Characters: Blaine, Sebastian

Rating: T

Summary: Author Sebastian Smythe is seated next to notorious reality star and party boy Devon Dalton on a non-stop flight from LA to Paris. Will a game of 5 questions help them realize they have more in common than they thought?

Note: This is another "out of my box" attempt. Hope it worked.

Sebastian hated airports. He was a sitting duck for people to come over and ask him to sign a copy of one of his books or take a photo. Today it didn't help that he had a huge headache. The meeting about adapting his first novel into a movie had taken two hours longer than scheduled, which prevented him from taking a shower before he caught his flight. He felt sorry for whatever poor bastard that got stuck next to him.

We are now boarding First Class passengers for flight 822, non-stop Los Angeles to Paris. Once again, we are only boarding First Class passengers at this time.

He never understood why First Class passengers were seated first. Yes, you got to get settled before others boarded, but it also meant that every other person that boarded the plane walked past you and knew where you were sitting. That had been a problem for him in the past, which was why he had chosen this particular airline. They had made a conscious effort to increase privacy for their First Class passengers.

When he boarded he showed his ticket to a not so bad looking flight attendant, who immediately had an expression of sympathy wash over his face. He motioned for Sebastian to step forward, but not before picking up what appeared to be a glass of scotch on the rocks.

"We are so, so sorry Mr. Smythe" the attendant told him, which made him uneasy to say the least "There was nothing we could do since all of our First Class seats were booked. If we have a no show, I'll get you moved as soon as possible." Before Sebastian could ask the guy what the fuck he was talking about, he pulled back a screen and then handed the glass to a person behind another screen which divided the two seats in. Once again, he had a WTF moment, but he just thanked the attendant, stored his carry on and got comfortable.

He was just about to close his eyes when he heard "You might want to switch seats with me if you want to sleep." At least he now knew the person behind the screen was a guy. In fact, Sebastian recognized his voice but couldn't place it. Then he heard ice swirling in the glass "They've been paid to bring me one of these every hour."

Sebastian was having yet another WTF moment when the guy pulled back the screen. There was no longer a need for an explanation since the guy next to him was Devon Dalton, America's favorite party boy. "Sorry, about all the cloak and dagger shit. I know that's your specialty, but when we were told that I was seated next to writer our thoughts automatically went to tabloid."

"We?"

"Me, my father, my doctor, my lawyer. I have a lot more people if you would like me to go on."

Sebastian smiled despite himself. There was no doubt that Devon was as charming as everyone said he was. He also had 1950's movie star looks, a body (and bank account) to die for and a voice like a dream. The fantasy of every tween girl (and some boys) in America. Devon had even had a minorly successful singing career. Then his family got a reality show and the rest was tabloid history. Sebastian didn't even realize that he was lost in his head until he heard Devon say "Hey, Sebastian. You in there?"

"How do you know my name?" Sebastian asked.

Devon let out a chuckle, but didn't say anything until the attendant handed him his new glass of alcohol "Let's see, you are Sebastian Smythe, best-selling mystery writer, philanthropist and have been featured for the last three years in People's Sexiest Man Alive edition. Yeah, I know your name. Oh, and you so should have beat out Brad Pitt last year." Devon drank down his scotch (now that Sebastian could smell it, it was definitely scotch) before he continued "The only thing wrong with you is that you are stuck on a flight to Paris next to me."

"Well, if you believe that you obviously haven't done as much research on me as you think you have."

"Ooooh, that sounds like a challenge" Devon practically cooed, while flashing a million-watt smile. He hit the call button and not so bad looking attendant was quick to respond "Hi Alex, my friend Mr. Smythe here just gave me a challenge and we need a prize for the winner. Please tell me you have some of those amazing brownies on this flight and if you do, can you bring me the biggest and smallest ones you have?" Alex was back a couple of minutes later with the requested items. Devon put the larger one on his tray table and handed Sebastian the other.

"No fair!"

"Just eat the damn brownie."

Sebastian took a bite and began making sounds that would make a porn star blush "This is so fucking good" he moaned.

"Yes, I know, but you needed to know what exactly you were playing for."

"Mmmm, wha ar ya tawkin bout?" Sebastian said with a mouth full of brownie. Alex must have read his mind because he came back and handed him a glass of milk before handing Devon a fresh glass of what he was drinking.

"What I'm talking about is you implied that your life isn't the happiness and joy that the press portrays it to be. So, we are going to play 5 questions before you fall asleep. Person with the biggest tale of woe wins the big brownie. I saw this in a movie once."

