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"Have you seen this one yet?"
"Sorry, what?" Kira asks, looking up from her lap, where she's been fiddling with a tiny hole in the fabric of her tights. Stiles is kneeling on the floor beside his narrow dorm bed, holding up a DVD copy of the latest Marvel movie. There's a full bowl of popcorn beside him, made in the shared kitchen down the hall (along with two steaming cups of tea, which are sitting on the narrow bedside table).
"Have you watched this one yet?"
"Once or twice," Kira says with a shrug, taking the popcorn bowl when he passes it up to her.
(The actual figure is closer to ten, but she doesn't want to nerd out too hard, not yet at least.)
"Wanna watch it again? I'm not sure if I'm awake enough to watch something new."
"That's fine," Kira says with a smile, scooting over to the wall so that Stiles has enough room to slide back onto the bed once he puts the DVD in his game console, which is balanced on his desk beside his television, surrounded by textbooks, leaking pens and pieces of scrap paper.
Even with her side touching the wall, the bed is still so small that they have to sit pressing against each other, hips and knees and toes all brushing together with every slight movement. It's been happening all night and the more Kira tries not to notice, the harder it is to ignore the tingle of warmth that zips through her skin every time a bare patch brushes against Stiles'.
On cue, when he reaches into the bowl, the back of his hand grazes against her wrist and she bites her lip.
This is just downright inconvenient.
She had told herself that her freshman year was going to be absolutely, 100%, totally free of crushes. She had too many other things to focus on, like trying to keep her grades at a decent level, fitting in some extra-curricular activities and forcing herself to learn how to cook so she didn't have to survive off grocery-store sushi and takeout.
Sure, she wasn't going to rule out making a few more friends; her parents insisted on it, actually. But no crushes or relationships. Not until she knew that she could properly handle college.
But evening, she'd decided to head to the weekly movie night that took place on the main square of the campus and when she'd squeezed herself into a spot at the back of the lawn, she'd found herself beside Stiles.
Between the malfunctioning speakers and the hum of the crowd, it'd been nearly impossible to hear the film and when he'd said hi, asked her what she was studying and offered her a Red Bull, she'd fallen into conversation with him.
She'd walked him back to his dorm when they'd finally given up on the movie after an hour. That had gradually progressed to grabbing coffee together, studying in the cafeteria and texting about video games when class got too boring. And in turn, that had led to this moment: to watching three movies in a row, turning on the fourth at just after three in the morning. It's four hours past when Kira normally turns in and she's pretty sure that under any other circumstances, she would be exhausted.
Yet every time she feels herself starting to flag, they touch somewhere and her tingling skin snaps her wide awake again.
The popcorn doesn't last long and when it's done, Stiles puts the bowl on the floor and passes Kira her cup of tea. It's in a chipped mug and the logo is so faded that Kira can't tell what it was advertising when it first came off the assembly line. She can still feel the sticky remnants of a price sticker on the bottom and while she doesn't want to look too far into things, she's pretty sure that Stiles recently bought the mug from the nearby thrift store.
(It would certainly explain the plastic bag bearing the store's logo hanging from the corner of his desk chair, which is shoved into the corner.)
She tells herself again not to think about it, but she still has to bury a smile into her mug when she takes the first sip.
The tea doesn't last much longer than the popcorn and after Kira hands the mug back over to Stiles, her fingers go back to poking at the hole in her tights. It's on her mid-thigh, just below the hem of her skirt and she knows that she's definitely made the hole bigger over the last few hours, but if she doesn't do something with her hands, she finds it harder and harder to stop herself from reaching out and taking Stiles', which are loosely clasped in his lap.
So she simply keeps fiddling with the hole, until it tears with an audible rip.
"You're not going to have any pants left if you keep going," Stiles says with a laugh. "Unless that's what you're trying to do. In that case, fuck pants."
Kira lets out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort and immediately feels her cheeks betray her, flushing with burning warmth. Stiles grins wide at her, amber eyes lighting up like beacons.
"I don't know what that sound was, but it was awesome," he declares. His toes brush against hers again and she turns even more red.
(She knows without a doubt that if she could get rid of one automatic reflex, it would be blushing. It just makes her more embarassed.)
"I don't know what that sound was either," she says, placing her hands in her lap. "I don't think I've ever made it before."
"Well, if it happens again, I won't mind. It's probably the cutest thing I've ever heard." Before Kira can even react, Stiles' mouth drops open and he scoots a few inches away from her, just enough so that they're no longer touching.
"I mean, you can forget I ever said that. You probably should because I... yeah." Stiles' cheeks pink up and he starts furiously rubbing at the back of his neck, like he's trying to scrape off an entire layer of skin. Kira's thoughts are the furthest thing from coherent, but they keep cycling back to the same word over and over again.
