Apologises for the long wait! I can't guarantee regular uploads for Dear Rabbit at the moment mainly due to the fact i'm ridiculously busy and therefore don't know when i'll have time to write and when I won't, but do know that i'm always trying my best to write and to write to a good standard so that when chapters do come out they're enjoyable for everyone! Once again sorry for the long wait and thank you for sticking with me :)
The day was going incredibly slowly by the time I got to work at the Station after school. Why was it going so slowly you ask? I wasn't feeling exactly great; my head had been banging for the majority of the day and it felt like King Kong was jumping around in there, my nose was stuffy and I felt clammy and feverish. That being said, I wasn't going to admit that I felt as bad as I did. I had a job and school, commitments that I couldn't just shove to the side and ignore. So I took some painkillers and kept any moaning and groaning to myself.
I was filing some documents for deliveries when Mr. Stilinski sidled up to my desk, coffee in hand, "Hey, Kiddo, are you coming round for dinner tonight?"
"What?" I looked up at him blinking slowly. Dinner? Tonight? I wasn't sure if the confusion was just because of my hazy mind or because I genuinely had no clue. Perhaps it was a little bit of both, I'd had trouble taking notes let alone answering questions today in class. It was nightmare. Curse whoever gave me their bug. Asshole.
"It's your cooking night...are you feeling alright?" The Sheriff raises and eyebrow before they furrowed the way the Stilinski men always seemed to do when they were concerned or worried. I wonder if it's genetic or merely an upbringing thing.
I raised a hand to my forehead rubbing the skin there soothingly before looking up at him over my glasses. "I'm fine, sorry...I'm just tired is all. But, yeah, sure I'm still coming round," I said, faking a smile, despite the fact I had no real desire to go tonight. As much as I loved dinner with the Stilinskis I just wanted to go home, curl up in a ball under my covers, and sleep off whatever evil plague I'd caught from someone. Maybe it was Stacy in history; she looked rather peaky the other day...or maybe Brett who quite literally ran into me a few days back in the corridors on his way to the nurse...whoever it was could burn in the fiery depths of hell.
"Alright, just let me know if you need to go home...you sure you're just tired?" The concern was heart-warming but it made me feel worse for lying in the first place and not admitting that I was contagious. I was a walking epidemic waiting to happen.
"I'm sure. I'm fine, Sheriff honestly!" I said while sniffling into a tissue, my hand waving the Sheriff off. I was relieved when he finally left and I could collapse back into my chair, eyes closed, and breathing heavy. Whoever had given me this sickness was dead and for once I wasn't joking. It was the sort of sickness where you feel sore all over and like you have no energy at the same time as you refuse to just sit around doing nothing when perhaps really you should have been lazing about.
The next few hours of work was almost as painful as the whole day at school. What little work I got done wasn't exactly stellar and I was just glad that my work wasn't something vital and overly important. Can you imagine if I was a doctor or something? Someone would die…I was so out of it I doubt I could even write a medical report let alone actually aid someone. Good thing I wasn't a doctor then…
The Sheriff had actually left before me. Normally, he'd be stuck in the station till way past midnight, but everyone had convinced him to take off at five and I wasn't done until six. The station was always quiet later in the evenings, most of the deputies kept to themselves. Not that I minded-today I wasn't exactly feeling up to polite conversation with strangers. Although I had missed the Sheriff checking up on me, it was nice to have that sort of care from people, I'd had it a lot from well…from everyone I knew really. It was just nice. It was nice to be close to people and know that they did care and that you could let yourself care, perhaps even too much. Not that I'd ever really been able to not care about people.
I wasn't the last to leave, especially since the station was pretty much open 24/7, in fact I was the one person with the shortest shift, but I wasn't exactly a qualified adult was I? I doubt I could last filing papers and answering the phone for more than 4 or 5 hours, I was easily bored if I had nothing interesting to do.
Walking out to my car had me wishing I had a warmer coat and maybe a flashlight, if I was more aware and less out of it I'd have probably have been incredibly uncomfortable. With November approaching fast the days were shorter and colder and the nights scarier, especially with some sort of killer person and/or animal wandering around attacking people…attacking Dori. That and I had a feeling all the attacks had something to do with those red eyes I keep bloody seeing…real or not.
