Chapter Text
Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Beautiful, snow covered mountains for this time of year. Clean, fresh air. And, jackalopes… two opposing families of them squabbling over territory rights. Stiles enjoyed his fair share of arguments, could give a good tongue lashing with the best of them, but jackalopes? Something in their high pitch squeaks just made him want to take the fastest plane out of there and never return. His latest assignment was one big headache, and he didn’t pack any Tylenol. It served him right as he had ditched his partner, who was planning her wedding, and taken the case solo.
Stiles packed a simple carry-on, double checking to make sure he had everything. As an FBI agent, this meant all the proper documentation for his weapon too. He’d also ordered a taxi to the airport several hours earlier than necessary. It was probably for the best as the snowfall was starting to pick up.
Stiles enjoyed working publicly, it was actually a really good way to blend in when going undercover. What business man wasn’t on a phone with their boss working after hours these days? So, after checking in for his thirty-minute flight to Salt Lake, where he would transfer to a larger plane for the remainder of his journey, he grabbed a coffee from a chain restaurant and snagged one of the last good seats near the windows, admiring the view.
The mountains were so much prettier when you didn’t have little horned rabbits running around your feet threatening to punch each other. He allowed himself a full minute of solitude, before making the call to his boss. Stiles was thankful for the warmth in his cup as the snow outside swirled with the wind and settled on his window obstructing the scenery.
Stiles placed a hand on the cold pane, glanced around to see if anyone was watching him, and then used his spark to warm the glass. The snow melted and seemed to continue doing so even after he let go to make his call. A little girl with pigtails in a stroller nearby giggled and pointed at the window causing her mother to look up. She confirmed that those were indeed mountains, and went back to her conversation with her husband. Stiles winked at the little girl as she continued to stare at him opened mouthed. He turned away and scrolled through his phone book, looking for the number he would need.
It turned out his boss had one more assignment for him before his two-week vacation. In his gut, Stiles knew he should say no. Scott didn’t want him coming out to Wyoming so close to the wedding, and now he would have another case to crack before the big day. As best man, he did have a heavy role to play.
It was tough to deny the case, though; a possible movement among the local werewolf packs, and they were to meet in Sacramento. The wedding was in San Francisco in ten days, and all he had to do was change his flight destination and take a taxi after gathering the intel. He wasn’t expecting to make an arrest or anything at this time. The agency was tipped off that an alpha may be trying to form a pack of only other alphas. The bureau was uncertain of the reasoning behind the need for such a pack, but they were more concerned in the method. What would happen to all the betas?
Stiles wasn’t properly equipped for wolves, however, so they promised him a new partner for this task: Jackson. The guy was a brute, all muscle and little brains. He was also a kanima, and relied too heavily on his abilities, in Stiles’ opinion. But he was attending Kira’s wedding, would be on the other coast by then and was bringing the wolfsbane bullets. Stiles really couldn’t complain - this time.
He sat there thinking about calling his best friend to tell him the disappointing news. Should he worry Scott with this? They had been friends long before their parents married and made them brothers. He didn’t keep anything from the man. Scott would never purposely hide something like this from him, so he gulped before he made the call. Besides, they had dealt with Scott becoming a werewolf back in high school and Stiles discovering his spark abilities not long after. This was just an additional work assignment, Scott would understand in the end, even if it was cutting into the bachelor party weekend festivities they had planned (an all-night video game-a-thon for old time sake). They were true dorks at heart.
Scott was… upset. But he told Stiles to have a safe flight regardless, as the weather looked dodgy, and assured him that Kira wouldn’t find out. The kitsune was more likely to go bridezilla over missing work than anything actually related to her wedding. She was probably the most upbeat person Stiles ever had the pleasure of working with, and between her amazing skills with her katana and Stiles’ quick wit, the pair were quite a formidable team when it came to fighting supernatural crime.
