Drabble #14 – "I am not jealous."
Pairing: Stiles/Lydia
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Stiles and Lydia figure it out.
A/N: Part 3 of Drabble #9. You might wanna re-read parts 1 and 2.
Like I'd warned, I posted it on tumblr on the 4th for Zarish's birthday, and I'm only posting it here now because I was away at House of Wolves con. And on that note, if you're not in on the latest Stydia news, you might wanna go check out my tumblr 😉
Dedication: For Zarish, stydiasroden on tumblr. Happy birthday!
xxxxxxxxxx
"I am not jealous."
Stiles startles at the unexpected sound of her voice, the towel he was just wrapping around his waist almost slipping off of his fingers. He was not counting on Lydia to go find him so soon, certainly not since it's only been an hour since he left her and it's already past 1am.
He turns around to find the strawberry blonde by his bedroom door, her pillow held tight against her chest, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail the way he knows it always is before she goes to bed and she's dressed in her favorite, most comfortable pj.
Seems like she intends on sleeping at his dorm tonight.
Eyes wide, she poorly disguises the way her sight wanders over his body, from the towel that is hanging low on his hips to his bare chest, to the way his wet hair seems even darker than usual.
He was not supposed to be looking this hot right now, even if Lydia already knows his rituals by heart and was almost positive that he'd be just getting out of the shower by the time she'd reach his room. It still doesn't make it any easier for her to swallow the lump in her throat and try her best not to melt on the spot.
It sure does make her feel hot all of a sudden, though.
She closes his bedroom door behind her, and is about to put her pillow on top of his comforter when he speaks.
"You know what? The fact that we don't lock our doors to each other doesn't mean that we shouldn't knock, Lydia," he chastises playfully.
She barely manages to let out a low "Sorry" before her pillow falls from her arms and he continues.
(She's so not sorry, though…)
"But are you even serious right now? You came all the way across campus on your pjs to tell me that you're not jealous? Really?! That's a little too much, even for you, Lyds," he tells her, chuckling at the banshee's initiative.
Stiles rummages through some of his drawers to find clean clothes, putting on new boxers underneath the towel after turning his back to Lydia. He doesn't see the way blood creeps up her cheeks and neck, but he sure notices how worked up she is on her unsteady voice when she replies.
"I uh-"
Her mouth goes dry inexplicably.
Inexplicably, yes…
Lydia clears her throat. "I- I wasn't finished."
Stiles discards the towel and glances at the redhead over his shoulder. "Alright." He smirks deviously. "Start from the beginning then," he defies, pacing around the room to find his comb and then returning to where he was before, taking his time to pull on a pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt, letting Lydia enjoy the show as she all but gawks, speechless for a moment as he wanders around only in his boxers.
Decency hits her only when he's already dressed and makes his way to his tiny bathroom to comb his unruly hair in front of the mirror - to no avail, like always -, but it's not until he smiles at her from the mirror that Lydia realizes that she's been staring.
She can't help but to blush further.
"I- I had a speech, you know?" she tells him, frustrated. "You're making me nervous."
Stiles smiles softly at her admission. It's not every day that Lydia admits that someone makes her nervous and it only means that she's taking this seriously.
Good.
He gestures for her to sit on his bed and wait for him as he brushes his teeth. When he's all done, he wordlessly sits beside her on the mattress, a little closer than he usually does.
Neither comments on that.
"I am not jealous," she murmurs, glancing at him almost shyly. "Or at least that's what I keep telling myself."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?" she asks, a bit exasperatedly in his opinion.
"I don't know, Lydia. I gave you full control of the situation. Just… Say what you gotta say and do what you gotta do."
"Well, that's helpful…"
Stiles all but smiles and stares, leaving her to get into bed instead, playing his part. It's her turn to make a move now. He gets to pull back the covers, hide under them and snuggle before Lydia takes an intake of breath. "You're welcome to join me whenever" it's all he murmurs.
"Why are you suddenly so open about this?" she blurts out, standing up. "Aren't we okay like this?"
"We are okay, Lydia, but I want more. I'm allowed to want more and I know you do too. You do, Lydia…" he adds when she glares. "Why is it so hard for you to admit that you want the same?"
"Because things would change, Stiles," she huffs. "You know what changes?"
"What?" he asks, frowning when her features turn to more apprehensive ones.