Turning the key in the ignition of the old fort for a moment it didn't start. "C'mon, baby…I'm too ill for this rubbish today…" I heaved a sigh, turning the key once more and huffing with relief when the engine spluttered to life and the radio started playing some far too Christmas like tune for mid-October. Although I suppose it was near enough that we could all start panicking about buying Christmas gifts for people…I mean what do you buy your friends for Christmas? Books? A Christmas jumper? Personalised mugs? I'd have to think on it a bit more when I wasn't halfway to death's door.
I was kind of dreading dinner with the Stilinski's. Not that I didn't want to spend time with Stiles and John, just that cooking food for people when all you want to do is go to sleep, eat pizza, and drink orange juice, isn't exactly the highlight of my day. I was also well aware that there was no way I could keep pretending to be in full health when I was coughing, spluttering and moaning every five minutes. Not the good type of moaning either, the moaning that was somewhat reminiscent of a crappy 80s zombie movie.
I put off getting out of my car, just letting it sit in front of their house for a good while before I decided to move, forcing myself out of the colour and making my way up to their front door. Leaves were everywhere and crunched under my feet as I reached my destination, knocking on the door.
The house was so incredibly familiar to me, the peeling of the paint on the door, the shape of the windows and the curtains that shrouded the inside of the house from view. The house had really become a refuge for me while everything had been tense back at home…although that tension was slowly dissipating. It didn't meant that we were all hunky dory and chatting like we used to, but mum and I weren't ignoring each other and we even said good morning and mum made me breakfast sometimes. The awkwardness was still there and we weren't quite back to normal, but it was more normal than we had been for weeks and I was more than grateful for that.
I smiled tiredly at the John as he opened the door, leaning against the door way as he smiled back at me. The Sheriff was never anything but welcoming to me. It was nice, the same could be said about Melissa McCall. Scott's mum was just as nice to me and just as supportive. It was…nice. "I should probably just get you a key, Kiddo, since you're here so much…" The jokes weren't unusual, it had been joked about more than once…Stiles kept trying to get me to just agree to have a key, something about him having one to Scott's so why don't I have one to his. I wasn't something I was against, but it was an odd thought…to have a key to someone else's house.
"You don't need to..." I tilted my head down, rubbing the back of my neck, looking up over my glasses at him. I guess it was just one of those things that felt so private that I couldn't help but feel bashful about it, like when someone asks you a private question about who you like or why you went to the doctor's the other day…it was just something that felt odd to be talking about even if it was a simple case of me being asked if I wanted a piece of metal.
"Well too late, because I already have. Here." I barely caught the small cold metal in my hands when it was thrown at me and I probably looked a sight trying to grab a hold of it but that wasn't what concerned me…it just felt…somehow invasive to have a key into someone's house. Did they trust me that much? What if I decided to sneak in in the middle of the night and scare someone or seek hugs or raid their fridge? But then I guess the most likely thing I would do would be to simply crawl under the covers with Stiles and bug him about how I can't get to sleep…Still…it felt odd to have a key that wasn't to my own house or my car. There was, however, no doubt that it raised some affection in me. The Sheriff was lovely and to know that I was trusted and cared for enough to be given a key was…well it was a nice feeling.
"Sheriff…"
"Don't Sheriff me, just get in already, Stiles is going Stir crazy waiting for your cooking." I found myself gripping that key tightly and being pushed into the house. It was warm, the heating obviously on and all the lights were bright and gave a warm glow to the house that I didn't see when it was lighter outside. The photos along the main corridor had slowly grown, one or two pictures of me with Stiles and Scott…some of us all at Lacrosse games. It really did show the progression of life. We had things, we did things, and everything evolved. Life went on, as it were.
When I reached half way down the hall, Stiles came tumbling down the stairs in socks, and his pajamas, slipping as he made his way to the bottom step in a hectic mess of teenage boy. Apparently everyday clothing was overrated and instead plaid pajama bottoms were in. Not that his obsession with plaid was anything new.
"Thank god you're here, Lottie! I'm starved…" There was something flattering about the reliance that apparently he'd gained for my cooking, it was nice to fit into their little ecosystem, to have a place and to be able to enjoy an evening with them…if only I wasn't half way to my death bed because of some stupid virus.
"Yeah…I'll…I'll get started on that then..." Stiles followed me as I made my way into the Kitchen, the Sheriff presumably wandering off to do some last minute paperwork or try and figure out what the hell was going on in this town lately. I didn't envy his job, he was dealing with everything from the deaths to people criticising him for not stopping the attacks…completely ignoring the fact that he had no way of stopping the attacks.
