Inspired by the song, 'Toothpaste Kisses' by 'The Maccabees'.
An upset Lydia was a terrifying thing. It was an uncontrollable and temperamental force of strawberry blonde curls. Werewolves fled from the sight and even her best friend was unsure of how to deal with the waterfall of tears that came from Lydia's eyes.
Luckily, Lydia didn't call upon girlfriends of werewolves when in such a state. So when Stiles answered the door at 11pm on that Friday night to find Lydia soaked to the bone and hiccupping through tears – he knew exactly what to do.
Cradle me, I'll cradle you. I'll win your heart with a woop-a-woo.
Without a word, the boy gently took her frozen little hands into his own and crushed her against his own body. Grateful for the warmth, the tenderness, the smell of Stiles and everything else that came with it – Lydia threw herself into the embrace and sniffled a little more for effect.
There was a sigh, a sniff and a long drawn out breath of someone who had experienced a very bad day. Still standing in the hallway, with the door open to the world, Stiles mumbled into her hair, ''What's wrong?''
Overcome with the sudden rush of frustration and embarrassment, Lydia fisted her hands into Stiles shirt as she confessed into his neck that her car had broken down. When asked what she was doing out so late in this weather, Stiles could only hide his grin when she admitted with a blush that she had been on her way to see him.
''Why?'' He asked, smugness dripping from his curled lips.
''I missed you',' came the reply
Pulling shapes just for your eyes, so with toothpaste kisses and lines.
Stiles led the frozen girl quietly up the stairs, gently tugging her hand when she hesitated at his bedroom door. Without words, he peeled off her soaked clothes, placing them over his radiator. Ever the gentleman, his heavy gaze avoided her underwear clad body – his hand sending shivers down her spine as he helped her slide a too big shirt over her tiny frame.
I'll be yours and you'll be…
She smiled at the bold letters now emblazoned on her back ''STILINSKI''. A grin tugged his lips as he watched her disappear into his bathroom, only appearing when she had a toothbrush hanging from her lips. He watched her move, enraptured by how easily she moved across his room; like she had always belong right there, just with him.
A minty kiss landed on his lips, pulling him away from his daydream.
Lay with me, I'll lay with you. We'll do the things that lovers do.
They moved around each other with fluidity and when he peeled back the duvet, she fell into her usual position: right hand side of the bed, removing one pillow from under her head and waiting impatiently for him to join her. He complied without any hesitation, opening his arms for her to burrow into, her head fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. Her hair tickled his chin and her eyelashes softly grazed the bare skin on his chest.
Put the stars in our eyes, and with heart shaped bruises, and late night kisses…
Stiles kissed her head, her temples, her flushed cheeks and her nose before sliding down to the foot of his bed, gently grasping her ankle. He swooped down to place a tender kiss on her foot, covering the quickly forming bruise – evidence of her frustration that was taken out on the broken down car.
Lydia smiled at the muss of dark hair that was now crawling its way back up her body. Stiles shuffled back into position beside her, content. Arms wrapped around bodies and limbs entwined; second nature to both teenagers. Breathing slowed and soon rainstorms and flat tires were forgotten about.
Divine.