"I can lose you," she murmurs, looking away from him as her fingers fidget on her lap. Her mind runs a mile a second as it wanders over countless possibilities and ways that this can play out, that this can work.
Can she make it work?
Can they?
It takes her two full minutes to stand up and lock his bedroom door. Stiles refrains from commenting on that.
She lets out everything as quickly as she possibly can, afraid she'll regret it. "It opens the possibility of me losing you and I can't have that. I don't care if it's selfish, I just… I can't afford to let it happen. I lost too many people already."
Lydia looks down sadly and Stiles can't help but to take a deep breath for himself because he knows all too well how all of them have lost too much. He can't exactly say that he doesn't understand because, in truth, he does.
Before he can say anything, though, Lydia continues. "I keep telling myself that I'm not jealous because from the moment I do, it all changes. I'm trying my best to make myself believe that this can never work, because if we just… Try… I can't even think about the idea of losing you, Stiles. You're my best friend, we're as close as I've ever been with anyone and it's really important to me that you're by my side. I just… I want to- God, I want you, Stiles, but I don't know what to do."
"Why did you come here then?" he asks, completely uncertain of what happens next.
"You gave me the choice to be in control of this decision. I don't want that. I'm here so we can figure it out together. It's what we do best, right?"
Stiles tries – not that hard, honestly – not to beam but he does, and Lydia can't help but to smile too when he just waves a hand at her to get into bed. If it's something they're good at is at solving pretty much anything when they're lying down, half-asleep and half-awake in between either's sheets, sometimes discussing college, sometimes the supernatural, sometimes life in general.
It's become a habit to them and if that's not gonna solve whatever their relationship is to be, nothing else will.
She's about to walk to one of the walls to turn off the lights when he speaks, barely a hum. "Nothing changes."
"What?"
"Nothing changes", he repeats nonchalantly.
"Stiles, you can't say that. You don't kn-"
"Literally nothing has to change, Lyds, except for the fact that I get to fall asleep with you and wake up with you and finally get to date you. I'll get to kiss you and bicker with you-" He rolls his eyes when she glares at him, again. "Well, more. I want that. I want all of it-"
"But we already have it, Stiles," she interjects, nevertheless turning off the lights and slowly – so, so slowly – making her way to the bed. "We cuddle all the time, we sleep over at the other's apartment quite often, most of our free time is spent together and I've… I've trusted you with things that I haven't really trusted anyone before, and you've done the same thing. We just don't…"
"Actually date," he finishes for her. "What do you think I'm trying to tell you?" She stops right at the edge of the bed, a knee on top of the mattress as she hesitates, Stiles can tell even though he can't see her. "Lydia, we were friends first. Well actually, we went from two people who didn't know each other at all to acquaintances to friends to incredibly close friends. Sure, we had some bumps along the way but that's normal. That's just life and we've gone through it and now we're here."
"And we're arguing," she quips.
He frowns. "We're not arguing."
"We sort of are."
"We were. Or actually, we we're just being us. We were bantering, not arguing."
It takes her a few seconds to reply. "Good."
"Good what?"
"That we're not arguing."
"Why?"
She replies by getting under the covers, lying on her side and mirroring him. "I wouldn't want to start a relationship like that."
It's like her words echo through the room and they can only stare at the other, waiting.
"Tell me nothing changes," she murmurs.
"Some things do change, but I don't think that's bad. What matters won't change, I can promise you that much."
It takes her half a second to decide on what to do, and before she knows it her fingers are cradling his jaw and pulling him in. Her movements are deliberate, slow, and she holds her breath when her lips touch his. It's a soft kiss, more comforting than anything else and Stiles lets her have her way for now, his fingers reaching for hers when they part.
He knows she loves him and that she knows he loves her.
They'll have time to make out properly eventually.
"What now?" she asks with an almost shy smile.
"Now we sleep," he tells her, wrapping an arm around her waist when Lydia turns to face away and they spoon. "We still have class in the morning, remember?"
She wishes they didn't. He feels too warm against her and it's making her thoughts divert from what just happened to what will, eventually.
Certainly.
Soon, hopefully.
They're almost drifting off when Lydia murmurs playfully, thinking he wouldn't remember it the next morning – which he does -, that "I actually was jealous."
The teasing that ensues because of that when they wake up makes them miss their morning classes.
At least, they're not sexually frustrated anymore.