?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: Serenade Outside Your Window
Author/Mixer: amethyst_rei
Fandom: Teen Wolf (2011)
Subject/Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Lydia Martin
Characters: Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Isaac
Summary: In which Stiles decides it's time. Or, Stiles' love letter to Lydia, mix-tape style.
Fic Info: ~1,680 words | PG-13 | Post-s2.
Mix Info: 12 songs | 65 mb | .ZIP (includes songs, art, and pdf)


A/N: So this totally sprouted legs and ran away from me. Whoops. I spent a ridiculous amount of time on this, but man was it fun.

I don't write much of anything these days, so hopefully the fic portion isn't too bad. Con-crit is totes welcome, of course. If anyone has any questions/concerns/suggestions/etc, feel free to let me know. Anyway, enjoy!



s1

e2










THE STORY.


books


"I'm going to ask her out," Stiles told Scott, lip between his teeth. He watched as Lydia threw her head back and laughed at something Danny was saying and felt that all-too-familiar tug at this heart.

He didn't think that tug would ever go away no matter how much time passed.

"You've been saying that since you were in third grade," Scott pointed out absently in between bites. He was paying way too much attention to his faux-burger and not nearly enough to Stiles and his plight.

"Yeah, but I'm serious this time," he argued.


"Uh-huh."

Stiles leaned forward and squeezed Scott's wrist. "No, I mean, really, really serious. Like, for reals."

Scott set down his burger. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Oh," he said. Then, "Why now?"

Stiles shrugged, even though he'd spent almost all of last night coming up with reasons why asking Lydia out now as opposed to, well, never, was a really good idea.

The list of reasons why it was a really bad idea had been much longer, but Stiles wasn't going to think about that.

"Well," he said carefully, glancing behind Scott to watch Lydia throw a pen at Danny's head, "she's not dating Jackson anymore."

I don't think that's a good enough reason, Scott's eyebrows said.

Stiles scowled at him.

"Um. Well, you guys have been getting along lately," he offered quickly, eyes wide and earnest. "You can almost be considered friends now."

Stiles nodded in agreement. "Exactly! And it's been long enough since she broke things off with Jackson so I won't be, like, 'the rebound guy', y'know?"

"Yeah," Scott said. They lapsed into thoughtful silence for a moment before he tentatively asked, "So…how are you going to tell her? And when?"

And wasn't that the million dollar question?

A good chunk of the time Stiles had expended making this decision had been spent trying to figure it out. Sometime after convincing himself that serenading outsider her window was really lame (not to mention creepy) and that buying her something really shiny and expensive was a little too close to bribery for his personal comfort, he'd given up and gone to sleep. Which, in hindsight, had probably been the best thing to do. He was fresh out of (good, non-creeper status) ideas and two brains were definitely better than one.

"Maybe you could, like, make her a card and slip it  into her locker? Oh! Or you could, like, get a shirt with whatever you want to say printed on it and wear it to school. And bring flowers, 'cause girls like flowers, right…?"

He trailed off at Stile's expression.

"Or not," he muttered defensively.

Stiles sighed and patted his arm. Scott was only trying to help, after all, even if said help consisted of suggesting really terrible ideas.

It was Stiles' fault for thinking Scott of all people could help, anyway. As much as he loved his best friend—and Stiles really, really did—Scott wasn't usually the best in the making-plans-that-didn't-blow-up-in-their-faces department.

"They weren't horrible ideas," he tried to reassure him, but the look Scott shot him belied how terrible Stiles was at lying. "Just, y'know, maybe come up with something that wouldn't be more appropriate for a second grader next time?"

Scott's frown deepened, and wow, Stiles was really bad at this.

He was saved from trying to save the situation by the presence of Isaac.

He  settled down beside Stiles and tossed his bag onto the table carelessly. Scott stood up and they both leaned over the table to do that weird face nuzzle-slash-scenting thing that Stiles was saddened to admit didn't even faze him anymore.

It was one of the many, many werewolf things he'd had to get used to in the past year now that things at Beacon Hills had finally calmed down enough.

"So I have an idea," Isaac said suddenly, settling into his seat and stealing Stiles' pudding cup.

Stiles tried to snatch it back but Isaac and his stupid werewolf reflexes made it impossible.

He glared and returned to picking at today's mystery meat. Freakin' werewolves.

"As I was saying," he said haughtily, flashing Stile's a grin as he pulled the aluminum lid open.

Stiles stared at it mournfully. He loved vanilla pudding.

"I have an idea," he continued.

"Care to elaborate?" Scott said.

Both Stiles and Isaac turned to look at him.

"What?" He said, peevishly, and then scowled. "Contrary to what everyone apparently thinks, I do know words with more than three syllables."

"Of course you do, buddy. We didn't mean it like that." Stiles said soothingly. He turned to the side just in time to catch Isaac mouthing "Allison" and Stiles had to bite his lip to keep from snorting.

Scott's scowl faded, mollified. He rarely kept grudges (unless your name was Derek Hale), and Stiles loved that about him.

"I have an idea about how Stiles should confess to Lydia," Isaac continued.

His tone was low, but Stiles still whipped his head around frantically to make sure that no one had overheard. They were alone at their little corner table, and Stiles shoulders eventually slumped in relief.

"Dude!" he hissed. "One, could you have said that any louder, and two, eavesdropping is so not cool."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Here," he said, and plopped the half-eaten pudding cup into his hand.

Stiles eyed it and the used spoon for a moment before plucking it out and popping it into his mouth.

Mmm, so good.

"So this idea of yours?" Scott asked, ignoring the fact that Isaac had moved onto eating his fries right off his tray.

