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A/N: This isn’t the greatest, but it was requested. I honestly didn’t want to write this once I started because I liked the pervious parts. But it’s okay. This is the final version of N&C.
Request: I can’t remember what the request said, but it was.
I waved goodbye to my parents from our front porch a smile on my face. They were heading out on an anniversary weekend get away, leaving me with the house to myself. Just like any teenager I couldn’t wait to be alone. But as I watched them reverse and head off down the street, the thought of being all alone really sank in. Setting the sudden fear to the back of my mind, I walked into the house locking the deadbolt. It was quieter than usual, and I wasn’t sure if it was because no one else was home, or because I knew no one else was home.
I headed up the stairs quickly, my bare feet hitting the stairs harshly with deliberate thuds. I pushed opened the half open door to my room and slouched down on my bed. I checked the time on my phone.
I sighed opening up my backpack that lay inches from me, and pulled out my homework. With no parents home, I could easily procrastinate and watch some Netflix instead. But, knowing I would sooner regret it I flipped open the text book and began.
I only realized it was getting dark when I had to strain my eyes to see the problems on the paper I was working on. I clicked on the light siting on my night table, and the room illuminated. I picked up my phone and checked the time once more.
I groaned noting I still had a good size left of my homework. Buzz, buzz. My phone lit up in my hand.
Bat Man - New Text Message
I smiled at the sight of his name. It was Stiles, and I was glad to take a break from my studying to talk to him. I swiped my touch screen unlocking my phone, and read his message.
Hey beautiful (: he wrote.
I smiled and reread the two words again. These were his words, words he’d actual made a point to say. To me.
What do you want, Stilinski? (; I teased.
A million dollars, a mansion, and maybe some cookies. I’m kind of hungry.
I laughed aloud to myself at his words.
You’re such a smartass. I replied.
As I waited for him to write back, my mind drifted to a couple of nights ago. When I laid on his chest drifting to sleep, and the precious words poured from him mouth into my ears.
I love you.
Then, a night later, when the same three syllables left my lips. He’d looked a mixture of shock and confusion when I’d said the words. When he’d spoken them, I hadn’t been meant to hear them. His expression soon changed into that of relief as his soft lips met mine for a brief second. It was nice to not have to pretend we didn’t have feelings for each other, even if we hadn’t made anything official.
I would prefer if you didn’t objectify my body, please. Lol. He finally texted back.
I rolled my eyes and smiled. Could he not be sarcastic for even a millisecond of his life? I already knew the answer, and chuckled to myself. Man, I loved this boy.
Can you come over for a bit? I’m bored. He sent another text, without me replying to the first.
Can’t. Loads of homework. Plus my parents are away, so I have to stay in.
I waited for him to reply but he never did. I felt my heart speed up a bit at the thought that I may have a upset him, even though it wasn’t like Stiles to get unnerved by something so vapid. I twiddled my thumbs over the keys trying to think up something to smooth over the conversation. I started to type when his message came through.
Okay. He said simply.
I frowned. He was definitely mad. I stared at my phone trying to think of something to say until it turn to power save mode. Finally, I got the nerve to just call him. To make sure everything truly was okay. I click awake my phone again, and scrolled through my contacts till I found his name. I tap the screen, and it began to ring.
"Hello?“ He answered after a couple of rings. His surroundings sounded weird, almost like he was running or in a car.
"Hey there, what are you doing?” I asked him sweetly.
I could hear him smiling. “Oh, you know nothing.” His was acting strange and a definite sound of a car horn blared into the phone.
"Stiles? Are you driving?“ I questioned.
"Uhhh, not anymore.” And as he said the words everything went quiet on his end.
"Okay…“ I said suspicious.
"Well I just wanted to make sure you weren’t upset that I couldn’t come over?"
"What? Oh no. It’s fine.” He replied a little distracted.
"I’ll let you go" I said annoyed.
“You seem busy."
"Okay, but can you come help me?"
"Help? With what?"
"Oh yeah.” He laughed. “I’m outside."
I got off my bed, and strolled over to my window to see Stiles, his phone held to his ear by his shoulder whilst he struggled to grab a box of pizza and a brown paper bag out of his jeep. He spotted me and nodded his head with smile, dropping his phone. I laughed and rushed down stairs to help him.
A twelve pack of Sprite and a large cheese pizza later, Stiles and I lay opposite each other on my couch. He spent the evening keeping me company, and when it came time for him to head home I begged him to stay just a little bit longer. I’d nodded off during an episode of Friends, and he must have too because I was woken by a heart wrenching scream. I shot up instantly recognizing the sound as Stiles’s. I looked to the other end of the couch, but he wasn’t there. I searched around the room for him as another scream left his throat followed by a sob. I found him on the floor sobbing in a ball. I practically jumped off the couch wrapping my arms around him from behind. He gripped my arm with his hand like he was trying to steady himself, and I rocked him as I hushed him softly. This felt all too familiar, and I wondered how often Stiles had these nightmares.
"Say it?” He asked. After several minutes of calming him down, his head lay in my lap as I leaned against the couch smoothing his hair back lightly.
"Say what?“ I asked calmly.
"You know.” His voice hitching on the second word.
It took me only a second to understand what he was talking about. He wanted, dare I say, needed me to say my new favourite three words. In his moment of need, he could only think about me and reminding him I felt the same way. Me and those words kept him anchored to reality. I bent down and pressed my lips to his head, just like he had that night.