But her mother was, well, old. Nine hundred years at least, and that meant that her daughter’s wedding was a huge affair. Everyone who was anyone in the ‘know’ was going to be there. It didn’t hurt that Scott was a true alpha, either. The end result meant that Kira had been off playing dutiful bride for the last thirty days, while Stiles has been… lying to her about his paper pushing desk duties. He tried to stay in DC, he really did, but the job took him all over, such as the iced-capped peaks that looked over him from where he sat.
***
Derek couldn’t believe his luck. His flight was being rerouted, as the pilot had just announced, to Jackson Hole! Jackson Hole, Wyoming! He had never even heard of the place. But, he supposed, if all the flights in and out of Denver were being canceled as they had told him, that that was the next best option. Apparently, United Airlines had a connector flight that would get the passengers from there to their final destinations, in his case, Sacramento.
Derek grumbled - he was annoyed, but that was nothing when compared to his fellow JFK flight passengers. New Yorkers like to be on time. Even the yapping dog from the first-class cabin seemed upset at the proclamation. At least he would get away from the commotion and complaining once they landed.
He called Peter immediately, when he was in the terminal. His uncle wasn’t pleased. He had wanted his nephew to attend some meeting with other werewolves. A meeting which Derek thought sounded ridiculous. But Peter said it would be good for him, as he was a beta, always would be a beta, and had no chance of amounting to anything more. However, Derek liked his pack status.
His older sister, Laura, was their alpha in training, which meant that he got to spend more time away from his hectic family. It was really a win-win. She was going to be a good leader one day, and Derek, he liked the quiet and… writing. It was hard to focus with so many wolves’ around, they were naturally loud and rough. He was simply more suited to his one bedroom loft lifestyle. But, Peter, his uncle, who had watched his own older sister (Derek’s mom) be groomed for alpha-ness, had always wanted more for Derek.
The thing was, this werewolf summit wasn’t even going to take place until Friday. He still had a few days to get there, even with the delay. Peter had warned Derek that the Colorado blizzard was moving west and that it would be overtaking Utah soon. His Uncle checked the weather pattern, which annoyed Derek as it didn’t seem to matter two days ago when he booked the last-minute flight! He assured the older werewolf that he would secure a seat on the next flight out and make it there that evening, before the weather had an opportunity to delay him further.
Derek huffed annoyed and then went to find the ticket counter. It was easy to spot as it seemed that his flight wasn’t the only one that was rerouted. The line was a mile long. What else could he do? Derek took his spot in the queue just behind a red head with the yapping dog. It barked endlessly at him. He was so tempted to flash his wolf eyes at it, but the airport was too crowded to do so without potentially scaring someone.
Over two hours later and Derek finally clutched a ticket for a flight to Salt Lake where he would be able to take a connecting flight to California. The hard part was over, now he just needed to find a seat as this tiny airport wasn’t built for this many passengers.
Every table was full, but Derek’s eyes were naturally drawn to an empty chair that sat opposite of a gentleman who seemed captivated with the view. He could understand why. The window in front of him was crystal clear while all the others had fogged up with the outside air’s condensation and the view behind it was gorgeous. Snow fluttered lightly, swirling as if the wind were playing games with it, and the mountains behind rose from the ground seemed majestic in the day’s sunlight. Feeling bolder than he usually would, Derek approached the table and cleared his throat.
“Erm, is this seat taken?” He asked, his voice was rougher than he intended, but he hadn’t used it much since his conversation with his uncle.
The man jumped and snapped his head around, clearly startled. Humans were like that. But Derek noticed his honey colored eyes crinkled around the edges indicating a slight smile.
“Not at all.” The stranger said with a wave at the spot next to himself from his long-fingered hands. “By all means. But uh, could you scoot it just a little this way?”
Derek found that request odd at first, but the man pointed to a little girl who was clearly captivated by the snow that continued to flit in the wind. The pigtailed girl giggled and clapped as Derek moved his chair slightly closer to the stranger than he would usually be comfortable with. He couldn’t help but smile at the child’s obvious joy. At least someone was enjoying the weather.
“So,” Derek’s new table mate began, “where’re you heading? What brings you all the way out to middle of nowhere, Wyoming? Or, are you from here? Ahh, beautiful place if you are!” The man blushed at his forwardness, coloring his pale cheeks deeply.