"Well," he said over a mouthful of soggy, ketchup-y potato, "you could make a mix tape."

Stiles dropped a little bit of his pudding onto his black shirt.

"A mix tape?" Scott echoed.

"Yup," Isaac said, stealing another fry. "It's romantic, isn't it? Knowing that someone took the time to actually look up songs that express how they feel about you? And it's dorky enough that Lydia will think Stiles came up with the idea on his own—"

"Hey!"

"—but not dorky enough that she'd trash it. Or laugh him out of Beacon Hills. Or both."

Scott made a contemplative sound as he pushed his tray towards Isaac.

"That sounds pretty cool," Scott said. "I know I'd like it if Allison were to do something like that for me." And then his eyes went all distant and dreamy, his typical thinking-about-Allison face, and Stiles had to refrain from gagging.

He hoped he didn't look like that when he thought of Lydia.

Oh, who was he kidding? He totally did.

"So anyway," Isaac muttered, shaking his head. "What do you think, Stiles?"

Stiles thought about it.

"Yeah," he said after a while. "Yeah, that might actually be a good idea. Thanks, man."

Isaac said something, but Stiles was already pulling out his iPod from his bag and tugging his earphones on.

He had a mix-CD (because tapes were so 1990s) to create.
















THE LETTER.


notebook
Lydia,

Light of my life, woman of my dreams, angel come from heaven, Juliet to my Romeo—

Okay, let's be serious. Not that you totally aren't all those things to me, because you are! But, I should probably be serious-serious, you know? Okay. So. I'm sure you, being the brilliant genius you are, have noticed that I have, um. Feelings. For you. In a romantic capacity. Since I was, like, eight. Right. So I thought that maybe this would be a good time to tell you? Finally? How I feel about you?

You're probably wondering why now, and I don't really have an answer for you. I was just… watching you the other day—but not like, creepy, Edward Cullen stalker-watching or anything like that! I swear! Just totally innocent and non-creepy watching, and you were smiling because Mrs. Lowinski had recommended you for that summer internship position at NYU and you looked so beautiful and it just hit me. I had to tell you. We're juniors, and in a year we'll be leaving school, probably Beacon Hills, and I really don't want to leave with regrets. Well, this regret anyway. And even if you turn me down (which I'm trying really hard not to think about), just knowing that I at least tried will still be a thousand times better than knowing that I never had the courage.

So. That's that. Um. The mix accompanied is for you. Obviously. It's. Just listen to it, okay? It expresses how I about you far more than my clumsy, possibly inane words could ever hope to.

Your friend always,

-- Stiles.















THE MIX.



A 17




The Man Who Can't Be Moved | The Script
=
Maybe you'll come back here to that first place we'd met
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving, no I'm not moving.




Superman | Ronan Keating
=
Well, I'm no superman
But I'll love you that best I can.



More Than Anyone | Gavin Degraw
=
You need a friend, I'll be around
What can I say to convince you
To change your mind of me?




Out of My League | Stephen Speaks
=
All the times I have sat and stared,
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair
With me sitting there slack-jawed and nothing to say.




Parachute | Train
=
I'll open up and be your parachute
And I'll never let you down



Clumsy | Our Lady Peace
=
Watching you drown, watching you scream, quiet or loud,
And maybe you should sleep, or maybe you just need  a friend.
//You need to understand that there's nothing fake about this.



Just One Thing | My Morning Jacket
=
And baby, there's just one thing
One thing that does it, does it for me.



When Life Gives Me Lemons I Make Lemonade | The Boy Least Likely To
=
I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, things don’t always go my way
But there’s not a lot you can do with lemons Except make them into lemonade.



Lips Like Morphine | Kill Hannah
=
I want a girl with lips like morphine, blow a kiss that leaves me gasping,
I want to feel that lightning strike me… and burn me down.



One Thing | One Direction
=
I've tried playing it cool but when I'm looking at you
I can never be brave  cause you make my heart race.



Crush | Dave Mathews Band
=
So much you have given, love, that I would give you back
Again and again, meaning I'll hold you, and please let me, always.



BONUS:


[ So, Lydia? Will you go out with me? - Stiles ]


Don't Go Breaking My Heart | Elton John [Glee Cast cover]
=
Right from the start I gave you my heart
Baby, please don't go breaking my heart.














THE OUTCOME.
15
Scott's in the middle of laughing at the joke Isaac just made when a loud slam startles him. He turns just in time to see Lydia press Stiles against the lockers and kiss him. If he weren't so stunned he'd laugh at how ridiculous Stiles looks-- eyes wide and arms flailing and face tomato red.

Stiles being Stiles, though, he catches on quick, and soon his hands are in Lydia's hair and they're making out right there in the middle of a  hallway that's getting decidedly more crowded by the second because of the display, and yeah, awkward.

He turns around just as the first bell rings and doesn't even bother trying to pull Stiles away for class. Isaac wraps an arm around his shoulder and steers him away and he goes willingly, desperate to get away from the sound of Stiles' low groans and the smell of arousal.

Sometimes Scott really hates being a werewolf.

They're walking into Mr. Harris' class when Isaac says, casually, "So. I guess Stiles got his answer."

When they look at each other they're both grinning wide.

"Yeah," Scott says, thinking of all the years Stiles has pined after Lydia, and all the times he's been ignored, and how happy he's been since the two of them became friends. He thinks of how nervous Stiles has been since he gave Lydia that little perfectly wrapped box half a week ago, and how he's been beating himself up over it ever since.

Thinks of his face when he realized, after the shock had passed, that Lydia had finally given him a chance.

And all it took was a little mix tape.

"Yeah," he says again, "I guess he did."




THE END.









Download zip.
{password: thestiles}