![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Whumpcember day 4 (day 2 observed): Shortness of Breath
The day 2 prompt is "avalanche" and I have a partly written thing for that, which I've been struggling with, but since that's not done, I *do* have one for day 4 and it's a short sweet thing with Biggles and Algy and flying, so I'll give you that instead.
Day 4: Shortness of Breath
Biggles's hands were sure on the controls as the machine bumped off the ground, leaving behind a rapidly fading stutter of gunfire that missed them entirely. Biggles glanced over at Algy in the co-pilot's seat and flashed him a quick grin. Even the dull throbbing in his side from the beating he'd taken fighting off gun-runners back on the island hardly bothered him in the rush of adrenalin of their escape.
His triumph faded as they climbed, the ache in his side growing into a sharp, stabbing pain. The sky was clear blue, with no sign of turbulence, but Biggles found himself struggling to control the aeroplane. His breath came in short gasps, and spots danced in front of his eyes. He couldn't seem to get enough air.
"Biggles?" He became aware of Algy leaned between the seats, gripping a fistful of his jacket. "What's happening?"
Biggles shook his head. It felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, pressing the air out of him. "Take over," he gasped.
"What's wrong with you?" Algy demanded, even as his hands were sure and steady on the backup yoke. He kept casting alarmed glances at Biggles, who was fumbling for the oxygen mask that the unpressurized plane carried as standard equipment.
With dark spots blooming in his vision, Biggles couldn't tell him to drop their altitude. He could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat, and there was a buzzing in his ears. He lost a little time, and came back to himself leaning back in his seat, with Algy leaning over precariously to hold the oxygen mask over his mouth. Algy had unfastened his seat harness and had one hip off his seat, hanging dangerously between the two seats while keeping one hand on the stick and his other hand on Biggles's mask.
Biggles weakly tried to wave him off, gave him a thumbs up, and fumbled until he managed to get his hand on the mask. Algy, with an effort, pushed himself back into his seat. The plane wobbled, and Biggles caught a glimpse of sun-glittering ocean out his window, the wavetops very close. Algy had brought them down until they were almost on top of it; they couldn't be flying more than a couple hundred feet up. Then the plane straightened out, and Biggles drew a few more deep breaths through the mask, half-closing his eyes. He opened them to find Algy scowling at him.
"It was that kick in the ribs back on the island, wasn't it?" Algy said. "You said you were fine!"
Biggles pulled the mask away from his mouth to protest weakly, "I thought I was fine. The altitude change—"
Algy slung himself sideways out of the seat to push the mask back over Biggles's face, as the plane wobbled wildly. "I don't want to hear another word until we land back at base."
Biggles gave him another weak thumbs up and decided not to argue about it. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
Day 4: Shortness of Breath
Biggles's hands were sure on the controls as the machine bumped off the ground, leaving behind a rapidly fading stutter of gunfire that missed them entirely. Biggles glanced over at Algy in the co-pilot's seat and flashed him a quick grin. Even the dull throbbing in his side from the beating he'd taken fighting off gun-runners back on the island hardly bothered him in the rush of adrenalin of their escape.
His triumph faded as they climbed, the ache in his side growing into a sharp, stabbing pain. The sky was clear blue, with no sign of turbulence, but Biggles found himself struggling to control the aeroplane. His breath came in short gasps, and spots danced in front of his eyes. He couldn't seem to get enough air.
"Biggles?" He became aware of Algy leaned between the seats, gripping a fistful of his jacket. "What's happening?"
Biggles shook his head. It felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, pressing the air out of him. "Take over," he gasped.
"What's wrong with you?" Algy demanded, even as his hands were sure and steady on the backup yoke. He kept casting alarmed glances at Biggles, who was fumbling for the oxygen mask that the unpressurized plane carried as standard equipment.
With dark spots blooming in his vision, Biggles couldn't tell him to drop their altitude. He could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat, and there was a buzzing in his ears. He lost a little time, and came back to himself leaning back in his seat, with Algy leaning over precariously to hold the oxygen mask over his mouth. Algy had unfastened his seat harness and had one hip off his seat, hanging dangerously between the two seats while keeping one hand on the stick and his other hand on Biggles's mask.
Biggles weakly tried to wave him off, gave him a thumbs up, and fumbled until he managed to get his hand on the mask. Algy, with an effort, pushed himself back into his seat. The plane wobbled, and Biggles caught a glimpse of sun-glittering ocean out his window, the wavetops very close. Algy had brought them down until they were almost on top of it; they couldn't be flying more than a couple hundred feet up. Then the plane straightened out, and Biggles drew a few more deep breaths through the mask, half-closing his eyes. He opened them to find Algy scowling at him.
"It was that kick in the ribs back on the island, wasn't it?" Algy said. "You said you were fine!"
Biggles pulled the mask away from his mouth to protest weakly, "I thought I was fine. The altitude change—"
Algy slung himself sideways out of the seat to push the mask back over Biggles's face, as the plane wobbled wildly. "I don't want to hear another word until we land back at base."
Biggles gave him another weak thumbs up and decided not to argue about it. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
no subject
no subject
no subject
The combination of chest injury and altitude makes perfect sense for this, and of course Algy will go to any sort of desperate manoeuvre to help him, including flying a plane with one hand and holding an oxygen mask on him with the other <333
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Get you a best friend who'll fly a plane with one hand while holding an oxygen mask on your stupid face with the other <333
no subject
I feel like this sums up their relationship in the best possible way. :D (I love them.) Thank you!
no subject
Biggles is darling as always, but Algy is the MVP of the story if only because this is probably not the first or last time he'll be in this situation.
I loved this!
♥♥♥
no subject
Thank you!