Chapter Text
Stiles sits in one of the big pleather armchairs situated in the bar and lounge across from his gate. He really needed a drink after the events of the day and the thought of having to board a plane soon was not helping his mood.
He slouches further into the chair and silently groans, thumping his head back onto the backrest as his mind plays back the events of his pitch meeting earlier.
He shifts to unstick the slightly damp material of his shirt that clings to his side, allowing cool air to take its place. There's a spot on his forehead that his pointer finger catches on when he rubs at the area to try and ease the beginnings of the headache he feels coming on.
He realizes he must’ve missed it when rinsing his face of the energy drink that exploded over him earlier. He squeezes his eyes at the memory accompanied by the moment and lets out a quiet hum of pain.
His phone rings and he jolts slightly at the noise, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as he shimmies the device out of his back pocket. He blinks blearily at the brightness of the screen before his vision focuses on the image of Scott’s face lighting up the screen. He rubs away the clamminess of his palm against his thigh before answering.
Bringing the phone up to his ear, he mumbles a pitiful greeting, “Hello?”
He stares at the almost empty glass in his hand and watches as a bead of condensation trickles down its side. He swipes at it before it can drip onto him and squints as another takes its place.
“Hey, buddy. How’d your meeting go?”
“Oh you know me, walking human disaster,” he says in a faux upbeat attitude to his best friend.
He lets out a breath of disappointment before continuing, “Scotty, man it was such a mess! It was honestly such an out-of-body experience. It's like I saw myself floundering but couldn't do anything to help."
Eyes flicking down to focus on the melting cubes watering down his cocktail, he pauses and shrugs even though Scott can't see the motion.
"I just, I don't know. The only thing I do know is that I really can’t afford to lose this job. And I’m pretty sure people have been fired for less than what I’ve done.”
Scott made a noise of sympathy. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, dude. You’re good at your job, you just need to give yourself more credit. And I wouldn't say that if I didn't think it was true.”
Stiles would give him that, at least. It still didn't stop him from scoffing lightly, “Scott, I love you but I think you're seriously overestimating my pitching abilities. I was in the middle of giving this big inspirational speech on why they should give us the account with the drink in my hand, you know to really drive the point home.”
He sighs and places the empty glass on the side table to rub at his forehead in shame at having to explain what happened next. The tip of his middle finger drags on the tacky spot again and his face scrunches in disgust as he hurriedly pulls his hand away to inspect the digit. He wipes his finger on a dry spot at the bottom of his shirt to get rid of the phantom sticky feeling.
“I thought they were moved by my speech and about ready to close the deal but when I put the can down on the table it just exploded! All over me and the clients, dude. I think I begged them not to tell Lydia? But who knows if they’re willing to keep a secret for a guy who drenched them in Peach Mango juice.”
He can practically picture the wince Scott does when he says, “Oh Stiles...I’m sorry man. Hey! At least you’ll be home soon enough. I’ll have a pizza waiting for you if that'll make you feel better?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. You know how much I hate flying, dude." He mutters, turning his upper body to stare at the object of his fear. He catches a glimpse of a huge airplane tail before returning to his original position. "A pizza does sound nice though."
Shifting in his seat he goes on, "My fear of Lydia is the only thing that managed to get me on the flight here in the first place. You know what? Now that I may not have a job to go back to, I think settling down in Chicago is definitely the way to go.”
Rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, he seriously considers the absurd idea for a few seconds. It might seem a little dramatic but it made perfect sense to Stiles right now. Shaking the thought away, he recalls exactly how he managed to end up here.
At first, he had been excited when Lydia said she was giving him an opportunity to pitch by himself. But, his giddiness at getting the chance to prove his bad-ass presentation and persuasion skills had been quickly diminished when Lydia beamed at his eagerness and informed him his flight was leaving the next day.
When he tied to back out of it claiming he just remembered he actually had to pet sit his neighbor's iguana, Lydia fixed him with a narrow gaze and said he was getting on that plane or else. When it came to Lydia, he definitely did not want to figure out what 'or else' meant.
Scott attempts to be supportive by providing him with what he guesses is supposed to be a reassuring fact. “C’mon dude, planes are perfectly safe. Thousands of people fly every day, it’s even safer than driving a car.”
“Yeah. Right,” he mumbles. “I’ll make sure to remember that on the car ride back home then. Thanks, buddy. I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”
He hears Scott’s laugh as he disconnects the call and sits up, picking up his glass in a signal to the bartender that he’s asking for another. His eyes connect with a woman in a flight attendant’s uniform and she politely smiles before turning to look away. His attention shifts back to the bar as the bartender comes to refill his glass.
He moves a hand to hover over the lip of the empty glass before the bartender gets to pour into it, "Sorry, could I get water instead?"
