A.N: This is going to be a one-shot Stydia series where each chapter is a new emotion and completely unrelated to the previous chapters. Some will be smutty, I will specify those, this one isn't. Please request an emotion if you'd like
I'm a massive Stydia shipper and I love writing fanfiction for them only the last one I uploaded didn't actually get any reviews so I felt a little deflated and gave up so (as I'm sure every other author on this site will agree) more reviews = more writing - and better quality stuff too.
As usual, only proofread by me so excuse any mistakes.
DISCLAIMER: not mine, or Alison wouldn't have died and there would be no Stalia.
Jealousy.
This wasn't jealousy. Lydia Martin didn't do jealousy, it wasn't in her vocabulary.
But then again, it was. Not the usual 'you stole my man you bitch!' type of jealousy, or the 'I want him all to myself' kind either, this was far simpler, more straight forward, less complex.
This was 'I want my friend back.' This was 'I need my friend back.'
Lydia was willing to share him, she didn't need much; just to know he was there when she had a nightmare, or a problem that needed fixing, or if she just wanted a hug - just like he used to be. Before she came along. Malia.
She had tried talking to the coyote about it, she tried to explain that Stiles wasn't her property to keep a hold of. But it was like talking to an untrained puppy she thought, all wide eyed and shocked at the suggestion. Lydia figured there were worse metaphors.
{ "It's just that... Stiles and I, well we've been friends for a really long time, we've been through a lot together and I miss him, that's all."
"But he's with me now," was the coyote's reply, "I don't like you being near him."
"Why? Malia, he really likes you, you have nothing to worry about. I just want my friend back."
"No. I have loads to worry about, you two have history, and chemistry and that stupid emotional tether thing, and I mean... you're gorgeous," Malia replied, somewhat friendly Lydia supposed and she suddenly felt an ounce of pity for this girl, until she spoke again, harsher this time, "So stay away from him or I will eat you, I don't care if Stiles says it's bad manners, I will do it." }
Yeah, that girl's a keeper.
Lydia tried to stay away, not because she was worried about being eaten - she knew Stiles would never let Malia do such a thing - but because she figured, maybe it's better for him.
She was confused to say the least.
All these thoughts about jealous had her thinking, is this more?
She cared for Stiles, every fibre of her body ached to know that he was okay, she knew she would go insane if anything happened to him.
He infuriated her, just the way that sarcasm oozed from his smirking lips and the way he knew exactly what to say to cheer her up, or cut her down - he knew her, so very very well. And that was annoying to her.
Lydia hated seeing him with Malia, the way the coyote who was in desperate need of house training draped herself all over him, to the point where Stiles became so flushed with embarrassment he had to take a few steps away from her. Stiles wasn't a big fan of over the top PDA, Lydia knew that - Lydia knew him.
If she were with him, they'd stand side by side, hand in hand with her leaning slightly into him, shoulders touching.
When they sat at the lunch table, she would sit on his lap like Malia did, as if she were some excitable puppy, no. Lydia would be by his side, his hand resting at the hem of her skirt, an intimate but appropriate place. She'd read from his text book from over his shoulder as he revised, she wouldn't throw the book away and demand his attention like Malia did. She'd support him, and his education, like real girlfriends should.
It enraged Lydia that Stiles had to pretend he didn't care about her anymore. When they were stranded in the middle of nowhere being attacked by god only knows what in the Mexican desert all those months ago, after Malia wanted to leave her to die, she had told Stiles that she was petrified, literally shaking with pure fear when he asked her to keep the torch still. She saw him look up into her eyes, she could see the worry and concern that lay in the orbs, but he took one glance back at Malia and ordered her to be less scared. That was Stiles, her Stiles would never have said that. Her Stiles?
Lydia wanted her friend back. she wanted Stiles back - her Stiles - she wanted to curl up on the couch with him and watch movies till dawn, she needed to know that she could rely on him to talk her down from a nightmare, not matter what time of the night it was, she needed to know he'd be there. She just... she needed him. She felt like she couldn't breathe without him, she felt like she was drowning without him. She needed him.
