this is your captain speaking - akaashi keiji x reader
summary: reader finds herself sitting next to an attractive stranger on her flight to LA and doesn’t know how to cope. (post time skip!) also, no, ‘kenji, zombie hunter’ is not a real manga, I just made it up for this fic.
warnings: alcohol, kind of? idk if airplane wine really counts
Row 23... row 24... 25...
You glanced up at the luggage bins, searching for your seat and awkwardly dragging your suitcase behind you. In all honesty, it was a little too big to be a carry on, but the nice stewardess at airport security let it slide after seeing the dismay on your face when you were told it was oversized. As a senior in college, you were broker than broke and even just paying to check a suitcase would put you back considerably.
Ah! Row 27, seat A. Here we are, you thought, flipping the overhead bin open. Damn… it’s already pretty full. You clenched your jaw. You’d have to make it fit somehow.
Hefting the suitcase into your arms, you tried to push it into the bin, struggling to wiggle it into the small space left. The wheels caught on the edge, and then the whole thing fell back into your arms. Damn.
You turned around, embarrassed. Then your eyes widened. The guy offering you his assistance could have been a model, he was so gorgeous. He stared down at you with heavily lidded blue eyes, dark eyebrows arching rather haughtily. You gulped. “Oh, um, yes please… I’m sorry for holding up the line.”
“It’s fine,” he said, taking the suitcase from your arms and hefting it into the bin easily, like it weighed nothing. Then he looked back at you with a small smile. “Easy for me.”
“Thank you so much,” you gushed, blush rising to your cheeks as you slipped into your seat. Your heart skipped a beat as the attractive stranger followed and folded his long legs beneath the seat beside you, slipping his satchel beneath the seat ahead. You could tell you were going to be so self conscious the entire flight… you wished you were wearing something a little nicer than sweats and an old t-shirt; your seatmate seemed almost formally attired in a white button down and dress slacks. He must be a businessman or something. “Mr…?”
“Akaashi. I’m Akaashi,” he said, running a hand through tousled black hair. You became acutely aware of your own messy locks. Had you even brushed your hair this morning? You couldn’t remember.
“Nice to meet you, Akaashi,” you said shyly. You hated how timid you got around hot people. “I’m (L/N).”
“Pleasure.” He dipped his head politely and turned his attention to a text message on his phone. All the other passengers had finished filing into the plane, and you felt the engine ignite with a low hum.
“Attention passengers,” a muffled voice sounded from unseen speakers. “This is your captain speaking. Welcome to onboard flight 3C7 with nonstop service from Tokyo to Los Angeles. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and switch all personal electronic devices to airplane mode. Thank you for choosing Japan Airlines, and enjoy your flight!”
You enjoyed the feeling of motion as the airplane rumbled down the runway and the little drop in your stomach as it left the ground. Outside, tangerine and crimson streaked the sky like a watercolor painting; the sun had sunk below the horizon a while ago. The atmosphere was rather… romantic.
You flushed, thinking about Akaashi just inches away. Despite your greatest efforts, images of the two of you chatting the hours away, watching movies, and a tearful goodbye at LAX filled your head in a montage-like fashion. It would be quite the story to tell your grandchildren one day… aghast, you shook the thought from your head. It was just like you to start planning Akaashi’s and your wedding just because he had been nice enough to help you with your bag.
You snuck a glance at the guy. He had earbuds in and closed eyes, leaning his head back. You wondered what kind of music he listened to… classical? Nah, that was stereotyping him just because he wore semi-professional clothing. He definitely didn’t look like a Top 100 sort of guy. It’d be funny if he listened to punk rock or something, you mused with an internal giggle.
You squeaked and looked away quickly when Akaashi opened his eyes and caught your gaze. You felt the tips of your ears burning and turned your stare to the screen on the seat ahead of you. A global map showed the flight route and time-- 10 hours and 17 minutes. You exhaled through your nostrils and slumped in your seat. How were you going to survive ten hours of sitting next to this incredibly handsome man without embarrassing yourself?
Determined to act like a normal human being instead of a stalker, you spent the first two hours of the flight reading, mostly. Your university lit class had assigned you summer homework that you’d mostly neglected, so you inhaled the book at a frantic pace and rewarded yourself with a granola bar that had mostly turned to crumbs at the bottom of your backpack. Then you flicked through a couple shows on the airline entertainment system, trying your best to ignore Akaashi.
In the third hour, while you lazily filled in a crossword puzzle, Akaashi leaned over. “Seven across is ‘parade.’”
“Huh?” you said, surprised he was speaking after several hours of silence, during which he’d literally just listened to music and eaten trail mix (you couldn’t help but notice he left all the cashews).
“A six letter word for ‘procession,’” he said, pointing at the page. “Parade.”
“Oh!” you exclaimed, hastily scribbling the word down with a sheepish laugh. “Thank you! I was struggling with that one.”
Akaashi flashed you a warm smile and put his earbuds in again, settling back into his seat. You blushed furiously and repressed a grin.
Shortly after that, you felt your eyes growing heavy, so you abandoned the crosswords and rested your head against the window, enjoying the sensation of cold glass on your cheek. Before long, you drifted asleep, visions of airplane romances involving oddly Akaashi-esque men and unlikely scenarios invading your dreams.
