Closed Spaces (PG-13) Halloween story
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2010 8:45 pm
This is a crossover with The Hulk again. Seems to be my Halloween tradition to write about these two.
The first story was "It's not easy". The second story was "You Won't Like Me When I'm Angry.
I was inspired by flying in a small plane, but nothing even remotely like this happened. Moonlight and the Hulk don't belong to me.
Warning: Even when it's PG-13, there is a moment that can be interpreted as slash. If you can't do that, don't read.
-----------------------
Closed Spaces
The loudspeakers crackled. If Mick hadn’t had super hearing he would hardly have understood the message that the flight from Chicago to L.A. would check in at counter number 13 instead of number 7. It was a slow morning at the airport, only few people were travelling before sunrise on All Saints Day after a long night of Trick and Treating. The hall was cold and filled with overflowing garbage cans and ridiculous plastic bands to keep people in line.
His buddy Bruce was sitting in the metal chair next to him, bundled up in a down jacket and fast asleep despite the cramped position. The man was utterly exhausted after he turned into a big green thing around midnight. Mick was tempted to put a bag behind his friend’s head to keep it from falling, but reminded himself that he wasn’t Bruce’s mother.
But Bruce wasn’t his freshie, either, so Mick forced himself to stop staring at the veins in the smaller man’s neck. He just hadn’t bought enough blood from his source in Chicago to last the two-days trip; he could have done with more sustenance after his encounter with a knife, a few thugs, and an angry Hulk. There was no chance to take fluids onto the plane, and the tomato juice from the machine wouldn’t quite cut it. Well, it was too late now to get something. Their flight would leave in an hour.
There was still a little time, and if Mick hadn’t been so fidgety from hunger he would have let Bruce sleep a bit longer. But he needed to get moving and nudged the checkered shirt next to him. Bruce gave a little snort and shook awake.
“Let’s get through the check-in, buddy,” Mick stated. “I’m always fidgety until I’m safely at the boarding gate.”
“Why that?”
“Cause my ID is fake. I can’t use the driving license of my late grandfather, can I?”
“Oh!” Bruce smiled. “I don’t even have a driving license and can’t use my real name until the military stops searching for me.”
“Are they still on you?” Mick was worried. He didn’t need someone accidentally finding out that vampires weren’t a myth while hunting another myth.
“The last time they bothered me was in Boston four weeks ago. I got a new identity there. Up to now they didn’t find me. Maybe I’ll be lucky and the trail will get cold.”
They stopped talking when a soldier in uniform walked by closely. They exchanged a conspiratory look and took their bags to the check-in.
The female attendant looked at Mick appraisingly and asked for their boarding pass and ID. Mick had booked the flight from the hotel. She checked everything and weighed their bags.
“Only hand luggage? Are you aware that you aren’t supposed to carry fluids, weapons and explosives?”
“Of course,” Mick smiled. He had left his gun at home.
She gave them a badge for their hand luggage and wished them a pleasant flight. They went through the metal detector and with Mick it beeped. He shrugged with a wry smile and pointed at his belt buckle. As it was so early in the morning they let it go and didn’t ask him to take off the belt. Bruce got through without problems.
After rounding a corner he sighed. “Was there a problem?” Bruce asked.
“I have a bullet in my shoulder blade that I didn’t get out yet. If they hadn’t bought the belt buckle I would have needed some other excuse. Josef said I should get some fake medical record of a hip replacement, and I guess he’s right. As always.”
“How did you get through when you came here?”
“Same trick,” Mick stated.
Bruce took his wallet out when they got to an open bakery stand. “I need a coffee. You want something?”
“I can’t. Nothing but alcohol, and, you know…”
“Not even coffee? That’s cruel.”
Mick knitted his eyebrows. “It is. I love the scent, though.”
Bruce came back with coffee and a bagel. Mick’s fangs ached. He was glad when the boarding gate opened and they were led into the waiting plane.
Their seats were near the rear door. When they were settled Mick closed his eyes and tried to wish the time away. Almost two hours to Phoenix. They had a long connection time there, maybe he could find a source.
