curiosity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
curiosity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2022-07-28 11:20 am
curiosity) wrote in fandomweekly2022-07-28 11:20 am
Entry tags:
[#145] High Ground (MDZS)
.
Theme Prompt: #145 - Temptation
Title: High Ground
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: G. Some discussion of a tragic accident.
Bonus: Yup.
Word Count: 1,000 words.
Summary: Jiang Cheng settles in to his new job. But he can't stay away from the prototypes entirely.
Jiang Cheng stood on the uppermost catwalk in Hanger One. From his perch, the aircraft below looked no bigger than a bus.
In reality, it was considerably bigger than a bus.
His fingers itched for his toolbox. He was tempted to forget his new job if it meant he could get down there in that thing’s guts to see what made it tick. And then make it tick better.
That was something he had in common with Wei Wuxian, surprisingly. Having the idea was fine. Drawing out plans was great. Schematics? Blueprints? Mock-ups? Brilliant. But the true joy came from making the thing. Bringing something into being that hadn’t existed before.
Where Wei Wuxian had the grand ideas and lofty goals, Jiang Cheng was the nuts and bolts details man. This discovery had occurred in their third shared therapy session.
Sure it was something they’d known on an instinctual level. Putting it into words, though, made it real. Had given them a framework for understanding each other.
So therapy was working out.
They’d gone to the nearest bar afterwards. And completely redrawn the latest concept on several paper placemats, between three pitchers of beer and an ungodly amount of onion rings.
Which was probably not normal.
Jiang Cheng didn’t care. His mother was proud of him. He and his brother were back on the same page so his sister could stop worrying.
“What are you doing up here?”
Jiang Cheng glanced up. Coming down the catwalk came the other reason his life was the best it had ever been. Nie Mingjue had to duck a bit, every time the walkway ran under a vent. He made it look graceful instead of awkward. A mountain spirit paying his respects to sky god shrines.
Nie Mingjue leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Jiang Cheng’s waiting smile, cupping the back of Jiang Cheng’s head and pressing close. But only for a minute. They were on the clock, after all.
“Huaisang’s making stir-fry tonight,” he said when he pulled away. “Dinner at our house?”
“Sure. I’ll bring dessert.” Jiang Cheng glanced at the cardboard tube in Nie Mingjue’s free hand. It was embossed all over in the gold foil Jin logo, sealed with a strip of gold tape. “The latest plans?”
Nie Mingjue nodded, handing it over. “Jin Guangshan is considering buying the bar where you and Wei Wuxian drew these, if this is what happens when you two work together,” he said as Jiang Cheng cracked open the tube and pulled out a sheaf of rolled papers. “These are brilliant, Jiang Cheng. Insane. But brilliant.”
“Mm.” Jiang Cheng unrolled the papers, already distracted, and flattening them against the catwalk’s flat rail.
He handed the tube back to Nie Mingjue and began going through them, comparing various sheets of paper to the work going on below. All the notes he and Wei Wuxian had drawn on the placemat were rendered perfectly. An exact match to their vision.
Almost. Jiang Cheng tucked all the paper back into the tube Nie Mingjue held, but one. He put it against the wall behind them and nodded at Nie Mingjue.
“You see this?”
The taller man squinted at the paper. A tube had been drawn, with across section cut out with measurement and composition details printed in tiny but clear text beside the drawing. Jiang Cheng tapped the text.
“Jin fucking Guangshan was looking to cut corners. Instead of waiting for the correct custom parts for Wei Wuxian’s new fuel blend to come in, he just used what we had on hand. Which MELT when in contact with the fuel. That’s why the plane blew up and crashed.”
Jiang Cheng felt feral. He looked up at Nie Mingjue and saw his own rage echoed there.
“There were a dozen other very stupid fucking mistakes,” Jiang Cheng allowed. “Things that wouldn’t have mattered too much if they were the only issues. But Jin Zixun wasn’t rated for flying that machine or even at the altitude we were supposed to reach. He had an inner ear scarring from a wrestling injury in high school. Got his ear drums burst.”
“Fuck,” Nie Mingjue muttered, “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t Jin Zixun’s finest moment but he was out of school for awhile and when he came back he was off the wrestling team. Vertigo was a huge problem for him for a year or so,” Jiang Cheng studied the paper. “Even so. He would have probably thrown up all over the cockpit and possibly passed out. Nie Huaisang was in the cockpit with him so that would have been fixable. But three fuel lines criss-cross under the cockpit. If they hadn’t melted farther back, first, both of them would have been blown into meat confetti. Either way, that plane was going to go down. We were never going to complete that flight, no matter what.”
He looked up at Nie Mingjue catching on to the silence. Nie Mingjue’s face was a mask of rage. Jiang Cheng put a hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm.
“Hey, breath with me. In, out.” He lead Nie Mingjue through the easiest breathing exercise his therapist had taught him.
Nie Mingjue followed along. For several minutes, they just breathed, watching each other.
Jiang Cheng watched him with concern. “We’re okay, Mingjue-gege. We survived.”
Nie Mingjue pulled him into a tight hug. "I know you miss first flights already," the big man growled. "And that this is selfish of me, but I am so glad you and Huaisang aren't getting on these planes anymore. It terrifies me that I came so close to losing my baby brother and the man I love, before I ever got to tell him how much I love him."
Jiang Cheng let the paper fall and hugged Nie Mingjue back, just as tight. Suddenly, the temptation to get his hands on the plane, to take that maiden voyage, evaporated into thin air. This was a much better place to be.
