A Bouquet From A Man Who Never Loved Me

Six

fan art credit to @peachiepastels on tumblr

      Half a day's worth of time, six edibles, and a lot of sleeping in an uncomfortable ass seat in the middle aisle with not enough leg room for even him; Swagger was feeling downright miserable. Unlike before, his anxiety battled against the sleepy side effect the edibles gave him that usually would've stayed in tact throughout the whole flight. He was stuck between Matt and Ryan, who were both absolutely out. The plan cabin's lights were dimmed so that he could barely see anything other than maybe the glow of some other passenger's movie playing two rows ahead of him. The eerie whoosh of the recirculated air and the occasional snoring from a multitude of people, gave him goosebumps. It was times like these where he wished he was at least a bit more comfortable...then he could at least stew in his thoughts peacefully...

He was starting to grow restless, the urge to do something, anything, was rising in his chest. He fiddled with the display in front of him, checking the time remaining on this flight.

Three hours...fucking fantastic...

Three hours with so much time to kill, but no reliable WiFi and not a hint of something to preoccupy his time with. He could try sleeping again? Swagger shook his head at the thought, no, he was too wired right now to sleep (un)comfortably. Watch a movie?

He swiped through the movies he could watch without having to pay for shit. Shoulders slumping as he pouted. He had either seen them multiple times or they were ones that were really bad...so those were out of the question now too. Fuck...
On the other side of the row, Fitz he just woken up. Hunched over, jammed underneath the overhead air conditioning and light, pressed against the side of the interior. His neck was sore and cramping from the position he had been sleeping in and he had the desire to stretch.

But American Airlines flights had shit leg room and barely let him extend any part of his body, and being the one crammed by the window it was even worse. He turned his head, giving a weak and sleepy glare to Mason, who could've been mistaken as absolutely unconscious, he mentally cursed him for having been lucky enough to have snatched the aisle seat. The glare was short lived as his eyes caught the bright display of a screen four seats down in the middle row. He blinked and found that it was only Swagger, looking rather dejected at the screen in front of him. The brunet must've felt his gaze, because he turned and met his eyes.

Honey brown meeting sea blue, and, even though it was dark, Swagger still somehow felt the worry in those eyes that he couldn't see clearly. Fitz gave him a tilted smile full of emotion that he could only describe as worry. Swagger felt his throat seize up as a dozen tiny flowers overtook his lungs. He was the one to break their silent conversation as he grabbed at the net pouch in front of him for the complimentary paper bag. Bringing the brown bag to his mouth and let out such a violent, stomach twisting coughing fit, that startled both Matt and Ryan awake and made Fitz wince.

Ryan, still high as all shit, only muttered a few incoherent words before turning his head and falling back asleep. Matt, on the other hand, wide eyed and now fully awake, whipped his head to the sound of Swagger's guttural hacking. Swagger spit into the bag half a chewed daffodil and leaned back in his seat against the head rest. Fitz watched as Matt asked the fellow American if he was okay, and if he needed water. Swagger had shaken his head and the two started conversing quietly.

Anxiety knitted itself a little ball in his stomach and suddenly, he needed to get up more than ever, he needed to talk to Swagger more than ever.
Double checking the seatbelt light above him, he unfastened the belt around his thin waist and stood as best as his six foot five inch tall body could. Stretching nimbly over Mason and into the aisle, he stood up straight as was met with a wave of relief as his back popped, he stretched out his arms and neck before propping himself against Ryan's headrest, glancing down as he tried to avoid disturbing the sleeping man. Swagger and Matt both fell silent as Matt had taken a suspiciously worrisome glance up at him. The two brunet men both turned to Fitz, and he gave them a tired smile.

"Swagger, buddy, wanna go grab a bite in the back with me?"

The two sitting Americans exchanged looks like they were going to be murdered, and Fitz suddenly felt like he was part of some stupid chick flick that Mason liked, growing a bit embarrassed about the overthought situation, his face bloomed into a light pink (that would have probably put his YouTube persona to shame), and he was thankful the cabin was dark enough.

"Ah, never mind, mate, you don't gotta get up, I can go myself," he laughed, waving his other hand lightly. The stale air grew heavy with his now fidgety discomfort as he tried to blow off his own request.

"No, it's cool man," the brunet replied coolly, after a moment; though his eyes and heart were silently betraying his tone of voice. "I'll go with you. Kinda need something in my stomach if I don't want to keep vomiting, right?"

Fitz nodded slightly, ignoring the vomit comment the shorter made as a way to diffuse the small amount of tension. Swagger stepped around Ryan into the aisle, or at least he tried...if trying meant slamming his shin into Ryan's knees and nearly toppling out of the row... then, yes, he was indeed trying.

He stood up in the aisle and pretended to dust himself off.
"Ta-da," he muttered, Fitz cracking a small, entertained grin.

"C'mon," the taller said, leading the two to the small area in the back of the cabin, where they could probably (hopefully) order drinks and maybe a snack that wasn't a bag of stale pretzels.

Maybe these three hours would be filled with something more exciting than rewatched movies and the snoring of old people?

...Something better, perhaps?

Swagger let himself smile at this little "maybe".

Because sometimes "maybe"'s turn into "definitely"'s...