Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Brains Over Beauty (Part 3) // Stiles Stilinski

"Oh my God, this is taking forever!" You let out all in one breath, topping it off with a groan as you flopped onto the bed like a dying seal. For days, you had been scouring the internet for even just a hint at what you are. It was so impossible that even Stiles, the research expert, couldn't find anything. You had stayed at Stiles's overnight because you were so swamped from the day before.

"Hey, wait." Stiles called, making you shoot up from the bed and dart over to him. You leaned in to him closely, your head hanging over his shoulder. "An angel? Can you be an angel? Please be an angel."

"That wouldn't work." Was your simple reply.

"Why not?" He said with frustration, glaring at you.

"Angels don't have emotions like humans do. They're basically just robots with wings." You explained with pride, happy that you knew something he didn't. "Well, according to Supernatural, of course."

He slowly turned to face you, a scowl on his face. "A TV show? You're putting your faith into a TV show? You really think that that's a smart idea?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that most of the stuff on that show is true." You argued, defending some of your favorite fictional characters.

"This is ridiculous." He mumbled to himself, before tapping away on his laptop once more. You grinned, knowing that you had proven him wrong. That quickly turned into a frown, however, when you felt your stomach grumble with dissatisfaction. Stiles certainly needed a break anyway.

"Well, I need food and I won't survive without it so I'm going to head downstairs. Do you want anything?"

"Must keep typing." He spoke in a monotone voice, eyes never leaving the bright screen as his fingers continued to tap the keyboard.

"Stiles, come on." I insisted. "You haven't eaten anything for the past 48 hours that I've been here."

"Wifi is the only food that I need."

"Stiles, I get you want to help me out here but you're allowed to take a break." You couldn't help but smile at how dedicated he was to solving this for you. It was sweet of him, but he was going to die of starvation if he didn't at least take a break.

"No."

"Alright," You replied, a plan already forming in your head as to how you'd drag his ass downstairs. A very simple one, as well. With a huff, you latched your fingers onto the back of his chair, dragging it to the door. You smirked as you watched him clamber for the keyboard, typing as much as he could before he'd be fully departed from his beloved electronics. A laugh erupted from your throat as you listened to his pleads for you to stop.

Now, there was a minor flaw to your plan of attack.

Stairs.

As you took a moment to think, Stiles took this as a perfect opportunity to run. However, you were quicker, blocking the doorway with a triumphant grin. He glared daggers into your skull as you stared at each other.

"It will take five minutes." You reasoned with the wise Stilinski. "You can even bring the food back up here if you want! I don't need you passing out from starvation while I'm here."

He crossed his arms, looking as if he were having a silent debate with himself in his head. Minutes and minutes seemed to have passed by, and you had began to think that he'd just toss you to the side and run back into that black hole that he calls a room. Surprisingly, he shook his head in defeat before turning around and starting his descent down the stairs, you following close behind with another grin.

Once you had gotten your food, Stiles had actually sat down in the kitchen to eat, rather than going back upstairs. Sitting across from him, you began to chow down. You weren't even halfway through your sandwich when you noticed Stiles was staring at you.