by Cat Kane

That he’d been waiting almost an hour for a delayed departure, summed up the entirety of Cameron’s trip. He’d spent the last forty minutes sitting on ridiculously uncomfortable chairs at Gate 36, between a young couple with a howling toddler, and a guy who hadn’t quit pecking away at his laptop. Outside the plate-glass walls, the London sky was a leaden grey, a relentless murky sheet, making Saturday morning look like any given Monday.

Adding insult to injury, he’d spent so much futilely wooing Russell, he’d been forced to forgo business class for coach. The worst two weeks of his life were to be capped by spending the last eleven hours of it sitting next to somebody’s grandma, who would snore if she slept at all and would badger him about why he didn’t have “a nice girl” to go home to.

He’d left the “nice girl”, or the closest equivalent, enjoying his new life in London. He tried to muster a smile, wondering how Russell would have reacted to being called his girl, but the effort tasted fake. Russell wasn’t his anything anymore. And if Cameron was honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t been for quite a while. But he didn’t feel like admitting anything.

He hung back when the boarding call was finally made, letting the throng of waiting passengers line up first. It wasn’t as though the damn plane was going to take off without him.

When he got to the boarding desk, an older couple were locked in an argument with the airline staff.

“We specifically asked for adjacent seats!” The woman whined, pinched face already pulled taut by a drastically severe bun. She and her male companion wielded briefcases and dour expressions like some kind of corporate arsenal.

“I’m sorry, madam, but—“

“Well sorry isn’t good enough, is it? We were assured adjacent seats!”

“We have important business to complete before arrival,” her companion stated, as though that made a world of difference.

“I’m sorry, madam, sir.” The beleaguered desk attendant glanced back and forth between them. “But the flight is full, and adjacent seats are a courtesy, not a guarantee, unless the tickets were purchased together. There’s no way we can move you now.”

The couple launched into another whine, but Cameron tuned them out, handing his boarding card and passport to the second attendant. It seemed everyone felt Shiite that morning. It was probably this godforsaken weather, he told himself, making his way down the gantry towards the plane. It was amazing people weren’t permanently suicidal amid all this grey…

Okay, so most places were grey in February, even home.

The bravado faltered slightly at that thought, as he handed his boarding card to the flight attendant waiting at the plane door, half-listening as he was directed to a seat somewhere in the ass of the plane; seat 1,048,372J or something equally ridiculous. He distracted himself from the emotion tightening in his chest but glancing superciliously at the lucky bastards settling into the spacious, separated seats in business.

He surprised even himself with his patience, waiting for all the people ahead of him to make their way to their seats, storing baggage in the overhead compartments. Business became club became coach, each section of the cabin becoming more claustrophobic until Cameron was tempted to hold his breath just to walk along the aisle. He’d prayed for an aisle seat, but he was stuck by the window. He’d have to elbow Grandma out of the way if he wanted to get to the bathroom.

Five minutes later, and Grandma would have been an incredibly appealing outcome, when the complaining woman from the boarding desk sat down primly next to him. Two rows in front, a baby started shrieking, and he wondered bleakly as he sank into his seat whether the pilot might consider dropping him off at, oh, say…forty thousand feet. Whoever said hell was other people must have been on a flight like this.

He’d been staring vacantly out of the window at a particularly fetching view of the wing, when a perky little flight attendant came to a stop next to his row, speaking in hushed tones to the bun lady.

“Excuse me, sir…?”

When it registered the attendant was speaking to him, Cameron glanced up at the robotically cheery young woman, with a noncommittal questioning `hmm?`.

“Are you travelling alone, sir?”

There couldn’t possibly have been any attack or accusation in her question, but that’s how it hit anyway. Reminding himself that this girl had no idea about his circumstances, he wiped the budding scowl from his face, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Ah, all right…” She smiled. “Well, we’re having some—“ He could swear she sent bun lady an exasperated glance, “—seating issues this morning, and because we’re full, I was wondering if you’d mind terribly if we moved you to a different seat? You don’t have to, of course, but it would be awfully helpful if you could.”

