Chapter Text
‘Dude would you just sit still?’ asks Scott exasperatedly, shaking his head at Stiles. Stiles, who is contorted into an uncomfortable looking cross-legged position in an aeroplane seat that is far too small for his gangly legs, just drums his long fingers agitatedly against the plastic armrest between their chairs and hums The Funeral March at an increasingly frantic pace.
‘Look dude, I have told you a million times that flying is actually really safe’ continues Scott in yet another attempt to get Stiles to calm down. ‘You are way more likely to die in a car or even on a horse than you are on a plane.’
Stiles halts his erratic drumming to answer in a rushed and sarcastic tone: ‘Wow thanks Scott, so even if I make it off this plane alive - which is unlikely given that 9 flights from this airline have resulted in passenger deaths this year, not to mention we will be experiencing above-average turbulence over Michigan due to strong winds and heavy rain according to this weather app I found at midnight last night - *Scott rolls his eyes* - I may die on the coach from the airport to the ski lodge. Will that be due to black ice, lighting or wolves I wonder?’
Suddenly Stiles’ chair jerks back as two strong hands grab it from behind. An angry, frowning face that is 70% eyebrow and 30% cheekbone looms over Stiles menacingly.
‘You will be dying by my hand on this very plane if you don’t shut up for the rest of the flight’ it snarls before releasing the chair, sending Stiles flying into the TV screen of the chair in front. He grunts as his cheek smooshes against the faintly sticky plastic. He doesn’t think that Boyd even notices, too wrapped up is he in the free plane blanket that he is sharing with his girlfriend Erica. Great, Stiles thinks gloomily, he is doomed to spend his final few hours alive stuck between a lovesick puppy in front and Grumpy McGrumpster behind.
He turns around to see those unruly eyebrows raised sharply at him, in a universal ‘You understand?’ expression. Stiles hastily nods before slumping down in his seat and looking left at Scott.
‘Don’t mind Derek man, you know he always acts like he has swallowed a wasp’ says Scott.
‘Yeah, but only around me’ mutters Stiles. He is pretty sure that Derek hates him. Derek isn’t exactly friendly to everyone, but he seems to tolerate Scott and Isaac, and Stiles had even seen him laugh once at something that Erica said. That had probably been a highlight of Stiles’ life. He had had this intense feeling that he wanted to be the one to make Derek laugh, but whenever he tried – by way of a well-timed pun or sarcastic quip – Derek would only scowl and stalk away.
‘Yeah well, don’t let him ruin your trip. This is going to be the best week ever!’
Stiles smiles weakly at a beaming Scott, and lets out a huff of nervous laughter as the plane starts to move. Of course Scott would say that, the apparent natural that he is on skis despite only skiing a handful of times as a child before money got tight. Stiles on the other hand had been dry slope skiing once, caused the simple chairlift to be stopped seven times and only made it down the slope once without taking anyone out. It was going to be a miracle if he got through the week without a trip – or multiple – to the ER. But of course when Scott begged him to come on the ski trip with those puppy-dog eyes he had immediately said yes, and had spent the following months working extra shifts at the café to fund this ludicrous trip.
He sighs and tries not to get annoyed when Scott bumps his elbow of the armrest as he turns round to talk to Isaac behind him. Isaac is already wearing a woolly Fair Isle print scarf that somehow manages to look fashionable with his black Jack Wolfskin jacket and dark jeans. Stiles doesn’t need to look at Scott to know that the heart eyes are out in full force. Scott wouldn’t even notice if he skied into a ravine or got eaten by a bear, he thinks glumly. He will still be flirting Isaac at Stiles’ inevitable funeral.
Not that Stiles is jealous or anything. He has been best friends with Scott since before they could walk and they have grown up practically joined at the hip. He would do anything for Scott, and has already done quite a lot, especially in the wingman/dating department. That said, Scott has helped him out a fair bit when Stiles has come up with crazy ideas to break into the police department and look into his dad’s latest case, so Stiles can’t really complain. Still, just because he doesn’t like Scott in a romantic way, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like other guys. In fact, seeing all of those extreme-sports outdoorsy guys whizzing down the slopes with their good butts and sexy beards was probably going to be the only perk of this trip. Not that he would be getting any, because that would be impossible in a full body cast.
The horrible stomach-wrenching feeling of the plane taking off interrupts Stiles’ musings. Once he has endured some of the most uncomfortable seconds of his life, he jams his headphones in and settles his head awkwardly against the most un-ergonomic headrest ever – seriously, who designed this thing?! – knowing full well that he would wake up with a cricked neck. If he ever gets to sleep, that is.