Stydia One Shots

A Work In Progress

So, my friend who remains nameless challenged me to start one of these with the sentence: to be honest, Stiles didn't even know Lydia could paint.

Super vague. Other people can challenge me if you want *shrugs*

Oh, and there's smut soooo.

. . .

To be honest, Stiles didn't even know Lydia could paint.

See, now that the pack had saved him yet again, and he confessed his undying love for her in his jeep, Stiles and Lydia were sort of dating. If you could call it that. They hadn't talked about it. He doesn't just mean his confession, he means about the kiss, the dance, the hand holding, Allison, or any feelings they might have for each other. They hadn't talked about anything for a while, actually.

As college approaches and Senior Year comes to an end, most of the pack has taken up a hobby. Stiles spends most of his day working on his jeep, keeping his phone in his pocket because he hopes she'll call. Scott is a full-blown wolf now, which Stiles thinks is pretty badass. He basically owns a pet wolf.

Malia and Brayden are searching for Kira, because Malia says that something doesn't feel right and Brayden is bored these days. Scott wanted to tag along, so did Stiles, but they got no response from Lydia. Stiles obviously stayed in Beacon Hills, and Scott, concerned about the banshee, stayed too.

Liam is invested in lacrosse, but Stiles doesn't really care because they never talked anyways. He isn't sure what Hayden does in her free time, and he found Mason and Corey in the back of his jeep so he knows what their doing. Stiles actually thinks that they're a cute couple, he just doesn't like having to disinfect his jeep.

Oh, and get this, he called Sourwolf last week and the scary, menacing Derek Hale spends his time gardening with his cat FurBall.

Sadly, though, he had no idea what Lydia was doing. He assumed she was doing one of 4 things with her spare time.

1) Learning yet another language.
2) Clubbing.
3) Working on her 'Banshee abilities'.
4) Riding some muscly blonde jerk.

Can you guess which one makes his blood boil? Oh yes, lucky number 4. Stiles is contemplating dying his hair blonde.

The boy was waist deep in oil when his phone made a 'ping' noise that was unfamiliar. He rushed to see what it was anyways. There was a little yellow icon with the words 'Lydia sent you a snap' in thin grey writing.

His eyebrows raise. Stiles doesn't even remember getting the app, let alone using it. He hasn't been on social media since Scott got bitten, which was 3 years ago. If he did use social media, people would probably get annoyed with the amount of photos he'd post of Lydia sleeping.

(What? He can't help it, she's like 30% adorable kitten.)

Stiles quickly types in his password and opens the snap. It lasts for 6 seconds and it's of three empty paint cans, bunched up in the corner of a cream room that he doesn't think he's seen before. The caption states: so I ran out of paint.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Replays the snap. Blinks. Once. Twice. Then gets it through his thick skull that he should reply.

Stiles feels he should shower before replying. His hair is literally half oil and his white shirt is stained black in several places. To put it simply, Stiles looks like shit. He missed texting, where he could send someone something without them having to also receive a picture of what he's doing right now. Sure, you don't have to do the whole photo/caption thing, but then you might as well not even have the app.

So he sends her a photo of his shoes with the caption: and I suppose you want me to get you more? He presses the button that directs this to her with his thumb.

In the time it takes the app to show that Lydia saw his snap, Stiles wonders if girls judge guys by their shoes.

And the next thing he receives is a text, no photo, because Lydia Martin seems to not care about the rules of Snapchat-dom.

Pretty please? I'll make you a blueberry waffle.

He snorts.

Two waffles.

Is his mind, he can see her rolling her eyes and muttering something about him being demanding.

Fine. Meet me @ the lake house.

---

The last time Stiles was in an art store, he was only 6. His mom had brought him so they could buy supplies for a project him and Scott were working on. Young Stiles had sat inside the cart, looking up at everything in wonder. Now, nothing had changed, except he was pushing the cart instead of sitting in it.

There was a wall of different colored paints, all lined up neatly and color-coded. Small tags were placed under the paint, showing the names of each color and how it looked. Stiles checked the screenshot he had taken of Lydia's instructions. They did not count as instructions, though. It was just an excessive list of paints that sounded like body soaps.

Electric Blue, Flowing Lilac, Cream Purple?

Oh yeah, he so wants to smell like a flowing lilac. That's real sexy.

Stiles chuckles at his own joke and tries cluelessly to look like he knows what he's doing. Thankfully, Danny comes over to help him. "I didn't know you worked here." Stiles says slowly. The list of things he doesn't know continues to grow.

He inspects the boy. Danny is wearing a messy apron, the type you'd expect to find bunched up in the corner of an art classroom. Under that is a clean green polo shirt and the outfit is all tied together by a pair of khakis.

"I just started a few months ago." Danny shrugs his shoulders. "It pays well." He explains and shoves his hands into his apron pockets. Danny offers a friendly smile and Stiles does it back. The tanner boy's eyes flicker down to the phone Stiles is holding. "I didn't know that you paint."

"What? Oh, no. I don't. I can barely draw a stick figure. Lydia paints, and I'm her loyal servant." Stiles waves his phone in the air then hands it to Danny. He takes it and scans over the list. "Wow." Danny comments. "Lydia's lucky then. Most guys don't want to do shit for their girlfriends."

Stiles stares at Danny. He turns and starts to walk to the right while Stiles follows him. They stop in front of a metal ladder. "We aren't dating." Stiles tells him.

Danny smirks and puts his foot on the first step. "But you want to, don't you?"

"Well- I- yes. No. Maybe."

Danny laughs the whole way up the ladder and the whole way down. Bastard.

A/N

There will be a part 2.