It was the accent, he decided. She could have been asking for a kidney and it would have been hard to refuse. And a different seat couldn’t be much worse than his current predicament. He smiled, the first genuine one in days, and nodded.

“Sure, no problem.”

The attendant looked relieved enough to kiss him – and that would probably be the first genuine one in months – and he didn’t want to imagine the hell they’d endured from Bun Lady and her friend. “Thank you so much, sir.”

He slid out of the seat, retrieved his carry-on from the overhead compartment, and followed her.

Realising he was following her even farther back in the cabin, made him start to question the wisdom of agreeing.

“I’m so grateful for this, sir.” The attendant smiled at him over her shoulder. “Playing musical chairs like this with passengers isn’t easy. It’s an aisle seat though, I hope that’s all right?”

One plus, at least. “That’s fine, actually I prefer it to the window.”

“Oh, that’s lucky then.” She stopped, pointing towards the back of the cabin. “Fifty-three B, right down at the far end, on the other aisle. And once we’re in the air, we’ll bring you some complimentary champagne to say thank you.”

“B? I thought it was an aisle seat?”

“It is, right on the back row, sir. There are only two seats on that row, so you’ll have more room too.”

One Grandma, aisle seat, and free champagne. Two out of three was certainly an improvement.

Following the numbers along the compartments, Cameron stowed away his baggage before taking a seat, choosing to ignore the irony of carrying any kind of baggage. He’d been left the headphones and the blanket, but whoever had occupied the seat before him had seen fit to take their complimentary eye-mask, socks and toothpaste with them. Well fine…

Plucking the in-flight magazine out of the seat pocket, he began leafing through it absently, as the safety demonstration began, a sure-fire indicator that they’d finally be moving.

“It sucks. I checked.”

Cameron blinked, convinced for a second that the magazine had begun speaking to him. Raising his head, he turned to look at the passenger in the seat next to him.

The first thing he noticed was the shock of electric blue in otherwise dark gold hair. One lock of blue fell across eyes that were a vivid green that probably existed in nature only on some obscure tropical island. The undemanding smile was outlined in soft coral lips, and a tiny crystal tear-drop glittered from one earlobe. The overall effect was a little like flicking from a black and white channel to glorious Technicolor.

“Excuse me?”

“The movie.” The man sitting next to him gestured towards the magazine. “It sucks. Something bad with Charlie Sheen in it. I mean, you’d think eleven hours in here would be torture enough, without putting that on repeat.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“I only read the magazine for something to do with my hands.” The man went on, pausing before holding said hands up, wiggling long fine-boned fingers. “Otherwise I get all tense, you know? And that’s not good for them. I’m fine once we’re up there, it’s just taking off.” He smiled, lowering one hand, extending the other. “I’m Sean, by the way.”

Cameron’s handshake was a little slack, and no doubt so was his jaw. The only thought he could get in edgeways was that Sean’s handshake was firm for someone with such delicate fingers. “Cameron.”

“Good to meet you. Were you in London on business? I mean…” The hand slipped from his, waving vaguely in his direction. “With the suit and all.”

“No, I…I was just visiting a friend.”

“Ah. I just spent the past three months gigging around Europe. Or, well, when I say gigging I mean mostly going hungry, living out of a suitcase and playing a couple of no-name bars. But hey, I got to see the culture. I think.” Sean grinned. “Saw a lot of rain, anyway. That’s pretty cultural.”

“You’re a musician?” Cameron decided that would explain a lot. He wrote off his uncharacteristic curiosity as reaction to the other man’s railroading openness. Thirty seconds and he knew more about Sean than he’d learned about Russell in two years.

“Yeah.” Sean laughed. “Though I tell my Mom I’m an artist, else she thinks I’m a slacker. And if I gotta hear that `you have no direction!` lecture one more time, I’m gonna--”

The speech came to an abrupt halt as the plane began to pick up speed, engines whining under acceleration. The exhilaration of that moment was Cameron’s favourite part of flying, feeling the power pushing him back in his seat, before that stomach-lurching roller-coaster moment when the air buoyed them into the sky.

