I'm No Werewolf (The Rewrite) // Stiles Stilinski x OC

Big enough bed for us both

Disclaimer: teen wolf does not belong to me in any way, shape or form :( and yayyy another super quick update for you all, I couldn't help myself. I'm living for Stayla rn

So thank you for all your continued support and  for the awesome reviews again. It means the world :)

She was barely even conscious when the thumping in her head started, causing her to groan and pull the blankets up around her face to block out what little light there was. Wishing she could just melt away and never return.

She barely remembered anything. It was all one gigantic blur. One minute she was at Lydia's party and now she was hiding under a duvet, willing away the headache from hell. Regretting all those extra shots she must have done.

Only now she definitely wasn't at Lydia's party.

She was in a bed. A bed that felt warm and comforting and smelt like home baked cookies. A slight tinge of woodiness clinging to the covers.

"Dammit Kayla" she muttered, blowing out a long breath of exhaustion that made the blankets faff around her face, "what have you done?"

Waking up in a strangers bed was meant to be what the old Kayla did... not the new Kayla. What the hell did she even take at that party?

She pulled the covers down, expecting to come back to face with regret but instead she found no one sleeping next to her, having the whole bed to herself.

She blinked once, then twice, confused and a little relieved as she pushed herself up and looked around the room, recognising it vaguely as Stiles' - having only been in it once. The room was a little messy, but warm and welcoming. Very much Stiles. Blue walls and grey carpet, the bed she was in diagonal between the two walls. The covers wrapped around her were a simple checkered dark grey, the pillows fluffy and soft. Her attention caught by a large surf board leaning against the wall. Since when did Stiles surf? She couldn't imagine it with his coordination.

Which led her to her next confusion... why the hell was she in Stiles' bed?

She sat up, squinting at the first rays of morning sun coming through the window and glanced down at her attire. Same bikini bottoms and a flimsy tight cropped white tee but, thrown over it, was a red checked shirt that was too big for her but comforting none the less. The cuffs slipping down over her knuckles. That same woody smell clinging to the material that she, without realising, was breathing in to relax her.

But where was-

Oh. There he was.

Stiles was laying flat on his stomach on the floor beside the bed, his neck at an awkward angle. Dressed in his usual attire of a casual tee and slacks, a pair of mismatched socks on his feet.

She felt a little bad as, for whatever reason, she stole his bed. It didn't look all that comfortable down there, especially without a pillow or blanket. Maybe he was just being a gentleman but he could've easily have shared the bed with her - she didn't have cooties for crying out loud.

She didn't remember speaking to Stiles, let alone somehow ending up in his bedroom but her best guess was she bat signalled for him and he came running - always answering her calls.

Throwing back the rest of the covers, she stretched her bare legs off the edge of the bed and over Stiles' sleeping form, glancing around the room.

Surely somewhere he had some aspirin.

She wrapped the shirt tighter around her body, taking a seat at his desk as she ran her fingers along the messy top but nope - no aspirin. However, what was interesting was his MacBook was open although the screen was black.