Derek stilled. This guy was going to be one of those people, the kind that looked you in your eyes and started conversations. Well, he clearly wasn’t a New Yorker from his other flight.
He supposed he took too long to respond, as the man took a sip of his coffee and looked back out the window. “No.” Derek fumbled with his hands, nervously, forcing them into a ball in his leather jacket pockets. “I mean, no, I’m not from here. Northern California, originally, but New York now.” Derek finished.
The other man visibly relaxed. He definitely thought he had insulted Derek’s home town. “Oh! New York! The city? I love it there! I’m from the DC area myself.” Derek hadn’t asked. The other man didn’t seem to notice as he continued. “Heading to San Fran, for the big wedding. Nervous as hell, I mean, I’ve known Scott forever, really I have nothing to worry about, but…”
Derek couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. This guy was getting married and was certainly so in love. Derek saw it on the way his face lit up as he talked about his partner, Scott. He listened to the stranger, let him prattle on for over a half an hour. He clearly needed someone to talk to, he had so much to say, and he didn’t seem to expect more from Derek than an occasional nod of agreement.
“But, enough about me, where’re you heading to?” The enthralled fiancé asked as the conversation lulled.
“Sacramento, for a family thing,” Derek mumbled.
“Oh?” The man’s smile grew, if possible, even wider. “I’m flying there too! You on the five o’clock flight to Salt Lake City?” He asked as he slid his ticket across the table.
Derek was, but they weren’t anywhere close to one another by seating numbers. This guy must have had one of the first choices for seating as he was so close to the front, while Derek would probably be the last to disembark as he was sitting across from the bathrooms in the back. It was a seat he cringed at excepting, but he had promised Peter a Wednesday evening arrival.
A little belated, the werewolf reached into the front pocket of his carryon and showed off his ticket. He didn’t miss the glance of sympathy his table mate sent his way when he saw his location on the plane.
“Well, we have a little less than an hour until we board.” The man said cheerfully. “I’m going to get some dinner.”
The guy stood; he was taller than Derek thought, probably even an inch or two taller than he was himself.
The guy paused before leaving and turned around. “Do you mind saving the table for me? And, uh, would you like…?”
“No, no.” Derek caught on; he was awkwardly offering to buy him, a stranger, dinner. It was nice, but not necessary. “Thanks though, and don’t worry about loosing your seat!” Derek patted the object with too much force, causing a couple nearby to jump at the unexpected loudness. He winced.
His airport acquaintance winked at him before heading off to the food court.
It struck Derek that he must have been at the airport for awhile to have such a nice seat. He whirled around and realized the family of the little girl who was enjoying the view had left sometime during their conversation. He didn’t bother moving his chair back over.
***
Stiles heard the announcement as he waited in line to pay for his baked potato. It was that or sushi, and somehow, he didn’t feel the airport in the middle of the United States would have sushi all that fresh, but all of the other lines were outrageous. Just to run insult to injury, he heard it again as he sat back down with the beautiful-eyed dreamboat that had decided to share his table with him earlier. All remaining flights for the evening were canceled. Really. Just great. After he had sat here almost all day, going over his best man speech in his head.
The man that was scheduled to share his flight with him looked more than a little flustered with the news. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and Stiles suspected that he might have had a temper at one time but had learned to deal with disappointment.
He gave the stranger a minute to regain control before he sat back down and looked out the window at the snow that no longer was as captivating as it had just ruined his plans of arriving in California that evening. And, worse, what would he tell Scott? Scott expected him in town for the wedding planning no later than Friday night’s bachelor party.
He’d still make it on time the next day (although he might be a little late for his meeting with Jackson), but they could still infiltrate the werewolves’ and make it to San Francisco. It was no problem if the weather cleared over night. As if to counter that thought, the sun seemed to darken and the snow picked up its intensity. Stiles was good, gifted even, when it came to weather control but he doubted that even he’d have the ability to make an entire storm disappear. At least not long enough to ensure the flights would be reinstated.
