Fandom Imagines and Preferences

Stiles Stilinski- Cereal (c)

It was too early to think coherently. It was the weekend meaning you didn't need to worry about school, however you did want your brain to function at least slightly. Stiles' father had gone away for a couple of weeks and he recommended you stay, mainly to make sure Stiles didn't destroy the house or do anything more stupid that usual.

To be fair it was an odd sensation staying in someone else's house, but you enjoyed your alone time with Stiles. However there was a complete mess everywhere. You attempted to tidy up but with the mess growing quicker than you could clean you just kind of gave up. You knew you'd get Stiles to help you clean up the place before his dad came home but at the moment you didn't care.

Still in your pyjamas, with your hair stuck up in odd directions from it being splayed across your pillow. You waddled through the hall not enjoying the cold flooring against your bare feet. Finally you reached the kitchen, robotically making your way over to the side and picking up the box of cereal.

You heard a soft groan like welcome from behind you. Turning on your heel you saw Stiles sat at the table eating breakfast, however something was odd.

Tilting your head you raised an eyebrow not quite sure what the purpose behind what he was doing was.

"Really?" You questioned narrowing your eyes attempting to try and get your eyes to adjust to the bright beams of light streaming in from the window above the sink.

His eyes drifted to where your eyes had been focused. He looked at the fork in his hand before dipping it back into the milky substance and scooping up the chunks of grain.

"I couldn't find a spoon," he shrugged taking a mouthful of his breakfast.

You walked over to the cutlery draw opening it to reveal nothing but a few utensils that you didn't know the name of nor what their purpose of were. They all seemed peculiar and could arguably be a form of torture device. However none of them were spoons.

Closing the draw you walked over to the sink. In the basin sat several bowls and plates (although there were many more located on the side as they couldn't fit in the sink) along with the whole contents of the cutlery draw.

"You could wash a spoon," you suggested scrunching up your nose seeing the at least day old food gunk clinging to everything. It was gross and you didn't want to have to go near it.

"I could," he grinned goofily before continuing to scoop up the food with the fork like a barbarian.

"How barbaric," you stated.

Arguing with him was futile so you simply rolled your eyes before grabbing the box of cereal and tipping some in your mouth following suit with the bottle of milk.

If there wasn't anything to eat the food with, you'd have to just make do.

"And you are calling me barbaric?" He laughed.

You swallowed the mouthful before poking your tongue out at him and continuing your breakfast.

~*~

Written by Charlotte Stemp.