Ellen Ripley: reluctantly stuck on a spaceship with aliens
Stiles jabs at the buttons wildly and the doors swing shut behind them, the lights flashing wildly as he and Erica stride down the corridor.
“This is completely unnecessary,” he mutters as they make their way towards the shuttle docks. “Everyone knows they have been hardworking members of the crew ever since they boarded, what is Gerard thinking in calling all the Loran refugees spies?”
“It could have something to do with the fact that we can shapeshift into any form,” Erica says, raising her eyebrow. “Security risk, you know?”
“Bullshit, it’s a handy talent, doesn’t make you all evil,” Stiles mutters. “Come on, we’re almost there, Scott just sent me a comm to let us know the shuttle’s ready, and he can get you all out of here safely.”
“Thanks for doing this, helping us,” Erica says, with unusual seriousness. For her, at least. Stiles is pretty sure all the times he’s joked and bantered with the young mechanic she’s never looked at him– well, with the focused, almost fond gaze she’s giving him now. It makes him a little uncomfortable, he thought she and Boyd were a thing?
“No problem, I hope that civil war on your planet figures itself out while Scott gets you guys set up on Icarus,” Stiles says. “Sorry you all couldn’t stay longer– I’ve really enjoyed having you all on the ship. Gonna miss every one of you.”
“Really?” Erica gives him a sad smile. “Thought you weren’t too fond of Derek.”
“Don’t tell him, okay,” Stiles remarks as he hacks into the door code to get them through the next floor level. “I’m really gonna miss making fun of his eyebrows, but it’s going to suck not being able to pull his metaphorical pigtails anymore. I wish… ” Stiles stares blankly ahead as the door swings open. “I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Come on,” he says, gesturing Erica forward and they continue to run down the barely- lit hallways.
“You wish what?” Erica asks him curiously.
“Nothing, everything, I dunno, more time, I guess. Like did you know he’s never had curly fries? I always figured the next time we swung by Earth, I’d ask him out, like actually actually–” Stiles stops, the comm device on his hip beeping with an incoming message over the newly established secure line. “Hang on, it’s Scott,” he says, bringing it to his ear. “Yeah, I’ve got Erica, we’ll see you in about five,” Stiles says.
“Erica’s already here,” Scott replies, voice sounding confused over the line.
“Oh shit,” Stiles says, realizing and turning around to look at Erica–who is not Erica– shimmer slightly, and her features rearrange into Derek’s.
“I thought you were still mad at me,” Derek says, eyes looking down at his feat. “That’s why I,” and he waves his hand in an awkward circular motion. “I’m sorry,” he offers.
“It’s fine,” Stiles says, his face turning red. “So, um, escape shuttle?”
“Yeah,” Derek says, and they’re silent all the way to the dock until they reach the shuttle, and Derek looks back at Stiles with a look, and that’s all it takes, for two years of teasing and flirting and maybes and whatifs for Stiles to just go fuck it, and goes barrelling right into the shuttle after Derek.
“Sup, Scotty,” Stiles says when Scott looks up in surprise from the pilot’s seat. “You’ve got room for one more?”
When Derek turns to him with an incredulous look, Stiles just shoves him with his shoulder playfully. “What, they’ve got curly fries on Icarus. You in?” he asks, and the smile he gets in return is worth everything in the universe.