“That’s a bummer, dude,” He said at last, to break the silence.
The dark haired man shifted in his seat to indicate that he had heard him, but didn’t respond. He seemed reluctant to open his mouth. Stiles was used to his silent treatment by now. He clearly wasn’t accustomed to Stiles Stilinski level of chatter, and that was okay.
“I-um, excuse me, I’m going to call my uncle,” The guy said at last.
Stiles was shamelessly staring at his eyes. He couldn’t decide if they were blue or green. He liked them, either way, and he blinked suddenly when they disappeared as he got up to make the call.
Stiles assumed it would be a good time to give Scott a call as well. He gulped, trying to prepare himself.
***
Peter told Derek that he knew a guy who knew a guy that might be able to help and to just give him a few minutes to sort it out. As much as he wanted to deny his uncle’s uncertain source, he knew it would just offend the werewolf to do so, so he hung up feeling like a child waiting to do as he was told, rather than the man of twenty-eight that he was.
Derek didn’t mean to (but he did have supernatural hearing after all), and he easily picked up on the voice of the young man he had heard chatting all day. He’d apparently made a disappointing call home too.
“Hey buddy. Yeah, … I know, I’m not on the plane, no. About that… I know you told me so. Okay. Don’t worry! I’m not going to miss the wedding!” Derek felt his face heat up, he had forgotten, momentarily, how unavailable the guy was. “Or the rehearsal… or the bachelor party… when’s the tux fitting? Tomorrow!? Yeah, I might miss that one, but I’ll reschedule… it will be okay, man. Yeah… love ya too!”
The last line was said with an eye roll, Derek didn’t even have to be there to see it. “I’ll let you know when I know, okay, see you soon. I promise!”
Derek’s phone beeped just as the other man’s call had ended. Peter had given him a number to call. It was for a man that owned a plane and enjoyed taking it on extended trips and happened to be in the area. His uncle didn’t leave any room for debate. Derek was going to get there that evening, one way or another.
The pilot’s name was Deaton, Alan Deaton. A man who sounded entirely too excited over the phone by the prospect of getting to fly a friend of Peter’s. Derek almost denied the man, but thinking of his uncle’s insistence that this was all for him, he made arrangements to meet on the tarmac of the private airport in an hour.
Derek raked his eyes over the crowded terminal not really knowing what his mind was thinking just then when they landed on the guy across the room. He was fumbling with his phone in one hand while raking the other through his already disheveled hair. The guy was obviously frustrated with the situation too. It was his wedding weekend after all.
With out knowing what he was going to say Derek doubled back to their table. This time he didn’t startle the younger man.
Derek opened his mouth to say that he was heading out, but what came out was different. “My uncle arranged a private flight, I’m uh, going to meet with the pilot, did you want to join me?”
The man’s eyes were large, all round and hopeful. He nodded.
***
Stiles blinked at the guy who he had shared his afternoon with - who had just offered him a private flight! How rich was his uncle?
“I’m Stiles, by the way.” He said in response. “And yeah, if you really think there is room for me, I’d love to get out of here!”
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. Stiles started to think that maybe it was just his way of being polite, and he didn’t actually expect Stiles to tag along. Stiles swallowed hard. Was it rude of him to except the guy’s offer?
“I’m Derek.” He said at last. “What kind of name is Stiles?”
Stiles smirked. He usually got a decent response with introductions. “It’s short for Stilinski. My first name is kind of a mouthful, I think my parents were hoping it would give me character, or maybe they hoped it was just special enough for me to feel unique, but all it really resulted in was no one addressing my name in grade school, even the teachers avoided it. Now a days, everyone just calls me Stiles.”
As he spoke they made there way to the taxi pickup to hail a cab for the private airport across town.
Deaton was… interesting. He met them outside in the snow and talked a little bit about his travels, admitting that he had chased the rumors about possibly seeing a jackalope to the great state of Wyoming. As he said this, his eyes landed on Stiles, causing the thinner man to shiver.
