Imagine Lydia knowing that Stiles is going to propose, and just getting… impatient.
Like, she does the whole thing where she finds the ring in one of his dresser drawers when she was looking for a hoodie that he stole back from her after she had temporarily misappropriated it. And at first she totally freaks out, because marriage is this huge, scary thing for Lydia– for years, she didn’t know if she ever wanted to get married at all. All she’s ever seen love do is end, and she doesn’t know how she would fare in a universe where this thing that she has with Stiles isn’t theirs to keep.
But eventually she does some soul searching, some drinking, and calms herself down. Stiles wants to propose. And she’s going to say yes. So she waits. She waits for him to propose. And she waits. And she waits some more, wondering, after six months, if she’d imagined the ring that was sitting in his sock drawer.
One night she can’t sleep, her mind racing a million miles a minute, and Stiles is snoring in bed next to her, his hand resting on her stomach, his face tucked into her side. She pokes him on the forehead repeatedly until he wakes up, smacking his lips tiredly.
“Wha? You have a nightmare, Ly-ia?”
“A nightmare of a boyfriend, maybe,” she grumbles.
“Wha?” he asks again, this time confused.
“Why haven’t you proposed to me?” Now he’s awake. But… frozen. Which is unfortunate. “Are you not sure if you want to marry me? Because you bought a ring, and that seems like a tremendous waste of money for someone who isn’t sure about the girl he’s been dating since he was eighteen.”
“You should want to marry me. I have excellent genes; I’ve got an extremely high IQ, I’m attractive in a way that would do well for your gene pool, and my family doesn’t have any history of high blood pressure or diabetes. And the fact that I even want to marry you is a miracle in itself, you know. I didn’t know if I even wanted to get married to anyone ever a few years ago. In high school I told myself I never would. You would be lucky to be married to me.”
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse with sleep, and a small, disbelieving smile has twisted its way onto his lips.
“Are you… are you trying to convince me to marry you?”
“No?” he repeats back, looking far too amused.
“I’m just saying that if you wanted to propose to me, it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for either of us.”
He shakes his head at her for a moment.
“What do you mean okay?”
“I mean it’s, like, three in the morning and I want to go back to sleep, but okay, I’ll propose to you tomorrow or something. Goodnight.”
“Okay,” she says faintly. “Um, goodnight?”
He pulls her close to him, the heat of his body warming her as he wiggles his face into her neck and sighs happily. And, fine. She can let him have this for tonight. (She can let him have this for a lifetime.)
@allirica said:Stiles/Derek + “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Aisleah! I wrote this as an early birthday gift because classes start for me next week & I don’t know how busy I’ll be. I hope you enjoy it!!!
Stiles needs to learn how to think before he speaks so he doesn’t risk ruining a wonderful friendship with Derek due to his stupid feelings.
“I’m sorry.” Stiles rakes his fingers through his hair, focusing his attention on the wall because he’s too scared to look at Derek’s face right now. He has no idea what he’d see there, and he’s too cowardly to take the risk. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
When a rusalka in the preserve nearly kills Stiles with a kiss, Stiles is in grave danger any time he’s near a source of water - not just rivers, lakes, and oceans, but pools, bathtubs, the shower, a sink full of water - you put water in it, and it could probably kill Stiles now. Deaton’s advice? Break the rusalka’s magic with a kiss of opposite power - love to beat out death.