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“No, no, no don’t fucking - he did.” the guy seated next to Derek said, a disbelieving look in his eyes quickly fading to annoyance. “Of course he did, it’s not like he ever does anything fucking right, jesus.”
He was talking under his breath, and probably too low for a human to hear him, but the steady stream of comments might as well have been shouted into Derek’s ears.
It didn’t help that Derek was extremely interested in what he had to say.
And not just because the guy was cute - which he was, endearingly so, amber eyes and mole dotted skin with the stupidest most adorable upturned nose - but because he was reading one of Derek’s favorite books.
“No!” the guy said, flailing outwards, apparently forgetting he was seated next to another person. The hand holding the book thumped against the window and his other hand slapped Derek in the face, fingers poking his eye.
“Ow!” Derek said, catching the guy’s hand and holding it safely still.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” the guy said, and - yep, Derek was lame, because instead of feeling angry as he should he was obsessing over the way the guy’s skin paled so that it could turn bright red in concentrated dots low on his cheeks.
“It’s fine.” Derek said, attempting a gentle smile. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.“I’m uh, Derek.”
“Stiles.” Stiles squeaked.
Derek abruptly realized he was still holding Stiles’ hand and quickly dropped it. Stiles’ fingers twitched like they’d been electrocuted. “Good book?”
“Your face is good.” Stiles said. He paused, replayed the last few seconds then said quickly, “I mean, good book. Yes. Very good. I could give you it. If you want. To make up for the-” Stiles pretended to poke Derek’s eye again. “Yeah.”
“No thanks,” Derek said, shrugging. “I’ve got my own copy.”
“You’ve read it?” Stiles asked. “Good, because I need to talk to someone about how much I wanna kill James.”
“Why, what did he do?” Derek asked, playing along.
“Almost got himself killed! Again! Doesn’t he know by now that that’s unacceptable behavior? I’ve only been telling him this for three hours.” Stiles said indignantly.
“Yeah, he does have a nasty habit of doing that.” Derek agreed.
“Fucking incubus making me care about him, and his stupid werewolf boyfriend it’s just - ugh they’re disgusting and perfect for each other, why can’t they both just cuddle and drink hot chocolate and have sex to trashy hipster music?” Stiles said, looking disgusted with the book.
“Actually, Wylen’s asexual.” Derek said, feeling a little uncomfortable, like he always did when explaining that part to people. It felt a little bit too familiar every time, like coming out to his pack did, and he prepared himself to explain that Wylen was not a plant.
But Stiles’ entire face lit up. “Oh my gosh, you’re joking, no way! That’s - dude, I could cry. Like, real tears of joy right now. I’m demisexual and do you know howhard it is to find books that have ace representation?”
“Trust me, I know. That’s why I wrote that one.” Derek said, pointing at the novel in Stiles’ hands.
“Wait, what?” Stiles said blankly.
Derek grinned. “Hi, I’m Derek Hale, author of the book you’ve been whisper shouting at since you got on the plane.”
“I-” Stiles sputtered, pointing (and nearly taking one of Derek’s eyes out) at Derek’s smug face. “You- fuck you, you are not.”
Stiles looked down at the book, flipped open to the back cover and about the author - to see a picture of Derek glaring up at him.
“Derek Hale lives in Beacon Hills with two cats, and has far too many pack members always pushing their noses into his business.” Stiles read out loud. “You have two cats?”
Derek broke eye contact. “Four.” he mumbled.
“Sorry, what?”
“I have four.” he sighed. “But Laura and Erica said if I put down anymore that everyone I met would think I was a crazy cat lady disguised as a twenty six year old man.”
“Wait, did that say Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked, double checking the print. “Dude, that’s where I’m from!”
“Really?” Derek asked.
“Yeah, I’m the sheriff’s kid.” Stiles grinned.
They chatted for the rest of the flight, and when Derek finally stood to get off they had already promised to meet up at the Six Days bookstore at eight.
“Hey, one last thing.” Stiles said. “Do you have a band-aid?”
Derek frowned, scenting the air for blood. “No, sorry. Why?”
“Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”
Derek was generally bad with impulse decisions. He knew this, everyone knew this, literally no one in his pack was about to let him forget it.
That didn’t stop him from deciding that he was gonna marry Stiles someday.