Cute. Or, rather, cutest.
For a few seconds, neither of them say anything; only the sounds of colliding fists and explosions fills the space between them. Eventually, Kira grows tired of trying to figure out what to say. Even if she could settle on something, she's not sure that she'd be able to get it out without stammering and embarrassing herself even more.
So instead, when Stiles finally pulls his reddened palm away from his neck, she scoots over until they're touching again and takes his hand. That same tingle, almost electric, slides up her arm and she can't quite bring herself to look up at his face. She just keeps her eyes fixed on where her fingers are wrapped around his until he flips his palm over so they slot together properly, knuckles brushing against together.
"I've literally wanted to do that from day one," he says, trailing off into a hesitant laugh.
"Me too," Kira says, finally gathering the nerve to look up at his face. He's much closer than he was before, close enough for her to see the darker flecks of brown in his eyes. His bottom lip is chapped and torn slightly at the corner and as she watches, his tongue flicks out and wets it. She's pretty sure that it's a completely unconscious action, but it makes it way harder to resist leaning in and closing the already minimal space between them.
"We can wait, if you want to. I mean, I definitely want to kiss you, some day, but waiting is totally cool. This," he says, squeezing her hand, "is awesome enough."
He's not wrong about holding hands; it is pretty awesome. But Kira thinks there's no point in waiting, not when it seems clear that he wants just as much as she does.
"I want to," she says. "Definitely. I've wanted to for... well, for awhile."
"Since around day five?" Stiles asks, grin spreading even more across his face. "First cafeteria study session? Because that was definitely it for me."
"Somewhere around there," she murmurs before taking a deep breath and leaning over to press her lips against his. They're rough but warm as a crackling fire and the kiss gives her the same sensation, of being wrapped in heat and comfort. His fingers slide from hers but before she has time to miss them, they find their way into her hair, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear before sliding through to the base of her neck.
She pulls away before she loses her breath but doesn't move. She stays put, forehead still touching his, hand loosely draped just above his knee. His thumb smooths down the side of her neck, curling around to her throat to where her pulse is thumping against her skin.
"We should do that again," Stiles murmurs, lips snagging against hers with every word. "Later or now, if you-"
"Now," Kira blurts. "If that's okay."
"Now is good," Stiles replies, in between kisses that linger longer and longer. "Now is definitely good."
The sound of the movie seems to gradually fade away. Kira has far more important things to focus on, like the feeling of Stiles' hand curled around the back of her neck. When their tongues come into play, it takes a few moments for them to find a rhythm that actually works; at first, it's on the wrong side of too sloppy, both of them trying for too much, too fast. But when things do click into place, Kira moans and moves her hand from Stiles' knee to his hip, tugging him closer to her.
This is definitely going to affect her grades.
They end up half leaning against the wall, half on their sides, pressed against each other. It's not that it's bad; Kira's hand has moved just underneath the hem of Stiles' shirt and his skin is beautifully warm and smooth underneath her slowly exploring fingertips. Every so often, Stiles ducks his head to mouth along the line of her throat and when he presses his teeth softly against the curve of her jaw, she has to squeeze her thighs together for some relief.
But still, the angle is making her neck more and more sore and when things eventually come to a stop, she wants it to be because she's tired or she isn't ready to proceed any further, not because her neck has cramped up. And while Stiles' bed may be narrow, she thinks that there's enough room for her to straddle his waist.
The thought of him running his broad hands up underneath her shirt or down to cup her ass suddenly pops into her mind and just like that, she officially makes her decision.
Their legs are tangled together and after a few moments of wriggling, she manages to free her top leg and slide her knee over his thigh. The movement pushes their hips together and for one dizzying, potentially overwhelming moment, Kira feels a hard line of warmth press against her core. She tightens her hand around his hipbone for stability and rolls up, ready to push his shoulders back down onto the bed.
Her knee doesn't touch the mattress. Instead, as she pulls herself up, it descends through thin air and by the time she realizes what's about to happen, it's too late to stop it.
She rolls herself right off the bed and whether it's because she pulls him or because he's trying to grab her, Stiles comes with her.
She manages to avoid striking her head on the bedside table but when she lands on her tailbone, something crunches underneath her. For one absolutely horrifying moment, she thinks that she broke one of her bones, but when the pain doesn't spike in intensity, she realizes that it was just the plastic popcorn bowl snapping underneath her.
Stiles is hovering over her, propped up on his hands. His knee jabbed into her thigh as she fell and she knows there's going to be a bruise there but, all things considered, physically, they're remarkably unharmed.