The bartender nods and puts back the bottle before turning to retrieve a fresh cup. Stiles slumps back into his seat, mentally preparing himself for the trip home.
~~~~
Stiles shuffles behind the couple in front of him, clutching his boarding pass between his fingers. When he moves up to show the flight attendant his boarding pass, he recognizes her as the very one he saw in the lounge.
She smiles at him in recognition and offers a warm greeting, “Hi, how are you doing?”
He offers her a shrug and a small smile in return, "M'okay, thank you." He hands her the pass and mumbles out his seat in the business class. She looks at him with eyes full of understanding.
“Hasn’t been your day has it?”
Oh god, he hopes she didn’t overhear the humiliating story he was telling Scott. He uncomfortably shifts the strap of his carry-on slung around his shoulder.
He shakes his head softly and ducks his head in slight shame, clearing his throat to reply.
“Not really, no.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment before saying, “How about an upgrade to first class?”
Stiles' head whips up in surprise and he stares at her with his mouth forming a small ‘o’.
“Really?” he whispers in astonishment. Her act of kindness might bring this grown man to tears. No, crying on the plane at a stranger's generosity is not something even Stiles' pride will be able to handle today.
She nods at him and motions to the first few rows. “Seat 2A.”
She hands back his boarding pass and he feels a genuine smile tug at his lips for the first time that day and breathes out his gratitude before ducking out of the other passenger's way.
He moves down the aisle before shoving his bag in an open space in the overhead bin. Then, he flings himself into the luxurious-looking seat. He laughs quietly to himself in disbelief and stretches out his legs.
There’s so much leg room. He’s shaken from his admiration when a flight attendant comes by with a tray offering him a complimentary flute of champagne.
He already had a drink earlier and is feeling a pleasant buzz, only somewhat dampened by the water he had afterward. But...it is free and he’s never been one to refuse free things.
He takes it and offers a ‘thank you’ behind the lip of the glass as he takes a drink.
After a big gulp that makes his head rush a bit, he figures he should pace himself to make the drink last longer.
He’s too busy staring down at the bubbles making their way to the surface to notice the guy before he lets out a friendly, “Alright, cheers!”
Stiles looks up in confusion and says "Huh?" Before turning back quickly to stare at the back of the seat in front of him. He catches his own wide-eyed look of embarrassment reflected on the black screen of the monitor mounted in front of him. Was that really the only thing he could say in the presence of someone who looked like that?
The guy gives him an odd look as he arranges his belongings in his hands before sitting down in the seat next to Stiles. Oh god, he smells nice, too. Stiles' immediate reaction is to sit up from his previously slouched position and grab his seatbelt as an excuse to turn his head to try and subtly sniff himself to make sure he doesn't smell bad. He catches a whiff of sweetness from the fruity drink earlier and figures that's better than nothing at all.
When he turns back to glance at the man he notices he's holding a phone in his hand which he uses to motion towards his ear where Stiles can now see the white end of a wireless earbud peeking out of his right ear.
The guy continues the conversation with the person on the other end, “What? No, sorry I’m here. Someone thought I was talking to them. Go ahead.”
Stiles turns towards the window in mortification and dies a little inside. Then, after giving the interaction more thought, promptly huffs at the slight. 'Rude' he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes and watching his reflection mimic the motion.
Whatever, Stiles has the window seat so he’ll just stare out at the tarmac, watch as the sun sets, and stew in his own emotions until they take off. He'll also mentally count down the minutes when the flight attendants will allow him to pull the window shade down. There’s no way he’s going to spend the entire trip seeing how far they are from the ground. Nope.
~~~~
They’re up in the air now which Stiles thinks is only half the battle. His nerves kicked up almost as soon they took off and the plane eventually leveled out.
He ended up finishing the champagne almost as soon as his throat opened up again to allow him enough air to breathe in a large gasp. A flight attendant was just making his way down the aisle when Stiles called out to get his attention.
“Excuse me, can I get—” he begins when the flight attendant turns to look at him and then proceeds to completely ignore him for his seatmate.
“Hello sir, what can I get for you?” He asks him with an overzealous smile. The guy next to him looks up from the papers he was studying, confusion etched across his face at being addressed, before casting a glance over to Stiles who was the one who called him over in the first place. Ugh.
Upon seeing the disgruntled expression on Stiles’ face at being ignored, amusement colors his face as he turns back to the flight attendant with a charming smile.
Before he manages to get a word out, the plane rocks harshly, and gasps of alarm ring out from the other passengers on the plane.
The flight attendant stumbles but regains his footing and attempts to calm the panicked passengers as he makes his way back to his own seat. In all of the chaos, Stiles can barely hear the announcement the captain makes informing them that they’re experiencing some turbulence and advises everyone to remain seated and buckled in until the seatbelt sign turns off.
