Mickey Milkovich imagines

Iron grip

"Your seats are 23 and 24 A. Have a nice flight." The saleswomen smiled warmly.
"Thank you!" You say, taking the tickets. "I still wish we could of driven. Fucken hate planes..." Mickey mumbles. "How do you know? You've never been on one." You say, taking his hand. "Plus, driving would of taken like, 3 days."
"You really have no problem being that high in the air in a sealed tin can?" He says, giving you a sideways glance.
"Mickeyyyy," you start, "it's going to be fine, okay? I promise."
He's quiet for a moment before responding. "Alright. I still don't like it though."
The two of you take a seat at the gate. You turn and kiss his cheek. "Flying is incredible. Just wait."
He gives a soft chuckle. "Sure babe, whatever you say." After a few more minutes, the plane begins boarding.
The two of you hand your tickets to the attendant and then proceed down the long corridor to the plane. 
You end up sitting near the window, although you insisted Mickey should, since it's his first time. You were already staring out the smudgy window at the people down below, preparing the plane for take off.  You look back to see your boyfriend staring at the seat in front, his face paler than usual.
You turn his head to meet your face. Since nobody was sitting near either of you, you engage in a passionate, gentle kiss. After a moment, you pull away and stare into his eyes, smiling. The flight attendants make a few short messages, and then the plane is ready for take off. Mickey is looking pale again. You take his hand and squeeze it. "This parts really fun." You say with a reassuring tone. It was odd to see Mickey, such a fearless, tough person be afraid of something silly like a plane. "Okay ladies and gentlemen, prepare for take off." The captain speaks over the loudspeaker. The plane rumbles and lurches forward, tickling your stomach. Mickey squeezes your hand harder and breathes in sharply. After another minute or so, the plane is in the air and cursing. "See, that wasn't so bad was it." You say, putting your head on his shoulder.
"I guess not." Mickey breathes into your hair after kissing the top of you head.
"Look." You point out the window at the tiny houses and streets and people.
Mickey moves closer to the window, his eyes wide as saucers, soaking it all in.
"Woah." He breathes. "That's amazing."
After an hour of talking to one another, you feel yourself getting sleepy. Mickey notices and opens his arms. You smile, kiss him, and then sink into his warm embrace.
"Night babe, I love you." He says, stroking your hair.
"Love you too."