Chapter 4: Acceleration

Aboard The Plane

7:00a.m.

The moment they entered the plane, Dan's vision tunneled. Confined space. Cramped seating. Other people breathing all over him. Having to listen to the muttered speculation of others. The stench of airplane food. He wasn't ready to be back here again.

Jonah looked at him, worry in his eyes, "Dan, are you okay?"

Dan shrugged and laughed it off, although the laugh kind of went up at the end like he was freaking out. "What do you mean?"

Jonah rolled his eyes. "You look as white as a sheet, and you're sweating profusely – tell me what's wrong. And also, as an aside, I shouldn't have to probe you for this information. Paraphrasing myself, 'admitting weakness isn't a bad thing', remember?"

Dan swallowed, his sight had gotten a little blurry, and he was tuning in and out of the conversation due to a high-pitched ringing in his ears. His heart was racing. "Okay, okay, Jonah. I'm afraid of flying, okay? I'm…" he swallowed, hard, "I'm afraid of flying."

Jonah just looked at him curiously, like he was an interesting article in the Washington Post, "You know, that's called Pteromerhanophobia. Also, you might want to have your cerebellum checked – you seem to have problems with turbulent environments, Mr. Sea Sick," he chuckled, but then looking at Dan, realized he was probably not in the laughing mood, "Regardless, it's treatable with anti-anxiety meds right?"

Dan grabbed him forcefully, "Don't you think I know that? But I can't find my Xanax. I think I left it on my dresser in the rush to get to the airport on time. Fuck!" He loosened his grip on Jonah's shirt, slumped into the nearest chair, and begun hyperventilating.

Jonah kneeled over him as other people went past to take their seats. The flight attendants apparently had other more pressing concerns. "Okay, how bad is it? Will we have to catch a later flight?"

Dan clenched his teeth, but not in anger, in frustration. "No. The Veep brought these tickets, and I'm dirt broke – it can't be another flight."

Jonah grabbed Dan's hand, rubbing his fingers along the other man's palm. Dan swallowed. "You didn't answer my question, Dan. There's always another way, we can walk right back through those doors into the terminal if that's what you need. So, I'll ask you again, can you do this?"

Dan looked him straight in the eye, "I have to. Will…" Dan choked on the word, "Jonah, will you help me?"

Jonah softened his concerned expression and squeezed Dan's hand, "Yes."

Dan breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, still shivering. Jonah checked the tickets, and squinted down the aisle, "Seats D and E, Row 27." Gently, he guided Dan to his seat, and they got their bags in order, taking out books and water bottles for the flight ahead. Their phones were switched on to flight- mode, and both men snuggled in to their seats while the pre-flight details were relayed by a large-breasted stewardess in the traditional nationalist red, blue and white attire and the southern drawl.

Jonah whispered reassurances in Dan's ear the entire time: "You're more likely to be hit by a car than you are dying on a plane," "It's only 5 hours to Ohio – that's only 300 minutes. Look at your phone, we're already 10 minutes in! We'll be there soon, okay?"

The effect on Dan of these reassurances was palpable, although Dan wouldn't have liked to admit it. He had always flown alone, and in some way, he felt that was his fear – not of flying, but of being in a situation where it was, in his mind, probable that he would die alone. 9/11 happened. Like, people died. And he could die. And he wasn't ready for that – he wasn't ready to die without love.

As he closed his eyes, and listened to the vague and unintelligible words spouting from Jonah's lips, he felt his heart-rate decrease, his palms dry, and his breathing becoming much more shallow. And the more Jonah soothed him, the more he found himself leaning into his large frame, until at the end, his head found his way into the crook of Jonah's neck – right next to his ear. So close that he could hear the subtle hitch of the other man's breath when Dan reached under the air plane blanket and took his hand.

Now it was Jonah's turn to blush – which he did. But to his credit, only slightly. The more obvious effect of the action, Dan knew, was in his pearly-white smile that was growing bigger and bigger with every stroke of his finger against the other's, and the happiness his eyes. Dan had never noticed before how beautiful eyes could be; he had never experienced anything as heartwarming as the radiating joy and (dare he think it) love coming from behind Jonah's bottomless brown orbs.

