Ch.2 -
The heat of the sun warmed her face in the early morning light. It surprised her to discover it was morning. That meant she had slept all the way through the night. Impossible, she would have thought, considering the events of the night before. She hadn’t told anyone, but Stiles’ lack of sleep in the previous weeks had become her sleeping routine in the last few days too. Understandable, she had told herself, but still unnerving.
Stiles, she realized, had been on her mind a lot lately. So much in fact that--
Stiles.
Contentedly living in her own thoughts with her eyes closed, determined to stay that way until her alarm went off, she hadn’t opened her eyes to see the male human being lying in bed next to her. One she hadn’t had sex with, but slept with in the literal sense. Who was only a friend, and only a handful of months ago hadn’t even been that.
Cautiously, her eyes fluttered open. She saw him sleeping before her in some weird twisted position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but clearly was. Oddly enough he was not snoring. For some reason she had expected that.
Well, what had she expected? That he would be on the floor? That he would be gazing into her eyes like a creeper, even if his intention would be anything but? That all of this would just be a dream? That he would never have stayed the night? That he would have just--god, why did she let him stay the night? She chastised herself. That was so out of character for her. Regardless of their relationship being upgraded to what she could honestly call a close friendship, there were always personal boundaries. At least, for the most part. There was a bubble. A privacy bubble. There was always a privacy bubble.
But not when he’d saved her life in the woods. Not when he’d covered his hand over hers and reassured her of just how significant and worthwhile her abilities were. Not when she’d calmed the storm of his panic attack and kissed him.
God, she really should not have let him stay the night.
There were probably several options she could proceed with right now. He had told her a few times that she was smart, so she should be able to figure this out. She could close her eyes and try to fall back asleep for the maybe remaining thirty minutes she could do so. She could gently wake him up and simply lose herself in the fact that he was alive and he was with her, that she could touch him – in a friendly way – and know that he was real. She could push him out of the bed, pretend to forget his staying was her idea and yell at him till he got out of her bedroom and her house. After all, her mom was home. She would have to sneak him out at the very least. Or, she could do the most sensible thing that would draw the least suspicion. She could simply start getting ready for school. It wouldn’t be easy pretending everything was 100% okay again, especially when she knew it wasn’t and wouldn’t be for awhile, just as Stiles had said last night. But she could try.
……………
The sound of an alarm going off provoked an annoyed groan to come out of Stiles mouth, slurring his “no, not yet, still sleeping”. When the alarm ceased to shut itself off, he blindly reached for it and then realized he was not reaching a side table of any kind but another half of a bed. He blinked his eyes awake just in time to see Lydia Martin come over to the table, switch off the alarm and return to her mirror on the wall, where she had been applying her make-up.
He just laid there for awhile and watched her, in disbelief that he was actually in Lydia’s bedroom, in her bed, and that she was just casually getting ready for school right in front of him. Briefly he wondered if she’d changed right there in the room and he’d missed it. He mentally called himself all sorts of nasty names, assuming that had been a great opportunity wasted.
“Good morning, Stiles,” she said cheerfully, popping her lips as she finished applying her lip gloss.
His eyes roved all across the room, still trying to process. He levered himself up on his elbows, and in the most subtle way he could manage, lifted the covers to see what lie beneath. Still clothed. He inwardly sighed. It had been too much to hope for anyway.
His subtlety however had not escaped Lydia’s notice. She caught his actions in the mirror and smiled to herself.
“We didn’t have sex, Stiles.” She rolled her eyes as her smile spread and she turned to him. His deer-caught-in-the-headlights look followed by a quickly spreading blush instantly made her feel lighter and brighter. “You’re not that lucky.”
He swallowed and looked away quickly as she crossed the room to grab her purse and few odds and ends from her dresser.
“By the way,” she said, heading for the door. “You’re going to have to…” she looked around the room as she realized there was no way for him to really get any more ready than he already way. “Well, put your shoes on, I guess, quickly. My mom is not likely to come looking for boys in my room but I don’t want to put you on parade either.
“Uh…s-sure. Of course.” He fumbled with the blankets covering him and just barely saved himself from falling off the bed entirely. He cleared his throat. “B-bathroom?” he stuttered. Her amused expression nearly made him blush again. She pointed to the obvious destination he was in search for.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she said assuredly, flouncing out of the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Right. I’ll meet you down…” The door swung back, almost closing in on him entirely. “…and you’re gone.” He pursed his lips and made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly and locking it until he’d finished and was ready to face the world again.