Stiles had been hovering behind me like a cat waiting for its dinner when it happened it. While I had been pulling vegetables out of the fridge I came over lightheaded and found myself grasping the fridge tightly, knees buckled, blinking away the daze. It was one of those moments where you felt completely out of it before you shook it off and wondered what the blazes had happened.
"Hey! Are you alright?" I pushed myself back to standing. Stiles had a hand on my back, as if he was waiting for me to keel over, which I might just do if that happened again. Perhaps I was worse than I thought I was...or perhaps I'd worked myself to death all day and needed a lie down.
"I'm fine, Stiles, I'm just tired…that's all." I batted his hands away, closing the fridge, hoping to get away without much notice of my minor incident…not sure why I thought I'd ever get away with such a thing as getting lightheaded around Stiles, especially recently what with him and Scott being on a very protective streak.
I kept batting away his hands before I gave up, a cold hand was pressed to my forehead, "Are you sure you're okay? Are you warm? You feel warm!" It was like having a mother hen clucking at you, all the while feeling for your temperature and standing within inches of your face with that look that Stiles gets, the one where he furrows his brow and licks his lips like he's not quite sure what to do next. If this was just your normal day, the nerves in my stomach would have been full blown…and I wasn't quite sure why being this close to Stiles recently had made me so undeniably nervous. It was confusing to say the least. But then everything had been confusing recently, from Maths to everyday life.
"Everything alright in here?" We both pulled back from each other, or more aptly Stiles pulled away from me seeing as I was trapped between a kitchen counter and my best friend as he fretted over me. The Sheriff stood in the doorway to the Kitchen, a file was in his hand, presumably about the recent attacks, deaths, and all around horrific events that had been happening.
"Lottie's ill."
"I'm fine!" Perhaps that phrase the Lady doth protest too much applied here a little too aptly. At Stiles obvious concern and probably my own sickly pallor the Sheriff set aside his file in favour of placing a hand, much like Stiles had, to my brow. I felt like a soldier stuck between Florence Nightingale and Mary Seacole. Mothered. Possibly smothered and, though I wouldn't admit it, preening from the caring attention.
"You've definitely got a temperature, you need to go lie down. Stiles?" It was as if John Stilinski knew that I'd protest and he probably did. No doubt the Sheriff knew me quite well now.
"I've got it, daddio!" I found myself being guided by pair of hands on my shoulders out of the Kitchen and back towards the staircase. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about the guiding, but I did know that Stiles' hands were pleasantly cold on my feverish skin.
"I'm f-" I was cut off by a loud cough that probably completely wrecked my lungs, "Fine, honestly, love" I didn't really have the energy to argue with him or even to really lift my feet properly as I was helped up a staircase and along a hallway causing me to stumble here and there and probably make Stiles' job harder than it already was.
Had I been able to see Stiles' face and had I realised the word that slipped out of my mouth I may have seen the bright flush to Stiles' face all the way down to his neck and made the connection between that and 'love'. But I didn't, I continued on obliviously into my best friend's room.
"No you're not and you know it." The humour in his voice, I would later reflect on, was probably down to my seemingly childlike behaviour.
I stopped protesting as I found myself being sat on a bed and helped out of my shoes and socks carefully before being tucked under the covers of Stiles' bed like a little Charlotte blanket burrito. I liked burritos and I liked being wrapped up in nice smelling and warm bedding. There was something naturally familiar and comforting about it all. A mild reminder of days when I was little, being tucked into bed and helped to sleep despite however ill I was. It was oddly parental coming from Stiles.
"You really should have taken the day off, Lottie..." he was probably right. Most people who feel feverish an ill don't go to school then work and then try to cook a meal for themselves and their friend's family. In fact most people do the smart thing of lying in bed all day and complaining about how yucky they feel. I felt like Han Solo who'd just fallen out of carbonite and I was probably about as obstinate as him as well. That, however, didn't make me smart.
"Ngn...I had work to do…" I didn't really for the most part my grades were good, my homework was handed in and I had no obligations to fulfil...all in all there was no reason but pure stubbornness to go into school and work that day. But stubbornness does as stubbornness wants.
"I applaud your dedication...but you're really not well...even if it's only a virus." I snuggled deeper under the covers as Stiles sat beside me making a funny dip in the bed and placing a comforting hand where he assumed my leg was. Which was in fact my leg, not that you could really tell when I was snuggling underneath bed covers. They were at that comfortable coldness, the cool type of bed covers that aren't quite freezing and are lovely to lay under.
