Pilot Miguel - Part 1 - Pilot
You're a member of cabin crew for AracnAir, a commercial airliner and today is Miguel's first day as Captain. Will it be a soaring success? Or will it crash and burn - his first day - not the plane...
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Word count - 3675
I don't think there is any potential triggering content in this chapter.
This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI
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You sit in your car looking into your flip down mirror as you check your makeup. It’s immaculate - it has to be. No single strand of hair out of place, pulled into a tight, neat bun. You look perfect, just how a member of an airliner’s cabin crew should; clean, presentable and stunning. You practise a bright white smile before slamming the sun-shade back up against the ceiling of your car. Then you open your door and slide out.
As you lock your car, you spot a group of other cabin crew across the car park. They too, are wearing the same uniform. A regal purple smart jacket, with the same colour pencil skirt or trousers. They could well be on the same flight as you.
Your purple heels click across the carpark as you drag your small travel case behind you. You’ll be flying for about eight hours today to Acapulco, Mexico and you’ll be staying over for two days before flying back. This is one of the many perks of being part of a cabin crew; seeing the world and being paid for it. This job does come with its challenges however…
After signing up to join AracnAir, you underwent intense and serious training; learning every emergency procedure and then performing them under extremely realistic scenarios. You have had to put out a real fire in a training fuselage, and activate the large exit chutes that become life rafts if the plane has to ditch into water and stage an evacuation suspended over a giant swimming pool.
You don’t just fly in one type of plane either, so your training included learning the ins and outs of every model that is in the airliner’s fleet. Learning the differences isn’t enough, you’re tested, yearly. Making sure you’re up to scratch and on the ball. If you fail the test, back to training you go.
Nueva York airport is a clean but bustling, expansive building. Long queues are forming before the check-in desks, snaking their way back towards the entrance. Bright white lights shine down and reflect off of the polished tiled floor.
The group of purple jackets are still ahead of you, as you follow them to your designated check-in area. In the small queue, you hear a couple of girls in front of you gossiping excitedly. A new pilot is to be flying with AracnAir today. New to the company, but a highly experienced flyer.
“He’s due to be piloting a flight this morning, I hear he’s handsome. I hope he’s on my flight.”
You silently scoff behind them, rolling your eyes in the process. It’s funny how excited they are considering that if he was on their flight they’ll hardly see him.
The queue inches further forward at a reasonable pace. You have your passport at the ready. With no large suitcases to check-in, you go through towards security rather quickly.
This is all fairly routine stuff. You put your hand luggage into a little crate on the rollers, along with your handbag, cellphone and shoes. No alarm goes off as you step through the metal detector and you’re able to pick up your cleared luggage on the other side.
After security, you walk through the duty free section. You’re greeted with a path winding all the way around the different stalls crammed with expensive perfume and colognes, oversized chocolate bars, trinkets and souvenirs, sunglasses, hats, you name it, it’s probably there.
Before getting onto the flight, you have to meet with your assigned crew and answer a couple of questions about the plane you’ll be working on. Once arriving at the staff lounge, you discover those girls who were in front of you in the queue are not on your flight. You wonder if they have got what they wished for and have the new pilot be their captain.
Your supervisor for the flight begins her usual pre-flight spiel. Today you’re flying on a Boeing-747. Presented with a technical question, you answer it correctly proving your readiness to fly.
“Oh and the Captain and co-pilot for today’s flight are Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker,” your supervisor mentions as two suited men enter the staff lounge.
Before seeing them, you smile as you’re fond of Peter, the First Officer. He’s been on several of your flights and is a very cheeky, spirited human being. But the name O’Hara, that’s a new one. No… is he the new Captain?
Your eyes glance up immediately at the thought, just to see if this guy really is as good looking as they say. Oh my… He’s tall - very tall, dark and certainly, incredibly handsome.
Unlike Peter, he’s wearing a stern expression on his face. Could it be first day nerves? Nah… He looks more… annoyed than nervous. Immediately you sense that both Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker are totally on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Grumpy and serious versus light-hearted and fun.
His pilot’s hat hides most of his dark hair, but you see his stunningly tanned skin. You try not to, but it’s hard to resist dropping your jaw at the sight of his facial features. Cheekbones that could cut diamond, dark brown eyes that’ll melt anyone’s heart, and those plump lips… your mind begins to run wild at the thought of what they could do. Looking around, you see several of your crewmates doing the same. Lucky for all of you, the Captain doesn’t seem to notice.
