Lydia and Stiles had been best friends since they were five, so they couldn't be right for each other, could they?
In which one eventful night leads them down different paths
[TEEN WOLF CROSSOVER]
[BASED ON LOVE, ROSIE]
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♡♡♡♡♡ MISTAKES ♡♡♡♡♡
TWELVE YEARS BEFORE PROLOGUE LYDIA'S 18TH BIRTHDAY (most of which she was too drunk to remember)
I JUMP AROUND crazily to the song playing in the background, Stiles 'dancing' along with me. After a few shots of tequila (possibly more than a few) I was almost entirely fuelled on alcohol and completely out of control of my body which I will definitely regret later when my head is throbbing quicker than this music. Finally, I stop attempting to dance and take a seat at the bar with Stiles before my legs snap in half from my horrible attempts at dancing.
Stiles and I both laugh repeatedly about whatever likely terribly unfunny thing we find funny, laughing even harder when Stiles let out a snort. After recovering from our laughing fits, we both calm down, staring intently at each other, slowly leaning in. Sober me is in the back of my head cringing at my attitude and how close mine and Stiles' faces were getting, how close our lips were getting, how they connected. Oh god, I'm kissing Stiles, Stiles is kissing me. This is so wrong, he's my best friend. I don't mean this, we don't mean this, we're drunk. Well, now I can tick this off as another thing we'll regret in the morning.
I eagerly attempt to reconnect our lips once we pulled away only for my foot to slip off of the stool causing me to fall flat on my face and immediately black out. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.
Great job, Lydia.
THE MORNING AFTER
THE FIRST THING I open my eyes to is the blinding light coming in from my bedroom window. The ray that seemed to be burning my cornea was accompanied by the voices of Stiles and my mum coming from downstairs along with a rattling pain in my head, my brain just about ready to explode.
The entirety of last night was implanted in my brain in short flashes, which I was glad for considering each flash made me cringe more and more each time I thought of them. I was so embarrassing, Stiles is probably here to tell me he's never going to talk to me again because I acted like such a twat. Not that he was much better but he didn't have to go to a hospital because he got so drunk he couldn't balance on his own two feet.
Letting out a whine of pain, I stand up, wrapping my duvet around my body and walk out of my door to the top of the stairs, swaying slightly from my head spinning along with the entire house.
"Why is everybody shouting?" I whine quietly, leaning against the wall at my side.
Stiles -- who was in a far better state than me -- gives me a sympathetic smile and follows me into my room. Tightening my duvet around me, I give him a tired expression, or maybe it was more of a ' I want to die' expression.
"I'm so embarrassed about last night." I groan, waddling over to my bed, the duvet wrapped around me like a burrito restricting me.
"No, no. You don't have to be." Stiles dismisses, closing my bedroom door behind him with a creak. Of course he'd try to make me feel better about my obnoxious behaviour.
"Ugh, I behaved so badly." I collapse onto my bed, engulfing my head in my pillow, Stiles following me onto my bed causing the bed to slant slightly.
"Yeah, but bad can be good too." He laughed from the bottom of the bed. Oh god, does he even remember last night?
I scoff. "Good? it was awful. Oh god, I feel sick even thinking about it,"
"Like, wh-which part?" Stiles stutters, sitting up straight.
"All of it. It never happened. Stiles, okay? You can't tell anyone!" I say in a whisper, giving him a serious expression so that he gets the message, last night was a huge mistake. He's my best friend, best friends aren't supposed to kiss, I was honestly expecting him to come out as gay until he told me about his crush on Malia Tate, he was really getting his hopes up with that one.
"Right." Stiles nods, probably about to say more but was cut off by both my brothers swinging the door open and jumping up and down, laughing and shouting about how I had my stomach pumped. Sometimes I hate those little brats.
"Piss off!" I scream at them, making my headache even worse and fling a shoe at them which they luckily for them is blocked by slamming the door closed. "How did we get home from the hospital?"
"Uh, my dad picked us up," He looked to me, my eyes widening. A police officer picked me up from getting my stomach pumped, great. "They needed a parents name, so, obviously I didn't want to give yours. He thinks it's my fault anyway, I'm a terrible influence. Blah, blah, blah."
"Oh, well, you are," I cut in and sit up, causing him to smile and shake his head before continuing.
"So, now I have to spend two hours in the library every day for a fortnight*."
I give him an apologetic smile. "Nightmare."
"Well, it could be worse. Malia Tate just got a part time job there." Stiles smirks, winking at me and I roll my eyes in return.
"Yeah, right," I scoff, sitting up. "Malia Tate? Forget it, even I want to sleep with her."
"For your information, she has been giving me the eye." He smiles smugly, raising his eyebrows.
"She's probably just been wondering why you haven't squeezed that zit on your forehead." I say, laughing as his eyes turn to slits.
"Fuck off." He turns away, a slights blush spreading across his cheeks.
"No. Come here, I can do it." I grin, reaching out to his forehead.
"Don't touch me, don't you dare!" He laughs, smacking my arms away from him, resulting in us both whacking each others hands, our arms becoming slightly tangled.
"I give in, I give in!" Stiles chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender, collapsing onto his back. "You know, Lydia. You've got a pretty good arm."
♡♡♡
A/N: okay, three things. first of all, the way this is wrote will be from lydia's pov as you can see, it'll be subtly like future her looking back on it but not entirely. she'll kind of just be giving her opinion randomly like you're her diary so expect that. second of all, because this is set in england things will be spelt the british way, like mum, colour, favour, flavour. these words are not spelled wrong. and one more thing (i swear it's the last), we don't have sheriffs in britian so we're just going to have to settle for officer stilinski instead of sheriff, sorry.
