When his alarm blared rudely at 7am on Monday morning, Stiles was already awake. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind already racing with plans, thoughts and ideas. With more energy than a teenage boy should have so early on a Monday, he swung his legs out of bed; landing on his feet with more determination that he had ever felt before.
His 'ten year plan' to make Lydia Martin his, had been disregarded. Ten years was far too long, he had thought, he was going to shorten it.
Ten days seemed reasonable, no?
Stiles had quickly realised that the relationship between himself and Lydia had changed over the past few years. He wasn't completely blind, but he had become so used to the small touches and goodbye hugs he received from her daily, that it took him a while to notice these changes.
Lydia liked to sit next to him during pack movie nights, a weekly ritual set up by Scott. He relished those nights in which he had Lydia permanently curled into his body, her head rested on his shoulders as she would gradually give in to sleep. She came over to his house a lot; they would study together, or argue over whose turn it was to choose the movie. Sometimes, she just came by to have dinner with him and his dad. It was so easy and comfortable that the normality of it amazed Stiles.
The first time she fell asleep in his bed, Stiles had panicked, Lydia had looked so peaceful, her strawberry curls splayed across his pillow and her lips parted softly. He felt the heat invade his cheeks when she stirred and found him gazing at her. Instead of going home, she had shyly asked for one of his shirts to sleep in before making herself comfortable between his sheets. When she had pulled him down beside her with a smile, Stiles had sworn he was going to pass out.
They would pass notes in class, deliberately trying to make each other laugh. The day Stiles succeeded, he earned them both detentions. He had made it up to Lydia after school, promising to take her for ice cream. She happily complied. They had sat in the diner together, giggling like children and fighting over the last lump of chocolate sprinkles. The elderly couple across from them had smiled and told them that they were an adorable couple. Stiles had stuttered nervously whilst Lydia flushed pink, hiding her smiling lips with a napkin.
One night, after a ridiculously late study session, the pair had camped out on Lydia's bedroom carpet, surrounded by books on chemistry and mythology. Her hair was in the messiest bun Stiles had seen, waves falling out around her face. He had thought she looked perfect.
The girl had smiled sleepily at him, happily immersed in his lacrosse sweatshirt. She had taken his large hand in her much smaller one, as she had told him, ''I have never felt more safe, than when I'm with you, Stiles Stilinski''.
Lydia had rendered him speechless; finally he smiled and gently tugged on the end of a stray curl when he told her he was glad he was doing his job right.
Stiles didn't know it, but Lydia's heart melted that night. He didn't know her favourite time of the week was movie night, just so she could be close to him. He was oblivious to the butterflies in her stomach every time he hugged her, or took her hand to lead her through the large school cafeteria crowds. Her knees grew weak when he smiled at her and Lydia was certain he didn't know about the small collection of his clothes she had accumulated over the last few months. Stiles didn't know that the only thing better to Lydia than sleeping in one of his shirts was sleeping beside him, cocooned in his bed.
Stiles definitely didn't know how easy his ten day plan was going to be.