crush imagines (he/him crush)

return

edited 1/18/23

The airport was crowded despite the stormy weather, and I found myself having to awkwardly push past fretting families and people in lines for bathrooms. 

Gate D-31. I'm looking for Gate D-31. 

In moment, C/N would walk through a metal door. We'd been apart for 3 months. 3 whole months. It felt like years.

I finally stumbled upon the D-31, which was snuggled in the back corner below an inconspicuous. sign. The screen next to the jetway advertised that it was delayed by 15 minutes, a result of the storm. Upon surveying the mass of occupied, gray peeling chairs, I found a bunch of wailing children and some teenagers on a school trip recording tiktoks. 

The bathroom would have to do. 

It was something I'd been doing since I was six: waiting for my flight in the bathroom. It was a place to sit, after all, and it was always the perfect temperature. I closed the toilet seat and sat on it, then extended my feet, pressing the soles of my shoes against the stall door. Other doors open and closed, suitcases rattled against tile, but I stayed put.

A massive boom of thunder caused the whole building to shake slightly. I shut my eyes and muttered silent wishes for his safe return. After all, I couldn't lose him now, not after 3 exhausting months of patience. He'd left for a passion project, a massive summit followed by an exclusive research project. He'd been talking about it for months, and it was bittersweet to finally see him off at this very airport, sharing a soggy sandwich from a supposedly fresh food stand before waving to each other as he boarded, equal parts excited and anxious.

Long-distance was hard. We called each other most nights, sometimes happy, too often in tears. We tried to have virtual date nights, tried to laugh it off when our phones would tip over, or when one of us cut out. We talked about our suddenly separate lives for hours, secretly scouring each others' background for signs of infidelity. 

It wasn't healthy. It was time for him to come home.

15 minutes later, I marched out of the bathroom to see mostly clear skies through the foggy windows. A ray of sunshine—a ray of hope, perhaps—peeked out of receding clouds. The flight was delayed an extra fifteen minutes, but he was safe. I exhaled. I beamed. 

On the plane, he was restless. He'd packed his backpack ages ago, not anticipating the extra wait, and now resorted to periodically checking his reflection with his phone camera, making little adjustments to his hair and collar. 

He couldn't stop thinking about her. It was as if her face had been branded into his train of thought. He knew he'd hug her the moment he saw her. He wouldn't want to let go. He'd never been the type to cause a scene in the airport before; In fact, he always glared a little when people were extra with PDA. Now he'd do anything, no matter how embarrassing, just to wrap his arms around her and just breathe her in. 

He found himself smiling like an idiot, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. No one but a little kid, watching with empty eyes. He returned his attention to the window. They were landing now, turning to face the runway. He felt his ears beginning to pop. He pulled out a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. He chewed and chewed. And smiled a bit more. 

I grabbed him a bag of those fruit snacks he liked, a new pair of earbuds (he'd accidentally broken his in the security line, he'd texted), a sappy airport romance book for us to laugh about, and a bottle of water. The gate was still packed when I returned with my bounty, so I stood awkwardly to the side, staring out of the window at the recently grounded plane. The walkway began to extend, like an accordion. It was moving so slowly. My whole body itched to see him, touch him, spoil him. I wondered if he could see me in the window.

There she was, in the window. He stared in awe until he was forced to scoot into the aisle and inch along it with all of the other passengers. She really was more beautiful in person (though she was perfect on FaceTime too). He wanted to hit the slowpokes in front of him with his backpack. Yell, "Fuck off, strangers, my girlfriend is waiting and she's the only thing that matters right now!"

There he was, in the doorway. His backpack was slung over one shoulder like a child's. He scanned the crowd, and when he finally found me, I willed my legs to move. Finally, they did, and I began nudging through the crowds of passengers to reach him. He did the same from his end, and after a couple moments, we met in the middle. We stared at each other, smiling like idiots. 

"Hey, stranger," he said.

He pulled me into a tight hug, holding the back of my head to his body with his hand. In inhaled deeply, tickling him, and cherished the feeling of his chest moving as he laughed. 

"Hey yourself," I responded. I felt like I was getting glued onto him. Like he wouldn't be able to pry me from his side with a spatula. 

Reluctantly, we pulled apart. Without so much as a beat, he brought one arm around my side and got us moving. He stooped to give me a quick peck on the temple, squeezed my waist. 

Reassured me that nothing had changed. 

"I was thinking we could stop on the way home and get you something to eat." I looked up at him. Respectfully, he looked hungry and tired. 

"I don't know if I can wait that long," he groaned. "I need you on my lap as soon as possible." 

I bumped his hip with mine. "You've always been impatient." 

He bumped mine back. "And you've always been fucking irresistible."

I flushed. He watched me for so long I feared he'd walk into a trash can. 

"How about a compromise," he suggested. "As soon as we pull out of the parking lot, I'm finding an empty spot and you're straddling me." 

I hummed, stomach thrumming. 

"Then, when that's taken care of, we can stop for dinner." 

I pretended to consider it, but really, the deal was sealed. 

"Okay," I agreed. 

He nodded triumphantly and picked up his pace. 

"Now you've given me something to be excited for," he grinned, scanning the baggage claim for his suitcase. "We'd better hurry."

"Or what?" 

"Or I'm going to have to pull you into the men's bathroom and have you right then and there, Y/N L/N."

My eyebrows shot up. I obediently joined the scanning. 

"Black duffel, black duffel.."