Context: Lydia always takes care of intoxicated Stiles and he gets touchy-feely and calls her pet names
Sober up, sober up, sober up.
Lydia chanted in her head as Stiles sang quietly to the radio on the drive back to her house. Once again, after a crazy high school party, Lydia was stuck babysitting a very drunk Stiles.
There were parts of drunk Stiles she really enjoyed, like how his voice dropped a few octaves or how soft and fragile he became, like the boy he once was before werewolf days made him sit on edge. But drunk Stiles also came with some downfalls.
"Why are you upset?" Stiles nearly trips over himself while trying to slip off his sneakers at the front door.
"I'm not upset, stop reading into everything."
"You're fuming."
"I hate when you get drunk. I always get stuck taking care of you and you get all touchy feely. There are no boundaries when you're wasted."
..... "I'm sorry you gotta take care of me."
"No, no I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that... everyone just automatically expects me to watch you."
Pecking her neck "I'm sorry," "so sorry, Lyds," "babe, you hearing me?"
"Since when do you call me babe?"
"Since approximately five tequila shots ago."
She rolls her eyes. "You get so brave."
"Still not brave enough to kiss you."
Oooooooooo
"Why would you say that."
"Cause I'm not sober enough to hide it anymore." He giggles and her heart drops to her stomach. Hiding it? How long has he been hiding this?
"Stiles–"
His voice gets serious. "Lydia, fuck, I wanna kiss you so much." She's quiet "is that bad?" "You listening, honey?" "Lyds?" "Darling?"
"I should get the guest room ready for you."
"Guest room? I don't spend the night in the guest room, your bed is comfier, Lydia, you know that." "Is it cause of what I said?"
...."you should sober up."
MORNING
A knock came quietly at her door in the morning sun, right after she had woken up, as if he had felt it.
"Hungover?"
"Very."
She was sure he didn't remember, which is the only reason she offers: "you could lay down if you want, I don't bite."
But he shakes his head.
"So you remember then?"
He nods. "I'm sorry, I think I messed everything up."
She sits up "what do you mean?"
"I mean, what I said, I think I screwed us up. Like our friendship."
"No, Stiles, you could never." "Did you mean it?"
Pause "course. . .it's you Lydia."
They get closer
"So you want to kiss me?"
"Just said that, didn't I?"
"No, you said 'of course, it's you–"
He kisses her. Yum.
"Sorry."
"Don't be."