Project Stilinski (completed)

11. His Room

She was nervous. She was way too nervous to be alone with this boy again. Regardless she rang his doorbell at exactly seven o'clock causing Stiles to jump in his room upstairs, startled. He checks his appearance one more time in the mirror then scolds himself for being dramatic over the whole situation. Honestly she's just going to be in your house, nothing more than just friendly conversations, he told himself while going downstairs to answer the door.

"I have to say, your house looks better without the beer cans in the front yard." Lydia says as the door opens, a line she had rehearsed on the drive over here. He gave a nervous smile as she entered, taking in the walls and picture frames as if she'd never seen them before. Stiles had begun to speak to her, tripping over his words as he often did but Lydia had completely zoned out. Baseball shirt, watch, messy hair, white sneakers. He had one hand hanging lazily in his pocket with the other either making frantic gestures or resting on the back of his neck.

"Lydia." She snaps out of her dazed state, raising a brow in question. "D-did you want to see my room?" He gulps, chucking a thumb in the direction of the stairs.
"Yeah, that's why I'm here right?" She chuckles before mentally rolling her eyes at how stupid she sounded. And his room was nice, normal teenage boy shit and all that jazz but there was one thing.
"Star Wars?" She snickers at the full size movie posters on his walls, the one she definitely did not remember from that night. Suddenly Stiles felt very self conscious about his love for the Death Star.

"I'm gonna have to take them down, aren't I?" He counters her question with one of his own. She sits on his bed, staring up at them all and she shrugs.
"I'm a personal fan of Anakin myself but I don't think other girls would understand the difference between watching episode one first or episode four." She says and Stiles filed her knowledge of Star Wars under 'Lydia's hidden secrets' along with photography and stars. There was a long silence in the room, the tension clearly tugging at them both but Lydia manages to continue.

"I'm just saying, if I was a guy and I had Star Wars posters hanging on my walls I'm pretty sure a girl wouldn't find that exactly romantic." Lydia leaves her purse on the bed but stands, eyeing the rest of the room. He holds his breath as she passes by him to study the knick-knacks on his dresser top, the smell of flowers lingering on his shirt. There was a signed Mets baseball on one of those protective plastic balls, some loose change, a few birthday cards from last year. She picked up the photo of tiny Scott and Isaac, both of them sitting on top of childhood Stiles who looked as though he was being crushed under their weight.

"I can be plenty romantic." Stiles states, watching her every move. And Lydia scoffs. She knew he could be but she was trying to play it off. She couldn't. Because when she turned around he was right there. He didn't mean to be, but she was close enough to smell his cologne, hear his breathing, watch his eyes fall from hers to her lips.
"I'd like to see you try." She was barely able to whisper before they collided, his hands pulling her closer by the waist and she thought about how much better it felt to kiss him sober.

He pulled away suddenly, muttering apologies about how he shouldn't have done that and he understood she didn't like him. She interrupted him by tugged his wrist, her fingers curling around his skin and his voice faltered.

The girl was already falling into the boy once more with no hesitation. Lips met lips so clumsily because the teens were too impatient and drunk on each other's touch. And the kisses felt like gold, his fingers wrapped around her waist were fire and burning into her. Lydia sighed as his kisses left her lips and fell to her neck as they made their way back to the bed. They fell together against the comforter with Lydia on top, his hands rubbing up the smooth skin of her thighs as their lips reconnected. Lydia knew right then that she no longer needed the galaxies, Stiles was enough for her. The noises she made just for him could fuel a rocket to the moon if that's what he wished. But he no longer needed to bottle the universe for her. Everything was intoxicating and so freaking good. The kisses deepened as hands met skin and Stiles' legs were numb from hanging off the edge of the bed but shit if he didn't care. He had waited an eternity for this and no way in hell would his sleeping legs stop him.