Stydia One Shots

Paint Me Orange And Blue

Pt. 2 of A Work In Progress

. . .

Stiles opens the door with his spare key that she gave him last year. He closes it silently and kicks off his Converse by the door. "Lyds?" Stiles asks in a whisper. He isn't sure why he's whispering. The quiet is almost agonizing, it's not right for it to be this quiet in Beacon Hills.

"I'm in here." Lydia calls from the kitchen. Her voice is distant yet near, and he smiles at the sweet sound of it. He ventures into the kitchen, finding her washing her hands in the sink. The water is violet and the paint on her hands is quickly coming off. She raises her head and grins at him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

She sees him and the world seems to fade away. Now that she remembers, she does not know how she forgot in the first place. He loves her. He said it. Lydia didn't get the chance to say it back. She wants to say it back. Calming her nerves that she isn't allowed to have, Lydia turns off the water and leans on the counter.

Stiles awkwardly stands there. He stares at her; she stares at him. "I missed you." Lydia says slowly. He nods. "I missed you too." Stiles responds. There's more awkwardness, more stares, more silence.

Next thing he knows, Lydia is snaking around the counter to hug him. He hugs her back carefully, squeezing her closer than he normally would have. She smells like waffles and paint - a combination he could get used to. He kisses the top of her head and reluctantly pulls away.

"Uhm, the paint is in the jeep." Stiles points outside with his thumb. Lydia nods and they walk down the driveway, Stiles following Lydia and rambling in a way that's familiar to them.

"Ok, so, I didn't even know the lake house was a place anymore. Uh- I thought Parrish might've burned it down or something. I also don't know what you're doing with all this paint. Probably a science experiment. Not-Not that I'm questioning your painting abilities, b-because I know you can draw. You drew the nemeton and my name in the form of mischief which was actually pretty cool." Stiles finally stops to take a breath while opening the trunk.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" Lydia asks and he has the decency to blush. "Uh, my dad and Scott. Like everyday of my life." He replies. She laughs a little but in his mind she is laughing in slow motion, resembling one of those hair commercials where the girls are trying too hard to be perfect. Except, Lydia didn't have to try to be perfect, she just was. To him, at least.

Stiles sighs and grabs 3 cans of paint, Lydia taking the other 2. They walk back up the driveway, Stiles managing to keep his mouth shut. They set the cans of paint on a towel in the living room, and then their back in the kitchen. "I don't want to sound greedy, but I was promised two waffles."

Lydia rolls her eyes and sets the blueberry waffles on a plate. Stiles sits on one of the few stools by the counter. Lydia hands him the plate and he thanks her, then continues to pour a bucketload of syrup onto them - he squirts a bit in his mouth too.

The lake house, once deserted and cold, is now filled with warmth and the smell of Lydia. It's almost like her own hideout up there. The purple walls, marble counter, and especially clean hardwood floors remind him of her. He can't help but admire it all while munching on his waffle.

Stiles glances up to see Lydia making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of her own waffles. He snorts, catching Lydia's attention. "You eat like a 6 year old left home alone." Stiles comments. She flicks jelly at him and he twists up his nose. Gasping dramatically, Stiles wiped the jelly off his second favorite flannel.

(She stole his favorite blue one.)

"Sometimes, there's other things you wouldn't think would be a good combination, but end up being the perfect combination." Lydia quotes him without a second thought. Stiles turns pink. "You remember that?" He asks, slowing down his chewing.

How could she forget? "I remember everything." Lydia says. "The dance, the game," She skids over the kiss like a deer on ice, "That one time you passed out when you saw naked..."

Stiles groans, a sound that reminds her of a whale dying. He buries his face in the nook of his elbow, whining loudly. "Oh my god." Stiles mumbles, making Lydia laugh. He feels his body burn with the fury of a thousand suns. After two minutes straight of Stiles muttering about his immediate doom, and Lydia cackling as if she were a hyena on drugs, he raises his head.

"I was only, like, 15 then. You can't blame me. I mean, your so- your." Stiles clears his throat awkwardly. "I would do so much better if it happened again now, anyways." His skin goes back to its normal color. Lydia's laughing comes to a stop. She smirks at him. "I might just have to take you up on that offer."

He chokes on his waffle. She seems unaffected. They go back to eating silently.

"I can't believe you contacted me through Snapchat." Stiles jokes after a moment. The new topic serves as the diamond pickax that cuts the ice the deer was previously scatting on. Lydia shrugs. "Don't normal teenagers use Snapchat?"

He grins and pours more syrup on his waffles. "Since when are we normal teenagers?"

She falters at this, and he pretends not to notice. Why can't they be normal for once? Go on cliche double dates with Liam and Hayden, Skype Isaac every Friday, try to make out quietly with their parents downstairs, and spend hours complaining about homework.

They both finish their waffles and Lydia smiles small. "So, want to see what I've been doing for the last 2 weeks?"