LASAGNA AND STRAWBERRIES | STYDIA
Tagging → Stiles Stilinski & Lydia Martin (Stilinski)
Time → Sunday evening, one month and a bit into their marriage
Location → the Stilinski house outside of NYC
Notes → A load of fluff, where Lydia tries to make up for the past few nights and they make up.
Lydia wanted tonight to be perfect. She'd blown off work early to come back and get her and Stiles's bedroom looking how she wanted it to look when he got home from training today. Sure, 21st Century Fox might not be thrilled about it, but for once, she wanted, needed to put Stiles first. She had put on her favorite pair of satin pajamas, a pair that she knew Stiles loved as much as she did, and had laid out a blanket over their bedspread, with his favorite lasagna and dessert, surrounding the bed with candles. Hearing the front door open, she quickly moved over to the bed, arranging herself on it for Stiles to see when he came upstairs.
Stiles had been anxious for the rest of the day after the messages he and Lydia had exchanged. Since their argument the other night, he'd felt guilty. But it was unlike any guilt he'd ever felt before. It was a terrible, shaking kind of guilt, the kind that filled his stomach with a five ton weight. His mind flashed back to his wife's heartbroken face over and over again, refusing him any peace. Yet, he knew he'd fought with her for a reason. His heart had been in the right place overall. What kind of husband would he really be if he hadn't been worried like he was? Not a very good one, that's for sure. "Lyd?" he called out into the darkened home. The house smelled faintly of tomato sauce and melted chocolate, causing his stomach to grumble. He hadn't eaten because of the weight of his guilt, but now that things were a bit more settled, he was starving. He bounded up the stairs two at a time and hurried towards their bedroom, following the scent. "Hi babe," he said, smiling when he saw Lydia looking sexy next to a pan of lasagna. "I don't know who I'm more excited to see. You or the pasta."
Lydia adjusted her hair quickly as Stiles came into the room, and a smile washed over her face as she saw her favorite person in the world. Instantly, she wanted to run into his arms and sob her heart out about everything that had happened, but she stayed composed, giving him a smile. "Hi." She said back softly. She laughed at his words, shrugging a shoulder as she sat up slightly. "Well, lucky for you, neither me or the lasagna are leaving this room for a while, so we can share you." She pushed herself up onto her knees. "Take off your shoes and jeans and come." She said, holding out a hand.
Stiles didn't need to be told twice. Quickly, he obeyed Lydia's commands and joined her on the bed, taking her hand. "I missed you." He faked like he was going to go in for a kiss, but moved past her towards the food. He brought the pan to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Can I have a fork?"
Lydia couldn't help the small grin that graced her face as he gave her a fake out, before nodding. "Yeah, yeah, okay." She replied, reaching over to grab him a fork, handing it to him. "You must be hungry, being back in baseball season and all." She said softly, giving him a smile.
Stiles nodded. "Starving." He didn't bother with plates or manners, instead just taking a giant forkful of lasagna and shoving it into his mouth. Then, and only then, he leaned over to kiss her, leaving a lip print of sauce on her cheek.
Lydia watched as he took a bite, glad that he was happy. All she wanted to do was put a smile on his face and make him proud of her. She let out a yelp as he kissed her, giggling as she reached her hand up. "Stiles, this is thousand dollar skin!" She grabbed a napkin wiping her face down, before leaning over and pressing a clean kiss against his cheek.
Stiles chewed the remainder of his food quickly, trying not to laugh and choke on it. "You're lucky I agree with you there and love you or I'd call you an ego-maniac, Lyds." He reached out with his free hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger a little. "Thank you for this. It's the perfect way to wind down after the day I had. How was yours?"
Lydia rolled her eyes jokingly. "Stiles, I'm an actress. Of course I'm an ego-maniac." She joked. She let her eyes close for a moment as his hand made brief contact with her skin, and she moved her hand up to cover his hand. "It was fine. I filmed the wedding scene, which was fun. Though my costume wasn't as nice as my actual wedding dress." She said teasingly. "How was your day?"
Stiles grinned at the mention of her wedding dress. Their wedding had been a quick, quiet little ceremony, but her dress had been anything but. She had just looked -- wow. There was no other way to describe it. The memory of their nuptials was almost enough to keep him from souring at her words, but not quite. It was hard to swallow, the idea of his Lydia marrying someone else. Even though he was her second husband, he intended to be her last - real or fake. But they had just argued last night and he didn't feel like starting another petty fight, so he let it go. "Oh you know, lots of hitting, catching, running. My job isn't as exciting as yours, honey."
