Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Air Hostess, I Like The Way You Dress
8 ReviewsAirHostie!Brendon. “Are you always this friendly to your passengers?” Ryan asked. "Only the hot ones," Brendon said cockily with a wink.
So apparently I write slash now? Yeah, I missed that memo too. Have this anyway. I've never written something like this, so if it's shit, I apologise. Title taken from the song 'Air Hostess' by Busted (I was so close to naming this 'I Messed My Pants When We Flew Over France', another line from the chorus). Yeah, yeah, Poppy boy-band, I know, but two words. Charlie Simpson. He redeemed himself with Fightstar. That's all.
'Zacky' is Zacky Vengeance from Avenged Sevenfold, and he has a cameo because I like playing God like that, okay? And also A7X are amazing.
I would also like to say that I know nothing about the uniform of American Airlines flight attendants, so if I get that wrong, then that's why.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, sir. Excuse me.”
Ryan jerked as there was a sudden tapping on his shoulder, twisting around in his seat and ripping an iPod earphone out of one ear. He blushed slightly as he met the sparkling brown eyes of the male flight attendant, who was leaning over the seat. He removed his hand from Ryan’s shoulder and gestured towards the tray-table in front of him, upon which Ryan’s open notebook and a pen were resting.
“I’m sorry,” he said kindly, his voice musical and warm, “but I’m gonna need you to keep your tray-table raised until we take off.”
“Oh,” Ryan said. “I- yeah, sorry.” He amended his mistake, using the pen to mark the place in the notebook and placing it in his lap after he locked the table into place. Music was still blaring loudly from the earphones, both now swinging in between Ryan’s fingers, and he fiddled with the device, pausing the song.
“Watcha listenin’ to?” the young air host – ‘Brendon’ his name tag read – asked as he straightened up and stretched up to close the overhead baggage lockers. Ryan quickly averted his eyes when he realised he was staring at the small sliver of pale stomach that could be seen where the button-up shirt of Brendon’s American Airlines standard-issue shirt had risen slightly.
“Um,” Ryan began, checking the screen of his iPod, “just Radiohead.”
“Sweet,” Brendon grinned as he returned to a normal standing position, and whoa, that was a really nice smile he had there. “Radiohead are so cool. I’ve been wanting to see them live for ages.”
Ryan nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, that’d be cool, I guess.”
Brendon stilled, looking over his shoulder as his name was called by a fellow flight attendant. “Hang on,” he said in reply before turning back to Ryan. “So, Mr ‘I-listen-to-Radiohead-and-don’t-stow-tray-tables-before-take-off,” Ryan chuckled slightly, pushing hair out of his eyes, “do you have a name?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”
Brendon raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for a follow-up answer. When there was none forthcoming, he added, “And it is…?”
“Ryan,” Ryan said, pausing to add dryly, “Is that enough, or would you like my last name too?”
“Preferably,” Brendon told him. “It makes stalking so much more easier.” He winked and smiled again, resting his arms on the unoccupied seat next to Ryan.
“Ross, Ryan Ross,” Ryan omitted. His fingers played absently with the cords of his earphones, twisting and turning them between his fingertips.
“Well, Mr Ryan Ross,” Brendon smirked, “welcome aboard American Airlines. My name is Brendon Urie, and I will be your flight attendant on this pleasant afternoon. If you have any complaints or concerns, please don’t hesitate to let them be known to William over there,” he pointed to a lanky man further forward in the plane, “because I just love it when he gets pissy and bitchy over stupid requests. Refreshments will be served shortly after take-off; I do hope you enjoy your flight, and thank you for choosing American Airlines. Blah. Blah Blah.” He said this all very mockingly, a pompous accent to match, and Ryan couldn’t help but laugh at the end of his little speech. Craning his neck, he said, “William, huh?” to which Brendon nodded vigorously and widened his smile. “He’s an absolute slave driver. When he’s not flirting with Captain Saporta, that is.” He shook his head. “How that man ever became a commercial pilot, I will never know.”
Almost as if the mere mention of his name had summoned his attention, William straightened up from where he was conversing with an old lady and promptly called, “Brendon!” Brendon grimaced, miming the cracking of a whip, complete with sound effects.
“Duty calls,” he said, turning and walking up the aisle to where William was standing.
And Ryan did not just totally stare at his black-slack clad ass as he walked away.
***
“Hurry, you gotta hide me,” Brendon announced anxiously about twenty minutes after take-off, slipping into the seat next to Ryan, who lifted his head from staring out the window at clouds.
“Um,” he said quizzically, blinking to regain his eyesight in the cabin after staring into the sun, “but aren’t you supposed to be…?”
