Stydia One Shots

Drunk

"Lyds, get down from there before you break a leg or something."

Stiles watches with wide eyes while a drunk Lydia Martin stands on a countertop in a bar. Thankfully, there's only five people in the bar there to see this going on. One of them being a very worried Stiles, who got called in the middle of the night by the banshee.

Stiles managers to get her down from the countertop and she instantly hugs him, burying half of her face in his Star Wars pajama shirt. He sighs as Lydia giggles loudly.

"Your girlfriend broke the record for most shots taken in an hour." The bartender comments, grinning. Stiles looks over Lydia's shoulder at the redhead. He knows for a fact that Lydia lost her fake ID somewhere in Mexico months ago, so he has no idea how she was allowed to drink here.

He also has no idea how she drank 40 shots - according to the record written on a whiteboard on the wall - and isn't dead yet.

"She's not my girlfriend." Stiles responds, frowning slightly at the notion. Since Theo killed Malia during The Wild Hunt 'incident', Stiles has been single. And since Parrish left a while ago, Lydia's been single too. Scott's still beating himself up over Malia's death, as he wants to protect everyone, it's in his nature.

Stiles, for the first few months after her death, stayed in his house and neglected school and the pack. Lydia didn't let him mope around though, despite his protests, and made him leave the house at least once everyday. One thing led to another and Stiles had her pinned up against his shower wall.

Take a moment to take in that information. Stiles got to put his lips against her lips, and he got to run his hands over her skin, and his body parts, touched her body parts- he wouldn't be surprised if he actually died and went to heaven.

Though, they aren't dating. It's been a week since 'it' happened and no one has said anything. Except Scott who saw the two the next day, stared at them with his lips parted then said 'holy fucking shit' and jumped up and down frantically until Stiles hurriedly took Lydia in the other direction.

Scott obviously doesn't know the meaning of chill.

"Well you came here in the middle of the night to get her, so either you're just desperate or she saved your life or something." The bartender pours a drink for a guy sitting on one of the stools. Stiles places his hands on Lydia's waist, preparing to carry her to the jeep.

"Thank you, Random Stranger, for the advice on my love life." He gives the guy a half wave. Stiles attempts to pick her up, but she whines and sits back down. "But, I ordered another shot." Lydia slurs into his ear. He shakes his head at the girl, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think we're done with the shots for a while." Stiles whispers. He wasn't okay with the bartender and the guy on the stool butting into his life.

"Technically I'm not a random stranger. I'm her cousin." He says it casually, even shrugs. Well that explains it, Stiles basically dislikes everyone in the Martin family but her. Stiles chooses not to reply and focuses his attention of Lydia. "You called me to take you home Lyds. Can we go now?" He asks softly.

Lydia nods, a wide, drunk smile still on her face. It's been a while since he's seen her this drunk. Actually, the last time he saw Lydia drunk was when she barely knew him, around her 15th birthday. Stiles dismisses the thought of the old Lydia, 'cause she notices him now, and that's all that matters.

Stiles helps her settle into the stool, before wrapping one arm under hers and the other under the back of her knees so he's carrying her bridal style. She giggles again. He offers a small smile. She was so going to be embarrassed about this in the morning.

Lydia finds comfort in the dip of his chest, letting her eyes flutter closed. He smelled like laundry detergent and the cinnamon he puts on his popcorn. Lydia felt as if they were time traveling, as the time where Stiles carries her from the bar to the jeep is erased from her memory, forgotten.

When Lydia blinks, Stiles is sitting in the drivers seat and she's in the passenger seat with her seatbelt on a little too tightly. Lydia blinks again through the haze that being drunk brings to look at him.

If someone had told her two years ago that she would have sex with Stiles Stilinski and like it, she would've laughed until her sides ached. It seemed as if he was a whole new person now. No more buzzcut, thank god, and surprisingly, he has a small bit of stubble that he'll shave when he wakes up in 3 hours.

Stiles becoming incredibly sexy to her wasn't the only thing that changed though. His personality changed. He's still viciously awkward, but - and it she can't help but grin in disbelief at this information - Stiles is a man now. He claims he still has baby fat, which Lydia couldn't find, and trust her, she tried.

He glances over at her, looking away when he finds she's staring. "Hey, remember when you saw me naked for the first time?" Lydia asks casually. Stiles sputters, almost crashing the jeep into a tree. "I- uh-" Stiles clears his throat, "Can recall that... experience." He all but whispers.

She bites back a smile, taking in his flushed cheeks, white knuckles and red ears. She knew she was torturing him with reminders of his former self. What was she going to do next? Bring up the time she was drugged and passed out directly on his crotch, making him do something that resembled Prada when a blanket is put over the dogs head?

"You passed out." Lydia goes on. Stiles flushes, stopping at a red light to scratch the back of his neck. Despite the embarrassment, it's still kind of awesome that Lydia Martin was the first girl he ever saw naked besides his mom and the girls on his computer screen.

"I was trying to be a gentleman." Stiles' voice comes out hoarse. "I know. You're always trying to be a gentleman." She comments. Her tone is light, but there's meaning behind it. A small portion of his embarrassment fades away slowly.

"Remember when you... when you... you.. You have no embarrassing moments. That's not fair. Haven't you ever tried to flirt with your crush at an ice rink and gotten slapped with Scallison instead?"

"Slapped with Scallison?" The strawberry blonde looks at him questioningly. He shrugs a shoulder. "It doesn't matter. You aren't going to remember this in the morning."

A/N

Okay, so I might make this into a short story called Airplanes, or I'll make this a one shot, or simply just a short story on here.