The sun is dropping from the sky and leaving the world dim, but it doesn't really matter. She's wearing his sweater and their hands are in that lacy position, the one where their fingers are in the gaps of the other's and gives him the worst butterflies in the world. She smells like fruits and flowers and he could cry from how happy he was at the moment.
They're on his bed, her pale red waves way too pretty to be harmed. Her lips are pouty and cute and pink, so he kisses them. She giggles and he leans in to snuggle into her neck, savouring that scent of her and him but mostly her, of course, 'cause this girl is absolutely perfect. She was an angel sent from above or something. Probably a goddess.
He knows his cheeks are red and the color only saturates when she pecks either side of his face. He can't help but wrap his arms around her waist and pretty much slam both of them down onto the bed, which results in laughs that were most likely too loud but it didn't matter because they were absolutely, astoundingly, completely, positively in love with the moment and time probably stopped existing anyways.
He's on top of her and smiling which makes her giggle again and she calls him a dork. He growls and retaliates, ducking his head to softly bite her jaw. Her mouth lands wet and sloppy on his cheekbone, an apology of sorts, and then he feels guilty, his puppy eyes landing on her pretty green ones. She kisses his puppy nose, lays his head down on her chest, and strokes his hair. He takes the opportunity to tell her that she's so pretty, the way heaven should be, and he knows that that's cheesy but whatever because "we're dating and we're cute as hell." She says that she knows and purses her lips. He laughs really hard at that.
He rolls off of the bed and crouches down and she sits up, legs hanging by his thighs and he grabs her roughly, and its kind of by accident but then again its not, and lets her wrap them around his middle. He picks her up, hands tight on her legs. Her arms are secure around his neck and she cuddles into the embrace, hiding her face in his shoulder. He pecks her hair when he walks down the stairs. He thanks whoever's listening that they're alone as he sets her down on the kitchen table, covering her mouth with his, switching between passionate and sweet to give her a small taste of what she gave him since the third grade.
"You're so cute," she compliments out of the blue, voice sure. She looks like a little kid and it makes him kiss her again. She rubs her nose against his and he chuckles. She was better than candy and all the stars in the sky and the moon at night. She was his, pretty much, probably, yeah, and she keeps giving him butterflies that makes him want to puke and smile at the same time. His hands are strong and they grip her face to which she responds "you're great and I wish I saw that before." He shakes his head and he's probably getting dimples. "Well now you know, Lydia Martin." He leans in so that his forehead rested on hers.
"I'm more than ready to know more, Stiles Stilinski."
She kisses him and its like daisies blooming after winter.