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Stiles was probably breaking about seven thousand rules in the brocode right now. But it wasn’t like he and Allison were sleeping together. Well they were sleeping together, that was the point of a sleepover. But they weren’t not-sleeping together.
He’d walked into what had been Mrs. Argent’s classroom and caught Allison crying over a book and what was he supposed to do? He was the only one who understood what she was going through with the exception of Derek, and while Allison was no longer actively trying to kill him Stiles would bet they weren’t going to be having any heart to heart chats anytime soon.
So he’d done the only thing he could do. He’d sat next to her on the desk and opened his arms, nearly falling over when she flung herself into them. He’d been half expecting her to tell him to go away.
"Her favorite?" He’d asked, gesturing to the book in her lap.
Allison had nodded, flipping the cover over to where her mother had scrawled in her meticulous, curly script,
Victoria Argent - 2012 - Seven out of Ten.
"We’d rate books we read and pass them along." Allison explained, running her fingers reverently over the writing, "This was the last one we did."
Stiles got that. “My parents and I would leave sticky notes on the fridge.” He said, “Little things like “Don’t forget milk!” or sometimes just “I love you!” And after she… I tried to keep it up for a while, but it just hurt.”
Allison nodded. “Yeah…I haven’t read this one yet.”
Stiles looked at the cover, “Gone Girl. I think Lydia read it.”
"Yeah? It must have been amazing to rank a seven with my mom…" She trailed off.
"I’ve been told I have an excellent reading voice," Stiles twirled some of her hand between his fingers; it was short now, well shorter. But it was still as soft as silk, "I could read it to you." Actually having to read it herself would be too much too soon, but having it read to her could be just enough.
Allison’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, “You’d do that?”
"You bet your ass I’d do that." Stiles gathered her a little closer, "You and Lydia are my girls."
"I’m the girl who broke your best friend’s heart. Shouldn’t you hate me?" She asked and Stiles could almost touch the undertone of Please don’t hate me.
"Lydia broke my heart." Stiles pointed out, "Repeatedly, might I add. It did not, in any way, reduce my desire to move the moon to make her happy."
"Please don’t move the moon. Most of the people both of us love rely on the moon being right where it is." She sat up and wiped at her eyes, smiling weakly at him. "Thanks, Stiles."
Stiles smiled back, “Anytime. I get it.” He shrugged, “You still have my number, right?” She nodded, “Call me if you need me. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”
And long story short he has his best friend’s ex girlfriend in his bed. She was beautiful, God was she beautiful, dark hair piled on top of her head and T-shirt hanging off one shoulder. But she was beautiful in the way lava was beautiful; you wanted to touch it but if you did you would definitely get burned.
"That’s actually a really good metaphor." Stiles mused out loud, climbing up onto the bed next to her and reaching for Victoria Argent’s copy of Gone Girl.
"What is?" Allison sat back against Stiles’ pillows.
"I just decided you were beautiful like lava."
"That would be a simile, not a metaphor, but I like where this is going. Continue." Allison’s dimples were finally making a reappearance after months and months of hibernation.
"Whatever." Stiles waved a hand unconcernedly, when he thought it it was a metaphor, saying it out loud was what turned it into a simile. Like or as, bro. Like or as. "The point is that lava is absolutely gorgeous. Like, you want to dip your hands in it. It looks like it would be silky smooth against your skin. But lava is so dangerous that it’ll burn you if you even get close, let alone touch it."
"So I’m beautiful but too dangerous to touch?" Allison’s eyes were dancing even as her lips pulled into a frown, "So I’m gonna be alone forever?"
Stiles laughed. “I mean that you’re so beautiful that at first everyone is so blinded by that that they don’t realize that you’re lethal. And you’re not gonna be alone forever. Water blends with lava and hardens it.”
"So I’ve got to find water."
"You’ve got to find water." Stiles agreed opening the book; he skipped the first page, where there was the dedication and Victoria Argent’s rating, straight to the beginning of chapter one. "Part one: Boys Loses Girl."
XOXO
Allison woke up to the smell of French toast and bacon wafting up the stairs. She wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t in Scott’s bed. It actually took her a second to realize that she was in Stiles’ bed.
That was a new development.
She wandered down the stairs, pulling Stiles’ hoodie closer around her shoulders to ward off the chill. If he insisted on keeping his house the general temperature of Antarctica she was going to steal all of his warm clothes to keep herself from becoming an ice cube.
She could hear Stiles talking, “Dad get away from that bacon before I stab you with the fork.”
Allison stopped in the doorway, watching Stiles and his dad move around the kitchen easily. They knew every move the other made before they made it and Allison smiled.
"Morning, Allie." Stiles called, flipping the toast in the pan. He hadn’t looked over, "French Toast with the breakfast bread from the bakery on Southern, right?"
Allison gaped at him. “Yeah.”
"You mentioned your mom would make it on Saturdays." Stiles shrugged, "It’s Saturday."
"Are you her mother now, Stiles?" The Sheriff asked, pulling three mugs from the cabinet.
"Yes." Stiles answered, and when he went to put the eggs back in the fridge Allison caught sight of the post it note below the picture of Stiles and his mom when Stiles was a kid.
“Don’t forget to move the moon!”