A/N: I posted this drabble to tumblr (littlecajunlady) on March 9, 2015 and the prompt was "Come over here and make me." I also posted it to ao3 before 6x10 aired but I think this works.
"What's her 20?"
"Please don't make me do this."
"Come on, Lydia," Stiles begged. "Why did we come up with all of those code phrases if we aren't going to use them?"
"We didn't," Lydia said as she rolled her eyes, but then she smiled and played along. "The hen has left the coop."
"Nice."
The hen was Lydia's mother, and she'd be gone the whole weekend. Stiles and Lydia had been trying to orchestrate a night alone together for days. It was their one month anniversary and they wanted to celebrate, but it was difficult to do considering their relationship was a secret.
"Can you believe it's already been a month?" Stiles was in his bedroom, his cell phone pressed to his ear with one hand while he packed an overnight bag with the other.
"Not really." Lydia was in her own room, looking in the mirror as she ran a hand through her hair to loosen her curls. "I just wish we were telling people so everyone can be as disbelieving as us."
Stiles had known that was coming. At first they'd both really liked keeping their relationship a secret. There were no prying questions, no pressure. It was also kinda hot. But when the one month mark started approaching, Lydia suddenly wanted everyone to know. Stiles wasn't sure why he was so reluctant. He was dating Lydia Martin. Why wouldn't he want to share that with the world?
"Are we going to have this fight again?"
"It's not a fight, Stiles. It's a mild disagreement. And I'm not really sure why we're having it." She freshened her lipstick and smacked her lips. "What, are you embarrassed to be dating me?"
He laughed. It was the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. "Are you kidding me? You don't really believe that."
"Of course not. Who'd be embarrassed to be dating me?"
Her confidence was just one of the many things that made her so attractive. "Look, if anyone should be embarrassed here, it's you. I mean, I'm dating Lydia Martin and you're dating … well, me."
Hearing that, Lydia thought she finally understood what was going on. "And what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. It's just … people are probably going to be wondering why you're even dating me."
"So I'll just tell them you're hung like a horse."
"Jesus, Lydia, would you be serious?" he said, trying and failing not to smile. Not that he would mind if she told people that, but he really wanted her to see his side.
"Oh come on, since when do you care what people think?"
For the most part he didn't. If he had, he probably would've tried a lot harder to be less annoying all these years. But now with Lydia it was different. Now he cared too much. He'd wanted this for so long, and he didn't want anything or anyone to ruin it.
"I don't. Look, can we talk about this later? I want to celebrate tonight."
Lydia frowned at her reflection. She didn't want to drop it, but she would for him. For one night at least. "Fine. Are you on your way yet?"
"Not yet, I still have to – oh, my toothbrush!" he suddenly remembered, and he left his room to retrieve it.
"Yes, please don't forget that. What about condoms?"
Stiles scoffed, "Please, that was the first thing I packed."
"Well now I see where your priorities lie. Music?"
"Lydia, I have everything," Stiles returned to his room and threw his toothbrush in his bag before zipping it up. "I'm leaving right now."
"You'd better hurry. If you keep me waiting too long my lips could get loose and I might start blabbing."
"Don't you dare!" he cried. He left his room, grabbed his keys in the kitchen, and locked the front door before leaving the house. "Or –"
"Or what?" she practically purred. "What are you gonna do?"
"Or I – I'll – just keep those lips zipped, okay?"
"Come over here and make me."
The effect her words had on him surprised him. He paused for a moment, then simply said, "Okay."
Stiles hung up the phone and climbed into his jeep. He started typing on his phone, jabbing at the letters so hard he was surprised he wasn't cracking the screen. "Make me," he muttered under his breath. In fact, he repeated her words – Come over here and make me – to himself over and over again as he drove over to her house. He practically chanted it as he ran up her front walk and through the front door without knocking. Each word was punctuated by his heavy steps as he climbed up the stairs.
Lydia was waiting for him with her bedroom door wide open. When he appeared in the doorway, all red-faced and intense, her eyes lit up with excitement. Stiles went straight for her, taking hold of her hips and pulling her closer so her body was pressed against him. He leaned in but didn't kiss her, not yet. They both stood there looking at each other, letting the anticipation build.
"Now what did you say?"
Lydia smirked. He was a bit too goofy and sweet to pull off the bad boy thing effectively, but bless him he was trying. And it was still hot. She stood up on her toes so her mouth could reach his and said against his lips, "Make me."
He didn't need to be told a third time. He kissed her hard, and she returned the kiss just as enthusiastically. Soon his hands were in her hair, then on her breasts. She was already reaching for the button on his pants. They broke apart just long enough for her jump up and wrap her legs around him.
Carrying her over to her bed while still kissing her was no easy feat, but somehow he managed it. Stiles kicked off his shoes and they fell onto her bed. They kissed and laughed and touched, and soon most of their clothes were discarded on the floor. Just as they were nearly reaching the point of no return, Stiles got a text. He ignored it. Then he got two more. Ding! Ding!
"Should you get that?"
He reluctantly pulled away, but he couldn't stop staring at her swollen lips. Her lipstick was long gone. "God no."
They started kissing again, but just moments later – Ding!
"Maybe it's your dad."
"I doubt it. He's at the station all night. Just ignore it."
Ding! Ding! Ding!
"Oh, fuck me," he grumbled as he leaned over to get his pants off the floor.
"I'm trying."
He laughed and pulled out his phone. He had seven texts, all from Scott. "It's just Scott. I'll get back to him later."
"He could be dying."
"He'd better be," he growled. "Besides, you'd probably know."
"Just see what's going on."
Stiles sighed and finally read the texts. He tried to suppress his smile, and without a word he put his phone on her nightstand.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. It's about your anniversary present. Well, one of them."
"My present?" Sex was now an afterthought to her after hearing the word present. "What did you get me? Can I open it now?"
He could tell he was already losing her. He tried to get her refocused by sliding his hand up her thigh. "I'll give it to you later. Come on –"
Ding! This time it was Lydia's phone, and she grabbed it without a second thought.
"Lydia, don't," he said before falling back on the bed. Her phone kept going off and she sat there and read every text, her eyes growing wider with each one. She looked over at Stiles, her mouth hanging open in shock. He had a mischievous little grin on his face as he asked, "What's going on?"
"You texted everyone. You told them we're together."
"Not only that!" he said, sitting up and grabbing his phone again to show her. "Look at this. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. I updated everything I could possibly think of. I'll go shout it off a mountaintop if you want me to."
She didn't know what to say. She smiled, and she could actually feel herself tearing up a little. "But why? You weren't ready to tell people yet."
He shrugged. "You were. And I thought it would be a good present."
"It is," she assured him. Lydia leaned in to kiss him, but before she could both of their phones started ringing.
Seeing Scott's name on the screen, Stiles sighed. "I really didn't think this through."
Giving up on the idea of having sex in the near future, they leaned back against the headboard and answered their phones. And that was how they spent the first hour of their anniversary celebration, wrapped around each other while fielding congratulatory phone calls from all of their friends.