Layover
“Mr Munson? Your complimentary champagne.”
Eddie Munson looks up from his phone, and his dark eyes widen in surprise. “Jesus Christ.”
“Uh. Steve, actually,” Steve offers awkwardly, hand still raised where he’d knocked. As first impressions go, Steve’s sure he is decidedly not making a good one.
“I’m sorry,” Munson huffs, shaking his head a little. His curls shiver around his face and oh god he’s even sexier in person. Steve is never going to survive. “I just- wasn’t expecting…”
“A man?” Steve preempts, with the knowledge that he’s one of two male attendants who tend to work this flight, and that it’s usually all pencil skirts and heels. Not that he’d be particularly averse-
“No, no. Someone so- attractive.”
OR
the flight attendant!steve/musician-model!eddie au we didn't know we needed.