And she knew she didn't have him.
And that hurt.
But what hurt worse was that she didn't know how she needed him, what she wanted him to be to her. Was it purely intellectual? Just partners in crime like Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson - she's always be Sherlock in that situation, she decided.
Or was it just friendship? A shoulder to cry on and a warm embrace. Someone to cry if she died, to comfort her when she cried, to comfort her when she was sad, someone to talk to when she needed him. Like they had been once.
But it could have been more, Lydia knew that, it wasn't just Scott who picked up on the way her heart skipped a beat when he came near, or how it fluttered when he smiled at her.
Kira wasn't the only one to pick up on the fact that her eyes linger way too long to be 'just friends' or how she avoided eye contact all together when he had Malia draped over him like a second skin.
Malia was right when she said they had a history, that they had chemistry - Lydia knew that too.
But she was never certain her feelings were anything but friendly, at least until Malia tried to get under her skin at the lunch table.
"Hey Scott," the coyote called over the table to the werewolf sat between Lydia and Kira, "did Stiles tell you about last night?"
Scott chocked slightly on his water, surprised that the girl had tore her attention from nuzzling Stiles like a hungry cat to make eye contact "Uh, no he didn't."
"Stiles," Malia turned to the boy beside her, swatting his arm so hard that it knocked the food off of his fork, then she turned her attention to Scott, taking glances at Lydia opposite her who had looked up from her textbook to hear the conversation, "I guess I'll just tell you all then. Stiles took me to this really fancy restaurant just outside of Beacon Hills, I think the food was Chinese, so you would have loved it Kira."
"Japanese," Kira corrected her, earning a confused glance from the coyote.
Malia shook her head, "No, Stiles definitely said the food was Chinese."
"No I'm..." Kira was the one to shake her head this time, "Never mind."
Lydia knew which restaurant it was, she and Stiles had been there a couple of times before to celebrate birthdays or good grades together, in fact they had started just calling it 'our restaurant' since it was their go-to place. Malia knew this, Lydia was certain by the way Malia smirked at her that Stiles had told her, and for some reason, it was the last straw.
The strawberry blonde stood up, leaving her food half eaten on the table and gathering her textbooks and bag, "I'm gonna go," she said before walking away, heading straight for the door of the girls bathroom.
Lydia heard the doorbell ring before the urgent knock on the door and she hurried down the stairs of the empty house barefooted, her hair was a mess, simply thrown up in a bun so it didn't get stuck to her cheeks with tears. She wore light coloured and ripped jeans with the stretched with age denim folded up away from her ankles and red paint from her science project splattered on the top of the left leg, they were her comfy trousers, the ones no one but Stiles had seen her in, they were high waisted, just covering her belly button but she wore a grey and pink floral, long sleeved tank top that left about an inch of her creamy skin exposed.
Normally she'd shudder at the thought of someone seeing her like this, mascara smeared and lipstick removed, but right now she didn't care.
She flung the door open, expecting to see the pizza delivery man arriving on time for once, but no - she came face to face with a sight for her own sore eyes.
Stiles.
"Hey," he says slowly and carefully, aware that she's been crying. Before Malia, he wouldn't have hesitated to pull her into his chest and let her cry into the crook of his neck. But this was post-Malia, and so he just stood in the doorway to her home, shifting uncomfortably between his feet.
"You shouldn't be here Stiles," Lydia replies to him.
"I came to see if you were okay, you left pretty quickly at lunch and I didn't see you the rest of the day," he tries to smile warmly, and fails "Can I come in?"
Normally, he would've walked past her slight frame and straight into the household just as she opened the door, back before Malia that is, his question isn't one he often asks.
Lydia doesn't answer, instead she continues to stand in the doorway opposite him, "Does Malia know you're here?"
"Why would that matter?" He asks abruptly, adding a short breath of laughter.
But tonight, she's standing her ground, never mind the fact that it's starting to rain outside and drizzles of water are splashing down on Stiles' head, "It just does."
"No, she doesn't know I'm here."
