Nobody is expecting Stiles to be such a wreck when the new Star Wars movie comes out.
2015 brings his sophomore year of college, second year of dating Lydia Martin, and the first time Stiles finally gets Scott to sit down and watch all six movies. Twice. He includes Liam in their second marathon, which takes place over the summer between freshman and sophomore year, because Stiles cannot let this kid stay so depressingly uneducated. Kira comes because she is happily geeky for Star Wars, Malia comes because there’s nothing else to do, and Lydia comes because she’s spent an entire semester without her boyfriend and she isn’t going to let six movies stand in the way of spending time with him.
But then it’s December of 2015 and Stiles is antsy all the time. By the 15th, nobody except Lydia can stand to be around him, because he is all anxiety and energy and “wait, but, seriously, what if Han and Leia aren’t okay” and everything is nonstop. Not even sex will distract him, until Lydia’s in a new pushup bra and basically starts without him because otherwise she cannot get him to pay any attention to her. His hands stop shaking about ten minutes into touching her because this is something that he’s good at, damn it. But he’s so antsy that Lydia isn’t even surprised when he breaks the afterglow by tapping out the beat to the cantina song on her stomach.
It takes twenty minutes after sex for him to have his boxers back on, pacing across Lydia’s bedroom as she scrolls through instagram on her phone, which is the only thing that will block out Stiles’ voice as he goes on about “why have’t they been featuring Luke in any of the promotional material?”
Stiles lugs the whole pack to the theater and, when the lights go down, he shrieks. When the opening scroll starts going, he grabs Lydia's and Scott's hands on either side and starts crushing them, which is fine for Scott, because he’s a werewolf, but Lydia actually wants to die. She turns to Stiles to eviscerate him for being indelicate with the hands that aren't going to be touching him if he keeps this up. But then she sees his face, lit up with this crazy, unfiltered, undoubtably childish joy
His mouth is open, his cheeks are red, his lips are wet, his eyes are wide and she thinks he might be tearing up. He is so... happy. She never sees him this happy or unhindered. And he's hers.
So she squeezes back and tilts her head against his shoulder and listens to the sound of his breathing as the movie starts.
