FLIGHT OF FANCY
WOW: pilot. Is there anything that could make Dean enjoy flying?
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and they really don't know what they're missing.
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"Hey dude; remember, the pilot doesn't want to crash any more than you do," suggested Sam helpfully.
Shakily rubbing a sleeve across his sweat-dampened brow; Dean swallowed back a threatening nausea as his breath quickened into shallow gasps.
"Not helping Sam," he snorted, tightening his already iron grip around the arm-rests as the plane began to bank out of its climb.
"Is everything okay sir?"
The voice came from fuscia-pink lips framed by neat blonde hair and long-lashed cornflower blue eyes, brimming with concern.
Hourglass figure ...
Crisp, blue uniform ...
Long, slim legs ...
Okay ...
Maybe flying wasn't so bad after all.
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