Elena waited patiently while Stiles stumbled over his words, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She didn't want to make Stiles feel self-conscious, but he was really sweet when he was flustered, and this was probably the most nervous she'd ever seen him. Eventually he cut himself off, and Elena opened her mouth to say --
Something. Something she never got the chance to say, because the very next second Stiles had stepped up close to her and cupped her cheeks in his palms and kissed her. For a long moment Elena couldn't do anything, couldn't move or speak or think, she was so shocked -- Stiles was kissing her. Stiles. Kissing! After a second that seemed to stretch for eons, Elena's eyelids fluttered...
And Stiles stepped back, dropping his hands from her cheeks. A strange, new part of Elena felt bereft, but the rest of her was still too surprised to process that. She blinked at Stiles, distantly aware that she must look like a complete idiot -- slack-jawed, wide-eyed, fingers pressed to her lips like she's in some kind of bizarre romance novel and she can still taste Stiles on them -- and not caring.