Stydia One Shots

Fruitcake

We got big city plans
But it always rains

- Mustang Kids, Zella Day ft. Baby E

---

The two things Stiles and Lydia have in common, is holidays and being overly sarcastic.

They've lived across from each other for roughly ten years, and Stiles has had a crush on her since he was 8. It's obvious, really, there's no point in him trying to hide it, he follows after her like a lost puppy. They almost became friends once in the fifth grade, but Mr. Harris moved everyones seats the next day and Lydia forgot his name, again.

Lydia normally spends her holidays alone. Valentine's Day used to be spent with Jackson at a fancy restaurant where he would brag about his Porsche. On Halloween most girls are forced to dress like sluts and go out, so that's what she does.

Thanksgiving is spent in front of a TV, eating a microwaveable dinner that contains some type of turkey. On Christmas, her parents fight and she stays in her room with the music cranked up as far as it can go - Allison bought her one of those huge stereos at clubs that pop people's ear drums. How thoughtful.

Stiles spends holidays alone too, not because he can't go out with his dad, Melissa and Scott, but because he doesn't want to. His mom liked holidays a lot. She used to go all out during the holidays and buy huge, real pinewood trees, even though it pushed against the roof and created a small dent.

'None of that glittery pink crap' his mom would say to him, then would pat him on the head and tell him that only grown ups can curse. He would nod his chubby head and help her drag a tree into their home. So when she passed, it was undeniably silent around the holidays.

Like Lydia, he went to his room and blared his music, sometimes smirking when Lydia and him would play the same song at the same time. He'd glance over and out the window, getting bored of staring at the ceiling and making sure she was okay. She wasn't. He wasn't.

His eyes went back to the ceiling.

An hour of moping into Thanksgiving, his dad knocked on his door then opened it without acting. Some sort of fruitcake from the store was in his hands, and Stiles knew for a fact that the cake is as hard as a rock and shouldn't be eaten by anyone. 

Chatter from downstairs, - where Scott, Melissa, and the least scary Argent were probably eating turkey - floods into his room. Stiles lifts his head to raise an eyebrow at his father. "Can you take this to the Martins?" He holds up the cake and shakes it, though it barely moves. 

Solid. That fruitcake is going to end someones life.

"Can Scott do it?" Stiles counters. The edges of John's lips tilt downward. "As a Stilinski, you have to help out people in their time of need." There has to be a porno that starts off like this. 

"Your grandfather, my dad, helped people, and now I do to. Even your grandfather, Thomas Stilinski, was a-" Stiles rolls off the bed reluctantly, making his dad stop mid-lecture. 

It's good that his dad didn't catch him in the middle of crying, then he would have to go over to the Martin's - where Lydia Martin, who's the modern princess of Beacon Hills, lives - in a pool of emotions and grief.

Stiles takes the horrid fruitcake from him, not bothering to change into respectable clothes. Soon, he's trudging up to the Martin household in sweatpants and a tear-stained flannel that makes him look like the Loch Ness monster.

He knocks on the door repeatedly, shivering at the cold. Stiles glances over at the mountains that sit miles away from his house, only the tips of them coated in snow, doomed to never actually reach further down. 

He knocks again, this time harder, and the door swings upon, revealing Lydia, who he almost hits in the face with his knocking. Smooth. Lydia, as always, looks like she doesn't want to see him, or she just doesn't care.

Stiles can't tell. She has what Scott likes to call, resting 'I want to throw you in a flaming trash can' face. "Hey Lydia." His voice cracks. Stiles blames it on the goddess standing in front of him, and on the way he was aggressively crying a few moments ago. 

"Sup?" He puts his hand down, then raises it up and waves. Lame. 

Lydia blinks, unfazed. She's been crying, he can tell, but he still thinks she looks beautiful. Her eyes trail to the fruitcake in his hands, then back up at him. Stiles swallows nervously, his mouth becoming dry. 

She's never looked at him this long before. 

"You brought me a fruitcake?" Lydia raises an eyebrow. Stiles clears his throat and flails his arms, then having to catch the fruitcake before it falls. Though it probably would have fallen on the porch, and instead of breaking would chip the cement.

"Uh- yeah. My dad told me to actually. This whole, Stilinski Code of Honor thing. But- uh- you don't care, do you?" Stiles stands there, fruitcake hugged to his chest, and dripping with pure awkwardness. 

Lydia stares at the cake for a moment. He shifts from foot to foot, not knowing what the hell she's doing. "Well, are you going to give it to me or are you going to just stand there?" Stiles' eyes go wide. Was that meant to sound dirty? 

Letting his thoughts slip away, he holds out the fruitcake to her. Lydia takes it and is about to turn around when she stops. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" The strawberry blonde questions him.

"Me?" Stiles croaks, pointing at his chest. "Yes, you." She responds. "Oh. Me? Nothing. Nothing important, at least. Why?" Stiles' words come out fast. Word vomit. Great. Lydia's already regretting this, but she does not want to be alone. 

"Do you want to come in?" 

He makes the weirdest hand motion known to man. 

She's now a little concerned for his health. What if he passes out on the porch? Lydia thought Allison was just kidding when she said that Stiles has such a big crush on her that she could probably give him a heart attack by talking to him for five minutes. 

Stiles nods quickly. Lydia sighs and spins on her heel, leading the boy into the house. He follows after her, closing the door with his foot. Lydia makes a detour to put the cake in the fridge, then goes into the TV room.

His mouth gapes open at what he finds there. Ice cream, leftover turkey, and a giant bowl filled with popcorn coated with butter, pepper, and salt. The surprising part isn't their similar snack choices, or the flat screen TV. 

"You watch Star Wars?" 

Stiles' smile is too big for his mouth in that moment. Lydia sits on the couch. "No. I was flipping through channels, it came on." Lydia shrugs. She pulls the blanket up to her neck, leaving the spot next to her open. 

Instead of sitting next to her, her gets a closer look at the TV. "It's a DVD." Stiles looks too smug for her liking. Lydia lifts up the blanket slightly, a silent invitation for him to get under it with her. 

His face pales and he rushes to join her. There. That's the Stiles she knows. He can't believe it. She's managed to make him forget about his mother for at while, and she watches Star Wars - this is one of his many fantasies come true.

Maybe holidays aren't that bad after all.

A/N

Since TW is ending soon, I feel like theres so many stydia scenes that were mentioned, but missed. Like, just as an example, when Scott says 'Stiles is still trying to get Lydia to forgive him for leaving her in the parking lot'. 

Does that mean we missed Stiles slowly breaking her shell until she cracks a smile and forgives him? 

Kay, well, this has to be a one shot now.