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Third person POV.
Lydia Martin is throwing a party.
And when Lydia Martin throws a party, you go.
You had shown up a little bit later than the time she had issued via the groupchat, so when you arrived the party was already in full swing.
People still in their clothes had found their way into the pool, handsy couples were leaning against any surface, and the thrum of a bassline could be heard from the street.
It was a party, all right.
You'd had a couple drinks while catching up with Allison and even let Lydia convince you to try one of her cocktails but you had yet to see the man you'd been hoping to spend the night beside.
Telling Lydia you'd catch up with her later, you left the backyard and wandered through the packed lounge to the kitchen.
"Stiles?" you called out as you squeezed past a couple people, beginning to feel a little concerned.
Maybe he hadn't come at all, you thought a tad disheartened.
Usually, you and Stiles ended up hanging with each other at every party whether to keep the other from going too hard on the punch, or to have company you knew wouldn't ditch you.
Besides, the small crush you were harbouring was begging for something to happen tonight.
Your eyes landed on Scott and Allison spooning more punch into their red-solo cups and approached them.
"Hey guys," you began and the couple turned their attention to you, smiles blooming on their faces.
"Hey Y/n!" Scott smiled in that excited puppy-dog way he always spoke.
"I didn't know you had arrived!" Leaning into his side, Allison giggled, clearly a little intoxicated.
"Yes, you did. I told you, silly." Scott turned to look at his girlfriend, face contorted in confusion but you didn't let him get distracted, speaking to get your question out.
"Have you guys seen Stiles? I haven't seen him at all." At your question, Scott lets out a chuckle, smiling like he knows something you don't.
You quirk a brow and Allison is the one who answers your unspoken question.
"He, uh- decided to try do a keg-stand earlier and it all caught up to him all at once.
He's out on the porch through there." She points with her cup, gesturing to one of the doors that leads outside from the kitchen, to the side of the house.
It makes sense the two of you often ended with star watching, letting some of the alcohol be stolen by the bite of the night.
It's parties that even let the two of you get closer as friends.
"Good time to show up too, Y/n," Scott adds, wrapping his arm around Allison's waist and pulling her closer.
"He's been asking for you." You roll your eyes, praying neither of them notice the heat in your cheek and leave them with a wave.
Making your way to door, you gingerly pry it open and spot Stiles on the stairs, face in his hands.
He's blowing raspberries into the night, clearly bored or just way too drunk.
At the noise of the door, he turns and you watch as his expression turns to one of delight at the sight of you.
"Y/n? you're finally here!" From the slur in his tone, he's definitely too drunk.
Trying not to blush at excitement in his voice, you cross the porch to take a seat beside him, his eyes following you the entire time.
"Yup, it's me. I told you I was coming tonight." Looking dozy, he grins and without warning, he scoots closer and lays his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes.
"Yay." You smile at the gesture, trying to ignore your pounding heart and the rush of butterflies that released in your stomach.
Which you probably would've accomplished if Stiles hadn't then gasped, lifted his head and grabbed one of your hands in his.
He intertwines his fingers with yours and smiles contently at the sight of your conjoined hands.
Okay, now your heart is skyrocketing. With your face burning hotly, you hope there's enough alcohol in his system that he won't notice.
"Uh- um, Stiles? What are you doing?" "Somev-" he slurs his words for a moment and pauses to correct himself.
"Someone asked me- hic!" He hiccups mid-sentence and you can't help but grin.
He's so adorable, even when drunk.
"Someone asked me who I thought had the softest hands and I -hic!- I thought about you. I'm always thinking about holding your -hic!- hand." He murmurs as he speaks, eyes trained on your hand in his and you thank god he's not looking at you because you're trying to restrain the urge to let out a squeak of ecstasy.
Forget blushing your entire body is lit up with excitement because Stiles Stilinski, your best friend, apparently feels the same.
You bite your lips to contain your grin when Stiles turns his gaze back to you.
"Nobody in the world has hands this soft." he tells you, deadly serious.
It's clear that he finds it very important for you to know that but you can't keep your cool, bursting into laughter.
When you finally calm down, you pull back your free hand and bring it up to cup his cheek gently and Stiles leans into it like he's done it all his life.
You smile softly.
"I cannot wait to tell you about this conversation when you're sober."
"Absolutely," Stiles hums and grabs your hand off his face, planting a smooch on it. "What are we talking about?
