Chapter Text
ROUTE: LAX → SIN
Wei Wuxian notices him the moment he steps into the crew briefing room.
The room doesn’t change. The air does.
Not because of rank.
Because Captain Lan Wangji looks like something otherworldly.
Pilot Captain’s epaulettes sit perfectly on broad shoulders. White shirt pressed crisp without a single crease. Black tie straight as a rule that refuses to bend. Hair tied back with flawless precision, revealing an exquisitely beautiful face so controlled it borders on ethereal—cool pale skin, chiseled jawline, long lashes that make his glacial gaze feel heavier than it should.
And his eyes—
Golden gemstones. Penetrating. Observant in a way that makes Wei Wuxian feel briefly… seen.
Which is annoying.
Wei Wuxian smiles anyway.
“Well,” he says brightly, sliding into his seat. “Captain Lan. Still terrifyingly beautiful and emotionally unavailable, I see.”
A few crew members choke on laughter as he continues to chatter.
Lan Wangji doesn’t react.
Not outwardly.
But his eyes flick to Wei Wuxian.
Hold.
Then away.
“Briefing begins,” he says.
That’s it.
That’s all.
Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, smirking like a cat eyeing a glass on the edge of a table. “Oh,” he murmurs under his breath, as the Captain goes through his check-list, rules and regulations. “…This flight will be fun.”
BOARDING — LAX (Los Angeles)
Inflight Manager Wei Wuxian stands at the passenger cabin door.
Teasing smile.
Overflowing confidence.
Flirty announcements.
Brimming chaos underneath.
He is the kind of flight attendant passengers remember and rule abiding pilots try not to.
Black uniform tailored narrow at the waist, accenting a muscular lean, flexible frame built more for movement than stillness. The cut of the trousers leaves very little to the imagination—not improper, just… unfortunate for anyone trying not to notice his ample assets. Expressively handsome face, sharp grin, silver twinkling eyes that never stay where they’re supposed to.
And right now—
they’re on Lan Wangji.
Who passes him without looking.
Except he does look.
Just once.
Fleeting full body scan.
Controlled.
Like it cost him something.
Wei Wuxian catches it anyway.
“Oh,” he murmurs as Lan Wangji walks past into the cockpit. “That’s new.”
COCKPIT — CRUISE
Cruising altitude stabilizes.
Cabin dims.
Seatbelt sign off.
Wei Wuxian takes his time.
Too much time—arriving later than routine.
When he finally knocks and enters, Co-Pilot Lan Xichen looks up first—warm, amused.
Lan Wangji does not.
He is reading instruments like they might misbehave if he stops.
Wei Wuxian steps inside anyway.
“Cockpit check,” he says lightly.
Lan Xichen smiles. “All stable.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes drift—unapologetically—to Lan Wangji.
Captain profile: clean, severe, unapproachable aura. Hands steady on the controls. Forearms visible under rolled sleeves—strong, controlled tension.
Like restraint made physical.
Wei Wuxian leans slightly closer, giddy.
“Anything you need, Captain… or are you still pretending you don’t?”
Lan Wangji finally looks at him.
And something in the air tightens.
“No.”
Wei Wuxian smiles.
“That sounds boring.”
A beat.
Lan Wangji’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on the yoke.
“Ridiculous.”
Wei Wuxian hums. “Mm. Not even a little tempted?”
Silence.
Their usual sexual tension amped up…and the air could now be cut with a blade.
Then Lan Xichen stands.
“I’m taking a quick break, since you being here satisfies the two person safety protocol.”
“I will… return later,” with a gentle, resigned smile.
The door closes slowly behind him.
Silence thickens…
IN FLIGHT
Wei Wuxian leans against the cockpit frame.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he teases.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies.
“You haven’t looked at me once since we boarded.”
“I am flying the aircraft.”
Wei Wuxian smiles like turbulence is an invitation.
“Excuses.”
Lan Wangji finally turns fully.
His eyes are predatory now.
Focused.
“You are distracting.”
Wei Wuxian blinks.
Then smiles wider.
“Oh?”
A step closer.
“You mean I’m captivating.”
“Shameless.”
Wei Wuxian leans in.
“For you…Captain.”
Wei Wuxian’s fingers catch the edge of Lan Wangji’s perfectly aligned tie—just for a second.
Lan Wangji does not move away.
Silence.
Then—
Lan Wangji stands, and presses autopilot.
The shift is immediate.
Not rushed.
Not aggressive.
Decisive.
He steps closer until Wei Wuxian has to tilt his head up. “You enjoy provoking me, Wei Ying” Lan Wangji says tightly.
Wei Wuxian shrugs lightly.
“Definitely.”
That stops everything.
For half a breath.
“This is wildly inappropriate,” Lan Wangji says—but doesn’t step back.
Then Lan Wangji reaches out—grips his wrist firm, possessive.
“Mark my words, You will regret persisting.”
Wei Wuxian’s pulse jumps.
But his grin doesn’t fade.
“Try me, Lan Zhan.”
That’s the breaking point.
Lan Wangji pulls him in.
Not rough.
Controlled force.
Wei Wuxian hits the cockpit wall softly, breath stuttering—
and then he pants.
Breathless.
“Finally.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer and he does not hesitate.
Not this time.
Wei Wuxian becomes aware of details he notices more sharply: the steady rise of Lan Wangji’s chest, the heat of him even in stillness, the clean line of his throat when he speaks with that low resonant voice.
Wei Wuxian’s breath catches first—then his smile disappears entirely as Lan Wangji pulls him in, gripping the nape of his neck.
The kiss is not rushed.
It is precise—commanding, then devouring and filthy.
Like something that has been restrained for too long and finally allowed to exist.
Wei Wuxian makes a small moan—then a wimper that never fully forms, swallowed between them.
“You—” he starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t let him finish the sentence.
He presses their grinding bodies together and kisses him untamed and without restraint.
DESCENT — SIN (Singapore)
On the horizon, Changi Airport lights bloom below like scattered stars.
Wei Wuxian adjusts his tie in the reflection of the cockpit glass.
Lips kiss swollen.
Eyes dilated.
Lan Wangji sits at the controls like nothing happened.
Except—
his hand settles briefly at Wei Wuxian’s hip as he passes.
Not accidental.
Not lingering.
Claiming.
Wei Wuxian’s smile curves, slow and satisfied.
“Oh, Captain,” he murmurs, voice low, “you’re in trouble.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t look at him.
“You misunderstand.”
A pause.
Wei Wuxian’s fingers still on his collar—just for a fraction too long.
Then he laughs, soft, anticipatory.
“Do I?”
Lan Wangji finally turns his head.
Not fully.
Just enough.
His gaze is steady. Measuring.
Unmoved.
“You persist,” he says quietly.
“As you wish.”
The words land heavier than they should.
Something in Wei Wuxian’s chest tightens—quick, unexpected—
and is gone just as fast, smoothed over by a grin.
“Careful, Captain,” he says lightly. “That almost sounded like a promise.”
Lan Wangji reaches out then—assertive, unhurried—
and straightens Wei Wuxian’s tie.
Perfect again.
His fingers brush once against his throat before withdrawing.
“It is.”
The cockpit door opens.
Lan Xichen steps in, gaze sweeping once between them—taking in just enough.
A faint, knowing smile touches his lips.
“Did I miss anything?”
Wei Wuxian is already moving past him, easy, fluid—
but there’s something new in the curve of his mouth.
“Not at all,” he says. “Just getting started.”
But his pulse hasn’t settled.
Behind him—
“Prepare for landing Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says.
Calm. Controlled.
Seemingly untouched.