Hour Two
"Seriously?" Don heard Liz mutter irritably to herself beside him. They had just finished discussing each other's personal and work lives for the good part of an hour and Don had learnt a lot about Liz; unlike Don, she was an only child (lucky her) but grew up with an adoptive father and was raised in Baltimore, and similar to Don, she had always dreamed of joining the FBI (except she was a profiler instead of a field agent like Don was). She had field training but had only been out a few times. They both had shared horror stories about days when their jobs weren't going so well, and Don discovered that he had way more in common with Liz that he had initially thought (judging from the stories that she told, they were both quite clumsy).
"You okay?" he asked after turning away from the window and watched as she bent down, seemingly searching for something or trying to change something with her seat.
"What?" Liz glanced up for a moment at him before looking back down and continuing to fix her seat. "Oh yeah, I'm fine, it's just my seat. It - ugh, won't - recline!"
She sat up again and leaned back, closing her eyes in frustration.
"Oh." Don pursed his lips, trying to think of something that could help Liz. He felt sorry for her and could relate; during last year's flight to London the seat in front of his was jammed into a reclined position, leaving Don trapped for seven of the eight hours he was on that plane (the passenger in front of him hadn't reclined his seat for the first sixty minutes of the flight).
"For the first hour it wasn't as bad, but now I'm getting kind of cramped up and want to stretch my legs." A sudden jolt from behind Liz made her jump a little, and both of them took a quick glance behind them and saw a toddler standing in front of his seat and purposely kicking and punching her seat with a mischievous grin on his face. "And to add to all of that, there's now a little kid kicking the back of my seat." She shook her head, sighing in exasperation.
Don thought for another moment, glancing around their little area. What could he do to help?
"But I guess I shouldn't be complaining." Liz continued although by then Don had tuned out, stopping in the middle of her sentence to close her eyes in frustration as her seat was kicked once again. "You're a field agent. I'm sure you've been through much worse. God, I'm sorry, Don, you probably hate sitting next to me now, don't you? I'm acting too stuck-up. Even my friends say I talk too much-"
"No, Liz, there's no need to apologize. Believe me, you're probably the best person I've ever sat next to on a plane." Don intercepted quickly before Liz could get too carried away in beating herself down. "But have you tried pushing the lever down harder?"
With a baffled expression Liz followed Don as he bent over to show her the lever to the bottom left of her seat. "Maybe if you use more force on it the seat would recline."
"Trust me, it's jammed," Liz frowned, pushing down on it one more time but with no luck. Yet another kick came from behind her and she groaned inwardly.
Hold on. . . Don thought to himself as he observed her. Maybe she's doing it wrong. . .
"Here, let me try, I got this." Don pushed the armrest up that was separating their seats from each other and grabbed ahold of the metal lever below, then pulled it up instead.
Liz's seat instantly reclined, a bit too far than they had wanted it to, and at the same time, bumped the little toddler who was standing behind it.
"Oh, shoot, we're so sorry." Ressler quickly apologized, exchanging a look with Liz, who was trying to hold in her laughter.
"Watch it next time! You could have seriously injured my son!" snapped the toddler's mother angrily, who was now giving her (completely unhurt) son a hug in her lap.
Maybe you should be watching your own son.
Don glanced at Liz, who seemed to be thinking exactly what he was thinking because she was staring right back at him with a knowing glint in her eye, then added, "Okay, ma'am, we will, but maybe it would have never happened if your son wasn't standing up and kicking the back of her chair in the first place. So with all due respect, maybe you should watch it."
Before the horrified woman could even open her mouth to object, both Liz and Don turned back around, holding back their laughter.
Quickly de-reclining her chair back into its seating position a little bit, Liz burst into a fit of unceremonious laughter. "That was hilarious! I mean, the first part with me being a complete idiot and not knowing how to recline a chair, but that lady! Did you see her face?"
Liz did a spot-on impression of the furious mom behind them and Don covered his face in his hands, trying to control his laughter but failing miserably.
Hopefully that woman can't hear us right now. Don thought. She'd probably hate us even more than she already does. It's pretty unlikely though, the engines are too noisy.
But if we continue to laugh at this volume, she might.
Don didn't mind it though. This was the first time he genuinely had a good laugh ever since he visited his awkward and uncomfortable family, and it surprised him that he was sharing it with a stranger.
Not that he cared about the 'stranger' part anymore.
"Okay, okay," Liz snickered, finally getting ahold of herself and quieting down a fair bit. "But seriously, you schooled that lady, Don! I take back what I said about you being socially awkward and stuff, you're totally smooth and can smart-talk better than anyone I know!"
Don blushed at all of her compliments, but took it in jest and jokingly said, "Well what can I say, having those traits is how I land the ladies and sweep them off their feet. Not."
Liz burst out laughing uncontrollably again, this time causing the mother behind them to actually stand up and see what was going on, who sat back down once both of them had wheeled around. "Oh my gosh, you're seriously awesome, Donald Ressler, don't ever change. You sweep me off my feet."
What? Did she actually just say that? Did she actually?
He couldn't help thinking like a junior high-aged boy with a crush on one of his female classmates, but this Liz was really getting to him. If he was sweeping her off her feet, then she was making him blush like an infatuated schoolboy.
Just then, another kick came from behind Liz's half-reclined seat. Both of them turned around and there he was; the toddler sitting back in his original seat, a naughty grin on his face.
Liz was looking as if she wanted to kill herself, resting her head on the headrest with her eyes closed, trying to shut everything out.
Poor Liz. What can I do?
And then Don had an idea.
"Liz. Move over for a sec." he said . Liz looked up, her expression weary. She looked confused, so Don repeated himself.
"Move into the aisle for a second. You can have my seat."
Her eyes widened. "Don, you really don't have to, he's gonna-"
"No, Liz, really, it's fine. You can have my seat. Didn't you say you loved window seats?"
Don, for a fact, loved window seats because he could get a clear view of the skies (but he would never look down at the ground when it was visible. It would be too daunting.), but he didn't mind giving it to Liz. She seemed worth it.
"A-Alright." Liz skeptically moved into the aisle so Don could get through, then shifted down into Don's seat. "Thank you, Don. Really. But that kid's going to bug you for the rest of the trip."
"Let him." Don answered back without any hesitance as he sat down in Liz's spot. "Kids will be kids. I'll deal with him if I have to." He glanced behind at the toddler who sent him another mischievous look, which Don returned with a knowing smile. The little boy laughed and sat back into his seat.
"Besides," Don sat back into his chair, crossing his arms on his chest. "I think we're on the same page."
"Hey! Are you saying that it's because that kid has a problem with me? I can be a kid person too!" Liz shook her head in disbelief, grinning. "But honestly, thank you, Don. You're an impossibly kind stranger."
Don smiled in response, and reached for the armrest to pull it back down but accidentally ended up putting his hand on top of Liz's.
Oh.
He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, and he felt giddy and light all of a sudden.
Like an infatuated schoolboy.
Calm yourself, Ressler. You're in your thirties, you're not a teenager anymore.
They awkwardly laughed and avoided each other's looks like lovestruck schoolchildren until Don finally removed his hand from under Liz's, who pushed the armrest back down.
"I, uh, was just going to put that down, but, you, um, you could. Sorry." Don continued unsurely, realizing that with every word things became even more awkward.
Liz just smiled knowingly and turned back to the window.
Don breathed out and leaned his head against the headrest, processing what just happened.
She was certainly making him feel something, there was no denying that.
He just wondered if she felt the same way about him.