After the seat belt sign turned off the flight attendants went through with coffee and early breakfast suggestions. He declined and asked for scotch. He needed something to distract him from the thirst, even if it wouldn’t help. The attendant came back with a small cup, smiling.
They were told to fasten the seat belts again as they were hitting some turbulences. A woman sitting a few rows further down stood up regardless and bolted for the bathroom. Before the flight attendant could chide her, the plane rolled slightly and she lost her balance. She cursed and went back to her seat, buckling in with angry movements.
Mick groaned and closed his silvered eyes quickly. Bruce watched him closely.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but I’m hungry and the woman skinned her shin. It’s driving me crazy,” He slurred through his fangs.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Mick shook his head and tried to pretend to sleep. He felt his nerves get the better of him. He always felt insecure in closed spaces with lots of humans, unsure if his control might slip. When he was hungry, it was torture. The scents of all the people, relentlessly recycled through the ventilation, tortured him. The hundred heartbeats around him taunted him. The neck of every attendant when they moved towards a passenger tantalized him.
When the seat belt signs went out again, Bruce nudged him and whispered: “Stand up. Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“What… Have you lost your mind?” Mick hissed through clenched teeth.
“I guess it’s not worse than donating to the Red Cross. I’m a doctor, you know.”
Bruce shoved him towards the bathroom behind them. No-one looked at them, most of the passengers were sleeping by now. They entered the small cubicle and Bruce locked the door.
“Okay, how do we do this?”
Mick wanted to protest again but caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He was deadly pale and the veins around his eyes were shining through already. His fangs wouldn’t fully retract any more. He needed this.
He sat down on the toilet seat and pulled Bruce into his lap. “Sorry about this, but I don’t want you standing up in case you faint.”
Bruce snorted. “I won’t.”
Mick could feel Bruce’s nerves despite his attempt to be cool. The man’s pulse was racing, he swayed back and forth and his hands were clammy. Mick would need to keep him steady and prevent him from moving. “Keep very still,” he growled. “Or I might seriously hurt you. I don’t need to tell you that there’s not much space between the Jugular - and the Carotid.”
His words had the desired effect, Bruce was shocked into submission and stopped fidgeting.
Mick held Bruce, embracing him from behind, used his other hand to softly bend the head to the side, and sniffed. With a snakelike move he sank his fangs into his friend’s neck and closed his lips around the wound. He let the blood flow on its own pace, almost moaning with delight at the warmth and saltiness of the healing fluid. He could already feel his bruises heal fully, and his thirst gradually receded. Suddenly Bruce went utterly still and moaned deeply. Instinctively, Mick had used a little bit of allure to keep him from panicking. Well, at least he got something out of this, too.
Mick forced himself to stop before he was fully sated. Bruce would need to stay lucid and strong. He licked the wound so it would close and laid his head back on the wall, sighing deeply.
Bruce moved away. Mick shrunk back. “I’m sorry, buddy.”
Bruce nodded. “It’s okay, really. I didn’t expect it to be so – intimate, I guess.” He blushed.
“You know what people will think when we get out there,” Mick teased.
Bruce grinned. “Oh, I don’t care, I have been called worse. I just worry about your reputation.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. I guess the stewardess will stop making eyes on you now.”
“She didn’t.”
“Oh, trust me, she did.” Bruce turned around to the faucet and washed his face.
Mick checked his face for blood spots and then opened the hatch. “Let’s get out of here.”
They walked to their seat as if nothing happened. When the flight attendants walked around to check if everyone was belted in again, one of them giggled.
“See?” Bruce asked. “Your reputation is shot.”
“Hm. Do you think we entered the mile high club now?”
Bruce lifted his eyebrows. “Is there something like that for – donations?”
“Well, we exchanged some kind of fluid, didn’t we?”
When they walked through the hall of LAX Bruce suddenly nudged Mick with alarm in his eyes and pointed to a glass wall. In the reflection Mick could clearly see his eyes glowing – in neon green.
“Oh no,” Mick moaned. What kind of side effect did he get himself into?
Josef would have an aneurism.