Sean, it seemed, didn’t share that opinion. The moment the engine whine hit the top note, his hand clamped down over Cameron’s, pressing it tight against the armrest, clutching as though that was the only thing keeping them in the air.

Cameron turned to stare at him, but any demand for explanation died on his lips. Sean’s eyes were squeezed shut, face chalky, and Cameron swore he was uttering oaths under his breath.

It wasn’t as though that grip hurt. It wasn’t as though he needed perfect circulation in his fingers for the next minute or two, if it made Sean feel better. It was good to be needed for something, even if that something was a makeshift stress-toy.

The plane’s ascent began to level off after a moment, and the grasp on his hand relented. Sean opened his eyes, looked out of the window, and let out a breath he must have been holding since take off.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at Cameron, free hand running through his hair. “I don’t usually…I’m not this bad all the time. Just with the delay and all that waiting around and everything…Oh!” Glancing down, he quickly disentangled his fingers from Cameron’s. “Sorry…”

Pathetic as it was, he still felt a pang at the loss of that contact. Forcing a smile, he shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Those cat-green eyes scrutinized him for several moments, the look long and thorough enough that Cameron almost started squirming, almost convinced that Sean was browsing through his thoughts and memories.

He was rescued by the attendant making good on her promise.

“Your champagne, sir.” She smiled, pulling down the tray table and setting a generous glass of pale gold liquid in front of him. “Thank you again.”

Cameron met the smile with one of his own, relief breathing through every word. “My pleasure.”

Sean watched the exchange with some amusement, leaning conspiratorially close to Cameron as the attendant walked away. “What did you do for her?”

“Switched seats.” Cameron took a long sip of the champagne. “I guess she was just really grateful.”

“Damn…” Sean grinned. “And here I thought you’d put that smile on her face for some interesting reason.”

The champagne bubbles fizzled halfway up his nose as he swallowed too fast, turning to Sean with an incredulous look. Sean just smiled back demurely, one long finger sliding up along the side of Cameron’s champagne flute, catching a spilt droplet and raising it to his lips, lapping at it like a content kitten.

Cameron could even swear Sean purred at his blush, at the eagerness with which he reached for the glass again, taking a more generous swig this time.

Twenty minutes in, and Cameron was almost wistful for Grandma and her questions.

Lunch came and went, a choice between overcooked chicken or undercooked beef. They both chose the chicken, though Sean ate his with far more joy and enthusiasm. Cameron chased his around the foil tray with a plastic fork and tried to decipher what the strange chunks of cheese were dotted in his salad. Meanwhile Sean told him how he’d left college the previous summer and, having done what his mother wanted and gained a qualification to fall back on, had promptly thrown his all into trying to make something of his music.

“Must take guts to do something like that.”

“Not really.” Sean shrugged, a self-depreciating gesture. “It’s not like I could ever see myself doing anything else. Stick me in a corner office and watch me lose my mind.”

“Yeah…” Cameron agreed with a wry smile. “I’m starting to feel that way myself.”

“So change it. Do whatever you want to do.”

The earnest conviction in Sean’s voice almost made Cameron believe that was a viable option. He shook his head.

“It’s not—“

“That easy.” Sean finished, brow raised. “That’s always everyone’s excuse. No, it’s not, but then nothing good ever is. I mean, you’ve just flown five thousand miles just to visit a friend, right? Wasn’t that good, even if the process was awful?”

Well, no, not particularly, but Sean didn’t need to know that. Sean didn’t need that enthusiasm dampened by Cameron’s post-dumping bitterness. It occurred to him that he’d do his level best not to dampen that enthusiasm at all, if he knew Sean outside the confines of the plane.

Truth was, outside those confines, he wouldn’t have met Sean, there’d have been no reason at all for their social circles – or whatever Cameron had that passed for one of those – to mesh.

It surprised him a little that he wished they would.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, that’s it. Some things are worth the effort.” In Cameron’s peripheral vision, Sean paused momentarily. “Some people are worth the effort.”

