided I must be some easy girl because of it?” Your brows pull together. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I didn’t say that y/n!” he repeats, snapping at you, his frustration bleeding through.

“Well you’re not saying much of anything right now Rafe.” you fire back, “You just asked me if I sleep with people because it’s easy like it’s a normal question!” You glance down the aisle quickly, lowering your volume again. “You don’t think that’s an inappropriate question considering where we are?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to you. “I didn’t think it through,” he admits. “Clearly, you didn’!” you reply quickly, nodding once like that confirms everything. 

An uncomfortable silence settles between you in the small space of the galley. You shake your head slightly, exhaling hard. “You could’ve waited,” you say, quieter now. “We could’ve talked about this later, like normal people, not in the middle of us working.” He doesn’t interrupt this time, just listens.

“Instead, you come at me like that,” you continue, your voice tightening slightly. “Like I’m…” You stop yourself, your jaw clenching. “Like you’re what?” he asks, softer now. You look at him, really look at him, and there’s hurt sitting right under your anger now. “Like I’m easy,” you say quietly. His face drops immediately, reaching out to you, not even caring if the passengers can see you at this point. “You’re not y/n.”

“Then why ask me that?” you shoot back. “Why even let that question form in your head if you don’t believe that about me?” Your eyes don’t waver. “Answer that.” He doesn’t, not right away, and that hesitation hurts a little more. You let out a slow breath, stepping back slightly, creating just a little space between you. “You know what’s crazy?” you say, your tone  colder. “That’s exactly what I scares me.” His brows pull together. “What?”

“People thinking that about me,” you say. “People assuming I’m with someone because of what they can give me, because it’s convenient, or easy, or because it looks good. And now I’m standing here having to defend myself to you?”

Rafe goes still. “That’s insane,” you finish quietly. “I’m not making you defend yourself,” he says quickly. “You already are,” you reply immediately, your gaze locking onto his again. The tension is thick between you two as Rafe finds the right words to say to you. “I told you I didn’t believe her,” he says again, quieter now, like he’s trying to fix it.

“But you doubted me,” you respond just as quietly. And he knows it. “I don’t care about Sofia, or what she even said” you add, your voice steady now. “She can say whatever she wants. I don’t know her, she doesn’t even know a fraction of me.”

You hold his gaze. “But you?” you continue. “You’re different. You don’t get to question my character like that. Not after everything you’ve seen from me.” Rafe swallows, his voice lower when he speaks again. “I know.”

“Do you?” you ask. Because right now, it doesn’t feel like he does.

The silence stretches just a second too long, before Rafe glances instinctively toward the flight deck door. You catch it immediately, the change in his focus, the reminder of where you both are and what’s still expected of both of you. He exhales under his breath, running a hand through his hair again, frustration clear in the movement.

“I have to go back in,” he says, quieter now, but he hates that this is where the conversation is being left. His eyes come back to yours quickly, more focused, more intent. “I’ve been out here too long.”

You nod once, understanding, your arms crossing over your chest again like a reflex. “Okay,” you say, feeling so distant from him even after everything. He doesn’t move to enter right away, Instead he grabs your wrist pulling you towards him, and you want to yank your arm away, want to make him feel as hurt as you do right now, but more than anything you just want a hug. Just to let the tears fall, but you can’t. 

He pulls you into his arms, wrapping his arms around your body, engulfing you in his touch, and in this moment that’s all you wanted. “Hey,” he says, softly against your head, trying to catch your full attention again. “Don’t, don’t shut me out over this.” Your brows pull together slightly, “Rafe..”

“I’m serious,” he cuts in quickly. “I handled it wrong, I know I did. I shouldn’t have asked you like that, not here, not like that.”

You don’t respond right away, your jaw still tight, your eyes watching him carefully.

“But I need you to let me explain,” he continues, his voice dropping, more sincere now than it’s been since this started. “Not five minutes in a galley, not in the middle of a flight. Like actually explain.” His gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Because that’s not how I see you. At all. You have no idea how i try see you, and i want to show you how i do.”

You lean back, his arms releasing his hold around you slightly, looking up at those beautiful sky colored eyes. Yours on the contrary, are so glossy, like you’re holding back tears, and that hurts him. “I meant what I said,” he adds, quieter. “I shut her down. Every word. I didn’t believe her.” He pauses, swallowing. “I just handled the rest, like an idiot.”

