First Class by Lau

Darren was brooding.

It was something he was good at. Darren brooded often, and with gusto. He was working on a serious staircase in his forehead, four deep wrinkles of consternation digging into his head like harvested rows in a field. His nails were cut to the quick to keep himself from biting on them ferociously, as he was prone to do in a fit of nervousness. Yes, brooding was something Darren did very well, and he was not ashamed of it.

That was why, even as he was sitting in First Class with his headphones on and waiting for the movie to start, he was mid-brood.

Naturally, it was about his solo tour. Australia had always been a country of great stress for him. Not only was it his homeland, it brought back memories of happier times: carefree, loving times. Times of rolling in the daisies with puppy dogs and butterflies, a rainbow stretching through the deep blue skies above...

I'm sorry, thats the wrong narration.

Anyway, happier times awaited him in Australia...or so he hoped. Because it was his home country, he needed to be successful there. He needed to hear the thousands of voices echoing throughout a Sydney stadium, all packed and sweaty and waiting for just him.

He was a rock star. He even had the hair to prove it. But something was missing...

His forehead wrinkles deepened minutely.

Perhaps he was lonely. The rest of his backing band and entourage had flown ahead of him to delay any melee of screaming teenagers and press at the gate. He would arrive six hours after they had and sneak out to a discreetly hidden limousine near the loading concourse.

But really, that couldn't be it. Because he didn't particularly miss the rest of the musicians he'd been working with - except for perhaps Lee - and certainly not Leonie. He needed the space, he admitted to himself. Space to be himself for a few hours, no pampering or hair styling or warm ups.

What was it, then? He'd eaten, he'd shaved, he was even wearing comfortable clothes.

Maybe it was the sex, Darren suddenly thought, catching his own reflection in the tiny triple-thick plastic window he sat next to. He shook his head. No time for sex. Too busy marketing. Besides, sex always led to more brooding.

Which Darren was very good at.

The brooding, not the sex.

Not to say he wasn't good at sex, mind you. Just...out of practice. Because he'd been so busy avoiding it. And brooding took up so much of his time.

All of these sulky thoughts flitted across his face, and Darren tried once more to smooth out his forehead, pulling back on his scalp. Maybe it was time for a face lift, he thought. Almost thirty-one. Not so young anymore. Not so appealing. Maybe that was why he hadn't had sex. Maybe he needed to see his doctor about Viagra.

With a snarl and a snort, Darren tossed his headphones against the back of the chair in front of him and slouched farther into his own cushy-backed seat.

"Is this seat taken?" A deep, thoroughly amused voice wrapped around Darren's indignation and uncoiled it. Before he could even respond, there was an unwelcome body in the isle seat next to his. Blocking him in. Darren had purchased the two seats just to prevent this, and planned on telling the man so just as soon as he could find the ticket stubs in his jacket.

"Look here, sir," Darren said, looking up with furrowed brow, and...oh...that smile...

Daniel cocked one eyebrow, waiting for Darren to continue his tirade. Instead, the singer gaped like a landed fish, one hand still stuck in the inside jacket pocket. He'd forgotten how to blink.

Daniel smiled again, and he forgot how to brood.

"Hope you don't mind," the intruder said casually, settling back into his seat. "I was on my way back from the loo and noticed you on the verge of a tantrum. What's troubling you?"

"Why..." Darren attempted, pulling his hand from his jacket. "Why are you here?"

Daniel smiled again, and Darren wondered if he'd have to put on sunglasses before he was blinded by the brilliant glow. "My band," he pointed to himself, "is opening for your band." He poked Darren in the arm. "Remember?"

Darren nodded. "Right. Of course. Why aren't you already in Sydney?"

He thumbed to the rear of the plane. "The guys - they're in economy, with me - they wanted to fly in instead of drive. We finally convinced the company to allocate us travel money."

"Mm." responded Darren. Here is the awkward part of the conversation when one party realizes he has nothing more to say that could possibly be of any interest to the other party.

Daniel stretched out one long leg into the isle and folded his hands contentedly over his stomach. "So, what's the trouble?"

"Trouble?" muttered Darren, confused.

Poking him once in the forehead (in between wrinkle three and four) Daniel replied, "You've been brooding. What's the trouble?"

With a grumble and a swatted attempt at brushing his ex-band mate off, Darren clamed up and refused to play patient to this oh-so-willing doctor. "It's none of your business," he said snottily.

Daniel drummed his fingers on his stomach for approximately .02 seconds before spinning in his seat and leaning into Darrens personal space. He pointed one accusing finger at him and leaned in to whisper: "It's sex, isn't it."

Darren forgot his clamminess and repeated harshly, "It's none of your business!"

Snickering with glee, Daniel leaned back again. "It is! How long has it been, Darren? Come on, you can tell me."

"It's not sex." Darren defended himself.

"Me thinks you doth protest too much." Daniel looked like the cat who caught the canary. Or some other equally smug animal expression. "How long?"

Darren grumbled.

"Eh? What was that?" Daniel cupped his ear.

"I said, eleven months."

"Eleven MONTHS!" Daniel howled, laughing and covering his eyes.

"Keep it down!" Darren yelped, pulling on one of Daniel's splayed limbs. "You want the whole plane to know?"

"Well maybe if the whole plane knew, you'd get some." Daniel replied devilishly. "Has it really been that long? Wow..." He took a few moments to contemplate the impossibility of the situation, and ended up shaking his head in disbelief. "Well I know it wasn't me. So who was it with, that put you on this involuntary chastity vow?"

"My hair stylist." Darren muttered, humiliated.

"Your hair stylist?" Daniel tipped his head to one side, examining the other man. "Now tell me, was this before, or after, he started fucking up your hair?"

Darren gasped with fury and his hands clamped to his head. "What's wrong with my hair?!"

"Tell you what," Daniel began, leaning in close to him again and pulling down Darren's arms from atop his head. "What say you if I offer to end your dry spell?"

"You want to do my hair?" Darren whispered.

"I want to have sex with you." Daniel replied, a half-grin warming his face.

"Now?!" Darren whispered. "Here?!"

Daniel grabbed Darren's hand. "Is that a yes?"

"No!"

"Is that a no?"

"No...it's....Daniel, we can't." Darren suddenly became very serious and pulled his hand away. "I can't have casual sex with you."

Daniel leaned his chin in his hand and examined the singer again. "And why not?"

"Because..." Darren grasped for a reason. "Because it would only lead to trouble between us."

"We used to have casual sex." Daniel reasoned out of the corner of his mouth.

"And it broke up the band!" Darren accused.

Daniel nodded sagely. "And now that the band is broken up, what's to keep us from having even better casual sex?"

Darren was stumped, and Daniel knew it.

"Come on," Daniel said, tugging on the other mans arm. "It'll be fun. In the loo. It's big enough...and I'll let you do that thing."

That caught his attention. "The one where..."

"Yup." Daniel nodded. "There's a pretty sturdy towel rack in there. But you'd better leave your coat. Remember what happened last time," he cautioned.

Darren was already stripping off his jacket. "Daniel, I don't want to lead you on..."

Daniel laughed, surprised. "Darren, you haven't had sex in eleven months. You're going to have bigger concerns than me in a few minutes." He stood up slowly. "Much bigger." Daniel winked and leaned on the back of the chair in front of him before sidling off. "Give me about thirty seconds."

Darren nodded dumbly, already unlacing his shoes.

Brooding could wait. He would have plenty of time to relearn that later.