"I'm fine now; I'm warm and comfortable and you're here" The way those words were said was similar to that of a sleepy five year old who was also quite possibly under the influence of painkillers or some other form of medication. I did feel mightily odd and wasn't sure if it was down to sleepiness or the fever that I'm sure had gotten increasingly worse during the day.
"You are so out of it..." I didn't quite realise that Stiles was laughing at how I was behaving, even if I wasn't all there I would never say I was totally out of it. After all I was still awake enough to respond to him wasn't I? "I'm going to go make you some food and get dad to phone your mum...stay in bed, miss." Something about being called 'miss' had me giggling to myself like a little girl. It was just so odd! Who calls anyone miss, let alone me? Well maybe the bank, I'm pretty sure I was a miss to them...weird...
I nodded my consent to him going away, my lips smacking together lazily. My eyes trailed after him as he slowly left the room taking a few last glances behind him possibly, I suppose, to check on me at least one last time before leaving me alone to go downstairs.
My head rolled on my neck from side to side as I gazed absentmindedly around Stiles' very blue room. Nothing really seemed different, piles of books and paper atop his computer desk, the same posters and walk decals the same everything...except a little wooden frame on this bedside table that caught my eye.
It was unassuming and rather plain at first glance, but no matter how dazed I was I would never be able to ignore what rested happily in that wooden frame. A little pencil drawing; obviously crumpled and slightly stained paper covered in strategically placed pencil marks to resemble a face. A face I knew well. A face I had drawn in that exact way.
When I gave Stiles that drawing all that time ago and he said he'd frame it...I didn't believe him, why would I? I felt it was a crappy little painting that wasn't really worth much at all. But he had. He'd framed it like it was worth something and I couldn't help but stay like that curled up on my side gazing fondly at the frame, a too happy smile on my face at the thought that it really did mean something. That I and my gifts meant something.
"What are you doing?" My head felt awfully heavy as I lifted it to look at the boy stood in his own doorway, a metal tray in his hands with what looked like a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice on it. He looked confused by the ridiculously large grin on my face as I tried to push myself into a sitting position, not even head rush getting rid of the smile.
"You framed it..." I watched him walk across the room setting the tray down on his desk before making his way back to the bed, the glass being sat beside that lovely little frame gently. Before he simply stood in front of me checking my temperature again as he spoke obviously unaware of how much that tiny frame meant to me. Was this what he felt like whenever I wore his hoodie? I hoped so…it was a nice feeling and Stiles deserved nice feelings.
"Your drawing? Of course I did...you made it for me." He really didn't understand and I didn't quite know how to get the words to describe how I was feeling out, especially not with my head buzzing at me. So I did what perhaps I do best.
Stiles let out a surprised "oh!" as I wrapped my arms around his waist from my sitting position, hugging myself to him as best I could to share what I was feeling. The gratitude, the immense welling if affection in my chest, what it all meant to me. I wanted to convey all those big feelings that that little frame had given me. I wanted him to know things that I didn't quite understand myself, but I wanted him to know.
"I'm guessing that you like it then?" I nodded muffling a 'yes' into his pajama top before hiding my face into it completely. Being Scott's friend...being Stiles' friend was one of the best decisions in my life. I'd never been so comfortable around friends, I'd never felt so happy being with an individual...I wasn't sure if I'd like a world without Stiles and Scott.
"You going to sit back and eat my soup or am I going to have to warm it up again?" I held onto the hug a little longer, I wasn't really feeling like I wanted to let go and I wasn't really feeling my eating anything even if this was the first time Stiles had ever attempted to make me food of any description. It was no doubt one of the few chances I'd ever have to eat food made by him, but the thought of eating wasn't a pleasant one.
Despite my displeasure at the thought of eating anything I did unwind my arms from around him and sit back, letting him pull the pillows behind me up to support me like I was in a hospital. I found myself rather quickly being offered a hot bowl of soup and a spoon, the soup itself appeared to be chicken and smelt, despite my lack of want to eat, rather nice.
"Be careful, it's hot." I rather visibly raised an eyebrow at the overt mothering that was going on, with Stiles tucking a tea towel around my neck like I was three at dinner time. "Yes, mum." I may have been ill but apparently my sarcasm was still perfectly intact. I didn't need to look to know that Stiles had rolled his eyes at me as he urged me to eat.
