His lips sought out her neck with unquenchable thirst. He smiled into her skin at the gasp that slipped past her lips, chuckled lowly at the way she moved his hand from her waist to the top of her thigh, fingertips edging at the folds in her skirt. Their lips met again. He wasn't the best kisser, she concluded, but they would work on that.
"So," his breath was heavy, "is Stilinski just not pleasing enough?" Lydia opened her eyes and pulled back from Drew.
"What?" She bit at the air. Drew realized his mistake and attempted to go back in but she kept him against the headboard of the bed. More specifically his bed. She didn't like his bed, wasn't particularly found of his room either. It reminded her too much of Stiles in the eighth grade, attempting not to cry while neatly arranging his action figures in a box. Except Drew's room didn't have the box yet. She internally screamed about every half second.
"I assume the reason you're cheating on him with me is because he can't keep it up." The boy brought her back to reality. And here was the common mistake again: Stiles Stilinski is dating Lydia Martin. She bit her lip to keep from ripping off his genitals.
"Okay, you're a fish," she spat the nickname reserved specifically for freshmen. "And I'm a senior, a very hot senior who is completely aware just as you are how easily capable I am of hooking up with any boy at B-H-H-S. Yet here I am on your pathetic little lap with your hickeys on my neck and you decide to assume I'm dating my best friend." He looked a little confused.
She sighed. "You wanna hear it in Spanish? Tu eres un pescado–"
"No! No, I understood fine in English." He laughed. Lydia rolled her eyes and gracefully climbed off of his lap and the bed, rummaging around for her discarded heels and jacket. Not so subtly placing a blanket over his lap, Drew watched with wide eyes at the anger in her movements.
"I just always thought you two were a thing and I was the guy you used for good sex." He tried to reason with her. She exclaimed silently after finding her right pump under the desk chair. She crinkled her brows. Are Freshman really this naive?
Sighing, she managed a smile and made her way to kiss him on the cheek.
"It was fun...actually, it wasn't. You're not the best, but nice knowing you." And she was gone. At least he could say he's hooked up with the Lydia Martin. That is if anyone ever believed him.
She showed up at Stiles' house sixteen minutes later, ditching the pumps in her car before going to the front door. After trying to walk straight inside only to find it locked, she knocked. No answer. She double checked and yeah his jeep was parked on the curb so she rang the doorbell. There was a small crash. A few of the locks could be heard coming undone before the door opened.
Stiles was shirtless (in the midst of putting on a shirt), some old sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his hair was another kind of mess she had never seen before.
"Hey-hi!" He leaned against the doorframe in an almost nervous manor with wide eyes.
She looked to the ground and fumbled with her fingers a bit. "I was just at Drew's..." It was adorable the way she spoke as though it was a sin. But instead of embracing her in a hug as anticipated. Stiles just stood there.
Jackass, she thought but only because occasionally he was. Especially whenever she tried to step forward and he blocked the entrance. "No! ...uh..." Lydia looked up at him and noticed the slight stubble on that wasn't there before. He cleared his throat and stood his ground.
"Stiles, my mother is probably drunk off her ass and I can't sleep whenever she's yelling the lyrics to Christina Aguilera." She slips past the boy despite his incoherent babbling and silent curse.
"If you have a... friend over then I'll just stay downstairs." Lydia throws her purse on the couch but heads towards the stairs, despite her words. She knew Stiles well enough to know he wasn't the one night stand kind of person. But once again his eyes widened and he rushed after her, grabbing her wrist halfway up. "YEAH! Yes! I-I have a friend, Uh-huh!"
Lydia quirked a brow. "That's a lie and even Scott after his wisdom teeth were out could tell." She continued her journey but he yanked her back again. Both brows raised this time, as if saying this excuse better be more convincing than the last. "Would you believe I killed a person and am disemboweling them on the carpet?" That was just a little desperate.
Lydia sighs and agrees to come back to the living room. This sets the biggest grin on Stiles' face and he begins to ramble on about popcorn and having a Saw marathon. As he started the journey down, Lydia bolted up the remaining amount of stairs and dashed down the hall to his room. He wasn't quick enough and slipped while pulling a 360 but fumbled after her anyway.
When the door to his room opened, she almost gagged at the overwhelming smell of cannabis. With a laugh she looked to Stiles down the hall who was scratching the back of his neck.
"Are you high?" She laughed.
"...there's a slight chance, yeah." He nodded frantically. Definitely high, she concluded.
She looked back in the hazy room. "Isn't your dad a cop?" She asked rhetorically. Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed her inside, locking the door behind them.
Still chuckling under her breath, Lydia took a seat on his bed and made herself comfortable amongst the mountains of pillows there, smacking them to test their fluffiness and arranging them from there. She freezes. "Was somebody watching porn?" She had a manicured finger pointed at his laptop on the edge of the mattress with a dirty website typed into the search engine.
"NO." Stiles snatched it up and closed it faster than one could inhale a single breath, setting it on his desk neatly. Groaning, he then grabs the neck of his shirt from the back and drags it over his rat nest of hair, chunking it to the ground humorously angry. "It makes shirts itchy." He mumbles before taking a seat on the window sill and cracking open the window.
He reaches out onto the roof and retrieves a small sandwich baggy with what Lydia assumes are blunts and a lighter. She snickers and settles deeper into the sheets as he lights one and takes a long drag.
"I've never seen you high before." She comments.
"That's a lie. They used to put me on anesthetics all the time at the hospital." He corrects her.
"Yeah, but like the illegal way." She corrects herself. He smiles, shaking his head as though what she had said was funny, and offers her a hit. And she takes it, making a show of putting the blunt between her lips before drawing in and swallowing some of the smoke causing her to cough a little.
Stiles was grinning as he took it back and looked out of the window. He cursed. "Dammit, Lydia, you're just so fucking gorgeous you know?" The boys voice was booming and slightly crackled from the smoke but it was kind of dangerous, a little sexy. It made her think certain things.
She laughed. "Well, thank you."
"Oh you're welcome!" He paused to take a drag. "And Drew, whatever the hell he did tonight, must be an asshole. Cause if he wasn't, he wouldn't let a fucking drop dead gorgeous girl leave his house and is that a hickey?" He got distracted slightly by the sizable bruise on the side of her neck.
"Do you just curse more when you're baked?" Lydia asks, ignore his own question. She had decided right then that high Stiles was a lot like drunk Stiles but with better vocabulary.
"No way! What the fuck even made you think that!" He cackled at his own joke.
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Authors note:
High/drunk Stiles is the best Stiles.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe
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Me Too (completed)
Fanfiction"Our moms were best friends before mine died, we used to take freaking bubble baths together when we were three."