Stiles clutches at the arms of his seat and clamps his eyes shut letting out harsh breaths. If he doesn’t get his breathing under control he’ll work himself into a panic attack and he definitely doesn’t want that.
He doesn’t even realize he’s voicing out his panicked thoughts of ‘shitshitshitshit we’re all gonna die’ until the guy next to him places a hesitant hand on his forearm.
“Hey, it’s just a bit of turbulence,” he offers in a soothing tone. ‘Way too fucking calm for the shit we’re dealing with’ Stiles thinks bitterly.
Stiles turns to face him, now properly terrified.
“What the hell else do you think they would say?! They’re obviously not going to say ‘You’re all gonna die’ because that would make everyone freak out,” he exclaims. “But this is it, this is the end!”
The plane jerks violently again and this time panic is palpable as other passengers scream out in fear.
Stiles begins babbling not even aware of it until he’s in the middle of spewing out the deepest parts of himself.
He could blame it on the alcohol in his system making his brain-to-mouth filter basically nonexistent. The truth is they’re about to die and he feels the need to come clean to someone before he leaves this world.
“I haven’t done anything! I haven’t gone to space, or-or traveled the world! I never got to sleep with my celebrity crush! I haven't nearly had enough sex in my life -oh! Come to think of it, I don’t even think I have a prostate! Or one that works at least?!” He gasps out a sob. He manages to register the guy’s scandalized ‘excuse me?’ before he comes back to himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he offers sheepishly, blinking rapidly to clear the tears blurring his vision. The guy recovers quickly and tells him, “It’s okay, keep talking it seems like it’s helping you.”
The plane jolts again, this time bags and other belongings flying out from the overhead bins at the force.
“My career is a joke! I just fucked up my first big meeting and I’m probably going to lose my job. Then there’s this awful girl at work named Kate who got a promotion over me,” he leans closer to the guy to admit his petty crimes.
“So I’ve been watering her stupid spider plant with orange juice. And she’s totally clueless!” He jerks back to his side before continuing, “God, I wish I knew what it’s like to have boobs or a vagina, just for like a day, you know?.”
Now that he’s on a roll he can’t seem to stop, he is literally laying everything out for this guy.
"Statistically speaking I have six doppelgangers out in the world! I'll never meet any of them, or see if it's true.”
“I’ve been single for so long, I don’t know if I'm even capable of being in a relationship at this point.”
Oh God, is he Charlotte from Pride and Prejudice? No money? Check. No prospects? Double check. He's only 26 but that's damn close to her 27. He is such a Charlotte.
He shakes the thought away before reaching out to clutch out at the armrests between their seats and leans in to admit the most embarrassing thing he’s done in the past few months.
“There’s this guy at work that I've been fooling around with, but I think he wants to date me! Don't get me wrong, he's really nice...but he’s awful at giving head! Like always-uses-too-much-teeth-to-the-point-where-I-genuinely-fear-for-the-safety-of-my-nethers awful.”
The guy winces at that and nods along to the woes of Stiles’ pathetic sex life.
“I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love and honestly? I don’t think anyone has ever really loved me like they say they do.”
“I just want this big, amazing romance. Like the ones you read about or watch in movies! If I could just—” He's lightly nudged by the guy and looks at him in bewilderment wondering why he cut him off in the middle of his crisis.
“Excuse me, um, sorry it’s just that we landed?” He poses it as a question, seeming almost regretful that he’s putting an end to Stiles’ rambling.
Now that Stiles gets his bearings together he realizes that yeah, they’re not moving anymore and people are leaving. Actually, the plane is almost empty.
Why hadn’t the guy interrupted him sooner? He looks at the guy with wide eyes and loudly says, “What?!”
“Turbulence stopped like half an hour ago. But it seemed like you needed to get a few things off your chest.” The guy says, eyebrows rising pointedly.
Stiles covers his face with both of his hands wishing the ground would open up and swallow him so he doesn’t have to face the fact that he told this guy literally everything he’s been holding in.
He sits up quickly as the strangers’ words register in his brain. The plane is on sweet, sweet ground again and Stiles can escape this metal death trap.
He shoots up and is out of his seat before he knows it. The guy startles at his sudden movements and leans back into his seat as Stiles maneuvers himself around his legs to reach into the overhead bin and grab his bag. He readjusts the bag in his hand, eyes quickly sweeping over the guy's form as he rushes out a feeble apology, “I’ve gotta go. Uh, thanks dude. Sorry about...that.”
Motioning to the seat he just occupied to encompass he was apologizing for his scared rambling, he nods before turning to flee.
At least I’ll never see him again, Stiles thinks to himself as he quickly makes his way off the plane. He finds relief in this one statement, but still cringes at the fact that some random person knows everything there is to know about him.