“You think?” you mutter, not looking away from him. A small, almost humorless huff leaves him at that, like he knows he deserves it. “Yeah,” he admits. “I do.”

The tension is dropping, as you both are intertwined in each other. The warmth of his touch, calming you in a way. But fuck you’re so mad, at him, at sofia, at why this is even being brought up. But mostly at yourself for even allowing him to even think he’s off the hook. “You’re not at the same hotel as us, right?” he asks carefully, watching your face for any reaction. You shake your head slightly. “No.”

He nods once, like he expected that, like he already had something in mind. “Come to mine,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in it, just quiet certainty. “Please.” You’re a little thrown by how direct that is. “I don’t..”

“I’m not asking for anything like that,” he adds quickly, his voice still low but more earnest now. “I just want to talk. Actually talk. No interruptions, no… this.” He gestures lightly between you, referencing the tension, the setting, everything about this moment. “Just us.” You hesitate, and he sees it immediately.

“Give me a chance to fix it,” he says, softer now, almost pleading in a way you haven’t heard from him before. His eyes stay locked on yours, no games, no ego. “Please.” he begs. 

Your chest tightens slightly at that, your mind still spinning between anger, hurt, and the fact that you know he’s trying. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I’m so fucking sorry, for how I said it. For even letting it get there like that.” His jaw tightens slightly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You swallow, those glossy eyes, still looking up at him. “I just… don’t want this to turn into something bigger because I handled one thing wrong,” he continues, his voice steady but low. “Not when I know what this could be.”

That hits you hard. Because you feel that too, like this can go somewhere, lead to something real. You don’t answer right away, and the silence stretches just enough to make him shift slightly, like he’s waiting for anything from you.

There’s a soft knock on the flight deck door from inside, a subtle reminder that time’s up, and he’s taken way too long. Rafe glances at it, then back at you, reluctant. “I have to go,” he says again. You nod once, still processing. “I know.” He lingers for just a second longer, like he wants to say more but knows he can’t.

“Just…think about it, okay?” You don’t fully commit, but you don’t shut it down either. “…okay,” you say, just as quietly. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a now either, and based off of everything that just transcribed, that’s a small win for Rafe. 

He nods once, like he understands exactly what that means, before finally turning and heading back toward the flight deck, leaving you standing there, your thoughts louder than anything else around you.

-

You don’t trust your face enough yet, to turn around and look composed. Not after that conversation with Rafe, not after the way your anger feels like it’s boiling up again. You focus on sliding the cart back into place, like if you just keep moving, you won’t have to think. Then you, unfortunately, hear her agitating voice.

“So,” Sofia says, light and airy like she’s commenting on the weather, “you’re fucking the captain?”

Your hands stop. Like you’re frozen in time. You turn your head, real slow, like you didn’t quite hear her right. Like you’re giving her the chance to correct herself before you absolutely lose it. “I’m sorry,” you say, with a humorless laugh, “what the actual fuck, did you just say?” Sofia doesn’t even flinch at your rough tone. 

If anything, she looks amused, and that just makes the anger continue to build. Her lips curl into that same fake ass sweet smile, head tilting slightly like she’s confused why you’d even react like that. “I just asked a question,” she shrugs lightly, stepping further into the galley like she belongs there. “No need to get defensive.”

You let out another short, bitter laugh, your eyes showing everything but kindness. “Defensive?” you repeat, almost under your breath, shaking your head, like you’re trying to process the audacity. “No, no, let’s not do that. You don’t get to say something like that and then act like I’m the one overreacting.”

She leans her hip against the counter, arms crossing loosely, completely at ease. “I mean…” she drags out, eyes flicking over you slowly, “you do have a bit of a reputation.” Not because you believe her. But because you know exactly where she got it from. “A reputation,” you repeat, tone flat now, cautiously dangerous in how calm it sounds. “That’s very interesting. And who exactly is spreading that?”

Sofia smiles like she’s been waiting for that question. “Oh, you know,” she says casually, waving her hand like it’s nothing. “New York base talks. Pilots talk. Flight attendants talk. You’ve made a name for yourself.” You open carts rearranging and cleaning the galley, like Kiara didn’t leave it spotless, but you need to find something for your hands to do, something to keep them from lunging at Sofia and leaving a very pretty red mark on that sweetly smiled face of hers. 

