𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Morning Workout

au— stiles and lydia work out together

request— @stydiarapps

==========

Thirteen hours later and he was still on the couch, passed out with potato chips surrounding his figure in shame.

Shame. She looked down upon him with shame, although some of her emotions contorted with sympathy, understanding the certain situation he was in. Yes, he was a mess. He had stubble growing along his skin, the only thing from keeping it really attractive was the crumbs of potato chips that scattered across it. He also had been wearing the same Green Day t-shirt since last Friday, stains covering the front of it that the words were practically illegible. Not to mention the grey sweatpants that he practically lived in and never took off. His hair—don't get her started—had lost its volume and importance, the rat's nest sitting upon his head like a menace.

After five minutes of analyzing his current state, her pity party was over.

She put down her phone and headphones on his coffee table (before she placed it down, she was obligated to swipe away some of the bags of chips that occupied the space), and rolled up her sleeves. The strawberry blonde gripped his shoulders and shook him awake, the man jolting in surprise and making a noise of protest. At first, wide eyed and defensive, he startled Lydia himself and was prepared to take out whoever dared to wake him up, but upon seeing the bright and vibrant colored hair, he relaxed.

"Jesus—you scared me!"

Lydia pulled away and rolled her eyes. "I gathered that." She paused and sighed. "Stiles, get up. You look terrible."

The man pouted. "That's not the right way to boost up someone's self esteem." He scratched the back of his neck and she winced.

"Stiles, just because you lost a job does not mean you can ignore the spectrum of personal hygiene."

He sighed and retracted his hand from his neck, folding his fingers together in his lap, crushing a few chips. He didn't notice. "You don't understand, Lyd, that was my dream job. That was the one thing I needed to get into Law Enforcement, and I blew it." He leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.

Lydia bit her lip and knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on top of his intertwined ones. "Stiles, I know you. You're the one to get past obstacles like these. You can't give up now. Look, you can't expect the best and that's what you did, and you got the worst. Getting fired sucks, okay? But there's a point where you need to move past it and venture off. You can't sit and sulk forever, you know. Stiles, you're twenty-three. There are so many other possibilities for you in this world and you won't find them by sitting in here and drowning yourself in potato chips."

He crossed his arms in front of him and she noticed the lack of muscle that he once had, working out to an extent at one point in his life.

That gave her an idea.

"Go shower. Get dressed." She ushered him up to his room from the apartment living room. "We're going to work out today."

Stiles frowned and wearily looked at her when she grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He was gawking at her as if she offended him. Apparently she did, because he kept trying to wiggle away from her grasp with a haughty smug look on his face as if to say he didn't need to workout. But, judging the way she was keeping him in a death lock with one hand while he was still struggling says a lot.

"Working out? What—Lyds—No—!"

"You smell like a pubescent boy who hasn't discovered deodorant yet, your hair is messier than Kira's art studio, your clothes are so dirty that they are actually wearing off, and your face looks like you've dropped out of all humanity, moved to the Himalayas, and pursued a profession as a sheep hoarder," she deadpanned.