He grabbed the man by the jaw and kissed him. It was soft, and sweet, and quick. But it was something. And it meant something. And he wanted to give it; so he did.

After that, they sat in silence for a few minutes. It was peaceful, and warm, and Dan felt all his insecurities and hatred melt away and become this gooey mess of feelings. But oddly, he didn't mind. Ignorance and singularity of thought – thought of Jonah, specifically, was nice for a change.

Following this, Jonah took out his iPod with his free hand. He placed one ear bud in his ear and offered the other to Dan.

Dan tentatively took the bud and placed it in his right ear. Instantaneously, a string of deep, loud, heavy metal tunes came racing into his eardrum.

Dan quickly took it out of his ear, wrinkling his nose, "Oh. I forgot that you listen to that."

Jonah frowned, "Are you sure you don't want to listen, dude?"

Dan looked incredulous, "Dude? And no thanks. I kind of hate that stuff."

Jonah looked puzzled, "But… you went to that concert with me? You said you loved heavy metal too."

Dan laughed, "Oh, yeah. That. I lied. I only went to that concert to get information about POTUS from you."

Jonah looked hurt. He jerked the other earpiece away from Dan, turned the volume up loud, and stared resolutely out the window.

Dan was slightly astonished. He postulated that Jonah always caught on eventually that he was being played. God, it happened so much with people from the Vice-President's Office that you would think that he would assume underhandedness in all his dealings with Veeple People.

This was stupid. And Dan, who still was on edge because of the whole plane thing, had no time for trivial pursuits. It was time for action.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and got up. Before Jonah could question what he was doing, he was sitting on Jonah's lap. People around the plane stopped and stared. Some people even gawked, rolled their eyes, or glared to show their disapproval.

Jonah reddened violently. Dan skillfully displaced Jonah's ear buds with a flick of his wrists, and then lowered his head down close enough to whisper in Jonah's ear, "I fucking hate PDAs. I hate being stared at. I don't like blushing. I feel really uncomfortable right now. But clearly I'm going to have to get used to that, because it's one of the ways I can re-write our relationship."

He caressed Jonah's jaw in his hands, kneading his cheek with his own fingers, "I'm not that guy that fucked you over for his job anymore, Jo-" he kissed his left cheek, "-Nah," he kissed his right cheek.

Jonah sat there slack-jawed making a groaning sound, as he squeezed Dan's perfectly rounded, taut ass. This wasn't at all what he expected, but fuck, he… oh, just fuck. Who could analyse at a time like this?

Dan was gently rubbing himself all over Jonah, and as Jonah continued his ministrations, he started biting his plump, pink lips. The taller man started sweating, and swallowed. Fuck… he just… fuck. He couldn't, he just… fuck.

Dan leaned in again, and looked deeply into his partner's eyes. Gruffly, his voice catching in his throat in a sensual growl, he asked, "Do you forgive me, Jonah?"

Jonah gulped, hard, mesmerized by Dan and staring at him intently.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, closed his eyes while leaning in for a kiss.

Dan promptly swung off Jonah, and fell back into his seat. Jonah looked stunned, "Oh, and the other reason I need to do more PDAs is because they turn you on so much. I'm making a mental note of that for future use."

Jonah seemed slightly put-off. With a grumpy face, he mumbled, "Fuck you."

Dan laughed. "So, look. You want to actually achieve something on this flight? Put your stupid iPod away. Let's play 20 Questions."

Jonah, still slightly pouting, acquiesced. He started, "Okay, question one. What was your major in college?"

Dan scoffed, "What do you think my major was? Creative writing?"

Jonah seethed, "I don't fucking know, Dan, Jesus Christ. I'm just trying to get to know you, can you lose the attitude?"

Dan shrugged like a douche, "It was obviously Politics. Minor in Spanish. And then the J.D., you?"

"Majored in Journalism and History. Then, did a Master of Public Policy and Administration," Jonah confided.

His counterpart looked bemused, "Oh, really? I thought you went to Law School."

"My Mom's a lawyer, so I'm well versed in legalese, Daniel," Jonah chided, "You don't have to go to Law School to understand the law. Also, this just goes to show one thing," he smirked.

