Stiles really.. really doesn't know how he got so lucky, doesn't know how he managed to land you, one of the hottest people he's ever seen in his life, as his significant other. From the moment he saw you, he knew he was hooked at just the first glance.

He'd relentlessly pursued you for years, which admittedly was just befriending you, and then following you around like a lost puppy until he accidentally blurted a confession and you actually accepted it? He doesn't think he's ever been happier since that day.

Every day feels like a fever dream, when you reach out to him to kiss him or hug him. He's used to affection, he has a loving dad and definitely a great friend-group, but he's just a boy with a crush around you, even if he's dating you. Plus, all you guys do is hug, hold hands and kiss. Not many people really know about you two, not yet, at least.

Because one day, in the morning before class, you walk in, wearing his lacrosse jersey. Stiles sees the red jersey, the BEACON HILLS school name, and the number 24. No, his number, 24. Suddenly, he feels like his brain has shut down, completely. When you turn around as if searching for him, his name is on your back and he swears his heart skips a beat, or maybe ten.

His heart races, breathing slowing down as his eyes stare at you. Oh. Is all he seems to register for the longest moment. He's gaping at you, looking entranced and like a lovesick fool when you walk towards him. Eyes wide, lips agape, cheeks red, what a sight to behold.

"Are you?— I mean.. Like, is this—" he stammers over his words. "Am I dreaming?" His first question, then his second. "Are you wearing my jersey?" He feels light-headed.