----------------------------
The first story was "It's not easy". The second story was "You Won't Like Me When I'm Angry.
I was inspired by flying in a small plane, but nothing even remotely like this happened. Moonlight and the Hulk don't belong to me.
Warning: Even when it's PG-13, there is a moment that can be interpreted as slash. If you can't do that, don't read.
-----------------------
Closed Spaces
The loudspeakers crackled. If Mick hadn’t had super hearing he would hardly have understood the message that the flight from Chicago to L.A. would check in at counter number 13 instead of number 7. It was a slow morning at the airport, only few people were travelling before sunrise on All Saints Day after a long night of Trick and Treating. The hall was cold and filled with overflowing garbage cans and ridiculous plastic bands to keep people in line.
His buddy Bruce was sitting in the metal chair next to him, bundled up in a down jacket and fast asleep despite the cramped position. The man was utterly exhausted after he turned into a big green thing around midnight. Mick was tempted to put a bag behind his friend’s head to keep it from falling, but reminded himself that he wasn’t Bruce’s mother.
But Bruce wasn’t his freshie, either, so Mick forced himself to stop staring at the veins in the smaller man’s neck. He just hadn’t bought enough blood from his source in Chicago to last the two-days trip; he could have done with more sustenance after his encounter with a knife, a few thugs, and an angry Hulk. There was no chance to take fluids onto the plane, and the tomato juice from the machine wouldn’t quite cut it. Well, it was too late now to get something. Their flight would leave in an hour.
There was still a little time, and if Mick hadn’t been so fidgety from hunger he would have let Bruce sleep a bit longer. But he needed to get moving and nudged the checkered shirt next to him. Bruce gave a little snort and shook awake.
“Let’s get through the check-in, buddy,” Mick stated. “I’m always fidgety until I’m safely at the boarding gate.”
“Why that?”
“Cause my ID is fake. I can’t use the driving license of my late grandfather, can I?”
“Oh!” Bruce smiled. “I don’t even have a driving license and can’t use my real name until the military stops searching for me.”
“Are they still on you?” Mick was worried. He didn’t need someone accidentally finding out that vampires weren’t a myth while hunting another myth.
“The last time they bothered me was in Boston four weeks ago. I got a new identity there. Up to now they didn’t find me. Maybe I’ll be lucky and the trail will get cold.”
They stopped talking when a soldier in uniform walked by closely. They exchanged a conspiratory look and took their bags to the check-in.
The female attendant looked at Mick appraisingly and asked for their boarding pass and ID. Mick had booked the flight from the hotel. She checked everything and weighed their bags.
“Only hand luggage? Are you aware that you aren’t supposed to carry fluids, weapons and explosives?”
“Of course,” Mick smiled. He had left his gun at home.
She gave them a badge for their hand luggage and wished them a pleasant flight. They went through the metal detector and with Mick it beeped. He shrugged with a wry smile and pointed at his belt buckle. As it was so early in the morning they let it go and didn’t ask him to take off the belt. Bruce got through without problems.
After rounding a corner he sighed. “Was there a problem?” Bruce asked.
“I have a bullet in my shoulder blade that I didn’t get out yet. If they hadn’t bought the belt buckle I would have needed some other excuse. Josef said I should get some fake medical record of a hip replacement, and I guess he’s right. As always.”
“How did you get through when you came here?”
“Same trick,” Mick stated.
Bruce took his wallet out when they got to an open bakery stand. “I need a coffee. You want something?”
“I can’t. Nothing but alcohol, and, you know…”
“Not even coffee? That’s cruel.”
Mick knitted his eyebrows. “It is. I love the scent, though.”
Bruce came back with coffee and a bagel. Mick’s fangs ached. He was glad when the boarding gate opened and they were led into the waiting plane.
Their seats were near the rear door. When they were settled Mick closed his eyes and tried to wish the time away. Almost two hours to Phoenix. They had a long connection time there, maybe he could find a source.
After the seat belt sign turned off the flight attendants went through with coffee and early breakfast suggestions. He declined and asked for scotch. He needed something to distract him from the thirst, even if it wouldn’t help. The attendant came back with a small cup, smiling.