"Dad phoned Norman, he dropped round some things so you can just stay here rather than driving all the way home" I doubt I'd have any hope of driving at all so it was nice to know that I was sorted for the night, not that the two Stilinski men would let me drive myself home anyway. Not if they thought I was too ill. I nodded in acknowledgement as I started on the soup in my lap.
The soup itself actually settled rather gently in my stomach and my previous belief that it might make me sick was entirely wrong. While it wasn't the best soup and I had a feeling the Sheriff actually heated it up as Stiles probably would have managed to set it on fire, it did leave a warm feeling in my stomach and gave me something to stop the empty ache there. It was the oddest experience I'd ever had, however; with Stiles watching me eat almost as if he expected me to find a way to choke on soup any minute. I didn't and felt a little better after eating my soup and drinking some of the glass of orange juice.
"Thank you..." I let myself slump back down in the bed, hiking the covers back up me to stop the slight chill I had started to feel. I felt a fair bit better than earlier and seriously hope that this was simply a twenty four hour bug and not one that was going to persistently bug me for the next five weeks of my life. There was nothing fun about being ill, not even in the slightest and although being looked after was lovely I'd much rather be fit as a fiddle or even mildly okay...
"I can't let my best girl die of the plague can I?" I squinted up at him curling in on myself as he sat himself back down next to me. He'd never called me anything like that at all. It was weirdly flattering, an unusual fluttering in my stomach that I convinced myself was just because it was nice to be someone's something and not anything but platonic at all because why would it be anything but platonic? Right? Right...
"'Best girl'?" The words felt odd and unusual on my tongue, not bad, but unfamiliar. Maybe it was because I'd never said those words before or because I didn't quite understand how they applied to me. Awkward, skittish, clingy, and hyper me. They just didn't seem to fit but they must have, otherwise he wouldn't have said them in the first place...I had little doubt that Stiles walked around with his heart partially on his sleeve and that he said what he meant nothing less and nothing more.
"Yeah?" It was almost as if he was confused that I'd question that phrasing, but we knew a lot of girls and one of them he'd been in love with since the eighth grade, so it wasn't completely unusual that I'd question those two little words. After all, how long had I really known Stiles? Nearly 2 months if that? Admittedly in that time over three quarters of my time was spent with him and Scott, but still...I figured a certain red head would still be his best girl, especially considering she actually acknowledged his presence now.
"I thought Lyd was your best girl?" He looked torn between laughing at the concept (which seemed rather strange considering who we were talking about) and looking rather sad whether at the fact Lydia was no longer a real option or because I seemed disbelieving of the fact I could be possibly considered 'best girl' I wasn't too sure. It wasn't something I'd ever heard before. Sure, Stiles was my person and as far as I knew I was his and yes he was my best friend, but that title had something a bit more important meaning too it. What that was I'd never let myself entertain...or I pretended I'd never entertain the idea of it being more than platonic in the slightest.
"Well she doesn't argue with me over Jar Jar Binks or eat fast food with me does she? Besides isn't she starting a thing with Dori anyway?" Maybe I just wasn't prepared to see Stiles unattached as it were, heck the moment I met him he almost immediately linked himself with Lydia. While he had never dated her and probably never would, the idea that he was 'in love' with her was something that always made him seem attached. Maybe because he was such a loyal person that I could never imagine him getting with someone while he liked someone else. It was just...it felt different to think that that attachment was completely gone.
"Uh...yeah, they have a date soon..." It was also increasingly awkward to think that my beloved sister was finally getting it on with Lydia and that Stiles was just okay with that? They'd had such a strong rivalry for a while, heck there was a period of a week where they refused to even talk to each other. It was...weird.
"I'm not upset. You know that, right? I'm glad she's with Dori and not Jackson..." I think we were all glad that she wasn't with Jackass anymore. That dick didn't deserve Lydia with how he treated people and I was happy, happy that Dori had the girl. Dori was happy and I'd never seen her act so much like a twelve year old with a crush. I liked how happy a simple yes to a date had made her. I liked how Lydia had started to open Dori up a little and soften her edges.
"Bu-" Stiles cut me off and I wasn't quite sure where the energy for this conversation had even come from in the first place, but I liked that he was telling me how he was thinking. I liked that he knew that I would worry. I liked that he went out of his way to explain. To put me at ease. I liked that over the last few months Stiles had learnt to read me, not quite as well as a book, but well enough that he understood.