Sean was on his dessert – carrot cake that remarkably resembled cardboard – and halfway through telling him that he was only flying to San Francisco to hop another short flight to visit his mother in Sacramento, when Cameron gave up on his meal. Opening the miniature bottle of white wine, he sipped it from a plastic cup, and settled back against the seat, listening to the sound of Sean’s voice.

It made sense, he thought, that Sean was a musician. Maybe he was even a singer, Cameron must have missed that part of the story, in between the frozen Christmas Sean had spent somewhere in a field in Germany and the raucous New Year in Amsterdam. His voice was so soothing, soft and deep, rich as velvet even when he was rambling on. Cameron could have listened to him forever, and Sean seemed happy enough to talk, telling his stories and demanding no deep engagement. It just made Cameron listen even closer to every word. He wondered if Sean knew he just needed distraction right now, just needed something else to fill his head. And Sean certainly was. Even with eyes closed and limbs heavy with lethargy, the colours swirling behind Cameron’s eyes like plasma clouds were blue and green and gold. Rich. Vibrant. Not grey, not Russell…

He opened his eyes with a jolt, to find Sean looking at him, bemused. It took a second for sleep to clear enough to realize Sean had just elbowed him awake. Some time since he’d fallen asleep, they’d dimmed the cabin lights to allow people to sleep if they chose. Cameron’s subconscious sure as hell seemed to have taken the hint.

“I was listening, really…!”

“Ah, don’t worry about that.” Sean chuckled. “Though I’m not used to sending guys to sleep this easily.”

“So what was that for?”

“Well, unless you wanted most of coach thinking I was doing kinky shit to you in your sleep,” Sean grinned. “You need to quit with all that moaning and groaning, okay?”

“I don’t—“ Cameron’s jaw snapped shut at the brow-quirked look Sean gave him. A furious blush bloomed across his cheeks. Bad enough he’d been mumbling in his sleep, but he was sure at least half the blush belonged to Sean’s suggestion. “Did anyone…?”

“Nah,” Sean shook his head, smiled. “I woke you when you were getting loud.” He was silent for a moment, before speaking again, tone a little more hesitant. “Who’s Russ?”

The blush ratcheted from crimson to chilli-pepper, and he resisted the urge to cover his head with the blanket. After a long pause and a long sigh, he shrugged, deciding vagueness wasn’t going to cut it with someone like Sean.

“My ex. He went back home to England at the start of the year for a new job, and…that’s what I was doing in London.”

Sean paused, before sending him a questioning, nose-scrunched look. “You were doing your ex?”

“No!” Cameron fought a laugh despite himself, though it didn’t take much effort to sober up at the thought of Russell. “I was…figuring out where we stood, I guess. And it turns out he stands over there and he hasn’t really cared where I’ve been standing for quite a while.”

He’d expected a lot of things, but the gentle hand overlapping his wasn’t one of them. Fingers squeezing his gently, Sean offered a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my fault for chasing after him anyway…I should have left well enough alone.”

“Was trying worth it? Do you feel more satisfied just for trying?”

Cameron considered that. It certainly cut away plenty of loose ends, there was a strange peace in confirming his suspicions. Closure, some expensive shrink would call it.

If he hadn’t gone, if he hadn’t tried, then he wouldn’t be on this plane, wouldn’t have ended up sitting with Sean.

“Yeah.”

“See?” Sean looked at him with a crooked grin. “Besides, you’re the kind of guy who gives up his seat for sweet little stewardesses just because they’re stressed out, and listens to a guy like me talk cause if he doesn’t talk he starts remembering he’s frigging scared of flying anyway…why wouldn’t he want you chasing after him? I know I would.”

Cameron blinked, and Sean looked away, removing his hand. “Sorry.”

“No, I…” Cameron shook his head, trying to snap out of the silly stupor in which that remark left him. “Thank you.” He smiled a little when Sean looked at him, dared to reach out a hand, his overlapping Sean’s this time. “I really needed to hear something like that right now.”