You awoke in near darkness, rather disoriented until you remembered you were in an airplane on a red eye flight. Someone had covered you in one of those free blankets, and your head was resting on… someone’s shoulder?! Your eyes widened in realization and you immediately lifted your head off Akaashi’s shoulder, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
He turned to look at you, surprised by your movement. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, so I just let you sleep.”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” you babbled, wringing your hands in dismay. “I hope I didn’t drool on your shirt…”
“You were fine,” said Akaashi, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. “I think I drifted off and rested my own head on top of yours at one point, so we’re even.”
“O-oh,” you choked out, mind going completely blank.
“Yeah,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Also, you looked cold so I put that blanket over you... We must’ve looked like quite the couple.”
“Yeah...” Face hot, you looked down. Then your eyes caught a magazine on Akaashi’s tray table. “Hey! Is that Kenji, Zombie Hunter? I love that manga.”
“Do you?” Akaashi picked it off the tray, handing it to you to look at. “I’m an editor at its publishing house. Thought I’d work on a draft during the flight.”
“Really?” You flipped through the issue, marvelling at its unpolished drawings and dialogue. “That’s so cool.”
“I entered the company hoping to be an actual writer, but being an editor has its unique charm too,” said Akaashi, absentmindedly flipping a red pen in between his fingers. He laughed. “I get to tell everyone what they did wrong.”
You two chatted a bit more about Akaashi’s work, interrupted a few minutes later by one of the flight attendants pushing a drink cart down the aisle. She stopped in front of your row. “Hi there! Would you two want a drink?”
“Yeah, actually,” Akaashi responded before you could. He turned to you. “Do you like white or red?”
“I, um— oh,” you stammered. “White, I guess.”
“We’ll have two glasses of your white wine, then.”
“We offer two on this flight, a chardonnay and a semillon,” said the flight attendant conversationally. “I personally suggest the chardonnay.”
“We’ll take that, then,” said Akaashi, handing her his credit card. You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you by mouthing ‘my treat.’
“You two make a lovely couple! Have a great rest of your flight,” said the flight attendant with a motherly smile, before handing Akaashi the two cups and rolling the cart away.
“I told you we looked like a couple,” Akaashi joked, handing you your cup. Then his eyes widened. “Wait, you are old enough to drink, right? I didn’t even ask.”
“Do I really look that young?” you said with mock offense, taking a small sip. “I’m 22.”
“So, you’re barely old enough,” said Akaashi with his small smile. “Well, regardless, that’s a relief. I would’ve felt weird thinking someone younger than 20 was attractive.”
“You hardly look older than twenty yourself,” you protested, ignoring the heat creeping up your face. He just called me attractive.
“I’m 27,” he laughed, sipping his own drink. “I’ll take that as a compliment, though. Maybe I’ll still be looking fresh faced as an old man.”
“27 is practically being an old man already,” you said coyly, watching him over the rim of your cup.
In response, Akaashi elbowed you softly and furrowed his brow. “Hey! You should respect your elders.”
“Whatever, grandpa,” you giggled. You bit your lip, considering your next words. “So… we have like two hours left in the air. Would you be interested in enjoying a movie with me? Or do people your age only like documentaries?”
“I would love to watch a movie with you,” said Akaashi. He handed you his earbuds and put one in his own ear, lifting the armrest and shifting a little closer so he could see your screen… your shoulder just barely brushed his, but you swore you could feel his skin burning through the fabric of your shirt. “And although I do enjoy documentaries, I’m partial to action, too. I work at a shounen manga company, after all. But choose whatever you’d like. Blue’s Clues, Mickey Mouse, whatever kids your age usually watch is fine with me.”
“Touche,” you said, scrolling through the movie list. You settled on some B-list, medieval-looking film, and you and Akaashi spent the rest of the flight losing your shit over the terrible acting and costuming, making snide side comments and jokes and generally clowning the poor movie.
You felt your heart sink when the captain buzzed in over the speakers. “This is your captain speaking. We have begun our descent into LAX, so please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until the aircraft comes to a complete stop. Again, thank you for choosing Japan Airlines.”
You and Akaashi made some more small talk about your university, where you were planning to work after graduation, and why m&ms were superior to skittles (it’s a long story) until the plane touched down. Akaashi helped you get your suitcase out of the bin, and then the two of you walked to the gate, where you stopped and turned towards each other, unsure of what to say.
“Well… I guess this is goodbye,” you said. You couldn’t help but feel a little (okay, more than a little) sad.
“I guess so,” said Akaashi. Were you imagining it, or did he sound kind of sad too? “Oh, I wanted to give you this.”
He rifled through his satchel, took out the manga he’d been editing earlier, and offered it to you.
“Are you sure?” You took it hesitantly. “You already edited it and everything…”
“Nah, it’s for you,” he said, smiling and sticking his hands in his pockets. “I have another copy anyways.”
Akaashi glanced at his watch. “Ah, I have to get going. It was really great meeting you, (L/N).”
“You too, Akaashi.” You smiled one last time, and Akaashi gave you one last wave before he melted into the crowd. Willing yourself to not cry, you grabbed your suitcase and headed towards the exit. Don’t be silly, you chided yourself. It was just one flight.
You didn’t look at the manga again until you’d gotten into a cab and were halfway to your hotel. Idly flipping through the pages, admiring the drawings, something caught your eye on the very last page-- Akaashi Keiji, written in red pen. Next to it was a little smiley face… and a phone number.
Heart beating so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest, you entered the number into your phone with trembling fingers. After thinking for a moment, you texted an airplane and a ‘cheers’ emoji, with the little champagne glasses. Akaashi responded in less than a minute.
Hey there, stranger. Took you long enough to message.
You grinned. It looked like you might’ve gotten your airplane romance after all.