Starting with attempting to shake himself out of the reverie of last night and this morning and how he was going to move forward with life and with Lydia Martin.
Stiles, she realized, had been on her mind a lot lately. So much in fact that--
Stiles.
Contentedly living in her own thoughts with her eyes closed, determined to stay that way until her alarm went off, she hadn’t opened her eyes to see the male human being lying in bed next to her. One she hadn’t had sex with, but slept with in the literal sense. Who was only a friend, and only a handful of months ago hadn’t even been that.
Cautiously, her eyes fluttered open. She saw him sleeping before her in some weird twisted position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but clearly was. Oddly enough he was not snoring. For some reason she had expected that.
Well, what had she expected? That he would be on the floor? That he would be gazing into her eyes like a creeper, even if his intention would be anything but? That all of this would just be a dream? That he would never have stayed the night? That he would have just--god, why did she let him stay the night? She chastised herself. That was so out of character for her. Regardless of their relationship being upgraded to what she could honestly call a close friendship, there were always personal boundaries. At least, for the most part. There was a bubble. A privacy bubble. There was always a privacy bubble.
But not when he’d saved her life in the woods. Not when he’d covered his hand over hers and reassured her of just how significant and worthwhile her abilities were. Not when she’d calmed the storm of his panic attack and kissed him.
God, she really should not have let him stay the night.
There were probably several options she could proceed with right now. He had told her a few times that she was smart, so she should be able to figure this out. She could close her eyes and try to fall back asleep for the maybe remaining thirty minutes she could do so. She could gently wake him up and simply lose herself in the fact that he was alive and he was with her, that she could touch him – in a friendly way – and know that he was real. She could push him out of the bed, pretend to forget his staying was her idea and yell at him till he got out of her bedroom and her house. After all, her mom was home. She would have to sneak him out at the very least. Or, she could do the most sensible thing that would draw the least suspicion. She could simply start getting ready for school. It wouldn’t be easy pretending everything was 100% okay again, especially when she knew it wasn’t and wouldn’t be for awhile, just as Stiles had said last night. But she could try.
……………
The sound of an alarm going off provoked an annoyed groan to come out of Stiles mouth, slurring his “no, not yet, still sleeping”. When the alarm ceased to shut itself off, he blindly reached for it and then realized he was not reaching a side table of any kind but another half of a bed. He blinked his eyes awake just in time to see Lydia Martin come over to the table, switch off the alarm and return to her mirror on the wall, where she had been applying her make-up.
He just laid there for awhile and watched her, in disbelief that he was actually in Lydia’s bedroom, in her bed, and that she was just casually getting ready for school right in front of him. Briefly he wondered if she’d changed right there in the room and he’d missed it. He mentally called himself all sorts of nasty names, assuming that had been a great opportunity wasted.
“Good morning, Stiles,” she said cheerfully, popping her lips as she finished applying her lip gloss.
His eyes roved all across the room, still trying to process. He levered himself up on his elbows, and in the most subtle way he could manage, lifted the covers to see what lie beneath. Still clothed. He inwardly sighed. It had been too much to hope for anyway.
His subtlety however had not escaped Lydia’s notice. She caught his actions in the mirror and smiled to herself.
“We didn’t have sex, Stiles.” She rolled her eyes as her smile spread and she turned to him. His deer-caught-in-the-headlights look followed by a quickly spreading blush instantly made her feel lighter and brighter. “You’re not that lucky.”
He swallowed and looked away quickly as she crossed the room to grab her purse and few odds and ends from her dresser.
“By the way,” she said, heading for the door. “You’re going to have to…” she looked around the room as she realized there was no way for him to really get any more ready than he already way. “Well, put your shoes on, I guess, quickly. My mom is not likely to come looking for boys in my room but I don’t want to put you on parade either.
“Uh…s-sure. Of course.” He fumbled with the blankets covering him and just barely saved himself from falling off the bed entirely. He cleared his throat. “B-bathroom?” he stuttered. Her amused expression nearly made him blush again. She pointed to the obvious destination he was in search for.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she said assuredly, flouncing out of the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Right. I’ll meet you down…” The door swung back, almost closing in on him entirely. “…and you’re gone.” He pursed his lips and made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly and locking it until he’d finished and was ready to face the world again.
Starting with attempting to shake himself out of the reverie of last night and this morning and how he was going to move forward with life and with Lydia Martin.
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