"I love you.“ I whispered in his ear before sitting upright again.
Over the course of an hour, Stiles made me say it what felt like fifty more times. His demeanor changed each time until he sat upright on his own.
"Is it still Donovon?” I asked.
He nodded in response but there was something more. He paused a moment then began.
“Remember the other night when you came over and watched Star Wars with me?” He reminded me.
"Vividly.“ I smiled.
"Well, I tired to ask you something but you fell asleep."
I racked my brain trying to remember the exchange. I had been so tired that night, I barely remembered it.
"What were you trying to ask me?”
He took a deep breath and than spoke.
“Can you promise me something?"
"Anything.” I nodded reassuringly.
He took my hands in his and gave them a small squeeze. “Never leave me? Don’t stop being my friend or move away or…” His voice trailed off.
I knitted my brow together in confusion. Where was this coming from?
"Please?” He pleaded cutting me off. “You’re one of the best things in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He scooted in closer to me as he placed a hand on my cheek and peered into my eyes. I gazed back at him in awe of the creature in front of me.
"Promise.“ I whispered.
He gently pulled my face to his and kissed my lips. I closed my eyes at his touch, and tangled my fingers in his hair deepening our kiss. He pulled away for a moment, his hand still delicately on my face and smiled.
"I love you.” He said and drew me back into another passionate kiss.
IMAGINE YOUR FRIEND FORCES YOU TO SET UP AN ONLINE DATING PROFILE
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” you roll your eyes as you run your finger across the flat mouse pad of your lap top. Granted you had been single for some time but hey, you didn’t mind it and a man couldn’t do much more than a battery operated toy could. You shrug your shoulders and add a head shot like picture to your profile.
“I guarantee you half of the guys on here don’t even look like they do in their pictures. For all you know they could be serial killers.” You exclaim as you start typing something into the bio section.
“Oh move out of the way Y/N.” Your friend says and you oblige, moving out of the seat and taking her place as she sits down. You watch as she begins typing in some non sense about you, half of it probably not even true but what the hell. You didn’t want to do this whole online dating thing in the first place.
“There!” Your friend shouts happily as she hits the enter button and climbs back out of the chair. “Now get to searching or I’ll just have to find a date for you.” The sheer look of evil on her face gives it away that she would probably have no problem at all choosing a guy for you. Of course you both have very different taste in guys, hers being the tatted up and pierced in all the wrong places kind and yours being the more clean cut, slightly cocky well built all American kind.
You find yourself tireless looking through profile after profile, becoming too picky. That guy is too thin. This one is too tall. This one likes wrestling too much. This one looks like he cleans his car more than himself. You look up to your friend in disgust, about to give up all hope when she clicks the next button and up pops a profile picture of a handsome green eyed man, clean cut hair with just a hint of stubble, adorable bow legs and propped up on an old but well maintained muscle car. “Well who do we have here?”, your friend asks, a hint of boosted ego as she speaks.
“Shush it.”, You find yourself snapping back as you scroll through his bio. He seems funny, down to earth has a little brother. He likes to travel,loves working on cars and hunting. A real man’s man it would seem. You are about to close out of the profile, sure you have no chance with him when you see a video link at the bottom of the page and anxiously click on it out of curiosity.
“My Name is Dean. I’m An Aquarius. I Love long walks on the beach and frisky women.” The video says. The guy in the video definitely looks like the guy in the profile picture. He seems to be a bit of a smart ass or if he was being honest, a ladies man but hey, you aren’t looking for some long and meaningful relationship and are only doing this to make your friend happy. Asking a guy out for a few beers and maybe becoming that frisky woman he’s looking for might not be such a bad thing. You glance at your friend out of the corner of your eye, knowing she is thinking the same thing as you and you click the interested button at the bottom of his profile page. Within a few minutes, you have a new message from his profile. Do you open it?
She remembered the first time he had surrounded her.
He had come in through her window that first night, all muscles and movement and deep blue eyes that had sucked her in, so much that her hand holding the pan hadn’t moved but stayed right at her side as she had stared, stunned, at the beautiful man who had broken into her apartment.
And then the cops had knocked.
Felicity had understood in that moment that he had been an outlaw of some kind, but something in his eyes had beckoned her not to talk, something in her gut had succumbed.
The cops had asked the questions and she had shut the door. And then he had been caging her in with his muscular arms, his warm breath against her ear and his chest brushing over hers, telling her not to tell anyone he had been there.
She had nodded tentatively, more fascinated than scared, and he had left.
She had seen him again a few nights later, just when the previous encounter had almost moved to the periphery of her memory. He had been sitting on the stair right in front of her door in the darkness, as though he had been waiting for her to come home, and she had stepped up, frowning, her heart racing upon seeing his beautiful face again.
Their gazes had locked for long moments, a silent, ancient understanding had passed between them.
She had slowly opened the door, silently inviting him in.
There was an episode, like, really early on, when I came running up and I jumped over the couch and my heels hit the edge of the couch and I slipped off and took it right in the shins with the table. And the punch bowl just kinda goes, “whoosh,” like this, and everybody is like, still. And I hold it still, and I’m like- you just can’t smile now. And I’m like- “Stay in character. Stay in character. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.” And everybody else starts laughing. I remember watching the episode and going, “They kept it. That’s awesome!" I like making people laugh, and if that helps to make people happy, I’ll hurt myself a little bit. - Ashton Kutcher, That ‘70s Show