It’s time to enter the plane and get things set up. You’re usually stationed in first class, and today is no different. After stowing your little hand luggage case and handbag away in a locker, you get to business pouring glasses of champagne and begin preparing bags of snacks and goodies for the first class passengers.
The main theme for AracnAir is purple, hence the colour of your uniform. Within the plane, there are purple curtains that separate the different classes from one another and purple cushions and blankets are laid out neatly on each seat.
You’re in the zone, you have a nice routine that you stick to at the beginning of each flight. Opening various cupboards, you check the stock of different items in the galley. Everything looks to be in order. You stand up after crouching down, looking into one of the lower cupboards. Your back bumps into something big and the sound of a grunt follows.
“Oh!” you give out a little surprised yelp before turning round to see who you just inadvertently backed into.
Dark brown eyes glare down at you, they squint slightly as if he’s trying to control his temper. A low growl rumbles from deep within the Captain’s chest. Seeing him before getting onboard you knew he was tall, but up close, it’s a wonder how he can still stand up straight in the plane. His giant-like frame looms over you.
“I- I’m s- sorry Captain…” you stutter as your face instantly heats up.
You’re not really known to stutter but his intensity in that moment made your brain short circuit, and not in a good way.
A pale hand grasps around what looks like an incredibly large bicep underneath the Captain’s jacket.
“Come on big guy,” Peter encourages Captain O’Hara to move forward.
“Don’t worry (Y/N), he’s too big for his own good,” he whispers, but still loud enough for him to hear.
An unimpressed grumble comes from the larger pilot as Peter pushes him forward. “Come on, this way to the cockpit, I’m sure you know where that is…”
You giggle at First Officer Parker’s joke as he turns his head back to you and gives you a cheeky wink.
“Not funny, Parker.”
“What? (Y/N) found it funny…”
You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as they turn left into the narrow alley before entering the cockpit.
People are starting to come on board. You grab the first tray of champagne glasses and get ready to greet first class. It’s showtime, and you break out your trusty smile and say hello to the first passenger you see. But in the back of your mind, those dark brown eyes remain burned into your memory…
Once in the cockpit, the Captain takes his hat and jacket off and hangs them up. Then, he awkwardly situates himself in his chair on the left-hand side of the cockpit. His chair clicks into place after he pushes it as far back as he can to make room for his long, muscular legs.
Peter flumps into his seat on the right and sighs as he also re-arranges his seating position.
“Man, I gotta stop eating those burgers in the terminal,” he pauses as he pats his tummy.
“Starting to rock the ‘dad-bod’ look. Although, I hear that’s now a thing that the ladies like…”
The Captain doesn’t respond as he searches for the plane’s flight log, to check previous flights, any reported issues and its history of maintenance.
“Have you given your controls the ‘once over’ yet, Parker?” he asks in hope that’ll keep his First Officer occupied and quiet.
Peter sits up straighter in his chair and obediently does his checks. He may be a bit of a clown, but he understands that safety is important.
Leafing through the pages of the log book, the Captain seems satisfied with the plane’s history. All seems to be in good working order - it is a relatively new aircraft afterall. He puts the book down in the slot next to his chair and begins his own checks on his controls.
The silence between the two pilots makes Peter feel uncomfortable. He’s more of a chatty person and likes to joke around while he works. To fill the awkward silence, he begins talking again.
“There’s a spot on a beach with my name on it in Acap-”
“Do we have a weather report?” Captain O’Hara interrupts, his sweet moment of silence ended far too soon.
“Oh, yeah - here.”
Peter leans forward and passes a print out of today’s weather report for the flight.
Silence fills the cockpit once again as the Captain inspects the report. The forecast looks decent for smooth flying for the next seven to eight hours. He puts the A4 printout next to the log book.
“Begin pre-flight checks,” he instructs his co-pilot sternly as he places his headset on and grabs his checklist.
Peter also dons his headset and waits for Miguel to begin.
“Parking Brake…”
“Set.”
“Throttle…”
“Idle.”
“Fuel Flow…”
“Cutoff.”
The back and forth continues as the Captain ticks off the pre-flight checks until he is satisfied with the plane’s readiness.
Every first class passenger has been offered a free glass of champagne and are happily sitting comfortably in their pricey seats.
After stowing away the used glasses in the galley, you hear an announcement from the cockpit.
“All cabin crew prepare for take-off.”
That’s the Captain’s voice, it’s certainly not Peter’s. You find yourself liking the sound of him even if he is direct and to the point.