Sean smiled, then nodded. “That’s okay then…”

Conversation trailed off entirely after that, but the silence was content rather than awkward.

In the dimly lit cabin, even the rumble of the engines was soft and lulling. No-one had even walked past to the bathroom in the last half hour, and it was almost possible to believe the entire plane was asleep.

Cameron probably would have been asleep too, if he wasn’t terrified of humiliating himself again, and if Sean hadn’t decided to use his shoulder in lieu of one of the paper thin pillows the airline supplied. Every now and then he’d make soft little noises in his sleep and snuggle closer, and Cameron had to resist the urge to re-tuck the blanket that kept sliding down to pool around Sean’s waist. And it was just the closeness, he kept telling himself, just the rightness of having a warm body cuddled against him that let his thoughts wander and his body develop a mind of its own.

It certainly didn’t help much when Sean turned, stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, one arm coming to rest draped across Cameron’s chest, hand tucking beneath the edge of his suit jacket as though seeking warmth.

Cameron bit his lip, tried to regulate his breathing, praying Sean’s hand didn’t slip much lower, or he’d find rather more warmth than he was expecting…

He only realized that Sean was awake, and watching him with a lazy smile, when that touch changed from just resting against his chest to stroking slightly.

“Sean, I—“

“Ssh.” Those long fingers curled around his side, a ticklish caress, as Sean leaned closer, closing the slight distance between them and capturing Cameron’s lips in a soft, undemanding kiss.

The kiss went to his head in ways even the champagne couldn’t. Just as light and fizzy, all playful licks and gentle nuzzling. And just like hearing Sean speak, tasting his kisses was addicting and heady precisely because they demanded nothing in return.

The look in those green eyes when Sean pulled back slightly, however, was far from undemanding. Dark and wicked, he licked his lips unconsciously, leaning in for another kiss, hungrier this time. Smiling breathlessly against Cameron’s lips, his gaze fixed on something just behind Cameron’s shoulder.

It took a second to process exactly what Sean had in mind.

“We can’t..!”

His protests were hushed by one cool finger pressed to his lips. Sean grinned at him, clambering over him, deliberately slow. “No-one’s watching.” Another teasing kiss brushed across his lips. “Come on…”

Between those kisses and those eyes, Cameron was too hypnotized to even think of arguing, and just took the hand Sean offered to him, following wordlessly.

There was barely enough room to close and lock the folding bathroom door, but somehow, amid muffled snorts of laughter like sneaky school kids, they managed it. Sean sat down, knees tucking between Cameron’s, and tugged on his shirt, pulling him down into another kiss. One of them whimpered softly at the contact, and Cameron didn’t care if it was him. Distantly, he felt those magical fingers reach for the waist of his pants, making short work with buttons and zipper. When one hand slid beneath the blue silk of his boxers, fingers seeking and finding his arousal, squeezing and stroking experimentally, Cameron’s body tensed with a ruthlessly stifled cry; no-one was going to disturb them now, and he damn well deserved something going his way.

Sean was definitely going his body’s way, and it responded in kind, cock twitching in Sean’s grasp as he lowered his head.

Those lips were just as soft and sinful wrapped around the tip of his arousal as they were to kiss, that tongue just as demanding. Cameron squeezed his eyes shut, hips snapping forward of their own accord. Sean just made an appreciative sound at that, fingers beginning to stroke to meet the slide of his lips. Cameron’s hands rested against Sean’s hair, fingers winding into the soft blond strands, alternating between stroking, and tugging gently at each particularly knowing sweep of Sean’s tongue.

They were everywhere in this tiny space, every mirror reflecting them from angles Cameron could barely imagine. Where ever he looked, he saw Sean’s lips on him, his hands wound in the blond’s hair. He’d always though of himself as self-conscious, but he couldn’t get enough of watching them.

With want-drowsy eyes, he gazed down at the other man, breath hitching at watching those lips moving on him, nothing any reflection could match. Sean quickened his pace after a short moment, surrounding his arousal with tight heavenly heat. Pleasure swam through Cameron’s veins, each nerve feeling as though it was being licked by living fire.