"Fine" Sebastian had nothing to lose. He was actually no longer tired and they had hours before they reached Paris. Plus, Devon had turned out to be rather intriguing "Where do we start?"

"We already have. I thought I'd start with an easy one that we could both answer, What's your guilty pleasure? I read in one of your sexy man articles that your guilty pleasure was chocolate, and from the orgasm you had when you ate the brownie I'm guessing that's right. And before you ask, my guilty pleasure is Phil Collins music. I learned to play drums just so I could play the solo on In the Air Tonight. Your turn to ask."

"Wait, neither one of those was bad. How do we decide a winner? Or is it loser? I really want that brownie."

"Let's go with totality of the questions and I'm sorry but you don't have a chance in hell of winning. So, you start but make it good. Dig deep."

"What's with the scotch?"

"Wow, right to the point. You're good at this."

"Thank you, I try."

Devon was going to give him a bullshit answer, but for some reason he changed his mind "I'm an alcoholic, Sebastian. Before you say anything, here me out. I'm not going to Paris to party, I'm going to a clinic in Switzerland. This isn't rehab, it's a hospital. I'm pretty fucked up."

"Devon, I'm …"

"Don't, ok? To answer your actual question, my doctor literally prescribed me one ounce of scotch an hour so I don't go into withdrawals on the plane."

"Don't they have a medication to help with that?"

"Found out at rehab #2 that I'm allergic to it. Now, my turn. What's the real story about your break-up with Hunter Clarington? You guys were together for two years, right?"

"Yes, we were. Nothing much to say, he wasn't the one. Classic case of I knew it from the beginning but thought I could change him. He was never happy because his job stressed him out. It began to carry over into our relationship. The break-up was sad but it taught me that I need to be with someone who is content with themselves in mind, body and spirt. Two out of three isn't enough. Ok, your turn again. Why did you stop recording?"

"Well, you'd think doing the one thing I loved would be easy when my father owns one of the biggest record labels in music, but I couldn't be me. He dictated what I could sing, my image, pretty much everything. I hated it and told him I wouldn't do it anymore. He had me blackballed from every other music label in LA. Real father of the year shit. Of course, acting like an idiot on a reality show didn't help with convincing other labels to sign me anyway. Being a pompous ass is good for ratings, but it's bad for business."

Before Devon could ask his next question, Alex was back "Gentlemen, we are preparing to land. You'll need to bring up your seats and close the tray table."

"Is there something wrong?" Sebastian asked "Why are we making an unscheduled landing?"

"Mr. Smythe, didn't you hear the captain? We're 20 minutes out of Paris. I'll get you a container for your brownie."

Sebastian and Devon stared at each other. They had been talking for nearly 11 hours and didn't even get through 5 questions. They told each other things about themselves that no one else knew. Neither could figure out what to make of it, but they knew there was something there. Something special.

Alex came back with the brownie and handed it to Devon, assuming it was his. As the plane began it's decent, Devon asked "Sebastian, how do you know if you've found true love?"

"I don't believe that you find true love. True love finds you." Sebastian had been saying that for years, but it had never felt as honest as it did in that moment.

"Here" Devon handed over the brownie "You can tell people you found the love of your life on the flight, or better yet, it found you. You two were obviously in the mile-high club earlier with all of the sounds you were making."

Sebastian couldn't help himself as he reached over and squeezed the hand of the man next to him "You'll do great in Switzerland, Devon. I know you will."

"Blaine."

"Excuse me?"

"My parents were never married and I lived with my mother until she died when I was 7. My father changed my name to Devon Dalton. My real name is Blaine Anderson."

Fifteen months later

Sebastian was ready to pull his hair out. Writer's block can do that to a person. He literally was about to throw his laptop across the room when there was a knock at the door. Maybe he would feel better after some spicy noodles and pot stickers. However, it wasn't Chinese food waiting for him.

"Blaine?" Sebastian couldn't believe it. Devon Dalton had been missing for months. The tabloids had a field day as his family faked their concern to anyone (with a camera) that would listen. But, Blaine Anderson was standing at his door and none of that mattered. He looked healthy. He also looked happy, which Sebastian guessed might be attributed to the acoustic guitar on his back. And thank god, the 1950's movie star look was gone, especially the hair gel. "What are you doing here?"

"You told me that you don't find true love, true love finds you. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good" Blaine may not have been Devon anymore, but the million-watt smile was still there "Sebastian?"

"Yes, Blaine."

"Found you."

Note:

The movie with the brownie is Notting Hill.