Stiles' POV
Stiles snatched his backpack from the backseat and slammed the car-door. Emma made her way from the other side of the Jeep. Stiles was nearly frozen, his heart beat stiffly in his chest. He licked his lips nervously as he led the way, walking up the pathway that led to the front door. He mechanically unlocked the door with shaky hands and swung open it open. He felt the heat press against his face as he stepped in.
"That is nice," Emma mumbled from behind him, closing the door. "I've been meaning to ask, what is with this weather here? It's scorching one day, then raining, then freezing.."
"I don't even know," he answered, "But it's cold most days." Stiles kicked off his sneakers and threw his backpack on the floor beside the shoes. Emma did so as well, however, she lightly placed her backpack on a nearby chair. Stiles stood, watching her as she neatly organized her shoes beside his. It was so strange to see such a beautiful girl. He met only a few days ago. In his own home. It was so surreal. "I need food to focus on homework. You want anything?"
She stood up, facing him, a few feet away. "Sure, if you don't mind," Emma sweetly replied, interlacing her fingers.
"Emma, you're too polite," Stiles snickered, turning to walk towards the kitchen.
"Too polite?" she repeated from behind him. They reached the kitchen. Stiles opened the refrigerator door, bending over and scanning the selection of food.
"Stiles!" Emma spat, "I want a drink! Now!" Stiles stood up straight, wide-eyed. He looked at Emma, who had a smirk on her face. "How was that? Still too polite?" Stiles chuckled.
"Much better," he answered, raising a thumbs-up. Emma laughed, her shoulders bouncing up and down. Stiles looked back to the fridge. He spotted a brown can of root beer and snatched it, tossing to Emma.
"You're the best," she exclaimed, "Thanks."
"You know, it doesn't take a lot to make you happy," Stiles muttered, eventually grabbing a frozen dinner from the freezer.
"As cliche as it is- life is short," Emma answered, leaning on the counter behind her, "Enjoy it." He smiled at her and turned to place his food in the microwave. Stiles turned back and leaned on the counter across from her. She contently sipped her drink. "Stiles?" He felt a numbness in his stomach just by hearing her say his name. All he could hear was the microwave running and his own heartbeat.
"Mhm?"
"What's your actual first name?" Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes and grinning.
"Stacy," he answered. Emma laughed and repeated her question. "You'll laugh," Stiles insecurely whined.
"I'm sure I will," she quickly replied, winking at him.
"You want some noodles? Or a cheese-string?" Stiles asked, walking over to the fridge again. As he opened the refrigerator door, Emma's hand blocked him and shut it.
"Don't change the subject," she giggled, closer to him. She looked down at her hand and quickly ripped it back to her body. "I'm sorry, that was so rude!" she exclaimed.
"So. Polite," Stiles muttered, laughing. Emma looked down at the soda can, biting her lip with a smile.
"A cheesestring sounds good," Emma mumbled, swinging her head back to look at him. Stiles nodded and opened the fridge door. He grabbed a cheesestring and handed it to her. "Thank yo- er, yeah, that's right!" she exclaimed, happily peeling off the plastic. Stiles laughed with her, for what seemed like the millionth time, and turned to the microwave when it beeped. He took out the spaghetti, peeled off the lid and grabbed a fork from a nearby drawer.
"Ok, so, I was thinking, we finish the board, practice presenting it a couple of times, then we can start studying," Emma suggested as she chewed on her snack.
"Woo-hoo," Stiles muttered, when in reality, he was quite happy to know that he was to spend the next few hours with Emma. The two of them stood silently in the kitchen.
"Are you really afraid of public speaking?" she curiously mumbled. Stiles slid the fork out of his mouth and squinted his eyes in thought.
"You sound surprised."
"I am," Emma exclaimed.
"Heights are a more irrational fear."
"Being afraid of falling to your death is irrational? What's so scary about saying a few words in front of a crowd?"
"All their eyes are on you. And heights? So what? If you fall, you die quickly- and get a fun ride on the way there."
"They're just people. And a fun ride? You could get a heart attack on your way down."
"Yeah, people that are judging you. And that's only if you're a wimp."
"No, they're not- the kids in our Bio. class don't even care about the presentations. And let me push you off a cliff to show you how fun that is."
"Still: one slip-up and it's over. No, thanks, I'd rather live. At least wait until I beat Walking Dead."
"That something else you want to do before you die?"
"Abso-toot-ely," Stiles replied, licking meatball sauce off of his fingers.
"That game is scary," Emma shivered, "Those zombies just pop out at you."
"That's what's so fun about it!" Stiles protested. Emma threw her head back in laughter and crumpled up the plastic from her snack.
"I'm worried about how our studying is going to go- we tend to trail off into an entirely different conversation," Emma muttered, opening the drawer under the sink and tossing her garbage in the bin.
"You're too much of a nerd to neglect your academic performance," Stiles teased, glad he knew he could make jokes at her expense without her actually gettig offended.
"Why does everyone assume I'm a nerd?" Emma asked the cieling, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Probably because you are, Miss. 'Above-Average marks'," Stiles answered, chuckling as he ate his food.
"I already told you, good study habits!"
"You're going to have to teach me those," Stiles mumbled as he chewed on the noodles. Emma grabbed her root-beer can from the counter and turned to face him again.
"Quit sassing me, Stilinksi," Emma muttered to him, crossing her arms. Stiles laughed and threw his fork into the sink, followed by the empty frozen-dinner package in the trash.