Then Sean lifted his gaze, eyes so dark they looked drugged, nothing but pupil outlined with a ring of green. He sucked harder when his eyes met Cameron’s, and he involuntarily broke the eye contact, head thrown back as he bit back his cries. The orgasm crashed into him with such force, he had no idea how he managed to stay standing. Sean, he supposed whimsically, not letting him fall. Even if he fell to earth from here, he doubted the impact would be enough to smack him out of this daze.

But it still wasn’t enough, he wanted to give back a fraction of the pleasure Sean had given him. The cramped bathroom allowed little room for manoeuvre, and his body still felt disconnected and fuzzy from delicious aftershocks, but Cameron managed to get Sean to turn around, hands braced on the mirror edge on the back wall. Fumbling with unzipping Sean’s jeans, Cameron nuzzled the back of his neck, brushing kisses and nips to the skin, eyes locked on those lust-dark emeralds in the mirror.

Sean arched back against him when Cameron’s hand insinuated itself beneath the denim, fingers wrapping around the heated length of his erection. The arching turned into short thrusts and squirms as Cameron began to stroke, the denim sliding farther down slender hips with every jerk, till it was bare skin rubbing back against Cameron’s half-fastened pants. He breathed “Tease…” against the nape of Sean’s neck, shivering at the throaty little purred laugh the remark elicited.

One arm banded across Sean’s chest, Cameron never broke the gaze, even as he felt Sean shudder beneath his touch, body tensing, hot moisture spilling over his fingers. Sean watched him with a heavy-lidded smile, eyes narrowed in content slits. He leaned back against Cameron as he reached for some paper towels, cleaning them up, and every time their reflected gazes met, it was like a sparking line of electricity, bright and sizzling.

Cameron almost expected every single passenger to be standing outside the door, listening to every whimper and gasp. But everything was still and quiet when they pulled back the door, sneaking out and back to their seats. The passengers around them slept on, or watched the Charlie Sheen movie, unaware.

Talking was probably necessary, but neither of them instigated conversation. Sean just cuddled against him, drawing up the blanket over them both, head tucked under Cameron’s chin. Turning his head slightly, Cameron nuzzled his cheek against Sean’s hair, eyes closing, listening to Sean’s breathing and the hum of the engines.

If he was going to dream about anything this time, it was going to be the way Sean’s gaze had met his in the mirror, and the way just a glance could have made him forget his own name, let alone anyone else he might have known.

*****

They were woken by an effervescent flight attendant bearing cardboard boxes of `afternoon tea`. If she wondered why the blankets were rumpled and why Sean was cuddling Cameron’s arm drowsily, like a makeshift teddy bear, she said nothing, just beamed and asked if they wanted tea or coffee.

Cameron tried to ignore the fact they’d be landing shortly, and managed quite studiously even when the attendant came back to clean up the boxes. Managed it even when they came around with landing cards, even when the flight deck announced their imminent arrival, told them local time was one thirty-five, and that San Francisco was mild and bright.

Even managed it when he casually gave Sean his card, and Sean tore off the top half with the ugly company graphic, scrawled his own cell number on the reverse, and handed it back.

It was harder to ignore when the plane touched down, though he gave it a valiant effort, all the way through from disembarking to immigration.

Leaving baggage claims, they walked in silence through into the terminal building. Blue skies peeked through the ceiling, casting golden beams of afternoon sunshine onto the polished tile floor.

“I should probably get going…” Sean said after a moment. “Gotta haul all this stuff over to Terminal Three, gotta go through check-in all over again…”

“When does the flight leave?”

“In a couple of hours or so. It’ll take me that long to get over there.” Sean chuckled a little. “I’ll end up going the wrong way on the damned monorail again…”

“Yeah…I should go and wait for a cab, or you’ll end up getting home before I will…”

“Always the way, huh?” Sean smiled. He watched Cameron curiously for a long moment. “You think that flight counts as a first date?”