“A nervous first-time flyer just vomited all over her seat and the one next to her,” Brendon said in a hushed voice, ignoring the stares from the people nearby as he sunk further down into his seat. “If William so much as sees a hair on my head, he’s going to pass the clean-up job over to me.”
“Eeew,” Ryan stated sympathetically, wrinkling his nose. “That’s disgusting.”
I know,” Brendon replied vehemently. “And I did not sign up for cleaning up shit when I applied for this job, I can tell you that.”
Ryan made a noise of understanding, about to turn back to his window when Brendon asked, “So, Ryan Ross, what business do you have Vegas? I mean, you sure as hell don’t look like the touristy type.”
“I live there,” he said, shrugging and adjusting the position of his shoulder bag that was placed under the seat in front of him with his feet.
“Really?” Brendon beamed. “Me too! I mean, I’m hardly there and all, what with flying all over the country, but that was why I became an air hostie – to travel the country.”
Ryan was about to answer when Brendon hurriedly turns to him. “Oh no,” he said, his eyes widening in mock horror, “there’s Zacky.” A short flight attendant with snake-bite piercings and the edges of tattoos peeking out from his shirt walked down the aisle a few seats in front of them. His black hair was cut and styled into what can only be described as ‘emo bangs’, and Ryan stared.
“He’s a flight attendant?!” he whispered incredulously.
“I know,” Brendon whispered back. “Apparently they hired him for his ‘people skills’. But don’t worry; he’s a cool guy. Wicked guitar player. Plays in a band in his spare time.” ‘Zacky’ was stopped by a woman asking about in-flight entertainment, and Brendon chose the time to hiss a “Quick! Give me your hat and make out with me so he doesn’t spot me and rat me out to William!”
“I- what?” But before Ryan could protest, his cap was pulled from his head and placed rather lopsidedly on the young flight attendant’s head, while he leaned forward and slipped a hand around to cradle the back of Ryan’s head, threading his fingers through his hair as he captured his lips in a wet kiss. Ryan stilled, shocked at the sudden turn of events, and Brendon pulled back slightly to pout and complain, “C’mon, you gotta kiss back to make it believable,” before reinitiating the kiss. Like before, Ryan froze up slightly, but when Brendon nipped his bottom lip gently he gasped in surprise, allowing the other man to slip his tongue in. Stifling a moan, Ryan responded to the kiss and closed his eyes, letting instinct take over. His hand that was previously resting on the armrest in between them rose up to rest on Brendon’s shoulder. Footsteps echoed slightly as someone – Zacky, presumably – walked away, and Brendon tore his lips from Ryan’s (both red, shiny, and slightly swollen) and breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted in his seat to get a better view.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “Thanks.” He turned to Ryan, removing the hat and positioning it back on its owner’s head. Both of Ryan’s hands came up to grab it, and he adjusted it back into the place he’d had it in previously. He stared at Brendon, still trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened.
“Um,” he began, “what the- ”
“Oh, dude,” Brendon cut him off, “refreshment time. Gotta fly.”
And with that, the other man stood up and tugged his slightly-wrinkled jacket back into place and moved off to get berated by William for disappearing when it came to cleaning up the nervous flyer’s vomit and to help Zacky with the distributing the refreshments.
***
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?” Brendon asked with a smirk, using his foot to push the brake pedal on the trolley he and Zacky were pushing down the plane aisle. Ryan raised his eyebrow at the sudden formality, but a sudden wash of understanding flooded over him when he saw Zacky standing next to Brendon expectantly.
"Just water, thanks,” he said.
Brendon leaned over to hand him a clear plastic cup that contained water, but just as he was about to place it in Ryan’s waiting hand, the plane hit a random bump of turbulence, and half of the liquid spilled over into Ryan’s lap.
“Ohmi – shit! I’m so sorry, I- ” Brendon started to babble apologies, and okay, Ryan was sure that flight attendants really weren’t supposed to swear on the job. Cold water was beginning to seep through his pants, making him look like he’d wet himself, and Ryan was glad that he’d had the foresight to ask for water, and not soda. He liked this pair, and he would have hated to have to throw them away.
“It’s fine, really,” he said, trying to reassure the now slightly-flustered young flight attendant. “It’s just water, anyway. It’s okay. Oh,” he sucked in a breathy hiss of air unintentionally as Brendon, who’d managed to find napkins and was now proceeding to try and mop up the spill as best he could. That also included trying to soak up the majority of the liquid that had spilled onto his crotch. Zacky crossed his arms and rolled his eyes when Brendon’s hand travelled across Ryan’s crotch.