“Oh really?” you mock in that same tone of voice she uses. “And what is it exactly that they’re saying, Sofia? Go ahead. Since you’re already halfway there.” She pushes off the counter slowly, stepping closer, her voice dropping just enough to feel intentional.

“That you like attention,” she says. “That you flirt your way into things. That you don’t really care who it is, as long as they’ve got the right title.” Your grip tightens around the cart handle. “Pilot chaser,” she adds softly, like she’s testing how far she can go. “That’s the word I’ve heard.”

You let out a breath through your nose, trying to control yourself, your head dipping for a second before you look back up at her. And when you do? There’s absolutely no nice left in you. But what’s that saying, Kill them with kindness? 

You tilt your head slightly, lips pressing together like you’re holding back a laugh. “Oh,” you say slowly, almost thoughtfully, like you’re just now putting it together. “So this isn’t about me.” Sofia’s brows knit just barely, the first crack in her composure. You smile then, but it’s not kind at all. “This is about you.”

She straightens slightly at that, already defensive. “Excuse me?” she snaps, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty behind it. You let out a soft, amused breath, shaking your head like she just proved your point for you. “No, it totally makes sense now,” you continue calmly. “You’re just jealous.”

That hit her harder than anything else you could’ve said. Her posture stiffens instantly, eyes narrowing as she processes it. “Jealous?” she repeats, like the word offends her. “Yeah,” you nod, completely unfazed, your smile growing little by little. “Jealous that you can’t pull any pilots. Or anyone in aviation, really.”

You shrug lightly. “Guys, or girls! Whatever your preference is, no judgment,” you add, mocking her sweetness perfectly. Sofia’s face flickers, her composure slipping for just a second before she tries to pull it back together. But you don’t give her the space to recover.

“Because I saw you earlier,” you continue, voice just as even. “Trying to flirt with Rafe?” You let out a quiet laugh, eyes dragging over her the same way she did to you. “Yeah yikes, honey, trust me. Not a good look for you.”

That one hits even deeper, and you can see it. The way her jaw tightens, the way her arms shift like she suddenly doesn’t know what to do with herself. “It was giving…” you pause, like you’re searching for the right word, then your smile grows even wider, bordering menacing now. “Very much desperate.”

Silence settles between you, Sofia's lips part like she’s about to say something, something defensive. But you’re not quite done yet, not even close. You hold her gaze, watching as her cocky confident demeanor is slowly crumbling with each sentence that leaves your mouth. 

“And I think ‘pilot chaser’ is actually the wrong title for me,” you continue lightly. “‘Pilot catcher’ sounds more accurate. Since I get all these hot pilots sooo easily, don’t you think?” You shrug again, effortlessly, like it’s not even a big deal. “But you?” your smile widens just slightly, “you can absolutely have ‘pilot chaser.’ I think it suits you way better, babe.”

And Boy does that do it. Her face is completely dropped, that once sweet smile, replaced with a gaze only filled with daggers, if looks could kill…..you’d be the first murder case that took place on a plane. She’s so bitter, with only venom laced on her tongue, but she doesn’t even get the chance to defend herself or butt in, so clearly ready to fire something back, but you don’t give her the chance. 

You clap your hands together softly once, like you’re wrapping up a conversation that was never that serious to begin with. “Anyway,” you say, already turning away, your tone snapping back to bright and professional in an instant. “I should go check on my first class passengers.”

You take a step out of the galley, then glance back over your shoulder like you just remembered something. “Oh!” you add sweetly. “Can you grab those call lights on your way back?” A small, polite smile settles on your lips. “Thanks, girly.”

And just like that, you walk away. Your posture is perfect, like nothing even happened. Behind you, Sofia stands there for a second, stunned, before exhaling sharply and nearly stomping towards the back, with a little too much force. 

By the time Kiara comes back up front, she’s already noticing the tension in the air. Her eyes flick between you and a very bitter Sofia, clearly knowing something went down. She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “uhh , what the hell did I just miss?”

“Oh girl, where do I even begin?”

taglist: @maybankslover

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)