Bane of My Existence

Emie

His eyes widen, then narrow, an attempt to wake himself up.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm good to drive, and I gotta bring Scott home..."

Looking over to Scott, already asleep on the couch, his voice trails off by the end of his sentence.

"Stiles, you live a half hour away. Plus, what do you have to do tomorrow?"

He thinks for a moment then tilts his head in a shrug.

"Fair point."

———

He's laying out a throw pillow and blanket from an armchair on the living room floor beside the coffee table as Celia exits the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" She whispers.

As Stiles looks up she recognizes this is the first time he's slept over. Scott had stayed on their couch dozens of times when study sessions ran into the next morning, explaining his familiarity. Celia stands there in the doorway dressed in a gray tee about four sizes too big, her hair wrapped in another, and smudged eyeliner that refused to be washed off in the shower. Stiles' eyes dart from her eyes to where the shirt hem grazes above her knee.

He finally says, "I just figured I'd set up here, stay out of the way."

Celia nods, internally seeking the most tepid response when she hears herself say, "or you can sleep with me."

Stiles swallows hard.

"What?"

Celia blinks twice, her lashes brushing against her glasses.

"In my bed, I mean. It's probably more comfortable."

Stiles tucks his head back, "uh huh. Probably." His face breaking into a shy smile.

———

Stiles shifts his weight from his toes to his heels, taking in the posters, charcoal drawings, and photos lining Celia's bedroom walls. She stands across from him, taking him in. She sits on her bed watching his hands run over his front pockets. The veins trailing up his forearms, running under the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

"Oh, I love Modern Baseball." He says admiring a tour poster.

Celia smiles and nods. She knew this. She had trained for the first time Stiles drove her home freshman year of high school by asking Scott about his likes, dislikes, and favorites. Needless to say she had never been particularly subtle about her feelings for him.

Celia pulls the sheets down and over her. Stiles stands nervously in front of her record player pretending to reread vinyl titles.

They wait in silence for the other to speak until Celia finally says, "you comin'?"

"Y-yeah," Stiles laughs.

They lie parallel, Stiles stiff below the sheets.

Celia inhales deeply, "Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He turns to face her, their faces inches apart.

"Do you think we'll find Emile?"

He's quiet for a moment, watching her eyes wander across the ceiling.

"I don't know. I'd like to think we can, but I don't know."

Celia nods. Stiles hand slides over to find hers. He runs his thumb over her knuckles, her attention grounded to his touch.

"It'll be okay Celi. Seriously."

But she can't think about anything other than how close he is right now. She finally meets his gaze. His left hand moves from beside him to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.