Project Stilinski (completed)

5. Dinner

"And what do you do for a living?"

Meeting the people who had created Lydia Martin was more stressful than trying to get a tie on. It's not everyday two individuals engage in intercourse and produce a goddess and maybe that was a little over the top thinking but it was also one hundred percent accurate. Lydia had given Stiles specific instructions approximately one and a half minutes before actually meeting her parents. And if that wasn't nerve-wrecking, the fact that they were pretending to be together made it worse. Her arm was linked through his and she was leaning into his side, the smell of lilacs rubbing off on his new dress shirt.

"I'ma tattoo artist." He replies in his best stoner voice. It sounded a lot like Isaac in the mornings. "But I'm in a band. We're trying to make it big time, ya know?" He clears his throat, reaching for his glass of water that had already been refilled at least two times before. Lying was always a special skill of his but lying about who he was or what he did and his identity as a whole was a completely different story. Tattoo artist? He worked at a coffee shop downtown. The whole idea was to repel Lydia's parents. Why? She didn't really say but it had something to do about getting out of Beacon Hills.

Her parents reached for their wine simultaneously with courteous nods that were obviously fake.
"And you have tattoos of your own?" Mr. Martin asks. From what Stiles understood, Mr and Mrs Martin would soon be in the middle of a divorce. Lydia had mentioned that they usually never stop yelling at each other unless there was a guest.
"Yes sir. They're a bit vulgar, my buddy Scott did 'em but I'd be glad to show ya if ya like." Stiles began to unbutton his sleeve as if he was going to roll it up and show off all the tattoos he didn't have.
"No no! That's fine..." Mrs.Martin interjects.

And he had this weird accent, kind of a slur in his voice. It was unintentional but it was sort of becoming a thing. You's turned into ya's, them to 'em, and so on and so forth. It was difficult to remember at times but Lydia was getting a kick out of the whole thing. This wasn't even a freaking dinner party! This was dinner with her parents, what the hell!
"Can I talk to you Lydia?" He asks and she automatically stands.
"Sure, babe." She emphasized the word, grabbing his wrist before dragging him out of the dining room.

He was slightly disappointed when she let go once they were out of sight but he kept following her up the stairs and down the hall and into her room. Stiles had never been in her room. He'd never been in her house either but her room was nothing at all how he had never imagined.
"I feel like I'm losing them." Stiles sighs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. There was no actual sweat there but it seemed appropriate. Before he could complain anymore, his eyes caught the millions of photos taped to her walls. Lydia began talking about he was doing a good job. He kind of zoned her out though, mesmerized by the sunsets and trees and rivers and people (friends, family, crowds) covering her wall from floor to ceiling.

There were at least a dozen cameras sitting on a bookshelf in the corner and not even the kind you could fit in your front pocket. These were the ones with the big lens on the front and the shoulder straps that didn't really help because those suckers were heavy as shit. She even had different tripods poking out from under her bed.
"I didn't know you took pictures..." He mumbles, eyeing a photo of a couple at a restaurant with big smiles. Lydia tenses. No one knew. It was a secret of hers and no one asked so she didn't really tell.

"Focus, my dad will be up here to check on us any sec–" she hushed herself when footsteps sounded on the stairs. And suddenly an idea struck the boy.
"Would you slap me if I grab your ass?" Stiles asks under his breath, stepping closer to Lydia.
"What?"
The footsteps were right outside her door so he took action. He placed one of her hands on his shoulder, the other around his tie before putting both of his on her butt and dropping his head to her neck.

Just as the door opened, he lifted his head and said: "you're gonna hafta be quiet."
"LYDIA!" The two teens jumped apart and maybe that had been a bad idea because an angry Mr.Martin was not frightening but terrifying. "Downstairs. Now. Stuart–"
"Stiles."
"I think it's best if you leave."
Stiles smirks and it was hard not to straight up run past the man.
"Gorgeous." He winks to Lydia, the girl biting her tongue to contain a laugh. "See ya, Pops." Stiles clicks his tongue at the scowl on her fathers face and he's never felt more like Isaac in that moment.

Once he was out of that room you better believe he ran his skinny ass to his worn out jeep. Lydia sent him a text later and congratulated him on doing a good job and scaring the shit out of her parents. And he asked why he needed to do that so she finally explained. She planned to go to college out of state but her parents insisted she stay in Beacon Hills. But if she had a scary love interest in town they'd be all "sure, you can go to Montana or Ohio as long as you don't take shitface with you!" And it all made sense...

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Authors note:
I really don't have anything to say. Per usual.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe