If there was ever any evidence needed that people were made of nebulas and stardust, Stiles was damn sure it was Lydia Martin.

They were driving along the Californian Coastline, on their way back to Beacon Hills and the world around them was on fire. The sun was sinking into the purple sea and the sky was streaked with pink and orange. Music crackled from the jeeps old radio and the road was empty as it stretched out invitingly before them.
The day was ending and the night crept across the sky as a blanket of stars. If you had asked either of them, they would have sworn planets crossed their paths that night.
When Stiles peeked across to the girl, he couldn't withhold the grin that quickly found its way onto his face.

Lydia sat in the passenger seat of his beloved jeep, her long legs bare in her sundress as they hung out of the open window. Her face was tilted up towards the sun, new freckles already blossoming across her nose and cheeks from the summer's day.
Long tendrils of strawberry blonde hair whipped around her face like wisps of fire as they danced in the wind. The girl's eyes were closed and small smile graced her full lips. She looked like a mermaid, she glowed, she sang to him.
It was the most peaceful the boy had ever seen her in weeks and his heart soared at the sight of her.

Nine hours earlier, Stiles had received a call from Allison. The girl was still in hospital after the attack from the Oni. Her would was healing but she was now being kept in for observation.
Lydia had practically lived in the ward with her friend for the past two weeks, her eyes constantly watery and purple bruises staining the skin under them.
Despite her friend returning to health with no major problems, Lydia was hard to deter from her role as nurse. The banshee had spoken of that night only once, telling Stiles in a hushed, broken voice that her best friends name had been caught in her throat, trapped in a wailing scream that never quite left her lips.
She told him, as he wrapped both his arms and bed covers around her, that she felt death that night, beside her and around her friends. That dark night not only took away her strength, it also took some of the spark that lived inside her.
Since then, Lydia had only been a shell of her former self. The girl was quiet and withdrawn, her smiles small and her eyes constantly tired.
Stiles was constantly watching the food that was left on her plate at pack nights, waiting for the inevitable moment where she would quietly crawl over to his space, tucking herself into his body as she would fall into a dead sleep.

After telling the girl again and again to go home and get some rest – to east some food that was better than hospital made sandwiches. Without any surprise, Lydia had refused, smiling tightly before resuming her tidy up of Allison's private room.
When Mr Argent arrived with new books and snacks, both Father and Daughter took a stand. Allison quickly called the only person she knew Lydia would listen to.
So when Stiles arrived twenty minutes later, the petite redhead left with slightly less persuasion that needed before.

The summer heat wrapped around Lydia like a welcome hug, her skin was tight from the cold, stale air inside the concrete building, her hazel eyes squeezing shut at the bright rays of sun that exploded across her vision.
Once the colours and stars that swam inside her eyes disappeared, she opened them to find Stiles standing by his jeep, the passenger door opened for her and a shy smile on his face.
She blushed at his gentlemanly act, the rouge across her cheeks more apparent than ever against her pallid complexion. The boy watched as she carefully climbed into the all too familiar seat, her blue summer dress tucked around her legs like a comforter.
Stiles closed the door gently behind her and made his way around the front the car. He stopped, his eyes meeting Lydia's through the windscreen as slow smile grew across his lips. A twinkle in his eye pulled her in, a curious air lifting her spirits.
The boy looked up at the blue skies overhead and jogged to his door before starting to pull down the black canvas that covered the roof of the vehicle. He stripped away the material, letting rays of light fall into the car and surround Lydia in warmth. Her hair lit up and strawberry blonde turned to auburn and gold.
Her lips lifted at the corners and a strange bubble rose through her throat. Laughter escaped from her, a small chuckle of wonder that enraptured Stiles' attention immediately. He grinned and threw the canvas into the back before joining her being the wheel.
"Let's get the hell out of Beacon Hills''.

Stiles had drove to the old back road that led out of town, stopping at the junction as they stared at the empty roads ahead. He looked over to the girl and raised his eyebrows in question. Lydia looked left, and then right, her brow furrowed in serious thought. With much deliberation, she soon told him firmly, "Go right".
The sat in silence for a while, comfortable enough with each other to simply soak in the sun that flooded in through the open roof, Lydia played with the ends of her curls, wrapping the auburn locks around her tiny fingers. Stiles stole glances at her, taking in the way the sun made her skin glow. Her long lashes cast shadows over her cheeks and they fluttered with the thoughts that ran through her head. Lydia was tired and Stiles seen the evidence of it all over her.
Her eyes met his as they flicked from the road and back to the girl, she smiled a smile that held more warmth and confidence was restored in the boy as he made a silent promise to her. He would hear her laugh today.

When the towns that they drove through became smaller and more far apart and they drove through tunnels made of tree branches, where cherry blossoms scattered paths of pink petals before them, Lydia sat up straighter in her seat.
She ran a hand through her long hair, brushing out of bright eyes that were now wide and curious. Stiles smiled as her head dropped back, watching the girl as she smiled to blue sky – the tree branches scattering a pattern of shadows across her face.
When the sea came into view, Lydia practically fell out of the window with excitement. Stiles laughed aloud and the girl giggled back with an embarrassed blush, her eyes shining.

"Lydia Martin, I swear to God if you fall out of this jeep, I will not be held responsible – shit!'' Stiles gasped and laughed, seeing the girl unbuckle her seatbelt out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head through chuckles as Lydia stood on her chair, her body braced against the frames that once held the jeeps roof. Stiles roared down the highway, blue skies above them and the vast turquoise sea to their left. Lydia's laughs mixed with the breeze and her hair whipped behind her in curls of copper. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the bar before her tightly, her eyes leaking tears as the wind forced her breath from her lungs.
For the first time in weeks, Lydia had stepped out of the hospital room she deliberately contained herself to. For the first time in weeks, Lydia felt goddamn alive.
She let out a whoop that lay dormant in her chest, a girlish squeal that she let loose – a noise that left her dizzy with happiness. She let go of the tight control she had over her body and she was rewarded with pure joy – not an ominous wail.
Stiles grinned along with her, his cheeks sore from grinning. He simply nodded when Lydia pointed ahead to a pier that stood crookedly along the shoreline.
She fell back into the seat next to him as Stiles pulled into the deserted car park. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was the messiest the boy had ever seen. He pulled a tangle of curls free and smiled as she grinned at him, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Stiles held his hand over the door handle, looking at Lydia with a look that only a few other people understood. It was the same look when there was only one slice of pizza left at pack nights, it was the same mischievous smirk and glittering eyes that greeted her in the school hall before she ended up over his shoulder, yelling in protest.
"Go!''
Lydia was out the jeep before him, the sound of slamming doors and laughter leaving her ears as she flew down the sandy slope. She felt rather than heard the boy behind her, she sensed him nearing her scrambling figure, she dress whipping around her legs as her shoes filled with sand.
As expected, his hands found her waist as he grabbed her, happiness bubbling from her throat as she squealed. Stiles spun her round, her feet leaving the warm sand as her shoes flew away from her.
"Stiles!'' He let her go with a low chuckle, letting her slide down his body before her feet settled on the ground. She didn't have a chance to react before the boy smiled and ran off again, heading towards the sea. Lydia ran after him barefoot, her shoes lost to the beach by now.
When she reached the shoreline, the wave lapped at her toes, leaving white foam around her that crackled and popped with bubbles. The cool water was welcome and she daintily stepped deeper, watching as Stiles gazed at her from his spot on the sand. The boy rolled up his jeans, marvelling at the beauty that was looking back at him from the sea. Her hair danced in the gentle breeze, her dress tumbling around her thighs as waves splashed her. She didn't take any notice.

The sun beamed down on the pair as together they walked, ran and danced through the shallow waves. They took it in turns to sing, or rather yell, random lines of their favourite songs to each other through violent bursts of laughter – both of them doubled over and more open to being soaked by the waves. When said situation did happen, Stiles was unprepared and gasped at the cold shock, the seawater stinging his eyes as it caught him unawares.
Lydia's laughter left her clutching her stomach as tears rolled down her cheeks and she shrieked when Stiles ran towards her, his bare feet pounding on the wet sand as he began to kick up streams of water.
When they were both thoroughly soaked, they tumbled onto a grassy bank, giggling breathlessly as the summer sun beamed down on them still. Stiles looked over at the girl, watching with pure amazement as Lydia lay beside him, soaking wet, her sun kissed skin speckled with shimmering drops of seawater and fresh freckles. Her chest panted underneath her sundress as she tried to gain her breath back before Stiles stole it with more laughter. Her hair was wild from the spray of sea salt and the wind, stray locks were caught on her long lashes, the same way they had before when Stiles' held her hand as she pirouetted around him.
Full lips beamed at him as Lydia's gaze met his own wandering eyes and they both lay in comfortable stillness, the only sound being their breathing and the crash of the distant waves.
It wasn't long before an over excitable Lydia became restless, her phone was collected from the jeep and on her return, she snapped picture and picture of the scenery around them.
It only took minutes before her and attention and the camera was turned on a protesting Stiles – it took much less than two minutes for Stiles to realise he could never deny Lydia.
So when she tried to pout through contained giggles, he rolled his eyes and lay back to enjoy the sun, letting her do as she pleased.

The girl took photos of the constellations his moles made on his skin, the sharp slop of his jawline and the way his eyes changed from chocolate to honey in the sunlight. She captured their intertwined hands that lay amongst sand and seashells, their bare feet lying together with the sea in front of them. They laughed and argued about the shapes the clouds made until the sky above them turned from pink to purple and they lapping waves moved closer.

The journey home was peaceful and full of everything warm and good. Lydia sat with her legs stretched out of the open window, sand still between her toes and wild daisies between messy curls.
The sea was soon left behind and as Beacon Hills came into view, the girls hand found its way over the console to find Stiles. Her dainty fingers traced their way to his own larger ones in the pressing dark of the night and she clung to him tightly.
He understood everything she did not need to say and he held her hand just as firmly. In the dusky light, he pressed a kiss to her palm and the feeling of it lingered on Lydia's skin until they arrived at her house.

Stiles shut off the rattling engine and the night air enveloped them. Crickets chirped and somewhere in the far distance, the rumble of cars along the highway could be heard. The houses surrounding them were dark and showed no signs of anyone being awake. The glowing clock on the dashboard read 11.57PM and Lydia was amazed at how her day with this boy had flown in so quickly.
With her sandy shoes in one hand, she reached for the door with the other. She hesitated before looking back to the boy; the boys whose white T-Shirt was still damp, whose hair was electric and whose eyes shone with happiness, even in the dark.
There was no more hesitation as the door clicked shut as she let it go, her shoes falling to the pavement with a soft thud as she spun in her seat. When her hands clasped his face, when her thumbs rubbed careful circles over his cheekbones – Stiles felt his breath leave his lungs and his body sink into the overwhelming sensation of ecstasy.
His hands found her small waist, pulling her as close as possible with the gearstick between them. There was no rush as their lips met; they shared one last nervous breath before they moved into each other. Their kiss was a release of their feelings, their memories of darker times, their pure and utter joy of that day's events and they poured it into each other with warm lips, clutching hands and desperate breaths.
They grudgingly pulled apart from each other, leaning their foreheads together as they gazed at each other in wonderment. Ecstatic smiles broke through and hushed laughter filled the car. More short, sweet kisses were shared; longer ones followed with gasps and tongues and teeth and everything that was new to them and their friendship.
When the clock read 01.15PM, their lips were swollen and bruised, their cheeks sore from smiling and their eyes heavy with both sleep and lust.

Lydia tiptoed into her home that early morning, bare feet on the floorboards, a trail of sand through the hallway, forgotten shoes in Stiles Stilinski's jeep and a her mind filled with nebulas of new lips on hers and stardust that felt like sand between her toes.