“When you’ve finished your public groping session,” he said, kind of rudely and clearly not impressed, “come and help me.” He wheeled the trolley further down the aisle to serve the other passengers, and yeah, Ryan could definitely see the appeal in his ‘people skills’. He looked up at Brendon, who was now rubbing slow and deliberate circles at the top of one of his thighs.
“Are you always this friendly to your passengers?” he asked, a hint of amusement detectable in his voice. Brendon’s thumb moved higher, his grin widening and a spark of mischief visible in his eyes. It was all Ryan could do to stop himself from groaning as his eyelids fluttered gently.
“Only the hot ones,” Brendon said cockily with a wink. Ryan scoffed back a laugh.
“Sure,” he drew out slowly.
“Hey,” Brendon said. “Come with me.” He grabbed Ryan’s wrist, waiting for the man to unclick his seatbelt before pulling him out of the seat.
“Where are we going?” Ryan wondered aloud, ignoring the other passengers’ stares as Brendon kept a hold of his wrist.
“Hey!” Zacky complained loudly as Brendon pushed passed him. Brendon only offered his colleague a daring grin and a “What? You’re doing fine on your own,” before continuing to tug Ryan along behind him.
Brendon finally stopped at the plane’s rear bathroom, which was currently unoccupied. He cast an obvious look at Ryan’s crotch, and said, “I can help you with that.” Ryan had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the spilled water. The flight attendant’s self-assured grin had slid back into place. “You ever been to the Mile-High Club before?”
Ryan snorted, shaking his head. “Believe me, it’s on my bucket-list,” he replied somewhat sarcastically.
Brendon pushed open the door to reveal the small interior. “Welcome,” he said with a grand gesture, still holding onto Ryan’s wrist, “to a club that is more exclusive than First Class seats. Well,” he added thoughtfully, “it’s exclusive when you’re my guest, anyway.”
“Really?” Ryan said, pushing the other man in and taking initiative for the first time, “I’ll just have to show you why I deserve to be more than just your ‘plus one’ on the guest list.”
Brendon laughed loudly, and the door closed behind them, the ‘engaged’ sign lighting up as the lock slid shut.
And if someone were to press their ear to the not-entirely soundproof door a few seconds later after the announcement of, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. This is First Officer Spencer Smith speaking. It seems we have encountered some mild to severe unforseen turbulence, so we’d like to advise all passengers to return to their seat and fasten their seatbelts securely. Thank you, and we do apologise for the inconvenience.”, they would hear the soft exclamation of, “Oh, shit,” from Ryan, and the breathy chuckle of Brendon as he replied with, “Well this should make things interesting.”
Please remember to R and R!
'Zacky' is Zacky Vengeance from Avenged Sevenfold, and he has a cameo because I like playing God like that, okay? And also A7X are amazing.
I would also like to say that I know nothing about the uniform of American Airlines flight attendants, so if I get that wrong, then that's why.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, sir. Excuse me.”
Ryan jerked as there was a sudden tapping on his shoulder, twisting around in his seat and ripping an iPod earphone out of one ear. He blushed slightly as he met the sparkling brown eyes of the male flight attendant, who was leaning over the seat. He removed his hand from Ryan’s shoulder and gestured towards the tray-table in front of him, upon which Ryan’s open notebook and a pen were resting.
“I’m sorry,” he said kindly, his voice musical and warm, “but I’m gonna need you to keep your tray-table raised until we take off.”
“Oh,” Ryan said. “I- yeah, sorry.” He amended his mistake, using the pen to mark the place in the notebook and placing it in his lap after he locked the table into place. Music was still blaring loudly from the earphones, both now swinging in between Ryan’s fingers, and he fiddled with the device, pausing the song.
“Watcha listenin’ to?” the young air host – ‘Brendon’ his name tag read – asked as he straightened up and stretched up to close the overhead baggage lockers. Ryan quickly averted his eyes when he realised he was staring at the small sliver of pale stomach that could be seen where the button-up shirt of Brendon’s American Airlines standard-issue shirt had risen slightly.
“Um,” Ryan began, checking the screen of his iPod, “just Radiohead.”
“Sweet,” Brendon grinned as he returned to a normal standing position, and whoa, that was a really nice smile he had there. “Radiohead are so cool. I’ve been wanting to see them live for ages.”
Ryan nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, that’d be cool, I guess.”
Brendon stilled, looking over his shoulder as his name was called by a fellow flight attendant. “Hang on,” he said in reply before turning back to Ryan. “So, Mr ‘I-listen-to-Radiohead-and-don’t-stow-tray-tables-before-take-off,” Ryan chuckled slightly, pushing hair out of his eyes, “do you have a name?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”
Brendon raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for a follow-up answer. When there was none forthcoming, he added, “And it is…?”