They were told to fasten the seat belts again as they were hitting some turbulences. A woman sitting a few rows further down stood up regardless and bolted for the bathroom. Before the flight attendant could chide her, the plane rolled slightly and she lost her balance. She cursed and went back to her seat, buckling in with angry movements.
Mick groaned and closed his silvered eyes quickly. Bruce watched him closely.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but I’m hungry and the woman skinned her shin. It’s driving me crazy,” He slurred through his fangs.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Mick shook his head and tried to pretend to sleep. He felt his nerves get the better of him. He always felt insecure in closed spaces with lots of humans, unsure if his control might slip. When he was hungry, it was torture. The scents of all the people, relentlessly recycled through the ventilation, tortured him. The hundred heartbeats around him taunted him. The neck of every attendant when they moved towards a passenger tantalized him.
When the seat belt signs went out again, Bruce nudged him and whispered: “Stand up. Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“What… Have you lost your mind?” Mick hissed through clenched teeth.
“I guess it’s not worse than donating to the Red Cross. I’m a doctor, you know.”
Bruce shoved him towards the bathroom behind them. No-one looked at them, most of the passengers were sleeping by now. They entered the small cubicle and Bruce locked the door.
“Okay, how do we do this?”
Mick wanted to protest again but caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He was deadly pale and the veins around his eyes were shining through already. His fangs wouldn’t fully retract any more. He needed this.
He sat down on the toilet seat and pulled Bruce into his lap. “Sorry about this, but I don’t want you standing up in case you faint.”
Bruce snorted. “I won’t.”
Mick could feel Bruce’s nerves despite his attempt to be cool. The man’s pulse was racing, he swayed back and forth and his hands were clammy. Mick would need to keep him steady and prevent him from moving. “Keep very still,” he growled. “Or I might seriously hurt you. I don’t need to tell you that there’s not much space between the Jugular - and the Carotid.”
His words had the desired effect, Bruce was shocked into submission and stopped fidgeting.
Mick held Bruce, embracing him from behind, used his other hand to softly bend the head to the side, and sniffed. With a snakelike move he sank his fangs into his friend’s neck and closed his lips around the wound. He let the blood flow on its own pace, almost moaning with delight at the warmth and saltiness of the healing fluid. He could already feel his bruises heal fully, and his thirst gradually receded. Suddenly Bruce went utterly still and moaned deeply. Instinctively, Mick had used a little bit of allure to keep him from panicking. Well, at least he got something out of this, too.
Mick forced himself to stop before he was fully sated. Bruce would need to stay lucid and strong. He licked the wound so it would close and laid his head back on the wall, sighing deeply.
Bruce moved away. Mick shrunk back. “I’m sorry, buddy.”
Bruce nodded. “It’s okay, really. I didn’t expect it to be so – intimate, I guess.” He blushed.
“You know what people will think when we get out there,” Mick teased.
Bruce grinned. “Oh, I don’t care, I have been called worse. I just worry about your reputation.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. I guess the stewardess will stop making eyes on you now.”
“She didn’t.”
“Oh, trust me, she did.” Bruce turned around to the faucet and washed his face.
Mick checked his face for blood spots and then opened the hatch. “Let’s get out of here.”
They walked to their seat as if nothing happened. When the flight attendants walked around to check if everyone was belted in again, one of them giggled.
“See?” Bruce asked. “Your reputation is shot.”
“Hm. Do you think we entered the mile high club now?”
Bruce lifted his eyebrows. “Is there something like that for – donations?”
“Well, we exchanged some kind of fluid, didn’t we?”
When they walked through the hall of LAX Bruce suddenly nudged Mick with alarm in his eyes and pointed to a glass wall. In the reflection Mick could clearly see his eyes glowing – in neon green.
“Oh no,” Mick moaned. What kind of side effect did he get himself into?
Josef would have an aneurism.
----------------------------
It was a great idea to have this story take place in an airport and on an airplane.
And whether Josef found out. 
and the cliffhanger ending! 
The mile-high club has a whole new meaning when vampires are involved. 