I do not own Teen Wolf and its character. That would be Jeff Davis and MTV

This is the first time I've written something in over two years so reviews, negative or positive, are greatly appreciated. Chapter two will be posted in a week. Or not if this offends people. Thanks for reading.

Wading through the throng of people trying to get their bags on the overhead luggage shelves, Derek kept his eyes trained on the seats. He didn't want to accidentally pass it by and double back through all that. A dull ache was beginning to form at the back of his head, most probably from the stress of being delayed for 5 hours in the airport due to a freak storm and the mixed smells of perfume, cheap cologne, and cigarette smoke stuck on clothes and acrid sweat from the other passengers hitting him from all sides.

'Row 6, row 7, row 8 and finally, row 9.' Derek thought, a look of concentration on his face as he adjusted his carry-on bag up his shoulder. He raised his head to look at his seat, but there was already someone sitting on it – defiling it – with a pair of dirty white Converse shoes that were sitting on the edge of the seat. The boy was pale, hair cut to a short buzz, the left side of his face peppered with a constellation of moles, his chin resting on his knees. He was absent-mindedly playing with his shoes laces, looking out of the tiny window beside him when Derek cleared his throat loudly.

"Holy sh-..!" the boy exclaimed, his feet comically kicking forward, hitting the seat before him as he clutched at his chest, his head turning wildly to face Derek. Upturned nose, perfect pale rose-colored lips, golden brown eyes, more moles, cheeks flushing, the boy sat there in shocked silence. He works his mouth for a few moments. "Uhm… hi."

Derek raised an eyebrow at the boy. "You're in my seat." He said coldly.

"I – oh, well… yes, I guess I am." The boy answered awkwardly, a nervous smile playing on his lips. He looks down and peeks up at Derek with those golden brown eyes framed by the most perfect lashes Derek has ever seen and he had to swallow. "Well… uhm, could I sit here instead, please?"

Derek cleared his throat again as he glared at the boy. Puppy dog eyes? Really? How old was this kid? He was about to open his mouth when the boy rushed on, perhaps sensing that Derek was, obviously, going to deny his ridiculous request. "You see I suffer from severe panic attacks and sitting by the window helps a lot a whole lot actually because I'm terrified of closed spaces and being in a plane thousands of feet in the air just stuck inside where you can't see anything but walls and people and seats and it reallyreallyreally freaks me out," the boy says all in one breath. He stops and takes a deep breath in, those damn eyes pleading.

This earned him a frown from the older boy as he tries to comprehend what the Defiler just said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking for a minute before relenting. "Fine," Derek growled as the boy looked at him, a huge grin plastered on that stupidly attractive face. The boy exhaled in relief and held out his hands to Derek.

"I'm Stiles!" the boy said cheerily pausing for a bit before adding shyly, "And thank you so much for switching seats with me."

Derek stared at the hand outstretched before him, staring at the boy's – Stiles' – long, slender fingers. 'Damn,' Derek thought, not really thinking at all. 'Those would feel so good wrapped around my –' Derek had to stop. Stiles couldn't be much older than 17. What kind of a name is 'Stiles' anyway? Shaking his head, he took the proffered hand at him and shook it. "Derek," the older boy said in return, his voice gruff as he tried not to think of how. fucking. soft. Stiles' hand was. "So where's your seat?" he asked in a deadpan.

"Oh, yeah! I'm so sorry, it's this one." Stiles said, his hand patting the seat next to him. Caressing it, actually. Derek had to force himself to look away from the hypnotic way those fingers danced.

"Great." He took his bag from his shoulder, rummaged through it for a bit before finding his book. He tossed it at his new seat before stuffing the bag at the overhead luggage shelf, barely fitting because of the younger boy's bag. He squeezed into his row, picked up his book and plopped down on his seat. He managed to resist the urge to look at the hyperactive boy beside him who was staring at him with a small smile, fidgeting with the zipper of his red hoodie.

The cabin continued to fill with people slowly. Derek sat there in silence wondering if he should have gotten one of the business class seats instead, since the boy looked as if he was never going to let Derek have some peace. He continued to pointedly ignore Stiles who seemed to be itching to start a conversation with him. The boywas practically humming with energy in his seat and Derek just had to wonder – again – if it was really too late to get a business class seat. 'Aggravation and annoyance versus peace and leg room,' Derek thought grimly. 'Well… at least he's nice to look at. Really nice. I hope he keeps his mouth shut the rest of the flight.'

An elderly lady took the seat on his left and the older boy sighed in relief. The seatbelt light flashed on and the cabin was filled with clicks. He tilted his head to the left and smiled at the woman beside him, her gray curls, kind pale green eyes and sharp features which were softened by the kind smile she returned to Derek. She looked past the older boy and her forehead furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright, dearie?" The woman asked, looking past Derek.

Derek whipped his head back so fast and looked at Stiles. He was pale and looked a bit shaky. His eyes were closed, breath shallow, his hands on his lap, tapping an uneven beat.