“Ryan,” Ryan said, pausing to add dryly, “Is that enough, or would you like my last name too?”
“Preferably,” Brendon told him. “It makes stalking so much more easier.” He winked and smiled again, resting his arms on the unoccupied seat next to Ryan.
“Ross, Ryan Ross,” Ryan omitted. His fingers played absently with the cords of his earphones, twisting and turning them between his fingertips.
“Well, Mr Ryan Ross,” Brendon smirked, “welcome aboard American Airlines. My name is Brendon Urie, and I will be your flight attendant on this pleasant afternoon. If you have any complaints or concerns, please don’t hesitate to let them be known to William over there,” he pointed to a lanky man further forward in the plane, “because I just love it when he gets pissy and bitchy over stupid requests. Refreshments will be served shortly after take-off; I do hope you enjoy your flight, and thank you for choosing American Airlines. Blah. Blah Blah.” He said this all very mockingly, a pompous accent to match, and Ryan couldn’t help but laugh at the end of his little speech. Craning his neck, he said, “William, huh?” to which Brendon nodded vigorously and widened his smile. “He’s an absolute slave driver. When he’s not flirting with Captain Saporta, that is.” He shook his head. “How that man ever became a commercial pilot, I will never know.”
Almost as if the mere mention of his name had summoned his attention, William straightened up from where he was conversing with an old lady and promptly called, “Brendon!” Brendon grimaced, miming the cracking of a whip, complete with sound effects.
“Duty calls,” he said, turning and walking up the aisle to where William was standing.
And Ryan did not just totally stare at his black-slack clad ass as he walked away.
***
“Hurry, you gotta hide me,” Brendon announced anxiously about twenty minutes after take-off, slipping into the seat next to Ryan, who lifted his head from staring out the window at clouds.
“Um,” he said quizzically, blinking to regain his eyesight in the cabin after staring into the sun, “but aren’t you supposed to be…?”
“A nervous first-time flyer just vomited all over her seat and the one next to her,” Brendon said in a hushed voice, ignoring the stares from the people nearby as he sunk further down into his seat. “If William so much as sees a hair on my head, he’s going to pass the clean-up job over to me.”
“Eeew,” Ryan stated sympathetically, wrinkling his nose. “That’s disgusting.”
I know,” Brendon replied vehemently. “And I did not sign up for cleaning up shit when I applied for this job, I can tell you that.”
Ryan made a noise of understanding, about to turn back to his window when Brendon asked, “So, Ryan Ross, what business do you have Vegas? I mean, you sure as hell don’t look like the touristy type.”
“I live there,” he said, shrugging and adjusting the position of his shoulder bag that was placed under the seat in front of him with his feet.
“Really?” Brendon beamed. “Me too! I mean, I’m hardly there and all, what with flying all over the country, but that was why I became an air hostie – to travel the country.”
Ryan was about to answer when Brendon hurriedly turns to him. “Oh no,” he said, his eyes widening in mock horror, “there’s Zacky.” A short flight attendant with snake-bite piercings and the edges of tattoos peeking out from his shirt walked down the aisle a few seats in front of them. His black hair was cut and styled into what can only be described as ‘emo bangs’, and Ryan stared.
“He’s a flight attendant?!” he whispered incredulously.
“I know,” Brendon whispered back. “Apparently they hired him for his ‘people skills’. But don’t worry; he’s a cool guy. Wicked guitar player. Plays in a band in his spare time.” ‘Zacky’ was stopped by a woman asking about in-flight entertainment, and Brendon chose the time to hiss a “Quick! Give me your hat and make out with me so he doesn’t spot me and rat me out to William!”
“I- what?” But before Ryan could protest, his cap was pulled from his head and placed rather lopsidedly on the young flight attendant’s head, while he leaned forward and slipped a hand around to cradle the back of Ryan’s head, threading his fingers through his hair as he captured his lips in a wet kiss. Ryan stilled, shocked at the sudden turn of events, and Brendon pulled back slightly to pout and complain, “C’mon, you gotta kiss back to make it believable,” before reinitiating the kiss. Like before, Ryan froze up slightly, but when Brendon nipped his bottom lip gently he gasped in surprise, allowing the other man to slip his tongue in. Stifling a moan, Ryan responded to the kiss and closed his eyes, letting instinct take over. His hand that was previously resting on the armrest in between them rose up to rest on Brendon’s shoulder. Footsteps echoed slightly as someone – Zacky, presumably – walked away, and Brendon tore his lips from Ryan’s (both red, shiny, and slightly swollen) and breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted in his seat to get a better view.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “Thanks.” He turned to Ryan, removing the hat and positioning it back on its owner’s head. Both of Ryan’s hands came up to grab it, and he adjusted it back into the place he’d had it in previously. He stared at Brendon, still trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened.