Theme Prompt: #145 - Temptation
Title: High Ground
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: G. Some discussion of a tragic accident.
Bonus: Yup.
Word Count: 1,000 words.
Summary: Jiang Cheng settles in to his new job. But he can't stay away from the prototypes entirely.
Jiang Cheng stood on the uppermost catwalk in Hanger One. From his perch, the aircraft below looked no bigger than a bus.
In reality, it was considerably bigger than a bus.
His fingers itched for his toolbox. He was tempted to forget his new job if it meant he could get down there in that thing’s guts to see what made it tick. And then make it tick better.
That was something he had in common with Wei Wuxian, surprisingly. Having the idea was fine. Drawing out plans was great. Schematics? Blueprints? Mock-ups? Brilliant. But the true joy came from making the thing. Bringing something into being that hadn’t existed before.
Where Wei Wuxian had the grand ideas and lofty goals, Jiang Cheng was the nuts and bolts details man. This discovery had occurred in their third shared therapy session.
Sure it was something they’d known on an instinctual level. Putting it into words, though, made it real. Had given them a framework for understanding each other.
So therapy was working out.
They’d gone to the nearest bar afterwards. And completely redrawn the latest concept on several paper placemats, between three pitchers of beer and an ungodly amount of onion rings.
Which was probably not normal.
Jiang Cheng didn’t care. His mother was proud of him. He and his brother were back on the same page so his sister could stop worrying.
“What are you doing up here?”
Jiang Cheng glanced up. Coming down the catwalk came the other reason his life was the best it had ever been. Nie Mingjue had to duck a bit, every time the walkway ran under a vent. He made it look graceful instead of awkward. A mountain spirit paying his respects to sky god shrines.
Nie Mingjue leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Jiang Cheng’s waiting smile, cupping the back of Jiang Cheng’s head and pressing close. But only for a minute. They were on the clock, after all.
“Huaisang’s making stir-fry tonight,” he said when he pulled away. “Dinner at our house?”
“Sure. I’ll bring dessert.” Jiang Cheng glanced at the cardboard tube in Nie Mingjue’s free hand. It was embossed all over in the gold foil Jin logo, sealed with a strip of gold tape. “The latest plans?”
Nie Mingjue nodded, handing it over. “Jin Guangshan is considering buying the bar where you and Wei Wuxian drew these, if this is what happens when you two work together,” he said as Jiang Cheng cracked open the tube and pulled out a sheaf of rolled papers. “These are brilliant, Jiang Cheng. Insane. But brilliant.”
“Mm.” Jiang Cheng unrolled the papers, already distracted, and flattening them against the catwalk’s flat rail.
He handed the tube back to Nie Mingjue and began going through them, comparing various sheets of paper to the work going on below. All the notes he and Wei Wuxian had drawn on the placemat were rendered perfectly. An exact match to their vision.
Almost. Jiang Cheng tucked all the paper back into the tube Nie Mingjue held, but one. He put it against the wall behind them and nodded at Nie Mingjue.
“You see this?”
The taller man squinted at the paper. A tube had been drawn, with across section cut out with measurement and composition details printed in tiny but clear text beside the drawing. Jiang Cheng tapped the text.
“Jin fucking Guangshan was looking to cut corners. Instead of waiting for the correct custom parts for Wei Wuxian’s new fuel blend to come in, he just used what we had on hand. Which MELT when in contact with the fuel. That’s why the plane blew up and crashed.”
Jiang Cheng felt feral. He looked up at Nie Mingjue and saw his own rage echoed there.
“There were a dozen other very stupid fucking mistakes,” Jiang Cheng allowed. “Things that wouldn’t have mattered too much if they were the only issues. But Jin Zixun wasn’t rated for flying that machine or even at the altitude we were supposed to reach. He had an inner ear scarring from a wrestling injury in high school. Got his ear drums burst.”
“Fuck,” Nie Mingjue muttered, “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t Jin Zixun’s finest moment but he was out of school for awhile and when he came back he was off the wrestling team. Vertigo was a huge problem for him for a year or so,” Jiang Cheng studied the paper. “Even so. He would have probably thrown up all over the cockpit and possibly passed out. Nie Huaisang was in the cockpit with him so that would have been fixable. But three fuel lines criss-cross under the cockpit. If they hadn’t melted farther back, first, both of them would have been blown into meat confetti. Either way, that plane was going to go down. We were never going to complete that flight, no matter what.”
He looked up at Nie Mingjue catching on to the silence. Nie Mingjue’s face was a mask of rage. Jiang Cheng put a hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm.
“Hey, breath with me. In, out.” He lead Nie Mingjue through the easiest breathing exercise his therapist had taught him.
Nie Mingjue followed along. For several minutes, they just breathed, watching each other.
Jiang Cheng watched him with concern. “We’re okay, Mingjue-gege. We survived.”
Nie Mingjue pulled him into a tight hug. "I know you miss first flights already," the big man growled. "And that this is selfish of me, but I am so glad you and Huaisang aren't getting on these planes anymore. It terrifies me that I came so close to losing my baby brother and the man I love, before I ever got to tell him how much I love him."
Jiang Cheng let the paper fall and hugged Nie Mingjue back, just as tight. Suddenly, the temptation to get his hands on the plane, to take that maiden voyage, evaporated into thin air. This was a much better place to be.
no subject