Derek might have noticed because he took that opportunity to suggest they go inside to talk logistics. Stiles was thankful as the pilot’s eyes made him feel as if he was being examined. Inside the hanger, they met Deaton’s sister. She seemed much more practical, and at least had the weather channel on as she scoured over maps of the Uinta Mountains.
Her name is Marin Morrell and Stiles can definitely see the family relation in the brother and sister pair. They shared the same eyes. Too wide and knowing. He was definitely going to use his FBI database to research them later. But in the mean time, Deaton had some disappointing news to share.
“So, we can certainly still make it, as you can see the weather is moving in this direction.” He gestured to the old fashion CRT TV in the corner. The technology seemed to mimic his plane. “If we leave now, I think we can beat the storm, plus I have a feeling, it will be a clearer day than anticipated.” He continued with another pointed look at Stiles. How could he possibly know? “I can get you to Salt Lake in about forty-five minutes or so and you’ll-”
“Wait,” Derek interrupted. “You’re not flying to Sacramento?”
“‘fraid I can’t. Not enough time to prepare that flight. I would need more fuel for starters.” The older man admitted.
“The lovely lady can fit four passengers comfortably. Marin will be coming and you two and your luggage, I suppose. Hope you didn’t pack too much.” Stiles shared a look of concern with Derek before Deaton continued. “So, my price is eight hundred, non-negotiable.”
Stiles choked.
“That’s the family friend discount, mind you.” The pilot added, pointedly.
Derek took out his wallet and started counting twenties. Stiles attempted to pay his share which he didn’t have on him in cash, but thankfully, Derek denied him. He jokingly added that he wasn’t sure they would be making it out of this one alive for him to return the favor one day anyways. Deaton assured them that his lady was always reliable, and that they had nothing to fear.
Stiles wasn’t so convinced and before they took off he insisted on calling Scott one more time. He checked his watch and told his best friend that he would be calling in exactly two hours telling him he landed, and that if he failed to do so, he was absolutely allowed to panic. This was the wrong thing to say, as the groom was already nervous enough.
As he got off the phone he noticed the strange look Derek was giving him. “Your Scott is really worried! I could hear it in his tone from over here.” He admitted, reluctantly. Stiles was impressed, he didn’t realize his volume was up that loud.
“Ah, he’s just a big puppy dog, always watching out for me.” Stiles said with a shrug.
Derek nodded, understanding, as he thought about his mother and sister, both of whom probably wouldn’t approve of this method of transportation, either.
“What about you?” Stiles questioned. “Any last calls you want to make before we take off in that…” Stiles looked at the tiny excuse of a plane. “Lovely lady.” He settled on Deaton’s name for the aerial machine.
Derek chuckled. “Maybe I will send Laura a quick text - she worries.”
Before they knew it, they were buckled up, sitting opposite of Marin in the back of the vehicle.
“Don’t worry.” The pilot’s sister assured them. “I know it seems scary, but the view is actually quite nice.”
Despite the sibling’s reassurance, Stiles felt the magic flow from within him. It warmed him slightly as it did so and the snow around them slowed once more to a gentle flurry. The sun was still out, and the mountains in the distance gleamed welcoming. They took off.
Stiles spent the first thirty minutes excitedly looking out the window. The ground was a huge blanket of white, speckled with the occasional green tree poking through. The peaks were almost blinding as they grew closer. It was an image he wouldn’t soon forget, and for a fleeting moment he was incredibly grateful for this experience.
After that, he spent the next twenty minutes wondering how the plane could have that much turbulence as he was controlling the winds so thoroughly now that the snowfall had stopped altogether. Marin seemed to be growing more and more nervous, herself.
“Everything okay up there?” She called to her brother.
“Ahhh.” Deaton responded.
“What do you mean, ‘ahh’?” Stiles shot back, unable to keep the panic from his tone.
He glanced at Derek and realized the man’s eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply again. Maybe Stiles should try that too.
He never had the opportunity, as he failed to hear Deaton’s response when the world around him went black.