Sleuth (Stiles)
He hadn't even been in the class for 10 minutes before Harris found an excuse to throw him out.
Apparently spinning in your seat was now a federal offense.
Stiles wasn't really that angry though, he was just upset that he'd been embarrassed in front of Lydia.
He let his head fall backwards into the wall he was sitting against. The brick connected with his skull harder than he'd expected , but with no one around to see, it didn't hurt as much.
He tapped the floor next to him, his fingers moving with dexterity he didn't have.
His nerves were a little frazzled.
He had woken up late this morning and forgotten to take his medication.
Now he was paying for it.
Eventually his fingers made his way to his shoelaces which seemed to please them. They spent a good 5 minutes untying and tying those before finally giving up.
Moving his fingers wasn't enough anymore.
His whole body felt like a giant spasm waiting to happen.
He shifted around against the wall, but couldn't get rid of his jitters.
He knew what his body wanted.
It wanted to rock back and forth, but Stiles wasn't going to let it win.
He'd compromise.
He crossed his legs Indian style and rocked from side to side instead, seeing how much of himself he could get off the ground without fully tipping over.
He was getting good at that when he heard the sound of high heels clacking their way down the hall.
In fear that it might be an upperclassmen, he ceased his incessant twitching.
He didn't need any more weird rumors being spread about him.
The heels turned out to just be Mrs. Delacore from the main office.
He was still glad he stopped rolling around though, Mrs. Delacore was in charge of locking the front doors after the second bell. If she liked you and saw that you were running late, she would sometimes hold the door open for you.
If she didn't like you, she locked you out and you had to get a tardy slip. Considering how often Stiles was late, he couldn't afford to offer her any excuse to dislike him.
He waved to her from his spot on the floor and she waved back, stopping in front the chemistry door.
" , I wouldn't think to see you out here!"
She sounded genuinely surprised.
Stiles wasn't sure why. Considering she worked in the office, she had probably had the pleasure of pulling out his permanent record every now and then.
Stiles played along though, assuming that this was probably her way of doing that weird old lady flirts with high school boy thing that he'd seen so many teachers do with Scott.
"I know, they're crazy! This school is falling to pieces Mrs. D, ya gotta help me!"
He did his best to look cute.
"Hohoho Stiles, you're such a jokester. That sense of humor will get you in trouble if you're not careful!"
"Don't you think I know."
He gestured to his current predicament.
She laughed again and leaned over, closer to Stiles.
She smelled like musty flowers and printer ink.
"Between you and me, Harris has always been quite the stick in the mud."
They laughed and Stiles added a companionable, "you said it Mrs.D."
Their laughter subsided, Mrs.D going back to her job and Stiles going back to being bored. That is until he heard what Mrs. Delacore had come for.
"Lydia Martin, the guidance office would like to see you."
Stiles ears perked up at the sound of her name.
He wondered what they needed Lydia for.
He straightened up his back and tried to put an apathetic expression on his face as Mrs. Delacore went back down the hallway. Not long after, ' door swung open again.
Lydia.
He looked away trying to play it cool.
But when he looked back Lydia was already halfway down the hall.
He palmed his forehead.
Of course she was going to ignore him.
Still, he was curious.
He waited for her to get to the stairwell at the end of the hallway before making his move.
He started out crawling, but changed his mind.
He figured a kid crawling down the hallways looked a lot more suspicious than
Someone just walking.
He made it to the guidance office just in time to watch her slip behind the door.
She was wearing this flown skirt thing today and Stiles wished it had gotten caught in the door, exposing that perfectly round ass of hers.
But then he rethought and decided that would have been terrible and super embarrassing for her.
And then he pictured the scene in his mind and hoped it would happen on her way out.
He had been daydreaming too long.
Lydia had already sat down in the waiting room of the guidance department.
He strolled over to the bench just outside and sat, trying to look inconspicuous as he stole glances over his shoulder.
Oh god. Lydia had her perfectly soft cream colored Legs draped one over the other. Stiles swallowed hard and silently thanked whatever ancient society told women that they should cross their legs while sitting.
Sweet Jesus they were as smooth and shiny as marble.
He bet they felt like satin. He didn't even know what satin felt like, but he imagined that what touching her legs was like. Like you'd have to be really rich to be able to. Stiles stopped himself, wait, that made her sound like a prostitute.
His leg fantasies were put on hold as she stood up and disappeared into Ms. Morrell's office. He waited for what he considered to be an acceptable amount of time before entering the guidance department.
He took the seat closest to Ms. Morell's office- the same one Lydia had been in.
It was still warm.
Stiles decided this transference of body heat counted as some kind of hurdle in the dating world.
The school psychologist walked in to drop of some papers and looked skeptically at Styles.
To shake him off, he tried to look troubled, furrowing his brow like he'd seen Jackson do millions of times while talking to Lydia.
He tried to avoid the pouty mouth scowl that Isaac wore constantly though. He wanted to look troubled, not broken beyond repair.
The psychologist guy seemed to buy it and left him alone, shutting the door behind him.
The coast was finally clear.
Time to sleuth.