Chicago is the death trap of the American air travel system. Sean knows this, because being a particularly neurotic traveller, he knows exactly which airports to avoid and which to request stopovers in, all over the world. He knows that the bar at one side of Terminal C in LAX charges a dollar more for the same whisky than the bar on the other side, he knows that the first class lounge in Singapore is considerably more comfortable than the same in Tokyo, and he knows, when flying, to always avoid O'Hare like the plague.
It comes as no surprise, then, that Viggo's flight to London is delayed. Sean doesn't even bother leaving his house to head to Gatwick at the appointed time, because he knew that this would happen the moment Viggo told him he was flying from Boise to Chicago and then direct to London. He warned Viggo, of course, but when did Viggo ever listen to him?
Now, he knows exactly what Viggo is doing—sitting on an orange plastic chair in the international terminal, reading a paperback book and drinking a cup of overpriced Caribou coffee—and he knows that Viggo is at least mildly frustrated, because to get into the international terminal you have to go back through security in a queue that takes at least two hours, and there are always screaming children about in said queue.
Viggo's flight has been shuffled around and around, and when Sean finally goes to meet him it is seven hours later than it was supposed to be. He knows Viggo will be dead tired, and so he makes a very large travel mug of coffee in the machine that he purchased when Viggo announced his impending visit, worrying that British restaurant coffee would be too bitter for his friend.
When Sean books flights in America, he sometimes actually asks for a plane that has been nowhere near O'Hare in the past 36 hours. He can imagine the ticketing agent's blank look, but it's a valid point—even if he knows it doesn't matter, because planes that aren't physically delayed in O'Hare are delayed because other planes are delayed in O'Hare. Still, it's worth a shot.
When he sees Viggo waiting at the curb, looking tired and haggard and older than Sean remembered, he bites back an "I told you so" and wordlessly hands over the coffee. Viggo brushes his lips over Sean's stubbled cheek, and they talk about the price of petrol and the war in Iraq. He is glad that Viggo came.
Summary: Ficlet to which many an American frequent flyer can probably relate.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 426 Read: 555
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009