Lydia leaned back against the pillows on her side of the bed as she listened to him. "My job is not exciting. I was yelled at by the director, like, four times." She took a deep breath, before shaking her head. Lydia's relationship with directors wasn't great. She had a hard time with how they treated her sometimes, but she didn't need to burden Stiles with that. "Whatever. Do you think that you'll be ready for games to start?" She had never been into sports before meeting Stiles, but now even watching old Yankee games back made her heart race.
Stiles stretched his arms over his head, groaning. His muscles were so sore that he almost hoped Lydia had been serious about that massage earlier. Not particularly because she had anything to apologize or make up for, but just because his body needed her healing touch. "Yeah, we're ready," he answered, poking more lasagna onto his fork. "I think we could take it all this season. Give you something to really cheer for."
Lydia stabbed some of the lasagna, taking a smaller bite than the ones Stiles was shoveling into his mouth, something she couldn't help but grin at. "I hope so. God, when you hit that home run at your last game last season..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "You had never looked so... sexy to me." She smiled at him. "You'll do me so proud this season." She murmured, putting her hand on his cheek, gently stroking his skin with her thumb.
Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, "Do you so proud? Interesting wording, Lydia." He flashed her a cheeky grin. It was strange to think that his athleticism had been what attracted Lydia to him; he usually felt so gross, sweaty, and covered in dust at his games, but she found it hot so that was all that mattered.
Lydia hummed for a minute. "Yeah, do me so proud. I'm making that wording a thing." She grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. This reminded Lydia of what had attracted her to Stiles when they had first met. Yes, he was attractive as hell when he was playing baseball, but it was this goofiness, this sweetness when they were alone that really made her fall for him.
Stiles shook his head, eyes on the lasagna as he shoved more onto his fork and into his mouth. "Sounds like a promise. Make it so later tonight, make it so," he told her with a mouthful of food.
Lydia laughed at his words, taking another bite of the lasagna. She contemplated as she chewed, before swallowing and clearing her throat. "Stiles, about the last few nights..." She took a deep breath. "I missed you so much."
Stiles was starting to feel a little better, more relaxed. With something in his stomach and his wife by his side, he could feel the tensions of practice melting away. As he eased more into himself, he was feeling more and more attracted to Lydia and subsequently finding it harder and harder to focus on or think about anything besides Lydia's exposed skin. "I missed you too," he replied, his voice getting a little deeper. He struggled to bring his eyes back up to hers, but when he got there, he could feel his gaze soften. How had he ended up so lucky?
Lydia leaned in to kiss him again, her hands on the sides of his face. "I love you so much, Stiles." She whispered. "I'm so in love with you." She pulled away to press soft kisses to his cheeks, her eyes closing as she took in the feeling of finally being in her husband's arms.
Stiles ' breath grew shorter the closer she got to him and the more she touched him. "Maybe we should move the food," he coughed, clearing his throat. In theory, food sex sounded great, but lasagna? He almost felt bad for Gretta as he thought about he stains it would cause on their bedding. Almost. He grabbed the pan and the bowl of sweets to move them to the dresser nearby before rejoining his wife. "Where were we...oh, right! I love you too. You're so beautiful, inside and out."
Lydia laughed as he moved the food off the bed, before leaning her head against his as he spoke. She shook her head. "You make me beautiful. Whenever you look at me, or smile at me... it makes me feel as beautiful as everyone says I am." She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "It's all you."
Stiles shook his head. "No, absolutely not. You've always been beautiful, long before me. Together, we're both better. That's why I hate leaving every morning and I'm thrilled to come home every night. I hope that never changes." He placed his hand gently on the back of her neck and guided her lips to his once more, except this time the kiss was much less gentle. When he pulled away, he rubbed his nose against hers. If his teammates could see him now, they'd call him a pussy or whipped, but he didn't care. Lydia made him soft, but not a bad kind of soft. It was the kind of soft that made him feel warm and strong all at the same time.
Lydia felt almost like her heart was rising into her throat when Stiles kissed her back. It wasn't a bad feeling, but something that made her feel more complete. Something that made her feel loved, and wanted, not like how the men who watched her movies and sat on the casting couch wanted her, like he wanted her for the night, but also the morning after. She couldn't help the small chuckle that left her lips as he rubbed his nose against hers, and she pecked his lips again. "Please don't sleep somewhere else ever again." She asked softly.
Stiles stretched up to kiss her forehead. "I promise I won't," he whispered. "Now what were you saying earlier about a massage? A massage where and of what exactly?" He tilted his head and kissed her neck this time.
Lydia laughed, nodding. "I suppose we can arrange a massage... just a shoulder one to begin with, then I think we can move on." She winked at him, before pushing his back forward enough for her to settle her petite body in-between him and the pillows, starting to gently massage his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his neck. "Just relax, baby. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