“Um,” he began, “what the- ”
“Oh, dude,” Brendon cut him off, “refreshment time. Gotta fly.”
And with that, the other man stood up and tugged his slightly-wrinkled jacket back into place and moved off to get berated by William for disappearing when it came to cleaning up the nervous flyer’s vomit and to help Zacky with the distributing the refreshments.
***
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?” Brendon asked with a smirk, using his foot to push the brake pedal on the trolley he and Zacky were pushing down the plane aisle. Ryan raised his eyebrow at the sudden formality, but a sudden wash of understanding flooded over him when he saw Zacky standing next to Brendon expectantly.
"Just water, thanks,” he said.
Brendon leaned over to hand him a clear plastic cup that contained water, but just as he was about to place it in Ryan’s waiting hand, the plane hit a random bump of turbulence, and half of the liquid spilled over into Ryan’s lap.
“Ohmi – shit! I’m so sorry, I- ” Brendon started to babble apologies, and okay, Ryan was sure that flight attendants really weren’t supposed to swear on the job. Cold water was beginning to seep through his pants, making him look like he’d wet himself, and Ryan was glad that he’d had the foresight to ask for water, and not soda. He liked this pair, and he would have hated to have to throw them away.
“It’s fine, really,” he said, trying to reassure the now slightly-flustered young flight attendant. “It’s just water, anyway. It’s okay. Oh,” he sucked in a breathy hiss of air unintentionally as Brendon, who’d managed to find napkins and was now proceeding to try and mop up the spill as best he could. That also included trying to soak up the majority of the liquid that had spilled onto his crotch. Zacky crossed his arms and rolled his eyes when Brendon’s hand travelled across Ryan’s crotch.
“When you’ve finished your public groping session,” he said, kind of rudely and clearly not impressed, “come and help me.” He wheeled the trolley further down the aisle to serve the other passengers, and yeah, Ryan could definitely see the appeal in his ‘people skills’. He looked up at Brendon, who was now rubbing slow and deliberate circles at the top of one of his thighs.
“Are you always this friendly to your passengers?” he asked, a hint of amusement detectable in his voice. Brendon’s thumb moved higher, his grin widening and a spark of mischief visible in his eyes. It was all Ryan could do to stop himself from groaning as his eyelids fluttered gently.
“Only the hot ones,” Brendon said cockily with a wink. Ryan scoffed back a laugh.
“Sure,” he drew out slowly.
“Hey,” Brendon said. “Come with me.” He grabbed Ryan’s wrist, waiting for the man to unclick his seatbelt before pulling him out of the seat.
“Where are we going?” Ryan wondered aloud, ignoring the other passengers’ stares as Brendon kept a hold of his wrist.
“Hey!” Zacky complained loudly as Brendon pushed passed him. Brendon only offered his colleague a daring grin and a “What? You’re doing fine on your own,” before continuing to tug Ryan along behind him.
Brendon finally stopped at the plane’s rear bathroom, which was currently unoccupied. He cast an obvious look at Ryan’s crotch, and said, “I can help you with that.” Ryan had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the spilled water. The flight attendant’s self-assured grin had slid back into place. “You ever been to the Mile-High Club before?”
Ryan snorted, shaking his head. “Believe me, it’s on my bucket-list,” he replied somewhat sarcastically.
Brendon pushed open the door to reveal the small interior. “Welcome,” he said with a grand gesture, still holding onto Ryan’s wrist, “to a club that is more exclusive than First Class seats. Well,” he added thoughtfully, “it’s exclusive when you’re my guest, anyway.”
“Really?” Ryan said, pushing the other man in and taking initiative for the first time, “I’ll just have to show you why I deserve to be more than just your ‘plus one’ on the guest list.”
Brendon laughed loudly, and the door closed behind them, the ‘engaged’ sign lighting up as the lock slid shut.
And if someone were to press their ear to the not-entirely soundproof door a few seconds later after the announcement of, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. This is First Officer Spencer Smith speaking. It seems we have encountered some mild to severe unforseen turbulence, so we’d like to advise all passengers to return to their seat and fasten their seatbelts securely. Thank you, and we do apologise for the inconvenience.”, they would hear the soft exclamation of, “Oh, shit,” from Ryan, and the breathy chuckle of Brendon as he replied with, “Well this should make things interesting.”
Please remember to R and R!
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