"I know, I know I liked her for a long time but...not like that anymore, honestly I'm okay with it." I wasn't all that sure...was he really okay with it? Was he really not deeply in love with Lydia anymore or was he lying to make me feel better. I rationalised that Stiles had never lied to me...or at least I wasn't aware that he had. Maybe if I knew what I would later know I'd rethink that statement.
"Promise?" I looked up at him with perhaps the most seriousness I'd had the whole time I'd been in the house. I wanted to make sure he really was okay like how he had made sure that I was okay today. I really hoped he wasn't lying that he was done with something that would probably only end in heart break for him. I had a fair amount of protectiveness over Stiles...He was good to me. He meant a lot to me and I didn't ever want to see him truly hurt not even when he was being an arse because the flip side was this; a kind caring idiot who looked out for me even when I was being simultaneously silly and hard headed.
"Promise, cross my heart hope to die." He even made a little gesture of a cross over where his heart would be. Despite the serious conversation I knew that he was also humouring me as if I was still in that dazed state, but I really didn't mind it all that much.
"Please don't die." His words, however, did go somewhat over my head. It was perhaps proof that I was still under the influence of a fever, that and the fact that I could feel myself becoming increasingly drowsy and found myself snuggling further into the bedding. I chose to lay on my side to watch Stiles as he talked. He was calm like the early morning; quiet...perhaps aware of how I was feeling or what I was thinking...he was at ease and his voice was gentle and rather soothing to my sleepy ears.
"Hey, I'm here to stay...you are stuck with me." A hand reached out a stroked a piece of hair to push it behind my ear, the motion and the continued light caressing of the birds nest top my head was one that had me relaxing further and letting out a little sigh. It felt like when I was little laying in my mother's lap as she played and stroked my hair. It was lovely and familiar...safe almost. It was a time when Stiles' usually erratic behaviour was quiet, as if it knew that now wasn't the time for heavy handedness or loud noises or even twitchy fidgeting.
"I like being stuck with you, y'know, even when it's a break down in the middle of nowhere..." At the time it was uncomfortable, but only because of why we were there. In the morning it was uncomfortable but only because of the whispers that everyone seemed to pass around. But I liked my time with him. I liked feeling like we were the only two people in the world even if it was scary at first. Because Stiles made me slightly less scared and slightly braver each day I was around him. That's what a good friendship does after all. It gives and it takes. It improves you.
"I like being stuck with you too, Lottie..." I felt the drowsiness really start to kick in like a sudden punch to the gut. Except it hurt less and had my eyes fluttering to stay open at every blink. It made the bed feel cosier. I made the room feel warmer. It made Stiles sound more soothing and it made me want to drift off into that nice place called dreamland.
I forced my next words out wanting to sleep, but also knowing how my feverish brain wanted to sleep as well. "Can we snuggle?" It had taken a while to get both Scott and Stiles used to my level of physicality, the need which I had to just be physically close to people. They had expressed rather vehemently after the 'clingy' incident that they were fond of it. That it was new, but not unwelcome and it made my life so much easier at points like this. That they just understood that I needed that closeness, that it wasn't weird.
"You wanna snuggle?" I knew he wanted to double check that it wouldn't make me uncomfortable now or in the morning. But I knew I was fine...when has I ever rejected a chance to snuggle in my life?
"Uh huh." I confirmed nodding my head tiredly and purposefully moving over in the bed to make more room for when Stiles ultimately decided to crawl in with me. The fact that I was still in the majority of my day clothes didn't bother me in the slightest. In fact I hardly thought about it even if I'd regret sleeping in them in the morning. It really seemed of little consequence at that exact moment in time. Like it was just a little blade of grass in a forty acre field.
"Okay. We'll snuggle..." Stiles lent over pulling my glasses off of me and placing them on the bedside table carefully before peeling back his half of the covers and crawling in. He laid on his back and outstretched his arm and I wiggled my way under it. My head resting just above Stiles' heart, one of my hands rested on his chest near his shoulder, one underneath me. Stiles' arm wrapped around my back, tapping and stroking a pattern I could hardly feel over my clothing. But it did the job of soothing me nonetheless. I found myself closing my eyes and sighing happily, the warmth of the body next to me, my own tiredness and the movements across my back lulling me to sleep. The fact that I was in my day clothes not even crossing my mind once as I drifted off into that long awaited abyss called sleep.