Derek nudged Stiles with his shoulders. "Dude, you okay?" he asked, a bit concerned. For his clothes and well-being. He really didn't want to spend the rest of the flight trying not to breathe in the smell of sick.

"I'm fine," Stiles answered weakly, his eyes still closed. "I'll be fine. It's always like this. I'll be fine when all the shaking stops."

"You sure?"

"Yesyesyes now please stop talking to me I might hurl and everyone will be mad at me." Stiles said in a rush. He gripped his knees and squeezed. "I'm fine. Really, I am."

Derek stared at Stiles and shrugged. He turned to look at the woman beside him. "He's going to be fine, ma'am. No need to worry."

"Is he really?" The woman asked with doubt. She craned her neck around Derek's bulky body, trying to get a better look at the boy. "Do you want to hold my hand, dearie?"

"Nononono. I'll be fine." The boy answered through clenched jaws, his forehead slick with sweat.

The older woman and Derek shared a look, the woman obviously concerned. Derek sighed as the he rested his head on his seat. The plane began to taxi and that was when Stiles began to lose it. Big time.

"Holyshitholyshitholyshit," Stiles whined, his head pressed against the back of his seat. "We're gonna die we're gonna die I don't want to die I'm still a virgin no one wants to die a virgin I have to see my dad and Scott and Lydia and asswipe Jackson and Allison and Isaac and fuckfuckfuck."

"Stiles!" Derek hissed, he lifted his head from the back of his seat. "You said you were fine!"

"I'm not I'm not holy shit I'm gonna die you're gonna die the plane'll explode and everyone will die shitfuckshit nonono." Stiles gasped, his breathing erratic. "I can't do this I can't no no no."

Derek stared wide-eyed at Stiles. A million thoughts were crossing his mind. He couldn't even hear the other people around him trying to calm Stiles down when something clicked in his head. He removed his hand from the armrest and took one of Stiles' hands into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He leaned towards the younger boy, resting his forehead on Stiles' temple and started to whisper calming words to him.

"Stiles, just listen to my voice," Derek whispered into Stiles' ear. "You're going to be fine; no one's going to die. Just focus on my voice and your breathing."

Stiles whimpered as he adjusted his clammy hand and interlaced his fingers with Derek's and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"That's it, breath. Count with me to five and take a deep breath," Derek murmured into Stiles' ear. He wasn't trying to breath in the intoxicating scent of the younger boy. Because that would be creepy. And he didn't really like Stiles. Hell, he doesn't even know Stiles. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe."

Derek held the younger boy's hand for five more minutes, urging Stiles to take more calming breaths before extracting his hand from Stiles' iron grip. He leaned back and looked at the boy. His eyes were still closed but obviously more at peace with the situation. Or he was sleeping. Derek stared at Stiles' chest taking note of the regular and even rise and fall of the boy's chest. He was definitely asleep. The older boy frowned a he realized how taxing a panic attack must be.

'God, you're gorgeous,' Derek thought. It's not like anyone can hear him think, as his eyes roamed the perfect features of the boy beside him. 'If only you were a few years older…'

"You did a good job with him, dearie." A voice to his left said, making Derek flinch. He turned around in his seat settled himself down for the long flight. He looked at the woman and just nodded. Derek took one more look at the boy beside him and smiled.

Derek was making good progress on his book when Stiles started to stir beside him. The younger boy grunted something in his sleep, distracting Derek from his book. Looking to his right, he saw that Stiles was facing him, his mouth slightly open. Derek smirked and returned to his book.

The older boy was in midflight nirvana, being able to concentrate on his reading. Page after page turned, his forehead furrowed in concentration. He loved this feeling, being lost in a whole new world with no one distracting him. He loved the smell, the feel of paper on his fingertips, the weight of the bound tome. Experiencing things, going places, meeting new people, it was all magical to him. His family found it weird, being the only one with an obsession like his. They were all outdoorsy and active. Not that he wasn't. He just liked spending a bit of time away from all the stress in his life.

Namely his obnoxious family.

"A Dance with Dragons," a groggy voice croaked to his right. "Caught the Game of Thrones bug, huh?"

Derek closed his book and turned to look at Stiles. The younger boy was peeking at him through half-closed eyes, a goofy smile on his face. He dog-eared the page he was reading as he debated whether or not to engage the Stiles in conversation. He tried not to think of how intimate he had been with Stiles earlier when he was trying to calm him down. Either Stiles forgot what happened earlier or he was ignoring it like Derek. Thinking that there could possibly be no harm in it, he decided to take the bait.

"No," Derek huffed at the boy, his forehead wrinkling into a scowl. "I've been reading A Song of Ice and Fire since I was in high school."

"Oh! Wow, that's really cool," Stiles answered as he perked up. He ignored the scowl that Derek gave him. "I started reading it too even before it went mainstream. I read the first one when I was 14 and I was grounded for a month during summer because I hid in my dad's car when he went to a murder scene. It was all downhill from there."

The scowl from Derek's face disappeared. He raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, obviously impressed. He was starting to like Stiles. A lot.

Not that he was going to admit it.