"Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"
"The middle." Lydia answered. Stiles hugged his pillow closer to his body and caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She wore a yellow tank top and very short pink bottoms that she kept tugging on, as if that would make them longer. They stood, looking at the hotel room bed with blushing faces and fast beating hearts. The pack had stopped at a cruddy motel for the night on the way upstate for some sort of concert that Scott had won tickets for. Of course Scott had arranged who went in what room.
Stiles sighed. "I don't understand why you couldn't have shared with Kira."
"Because Scott wants to fuck Kira."
"Did you seriously have to say that?"
"It was necessary." Lydia glanced at him, his sweatpants one size too large so he had rolled them at the hips. His chest was bare but his pillow blocked her view from what she had wondered for a while now: how sculpted was Stiles Stilinski?
"I sleep in the middle." He mumbled but Lydia had already crawled on the bed to pull back the covers. He cleared his throat and tried not to stare because she looked like so many of his dirty dreams.
He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna sleep on the floor."
"Stiles, don't sleep on the floor."
"No, it's fine, I'll sleep on the floor."
"Do you know how many germs are on that floor?"
He was about to get down but then he thought about what she'd said and suddenly his bare feet felt so dirty on the stained carpet. "I'll sleep in the jeep."
"Stiles, get in the bed." She said sternly. He glanced at her but didn't keep her gaze there for long because he had thought about this for so long and seeing her so comfortable in bed might give him too many ideas.sighing, he threw his pillow next to her head before slipping underneath the sheets.
They lay back to back, accidental touches causing them to squirm away from the other. Stiles couldn't sleep. He couldn't get the fact that he was in bed with Lydia Martin out of his head. He'd dreamed of this moment since middle school, the scenario different, but still.
"I can't sleep on my right side." He blurted, interrupting her sleep.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because when I turn to lay on my left side I don't want you to think I'm trying to spoon with you or something."
She didn't say anything so he took this as a sign that she was either asleep or didn't care. He turned over. Nothing. A sigh escaped him, hitting the back of Lydia's neck with cool air. She shivered.
"Put your arm over my waist." She mumbled.
"What?"
"Your elbow is jabbing me in the back: move your arm."
To him, the action crossed a boundary. It told him things he couldn't even dare to explain to someone else. He raised his arm, feeling heavier than normal, and draped it over the curve in her body. But she didn't tense and reject his touch. Lydia felt relaxed and tired, the skin exposed from where her top had scrunched up was soft against his forearm.
"Stiles." She sounded even more sleepy, yawning, whispering.
"Yes–yeah?"
"Closer."
". . .like. . .like to you?"
"Yes, Stiles."
"Okay, sorry just making sure." He stuttered.
They were completely back to front now, everything skin to skin. She was so tempted to push back against him, to put him up to some kind of test. The room was quiet except for the light squeaking of the ceiling fan and the muffled chatter from the couple next door. Every second felt like an infinity within itself. Then the unexpected happened. His nose brushed against her and he kissed her neck. One singular kiss. She didn't know how to react, his lips still hovering over her. What happened to the stuttering boy that was here just a few minutes ago? His hand went to hold onto her hip, rough fingertips pushing up her tank top just enough for him to feel the soft skin just underneath it, thumb tracing circles there.
He kissed her a second time and a third and again and again after that until she turned towards him just enough so his lips moved from her neck to the underside of her jaw. She gasped when he bit there lightly, just enough to draw a reaction from her. In a flash, Lydia sat upright, startling him. She threw back the blankets and straddled his torso, out of breath from the thought alone that this was happening. This was real. Stiles let out a nervous chuckle, tugging at the hem of her top so she would lift her arms. And she did, the article of clothing falling to the floor as his hands were back on her hips. She leaned down, nose knocking against his own and she would never admit it out loud but she was afraid to actually kiss him. They'd never kissed before, of course, because they were always only friends. So what was it about tonight that suddenly made them so much more?
"Stiles," she whispered and his chest tightened. He loved the way she said his name, he always had; it sent shivers down his spine. Her hand threaded through his hair, a grin spreading wide over her face. A laugh left her, head falling onto his chest and her odd behavior caused him to chuckle as well. But then she managed to lift her head, lips just over his but not yet touching. "I like you."
"Me too." His heart skipped a beat. "I mean, not like, 'I like me too'. I meant that I like you. . . As well. I like you, Lydia." He rambled. She thought it was cute. Their first kiss was slow, savoring the flavor of each other, eating up the 'smooch' noise they created when parting. Their eyes locked. There was no going back now. Stiles stretched his neck up to her to initiate the next kiss and this time he dared to swipe his tongue over her bottom lip. But she smiled and let him in, causing the boy to moan.
In the morning, Scott had planned to tease the two about how tired they looked but, to his surprise, when they emerged from their room, neither threw him a glare. In fact, they were joking. Stiles was caring her bag as well as his own over one shoulder, talking with his hands as he told Lydia some overly descriptive story. She was grinning, looking at the ground with a blush but he was staring at her without any guilt or embarrassment. Normally, he would've kept the loving glances hidden. But his eyes were bright and chasing over her cherry lips at the thought of their night together. She laughed at something he'd said and playfully pushed him so he smiled and pushed back to tease.
"Ready to go?" Stiles asked Scott and Kira, shaking the jeeps keys so they would jingle, as if his best friend was blind.
Scott was practically speechless at their behavior. He expected them to be angry for making them room together. He expected Stiles to complain about sleeping on the dirty floor. He expected the famous Lydia Martin look of death. "Uh. . .yeah. . .I think I'll sit in the back with Kira the rest of the way there."
Lydia shrugged, muttered a, "suit yourself" before climbing into the passenger side of the jeep.
And it didn't stop there. It got even weirder when they started to drive. Half an hour down the road, Lydia turned so her back was resting against the door (a risky move within itself because of how old the damn jeep was) and crossed her legs over in Stiles' lap. The corners of his mouth curled and one hand abandoned the steering wheel to massage her ankle and the length of her calf. Scott gawked at the action, looking to to Kira to see if had had noticed but she was too invested in some old gameboy she had brought along. Where had his best friend gone? Where was the boy that could barely even look at Lydia without fearing she would see right through him? Lydia leaned towards him, whispered something in his ear that caused him to laugh. She smiled at the noise, kissing his cheek before returning to her normal position. Did she think Scott wasn't watching or was she just too caught up in the boy before her? Oh man, his head was starting to hurt from thinking too much.
"Did you guys have sex or what?"
"SCOTT!"