Your pre-flight preparations begin with making sure your passengers in first class are seated and have their seat belts fastened. You patrol the small section of the fuselage as your head turns left and right, eyes low, checking for buckled seat belts and that the chairs are in an upright position.
Once your passenger checks are done, you gather the flight safety demonstration equipment and stand at the front of one aisle. A screen unfolds from the ceiling and begins to play a video. Cheesy but cheerful music plays as a woman’s voice starts talking about how there should be no smoking on board and the evacuation procedure should the plane need to make an emergency landing.
Now it’s your turn. You point out the emergency exits for first class, place the life-jacket over your head and around your neck, tie it around your waist and fasten the buckle. As the demonstration takes place, the plane rumbles its way along the tarmac as it taxies to the runway. You’re so well practised at this that the soft bumps don’t bother you anymore as the aircraft navigates its way through the maze of tarmac.
The demonstration ends and you swiftly put away your safety instruction equipment before finding your jumpseat and strapping yourself in. Facing the passengers in front of you, you watch them all carefully as the plane begins its final turn before reaching the long stretch of tarmac lit up with lights.
All four engines whirr healthily away as the aircraft is about to make its final turn onto the runway.
“Set flaps to twenty,” the Captain instructs.
After Peter turns a dial, a mechanical noise vibrates through the fuselage as the flaps on the wings begin to move to their set position.
Captain O’Hara switches landing and strobe lights on and enables the autothrottle, while Peter locks in the final settings before takeoff.
Air traffic control gives the all clear to take off, and the pilots begin to push the throttles forward slowly. The aircraft starts its roll forward along the tarmac, gradually building up speed as the engines roar, increasing thrust.
The aircraft rattles and rumbles loudly as it screams down the runway. The Captain watches the equipment on his console and keeps the plane steady.
At the right time, Captain O’Hara pulls the yoke back, causing the nose of the plane to rise, its large wings catching the rushing air.
Eventually the back landing gear lifts from the ground too, making the plane totally airborne. Everyone feels the dipping sensation in their stomachs as the plane’s thrust pulls them down into their seats.
Once at a certain altitude, the Captain presses a button to bring in the landing gear, stowing the wheels into the plane’s underbelly.
“Nice one Captain,” Peter congratulates his new colleague, but he’s met with no response.
“Climb to forty thousand feet and maintain altitude in a southwesterly direction until you are advised to change,” a woman from the air traffic control tower at the airport they had just departed from speaks over the radio.
“Understood. Climbing to forty thousand feet and maintaining altitude in the southwest direction,” Captain O’Hara responds in a confident but stern tone.
The plane remains nose up for quite a while as it gradually climbs in altitude. Passing the first layer of large fluffy white clouds.
At last the aircraft has levelled out flying at roughly six hundred miles an hour. The flight path takes them over the southern parts of the USA and across Mexico to the popular holiday destination.
The seat belt signs switch off with an audible ‘bing’ and the cabin crew rise from their seats to begin their regular flight duties.
Soon, they will have to prepare lunch to be served to the passengers. But first, Duty-Free booklets and headphones are handed out for everyone to peruse or enjoy the inflight entertainment system.
In the galley, you begin organising food for first class when your supervisor pokes her head into the tiny kitchen-like area.
“Sweety, can you ask the boys what they want for lunch, then come and let me know?” she asks, jerking her head towards the cockpit when she mentioned ‘the boys’.
“Yeah, sure,” you reply.
You knock on the cockpit door and enter a security code to unlock and open it.
“Ah! (Y/N) is it lunchtime already?” First Officer Parker asks hopefully turning in his seat to see you.
You give him a sweet smile.
“Of course. What would you both like? Beef or vegetarian?”
Captain O’Hara never turns to look at who came into the room but feels two sets of eyes looking at him.
“Beef,” he manages to grunt out eventually.
Flight Officer Parker grimaces - he wants beef; but pilots can’t eat the same meals, in case there is something in it that makes them both sick.
“I guess I’m having vegetarian then,” replies Peter.
You give Peter a sympathetic smile and turn to leave the cockpit.
“So, uh, you’re a man of few words,” the First Officer comments as he keeps his gaze forward, watching the bubbly clouds pass below them.
No response, the awkwardness between the two deepens. The First Officer bites his lip and starts to ask another question.
“First day nerves?”
“Parker, I have over five thousand flight hours with this type of plane. I am not nervous. I just don’t like meaningless chit chat.”
Silence descends upon the both of them again - apart from the constant roar of engines. The lack of conversation is perfect for the Captain but absolute hell for the First Officer.
