𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘃𝗼𝘆𝗮𝗻𝘁

You're A Mess

♡︎

"None of moms clothes fit me..." I sulk through the hall, back into Scott's room, where Stiles is digging through the dresser. Him and Scott share clothes more often than not, so it takes him less than a minute to pick out a shirt.

"Take this, Mae." He tosses a small navy blue shirt my way, and I stand in shock for a minute. "I've been looking for this shirt for weeks!"

"Yeah," he shrugs, walking to the bathroom, leaving the door open. "Scott decided to always keep some of your clothing here ever since the night at the woods after the party - when you had to wear my PE clothes to school."

"Oh...oh that's really sweet." I smile at the shirt in my hand, "Scott is too sweet for his own good."

"He really is."

I sigh and pull the shirt over my head before heading to Scott's dresser and looking through the pants drawer. I'm the least bit surprised to find a pair of jeans that I was sure I lost.

I have to stop myself from tripping and falling over while putting my legs through the jeans, but somehow manage to keep my balance.

"Hey Maeve?" Stiles questions from the bathroom.

"Hm?" I hum in response while struggling to French braid my tangled hair. Clearly my lack of French braid knowledge worsens when I'm severely hungover. I give up on the braid and sigh, picking up an old water bottle thats sitting on top of the dresser to down it.

"What's this on my neck?"

I quickly swallow the water and rush over to the bathroom. Stiles is still is in underwear, examining his neck in the mirror.

"Is this Scott's so called...raspberry?"

"Umm..." I gulp, "yeah...?"

"I'm pretty sure blowing on someone's neck wouldn't cause this." He stares at me through the mirror, and I see a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Look, I know as much about what happened as you do...." I say, "but it looks like I may have done the opposite of blown on your neck."

"Yeah...yeah that seems as if it may be what happened." He says sarcastically, raising his brows.

"I guess drunk me has more courage." I laugh, ignoring the blinding headache and dull nausea.

"So you're saying you want to do that to me?" He smirks, "sober?"

My heart skips and I have to hold back a panicked "oh my god" while looking at him. "I'm not sober enough right now to say. Neither are you."

"But you aren't denying it."

"Stop that." I say, stepping into the bathroom.

He faces me, "Stop what?"

"You know what I'm taking about." I roll my eyes at him. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"I don't, so why don't you tell me." Stiles still has a cocky smile presented on his face.

"Your messing with me." I shrug, trying not to lock all of my muscles when his arms reach out towards mine and pull my body fully into the bathroom.

"You're right. I am." His hands are still latched around my forearms, slowly pulling me closer. "And I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"I guess being drunk gives you more courage too." I choke out, my voice in a panicked whisper.

"I am still drunk, huh?"

"We both are." I almost trip on my own feet as they continue shuffling towards him, gravitated by his body.