Weary

Weary

Dr Flug x Reader

Stealing my sister’s bf’s HBO password is the second best thing I’ve done this week. Whipping up a solid drabble in 30 minutes and refining it into a whole oneshot in the same night takes first place.

There’s like, one innuendo towards the end but everything else is straight up fluff. Story came to me after reading yet another shady thing a certain airline I won’t name did, but it sounds like “we ain’t going”. I am changing the names so I don’t end up dead in a van somewhere, but if you know you know ;)

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“…And then what happened?”, Flug yawns, looking up at you through his goggles. You smile gently, kissing the front of the bag where his forehead would be.

“Well, according to some sources…the former production and safety manager’s exact words were ‘if anything happens, I didn’t do it myself’,” you respond, reading the article off your phone. Using the same soft voice you use when you read picture books to a sleepy 505, except it was a news article turned Wikipedia rabbit hole.

You two had gone from listening to him explain the differences between a 767 and an Airvan, to him resting his bagged head in your lap as you click on various entries and articles, bouncing information back and forth. The person, a known whistleblower who had retired from the controversial airline a few years ago, had tried many a time to draw attention to the company’s shady practices. For him to die so suddenly, especially as more inside secrets came to light, was too fishy for the public to ignore.

“I’m no detective, but…”

“Assassination?”, you finished for him, raising a brow. The two of you exchanged knowing looks.

“Does the Dreamweaver have flexible wings?”, he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to bury his head further into your tummy. It tickles, but you try not to laugh lest you disturb his rare peace. Moments like these didn’t happen often, and you knew if any of the others were to see you like this, Black Hat would tear you both a new one, and Demencia would never let you hear the end of it.

A few more minutes go by, occasionally filled in with fun facts about the company’s various other incidents that had made the news in the past. You click off of yet another one where a plane was literally falling apart mid-air, having to make an emergency landing in a massive blaze. That was enough internet for today, at this rate you’d never want to hop in a plane again. You carefully set your phone to the side after checking the time.

“If I were him, I wouldn’t have let them get me.”

“I know, Flug.”

“And I would have documented everything.”

“Mhm”, you rest a hand on his back, your own eyes growing heavy.

“I’d go down there and put them back together myself. I’d personally take all of their shitty scrap parts, and make a better airplane than any of those so called professionals,” he says disdainfully.

You smile as he heaves a long sigh, like the weight of the world rests upon his weary shoulders; which isn’t far from the truth, if the way Black Hat nags him and Demencia torments him on a regular basis is any indication. Not to mention raising a son/care bear/science experiment through it all. But even if it’s not quite the whole earth, at the very least it’s the whole company. Everybody ought to give him more credit, himself included.

“If anybody could do such a thing, I know it’d be you, Flug. You’ve always had a brilliant mind.” He hums softly at the praise, feeling quite chuffed to know that at least someone in the manor besides his own son appreciated him not just for all he does, but who he is.

It’s quiet again for a few moments as he drifts in and out of consciousness, your hand gently rubbing his back until he speaks up again a few minutes later.

“And I’ll make you my co-pilot.”

This takes you by surprise, the hand rubbing his back stopping briefly as you let the words settle over the two of you. Reading between the lines was something you found yourself doing almost as often as reading his expression through his paper bag, the man still not quite comfortable enough to outright say all the things he’d had bouncing around in his head to you just yet. Your hand resumes as you test the waters, stuck between delicate hope and fear of possibly scaring him off.

“I…don’t know how to fly a plane. Nor do I have a pilots license.”

“Me neither, but I’ll show you how to do it in the cockpit. I’ll make sure you have a smooth ride for your first time.”

A pregnant pause falls over the both of you, and your whole face heats up, mind processing his words only to take a nosedive into the gutter. You open your mouth to respond only to be met with quiet snores from below, Flug blissfully unaware of the effect of his words.

‘Looks like the week finally caught up to him’, you think. Odds are he might not remember something like that when he woke up, but you could tease him about it later on. For now, you stretch your arms over your head and attempt to make yourself as comfy as possible without disturbing him, sleep beginning to overtake you as well. You glance down once more to where he dozes peacefully for the first time in years, committing it to memory before joining him in slumber.

“Buenas noches, Flug.”

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