With the 747 on autopilot, the two pilots can relax a little more. They’re not due to check in with the next air traffic control tower for another thirty minutes.
The Captain occasionally casts a keen eye over the apparatus, looking at the artificial horizon, checking wind speed and altitude, everything perfectly normal.
His mind goes back to how you bumped into him earlier before takeoff. Even though he said nothing to you, he feels like perhaps he was an asshole for just glaring at you. It was an accident after all. He remembers the smell of your sweet and floral perfume filling his nostrils in the galley. He likes that smell-
A sudden shake of his head snaps him out of that mindset. He can’t be thinking like that…
The relative silence is interrupted again as you return, knocking on the door and entering.
“Here you go boys. Vegetarian for you.” You hand Peter his meal first as you watch him lick his lips - beef or no beef, he’s hungry.
“And beef for you, Captain.”
There’s that enchanting smell again. He wasn’t exactly listening to you speak when you entered, but your perfume alerts him to your presence.
Slowly he turns his head, peeling his unblinking gaze from the horizon and looking at you. Then his eyes land on the meal you are holding out for him.
“Thanks.”
His hand takes the tray gently from you but then he turns away quickly after without uttering another word.
“Mmm, this is so good…” Peter mumbles with a mouthful, taking your attention from the pensive Captain.
“Peter, I’m certain you’re the only person in the world who likes plane food,” you comment with a playful grin.
“Hey - it’s food! Course I’m gonna like it. Oh, by the way, if there’s any spare packs of biscuits, I wouldn’t mind one - or two.”
Raising an eyebrow and smirking up a storm, you produce two packets of biscuits from your jacket pocket, as if by magic.
“Ahh, you’re an angel!” he gasps in surprise.
“I knew you’d ask for one.”
Peter reaches out, his fingers try to grip both packets.
“Nah, ah… one for you.”
You hand Peter one packet.
“And one for you.”
You lean over the Captain and place the pack on his food tray. Your scent fills his nostrils more. He flinches slightly at your sudden unexpected space invasion but he soon relaxes when he sees what you’re doing.
“A peace offering for earlier.”
The stern look in his eyes wavers slightly, but unseen by you. In reality, you didn’t need to do that. It should really be him apologising, but right now he doesn’t really want to talk.
“Gracias,” (thank you) he mutters quietly.
Peter looks at you like you have betrayed him.
“But I usually get two packets!”
Honestly, it’s like dealing with a child when you’re with Peter, you roll your eyes and chuckle.
“You’ll get another one later, how’s that?” you ask.
The Flight Officer is easily swayed, especially where food is concerned. He gives a happy shrug and continues to eat his meal.
With a smile spread across your face, you leave the cockpit. The Captain’s word of thanks lingers in your mind. ‘Gracias’...
The rest of the flight is fairly uneventful; little to no turbulence, passengers are happy and not too demanding. You occasionally visit the cockpit to check on the pilots to see if they need refreshments. Whilst they both drink plenty of water, the Captain also seems to be a huge coffee fan.
Peter looks as though he’s dying of boredom. He usually enjoys talking while flying but his colleague is essentially a brick wall. Your visits to the cockpit brightens him up even if it is for a brief amount of time.
Landing is perfect and purely textbook. No hard bump as the landing gear connects with the tarmac and no ‘kangarooing’; bouncing the plane down the runway.
Now at a complete stop, parked next to the terminal, cabin crew say goodbye to disembarking passengers, wishing them a pleasant time in Acapulco, while Captain O’Hara and Flight Officer Parker finish the final checklist.
You and the rest of the cabin crew step off of the plane, greeted by the exotic mid afternoon heat as you walk through the tunnel leading into the main building. It immediately feels stuffy under your thick, shoulder-padded jacket. You can’t wait to check into your hotel and relax by the pool or on the beach.
Some of the other cabin crew members make plans for partying hard that evening as they line up in front of you at customs. You’re not really into that kind of thing, although you might enjoy the bar, just a little bit tonight. Peter will be there, he’s always good company. Then you think about the Captain. Your heart thuds slightly at the thought. You wonder what he’ll be doing…
Joining at the end of the queue at customs, Peter and Captain O’Hara arrive, dragging their own small cases behind them. They stand behind you, in silence. That is until Peter knows it’s you in front and steps forward to talk to you instead.
The sound of talking is drowned out as the Captain checks his phone. A frown grows across his face as he sees several emails come into his inbox. It seems impossible but his already crappy mood plummets even further.
I hope you enjoy the Pilot chapter of Pilot Miguel - see what I did there? Tee hee.
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