Cameron laughed. “Eleven hours plus, with a nap in the middle? It’s got to be at least two.”

“And two meals and a Charlie Sheen movie. That’s at least another half, right there.” Sean sent him a crooked grin, picking up his guitar case and hiking his bag over his shoulder as be backed away. “You know where I am, ‘kay? If you don’t come looking for me, I’m gonna be mad.”

Cameron stared after him, long after Sean disappeared into the crowd, gazing stupidly enough that passers-by glanced at him warily. After a moment or three, when he remembered how to move, he began walking towards the exit.

He made it about three steps, before stopping again. He could still taste Sean’s kisses. He could still feel the warm weight of Sean snuggled against him, still hear that velvet soft voice, and those soft little snuffles Sean made in his sleep.

The flight couldn’t be the last time he felt all that.

A couple of businessmen glared at him as they swerved around him on their way out of the exit. Cameron paused, halfway out of the door, unable to move forward another inch.

He wasn’t doing anything for the rest of the weekend. He was already packed, and it wasn’t as though a commuter flight north would be that much more of an expense. It would make a change throwing money around for a good reason for once.

Instead of counting the seconds, the minutes he had left to , he replayed Sean’s words over in his head as he shouldered his way through the crowd to the elevators.

He hadn’t understood that at the time. Russell and London hadn’t been worth the paper his itinerary was printed on. He fished the torn scrap of card from his pocket, reading the curves and loops of Sean’s number, smiling at the flourished `S` in the bottom right corner, followed by two `X’s`. Crazy little gestures, things Russell would never have done. But Sean wasn’t Russell. Sean knew after eleven hours what Russell had never known in twice as many months.

Sean knew those things would make him smile.

The monorail was as confusing as Sean had implied, but it was the slow, wobbly crawl at which it meandered its way from the International Terminal over to Terminal Three that made Cameron wish he could get out and kick it.

He might have found holes to pick in Sean’s distaste with `easy` as an excuse, getting to the right terminal but realizing he had no idea which airline Sean was on for his onward flight.

A scout of the departures board wasted more precious minutes, but there was only one flight leaving for Sacramento within the time Sean had mentioned.

The deal was cinched as far as Cameron was concerned when, after an agonizing long wait at the ticket desk, the attendant finally shrugged.

“We’ve got one seat left, but you’re gonna have to hurry to make it.”

“That’s fine. That’s great, thank you.”

“Do you want a single or return ticket?”

Cameron paused.

“Single.”

Cameron was willing to bet Sean hadn’t paid as much for his seat as the price she quoted, but he had a feeling it’d pay off in the end.

He must have looked suspicious as hell, jittery and impatient as he was put through the torture devices that passed for security, but they could confiscate all his belongings bar the new ticket for all Cameron cared.

The new ticket was all he really needed.

He didn’t even re-tie his shoes when they let him through, just left the laces loose, clipping against the tiled floor as he hurried towards the gate. Past the stores and the information desks, there was still no sign of Sean, and Cameron began wondering if he’d picked the wrong flight after all. He didn’t have time to do more than glance into the gift stores and cafes, but he’d notice if Sean was among their patrons. Jogging along the moving walkway heading towards what must have been the furthest gate in the whole damn terminal, Cameron finally caught sight of a mussed blond head ahead of him, and the noise and bustle might as well have vanished.

“Sean!”

Cameron didn’t notice how many other people turned around to stare. Sean did, and that was all that mattered.

Green eyes widened in surprise, as a smile curved Sean’s lips. His gaze followed Cameron all the way along the walkway, not even faltering when Cameron almost tripped off the thing in his haste.

“Cameron?”

Reaching out, fingers curling in the front of Sean’s shirt, Cameron dragged him close into a deep, content kiss. Sean pulled back just long enough to smile at him like sunshine, arms winding around Cameron’s shoulders, laugh muffled against another playful kiss.

“What are you doing here?”

Cameron smiled against Sean’s lips. Yeah, this was worth the effort. He’d do it all a million times over for a chance to see that smile.

“Date number four.”

END