Emotionally, on the other hand?
Well, Kira doesn't think her pride is ever going to recover.
"I broke your bowl," she mumbles, sitting up just far enough to sweep it out from underneath her. It isn't completely demolished but there's a wide crack bisecting it straight down the middle of its cherry red surface.
"Nothing duct tape won't fix," Stiles says with a shrug, tossing the bowl further away, towards the door. "I'm sorry that I didn't catch you. I thought my reflexes were better than that."
"I should have been more careful," Kira sighs.
"Nah. It's not your fault that these beds are so fucking narrow. Maybe we should just start out like that next time. Save ourselves some trouble."
"Next time?" she asks and Stiles looks at her like she's said the most bizarre sentence in the world.
"Well, yeah. Obviously. We are definitely having another movie night. I've got a list of movies to make out during."
"Oh. Okay. Awesome," she sighs contently, even though the bruises on her leg and tailbone are continuing to throb. She sits up onto her knees and that's when she feels something else on her tailbone, soaking through the back of her skirt.
Popcorn butter.
"Um," she says as the blush that just disappeared comes back in full force, "do you have an extra pair of pants? There's butter..."
"Shit," Stiles says, jumping to his feet. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I should have an extra pair of sweats." He crosses the room in three steps and reaches into the top drawer of the narrow dresser sandwiched between his desk and wardrobe. After rummaging for a few moments, he pulls out a pair of light gray sweatpants.
"I think these are the smallest ones I have," he says, passing them to her. "I can step outside, if you want, while you change."
"It's okay," Kira says. "Maybe just look at the TV?"
"This is my favorite part anyways," Stiles answers with a shrug, turning around so that his back is to her. She quickly fumbles out of her tights and skirt, which has a large, greasy stain covering the seat. She ties the drawstring of the sweatpants as tight as she can and even then, they slide down her hips to rest just below the band of her underwear. After three attempts at fixing them, she simply shrugs and pulls her shirt down to cover it.
"All good." Stiles turns back around and immediately, his mouth drops slightly and his eyes widen. Kira immediately glances down at herself, to see if she has butter on her shirt (or maybe popcorn between her teeth).
"No, nothing's wrong!" Stiles says, words leaving his mouth in a rush. "You just look really good in those. Like really good."
"Oh!" Kira exclaims, twisting her fingers in the baggy fabric of the pants. "Thanks for letting me wear them. I'm not sure if that stain is ever going to come out."
"Well, you can keep those as long as you want," Stiles says with a smile. "Do you still want to finish the movie? I can walk you home, if you want. Or we can make out more." He wiggles his eyebrows comically high and she laughs. It has to be after four o'clock in the morning but while she's pretty certain that she's done with making out for the night, she isn't quite ready to go home.
"Let's finish it," she answers, sliding back onto the bed and pressing herself safely against the wall. "I think there's only half an hour left anyways."
Thirty minutes is not a long time to stay awake but five minutes after they get comfortable, with Kira's head on Stiles' shoulder and his arm a warm line around her waist, the tiredness that she's been managing to hold at bay for the last few hours hits her like a hammer blow. Her eyes begin to droop and she catches herself a few times, snapping her head up just as she starts to drool.
Stiles doesn't seem to be doing much better. His head is growing heavier and heavier on top of hers and together, they seem to be sliding down the bed, going from sitting up to nearly horizontal.
"I'll walk you home once this is done," he murmurs into her hair, brushing his thumb against her hip. "Promise."
"Okay," she murmurs back, turning onto her side so that she's more comfortable and so that she's not resting directly on her tailbone. "Just wake me up when you're ready to leave." Her eyes drift closed again and as one of the heroes launches into a rallying speech, she only hears every other sentence as she drifts in and out of consciousness. One of the phrases that she does hear is about what it means to be a superhero and as another character replies, Stiles presses a soft kiss against her forehead.
"You're super," he mumbles.
"You're super," Kira repeats, the words heavy on her tongue.
After that, she doesn't hear anything for a number of hours. When she does open her eyes again, bright sunlight is streaming through Stiles' thin curtains and the television is off. They're twisted together in a number of different spots and she can feel his chin digging into the crown of her head. Even though it must be beyond asleep, his arm is still wrapped tight around her back. He's snoring softly and she pulls back just far enough to see that his mouth is half-open and his eyes are fluttering rapidly underneath his eyelids.
It's certainly not the most attractive she's ever seen him, but it's awfully endearing all the same. She drops a quick kiss onto the tip of his nose and settles back down, tucking herself back under his chin, draping her arm around his waist and closing her eyes once again.
This definitely violates her plans for freshman year.
She can't bring herself to care.