"To the dining room we go," he announced, successfully hiding his nervousness.
Emma's POV
Emma followed Stiles as he led her to a warm, welcoming dining room. She set her backpack on the darkwood tabletop and zipped it open. Emma secretly glanced up to see Stiles, struggling with the zipper on his school bag. She chuckled to herself and took out their project, along with a few writing utensils. She took out her notebook and sat at the head chair as Stiles settled in the chair diagonal to her, yet close to her side.
"Where did we leave off.." Emma mumbled, "Right- key ideas." Stiles sighed and rested his elbows on the table, looking at her with a blank stare. "Momentary brain fart?" Stiles lightly shook his head, clearing his throat.
"Have you ever heard of deep fried butter?" Stiles randomly asked. Emma looked at him with a smile on her face. "It's like butter- but fried."
"You don't say," Emma sarcastically replied, bringing the pencil to her lips.
"I'm sorry," Stiles groaned.
"Tell you what- we get this board finished and write out our presentation script, I'll give you 30 minutes to play that awful zombie game," Emma suggested, raising her eyebrows.
Stiles looked at her with an appreciative grin, "I like the way you think."
Within 45 minutes, they had come up with ideas, written them out and pasted them on the board. The two of them also managed to write out what each of them would say.
"Go wild," Emma assured, leaning back as she dropped the warm pencil she had been writing with. Stiles grinned and burst out of his seat. He looked at Emma impatiently as she stood up.
"Come on," he called, instantly placing his hand on hers and yanking her out of the room. Emma looked down at his hand over his as his back was turned and smiled. Her hand looked tiny compared to his. Stiles eagerly sped-walk into the living room and went over to the television. Emma couldn't help but distinguish his brick-red boxers peeping out from the top of his jeans. She bit her lip.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're an awesome project-partner?" Stiles asked as he watched the television respond to the buttons he pressed on the remote control he held. Emma blushed.
"It takes two to create a good presentation," she modestly replied, plopping down on the large, black sofa in front of the TV. Stiles quickly sat beside her, the side of his legs touching hers. Emma wondered if he did this purposely or thought nothing of it. Whatever the reasoning, she was glad he was so close to her. Stiles tossed a white controller onto Emma's lap as he navigated through the menu.
"What's this?"
"It's called a controller," he sarcastically responded. Emma sat back on the couch and snickered.
"But it's scary," Emma whined, "Even the music is scary." The ominous music filled with owls hooting and thunder cracking jangled through the televisions' speakers.
"I'll protect you," Stiles ensured, his back facing her. Emma stifled a smile and bent forward to be right next to him again.
"What are you doing?" Emma asked as she watching him rapidly open new folders and options.
"Making it two-player," he responded, his eyes glued to the screen. "So, we can be on a team." He finally looked over at her with glistening hazel eyes.
"You don't mind if your teammate crawls up in a corner as you kill zombies, do you?" she mumbled, leaning closer to him, subtly inhaling his scent.
"That's no problem," Stiles chirped under a chuckle. He opened a folder, reading 'Difficulty' and turned it up to 'Horror'.
"Horror?" Emma exclaimed, grabbing his firm shoulder. She was tempted to feel the muscles he hid so well under his striped shirt.
"Oh, look at that," Stiles said, clearly clicking 'Begin game', "Too late for me to change it." Emma chuckled and held her face in her hands, dropping the controller in her lap.
Stiles' POV
Emma's shoulder was pressed against Stiles' as the game loaded. He looked over at her to see her hands covering her face as the shuddersome music signalled the start of the game.
"Tell me when it ends," she muttered under a chuckle, creating a viel to cover the tv screen with her hands as she looked over at him. Stiles looked down at her alluring features.
"Chicken," he teased. Emma sat straight up, scoffing and snatching the controller from her lap.
"I'll show you chicken," she responded, bravely looking to the tv screen. "Wait- how do I move?" Stiles laughed and nervously put his hand over hers. They both watched as his forefinger went over hers to press the correct button.
"And, um, use the little joystick to go in different directions," he whispered, clearly not looking at the television screen anymore.
"Th-thanks," Emma answered. He realized just how close they were to eachother as he felt her breath on his cheek. He pulled his body back into his regular position and smirked before he turned his attention back to the video game. "And shooting?"
"Just press A," Stiles responded, secretly taking a deep breath. He watched as the two of them played the game. He scanned the virtual forest as their avatars ran around.
"Do they just pop out at you?" Emma asked with worry in her voice.
"Yeah, zombies like to do that," Stiles replied.
"How do y-" Suddenly, the gruesome face of a zombie appeared, carrying a chainsaw. Emma squealed and buried her head into Stiles' shoulder. Without thinking, he raised his arm to cradle her as she dug a spot into his chest. Stiles pressed the pause button on his controller and laughed at a distraught Emma. "How can you play that?" she shrieked over his laughter. He began to feel more nervous once it hit him- he had his arm around Emma. She chuckled as she looked up at him and nervously bit her lip- something she was famous for. 'Should I kiss her?' Stiles asked himself as her brown eyes searched his face. All they could hear was the reserved music coming from the television.
They heard a key turning the front door. Stiles quickly put his arm back to his side, mentally cursing his father. He saw Emma straighten her posture and push her hair out of her face. Stiles unpaused the game and continued to play, awaiting his father's entrance.