"Then I don't you coming inside would be a good idea," she replied, and not because she's scared of Malia, not even in the slightest, but because she wants him to know what it feels like to have the coyote come between the two of them.
Stiles' lips pull at the corners and he shines his signature smile, so Lydia knows there's a joke coming, "Will you come outside then?"
Not wanting to give in and return his smile, but not wanting to slam the door in his face either, Lydia slips her feet into the sky-high heals to her side and storms out into the rain.
She walks past Stiles and to about halfway down the elongated driveway, stopping to let Stiles grab the house key kept in a glass bowl by the door and shut the house up to save the entrance from the cold and the rain, then he jogs towards her, knowing to stop a couple of meters away from her.
"What was wrong earlier?" he wastes no time in asking, looking straight at her while Lydia crosses her arms around her stomach and stares at the ground.
"Nothing, it was stupid," she replies, still not meeting his eyes.
"If it made you upset then it's not nothing," he argues, and Lydia gets a small glimpse at the old Stiles - her Stiles.
Even this small glimmer of hope that he's still in there makes her give in, "No really, it was stupid, I shouldn't have let her get to me."
"Who?" He asks, blind spotted.
Lydia releases a unbelieving and dark chuckle beneath her breath, and answers "Malia," as if it were the most obvious answer there was, "She's been winding me up for months now, I don't know why I've only just taken offense, but I have."
You do know, her subconscious called to her, it's because you've realised you have feelings for him. For Stiles.
"Yeah," Stiles sighs, "I've noticed that."
"You've noticed that?" Lydia asks calmly and getting no reply, only to repeat the question, louder this time, more demanding. "You've noticed that? And you didn't say anything to her?" Another dark laugh is lost to the wind and suddenly Lydia becomes aware of just how cold and wet from the rain she is, "You know, all this time I was worried that I was slowly loosing you, but now I've realised... You were already gone."
She pulls strands of loose curls from her rain soaked face and storms past Stiles, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but as she tears past him, his hand takes possession of her wrist and pulls her close to him. "What do you mean 'loosing me'?" he asks, slowly moving his hand up to wipe the tears that are falling to mix with the rain, but she jerks her face away, making it very clear that he does not have the right to perform such an intimate display.
"I miss you Stiles!" She screams up at him, glad she chose to put on heals so she could come closer to meeting his eyes dead-on, "You haven't been my friend since you started going out with her, she changed you!" The way Lydia spat the word 'her' at him made Stiles flinch, he'd never seen her so brute and pisses off before.
Anger wells up inside of him at the accusing tone and soon he's shouting too, "I can't be at your beck and call all the time Lydia, I'm allowed a life outside of you!"
"I don't want you here all the time, I just want to know that I can rely on you, that you care, that you're my friend, and since you've been with her you haven't so much as looked at me." Her voice had softened halfway through but returned to it's high and forceful tone towards the end again as she saw the hurt register in his eyes.
She doesn't have time to register what happens next, the first thing she's aware of is his hands on either side of her face and pulling her forward with so much force she stumbles into him and their lips crash together. There's only time for too fast as they grasp and bite at each other, drowning in one another and being reborn once again, Lydia's hands fist at Stiles' shirt and pull him as close as he can possibly get.
But then reality dawns on her and she uses the leverage she has on his shirt to push him away as quick as she had pulled him to her, "We can't."
"Why not?" He questions, and she looks up at him and scoffs unbelievingly.
"You and Malia."
"There is no me and Malia."
"No, that's because it's Malia and I."
"Fine, there is no Malia and I."
His words register on her face and Lydia gasps, "What?"
Stiles cups her face in his hands again and Lydia's grasp locks around his wrists, ready to pull them from her skin if he says something she doesn't want to hear.
"I broke up with her," he replies, Lydia opens her mouth to ask why but he's too fast and knows her too well, answering her question before she's even asked it, "because she made me choose between you and her. The moment she said it I realised that I wasn't in love with her, how could I be? I've always been in love with you."
That's all it takes for Lydia to realise that she has him back - her Stiles, and to know just what he means to her and her to him.
Their lips crash together once more.
A.N: REVIEW PLEASE.