"Okay," Dan conciliated, "I'll bite, what?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he stated with a wry smile, "I'm fucking mysterious, bitch."

Dan punched him playfully. "Okay, my turn."

He bit his lip, unsure about his next words. He didn't want to make the situation explode with tension, but he also needed to know. He eventually settled on knowledge – his entire life, and his entire career was forged as the antithesis of ignorance. He summoned up his courage, and the words just fell out, "Why do you like me?"

Jonah looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

Dan didn't meet his gaze, "I just… I mean, I don't even like myself that much, and you're being really good to me recently. I just need to know… why?"

Jonah tenderly gripped Dan's hand. "Look at me," he said in a calm, measured voice. Dan kept his gaze down the aisle on the EXIT sign. At this moment, more than ever, he wanted to leave this plane. He shouldn't have asked the question. What if he didn't like the answer? What if the entire chemistry of their relationship just came down to his looks, or convenience?

But Jonah gave no quarter; saying again, more forcefully, "Look at me, Daniel Egan."

When the other did eventually meet his gaze, he smiled, "You… you're an unstoppable force of nature."

There was so much reverence in his voice – Dan didn't know whether he was flattered or scared. Scared that his apparent façade of bravado and competency had truly masked his innate fear of failure. Scared that he would never live up to the man that Jonah believed him to be – a man that he had worked his entire life to become, only to deny his outward self at his innermost core.

Jonah continued, "You're cunning. You're ruthless. And I love it. You're everything I want to be, and I admire you. Truly."

Dan murmured in reply, "And what of the worst of me? Who I am behind closed doors. The anxiety. The frustration. The pain. The weakness. I'm not steel-plated, Jonah. I'm frail like a ceramic doll. And if you're going to accept me, you need to accept me in weakness and in strength."

Jonah furrowed his brow, "You know I do, Dan. This entire trip, haven't I always been my your side? Kept my jokes to myself? Stayed both concerned, and carefree? The better question is – why won't you let me love you?"

Dan's lip began to quiver. "Because I don't like myself. My ambition has always been my undoing. My intelligence has never led my path towards anything but avarice and skepticism. And I'm not an unstoppable force – I was stopped oh so very easily when I was demoted. My force is limited. My influence is limited. I can't accept the other version of myself because… it's always led me down the wrong way. It nearly led me away from you."

He stared intently into Jonah's face, "Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy for sharing myself with you. I don't know how this happened. It started as an exquisite pain – a rage that bubbled up inside me at the mere mention of your name. But that didn't make sense. Because my feelings were conflicted – my outer self was beckoning me down the road to what it believed to be prosperity. This relationship is not logical, it doesn't help me politically, and it may harm my relations within the Vice-President's Office, and the whole District of Colombia."

Jonah started to look away, resolutely ignoring the tears starting to fall from his cheeks. No, Dan thought. This couldn't be where this story ends. He wouldn't let it. So he marched on, towards true knowledge – towards the unburdening of all his thoughts, "These last few days, I've felt alive again." He laughed, and piercing, clear, smiling laugh, "And I walked down a different path. It may not be strictly logical, or have the same perks. I can't rationalize it. Some people think I'm going crazy. I'm openly gay in D.C. – what the fuck am I thinking? But with you, I feel… whole. With you, I'm healing. You make me feel special, valued, appreciated. You support me, even though you don't have to. Even though you might not want to. But you do, and I… for all those reasons, I… I need you."

Jonah kissed him through the tears. Through the pain. Though their match was never fated. Though this may all end in heartache. A long, drawn out exchange of friction and muscle and energy, and a certain feeling that neither man could explain.

Eventually they broke apart. No words were exchanged, and none were needed. Dan fell asleep against Jonah's shoulder. Their hands were interlocked, as were their hearts.

Jonah stared at the sleeping man, and played with his thick, shiny locks of hair while he slept. And he felt weightless; breathing in the smell of the man that had just given him the greatest gift he had ever received from another in his life. The feeling from the kiss. The feeling he seemed to have always recognized in the other man, but had never allowed it to enter his thoughts, or his heart.

Love.